#1945-Present | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crimson-femme · 2 months ago

Text

𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

table of contents: books; anthologies, history, novels, erotica, photography. films; movies, documentaries, shorts. miscellaneous; dissertations, articles, etc. note: everything (minus a few) has a link to access the media! if i am able to find the missing links i will attach them along with adding new content. there are a couple things that are not specifically butchfemme, but i kept them because i feel that they fit. enjoy!

𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜 + 𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜

୨୧ A Restricted Country by Joan Nestle

୨୧ Brazen Femme: Queering Femininity by Chloë Brushwood Rose, Anna Camilleri

୨୧ Butch/Femme: Inside Lesbian Gender by Sally R. Munt, Cherry Smyth

୨୧ Butch is a Noun by S. Bear Bergman

୨୧ Femme/Butch: New Considerations of the Way We Want to Go by Michelle Gibson, Deborah Meem

୨୧ Femme: Feminists, Lesbians, and Bad Girls by Laura Harris, Elizabeth Crocker

୨୧ Lesbian Culture: The Lives, Work, Ideas, Art and Visions of Lesbians Past and Present by Julia Penelope, Susan Wolfe

୨୧ On Butch and Femme: A Compiled Readings by I.M. Epstein

୨୧ Persistence: All Ways Butch and Femme by Ivan Coyote, Zena Sharman

୨୧ Render Me, Gender Me: Lesbians Talk Sex, Class, Color, Nation, Studmuffins... by Kath Weston

୨୧ S/he by Minnie Bruce Pratt

୨୧ The Femme Mystique by Leslea Newman

୨୧ The Femme's Guide To The Universe by Shar Rednour

୨୧ The Lesbian Erotic Dance: Butch, Femme, Androgyny, and Other Rhythms by JoAnn Loulan

୨୧ The Little Butch Book by Leslea Newman

୨୧ The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader by Joan Nestle

୨୧ Tomboys!: Tales of Dyke Derring-Do by Lynne Y. Fletcher, Karen Barber

୨୧ Tomboy Survival Guide by Ivan Coyote

𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢

NOTE ⋆ there is more history content in the film section as well as historical fiction in the novel section!!!

୨୧ Appearances Can Be Deceiving: Butch-Femme Fashion and Queer Legibility in New York City, 1945–1969 by Alix Gitner

୨୧ Baby, You Are My Religion: Women, Gay Bars, And Theology Before Stonewall by Marie Cartier

୨୧ Becoming Visible: An Illustrated History Of Lesbian And Gay Life In Twentieth-Century America by Molly McGary, Fred Wasserman

୨୧ Before Stonewall: The Making of a Gay and Lesbian Community by Andrea Weiss

୨୧ Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold: The History of a Lesbian Community by Elizabeth Lapovsky Kennedy, Madaline D. Davis

୨୧ GLBT Historical Society: Museum & Archives ⋆ general LGBT archives, but a very important and great source

୨୧ Making History: The Struggle for Gay and Lesbian Equal Rights: 1945-1990: An Oral History by Eric Marcus

୨୧ Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life In Twentieth-Century America by Lillian Faderman ⋆ I’m not a fan of this one, but decided to keep it in

୨୧ Uninvited: Classical Hollywood Cinema and Lesbian Representability by Patricia White

୨୧ Unsuitable: A History of Lesbian Fashion by Eleanor Medhurst

𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜

୨୧ A Crystal Diary: A Novel by Frankie Hucklenbroich ⋆ The razor-edged, compelling, often wryly humorous story hustles us from the blood-and-beer-drenched corners of her St. Louis meat-packing district '50s youth, through the sex-soaked Hollywood alleys of her '60s baby butch years, into the druggy metropolis of '70s San Francisco.

୨୧ Beebo Brinker by Ann Bannon ⋆ Beeboo, a butch 17-year-old farm girl newly arrived in New York after she is driven from her Wisconsin home town for wearing drag to the State Fair. Befriended by the gay Jack Mann, a father-figure with a weakness for runaways, Beebo sets out to find love.

୨୧ Departure from the Script by Jae ⋆ An aspiring actress meeting photographer, femme meeting butch in this light-hearted lesbian romance set in Hollywood.

୨୧ Doc and Fluff: The Dystopian Tale of a Girl and Her Biker by Pat Califia ⋆ Set in the bleak and not-too-distant future of a culture in its death throes, Doc and Fluff careens through the lives of a pair of outlaw women struggling to survive on the road.

୨୧ Feast While You Can by Mikaella Clements, Onjuli Datta ⋆ A fresh, queer spin on possession horror with a sharp focus on deeply complex small-town dynamics. A young queer woman who's lived her whole life in the dead-end mountain village of Cadenze finds herself violently possessed by an ancient, malevolent, memory-eating entity that inhabits the caves bordering her home.

୨୧ Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo ⋆ America in 1954 is not a safe place for two girls to fall in love, especially not in Chinatown. Red-Scare paranoia threatens everyone, including Chinese Americans like Lily. With deportation looming over her father—despite his hard-won citizenship—Lily and Kath risk everything to let their love see the light of day.

୨୧ Lucy and Mickey by Red Jordan Arobateau ⋆ Lesbian life in the late 1950s, early '60s; and a powerful romance & sexual drama between two females, Lucy & Mickey.

୨୧ Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller ⋆ In an early puritanical New England town, a butch and femme fall in love and discover they can run a farm and live together away from the world that sought to limit them and their love.

୨୧ Satan's Best by Red Jordan Arobateau ⋆ volume #1 in the ten book lesbian biker series THE OUTLAW CHRONICLES. In this action-packed novel we are introduced to the gang of raunchy and glamorous biker women, including the 5 Warlords who run the Outlaws. Enter beautiful blond butch Angel–lone rider on the storm.

୨୧ Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg ⋆ The life of Jess Goldberg, a working-class Jewish butch lesbian in New York from the 1940s through the 1970s.

୨୧ The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall ⋆ The timeless struggle of a butch and femme couple to be accepted by "polite" society. This now classic was banned outright upon publication in 1928.

𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜

୨୧ Back To Basics: A Butch-Femme Anthology by Theresa Szymanski

୨୧ Breathless: Erotica by Kitty Tsui

୨୧ Hard Road, Easy Riding: Lesbian Biker Erotica by Sacchi Green, Rakelle Valencia

୨୧ Rode Hard, Put Away Wet: Lesbian Cowboy Erotica by Sacchi Green, Rakelle Valencia

୨୧ Set in Stone: Butch-on-Butch Erotica by Angela Brown

୨୧ Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch Femme Erotica by Tristan Taormino

୨୧ The Harder She Comes: Butch/Femme Erotica by D.L. King

𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚢 𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍

୨୧ Butch/Femme edited by M.G. Soares

୨୧ Butch: Not Like The Other Girls by SD Holman

୨୧ Dagger On Butch Women by Lily Burana, Roxxie Linnea Due

୨୧ Love Bites by Del LaGrace Volcano

୨୧ Making Out: The Book Of Lesbian Sex And Sexuality by Zoe Schramm-Evans, Laurence Jaugey Paget

୨୧ Nothing But The Girl: The Blatant Lesbian Image by Susie Bright, Jill Posener

୨୧ The Butch/Femme Photo Project by Wendi Kali

୨୧ The Drag King Book by Del LaGrace Volcano, Judith "Jack" Halberstam

୨୧ The Femme's Guide to the Universe by Shar Rednour

𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖𝚜

୨୧ A Complicated Queerness: Living Femme in a Dyke Community dir. Johanna Buchignani, Emily Hillman ⋆ short film: This film investigates the ways in which gender, power and sexism are lived and experienced within the San Francisco Mission dyke community. The documentary aims to promote awareness of and discussion about the prejudice and invisibility of queer femininity, in order to build alliances and healthier communities.

୨୧ Before Stonewall (1984) dir. Greta Schiller, Robert Rosenberg ⋆ documentary: The history of the Gay and Lesbian community before the Stonewall riots began the major gay rights movement.

୨୧ Bound (1996) dir. The Wachowskis ⋆ thriller/crime: Corky, a tough female ex-convict working on an apartment renovation in a Chicago building meets a couple living next door, Caesar, a paranoid mobster, and Violet.

୨୧ By Hook or By Crook (2001) dir. Harry Dodge, Silas Howard ⋆ crime/romance: A buddy film that chronicles two butches, Shy and Valentine, who collide by chance in the San Francisco streets. Shy is immersed in daydreams about the loving father they lost and Valentine is searching for the mother they never met. Like-hearted mischievous souls, the pair stumbles into a series of shambolic shenanigans — along with Valentine’s girlfriend, Billie.

୨୧ Dream Girls (1994) dir. Kim Longinotto, Jano Williams ⋆ documentary: Women join Japan's all-female Takarazuka Revue musical theater troupe, portraying men's roles. The film explores gender dynamics, desires, and complexities of female identity in Japanese society through these performers' experiences.

୨୧ Gay Tape: Butch and Femme (1985) by Cecilia Dougherty ⋆ short: The Gay Tape brings “a little fine-tuning” to the question of representation, honing in on the subjective particularities of the butch-femme dynamic as experienced by members of Dougherty’s local Bay Area dating pool.

୨୧ Gender Troubles: The Butches (2016) dir. Lisa Plourde ⋆ documentary: What portrayals of lesbianism are acceptable and who gets erased? Butch lesbians from a wide range of backgrounds and ages provide a compelling exploration of society's assumptions and challenge ideas about what it means to be female. They show the rewards that come with self acceptance. Tender, funny, and thought-provoking. NOTE: after clicking the link, scroll down to the middle to watch where it is available with english audio and french, spanish, dutch, or portuguese subtitles.

୨୧ If These Walls Could Talk 2 (2000) dir. Jane Anderson, Anne Heche, Martha Coolidge ⋆ romance/drama: This anthology of short films tells the stories of three lesbian couples - who live in the same house at different periods of time - who are at a crossroads in their lives. The second story includes a motorcycle riding, leather jacket and tie wearing butch, Amy.

୨୧ Last Call at Maud's (1993) dir. Paris Poirier ⋆ documentary: Some genuinely wild women – and some more demure but no less lively types – take center stage in Paris Poirier’s vivacious documentary about the life and times of Maud’s, the longest running lesbian bar ever.

୨୧ Salmonberries (1991) dir. Percy Adlon ⋆ drama/indie: A woman (played by k.d. lang) who grew up in a small town in Alaska goes to the public library to try and find out who her parents were. She eventually befriends the librarian, an East German immigrant who lost her husband while escaping from behind the Iron Curtain. They help each other try to find closure to the events in their past.

୨୧ Shinjuku Boys (1995) dir. Jano Williams, Kim Longinotto ⋆ documentary: This documentary offers rich insight into gender and sexuality in Japan via a candid portrait of Kazuki, Tatsu, and Gaish, three trans masculine hosts working at the New Marilyn Club in Tokyo’s bustling Shinjuku district. As the film follows them at home and on the job, all three talk frankly about their lives, revealing their views on love, sex, and identity.

୨୧ Stormé: The Lady of the Jewel Box (1987) dir. Michelle Parkerson ⋆ documentary/short film: Through archival clips, Stormé DeLarverie, bodygaurd of a women's club and former drag king looks back on the grandeur of the Jewel Box Revue and its celebration of pure entertainment in the face of homophobia and segregation.

୨୧ Stud Life (2012) dir. Campbell X ⋆ romance/drama: JJ, a lesbian, works as a wedding photographer with Seb, a gay man who is her best friend. After JJ falls in love with a gorgeous diva, her friendship with Seb becomes strained, and she may be forced to choose between Seb and her lover.

୨୧ The Aggressives (2005) dir. Daniel Peddle ⋆ documentary: The Aggressives is an exposé on the subculture of masculine presenting people of color and their femme counterparts. Filmed over five years in New York City, the featured subjects share their dreams, secrets, and deepest fears.

୨୧ The Watermelon Woman (1996) dir. Cheryl Dunye ⋆ romance/comedy: An aspiring black lesbian filmmaker researches an obscure 1930s black actress billed as the Watermelon Woman.

𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜

୨୧ A Butch Road Map by Ivan Coyote ⋆ spoken word

୨୧ A Dyke's Bike Repair Handbook by Jill Taylor ⋆ motorcycle care/repair handbook, this one is so random i just love it lol

୨୧ Are Butch and Fem Working-Class and Anti-Feminist? by Sara L. Crawley ⋆ article

୨୧ Butch Between the Wars: A Pre-History of Butch Style in Twentieth-Century Literature, Music, and Film by Karen Allison Hammer ⋆ dissertation

୨୧ Female Masculinity by Judith Halberstam

୨୧ Feminizing Theory: Making Space for Femme Theory by Rhea Ashley Hoskin ⋆ thesis

୨୧ Femme: Feminists, Lesbians, and Bad Girls by Laura Harris, Elizabeth Crocker

୨୧ Lesbian Identity and the Politics of Butch-Femme by Amy Goodloe ⋆ paper/review

୨୧ Lineage To My Femme Foremothers by A.N. ⋆ zine

୨୧ Lipstick & Dipstick's Essential Guide to Lesbian Relationships by Gina Daggett, Kathy Belge

୨୧ Narrating and Negotiating Butch and Femme: Storying Lesbian Selves in a Heteronormative World by Sara L. Crawley ⋆ dissertation

୨୧ On the Appropriation of Femme from Lesbians Over Everything, a discussion between four femmes ⋆ article

୨୧ The Misunderstood Gender: A Model of Modern Femme Identity by Heidi Levitt, Elisabeth Gerrish, Katherine Hiestand ⋆ study

୨୧ The Mythic Mannish Lesbian: Radclyffe Hall and the New Woman by Esther Newton

୨୧ To All the Beautiful, Kick-Ass, and Fierce, Full-Bodied Femmes by Ivan Coyote ⋆ spoken word

i was meaning to post this for when i hit 1k followers, but i somehow have already surpassed that. it is weird to think that i started this blog on january 27. thank you all so much for following and interacting. i hope you enjoy this list and my blog in general!!

much love 💋

#butchfemme masterpost #lesbian #butch lesbian #femme lesbian #lesbian history #butchfemme history #lgbt history #butchfemme

429 notes · View notes

queerpyracy · 2 years ago

Text

i think most of the time the "we weren't taught this in school" is coming from people who simply didn't pay attention but on the other hand this is literally true for me for anything in US history that happened after the nixon administration

#i graduated high school in the early 2010s.#they updated the '1945-present' curriculum literally the next year #you will note. that the class was called 1945 to present.#and the curriculum ended. almost a whole 40 years before what was in fact the present.#1945 to present might as well have referred specifically to the lifespan of the teacher who was retiring at the end of the year #babbles

23 notes · View notes

sergeantbarnessdoll · 4 months ago

Note

Ooo hi! Can I please request an (everyone lives au + Endgame never happened au) Avenger!Bucky X wife!reader where they got married right before Bucky went off to war, and when Bucky fell off that train (and she thought he had died), she didn’t even get the time to mourn because Hydra abducted her and brought her to where they were holding Bucky so that they would have leverage against him. They keep her under cryo the entire time Bucky was the Winner Soldier, so that alongside brainwashing him, they threatened his wife if he stepped out of line. Now present day, Bucky has joined the Avengers and they manage to find and recuse Y/n from Hydra after so long.

Ugh imagine how emotional it’d be for Bucky and Steve to see her again, and the team would make her feel safe and at home! And Bucky would be there every step of the way helping her adjust to one, being out of cryo after almost a century, and two, being in the 21st century!

You Came Back For Me » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Wife!Reader, Husband/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America and the Avengers

Summary: After finding out his wife had been abducted by HYDRA when Bucky was the Winter Soldier, Bucky is now an Avenger and goes back to rescue you with the help of Steve and the Avengers.

Warnings: Fluff, language, abduction, HYDRA, trauma, nightmares, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵 I love how beautifully you described this and I had fun writing it!🥰

A/N #2: Italic text is flashbacks and nightmares. I used Google translate for the Russian translations.

Translations: Give her the serum - Дайте ей сыворотку

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

1943

“We just got married a couple days ago. Do you have to leave so soon?” You asked with a pout.

“I know and I’m sorry.” Bucky whispers. “Look at the bright side, I’ll be home before you know it.” He says, kissing you sweetly and passionately.

———

1945

“Bucky died?” You asked, making sure you heard Steve right.

“Yes.” Steve answers. “I tried reaching for him, but the handle he was holding on to gave out before I could get to him and he fell off of the train.” He explains.

That whole day, you tried to process the death of your husband. “Bucky is never coming home.” is the only thing being echoed in your head. That night, you laid in bed, staring at Bucky’s side of the bed with tears stained on your cheeks. Before you could even react, a hand with a white cloth was put on your mouth. You tried your best to fight off whoever was behind you, but you grew weak the more you inhaled the chloroform and you soon passed out.

SIBERIA - HYDRA BASE

Your eyes fluttered open. You groaned, squinting your eyes to adjust to the light. You looked around the room, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. This isn’t yours and Bucky’s house. It was some kind of lab.

“What the hell…” You mumbled to yourself.

You went to stand up, but couldn’t. Your arms and legs were strapped to the chair you were sitting in. You yanked at the restrains to get loose, but it was no use. The restraints were too tight for you to get free. You jumped at the sound of the door opening. You looked up, seeing a man in a suit and another man in a white lab coat.

“Good to see you awake, Mrs. Barnes.” The man in the suit says.

“Where am I? Who are you?” You asked.

“My name is Arnim Zola and you’re in HYDRA’s base in Siberia.” Zola tells you. “You are our newest addition. You’re going to help out perfectly with our Winter Soldier program.” He explains. “Дайте ей сыворотку.” He tells the man in the lab coat.

The man in the lab coat approached you with an IV that had some kind of suspicious liquid in it. You began to panic. You yanked at the restrains to get free, but it still didn’t work.

“This might burn.” The man in the lab coat said with a Russian accent.

You yelped when the needle pricked your skin. Thats when the pain and trauma began.

———

“Get the woman.” Zola says to an HYDRA agent.

The HYDRA agent nodded and went to the cell they kept you in. You jumped at the sound of the door opening. You scooted back as far as you could on the bed. The agent approached you, grabbing your arm with a bruising grip and yanked you up from the bed. He put handcuffs on you so you didn’t try to do anything. He held onto the chain of the handcuffs and lead you to where the lab. There was a man with a metal arm and long hair sitting in a chair. He’s the Winter Soldier.

There was something about the long haired man that looked familiar. His eye color, hair color, height, and facial structure was the same as your dead husband’s. That’s when it hit you. You gasped with wide eyes. The Winter Soldier is your husband Bucky.

“Bucky!” You say loudly.

The Winter Soldier furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at you.

“Bucky, it’s me Y/N. Your doll.” You tell him.

“Y/N… doll…” The Winter Soldier mumbles to himself.

His eyes widened. The woman in front of him is his wife.

“Oh my god…” He mumbles completely speechless. “Y/N!” Bucky says.

You smiled, happy to hear him say your name. Bucky went to stand up, but two HYDRA agents pushed him back in the chair. You tried to run towards him, but you were yanked backwards causing you to fall down.

“Here’s what’s going to happen…” Zola began, standing in between you and Bucky. “Soldat, I see you recognize your pretty little wife.” He said. “She’s going to be perfect leverage against you. If you overstep in any way, your wife gets it.” He explains. “Meaning, you’ll witness your wife get beaten right in front of you if you don’t do as we say.” He adds. “I’m sure you don’t want anything to happen to your wife.” He says.

Zola cleared his throat at the HYDRA agent standing behind you. He nodded and yanked you up from the floor. He then put a gun to the back of your head. Tears were streaming down your face at this point and your heart was pounding so hard that you thought it was going to burst through your chest. Bucky’s eyes widened in horror and his heart began to pound in fear.

“Do you understand, Soldat?” Zola asks.

Bucky didn’t answer. He continued to stare at you. That’s when he got smacked across his face by a HYDRA agent standing next to him.

“Leave my husband alone!” You shouted.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you heard the gun cock. You honestly thought you were going to die right then and there.

“Do you understand?” Zola repeats. “I’m sure you don’t want anything to happen to your precious doll.” He says.

“Yes, I understand.” Bucky finally answers.

“Good.” Zola said. “Wipe his memory and you’re going to watch as your husband forgets every single memory he has of you.” He says, turning to you before walking away.

You watched as one HYDRA agent pushed Bucky back in the chair and strapped his arms down to the arms of the chair. Another one put a mouth guard in his mouth and something on his head. The first HYDRA agent pushed buttons on a machine to turn it on. That’s when they began to wipe Bucky’s memory. The screams of pain coming from your husband broke your heart. You wanted it to stop.

“Stop it!” You screamed. “You’re hurting him!” You screamed again.

A yelp left your lips when the HYDRA agent standing behind you hit you with the handle of the gun, knocking you out. Blood trickle down your forehead from the gash the gun handle gave you.

“Take her to the cryogenic chamber and freeze her.” Zola tells the HYDRA agent.

The HYDRA agent nodded and drug you to the room where the cryogenic chambers are. You got out in one and they froze you in it like the other Super Soldiers. They wrote your name down on a label and stuck it to the chamber you’re in.

PRESENT DAY - AVENGERS COMPOUND

Now that Bucky has escaped HYDRA. He managed to find Steve and reunite with him. He also joined the Avengers. Bucky was beyond relieved that he doesn’t have to endure anymore torture from HYDRA. One thing does bother him… leaving you behind. He didn’t intentionally leave you behind. He wanted to find Steve and come up with a plan to rescue you. Bucky gets little to no sleep, knowing you’re still at that HYDRA base in Siberia.

Bucky managed to escape all of the HYDRA agents and ran out of the base into the cold. He came to a stop a few feet from the entrance and turned around, staring at the open doors.

“I’m so sorry, my sweet doll. I promise I’ll come back to rescue you.” Bucky says to himself, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Bucky was tossing and turning in his sleep due to the nightmare. He was mumbling “I’m sorry, doll.”and “I’ll come back for you.” in his sleep, a thin layer of sweat covering his face. Due to Steve’s enhanced hearing and his room being next to Bucky’s room, he went to check on his best friend. Steve opened Bucky’s bedroom door, closing it behind him. He approached Bucky’s bed and gently shook him awake.

“Buck, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Steve murmurs softly.

“Y/N!” Bucky gasps loudly, sitting up quickly.

Steve took a couple steps back, giving Bucky some space. He turned on the light. Bucky squinted his eyes to adjust to the light. He was breathing heavily. Sweat and tears covered his face.

“You had that nightmare again didn’t you?” Steve says.

Bucky exhales shakily and nods his head yes. He leaned his back against the headboard, rubbing his hands over his face and running his fingers through his long brown hair. Bucky’s eyes were red from crying. Steve sat down on the side of the bed next to Bucky.

“We’ll rescue her. I promise.” Steve says, putting a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky gave him a soft smile. Later on that morning, Bucky, Steve, and the Avengers were in the conference room discussing the plan Bucky came up with to rescue you from the HYDRA base in Siberia.

“Can I say something?” Tony asks.

“Yes.” Bucky says.

“When we do go to the base to rescue your wife, what if she’s not there?” He asks.

“She’s there. I know she’s there. I seen her.” He claims. “I’m not giving up hope on my wife. I need to rescue her. I made a promise.” He says.

Tears brimmed Bucky’s eyes. Steve stood up from his chair, gently ushering Bucky out of the conference room and took him to the lounge room.

“You need to take a break.” Steve tells Bucky.

“I can’t, Steve! Y/N needs my help!” Bucky exclaims.

“I know you want to help her. I want to help her to. You can’t help her if you down take a breath.” He says.

Bucky knows Steve’s right. He sat down on the couch, breaking down in tears. It broke Steve’s heart to see his best friend so brokenhearted. He sat down next to him and comforted him the best he could.

“I miss her.” Bucky cries, his voice cracking.

“I do too.” Steve whispers.

Bucky’s crying died down after a few minutes. He sniffled and wiped his tears away with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He then took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

“I’m in charge for this rescue mission.” Bucky says.

“You should be. It’s your plan and your wife.” Steve says.

The next day, Bucky, Steve, and the Avengers suited up and got in the quinjet, making their way to the HYDRA base you’re being kept at. Bucky couldn’t stay still the whole flight. He was pacing back and forth in the quinjet and tugging at his hair.

“I’m on my way, doll.” Bucky kept repeating to himself.

Steve approached Bucky, standing a few feet away from.

“Buck?” Steve catches Bucky’s attention. “We’re about 15 minutes out from the base.” He informs him.

Bucky nodded and went to the weapons area of the quinjet, loading his gun and putting it in the holster on his tactical pants, along with his knife. Steve got his shield and put it on his back. Everyone else got their weapons ready as well.

When they arrived at the base, everyone got off of the quinjet and walked to the base. Bucky stopped a few feet away from the entrance, staring at the door. His breathing became uneven.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Buck. You got this.” Steve says, patting Bucky’s back.

Bucky took a deep breath before approaching the door. He broke the lock off with his metal hand and opened it with Steve’s help. Everyone entered the base. Everyone split up into twos, going to the areas of the base they were assigned. Bucky is with Steve, Sam is with Wanda, Tony is with Bruce, Clint is with Natasha, and Peter is with Thor.

“Do you know where she is in here?” Steve whispers.

“No, but I heard them talking about it many times.” Bucky answers. “If she’s not in any of the cells, then she’s somewhere else in here.” He says.

Bucky and Steve checked the cell you were in before you got put in the cryogenic chamber. The door had a label with your name on it. Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat when he seen it. He then kicked the door down. Him and Steve entered the cell, looking everywhere in there, but you were in there.

“She’s not in here, Buck.” Steve says.

“She’s not in the med bay.” Natasha informs through the ear pieces.

“She’s not in any of the storage rooms.” Peter informs.

“She’s not in the labs.” Sam informs.

“She’s not in the weapons room.” Tony informs.

Bucky’s eyes teared up and he crouched down, putting his face in his hands.

“Buck…” Steve murmurs softly.

“N-No! She’s here somewhere! I know it!” Bucky says.

While Bucky was having his moment and trying to figure out where else you could be in the base, a HYDRA agent was walking by and seen the door broken down to the cell.

“What are you guys doing here?” The HYDRA agent asks, putting his hand on his gun.

Bucky stood up and approached him, knocking the gun out of his hand and slammed the agent against the wall.

“Where the hell is my wife?!” Bucky growls.

“Care to be more specific?” The HYDRA agent says.

“Y/N Barnes. Where is she?” He asks.

“Oh, her?” The agent chuckles. “Why would I tell you that?” He says.

Bucky took his gun out of his hostler and shot the HYDRA agent in his foot. The agent cried out in pain.

“Tell me where my wife is!” Bucky growls, putting the gun against the side of the agents head.

“She’s in the cryogenic chamber room.” He finally tells him.

Bucky threw the HYDRA agent to the floor and ran to the cryogenic chamber room with Steve following closely behind him.

“Which chamber is Y/N in?” Steve asks, looking at all of the cryos.

“This one.” Bucky says, walking to the one with your name on it.

Bucky looked inside of the cryo. He felt relieved when he seen you. He just needs to figure out how to get you out of it.

“There’s a button or something that opens it.” Bucky says.

Bucky and Steve looked everywhere for the button, finding it on the side of the cryo. He pushed it and it opened slowly.

“Help me get here out of this.” Bucky says.

Steve helped Bucky unstrap you from the cryo. Bucky gently eased you out of it, holding you against his body. He checked for your pulse. Bucky felt even more relieved when he felt it. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the quinjet.

“We found her. Go back to the quinjet.” Steve informs everyone.

The flight back to the compound, Bucky held you close to him and whispered “You’re safe now.” over and over to you. Steve, on the other hand, was in shock. He can’t believe you’re alive. What he does know is that he’s happy to see you and he’s glad you’re ok.

When everyone got back to the compound, Bucky immediately took you to the med bay and got you checked out. The doctors told Bucky everything is fine with you and you’ll wake up soon. Bucky didn’t leave your side for a second and neither did Steve.

“What did they do to her?” Steve asks.

“They abducted her after they got their hands on me and put the serum in her.” Bucky tells him. “They also used her as leverage against me.” He adds.

“Leverage? What do you mean they used her as leverage against you?” Steve asks.

“They umm…” Bucky paused to clear his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, remembering that day quite well.

“I’m sure you don’t anything to happen to your wife.” Zola’s words echoed in Bucky’s mind.

“If I didn’t do what they wanted, they were going to beat her.” He finally says.

“Oh my god. That’s horrible.” Steve says.

Steve looks at you with a soft expression on his face. He furrowed when he seen a scar on your forehead.

“How did she get this scar?” Steve asks, gently tracing the small length of the scar with his thumb.

“She told them to leave me alone and to stop hurting me so a HYDRA agent knocked her out with a handle of a gun when they were wiping my memory.” Bucky tells him.

“Oh my god.” Steve whispers.

Bucky winces at the memory of it, squeezing his eyes shut and tears spilling from his eyes.

“This is all my fault.” Bucky whispers, his voice cracking.

“This is not your fault, Buck. You couldn’t have known HYDRA was gonna get their hands on Y/N after you fell off the train.” Steve says.

“I could’ve done something.” He says.

“You did do something. You went back to rescue her.” He says softly.

You heard two voices as you started to come to your senses. You stirred a bit before opening your eyes, squinting them to adjust to the light in the room.

“Buck, she’s awake.” Steve says.

Bucky looked at you and almost jumped out of his chair to lean closer to you.

“Y/N, doll, can you hear me?” Bucky asks softly.

You thought you were hallucinating at first when you heard your husband’s voice. You turned your head towards the sound of your husband’s voice. You weren’t hallucinating. Your husband is sitting by your bedside.

“J-James?” You asked hoarsely.

“Yes, doll. It’s James.” Bucky confirms.

“I-I missed you.” You murmured, your voice cracking.

“I missed you too, babydoll.” He says softly.

Bucky reached a hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it. Steve couldn’t help but let a couple tears spill from his eyes at the sight of his two best friends being reunited with each other.

“Steve is here too.” Bucky points at Steve.

“Stevie?” You asked, turning your head towards him.

“Hi, Y/N.” Steve says softly.

You reached a hand out towards him. Steve put his hand in yours, smiling at you.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

“I missed you too.” He whispers back.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, confused about where you are. It’s not the HYDRA base. This place is so much nicer than the HYDRA base.

“Where- Where am I?” You asked, looking from Steve to your husband.

“You’re in the med bay in the Avengers compound.” Bucky tells you.

“Avengers?” You asked.

“They’re the hero’s who helped me rescue you. Steve helped too.” He says.

Your eyes teased up when Bucky said him, Steve, and the Avengers rescued you.

“You came back for me?” You asked in a whisper.

“Of course I did, doll. I will never leave you behind. Never again. I promise.” He says softly.

As you adjust to lift in the 21st century with your husband, you thought it would be difficult, but it wasn’t. Bucky and Steve helped you adjust to the 21st century, along with the Avengers. Everyone has been so very helpful to you, especially Bucky. Wanda and Natasha gave you clothes that belong to them for you to wear. You quickly became friends with the Avengers. It also took you a while to get used to living in the Avengers compound.

You were tossing and turning in your sleep. You were having a reoccurring nightmare from what you witnessed in HYDRA.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” echoed in your mind.

Bucky felt you moving and mumbling next to him. He turned on the bedside lamp and turned to face you. Your eyebrows were furrowed and a sweating a little bit.

“Doll?” Bucky whispers, gently shaking you. “Doll?” He whispers again. “Doll, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” He whispers.

You gasped loudly and sat up, breathing heavily and tried to gather your surroundings. You looked around the room, quickly realizing that you’re in Bucky’s bedroom in the Avengers compound, not the HYDRA base. Bucky put a hand on your back, rubbing in circles. You leaned into his touch.

“You’re ok now. You’re safe.” Bucky whispers.

You took a deep breath and nodded, closing your eyes.

“I’m going to get you something to drink, ok?” He says softly.

You quickly grabbed Bucky’s arms before he stood up, holding it with a tight grip.

“I’ll be right back. I promise.” He coos in a whisper.

You whimpered, staring in his blue eyes with your teary eyes. It broke Bucky’s heart to see you like this. He leaned towards you, kissing your forehead.

“Do you want to go to the kitchen with me?” He asks.

You nodded your head yes. Bucky stood up, holding his right hand out to you. You put your hand in his and stood up. Bucky led you to the kitchen, holding your hand the whole time. He set you up at the table and got you something to drink. Steve walked in the kitchen for something to drink a moment later, seeing you and Bucky in there.

“You two are up late.” Steve breaks the silence in the kitchen.

You stood up from the table and went over to Steve, hugging him tightly. Steve immediately hugged you back.

“What’s going on? Are you ok?” He asks.

You shook your head no. Steve looked at Bucky.

“She had a nightmare.” Bucky tells him.

Steve sat you back at the table before taking a seat next to you. Bucky sat in the chair on the other side of you. He put a glass of water in front of you. You tapped your fingers against the glass, staring at the water in the cup.

“Do you want to tell us what the nightmare was about?” Bucky asks softly.

“It’s always the same nightmare.” You mumbled. “HYDRA hurting you.” You say, tearing up.

“Oh, doll…” He whispers, pulling you close to him, kissing the side of your head. “They can’t hurt us anymore.” He murmurs.

Steve put a comforting hand on your shoulder. You turned your head towards Steve, laying your head against Bucky’s chest.

“I can’t imagine what you two went through, but none of that should’ve happened to you guys.” Steve says sympathetically.

You gave Steve a soft smile. You turned to Bucky, leaning up to kiss his lips softly. You then reached a hand out to hold Steve’s hand.

“I love you guys.” You say softly.

“We love you too.” They say in unison.

“You love me more, right?” Bucky jokingly says, making you giggle.

It warmed Bucky’s heart to hear you giggle. It warmed Steve’s heart too. It made both Super Soldiers smile.

“You know I do, sweetie.” You smiled up at your husband.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

617 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

Text

"Efficiency" left the Big Three vulnerable to smart UAW tactics

Tomorrow (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tomorrow night, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

It's been 143 days since the WGA went on strike against the Hollywood studios. While early tactical leaks from the studios had studio execs chortling and twirling their mustaches about writers caving once they started losing their homes, the strikers aren't wavering – they're still out there, pounding the picket lines, every weekday:

https://www.cnbc.com/2023/08/09/how-hollywood-writers-make-ends-meet-100-days-into-the-writers-guild-strike.html

The studios obviously need writers. That gleeful, anonymous studio exec who got such an obvious erotic charge at the thought of workers being rendered homeless as punishment for challenging his corporate power completely misread the room, and his comments didn't demoralize the writers. Instead, they inspired the actors to go on strike, too.

But how have the writers stayed out since May Day? How have the actors stayed out for 69 days since their strike started on Bastille Day? We can thank the studios for that! As it turns out, the studios have devoted so much energy to rendering creative workers as precarious as possible, hiring as little as they can getting away with and using punishing overtime as a substitute for adequate staffing that they've eliminated all the workers who can't survive on side-hustles and savings for six or seven months at a time.

But even for those layoff-hardened workers, long strikes are brutal, and of course, all the affiliated trades, from costumers to grips, are feeling the pain. The strike fund only goes so far, and non-striking, affected workers don't even get that. That's why I've been donating regularly to the Entertainment Community Fund, which helps all affected workers out with cash transfers (I just gave them another $500):

https://secure2.convio.net/afa/site/Donation2?df_id=8117&8117.donation=form1&mfc_pref=T

As hot labor summer is revealed as a turning point – not just a season – long strikes will become the norm. Bosses still don't believe in worker power, and until they get their minds right, they're going to keep on trying to starve their workforces back inside. To get a sense of how long workers will have to hold out, just consider the Warrior Met strike, where Alabama coal-miners stayed out for 23 months:

https://www.thenation.com/article/activism/warrior-met-strike-union/

As Kim Kelly explained to Adam Conover in the latest Factually podcast, the Alabama coal strikers didn't get anywhere near the attention that the Hollywood strikers have enjoyed:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvyMHf7Yg0Q

(To learn more about the untold story of worker organizing, from prison unions to the key role that people of color and women played in labor history, check out Kelly's book, "Fight Like Hell," now in paperback:)

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Fight-Like-Hell/Kim-Kelly/9781982171063

Which brings me to the UAW strike. This is an historic strike, the first time that the UAW has struck all of the Big Three automakers at once. Past autoworkers' strikes have marked turning points for all American workers. The 1945/46 GM strike established employers' duty to cover worker pensions, health care, and cost of living allowances. The GM strike created the American middle-class:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-18-uaw-strikes-built-american-middle-class/

The Big Three are fighting for all the marbles here. They are refusing to allow unions to organize EV factories. Given that no more internal combustion cars will be in production in just a few short years, that's tantamount to eliminating auto unions altogether. The automakers are flush with cash, including billions in public subsidies from multiple bailouts, along with billions more from greedflation price-gouging. A long siege is inevitable, as the decimillionaires running these companies earn their pay by starving out their workers:

https://www.businessinsider.com/general-motors-ceo-mary-barra-salary-auto-workers-strike-uaw-2023-9

The UAW knows this, of course, and their new leadership – helmed by the union's radical president Shawn Fain – has a plan. UAW workers are engaged in tactical striking, shutting down key parts of the supply chain on a rolling basis, making the 90-day strike fund stretch much farther:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2023-09-18-labors-militant-creativity/

In this project, they are greatly aided by Big Car's own relentless pursuit of profit. The automakers – like every monopolized, financialized sector – have stripped all the buffers and slack out of their operations. Inventory on hand is kept to a bare minimum. Inputs are sourced from the cheapest bidder, and they're brought to the factory by the lowest-cost option. Resiliency – spare parts, backup machinery – is forever at war with profits, and profits have won and won and won, leaving auto production in a brittle, and easily shattered state.

This is especially true for staffing. Automakers are violently allergic to hiring workers, because new workers get benefits and workplace protection. Instead, the car companies routinely offer "voluntary" overtime to their existing workforce. By refusing this overtime, workers can kneecap production, without striking.

Enter "Eight and Skate," a campaign among UAW workers to clock out after their eight hour shift. As Keith Brower Brown writes for Labor Notes, the UAW organizers are telling workers that "It’s crossing an unofficial picket line to work overtime. It’s helping out the company":

https://labornotes.org/2023/09/work-extra-during-strike-auto-workers-say-eight-and-skate

Eight and Skate has already started to work; the Buffalo Ford plant can no longer run its normal weekend shifts because workers are refusing to put in voluntary overtime. Of course, bosses will strike back: the next step will be forced overtime, which will lead to the unsafe conditions that unionized workers are contractually obliged to call paid work-stoppages over, shutting down operations without touching the strike fund.

What's more, car bosses can't just halt safety stoppages or change the rules on overtime; per the UAW's last contract, bosses are required to bargain on changes to overtime rules:

https://uaw.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Working-Without-Contract-FAQ-FINAL-2.pdf

Car bosses have become lazily dependent on overtime. At GM's "highly profitable" SUV factory in Arlington, TX, normal production runs a six-days, 24 hours per day. Workers typically work five eight-hour days and nine hours on Saturdays. That's been the status quo for 11 years, but when bosses circulated the usual overtime signup sheet last week, every worker wrote "a big fat NO" next to their names.

Writing for The American Prospect, David Dayen points out that this overtime addiction puts a new complexion on the much-hyped workerpocalypse that EVs will supposedly bring about. EVs are much simpler to build than conventional cars, the argument goes, so a US transition to EVs will throw many autoworkers out of work:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-20-big-threes-labor-shortages-uaw/

But the reality is that most autoworkers are doing one and a half jobs already. Reducing the "workforce" by a third could leave all these workers with their existing jobs, and the 40-hour workweek that their forebears fought for at GM inn 1945/46. Add to that the additional workers needed to make batteries, build and maintain charging infrastructure, and so on, and there's no reason to think that EVs will weaken autoworker power.

And as Dayen points out, this overtime addiction isn't limited to cars. It's also endemic to the entertainment industry, where writers' "mini rooms" and other forms of chronic understaffing are used to keep workforces at a skeleton crew, even when the overtime costs more than hiring new workers.

Bosses call themselves job creators, but they have a relentless drive to destroy jobs. If there's one thing bosses hate, it's paying workers – hence all the hype about AI and automation. The stories about looming AI-driven mass unemployment are fairy tales, but they're tailor made for financiers who get alarming, life-threatening priapism at the though of firing us all and replacing us with shell-scripts:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This is why Republican "workerism" rings so hollow. Trump's GOP talks a big game about protecting "workers" (by which they mean anglo men) from immigrants and "woke captialism," but they have nothing to say about protecting workers from bosses and bankers who see every dime a worker gets as misappropriated from their dividend.

Unsurprisingly, conservative message-discipline sucks. As Luke Savage writes in Jacobin, for every mealymouthed Josh Hawley mouthing talking points that "support workers" by blaming China and Joe Biden for the Big Three's greed, there's a Tim Scott, saying the quiet part aloud:

https://jacobin.com/2023/09/republicans-uaw-strike-hawley-trump-scott/

Quoth Senator Scott: "I think Ronald Reagan gave us a great example when federal employees decided they were going to strike. He said, you strike, you’re fired. Simple concept to me. To the extent that we can use that once again, absolutely":

https://twitter.com/American_Bridge/status/1704136706574741988

The GOP's workerism is a tissue-thin fake. They can never and will never support real worker power. That creates an opportunity for Biden and Democrats to seize:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

Reversing two generations of anti-worker politics is a marathon, not a sprint. The strikes are going to run for months, even years. Every worker will be called upon to support their striking siblings, every day. We can do it. Solidarity now. Solidarity forever.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

#pluralistic #strikes #uaw #labor #automakers #big three #big car #eight and skate #work to rule #tactics

4K notes · View notes

pitchsidestories · 1 day ago

Text

How fast the night changes II Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1945

summary: Reader and Aitana dreamed of debuting together. Now, she watches from the sidelines—still part of the game, still part of her. requested

author's note: hey, we hope you enjoy this oneshot — as always, we really appreciate any feedback or thoughts you’d like to share with us. 💙❤️

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

Every pass floated smoothly across the wet grass. You didn’t even need to look, you always knew where Aitana was on the pitch at all times.

There was this quiet understanding between you, your playing styles matching puzzle pieces. When one had the ball, the other one simply knew where to go. You just worked, like clockwork.

You played the pass blindly, slipping it perfectly between two defenders. And as the stadium erupted, you knew without seeing it, that Aitana had received the ball like you knew she would.

Everything that happened next was second nature. Aitana would cut inside. She would send the ball into the box. You only had to make the run, and it would be an easy goal. You knew that.

But as you took the first strides, accelerating from a light jog to a full sprint, it happened. A sharp pain in your knee, as your studs caught in the grass. Your knee gave in with a loud pop.

Pain blurred together with the sudden realisation of what had just happened.

You found yourself on the grass, unable to move. Screaming, from pain and frustration, tears started to slip from the corners of your eyes.

The faces of your teammates appeared over you, worried and afraid. From their expressions you knew it.

It was over.

You didn’t want to see any of them, there was only one person you needed right now.

“Y/N!”

There she was. Aitana ran toward you, calling out your name.

You tried to reach for her, let her hold you and comfort you but the medics already lifted you on a stretcher. Your fingertips barely touched hers and then you were already carried off.

“Y/N?”

It was Aitana again, her voice soft this time.

You blinked. There was no football stadium and no stretcher. Just your bedroom.

Early morning light filtered into the room.

You blinked again, trying to find your way back into reality.

“Bon dia.”, Aitana smiled at you. Her hair was damp, her skin warm from the shower. She must have been awake for a while.

Once she recognised the disturbed look on your face, her eyebrows knotted together.

“Nightmare?”, she asked gently.

You nodded, sitting up slowly. Your voice cracked slightly: “I… yeah…”

It had been years since the injury, it shouldn’t haunt you anymore, but it did.

Aitana sat down on the empty side of the bed, reaching for your hand: “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No… it’s the same one I always have.”, you said, shaking your head. Back when the injury happened, and the doctors rather quickly confirmed it had ended your young career, the nightmares were even more frequent keeping you awake most nights.

So many questions kept circling in your head at the time, making your heart pound: Who were you, if not a professional athlete? What would your career path look like now?

Then, as in the present, Aitana had always been there for you.

In this moment, the brunette gave you an empathetic smile: “Oh, amor. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”, you assured her.

Slowly, Aitana got up from the bed and declared: “Wait here. I’ll make us some coffee.”

Her spot was quickly taken over by your beloved black cat, who elegantly curled up in your lap. Despite their reputation, she always knew exactly when to come—and when you needed her quiet comfort.

It didn’t take your girlfriend long to return with two steaming cups of cappuccino, and you gratefully took one into your hands.

“Thanks, amor.”

“You’re welcome.”, Aitana replied with a smile, settling down opposite you.

“Appreciate it.”, you muttered.

Lightly, she teased: “Feeling better, coach?”

“Don’t, Tana.”, you grimaced.

The midfielder bit her lip, looking apologetic: “Too soon? Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said warmly.

Invitingly, you opened your arms, setting the cup down on the nightstand—which had little space left, mostly taken over by books: “Come here for a bit.”

“Our cat seems to be enjoying it too.”, Aitana observed with a smirk as she gladly accepted your invitation, the three of you settling down together.

Mirroring her grin, you agreed: “She’s very cuddly today.”

“Yes, the little one can sense that you needed this after the bad dream.”, she hummed. For a moment, the brunette closed her eyes, savouring the peacefulness, until they flicked open again and landed on the clock.

Quietly, your girlfriend cursed: “Shit, we need to get ready!”

“You’re right.”, you chuckled, amused by how your usually composed partner was anything but, in this moment.

Mockingly, Aitana raised a finger: “You work or don’t work. Hey!”

“I always work.”, you replied, playfully tossing a pillow in her direction.

As a sign of peace, she offered: “We’ll be faster if we shower together.” Apparently, she’d already forgotten she’d had one just an hour ago.

“Oh, I’m sure this is purely about time management and saving water.”, you laughed, thoroughly amused.

Innocently, your girlfriend helped you out of bed, the two of you holding hands as you stepped into the bathroom: “Definitely. Come on.”

Unlike your younger, more anxious self, you had managed to find a job that kept you as close to the pitch as possible. You were just beginning your journey as a coach, learning under the guidance of the Barcelona B team manager.

Although the environment was familiar—after all, both you and Aitana had come through the ranks of La Masia—coaching within the system posed an entirely new kind of challenge.

“Hi, y/n, I’ve got a suggestion for you.”, he greeted you.

Surprised, you looked at him: “You do?”

He nodded calmly: “I spoke to Pere. He offered to let you intern with him for a while.”

Your eyes widened.

“Oh, I’d love that.”, you stammered, overwhelmed with emotion and struggling to put it into words.

“I think it’ll help your development to see all teams here.”, he added.

“As you know, I want to learn everything. ”, you said, voice full of conviction.

He smiled briefly: “I know. That’s why I talked to Pere. You can start right now.”

Right now?

You blinked at him for a moment but had no time to process it. He gestured for you to follow him, and you did, walking together until you reached the training pitch.

Training was already in full swing. The players were busy with an intricate passing exercise when Pere strode over with a warm smile and his hand extended.

“Hi y/n.”

You shook his hand.

“Hi, Pere. Thank you for having me here.”

“Oh, no worries. Hansi and I were both very impressed by you. And I wanted to have you here first.”, he grinned.

You paused, unsure if you heard that right. The men’s teams coach?

“You what?”

“You heard me.”, he chuckled.

You sceptically raised an eyebrow: “You were fighting over me? After like one training session you watched together?”

“Well…”

You snorted: “So yes.”

“Yeah.”, he admitted with a wry grin.

The whole exchange made you laugh but the praise from two seasoned coaches made your chest swell with pride.

“Wow.”, you said simply.

“But that’s not important now.”, Pere said, leading you further onto the pitch.

You smiled up at him: “Right. Tell me all your secrets.”

He chuckled softly: “That’s your plan? You’re just collecting all our secrets and become the best coach of all time?”

“Exactly, that’s the long term plan.”, you laughed. You let your gaze drift across the field, stopping when you found what you were looking for.

“My girlfriend is one of the best players, so I got to catch up.”, you added, never taking your eyes off Aitana.

Pere followed your gaze.

“Your girlfriend had to work hard to find her own style on the pitch. And you will have to find yours off the pitch now.”

“I will.”, you said, serious now before switching into coach mode and seizing the break in the players training to greet them.

“Hi, girls.”, you called out with a wave.

Aitana’s face lit up the second she saw you: “Amor!”

“No, amor, I’m working right now.”, you told her quickly, feeling your cheeks flush red.

She corrected herself swiftly, giggles from the Barcelona teammates audible in the background:” Sorry. Coach?”

“Yes. Stop laughing, children.”, you warned the younger players, biting back a grin yourself.

Having attended almost every match Aitana had played in, you knew the squad inside out—from the youngest to the most senior. You’d even played in the youth ranks alongside some of them, like Ona.

“We’re not doing anything.”, Vicky replied innocently.

Smiling, Sydney added: “Yeah, we were just saying what a power couple you two are.”

“Power couple?”, Aitana repeated, frowning.

“It’s obvious. Coach and player.”, Salma shrugged.

“Well, we even played together once.”, you offered.

A fond smile tugged at Ona’s lips: “I remember that.”

“She says that like it takes away from the whole power couple thing.”, Salma sighed.

The defender shook her head:” No, it doesn’t. The two of them were unstoppable—always scoring.”

“I told you. Power couple.”, Vicky grinned, as though she’d just won a courtroom case.

You tried to steer the conversation back to more professional ground: “If you say so. What do you think of Pere as a coach?”

“He’s alright.”, Salma replied dutifully.

You looked at the footballer curiously: “And what would your ideal coach be like?”

“Amor, there’s no such thing as the ideal coach, and you know it. Stop chasing perfection.”, Aitana said softly.

You folded your arms across your chest: “You’re a perfectionist yourself.”

“I know, Aitana whispered proudly, “but you’re already so good.”

You ran a hand nervously through your hair—compliments always made you feel a little uncomfortable: “Oh, thanks, but I didn’t really do much today.”

“It’s because you keep flirting with your girlfriend. Let’s get back to work, girls.”, Pere called out, clapping his hands, clearly keen to resume the training session.

Amused, Alexia turned her head to glance back at your girlfriend: “Who knew Aitana could get distracted?”

“Ale!”, Aitana protested, snatching the ball from the captain’s hands to prove just how motivated she was.

Still smirking, Alexia reassured her: “No, I love it. But let’s focus now.”

At the gym, her teammates continued to tease her, especially as your girlfriend focused intently on her arm workout—she knew how much you loved her strong arms.

Later, back at home, the two of you relaxed on the balcony, enjoying the last rays of sunshine.

“It’s good to see you smiling again,” Aitana remarked softly. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

Quietly, you admitted: “No… but it feels good to be back on the pitch. Even if it’s not as a player.”

She nodded happily: “Yes—and you’re still part of the game we both love.”

“Just in a different way now.” It had taken you a while to realise that different didn’t have to mean worse.

“Exactly.”

Aitana leaned in, pressing a heartfelt kiss to your lips as the sun gave way to the moon and stars.

A few weeks later, your girlfriend spoke about you in her speech as she added yet another award to her already impressive collection.

When the midfielder returned to her seat, you lightly tugged at the fabric of her elegant dress: “Tana, you don’t need to mention me every time.”

“I do,” Aitana countered, unwavering. “You’re such a big part of my life—these trophies are partly yours too.”

“We’ve been, and still are, a good team.”, you acknowledged with a gentle smile.

“On and off the pitch,” she added, her beautiful doe brown eyes shining.

And at long last, your nightmares had stopped too.

195 notes · View notes

zepskies · 4 months ago

Text

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut.

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said.

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?”

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap.

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once.

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?”

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said.

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks.

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly.

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. "By the end, D-Day was just one of a lot of days."

You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.

His brows furrowed. “Do what?”

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.”

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.”

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.”

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.”

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement.

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff.

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so.

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly.

“Hmm. No real loss there then.”

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.”

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner.

“Excuse me?”

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.”

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.”

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Between the City & the Stars Masterlist

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1)

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @thebiggerbear

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @impala-dreamer

445 notes · View notes