Summary: Bucky and Y/N have been fairly successful at keeping their relationship hidden from the rest of the Avengers. That is… until Nat walks into the kitchen one night and finds Bucky kissing Y/N. While Y/N is relieved that their relationship is out in the open it soon becomes more complicated than she could have ever imagined.
Author’s Notes: Ugh. The feels! Also - Bar Harbor is a real town in Maine that I am obsessed with/want to visit terribly! Thanks to the lovely @melconnor2007 for the request.
Tags are at the bottom. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged/removed. Hopefully I didn’t miss anyone!
Waking up so early ended up being an advantage for me. It
usually took over eight hours for me to get from New York City to Bar Harbor.
It was a cozy coastal town that I had always found magical with its whimsical
shops and beautiful scenery. My family spent most of our summer vacations in
the little town when I was younger. During times of distress I somehow always
came running back. The cottage itself was small, plain, and old, but to me it
had always been perfect. It was nestled on the outskirts of town overlooking
the ocean. It was home, and I felt the relief of my sudden return as I pulled
onto the beaten gravel driveway.
As I gathered my things from the car I reached out to grab
my phone. I had forgotten to turn it off or maybe I had left it on
intentionally… I really didn’t know. I looked at the screen – no messages. Part
of me felt slightly disappointed, but I highly doubted Tony had had the chance
to rat me out since Steve and Bucky were most likely still on their mission. I
sighed sadly as I pressed the power button until the screen went blank. If I
was going to figure this out without any interference, I needed it off. There
was of course the alternative – that I had already figured everything out on
the journey here and that maybe I needed to walk away from it all. The thought
made my heart sink. No – I wouldn’t go there yet. First I needed rest and
copious amounts of alcohol.
I made my way up the uneven path to the house as I lugged
all of my bags with me. I struggled with the lock on the door – swearing under
my breath as I jiggled my key until I was finally able to open the door. I
dropped my bags at the door and stretched wearily. I wasn’t worried about
anything other than getting a drink and sleeping. The long drive had left me
stiff and exhausted. I was worried that the main source of my exhaustion was the
creeping sadness that I was trying to keep at bay. I knew I needed to think
about what had happened the night before and what I had discovered this
morning, but it was too new – too raw for me to process rationally. I ran my
hand down my face as I wearily stumbled into the small kitchen. I opened the
cabinet where my dad had kept his collection of odd coffee mugs from our
various trips and reached towards the back – sighing with relief as I procured
the bottle of whiskey that I had hidden for myself. I took the bottle with me
as I made my way to one of the tiny bedrooms on the other side of the cottage.
Luckily – since I paid for someone to maintain the cottage while I was away –
it looked just as I had left it before joining the Avengers. I plopped myself
onto the bed and snuggled my way under the blankets before unscrewing the cap
of the bottle and taking a swig.
I was finding it impossible to not think about Bucky, and
the night before. The feeling of his lips against my skin. How he laughed
breathlessly as he teased me relentlessly. The way he had looked at me… like he
had never wanted something so much in his life. The way he told me I was
beautiful – the words dripping with admiration. I sighed to myself before
taking several more swigs from the bottle. Of course all of these memories were
tinged with self-doubt and a feeling of betrayal because of Nat’s revelation.
Had he said the same things to her? Had he looked at her the same way? Did he
still feel something for her – was that why he hadn’t been overly keen on being
open about us with the others? Each thought called for a few more drinks. The
stinging sensation of the alcohol as it made its way down my throat was much
more preferable than the heartache I was currently feeling. I kept drinking
until I drifted to sleep. Unfortunately, my mind seemed set on not letting me
have a moment’s reprieve from my self-imposed misery.
My dream seemed to be
a video montage of Bucky and I’s greatest hits. While the memories swirled into
a blur the dream centered around the first time Bucky and I had spent the night
alone together in Stark tower. It had been a month since Bucky had kissed me
for the first time, and I was ecstatic to have time alone with him without the
threat of someone accidentally interrupting. Bucky seemed to be absolutely
bursting with nervous energy as the others prepared to leave for a weekend
mission. Steve had been the first to notice after Bucky had accidentally
tripped on a rug, as he was pacing in the common room, causing a slew of
profanity to spill from his mouth while I tried to muffle my laughter.
“You…eh…you okay there,
Buck? You seem nervous…” Steve had asked uneasily.
“No… no I am fine.
Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Bucky was just a little too adamant with his
response which made Steve chuckle under his breath.
“Suit yourself,” Steve
replied. “We’ll see you guys next week,” he called as the others entered the
elevator. Tony was still demanding that we didn’t trash the place in his
absence as the elevator doors closed.
exclaimed as he threw his hands up in the air dramatically.
“Are you… are you
okay?” I asked through giggles. He answered my question with his famous
lopsided grin. The one that made me feel like I could have my way with him then
and there – consequences be damned. “What’s gotten into you?” His behavior
wasn’t very Bucky-like.
“Never mind that! You
stay in here… you are banned from the kitchen until further notice. Promise you
won’t come in?” he asked sincerely.
I chuckled at this
remark. “Um Bucky… I’m pretty sure Tony banned me from the kitchen after the
first meal I attempted to make for everyone,” I grinned at him sheepishly as I
remembered the whole cooking fiasco. In my defense I had told them I was a
Bucky laughed at that.
“Okay… Just wait out here and I will come and get you in a little while…
promise?” he asked sweetly.
“Cross my heart,” I
smiled back. He left the room beaming as I turned my attention back to my book.
A few hours passed –
Bucky would occasionally pop out of the kitchen to see what I was doing and
then eventually make his was back to continue his secret operations. Finally,
he came out of the kitchen with a giant grin plastered on his face. I smiled
back at him – his smiles were always contagious.
“If you will follow
me, please,” he said formally as he offered his arm to me. I giggled at him and
stood up from the couch, hooking my arm in his. As we entered the dining room I
gasped. Bucky had prepared an entire meal – homemade fettuccine, breadsticks
made from scratch, and a fresh salad all covered the table. He seated me at the
table and poured both of us a glass of wine. I smiled at him sweetly as he
handed me mine, before taking his place across the table from me.
“So he cooks?” I
raised an eyebrow playfully as I brought the glass to my lips.
He chuckled. “Doll,
there are a lot of things you don’t know about me. I just wanted to do
something for you. It’s the first time we’ve been able to just walk around this
tower and act the way we actually want to…. And do whatever it is that we’re
thinking,” he grinned slyly at me as he paused.
“What is it that
you’re actually thinking?” I asked coyly.
“Of doing this,” he
whispered as he leaned over the table to kiss me. It was sweet but urgent, and
he pulled away too soon. “Consider this our first official date,” he added as
he winked at me playfully.
I couldn’t help but
smile. It was one the kindest things anyone had done for me in a very long
time. “Bucky…. Thank you,” I whispered shyly across the table.
“Well don’t thank me
until after you’ve tried it,” he laughed.
I woke up with a start. For a moment I was happy, but the
moment gave way to bitterness as my brain reasoned with itself – it had just
been a dream. A flashback to happier days. That night had been the first night
that Bucky had told me I was beautiful. It was also the first night that he
truly began to open up to me about his struggles with his past. Ever since then
we had harbored a deeper connection between each other. Tears fell bitterly
from my eyes as the bed shifted from the weight of someone else laying beside
I turned over slowly and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank
you for coming,” I whispered before falling to pieces.
Warnings: PTSD mention, blood mention, essentially I talk about Scarif
Word Count: 2,322
Summary: Cassian’s never seen you dressed up!!!!!
The medal ceremony for those who fought on Scarif, in memory of those who died, is in a matter of six hours.
Of the twenty-twenty that left (including K2), nine returned. Though thankful you were among those who returned, every day seemed like another war-zone. A different challenge you weren’t expecting, another person you had to talk to, another flashback or nightmare…
Everyone who returned had the same problem, but no one really wanted to talk about it. The only who seemed any bit open to talking was Bodhi, partially due to his past. He needed to lay everything on the table in order to move on from at least some part of it. And, of all those who returned, you were the best listener and often found yourself hearing Bodhi retell stories of his former life with the Empire as you mindlessly wandered the base.
It’s been four months. This should have been enough time to recoup. For you, it was enough to at least converse normally and be in crowds. For Cassian, it was enough to insist he go on missions again, despite waking every night from another nightmare, his arms nearly strangling you in an attempt to make sure you are safe. For the three others who just joined, it meant wandering aimlessly, wondering if they will ever recover.
For the rest, that meant taking up work around the base. Bodhi is working as a mechanic. Baze and Chirrut are training recruits. Jyn is assisting Mon Mothma with general paper work.
It did take you the longest to leave the medbay, so at least you were given that by everyone. Bodhi only had a couple of wounds and was in shock, it was more of an issue of monitoring. Baze and Chirrut were both relatively unscathed, save a few very minor wounds. This was true with the other three who returned. Cassian and Jyn had both been shot at least once.
You, on the other hand, were nearly ripped apart when they got you back. One of the other fighters had jumped on top of a grenade. Your fighter self tried to pull both of you away, but as he jumped and covered it fully, it exploded. This resulted in grenade shrapnel cutting through you in several places and the blood and bits of your fellow rebel all over. It also gave a Stormtrooper a good shot at your leg, your shoulder, and your wrist. Thankfully Bodhi had shot him before he took another shot. However, you were not even conscious when you made it back.
The final one to make it back, the sarcastic droid, fried himself helping Cassian and Jyn.
K2SO is still under repairs. The techs aren’t sure he will ever be back.
You haven’t told Cassian this.
In your shared room with Cassian, you sit on the desk, unsure of what to do. Six hours is too early to start getting ready, but there is nothing else to do at the moment. You have no work on the base. The fact that you are walking by yourself, conversing normally, and not staring off constantly is more than anyone could have hoped for at this point.
The blast door to your room slides open, exposing Cassian. His shoes are extremely muddy, with tracks being left behind. You cock your head and watch him walk in. He’s not one to purposefully walk into mud and it isn’t raining on Yavin4 today. But your eyes trail up his body to see the rest of him completely soaking, jacket clinging to him tightly.
“Cassian?” you murmur, legs swinging still.
He says nothing; just shuts the door and sheds his coat quickly. His feet carry him to the refresher, shoes tracking mud the whole way.
“Baze thought throwing me in the pond would cheer me up,” he grumbles, hand on the door to the refresher.
“Oh.” You stay where you are, watching as your boyfriend slowly shuts the door behind him.
THREE hours, one towel to remove the shoe prints, and one showered Cassian later, you decided that maybe it was time to get ready. After all the recipients were required to get there early. But as you sit on the edge of your bed, twiddling your thumbs, you are suddenly unsure if you even want to go. Of all the people who went, you did the least good. The length of the battle in which you actually fought in was severely shorter than the rest and the only reason you lived was because some other rebel splattered themselves over you.
Without noticing, your head lolls forward, heavy with remembrance.
The familiar sound of a live grenade fills the cargo ship. It’s just you and your friend, Haci inside. Eyes wide and heart pounding, you turn to him. And you see it in him. What he wants to do.
He talks a step forward.
“Haci!” you screech, grabbing his arm quickly, trying to keep him close to you so that you two can run before it sets off.
“No,” he replies, tossing himself to the ground.
The sudden force causes the grenade to detonate. Haci, in all his love for the rebellion, saved you and Bodhi’s ability to connect to the Alliance. But in his wake he left himself, physically, splattered. Blood had gotten into your eyes, onto you shirt, simply everywhere on you. And the bits of skin and bone the grenade busted? Some stuck to your shirt and pants.
The sight f your friend, blasted all over you, out ranked any pain from the five bits on shrapnel lodge throughout your body. They stung and hurt and burned, but you were shaking in shock from the past ten seconds.
The next thing you know, you feel three blaster shots ripping through you. Your leg, shoulder, and wrist, all the left side, roaring with demanding anguish. And the trooper hit right through major veins too; blood was pouring out of your leg.
Your brows furrow as you look down to your boyfriend. He is kneeling in front of you, hands gripping your wrists, eyes looking to you in concern. Biting your lip, you consider the possibility that it was a flashback. It seems nowadays that the difference between a flashback, a memory and a dream are blurred.
“How long was I out?” your murmur.
“About thirty minutes,” he sighs.
His left hand abandons your right, leaving a cold spot where it just was. Cassian uses this hand to reach up to your face, fixing a few hairs that have fallen astray from your normal style. A gentle smile appears on his face. You know he just wants you to be happy, to be better. But being happy, being better, being normal again isn’t possible. And he knows that. He will never be the same way again either.
“Are you sure you would still like to go?” Cassian asks, eyes training back to yours.
“Of course! Why?”
Suddenly, you are scared that he doesn’t want you there. Or maybe you aren’t going to be awarded. Maybe you weren’t even meant to comeback…
“I’m just worried about your flashbacks, amor. Now I suggest you head over to Jyn’s quarters because she said she has something for you.”
WELL, she certainly did.
You were expecting maybe her telling you to calm down, or her giving you another goddamn blank journal, or her giving you another pen (where does she get all these pens from?). What you got was much, much better.
“Here,” she hums, handing you a silver colored boxed.
Without wanting to ask questions, your fingers work quickly to open it. The odd cardboard isn’t a familiar feeling; you are so used to metal and wood these days. Clasps from blaster boxes and metal safes full of intel. Cardboard is an awkward sensation. The pink and white swirled tissue paper on the other hand… now this you know.
Your mother is one of the most known seamstresses in the Galaxy. She travels designing clothes, fixing clothes, and tailoring for the finest and the best of the Galaxy. And, with her ability to get around, the Alliance has been using her for some intel. Not a lot, not enough to jeopardize her profession, but enough to help the rebellion.
This is her signature tissue paper.
You tear the paper away, exposing black silk, a bit of black tulle peeping out from below.
“For my sunshine - mom”
For the first time in weeks, you grin. A full on, happy grin. The little note in her handwriting is the best thing that could have happened to you recently, screw the medal ceremony. A moment of home, of what drove you into the rebellion in the first place. The love for your mother and your need to protect what was right.
The happiness is overwhelming. It hurts your gut how much it fills inside you. But happiness is so much better than the emptiness, the worry, the anxiety, the depression you’ve been feeling.
“Let’s get ready, yeah?” Jyn smiles.
“WOW,” you murmur, glancing at yourself in the mirror.
It’s been years since you’ve been dressed up. The closest to date was that one mission where you went to a salon and they braided your hair in an extravagant ‘do. This is something different, something amazing.
The dress is simply amazing. The top half is pure silk, with a soft sweetheart neckline with a gather at the lowest point. Sleeves are off the shoulder, but perfectly fitting. From the waist down, it is tulle (with silk beneath). The tulle has a soft shimmer to it and every time you shift, a slightly different color is shown in the highlighted areas of the skirt underneath the light.
Jyn had surprised you by showing off her unknown hair styling skills. It was such a simple hair style, a low bun, but the ease and cleanliness in which she executed it was surprising. She also surprised you by having some makeup on hand. That you will question later.
Cassian had gotten ready much quicker, partially because he promised to go help Bodhi (the boy had never worn a suit before). The part was in hopes that he would run into Leia. He wanted to ask her something.
“Cassian, I just don’t think suits are for me!” Bodhi whines, trying to button his shirt, and failing miserably.
“Bodhi. It’s just one time. Then, after this, you never have to wear a suit again. Ever,” Cassian grumbles, taking over Bodhi’s weak attempt at buttoning.
“But I feel bad if I don’t wear this again. (Y/N)’s mom made suits for all of us. I feel like I need to wear it again.” Bodhi sighs, running his fingers through his hair nervously.
“If you ever get married, wear it then. How’s that?” Cassian finishes the last button, patting Bodhi on the chest. “Where is the bowtie?”
CASSIAN and Bodhi are the first of the Scarif group to arrive. Sure, plenty of people from around the base and diplomats and leaders are there, but they were the first of the group to arrive. They awkwardly descend onto the stage, sitting in the seats with a tag indicating their name. Luckily they are sat next to each other for the ceremony, making it much easier for the time being.
Chirrut, Baze, and the other three quickly come in only a few minutes later. That leaves the two girls.
Cassian turns to Bodhi, asking him some small talk question, when Jyn and you enter. Bodhi is still facing towards the entrance of the room, so he looks, a smile coming across his face.
“Wow,” he says.
“What?” Cassian asks, turning his head.
It’s like everything slows. Your head that was turned to Jyn moves slowly to the front of the room, gracing Cassian with a full shot instead of a profile. His eyes are wandering around your body, looking at every part of you dressed up. The tulle skirt bounces softly with every step, mesmerizing Cassian just a little more. Every part of you seems to glow a little more as you come closer to him.
“You okay, there, Cassian,” you giggle, sitting next to your boyfriend.
His eyes are still trained to yours, a smile still donned on his face. “I’ve never seen you dressed up. You look amazing.”
“Oh.” You blush, turning your head to the ground. It’s true, he has never, ever seen you dressed up. You, on the other hand, have seen him dressed up a few times, mostly for missions and you always found it both arousing and amusing. Cassian continues to watch you, eyes literally not stopping as he attempts to absorb your beauty. Every aspect of you is glowing; the black of the dress just makes you look even more glowing than before. Some of the sparkle of the under skirt leaks onto your arm that is rested on top, causing a bit of a rainbow to form.
But he cannot stop staring. From the beautiful little bun to the perfect fit of the dress to your soft, awkward smile, everything is perfect and beautiful about your outfit. And you, of course. Everything is perfect about you.
“I love you. And you look amazing,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss beneath your ear. “I hope to see you dressed up more.”
You tilt your head slightly. This allows you to look into Cassian’s mischievous eyes. A soft smile appears on your face.
“Let’s get through this ceremony first. Then I’ll consider dressing up more.” “Of course.”
Cassian sits back upright, hand in his left pocket rolling the ring in-between his fingers nervously.
He hopes he can see you dressed up again really, really soon.
This is a Bucky Barnes x Reader AU. Basically it’s a soulmate au and maybe once I figure out my schedule i’ll make a posting schedule.
Warnings; Death, Angst, Ugh Cuss word I think.
Word Count; 2000
There he stood with you, in an alleyway listening to the drip drop of rainwater on the stone ways. His hand on you waist, a smile on his face. Before either of you could speak a man was in front of you. You looked up to Bucky silently begging him to do something. You quickly pulled your sleeve over your mark, the same mark Bucky has.
“We’ll give you whatever we have,” Bucky’s words were calm, like smooth butter over bread.
“You see the thing is the only thing I want is for you to suffer. You took something from me, something dear to my heart and for that I will do the same.”
You looked up at him, confused your mouth agape as Bucky looked down to you.
You’ve finally arrived with a mix of light and rain. With hints of optimism and possibilities. April was a blur. A foggy memory of something that tasted like an odd dream you didn’t want to wake up from. April was a split-second chance that felt endless and strangely comforting. But you, you looked more real and honest. Like a journey that knows no bounds. Like something that can hurt but can heal. I want you to know that I can handle it. I want you to know that I’ve been building up thicker skin and steadier hands. Broader shoulders and stronger feet. I want you to know that I’ve grown out of my shadows. You can take me to new heights. I can jump now.
She feels it the moment it happens, the unnatural torque of her knee, the sudden pop of the bone that has her hissing in a burning breath of the cold mountain air before her knee gives out on her completely, sends her tumbling to the blanket of snow beneath her.
Kate groans, landing in an awkward position on her side, the skis still attached to her feet tangling up her legs and causing the throb in her right knee to intensify, flares of hot, stinging pain radiating out to sear through her bloodstream. She grits her teeth, attempts to straighten out her legs enough so that she can sit up, reach for the bindings attached to her boots, relieving her legs of the extra weight. But oh, she can’t move, her knee is on fire.
Beckett curses under her breath, uses the muscles of her abdomen to heave her body into a sitting position, feeling her eyes sting with the flames the movement elicits, and retrieves her phone from the pocket of her coat. But she’s at the top of a mountain and the second she attempts to call for help, she’s reminded that signal is unattainable up here.
Trapped atop a mountain in Colorado on the tenth anniversary of her mother’s death. Of course.
Kate blinks back her tears, shoves the phone back into her pocket and glances down to her knee, gritting her teeth through the lancing pain, the unbearable lick of flames along the bone. She isn’t sure what she’s done, but something is wrong, damaged and crying out in agony, and she has no way of getting help.
She begins to pack snow around the injured knee through the blur of frustrated tears crowding in the corners of her eyes, the bitter cold offering little relief, but better than nothing until she can figure out a plan.
But they’ll come looking for her. The instructor had assured her that they send out a search party if a ski renter doesn’t return within the hour. She’ll be fine. If she doesn’t pass out from the sharp bursts of pain spreading from her leg to consume the rest of her.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Kate glances up, but there are white spots - when did it start snowing? - obscuring her vision, and the world is tilting a bit, the pale sky overhead blending with the pristine white covering the ground, the world around her. So much white, it’s blinding.
The voice grows closer, a rich tenor that fills her ears, a soft concern, and wow, that hour must have passed quickly.
“Glad they sent you,” she mumbles, blinking past the snowflakes, but she can only see pieces of the man kneeling down beside her, his eyes blue, sharp and bright like sapphires, a nice contrast to the snow. They flicker down to her knee, back to her face, and she notices those eyes flare with the concern she had heard in his voice.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to get help, but in the meantime, you should probably stay awake,” the man says to her. “What’s your name?”
“Kate,” she manages, attempting to focus on his face, those gemstone eyes that seem familiar for some reason. There’s something about him that she knows, recognizes, but she just can’t place it. “Yours?”
“Rick,” he returns, a friendly smile gracing his lips, and oh, through the blotches of snow that grow thicker with each blink of her eyes, she finally has a name to put to the face.
“Castle,” she sighs the answer. “Mom loved your books.”
“Hey, Kate? Kate, stay with me until the helicopter gets here, tell me about your mom,” he prompts, his hand touching her shoulder, but she can’t muster the strength to open her eyes again. It wouldn’t make a difference; it’s all gone white.
“Can’t,” she breathes out. “She’s gone.”
The next time Kate’s eyes flutter open, she’s no longer in the snow, no longer trapped on a mountain and freezing despite the fire engulfing her knee, but oh, yeah, her leg is still in agony. The room has become familiar, she realizes as her gaze roams, as if she’s seen it before, in flashes and brief bouts of consciousness.
“Miss Beckett, you’re awake.”
Kate shifts her gaze to the entryway, where a woman in scrubs is approaching, walking towards an IV that stands near the bed Kate is lying in. A hospital bed.
“What happened?” she rasps, memories that blur between the lines of dreams and reality filtering through her mind. She had been skiing and then something had popped in her knee, sent her down into the snow, and then… Richard Castle had appeared to help her? That last part was definitely a dream. Had to be.
“You sprained your ACL out on the slopes, honey,” the nurse informs her in a placating tone, changing out the IV bag and offering Kate a sympathetic half smile. “Not sure exactly how you managed it, but Doctor Keller’s best bet is that you did what most skiers do and turned wrong, nearly tore the ligament in two. You’ll recover, but your lack of nourishment and dehydration aren’t helping your case here, Miss Beckett.”
Kate frowns down at her knee, bound in some type of cast she can’t see beneath the cover of hospital sheets, but can feel encasing her leg.
“Doctor Keller will be in to see you a little later, but for now, I’m Abbey and I’ll be your nurse. And now that you seem to be with us, I’m happy to inform you that you have a visitor,” the nurse, Abbey, reveals with a polite smile and Kate’s brow furrows in confusion.
She had taken this trip on her own, seeking solitude in her grief, to mourn her mother alone and across the country in the cabin her father used to rent out when they would vacation here as a family in the winters, distract herself with the sport of skiing, the bittersweet joy of reminiscing.
“A visitor?” she echoes.
“Mhmm, he came in with you, been here ever since. A solid six hours.”
The woman narrows her eyes on Beckett, a flicker of intrigue dancing in her gaze, but Kate has no idea who she’s talking about.
“I - um, okay. Sure, he can come in.”
Maybe they had somehow got ahold of her father, or maybe whoever had found her on the mountain had been anxious to see if their good deed had paid off. Or perhaps-
The nurse opens the door, gesturing to someone she can’t see from the confines of the hospital bed, and seconds later, Richard Castle is appearing in the doorway, giving her a smile that is far more sincere than those she’s seen in interviews and magazine articles.
It wasn’t a dream.
“Kate, hi,” he offers, stepping past Abbey and tentatively drifting towards the side of her hospital bed. “How’s the knee?”
“Oh, it’s - excruciating,” she replies, glancing down to the useless bone she can’t even see, back to the best-selling author at her bedside. “I’m sorry, but I don’t… can you tell me what happened? It’s all a bit blurry.”
Castle nods, searching for a place to sit, pulling up one of the chairs from the side of the room to plop down at the head of her bed. Abbey slowly disappears from the doorway, a sly smile on her face that Beckett fails to comprehend, but her attention is already shifting back to the man beginning to tell her the story of how she ended up here.
“I was skiing with my daughter, Alexis, and we saw you collapsed in the snow on the way down. I stayed with you while she skied the rest of the way down the mountain to get help,” he explains, the concern simmering in his eyes and - and she remembers that, remembers thoughts of sapphires in the snow. “I tried to keep you awake, but you passed out after a few minutes. The rescue team arrived quickly, though, and I’m sorry you missed the helicopter ride to the hospital. It was pretty cool.”
“You rode with me?” she questions, ignoring the urge to smile at the spark of excitement that had rippled through his eyes at the mention of a helicopter ride she had apparently been unconscious for.
Richard Castle shrugs, diverts his eyes to the floor for a moment before returning them to her knee. “Well, I didn’t want to just - I wanted to make sure you were okay. At least until someone else showed up.”
“No one knew I was here,” she mumbles, unthinkingly, and his brow creases, more of that kindhearted worry engulfing his features. “I fly out here sometimes, when I need to clear my head.”
“Oh, you’re not from here?” he inquires, propping his elbow on the edge of her hospital bed, cradling his chin in his palm.
“No, New York, actually.”
His entire face lights up. “Me too! Alexis and I come up here every winter to ski. She hopes you’re doing okay, by the way.”
Kate’s lips spread into the closest thing to a smile that she’s managed in a long time. She doesn’t know this girl, Alexis, doesn’t even know the man who camped out in the waiting room for the past six hours for a stranger either, but he has her heart feeling light, distracting her from the piercing ache in her knee, warming her cheeks.
But he’s still a stranger, a man who owes her nothing yet has already given her so much of his time, his compassion, and without even knowing it, his words.
“You should probably go soon, I don’t want you to miss out on your vacation, miss spending time with your daughter,” Kate murmurs, noticing the subtle fall of his face, the dull of light in his eyes that she doesn’t understand. “How long until you fly back to New York?”
“End of the week,” Castle replies, something hopeful blooming through his gaze. “You?”
“The same,” she sighs, chuckling at the hitch in his brow.
“Must be kismet.”
“Fate?” she muses, catching the pleased, upwards twitch to the corners of his mouth.
“Yep, a sign from the universe that we were meant to meet. And I’d hate to defy the universe,” he informs her, rising from his chair, and she’s startled to feel the disappointment coil in her chest. “So, I’m going to go for the night, but if it’s okay with you, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Kate.”
Kate chews on her bottom lip while he awaits her answer, clinging to the part of her that tells her no, that assures her this is a bad idea, but drifting towards the little voice in her head, whispering that maybe he was right. She didn’t believe in fate, in magic or signs from the universe, but she had to admit, having Richard Castle play a major role in rescuing her, making her smile on a day where she had never fathomed even allowing her lips to lift, was quite the convincing argument that maybe it couldn’t hurt to take a risk, get to know him a little better.
Maybe just for today, she could believe in the possibility of kismet.
There are some questions I’ve been asking to myself that doesn’t have any answers yet. Few of them were still stocked in my mind, but most of them were already forgotten. Like a dream I have during the night but I haven’t had a chance to remember every time I woke up in the morning. I want you to be a part of those few questions. I want not only my heart but also my mind to reminisce every single detail of you. Yet what I want is different from what I need. Like what my parents used to tell me, I can’t have everything I want, that I must be thankful to have the things that I need. And I need to forget about you, because I don’t know how to love you without hurting myself. That’s why I have chosen not to consider you to be a part of those few stocked memories. You are now a distant memory, a blurred dream that I can’t remember. A question that I don’t want to know the answer anymore.
But the few remnants that you left at the back of my mind is enough for me to pause at the middle of my new path. The pictures of us that I burried at the deepest part of my mind—they were worth keeping. Those were the best parts of my existence; and who, in this undivided human race will ever choose to obliterate such happiness? Who, in this self-centered world will ever choose to lose an almost extinct selfless love even if it already faded? Who am I to lose the most precious memory I had, just for the sake of forgetting? And so I kept on sailing at the middle. I did not go on both ends of the extremities—forgetting and remembering. Because I am stuck between the fear to start again, and with the slightest hope to continue what I once had.
still taking requests.? i got inspired by those new concept photos. Taehyung - hair, wall, lollipop - prompt, if u want.
inspired by the war of hormones concept vids but also by the graffiti walls in now2 brazil lmfao :) hope you enjoy requests are: closed
candyshop of stars
rated t for treading between cute and
just downright racy
word count: 2,201
You tuck your hair behind your ear and let the bubble over your
lips pop, flipping through a magazine
that was a month old.
In a city that watches the world slip by with idle eyes, in
a city that sits on the curb and watches smoke rise up against an orange sunset
made so not by nature but the smog of the cars coughing along the streets, in a
city that sleeps on moth eaten sofas and love is defined by the number of
hickeys you have on your neck, the nail marks dragging down your back, you look
for stars that have long since flickered out.
There are some songs that come from dreams etc. There’s one song in particular called ‘Sleepsong’ and I hate quoting myself but there’s a line that goes “dreams and memories, blurring into one” and at the time I was getting confusing dreams and that stuck with me. A lot of our songs are stories and imagined conversations, and I would rather use my imagination when writing than write about myself to be honest.
Oh, in the strangest dreams, walking by your side It is the hole you impose upon your life When you’re out, loneliness, it crawls up in the ground It’s what you feel, but can’t articulate out loud
Oh you go to sleep on your own and you wake each day with your thoughts And it scares you being alone It’s a last resort
All you want is someone onto whom you can cling Your mother warned of strangers and the dangers they may bring Your dreams and memories are blurring into one The scenes which hold the waking world slowly come undone
You’ll come undone
Oh, you go to sleep on your own, And you wake each day with your thoughts And it scares you being alone, It’s a last resort
You go to sleep on your own And you wake each day with your thoughts And it scares you being alone, it’s a last resort
Don’t talk to strangers, And don’t walk into danger Don’t talk to strangers, And don’t walk into danger
Oh you go to sleep on your own, And you wake each day with your thoughts And it scares you being alone, It’s a last resort
You go to sleep on your own, And you wake each day with your thoughts And it scares you being alone, It’s a last resort
Don’t talk to strangers
Oh you go to sleep on your own, And you wake each day with your thoughts And it scares you being alone, It’s a last resort…
A couple of times the panic of being touched gets him in trouble because someone will brush past him on the street and when they bump into him by accident he jerks around to stare them down, ready to take them out, only to see that it was a mistake and they didn’t even notice, and they’re already walking away. People on the street avoid him because there’s a strange languidness to his gait that violently changes to poker-straight clockwork motions without warning.
It’s a moment-by-moment battle to relearn how to react to the world like a human being; to keep himself from winding up and killing the guy on the bus who gives him a dirty look and instead just put his head down and looks somewhere else. He can’t trust his threat-evaluation training anymore.
His eyes widen in panic when steve and natasha try to reach out to him the first time; they’re just trying to be kind because they see his haggard face and sloppy, dirty clothes but the last time somebody reached out to him it was to put a cracked rubber mouthguard in between his clenched teeth.
flashbacks of a faded war and the phantom feeling of a left hand blur with the memories of being paralyzed in the cold and endless dreams of ice. Was it yesterday that his body tingled with tiny hot needles as it thawed, his muscles atrophied and his limbs numb….. over and over again waking to different voices talking to each other but ignoring the huddled, shivering form that they hosed down with stinging hot water. (He’s just sitting there why doesn’t he get up?)(Hey, hey can you hear me? Get up!) rubber-gloved hands clamping on the base of his skull and forcing his eyes upward into the glare of fluorescents. He gasps, coughs up some of the water that went down his throat, but his lungs are stiff and icy. (Get up!) The rubber-gloved hand strikes him across the face and he falls back, but even that he barely feels, his skin is too cold. Another blast of hot water, there’s something about how they’re running late and that’ll have to do for now. rubber gloves grab him by the shoulders and force him to stand; they half-dress him roughly with a grunt about why he’s not coordinated enough to do it himself; they tape sensors to his chest and stick a needle into his wrist, pushing him down into a chair. It has enough of a familiarity to it that he cooperates, and when they put in the mouth guard he opens his mouth and bites down….
pain melds together memories after that; he sees the outside world as if through a dream, and all the while he’s far away while his body kills with mechanical precision….
it’s a long time before he learns that someone reaching out to touch him will not always hurt…many long days of kind words and predictable movements and reassuring praise. Even then, there’s always a moment of uneasiness that a tiny trigger will take him all the way back and he’ll be lost in his own head again. He’s not sure how to mouth sorry to them when he reacts to their warmth with apathy. After enough smiles and assurances that it’s okay, he starts to think maybe it is enough that he just gets up every morning, eats, and gets dressed, even though some days all he can feel is cold.
Request: how about one where you’re raised as a baby by a family of monsters (shifters or vamps or whatevs) and they shelter you from like everything so you have no idea there are other humans and you feel like an outcast cause you can’t do what the monsters can and one day sam and dean hunt your family down.
A/N: So, I hope you don’t mind Becca (and readers), but I took this idea and kind of switched it up a bit but the concept will still be touched. I hope you like it so far :)
You didn’t remember much about your childhood. Some memories appeared in dreams or blurs when you came in contact with something that gave you a flashback, but nothing made sense. All you knew, is that your parents were vampires..and you, were not. The conclusion surfaced that they were not your real parents, more than just the obvious outward appearance could tell you that, but they also treated you like..well, like shit.
“Mom?” You swallowed and took in a shaky breath, “Did you hear what I said?”
“What do you want?” She responded, not once glancing in the direction you stood. You had asked her if she knew what today was, and you already knew the answer, She didn’t.
It was your sixteenth birthday and you had heard that those were supposed to be special, but your parents payed no care. Instead, they acted as if it was like any other day, and made you help them hunt. Your job was to lure in young boys so that your parents could feast while no one was watching. You hated it, because not only were you unable to feast as they did, but you were afraid. Afraid of what they could do and afraid of what they would do to you if you failed to obey.
And that is how it went.
It had been almost four years since then and nothing much changed. You were sitting at a local bar, scoping it out to find the next victim on your parents list, when someone approached you.
“You look like you could use another drink.” He smirked, inviting himself to sit next to you as his handsome green eyes studied your body, “What would you like?"
"I’ll take a Gin n’Tonic, thank you.” You smiled as he ordered the drink for you, “My name’s Y/N.”
“Dean.” He stated, “Why is someone as beautiful as you alone at a bar?”
A laugh blew against your lips as your shook your head, “Why can’t you guys ever come up with a new line?”
“You guys?” Dean’s eye brow shot up, causing the freckles on his nose to follow along in pattern.
"Mhm.” You took a sip of your drink, “Your type.”
“Yep. The whole, ‘I’ll fuck you but not love you because I don’t love, at all. I don’t touch love or even mention it.’ type. Correct?”
He smirked softly, “Sure, I guess. But it depends on the love you’re talking about, because I have a little brother, Sammy, an-”
“Ah! The younger sibling, yeah, I’ve got you now.” Another warm feeling trailed down your throat as you took in some more drink, “You lost one or both of your parents and took on the role for your brother. Protecting him, guiding him, all that good stuff. And you want him happy, but you never see him happy, and that kills you.” You sighed and leaned forward, “Can I let you in on a little secret, Dean?”
He only fidgeted in his seat and let you continue.
“He wants you happy too. And the only way you’ll see a permanent smile on his face, is if you’ve got one on yours.” You finished your drink with a final gulp, “So, stop chasing unimportant girls like me, and look for someone you can see yourself settling down with. Look for someone you can change your type for, and actually love.”
Dean locked eyes with you for a few passing seconds before shaking his head and clearing his throat, “What about you?”
"What about me?”
“Everyone is a type.” He said, “You called yourself unimportant and I don’t think that’s true, because you just told me my own life story and we met less then five minutes ago. So that could mean one of two things; you’re a mind reader or you’ve been doing this, meeting guys, for a while. I’m not betting on the first on-”
“Alright, alright.” You smiled, but let it fade at the sudden dizziness that took over your body, “I, uh…”
Dean placed his hand on your arm, “Are you okay?”
Before you could answer, a smile spread across his entire face as the room around you went dark, and you fell unconscious.
Your head was throbbing. And it hurt like complete hell. When you tried to move, you felt the sensation of bindings holding you down to a wooden chair. It was dark, but only for a few seconds, as your eyes ajusted.
“Hello?!” You screamed and struggled, “Where am I?!”
Your breathing became heavier and heavier, “Someone! Please help!”
“Screaming won’t do any good.” A recognizable voice called, “Sorry.”
“D-Dean?” You squinted, “Where am I?”
The lights flew on, and as you guessed, Dean was standing before you. Another man, who was much taller but just as handsome, stood next to him. They both looked down at you with tired but determined expressions before Dean spoke up, “You’re somewhere no one will find you, unless you start talking.”
And as much as you tried, there was no getting away. All you could do was struggle, stare, and curse your own life.