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sparrowsage · 2 days ago

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The Warehouse: The Ending of a Story

This piece was definitely something to write, I'll say that. It was interesting to write this out and figuring out how to make sure things were even in terms of actions and internal thoughts and dialog the way I wanted but at last, here we are. I assure you all that Sparrow will be fine, this is hardly the ending of Warehouse, far from it. This piece is important for up coming things and needed to be written to set up stuff for future pieces down the line. It is also set after a certain event that is still in the works and happens around 2 months into the story and hopefully will be posted soon. I'd like to give a huge shout out to @flowersarefreetherapy for giving me some suggestions on where to take things at certain parts and being a beta for the piece, as well as thanking @whumpcereal, @darkthingshappen, and @oddsconvert for cheering me on as always! The piece starts under the cut due to it's content.

HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS PIECE AS IT'S A VERY HEAVY PIECE THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME PEOPLE!!! TW: Reference/mention to past and future noncon, mention of past torture, mention of past character death, implied future torture, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, self harm thoughts, self harm, depressive thought process, heavy grieving, adult language, thoughts about the afterlife (If I missed anything, please let me know and it'll get added ASAP)

“Hope you enjoy your new home, Songbird. Maybe then you’ll wish you were still with me.”

Why did Damon have to be right?

He was right to a degree, anyway, Sparrow thought, staring at Damon’s desk from his lying position on the floor in a corner of Damon’s office, barely being able to make out the outline of the piece of furniture in the dark.

From the second he had gotten on that stupid thing, what was it called again? A plane, that’s what it was called, a plane. From the second he had gotten on that stupid plane, Sparrow had already been wishing he was back in Damon’s care. It may not have surfaced fully at the time, but deep down, that’s what he felt. With Damon, he at least knew routine, knew the environment he was living in, how things worked. With Volkov, he knew nothing, only that he had to survive. Sure, he had survived living on the island for two weeks only to be shipped back here, but things were different. He had to readjust to the system again. It should have been easy when he returned, slipping right back into proper routine with his Keeper as if he had never left the place, but it wasn’t.

Nothing feels the same now. Things he was used to, things he would normally fight against without a second thought, would send spikes of fear straight through his core, alongside doubts of why he was even fighting back in the first place. Because why fight back when there was no hope of ever leaving, of ever escaping this awful hell when everything you go through today would just repeat the next?

There were also the nightmares. So many nightmares, most of which were the events of his past. Before he left for the island, they hardly happened. That, or he never remembered them. Now though, each night he kept reliving the most awful things he had ever experienced in this place and he couldn’t get them to stop no matter what he did. Some were about when he was a kid, a mixture of different points in his training both before and after he was thirteen with Logan. Some were about after Jayden died and how much shit he went through due to how hard he’d fight back and retaliate. Most of them though were about Jayden. Sometimes his brain would just relive the moment he died, each time reopening the wound and bringing up all the horrible emotions he felt when it had happened. Other times it would twist the event and provide him the false hope and relief of returning to the main room and finding his friend, alive and perfectly fine, as if the whole thing never happened.

Sparrow’s eyes moved slowly over the faint outline of the desk light Damon had on his desk as he thought, letting out a quiet sigh as thoughts kept circling in and around in his head.

Damon had left him unrestrained tonight, a small reward for both being able to go through a shower for the first time since returning without heavy retaliation or fighting and for complying with more orders than he usually did. There was a small part somewhere inside him that was grateful for the fact he wasn’t restrained for once during the night, but a bigger part of him hated it because it meant that he was obeying, crumbling under Damon’s training, something he swore from the moment he first awoke in the Keeper’s office that he’d never do.

What good was there in fighting back at this point? If he had listened to the Keepers, so much wouldn’t have happened, so much pain he would have never had endured. He wouldn’t have been a free-for-all amongst the Keepers, he wouldn’t be under Damon’s controlling hand, he wouldn’t have gone to Volkov’s island, Jayden wouldn’t have died.

Tears started to well in Sparrow’s eyes as he continued to trace the outlines of the things on Damon’s desk with his gaze.

It was all his fault.

Jayden had never fought back that hard against the Keepers until that day, and it was all because he had watched Sparrow do it time and time again. If Sparrow hadn’t been hell bent on fighting back, Jayden would be alive right now. He’d be fine.

Maybe it was a mercy though, Sparrow thought, shutting his eyes tight as he felt the tears finally spill from his eyes. He’d forever be upset and angry that Jayden died, that he lost his one and only friend to Logan and this awful system, but maybe it was a mercy. A way out of this horrible cycle once and for all.

Jayden had endured his fair share of abuse here, especially around the time when he died, but he was able to get out before more could ever occur. Worse things Sparrow had unfortunately gone through and would continue to go through. Sparrow had heard some stories about different pet owners, what they did to those they purchased. At the time he heard these stories, before he was with Damon, he didn’t envy those pets, quite fine with the safety netting that the Keepers couldn’t deal out that kind of damage. Now it seemed like he was living out those stories he had heard so long ago, all because he had tried to fight back against the system.

Opening his eyes again, Sparrow eyed the desk for a second before he slowly pushed himself up to his feet, wiping the tears from his eyes.

A mercy, a way out once and for all.

If he could pull it off, Sparrow would be free. He’d never have to go through another Showing again, never have to see Damon or any of the other Keepers again. He’d never have to watch Jayden die again in his dreams. Maybe he’d be able to see Jayden again, getting to be with his friend wherever he ended up after he died. Sparrow didn’t know where people went after they died; maybe they went to a new world, a better world, maybe they just stopped existing entirely. At this point, anything was better than being here.

Slowly, Sparrow made his way over to Damon’s desk, his eyes slowly going void of any emotion as tears silently fell down his cheeks every now and then. Clicking the desk lamp on, he flinched slightly at the light, it taking a second for his eyes to adjust after spending the last few hours in the dark.

He never understood why things were like how they were. Why did he have to be one of so many to get treated so horribly? Why did the Keepers have all the say in everything they ever got to do and feel? No choice in any matter, no say in anything that happened, nothing. If there were only two options on who to be in this world; a pet, whose only job is to serve whoever owns them however they want no matter the cost, or a Keeper, whose job it was to enforce control and dominance over pets, to train them so they could fulfil their purpose, Sparrow would much prefer to be a Keeper. Then that way everything would stop, things would be better. He’d have control over his life.

None of that mattered though, because it was never going to happen, and he wasn’t going to be a pet for much longer. To hell with what he was supposed to be.

He could see the desk more clearly now that the lamp was on. Sparrow’s eyes slowly went over everything on the desk, trying to find something that would serve his purpose. But there was nothing he could use. Damon was an orderly and well kept man, not to mention careful. The Keeper would never leave anything out that could potentially be used against him and if he did, Sparrow would have laughed in his face. The amount of trust Damon would have to have in Sparrow would require a lot more than Sparrow would ever give him, or anyone for that matter.

Damon, Sparrow thought, letting his eyes crawl slowly across the desk again, just to be sure he didn’t miss anything. Why did he ever have to get involved with him? Why did he have to gain the Keepers attention? So much time had passed between Jayden dying and Damon taking over his training. From what he could remember, he hadn’t done anything differently since Jayden died, so why had Damon stepped in? Why did things change?

Why did Damon have to be different?

He was still learning new things about the man, even after all the time he had spent with him thus far. Sometimes things would change, small things, and it always threw him for a loop, but thankfully most things stayed consistent. Even if he grew accustomed to how Damon did things, he’d never fully get used to the pain. So much pain, new pain, new marks, reminders of what Damon could do whenever he wanted. Before he met the Keeper, he didn’t have many scars, the main one being the Warehouse branding mark all the pets got. But now? His body was littered with so many different scars, all with their own story on how they got there.

Sparrow’s head slowly turned to the walls of the office, eyeing a glass picture frame of something Sparrow didn’t know the name of, the faintest of smirks ghosting across his face as an idea formed in his head.

What’s a few more marks on his body, he thought, slowly approaching the picture frame, staring at it for a good long moment. A few more marks added to his body, the defining marks of the final story of his life, once and for all.

Slowly, Sparrow reached his arms up, carefully taking the picture frame in his hands, giving the picture one last look over as his grip tightened around the frame. Taking a step back from the wall, he raised the picture frame before, with all the force he could muster, threw it down onto the ground, flinching ever so slightly at the sound of the glass breaking.

It took him a moment to crouch down, looking over the different pieces of the broken glass, trying to find the biggest piece, the sharpest piece. It didn’t take him long, careful fingers picking up the shard of glass. Standing once more, Sparrow slowly made his way to the middle of the office, his eyes never leaving the piece of glass in his hand, turning it over several times as he looked at it.

This should work perfectly, he thought.

What was the best way to do this? Any way he could think of required time and no intervention, how could he do this quickly? Sparrow raised the piece of glass slightly, his gaze glancing over towards his left arm, remembering a couple times where Damon had used that stupid bullwhip on his back and feeling faint and dizzy afterwards.

“You’re lucky I know how to get blood stains out of the carpet, Songbird, otherwise we’d be doing this in one of the Showrooms, and I’m sure you wouldn’t enjoy the audience listening to you scream.”

So many hits with the bullwhip, each one hurting like hell, but he bled, apparently a lot if Damon’s comment was anything to go off of. That must be why he felt dizzy after the Keeper was done, the blood loss. That’s how he could do this, pull it off.

He had to bleed until he couldn’t anymore.

There was no world in which this wasn’t going to hurt, Sparrow knew that. He’d have to go deep, deeper than the bullwhip ever did, and the bullwhip hurt. Despite this, Sparrow was okay with it. He was the one in control here, no one dictating his actions but himself. It was entirely his decision, his will, and no one could stop him.

Eyeing the glass thoughtfully for one final moment, he raised his left arm up, a few more tears falling down his cheeks as his grip on the glass tightened, his expression twisting into a sickening, twisted grin.

“You should have left me restrained, you son of a bitch.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sparrow’s expression fell as he brought the glass to his arm, right below the crook of his elbow, before pressing down as hard as he could, dragging the shard all the way down to just below his wrist. As soon as the glass broke through his skin, Sparrow let out a sharp hiss through clenched teeth, his arm starting to shake as he watched blood immediately well up out of the wound and start to fall down either side of his arm.

A cracked whisper of a smile slowly worked its way onto Sparrow’s face as he watched the blood drip off his arm, taking a moment to feel the pain of what he’s just done. It hurt like hell, like nothing he had ever experienced, but in a weird way it also felt good. Good in the way that soon all of this would be over, he’d never have to experience this kind of pain ever again, and the fact that the pain he was in right now was because it was his choice, not Damon’s or anyone else’s.

It was entirely his decision and Sparrow couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit happy that, in the last moments he was going to spend here at this fucking place, he was doing something of his own free will, something that he wanted to do.

His right hand started to tremble as he went for a second cut, right beside the first, just as deep. More cuts means more blood, more blood means more bleeding. He couldn’t help but let out a gasp of pain when he dragged the glass through his skin this time, but this was progress, good progress. More and more blood seeped from the open wounds, the carpet by his feet starting to stain with the crimson color.

More cuts, more marks, more blood, Sparrow thought, clenching his teeth as he opened and closed his left hand, watching as more blood came out of the wounds when he closed his hand tight.

His left arm burned from the cuts, but it was progress. Carefully, Sparrow put the glass shard in his left hand, noticing that he couldn’t get as tight of a grip on it like his right hand, but that didn’t matter. He just needed to do two more cuts on his right arm and he’d be done. Surely two cuts on each arm would be enough, right?

Repeating the process, he brought the glass up to his elbow before pressing down as hard as he could, dragging it down his arm towards his wrist. Sparrow couldn’t help but let out a pained noise this time, his left hand shaking more than he would have liked it to as he felt the skin break and tear underneath the glass.

Time and time again, he had to feel the abuse of the Keeper’s who forced him to do awful things. Time and time again he’s had to feel the torture of Damon and his cruel hands with whatever hell he thought up for the day. Time and time again he couldn’t do a damn single thing about it because fighting got him nowhere.

As he was about to make one final cut, Sparrow swayed slightly where he stood, blinking a few times to try and get his footing. Looking down at his feet, the carpet around where he stood was stained in red as blood continuously dripped from his arms. If he was getting dizzy though, it meant what he was doing was working. Just one final cut.

As Sparrow dragged the glass shard down his arm one last time, his left leg buckled, causing him to stumble down to one knee, the glass curving from its original straight path down his arm. He let out a curse as he did his best to readjust his position on the floor, now sitting on his legs before letting the glass fall from his hand as he held out his arms in front of him, looking them over.

More and more blood poured from the cuts, his arms trembling from the pain and from the loss of blood, but despite this, all Sparrow could do was smile. Thinking about dying, at least in the past, had scared him to a degree, but right now? The only emotion he felt was happiness. He was happy he was finally getting out of this place, away from everything, hopefully to see his friend again. And he was entirely under his own control. No Keeper forcing him to do anything. He finally got to take control of his own life in his final moments. A perfect ending to his final story.

Sparrow’s vision started to swim, black spots starting to form around the edges as he felt his body start to sway back and forth a bit. His arms started to get heavy and he just let them fall, shutting his eyes as his body followed suit, slumping to the office floor.

Jayden had told him about stories when he was alive, he even told Sparrow about a few he had been thinking about writing if he had ever made it out of this place. Sparrow couldn’t help but think of it, about the magical place Jayden had described to him. Maybe that’s where Jayden ended up, even though Jayden had said his story wasn’t real. Who knew what happened to a person when they died, maybe they ended up in magical places like the one his friend had made up. Hopefully though, if he himself were to end up in a new place, a new world, he’d end up in the magical place Jayden told him about, and maybe, just maybe, his friend would be there to greet him once he got there.

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green, @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @whumpcereal (if you'd like to be added, let me know!)

#The Warehouse #Sparrow Cresky #Damon Graves #Reference/mention to past and future noncon #mention of past torture #mention of past character death #implied future torture #suicidal thoughts #suicidal ideation #suicide attempt #self harm thoughts #self harm #depressive thought process #heavy grieving #adult language #thoughts about the afterlife

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luminouslywriting · 6 months ago

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Chapter 34—Epilogue (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: And so we have reached the end of the road with Mastermind. It has been a joy to write and so much fun to share with all of you! If you have any further questions about this fic, fill free to drop them in my inbox! My requests will remain open for post-war prompts or scenes you want to see....and I have a few I'm working on in my inbox! That being said, I'm hoping that I'll be able to work through some of my requests in my inbox this week for x readers. It's also my birthday on the 28th, so I'm looking forward to hopefully spam posting a lot of request stuff that day too! Enjoy and as always, let me know what you think!

District Attorney Ruth Sharpe-Rosenthal slipped peacefully away in her sleep in 2007—two weeks before her husband Robert Rosenthal passed away. The two of them enjoyed 62 years of marriage together—full of many passionate court cases, affectionate arguments, and a desire to serve and help those around them.

Directly following the war, Ruth became a legal aid in helping the immigration process of Jews who wanted to leave Europe. She played a major part in helping set up different agencies and charities in helping those affected by the powers of Nazism to get back on their feet and find a community of support.

Ruth enjoyed a wonderful career that she was able to share with her husband—and he supported her in all of her work and goals. The two of them lived close to their families in Brooklyn and were often found at the Sharpe’s or Rosenthal’s for dinners. For several years after the war, Ruth struggled with infertility issues from the lingering damage done by her ex-fianceé Timothy.

As such, she and Robert Rosenthal adopted three children—Anthony, Lila, and Sara. They were surprised after several years to discover that Ruth had fallen pregnant—after several previous miscarriages, this was a miracle baby by all senses of the word. She gave birth to a son—and they named him Abe after their favorite brother. Abe Rosenthal was born deaf and Ruth and Robert began learning American Sign Language to better help Abe be able to access more opportunities.

Robert Rosenthal became a steady advocate for the Deaf Community and between him and Ruth being active participants in the community, they found a good footing for their youngest son.

Abe Sharpe, on the other hand—he finally got his high school diploma. He ended up actually going to MIT (go figure, I suppose). While there, he connected with the younger sister of none other than John Brady (who was not pleased about the turn of events). The two of them enjoyed a short engagement before getting married. Abe went on to be hired by NASA and worked on the moon landing with his brilliant mind—all the while helping his wife with their two boys and one daughter.

Jonah Sharpe returned as a hero from the Pacific. Interested in bettering things for veterans, he immediately went into psychology and began working on helping veterans readjust to coming home and how they could deal with their trauma. He spent a long time dealing with alcoholism after the war, but eventually found a nice Jewish girl and settled down. They had one son together and lived very happily.

Alice Sharpe went on to raise a beautiful family of four children. Her husband inherited Thomas Sharpe’s store and they stayed close to help take care of Adaline and Thomas when they got older. She and Ruth eventually became close together over the years and bonded over missing Sarah.

John Sharpe hadn’t the slightest clue of what he wanted to do with his life. He spent a long time in college before going to Medical School. He served in the Korean War and then after returning, he became a doctor. He returned to work for the military, primarily performing life-saving surgeries on the soldiers he admired and loved so much. He met a WASP and fell in love. The two enjoyed a whirlwind romance wherein they eloped (he cited that Ruth had done it first, so his family really couldn’t be all that mad at him). Although they have no children, the two are happily enjoying their retired lives in the countryside.

Mary Sharpe had a lot of big dreams and ideas—and given the fact that most of her family had traveled, she decided that she wanted to do the same. She attended an art school in Italy before returning home to become an architect. Mary was later introduced to a friend of Abe’s from off of Thorpe Abbotts and the two of them are now married and have five children (much to Abe’s chagrin).

Liesel Braun continued learning English. She fell in love with literature and learning and was eventually accepted into Cornell University. Liesel went on to become a writer and acclaimed author, sharing her story of survival with any who would listen. It was in one of her English classes that she met a former paratrooper and fell in love. The two moved to Long Island and have three children.

Sveta Braun began working closely with her Aunt Adaline. She became a renowned seamstress and took over Adaline’s clientele. She made dresses for all sorts of people—including Priscilla Presley, Jackie Kennedy, and Marilyn Monroe. Sveta eventually founded a fashion company and chose to retire quietly in Manhattan, enjoying Broadway and the theater in her freetime.

David Aderman went to school with Abe at MIT—and then dropped out to find other work. Ruth connected her cousin with her friend Lewis Nixon and he ended up working at Nixon Nitration Works before attending a trade school and opening up his own company in New York. He fell in love with one of Mary’s friends from school and married her shortly after. The two are still in New York and have two children.

Yosef Sharff never remarried. His beloved Magda remained in a picture on the mantle for the rest of his life. He lived with Thomas and Adaline until the day that he died—a wintery day in 1960—and though his time on this earth was short, he left a powerful impact in the community and within his own family.

Ruth and Rosie’s families still get together every year for birthdays, family reunions, passovers, festivals, and to see one another. And every time that they do, Abe Sharpe takes the credit for pulling all of this together. And really—he truly does. How else to explain the fact that Ruth and Robby had found their way to one another through a whole war and through the most impossible of circumstances? How else to explain the miraculous survival of their family members and friends? How else to explain the profound beauty that was their story?

Finé

#mota #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic #mastersoftheair #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #oc originalfemalecharacters #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x reader #rosie rosenthal x oc #robert rosenthal x oc #robert rosenthal x reader #ruth sharpe #ruth x rosie #abe sharpe #mastermind

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morbidsmenagerie · 7 months ago

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Bug maintenance has gotten busy, and it's been absolutely sweltering. It's 84F in my house right now and feeding everyone took over 3 hours. Been doing my best to keep temperatures down, no one seems affected by it so far but we haven't reached the hottest temperatures yet, and being kept too warm for too long can be rough on smaller inverts. One of the things I really want to stress with bug keeping is that these are living animals, so burning out can have some dire consequences. I see a lot of people get one bug, really enjoy caring for them, and get more and more in a short period of time. Isopods are a big culprit for this, they are easy to care for, and there's a lot of cool species and morphs. You get one colony, and think "wow spraying and feeding them only takes like 10 minutes a day, this is really easy", but if you have 30+ colonies, can you commit to an hour a day? An hour a day for as long as the colony lives?

I've been pretty specifically pacing myself, I can commit the 20 - 45 minutes daily maintenance typically takes me, with about an hour and a half a week for longer feeding days. Even these babies would be manageable, but I can admit that having all these broods at once and having extra stress from the heat wave is a lot. I'm going to break up the feeding schedule because a 3 hour feeding session all at once right before work was hard, and although I can do it I know if I push it too hard I'll burn out. Bugs are specialty, exotic pets, and I wish more people treated them like that. Rehoming or selling can be difficult, and their safety and health needs to be your primary concern. It's not like other hobbies where if you get burnt our your guitar can sit in your closet for a year and a half.

With the steatoda egg sacs, I knew there was no feasible way I could sell or raise the 7 egg sacs she laid, so I put the egg sacs in the freezer. That was the best option for me to ensure the best quality of life for my pets, because I would be unable to care for hundreds of steatoda slings and still provide quality care to everyone. If I can't sell the spinigerus scorplings and it's straining me to take care of them this could be an option too, but I'd really rather not because I'm rather sentimental of them. My plan right now is at least get them to 3i, so they're a bit larger and sturdier for beginner scorpion keepers, and basically give them away if people pay for shipping. They're great beginner scorpions, but I understand that their small size can be a bit daunting if you've never kept a scorpion before.

Basically just a long post of me mulling over the current situation, the heat definitely isn't helping my mood either. Hopefully once it cools down and I readjust my feeding schedule it'll be a lot better.

#invertebrates #invertiblr #inverts #invert #bugblr #morbidstext

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soephiphany · 2 years ago

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I hope this is comforting enough

I was just feeling awful, and i needed something silly and small, to make me feel lighter. If you're going through some hard thing or hard place, my account is a safe space.

I don't really post much but you can also read the fic recommendations I posted, hopefully it'll make you feel better.

If you're feeling heavy, tired or overwhelmed, it's alright. You're not alone, army

You have me, the other creators and you have the boys (the songs, Bangtan Bombs and my personal fav: RUN BTS)

Take it easy, it'll be alright <3

(not proof read)

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"What is it?" He gazed all over your body, for everything. Possible wounds, blood, just anything.

"Nothing" suddenly your hands look interesting, since you can't tear your eyes from them.

"It's not nothing" he sighs lightly and reaches for your hand "Baby, I'm here for you. You know that, right?"

"I know. It's nothing, I'm just tired" you readjust yourself on your shared bed, now with your back facing the headboard.

"Tired?"

"Yeah" he relocates himself by your side and gently rub your back

"Let's sleep then, ok?" He knows you. You don't want to sleep. You don't even know if you can sleep but he knows, and that's what's matter.

"Mhm" your small nod almost unnoticeable as you both lay down and he immediately hugs you. You hide your face in the crook of his neck.

It stays silent. He's not sleeping and neither are you, but still silent. His steady breath sounds like therapy and just like that, like that moment where you open up in therapy, you cry.

You don't sob or anything, you just cry. Maybe you're just so used to having to cry silently to not worry or wake anyone. It's already a habit, but you really feel like breaking, you feel like you're watching the last two scenes of Toy Story 3 in a endless cycle, or like you just stepped in 180 pets paws. You feel guilt, shame, grief, and you don't even know why. I mean, you know why but you didn't think it was possible to feel all at once. But i guess it is.

"You'll be okay, I'm here. You're here, we'll be okay. Everything will be fine" these are the unique things that seems to leave the man's mouth as he hugs you kindly, drawing patterns in your back with one hand and caressing your hair with other. It feels good. You're glad it feels good, at least one thing is feeling good right now.

He doesn't talk anymore but continues with tiny hums and lullabies of a sweet song, a song you know well. 'Heavenly' by Cigarettes after sex leaves his pretty soft and pink mouth in tiny sounds, just loud enough for you to hear it.

"I'm giving you all my, giving you all my, giving you all my love" he whisper-sings this part and it's literally heavenly. He's a bit insecure with his voice, but he still sings for you cause he knows you love it when he does.

He continues humming the song and it gets to a part where it brings tears in your eyes. All and everything, sounding like a dream, a fever dream maybe. You could never imagined that you'd love someone like you love him, but you do. And he does too.

"And when you're far away, i still feel it all the same" he pecks your head a few times and whisper 'ill always feel you, I'll always see you. It will be okay' and you can't help but break the thin fine line you were living in.

"We'll be alright" you knew it was his way of saying he loves you, that he's here for you and God, that was all you needed. Your sobs are silenced by time as he goes on humming the end of the song, reminding you that you're not alone and that he loves and care about you.

Your consciousness get lost in his scent, in how warm his body feels, in how light his energy is, in how domestically beautiful this is. He wishes you a small good night and pecks your forehead.

It was just one of those days, or weeks. Where everything seems to fall apart but you're not alone, you have him, you have his love, and that's more than enough.

_______

I didn't put any member implied here but my thought was on Yoongi when i wrote this, but you can imagine with whoever you want.

I just felt really heavy, and this helped me a little, even if just a little.

Whatever is happening in your life, everything will be okay. You're not alone and you'll be okay,

Life goes on, dear friend <3

Soo Soo 🌼

#hope this is comforting enough #bts comfort #bts x gn reader #safe place #we'll be alright #life goes on #love yourself army #i know me and bangtan loves you #be safe and healthy

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onemoregayapollokid · 1 year ago

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Whispers of the Dark Pt. 1

Summary: In the aftermath of Skandia, Will finds himself caught in the shadows of his own struggles. Haunted by the weight of his emotions, he grapples with isolation until an unexpected turn of events brings Halt and Gilan racing to his side. As they navigate the delicate dance of understanding and support, the trio discovers the power of family bonds that can heal even the darkest of wounds.

Word count: 2.7K

TW: Slight mention of self-harm (picking at skin around nails) and reckless behavior

Authors note: This will be a two-parter! I'll hopefully have the second part up soon!

--------------------------------------------

Gilan glanced up as Halt sank into the ground beside him. The younger man had just returned from one of his many scouting runs around the Gathering grounds. He was sitting beside a fire, sharpening his sword as Blaze ate her oats behind him. Gilan’s greeting died on his lips as he took in Halt’s somber expression. Halt, normally very solemn, looked even more so. Gilan hesitated, wondering if this was one of the times Halt just needed to sit in silence. The answer was apparently yes. There was silence surrounding the two men, broken only by the rasp as Gilan sharpened his sword and the occasional shout from a first year apprentice in the forest. Halt sighed softly, closing his eyes as he leaned back against a tree. Gilan knew he wouldn’t speak until he was ready, so he turned his attention back to his sword.

“Gil” Halt's voice broke the silence. Gilan glanced up again, frowning. He hadn’t heard that nickname since he was Halt’s apprentice. It was a name Halt only used when he was feeling sentimental and his own father hadn’t used the name since he was boy. All the use of the name did was solidify the depth of Halt’s concern.

“What’s wrong, Halt? You look worried” Halt grunted, opening his eyes to meet his former apprentice's gaze. Halt sighed again.

“I’m worried about Will.” Halt admitted, his gaze trained over the gathering ground. Gilan’s frown deepened. It’s been a few years since Halt returned from Skandia with his apprentice in tow,and while Will had struggled the first few months, readjusting to his former life wasn’t easy, he had seemed to settle back into the role of Halt’s apprentice with relative ease.

“What about Will?” Gilan asked. He’d come to view the young man as his surrogate brother, and although He didn’t get to spend as much time with Will as either of them wanted, the young man was still cheerful- granted he was much more subdued than he was the first time Gilan met him but he still smiled at those he cared for. Halt glanced at Gilan out of the corner of his eye.

“ I don’t really know, to be honest.” Halt began. “ Everything seems to be fine, and sometimes I think I’m overreacting” Gilan raised his eyebrow at that. Halt was many things, but he was not one prone to overreacting.

“ You don’t overreact, Halt. What’s got you worried about him? You’ve obviously noticed something if you're bringing it up” Gilan reassured his mentor. Halt nodded softly.

“ I’ve noticed a lot.” He admitted. “ Will’s taking risks, completely unnecessary risks. I can’t count how many times he's gotten injured that were completely avoidable, and every time I speak to him he’s able to tell me exactly what went wrong so he knows this information.He’s picking fights with people much larger than he is, he’s not taking shots to save his own life. Just last week, I had to step in because he was facing someone who had a knife and he refused to draw his. It’s like he almost wants to get hurt?” Halt finished, his voice gruff. Gilan sank back onto his heels, processing what Halt told him.

“ What does he say when you bring it up?” Gilan questioned softly, gaze sweeping across the Gathering ground. Halt shook his head. “ I haven't spoken to him yet.” He admitted. “ I don’t know, Gil. Maybe I was hoping I was wrong, or that whatever was going on would resolve without interference. Maybe I was afraid of saying anything, I don’t exactly have the best track record for saying the right things” Gilan nodded, mulling over Halt’s words. “ I think someone has to say something, though” he offered, tapping his fingers on his leg while he thought. The entirely unranger-like behavior finally dragged Halt’s attention back to Gilan. His hand caught hold of Gilan’s. The younger man's fingers froze before relaxing. Halt muttered something under his breath before releasing Gilan’s hand.

“Where is Will?” Gilan asked, glancing around the gathering grounds. Halt gestured to the forest surrounding them.

“ Crowley took a handful of apprentices to practice silent movement, they should be back by supper time” Halt answered. Gilan nodded, then a thought struck him.

“Halt? Does Crowley know? “ Halt pursed his lips, still staring into the forest as if he could see his young apprentice.

“ Yes and no, he knows something is going on and I asked him to keep a close eye on Will, but didn’t go into details. I wanted to see if he would notice anything on his own.” Halt explained. Gilan glanced at Halt, suddenly unsure of what he wanted to say. He knew what he wanted to tell the young man who had become his brother but knew Halt, while close to both his apprentices, had a special bond with Will, Will truly was Halt’s son, in everything but blood. Halt caught Gilan’s eye and turned towards him.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked softly

“ What do you want to do? “ Gilan asked “ Because I know what I want to do, but you know Will best. I don’t want to push Will into even more reckless behavior.” Halt nodded, stretching his legs in front of him.

“ I mean, I want to lock him up so he can’t hurt himself anymore” Halt’s voice was wistful. “ But I don’t think that’s necessarily helpful” Gilan chuckled, leaning his head back against the tree. Halt continued,

“ I think the best option, and really our only one, is to talk to him. Either he opens up to us or he doesnt and we’ll have to go to Crowley.” Gilan nodded, accepting the wisdom in the older mans words.

“Do you want to talk to him here?” Gilan asked. Halt shook his head, gesturing to the Gathering grounds.

“ Too many ears.” Halt grunted. He then turned to Gilan.

“ Have you received any orders yet?” Gilan shook his head,

“ Crowley didn't have any for me. He told me to take a few days and go visit Father but other than that no. “ Halt nodded.

“If you have no pressing matters, do you want to ride home with us? We can talk to Will back at the cabin. I’ll talk to Crowley, he’ll give you an extra few days to go visit your father, but something needs to be done in regards to Will.” Gilan nodded, always glad to spend time with his former mentor.

“ Of course I will, Will is my little brother in everything but blood, I want to ensure he’s okay. Father will understand why I cut our visit short. I have no orders, so unless you do, I’m able to leave tomorrow”

“ I think that’s a good idea, Crowley already told me we can take off early if we need to. We should head back to the tent, Crowley will be back with the apprentices soon. Will you join us for supper or do you have another scouting run?” Gilan shook his head, rising easily to his feet. He half turned back to Halt, and extended his hand to him.

“Need some help, old man?” Gilan asked, a laugh in his voice. Halt grumbled but accepted Gilan’s hand, letting the younger man pull him up.

“You know Gil, one of these days you’ll age and I’ll make fun of you then.” Halt deadpanned.

“ Not if you're already dead.” Gilan quipped, stepping beside Halt as they made their way to the three tents they had brought with them. Blaze followed her master, easily avoiding the other tents scattered around the Gathering Ground. A few rangers called out greetings as they walked past. They had just reached their own three tents when Crowley led the apprentices out of the woods. Gilan watched closely, frowning as he saw the apprentices laugh and roughhouse with each other- all except one. Will walked alone at the back, slinking from shadow to shadow with ease. His shoulders sagged, and he didn't look up. Halt handed Gilan the pot, jostling him out of his thoughts.

“ I’m going to go talk to Crowley, can you handle supper?” Gilan nodded.

“ I’ll keep Will with me, get him to help me. “ Halt nodded at him, stepping towards Will. Will brightened at the sight of his mentor but his smile was dim compared to his normal blinding grins. Halt spoke low to him, the young man nodding at Halt’s words. Will turned and walked towards Gilan, pushing a smile onto his face but to Gilan, it looked stilted.

“ Hey Gil” Will greeted , dropping beside Gilan in a very Halt like maneuver.

“ Hey Will, how was your outing with Crowley?” Will made a face.

“ Okay, but Crowley was acting weird all afternoon.”

“Oh? Weird how?” Gilan asked, dropping the spices into the pot, setting it onto the fire, rising and sitting beside Will. Will made another face.

“ He was just watching me all day,” Gilan chuckled, leaning back against the fallen tree.

“ Will, you do know Crowley is the Corps commander, right? It’s his job to watch you.” Will shook his head.

“ Not like this. He’d stare at me, but not like Halt does. Crowley would stare at me and would look away really fast if I looked at him. It’s like he forgot he was a ranger.” Gilan snorted.

“ I’m sure he has his reasons. “ Was all Gilan said. Will looked at Gilan with something akin to suspicion.

“You know what’s going on.” He glared at Gilan. Gilan sighed, dropping an arm around the young man's shoulders. Will stiffened.

“Look, Will. It’s not my place to tell you. You know Crowley will tell you if you need to know. He always does.” Will nodded, fingers playing with each other. Gilan caught sight of the torn skin surrounding the nails beds and sighed inwardly. “Oh Will. I wish you’d open up.” He thought. Will shrugged Gilan’s arms off, dropping his gaze to the ground. Gilan wanted nothing more than to wrap his brother in his arms and make it all okay. Silence enveloped the two men. Gilan stood, stirring the stew carefully.

“Gilan. Will” Halt’s voice cut through the silence. The two Rangers turned to see Halt standing behind them.

“ Change of plans. Gilan, Crowley has orders for you. Will, we have to head back home.”

Gilan nodded, handing the long handled ladle to Will, heading to Crowley’s tent. He approached it,entering the open doorway. Crowley was sitting on the ground, frowning. He glanced up as Gilan entered.

“ Close the door.” Crowley instructed lowly. Gilan released the woven ties, allowing the fabric panel that acted as Crowley’s door to fall shut.

“ Halt has shared his concerns about Will.” Crowley started, gesturing to a spot beside him. Gilan sank gratefully to the ground beside him.

“ I want to know your thoughts. Halt knows Will well, but you're also close to him” Gilan thought to the happy child he met at Will’s first Gathering, and also of the solemn youth sitting at the fire outside the tent, who was ripping himself apart and couldn’t accept love and affection.

“ I’m also worried.” He admitted. “ Will doesn’t smile. He’s solemn, he won’t let us close to him, he won’t open up and he’s hurting himself intentionally. “

“I watched him today, and I noticed everything you and Halt mentioned. He didn’t speak to any of the other apprentices, he barely spoke to me, and while he’s very good at unseen movement, he just seemed stilted. You are right to be worried about him. “

“ Halt says he seems like he’s trying to get hurt- not hurting himself, but not preventing others from hurting him.” Gilan said, sighing. Crowley nodded.

“ He mentioned that to me. You’re right to be worried about him. I told Halt this and I’ll tell you. Go home. Talk to him, find out what exactly he’s feeling and thinking. I don’t want him to feel like he’s being punished. He’s a remarkable young man. “ Gilan smiled halfheartedly.

“ Halt and Will are on their way back to their fief. You can head there as well, I have nothing further to add. “ Gilan stood, bidding farewell to his commander. As he crossed to the door, Crowley’s voice cut across the tent.

“ Gilan?” He turned at the sound of Crowley’s voice.

“Take care of him. He means a lot to all of us” Gilan nodded, then ducked out the tent, and disappeared into the night.

#halt o'carrick #gilan davidson #rangers apprentice #will treaty #Will treaty needs a hug #Will needs therapy

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redheadspark · 3 years ago

Note

for druig

come here, come sit in my lap and tell me about your day.

[ COAX ] sender knows receiver has had a lot on their mind, so they hold them for a while to help them relax and hopefully open up.

A/N: Oh darling @multixfandomwriter, this is perfect! Thank you!

Rest Awhile

Summary: Your work day was chaotic, thinking it was never going to end. Luckily, your boyfriend knew how to make your worries melt away

Warnings: a small sliver of angst with with MAJOR fluff too!

"Ugghhh, finally,"

You slammed your laptop shut and closed you eyes, sighing in both relief and in stress as you rested your head against your hands, elbows propped on the table and making you slightly hover of your laptop. Your brain felt so drained and fried at the same time, your head feeling heavy and the threat of sleep behind your eyes. Yet you were also hungry since you were glued to the screen for the lsat 6 hours straight.

If you had to look at one more chat session with some of your alpha male co-workers, you were going to throw your laptop right out the window.

Since the Pandemic, you were all sent to work from home. It was a major shift in your company, everyone having to readjust to not just the new flow, but with a new life in general with barely any social interaction. But that was nearly a year ago, and with some of the workers going back to the office again, you opted to work from home for a couple more months until you were ready to head back.

A blessing and a curse. This night was a curse.

Constant messaging from your co-workers, editing and re-editing some pieces from the newer employees that got hired some months before, and having to go through a email chain with your boss who was not understanding some of the things you were sending him. It was becoming a bit too much some nights, and you had a few of the night ending in tears and wanting to punch a wall. You had to wonder when you went to bed at night if that job was worth it, even with the decent pay and benefits.

Was it though?

Your phone rang, you grumbling a bit and picking it up to briefly see the name on the screen. A face was there with the name, your heart fluttering barely when you saw the blue eyes staring back at you and the signature grin. You swiped it to answer, placing it on speaker.

"Heya, sweetheart." Druig said your petname so sweetly in the phone.

"Hi, Druig," You said, your voice sounding a bit drained and sluggish. You heard a beat of silence on the phone.

"You sound out of it," Druig commented, keeping his voice light, "Rough work session, I take it?"

"Something like that," You replied, taking in a long inhale and rubbing your temples, "I know we were meant to go get drinks tonight with Phastos and Ben, but....I'm so sorry Druig, I just can't."

That was the other curse of having a job from home: you were too exhausted at times to go out when your daily job load was done. You knew it was tough work, stenos at times since you had to concentrate solely on the piece you were editing. Your eyes were always heaving in the end and you had to cancel plenty of hang out sessions because of it. A few of the included your boyfriend, who was always supportive and knew where you were coming from.

"Sweetheart, it's totally okay," Druig replied on the phone, hearing the genuine concern in his voice as you could feel the tears coming, the sense of guilt in your chest from how you were once again having to take a raincheck on getting a few drinks, "You've been at it all week and it's makin' you exhausted. You know, you're allowed to take a breath,"

"I....I don't...." You tried to find the right words, the right phrase, to tell him that you wanted to do the work and make a difference. You loved your job and what you were doing, and perhaps you were making yourself on the back burner and not taking care of yourself from time to time. Taking a breath seemed so simple, and you haven't done it yet.

"Where are you?" Druig asked, you squinting a bit as you took away a tear from the corner of your eye.

"My apartment?" You replied in a croak.

"When did you eat last?" He asked you again, sounding driven and sure. You thought back on your day for a few seconds, the last time you ate something was......

"Lunch time," You replied in a low manner, looking at the time on the phone: 9:30 pm. Shit.

"Alright," Druig's voice rang from the phone, "Go take a shower and get in your PJ's. I'm gettin' us pizza from our favorite spot on the corner and some garlic bread. I'll be there in 20 minutes, you and I are gonna crash on the couch and watch The Goonies, okay?"

"No," You said in a soft protest, getting up a bit and feeling a some bit of guilt in your stomach as you rubbed your eyes, "Druig, you don't need--"

"I do need to," Druig interrupted you gently, you staring down at the phone, "Sweetheart, I'd rather be with you and help you unwind than out in a bar. It wouldn't be as fun without you any who. Plus....I can tell you need a break."

You couldn't help but smile, your fingers were touching the tips of the phone as his face was still illuminated on the screen. Druig was the best at knowing what you needed when you didn't know yourself. He read you like a book, ever since you two were introduced to one another by Sersi at a backyard BBQ she was hosting with her then boyfriend Ikaris. You two melted together in conversation that afternoon so easily, Druig interested in your job in journalism and you intrigued with his studies in anthropology. Druig always knew when you were having rough days or exhausting nights, willing to help you and ease those pains away.

"Okay," You replied softly, knowing there was no way in talking Druig out of what he wanted to do. Druig was driven, assertive in his goals, and devoted to you in more ways than one. You could picture Druig smiling on his end of the phone, making your heart lurch a bit more.

"Don't worry, M'lady. I'm on my way."

When you got out of the shower and threw on your PJ's, you heard the front door to your apartment unlocking, the door opening and closing. You hummed, a tired smile on your face as you brushed out your hair and felt some of the worries already floating in the air with the humidity and shower mist that was hovering in the tiny bathroom. By the time you got your hair in a decent way and you hung up your towel, a gentle tap was on the bathroom door. There was only one person who had the second key to your apartment, and when you opened the door, you were greeted by the gentlest and kindest smile.

Druig, standing right in front of you and his smile melting away the rest of the stress.

"Hello, gorgeous," He said to you, taking you in his arms without you resisting. Once you were snuggled against him, his arms around you almost like a bubble and his head against your own, you breathed out what felt like a massive release, like your lungs were weighed down until that point. Once you two you were embracing, you felt lighter and almost like you could hover. "Come on," he huffed, picking you up bridal style and carrying you with ease. You squeaked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he waltzed you out of your bathroom and living room, "You actually saved me from having' an awkward night with the guys. Phastos texted me and told me that Kingo was already on one of his stories about his upcoming show he's producing."

You giggled, resting your head against his chest as he then moved you two to the living room. Your head moved up and your eyes widening, seeing the sight in front of you. The couch had pillows fluffed and ready for use, the coffee table had a small cover over the top with an extra large cheese pizza sitting in its box, a stack of garlic bread next to it and two glasses of water filled to the brim. The Goonies was on que on your screen, and the lights were dimmed.

"Honey," You hummed in a croak, Druig walking you two over to the couch and having you sit in his lap as you were drinking in the atmosphere that Druig set for you. Druig just stared at you so simply and gently, love in his blue orbs as you looked back at him with a tired yet soft smile on your lips, "This....thank you, Druig,"

"Look, I know you've been workin' real hard with this job and I can see there are times you wanna quit," He explained rubbing your back with his knuckles as you were watching him with adoration in your eyes, "But I also know that you're one of those who doesn't ask for help often. I'll always help you if you let me, sweetheart."

He reminded you of that plenty of times when you two got together. You are a bit stubborn in waning to take care of yourself, you had to for a very long time ever since you moved out on your own. You were you own provider and safe haven, and Druig coming in really shuffled it up a bit. Druig was willing to help you, willing to catch you when you were falling, and most of all, he was beyond willing to make you take a break. Just like this moment, even with pizza and garlic bread included.

"I love you," You said to him sweetly, a tear falling as you were melting in his arms. He just grinned as kissed the tear away with his lips, pulling you in a bit more so he could lean back on the arm of the couch.

"Now, come here. Come sit in my lap and tell me about your day." He softly commanded you as he pulled you along. His arms cradled you in, Druig kissing your head as he grabbed the remote control to start the movie but keeping the volume on low. You watched the opening credits go on the screen as you were telling him everything, not leaving anything too bad or terrible out since Druig was never one to judge you or think twice. It was nice to talk it out with him, unloaded it from your chest and making the mental luggage in your brain finally empty out.

As the first scene of The Goonies played and you took a bite from your massive slice of pizza, Druig kept rubbing your back and held you against him as he ate his garlic bread and quoted the movie word for word, making you giggle since he knew the movie by heart. That night was a great night to unwind and release, and to have your stomach filled with pizza and bread.

And being in the arms of the man you loved was not bad either.

The End.

Tagged: @a-lumos-in-the-nox @botanicalbarnes @ftrmrs-barry-keoghan @heartofwritiing @basicrese @pemberlyy

#druig x you #fanfiction #writing #my love #barry keoghan #druig #eternals #marvel #druig x reader #druig eternals #druig x y/n #druig prompts

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dollslayer · 3 years ago

Text

Homecoming

Biker!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Finally home after being gone on a run, you give Bucky the welcome he deserves

W/C: 1.5k

Warnings: Housewife kink, unprotected sex, swearing, NO MINORS

A/N: Hey guys, I know it's been a minute sorry😅 Got the idea for this and couldn't get it outta my head. Hopefully you guys like it! If you do please comment/reblog!!! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

Outside the kitchen window the sun was disappearing behind the trees in the backyard, signaling the end of another day. You sighed, noticing the streaks in the glass and made a mental note to clean it before getting back to the task at hand. Dinner was still a few hours away from being finished but in the meantime it was the distraction you needed, even if you’d be eating alone.

It had been almost two entire weeks since Bucky rode off on a run with Sam and Steve with no word since. Last week you’d missed him so much but after one beep of the disconnected dial tone on the other end of the line you knew that Bucky had to have ditched his burner.

You didn’t know where he was or when he’d be back or even any way to reach him. You knew better than to ask anyone else from the club, though. Whatever the club did was their business and you were smart enough to stay out of it.

After this long of being in Bucky’s life you’d think that you would be used to the inconsistency but it’s hard to settle into anything knowing he could be gone at a moment’s notice. The love you two had made it worth it though, and secretly you loved how tough and grumpy he was for everyone else but was always so sweet and loving to you. Still, times like this where you’d be left alone for days or weeks at a time the loneliness was inevitable.

All the free time you normally had for Bucky was suddenly empty so you filled the void cooking and cleaning to distract yourself. At this point your fridge was filled to the brim with leftovers and if you tried to scrub the bathroom tiles again they might just come off. You just wanted everything to be nice for him whenever he did come home. You knew he appreciated it, if the last time he’d cornered you doing laundry was anything to go by.

You were pulling the pan out of the oven when you heard the familiar rumble of engines growing louder down the road. You nearly dropped the food out of excitement before you hastily set it on the counter. You checked your reflection in the hall mirror, wishing you’d have been wearing something a little nicer than some cotton shorts and a tank top.

You listened to the voices shouting over idling engines and eventually rev up again before retreating back down the road. You were teeming with excitement and nervousness as you undid the deadbolts and waited to hear his boots bounding up the creaky steps of the front porch.

The door swung open and you stepped back, biting your lip to contain your grin when you finally got a good look at him. He let out a soft ‘oof’ followed by a chuckle when you launched yourself into his arms and inhaled the comforting scent of grease and leather.

“Hi, Peach”

You returned a ‘missed you’, muffled by the layers of his jacket. He kissed your shoulder when you buried your face into his neck. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, allowing yourselves to revel in the feeling of relief. His hands pulled you away only to bring you into a deep but soft kiss that you couldn’t help but melt into.

When you broke away you took a step back to get a proper look at him. His jacket was dusty and his boots were caked in mud, trailing all over your freshly mopped foyer but you didn’t care, you were just happy he was here, he was okay.

His grin was wide and uncontrollable when he looked back at you and took in your appearance. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Smells amazing”

“I’ve got dinner waiting for you if you take off your boots” you say as you help to pull him out of his leather.

When he finally stepped into the kitchen and living area he looked around slowly, taking in all of the work you’d done while he was away.

“You been hard at work while I was gone, huh, Peach?”

You smiled shyly, dipping your head at him and turned away towards the kitchen to set out some plates on the counter. Your movements stopped when you felt the scrape of Bucky’s stubble against your neck.

His hands snaked around your midsection and he pulled you back into him, pressing your ass right into his hard cock. You gasped in surprise and he smiled into your skin as he continued to kiss it. You ground harder against him and he let out a low groan into your ear.

“You always keep everythin’ so nice for me, huh? Always takin’ care of me even when I’m not there,” his grip on your hips falters only so he can toy with the waistband of your shorts.

“You’re so sweet, Peach”

He hooks his fingers around the elastic and as he slides the shorts down your legs your movements stop.

“What about din-”

“Let me take care of you, Peach,” he insisted.

You squirmed as pressed his hips to your ass, forcing you to brace your hands on the counter to stay up right.

Where you had cursed yourself earlier for not wearing something nicer than lounge shorts you were grateful now as he curled his fingers around the top and ripped them down in one motion. Your shorts and panties fall past your knees and pool around your ankles and you struggled to hold yourself up. Calloused fingers run over the soft curves of your ass before delivering a sharp smack that has you gasping in surprise.

You felt the outline of his hard cock through his jeans and weren’t sure how much longer you could wait for him to cut to the chase. You ground back against him in hopes he’d get the message.

He chuckled in response and smacked your ass again before he took a step back to undo his pants. You whined at the loss of his warmth behind you and waited. The sound of the heavy fabric hitting the ground and then being kicked away was the only notice he gave you before a hand met your back and swiftly bent you further over the counter.

Your palms squeaked against the formica and your elbows landed harshly against it. With one hand on your hip Bucky used his other to run his tip over your wet folds. Normally he’d take more time with you but you were both too impatient to be with each other again and the excitement of his touch left you plenty wet and wanting.

He pushed fully into you in one go and shuddered out a groan at the feeling. It had been so long since he’d been inside of you that could hardly adjust to the impact. You didn’t care though, you just wanted him to keep going.

A few small pumps of his hips to test the waters quickly became not enough.

“Buck,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?”

His thrusts picked up in speed and soon enough he was pounding into you. The sound of forgotten silverware and plates clattering against the counter were overpowered by skin slapping skin and the moans forced from your lungs.

His grip on your hips readjusted as he foisted you further over the counter, forcing you to try and balance on the tips of your toes. It had been so long for both of you, there was no way he could hold out much longer. There was no way you could either with the new angle hitting inside of you just right. You clamped down around him hoping he’d get the hint, you didn’t know that you’d be able to talk if you tried right now.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much,” his pace increased, “You missed me too, I can feel it, Peach.”

You nodded weakly but the motion was lost as you were jostled back and forth with his thrusts.

“You always take such good fuckin’ care a’ me, care a’ the house. So fuckin’ good, Peach”

“B-buck, please” the broken words left your lips and that was all that he needed to drive it home.

“Ah shit, shitshitshit ‘m gonna cum” he forced out between harsh pants.

The build of pressure against your G-spot was too much and you cried out as you came. Bucky roughly fucked you through it and with a few final slams he shouted as he spilled inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, caging you in with his arms on either side as he caught his breath. You shivered at the feeling of your cum mixing together and sliding slowly down your leg even as he stayed inside you. He kissed your shoulder and helped to pull you back to your feet.

You twisted around and pulled on a loose lock to bring his face to yours. You gave him one chaste kiss and broke apart.

“Welcome home”

He kissed the tip of your nose and slowly ran his hands up and down your arms.

“Good to be home, Peach”

#bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky barnes x reader #biker au #marvel au #biker!bucky #biker!bucky barnes #marvel fic #marvel x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 4 years ago

Text

Stella with owl demon S/O (The finale)

(This is the last chapter in the secret lover mini-series. If your just finding it, go back and read the full series. Its a fairly long story.) Hope you enjoy~

Years of meticulous planning. Manipulation, blackmail and manoeuvring. And all for this one day.

It had almost been a year since Stolas cheated on Stella, almost a year since You and Stella had become a less than secret couple. And today you were going official.

It had been simple getting information on Stolas.

A few cameras here, a tapped phone line there, not to mention half the staff was on your pay roll. They gave you all the information you could need, you taking any information, no matter how minor.

Honestly, Stella coming to you was a pleasant surprise. You did have this grand plan in place, a plan to split the family at its seams.

And in an instant, Stolas' incompetence had saved you months of work. And so Stolas' arrogance, shall be his undoing.

Over the last year, youd had dozens of visits. Spending months carefully prodding the couple, if you could still call them that. You pushed the wedge between them deeper and deeper, all for today.

You strolled into the palace like it were your second home, a small wicker basket hanging from his arm.

Navigating the halls, you found yourself in the palace kitchen, or at least the one the family had used the most.

Grabbing a set of glasses, you turned to find Octavia sitting at the table. 'Octavia, dear, how are you.' You asked, sounding as overjoyed as you felt.

She looked up at you with dead eyes, 'How do I look.' She asked sarcasticly. And honestly, the girl looked like she hadn't slept in a week.

Sitting down you gave her a sympathetic look. 'Fight?' You asked simply.

She just nodded, taking a sip of coffee.

You sighed, placing your hand on hers. 'What about the white noise machine I got you, that help any?' You asked hopefully.

Octavia sighed 'It helped a little, but they both managed to yell over it.' She told you, rubbing her face.

You sighed again, reaching into your pocket. You pulled out a fist sized stone. 'Here' you told her, handing her the stone.

Octavia stared at the stone for several moments, before looking up to you, blinking heavily a few times, 'Uhhhh... thanks?' She said, clearly confused.

You let out a chuckle, resting your head on your hand. 'Your welcome.'

The girl stared at the stone, before looking back at you 'what is it?' She asked simply.

You laughed again, 'Well it was going to be a birthday present, but it would seem you need it more now.'

Picking up the stone you gently tapped its top, a complex Web of symbols growing across it. Tapping it once more the symbols disappeared.

Octavia looked much more interested now, as you explained it to her. 'This bad boy, is what you'd call a noise sponge. When activated, it basically sucks all the noise out of a room.'

Octavia stood up, 'Really?' She asked seemingly excited. With a smile you told her 'See for yourself' you told her before tapping the top of the stone.

Octavias mouth moved, but no noise seemed to leave. She spoke again and again, each time seemingly getting louder and louder, before taking a deep breath.

Her mouth stretched and her body moved as though she were screaming, but there was no sound whatsoever.

Tapping the stone, sound noticably re-entered the room.

Octavia panted, before giggling like... well a school girl. Picking up the stone, you handed it to her.

Octavia stared at the stone, getting up, you followed her. 'Now remember this. That's not a toy. Its a powerful artefact, so don't use it longer than needed, and no sound can be heard when activated, be careful where you use it.'

Octavia just nodded her head, her eyes never leaving the stone. 'Thanks (y/n)' she told you giving a big hug.

'No problem kiddo.' You told her patting her back and planting an affectionate kiss atop her head.

Leaving the room you reflected on your growing friendship with Octavia.

She truly was an amazing young woman, a spitting image of her mother, if a bit cynical. She had a deep fascination for the occult, something you were more than happy to help her explore.

The two of you had actually become pretty close, having talked and met up dozens of times. You acted as a confidant, and a suspected, only friend for the girl.

You didn't like manipulating the girl, but it was quite easy to sour her relationship with her father, you really only had to bring focus to his selfish nature.

Of course, that didn't mean she was running to Stella's side, but her trust in stolas was cracked.

So with some pep in your step, you made your way to Stella's study, giving polite and playful little bows to the palace staff.

Youd worked hard to become beloved by the staff, acting as sort the "good noble" that looked out for them. At least for the ones not ready on your payroll.

You found her study. Giving your outfit a once over you knocked on the door. Stella snapped back, telling you to go away.

You released a bitter-sweet laugh, you opened the door, 'Are you fucking d-' Stella yelled before cutting yourself off.

'Hello darling.' You said calmly. In an instant she got to her feet, rushing over and wrapping you in a hug.

You pulled her into a kiss, locking the two into a passionate embrace. Breaking the kiss, you asked her tenderly 'How are you doing, my love?'

You'd gotten very good at telling when Stella was upset and when she was trying to hide it, and now she was certainly upset.

'How am I doing? Oh you know, I've had to deal with my slut of a husband and that... fucking Imp! For months now.' She growled, taking several heavy breaths before turning back to you. 'Other then that, I'm fine.'

You gave her a sympathetic smile, before remembering why you were here. 'Well, then I have just the thing.' You told her, giving the basket a little shake.

You pulled her towards the door, Stella resisting. 'Lets go play' you tell her playfully.

'No, I can't' she tells you, resisting your pull 'I have to much work to do.' She said clearly upset at the reality of royal responsibility.

Pulling her close, you looked her in the eyes before firmly telling her 'Do you trust me?' You asked her sternly.

That seemed to surprise her, before she just nodded her head. 'Then we should do this... trust me'

Stella conceded, letting you lead her out of the palace.

Walking out the back of the palace, you passed the field she had once burnt to ash, now regrown into a healthy and lush lawn.

Taking her into the clearing, you layed out the blanket you'd brought in the basket.

Sitting down, you pulled out the bottle of wine. Pulling the cork, you poured you both a glass. Sitting there you both fell silent, a weight hanging over your head.

You turned to her, looking deep into her eyes, you told her calmly. 'Stella, theres nothing in this world I love more then you...' taking your hand, you placed a kiss atop it.

'I'm sorry... I'm sorry I was never good enough for you...' you told her, emotion growing in your voice.

She looked deeply concerned, asking you 'what do you mean?'

You shook your head. 'The truth is. All I've ever wanted was to be with you...' you looked at your hands, 'I had such plans to Get you back, to prove I deserved you. But stolas seems to have ruined everything... You deserve better and I'm going to give it to you.' You looked up at her, 'I love you Stella.'

Looking at Stella, she looked distraught, teary eyed as she pulled you close. 'I love you too (Y/N).' There was a long pause before she whispered in your ear, 'I wish I had been with you... all those years ago'

Her words put everything together, a wave of determination flowing through you. With your purpose secured, you pulled her into a passionate kiss.

The two of you became more physical, your hands roaming her body. Stella's arms wrapped around your neck. You becaming more passionate, Stella matching your energy at every step.

It was as you undid the back of her dress that you heard it... he was here.

Giving her another kiss you asked her, 'Do you trust me?' Your breathing still raged.

It took a moment, but Stella responded 'Yes, Yes I trust you...' With that you kiss her again, carefully readjusting her dress.

It took another moment, but you heard him. 'Well, well, what do we have here?' The voice was cold, clearly unhappy.

Breaking the kiss, you looked up to find a very angry looking Stolas staring down at you.

You carefully pushed Stella off, giving her a more innocent kiss on her cheek. 'Go play somewhere.' You whispered, standing up.

You turned to face Stolas. The prince was absolutely livid, tapping his fingers on his forearm.

'Stolas! My what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?' That was a lie. You specifically picked this spot, at this time because you knew he would see the two of you.

All according to plan.

Stolas spat back, 'Don't talk to me like that you bastard. Trying to fuck my wife. In my own home, do you have no shame.'

You couldn't help but begin laughing. You gripped your legs, laughing so hard it was hard to breath.

Straightening up you looked at Stolas, allowing years of venom to show. 'Shame?' You asked incredulously, 'Your asking me if I have shame?' You chuckled again. 'Pot meet kettle.' You spat at him

Dusted yourself off. 'Shame...?' You spat, through gritted teeth. 'Youre asking me if I have shame? You speak of your lust before your child. Plastering the hellnet with your lust for that satan-damned Imp, Fucking that Hellspawn in the bed, you shared with your Wife. You know nothing of shame, you harlot!' You finished almost screaming.

Stolas grit his teeth, his hands dropping to his side. The weather began to shift.

The once clear sky quickly being replaced with a ocean of grey clouds.

'You think you can take my wife?' He asked seriously. Your smile grew, taking a few steps towards him, smugness growing across your face. 'Think? My good man... I already have.' you tell him simply.

With a flick of his claw Stolas manifested his Grimoire.

In a flash you reached into your coat, pulling out a silver lock and throwing it at the Grimoire.

Almost immediately on impact, dozens of silver vines shot out, wrapping around the book.

Stolas, initially shocked tried to open the book, the lock on its cover not budging against his grip.

He looked up at you, pissed and clearly expecting 'That little item,' you began 'ensures that your little book won't affect the outcome of our little fight, Stolas.'

You smirk at him 'Now' you began 'you'll just have to fight me like a man.'

Stolas seemed both concerned and enraged by this, throwing the book to the side. 'You think I'm scared of you?'

He reached for his cloak, dramatically throwing it to the side.

You just chuckled, cracking your knuckles, the demonic Prince charged, swinging at you.

You easily dodged.

'My, how impressive!' you said, mockingly.

Stolas swung again, and again, missing each time. 'Come on I don't have all day!' You called at him smugly.

Stolas went for a violent haymaker, missing again. This time you retaliated with a hard punch to his nose, hearing a crack apon your fist meeting his face.

He stumbled back, blood dripped from his nose as you taunted him further.

'You know I had such an elaberate plan, Stolas.' You told him, taking out a shiny set of knuckle dusters from back pocket. 'I had every step perfectly worked out, all to turn your family against you.'

Stolas, became enraged, blindly charging at you. You easily dodgeing him, giving him a violent crack to his face.

'And then you, you fool... you did most of the job for me... half my plan, unneeded because you were a selfish, arrogant fool.'

Stolas made it to his feet, his left eye already swelling. He widened his eyes, likely intending to turn you to stone, but before he could, you reached into your pocket and threw a handful of dust at him.

The silver dust shone as it flew through the air, his reaction was instant. Falling to his knees clutching his face.

You chuckled, leaning on your knees for a second, 'When Judas betrayed jesus.' You began.

'He received 30 pieces of silver, as such its toxic to demons. And now it's your payment for all suffering you've put your family through.' You told him, blankly, no emotion in your voice.

'Years, Stolas. I've been preparing for this fight for years. I've played this moments out hundreds, thousands of times. Nothing you can do I havent prepared for.' You wiped your lip, standing up straight. 'Your going to lose.'

You were taunting him now, relishing seeing him suffer.

Reaching down, you grabbed his hair, pulling him up. It was as you were about to taunt him again that you were suddenly punched in the face.

Stumbling back, you found stolas getting to his feet. Wiping his eyes he glared at you, 'You think I'm some push over? I'm a prince! I am a Goetia, I'm not gonna be taken down by some retched lowborne.' He screeched, raising his fists.

You just smiled back, wiping your cheek 'Finally... a real fight.'

The fight was a brutal, Stolas, despite his lanky figure and privileged upbringing, could pack one hell of a punch.

But you were prepared for this.

For every hit Stolas landed, you hit him twice. Every use of magic was thwarted with an item or counter spell. You were almost perfectly matched.

Almost.

You stood across from each other, fists bloody, clothes filthy and torn, bruised and battered.

Still a smile adorned your face. Chuckling, you began 'you've put up one hell of a fight, Stolas.' You said as though remembering something. 'But even if you beat me, I still win!' You told him smugly.

Stolas cocked his brow, 'what are you going on about.' You smiled again, before reaching into your jacket before you pulling out a long white feather.

'Stella, your uh, "wife"...'you ran the feathered across your nose, taking in her lingering scent. 'We've been fucking for the past year now.' You chuckled again 'we fucked everywhere, her study... your bed, and man... can she scream.'

That set him off, he charged you, releasing a desperate a d furious, battle cry, swinging like a mad man.

You dodged the swing, and with one final uppercut the demon Prince stumbled back. He looked at you shocked, before smacking into the ground.

You couldn't help but laugh. The piece of shit fell like a sack of rocks.

Turning around you found a very concerned Stella. With a smile you walked towards her, stumbling over your battered legs.

Stella ran to your side, helping you keep up right.

You chuckled, pulling her in for a kiss. 'I have something for you.' You told her, your voice course and worn.

Reaching into your coat, you pulled out a small black case.

Breaking her grip, you stepped back and fell to your knee.

Taking several deep breaths you began, 'Stella. You are my light in the darkness, the love of my life. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you.'

Opening the case, you showed the sparkling diamond ring. 'Stella, my love. Will you marry me.'

Stella looked shocked, tears coming to her eyes as she covered her mouth.

It took a moment, but she nodded her head, 'Yes... yes I'll marry you.' She said, her voice thick with emotion.

You just smiled.

Everything was perfect.

Just as you planned.

#helluva boss #headcanon #x reader #helluva boss headcanon #helluva stolas #helluva boss x reader #helluva stella #helluva octavia

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red-doll-face · 4 years ago

Note

Here is a request for slashers if they're open. My brain does a thing where I am affectionate w a person but if I get nudged away (even if it's just to readjust the position), it goes "oh no. They don't want u to touch them. Do not touch ever again or they will get mad at u. U disgust them." Even tho touch is my love language & it hurts, I just won't touch. If confronted, I will get confused & panicky cuz "u didn't want me to touch? Im respecting ur wishes? Did I miss something?" Its a mess.

Requests are indeed open, I’m sorry I take foreverrr to do these but i hope u enjoy! I don’t know what to call this tho. For simplicity’s sake I’m calling this nervous reader lmao, idk what else to call these.

Slashers x gn nervous Reader

Jason Voorhees:

Jason can very much relate to the feeling. When he first meets you, he’s sure that you’re frightened. He restrains from being too close to avoid coming off as overbearing, doesn't want to touch you because if you flinch he’ll be so hurt. He just assumes he disgusts you. Based on the reaction all of his other victims have when they see him, he’s sure you’ll probably be the same.

Once Jason is sure that you don't feel that way, he’s a cuddle monster. He wants to be close all of the time, holding hands, letting you sit in his lap, you name it. He’s so starved and quickly decides that touch is his love language too. He’s not even sure how he’s lived this long without it.

The only time I can see Jason maybe gently sort of setting you down elsewhere and walking off is when he senses strangers on the property of what once was Crystal Lake. He’s out the door before he can even see your hurt expression, Which is worse because this might lead you to jump to conclusions.

If you distance yourself from Jason, he immediately is thrown off. He can’t directly ask you if he’s done something wrong and when he tries to initiate affection with you and you don’t reciprocate whole heartedly, he’s at a loss.

He’ll get on one knee while you sulk on the couch and give you a silent plea to tell him what's wrong. You can panic and try and avoid it but he is certain there's something going on and he wants so badly to know what he’s done to put you off. You tell him and he immediately is shaking his head no, he could never be mad at you, never be disgusted with you. You’re the most breathtaking person he’s ever had the pleasure of holding, the first, most likely.

Jason nods because he understands how you feel. In the future, he’s persistent about how you feel when he untangles himself from you, making sure you’re ok.

Michael Myers:

In the later stages of your relationship, Michael is insatiable when it comes to being in contact with you. For a long time, towards the start of your relationship, he didn’t like it. It felt weird. All of the touch he's experienced prior was so clinical and sterile that he doesn’t quite know how good touch is supposed to feel. He’s so touch starved that he’s almost positive he doesn't even need it.

Slowly, he builds a tolerance for it, much like one does with alcohol, constantly checking his boundaries and letting him control the situation and he’s all for movie night, huddled up on the couch, or waking up with his head on your chest. His own personal pillow.

There are, however, moments when his need to make someone tremble with fear and then blodgeon them to death with a can opener from their own kitchen becomes too strong, so he tries to keep away from you. In the past, he might have used you to satisfy similar desires of a sexual nature and may have really hurt you but he knows that it’s not always enjoyable to you.

Then, you stop touching him. Much like Jason, he starts to think you’ve become sick of him. Sick of his coldness, his muteness, his withdrawn demeanor. Maybe you’ve moved on and he tries to tell himself he doesn’t care but he doesn't think he can see himself touching anyone but you now.

It gets to the point where he comes home one day and you look heavily troubled, expressions he’s seen on your face before, only in the event that something terrible has happened. You ask to speak to him and he obliges.

You explain that you don’t think this relationship is working, that you’re pretty sure he’s disgusted with you and how difficult this event is because you didn't even want to talk about it but it's been hurting you for too long.

His response is to stand up very slowly, pick you up and lay down with you over him, simply laying there. Hopefully, knowing you’re the one person he would ever allow to participate in this intimacy is enough to show you that you mean more than you think you do to him.

RZ Michael Myers:

This Michael is more perceptive to your touch than his counterpart, your touch sends little shivers down his spine and as soon as he gets pretty used to it, he’s eager for more. This also takes some time but significantly less. He’s enamored with the idea of returning to a somewhat normal life. Your affection grounds him in that fantasy as much as being a murderer might take him out of it.

As he establishes a relationship with you, he may even be the one to start touching you instead of the other way around. He’s read books and always wondered what it might feel like to have someone genuinely touch him without fear in their eyes. Without malice.

An unsuccessful ‘day at work’ might have Michael feeling a little het up though. He can be moody and more rageful. Neither you nor his hobbies can calm him. He seems colder than usual in these states and can come off as very standoffish.

So when you try and touch him and he shrugs your hand off his shoulder, he can’t or isn't in the state of mind to address your frown and worried look. Michael, instead stomps off somewhere to be alone for a while; maybe take his anger out on something else. Some unsuspecting soul or maybe even a poor animal in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After he’s calmed down some, he returns and almost forgot about that sad little gleam in your eye before he left. Michael remembers when he sees you blankly staring at the TV, pointedly avoiding his gaze even as you utter a weak welcome home. It’s not very welcoming. He sits stiffly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re closed off from him and he doesn't like it at all.

Migrating towards you slowly, he eases you into a familiar hug, his big bear hugs that are a little tight but inviting all the same. His huge torso and long arms seem to swallow you in his warmth. You hardly reciprocate. You look a little surprised. Though he never addresses it verbally, (which is probably better for you) Michael offers a single glance that communicates everything he needs to say. Don't ever think that again.

Thomas B. Hewitt:

Thomas’ self esteem issues and self image are not good. He honestly doesn’t like to imagine what he looks like to other people unless it can be as a threatening man you don’t fuck with. Meeting you, he realizes that it’s good to protect his family but he’d rather you not see him as someone only capable of harm. Tries his best to get the point across that while Hoyt may be adamant that horrible things happen to you, he’s not going to let them.

Thomas has received affection but always a familial affection. A pat on the back from Monty, proud claps to his shoulders from uncle Charlie, and hugs and kisses from his dear Mother. Nothing so foreign as a strangers touch over his arm or a soft embrace.

Unfortunately, Thomas can get reactive when you attempt to touch him without his mask on. He’s absolutely settled on the false reality that you’ll see his face and immediately decide that you never want to touch him again. Interacting with you with his bare face? That's a no for Thomas.

He puts on his mask that covers the scarred skin over his face and you look dejected. He was preparing for you to pressure him but instead finds himself trying to find out why you won’t touch him now. It’s not his face, is it? You respond with your reasoning. Thomas is so confused. How could you think that you disgust him? That he doesn’t want you to touch him?

He’s quicker than the others and immediately sweeps you up into his arms and holds you as close as humanly possible. Feeling disgusting and like some sort of burden is a feeling he’s so familiar with and if he can take it away from you, he will.

Will aggressively initiate touch with you for the next week or so just to solidify the fact that he cares about you and won't reject you just as you didn’t reject him.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba is a great cuddle buddy and partner. Hugs are his favorite and he hugs his brother all the time, lifting both Nubbins and Chop Top into the air for some brotherly love. If you’re smaller than them he’s all about picking you up and perhaps a little rough housing with you. He’s careful though or at least there are attempts made to be careful

Bubba, though he could easily spend the whole day doing nothing and everything with you, has work. Chores, butchering. Cooking, and tending livestock. Plenty to do at the sawyer house and he does most of it. Suffice to say there are times when you want to lather attention all over him yet he has to go back to work.

So caught up in work that he doesn't get what's going on til way later, when you’ve had time to stew in your emotions, firmly telling yourself that Bubba is annoyed by you probably. He’s baffled and confused at your silence, your crossed arms. The little furrow in your brow. He can already tell there’s something upsetting you.

Honestly, Bubba is so affectionate I can’t see him being the kind of person even capable of alluding to the fact he might be disgusted by you. How, if all he wants to do is love you? You may bring it up as a joke that you thought he didn’t like you and he almost seems offended. Not like you?

Bubba can squash any feelings you may have about that and then some. He will not let you drown in insecurities, not on his watch. This man will do everything in his power to make you feel beautiful because you really are.

I’m sorry these are super long but thanks for requesting!

#slasher x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #rz halloween movie #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #friday the 13th #thomas brown hewitt x reader #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer x reader #bubba sawyer #leatherface x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #slashers

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curlynerd · 3 years ago

Text

Just Say It

Happy gift posting day for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! I had two assignees, so I'm posting two fics today! My 2nd gift recipient is @deanwinchesteradjacent! She requested canon-adjacent Destiel with fluff, action, and a happy ending. I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 7.5K Rating: T Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong? Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Dean is bad at feelings, case fic, beach fic.

Also read it on AO3!

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Did you pack deodorant?”

“Dean…”

“Toothpaste? Mouthwash?”

“...”

“Those fancy hair products? Cuz there’s just. So. Many--”

“Dean! I’ve lived my whole life on the road. I know how to pack a damn dufflebag!”

Dean smirked, unperturbed by Sam’s whining. “Yeah but Eileen is a classy lady. She’s not gonna put up with your usual road stank.”

Sam sighed in annoyance as he readjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’m not the one who wears his underwear three days in a row, jerk.”

“Better leave that attitude at home, bitch,” Dean said cheerfully. “It’s your anniversary, after all.”

Sam’s mouth twitched into a shy grin despite his best efforts. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, letting Dean have one last bit of fun before he left. “You and Cas too. Don’t get into trouble.” He nodded in farewell before he climbed the stairs to the bunker door.

“Oh, and Sammy?”

Sam paused at the top of the stairs and turned around. Almost like he could sense what was coming, his eyebrow twitched in irritation. Dean hucked a box up to the landing, and Sam fumbled to catch it. Dean flashed a shit-eating grin as Sam read the Trojan label and fixed him with a scowl. “Make sure you wrap it before you tap it, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

Dean laughed to himself as he turned back to his laptop, scrolling through news articles looking for a hunt. He was still at it an hour later when Cas came shuffling into the room still in his pajamas, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean crooned cheerfully. Cas’ hair was in wild disarray, and between that and his worn, brown sweatshirt and loose pajama bottoms, he looked more like a bear stumbling out of hibernation than a guy just waking up. “Sam already left.”

Cas set a mug down in front of Dean before slumping down into the chair beside him. “I hope he and Eileen have fun this week,” he mumbled as he hunched over his coffee.

Dean smiled at how adorable Cas looked, all grumpy and sleep-ruffled. He was still an angel...somewhat. He had Grace, if only a little. So close to mortality, Cas often needed mundane human things like sleep and food. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. In fact, he was so irritated about the whole thing that Dean hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to invite him to sleep in his room, instead of alone. Dean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe after this case, things would change.

“Are you looking up a case?” Cas asked, tilting toward Dean’s screen.

“Uh...yeah.” With forced casualness, Dean turned the laptop so Cas could read a headline from last year: “Gruesome Death at Bed and Breakfast Leaves Locals Worried.” “Over the past forty years, there’ve been six deaths at this B&B. All either heart attacks or a brain hemorrhage. All without a scratch on ‘em. Always a couple. Always on the same night: this Friday. That sure screams ‘ghost’ to me.”

“Key West?” Cas asked as he scanned the article. “Florida? That’s quite a drive.”

Dean shrugged. His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “It is, but hell, why not? Sam gets the week off with Eileen, why can’t we have a little vacation too?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. He was suspicious. Was a little time off really so bad? “You haven’t taken a vacation the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean struggled to come up with a good excuse. “That was, ya know. Before.”

“Before,” Cas repeated stiffly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Before everything.” He gestured around his head. Before Cas told him he loved him and immediately died. Before Dean rescued him from The Empty. Before they wound up in this awkward, stilted Angel’s-First-Romance training wheels relationship Dean found them in.

That seemed to placate Cas. He nodded and took another sip of coffee. “The beach would be nice…”

Dean broke into a grin. “Better than nice! Toes in the sand, drinks with little umbrellas… That’s better than paradise.” He gave Cas’ shoulder a friendly pat. Then--because he could, couldn’t he?--Dean let his hand run along the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulder and gently cup the back of his neck.

This was okay, right? He’d held back on any sort of real PDA because of how uncomfortable Cas would act. And that was okay. He understood. Angels and intimacy...Well, angels just worked differently than humans. And it was all new to Cas! It took him over a decade to say he loved Dean. It would probably take awhile before he was ready to hold hands.

But this wasn’t very much, right? Just a light hand on the back of his neck. This was about as innocent as things got!

Except Cas went stiff under Dean, and Dean took the hint and pulled his hand away as he bit back a sigh. So much for that.

His eyes trailed back to his laptop. Hopefully this getaway would change things, help Cas loosen up and finally see that they could act even a little like a couple now. A romantic beach, warm sunshine, half-naked romps in the water, a cozy and only slightly haunted bed and breakfast…

What could go wrong?

----

Three days and one slightly terrifying highway over the ocean later, Dean and Cas pulled into a parking space for a charming bed and breakfast painted in a lovely pale--

“Lavender?” Dean balked at the decidedly dainty color of the siding. “I know they like their pastels here, but geez…”

“It’s just a paint color,” Cas said as he crossed around to the trunk and started unloading their bags. The duffle full of salt, shotguns, and various iron weapons clanked ominously. He shouldered it carefully so it wouldn’t make so much noise.

“This whole street is like friggin’ Candy Land.” Dean eyeballed the canary yellow house across the street suspiciously as they made their way to the front door.

The inside was clearly the result of a scandalous love affair between a Jimmy Buffet concert and a Hallmark store--All tacky tropical themed furniture and a dizzying array of porcelain figurines.

Dean grinned from ear to ear and elbowed Cas. At Cas’ inquisitive eyebrow, Dean nodded his head to a shelf full of long-haired, sad-eyed blonde angels. Cas rolled his eyes while Dean laughed to himself.

“Hello! Can I help you?” An older woman sat behind a small reception desk, smiling warmly at them in the glow of her ancient computer.

Dean put on his best people-pleasing smile. “Yes you can. Hi, I’m Dean, and this is my, uh…” Dean glanced over to Cas and his eyes crinkled in delight. “Cas. This is my boyfriend, Cas.” Just the word caused a giddy bubble of effervescence to float inside Dean’s chest. After all this time, they were really here. This was real.

Cas offered the receptionist a small, tight smile before turning his studious gaze to the figurines on the wall shelves. The woman furrowed her brow, so Dean charged forward with the conversation before Cas’ awkwardness put her off. If they were going to pry into the case here, they needed her to be friendly with them. “I booked a reservation for this weekend. It--Are you guys still open? It’s kinda quiet in here.” Dean glanced around the empty living space. There weren’t any other cars parked outside either.

The woman waved off his concerns. “Oh yes, it’s just the off season right now. Some weekends are like that.” She spoke a little too quickly as she clicked through her computer. Dean suspected all the news articles about bloody deaths had something to do with it. “Not hard to find your reservation. You’re our only guests tonight.” She grabbed two keys off a hook and held them out for Dean. “You’ll be in room 4, down at the end of the hallway upstairs. It’s the largest one. If you need extra towels or anything, let me know. I’m Susan.”

Sensing they were about to be dismissed, Dean swerved into a distraction. “You know, we’ve been on the road for ages. Do you have any coffee or anything like that? A little wakeup before we hit the beach?”

Susan pushed back from the desk. “Oh of course! I was about to get some for myself, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, Cas,” Dean muttered as Susan disappeared down a hallway. “Anything out of place or really old. You know, haunted stuff.” Cas nodded, and Dean covertly pulled his EMF reader out of his jacket pocket and flicked it on. It was silent. They both made a pass of the room, pretending to look around.

“Here we are!” Susan said brightly, expertly holding three coffee mugs in her hands. Dean jumped a little and hastily put his device away before turning around. “I hope cream and sugar is okay.”

“Any caffeine is fine,” he assured her as he and Cas took their mugs. “So Susan, what is there to do around here? You know, other than what Yelp says. The insider’s scoop.” Dean winked as he took a sip of his coffee.

Susan smiled. “Well, if nightlife is your thing, there are some great spots within walking distance.”

Dean chuckled. “C’mon, Susan. Does this guy look like much of a dancer?” He grinned fondly at Cas as he draped his arm over his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much his stomach fluttered from the small action, but dammit, after all they’d been through to get here, Dean had earned a few butterflies. He squeezed Cas’ shoulder even though Cas didn’t really react. Dean was definitely going to have to clarify that the personal space rule didn’t apply anymore.

“Well, the restaurant down the street also does an excellent brunch,” Susan offered instead.

“Now that’s more our speed.” Maybe if the hunt went well they could actually stay the night, instead of getting the hell out of Dodge before the cops chased them down. Keep their salt and burn quiet and enjoy a nice night in. Dean tried not to get his hopes up for sharing a bed with Cas.

And he did mean sharing a bed. Things were moving so slowly between him and Cas he’d be thrilled just to spoon, nevermind anything else. Dean bit back a sigh as he swept over all of the knick-knacks and decorations, hoping for some sort of clue as to the identity of their ghost. “I’ve gotta say, I love the decor. Is all of this your collection?” Maybe a haunted object? Or a cursed one?

“Most of it.” A faint twinge of wistfulness colored Susan’s words as she looked over the porcelain figurines. “My Marcy liked to collect the angels, but that was years and years ago.”

On a high shelf was a large urn next to an oil painting of a young woman that immediately pinged Dean’s hunter’s instincts. “That’s a lovely painting over there,” he said, catching Cas’ eye meaningfully. Cas turned around to look too.

Susan’s face melted into a quiet, sad smile. “Yes, that’s my Marcy right there. A self-portrait. She was such a talented artist.”

Cas tilted his head. “She was your...wife?” he guessed.

Susan’s face crumpled. “No. No we were never…” She took a deep breath and continued in a steadier tone. “She was my business partner, but I loved her. Very much. And I knew she loved me too. So I suppose you could say we were almost together. Should have been together.” Her lower lip trembled.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what stopped you?” Dean felt bad for pressing her for information that was clearly upsetting, but people’s lives were at stake. Possibly Susan’s own.

Susan curled her hands around her mug, staring into the steaming coffee with a far off look in her eyes. “I was afraid. Of my own feelings. Of opening myself to getting hurt. So I...When Marcy needed me to be honest about how I felt I...I let her down. She got mad...We fought...She ran off. There was an accident, and...Well...” Susan took another deep breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears and heavy with regret. “Today is the anniversary of the day she died.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dean said, injecting even more sincerity into his words even though he expected as much. Marcy was the best lead so far. Was she attacking people on the anniversary of her death? She was obviously cremated, but perhaps there was something keeping her tied here?

“Not your fault,” she said with the heaviness of one who had heard those words hundreds of times. She shook her head. “You’re not the reason she--” Susan cut herself off and swallowed down her tears. Despite her best efforts, a single tear trailed down her cheek.

“It sounds like you loved her very much,” Cas said, his voice infused with genuine sympathy.

“She was my world. I loved her more than she’ll ever know...” Again Susan fell silent, this time lost in thought.

Then, with a deep, resettling breath, she wiped at her eyes with the edge of her finger and forced a cheerful expression. “But enough of that. You’re my guests. You don’t need to hear all of that! Do you need anything while you get settled in? More towels? Recommendations for restaurants?”

Dean shook his head, “Appreciate it ma’am, but we’ll probably just grab whatever’s convenient around here.”

“Well, would you like to eat here? Usually I don’t serve dinner for guests, but since it’s only the two of you, I can cook up something if you’d like. I honestly wouldn’t mind the company.”

Sensing another opportunity to interview Susan, Dean smiled his very best ‘comforting the bereaved’ smile. “We’d like that very much, Susan. Thank you for offering.” Then, carefully timed almost like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and what’s the wifi password?”

Upstairs their room was somewhat small but airy. The walls were a crisp, breezy blue, the linens bright white. There was even a gauzy white canopy draped around the four-poster bed. Dean grinned. One bed. Surely that was cause for some optimism about tonight.

“I dunno about you, but I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight,” he said with the most casual tone he could muster as he grabbed the weapons bag off Cas’ shoulder and deposited it on the duvet. “What about you? Think you’ll need a couple z’s?” ‘Please say yes.’

Cas eyed the bed. Something strange flickered across his face. Something heavy, even sad. Dean immediately felt like a jackass for reminding Cas about his weak Grace. “I mean, who knows how you’ll feel tonight,” Dean added hastily. He started digging through his bag for his laptop. “Get some sea air in your lungs, and you might wake right up.”

Cas pursed his lips. “I suppose so,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. He turned away from Dean and started roaming the room, looking over the artwork on the walls and the little beachy decorations on the furniture. He came to a stop.

“This looks like Susan and Marcy,” he said, letting his fingers trail along the frame of a painting over the dresser.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up from his booting laptop. It was an oil painting like the one downstairs, with a young couple in bright dresses making each other laugh in front of a backdrop of a stormy gray ocean. One was undeniably a much younger Susan. Marcy looked the same as she did in the painting downstairs.

Cas frowned a little and pulled his hand back from the frame. He glanced around the ceiling and only relaxed when he saw an air-conditioning vent gently humming nearby. Dean shrugged it off and turned back to his laptop. He set right to work searching through the local newspaper archives and breaking into the coroner’s office servers. Finding their ghost was only a matter of time.

“Got it. Marcy Daniels. Died forty-three years ago tonight.” Dean flipped his laptop around so Cas could read the news article. “Hit by a car. Right outside this house. Died before she even got to the hospital.”

Cas squinted at the screen. The photo attached to the article looked just like the woman in the paintings. “And you think she’s the ghost?”

Dean shrugged. “Seems as good a guess as any. Violent death. Susan said they were fighting right before. Probably something happened between them that left Marcy pissed off enough to stay in the veil.”

Cas nodded. “We should ask her about it.”

“Nah, she’s not gonna let us grill her about her dead partner like that. We’ll strike up a conversation at dinner. That should give us enough time to figure out what’s keeping Marcy here before she attacks tonight.”

Cas deferred to Dean’s hunting experience. “Well then what should we do until then?”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “What do you think we should do? To the beach!”

---

Dean shut the trunk of the Impala and straightened his back, lifting his face to the breeze blowing in from the sea. He breathed in deeply. “God, smell that salt air…” he said with a wistful smile. When he turned to Cas, the angel was looking at him with fondness, warmth making his blue eyes brighter. Dean’s smile grew, and he lifted up his sunglasses to flash Cas a playful wink. Cas quickly ducked his head and started walking.

Dean bit back a groan as he followed behind him with their beach bag. What was he doing wrong? He was trying to be gentle, to give Cas enough space to adjust to the idea that they were together now on his own. After all of the crap they’d been through together, after so many things keeping them apart, he understood why Cas was struggling. Hell, he’d been squashing down his feelings for so long, Cas probably didn’t know how to let himself have this happiness.

At least, that was what Dean kept telling himself. Deep down, though, he was afraid that Cas’ feelings were changing.

“There’s a good spot,” Dean said, jogging up behind Cas and forcing down his depressing thoughts before they could meet up with his self-loathing and really cause problems. He grabbed Cas’ arm and tugged him toward an unoccupied part of the sand. The weather was a little too temperamental this time of year to attract huge crowds, but there were still plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine.

Cas let himself be led, his flip-flops flapping awkwardly over the sand. Dean laughed a little, even though his footing wasn’t much better. When they’d walked far enough away from the boardwalk, Dean unceremoniously dropped their bag and dug out a large blanket to lay out.

“Perfect,” he declared as he tipped up his sunglasses to survey his work. He plopped down on the blanket and shucked off his shirt. A quick glance up let him catch the way Cas’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression smoothed over. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas, but he didn’t see because he turned around like a friggin’ Victorian lady in order to pull off his own shirt before he sat down in front of Dean, facing the ocean. Dean’s gaze swept down the broad, muscular expanse of Cas’ back, and he could barely contain the heat in his eyes and in his grin.

Only then did Cas glance over his shoulder and catch Dean’s eye. Dean bit his lip suggestively, his grin widening, but Cas’ cheeks turned lightly pink and turned his head away. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Nervous, huh? Well that was alright. Dean could lighten the mood.

He held up the bottle of sunscreen. “Alright, let’s spackle your back.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Dean,” Cas said, not turning around. His voice sounded even more gruff than usual, which was certainly saying something.

“Nonsense!” Dean was already squirting a healthy dollop of sunscreen in his palm. “You can get sunburned, same as the rest of us.”

Cas sighed heavily. His shoulders twitched, tense, but he didn’t protest when Dean slapped his hand at the middle of his back.

Dean set to work rubbing the cream into Cas’ warm skin. “See? This is nice. It’s like a mini-massage.” He made sure to move slowly, almost caressing him. His stomach fluttered with the faintest whisper of excitement. This was the closest thing he’d gotten to action in months, after all. And Cas’ back was nice. Broad and firm and far more muscular than Dean would have guessed. His heart did a little tapdance at knowing that he was allowed to freely ogle now.

“I like seeing you out of the trenchcoat,” Dean said, now using both hands to stroke up and down Cas’ skin. Cas tensed again. “I mean, you look good under all those layers,” Dean said hastily, afraid that the reminder of his waning Grace was too painful. “When did you get so beefy?” Dean slid his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and then down his thick arms. He squeezed them playfully as he shifted closer, letting his knees bump against him.

He leaned in close so he could almost whisper, “Wish I could see it somewhere other than the beach.”

Cas’ back became hard as marble. He lowered his head. “That’s enough, Dean,” he said softly. His voice trembled with some barely contained emotion Dean didn’t understand.

Disappointment rose up Dean’s throat like bile. “Seriously? I’m almost done!”

Cas twisted around, his face pulled into a scowl. His cheeks were flushed. “Dean! I’m an angel! I don’t need this!”

Dean pulled back. “What? I can’t even put sunscreen on you now?” he demanded.

Cas didn’t have an answer to that. He only glared, his eyes flickering with something Dean couldn’t quite figure out. Pain? Longing? Regret?

Knowing Dean’s penchant for screwing things up all the time, it was almost certainly the latter.

Cas breathed out a long, frustrated breath and rose to his feet. “I’m...going for a walk,” he said. He folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. What had he done wrong? Why was Cas so mad?

Cas shook his head. “Please, Dean.” With one last glance filled with that strange, heartache-inducing emotion, Cas turned and started walking down the beach alone.

Dean stared after him as he left. “What the hell?” he said under his breath. The sting of rejection quietly throbbed in his chest as he turned his gaze to the ocean. What had he done to piss Cas off? Had he really crossed a boundary, or was something else wrong? Cas had been so weird since he’d been back. Shouldn’t he be happy? Hell, telling Dean he loved him was the happiest Cas had ever been, right? That was part of his deal with The Empty!

Did he regret it? Did he change his mind? Maybe Cas really didn’t want to have Dean. Not for real. Maybe that was why Cas never told him how he felt before. He had to have known Dean loved him long before his deal with The Empty came along. Maybe there was a reason Cas hadn’t said anything about it before.

Maybe Cas knew that Dean would screw things up if they got together. Maybe he was trying to pull away from Dean, make it easier to break things off when it all came crashing down.

Dean stewed in his thoughts, his expression dark as he watched the waves. He lost track of time until a pair of children came racing past him, screaming in delight and startling him out of his thoughts. He pulled at his phone to glance at the time. Cas had been gone over half an hour. Way too long. Dean looked down the beach, almost expecting to see Cas trudging back up the beach back to him, but he didn’t see any sign of him. But Cas couldn’t have left left. Dean had the car keys! Quietly cursing, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Cas’ number.

...And heard a familiar ringtone coming out of their bag.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled as he hung up. He stood up, but he still couldn’t see Cas. Had something happened? What if he’d gone in the water? What if he’d gotten pulled out to sea by a riptide? Despite knowing Cas didn’t even know how to swim, worry dripped ice cold down Dean’s spine, and before he knew it he was walking down the beach along the path Cas had taken.

“Cas!” he called out, but he didn’t see him. Dean started walking faster. He scanned the beach for a familiar dark head of hair and the bright orange swim trunks Dean had picked out for him. “CAS!” He was beginning to fear the worst.

“You lookin’ for someone?” a concerned voice called out. Dean whipped his head around to a small family sitting underneath an umbrella.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my buddy Cas.” Dean jogged over to them. “You see him walk by? Kinda beefy, kinda dorky. Dark hair, orange trunks, about yea high.” He held his palm flat about eye level.

The woman who spoke nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I saw him walking back toward town, though.” She pointed over her shoulder.

Dean furrowed his brow. Did Cas walk back on his own? Irritation flared in his chest as he forced a cordial smile and thanked the woman before jogging back the way he came. He didn’t see any sign of Cas back at their blanket either.

Dean scowled. Maybe he had walked back. Running off without a word was infuriatingly in-character for him. Dean cursed under his breath as he hastily packed up their things and started stomping up the beach toward the car.

What was even such a big deal? If Cas supposedly loved him so much, was rubbing his back that bad? Dean was trying to give him space, he really was, but the way Cas was acting, it was like he didn’t even like Dean, nevermind love him!

The thought clenched tight around Dean’s heart as he drove back to the bed and breakfast. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe Cas was getting sick of him. Twelve years in each other’s lives, it was bound to happen eventually.

Maybe what angels considered love and what humans considered love was just different.

Dark thoughts still swirled in Dean’s head as he returned to the bed and breakfast and marched up the stairs.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Dean charged into their room, anger burning hot as his glare zeroed in on the angel sitting in a chair. “You can’t just go running off like that! You left your phone behind!”

Cas carefully closed the book he was reading. He was fully clothed again. “It’s not a long walk back here. I assumed you’d know where I’d gone.”

“I was worried sick about you! What if you went in the ocean and something happened?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. You know I can’t swim.”

“You can’t just go stomping off whenever you get mad!”

Cas closed his eyes. “I’m not mad,” he said, though the growl in his voice suggested otherwise.

“Like hell you’re not!” Dean shot back. “So what is it? I can’t touch you now? It’s freakin’ sunscreen, Cas. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Cas’ eyes flew open. “Yes!” he said, deeply pained. “Dean, does it really matter so little to you that you’re okay with just ignoring it?”

Dean was brought up short. “Does what matter?”

“Me!” Cas plastered his hand over his chest. He almost looked like he could cry. “I told you how I felt and you insist on acting like nothing happened!”

Dean blinked. “What? That’s...that’s not true, Cas!”

“Dean! You didn’t say anything! Not once since you brought me back, have you said anything about the fact that I love you! And you may think that by ignoring it and trying to force things back the way they were before that you can lock up that Pandora’s Box again, but you can’t! I can’t. I can’t…”

Dean took a step forward, his expression darkening with confusion. “Cas, what’re you talking about?” He didn’t understand. Why did Cas look so hurt? So heartbroken? Cas loved him. Dean loved Cas. So why wasn’t he happy? What had Dean done wrong? “Cas, I--”

Cold mist curled up from Dean’s mouth.

They both went tense and still as they noticed just how cold the room had gotten. The lamp on the bedside table flickered.

“Shit,” Dean muttered under his breath. His eyes darted to the open dufflebag on their bed with all of their weapons.

He made a move for it, but a figure flickered into being in front of him. She was wearing a torn, bloody sundress. Her long, straw-colored hair was plastered to the half of her gaunt face where it was smashed in, blood staining it crimson. The ghost took a step toward Dean. Thick, dark blood dripped from her head but never reached the floor.

“Marcy,” Dean breathed. Guess she didn’t need to wait for nightfall after all.

“Coward,” the ghost menaced as she took another step closer. Dean carefully backed up. “Can’t even say it. Even when you’re hurting him. Coward!”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas, who was edging toward their weapons bag. He tried to make the movement quick, but the ghost noticed. With a vicious growl she flung out her hand and Cas went flying into the far wall.

“Don’t worry,” the ghost said to Cas, and the venom in her voice dropped into twisted sympathy. “I’ll take your pain away soon.”

Cas struggled to his feet as the ghost rounded on Dean again. Her outstretched hand aimed directly at Dean’s head, fingers curled into a wicked claw. But before she could touch him, Cas made another attempt at the duffle. She shrieked in fury and sent it spinning through the air toward the window. A single iron poker tumbled out of the open zipper as it flipped over and smashed against the glass, shattering it. The bag tumbled to the ground below.

Cas lurched for the poker. “Dean!” he called as he tossed it through the air, directly through the ghost. She howled and dissipated into smoke while Dean barely managed to close his fingers around the weapon. Cas and Dean stood back to back as they circled the room, Dean holding the iron poker at the ready.

“Salt,” Dean barked. “We need salt!” Except all of theirs was now two stories below. Dean silently cursed. “The kitchen! Go! I’m right behind you!”

Cas nodded and made for the door. The lights were flickering again. He and Dean narrowly made it into the hallway when their bedroom door slammed shut behind them. They raced for the stairs and nearly collided with Susan.

“Cas, Dean, what’s going on?” Her eyes were panicked, taking in the cut on Cas’ temple and the iron poker in Dean’s grip. Mist followed her words out of her mouth.

“Look out!” Dean reached for Susan, but he was flung backward by an invisible force. Marcy flickered into existence over him again. “Salt, Susan! We need salt!” he cried out before the ghost clamped its cold hand around his throat. Dean scrambled from his poker, but it had fallen just out of reach. His other hand grappled with Marcy’s, trying to pull it away.

He couldn’t see with the ghost pinning him down, but he was pretty sure he heard Susan’s footsteps racing away. Good. Even if she didn’t come back, at least she was somewhere safer. Black dots started to swim in Dean’s vision.

“Hey! Marcy!” A ceramic angel went flying through the air and smashed into a framed photo on the wall next to them, shattering the glass. Marcy snarled and whipped her head around. Her grip on Dean’s neck loosened a little, and Dean sucked in as many painful gasps as he could get.

“This is what you’re about, huh?” Cas goaded. He stood next to an accent table full of figurines, another ceramic angel in his hand, fat load of good that would do against a ghost. “Exacting revenge against shitty lovers?” Dean stretched his arm until his muscles strained. He could barely feel the length of the iron rod brush against his fingertips. If Cas could keep stalling for just a little longer... “I think anger has clouded your judgement.” Cas’ lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “You have no reason to attack Dean. Can’t you tell? He doesn’t love me.”

The statement caught Dean completely off-guard. His hand stilled as he gaped at Cas. “What?” he rasped around the ghostly hand on his throat. Didn’t love him!?

The ghost growled at Cas. She raised her arm as if to psychically toss him toward the stairway, but right at that moment, Susan barreled up the stairs, a blue canister of salt in her hand.

“I have the salt!” she said, and with panic and desperation in her eyes she blindly flung the open canister at Dean and the ghost. Salt flung in a wide arc and rained down on Marcy, who screamed and disappeared instantly.

Dean rolled onto his side, coughing weakly as he grabbed onto the iron poker and clutched it against his chest. Cas ran to him, only stopping to grab the canister of salt. He hastily drew a circle around them, draining the last of the salt on their protection ring. “Susan, get in the circle!” he commanded as he knelt beside Dean.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean choked out between gasps for air. His head was spinning. Cas’ hand on his shoulder helped a lot, but when Dean asked his question Cas quickly yanked it away. “How could you think that?” he said, genuinely confused.

“What’s going on? Why did that...that thing look like my Marcy?!” Susan nearly flung herself into the circle with them. She clutched at her chest, casting her terrified gaze around the room.

“Her ghost,” Cas said, though he didn’t take his eyes off Dean. His brow furrowed. “Dean, you haven’t--”

“Ghost?!” Susan screeched. “Then what the hell are we doing standing here?!”

“Salt repels ghosts,” Cas replied with way more patience than Dean would have had. “She can’t come into the circle.”

“What’s going on?” Susan’s eyes went huge, her face going pale. “She...She killed those people last year, didn’t she? How do we stop her?”

“Usually burn her remains, if anything is left,” Cas said, “but she was cremated, wasn’t she? So something else is tethering her here. Perhaps a locket? Something she cherishes.”

Susan frowned, panicked eyes darting around in front of her as she mulled it over. “Her painting,” she said with a gasp. “The one in your room. She finished it right before our argument! Right before she ran out into the street and was hit by the car. It was precious to her. She put her everything into it, tried to use it to confess her love for me, and I...I was too much of a coward to say it back. That’s why we fought.”

Cas and Dean’s eyes met, and they both nodded. Dean grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, poker still clutched to his chest. “Susan, stay here. Whatever happens, don’t leave the circle. Cas, I’ll keep her busy. You burn the painting.”

As one unit Cas and Dean left the salt circle.

Immediately the hallway burst into chaos. Doors slammed shut everywhere. The knick-knacks and travel guides on the accent table went flying through the air. The lights flickered until their bulbs burst, leaving only the light of the window at the far end to help them see.

They ran.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean demanded, because a deadly ghost hunt seemed as good a time as any to have this conversation. Some things were too damn important to wait for downtime.

“Because you don’t!” Cas snapped. He threw himself at the shut door of their room, but it was supernaturally sealed. He grunted and tried again. Marcy appeared at his side, a ghostly hand reaching for his chest, a snarl on her lips.

“Cas, of course I love you, you idiot!” Dean swung at Marcy, forcing her to disappear again. Cas slammed himself against the unmoving door. “How could you think I don’t?”

“Dean, I died--” Cas slammed into the door again. His eyes glowed faintly with his weakened Grace. “Telling you how I felt. And you said--” Another crash; the door cracked ominously. “Nothing about it since I’ve been back!”

Marcy flickered into being next to them again. Dean knocked her away with the poker.

“I thought you knew! I thought you didn’t love me and that’s why you never said anything!”

“I told you!” With one final crash, Cas burst through the door and into the room, Dean hot on his heels. They ran for the dresser. “I told you the one thing I wanted, I couldn’t have! That thing was you, Dean!” Cas yanked the painting off the wall and threw it on the ground, shattering its glass and exposing the paper.

Marcy screamed in fury and appeared in front of him. She flung him at the dresser just as Dean dispersed her with a forceful swing. He flipped the poker in his hand, readying himself to strike again while Cas scrambled to his feet, lighter freed from his pocket and held at the ready.

“Because of the Empty!” Dean insisted. Marcy’s form materialized again, and Dean raised his weapon as she approached. “You couldn’t have me because of the deal with the Empty!”

Cas fumbled with the lighter. “I can’t have you because. You. Don’t. Love me!” It finally lit. Cas threw it onto the painting, sending it up in flames.

Marcy howled in agony as her body sparked and burned. She raised her head skyward as if to escape from the rising flames, but in a flash of heat and bright orange light, she was gone, and Cas and Dean were left standing alone in the room.

They stared at each other in the sudden, violent silence. Cas’ face was a mask of frustration and pain.

“Dean, I’ve been back for months. Months. And you have said nothing about how you feel. Do not lie to me now because you feel sorry for me.” With one last heartbroken glare, Cas stomped out of the room, leaving Dean behind to stamp out the flaming remains of the painting.

Once Dean didn’t need to worry about burning the house down, he went looking for Cas. He found him outside, loading up their scattered weapons into the trunk of the Impala.

He looked shattered. His face was crumpled with pain, his eyes dull, deep furrows in his brow. It brought Dean up short. Guilt welled up so intense that Dean almost couldn’t say anything at all. Except, well, that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

“I thought you knew,” Dean called across the distance between them. Cas stopped and turned to look at him. The bitterness in his eyes made Dean’s stomach churn. “I thought you knew,” he said again. He took a step toward Cas. “For years I thought you knew. But, you know, you’re an angel. I thought you didn’t...I thought you couldn’t…” He trailed off. Cas’ forehead was furrowed in confusion, but he was at least listening, so Dean swallowed down his discomfort and barreled forward. “I thought angels couldn’t fall in love. Except...then you died telling me you did. Telling me that the reason you couldn’t even tell me how you felt was because being happy would trigger your deal and…” He shrugged.

“You thought I was deliberately keeping us apart?”

“Because if you told me you felt the same, then we’d be together and you’d be happy and you’d die.”

The bitterness had faded from Cas’ eyes, replaced with something that Dean was loath to acknowledge looked a little bit like pity mixed with profound frustration. “So when I came back, you thought there wasn’t anything left to talk about?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and took another step forward. “Yeah well…What else was there to say? You said you, you know, loved me. And I thought you knew that I, you know…” He trailed off.

“Dean.” Dean had never heard Cas sound so pained just saying his name. “You.” Cas scrubbed at his face. His mouth twitched as he struggled to find words for all the ways Dean had screwed up. Was continuing to screw up.

“The hoops that you jump through to avoid talking about your feelings astound me,” Cas finally said. He dropped his hand with a sigh of defeat, and Dean’s heart sank. This was it. The death rattles of a relationship that hadn’t even really started. Dean never had what he truly wanted, and he never would.

Dean ducked his head, unable to look Cas in the eye. “Right. Yeah. That’s me, alright.” He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. The long drive back to Kansas was going to be awful.

“Say it,” Cas said softly. His words were a command, but when Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes were pleading. “Please,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t deserve to even ask, and something inside Dean cracked.

“I love you, Cas.” One step, two steps, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around Cas’ shoulders, clinging to him the way he wished he could have before the Empty took Cas away. “It’s you, Cas. It can only be you. It’s only been you for years. I promise.”

Cas’ next breath stuttered in his lungs. His arms wound tightly around Dean, desperate. “Dean,” he sighed, this time like a prayer.

“I’m right here, buddy.” Dean held him tightly, the way he should have when he first got Cas back from the Empty. The way Dean wanted to all these months when he thought...Well, when he was an idiot. “You can have me, you know. You already have me.”

Cas pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. His eyes were glassy. Dean’s didn’t exactly feel dry either. ‘I wonder if I can kiss him,’ Dean thought, milliseconds before Cas did just that.

Cas’ lips were warm against his own, and Dean gasped softly as his hand wound through Cas’ thick hair to cradle the back of his head. His kiss was eager, if not clumsy, and Dean smiled a little as he let Cas take the lead anyway. When they finally pulled apart, Cas’ normally pale lips were flushed pink, and Dean’s soft smile morphed into a huge, affectionate grin.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice surprisingly husky after a largely innocent kiss.

Cas smiled back. “Hello, Dean,” he said, and Dean couldn’t help it. He laughed. God, how he loved this angel.

“So whadya say, Cas?” Dean said when his laughter quieted. “Ready to get the hell outta Dodge?”

Cas’ hands slid down Dean’s back until they were resting on his hips. “Actually…” His gaze turned wistfully in the direction of the distant beach. “I had a different idea.”

---

“You sure this is okay, Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Cuz I mean, I want to respect your boundaries.”

“Dean!”

“And I totally understand if I’m crossing a line here.”

Cas twisted around and gave Dean and his closed bottle of sunscreen a baleful look. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “If I get sunburned, you can get your own room tonight.”

“You’re probably not even going to sleep anyway,” Dean shot back.

“I’ll sleep just to spite you.” Cas scowled, but Dean could see the corners of his lips twitching playfully. With a rush of affection, Dean shifted so that Cas’ bare back was pressed against his chest and Dean could rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder. Cas went stiff against his body, but it only lasted a second before he practically melted into Dean’s hold. Dean wrapped his arms around him as he watched the waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said with a sigh.

“Yes,” Cas breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the sea.

Heat rushed to Dean’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze solidly on the ocean. “You’re such a sap,” he grumbled weakly.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dean could see Cas�� smirk in the corner of his eye. Dean tightened his embrace.

“I dunno if I ever will,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he finally got to hold his angel.

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #userstarry #deanwinchesteradjacent #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #katie writes things #long post

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angeli-marco-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Natasha Romanoff - good 4 u

A/N & WC - I am not trying to pretend I am Olivia Rodrigo at all: total credit for all songs and lyrics used here goes to her and her team. No disrespect is meant towards her. I do not own the songs, I also do not own the characters I’m writing these blurbs for. Please read the preface. 1.5k.

Warnings - Swearing, mentions of blackmail, breakup angst, mentions of bad therapy.

Thankfully, Natasha is wandering around outside, eating peanut butter bites, when Wanda and I are done.

“Nice song,” she comments easily.

I snap my head to her, “What? You heard?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, eating another peanut butter bite, “I’ve been out here for ages. I thought you might need me.”

“Well, conveniently, I do right now.”

“Cool,” says Nat, and she sashays into the room before I can even re-fluff the cushions or plug my guitar in. “What are you gonna sing me?”

“Hopefully the breakup anthem of the year, but that’s up to you.”

A playful smirk toys on her painted lips, a sultry undertone to her words. “Well now I’m excited.”

I keep her in my peripheral vision, sipping a fresh cup of tea she’s just poured as she nibbles on a peanut butter bite, lounging back on the sofa with an almost sensual ease. I have to try three times before getting the wire into my guitar. I tune it up on the speaker, and tune again after not having played my guitar for a few songs, but when I’m ready, so is Natasha; eager, almost.

I debated a dozen times over putting this in F# minor, but nothing else seemed right, especially based off the bassline that begins this piece and carries throughout, almost a walking bass. After plucking the first C#, I wince. The reverb is all wrong. I’m surprised at Natasha’s patience while I readjust, but she’s at full attention when I recommence with a quaver and semiquaver bass idea. C#, F#, F#, F#, E. C#, F#, F#, F#, E.

‘Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world?’

She was appalled to see the new girl. “She’s a rip off you! Look at her hair, oh my God…” I couldn’t help but laugh at her blatant appal, even in the worst times when she came to me with the first instalment of pictures, the original news. I’m glad she was the one to break it to me, as I don’t think I could’ve handled that from anyone else, even if I already knew deep down.

Aunty Nat told me to only go for a boy I thought could give me the world: no one could’ve guessed that’d be my downfall, and despite her reservations, she didn’t think he’d be a liar and not even give me an increment of what he promised. She said she’d find me a man who could, and good for her, she needs to look no further.

‘And good for you, I guess that you've been workin' on yourself

I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped,

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl.’

I gave him Steve’s number and feel no remorse over it. He went to one session, and Steve made him cry: we don’t speak about it. He went to another with Bucky’s crap old therapist who taunted him constantly… It's safe to say, from Bucky’s spying in sessions where he constantly compared me to his new girlfriend, she was just as bad a therapist for him, not that he deserved much else. Her sympathy was nonexistent: Natasha smirks, and begins to bop her head as the beat picks up at the chorus.

‘Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask.

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me, baby

God, I wish that I could do that.’

Natasha’s smiling now, beaming with a toothy grin, perhaps at the level of painful truth in my lyrics, or maybe at the unexpected growl my voice takes in the last line. Surprise flashes over her face, I’m glad to see: it’s not often you can catch an elite Russian spy by surprise.

She nursed me secretly back to health and joy after so many expected me to be ok: not that anyone asked.

‘Well, good for you, I guess you're gettin' everything you want

You bought a new car and your career's really takin' off

It's like we never even happened,’

I mean my career’s great, and I have everything I want back now, but he doesn’t have to know that: I’m okay despite him, he’s ‘successful’ because of me. I got a new car, not that I bought it. My dad got me one: I trial all of his new cars to see if they’re nice drives before he tinkers around with them, and take Nat for spins in them since her driving in normal cars and not on high speed chases is less than adequate. We find songs like these to belt throughout the journey, but I don’t think we ever anticipated this to happen, that I’d be writing our next car karaoke song, but Nat is now bopping her head, her ginger hair flying everywhere, only for it to stop abruptly, plastered over her head, when my guitar playing stops for an unaccompanied line.

‘Baby, what the fuck is up with that?’

I’m shocked when Natasha makes a loud cheer, as though she’s at a concert, but I’m not complaining. She always works wonders on my confidence. Next thing I know, her tea is pushed aside and she’s looking riveted, on the edge of her seat as my melody speeds up, and my face becomes more animated.

‘Remember when you swore to God I was the only

Person who ever got you?

Well, screw that and screw you!’

Natasha’s standing, now, for a very powerful, almost shouted last line that gives me more catharsis than I’ve felt in a very long time. It’s good to scream: not about the heartbreak, but about the anger of everything. I thought it had subsided, but I guess not if I can pack so much emotion into a song that even Natasha is up and celebrating with me, feeling the power simultaneously.

‘You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do!’

I’m standing for this last line of the verse, stomping my feet on the final two perfectly enunciated syllables, and I begin to jam in the chorus, my whole body moving with the power of my strums, the reverb shaking the room as Natasha jumps up and down.

‘I've lost my mind, I've spent the night

Cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

But I guess good for you.’

She lay with me while I cried in the bathroom night after night, no words, just silence, until I got over it. Now I’m the unaffected one—good for me.

At the end of the second chorus, I notice Natasha vibing, even singing some lines with me. she ‘s picked up on it pretty easily. I used ‘good 4 u’ as the title, because that’s what Natasha wrote when she emailed him the pictures from an anonymous account, taunting him with the fact his secret was discovered so shortly after our breakup. She’s coined the phrase, I just hope she lets me use it.

I hit a guitar riff to go with the head-voice vocalisation to pave the gap between the chorus and bridge. I repeat the bridge, though, the second time feeling and tasting the true venomous bitterness in my words. Nat shies away a little, but keeps listening intently.

‘Maybe I'm too emotional

But your apathy's like a wound in salt.

Maybe I'm too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at aaaaall.’

The guitar part hollows out, as I broach the final chorus, nervous at Nat’s reaction, anticipating my voice to break on the high note. I gulp down as much air as I can.

‘Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me, baby, woahhhhh.’

One final aggressively passionate chorus nearly brings me to my knees, but I bare it, and can’t help but feel my belly do flips at the glee written in every line of Natasha's body. She’s actually enjoying this, her reaction isn't just sympathetic. And that’s what gives me the courage to strum my final chords.

‘Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily.’

Natasha barely waits for me to wrestle the guitar from around my body before she’s barrelling towards me and knocking me to the ground in a bear hug. I don’t quite know how to react… She's one of the least affectionate people I’ve ever met. Feebly, and I suppose more on instinct than anything else, I pat her back with one hand and stroke her hair with the other all the while desperately trying to gulp down air back into my lungs.

“I love it. It’s incredible, brilliant,” she gushes, and plants a kiss on one burning cheek. “Definitely a hit. Who knew you were so badass?”

I turn to her with a deadpan face. “I’ve been an avenger for almost half my life, and you’re only just noticing my badass-ness?”

She rolls her eyes, saying, “I just mean I never knew you could write such powerful words and sing with such power. You’re like Taylor on Reputation just ten times angrier.”

“Well I’ll take a Taylor comparison any day,” I giggle.

She takes a deep breath, and holding my face in her hands, tells me whole-heartedly, “Bean, you’re an absolute star.”

#ann's 3k sour blurb event #natasha romonova #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #black widow x you #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #black widow x hawkeye #black widow imagine #natasha romanova x reader #natasha romanova imagine #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanova blurb

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

Text

Memories, Pt. II

Summary: You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?

Warnings: mentions of violence, panic attacks

Word Count: 1982

a/n: Ahh, part 2! I hope you like it :)

I know it's only been a day since part I, but this really felt like it took forever to write. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out though. Again, sorry if it's confusing! Hopefully you understand the concept I'm going for.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

4 Years Ago

"Y/N!" Steve called out to you from down the hall, a man with dark hair walking beside him. "I'm glad I caught you. Buck came back from a mission last night, and he's the only one left for you to meet."

You eyes lit up at the mention of Bucky. You'd always admired him for the steps he took to recover from his time at Hydra.

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You smiled, trying not to sound too eager. "It's an honor to meet you Sergeant Barnes."

"An honor?" His eyes sparkled with disbelief. "And please, just Bucky."

You nodded at his request before explaining. "An honor, truly. Sorry to be blunt, but you've been through hell and are still out there helping people every chance you get. You're a hero." You whispered that last line conspiratorially, knowing he would get flustered from your brief conversations with Sam Wilson.

"Did Wilson put you up to this?" He questioned, a tell tale flush blooming on his cheeks.

"Just the hero bit." You chuckled when he rolled his eyes. "Everything else came from me." You waited a beat before continuing. "It's true though. You are a hero." You winked before saying goodbye and continuing with your night.

Steve stared at his best friend as he watched you walk away, knowing exactly what that small smile meant. "You like her!" He accused, although lightheartedly.

"Shut up, punk. I just met her." Bucky tried to stop smiling, but your lingering first impression left him feeling giddy.

"Doesn't matter. It's true." Steve easily dodged Bucky's fist. "You don't have to admit it, but I know."

The two men continued down the hall, Steve teasing Bucky when he was still smiling 10 minutes later.

Present

You must've fallen asleep eventually, because next thing you know you are waking up to a room full of people. It takes a minute for you to recognize all of them, but you know the names and reputations well enough to figure it out.

Bucky has his head resting on the edge of your bed, your hand still encased in his. You involuntarily squeeze his hand, as if your muscles have a mind of their own, to gain his attention.

It's comical how quickly his head flies up, gaining the attention of the multitude of superheros in the room.

"You're awake!" Wanda shrieks, beyond relieved to see you home.

"What happened?" Sam adds on, concerned for what you went through.

"Are you okay?" Nat questions as well.

Your eyes flicker between them, unsure how to respond to any of them. Luckily for you, Bucky clears his throat to capture your attention.

"How are you feeling?" Your body instantly relaxes at the softness of his voice, as if remembering things you don't.

It's weird, lying in a room full of people who believe something you know not to be true.

"I, um, physically I feel fine." His eyes on you pull the truth out. "I, um, I'm still kind of confused about what's going on though."

He presses a kiss to your palm, again easing the tension from your body.

"You don't remember anything?" Nat's first to speak up, her typical skepticism peaking through.

"Not about the mission. I mean, I was kept in that room the entire time I was there." Three years flashes in your mind. Why do they think it was only three months? None of this makes sense. "I know all of you though." You're careful not to lie, knowing she would likely spot it.

Their faces relax as they take in your statement, causing a jolt of anxiety and stress to run through you.

Hydra may have convinced you that 38 people died at your hands, but your own personal morals haven't changed. You've accepted "the incident" as they put it was your fault, but that doesn't mean you're a cold blooded killer. They didn't have enough time to change you that much.

Steve, although upset with the lack of information, understands the position you're in. It's easy to see he's still worried about what happened to you while you were "captured".

"Why don't you go up to your room and decompress. The memories could still come back to you."

You can't help but smile at the kindness being shown to you. You give him another small smile while nodding, trying to figure out a way to get someone to take you to "your room" because you have no idea where it is.

"C'mon, I'll help you." Bucky wraps an arm around your waist as you stand, and although it's the first time you've experienced it, it feels completely natural to be in his embrace.

Everyone calls out statements of encouragement and well wishes as the two of you walk out of the med bay. You do your best to not marvel at everything you pass, simply trying to remember the layout of the building.

A few turns later, you've arrived at an elevator where Bucky presses the button for your floor. When the doors open again, he guides you through a hallway to what you presume is your room.

"Thank you, for helping me." You turn to him before stepping into your room.

"I would do anything for you." He whispers back, hand still rubbing your hip. When he leans in to kiss you, you panic.

"Um, I'm going to take a shower. Maybe feeling clean will help with all of this." You vaguely gesture to the air, unsure how to put everything into words.

"Oh, uh, sure. We can talk later?" He hides his confusion at your behavior, understanding how weird it can be to readjust.

You nod before closing the door, leaving him slightly stunned in the hallway. A few steps into your room, and a friendly Irish voice is calling out to you.

"Welcome home, Ms. L/N. Would you like to hear your messages?"

Your heart rate spikes as you rapidly look around the room, trying to spot the intruder.

"Who, who said that?" You continue spinning, trying to spot the voice.

"My name is Friday. I am an AI built into the compound." Your breathing settles as you begin to comprehend the information. Nobody is in your room. You're alone.

"Oh. Okay." You continue taking deep breaths, trying to prevent the panic from settling in now that you're alone.

"Would you like to hear your messages?" The AI asks, again catching you off guard.

"What messages?" You can't deny that you're intrigued by the concept of someone leaving you messages here. "What the hell happened? What is going on?" You mutter to yourself.

"You left for a mission 3 months ago. Communication was cut off 2 days after your departure. All resources were diverted to finding your location and bringing you home." Friday announced, as if it was common knowledge. You would suppose it should be if it was true.

"3 months ago? I was there for 3 years. I've never been here before! Why do they all think I'm an Avenger? None of this makes any sense." Your head is spinning, and all you want is to wash the last 3 years of dirt and grime from your skin.

As you step into the shower, Friday continues to answer your questions, ultimately giving you the version of events that the Avengers all seem to believe.

You joined the team four years ago. Tony and Steve brought you back to the compound after you fought alongside them. Your mutation gives you enhanced senses, allowing you to predict the enemies moves. Despite your lack of true training, the two men were impressed by your skills and dedication.

After getting dressed, you finally bit the bullet and asked to hear the messages. Instantly, Bucky's shaky voice filled your ears.

"Y/N, we lost contact with you yesterday. I just, I needed to feel like I was talking to you." A shaky breath could be heard before he continued. "You promised me you'd come back. I, I can't lose you, doll. Stay strong. We're going to find you."

The next message began immediately. "It's been a week now without you. Steve says we're getting closer, but I know he's just trying to calm me down. I will find you, Y/N. That's my promise."

Tears began pouring down your face as you listened to his voice, sounding battered and broken due to your absence.

"Steve keeps telling me to rest. He says I won't be any help if I'm burnt out. But, I- I can't sleep knowing you're there. Not knowing what they're doing to you. I can't sleep because all I see is you, and it hurts. Doll, it hurts so much. I'm going to find you. I will because I can't lose you. Not like this. Not to them."

The messages continues playing, doing nothing but encouraging your tears.

"Two months. I'm so sorry, doll. It's been two months and we're not any closer. I hope you know we're trying. I'm trying. I won't rest until I have you back in my arms. I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat at those three words, he loves you? How? How can he love you if you didn't even meet until yesterday?

"We figured it out. We've got a location. I'm coming baby. I'm coming."

The last message ended with a beep, but you barely heard it. Your breathing was erratic, your heart rate skyrocketing as the anxiety took over your body.

He couldn't possibly love you. Not when he doesn't know the things you did. The people you killed.

"Enacting protocol 7, paging Mr. Barnes." The AI's voice went unheard by you, muffled by your choked sobs.

Not 30 seconds later, Bucky was rushing into your room.

"Y/N!" He ran to you, pulling you into his arms in a tight embrace. He whispered soothing words into your hair, slightly rocking you back and forth.

Somehow, he knew exactly how to calm you down. His warm breath on your neck, strong arms around your body, and the soothing rocking motion all worked wonders for you.

"It's okay. You're okay. You're home now. I've got you. You're safe."

His words brought fresh tears to your eyes, although your breathing calmed and anxiety lessened after a while.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He whispered a few minutes after your body stopped shaking.

"I, I'm just so scared." You didn't know what to say. You wanted to come clean. To explain who you really were, but the fantasy described to you by the AI sounded like a much better life.

A life you wanted to believe in, but felt like you didn't deserve.

"Scared of what, doll? You can talk to me." He whispered, still rocking you back and forth, rubbing your back with his flesh hand.

Of me. You wanted to come clean, but it was terrifying. You couldn't go back to that prison.

"Of... Was I really only there for three months?" Your voice was shaky, confusion laced with fear.

Bucky's guilt at not finding you sooner multiplied tenfold as he took in your expression. You looked so innocent and afraid, his heart broke just thinking about what Hydra did to you.

"Doll, I'm so sorry I couldn't come for you sooner. I know three months must've felt a lot longer... I promise, I'll do everything I can to help you get through this. You're not alone." He held you closer, tucking your head close to his heart in a show of protectiveness.

"Can you just, stay with me tonight?" Your words were barely a whisper, afraid to test the strength of the delusion you found yourself in.

"Of course." His words were firm, but soothing to your ears. "I love you." You squeezed him tighter, resting your body against his as the two of you laid in bed.

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #mcu fic #marvel fic

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fatbiatchforever · 3 years ago

Text

Mission Aftermath

I suggest reading the ‘Picnic’. There’s a reference from that chapter.

Bucky has been on a mission for nearly two months. We spoke to each other almost every other day through short texts or a once every two week calls.

The whole time I tried to distract myself with work and going out with friends and family, but he always pushes his way back into my mind.

Did he eat?

Is he safe?

He must be fighting someone.

That idiot doesn't look after himself. Hopefully, he's alive. He better be alive.

The new mail ping brings me back to reality.

My work is flexible about the home-office situation. I wasn't in the mood to make myself presentable, so I opted for Bucky's light blue hoodie and sat on the couch to start the day.

It's safe to say I didn't get anything done, YET. I readjusted myself on the couch, hoping I would get the motivation and push I need. I open the new mail to read, but that's when my phone rang.

"Thank god! Bless whoever is calling." I move the laptop to the coffee table and pick up my phone.

Peter

"Hey, Pete!"

"Uhm... Hey Y/N. How are you?" He didn't sound cheery as usual.

"I'm good. Are you good?" I ask with worry.

"Y/N, can you come to the tower?" He sounded serious.

"Yeah, sure. Did something happen?"

"I'll send someone to pick you."

"Peter. Is everyone fine?" I ask with a stern tone.

"Mr. Barnes needs you."

On cue, I run to pick my purse and keys.

"I'll be there in fifteen. Do not send anyone. I'm on my way."

"Y/N-"

I cut the call and close the door to the apartment. I run outside the building to hail a cab as fast as I could.

After a minute, I got in and gave the address.

It must be bad. He never calls me to the tower during missions. He must be hurt, really hurt.

Oh my god. What if he's hurt? He would have been the one to call if everything was okay. I didn't hear him in the back too.

I take a deep breath and tap on the phone to look at the time. My wallpaper. The picture I took of Bucky when we went for a picnic. I couldn't help but smile because of how happy he was in the picture.

Please be okay.

The driver stopped in front of the tower. I throw a couple of bills, not bothering to count. I continue towards the entrance. I hear the cab leaving behind me, which meant it was enough.

I knew tower well enough to go to places without getting lost. My best guess was the med bay. I couldn't help but fiddle with my phone because of how nervous I was.

Just as the elevator dinged open, I ran outside.

"Y/N."

I turn right to find Sam, Thor, and Peter outside the OR.

He isn't out.

I run towards the three. Peter and Thor were seated while Sam was standing beside the door.

"How is he?" I frantically ask them as I stand between the three.

"Banner is taking care of him inside. Y/N, don't worry."

"Sam, he's in the OR! How can I not worry?"

I look at them to tell me something. No one says anything. Everyone looked tired and worry cascaded their faces.

This can't be good.

"What happened?" I ask them, calming myself.

Their faces turn towards each other, as I asked.

"If you guys are looking for a lie, please don't. Just be honest. I'm fine."

Sam takes a deep breath,

"Today was the last day of the mission. We were supposed to raid the base. Nothing complicated. We got the intel that they knew we were coming, so we called Peter, Thor, and Bruce for backup." He pointed towards both of them.

I nodded.

"We got in fine because of extra help. We split into groups at the end. Thor was with Bucky and the rest were with me. They were checking all the rooms for anything. Like agents, victims, or files."

Sam looked at Thor.

Thor continued, "We heard rumbling from a room and entered it cautiously. There was a pack of hydra goons waiting for us. We fought most. One of the remaining agents...."

I look at him with my eyebrows furrowed, "Remaining agents what?"

He looked at me and looked back down, "They knew about you."

I looked at him in horror. My heart broke, knowing what must have happened next.

"Bucky was going to attack him, but the agent screamed that hydra knew where you were... Just as I turned, I heard a gunshot. That goon shot Bucky and escaped. Till then, Sam and Peter had made their way to the room. Bucky kept wincing your name in pain. We took him back to the quinjet as fast we could."

"The bullet was close to his rib cage. Bruce couldn't do a lot. He was conscious. He kept repeating your name till the last ten minutes. The last thing he said was to call you." Sam said.

My vision was clouded by my tears. "That's when Peter called me."

"Mr. Barnes never asks to call you, so I thought it was important."

I wipe my tears away and nod.

"He's a fighter. James Buchanan Barnes is a fighter. He won't go without a battle." I say to assure myself and the rest.

I sit beside Thor and Peter as Sam leans on the wall. I say my prayers in my head. We all sit in silence for half an hour, till I speak.

"You guys need to go change and get some rest." I look at them while speaking.

"Y/N, we won't leave until he's fine," Peter says quietly. The rest two nod at what Peter said.

"All of you came from a fight too. You look really tired. When was the last time you ate?"

"We can't leave you alone," Thor says as he looks back at me.

"I'm fine, seriously. I'm worried, but nothing I can't handle. If I need you guys, I will call. Promise." I muster an encouraging smile.

Sam comes closer and hugs me, "We're there for you."

I return his hug, "I know."

Sam and Thor walk towards the elevator as Peter hugs me too.

"He loves you, Y/N."

"I love him too. Go rest. Let Aunt May know you're fine."

Peter nods and runs to the elevator. I sit back down, looking at the elevator doors close.

My eyes shift to the OR door.

I love you. Please hang on.

I open my phone to check the time.

It's almost an hour since his operation started. I let out a sigh, frustrated, by the fact I can't help in any way.

The tears that I was holding back in front of the guys finally got an outlet. I couldn't help but let out tiny whimpers.

You can't leave me, James. I love you so much. I feel like I didn't say that enough.

I look back at my wallpaper.

I would do anything to hold you in my arms. To see you smile like that in reality again. To see you comfortable and carefree. To just tell me you're okay.

I unlock my phone. Before I could open the photos app, I saw a red one on the messages logo. I open it to find a voice message from Bucky.

I wipe my tears, press on the message, and bring the phone to my ears.

"Hey Y/N. It's Bucky. You must be working. *Lowers his voice* I miss you, Doll. Sam's been annoying. *sigh* I can't wait to come home and sleep with you. I can't sleep without you beside me. *Laughs* The good thing is this might be the last day. If everything goes well, I'll be back by night. If I don't, don't worry, I'll let you know. I'm doing everything to come back to you. I will... always love you. You're my everything, Y/N. You make my life better. *Silence* *Lightly laughs* I'll stop before Sam barges in. Anyways, keep the bed warm for me. Don't do anything dumb, Y/N. *Door opens and Sam mumbling* *Angry tone* I'm coming, Sam. I need to go, doll. I love you."

"I love you too, Bucky. I love you too." I quietly say.

I couldn't hold anything back. I didn't care if others could see or hear me cry. All I could care about is Bucky. Bucky being okay. To hear his voice. I want to touch his face. Kiss his perfectly pink lips. To move my fingers through his beautiful, soft, brunette hair.

I open the phots app and open our shared album. Every time we take pictures or random videos, we both post them to the album. Only both of us have access to it, so we put anything in them.

The last one was what Bucky posted the day he left for the mission.

The night before, we went out for dinner. It was a small family friendly Italian diner. The food was comforting and nice.

I open the video.

In the video

We were both sitting with our food. Our half-smiling faces were seen. I'm clearly looking across our table and Bucky's looking towards the phone.

"Doll, stop listening to other's conversation."

"What?! I can't help but not be interested in their screaming match. You call that a conversation?" I whisper.

"It's their private matter. We shouldn't be listening to it."

"I can't believe you out of everyone would say that."

He moves his hand behinds my chair and leans back.

"What?"

"You're telling me you haven't overheard other's conversations during your missions. What about their privacy?" I take a bite of my ravioli.

"Are they trying to destroy or hurt people?"

"Well, I don't know. That's why I need to hear. I can't hear a single thing with your yapping."

He pouts and now the side of his face is displayed. He tries to block my vision.

"Doll, we were supposed to spend time before I leave. You might not get a chance to talk to me like this for two months. You're wasting our whole dinner for people you don't know."

He brings his other hand to the table and rests his chin on it. His pout doesn't change.

My complete attention goes back to him. I move forward to place a peck on his lips.

"You're right. But here's where you're wrong. Any drama, I'm invested, even if I don't know them. I prefer when I'm not involved, so I could genuinely have fun. Do you realize that enhanced hearing would be perfect for this? It's a gift that you're not using right."

"Noted, about the drama part. I do, but not for invading other's privacy."

I mock him and roll my eyes. He laughs and moves closer to kiss me.

"Why are you recording?" I point to the phone.

"You look cute when you're "invested" in other's drama."

I reach out to the phone and move the phone to Bucky.

"I think you're the one who looks really hot in that leather jacket."

He grins and looks at my face. He moves his hand through his hair. He looks forward and brings the beer bottle towards him to drink.

I move closer and whisper into his ears. His face brightens in disbelief as looks over at me.

"Keep it PG for the camera Y/N!"

He moves his hand to grab the phone. You could see his face still grinning.

In the background, I ask, "You know what PG means?"

He nods as his eyes look directly onto the phone.

"Peter thought me."

My laugh is heard as Bucky finally finds how to stop recording.

End.

I let out a small chuckle. My eyes were filled with tears and my throat was hurting.

I broke down again. I couldn't get myself to stop crying. I looked at my blank screen. That relief I felt when I saw his face was long gone. All I could think was about, what if I couldn't see him again like that? What if all I had were these memories of him?

I scrolled through our whole album, hoping it would help me. It only made me miss him more. His goofy faces, pouts, and death stare he gives when he is angry at me. The way he clenches his jaws when he is angry. The way his eyes squint as he laughs his heart out. The way he hides his face on the crook of my neck when he's tired.

Anything to bring him back.

Another two hours pass before the OR room opens.

I quickly walk in front.

Bruce walks out as he sees me.

"How is he?" I ask with my strained voice.

Bruce gives me a small smile, "Bucky is doing better. The gun wound was close. It took some time to get it out because it was the thing that was keeping him from bleeding to death."

I nod as I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in.

"I had to make sure that it didn't damage anything else. Thankfully, it didn't. He should make a full recovery. It will take him few months, but he's going to be fine."

My eyes water as I heard those words.

He's going to be okay. Bucky held on.

"When will he wake up? Can I see him?"

"I gave him a good dosage of anesthesia because of his condition and super-soldier serum. A day, maximum. You have nothing to worry about. The nurses are cleaning him up. I'll move him to a room once they're done."

"Okay."

"Y/N, you look tired. Why don't you go freshen up and get something to eat? I'll notify you when he's settled."

"Bruce, I-"

"Wasn't a request. Go." He points towards the elevator.

"He's fine right?"

"He is."

I nod once again and grab my purse from the chair.

"Bruce, thank you for taking care of him. Thanks for everything. I owe you big time."

"We're a family here, Y/N. We've always got each other's back, no matter what. No one owes anything."

I give him a smile before getting onto the elevator.

I make my way to the kitchen to grab some water for my throat. I see all the three gathered together at the dining table.

"He's fine," I say, walking towards them.

They all whip their heads in my direction.

"It was a close call, but he's good now. Bruce will move him to a room soon."

They all smile.

"Did you guys eat?" I ask as I grab a bottle of water.

"Ya, we ate leftovers," Peter said, looking and sounding better.

"Did you see him?" Sam asks me.

"No. Bruce said I could see once he is settled. Forced me to go change before that."

"You look tired, Y/N." Thor looks genuinely worried.

"Do you want me to grab you some clothes?" Peter asks.

"No, I have some spare clothes from when we spend the nights here. I'm fine, Thor."

"We'll head there while you clean up," Sam says.

"Thanks guys."

With that, I head towards Bucky and my shared room. Whenever Bucky gets busy with preparations for missions, we spend nights at the tower. So everything I essentially need is here.

It's been at least two months since I came to this room. This used to be Bucky's room until we got our own apartment six months into dating. Now he likes to call it our room rather than his, which is really nice of him.

Everything was exactly how we left. The bed was made and the curtains were closed.

I opened the curtains to find the busy streets of New York. I stood there admiring the view.

I laid out shorts and a loose shirt from the closet and walked into the bathroom. It felt good to clean myself. I hurried the bath, so I don't miss when Bruce notifies me.

Just as I put on my shirt, FRIDAY notified me about the room Bucky was in.

I grabbed my phone and hurried down to the room.

I slowed my pace down as I reached closer to the door. I could hear my heart beating in my ear as I slowly opened the door.

All the four guys were talking to each other on the couch.

"Hey, guys." I slowly walk inside.

I heard multiple heys. But all I could concentrate on is the person right in front of me.

I leave a deep sigh as I see him. He had multiple monitors and IV hooked up to him. His hair was curly and covered his forehead.

I see him for the first time in two months. Even though it wasn't how we usually greet each other, it was more than I could have asked for. I stood beside him and gently placed a kiss on his lips. A small tear fell from my eyes as I feel him after a long time. I was scared of hurting him, so I pulled back slowly and looked at him closely. His beautiful face, covered in bandages. His sparkling blue eyes are nowhere in sight. I know it's selfish of me to want him to call me doll.

I just wanted to touch him. I place my hands close to his, without actually touching him.

"You can touch him Y/N," Bruce says from behind.

"I don't want to hurt him. He looks tired." I sniff as I say.

"Trust me, he's fine."

I nod and slowly hold his hand in mine. I smile and cry as I feel his touch.

"I'm sorry. It's just I can't control it." I wipe my tears away with my free hand.

"You don't have to be sorry. We get it. We may not be crying in relief, but we are all happy to see him better. Besides I have never seen you cry before this. So you have a reputation better than spidey." Sam says as he hands me a tissue.

I laugh as Peter shouts, "Hey! I'm well in sync with my emotions. You guys are going to hear more when we're out. I don't want Mr.Barnes to yank me with his metal arm because I wasn't letting him rest." He whisper-yells the last part.

"He told you to call him Bucky, Pete." I say, not taking my eyes off Bucky.

"Fine. I don't want Bucky to yank me with his metal arm."

"That's enough for you, Midgardian. Y/N, call us if you need anything." Thor pushes Peter out of the room.

"Thanks, guys." I say as they leave the room.

"No problem," Peter shouts from the corridor.

I look at Bruce, who is resting on the couch. I turn to Sam and give him a look. He just shrugs.

"Bruce," I call out slowly.

"Tell me." He gets up and comes to check on Bucky.

"Go, change, eat and get some rest."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You were on a mission and went through a stressful surgery. The last thing you are is fine. Now go." I say seriously.

Before he could say anything, "Not a request."

He murmurs something under his breath and lets out a quiet 'Fine'.

"Anything, I should be notified." He said sternly.

"Done."

He turns and walks out of the room.

"Thanks for the help," I say as I slowly run my fingers over Bucky's knuckles.

"I don't like bossing others around."

"That's all you do. You're Captain America."

Sam rolls his eyes.

"Now, what do I say for you to go?"

"Nothing, because I'm not going."

"Sam, we're good here. I'll let everyone know if we need anything."

"You sure?"

I nod in response.

"I'll be back with dinner."

"Thanks."

He closes the door as he leaves.

"I really miss you, Buck." I give him another kiss before moving his hair away from his face.

"I love you. Get up fast, so I can hold you without worrying."

I position the recliner chair and TV so I could be beside him, hold his hand and watch some TV together.

Sam, Peter, Bruce, and Thor came back with Chinese takeout. We all had dinner together and watched Golden Girls together.

After much insisting, I convinced them I was more than happy to sleep on the recliner chair. Peter brought me a blanket for the night.

Once everyone left, I switched off the TV and tried to sleep. All I could do was look at Bucky and his heart monitor. It gave me some kind of reassurance that he was fine. I have to admit, it was nice to sleep again with him. Even though it wasn't like the usual, it was more than what I got for two months. I liked that he was right beside me and made me feel safe, even if he was unconscious.

Tiredness finally washed over me and I fell asleep.

My eyes slowly opened, hoping to find Bucky's eyes open too. I looked beside me to find him still the same. I was disappointed, but I got up and kissed him.

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes Ms. Y/N?"

"I'm going to my bedroom for ten minutes. Let me know if Bucky wakes up, unusual changes or disturbances."

"You will be informed, Ms. Y/N."

I run to my room to brush and change into new clothes. I rushed back to find Bruce checking on him.

"Is he okay?" I ask, catching my breath.

"He's doing good. I was just checking his vitals."

I nod, "You look better."

Bruce smiles, "You look better too."

"Thanks."

"Any news on when he'll be up?"

"I can't predict. Hopefully by today."

I nod, letting out a sigh.

The rest of the day went fast. I took a day's leave from work and got out of the room to get something to eat when I noticed the whole kitchen was empty.

I ordered groceries online and decided to make lunch for everyone. I made lasagna and bread pudding.

Every time I was out of the room, I kept asking FRIDAY every thirty minutes about Bucky.

Bruce said that there wasn't anything to worry about. He was healing faster because of the serum. He didn't know when he would be awake.

After lunch, Thor left. We weren't told the specifics for some reason. Peter went back too.

I went back to the room to check on him. Nothing changed. He was there, lying peacefully.

I watched more TV till six. I went out again to shower and wore Bucky's black hoodie and his dark grey sweats.

I made dinner for the rest of us and got back to the room.

"Still not awake, huh?" I look at the monitor just for assurance everything is okay.

"You're killing me, dude. I know it's selfish for me to ask you to wake up fast, but... I miss you. I want you to call me 'doll' with that smooth and deep voice of yours. I want to hold you and tease you about random things. If you're doing this, thinking I would stop making fun of you, you're barking at the wrong tree. So get up, Buck. You can do this... Do you want me to play that high school musical school for motivation?... You know what, I will."

I grab my phone and google that song. I play it and start cheering, "You can do this Bucky. Get up, Love." I sing along to 'We're all in this together'.

After 3 minutes and 52 seconds, nothing changed. Except for my energy level was at the brim.

"Not a big fan, huh?"

I lay on the chair and fall asleep.

Next day

I wake up to my alarm at eight.

I groan, "I fell asleep in the most messed up position."

I get up, stretching my limbs. I look at the unconscious roommate, who was still unconscious.

I mumble, "Fine."

I check if all his connections are well placed. I took the hairbrush from the stand and slowly combed his end curls out.

I kissed him, before walking out to prepare for the day.

When I came back, I found a note on Bucky's IV. It said, "He's doing good. Vitals are all stable. Will be in the lab. Call me for anything. -Bruce."

I smiled and looked over at Bucky who was still in his deep slumber.

"I'm happy that you're good. I love you."

Peter brought my laptop from the apartment yesterday. So, I logged on, to begin with work.

I kept looking over at him, hoping he would be awake.

I was done with work for the day. I did get through my list for today. I kept the laptop on the side and looked over at Bucky.

He still looks handsome. Only he can look this good even if he was dying a day ago.

"He's not awake yet?" Sam asked pulling me back from thoughts.

"Uhm... no," I say as I shrug.

"He was really serious about sleeping."

I look at him in confusion as I go sit with him on the couch.

"He couldn't sleep during the mission. Nightmares and all. Last week, he slept for ten hours as a whole. When we were talking, he said he gets good sleep when he's holding you and would basically hibernate."

I laugh and look at Bucky.

"He must be tired from everything."

"Are you worried?"

I look at Sam.

"I mean, not as much as I was that day. It's just I keep looking at the heart monitor for assurance that he's okay. I don't think it's going to go till I see him awake." I shrug.

"You know the dude's old in reality. So it will take him some time to bounce back from the meds. Besides, we're all in this together."

"What?" My eyes widen.

"I saw it."

"What?" I ask, pretending to not know what he was talking about.

"You trying to wake him up with high school musical songs."

"What?! How?"

"I told FRIDAY to inform me when something weird is going on, FRIDAY did."

"We're taking this to the grave. Promise me."

Sam laughs as loud as thunder and nods.

I laugh and say, "You know, I kissed him multiple times, so it's not a sleeping beauty situation."

We were both laughing at the last joke.

"Thanks for the support, guys."

We both look at each other and turn to Bucky.

He was awake.

I get up and look again to make sure.

"Freaky Magoo is awake. FRIDAY tell Bruce he's awake." Sam yells.

"Dr. Banner has been reported."

I walk towards Bucky and kiss him. After a long time, he kisses me back.

I move back slowly and hold his hand.

"Don't cry, Doll. I'm good." His voice strained from the lack of use.

I laugh as I wipe my tears away.

"I love you, Bucky. I love you so much. I need you in my life. You're my everything."

Bucky beams.

"I love you, Y/N. I'm sorry that I worried you."

Bruce barges in and looks at all of us.

"Bucky. You're awake!"

"I am."

He walks towards him and checks him.

"I was a bit worried when you didn't wake up. But you seem to be doing fine. Can you point to the places you feel any pain?"

Bucky points to his gunshot wound.

"I'll give you some painkillers for now. The wound was a bit too close because of which the surgery ran long. It was a successful one. You need to be really careful for a few months. You cannot risk adding any more pressure on that spot. You will be on bed rest for two weeks-"

"Two weeks?!" Bucky looks at Bruce and turns to me. He continues to look at me.

"Whatever Bruce says happens."

Bucky groans and looks towards the blank TV.

"After two weeks, I'll check the stitches and we can move on with your recovery plan." Bruce completes.

"Thank you, Bruce. Let ME know if there's anything. Bucky can't be trusted with his health."

"Done. I'll be back in an hour with your pain meds. Nice to have you back, Bucky."

Bruce moves away and heads to the doors.

"Did you get the agent?" Bucky asks as he looks at Bruce and Sam. His tone was serious and laced with anger.

"Yeah. After interrogating most of the agents, they were bluffing. They know Y/N exists, but they don't know where you guys live." Sam says.

"Bucky, you both are safe. Focus on your recovery and we can discuss this later."

"Thank you, Bruce. For everything." Bucky smiles at him.

Bruce smiles back and nods. Bruce leaves after that.

"Okay, lovebirds! I'll leave you guys to it. Good to know you're still going to be a pain in both of our asses." Sam moves his hand between him and me.

Bucky stares at Sam, as he makes his way to the door.

"Y/N, feel free to stay as long as you want. In fact, once bionic arm is doing better, he can leave and you could stay here. I love the meals."

"Only the meals?" I say acting offended.

"It's nice to have someone nice and fun, for a change. We could torment everyone in the building together. We could conquer the Avengers Tower."

"Very interesting offer."

"Anytime. Take care, Buck. Don't do anything you would regret. Don't forget, the doctor said no pressure on the wound." Sam says before opening the door.

"Shut up, Bird Brain."

Sam and I laugh together. Once Sam leaves, I turn my attention back to Bucky.

I smile at him.

"I realized how much I loved you and didn't let you know. I have told you that I love you, but not as many times as I actually do."

"You don't have to tell me those words to know it. I know you love me."

I kiss him and hold our hands together.

"You always look good in my clothes." He smirks as he looks me up and down.

"All the clothes back home stopped smelling like you. I forgot about the clothes here. These still smell like you." I hold the hoodie near my nose and sniff. My head goes back in instant relief.

Bucky laughs at me. He slows down and looks at me seriously,

"You know we have to move right?"

I give him an understanding nod, "I know. On the bright side, we could upgrade to something better and safer."

"Yeah. Something safer."

"Bucky?"

"Yeah Doll?"

"You froze because of me. You need to be more careful, love. People are going to know about us. I'm not trying to hide our relationship, are you?"

He looks at me with eyebrows furrowed, "I'm not hiding it from people we know, but from HYDRA, at all cost. I can't let anything happen to you, Y/N."

"I'll be fine. We can always figure things out. I don't want anyone to hold me as a weapon against you. That's it."

Bucky gives my hand a gentle squeeze, "I didn't expect them to know about you. I was very careful while contacting you during the mission. They caught me by surprise and them knowing you're location threw me off."

I look at him with worry.

"Doll, I'll be better. I promise."

I nod and lay on the chair beside him.

"You should go sleep, Y/N. You went to work, didn't you?"

"I was working on the couch. Wait, do you need water?"

He gently nods and I run to the side to get him a glass.

I help him to drink and set the glass on the side.

"Go rest, doll."

"This is where I was resting for two days."

"What?" His voice increases.

I lay on the chair and get in a sleeping position and lay the blanket over me.

"See?"

"You've been sleeping like that for two days?!"

"Yeah. Didn't want to leave you alone."

"Why didn't you sleep on the bed with me?"

"You know how I sleep at night. I was scared of tugging on your tubes, by mistake."

"Y/N! Fine. Now that I'm awake, you can sleep with me."

"Still no! You've got tubes. I'm not going to be the reason you go into a coma." I yell.

"What? How can I- fine. I just want to hold you. Please." He asks calmly.

"That's all I want to do too," I whine.

He moves to the side and pats on the bed.

"Only cuddling. No fooling around."

"We haven't seen each other for two months, all I have in my head is fooling around," Bucky whines back.

"James!"

"Fine. Fine! Will you get on the bed to CUDDLE?"

I nod and walk to the other side and slowly get on the bed. He places his metal arm under the pillow. I lay on the pillow as Bucky brings me closer to his side. I slowly wrap my hand around him, being careful of the stitch.

He places a kiss on my hair, "I love you, Y/N. I missed this."

"I love you too, Bucky. Couldn't be happier."

We both lay, tangled with each other, feeling peaceful and safe in each other's presence.

"What were you and Sam talking about?"

"About?"

"You made him promise to take it to the grave?"

"Uhm.. nothing. Just an embarrassing photo of me." I try my best not to smile, but I still do.

Damn it! Just look normal. Don't smile too much.

"That's it?"

"Yeah." I say with the most assurance I could pretend to give.

"I'll ask him."

"What?! Why? Don't you believe me?"

Bucky shakes his head, "I don't believe you when you're smiling like that. You have a tell, Y/N. I know when you're lying."

"How much did you hear?"

"I was awake when he asked you if you were worried. I could hear bits and pieces."

"Look who's not respecting other's privacy."

Bucky grins.

"Fine. So, yesterday, I.. uhm I was really missing you. So I thought maybe you needed a push."

"What did you do to me?" His eyebrows were raised and he looks down to his legs. He looks back at me with a smirk.

"What? I did not-OH MY GOD! NO, YOU PERV! I DID NOT DO THAT. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"

Bucky laughs, "I mean... if you had done that and I woke up, it would be hot."

"IF YOU WEREN'T ALMOST DYING A DAY AGO, I WOULD ACTUALLY SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU. GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER FOR A SECOND." I looked at him annoyed.

Bucky laughs out more.

I love when his face is scrunched up when he's laughing. Even when he's disgusting, he's cute.

"Are you done?" I ask, still annoyed by him.

He nods.

"I basically tried to cheer you to consciousness. I put on 'We're all in this together' from high school musical and danced around the bed. That's it. Stupid Sam was notified by FRIDAY and he saw the footage." I was fuming at this point. Bucky's non stop laughing didn't help a bit.

"Doll, don't be angry. I think it's cute. It shows me how much you wanted me back and was ready to do anything for it. It's the best thing someone has done for me when I'm not conscious. I'm used to either plotting to use me as a weapon or trying fix me so I don't become a deadly assassin."

I slowly turn to kiss him. It was sweet and gentle. It meant a lot to both of us.

"Anytime." I lay back and hold his metal fingers in mine.

"I'm going to watch it tomorrow."

"Don't you dare!"

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes

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