#no tumblr is not and you can rip sam away from my cold dead hands

[mxltifxnd0m]

why am i getting fed anakin skywalker and hayden christensen content rn on my dash?? (not that im not complaining i love that man)

[diamond-coral]

Bargaining Chip

Hello! This is my first time posting on Tumblr ever:) I pulled this one-shot from a fic I posted on AO3 a few months ago but the plot is irrelavent and I changed it from first person to second as well as some details so it can be read as a stand alone. There’s some plot from the actual story but you really don’t need to know it at all.

There might be a few errors, especially because I changed the entire point of view and converted it to present tense from past tense so sorry:) 

Loki manages to get his hands on you and exchanges you and your body for his ticket to independence from the Avengers. Bucky gets to go first.

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters included: Loki, and a little bit of Tony, Steve, and Thor

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY!!! SMUT (NON-CON TOUCHING, FORCED ORAL SEX (m receiving), KNIFE THREATS, DARK! AVENGERS, BUCKY’S AN ASSHOLE IN THIS, DEGRADATION, BASICALLY FORCED PROSTITUTION) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

You awake in the passenger seat of your own car with only foggy memories of you and your partner before everything had gone dark. Your mission from the CIA...breaking and entering the motherfucking Avenger’s facility and managing to escape...you were so close. If it weren’t for him. In your haze, you look to see who could possibly have the audacity to be driving your car, and there sits Loki, the God of Mischief, who you had only scene on the news, driving one hand and inspecting something in his other.

“Good evening my lady. Sleep well?” he mocks without taking his eyes off the item in his hand which upon further inspection from you looks to be... a red leash?

What the hell?

“I do hope you like your outfit,” he continues. “I think I assembled quite the get up for you.”

Looking down, you let out a muffled scream that was cut off by a strip of duct tape. Your hands are bound in your lap, but that isn’t what horrifies you. It’s what’s underneath them. You take into account your bare legs, fully on display, with a black dress leaving little to the imagination. The top half is just as horrifying with it’s plunging neckline. Your legs end with a pair of strappy gold heels that ensures any chances of running away to be futile while your upper arms are adorned in golden bracelets accented with emeralds. Whether the emeralds were real or fake, you could care less. You have bigger problems to worry about.

“What the fuck?!”

Is what you try to say, but the gag only makes it come out as a mangled ball of muffled murmurs. Though the chuckle Loki lets out implies he understands your enraged speaking attempt.

“You, my dear, are going to be a bargaining chip. I heard about your little escapade at the Avenger’s facility last night. Impressive, I must say, but my brother and his little hero posse had been looking for you relentlessly after that. They are practically obsessed with catching the women that managed to break into their high security building.”

Loki takes a sharp turn into a parking garage, narrowly missing the wall. You squeal as your precious car runs over the curb.

“I forgot how much I hate mortal transportation devices. But Stark had to build this tower in the middle of New York to feed his ever-growing ego and now I’m the one that has to rely on a car to get me there,” he grumbles while pulling into a parking space. He takes a deep breath once the car is parked. “Now, I’m going to remove that gag out of your mouth, and if you scream, I will peel your skin off of your body in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. Understood?”

You nod frantically and he rips the tape off, extracting a whimper from your now stinging mouth. You open your mouth for him to take the wad of cloth out that was under the duct tape. As he extracts it, you snap your mouth shut in an attempt to bite him, but he’s quick to evade and grabs your jaw harshly.

“What did I say before?” he seethes. 

“You said not to scream. I didn’t scream. Now let go of my face.”

Loki roughly throughs your face to the side, letting go, and looks around the surroundings of the car, probably checking for any unwanted onlookers.

“Out of the car. Now,” he orders and you hastily oblige using your bound hands to open the door.

As you shut the door, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection and grimace. You look like a hooker. Aside from the skimpy outfit, your hair was pinned up and intertwined with gold strands. Your makeup is done as well. Sultry eye shadow and dark red lipstick.

“I didn’t know the God of Mischief was a makeup guru,” you jab.

He ignores you and harshly pushes you forward. “Walk.”

“Where’s my partner?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki replies. “She has other uses than the one I currently need you for.”

“And what use am I needed for?”

“I already told you. By the gods, you mortals are stupid. You are to be a bargaining chip, (Y/N).”

Your blood runs cold. “How do you know my name?” you ask.

“I know everything about you. Including your peculiar abilities.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Now, don’t worry,” he adds. “As amusing to me as it would be, I have no interest in enlightening the Avengers to your secret identity. As far as they will know, I am simply giving them the criminal that broke into their compound.”

“And what’s in it for you?” you ask as he guidesyou into an elevator.

After pushing a button, he goes to fix his dark green tie. “Clever girl now aren’t you?”

“Answer the question.”

“How about-no?” he muses and a soft ding resonates through the elevator.

The doors opened and, for a moment, you forget the predicament your in. Inside was the most beautiful penthouse you had ever seen. The opposite wall was made entirely out of glass allowing a view of the New York City night skyline. Everything little piece of furniture each looks as expensive as your car, but your focus becomes drawn to the minibar. The Avengers were all sitting there, laughing, and most were obviously drunk.

“Here James, try some of this,” Thor booms.

Bucky makes a face. “Why would I drink something from another planet meant for Gods?”

“Jeez Buck it’s the only thing that can get you and I drunk,” Steve slurs and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “It’s your birthday. Live it up a little.”

Bucky hesitates before grabbing the flask Thor offers him and throwing his head back, downing the flask in one go.

Loki seems to have enough of the party scene as he clears his throat to interrupt them.

“Gentlemen-”

Before Loki uttered another word all the Avengers clambered from their seats to grab their weapons, but their intoxicated state just makes it a comical sight. Captain America falls over in an attempt to reach for his shield below the table. Tony Stark’s iron man mask smacks him over the head as he fails to turn in time to catch it on his face. Sam Wilson chokes on his drink and falls backwards off his barstool in shock.

“I come bearing no ill tidings.” Loki spread his arms.

“Then why bother coming at all?” Thor growls, shifting his hammer to his right hand.

“I��ve come to make an offer.”

With that, Loki snatches your wrist and throws you towards him and the other men. You stumbled in you stilettos and let out a yelp as you land on the floor looking up at the 5 present Avengers: Thor, the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Iron Man, and the Falcon. They all look down on you with perplexed looks etched onto their faces.

“You guys have been so caught up and stressed about finding your security breaches that I was generous enough to do some finding myself,” Loki explains.

“And how do we know you didn’t just pluck some prostitute off the street?” Caps eyes rake up and down your body.

Loki scoffs. “Always the skeptic captain. Does this answer your question?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash-drive.

Tony snatches it from his hands. “Jarvis, what’s on this drive?” he asks, holding the drive up to a scanner in the glasses he’s wearing.

“It appears to be the files you have been collecting the 2 vigilantes you have been tracking and-.”

“Okay thanks J!” Tony interrupts quickly before Jarvis could spill any more information. He proceeds to storm up to your cowering and kneeling form that hadn’t dared move and harshly grabs your jaw.

Jesus, what was with these men and your poor, bruised jaw?

“Why would you possibly need this information?” he asks calmly, but his eyes are feral. He studies you and his brows furrow. Did he manage to piece it all together that you were the alleged vigilante they had been hunting? He lets go of your jaw and throws you back on the floor. “What business do you have looking for them?”

Looking for them? You let out a sigh of relief.

“None of your business,” you spit.

“Anyways,” Loki continues, and the drive suddenly disintegrated in Tony’s hand while reappearing in Loki’s. “I will happily hand over this seemingly important information along with the girl for you to do with her as you please, but…” He pauses. “Only if you stop tracking my current whereabouts.”

“And why would we do that, Loki? You’re dangerous,” Steve notes.

“I was dangerous,” Loki interjects. “I have been a good boy haven’t I? I would like to lead a normal life without you imbeciles tailing my every move. If I slip, Thor here will know within the second if I’m involved with anyone wrong doings, won’t you brother dear?”

Thor grunts at that statement.

“Besides, Stark’s satellite can track any magical energy if I use it. Which I won’t.”

“Fine. Now hand over the drive,” Tony snaps and holds his hand out.

After Loki drops the small gadget into Tony’s hand, he hauls you up and spins you around to face him.

His voice is quiet and low. “Be glad I didn’t tell them about my plans for you friend. It would be a shame if they found out about her abilities...and yours.”

He spins you back around to face the 5 men whose eyes were now raking up and down your body. “Easy on the eyes isn’t she?” Loki mentions, hands falling on your waist making you squirm. “You know, I almost considered keeping her for myself. Her exotic beauty is that of a pleasure maiden on Asgard.” Your struggles are invigorated at his implications. “Enjoy your whore.” And with that, he gives you one final shove before vanishing.

It’s silent for half a minute before one of the men speak up.

“Alright who wants to take her for a spin?” Tony asks, clapping his hands together. “I vote the birthday boy gets first dibs. Huh, Buckaroo?”

You blanch at the idea. Were they really going to go through with what Loki wanted? What happened to the valiant heroes you saw on your screen?

“Wait Tony, you can’t be seriously considering Loki’s suggestion?” Sam Wilson sounds surprised.

Tony shrugs. “Why not, Birdie? It’s either this or high security prison and I don’t think she wants to rot in a cell.”

“She is standing right here and would rather rot in hell than do what Loki had in mind,” you hiss.

“Well it’s a good thing we weren’t asking for her opinion,” Tony says.

“Tony’s right, Sam,” Steve adds slowly. “We bust our asses out there. We deserve something nice.”

“Day after day we save this pathetic world, and no thanks are given. Just everyone saying what we did wrong. We should’ve left the world to fend for itself after they tried shoving those ridiculous accords down our throats,” Thor murmurs

Sam raises both of his hands up in defense. “Fine. Do what you want with her. I’m gonna head out.” And with that he leaves. Your heart sinks, watching the only glimmer of hope, your knight in shining armor, walk out the door. Your self-pity party is cut short by an arm snaking around your waist.

Bucky Barnes, trained assassin, mass murderer, and now current Avenger, puts his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending shivers down your spine while you stand frozen like a deer in headlights. “What do you say, doll? Wanna finish what we started the other night?” His hand on your waist slowly drifts down to your ass.

You stomp your heel down on his foot eliciting a groan of pain. “Last time I checked, you were in the dirt, and I was driving away that night after a successful robbery. There’s nothing to finish.”

He moves quickly as he rips your hair out of what’s securing it up, using the opportunity to tangle his hand into the roots and drag you away to a separate room. He wrenches open and throws you in, leaving you to stumble and trip. A searing pain on your forehead signaled that you hit your head.

“How about we use that snarky mouth of yours for something better hmm?” His voice is ice cold with malice as he grips your hair and yanks you up.

You cry out in pain, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneers down at you. Hearing the sound of a belt unbuckling and pants unzipping, you shut your eyes.

A tear escapes, cascading down your face, but his thumb gently wipes it away.

“Open your eyes, doll,” he coos.

You shake your head and screw them shut even tighter.

“I said...OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!” he roars and your eyes fly open only to see his member sticking out of his slacks right in front of your face. He’s almost fully hard as precum dribbles out of the tip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now, since you can’t seem to keep your snarky mouth shut, let’s put it to better use. How bout that?”

You don’t move, and he sighed as you look down to the floor. You hear some shuffling, a small click, and suddenly something cold and sharp is pressing under your chin, tilting your gaze to his steel blue eyes.

“Let’s try this again.” He pushes the knife harder, digging it a little deeper, but not enough to draw blood. A knife. This dirty bastard has a knife. “Suck. My. Cock.”

Pushing all your pride aside, you direct your gaze to the task in front of you. Bucky lets out an approving hum and the knife is removed from your throat. You swallow before opening your mouth and dragging your tongue from his base to the tip before wrapping your lips around him and sucking lightly.

Bucky was no slacker down there, you had to give him that. You ease your mouth down his shaft and his head tilts back.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” he moans. “Take my dick down your throat.” He grunts. His metal hand fists your hair to push your head down, sliding a few more inches into your throat. “Oh-that’s a good whore,” he breathes.

A gag is torn from you and you slap your hands against his thighs to imply you couldn’t take much more. Bucky’s only response is another grunt as he jams the rest of his length down your throat leaving your only intake of oxygen to come from your nose which was now mashed right above the base of his thick cock. As quickly as he pushed you down before, he pulls you back off by your hair, letting you go to wretch, gasping for air and freedom. A strand of saliva still connects from his tip to my lips.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He snags your hair again. “Open wide, slut.”

You do just that and he begins to fuck your throat at his own pace, sliding his entire length down every time. Tears brim at your eyes, not just from the lack of oxygen, but the humiliation of the moment as well. The time passes much too slowly for your liking, minutes dragging on for eternity, before he begins to reach his climax.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His cock twitches in your mouth.He holds your head with both hands as he releases straight into your mouth, warm thick strands of his release coating the back of your throat. He pulls out  with a pop and smirks down at you. “Good little sluts swallow” he orders.

You glare up at him, making a show of not doing anything.

“Well?” he demands and raises a dark brow.

You spit his own climax onto his expensive shoes.

“Why you-!” He raises his hand, getting ready to send a smack to your face.

“Barnes!” A female voice comes from the doorway as the door flies open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

There stood none other than the Black Widow.

[castielsbeeslippers]

Part I

Summary: Dean regrets it instantly. The way he snapped , the words that tumbled from his mouth. The small argument between him and his little brother had escalated into a full blown screaming match , and now Sam was gone. Dean takes off to clear his head and ends up in an erie cemetery where he believes he is alone.

On ao3

Thank you to @wantstoflyafraidtofall for being beta 🖤you’ve helped me immensely! 🥺

The rumble of the classic car’s engine shook the stillness of the cemetery grounds rustling the leaves and still the air hung heavy.

With a soft screech of it’s black tires the car came to a stop. Dean must have driven over thirty odd miles to get away from that old motel that his younger brother had already abandoned. Dean just had to get away to anywhere but there.

He closed his tired eyes , feeling them sting.

He killed the engine and let himself go.

His guilt escaped from his gut-wrenching sobs. He was truly alone.

(The dead would never tell.)

Dean ran his callused hands over his soft eyes and sighed into them. He drug himself out of his classic car and did his best to pull himself together with each step.

He looked over his shoulder... nothing but the empty road.

He didn’t want to face the world or the reality of it all....His brother was god knows where because of him and that absurd fight. Dean had really crossed the line this time. A knot formed in his stomach as he recalled his harsh words.

The emotions bubbling inside him didn’t have a name. Frustration and fear didn’t seem to even scratch the surface.

His boots crushed the moist earth beneath them with unforgiving force.

A distant snap jolted Dean from his thoughts.

Dean without hesitation ripped his gun from his pocket aiming directly ahead into the stillness.

“Show yourself.” He spit into the air.

Whatever ghoul or spector was about to rue the fucking day. Dean was ready to whiplash himself from numbness to rage.

The wind only whistled in reply. It was probably just some wild animal. He let the mind drift for a moment keeping his defensive stance , still unwavering not letting himself be convinced.

Something far off rustled like a scared flock of birds, a whooshing sound rushing all at once into Dean’s ears.

Dean spun himself around only to see again the empty road that was now laden with a thick white fog... that Dean knew had to have just crept in.

It sent a chill down his spine.

‘Haunted cemetery, no shit’

He tensed his shoulders, mentally cursing himself. He already felt like roadkill and this was just adding to the fun.

Dean whipped his head back leering into the cemetery, his eyes catching on a shadowed figure.

Dean held his breath and crept forward his gun leading the charge.

The figure moved from darkness laying steady steps.

“Stay right there.” Dean warned through his clenched jaw.

The figure did not. His looming shadow turned to a man in a soft dirt colored trench coat, his hair a black tussled mess.. and his eyes pure electric.

Dean’s breath hitched , his eyes searching the man frantically.

His gun, unamused and unmoving.

“Hello.” The man spoke with a gentle monotone.

“Stop.”

“You can lower your weapon , I bear no ill intent towards you or any other human.” The man's voice boomed again.

Not human. Dean figured as much. He tore his eyes away from the man's eyes and steadied himself again.

“What the hell are you?” Dean growled. The figure's calm demeanor only pushed his buttons more.

“I’m Castiel, Angel of the Lord , Thursday’s Angel if you prefer a shorter title.” The self-proclaimed Angel said with a shrug.

“Yeah okay , and I’m Queen Elizabeth.” He chuckled darkly.

The Angel’s blue eyes gleamed as he tilted his head at the man's comment.

“You’re looking much younger.” He told the hunter flatly.

“Tryin’ to mess with me?” Dean snapped back.

“He’s not dead, Dean.”

“Excuse me?” Dean’s stomach lurched.

“I’m not supposed to be here, Dean.” The angel shook his head softly with a frown.

“I’m not even sure where “here” is.” He admitted.

Or when. He didn’t add.

Dean grit his teeth , the way he said his name with a familiarity on his tongue made Dean’s whole body tense up.

“Start talking , you’re acting like you know me.” Dean demanded no question in his tone.

Castiel smiled. A wide smile.

“I’ll tell you everything Dean, assuming you can do the same ”

Dean’s jaw clenched.

Castiel tilted his head to the right , careful to keep his lips in a line leaving his eyes wide, unblinking.

This Dean stood before him, turmoil swirling beneath his skin. Castiel felt Dean’s mind rapid fire, laden with guilt, which was so familiar, lost and searching.

How desperately the angel wanted to part the dark clouds and bring comfort to the man before him.

‘Gently , slowly. ’ He thought to himself , he didn’t want to approach this the wrong way.

“Would you sit with me?” Castiel asked cautiously.

His trench coat flowing softly after him as he turned on the ball is his dress-shoes.

Dean's eyes ever glued to the angel before him.

Dean held right to his pearl gripped pistol, still heavy in his right hand, he nodded and swallowed his protest.

“Sure.” Was the only thing he could muster.

They sat in silence for a while before Cas broke it with a soft boom of his voice.

“Dean,”

Dean's body thrummed again. The way his name was said made something deep inside flutter.

Dean only looked at Cas in wait for a reply.

The prominent sensation was still buzzing , the tickle of electricity on Dean’s skin that grew stronger with each step he took towards the angel-shaped man.

The metal bench was cold and damp beneath them. Castiel gave no reaction to this and Dean chose to ignore the damp spots forming on his jeans.

Dean carefully tucked his gun back away against his better judgement in an attempt to be polite, but something deep in his mind felt this “Castiel” could be trusted. He felt like he was losing it.

“I haven’t met you yet. This you….in the time I’ve come from we’re, and I quote “best friends… if you can believe it.” Cas started off slow with caution in his low tone.

Dean so far wasn’t buying it.

And Cas knew it just by the look in his eyes.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how much more I can say ,without upsetting the cosmic balance Dean...but I hope you can at least trust I care for you a great deal.”

A beat.

“You and your brother.”

That woke Dean up.

“Sam,” Dean grit out.“You mentioned him before, what do you know about my brother you holy tax account stalker.”

“I know he’s safe, I’m afraid I-“

Before Castiel got the rest of his sentence out Dean had jumped from the bench and was now standing in front of his eyes.

“Tell me.” he demanded.

“Dean please, you need not worry let me continue.”

“Please” he huffed softly.

And with that Dean did. He sat back down, still tense as he had been.

“He’s simply ‘blowing off some steam as you would put it.” Cas said softly.

“Yeah real awesome intel. Where ?”

“Not far, but please Dean give him some space lets-“

“Space?” Dean snapped.

“I can personally assure his safety… after we converse we can even go to him.” Cas said calmly.

“You want to just talk?” He raised his brow.

“I do.” Cas replied.

Dean swore he could see the gears turning in the dark haired angel’s (man’s?) head.

Reluctantly Dean gave in he really wasn’t sure what was coming over him. No matter how sincere those baby blue eyes were, he shouldn’t trust him. Not this quickly.

“Alright then start talkin’” Dean gave a huge sigh, his shoulders still stiff and unflinching.

“Please allow me a moment of just being… we’ve been through much...” the familiar words he’d spoken, and yet to speak forming on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah… sure” Dean’s tone softened without permission.

He felt those damn eyes again all over him.

Castiel drank in this younger Dean. Still tough as nails, still loved his brother more than his own hide, but still, while familiar, Castiel couldn’t get enough. Not that he kept his eyes to himself at any point but this was something else. A Dean before perdition, before he’d rebuild his soul… his every fiber and cell.

“Listen .” A hard swallow. “I don’t know what we’ve been through in the future, but I’m not really getting this whole “Angel of the Lord shtick.”

Cas laughed lightly. Not at Dean, it was too gentle.

“You never really had faith in them.” Cas found himself putting emphasis on them…

It was them not him… Dean has faith in him. He was sure of that, even if he hasn’t always been.

“But you’re... Different?” It came out innocent.

A nod. “It’s the cracked chassis.” He said plainly.

Dean didn’t fully understand but he got a pretty good idea.

“You called them dicks with wings.”

“The other angels.” Cas added after a moment of silence.

Dean huffed. That did sound like him.

There was a lull in the conversation, the fog still thick around them.

“So... you really don’t know how you got here?” Dean finally settled on what to say.

“I have a working theory.”

“Which is?”

“I’m simply supposed to be.”

“That’s not what you said earlier.” Dean reminded him , not the slightest convinced.

Cas let himself smile again, his crows feet visible and crinkled.

“Changed my mind.”

“Alright.” Dean said standing up from the bench.

“Let's get a change of scenery, this place isn’t exactly what I’d call a hang out spot.”

Cas’ chest got tighter with a small rush of nerves.

“We can head towards wherever my dick brother is hiding out.”

“Alright, Dean.” Cas conceded , he really wasn’t in any position to argue with him.

This is part one ✨I might be posting this on ao3 but I’ll be and part two to tumblr soon ~ this should only be two or three parts in total ✨🖤

Tag list : @my-favourite-hellatus , @nguyenxtrang , @i-dont-even-wanna-know , @withclawsandsympathy , @sideofangels , @hazel-eyed-bi @lilac-void ,

🖤Feel free to ask to be added or removed ✨

[jawritter]

Cramps...

Request:  Hi you sweet thing! You write really amazing! Congrats on 200 followers. I wanted to make a Jensen request. Tumblr ask is too small so this ask will be in 2 parta😂 This is kinda based on my experiences. Can you make a Jensen x reader where one day reader doesn’t go on set because her periods have come. Jensen being her friend gets worried and goes to her house. When he goes he finds out that she has been vomiting. Her stomachache, body pain is too much for her to even move. So Jensen Takes her to her room. Takes care of her the entire day (tries to cheer up her mood coz too many mood swings, like movies or other stuff, you add yours here). When in the evening the pain increases a lot so he takes her to ER. It’s a normal thing but reader has to take an injection for the pain. Reader panics because she’s afraid, so Jensen stays with her the entire time. He takes her home and makes dinner. And stays the night, cuddling her even if she was on periods. don’t know if I made sense there but really reading your Jensen stories, I was tempted to read more your work! I know it’s a weird request involving periods and all. Not sure if everyone is comfortable talking about that so, Sorry for that🥺 it’s okay if you say no😅

Word Count: 2666

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Misha.

Warnings: Period related talk, sick reader, language, fluff, Jensen being an adorable sweetheart, that’s about all.

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine! Feedback is golden! Please do not copy my work!! I hope you guys enjoy this one! I’m not a fan of the title, but my mind was just blank and that’s the best I could come up with after staring at the computer for 30 minutes lol. So go easy on me…

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

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Your POV:

Ever had one of those days that when you went to bed the night before, you just knew tomorrow was just gonna be a bitch? Well, last night when you finally get in from set you just new. Shooting in between pouring rain and in freezing temperatures with Jensen and Jared, you didn't get home until somewhere around three in the morning. Your back was killing you, you were slightly nauseous, and you couldn’t sleep. You knew what was coming, and you knew it was going to be a bad one, so you prayed for mercy from mother nature to whomever was listening, and popped a few tylenol before trying to get some sleep. You had an early call in the morning, and you knew the makeup girls would kill you if you walked into the studio looking like an extra on the walking dead…

You don’t know what time you fell asleep that night, but some time in the middle of the night, you woke up with an excruciating pain in your stomach and lower back. Getting up with a groan you stumble to the bathroom to see that your Aunt Flow had decided it was time for your monthly visit. 

“Great! Just freaking beautiful!” you yell at no one, silently hating the fact that you didn’t have a roommate to help you while you were living in Vancouver filming. 

You get into the shower, and turn the water on just as hot as you could handle it, letting it beat down on your aching lower back, relaxing your muscles a little bit while you could. Then when the water started to get cold you cleaned yourself up, and got out to change your ruined bed sheets before you got ready to go to set.

You had just thrown them in the washer when the nausea hit you like a wave and you barely made it to the bathroom before emptying your contents of your stomach. Great, it was going to be one of those. The pain that had ebbed away from the shower was starting to come back with a vengeance, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to make it in to set today.

Picking up your phone you texted Richard the news, still sitting down on the bathroom floor by the toilet. It was going to be a long five to seven days, and it was just getting started..

Jensen’s POV:

It was still cold out as Jensen made his way from the makeup trailer to set, but at least the rain had stopped and the sun was out. That did seem to help some, but the wind was still a bitter cold, too cold for a Texan’s liking, no matter how long he’d been in Vancouver filming he never got used to the cold. 

Rounding the corner to the main part of the bunker set where they were going to be filming today, he noticed immediately things hand changed up, and no one had bothered to tell him. Misha and Alex stood in full costume, looking over their scripts, and Jared was talking to a cameraguy in full Sam gear. This wasn’t right, It was supposed to be just Y/N and his coverage today? Why had they changed everything up? 

Walking up to Misha and Alex he didn’t even both really with a greeting. He was to annoyed that things had changed yet again, and more than a little concerned as to why Y/N wasn’t here on set. Normally she was here about thirty minutes early to run her lines before they filmed their coverage with him?

“Why are you guys here? It’s supposed to be just Y/N and my coverage today?” he asked, coming face to face with Misha. Misha just shrugged. 

“Y/N text and said she was sick and couldn’t come in to work today, so they decided just to film everything that she’s not in and then do her coverage Monday.”

“Sick? What do you mean she’s sick? Did she say what’s wrong with her? Is she okay?”

Misha looked at Jensen like he’d grown a second head. The sudden concern making him furrow his brows as he looked at Jensen, who was obviously flustered over the fact that Y/N was sick. 

“I don’t know, she didn’t text me, I just know what I was told. She was well enough to text so I’m sure she’s just fine. Why Jens? What’s the issue? You’re off the hook for the whole day I think. Go home and go back to bed. You guys were really late filming last night and Y/N is probably just tired. Take a page from her book and go home. Take a break for once.”

Jensne took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, trying to pinch away the impending tension headache. 

He had been harboring feelings for Y/N for months. Well, ever since the first time he’d laid eyes on her really. He knew her better than she’d probably known herself.

He knew how she took her coffee in the mornings. The way she chewed on her lower lip when she was stressed, or couldn’t remember her lines. The way she shifted her weight on her feet when she had almost had enough of his and Jared’s shit when they were messing with her. 

He knew that she always took a shower before work because in the mornings when they were getting ready to go to set that’s when her shampoo smelled the strongest to him, and he loved every minute of it.

He knew what she prefered for lunch everyday at the food tent before she even got there, and most of the time he had her plate already made and ready for her. 

He knew when she was trying to hide the fact that something was bothering her by the tone in her voice. He knew EVERYTHING about her, and he knew that she didn’t just call in sick to work. Hell, the girl came to work with the damn flu. Sickness didn’t usually stop her.

He couldn’t help but feeling a pit in his stomach that screamed there was something horribly wrong, and he had to go and check on her, and he didn’t care how sick she was, he wouldn’t rest until she felt better. No matter what was wrong, he’d be there. 

Your’s POV:

This was one of the worst periods you had ever had in your life, the pain was almost unbearable. The cramps felt like they were going to rip you apart from the inside out, you couldn’t stop vomiting, and the slightest movement on your part as far as getting off the bathroom floor did nothing but cause more cramping, and more nausea. So you dozed on and off between spurts of pain with your head leaned against the tub, silently wishing you could at least get a pillow. 

You thought you heard someone knocking on your door, but you figured it was just some idiot trying to sell something, so you just ignore it in your sleepy daze. That is until you smelled the distinct smell that was Jensen’s cologne. You'd have known it anywhere, even if you were clinically dead. 

Opening your eyes you saw Jensen sink down to the bathroom floor next to you, slipping the hair away from your face that had fallen out of the half assed attempt at a messy bun you’d done getting out of the shower. 

“Goodness Sweetheart, you look like you feel terrible,” he said, his deep rumble soft, and his eyes concerned. You should have known he’d be worried when you called into work, but you didn’t think he’d actually show up at your apartment just  to check on you. If you were being honest it made your heart swell just a little that he cared that much.

“Yea, be glad you were born a man, Jay,” you tell him, trying to set up but a wave of nausea crashed into you from the movement, and you leaned over the toilet drying heaving, your arm trying to grip your stomach against the assaultingcramps, feeling more than a little embarrassed that Jensen had to witness this. 

“Let me take you to the hospital Y/N,” he said, his warm hand rubbing up and down your back in soothing circles. You shook your head as you leaned back more slowly this time. 

“No Jay, it’s not use, this is totally normal for me. There’s really nothing they can do for me. It will pass.” 

Jensen narrowed his eyes at you. His adorable eye crinkles showing. If you weren't so sick you probably would have smiled at the concern he showed on his face. 

“They can give you something for pain and nausea...” 

Throwing up your hand to stop him before he got himself to work up.

“That means shots Jay, and you know how I feel about needles.”

Standing to his feet he walked out of the room for a moment, and you thought that maybe you’d pissed him off and he was leaving, but he returned before you had time to worry too much, minus his jacket. Bending down he scooped you up carefully into his strong arms and held you tight to his chest as he carried you through your apartment. 

Laying you down on the bed that had been turned down, he carefully pulled the covers over you tucking you in. 

“Well, you’re stuck with me then until you feel like yourself again,” Jensen said, moving over to the other side of the bed, and crawling in on top of the cover next to you, grabbing the remote to your TV on the way.

“Friends marathon?” he asked you, as he pulled you into his side, letting you lay your head on his shoulder and snuggle against him. “I heard you and one of the PA’s talking about it yesterday,” he said with a shy smile when you looked up at him a little amused. 

“Jensen, you don’t want to watch friends we don’t have too,” you told him, poking him in the ribs playfully and enjoying the way he deep chuck vibrated through his whole body.

“Hey, I like Friends. Joey’s my boy ” he said as he settled next to you, turning Friends on before laying his large hand over your lower stomach. The warmth from his hand soothing the assaulting cramps a little and you melted into him. 

“This okay?” he asked you, watching closely for any sign that he was making you uncomfortable.

“No, this is perfect. You're amazing, Jay. You’re gonna make an amazing husband some day,” you tell him, your eyelids getting heavier be the second, finally relaxing just enough to doze off as you felt his lips graze your hair. 

The two of you lay there most of the day watching Friends and cuddling. You couldn’t believe what a sweetheart Jensen was being to you, most men seemed to be grossed out by periods, but Jensen didn’t seem bothered at all. 

The only problem was that the cramps and nausea were getting worse. You’d thrown up two more times, and the pain in your stomach was enough to make you want to cry.

The worse your symptoms got, the more worried Jensen got. Finally pleading with you until you’d agreed to let him bring you to the ER. That’s where you found yourself now, laying curled on an uncomfortable ER bed, with Jensen holding your hand and running his fingers through your hair. 

“I’m sure they can give you something to make you feel better, Sweetheart,” he said. You could tell he was anxious about the amount of pain you were in, even though you’d told him repeatedly that this was normal for you. 

A few minutes later the doctor came in and confirmed what you’d said. It was completely normal, possibly a little overly hormonal induced period system for some women. Pain and nausea were just part of it, but he did say that he wanted to give you a shot to help with the pain and nausea. At which point you started to cry like a little six year old as soon as the doctor walked out of the room to get the charge nurse to give you the shot, and he did your release paperwork.

Jensen squeezed his large frame in the bed next to yours, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, letting your cry into his shirt. He lay there shushing you, running his hands through your hair again and repeatedly kissing your forehead, which thanks to your hormones made you even more emotional and more weepy. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Sweetheart. Just a little shot, you probably won’t even really feel it, then we can go home and you won’t be in pain anymore. We can cuddle, I’ll make dinner for the two of us, and we can finish our Friends marathon. Or whatever you want to watch. It’s almost over.”

“I hate needles, Jay,” you mumble against him getting more and more upset be the second.

“Hey, hey, pretty girl, I’m right here holding you, it’s gonna be okay. Just hold on to me as tight as you can.” You can hear the nurse behind you, getting everything ready. You hid your face more into his shirt and his arms wrapped around you tighter.

“Okay sweetheart, just a little stick and you can go home,” the nurse said, cleaning the spot with an alcohol pad over that she was going to put the shot. You were shaking, and you felt Jensen lift your head up to look at him, his green eyes that had really no color name searched yours. 

It worked. He officially distracted you with just a look. Jensen was always able to do that. 

“Okay Hun, your finished! You can go as soon as you sign these papers,” she said, and you looked at her completely shocked that she had already done it.

“See, as long as you’re with me, nothing can hurt you,” Jensen said, kissing the top of your head for what seemed like the thousandth time, making your heart flutter in your chest. 

———————————————————-

Less than an hour later you seemed to actually be feeling better and were even walking around on your own. The doctor had given you something for pain and nausea to do you through the rest of your cycle, that much you were thankful for.

“Okay baby girl, you go get in the bed, and get yourself comfortable, I’m going to start on fixing us something to eat,” Jensen said, refusing to let you into the kitchen.

“Jensen, you don’t have to do all that, we can just order takeout.” 

Jensen laughed at you. “Baby, I’m not going to make you eat takeout, you've been sick all day and you need a home-cooked meal. You settle your little self in that room let me take care of you.”

You kissed him on the check and you could have sworn you saw him blush. 

You did as you were told, getting into bed and waiting for Jensen to come in with his meal, reading through some of your emails and things while you waited. When he entered the room he had a tray of food piled high with all your favorites. You sat there with your mouth hanging open. 

“Jay! OMG!! Please tell me some of that’s yours,” you tell him, looking at the feast he’d brought you.

“Hell yeah some of it’s mine,” he said with a wink as you started to dig in, and he made himself comfortable doing the same.

——————————–

Waking up the next morning you felt Jensen’s arm wrapped protectively around you. Rolling over so as to not wake him up you looked at his perfect sleeping figure. He’d stayed all night with you, holding you, making sure you were comfortable, not letting you do anything for yourself and waiting on your hand and foot, treating you like a queen. 

Running your hand through his soft hair lightly Jensen hummed in his sleep at you. You took in his beautiful features. His strong jaw, perfect dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks. The man was gorgeous.

All your life you’d searched and hoped for someone like him to stumble into it, and you never realized what was right there in front of you. Watching Jensen sleep next to you this morning though, after all he’d done for you yesterday, you decided maybe there was such a thing as happy endings after all, and maybe, just maybe, yours was laying right here next to you.

————————————————————————————————–

Tag List: @deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming​

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

Regarding the favourite character thingy... I'd probably go with Eonan. I seem to have a thing for demonic Irish guys xD especially if they have a gentle side to them! Aaand Nekaya cause she bae.

Right, I’ll try this again.... Already wrote a novel to you (yes another one, I’m that person, just run away while you can) And my mousepad made a spazz and bloop, everything went poof!

It’s fine, I’ll just do it again: Thank you so-hooooo much! <3 This means the world to me, specially since you picked two characters I haven’t put that much focus on, at least here on Tumblr.

As for Nekaya, she’s totally bae material, so I get you. She’s a rare kind of woman, and I would love to dive into her depths and get more of her out into the world, cause she’s a certain kind of strength we could all need a bit more of. Unfortunately when you have as many characters as I have, and those characters like to reproduce like bunnies... well, their offspring rarely get the chance to be as much in the spotlight as I would like them to, Nekaya is sadly one of the offsprings that falls victim to this. However, I do plan to put her more in focus, alas there’s only 24 hours in the day. But she WILL be coming up in the Simstober challenge I am part of, so one day soon-ish she will grace your dashboard with her beauty again ;)

I too have a thing for demonic Irish guys! XD I mean, how many Mckinney’s are scattered on my two character lists? I have simply lost count! Even the McKinney brothers grand parents are to be found! The very founders of the McKinney clan! And man those genes are some very fine genes, so fine that I wish I had the time and patience to build up the whole clan in CAS, alas, there’s simply not enough time, or cc for that matter, as they are thousands! XD Eonan is definitely an interesting and captivating person in his own way, he’s a big, strong cuddly bear now, with an at times thick Irish/Welsh accent, but doesn’t speak much, although he has plenty to say, he prefers much more to listen. And haven lived for thousands of years, I’d say there’s some good depth to him as well. But just because he’s a big romantic softie now, doesn’t mean he has forgotten how to rip the head of a chicken... or a human for that matter. Since it is you, I’ll below the cut, pluck out a part of some of my more recent chapters, just to give you a better taste of Eonan. Trigger warning, brief gory scene:

Sam: *His heart started pounding in his head, his head racing to try to find an option that would save everyone*

Adrian: Do you trust me?

Sam: *He flinched as Adrian spoke and quickly turned around*

Adrian: *He stood up slow, looking at Sam with glowing eyes, a green bottle clenched in one hand, that undoubtedly would hold a potion* Do you trust me, Sam? *he growled low*

Sam: .... I trust you

Adrian: *He growled loud as he slammed the potion bottle against his chest, the bottle breaking, green potion liquid running down his chest,  and whispered a long strain of Latin words, then his eyes turned completely black*

Sam: Adrian?

Adrian: *He starred blank at Sam, like a robot waiting for a command, then he was gone. At a blink of an eye, like watching Raven disappear*

Sam: *He rushed to the window, just in time to see everyone laying dead on the ground, except from Dahlika and Evan. It was a slaughter. Everything was red in the strange glow that had suddenly surrounded the house... and out of the dark stepped Adrian and Akin. Side by side* Sam: *His heart pounded faster and faster, what happened?!* Adrian: *He watched as Adrian in slow motion looked towards the bedroom window, his eyes back to normal* Akin: Dahlika *His voice was loud and piercing* One warning, that's all you get. Let him go, or you will feel my wrath. Dahlika: *She looked at Akin with fear, but tightened her grip on Evan* Let me go and I will let him go! Akin: This is not a negotiation *his voice grew deep and firm, calm and ice cold* Last chance you will ever get. Dahlika: *She squinted her eyes, and it was clear to read from her body language, that if she was going down, she would take Evan with her* Akin: *A low snarl escaped him* So be it. Dahlika: *Her eyes got wide as suddenly her throat ripped wide open. She coughed a few times, then fell lifeless to the ground* Evan: *He quickly stepped away, just in time for Akin to step closer and wrap his arms around him* Akin: It's okay, you're safe *his voice was soft, comforting and warm* Sam: *He shook his head in disbelief of what he had seen, then suddenly, out of nowhere, Eonan appeared on the grass, right behind Dahlika's lifeless body. It all made sense. The potion Adrian had used, was to call on Eonan. The reason he had disappeared, was simply that Eonan had picked him up. The slaughter was nothing any wolf could have done in the blink of an eye. Of course it had been the work of a McKinney!* Eonan: *He looked up at Sam and pulled a soft smile, then spoke to Akin in a warm voice* I'll take care of this mess, get out of here. Akin: *He nodded confirming and quickly changed into his wolf form, Evan quickly getting up on his back, and off they were* Eonan: You too, Adrian *he nodded at Adrian* No one should stick around this many dead bodies for too long. It changes you. Adrian: *He frowned deep* I'm aware. Eonan: *He sighed soft, a warm smile tucking at the corners of his lips* My advice, you let it go. Adrian: *He frowned even deeper* I'm not sure I know how to? Eonan: *He sighed deep and nodded slow* You and I both. Adrian: *He looked surprised at Eonan* Eonan: Raven is the born killer... well, I suppose technically we all are. But he's the one who can let such matters go the easiest. Ronan and I have always been struggling more after we all tried to be more "humane". *He shrugged lightly* Sadly, however, Raven isn't available at the moment. So that's how you ended up with me, even if your spell was aimed at him. Adrian: *He frowned lightly* Isn't available? Eonan *He sighed deeper* Nothing for you to worry about. Go on.. get out of here *he shooed with his arms* Adrian: *He grunted soft* You are aware you are shooing me away from my own home? Eonan: *He looked at the house, then back at Adrian* Yes. Adrian: .......................... *he sighed deep and groaned* Fine... I'll go sit by the water for a while! Sam: *He watched as Adrian slowly started walking towards the water, still trying to process everything that had happened* Eonan: *He quietly started chanting in an old Gaelic dialect, and slowly the bodies started sinking into the ground, further and further down till they reached the depths of hell. An old chilled wind blowing through the pine trees, surrounding the lot, whispering of the lives that had been wasted* 

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 47

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Canon violence, trauma, feels so many FEELINGS

A/N: Excuse me. I’m just sobbing in a corner. I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS OVER. I started writing this a year and a half ago never imagining it would be what it is. I’ve made dear friends through this fic (my tumblr wife @wonderlandmind4​ lookin’ at you bby, thank you for the love and support and betaing and everything). I’ve grown as a writer. So many thingssss. 

Thank you to EVERYONE who’s still reading, who’s been patient with the delays, who has reblogged and said kind things. You’re all amazing and my life would be a little darker without you in it sweet pumpkins! 

Come get in the feelings with me and these two characters one last time... (until Part 2 that is 😘)

Tags are open!

Steve paces another circuit around the back of the jet.

“Steve,” Natasha snaps, “just sit down for fuck’s sake.” 

“Extracting them shouldn’t be too hard,” Hill says eyes skimming schematics once more.

He tosses them both a sidelong glance before sitting, eyes fixed out the window. It wasn’t that he was worried about getting everyone out—with Natasha at his side neutralizing who they needed to in order to get to the team would be easy. 

No, the thought making him shift in his seat is who of them would even want to come…

Everything, every ounce of stability they had was gone because of him, because of the choices he made. He led them all into this fight and somehow he was the only one standing free and unharmed. It felt like failure. How could he blame any of them if they hated him for this? If they refused to stand with him now?

 Then there was you. 

Would you trust him without Bucky by his side? Believe him when he said Bucky was safe? Even after all that had happened… did he trust you?

“I’ll be taking us down in five,” Hill says. 

No more time to worry about any of that now. All he could do was try. 

Just as he suspected, they make quick work of quietly clearing the section of the vessel they need to. Before entering the block where the team is they both pause. 

“Do… do you think they’ll forgive me?” Natasha looks up at him in a rare moment of vulnerability. “For making the wrong call?” 

“We all made the right call for ourselves, Nat.” He forces a smile, “They know that.” If only he could make himself believe it. 

He doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until he sees Sam’s smirk. 

“Took you long enough,” Sam quips. 

“Five days vacation not enough for you?” Steve asks, prying the cell door open. 

“Oh, it’s been five stars.” 

Natasha pulls Wanda’s cell open, helping her out, he feels his blood boil seeing her in that straitjacket. While she sees to freeing Wanda and Sam opens the other cells Steve steps to your cell and freezes. 

You’re strapped into a chair reminiscent of the one they held Bucky in, clearly unconscious. Before he can move to open the door Wanda’s red haze engulfs it, practically ripping the metal from the wall. She pushes past him, tearing the shackles from your arms and legs while her hands cup your face, fingers checking your pulse. 

“Thank god,” Wanda sighs out. 

“How is she?” Sam asks from behind Steve as he steps into the tight space.  

“Breathing. Her pulse feels strong.”

Sam opens one of your lids, but you don’t react. “They probably drugged her.” 

“Any time they tried to take Wanda or any of us elsewhere she stopped them,” Clint says, arms crossed. “They must have a small crew because rather than just take her and us they’d focus on her.” He’s right, that small crew was the only way they were able to get everyone out. 

Steve studies the dried blood from a place your lip had busted, your black eye, a painfully dark bruise on your cheekbone. He hears Bucky’s voice in his head, “She’s like you never knows when to just stay down.”

Whatever questions about trust, he had before are gone. You protected his team, his family when he couldn’t. 

“I’ve got her,” gently he lifts your pliant form in his arms, cradling you close. “Let’s get moving.”

“Y’all head on without me,” Clint says. 

“What?!” Natasha spins on him. 

He gives her a sad smile. “I can’t be on the lam, Nat.” Clint rests his hands on her shoulders. “You know I can’t put Laura and the kids through that.” She looks away before flinging her arms around his neck. 

“Same for me,” Scott says. “I got a daughter to think about.” The two men exchange a knowing look. 

Steve feels his chest tighten with guilt. “Are you both sure?”

“Yeah-” Clint shrugs- “besides, being stuck in close quarters for an indiscriminate amount of time with all of you? Think I’d prefer prison.” Natasha punches him in the chest playfully. 

“Look out for each other,” Clint says. 

“We will,” Sam says. Steve nods in agreement before leading them all to the jet and an uncertain future.

-

It feels like your body is being torn apart… No. It feels like a million imperceptible particles are trying to get in. You can feel the dust in the air, the fibers of the bandages on your chest, the tiny mites in the old mattress beneath you eating away. Even through the darkness of your closed lids, you perceive the unfamiliar room you’re in clearly; every piece of furniture, every corner, visible to your mind’s eye like a relief sculpture. 

Too much! Your brain screams as it tries desperately to process every bit of information slamming into it. 

Move, you have to move, come on Y/N! You try to open your eyes, move your hand, get a grip on your body. 

Finally, you break through, shooting from the bed, gasping for air. The salt in your own sweat feels like tiny needles running across your skin, the particles thundering into your lungs threatening to choke you. 

Gripping your skull you press yourself into a corner, trying to hold your head together as you feel the pain begin at the top of your spine spreading up. 

You didn’t know where you were or what the hell they did to you. The last thing you remembered was the sting of a needle before falling into blackness but you were pretty certain you were still on The Raft. This was a shit time for your brain to overload. 

Pushing your back into the solid wall you force a deep breath into your lungs. Think of anything else but the countless sensations bombarding your awareness. You think of Bucky—his smell, his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, his gentle hands. 

Slowly the doors slam shut, damming the flow, allowing your tired mind to process simple things like the stale smell of the small room, the dim light, the worn carpet. 

“Y/N?” A tentative voice asks. You gasp a little, startled. 

“Oh,” Sam says softly. “I’m sorry. It’s ok.” He stops a few feet away holding his hands open in a non-threatening way. 

He crouches down, “Can you tell me what you’re seeing?”

“You?” You answer, confused. 

“Just me? In this bedroom?” 

You understand suddenly that he thinks you’re having a flashback. A small smile rises to your lips at his kindness and caution. 

“I’m good, Sam. I’m here.” You look around the room, “Where is, here, anyway?”

He stands, clearly more relaxed, and extends a hand to you. “Some small town in Switzerland.” You take it and let him help you up. 

“Bucky and Steve?”

Sam doesn’t meet your eyes, just turns for the door. “Steve and Natasha are doing a perimeter walk.”

“Sam,” you say, unmoving. He looks back at you, expression uncertain. Suddenly your stomach is in your knees, heart in your throat. The lamp on the table behind you begins to shake your fragile control wavering. 

He looks around the room as it shudders before answering. “All I know is he’s ok. You’ll have to talk to Steve when he gets back. But…” He sighs, “He’s not here.” 

He wasn’t dead, that was what mattered. But… you knew there were things almost as bad. Your power slides back into you, the room calm once more. Still, your chest is tight with worry. 

“Come on,” Sam nods at the door. “You’ve been out for almost two days, you’ve got to be starving.” As if in affirmation your stomach growls loudly. 

Sam leads you downstairs through what feels like the home of someone’s grandmother—maybe it was at some point—to a cozy kitchen. Two people you don’t know sit at the table, talking easily over steaming mugs. The man looks up at you with one good eye as you enter. 

“Y/N this is Nick Fury and Maria Hill.” 

“Just Fury,” the man says. He stands, hand extended. 

“Hill or Maria is fine,” the woman gives you a warm smile. You shake her hand as well, eying the man. 

“You were the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.” It wasn’t a question just a statement of fact, your tone flat and cold. You hadn’t wanted to get anywhere near the Hydra files but you had read enough in the aftermath of everything to know the name Nick Fury, to know that Hydra had existed just beneath the surface while he collected superheroes.

“I was.” He meets your stare, jaw set. 

The gurgle of a coffee pot breaks the tense silence. 

“Coffee open to anyone?” You ask no one in particular. 

“Yeah,” Sam answers. “Though maybe water would be best-”

“Maybe. But I’ve been denied caffeine for almost a week-” realizing how little time had passed made your head spin a bit- “it’s in everyone’s best interest for me to opt for the coffee.” Sam shakes his head but pours you a cup anyway. 

That first sip sings through your senses. Closing your eyes you breathe in the scent, imagining that you’ll open them and see your kitchen, Bucky at the table reading the paper, Billie or a brass band playing in the background. 

“Y/N!” Wanda stands in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Hey,” you offer up as much of a smile as you can muster. 

“How… How are you feeling?” She asks, shifting from foot to foot.

“I’m ok.” 

She opens her mouth to say more but is cut off by Natasha and Steve entering through the back door. 

“Everything looks clear,” Natasha announces to the room. Her eyes sweep the space, landing on you. “Oh! You’re up. Good,” her smile is warm. 

You give her an acknowledging nod but look to Steve, desperate for answers that only he can give. He says nothing though, just focuses on slipping out of his jacket.

“Steve,” you say. It almost sounds like a greeting but your desperation is curled between every letter. His shoulders tense a bit. 

He finally meets your eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing hard. “Let’s talk. If you’re ready.” Not waiting for a response he walks from the kitchen, heading to the back of the house to a small office where a cot is set up in one corner. 

Steve tosses the jacket on the cot followed by his baseball cap. Sighing heavily he runs a hand through his hair. 

You can’t wait any longer. “Where is he?” Your voice cracks, hands white-knuckled around the mug, barely holding it together. 

His eyes are sad as he says, “He’s safe.” It should be relieving. It isn’t.

“That’s not good enough, Steve. Where is he?”

“Why don’t you-”

“I don’t want to fucking sit down-” the coffee in your cup swirls, the window rattles- “I want answers.” 

“I can’t tell you.” A book flies from the shelf behind you, landing with a resounding thud on the hardwood floor. Steve looks at it, raising an eyebrow. “I’m asking you to trust me, Y/N. He is safe and with people who are going to help him.” 

Your eyes narrow, “Help him how?”

Steve sighs, “He was hurt…” 

He explains everything that happened once he and Bucky left you all at the airport. At some point you drop onto the cot, hands shaking so much you have to set your coffee down. You hardly breathe as he tells you about Bucky’s arm, unable to imagine the pain he must have been in, aching that you weren’t there. 

“Where is he?” You growl out.

“Y/N, like I said-”

“No” —you shake your head—“Zemo.” Hatred burns cold throughout your body. 

You may want to rip Tony Stark’s own arm from his body but Zemo… You knew how to hurt someone just enough to not kill them. Already you’re imaging snapping small bones one by one, the muscles you can slowly shred, calculating just how long you can drag it out.

“Don’t go down that road.” Steve’s hands ball into fists, belying his own feelings. “Zemo is being handled.” He strides across the room, retrieving something from a pack. 

“Here,” he holds out an envelope with your name on the front in Bucky’s neat script. Your mouth goes dry. “I think it will help fill in the rest.” 

Steve sits in the desk chair, staring at his hands, as you slowly open the letter. 

Y/N,

There’s so much I want to say, so much I need to tell you, but the words just aren’t coming to me. I hope Steve has told you what he can about all that happened. Don’t be too upset with him about the blanks he can’t fill—some promises need to be kept. 

As for my decision… even he is struggling to make sense of that. 

I am so sorry I’m not there, wherever you are. I don’t think words exist that express how much I want you with me but—and I know you’re going to be furious with me for saying it—you aren’t safe with me right now. 

What happened in Berlin was one of my worst nightmares made real. The fact that someone would only need to mutter a few well-placed words and I could… Well, we both know what I could do. 

You are everything to me, Y/N. And the truth is I am not strong enough to live with the burden that I could put you in harm’s way. Especially not when I have a chance to remove that threat. 

The people here truly feel they can fix whatever Hydra broke in my head. I swear once they do nothing will keep me from you. If you’ll have me still that is. 

I hope you can forgive me… for everything. I hope you know the depth of my love for you. 

I will be dreaming of only you my darling. 

Yours always, 

Bucky

Futilely you try and stop the tears sneaking from the corners of your eyes by looking at the ceiling. Still, they come, flowing silently down your cheeks. 

How could he think for even a moment you wouldn’t have him? That you could ever begrudge him enough to not forgive him? You dig your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from sobbing, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Steve rolls the squeaky chair closer to you, covering your fist, resting on your thigh with his large hand. You look into his own pained face, blue eyes dark with emotion. 

“He loves you.”

You look away. Wherever he is he’s unconscious and alone and you cannot protect him. 

“As soon as I know anything I swear I will tell you,” Steve says giving your hand a squeeze. 

Time opens like a black hole in your mind. “Soon,” meant nothing. There was no telling how long it would take for them to figure out all the damage Hydra did, let alone fix it. The thought of going years without him shoots despair through your heart like a dagger. 

“Thank you,” Steve says. You look at him confused. 

“For what?”

“You looked out for them when I couldn’t. I-” He clears his throat, running a hand over his face. “Just thank you.” 

You shake your head, “You don’t have to thank me. It was the least I could do.” It’s his turn to be confused. 

“If it wasn’t for you, for all of you, I would truly have lost him.”

Steve cocks a crooked grin, “I only owe him a few hundred for saving my ass so many times.” 

You huff out a small laugh, “I’ve heard about a few of those.” 

His grin blooms into a full smile, “Oh? Should I be scared?” 

“Definitely.”

A knock at the door draws both your attention. Hill opens it popping her head in. 

“Sam made breakfast if you two want some.” 

“Thanks, Hill,” Steve says. Hill closes the door, the smell of bacon creeping in. 

“Food?” He asks. 

“God yes.” Tenderly you fold Bucky’s letter, tucking it into the pocket of the sweats you found yourself in. 

For a few awkward seconds, the two of you stand staring before you embrace each other so tight it’s almost hard to breathe. 

“You’re family now, you know that right?” 

And you do. Bucky was his family just as Nix had been yours. Even though your heart was broken, it felt good to have a family again. 

-

“Sam!” You call out into the house. “Did you use all the chili powder?” 

“What kind of monster do you take me for?” He hollers back. “It’s on the top shelf.” You have to float up a bit to find it, tucked behind the cinnamon Sam liked to sprinkle on his toast. 

He saunters into the kitchen. “What ya makin’?” 

“Chili and cornbread. Picked up some stuff for it while Hill and I were on recon yesterday.” 

“Good luck with this chili powder. Not sure how good it is.”

You open the container and smell it. “Seems ok.”

“Yeah but my ribs last week were off.” He plucks the container from you looking at it. 

Playfully you shoo him away. “Your ribs were excellent. Now get out of my kitchen.” It was the same thing he said every time it was his turn to cook. 

“Ok, ok!” 

You can’t help but smile as you fall into the familiar motions of chopping and sautéing. 

Most of your days were spent like this, with good people and good food—between you and Sam, no one in the house was going to go hungry. True, you often found yourself longing for the peace of the farmhouse or the cozy feel of your apartment; but you had forgotten how comforting it was to be in a space filled with chatter and warmth.

Each night it felt like you were lost at sea though, untethered without the reassurance and comfort of Bucky’s presence. Every morning starting with a cup of coffee and a desperate look to Steve that was always met with a subtle shake of his head. After a little more than a month it began to feel like your new normal--caffeine and heartbreak to kick off the day. 

Rather than wallow you buried yourself in as many daily tasks as you could. The old two-bedroom one-bath house was a tight fit with five of you which meant there were often things to clean, cook, or fix. 

A few times you’d even gone with Hill to work recon on some intel Fury had gotten from god knew where. One other you’d joined Natasha on what she called a ‘quickie’ to neutralize a small arms dealer in Ukraine. Each time had felt like an audition like you were unwittingly trying for a part you didn’t ask for but you wouldn’t mind having either. 

As you clean the kitchen, trying to think of what to fill the next few hours with, you see someone you weren’t expecting chatting with Steve in the back of the property. Fury. 

Bitterness touches your tongue. He’d left a few days after you came to and hadn’t been back since. You were glad of it—you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of dislike you had for the man, despite the help he’d provided. Maybe you just needed someone to blame. 

You turn away before they can see you, not wanting to chance an uncomfortable exchange if you don’t have to. Quickly you dry your hands, leaving a few things in the sink, and turn to head upstairs.

Wanda dodges you on her way down. Her headphones are in but she gives you a smile and a nod. 

“Why’s Fury here?” She asks while opening the fridge. 

“No idea,” you say, pausing halfway up the stairs. 

“Hey-” you turn back and she gives you one of her knowing looks-“wanna go for a hike?”

The house was nestled close to the mountains. With the tight space, it had become pretty normal for each of you to head out into the idyllic woods a few times a week at least. You smile, appreciating the out she’s giving you. 

“Sure.” 

It was early summer but there was still a crispness to the air that was bracing. Under the soft green shadows left by the trees, you forgot your discomfort at seeing Fury and let everything fall away.

You’ve lost yourself in the sounds of the forest when a small twig smacks you in the face, still glittering red as it falls to the ground. Your jaw drops as you spin to see Wanda laughing, disappearing into the woods, flying into the canopy. 

“That was dirty!” You call after her, your own feet leaving the ground. 

This game of telekinetic tag started one night that neither of you could sleep. The room you shared, hell the whole house, felt claustrophobic so you both headed into the woods. Now, if you were alone one of you could be counted on to kick it off. 

Halfway up a pine tree, you perch lightly on a branch. Your eyes scan the trees for a red shimmer. When you finally find it you reach up, plucking a pinecone from the tree, and propel it through the air. 

“Dammit!” You hear Wanda call out. 

A soft laugh rolls from you as you step off the branch, guiding your fall with your ability. At the ground, you don’t let your feet touch the earth to avoid making a sound. Instead, you push yourself between the trees like a human pinball, pivoting to make it harder for her to get a lock on you. 

This endless game had an unseen advantage, it allowed you to flex your power in ways you never truly had. Even training with Bucky you’d always fought to keep it in check, only use it when necessary, always afraid of just what it could do. 

With yours and Wanda’s game though, all those fears were gone. Neither of you was afraid of the other or worried you’d unsettle them--the fear of being a freak fell away and for just a moment you were both free. With that freedom, you felt yourself getting stronger. 

Though it hadn’t been the intention when this game started you were glad of it, the stronger you were the better. Your hand settles for just a moment on the still-healing wounds on your chest, a reminder of why you needed to be as adept as possible. You would become strong enough that no one could take him or anyone else you love from you ever again.  

One of the tendrils of power you sent out snaps back to you, indicating she’s close by. In less than a heartbeat, you’re into the canopy once more. Your toes barely touch the flexible pine branches as you fly. 

Just ahead you can see the clearing which was the unofficial neutral ground. Focusing you make a beeline for it. You’re almost there when a deluge of leaves and pine needles drop on your head from above. 

You drop to the ground, landing lightly, sputtering bits of foliage from your mouth while Wanda cackles.

“I cannot believe you,” you say tossing a handful of debris at her. Slipping your jacket off you give it a few good shakes, though some things still stick to the soft fleece. 

“Oh come on-” she nudges you with her shoulder- “that was hilarious and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say as you lay your jacket on the ground--it was already going to need a wash so why not use it as a blanket. Laying down on it you sigh contentedly looking up at the picturesque blue sky with its fluffy white clouds dancing around. 

Wanda settles close by and you both take in the peace for a time, comfortable with the silence. You’d actually dozed off a bit when her voice wakes you. 

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You respond groggily. 

“I… Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” the hesitation in her tone makes you nervous. You turn onto your side to look at her. 

“I didn’t mean to see it but…” One of the pebbles she was orbiting above her falls. “You were dreaming last night, you said a name--Nick, maybe? I’ve seen him before, it just seemed particularly strong--er, painful--last night…” She tilts her head to meet your eyes, “Are you ok?”

It was easy to forget that Wanda had more than telekinesis under her belt. 

“Yeah-” you force a tight grin- “I’m good. Just a dream. Sorry, I woke you.”

“Who is he?” Her eyes hold an emotion you can’t quite name and she doesn’t even acknowledge your weak lie. Something about the whole thing shakes you.

Sighing you sit up, resting your forearms on your knees. With effort, you swallow the lump in your throat, focus your gaze on the tree line to keep the tears from falling. 

“I’m sorry,” her voice so low it’s almost a whisper. “I try not to pick up things from people. Just when I’m asleep it’s harder and I-”

“Wanda,” you cut her off. “It’s absolutely fine. Never apologize for things you can’t control, especially not to me.” Looking over your shoulder you see her up on her knees, eyes focused on the grass she was plucking up blade by blade. 

“He was my brother.” At the telling word ‘was’ her eyes shoot to yours, brimming with emotion. “His name was Nix. Hydra-” Your voice cracks, forcing you to draw in a trembling breath. “Hydra killed him.” You don’t say, And everyone else, or, Because of me, but god you feel the weight of those truths. 

“I’m sorry...” She dashes tears away on her sweater sleeve. Your lips purse in something you hope looks more like a smile than a grimace.

After a long pause, she says, “I lost my brother too.” You feel your chest tighten. “When we fought Ultron.” She sniffles, “He died a hero so I guess that should make it better…” You almost pull her into your arms but you don’t know if she’d welcome the gesture. 

Instead, you sigh, “No, it shouldn’t.” Because she deserved to know that just because he died for a good cause didn’t mean he deserved to die at--you did the math--17 maybe 18.

She nods. When she looks back at you her expression is desperate, “Does it get better?” 

For a moment you’re struck dumb. She looks so young, suddenly. All you want is to protect her from this brutal world that takes so much mare than it gives. You want to tell her that it does, want to believe that lie so very much. But you just can’t…

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t think anything will ever fill that blank space. At least for me.”

“Not even Bucky?” She doesn’t mean for the question to hurt. She’s just a girl who wants, on some level, to believe that love can heal all wounds, even ones this deep. 

“Not even him. But-” you reach out for her hand, happy when she takes it- “it helps. Knowing you can love someone, even after you know how much it hurts to lose the ones closest to you. It makes you… start to feel like a person again.”

Wanda nods, wiping at her eyes. Neither of you says more. The silence holds you close and you allow yourselves to be lost in it for just a little while. By the time you pry yourselves from your peaceful getaway, the sun is setting. 

Just before you exit the trees by the back of the property she rests a hand on your shoulder. Wanda opens her mouth to say something but nothing falls out. 

You’re about to ask when she flings her arms around your neck hugging you tight. You return the hug, hoping that maybe she felt less alone in her grief. 

You look toward the house, “You’ve got something here, Wanda, with these people. It won’t ever be the same but it doesn’t make them any less family.” 

“I know,” she says with a soft smile. 

As you get closer to the house you allow thoughts of sweet cornbread and spicy chili chase away the clouds of sadness hovering around your mind. Wanda lets out a contented groan as the smell of the chili envelops you both. 

“When can we eat that?”

You laugh, “About an hour. Cornbread needs to be made.”

“Can I just-” The lid of the pot is suddenly enveloped in red.

“Nope,” you say, slamming your power on top of her own. 

“Fine,” she sighs. “But tell me when it’s ready before Steve and Sam.”

“I will absolutely give you first dibs since you won today.”

Nodding with approval she floats a banana over to her. The glowing fruit follows her as she heads upstairs. 

Before you start the cornbread you make a fresh pot of coffee. Honestly, who would expect you to cook without caffeine? Humming whatever song pops into your head you line up the few ingredients you’ll need, determine that you’ll likely need a triple batch for this crowd, take a swig of coffee, and dive in. 

Once the oven is loaded you’ve all but forgotten the ache that opened up when you and Wanda spoke. Not wanting to lose this feeling you take your coffee to the breakfast table and pick up a book someone, Natasha you’d wager, left. You smile at the bawdy image on the cover, the woman had a thing for a good smutty romance, and open it up.

Quickly you lose yourself to the words and the homey smells. You could be almost anywhere good in your past. It was wonderful. 

When the kitchen door opens you expect to see Steve or Natasha but instead Fury is there sniffing the air. All the comfort you’d been wrapped in immediately falls away. 

His gaze finally lands on you, “I was hoping I’d catch you.”

“Where else can I go,” your tone is frigid.

He doesn’t acknowledge your snipe, “Can I have a word?”

You glance at the timer, “You have eight minutes.” 

Nodding he sits across from you, sliding a manila folder over. You take it, opening the front flap slowly. Immediately your mouth goes dry. 

“Do you government types get off by showing people documentation of the worst things that have happened to them?” You fling the file across the table. 

“Technically I’m not a government type anymore.” You raise a brow at him but he continues. “But no. That file is, to the best of my knowledge, the last remaining documentation of your time with Hydra.” 

He slides it back to you. This time your hand rests flat on the smooth surface as you try to process exactly what he means. Thankfully, Fury wasn’t in the mood to hold back. 

“You’ve been wiped from the dark web, every IP that accessed your information has been hunted down, any paper copies that could be located were destroyed-” he pauses, meeting your disbelieving stare- “and I pulled that one from Ross’ personal files myself.”

Almost reverently you open the file once more. Flipping through you stop at the photos Ross had displayed, the ones with just the faintest glimpses of your family. A trembling finger traces the edge of Nix’s image, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“Barnes-” the sound of Bucky’s name makes your eyes shoot to Fury once more- “was well before my time. But you… What happened to you, to your people, that was on my watch.” He pauses, expression sincere, “I’m sorry. You deserved better.”

Guilt rushes over you in a wave. You had greatly misjudged this man. He deserved better than that. 

“Thank you.”

Fury nods, “Well, that’s what I was here to deliver.” He stands, turning to go.

“You should stay and eat. I promise it’ll be good,” you say with a genuine smile.

He takes a deep breath, “I think I will.” 

-

Within the next two weeks, it’s time for you all to move on. 

For a few days, you light in the Austrian city of Strausberg, waiting on instructions from Fury. Once received you head just outside of Krakow in Poland to work on flushing out a human trafficking operation. 

Though few would argue Steve’s de facto position as the leader of this group the necessity to stay as under the radar as possible means you all rely heavily on Natasha’s espionage roots. Her masterful ability at laying out quiet but extremely effective plans and countermoves ensure that not a whisper of who was behind this mission slips out.

The more you’re in the field the more you’re surprised to find that you’re able to put your ill-begotten skill set to good use. It feels like spitting in Hydra’s face which, of course, makes victory all the sweeter. 

You’re also surprised at how it makes the ache of missing Bucky lessen even a little. This does, you’re ashamed to admit to yourself, make victory just a touch bitter.

Six weeks later you’re all packing your bags once more though you don’t all head in the same direction. Natasha and Wanda opt to take some personal time away, for what exactly neither specifies but they agree to one be gone for a couple of weeks and to be in touch. Hill goes with Fury, focused on some other clandestine mission. This leaves you, Sam, and Steve to fend for yourselves with little to do in Belarus of all places.

Sam walks into the kitchen of the small house the three of you were staying in as you and Steve clean blood off each other’s faces. 

“Y’all…” He sighs, setting bags of groceries down. “I swear, we need to find something to do before the two of you kill each other.”

You laugh, “A little training never hurt anyone.”

“Your black eye begs to differ,” he says from behind the fridge door. 

“You should see what she did to my back,” Steve groans dramatically as he plops into a dining chair.

“Wow. Hangs up his shield and turns into a big beardy baby.” Steve hurls his washcloth at your face playfully. Sam just rolls his eyes at both of you.  

Looking at Steve’s bruises, your bloody knuckles, and feeling the swelling on your own face--maybe Sam had a slight point. It felt good though. Steve’s style was different from Bucky’s and since he was less afraid of hurting you, it was closer to a real fight. To Bucky’s credit, he hadn’t been wrong when he said neither of you knew when to quit. But what were a few bruises between friends?

“Sure you don’t wanna go a round, Wilson?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah-” Sam sits at the table with you both- “don’t think I need a reminder on where I fall in this ranking. Last time I went around with her I thought I was gonna lose a lung.”

“I did not hit you that hard.” 

“Some of us are just plain old people and have a very different definition of hard.”

“Oh come on Sam,” you say with a smirk. “You’re not plain.”

“Why must you wound me, woman?!” He exclaims. 

Between the banter and laughter from the three of you, the sound of Steve’s phone ringing is lost. When it goes off again he notices, glancing at the screen his expression shifts from joy to severity so fast it’s jarring. His eyes dart to you and away before he pushes away from the table. 

“I need to take this,” he says heading for the door.

“Steve?” You don’t try to hide your desperation as you shoot up, sending your chair slamming into the wall behind you. 

He turns, a tight smile on his lips. “I promise I will tell you everything I can as soon as I know.” His hand rests on the knob as he says over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

Sam rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, guiding you into the living room. You curl your legs under you on the squeaky couch. He sits beside you, offering his hand. You hold it, taking comfort in his firm grip. 

“He’s gonna be ok, Y/N.”

“What if he’s not?” You say in a flat tone. 

Sam’s hand squeezes yours, “If he’s not, you will be. You’ve got us.” He pulls your hand toward him, “Come here.” You don’t resist him and lean into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, holding you tight.

Surrounded by Sam’s warmth you try to convince yourself that he’s right. Maybe you could be ok, maybe you could keep your promise to Bucky… Maybe. Something in your heart knows that you’re just trying to lie to yourself.

Right back, turns into over an hour. Sam doesn’t try to give you any other words of comfort. He’s just there for you and that’s enough. 

When the door opens you literally fly up from your seat, power coming in one rush. Forcing yourself down, you look at Steve, unable to speak. When you register the genuine smile and wide eyes a lump rises in your throat. 

He reaches up, pulling you the rest of the way to the floor. “He’s ok. They did it.” You stare in disbelief, it had been only four months... 

“He’s awake, healthy, and they got that shit out of his head. Hydra’s triggers are gone.” You shake your head, unwilling or unable to accept such good news. “He’s gonna be fine, truly.” 

Your hand rushes to your mouth to contain the sob as you fold at the waist, hot tears spilling out. Steve envelopes you in his arms, tugging you to his chest. A moment later Sam joins, and you’re surrounded by love and support as you weep, for once, in absolute joy. 

Pushing away you take a jittery breath, “Can--When can we see him?” 

Steve’s blue eyes sparkle with his own happy tears, “I don’t know yet. Soon hopefully.” He brushes a tear from your cheek with a calloused finger before pressing a brotherly kiss to the top of your head. 

“Woo!” Sam whoops. “I knew I got steak for dinner tonight for a reason.”

“Fuck yes!” You turn, giving him a tight hug. “Whiskey, we need to celebrate.” 

“If you can stand more good news,” Steve says a bit coy. You and sam stare at him waiting, “Heard from Nat too. She’s meeting up with Wanda and they’ll be here tomorrow evening.” 

The thought of bringing Bucky into this collection of people one day, maybe far sooner than you ever allowed yourself to hope for, keeps you on a cloud of happiness for the next few days. 

You’re enjoying your morning coffee with Natasha and Wanda, pulling bits of information about their individual time away when Steve pops in. 

“Can I steal you?” The smile playing at the edges of his lips make your heart skip. 

“Sure.” You follow him to the backyard. 

“We head out today,” he says. It takes all you’ve got to not jump up and down like a kid hearing they’re going to Disney. “1100 hours.”

“Are we all-”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Just us. We should pack everything in case they need to move on before we get back. We’ll be catching a ride so they’ll keep the jet.”

“Where are we going?” You ask, brows knitting. 

“Can you wait a bit longer to find out?” You shrug in aquesiance. 

The next few hours are both the longest and shortest of your life. Your heart aches for him but you hate to leave so quickly. When you’d asked Steve if you had a timeframe he wasn’t sure, it made this goodbye feel strange.  

“Ok, be sure to tell your cyborg boyfriend-” Sam begins.

“I thought we agreed that per your definition of cyborg he no longer qualifies thanks to Stark’s fuckery.” You still wanted to rip that assholes arm off to show him how it feels. 

“Nerds,” Natasha shoots at you both. 

“Whatever,” Sam shakes his head. “Be sure to tell him he doesn’t have my approval yet.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s gonna go over beautifully.” 

Sam laughs pulling you into a hug. “I’m happy for you,” he says by your ear. You give him a big smile as you pull away, not trusting yourself not to cry if you speak. 

Clearing your throat loudly you say, “It’s not like this is goodbye, I’ll be back.” Though Steve admitted he didn’t have an exact timeframe. 

Natasha sighs, “It better be soon. We can’t just rely on Sam to cook. He’ll kill us.” 

You giggle, “This is true.” 

A red glowing spiral bound book smacks into your head drawing your attention to Wanda who had been lingering in a corner. You pluck it from the air, opening the sketch pad to reveal crisp blank pages. 

“Your other one is getting full,” she says with a sniffle. Surrounding her in your power you drag her to you and hug her close. 

“Your it,” she whispers. 

“Fair,” you say, dashing a tear as you release her. 

See you soons exchanged you and Steve head for the door.

“Hey!” Sam yells after you both. “You should also be sure to tell him who gave you that shiner!” Steve looks down at you, back at Sam, and lets out a pained laugh, fingers running through his hair. 

Leave it to Sam. The two of you walk into the bright day with a chorus of laughter from your friends following you, chasing away the sadness of leaving. 

The meeting place was about an hour’s walk from where you were staying in an industrial park that had shuttered for the night. Steve leads you into a warehouse building, clearly confident in where you were headed. 

Fluorescents lit the space, the harsh light almost brighter than the sun. Looking around you notice two women, arms crossed looking somewhat annoyed, speak by the loading ramp of a jet that puts the Quin to shame. They silence as soon as the two of you are close. 

“Captain!” An oddly familiar voice calls. 

When Prince T’Challa rounds the jet you immediately flinch back, feeling the fresh scars on your chest burn with the memory of sharp claws. Another woman following him joins the other two. 

He holds his hands up, “I come in peace.” His smile seems true but you still glare at Steve, demanding an explanation. 

“Prince T’Challa-”

“Just T’Challa, please.”

Steve nods, “Has been harboring Bucky.”

“What?!” Your tone sounds more venomous than you mean it to. 

“I made a poor judgment call and acted out of grief and vengeance. Sergeant Barnes wasn’t deserving of the blame I put on him. I wanted to make it right.” His eyes move to your chest for an instant. “I hope I can make right the harm I did to you too… If you’ll let me.” You look back to Steve, still in shock. 

“I trust him,” he says with a nod.

T’Challa extends a hand to you. For just a breath you hesitate before taking it in your own. 

“You swear he’s safe?” You ask, eyes boring into his. 

“I do.” 

“Ok.” 

“Can we leave?” The woman asks T’Challa. 

He laughs, “Yes we can leave as long as these two are good.” You and Steve exchange a quick glance and nod. “Good. Let’s move out.”

-

According to the three-dimensional map, that you can only comprehend as fucking magic, you’re already almost to Wakanda in a little over four hours. Your brain can’t fully comprehend how but this jet was full of mindblowing elements. 

Your foot begins to bounce rapidly, anxiety spiking for some reason the closer you get. 

“Hey,” Steve sits beside you, nudging you with his shoulder. 

“Hey.” 

“What are you nervous about?”

“I’m not-” He sets his own heavy boot over yours, stopping your bounce. “I don’t know.”

“Here,” Okoye holds out a glass. “Tea, it will help.”

“Thanks.” You hated tea but she didn’t strike you as the kind of woman who’s kindness one took lightly. Taking a sip you’re actually surprised that you like the spicy earthy taste. “What is this?” 

“Tea,” she says with a smirk sitting across from you crossing her legs casually. You raise a brow and she laughs. “It’s a special, personal, blend.” 

“She bought it at a tea shop,” T’Challa says walking past her. She scoffs and kicks the back of his calf. He laughs, “But they made it for her so I guess it counts.”

“Three until we’re at the barrier,” Nailah calls back. 

Okoye’s smile fills her face, “You’re going to want to see this.’ She stands, nodding to the front. You look to Steve and he has the same smile, nodding for you to follow. 

You all crowd the front of the jet as you rapidly approach what looked to you like the side of a mountain. No one else seemed nervous though… Assuming this wasn’t the calmest suicide mission ever you swallow your exclamation and watch… Just as you brace yourself for the impact the goddamn mountain opens--no fades away like a hologram--revealing a massive river city nestled in the mountains. The late afternoon sun makes the structures sparkle, trams seem to hover around the buildings, green spaces seamlessly flow through everything. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe in absolute wonder. 

“Welcome to Wakanda,” T’Challa says, beaming. 

When the jet gently touches down you finally look at Steve. 

“I know,” he laughs, “believe me.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you toward your waiting bags, the weight of his arm the only thing keeping you from floating off the ground in sheer excitement. 

The two of you follow the others off the jet onto a large landing deck. 

“Finally!” Someone calls as you all step off. A slight woman with a smirk on her face stands waiting with her arms crossed. 

“What?” T’Challa responds. “We made excellent time.” She sighs loudly, rolling her eyes. 

“Shuri, this is Y/N.” He turns to you as you walk up. Her face explodes in a Cheshire-like grin, extending a hand to you.

“It’s so good to actually meet you!” Her handshake quickly turns into an enthusiastic hug. 

You huff out an awkward laugh, “Do I even want to know how my reputation proceeds me?” Your eyes slide to Steve who shakes his head to indicate it wasn’t him. 

“Oh! Bucky talks about you often,” she says with a soft smile. At the mention of his name you look around the platform, perhaps a little desperately. “He’s not here. We’ve got a raft ready to go see him though.”

“Is going immediately a good idea?” T’Challa asks cautiously.

“Of course!” Shuri says with a shrug. “Plus, he hasn’t had a positive surprise like this yet. It will be good research.”

Steve shoots you a glance, his fresh worry mirroring your own. There isn’t time to ask more questions before you’re loaded up and heading off once more. 

You want to be awestruck by the goddamn hovercraft you’re standing on, and the breathtaking… everything you’re passing but all you can hear in your head is Shuri saying he hadn’t been surprised yet. What could happen? What risk was there? Was this a bad idea? Would everything be broken by yours and Steve’s sudden arrival? Would he even want-

All thoughts cease as the craft crests a small hill. There, sitting by a small lake was a man looking out at the water and the fiery sky. His hair, so much longer, hid his face but then you see a hand raised in a familiar motion, fingers running through this hair.

You weren’t sure you could have stopped it if you wanted to. A burst of power propels you from the craft, sending you into the air. Vaguely you hear Shuri let out a sound, Steve says something, but you’re quickly too far away to hear. You push against the air with all you’ve got, body humming, heart thundering, arms aching to hold him. 

Ten feet away from him you land silently, suddenly nervous again. Worried of breaking him somehow… But then-

“Bucky?” You say softly, almost a whisper. 

His back straightens but he doesn’t move immediately. Fear fills you, bad call wrong fuck-

Bucky plucks a small earbud from and turns, blue eyes glassy, face filled with wonder. He stands, rounding the bench so slowly it feels like forever. 

“I’m not dreaming?” He asks sincerely. Tears make his image ripple, turning everything into a watercolor. Biting your lip you shake your head no, taking a few steps forward, each one less grounded than the last. 

“Y/N…” His smile, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. 

You don’t rush into one another’s arms. The space between you closes with tentative steps. So like how you fell in love, a short distance carefully traveled until… A familiar calloused hand tenderly wipes the tears from your cheeks. 

Reaching up you take his face in your hands. His eyes flutter closed as you dash away his tears when they open once more you nearly gasp at their beauty. 

Bucky’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair, pulling your lips to his. There’s no resistance as you melt into him. 

The kiss begins tender but quickly succumbs to your hungry need for one another and the world falls away. This is all there is, he is all you feel, taste, breathe. 

Gasping for air, you both pull away. Resting your forehead against his you realize that the world literally fell away. Unconsciously you’d enveloped the both of you in your power, sending you about five feet off the ground. His eyes glitter with the wonder they always hold when it comes to your ability. 

Gently, you lower you both back down, unable to look away from him. Once gravity has you again though you can no longer hold back the question that weighed on you since Steve handed you Bucky’s letter. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t still have you?” He looks away and you tilt his face back to you. “I will always love all of you, James Buchannan Barnes. Always.” Your voice cracks on the final word, emotions overwhelming you. 

He kisses you once more. “Goddamn, I love you, Y/N.” You let out a little laugh and press your lips to his briefly before he pulls you away, thumb lightly touching the bruise at your eye.

“What happened?” His tone suddenly concerned. “Who-” Steve clears his throat from behind you, cutting him off. A snicker slips from you as you turn to face your blushing friend.

“Uh-” Steve runs an awkward hand through his hair- “That would be my fault.” Bucky’s eyes dart from his best friend back to you in confusion and worry. 

“Friendly fire,” you shrug. 

He rolls his eyes hard, laughing, “I knew I shouldn’t have left the two of you alone.”

Steve laughs, clearly relieved Bucky wasn’t pissed about giving his girl a shiner. Your heart swells as the two of them exchange a long tight embrace. When they separate Steve sniffs hard, clearing his throat. 

“You should see what she did to me,” he says with a sidelong glance at you. 

Laughing you respond, “Oh my god. You are not going to let it go, are you? It’s not even that bad.” Steve raises a brow and lifts his tee, a dark plum bruise spreading from his back around his ribs. 

You grimace, “Ok. Maybe…”

Okoye lets out a low whistle, “Damn.” She looks to you, “We absolutely have to go a round.” She, T’Challa, and Shuri stroll up from where they’d been waiting, giving the three of you some space. 

“Oko, loves a challenge,” T’Challa chuckles. 

“I’m down,” you say lightly. Bucky’s arm wraps around your waist, holding you close.

“Tomorrow,” she says authoritatively. “Though-” she eyes the two of you playfully- “we’ll make it in the afternoon. I won’t steal your woman away before you two get to catch up, Wolf Man.”

“Wolf Man?” You ask looking up at Bucky’s smiling face. 

Shuri laughs, “The kids started calling him the White Wolf. It just sort of stuck.” 

“Steve’s looking a little more like a Wolf Man than me though so I may not keep my title for long.” Steve rubs his beard and gives an agreeing nod. 

“Why don’t we all stay here to talk,” T’Challa takes a few steps toward a circle of low stone benches by the edge of the water. “The sunset is too beautiful to miss.”

As the sky burns in magnificent colors above you all T’Challa and Okoye walk you and Steve through what happened after the events in Siberia. Shuri exclaims that’s why it took so long to get Bucky’s treatment completed if what she accomplished wasn’t miraculous. She explains how she managed to circumnavigate the triggers and how it should remain effective longterm. Sometime during the talk a few folks arrive setting up a table quietly with food. 

“I definitely want to continue monitoring for any changes but it seems that this treatment could be helpful in a lot of cases,” Shuri’s voice drips with excitement. “Honestly, I don’t know why others aren’t utilizing AI in this way. It just makes sense.” You can’t help but laugh. It seemed that she often forgot that not everyone had a mind like hers. 

“If we’re going to have any more technical talk I can’t do it on an empty stomach,” Okoye says standing. 

-

By the end of dinner, your cheeks ache from smiling. 

T’Challa stretches, letting out a long yawn. “I think I’m ready to head back.” Okoye nods and Shuri lets out an exasperated sound. He laughs, “You can keep pummeling Y/N with questions tomorrow if she’s not ready to scream.”

“After what you’ve done, Shuri, I’m an open book.” 

“You may regret that,” she says with a wink. 

“We’ve got a room for you Captain,” Okoye says. “And you, Y/N.” For a second your chest tightens, the thought of leaving Bucky’s side draining the joy you’d been soaking in. “If you want it that is.” 

“Thank you but…” You look up to Bucky, suddenly unsure. “I’d rather stay with you if-” His smile silences you. 

“Of course,” Okoye’s warm smile coloring her words. 

Once they all head back to the city Bucky leads your into his cozy hut. Fire-like lights illuminate the space as soon as you enter, belying the low-tech aesthetic of the space. 

Your eyes wander around, soaking it all in until they land on Bucky. His expression is so tender and full of love, it makes your stomach flutter. 

Without a word, he closes the small space between you. His lips press against your forehead before he looks into your eyes, right hand cupping your cheek. 

“I dreamed about you,” he says in a rough whisper. You can’t help but smile. 

“I dreamed about your smile,” his thumb gently touches the laugh lines at the corners of your mouth. “Your eyes,” a finger tracing your brow. Your hands rest on his hips, holding him close. 

“Your touch,” he presses his body even closer. “Your taste,” he kisses your prone lips, savoring the feeling. Your body shivers with desire as his hand slides down your back, fingers slipping just under the hem of your shirt. “The way you feel.” 

“I dreamed about all of you, but here you are and I realize my dreams didn’t do you justice.”  He studies your face before continuing, “You are so much more than I could ever have dreamed, Y/N, than I ever could have hoped for. And I love you so much more than I think I ever realized before.”

Your eyes sting with tears as you pull his face to yours, kissing him softly. He was right. You thought you knew how much you missed him, how much you loved him--but you didn’t really know until you had him back in your arms. 

When you pull back his hand wanders to your chest, softly touching the thick pink scars there. For a moment pain floods his features before he leans down and kisses each one, causing your breath to catch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin. 

“No,” you say firmly. “Don’t.” Your hand gently runs down the beautiful fabric draped over his left shoulder. 

When you meet his gaze he nods subtly. Hooking the knot with your fingers you pull it over his head. Your fingers undo the buttons of his shirt, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest before peeling the garment back. Only then do you slide your eyes over to his left side. 

The silver metal you’d grown so used to seeing is gone, replaced with a dark smooth material. It’s warm to the touch, the end a smooth cap. 

“Does it bother you?” Bucky asks. 

“Of course not,” you assure him. “I just… Stark...” There’s a bite to your voice. 

“Honestly, I’m glad it’s gone.” His eyes are steady and you know he’s being honest. It was a reminder. 

His fingers run along your jaw, a smoky grin curling his lips. Desire explodes in you. 

At first, you’re both fumbling a bit, the new mechanics of the situation and the time away needing to be worked through. It doesn’t matter. You laugh, kiss, and relearn one another inch by inch. 

-

Bucky wakes but doesn’t open his eyes, too afraid that yesterday was a sweet dream. 

He notes the earthen smell of his hut, the feel of his soft bedding, the sound of the lake… The sound of your breathing, deep and steady. 

Not a dream. You were really here. You were really safe. 

He opens his eyes, looking over at your sleeping form. The golden light from outside slips beneath the curtain making you practically glow. One arm is curled under your pillow, the other languidly reaches in his direction. 

Sitting up slowly he studies you closer. The way your hair falls into your face, the length starting to dust your shoulders. The gentle curve of your spine. And he hoped he wasn’t imagining the slight smile on your sleeping lips. 

Before you and Steve arrived he knew that eventually, you’d come together, but that he’d have to choose between the safety Wakanda afforded him and you. For a brief period, he wasn’t sure what the right choice was. Was it better to stay away, to avoid putting more of a target on your back? 

Now he knows it doesn’t matter. Be it the right choice or not, nothing could make him leave your side again. Nothing. 

Tenderly his fingers run a path down your back, not wanting to wake you but needing to touch you. The latticework of scars there looking like golden embroidery in the light, just something that makes you all the more beautiful to him. 

A small noise slips from between your lips. He rests his hand on your low back as you stir. 

“Bucky,” you breath out, expression almost disbelieving.

“Goodmorning, sweetheart.” Your smile makes his heart rabbit in his chest. 

-

Shuri glances from the readings before her and back to Bucky, a look of mild concern coloring her features. 

“Everything alright, Bucky?” 

“Of course,” he lies. He’d spent the morning oscillating between suffocating joy at having you back and paralyzing fear over knowing he won’t be able to say goodbye to you… and just what that means. 

“I’m sure Okoye won’t go too hard on her,” she gives him a reassuring smile. 

He huffs out a small laugh. While he went to Shuri’s lab for his daily check-in Okoye had stolen you away for a sparring session. Admittedly, he wasn’t the most comfortable with that either, though he wasn’t worried about you. 

“We can call this good for today. We’ll meet them at the training field.” Shuri, ever four steps of everyone, doesn’t wait for him to agree just begins grabbing things to leave. 

It’s a short walk from Shuri’s lab to the training field. His mind doesn’t have time to wander with her constant excited chatter. While he may not fully comprehend half of what she tells him he knows she likes to have a sounding board, talking helps her narrow in on whatever brilliant thing her mind is working on. He’s happy Shuri is comfortable enough with him to do this. 

They stop under a large awning, slightly elevated from the large open-air training space, to watch you and Okoye have at it. She lands a hard blow to the side of your face and he flinches, knuckles white as he grips the railing. 

“Come on!” He hears Okoye taunt, circling you. “You’re holding back,” she tosses a blunt spear between her hands. “I want to see what you can really do.”

A smirk curls your lips before you spit red into the dirt. “Alright.”

Your shoulders roll back, feet planted like he taught you. With an almost imperceptible twitch of your head, the spear flies from Okoye’s grip, landing in your hand. It’s a showy move but you’ve left yourself open just enough. 

Bucky bites his tongue to keep from calling out as Okoye takes the chance, moving with the grace and speed of a trained warrior. The moment she moves to kick your abdomen you’re suddenly airborne, using the spear as a pivot point. Okoye’s foot meets nothing but empty space sending her stumbling while you bring both feet down into her side.  

She rolls away, body already coiled to right herself. You’re faster though. 

He watches, slack-jawed, as your toes barely touch the ground before you propel yourself with speed through the air to Okoye. She’s barely registered your presence before the spear point is pointed at her throat. 

“I think by your rules that’s a win,” you say, a bit breathless. 

The sound of slow clapping from behind him makes Bucky jump. He’d been so engrossed in watching that he hadn’t noticed T’Challa and Steve enter. 

“Why thank you my king,” Okoyes says as you pull her to her feet. 

“Don’t be a sore loser now general,” T’Challa teases. She throws him a sideways glare. 

“Impressive,” Bucky says as you walk up. 

“I had a good teacher,” you say before pressing your lips to his briefly. 

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t teach you that.” 

“So,” Shuri begins, a peculiar tension in her tone, “does she pass?” You give Bucky a questioning look but he only shrugs, just as confused. 

“Oh yes,” Okoye pours water over her head, wiping her face with a towel. “If only because I demand a rematch.” 

“Did I miss something?” You ask turning to face the others. They all have grins on their faces, even Steve. 

“Let’s sit,” T’Challa nods to a small seating area. Glancing at Bucky, you slide your hand in his before following.

T’Challa’s expression is open but he lets out a long sigh before beginning. “I offered Bucky asylum in Wakanda because I realized he’d been just as much a victim of Zemo’s hatred as my father. I feel the same goes for you.” He pauses, seeming to gather his thoughts. “You had no choice but to become involved in this mess, your whole life was turned upside down… again. I feel partially responsible for that.”

“I don’t-” He cuts you off with a raised hand. 

“I’d like to offer you the chance to stay here as well.” 

Bucky draws in a sharp breath. Your eyes, large and disbelieving turn to him. Neither of you dare speak. 

“There is one stipulation.”

“Of course,” you say almost breathless.

“Given our recent… incident, we are aware of the need to bolster our forces. If you chose to stay you’d be expected to serve as a defender of Wakanda under General Okoye should the need arise.” Shuri makes a small noise and T’Challa laughs. “Go on.”

“I’d also be interested in studying your ability,” she says. Bucky sees your body instantly tense. 

“Nothing without your consent,” Shuri tries to assure you. “I can also do as I’ve done for Bucky and look into exactly what those monsters may have done to avoid any potential issues in the future.”

Your gaze falls to Steve, an unspoken question hanging between you both. 

“They’ll understand,” Steve says smiling. 

When you look at him once more his mouth goes dry. He should tell you to do what feels right, to do what was best for you, but the words stick in his throat along with his breath. 

Bucky watches as all question and doubt drains from your expression, replaced with a softness he can’t name. Your fingers gently trace his jaw and air floods into his lungs, tension fleeing him. 

You turn back to T’Challa, “Yes. I… anything to stay I’ll do it. And Shuri-” you take a deep shaky breath- “I’d like to know what they did too-”

“Everything at your pace I swear,” Shuri cuts you off, almost bouncing with excitement. 

“I believe you,” you say with a small laugh. 

“Thank you,” he says to T’Challa, holding his gaze. T’Challa smiles and nods, understanding the weight of Bucky’s words. 

-

You expected saying goodbye to Steve would be hard but not this hard. His arms crush you tight into his chest and you just know your tears are soaking into his tee. Sniffing hard you pull away. 

“Tell them…” You trail off, wiping your eyes. Sorry wasn’t right, you could already hear Sam calling you out on that bullshit, and you didn’t know when you’d see them again. 

“Tell them, I’ll miss them and that this isn’t goodbye.” It hurt to say it, fresh tears finding their way down your cheeks, but it was the truth. You wouldn’t let this be goodbye. Steve nods, quickly wiping at his own eyes. He looks at Bucky, forcing a slight smile. 

“There are a few people you’re gonna have to answer to later, Buck.”

“I look forward to it,” Bucky says, his hand resting on the small of your back. Steve looks at you both before pulling you into a group hug. 

“I’m so happy for you,” he says softly before releasing you. 

“We’ll see you later, punk.” Bucky’s smile is soft and sad. 

Steve laughs softly, “Jerk.” 

You and Bucky stand on the landing deck until the jet is out of sight, silent, just holding tightly to one another. After all what was there to say?

Shuri offers to give you both a lift back to Bucky’s place… your place? How strange to think of it that way. On the ride her easy conversation is comforting. 

As soon as you say your goodbyes to her you head to the edge of the lake, a bit dazed after everything. The sun is just barely above the horizon, casting the sky in breathtaking shades from yellow to deep twilight purple. You take it all in, the beauty almost overwhelming. 

 “Y/N,” Bucky calls to you. Turning back you see him by the doorway. He extends his hand but you don’t go to him immediately. Instead, you take him in, lit in soft golden light. 

He was impossible, this man you loved. Impossible that his kind heart could remain after so much pain, impossible he could survive all he did, impossible that he loved you with all he was despite all you were. And the most impossible of all, he was here, safe, reaching out for your hand. He was yours. 

Finally, you go to him, his palm engulfing yours, tugging you in for a kiss. Bucky pulls back, looking down at you with such love it takes your breath away. 

“We’re home, doll.” 

Nothing had ever felt truer.

[THANK YOU ALL AGAIN!]

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[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - Teaser - Chapter One

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking

Beta:  ilikaicalie

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*Chapters 1-23 are currently available on Patreon. This story will be completed on Patreon before it’s continued on Tumblr. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

You’re a queen now, so one would think you’d be in a better mood.

You sit stoically next to your new husband at the head of an incredibly long dining table in the Great Hall. The hall is aptly named, it’s ornate with beautiful slate floors and vaulted ceilings. Above there’s a heavenly host of glowing lights; hundreds of candles burning bright in chandeliers hoisted up to the rafters. You try to concentrate on the room, focus on the details of your new surroundings. There’s abounding beauty in this kingdom, at least from what little you’ve seen since your arrival twenty-four hours ago.

Lebanon, The Land of the Wolves as many call it, is ten times of the size of the small country of Avalon that your father rules over. You grew up in a country castle, surrounded by meadows and forests. A far contrast to the city outside these walls. Avalon wouldn’t be remarkable at all if it wasn’t for the unending reserve of Cuthert steel, the strongest metal in existence. It’s also the reason you’re here. This marriage ensures your father will never sell Cuthert to any of Lebanon's enemies. Sam gets a wife and insurance, while your father will reap the benefits of having such a powerful ally.

You are a bartering chip in a world of powerful men.

You glance at your father, who’s several guests down the table, doing his best to look pleased. Neither of you is thrilled with this arrangement, but you are his only daughter and he needs this alliance with the Kingdom of Lebanon.

Father has told you time and time again that if he could go back he’d raise you differently, he’d raise you like the lady your position requires instead of being thrown in with your brothers to fight in the mud. By the time he realized you were rejecting the constraints of aristocratic society you were nearly sixteen. Overnight his little girl went from being free to run through the fields to being fitted for dresses and hosting foreign guests. Over the years you’ve learned to play the part, to subdue the wild side. But you would prefer to ride and run and hike.

Your mother is smiling freely, no doubt a result of too much wine. She’s never approved of your unrestrained impulses and has been thrilled at the idea of marrying you off. If it weren’t for your father you’d have been matched up and shipped off years ago.

-

“Samuel is a good man,” your father whispered into your ear as he held you tight, moments before the ceremony. Perhaps he is but that’s not what the townspeople say.  “I hope you can be happy here.”

“As do I.” You took a deep breath and tightened your grip. For the first time in your life, you were scared. Truly frightened. Having lived a charmed life, you’d had little occasion for fear. Being a princess the only people who challenged you were your father and your brothers, you were too stubborn for even your mother to try to control. Now you’ll be expected to bow to the desires of your husband, a man you barely know.

As you pulled away from the only man you’ve ever obeyed, you shifted in your wedding gown.

“He is a good man,” he repeated, cupping your face in his hands. In that moment it became crystal clear that he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “And you will be a queen now. That’s a responsibility not to be taken lightly.”

He kissed your cheek and turned on his heels walking away before you had a chance to respond.

-

You’ve heard stories of the prince turned king your whole life.

The Great King John’s sons are known through many kingdoms.

Sam is the dark one, the one people whisper about. King John sent his sons to battle in the East Lands just after Sam came of age. Almost immediately the youngest prince went missing and was assumed dead. Lebanon mourned and the battle raged on. Months became years and then one day word reached King John that his youngest son was indeed alive. And, as the story goes, the man that came back those years later was not the same Winchester that left.

Within 2 years of Sam’s return, his father died, then his mother. And Sam’s brother Dean, the natural heir, refused the throne. No one pretends to know why, it’s just another layer to the Winchester mystery.

Depending on who you’re talking to Sam is a sadistic, brute of a man who has an insatiable taste for killing. In some stories, he’s a wild monster that transforms into a creature of the night and flies with the moon in search of children to devour.

Your handmaidens are the ones who told you of his reputation with women. The few rumors they recounted made your blood run cold. They murmured about women who spent a night with him and were never heard from again, their screams the last thing anyone ever heard.

--

Sam greets his many guests, a line of men congratulating him one by one. Some offer gifts, stacking heavy boxes at his feet. Others simply tell him of the many presents that await him, a parcel of land, a dozen goats. They chuckle and clink glasses and all have something to say about you. Mostly it’s acknowledgments of your beauty followed by an elbow to his ribs.

He seems to be amicable. Most of the men in the room are members of his personal guard or hunting companions, all of whom seem to genuinely have affection for your new husband and he for them.

If nothing else he’s handsome. You didn’t know what to expect but you couldn’t quell the relief you felt when you saw him in person the first time. Of all the men you could have been paired with, he doesn’t seem to be a bad option, so far.

He’s barely spoken a word to you since the ceremony, in fact, you get the distinct feeling the night could continue on just the same without you.

“Do need anything wife?” His words rip you from your thoughts, and you look at Sam as he leans closer. He’s an impressive specimen of a man, there no denying his pleasant face and large build. It could be much worse, several years ago your mother attempted to pair you up with a suitor three times your age who was nearly as tall as he was round and had a violent temper.

“I have everything I need.” You smile, raising your wine to him.

“Good.” He nods, looking at you expressionless. “Do you wish to stay for the celebration?”

He’s asking if you’re ready for your wedding night, giving you a choice.

“I defer to your preference,” you reply, trying to keep your cool

“Let’s hope you’re always this agreeable,” he mutters, sitting back in his chair, turning to his brother on his opposite side.

-

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[jay-and-dean]

Je ne te mérite pas (I don’t deserve you) Chapter 2.

DeanxReader

I don’t deserve you MASTERLIST

Masterlist

Future warnings : Smut, Fluff, Angst, Violence. Many smutty times in the next parts, I don’t know how I will deal with it given the recent event on tumblr, I’ll let you know

Words : 2843

Chapter summary : Dean is trying to fight his attraction for Y/n but having her living in the bunker doesn’t help... 

Serie Summary : Dean and her can’t be together.If you ask Dean, he would list so many reasons : Her age, first. Not like she was a kid anymore, but he remerbers picking her from highschool not so long ago. Then Jody, damn, the girl is like a daughter to her, what kind of friend would he be ? He’d talk about her boyfriend and how he’s the opposite of himself. Of course he would expose how poisonous he is, how dangerous it is to be around him. He’d say he want to keep her away from nightmares… And he would conclude with certainly that she just won’t ever love him, why would she ?

If you ask her, she just might whisper with a heartbreack in her voice : “I don’t deserve Dean Winchester”.What if they where wrong ?

Note : It is my first time writting in english, so, forgive the errors.

Dean's Pov

She's texting, Sasha maybe. Her hair falls around her shoulders, along her arms covered in scars, those fucking scars she has everywhere. It hurts thinking of her getting them. She’s touching her lips again, that serious look on her pretty face...

It's been almost two months, seven hunts, one of them pretty bad. Y/n is a really good hunter, she knows what she's doing and having her with us is more of a backup than a burden, like I thought it would be to have the kid with us on hunts.

She really likes to hunt, but she’s not reckless. She is clever and inventive, besides, having a woman hunter on the team opens possibilities for the plans, and people seem to have a very different behavior according to what gender is talking to them.

I look at her and she looks so serious, like she tried to control every inch of her body at once, all the time ; upright, her face still, but she can't stifle that fire in her eyes . I guess she got that habit from years of repressing herself in captivity, trying to silence who she is.

In our everyday life together, she's indeed discreet and independent, like Jody always described her, but she's also sweet and funny. And becoming her friend is as natural as it was with Charlie, even if they have quite opposite personalities; with Charlie, it was always teasing and giggles, Y/n is more of a passionate discussions and shy kindly smiles person.

Having her in the bunker is becoming addictive. She just fits here so well. We all got into the habit of doing things together : She always washes Baby with me after hunts, makes fun of my taste in food and finishes my coffees when I look away ; she's always showing Jack movies and TV shows in his room, explaining him history and politics as well as pop culture ; and she always falls asleep on my brother's shoulder when they're reading after discussing God knows what erudite subject of theirs.

Jody calls now and then, but Y/n never gives her to much details. Cas likes her and Sam once told me she was like a little sister to him. A little sister...

Everything is in order. Well, almost everything... Something is wrong with me, seriously wrong. Something I won't ever tell any of them, because I'm ashamed of it...

I am starting to feel something I shouldn't for Y/n: Desire.

I take a sip of whiskey and lock my eyes on her mouth, I know I'm staring but she's not looking at me. This is the game I have played for a month : watching her when I can, looking away when her eyes meet mines, but she rarely look at me...

At first I thought having a pretty girl living in the bunker was just messing with my head and that it would fade away eventually. I tried to look at her like she was a little sister, but she is not. I think that obsessional wish to see pass that harshness made me think about her a lot. I am always wondering what she’s thinking, what she wants, fear... I found myself thinking about what a girl like her could desire, what Sasha gets to see, what she would like in bed... And I started dreaming of her... Dreams that had me sweating, dreams that make me burn up under the cold shower I inflict on myself those mornings.

And now I notice things I shouldn't notice, like the subtle transparency of her t-shirt, the way she touches her lips with her fingers when she is thinking hard, the delicious curve of her ass when she wears those sweatpants she sleeps in...

What is wrong with me ? She's like Jody's daughter, she's almost twenty fucking years younger than me. Dean !

 YourPov

 You send your message to Sasha and put you phone on the table. Then your eyes meet Dean's and your heart starts hurting your chest, trying to escape. Was he looking at you this all time ? Damn you must look ridiculous. You take a deep breath and bite your lips, trying not to smile.

He finishes his drink and serve himself another, drinks it in one swallow and put the glass down.

"Who are you talking to ?" He asks, opening the bottle again.

You try to hide you're shaking, you always are when THE Dean Winchester is talking to you alone.

"Sasha" you say taking the bottle to pour some whiskey in your mug where the coffee you have left is getting cold.

"He misses you I guess, and you miss him." says Dean with an odd tone.

"He's too sentimental, he doesn't need to see me that bad."

"Wow, poor guy..." he says staring at you like he's trying to see inside your brain, and you look away, unable to win against those intense green eyes.

You open your mouth, but you have really no idea what to say, you're not even sure you understood why he said that.

"You never talked about him... we're friends now"

You concentrate on his watch while his speaks, but this heads your gaze toward his strong arms and you feel your ears burning under your hair.

"What do you want to know ? " you ask as simply as possible.

He murmurs "Everything" and you drown you gaze on your mug.

"He... he is beautiful, like, black hair and eyes with thick lashes, great body too. I met him in high school and his father is a cop, his mother died of cancer when he was 8. He is going to be a cop too, he plays guitar and I don't know... That's it."

Dean is silent, he still looks at you with this intensity that makes you want to cry. He breaks the silence with a question you receive like an arrow in the chest :

"Are you in love ?"

"With him ?" you ask spontaneously, immediately regretting it.

He nods vaguely and gets up, you suddenly feel so small. He puts the bottle away and you can see he's a bit drunk.

"No." You whisper, surprising yourself with the regret in your voice.

 __________________

  You’re entirely wrapped in Sam's smell, your hand on his shoulder, eyes closed. Sam Winchester is the person that makes you feel good, he is the safe place. Maybe it is because he is so similar to his brother in some ways but different enough you don't have the weight that's on your chest when it comes to Dean.

It all started because you two read a lot, like to talk about it, and it's become a habit. He was always that comforting hero to you. The first nights at Jody's, after the hospital, he was there, sleeping on the floor beside the bed that would become yours. Everybody was talking about you, but Sam, he was talking to you. It would have been more reasonable or logical to fall in love with him, but love is not about those things.

And your heart ripped himself of your chest to throw itself at Dean's feet not long after that. You don't really remember the exact moment you fell in love with him, maybe it was insidious or natural. The only think you recall, is when you knew : Sam was gone, taken by Gadreel and Kevin was dead, you were bringing coffee to Jody and him in the kitchen, because they looked so worried you needed to do something, and you saw him cry. He was like a God to you, like a mythological creature, an unreachable legend, and those tears in his eyes, made you realize you could give your life to heal his pain.

You adjust and concentrate on Sam's breathing. Falling asleep beside Sam is the easiest part of the day, even when your heart is the heaviest shit you've ever carried, even when Dean is out.

 Dean's Pov

 She fell asleep on Sammy's bedroom again. I know because she's not in her room and her helmet is there.

Damn, Y/n... You ruined me.

I stumble toward Sam's bedroom, trying not to think about Tracy. Tracy was fine, Tracy was nice and pretty, and she wanted me so bad ! So why was I thinking about you, Y/n. Thinking about a girl I should consider as family while an easy beauty rides me… Fuck ! I feel dirty and unworthy, and a little too drunk.

I stop on the bathroom and wash my hand two or three times, then I rinse my mouth, my face and put water on my neck. I feel crappy and unclean, but the worst part is I don’t know why. Is it because I have obscene thoughts about little sweet Y/n ? Because I’m becoming the kind of guy who thinks about a woman when inside another ? Or because I strangely feel like I’ve been unfaithful to Y/n ? That is fucking crazy and I’m just fucking drunk.

I knock gently and open the door, I don’t usually come to my brother’s room, I just need to see her. Sam is still reading, and there she is. Her body curled up to Sammy's side gripping his shirt like she was holding for her life. So sweet, so cute.

"Hey Dean", Sammy whispers, "I'm falling asleep, would you take her to her room ?"

I nod and come closer to her, putting an arm around her back, the other under her knees. She frowns and lets go of Sam’s shirt, gripping mine instantly.

She whispers my name and I have to bite my lower lip not to whisper hers. When I close the door behind me she rubs her face on my neck and mumble “please”, she looks almost afraid.

Note to myself : You can’t just touch her. Just feeling her breast on my chest is making me crazy, those sweatpants are so thin I feel one of her scars on her thigh under my thumb, why does she smell like that, is that her sweat ? Having her so close... Wow, I have to think of anything else, like Garth. Yeah, Garth is a nice guy.

Her bedroom is full of books and notebooks, I have to watch my steps. I put her on the bed but she clings to me.

“Dean… Please”

“I’m here, I’m just here Babygirl”, fuck, my own words arouse me.

“Please…” she almost cries and I give up.

I climb next to her, letting her hold on me likes she needs to, and I start to stroke her hair.

“It’s a nightmare, Y/n, you’re safe, I’m staying with you. Nobody’s gonna hurt you”.

She calms and cuddles up to me, putting a knee on my thigh and an arm around me, fist still clenched around my shirt. As hers come up, revealing her belly, I close my eyes and think about Garth, how is he doing ? I really should call him…

 Your Pov

 WHAT THE FUCK ! You inhale painfully and let go of dean’s shirt, your sweaty hand coming to your face. How did that happen ? Your heart beats like it’s going to explode and you start to shake. “Hush Babygirl, it’s a nightmare, I’m here…” Dean mumbles in his sleep and you just can’t breathe anymore.

You look at him, your eyes blurry at first. He’s perfect, when he’s sleeping too. Lying on his back, face toward you, his chest raising steadily, his belly showing, his mouth slightly open. He’s never been so close and you could count his freckles. “Deaaan” your brain simply hums like he was trying to make your mouth wake him up.

You just want to kiss him, anywhere, everywhere. You want it so much it hurts, it was always your obsession : daydreaming about kissing his hands when they're bruised, his back when is standing in before you, his head when he's driving in the seat in front of you, his lips when you dare...

Finally you give up. Just one kiss, the only one you’ll ever give to the love of your life, no one could blame you. So you lay your lips on his shoulder where the t-shirt went up and stays like this for a moment, your avid mouth on his delicious skin. “I love you” hums your brain.

Sick at heart you get up gently to run before he wakes up, and watch him again for a moment, goosebumps roaming his body, a frown on his childish yet manly face.

That’s in the shower that you notice it. Something is different, your body is different, hypersensitive and… Oh you’re soaked, sweat and… something else; your skin is on fire and it’s like every inch of your body is erogenous. You‘ve just never been this aroused by anything. Not by porn, not by men, not even by Sasha. Sex with Sasha is okay, but, what could you say ? He is in love and you are not so… Is Dean that sexy or is it your love for him that makes your body react like that ?Both ?

You can’t just touch yourself, last time you did that thinking of Dean, you spend almost a year blushing at the simple evocation of his name.  

 Dean’s Pov

 I wake up in her bed, crinkled and cold, sore and frustrated, alone and… hard.

I rub my eyes and sigh. No hangover, that’s good news. When I look at my watch I realize that I slept for 8 hours for first time in a really long time. I stay here a few minutes, just waiting for my body to relax, for my eyes to open completely.

My clothes smell like her and I don’t really want to change but I’m not a horny teenage girl so… I grab stuffs in my room and head toward the bathroom unintentionally playing the night again in my head, her voice, her body, her mouth...

When I open the door without caution, my blood falls on my legs. She is looking at me like a deer in the headlights, half naked, just a short towel covering her breasts and ass, a leg up, foot on the sink, my razor in her hand, a little bit of shaving foam on her calf.

“Dean I… I’m sorry, I meant to buy you…”

“No, no, it’s okay” I can speak, but I just can’t move.

I know my eyes are lingering on her thighs and her back, I know the glimpse of her ass cheek is supposed to make me go, closing the door behind me. But I just can’t move. Fuck, I think I want her bad, I have a strange stomachache, I'm craving.

“Dean ?” she looks at me with something in her eyes I’ve never seen, I could swear her armor is cracking, but that is just my fantasies. My head travels from her face to the white towel she has to hold, and south.

“Dean…” fuck she almost moaned.

Why isn’t she throwing things at me ? She shakes her head and put the razor down, then she take another towel to dry her legs. Her every moves make me weaker.

“I’m sorry” she says “You need the bathroom… girl things can wait. I’m out.”

I take a step into the bathroom and close the door behind me, I don’t know why. She looks at me with an understanding frown and walk toward the door, toward me…

“Y/n…”

I take her wrist when she passes by me, not even knowing what to do next. I’m on autopilot, I place her in front of me.

Please, Y/n, break the spell, scream at me, hit me, tell me I’m a creep… But she lifts her chin, looking right inside my eyes, the sudden proximity of her gaze like a thunderclap, and put her free hand on my shoulder.

I should think, I should have her age and Jody and Sasha and everything in mind, but there is only one thing : Her.

I lean forward and place my lips on hers, not moving and she clearly moans.

Time stop and my heart race, then kisses me once, she fucking kisses me, sensually, her mouth damp and blazing, her body shaking. This is the sexiest kiss I ever had, it's like her lips are all over my body. Yet she justshyly kissed me once, leaving her lips on mine.

I break the kiss and look at her with a terrified look. Reality finally hit me.

“I’m so-sorry” I stammer, and race out of the room.

 Your Pov

 He slams the door behind him, living you there, shocked and extremely confused. You can’t move, the towel falls and you can’t pick it up, you look at the door waiting for him to come back, hoping with all your being that he would come back.

He doesn’t.

It’s been an eternity, and you’re getting cold.

***FEEDBACK IS EVERYTHING***

[ladywinchester1967]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Grace Drake

Characters: Dean Winchester, Grace Drake (OFC), Kenneth Drake (Grace’s husband), Lula and Sissy (Grace and Kenneth’s hired help), Sam Winchester*, William (Kenneth’s business partner)*

*= mentioned

Warnings: Cheating, SMUT, drinking, smoking, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), mentions of alcoholism, mentions of homosexuality, language, mentions of World War II (nothing too graphic).

A/N: This is the start of a BRAND NEW series; so the tag list for this is wide open. Takes place post-World War II (think late 40′s, going into early 1950′s) so I tried to use some of the slang and language that would have been used in that time period. Each part has themes from the song by Switchfoot of the same name (which I’ve ALWAYS wanted to use in a story!). Per usual; unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine, but the pictures are NOT. I found them on Pinterest and tumblr.

Welcome to the Planet

Welcome to existence

Everyone's here

Everyone's here

Everybody's watching you now

Everybody waits for you now

What happens next?

What happens next?

She shifted and the cold light of day invaded her closed eyelids.

“Mhhhh.” She grunted and opened them up.

She was naked, save for the sheet and the arm that was currently wrapped around her body. She rolled over and saw a pair of shining green eyes and a wide smile looking back at her.

“Morning beautiful.” He said

“No way I look beautiful right now.” She said as she reached out and touched his face.

“You always look beautiful Gracie.” He said and kissed her.

“Mh, I love it when you call me that.” She said sleepily and opened her mouth for another kiss.

He rolled, putting her on her back and making her giggle. He kissed down her neck and to her collar bone and then back up to her ear.

“My sweet,” kiss “sweet,” kiss “Gracie Lou.”

“Deeeeeean!” She whined slapping his bare shoulders and making him laugh.

“You’re gonna have to hit harder than that if you wanna throw me off doll face.” He said, pinning her hands on either side of her head by the wrists.

“Mhhhh, can’t get rid of you easily can I?” She teased as they kissed. She opened her legs and his hardened length ran up her inner thigh as she gasped.

“Nope.” He said as he pushed inside her waiting core. He kissed her again as he buried himself inside of her.

“Dean,” she sighed against his mouth, her nails pressing into his shoulders “Dean, you feel so good inside me.”

“Gracie.” he sighed back as he raked his hands through her hair, wrapping her up into his arms as he pushed into her. She wrapped her legs around him, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He thrust up into her, hitting her sweet spot, making her back arch and her nails dig harder into his shoulders. He took his time, slowly thrusting in and out of her, kissing every inch of her body that his mouth could reach until she was a whining mess under him.

“Dean, please!” She begged “Please!”

“What?” He asked playfully “Tell me sweetheart.”

“I wanna come,” she whined, raking her nails down his back “please, please let me come Dean!”

He growled and pushed hard into her, making her cry out. She writhed under him, he seemed to be hitting every nerve in her body until she screamed and came hard. Her clenching around him was exactly what he needed to send him over the edge. With a loud cry, he emptied his load into her, his hips stilling as he supported his weight on his knees and forearms. He gave her one last kiss before rolling off of her, both of them breathing hard. After a few minutes of blissful silence, she rolled to her side and kissed his cheek.

“What time is it?” She asked, rubbing the tip of her nose against his cheek.

Dean checked his watch.

“Ten thirty.” He said

“What?!” She asked

“It’s ten thirty.” He said and showed her the face of his watch.

“FUCK!” She exclaimed and darted out of bed.

“What’s wrong?!” He asked

“I’m supposed to be at bridge club in an hour! Fuck!” She yelled as she gathered her clothes and threw them on.

“Shit!” Dean yelled and got out of bed to help her, tugging on his underwear. She threw on her bra and panties, foregoing her pantyhose for now, and stuffed them into her bag along with her gloves.

“God damn it,” she said “I can’t believe I over slept. Where’s my dress?!”

“Right here.” He said and held it up with two fingers.

“Thank you!” She said gratefully as she stepped into it.

“You sure YOU weren’t the one in the Army with that foul mouth?” He teased

“Father was a Sergeant Major in the Marine Corps remember?” She asked as she pulled the sleeves of her dress up and he flashed recognition across is face.

“Ah, now I remember.” He said

“Zip me please?” She asked and turned her back to him. He did as she requested and planted a kiss between her shoulder blades.

“I’m so sorry,” she said “I’m running around here like a chicken with my head cut off. I'm gonna be late and those bitches will rip me to shreds!”

“It’s okay,” He said as she grabbed her shoes and buckled them “go play bridge and gossip, I’ll talk to you tonight.”

She pinned her hair back as best as she could and gave him a quick kiss.

“You’re the best you know?” She asked him

“Stop flattering me or I won’t let you leave.” He said and wrapped her in a breath stealing kiss. She moaned against his lips.

“I have to go,” she whined between kisses “Lula and Sissy are gonna have a fit when they see me.”

Dean laughed

“Go before Lula threatens to hunt me down. Again.” He teased and opened the door for her, watching as she blew him a kiss over her shoulder and took off down the stairs.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Grace thought as she caught the bus back to her house, pretending that she wasn’t wearing the clothes she’d worn the night before. She was supposed to hit the road with her high school sweetheart, Dean Winchester, and drive until they reached the Pacific Ocean. They would set up a dual building where he could practice medicine and she could paint, sketch and teach art classes. That’s what they’d always talked about.

That was before Dean got drafted into World War II. He’d been ripped away from her in the blink of an eye while she helped the local Red Cross with the war effort.

When the dust finally settled, Dean’s brother; Sam, showed her the telegram that bore the sad news. Dean was MIA and believed to be dead. It was a hero’s death, her father had mused. She mourned, for years she mourned for the boy she had loved. The one that listened when she talked, that always told her that her dreams of being a writer and artist weren’t stupid or misguided. The boy who away made her feel pretty, the one who always showered her with love and attention, who understood that she didn’t want to be defined by her marital status or that expected her to pop out as many babies as she could.

The girl she was died along with him, after that, she found it easier to just do as she was told. She dated the boys her parents set her up with. Even accepted the proposal of the man her parents deemed “a good match” for her. Kenneth Drake worked successfully in advertising, he made good money and was nice enough. He didn’t seem too happy when she voiced her opinions on social matters or offered her view on the current ads he was trying to run.

“Darling,” he had said and patted her on the back of the hand “I know you have a lot to say, but women are meant to be seen, not heard.”

She had sighed and resigned to the fact that she was supposed to be decoration. She was supposed to smile, look good when she met the boss and have dinner on the table by five thirty sharp.

That perfect illusion was shattered when Kenneth was admitted to the hospital two years after they were married. She got the call in the middle of the night and rushed to the hospital to be with him.

“Please,” she pleaded with the nurse “I’m looking for Kenneth Drake, he’s my husband!”

“Gracie?” She heard a familiar voice ask. The voice send chills down her spine, only one person on the planet called her Gracie and that person had died years ago. She slowly turned and saw him.

His hair was darker than she remembered, but his eyes, oh lord in heaven, those emerald green eyes. Their striking color hadn’t changed at all. He wore a crisp white lab coat with dark slacks and shoes, across his chest was the name

Dr. D Winchester

“Dean?” She asked

He looked like he had seen a ghost, his face went ashen, his full lips dropped open into a surprise O shape. He briefly shook his head and said to the nurse

“Betty, she’s okay. Let her through.”

The nurse, Betty, nodded and stepped aside as Grace rushed over to Dean.

“Kenneth Drake is your husband?” Dean asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. She nodded, a dark curl falling into her eyes.

“Yes, they said they found him in bad shape outside this bar,” she said obviously upset “please Dean, can you tell me anything?”

Dean paused for a second and then nodded

“Have a seat,” he said gently and directed her to a nearby chair “I’ll check it out.”

“Thank you,” She said “thank you so much.”

He gave her a small smile and took off down the hallway.

After some time, Dean returned and sat by her.

“Kenneth suffered a concussion,” he told her “he hit his head on the cement after he collapsed due to alcohol poisoning. They pumped his stomach and gave him some fluids, he’s gonna have a nasty headache and a hell of a hangover, but he’ll be fine.”

She let out a sigh of relief and hugged him.

“Thank you,” She told him, inhaling his familiar scent “Thank you so much Dean.”

He reluctantly wrapped his arms around her, the familiar feel of her hair under his hand filling the dull ache in his chest that he’d learned to live with.

The next day she’d returned to the hospital to check on Kenneth. She headed up to the roof to get some air and found Dean, sitting on a bench. He wore sunglasses and had a lit cigarette in his hand.

“I thought you would be up here.” She called to him.

He turned, startled, but his expression softened when he saw her.

“Gracie!” He called

That was how it started; they’d rekindled their friendship like they’d never been apart. One night, she met Dean for a drink, which turned into multiple drinks, and the truth came out.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” He asked, his eyes glassy.

“Sam told me you were dead Dean, he showed me the telegram.” Grace said, taking a puff from the cigarette she stole from him.

“The Army thought I was dead,” he told her “my unit got captured by the Italians and they kept us as prisoners of war. Then the Allies liberated us and brought us home. Imagine the shock on my mother’s face when I turned up.”

“Why didn’t you?” She asked and trailed off.

“Come looking for you?” He asked and she nodded “I did, your father told me he’d put a bullet in me like the Italians, Germans and Japanese had failed to do if I ever came near you again.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock as she handed back the cigarette to him.

“My God,” she said “my father, always the wordsmith.”

Dean smirked and snubbed out the cigarette.

“So Kenneth seems nice, albeit a raging alcoholic.” Dean said

She shook her head

“He’s docile,” she said “he makes good money, he works hard, he’s nice enough. I guess.”

“But?” Dean asked, downing the last of his drink and asking for another.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink.

“My husband,” she trailed off and chose her words carefully “bats for the other team.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up

“Kenneth wears sensible shoes?” Dean asked and she nodded “Sure do know how to pick ‘em Gracie Lou.”

She slapped his arm playfully

“MY PARENTS picked him,” she said “I had no say in the matter.”

“So, where is he now?” Dean asked

She pursed her lips and thought

“At a late meeting,” she said and downed the rest of her drink “with his business partner William.”

“Does he often have late meetings with William?” Dean asked and she nodded.

“Nearly every night,” she said “he comes home for dinner and then leaves at exactly seven thirty.”

“When does he come home?” Dean asked

“Whenever he damn well pleases,” she told him “he's the man of the house. His words, not mine.”

Dean shook his head as the waiter dropped off another round for them.

“I can tell you something?” She asked, leaning into Dean. Her blue eyes were sparkling like they always had, he could smell her perfume and the alcohol on her, which just made her all the more enchanting.

“Of course.” He said

Their eyes met and she bit her lower lip. Not only had their friendship rekindled, so had to sexual tension between them. The last time Grace had sex with a man was Kenneth on her birthday; and even then, it hadn't been anything worth writing home about.

“The last time I had a decent orgasm? Right before you went off to war.” she told him

His eyes went wide

“You’re kidding right?” He asked and she shook her head.

“This is much too serious for me to joke about.” She told him.

Dean reached in his pocket, pulled out his wallet and said

“We’re fixing that. Now.”

“What?!” She asked shocked as he threw some money on the table and grabbed her hand.

“Either I just left a VERY generous tip or a dry cleaning receipt, let’s hurry in case it’s the receipt.” He murmured in her ear and she laughed.

Dean always had the ability to make her laugh, even when she didn’t want to.

He took her to his apartment and as soon as the door was shut behind them he said

“You have to tell me this is okay Gracie, I need to hear you say it.”

It was nice to see all those years away hadn’t changed that part of him. He’s said something similar when she’d lost her virginity to him what seemed like a lifetime ago. She put her purse down and stepped closer to him. Standing in front of her wasn’t the boy she’d fallen in love with. He was a grown and jaded man, but he still had all the love and compassion in him that she’d always cherished about him. She nodded and said

“I want this Dean,” as she reached for him “I want you. Make love to me, please.”

That night had been full of passion and romance unlike anything she’d experienced since she’d slept with him previously. He remembered every place to touch and kiss her that made her toes curl and drawing sounds out of her she wasn’t sure she was capable of making any more.

The next morning her eyes fluttered open and she found Dean asleep beside her.

“Oh thank god.” She said quietly “that wasn’t an elaborate dream.”

She heard Dean chuckle as he opened his eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked, pushing her hair out of her face. She nodded

“I should feel guilty,” she told him “I should feel ashamed and disgusted.”

“Do you?” He asked, hesitation in his voice.

She smiled and shook her head

“No,” she said “I don’t.”

That was more than a year ago, Grace thought as the bus pulled up at a stop near her house. Since then, she and Dean has carried on discreetly, just as she knew Kenneth and William were. Neither of them mentioned the other’s fling and they kept up appearances. She was there to greet the boss at work functions and host dinners in their home. Though now she did it with a bit more pep in her step.

She rushed into the house, busting through the kitchen door like a bat out of hell and startling both Lula and Sissy, the ladies that helped her in her home.

“Mrs. Grace you look like something that got caught in a drain!” Lula exclaimed and Grace laughed.

“I do look a bit silly don’t I?” Grace asked “Lula, could you make me some coffee while I freshen up?”

“Yes ma’am,” Lula said and nodded to Sissy “help Mrs. Grace outta those clothes so I can get ‘em washed.”

“Yes Lula.” Sissy said and followed Grace up the stairs.

Sissy was Lula’s niece and needed work, Lula had been helping out her family for as long as she could remember and when she started to get on in years, Lula asked tearfully if Grace could help out her niece. Grace’s heart went out to Lula.

“Lula, you know you’re family to us and if your family needs help, this is the least I can do.” Grace had told her and covered Lula’s dark hand with her own pale one “How about this? You bring Sissy on and teach her how you do things? That way when you’re ready to leave, Sissy can take over.”

“You do that for me Mrs. Grace?” Lula asked, her brown eyes wide with shock.

“Lula, if she is anywhere close to as amazing as you are, we’d be happy to have her on.”

Sissy was terribly shy at first, she didn’t even look Grace or Kenneth in the eye for the first few months she worked for them. Slowly though, she’d come around and was a delight to be around.

“Tell Lula I’m sorry this smells like cigarettes.” Grace told Sissy as she turned her back. Sissy unzipped her dress and asked

“Doctor Winchester again?”

Grace gave Sissy a sly smile and Sissy returned it. She threw the evening dress over her arm and Grace headed for the bathroom.

“Sissy, could you find me something to wear for today?” Grace asked

“What do you want to wear Mrs. Grace?” Sissy asked.

Grace shrugged

“Surprise me, I always get compliments on the clothes you pick out.” Grace said and went into the bathroom.

After a shower, pinning her hair up and donning a floral dress, peach sandals, a strand of pearls and matching earrings, Grace did her makeup. Just a little bit of mascara, blush and lipstick to bring out her features. She looked in the mirror and realized Dean had left a hickey on her neck.

“Asshole!” She mumbled to herself and set to work trying to cover it up.

When she was ready, she went down into the kitchen and took a cup of coffee that Lula had waiting for her.

“Did Kenneth come home at all?” Grace asked Lula.

“He was here this morning for breakfast,” Lula said “which you missed.”

Grace hung her head, Lula chastising her wasn’t anything new.

“Sorry Lula.” Grace said and sipped her coffee before shoving a pancake in her mouth.

“MRS. GRACE!” Lula shouted “You eat like your Momma taught you some manners!”

Grace laughed and so did Sissy. “You hush over there and make sure that mantel is dusted.” Lula said to Sissy, who scampered away.

“Did Kenneth tell you where he was going?” Grace asked.

“Playing golf with William,” Lula said as she arranged the tarts on a serving plate just so “said he’d be gone until dinner was ready.”

“That’ll give me plenty of time to get dinner ready,” Grace said “meatloaf and potatoes?”

Lula nodded

“Mister Kenneth likes that.” She said with a grin.

“I'm late, I have to go. I'll see you two when I get home.”

When she arrived, fifteen minutes late, Sue, the hostess for this meeting was not pleased at all.

“Not like you to be late Grace.” She said as Grace stepped through the door.

“I'm so sorry Sue,” Grade said and handed her a bottle of her favorite wine “I lost track of time.”

In spite of her distraction, the rest of the bridge game went off without a hitch.

“Grace, are you wearing a new lipstick or something?” Mary Anne asked as she dealt out another hand.

“No, it’s the same as always, why do you ask?” Grace inquired.

“You seem so,” Mary Anne trailed off “different some how.”

“Glowing almost.” Catherine commented as she took a puff from her cigarette.

“I bet I KNOW what it is.” Louise said, adjusting her glasses “Kenneth DID just get home from a long business trip.”

Grace’s cheeks flushed and the ladies started to giggle.

“Oh, now that makes sense!” Mary Anne said with a grin.

Grace tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.” She said simply and went on playing.

After bridge, Grace made dinner. She made extra so that Sissy and Lula could have some as a thank you for their hard work. Kenneth strolled through the door at precisely five thirty, still wearing his golfing gear.

“Darling,” he greeted Grace with a hug “how were the ladies today?”

“Like hens in a hen house,” she told Kenneth “meatloaf and mashed potatoes tonight. Do you want brandy or whiskey?”

“Whiskey please, my sweet?” He asked, giving her a peck on the cheek.

They ate dinner, chatting about their respective days. Kenneth hadn’t done so well on the golf course and had lost a few dollars to William and their other partner, Jim.

“You’ll get them next week,” Grace said “I’m sure of it.”

Kenneth gave her a smile and took a sip of his drink, his eyes still on her. She looked back at him; he was indeed handsome. He had forget- me-not blue eyes, lush dark hair and a slight boyish grin on his face.

“Grace?” He asked

“Hm?” She answered as she took a sip of her wine.

“When are we going to talk about it?” He asked.

“Talk about what?” She shot back.

“What you’re doing.” He said

She blinked at she stared at him

“Eating my dinner?” She asked.

He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair.

“No, and don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot.” He said

“Kenneth, I wouldn’t-“ she started but he interrupted

“I KNOW okay?” He asked sharply

“About what?!” She shot back, even though she knew exactly what he was getting at.

“You and that doctor!” Kenneth exploded “You’re fucking him behind my back!”

Even though it was true, and she had been for more than a year, she still decided to play dumb.

“What doctor? I’m not fucking-“ she started and he cut her off again.

“YES YOU ARE!” He yelled as he stood “Shirley, the butcher’s wife, saw you with a man that wasn’t me last night!”

Fuming, Grace said

“Kenneth, sit down and we can talk about this calmly.”

“THERE’S NOTHING CALM ABOUT WHAT I HAVE TO SAY!” Kenneth shouted at her “HOW COULD YOU?! HOW COULD YOU FUCKING DO THIS TO ME GRACE?!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

SOOOOOO?! What do ya’ll think?? Are you excited to see where this goes? Because I’m excited to share it with ya’ll! 

As always, kind feedback is appreciated. Feel free to like and share with your followers. If you’re new, maybe consider following? My boxes are open, so if you want to request something, you are more than welcome to!

The Squad:

@waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @familybusinesswritingbro @ain-t-bovvered @mrswhozeewhatsis @girlborninstorms @dacleverfox @emoryhemsworth @bobasheebaby @salvachester @myinconnelly1 @mogaruke @imma-winchester-addict @theworldiscolorful @dean-winchesters-bacon @animerose96 @l8nit-l0vr @thewaywardvalkyrie

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Half Blood, Whole Heart: Part 27

Pairings: Jax x Reader, sister Winchester!reader- SOA/SPN Crossover

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, character death, reader is a little bit of an asshole to her kid but I fix it.

Word Count: 3,429

A/N: So I decided to repost my novel- the story that someone stole from my old blog and put up on Wattpad. PLEASE don’t be an asshole and steal my stories. It CRUSHED me when it happened and almost ran me off Tumblr.

Half Blood, Whole Heart Masterlist    Aesthetic by @ravenangel33​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~ MID-FEBURARY 2011 ~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Why is it always so cold?!” Jax asked as he and Opie walked into Bobby’s house for lunch. You looked up from the invoice you were writing up and huffed.

“This ain’t California, baby. We live in South Dakota now.”

“Yea, well I want a refund. Snow sucks.” You laughed as he walked over and kissed your forehead.

“You work maybe three days a week in a heated shop. Quit bitchin’.” He flipped you the bird as he walked over to the fire place to warm up. “We could always close down shop and go to the bunker for a few days…”

“Uhhh… Not a good idea.” Bobby said as he looked up from the lore book he was reading. You let your head fall back with a groan and looked back up at him. 

“How long are you guys gunna keep me away from him?”

“Until I deem it fit to send my grand babies down there.” You rolled your eyes as his cell phone rang.

“I’m gunna find out eventually.”

“Babe, let it go.” Jax said as he practically put his hands in the flames. “You’re so damn nosey.”

“Bite me.”

“I’m always down for a road trip.” Lyla said with a smile as she bounced John on her knee. 

“No road trips.” Jax and Ope said at the same time.

“Well, you may get your wish.” Bobby said as he hung up the phone. You looked up at his tear filled eyes and your stomach instantly turned.

“No…. No, no…”

“Darling…” You whipped around to see Crowley standing in the kitchen and you flew out of your chair.

“You son of a bitch, what did you do?!” You screamed. You slammed your fists against his chest as tears poured down your cheeks. “What did you do! That’s my brother!”

“(Y/N), I swear… I didn’t mean…”

“This is on you!” You screamed, not caring that your sons were right behind you. Crowley took a hold of your wrists gently so you would stop hitting him as Jax wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back. “I hate you! I hate you and I never want to see you again! I want… I want Dean!” You collapsed to the ground as sobs racked your body.

“I’m sorry, kitten.” You heard Crowley say softly before he disappeared.

——

You were at home, packing a bag for you and your sons to go down to the bunker for a couple days when your cell phone rang in your room. You grumbled to yourself for leaving it in there and ran; picking it up just before it went to voicemail.

“Yea?”

“Hey… so… there’s a little problem.” You froze at the top of the stairs and looked at your screen to double check who was calling before holding it back to your ear.

“Sam… what kind of problem.” Sam sighed.

“Dean’s gone.” You did a double take and your brow furrowed.

“What, you don’t think I already got that message, smart ass?”

“No, (Y/N) that’s not what I mean. As far as I knew, Dean was dead. I carried his body into the bunker myself. Laid him in his room and I just went back to go sit with him while I wait for you and he is gone. Some how, he came back to life and he left a note that said ‘Sammy let me go.’ He’s gone, (Y/N).” You sat down on the floor and shook your head.

“Sam… what the fuck did you guys get into?” Your brother stayed quiet for a moment and you knew he was rubbing his hand over his face.

“I think you need to come to the bunker… and by you, I mean the whole family.”

“Jesus Christ… alright, call and tell Bobby. We’re coming.” You hung up the phone and sighed as you pulled yourself up off the floor. “Jax! Pack a bag for a week; the whole family is going on a Goddamn road trip.” You called down the stairs as you headed toward Thomas’ room to get more clothes and diapers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Why did you drive the truck?” Sam asked as you got out of your truck behind Jax and your Honda. You ignored your duffle on the front seat and headed over to your other car to get your sons inside before you went back out again.

“Because I need it.” You said simply as you got John out of the back seat of the SUV. “I need you to catch…”

“She’s on a war path.” Jax interrupted as he put Thomas down on the ground and started helping Bobby with the bags. “She thinks she’s going…”

“Jackson, stop.” You snapped as Sam picked up his nephew, fighting to keep his look of concern off his face. “Not now.” Your husband rolled his eyes and headed into the bunker angrily; not wanting to restart the argument you had at home again. You needed answers and there was only one person who could give them to you.

“(Y/N)…” Your brother said as you headed through the library to the room that had been officially designated as the boys room to get John out of his car seat and into bed.

“Sammy… just don’t.” You kept walking, refusing to look back and heard Bobby tell Sam that you were going to look for Crowley… by any means necessary. Your brother sighed as he put Thomas down in the hallway and gently guided him toward your room where Jax was internally debating on going with you or staying with his sons like you asked him too. “I need to know why he did this.” You said softly as you put your sleeping son down in the pack and play you had brought from Charming. 

“You don’t even know what ‘this’ is.” Sam said as you stood up and left the room; leaving the door open a crack so the boys would be able to hear if John woke up. You shrugged as you flipped off the light.

“So, tell me.” You walked right past Sam and Bobby toward the library. Sam slowly followed you into the room, pain and heartbreak evident on his face. You pulled out one of the library chairs and sat down on the table. You cocked your eyebrow as you waited for Sam or Bobby to say something and began impatiently tapping your foot. “Look, whatever it is is bad enough that it got De killed and turned him into a zombie. So either tell me or…”

“It’s the Mark of Cain.” Your words audibly caught in your throat and your eyes bulged.

“You fucking idiots.” You said as you stood up. “How fucking stupid could you be?” Sam tried to say something and you held your hand up to stop him while shaking your head slowly. “That’s Lucifer’s Mark, Sam. Lucifer gave that to Cain. He’s not dead, he’s a fucking demon!”

“Now, (Y/N), take it easy…” You shook your head at your second father and sucked air through your teeth as sheer fury course through your veins.

“Nope. There is no taking it easy, Bobby. My brother is a demon. So, now that that is established, I’m going to get some fucking answers from the source on why this seemed like the only option you morons had.” You headed toward Dean’s room, knowing he would have money stashed away somewhere in there. “Mark of Cain. Who does that?” You grumbled as you threw the door open. Your stomach turned when you saw the dried blood on the bed and you fought to ignore it as you walked over to the closet.

“Mommy?” Thomas said softly.

“Not now, baby. Mommy’s busy.” You told him as you began ripping jeans off the shelf to check pockets. Dean was usually crafty with hiding his money but it was always one of three places.

“But mommy…”

“Thomas, I said not now.” You snapped as you dropped the pile of jeans in your hand and grabbed one of Dean’s boots.

“Hey! You don’t talk to him like that!” Jax shouted as you reached into the boot and wrapped your fingers around a wad of cash. Score.

“Stop, Jax. I’m not some croweater you can shout at.” You tossed the boot back in the closet and shoved the money in your jeans. You were suddenly engulfed in strong arms and lifted off the floor. “Fucking… put me down!” You growled as you fought against your husband. He dropped you on the bed and quickly used his body to pin you to the blood covered comforter. 

“Don’t.” He snarled as you fought to get yourself free. “Look, we get it. You’re mad and hurt, but you do NOT talk to my son like that.”

“He’s my son too, Jackson.” You said as you quit thrashing to glare up at your husband.

“You keep talking to him like that and he won’t be.” Your eyes narrowed as an evil grin spread across your face.

“What you think you can take him from me? I will hunt your ass down so quick…”

“Shut up!” He shouted, using his body weight to give you a little shake. “I would never take my boys but you are doing a fucking good job of pushing him away. He came in here to ask if you needed a hug to fix the boo boo on your heart and you yelled at him for it! You can take your anger out on me all you want, I’m a grown man and I can take it. You will not do that to my son.” Your face softened and tears welled in your eyes. The fight you had in you disappeared as reality permeated your brain. Jax, noticing the shift, loosened his grip on your wrists but didn’t get off of you as he continued. 

“You’re upset, I get it. I’ve been there too. Afraid that something is seriously wrong with Dean and that we are gunna lose him forever. But that does not give you the right to talk to your son like that. You pushed him away because your hurting, the same way I try to push you away when I’m hurting. Babe, he’s two years old; he doesn’t understand that! All he can comprehend is ‘mommy is upset. Her heart has a boo boo and I can fix that with hugs like she does when I have a boo boo’. So, take your anger out on me all you want ‘cause I know it’s not directed at me. You take it out on our boys again and there will be hell to pay.” You nodded slowly as tears poured from your eyes and into your hair.

“I’m a horrible mother…” You sobbed as you closed your eyes and looked away; your hurting heart breaking even more. Jax let go of your wrists and wrapped his arms around you. He kissed your shoulder and shook his head as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“No, you’re a little sister that wants answers. You’re a wonderful mom and an amazing wife, (Y/N). You just let your head get a little too far ahead of you. We’ve been here before, babe. You’re trying to push us away so we don’t get hurt; so you don’t lose more family because that’s what you think is best. You’ve said the same thing to me before. We aren’t going anywhere, babe. We’re gunna be right here, in this stinky little magic box… or, you know, buried under the ten feet of snow in our front yard since we live in the Goddamn coldest state in the universe.” You couldn’t help but laugh as Jax sat back on his knees and looked down at you. “It’s really fucking cold up there. We should have gone to Florida.”  You rolled your eyes as you pulled a handful of the comforter over to use as a tissue; not wanting to trust touching the box of tissues that sat next to a bottle of lotion on the table on the far side of the bed.

“Florida sucks worse than South Dakota.” You told him as you laid back against the pillow.

“I don’t know what is more gross, the fact that you just used a blanket covered in dried blood to wipe the shot off your face or the fact that I know it belongs to your horn dog brother and you just wiped it across your face.” You propped yourself on your elbows and hummed.

“You know what I wanna know; how we have these beautiful moments and one of us always has to go and ruin it at the end.”

“Oh no! That was all you, you nasty freak.” You shrugged as you pushed at his hips. He stood up and pulled you up beside him.

“Didn’t hear you complaining about the freak part when we were practicing our baby making skills.” He smirked as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Different kinda freak and I will never complain about that… and I love you, but I’m so not kissing you right now.” You rolled your eyes and rubbed your face on his shirt to make a point. With a quick kiss on the cheek, you smiled.

“Now you’re just as yuck. You’re welcome.” He groaned as he pushed you a step back and stuck his arms out to the side with a look of mock disgust.

“Now I have cooties… boy cooties, no less.” You shrugged as you grabbed one of Dean’s old button downs from the closet.

“Now you know why I say the idea of hunting with Dean makes me want to bathe in acid. I gotta go find Tommy and hug away some boo boo’s before I go.”

“Check with Bobby, I told him to find papa so he wouldn’t see daddy throwing mommy around.” You rolled your eyes and headed for the door.

“Such a gentleman, Jackson.” As you stepped out into the main hall, you could hear the song from ‘Cars’ you hated to love floating down the hall and the light in the boy’s room was on. You stuck your head in the room, your brow furrowed and Bobby looked up at you.

“Feeling a little less homicidal?” He asked gruffly as he bounced your three month old in his arms.

“Had to get a little man-handling but I think I got my head out of my ass.” You said as you crossed your arms and looked at your youngest who was asleep on Bobby’s shoulder. You gently ran your fingertip down his nose and smiled when he scrunched his face.

“Still going aren’t you?” Bobby asked as he turned to look at you. You sighed and nodded as you pulled Dean’s shirt on over your jacket.

“I have to talk to Crowley. He won’t come to me so I have to go to him.” Bobby sighed as he gazed at you.

“You idjits are gunna be the death of me.” He said softly. You huffed and nodded.

“Maybe but at least you’ll have some good stories to tell the angels in heaven…” “Dicks…” You both said at the same time. He smiled as you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Take care of my boys for me… all five of you.” He nodded as you kissed the back of John’s head and headed out the door.

“Hey (Y/N)…” Bobby called out as you got to the door. You turned and looked at him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too… dad.” A slight blush crept over his cheeks and he brushed you off at the name. You gave him a small smile and headed down the hall toward the music. You stepped into Sam’s room to see him and Thomas lying on the bed, watching the movie on your brothers laptop. “Hey buddy.” You said softly. Your son looked up at you and tears welled in his little (Y/E/C) eyes and your heart broke. “Oh, Tommy…” You walked across the room and picked your son up. You heard Sam pause the movie as you sat down on the bed and hugged your son tight for a moment. With tears in your eyes, you pulled back and sat him down on your knees. “Mommy’s sorry she yelled at you, baby boy. I’m not mad at you.”

“I juss… wanna ta… fix.. da boo boo.” He said between tears. Your tears fell and you nodded.

“Well now we both have boo boos to fix. So let’s hug extra hard and fix them right up, OK?” He nodded as he reached toward you. You held your little boy to your chest; desperately wanting to fix the hurt and pain you caused him. You whispered an ‘I’m sorry’ as Jax kneeled down in front of you.

“I think this boo boo needs a little help.” He said softly as he wrapped his arms around you and put his head on your shoulder. You rested your cheek against his and nodded.

“Mommy, squish me.” Thomas said after a minute and you laughed as you pulled back.

“Well did I squish the ouchie out?” He nodded as he glanced back at the laptop; the pain, thankfully and apparently forgotten. 

“Yea… can I watch ‘Cars’ now?” You laughed and kissed his forehead.

“Yea buddy, finish the movie then bed time. You listen to daddy, Uncle Sam and papa when I’m gone, OK?” He nodded, no longer caring about what you had to say as he scrambled out of your arms and across the bed. You glanced over at your brother as Thomas sat down in front of his broad chest and leaned back to use him as a pillow. You sighed as you ran your hand through your hair and stood up. “I won’t go longer than a week but I know I won’t even need that long. Just gunna flush him out, get my answers then head home.”

“Just be careful and check in. If you need back up, I know Garth is down in Oklahoma…”

“Yea, I’ll take my chances. Is there a crossroads box in the Impala by chance.” Sam pointed toward his closet.

“Black drawstring bag top corner. There’s a old cigar box in the trunk of Baby that we use.” You nodded as you crossed the room. “Be careful, Button.” You looked over at your brother with a smile and nodded.

“I’m a blood born Winchester; I got this. Love ya, Sammy.”

“Love you too, (Y/N)” he said as he reached his arm out and started the movie back up. You grabbed the bag and headed out of the room with Jax on your heels.

“You sure you gotta go alone?” He asked as you pulled your truck keys out of your jacket pocket.

“Yea… I just need to vent some anger and well… shit, you know how it is.” He sighed heavily as you grabbed the empty box out of the Impala and headed to your truck.

“I get it. Don’t like it… but if the situation was reversed, you would let me go.” You nodded as you tossed the bag and the box onto the passenger side floor board of your truck. With a sigh, you shut the door and leaned against the front bumper.

“Like I said, I’ll be back in a week whether I find Crowley or not. I just…” He nodded as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I know… I sometimes forget how similar you and I are.” You smiled as you cupped his jaw in your hands.

“That’s what makes this work so well. We both understand the insanity.” He smiled as you pulled him in for a kiss. “I love you, baby. Always.” You whispered against his lips. He rested his forehead against yours and looked at you through his eyelashes.

“I love you, too. Drive safe and be safe. No hero shit.” You giggled and nodded.

“I will. Take care of the boys. If you need me, call me. I’m staying within a hundred miles.” Jax nodded as he kissed you once more. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back and let you go; hating that he knew you needed to do this alone. You pulled yourself into the truck and smiled at your husband weakly as you turned it over. With one more blown kiss, you put the car into reverse and backed out of the garage to start the hunt for your answers.

Part 28

[supernatural7543]

Guns and Golden Wings part 4

First off. This is my first fanfic and first time using tumblr.  do not own anything in this except the plot. Disclaimer mentions of torture/blood and swear words. please enjoy!

One week later

 Gabe was still staying with you and you guys had become fast friends. You still had not told him about your past, no matter how often he asked, which was a lot. You were thinking about that when you heard dean calling you. You ran quickly to the kitchen. “ ah there you are y/n. Listen, we think you are ready to be in the bunker alone so me and Sam are going on a small vamp hunt nearby okay? So it will be just you cas and Gabriel.” Your eyes lit up at that. “ sweet!” Just then Gabriel walked in with cas “ ok so cas, Gabriel, me and Sam are going on a hunt you guys will be here with y/n okay” called dean from the door. Dean closed the door and gabe  turned and winked at you causing a small smirk to spread across your face. You went and sat down and Gabe mirrored you. Cas walked on worried etched on his face. “ I just got a call about a demon in Oklahoma so I'm gonna go check it out.“ “got it” you said. Cas left and gabe looked at you “what” you asked. “What should we do now?” He asked “ I don't know” you said trying to think. While you were spaced gabe had moved over to sit next to you. You finally noticed and jumped a little. “Sorry sugar. Well I might have a way to pass the time” he said with a mischievous smile oh no you though  we are not having sex! “What no!! '' gabe yelled “ I had a different idea” how? You thought but it was quickly put out of your head when Gabe started to tickle you. “ AHHH!! Gabe stop!!” He laughed “not a chance sugar” you were almost screaming for him to stop “stop tickling me before I rip your fingers off!!” He laughed and finally stopped. “well what know sugar?” He asked with a sigh. You thought for a moment. “How bout a little Q and A?” You said. “Sure you first.” He replied with a grin. “ how long have you known Sam and dean?” You ask “ oh samsqauch and dean-o? I've known them for years!” He replied with a smirk. “Your turn.” You remarked. “Um...how long have you known them?” He asked “ little over a week” you replied nonchalantly. Gabe stared at you with wide eyes “ really? And you just decided to move on with them?” “Well yeah” you shrugged “ they saved me, ya know, they took me in and gave me a new life. I am forever indebted to them.” Gabe looked at you with a new sense of curiosity. “ Ok you gotta tell me that story” he said. “ No, it's my turn to ask you a question “ you said to his annoyance. “ what is your favorite candy?” He raised an eyebrow “really? That's your question? Okay…. all of them!” You rolled your eyes. Technically it was true. “Ok my turn!” Gabe yelled “ backstory time!! Tell me everything!” You roll your eyes “ really feathers? You sound like one of those obnoxious school girls!” You sigh “ when I was a baby…” another sigh escaped your lips “ I was kidnapped by the demon Azazel... Until I was 18 years old. Until the boys saved me. I came here after and they told me I was their sister and I have lived here ever since.” Gabe stared at you in horror. You stood up “ I'm sorry I'm really tired. I'm going to bed.” You quickly went to your room and closed the door with a sigh. This is going to be a long night you thought with a shudder. Let's just say you hated reminiscing. You laid down on your bed and in a matter of minutes you were asleep. 

      You were standing in a dark room. You could only see a few feet ahead of you. You took a few steps forward and found a door. You opened the door and was blinded by the light. It took a while for your eyes to adjust but once they did you couldn't believe your eyes. Your eyes started to well with tears from the sight you  saw. The first one you saw was Sam. His throat was torn out, blood pooling on the floor. Then dean was about 10 feet away, cas in his arms, dead, dean was crying. Everyone he cared about was dead. He pulled out a gun and placed it in his mouth and, before you were able to get to him the gun had fired and he lay dead on the ground. You screamed. Running from the scene you tripped over something when you looked back you saw the most horrifying thing you had seen.  Lying there was Gabriel dead. “See y/n, this is what happens when you fall in love, when you care.” You turned to the voice to see the yellow eyed demon. “ when you fall in love they all die. It's why I took you from that family. I didn't want you to end up like them. Beaten, forgotten. Come back to us. Don't let this happen to you, to them.” “Y/n y/n!? Y/N!! Wake up!” You screamed sitting up. Someone was shaking you. You opened your eyes to see Gabriel looking at you with worried eyes. “ hey sugar. You were having a nightmare. I'm sorry to come in like this. You were screaming bloody murder and I got worried.” You stared at him, amazed at how much he cared. “Are you okay sugar?” You took a deep breath “yeah I'm fine” you lied. He left reluctantly and you laid back down. A few hours later there was a knock at your door. You answered and gabe was there “cas and your brothers got back, they were asking about you.” You nodded “ I'll be out soon.” He left and after a bit, you changed clothes and went into the kitchen. No one was there. You soon heard yelling coming from the library. You ran quietly and saw Dean yelling at cas. “I can not believe that you left her alone with HIM! He's a menace. He doesn't care about her. I’m not entirely sure that she's not dead! We should have locked him up earlier” Dean was fuming and cas just stood there and took it saying nothing. You gasped and turned to leave. The yelling stopped. And when you turned around you saw deans gun in your face. He sighed and lowered it “ how much did you hear?” He asked. You were speechless “ so a lot. '' he said “listen y/n…” but you were already gone. You ran to the dungeon you had never gone in there and as you walked in you felt a sense of dread. You heard someone calling out “Sam! Sam let me out! I didn't do anything!” You could tell, although the voice was angry, it was Gabriel. There was a small window so you walked over to it. You could see Gabe and he looked stressed even slightly scared. You had never seen this side of him and it worried you. His hair was messy and you could see the worry in his eyes. You turned around and saw Sam. He walked over to you, a little too quickly for your taste, and you backed up until your back was against the wall. Sam seemed cold and distant; it made you wonder what he was like on a hunt. He placed his hands on your shoulders and moved you to the side. He proceeded to open the door and you went inside after him. He closed the door so it was only you, gabe and Sam. Gabe looked up. He was seated in a chair with chains around his wrists and ankles. He was beaten and bloody. It broke your heart to see him like this “hey sugar.” He said clearly in pain but trying not to show it for your sake. You started to run to him but Sam intervened. He was holding an angel blade as he approached Gabriel. You ran in front of him putting yourself between Sam and gabe. “Sam stop!” You yelled. He paused looking at you weird. You held out your hand “knife.” You said sternly. He gave it to you and you set it down. “Key.” He handed you the key and you unlocked Gabriel. “Are you ok gabriel?” You asked. “Yeah I'm fine sugar are you ok?” You looked at him oddly “of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?” He sighed a sigh of relief and stood up. He started to glow and you had to look away. When you looked back he was completely healed. His hair was still a little messy and his eyes were still worried but his cuts and bruises were gone. You glared at Sam. “Out” you growled. Sam left and you stood with Gabriel. He walked forward and wrapped his arms above your waist, pulling you into a hug. You stood surprised for a moment before returning the hug. “I thought I lost you.” He said through deep breaths “I thought I would never see you again. When you didn't come out for an hour they locked me up saying I was a liar.” You stared in disbelief. How long were you gone? “gabe? How long were you in here?” You asked hesitatingly “ four hours.” He replied. Anger swelled up in you. You pushed out of his hug and started to walk out. He followed you and you found the boys in the library. “WHAT THE HELL!!” You screamed causing them to look at you in shock. “ WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LOCK GABE UP!!” You took a deep breath to try to calm yourself down. Why were you so angry? “From now on if you have a problem with him you have a problem with me. Do not take it out on him, you bring it to me and we will handle it in a civilized manner okay?” The boys nodded. They didn't realize how scary you could be when you were mad. You huffed and turned around grabbing gabes hand and dragging him off. You went to your room with him and closed your eyes sitting down on your bed. “He was right. I should go back. I'm just ruining everything.” You didn't realize you had said that out loud until gabe said “ sugar it's okay it's not your fault. Who are you talking about?” You shook your head “no one.” Gabe wrapped his arm around you and you curled up next to him soon letting sleep engulf you. 

[ursulaismymiddlename]

“All That’s Best of Dark and Bright” (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 26/27

Holy shit! It’s been almost 11 months guys. I’m so sorry.  Hopefully you’ll find it worth the wait. Tags at the end. Special thanks to @abovethesmokestacks @brookebarnes and @hispeculiartreasure for helping me along during this long ride

Warning: Smut

On Tumblr   On AO3

Ten days could feel like a lifetime.  In Bucky's case, maybe even more.  Ten days of concerned looks from Steve, Sam, the other teammates, you.  You with the swelling in your face receding, still hobbling a little on your feet no matter how much he tried to get you to sit.  Ten days of checking in on your progress almost constantly, but barely being able to meet your gaze as bloody, visceral memories came flooding back.  Ten days of little sleep from the nightmares and feeling guilty every time you reached a bandaged hand over from your side of the bed in the middle of the night to comfort him.  He would have moved out to the couch so you could rest easier, except he knew you wouldn't.  He knew you wanted him there and he wanted to be there in case you really needed him, in case your own dreams turned dark and violent.  Ten days of bustling doctors studying the notebook, long and grueling sessions with Wanda, and his own grim determination, and the words no longer worked the same as they did before, no longer ripped him away from himself entirely.  Not everything they put in was gone and not everything they took out was regained, but it was a start.

In the midst of those ten days, Natasha and Clint managed to ferret out information on the HYDRA detail that attacked the house.  They were able to pinpoint their closest base of operations and took recon pictures to bring back to the team.  A few of the photos were disturbingly familiar to Bucky, the sight of them giving way to more buried images in his head, information toppling into place like dominoes.  It was that revelation, how going after one base might lead to the next and the next for him, which made up his mind on what he had to do.  His initial thought was to sneak off alone and take out anything and everything he could without endangering any of his teammates, but he’d made a promise to you.  That and Steve still knew him better than he realized.  The argument that ensued was only quelled when he reluctantly agreed to take Wilson and Maximoff along after they volunteered to accompany him.  But telling you about this new mission, especially so soon after what happened; that was the most difficult part.  Because even though you eventually talked about it together, when he came back to the apartment after the meeting to tell you, all you did was stare at him a few moments before giving a small nod and wrapping your arms around his waist to bury your face in his chest.

The night before they were set to leave, Bucky stuck around the quinjet assigned for the mission, yet another equipment check occupying his mind and helping him ignore the no doubt concerned looks from Sam and Wanda as they retired for the evening.  He reasoned he didn't need much sleep, and the flight to the first HYDRA base could afford him even more time to recharge, but deep down, he knew the truth.  It was his last night with you, probably for a while, maybe even... No, if he wouldn't let you think like that he wouldn't let himself.  Not this time.  There wasn't a thing in the universe that would keep him from coming home to you one way or another.  Still, as much as he itched to be with you, a part of him wasn't sure he could bear the sadness and pain he was certain he'd see in your eyes when the two of you parted in the morning.

An echo of footfalls behind him pulled Bucky from his thoughts.  The sound itself was familiar enough now, despite distant memories of a much different gait, that he didn't even need to look to know Steve was approaching up the ramp.  "Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

"Making sure everything's squared away," Bucky replied, closing the weapons locker firmly before turning around to find his friend standing in civilian garb.  "One less thing to hold us up in the morning."

Steve nodded with a glance around the interior of the quinjet, shoulder leaning against the entryway.  Of course, he had more he wanted to say and Bucky braced himself for a renewed fight because if one thing never changed about Steve Rogers, super soldier serum or no, it was that he didn't let things go easily.  Sure, he could pack it away for a while, but if there was still a chance he could get his way, he wasn't going to drop it.  Bucky's suspicions were confirmed when Steve opened his mouth again, trying to make himself sound almost meek.  "This mission's gonna be a tough one.  Sure you couldn't use an extra set of hands?"

"I'm sure," was Bucky's gruff counter as he moved to brush past Steve on his way out of the quinjet.  "I'm only takin Wilson and Maximoff to shut you up in the first place.  And don't think I don't know why they're the ones that volunteered.  Not everything's back in my head right and they're worried it's gonna get fucked all over again.  Can't say I blame 'em."

"C'mon, Buck, they just wanna help," Rogers tried to soothe, though his tone was slightly strained in exasperation.  "Same as I do."

"Goddamn it, Steve.  It's bad enough I'm gonna be worryin about my girl every other second, last thing I need is to be distracted lookin after your reckless ass the times in between!"  Bucky turned on his heel to face his friend, but any further tirade died on his lips at the somewhat wounded expression he found Steve sporting.  The guilt there was all too familiar; a feeling that sometimes hung heavy between them, both sides trying to make up for it in their own ways.  With a heavy sigh, Bucky continued in a more even tone, hoping Rogers would finally get it through his thick skull.  "This is how you help me, okay?  I don't know how long we'll be gone or how far this whole thing will take us.  I don't know what could happen.  I need to know there's someone here that can protect her while I can't.  She means the world to me, Steve.  And there's no one I trust more than you to keep her safe."

There was a moment's pause where it seemed like he might question or argue further, but then, as if by some small miracle, Steve closed his mouth with a thoughtful nod.  He gave a defeated sigh, smile tight as he propped his hands at his hips and replied "Okay, Buck.  Of course.  I won't let anything happen to her."

Although plenty more could have been said on the subject, there was hardly enough time for all that and Bucky didn't have the inclination.  Instead, he gave an appreciative duck of his head by way of thanks.  It was enough between them; that much he'd been able to remember on his own.  Anything else was understood or could wait.  Yet, something remained he couldn't put off much longer, no matter how difficult he knew it would be, and he had just about worked up the gumption to face it when the door opened up to the hangar.

"Tony," Steve questioned by way of greeting as Stark came striding in, dressed-down and noisily twirling a ratchet wrench in his hand with one of his robots carrying a toolbox in tow.  "I didn't know you were at the compound."

Neither did Bucky.  If he had known, he might have high-tailed it back to the apartment much sooner to avoid a chance meeting with the last person he thought he could face that week.  Too late now.  He shifted uncomfortably as Tony approached, eyes locked on him curiously.  "Pep's headed out of town on a business trip.  Thought I'd personally make sure the quinjet was tuned up and ready to go.... Shouldn’t you be ravishing your lady love before you go gallivanting off at first light or something?"

"I was headin that way in a minute," Bucky replied with a slight nod.  He reached up to run a hand through his hair.  Nervous didn't even begin to describe what he was feeling at this unplanned encounter with Stark.  Yet, maybe it was for the best because it forced him to deal with another thing that had been troubling him.   "But maybe... maybe we should talk."

"If it's about your arm, you should be fine," Tony waved him off as he headed past the two super soldiers toward the quinjet.  He threw another look back over his shoulder as he reached the ramp, gesturing with the tool in his hand toward Bucky's metal arm.  "No one's controlling that mechanical marvel but you anymore.  I threw a jammer in there so no one can gain remote access."

Bucky clenched and released his metal digits at the memory of Stark tinkering around in the bicep access point.  He hadn't trusted the Winter Soldier at all yet, Barnes really couldn't blame him, but he still took the time to help.  Probably for Steve's sake, or some sense of duty.  Either way, it made what Bucky had to say that much more difficult.  It wasn't enough that HYDRA made a cold-blooded murderer of him, setting him loose on an old acquaintance after stripping him of the few fond recollections he had from a bleak time of war; circumstance played just as cruel, putting him in the path of that same man's son and giving him all those memories back.  And if Tony wanted him gone after this mission, well, Bucky wouldn't blame him for that either.  He was just banking on that the same sense of duty, or at least Steve's urging, meant you'd still be kept safe at the compound.

“It ain’t about the arm,” he sighed heavily with a shake of his head.  There was no going back now.  For all the tension between them, Tony deserved to hear the truth from his own mouth.  “It’s about the… the memories I’ve been gettin back.”

Judging from the split second of shock that crossed his friend’s face, instantly swallowed up by a determined set to his jaw and a sorrowful glance at the other man, Steve knew exactly what was about to happen and decided to plant himself right there to see it through.  Solidarity, Bucky supposed, though he hardly felt worthy of it.  Apparently, Tony had figured it out too, because he stopped dead in his tracks half way up the entrance ramp, so quickly the robot at his feet took an extra beat to come to a halt.  He went relatively still, save his fingers jostling the tool he held in agitation, before turning around with mock casualness that didn’t reach his face, chin tilted up and features cautious.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky wet his lips nervously before he began.  How does a person even start a conversation like this?  "Howard... your parents..."

"Don't."  Tony's rough croak barely matched the severe, thin-lipped grimace as he shook his head vehemently.  His knuckles had turned white around the wrench and Bucky was both alert and resigned to the idea of a physical backlash.  No doubt Steve was, too.  But Stark only closed his eyes tightly for a moment, gesturing slightly with his free hand while taking a few harsh breaths.  "Just... don't."

"Tony," Steve began, urging and placating all at once.  Leave it to him to butt in on Bucky's behalf even when it wasn't entirely necessary.  Though Barnes was maybe more grateful for the gesture than he'd ever let Rogers know.  "Maybe you should listen to what he has to say."

“No, you listen,” Tony ground out harshly as he shot Steve a scathing glance.  Bucky felt himself lurch on reflex, the muscle memory of dozens of times when he would put himself between Steve and the trouble he drew in like a magnet.  The instinct made keener this time since the backlash should be his alone to bear.  But Stark seemed to bite back on his anger, his jaw working for a moment as he regarded both men before some of the tension left him.  Some, but certainly not all.  "Look, I knew the possibilities when we brought SubZero here onto the team.  I don't need to hear it.  I don't want to hear it."

With that, Stark turned on his heel to continue up the quinjet’s ramp, trying to seem casual again and failing miserably.  But Bucky couldn’t let it end at just that.  Maybe Sam would say he needed it off his chest, closure, but more importantly, Tony deserved something.  “Okay, but just… lemme say one thing.  In case I don’t get a chance to later, alright?”

This earned another glaring look from Stark, but he remained silent as he turned his attention back.  Bucky was damn near close to squirming under the scrutiny, though the unease was the least he deserved.  Instead, he took a breath before he began.  “Howard - your dad - I knew him.  Maybe we weren’t best pals, and maybe my brain’s still stuck on static half the time, still I got to know him a little between missions with the Howlies.  He wasn’t perfect, but he was a genius and he wanted to make the world a better place.  And… well… all those good parts’a him, I see in you.  Times ten, if I’m bein honest.”

A rousing speech, it was not.  But it was what he had and he hoped it came off better than it sounded in his own head.  Hoped it was well-received in the spirit with which it was given.  Bucky chanced a quick look at Steve behind him, only to find his friend watching the scene play out with a cautious gaze.  When he looked back, Tony had his head cocked with a strange, guarded expression before his brow creased and the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly.

“Is this… Are you trying to have a moment with me, Barnes?  Is that what this is,” Stark asked, gesturing back and forth between the two of them with a flourish and a slight shake of his head.  Bucky was confused for a moment until Tony’s eyebrows crooked up in that tell-tale sign of snark and he seemed to relax back into himself a little.  “Because last I checked, we’re both spoken for and I really don’t think you could handle a man like me.”

"Ten times the cocky ass attitude, too.  Holy shit," Bucky mumbled the expletive through a chuckle as he pinched the bridge of his nose.  A glance over his shoulder revealed Steve just managing to rein in a smile as he ducked his head to hide it.  Looking back, Tony let go of a gentle huff, half-hearted smirk and unaffected facade seeming slightly more genuine.  Bucky knew firsthand how cracking a joke could lighten not just the mood of a room, but the weight someone might be carrying, if only for a short time.

"How about this, Robocop," Tony called out, finally entering the quinjet and taking the wrench in his hand to a panel near the entryway, his eyes never leaving his work.  "You get back here in one piece and we can discuss things like civilized adults; with a bottle of scotch even older than you and lots of manly tears."

All Bucky could do for a moment was nod, caught off guard by the suggestion and the elusive idea that maybe one day he could be forgiven.  It was one thing for Steve and Sam, for you, for anyone to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but quite another for someone made victim, even by association, from the monstrous things he’d done to show him something close to understanding and friendship.  Eventually, he managed to choke out through the tightness in his throat “Sure, Stark.  It’s a date.”

Tony shot him an annoyed look, though maybe there was a hint of amusement in his features before returning to the panel.  “In the meantime, Encino Man and I will make sure that little spitfire of yours stays nice and safe, out of harm’s way.  Speaking of whom, don’t you think you ought to be tending that flame about now?”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Bucky chuckled weakly, feeling his gut twist in time with the flutter of his chest.   “And thanks, Tony.”

Stark made a noise in the affirmative, waving him off haphazardly as he quickly became engrossed in his project, muttering either to himself or the task at hand.  A clear dismissal that Bucky didn’t even really mind.  When he turned back, he shared a quick nod with his friend, hoping it conveyed his appreciation well enough for the moment.  And it must have, as Steve gave a warm, lop-sided smirk, almost reassuring, and nodded in kind before Bucky headed out of the hangar.

The compound was quiet, everyone either gone out or hunkered down for the evening.  It felt almost stifling, though Bucky was certain that had more to do with his nerves than anything else.  He opted for the stairs to reach his floor, the elevator notoriously slow in comparison to him or Steve on foot.  You’d been kept waiting long enough.  Besides, the motion of his steps offered a slight distraction from the churning inside him.  Still the staircase didn’t last forever, and by the time he reached the apartment door, he had to take a moment and a deep breath, trying to school his features some before he even touched the doorknob.  You didn’t need to see him so nervous, not when it would compound your own worry.

There was the slightest hope that you had fallen asleep while you waited for him.  Of course he knew you wanted to spend these last hours with him, but he couldn’t deny the appeal of seeing you resting peacefully, of scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom where he could lay with you tucked against him until the morning, commit the sound of your breathing and the scent of your hair to memory all over again to see him through the mission ahead.  All that would have to wait though, because before the door was even open all the way he could hear the scrape of a kitchen stool across tile, letting him know you were awake.

“Bucky,” you called out quietly, hope and concern in your voice at once.  It sounded like he felt and he found some relief in that, but there was hardly any time to dwell on it when he saw you in your soft cotton nightgown get up from the kitchen island to move toward him, trying to avoid the cat darting around your feet.

“Hey, hey, whoa!  It’s okay, sweetheart.  Sit back down,” he urged gently as he rushed to meet you.  It had been a battle with you to take it easy ever since the two of you came to the compound.  The swelling had gone down and the bruises and bandages had begun to disappear, but he could tell pain lingered in the slight hobble you tried to hide and the determined furrow to your brow.

“I’m fine, really.  The doctor told me to start moving around more, remember,” you assured, though your hands gripped his open arms and let him take some of your weight.  When you cleared your throat and looked up at him, the sickly, sallow splotch along your cheekbone made his heart sink.  “Is everything ready for when you… for tomorrow?”

“All loaded and waiting to roll out in the morning,” Bucky replied, holding your elbows carefully and trying to keep his tone neutral, somewhat pleasant even.

You managed to give him a small smile, tight and almost reaching your eyes, putting on just as awkward a show as he was trying to.  “Are you hungry?  I could make you something.”

“Nah, don’t worry about that.  I ate something with Sam and Wanda, goin over mission specs and everything this afternoon…”  He trailed off when he noticed your face start to fall.  Something like hurt flashed across your features, cutting Bucky to the quick before you were able to hide it again.

“Oh.  Okay,” you nodded weakly as you slid your hands from him to stand on your own.  “I had a late lunch anyway.  Nat and Clint were kind enough to invite me along.”

It wasn’t until you turned back to the counter, closing a familiar cookbook that migrated from the house to the apartment, that it dawned on him just how thoughtless he’d been.  Lunch, dinner; the meals themselves weren’t the issue.  It was the connection they always provided, from when he first met you to before and after every mission that took him away from you.  You were violently uprooted from your home with little to show for it still but some clothes, a few books, a cat who just now started coming out of hiding, and him; the man who was supposed to be taking care of you.  Sure, he checked up on you throughout the day, made sure you were healing, but in his own damned foolishness, his own cowardice to face you, he never stopped long enough to just be there with you despite knowing how much you worry, how much you'd been through.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.  I should’a been here.  I should'a...,” he began quietly, but was cut off by you turning back to face him with a pacifying wave of your hand.

“Honestly, it doesn't matter,” you shook your head and let your hand drop to your side.  “I’m just glad you came to see me tonight at all.”

That stung him, and deservedly so in his opinion, shame searing hot on his face and clogging his throat until he was able to swallow it enough to speak again, tongue swiping at the dryness of his lips.  “I promised I’d never leave without saying goodbye again.”

“I know, but you’ve been distant with me for a while now.  Ever since we got here.  I wasn’t too sure.”  Your humorless chuckle died almost immediately, fell into a quake of your lower lip that you bit into as your shoulders slumped and you sighed wetly.  Whatever fear or self-loathing doubt that kept Bucky rooted to his spot all this time wasn’t strong enough to stay him any longer.  Not when it looked like you were about to crumple in on yourself with your eyes rimmed in red and tears dancing at the corners.  He went to hold your face in his hands, hesitating before slipping metal fingers across your unbruised cheek.  And it would never cease to amaze him how you melted into the unnatural touch of it or eased when he crowded into your space instead of cowering as you looked up at him, sniffling before you spoke again.  “I know you’ve been taking care of a lot of things.  Trying to get your head straight.  Planning a mission.  I just… I miss you.  You’re not even gone yet and I miss you, Bucky.  So much.”

“Tell me to stay and I will.  I’ll scrub the whole damn mission if you need me here.”  Bucky’s reply came out in a rush of words, desperate for you to understand he meant it.  “I’d do that for you, sweetheart.  I’d do anything for you.”

Another sniffle and you gave a small, resolute shake of your head, though your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt held a fine tremble that ached in his chest.  “Of course I don’t want you to go, Bucky.  But you need to do this.  And not just to protect me.  You need to do this for you, to help you heal.  I could never ask you to give that up.  I was just hoping tonight…”

“What is it, baby?  What were you hoping,” he asked when you bit into your lower lip, obviously trying to clamp down on whatever thought had been going through your mind.  Pressing his metal palm to your jaw, trying to physically lift your fallen gaze back to his face proved fruitless.

“It’s nothing,” you said quietly.  Your hands slid from his shirt and idly smoothed down the fabric from where they’d held on.  “It’s really not important right now.”

“No.  Don’t do that.  Don’t you dare,” Bucky chided softly, daring to rest flesh fingers at the curve of your waist while he inched a little closer.  He heard and felt the quiet hitch in your breath even as your eyes caught his fleetingly.  “If you thought it, it’s important.  It’s important to me.”

“It sounds really selfish compared to everything you’re going through, but…” you began as you covered his hand with your own where it rested at your cheek.  A light flush colored your skin and you looked embarrassed when you spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.  “This is the first time you’ve really touched me since what happened.”

Guilt twisted in Bucky’s gut and he had to force his hands to stay right where they were.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it in all that time.  There were little moments where he’d made to reach out, touch your hair, brush his fingers along the inside of your wrist, press a kiss to the crook of your neck.  But then your bruises would stand out or you would wince in discomfort from some small movement and he was reminded that he was the cause of all your pain.  The cut on your cheek from before had been one thing; eating him up inside for so long.  He watched it heal in time with parts of himself, though like the scar, no matter how faint it became the damage would always be there.  Yet, to see the violence of his past come screaming back at him to paint itself across your body in vivid colors, purple and red, was too much.  How could he take comfort in you when you were suffering because of him?

“You were injured, needed time to heal,” he countered, though it sounded like a feeble excuse even in his own ears.

“Dr. Cho cleared me for most activities days ago, you know that.  And besides, that wasn’t stopping you from… from holding me or kissing me,” you replied, letting your hand fall from his.  Your eyes slipped closed and you took a deep breath, seeming to steady yourself with a furrow of your brow.  “If you don’t want to… If you don’t want me anymore…”

“What,” he startled out.  The idea that you of all people, the woman he loved, that his brain conjured dreams of when it felt truly at peace, could feel unwanted by him was almost enough to knock the wind out of him.  “How could you ever think that, sweetheart?  Christ, it feels like that’s all I ever do is want you.  But hell if I deserve you, especially now, after all this.”

Bucky brought his right hand up, hesitating a split second before gingerly resting his palm along your jaw, thumb ghosting over the bruise at your cheekbone.  A sympathetic wince scrunched his nose when you turned into his touch, but it melted away when your eyes finally met his again, brow furrowed and teeth scraping along your lower lip.  “What do I deserve then?”

“Are you kiddin me, doll?  You deserve a whole hell of a lot better than me.”  He shook his head, disbelieving, something in him feeling half-hysterical that you even had to ask.  “You deserve the world.”

“And all I really want is you,” was your quiet response and the sadness and longing in your voice tore at his insides.   “You’re leaving tomorrow for who knows how long… maybe even forever…”

“Baby--” he tried to soothe, but you continued undeterred, silencing him with the plea in your eyes.

“But it’s you I want, Bucky.  I just want you to be with me one last time before you go.  Really with me.”

He regarded you silently a moment, trying to process, trying to accept what you were saying to him.  There had been comfort in your closeness and your touch almost from the beginning, before he even recognized that feeling again, when he was afraid even breathing too loud would have you sending him packing.   That same fear had crept up on him once more, the same dark voice that reminded him of what he’d done and what he was still capable of.  Except it was amplified by every cut and bruise that marred your skin.  So he denied himself the comfort that you came to embody for him.  He never thought his self-imposed punishment could affect you so much.  The idea that after all the pain and blood and death you could need his touch as badly as he needed yours was mystifying.  Yet there he stood, cupping your face delicately in his hands.  No trace of fear or loathing in your eyes.  There was only want, need, love; your soft features watching him expectantly, drowning out the darkness in his mind.

The kiss was only meant to be a brief, chaste thing; a reassurance that he was there now.  It started out that way, at least.  But then you opened up beneath his lips, gentle breath pulling him in deeper, until your bodies curved into each other like they were meant to.  Lost in the sweet familiar taste of you, Bucky almost forgot there had been so many days and so much distance between you both.  It was indescribably easy, absolutely perfect to have only you filling every single one of his senses.  When you finally parted, but only barely, your breath on his skin was as rapid and fluttery as his heartbeat.

“Please, Bucky,” you whispered and he knew exactly what you were asking of him by the soft, breathless little whine in your voice that still sent a shiver down his spine no matter how many times he heard it.

“Ya gonna let me make love to you slow, sweetheart?  All soft and sweet like?”  He sounded rough and gravelly in his own ears, your faces still close enough his lips grazed yours as he spoke.  “Let me take my time so I can savor every moment I got with you tonight?”

The slight hitch of your breath when you gave a small nod had the corners of his lips quirking up just a fraction.  You seemed to find your voice as his left hand slipped from your face to find the small of your back, holding you close as you trembled against him.  “Yes, Bucky.  Anything you want.”

“My sweet girl,” he sighed at the flush that colored your cheeks as his right thumb glided reverently along your plump lower lip, teasing it out from between your teeth.  He gripped the very tip of your chin before molding his mouth to yours again.

Then, in one quick move, Bucky scooped you up into his arms bridal style to carry you to the bedroom.  The little noise you made as your arms slung around his neck held less of your usual surprise he’d come to enjoy and more relief.  He tried not to wonder if that was because you were pleased to get your way or if your poor, torn up soles had been aching again.  That did give him an idea, though, and once he’d deposited you carefully on the mattress he plied you with a few more quick kisses before shifting down the bed to kneel at your feet.

Seeing you laying there in your simple nightgown and fluffy socks, it was difficult, and painful, to imagine all that you’d been through that harrowing night ten days ago.  Dr. Cho patched you up and gave you something to calm your nerves not long after the quinjet reached the compound.  You were afforded several hours of sleep… or rather, you passed out for several hours as Bucky stood watch over you.  Then came the debrief, where Bucky sat beside you and listened as you relayed what happened, equal parts proud of your tenacity and sick at the thought of every injury, every time someone laid their hands on you in malice.  And now he silently cursed himself again for not coming back to you sooner, because once he’d gotten past that fear and guilt of seeing you tonight, he wanted nothing more than to tend to each and every wound and spend hours, days, the rest of his life making it up to you.

Metal fingers curling around your left ankle, Bucky lifted your foot from the mattress and carefully removed your sock.  While the cuts to your soles bled heavily for a long while and needed minor stitching in a few spots, luckily there was no sign of permanent damage.  Still, they weren’t entirely healed and ached when you stood too long.  He ran his thumb gingerly over the clean bandage wrap, remembering the scene he discovered of broken glass and spilled coffee and the motionless bodies of two men that had come for him but found you first, before he gently pressed his lips into the arch of your foot.

It was a spot he knew to be sensitive, ticklish even when handled properly, but the slight flinch of your muscles had him glancing up at your face, worried that he’d caused you pain.  When he found no discomfort, only a curious fascination to your smile, Bucky moved his hand to cup behind your knee and peppered a few light kisses up your calf.  A disgusted groan had him stilling suddenly, his gaze shooting up to you again in concern.  

This time, your forearm was thrown over your eyes with a cringe scrunching your nose.  “I haven’t shaved my legs in forever.”

“Me neither,” he huffed into your thigh just above your knee, amused, relieved.

And then you laughed.  A real, honest to goodness laugh that shook your whole body and had Bucky lifting his head to catch you covering your face with your hands.  It was a summer rain after too long a dry spell, finding every arid crack and breathing life back into him.  It was so goddamn beautiful it made Bucky’s heart stutter against the fullness in his chest.  Because if you could still laugh like that, at some stupid comment he made, after all that happened to you, then he knew everything in the world could be right again.

Your giggle was starting to subside as he managed to work the hem of your shirt up over your hips, but was cut off abruptly when he settled between your legs to bury a kiss in the bend of your thigh at your left hip.  That sweet little spot he remembered from the very first time he made love to you, the one that could still earn him a gentle gasp.  This time was no different and there was a comfort in that and in the feel of your fingers brushing the hair back from his face to caress lovingly along his cheek.  Bucky sighed into your skin at the sweet, familiar gesture, a source of comfort since the very beginning.  Reaching up, he cupped the back of your hand with his own metal palm so he could brush his lips against the inside of your wrist, noting the racing heartbeat beneath your skin.  Then he turned your hand over to lavish some affection on your tender knuckles.

“What are you doing,” you asked, playfulness lilting your voice as your fingers wound into his hair.

“What’s it look like I’m doin?”  With a mischievous smirk, Bucky pushed your nightgown further and further up your torso until the muted bruise along your ribs was exposed.  He nosed carefully along the splotch just beneath your left breast where you’d fallen hard in the snow after creating a distraction for him to fight back, but he wouldn’t let the memory of fear and worry completely pull the smile from him now as he looked up at your beautiful face, safe and sound with him.  “I gotta kiss all your booboos, sweetheart.  Make’m feel better.”

The warm chuckle you gave turned into a sigh with a hitch of your breath when Bucky continued his ascent, drawing the fabric in his hands up over the swell of your breasts.  His tongue laved sweet over a nipple, gentle suction puckering the sensitive bud, and he hummed contently at the needy way you arched toward his mouth.  He didn’t linger, though, instead leaning back up enough to strip off his shirt.  Of course, you were a bit eager and hastily tried to follow suit, but the slight wince that crossed your face had him catching your nightgown before it even made it past your elbows, lowering you down to the bed again.

“Easy now.  Just lie back, baby,” Bucky coaxed, lips brushing gently along your discolored cheekbone while his hands finally pulled the shirt from you to toss aside.  “Slow, remember?  Wanna pretend like we’ve got all the time in the world together.”

“We do, Bucky,” was your quiet reply, though he felt almost dizzy at the promise in your words and your soft smile.

His mouth found yours in the same breath as your fingers laced through his hair.  The kiss was languid and careful, not wanting to disturb the small, healing cuts left from your teeth when you’d been struck.  Another lingering kiss dropped to the barely there scar on your right cheek before he moved his way back down along your jaw and neck.  He took his time at your collarbone, relishing the subtle little movements you made against him in your eagerness, how your chin tilted up, the way your fingers scratched absently at his scalp when he tasted at your pulse point.  You loved him and you needed him and you wanted him… it was enough to make a man giddy.

“Though, you know,” you mused gently, the smirk practically audible in your voice, matching his own.  “A girl can only take so much teasing before she combusts.”

“Ain’t that the point,” he chuckled into your skin as his lips moved lower.

Any sassy retort you might’ve had was cut off in a groaning sob when his mouth teased over your other nipple.  Bucky took a little more time here, until your grip tightened in his hair along with the delicate skin under his ministrations and you began to pant for air.  After one last flicker of his tongue, he broke away to pepper kisses down your stomach, onto the spur of your hip, along your thigh, paying special attention to the waning bruise marring the silky softness he loved so well, the result of snapping a man… a monster’s elbow in two to save you both.

Once he was satisfied with his affections there and with the fine tremble of your muscles beneath his touch, Bucky slipped his hands beneath your hips to leverage you up a little, trying to keep some of the pressure off your feet.  Flesh and metal fingers alike hooked into the back waistband of your panties to slide them slowly down your legs.  Looking to where your head rested on the pillows, he caught your gaze and held it as he went.  Each brush of his knuckles on your skin was a deliberate act so that he could watch your eyes darken, no doubt mirroring his own.  The journey was over much sooner than he would have liked, but he didn't neglect slipping off your other sock and laying a final kiss to the clean bandages on your right sole, signifying the end of his little mission.

He took a moment to admire his view of you, laid bare, all flushed and vulnerable for him.  The thought of you trusting him with all your softness, not just your body, but everything, never failed to send a thrill through him.  It was an image he wanted to keep forever, one that helped burn away the darkness whenever it threatened to consume him.  Nothing as strong and beautiful and lovely as you would choose him if there wasn’t something worthy hidden away inside him.  And he’d earn it, too, even if it was the last thing he ever did in this world.

The weight of your attention was heavy and hot on his skin as he moved to finish stripping down.  If he went a little slower than necessary, letting you get an eyeful, you definitely didn’t seem to mind.  Looking up revealed you leaning up on your elbows, eyes roaming his body, and he couldn’t help his smirk at your sheepish expression when you realized you’d been caught ogling him.  There was a time when being stared at would have made him uncomfortable, but never with you.  Now the only discomfort was the aching need to be cradled in between your thighs again.  Your head fell back to the pillows as he crawled the short distance up the mattress toward you.

“My pretty baby,” he hummed against the bend of your knee, adoring the quiet catch in your throat and the way you opened again at the gentle press of his fingers.  They slid along your inner thigh until his hand came to rest at the juncture of your legs with his mouth trailing behind.  “So soft and sweet for me.”

The kittenish noise you made when his teeth scraped against your tender skin shivered down his spine.  And he could hear the slightest bit of desperation in your whispered “Bucky…”

“Ah, sugar, I know.  You need it bad and I’m gonna give it to ya, promise,” he soothed, palming at the suppleness low on your belly, thumb caressing affectionate circles there.  Glancing up at your heated expression, he had to lick the dryness from his lips.  Hell if you didn’t know exactly what he was asking for.  “But it’s been too long and I’d like the taste’a you fresh in my mind for when I can’t be with you.”

Your fervent little nod was all the answer he needed.  To ease some of the strain on your body, Bucky quickly grabbed an unused pillow to prop beneath your hips before dropping a kiss just below your belly button.  The feel of your fingertips dancing along his scalp had him sighing into your skin as he slipped his shoulders behind your knees.  Your smell and taste were familiar and thrilling in equal measures, as was the gentle gasp you made when his tongue eased its way between your folds.  He groaned in pleasure at finding you already slick with arousal, feeling himself twitch against his stomach.  You bucked at his first tentative swipe and he moved his hands to your hips, holding you steady as he kept going.  But that didn’t stop your fingers from twisting in his hair or your heels from digging into his back, urging him on with every lick, every dip of his tongue into your entrance, brushing the line of his nose along your clit the way he knew drove you wild.  Soon, you were moaning sweet and panting, chest heaving when he looked up the length of your body.  He had to pull away before his own instinctive rutting against the sheets overcame him.

“Sorry, sweetheart.  Got a little carried away,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your quivering thigh at the disappointed whimper you gave.

“Just get up here and kiss me,” you huffed with an affectionate tug of his hair.

Bucky smirked at the firm command you mustered despite how breathless and flustered you were.  It was definitely an order he had no problems following.  “Yes, ma’am.”

The journey was peppered with a few kisses up your torso, but he didn’t dare take too long before his lips met yours again.  Truth be told, he was probably more desperate for it than you were, especially now with his desire whet on the taste of you.  A shudder ran through him at the way your knees slid to his waist, offering yourself up to him with a tilt of your pelvis, and he swallowed your gentle gasp in another kiss when he nestled himself along your folds.  Your fingers tightened in his hair as he teased himself against you, slicking his underside and nudging at your sensitive little bundle of nerves to make you whimper, to help ease his way soon.

“Bucky, please,” you panted quietly, hot breath searing across his cheek when you broke away for air.

He stole another kiss before leaning up with his metal palm pressed into the bed near your shoulder.  Gaze sweeping down your beautiful, flushed skin, he swallowed thick at the sight of your bodies notched together so intimately.  And his voice was rougher than he realized, lips parched from the fluttering in his stomach, when he locked eyes with you again, taking himself in hand while he spoke.  “Keep lookin at me.  Please, baby?”

You didn’t question him, only cupped his jaw with one hand, fingers of the other trailing down the web of scarring where skin and metal fused to rest over his heart, making it beat all the faster, as he gripped your left hip and slowly sank into you.  God, he missed this even more than he realized, the snug, silky heat of you, yes, but also the pleasured way your lips parted and the soft noises of approval you made as you tried urging him on.  His own muscles shook with the effort to keep from just snapping his hips forward.  Especially with the way your head fell back on the pillows, still managing to keep your eyes on him over the curve of your cheeks.  But he was able to restrain himself, the bruises serving as a reminder of why he needed to, and took his time until he was seated deep inside you.  

“You always feel so goddamn amazing, sweetheart,” he murmured, hearing bit of awe in his own voice as he pressed in close with you again to kiss along your collarbone.  “Don’t think I ever felt anything as good as you.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” was your quiet chuckle as your fingers curled over the tender little spot on his rib cage, just below the line of scars and metal, that often sent a jolt through him.  This time it was eclipsed by his low groan when you let your knees fall wider, let him slip that much further into you.  You set your teeth playfully at his chin and kissed at the corner of his mouth before you spoke again.  “And I love the look you get.  Like you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Bucky couldn’t help his gentle snort of amusement as he mouthed his way down your jaw.  “Sometimes I think I might’ve.  But it can’t be near as beautiful as the faces you make.  Especially when you’re comin for me.”

“Bucky!”  Though you tried to sound scandalized, there was no hiding the laughter in your voice or the way your shoulders shook with it while your nails scratched along his scalp.  “Always such a sweet talker.”

A mischievous smirk and gentle roll of his hips was the only response he gave, catching the airy moan that fell from your lips with his own.  True to his word, Bucky kept the pace slow and easy to start, savoring, memorizing you all over again.  Lips and tongue tasted the salty sweetness of your skin everywhere they could reach.  The scent of your soap and shampoo, the beginnings of sweat and blooming arousal, made his head swim.  Every blissful sigh and hitched breath and delicious moan etched themselves into his mind, playing in time with his own pleasured sounds, a recording of a favorite song he hoped would never wear out no matter how many times he listened.  And, oh, the way you clung to him; legs hitched around his waist, fingers in his hair and clutching at his skin, drawing his body in flush to yours as though he’d ever want to pull away.  He kissed you hot and thorough, poured everything he had into your eager mouth and into the steady rhythm of your bodies.  Only your nails down his back truly threatened his resolve and he had to grit his teeth a bit to keep himself in check.  Though not for the first time, he wished the angry red lines or your sweet little love bites could linger on his skin to mark his body as yours now, freely given, instead of the jagged old scars of a half-life he never wanted.

It could have lasted this way forever, as far as Bucky was concerned.  He wanted it to, anyway; no world outside the two of you.  No mission to take him away, no responsibilities, no danger or darkness lurking just around the corner.  Nothing but you and him and the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the breath shared between you.  But none of that could stay the tight coiling of pleasure deep in his gut or the growing neediness in your movements and the sounds you made for him.  When he felt that tell tale flutter and tension around him, he knew neither of you would last much longer.

“You gettin close, baby,” he asked, voice rough as he leaned back to look at you.  Your only response was a breathless nod and a whimper when he slowed his hips to a deep, gentle rock inside you despite the somewhat desperate squeeze of your thighs at his waist.  An adoring smile curved his lips while he reached to brush back some fallen hair from your forehead, metal fingers skimming over your flushed skin.  “C’mon, then, beautiful.  Wanna watch your face when you come for me.  Almost as good as feelin it.”

His hand slipped down to cup your cheek, thumb caressing along the delicate skin of your bottom lip, kiss-swollen and red from his stubble.  Your eyes quickly snapped up to his, dark and hungry, at the same time your right hand closed gently around his cybernetic wrist to hold it there.  Not quite sure what to expect, Bucky paused his movements to watch awestruck as the tip of your tongue teased out along the pad of his thumb.  The sensors went haywire when your hot little mouth closed entirely around the digit, the feedback of suction and swirling wetness shuddering through him to settle at the base of his spine.  It took everything in him not to finish taking you hard and rough right there.  Hell, that was probably what you had been hoping for.  But he kept his composure for the most part, though a low groan escaped him when you released his thumb with a soft pop.

“Please, Bucky.  Touch me.  I need it,” you whimpered quietly.  The slight tremor in your voice would have been enough to convince him, but your teeth worried at your lower lip as you slid his hand down your skin and there was no questioning exactly what you were after.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”  He bowed his head to steal a few quick kisses while his fingertips dragged down the length of your body until they were brushing low on your stomach, thumb sneaking its way between your folds.  The kittenish noise you made and the accompanying quick clench of your muscles had his forehead dropping to yours with a sigh.  “My sweet girl is always so good to me, how could I say no?”

Bucky eased back into movement, though the answering cant of your hips urged him into a quicker pace.  Soon, you were breathless again, soft little moans as your fingers gripped at him anywhere they could find purchase, your touch solid and real and as desperate as the ache inside him.  He knew he found just the right spot, the right angle when he watched your back arch with a gasp.

“C’mon, baby.  Come for me,” he coaxed, dizzy on the sensations himself, repeating the rolling thrusts firm and deep, letting you feel every inch as he continued circling your clit carefully.  “Ah, fuck, honey, you’re so close I can feel it.  M’right there with ya, you feel so good.  C’mon, pretty baby.  Lemme see you come.”

And it was the truth, too.  You were trembling beneath him, head thrown back in the pillows, the quiver of your thighs tickling around his waist, nails sunk so deep in his skin he thrilled at the thought you might actually bruise him.  Even your voice sounded stretched taut and ready to snap.  “Bucky! Oh God, Bucky! Ah!”

“Christ, sweetheart, the way you say my name.”  His whole body shook with the strain of holding back, rhythm faltering as he ground out “Again.  Please, baby, say it again.”

It drove him wild, the way you obliged him.  A breathless, groaning chant, over and over in time with his thrusts.  Somewhere in him, he knew he could never forget his name again, not with the way it sounded falling from your lips with each building keen.  Then, with one last press of his hips and stroke of his thumb, you were crying out as you came undone around him, bucking against him for more.  The sight and feel of you awash in pleasure were more than he could withstand and a moment later he groaned out his own release and spilled deep inside you with a few gentle rocks of his pelvis.

Hips still flush with yours, Bucky settled himself over you once again, weight held up on his forearms to keep from crushing you under his spent form.  Your fingers along his spine and in his hair slowly, slowly calmed the wild beating of his heart as you both caught your breath.  He covered your mouth in a brief kiss before slipping down your jaw, along your neck to bury his face in the crook there.  Revelling in the soft pulse of your muscles around him, the way your bodies wrapped and melted together as if nothing else existed, Bucky filled his lungs full with the scent of you and promised himself, just knew that no matter what happened out in the field the next day or the day after or the day after that, no one would ever be able to truly take this away from him.  Not this, not you, not ever.  He’d never give them a chance.

---

The only sort of pain you felt in those quiet moments was the sweet ache of exertion in your muscles and the pang in your heart knowing that, come morning, the man you loved would be leaving and you didn’t know when - or if - he’d ever come back.  It was difficult when Bucky first told you his plan, to meet Hydra head on with the memories that came tumbling out of his mind after the two of you came to the compound, but you accepted it.  Not running away, like you feared might happen, not with Sam and Wanda in tow.  Just taking action, taking the fight to them.  It still hurt, and the distant way he handled you did nothing to soothe your worry.

But he was here now and that was what really mattered when all was said and done.  The warm press of his body along yours was a reminder of that, caged in close beneath him as your fingers slipped through his hair, hips and thighs still cradling him close through the last few tremors of pleasure, sighing at the gentle twitch of him as he softened inside you.  His contented hum tickled across your neck and you could almost feel a smile on his lips.

“Are you mine, sweetheart,” Bucky breathed quietly.  The adoration in his voice left you flushed and breathless for an entirely different reason than before, each soft kiss making your skin tingle.  “Really mine?”

“Of course, Bucky.  For as long as you want me,” was your gentle reply.  You should have been used to this sort of thing by now.  As big and strong and broody as he could get, Bucky was more often a huge sap when the two of you were alone, especially when you were tangled up together so intimately.  Yet, it could still catch you off guard, like now when it flared that ache in your chest.

No doubt it was your gentle sniffle that had him pulling back enough to look at your face.  A few stray tears snuck down your temples when you blinked furiously against them, but he only gave you a warm little smile, leaning down to kiss away the wet tracks left behind, murmuring “Forever, then.  Forever.”

You held him tightly as his mouth found yours a moment later, the brush of his lips soft and sweet.  It was more soothing than enticing, so much like after the first time you were together.  You had to stamp down the scared little voice in your head that worried about it possibly being the last.  Now wasn’t the time for that.  Now was the time to kiss him back like there was nothing in the world but the two of you.  Luckily, despite everything you'd been through, that was still such an easy thing to do.

When you finally broke for air, that soft expression you’d grown to love so well shone on Bucky’s face as he looked down on you.  The tilt to his lips and the gentleness in his eyes said almost as much as any words ever could.  You brushed your fingers along his bristly cheeks, combing the long hair back from his face so you could take it all in, commit it to memory all over again as you scratched lightly at his scalp.  His smile grew wider, but no less loving before he leaned in for another quick kiss.  This one was broken by the quiet noises you both made as he pulled his hips away from yours.

Bucky settled onto the bed to your right and you rolled lazily into his arms, teeth nipping your lower lip at the sweet ache in your thighs.  The metal plating of his left arm was body-warm, the ever present hum and whir fading into the background as he cradled your body close, flesh fingers tracing the curve of your face, your shoulder, your waist.  And despite the dreaminess of his gaze, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head before he spoke gently.  “You gonna wait for me, sweetheart?”

Something told you there was the barest hint of real concern flittering around his brain, but he covered it with a playful smirk as he toyed with the ends of your hair.  No doubt he was trying to keep the mood light and you were more than happy to oblige.  With a wide-eyed grin, you reached to cup his jaw, thumb slipping across his stubble while you chuckled “Oh, how many girls did you ask that back in the day, Sarge?”

“There were no girls,” he huffed out in a quiet laugh with a slight shake of his head.  But then he pursed his lips and scrunched his nose in a mock look of consideration before smirking again.  “Well... there were girls.  Just none I would’a asked that.  None I pictured myself comin home to.”

Teeth worrying his lower lip, Bucky looked almost bashful as his eyes searched your features.  And if your heart hadn’t already been so much mush over him, it definitely would have melted at that.  You leaned in closer, fingers dancing down his jaw to give his hair an affectionate tug, making him grin when you nipped the divot of his chin.  His smile widened while you moved to prop yourself up on an elbow, side of your head resting in your hand.  It let you survey him with your own thoughtful look though you didn’t try to hide the way the corners of your lips quirked up.

“I dunno, Buck.  There was that guy at Stark’s party,” you sighed, smirking at the confusion that crossed his face.  “You know, that bartender?  Had his eye on me the whole night.”

The deep, incredulous laugh Bucky sputtered out shook his whole body, scrunched his face as he shook his head.  “Christ, baby, you mean that geriatric with Coke bottle glasses?  The one who kept shoutin ‘Excelsior!’ every time somebody put a dollar in his tipjar?”

“What can I say?  I like ‘em old,” you shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance and failing as your heartbeat stuttered at the sight of his unchecked amusement.  “The older the better.”

“Well,” he clucked his tongue with an affronted look while he played along.  “S’pose it’s a good thing for me that Thor’s already taken by Dr. Foster.”

You scoffed in shock before narrowing your gaze and launching yourself the short distance toward him.  Sheer delight crossed his face as he caught you easily enough, though it forced him onto his back and you wound up half-splayed across his chest in a peal of laughter, his own throaty chuckle echoing the moment’s playfulness.  Left arm draped around your back to keep you close, his flesh hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in until your lips met again.  Your hair slipped through his fingers like water as his palm slid along your jaw, thumbing carefully over your bruised cheekbone while he rested his head back against the pillow to gaze up at you, quiet and adoring.

“Assumin you’re still available when I get back,” Bucky teased and you gave his chest a sharp smack as you snorted.  It made him smile, but it was subdued, a little nervous even, as he weaved his fingers between yours and brought your hand up to kiss your palm.  He sighed through his nose and just barely met your gaze when he spoke in that low, intimate voice he had.  “I thought maybe… maybe you’d let me make an honest woman outta ya.”

It took you a moment to register his meaning, the confused pinch of your brow giving way to a slack jaw as you stared at him.  Your heart skipped a beat or ten while your brain tried desperately to catch up with the rest of you.  Marriage.  He was talking about marrying you.  In the time you’d been together, in all the things you’d been through, it had never been a topic of conversation.  Of your dreams, perhaps a time or two, but never spoken aloud between you.  Not even as a joke.  In hindsight, it made sense that Bucky wouldn’t make light of a subject like that.  It was a big deal; even bigger when he was young, before the war and worse had taken away any hope he might have had for a normal life.

And yet, as Bucky’s eyes watched you expectantly, you still found yourself trying to lessen the gravity of the situation, tried to cover up the depth of your emotions with a weak chuckle and a self-deprecating smirk.  “Well, why start now?”

You realized the error of it when the little line between his eyebrows darkened and his smile fell.  It was only by a fraction, but you knew him, loved him well enough to recognize the thoughts that must have been flittering through his head by that look alone.  Your heart sank at that and you sat partway up with your hand on his chest, shaking your head as if that alone could scare away what was in his.

“No, Bucky. No. I didn’t mean…” You sighed, biting your lip as you tried to gather your thoughts to explain.  “I’d love to marry you, Bucky.  You have no idea how much.  I just… Things are different now.  People stay together without getting married.  I don’t want you to think you have to ask because of tradition or because we’ve been together or because you’re leaving.  You shouldn’t feel obligated to…” “I want to,” Bucky interrupted your babbling with his matter-of-fact tone.  A fond little smirk curled his lips as he cupped your cheek gently because, you realized, he knew you.  He knew you just as well as you knew him.  “Sweetheart, I want to marry you.  It’s not an obligation.  It’s not a knee-jerk reaction in the face of this mission.  I want to be your husband, not just because you make me wanna be a better man, but because you’ve been helpin make me one.”

“Bucky,” you managed to breathe out, although your throat was tight, constricted, your chest full with so much you could barely form words for it all.  You weren’t sure if it was a plea or a warning or just the only way to describe the stutter in your heart.

“Honey, you’ve been savin my life since the moment I walked through your door.”  His face was soft again, but sure, fingers gently gripping your chin as his grey eyes wandered your features before settling on yours.  “And I wanna spend the rest of that life with you, if you’ll let me.”

The words had barely left his mouth before you were kissing him, trying to pour back into him every ounce of love and happiness that he’d managed to drum up inside you.  And for a moment even the looming sadness of his departure wasn’t enough to hamper the ecstatic laugh that bubbled up in your throat as you smiled against his lips.

“When you get back, Bucky.”  You leaned back enough to see the corners of his eyes crinkling with his grin, arm cradling you tight to him while flesh fingers carded through your hair.  “Ask me when you get back.  I guarantee future me won’t say no.”

“I’ll hold ya to that, sweetheart,” he chuckled quietly, amused at your antics, though you could see some reality trying to worm its way back in.  “It’ll gimme somethin nice to dream about when I won’t have you with me.”

There was no stopping the smirk that tugged at your lips.  You never were one to pass up a bit of cheekiness, especially when the serious option seemed almost too much to bear.  “Oh, I can give you something nice to dream about.  The least I can do is give my soldier a proper send off.”

His small bark of laughter was muffled by another kiss, a bit more playful and heated this time as you pressed your body flush with his.  The easy way the noise slipped into a deep groan was its own little reward, fingertips tracing down your spine as yours slid up to tangle in his hair.  It was gentle nips and tender suction, tasting sweet at each others’ mouths, only pausing when you hiked a knee up to his waist and moved to straddle him.

“Baby… ya sure you’re up for another go,” Bucky husked out, concern evident in his voice even as he looked up at you in a slight daze, palms skimming up your thighs to rest at your hips.

“You certainly seem to be,” you smiled at him wickedly.  Hands planted on his chest, you canted your hips back to rock yourself along his already-growing erection, the mix of your arousal and his release creating a smooth glide that made a delightfully filthy mess of his stomach and crotch.  Teasing like that always did something to him and this time was no exception, the way his eyes darkened and his teeth caught his lower lip, stifling a moan while his fingers bit into your skin.  “Already at attention, huh, Sarge?”

Right hand reaching to cup the nape of your neck, Bucky pulled you down to him with a playful growl until your lips were just brushing his.  There was mischief in his smirk when he rolled his hips against yours, making your breath catch.  “Yes, ma’am. But whaddaya expect when my gal’s grindin on me like she can’t get enough?”

“Maybe she can’t.  Maybe she knows a good thing when she’s got it, Sarge,” you grinned back, giving a little wiggle until you felt him pressed along your folds again.  And though it was said in a tease, you meant every word and the flash in Bucky’s eyes told you he knew it too.

“Aw, sugar, always so insatiable,” he smirked gently as his fingers tangled in your hair to bring you in for another kiss, hot and thorough.  His metal hand held your hips still and soon you were whimpering softly into his mouth as he slid inside you, seating himself fully with a small snap of his hips and a pleasured groan.  Then both hands were in your hair, holding it away from your face while he gazed up at you with so much emotion your stomach did a flip.  Tongue wetting his lips, he finally spoke again in that intimate voice, quiet and rough at the edge.  “Christ, I love you, sweetheart.  I love you so goddamn much. Luckiest schmuck on God’s green earth to have you like this.”

Your lips captured his again, needing a moment to still the flutter of your insides, calm the wave of emotions that threatened to bubble up out of your control.  He seemed eager enough to accept and return the kiss, lips trailing down your jaw and neck when you broke away for a shaky breath.  “I love you, too, Bucky.  More than anything. More than I could ever explain.”

He leaned back to look at you again with a tender smile, knowing, understanding, as he cupped your jaw in his hands.  “Then show me, darlin.  Just show me.”

That was a much easier thing to do, to give yourself over to the feel of him between your thighs, the press of your bodies, shared breath between kisses, whispered sweetnesses in the dim light.  The night continued on much the same, over and over, both knowing sleep would be impossible either way.  It was soft desperation and quiet reassurance by equal turns, trying to stretch the hours to stave off the inevitable as long as possible.  All the love and tenderness managed to hold the sadness in your heart at bay, at least until Bucky urged you into the shower with him in the wee hours of the morning.  He insisted on washing you himself, from the shampoo in your hair to the suds pooling at your feet, swiping carefully around the cuts and bruises, cupping the washcloth gently at the crux of your legs, all so reverent, like he might never get to touch you again.  You couldn’t help the swell of emotion that crested then or the tears that started to flow beneath the cascade of water.  Bucky held you through it, kissed your wet shoulders until the quiet sobs that wracked your body subsided, made love to you again with a little urging when you pressed back against him, wanting that connection to help ground you once more.

After that, you both tried to rest, though full sleep was beyond reach.  Instead, you clung to each other, Bucky pulling you to his chest to tuck your head beneath his chin and your arms wrapping around his waist to hold him close.  Between the feel of his fingers slipping idly through your hair and the sound of his heartbeat, you were sure you dozed at some point.  Maybe he even did as well, but you were awake enough when his arms tightened around you hours later and you knew your time together was starting to slip away.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair, the ache in his voice evident.

“I know,” you answered with a small nod and gave him an extra squeeze before pulling back to look up at his face.  “Is there time for some breakfast at least… before you go?”

A sad little smile quirked his lips as he cupped your cheek and leaned in to brush a kiss on your forehead.  “Yeah, baby.  I’m gonna suit up first though.  And you should probably take your medicine.”

“Yeah,” you whispered.  Behind the tightness of your heart and the twisting in your gut, part of you wanted to cry at how ridiculously mundane, how terribly useless and pitiful you felt in the moments leading up to him leaving for a mission, every time before, but especially now.  Yet, you still gripped his chin in your fingers and tried to soldier on with as much mirth in your smile as you could muster.  “I’ll probably need those pain meds if I wanna walk straight later.”

He snorted in amusement, though the emotion never really reached his eyes.  There was too much sadness there to make room for much else even as you pressed your lips to his.  You lingered there, not wanting to part, but after another quick peck, you headed for the bathroom.  It was business as usual, despite the ache in your heart, going through the motions like any other of the last ten days, except your antibiotics were almost done and you had to take a little extra time to compose yourself in the mirror before you returned to the bedroom.  

Bucky looked up at you from the bed, fingers pausing on the buckles of his leather gear as you moved to dress quickly.  You could feel his eyes on you as you went and you purposefully tried to hide your face so he didn’t have to see the red no doubt still rimming your eyes.  Of course, before you could leave the room, he caught you gently by the wrist as you passed him.  One tug was all it took to urge you between his thighs while flesh and metal palms alike cupped your cheeks and pulled you down for a soft kiss.  You sighed into it, letting his presence and the delicate swipe of his thumbs along your skin steady you until your fingers moved to help him finish getting ready.  And you reminded yourself that he wasn’t running away from you; he was facing the darkness of his past head on so that you both could build a future.

As much as you wanted to make this meal together something lavish, stretch out the time that remained, you didn’t have the heart for it.  Or the stomach, either, really, with as much sadness and anxiety as you had churning away in your gut.  Scrambled eggs and toast.  You were sending the love of your life off to fight a faceless Nazi death cult, one that held him brainwashed and used him for nefarious purposes against his will for decades, on nothing but scrambled eggs and toast.  You almost could have laughed about the utter absurdity of the situation if you weren’t so close to crying as you stood in front of the stove.  Bucky was only a few short steps away, further than you cared for though you didn’t dare say anything, at the ready with butter by the toaster.  Neither of you even bothered chastising the cat when she jumped onto the counter between you with a soft mrr.  He was too busy scratching behind her ears and you… you didn’t really see the point.

“Sweetheart?”  Bucky’s concerned voice and the feel of his fingers at your waist pulled your attention from where it had been lost in your own head.  You hadn’t even noticed him moving closer to you.

“Hm? Oh shit,” you barked in surprise, suddenly realizing the eggs you’d been idly pushing about the pan were starting to brown and sizzle, the scent of burn just starting to bloom.  Quickly, maybe even a bit more frantically than necessary, you turned off the heat and moved the pan around before dumping the contents on the plate beside the stove.  The sight of the nearly-ruined mess had you plopping the pan back on the burner none too delicately as you shook your head at yourself.  “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m fucking up scrambled eggs.  I wanted things to be perfect and I’m screwing up the simplest goddamn…”

“Honey... Honey, it’s fine.  Really.  I like ‘em hard-cooked,” Bucky soothed, drawing you in close and pressing a kiss to the side of your head.  “And, honest to God, anything is better than powdered.”

You couldn’t help your slightly amused snort against his chest, even with the little memory it conjured up.  “Y’know, my sister used to say the same thing.  Of course, she was the one who tended to burn things.”

“Well, she wasn’t lyin.  I’d’a eaten eggs burned black an gone back for seconds over powdered,” he chuckled quietly into your hair before you looked up at him with a soft smirk that you were sure matched his own.  His fingers reached up to brush the hair from your face, kissing the tip of your nose.  “мое солнышко… C’mon.  Let’s eat.”

The eating was mostly show, really.  You took bites here and there, chewed slow as if it could affect time itself, knowing that Bucky would have urged you to eat otherwise.  He most likely only ate for your benefit as well, picking at his plate quietly with one hand while metal fingers rested on your thigh beside him, comfort and reassurance for you both.  But it couldn’t last forever, and all too soon you were putting half-empty plates in the sink while he grabbed his duffel bag.  It was slung easily over his shoulder when he rejoined you at the edge of the kitchen and the sight alone was enough to make your chest tighten that much further.

Bucky’s hand never left yours on the way to the elevator, only moving to slip around your waist and hug you tightly to his side as you waited for the car.  Once it arrived, he shuffled you both inside and turned to press the button for the hangar’s floor despite the somewhat desperate grip of your fingers on the straps of his uniform.  Something close to pain flashed over his face when his gaze found yours again, but before you could say a word the duffel bag was on the floor and his arms were around you, mouth molding to yours to kiss you breathless.  His lips barely left yours the entire ride down, except to graze along your cheek, your jaw, your neck, hungry and wanting, but always finding their way back for another kiss.  And you had no complaints about it.  Sometimes you thought you could survive on his kisses alone and now was the time for glutting yourself on them to help see you through his absence.

Your heart sank with the slowing of the elevator reaching its destination.  Bucky’s mouth lingered on yours momentarily before he parted from you with a reluctant sigh, tangling flesh fingers with yours as he stooped to grab his bag.  He shouldered it just as the doors started to open onto the short hallway that led to the hangar.  The walk was somehow agonizingly slow and all too quick at the same time; the twisting in your gut making you question if what little you ate would even stay down.  A gentle squeeze of your hand brought your attention back to Bucky and his wane smile before he opened the door to the expansive hangar.

It was hardly the first time you’d been there, but the sight of the quinjet prepped and ready to go hit you a bit harder than expected.  Sam, Steve, and Wanda stood waiting near the entrance ramp, talking amongst themselves, all three looking up as you and Bucky entered.   Wanda moved to meet you halfway with a soft smile.  It only seemed to grow a little when her eyes darted from your joined hands to Bucky’s face, knowing and pleased.  They exchanged quick nods, Bucky giving you a reassuring smile and your knuckles a gentle swipe of his thumb as he headed toward the two other men.

Wanda greeted you by name in her thick Sokovian accent, swooping in for a hug that you gladly returned.  Needed, if you were being honest, and she probably knew that.  Her hands slipped down into yours when she pulled back, gesture and soft smile both familiar as she regarded you.  “I would tell you good morning, but I’m not sure you would agree.  Why don’t we settle for, good to see you?”

“It’s good to see you, too, Wanda,” you chuckled quietly, squeezing her fingers.  You knew some of the power they held, some of what those hands were capable of, and you trusted them to keep Bucky as safe as possible, but in that moment, just the kindness and warmth of the simple touch meant more to you than any of that.  “I’m gonna miss you, Wanda.”

“And I will miss you, my friend,” she replied, squeezing back before turning to walk with you toward the others at a slow pace.  She hooked her arm with yours to lean in with a playful, secretive tone.  “But do not fret.  You will have Clint and Natasha to keep you company when they return from their mission tomorrow.  And the Captain, of course.  Though, I think perhaps he may need the same consolation as you will.”

You followed the guiding tilt of Wanda’s head to find the three men talking, too far away to overhear, but most likely mission related things, judging by their demeanors.  Steve nodded at something, a dour look on his face until he cast a furtive glance at Sam beside him.  There was something in his expression you hadn’t noticed before that was mirrored when Sam returned the look, soft and subtle but recognizable even from halfway across the hangar.  You’d seen the same thing in Wilson’s eyes a time or two when he would dance with your sister what felt like a lifetime ago.  And it was almost identical to the gaze Bucky fixed you with over his shoulder when he glanced back at you.

“These powers I have cannot show me the future,” Wanda sighed gently beside you, drawing your attention back to her.  There was a soft smile on her face as she turned to cup your cheek with one hand.  “But I promise to look after them and do whatever I can to help you all have the happy endings you deserve.”

“Thank you, Wanda.  Just don’t forget about the one you deserve too,” you nodded, squeezing her elbow slightly just as you caught the three men starting to move your way out of the corner of your eye.

She grinned with a soft chuckle before leaning in to kiss your cheek, a gesture you returned easily.  “Good bye, сестра.  Take care.  I think when we return, there will be many happy things to celebrate.”

You snorted in laughter at that, even as she started moving away from you.  “I thought you couldn’t see the future?”

“No.” Wanda’s smirk was almost mischievous, a considering tilt to her head.  Her eyes flickered to Bucky for a moment as the group drew closer only to land back on you.  “But some people hope so strongly for things in their hearts, it is difficult not to overhear them a little.”

She knew.  Of course, she knew, whether it was because it had flashed through one of your minds this morning or she’d seen Bucky contemplating it for however long, but she knew he’d brought up getting married when the mission was over.  You couldn’t help the fond shake of your head as you squeezed her hand one more time.  “Be careful, Wanda.  And stay safe.  I want to celebrate those things with you, too.”

Wanda nodded, swooping in for another quick hug to you and then Steve before turning to head into the quinjet.  It seemed no sooner had she disappeared from your line of sight than Sam swooped in to grab your attention and your shoulder with a firm grip.  He flashed you that dazzling, cheeky grin of his that you knew so well before his face fell into mock authority as he regarded you, affection still evident in his eyes.

“Alright, young lady,” he began, pointing his finger at you, and you were torn between a playful sigh of annoyance and wanting to tear up.  “I’m trusting you to keep this place in line while we’re gone.  No coffee for Tony after five.  Clint cannot keep any stray dogs he finds.  Steve’s bedtime is 9pm.  And no wild parties.  It’s no fair if you guys get to have fun without me.”

“Sam,” you breathed, sounding a little watery.  Of course, tearing up was quickly winning out over everything and the slight quiver in your lower lip wasn’t helping matters.

“Alright, c’mere.”  With a soft cluck of his tongue, Sam pulled you in for a tight hug.  Your arms grabbed him up easy, clinging to the man who’d been your friend so long, who became family as sure as any blood, there through grief and heartache and, now, happiness for a change.  If you held onto each other a little longer than what was conventional, you were certain no one could fault you for it.  When he spoke again, he sounded serious enough, reassuring.  “I got his back, kiddo, like I know he’s got mine.  Same with Wanda.”

Despite all his playfulness and banter, when it came down to it, Sam didn’t make promises about things he wasn’t sure about, especially when it came to missions, but this statement alone was enough for you.  “I know, Sam.  Thank you.”

He planted a kiss on your temple before pulling back to smirk at you again.  His eyes glanced over to Steve and Bucky, your own gaze following and finding them apparently breaking from their own farewell embrace, Bucky clasping his friend’s - his brother’s shoulder.

“You and Steve look after each other, okay,” Sam smiled when you looked at him again the other two men making their way toward you.  “Or else.”

“Or else what? Huh,” you asked, sniffling slightly but managing a small smirk.  “Is Steve gonna tattle on me and I’ll be grounded?”

He chuckled under his breath with a fond shake of his head.  “Something like that.”

After another quick kiss on your forehead and a ruffle of your hair, Sam pulled away from you.  It was difficult to let him go, but the look he shared with Steve told you they needed a moment of their own.  Knowing you were that much closer to their departure, them actually leaving, only amplified the sinking feeling inside you.  You’d nearly forgotten how to breathe in the second it took for Sam’s hand to be replaced by metal fingers curling gently between your own.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, quiet, reverent, but whatever else he had to say was cut off when you threw your arms around him.  There was no hesitation in the way he pulled you in close, bodies flush, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your sob.

You tried your best to keep it together, but that didn’t stop the errant tears that trailed from the corners of your eyes or the tell tale sniffle as you tried to breathe him in again, desperately trying to tell yourself that it wouldn’t be the last time.  And it seemed he was doing the same, tip of his nose and his scruff tickling the delicate skin of your neck until you felt him drop a few soft kisses there.  A few too-short moments later, he moved to cup your face in both his hands, thumbs caressing over your cheekbones and eyes glistening a little with their own wetness.  There were so many things running through your head, so many things you wanted to say; sappy things and silly things and things to reassure you both, but there were no real words to say them with.  Yet, even as his mouth closed over yours, you were certain he knew them all just the same.

“I love you,” you managed to whimper softly against his lips, fingers circling his wrists, wanting to savor the feel of him touching your face for as long as possible.

“And I love you, darlin.  I know you’re worried and scared, but I swear, there’s nothin in this whole wide world that could keep me from comin home to you.”  Bucky looked you in the eye, voice matter-of-fact, that certainty in his voice he had that brooked no argument.  Whether he needed to hear it as much as you, you couldn’t say, but the conviction in his words struck you and eased a little of the terror fluttering in your chest.  Then a soft smirk cracked his lips, muted but hopeful.  “And when I do get back, maybe you’ll let me call ya Mrs. Barnes.”

You sobbed out a laugh, more tears spilling despite yourself while you nodded.  “Of course I will, Bucky.  Of course I will.”

The small grin of his widened, though you caught his gentle sniffle as he swooped in to kiss you again.  It was thorough and lingering, all shared breath and trembling fingers and the need to feel each other one more time.  A few more soft, quick kisses and Bucky was pulling away from you.  No one had to say it was time, you could read it clearly by the pained expression on his face and the sympathetic look Sam cast you from right behind his shoulder.  It took everything you had not to clutch at him, though your fingers stayed laced together until you were nearly out of reach as he backed away.

“Hey, punk, take care’a my girl while I’m gone,” Bucky called out to Steve.  “She can be as stubborn as you.  Might be a taste’a your own medicine.”

A quick glance at the blond’s face as he sidled up beside you showed he wasn’t barely better off than you were, though maybe without quite so many tears staining his cheeks.  That lopsided grin of his managed to show through anyway.  “Can’t be much worse than you, jerk.  Keep your nose clean.”

Bucky nodded, clapping Sam on the back before fixing you with a reassuring smile his last few steps to reach the ramp.  And then they both turned to disappear into the quinjet, your heart practically stopped as Steve urged you a safe distance away with a gentle hand on your elbow.  You couldn’t take your eyes off the aircraft, desperate not to miss one last glimpse of them.  It paid off with a final wave as the ramp began to close, your gaze locked with Bucky’s the whole time.

As the engines roared to life, Steve’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and you finally let yourself break down a little, the sound drowning out your sniffles and sobs while you both watched the takeoff.  It surprised you a little, how easily he tucked you against his chest, but you were too overwhelmed to question it.  Instead, you hugged at him somewhat until they were out of sight, feeling like your heart might have gone along with them.  When you started to pull away, already chagrined that you clung to him, Steve just squeezed you in a little tighter.

“Y’know what my favorite thing is about this new century,” he asked, making you swivel your head up awkwardly to fix him with a confused and curious look.  His eyes were somewhat distant, still staring at the hangar doors as they closed as he heaved a gentle sigh.  “It’s the sheer variety of ice cream to choose from now.  There’s about five different kinds in the freezer right now, alone.”

You blinked up at him a moment, brain trying to catch up before you sputtered out a wet little laugh.  He finally looked down at you with that boyish grin almost reaching his eyes and gave you an affectionate jostle.  “C’mon, let’s see how many we can get through.”

It seemed all it took was your nod of approval and he was tugging you back toward the compound.  Ice cream wouldn’t fill the hollowness in your chest at watching the love of your life flying off to fight bad guys, but it couldn’t really hurt.  Neither could leaning on a friend for support, especially one who was going through the same sort of pain.  “So, you and Sam, huh?”

The grin did reach Steve’s eyes this time, though his face turned the most fantastic shade of red you’d ever scene while his hand scrubbed the back of his neck.  Despite your chuckle, you still wished Bucky was there to laugh at it with you.

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[winchestersimagines]

Through the time

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam x Reader,John Winchester, sister!reader, child!Sam, child!Reader, winchester!sister

Summary: Dean travels through the time to prevent somthing bad.

Warnings: angst, language (like just one), bad memories, characters dead

A/N: Sorry for being so unaktiv. I had alot to do the last few weeks. But I´m gonna change that. I hope you will like this one shot. It alittle bis like the episode where dean traveld back in time so maybe he can save his Mother. And yeah what can I say more? Have fun reading this and maybe let a little feedback here this would be great :) @winchesters-favorite-girl I wanted to tag you. I don't know why I wanted to do it. But I wasn't sure. I am shy but you discription said we can tag you in everything, so I thought why not? You are my favorite acount on tumblr your writings are so good, I love them*-* So maybe you will read this little story I made up. I hope you like it :)1

“SAM HAVE YOU SEEN MY GUN?” I yelled through the bunker. I stood in my room already packing my stuff for the hunt we where heading to. “I don’t know.” He yelled back. “Do you remember the last time you saw or used it?” He questions, walking into my room. “I shoot the witch, and thats it.” I answered. I walked through the bunker searching everywhere. I ended up at the garage, I looked inside baby and found it directly. “GOT IT!” I yelled so sammy would know.

7 hours later

We where on our way to the next hunt and It was already dark outside. Sam was asleep. I tried my best to stay awake but it was hard so a drove to the nearest motel and booked a room for the tow of us. I immediately got to bed.

I was blinded when I opend my eyes the first time. The second time it was easier to open my eyes. How long did I sleeped? We should be at the hunt and already be interviewing the victims. When I wanted to wake Sam I realized I wasn’t in my bed. I sat up and looked around me. I was at a park, laying behinde some trees.

What am I doing here? It was very bright outside today. The sun was shining really bright today and it was pretty warm today. I walked around the park until I walked into a small street. I got my phone out and dialed Sam´s number. But his number wasn´t actual. I hand up and at that moment I walked by a little shop and walked in. I walked staight to the new paper and read the date. 22. July 1995. What?! That couldn´t be true. Where is the hidden camera? I stormed out of the shop. I am stuck in the 90´s? This can´t be true.

“Winchester!” Yelled someone. I turned aorund. “What?” Yelled someone. I turned back around just to see, Dad? I tried to walk as nothing happend. When dad here is is Sam not far away. I followed Dad until I landed at a crappy motel. I waited a whole night until Dad was gone again.

I slowly walked to the motel room and knocked quetly on the door. A few minutes later a 12 year old Sam opend the door. “Who are you?” “Hey Sammy.” i said smiling. “Dean?” He said a little bit shooked. “W-what are you doing here and why are you older?” He asked confused. “Long story.” Is what I answered. I walked in and sat down on the couch. “What are you doing?” “Sammy who is this?” Asked a little girl that hid behinde the bathroom door. “Y/N come here!” Y/N? My little sister? I haven´t seen here since she.. died. “Y/N?” I asked her. Sam picked her up and she hid her face in his neck. “Of course it´s her. Why are you suprised?” 

Of course. I know why I´m here. I can prevent Y/N dead. “Sam, I just traveld throuh time. I didn´t know why. But know I now why!” I told him and stood up to grab some guns. “Whoa what? Why? How?” He asked following me with his eyes. “Sam something bad is going to happen and I need ypour help!” I said. “And what do you thing I am going to do with Y/N? I can`t let her alone!” I what he said and put her into bed and kissed her forhead. “You don`t get it. It´s about Y/N.” “What do you mean?” He aksed. “The thing you are hunting is a Vampir and is going to kill Y/N tonight.I know it I was here before. I am from a future where she died as a child and I can`t let it happen again. When I have the chance now I´m gonna take it! So are you in or not?” I asked and looked him in the eyeys dead serious. “You mean we going to kill a son of a bitch that is going to kill my babysister? Of course I´m in.” He said start packing. “But wait what are going to do with her as long we are gone?” He asked. To be serious I don`t know. I thrifed away in to old memories.

It was a pretty cold night and I was in a crappy montel with my little brother and sister. Dad was out for a hunt and I had to take care of my younger siblings. I am so angry at Dad. I wanted to help to kill this damn Vampir. But of course I had to take care of my younger siblings. “Sam I am out to grab some food!” I yelled back to Sam, so he would know I´m out. “Yeah but don`t need that long we are starving.” He yelled back but still giggeling. He said in front of the Tv with out youngest family mamber watching catoons and playing with Y/N. I smiled into me and walked out. I just needed 40 minutes. But when I was back, the motel door was wide open. I let the food fall and stormed in. All I saw was Sam crying in the conor of the room. I turned my head and saw Dad with Y/N in his arms. Just that she hung in his arms lifeless. I couldn´t move. Dad looked up to me with such disapointment and saddnes I have ever seen. “Dean I told you to take care of your siblings. I can never forgive you for that.” Is all he said before turning his attation back to Y/N.

“Dean?” Was what I heard until I realised it was Sam. “Oh yeah sorry.” I shaked my head to get this bad memorie out of my head. “Are you ready?” asked Sammy. “Of course.” I said throuwing my bag over the shoulders.

1 Hour later

We walked for like an hour out into the woods. “What if anything happens to her?” Sam asked. “We are going to get this monster and kill it before any thing can happen to her.” I made him sure. We got to a old house far into the forrest. I got my machete out and Sam did the same. I quietly opend the door and walked in, Sam right behinde me. We searched any connor of this hous but all we found was dead bodys and a lot of blood and empty beer bottlers. “Why aren´t they her`” I asked quietly to myself. At exact moment Sam´s phone rang. We loocked at each other until he answered the call. “Hello?” He asked. I watched curious. “Wait Y/N who is inside the room?” He paused. “Hide somewhere. Where I told you to hide when someone iin your room. We are there just wait a little bit. Don`t make a sound ok? We are there any minute.” He hang up and we run all the way back to the motel. I regred that we had no car. It took us good 10 minutes. We stormed into the room with our machetes up, ready to kill anybody.

The Vampires where supriesed to see us. “Winchesters! I didn`t tought to see you here this early.” Said a man with long blond hair and brown eyes. “My name is Arron by the way. And I think we have simething that belongs to you.” Was all he said and brought Y/N in. “SAMMY! DEAN!” She cried. “Let her go.” I said really angry. “Oh Dean, you hunters need to learn a lesson. If you keep trying to kill us, then we are going to hunt you and your hunter friends until they are all dead. And we are starting with this cute little childe.” He laughed. I looked to Sam. He nooded back and that was the signal that we aree going to attack them. I cut someones head of. Arron saw it and attacked with his leads back. Sam cutted some heads off before he was pushed down to the ground. He could break free from this monsters grib. And cut his head off. I felt a grib on my leg and was draged back and fall down. I landed on my head, and saw stars but I shaked my head. But someone sat down on me and pushed me down. Shit he was very strong. Someone else came up to me and held my head. “Let`s make him one of us.” Laughed the one sitting on me. “Good Idea.” The other one laughed. He ribbed my mouth open and the other one already wanted to cut his arm to let the blood drip into my mouth, but his head was choped of exact this moment. Sam looked down at me. I cut the other one the head of since my arms where free and took my machete back. Sam was long gone when I stood back up.

Just Arron the leader was up. But he still had Y/N in his crib. “Go away or she is dead!” Was all he yelled before Dad apperad behinde him and chopped his head off. Y/N ran up to us and Sam and me kneeled down and huged her tightly.

Someone splashed water at me. “Wake up you loser.” Said someone to me but it was a females voice. I ripped open my eyes and sat up. I saw a young woman starring at me. “Oh look who is awake, Sam. After I tried everything,” She laughed. “Y/N?” I asked. “Yeah that´s me.” She said. I stood up and hugged her tightly. “Wow you are acting like we haven´t see us in years.” She laughed a little suprised, because of my hug. “You have no idea.” I laughed with tears in my eyes. She finally hugged back, and I gave her a kiss onto her hair. “I love you.” I told her, tears of joys rolling down my face. “Of course I love you too.” She said smiling.

[rocky-alex]

Motels Won’t Cut It Anymore

Hi! This is the first fic I’m posting on Tumblr. I got the inspiration for it when I was cleaning and listening to my current SPN spotify list, and it kind of just took off from there.

Summary: When something came knocking on your door, or rather, crashing through it, it wasn’t the dark past you’d run away from, but rather two brothers in an old, but sexy, car. They held you at gunpoint, made your crash your bike and ended up saving your life. And from that point on, you were never going to work at a motel again. 

Word count: 1233

Warnings: Some cursing

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Chapter one: Boy, You’ll Be A Dead Man Soon

“Y/N, for fucks sake, please put on the uniform.” Mike looked completely exasperated at this point.

“We’ve been over this already, it’s a dress. A pink dress at that. I refuse to wear that monstrosity.” You turned your back on your manager to stuff your bag and jacket in one of the empty lockers.

“You have to, rules and regulations, it’s not up to me.” “Oh really?” Eyebrows raised, you turned around to look at Mike. He flinched. “Let me ask you something, Mr. Manager,” you continued. “Would you make the male employees wear that uniform?” You pointed at the dress and apron lying on the counter.

“What?” Now he looked confused.

“Would you,” you said slowly “make guys wear a pink dress at work?”

“No, of course not.” You smirked.

“Well then guess what, Mike, I’m not wearing it either.” Mike groaned and let his head fall on the counter as you left the reception to start work.

You’d had this job cleaning rooms, and occasionally pulling a graveyard shift at the reception desk, at the Seaside Motel for a couple of months now, having shown up one day after travelling through the States. You’d left your hometown in Sweden after a nasty family fight and were down to change in your pocket. Mike hired you on the spot, even letting you stay at the motel until you found and could afford your own place. The pay was decent, more than enough for the little apartment you ended up in at the edge of the little town close to the motel. If you were smart you could even save a nice little amount each month.

Being a twenty one-year-old foreigner there weren’t a lot of jobs on the market, so you’d been overjoyed when Mike gave you one. You didn’t mind a hands-on job, you actually quite liked it. Mike was a good boss, despite his insistence on the uniform. That little fact hadn’t come up at the interview, so you refused. A pink dress? Please. You doubted you’d wear it even if Mike decided to threaten you with a gun, much preferring your black t-shirts and jeans, and since you never slacked off and did your job well Mike seemed reluctantly willing to let it slide. It didn’t stop him from trying to talk you into it, though.

The cleaning cart was in the storage room you’d left it in yesterday. You refilled the supplies, plugged in your headphones and set out to clean the rooms. One of your favourite parts of this job was discovering exactly what people did and left in the rooms. After the first week you’d decided to start a sort of “bucket list” of things to find in a room, everything from used condoms and kinky underwear in the bed to a dead body in the closet. Every time someone left their room you tried to guess what you would find, and so far you’d been right most of the time. But people were seldom exciting. For example, you hadn’t yet guessed on a dead body.

As your job always proved a perfect opportunity to sing and dance along to your music, and you spun out of the room you had just finished. You made to go knock on the next door and noticed a big old black chevy in the parking lot. If you had to guess, and you were pretty sure, you’d say it was a late 60’s Impala and dear lord was the car sexy. You wanted to admire it more closely, but unfortunately duty called. Hopefully the owner would be staying a while.

“Don’t you know… Girl, you’ll be a woman soon.” You walked (danced) up to the next room, knocking and calling out “Room service!” There was no reply, so you unlocked the door and went to pull the cart in when you suddenly felt something cold press against your temple. You stopped dead in your tracks and slowly raised you hands. This was a new one. You closed your eyes and focused. There was one more behind you, further in and with the music still playing in your headphones you couldn’t hear if they were saying anything. Okay you got this, Y/N, you told yourself. Before the man holding the gun could reach for you you dropped to the floor. At the same time you turned toward him and landed a punch in his crotch. He dropped to the floor, losing his grip on the gun. You grabbed it and stood up straight, aiming the gun at the other man. However, luck wasn’t on your side, as he also had a gun. Your reached up and damn near ripped off your headphones. As soon as they landed around your neck your heard the man speak.

“You okay, Sammy?” The man you’d punched had crawled back away from the door, still on the ground.

“Yeah, I’m good, Dean,” he managed to groan out. You kept your eyes on the man with the gun, Dean apparently.

“Who are you?” he asked. You raised your eyebrows. You’d have thought the cleaning cart made it obvious, but decided to humour him.

“I’m the nice cleaning lady who’s come to change your towels.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Okay first of all, you’re not wearing a motel uniform, and second, you’re not supposed to come in here with the DND sign out.”

“Okay first of all,” you parroted him “the uniforms are pink dresses. Would you wear a pink dress at work? And second, you don’t have a sign on the door.” Dean let his eyes drift to the other man for a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing a few times before hissing “Sam, you didn’t put the sign out?”

“What?” Sam answered. “I thought you were gonna put the sign out!” Dean huffed and looked back at you.

“So you’re just here to clean?”

“No I’m here for the autographs,” you deadpanned. “Of course I’m here to clean, it’s my fucking job!” There was silence to a few moments. Then Dean hesitantly lowered his gun. You did the same. However, not trusting these guys at all you kept it in your hand. Dean walked over to Sam, all the while keeping his eyes on you, helping him up on one of the twin beds. Sam seemed to have recovered a bit from the nut crack.

“How did you do that?” he asked in a strained voice. Damn, you must’ve gotten him good.

“Do what?” He grinned and gestured to the gun you’d taken from him.

“How did you react so fast when you felt the gun?” You grinned back.

“Practice, honeypie. Lots of practice.” Dean looked at you in disbelief.

“Seriously?” You raised an eyebrow. “How come a twenty something girl working in a fleabag motel has ‘practice’ in dodging a gun?”

“No offence, sugar, but you haven’t exactly earned the right to my life story,” you answered. Dean looked taken aback.

“Well alright then,” he said. He shook his head and gestured toward Sam’s gun. “If that’s all you can go ahead and hand that gun back and be on your way. And we won’t need any more room service.” Giving him a dry smile you placed the gun on the table just inside the door. You left the room and closed the door behind you. Jackass.