#sam drops an angst bomb

[thedramaticwriter1]

Bubbles

(Dean x Reader)

Summary: Dean walks in on you taking a bath. 

Character count: 2.9K+

Warnings: a tad of self deprecating dean.

A/N: a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, a little bit of bad writing, what more could you ask for?  

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The warm water feels heavenly as you slowly lower you and your aching muscles into the tub. This last week might have been one of the most difficult hunts you’ve ever had in your life, with taking down what you initially thought was a singular vampire, and ended up being an entire nest. Luckily, this hunt Sam and Dean had both accompanied you, even though you had fought with them to stay home. “I can handle a vampire on my own” you had told them over and over again the days before you left. Dean had argued that he’s not saying you couldn’t, but he had had a bad feeling about this one and insisted both brothers tag along. Knowing there was nothing you could do to change his mind, you caved and let them join. Thank Chuck you did, or you definitely would’ve turned into a vamp yourself, or at the very least, the meal for one. 

The vampires of the nest you were unaware of had kidnapped you while you were out on a supply run, the brothers waiting for you back at the motel you were staying at. Two days you were missing, until, finally, Sam and Dean were able to tract you down, half dead in an abandoned building that was the nest for over a dozen vampires. The boys were able to finish the rest of the vampires and drag your blood-drained body out of the nest, scared to death that you were gone. You were unconscious for 36 hours after that and finally woke up in the bunker, not knowing what had happened. 

Dean had been the one to explain everything, and you knew true terror had plagued him those hours you were out, noting the lack of sleep under his eyes and the stubble he had neglected to shave off. You tried your best to reassure him that you were okay, that you always were okay in the end. But even you were still reeling by the events that had happened. You were always the one that saved people, never had you been the one that needed to be saved. 

Today was the first day that you were able to actually get out of bed with no help. Arms and legs still shaking with weakness and disuse, you walked with the assistance of walls and furniture to the bathroom. Once you stood in the mirrors reflection, you began to take stock of yourself. 

Your skin was pale, bags were prevalent under your eyes, and you had definitely dropped some weight during your recovery, noting that Deans’ t-shirt that you used as pajamas hung around your frame more loosely than it had before. Shaking you head, you looked away from the mirror and your gazed landed on the bath tub. You knew you were to unsteady for a shower, but you needed to clean yourself up, and a bath would probably require just enough energy you would be able to muster up right now. Slowly, you made your way over to the bathtub and sat on the edge, already lightheaded from all the movement. You plugged the drain before turning on the warm water and adding deans soap to the water, not caring about your retinue of bath related items under the sink. “This isn’t a relaxing bath” you told yourself, “this is a glad to be alive bath. You don’t need epson salt and a bath bomb”. 

Moving slowly, you removed your t-shirt and underwear, all the while staying sat at the edge of the tub. “The last thing you need is to fall and smack your head. You don’t have enough blood right now to lose it through a head wound” your inner dialogue rambled. 

The tub filled up fast and you turned off the faucet and shakily sunk into the water, waiting until you were completely submerged to finally relax. The warm water sunk into your worn out muscles and began to draw out some of the exhaustion that had plagued you these last couple of days. 

You don’t know how long you sat there, not even bothering to scrub your skin or wash your hair, when you heard the door to your bedroom open and close. Dean must had noticed the light on in the bathroom because a few seconds later there was a small knock on the door and it opened slowly. He peeked his head in and once he saw you in the bathtub, he slipped into the room fully. 

He walked over to the rim of the tub and lowered himself on the rug that laid on the floor, sitting adjacent to you, stretching one leg out and bending the other one at the knee, where he rested his arm. The other hand he stretched out, moving a piece of hair off of your brow.

“Sweetheart, you should have told me you wanted to take a bath. I would have helped you” he said as his brows furrowed but continued stroking your forehead. 

“I didn’t want to bother you, and as you can see, I made it here all by myself” you replied, lifting your hands out of the bubble-filled water in a ta-da gesture. 

He huffed his air out.“Yeah, and how many times did you almost faint trying to get in here?” He questioned, while starring at you with those green eyes of his. The same ones you could never lie to no matter how hard you tried. 

“Well I think the more important thing to note is that, regardless, I made it and I did it all by myself” you replied, completely dogging his question, casting your eyes down to the bubbles that swirled around. 

“Y/N…… how many times?” He lowered his hand to your chin and forced you to look back at him. 

“Only like twice, which honestly is like none at all, so no big deal”. You smirked up at him with fake amusement. You knew he would be highly concerned if you told him how it actually felt to get up and walk in here, like death itself. But you didn’t want to add on to the burden you knew he already felt. He had already told you once when you woke up that he knew he was to blame for the kidnapping. That he should have gone with you on that supply run and if he had, none of this would have happened. You had reassured him multiple times that you didn’t blame him, or Sam, and that it was absolutely not his fault. But it didn’t matter. The guilt was there. You could feel it radiating off of him in waves, and at this point, there was very little that could be said or done to change his mind. 

He shook his head and he redrew his hand from you, using it to start drawing shapes in the now dissipating bubbles that floated around. He stayed quiet for some time, but you knew he was building up to say something, and you were gonna give him the time he needed to collect his thoughts. 

“I’m sorry”. Was all he said, with no explanation after. You waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.  

“Dean, we’ve been over this. Nothing that happened was your fault. I’m not going to accept an apology from you when you have no reason to give one to me.” You tried to move up off the back of the porcelain tub so you could reassure him, but you forgot for a second how weak you were, and you couldn’t move as fast as you normally could. Your vision went hazy and your limbs failed you, your arms plopping pathetically back into the water. 

“Look, you can barely move, that’s all my fault!” He gestured with his hands, shaking his head in frustration. Not at you, but at himself. That never ending self deprecation of his showing its ugly face. You and him have been together for two years, and though he has gotten better at not beating himself up for everything he thinks he fails at, he hasn’t gotten rid of the habit completely. And every now and then, the negative thoughts towards himself about not being good enough and deserving punishment for actions out of his control always pops up. This is definitely one of those times. 

Again, you try to slide up the tub, this time more slowly and deliberately, giving your arms time to catch up. Once you’ve pulled yourself higher out of the water, you’re able to turn and face him some what directly. 

“Look at me”. You say as you reach to grab his arm, but he moves out of my reach, your hand falling onto the edge of the tub.

“No Y/N, I know what you're gonna say” he says as he moves away from you and stands up. “You’re going to say that it wasn’t my fault, that we couldn’t have known what was going to happen. That not every situation needs someone to blame, cause sometimes the universe just happens, but you know what? Thats a load of bullshit and you know it. I knew what could happen the second you walked out that door and yet I still let you go alone. I knew better, my gut knew better, and still I did nothing about it. That is the very definition of a ‘its completely your fault’ fuck up”. 

“Dean……” you start to say as you try to reason with him.

“No, no. Stop trying to make me feel better, because honestly, I don’t fucking deserve it. It took me two days to find you. TWO. DAYS. I’ve told you our whole relationship that no matter what I would protect you and when it came down to it, I failed. Miserably. I’m not worthy of you. I don’t deserve you, and had you not survived Y/N, I definitely would have found a way to make me pay for it”.

You sit there in complete disbelief, mouth hanging wide open. You knew to some extent what he was feeling about this whole situation, but you didn’t fully comprehend how guilty he thought he was. You’re shocked to say the least, but more so than that, you’re pissed.

Seconds go by as he stands there, breathing in and out trying to calm himself down and that’s all it takes for your resolve to  harden.

“Come sit down” you say, as you level your voice and point back to the rug he had previously occupied. “Now”. 

He knows the tone in your voice and he knows that arguing is only going to piss you off further. Accepting the tiny defeat, he sits back down on the rug, close enough that your hands are able to find the sides of his face. 

“I don’t ever, EVER, want to hear you talking about yourself like this, especially implying that you would somehow find a way to hurt yourself. I don’t care what has happened, I don’t care who was at fault. I love you, and that means that there is nothing you could do that would require forgiveness from me because I’ve already forgiven you for anything and everything you could ever do. But for this…” I shake my hands a little so he fully understand what I’m saying, “This does not need forgiveness, because this was not your fault. If anything, I should be saying sorry to you. For not being the hunter I needed to be. For not being the hunter that should have noticed something was off before they took me. I put us in this situation.” 

He pushes to protest, but you move a hand to cover his mouth.

“No Dean, I don’t want to hear it. I have the right to take the blame for this as much as you do. You know why? Because you were the one who got me out, Dean. You could have been hurt or killed, and yet you and Sam still risked everything to save me.” 

His eyes begin to water as he places a hand on top of yours that still rests on his cheek. “Of course I had to rescue you, Sweetheart. I love you. Don’t know what I would without you.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Then please stop beating yourself up over this. It’s unbearable to see you feel so guilty for something you had no control over.” 

He nods his head as he closes his eyes, those built up tears finally spilling down his cheeks as he rests his forehead against yours. You know this isn’t the end of this. He’s not done hating himself. He’ll carry this around for awhile, and he’ll try to do it quietly and by himself. 

He’s crazy if he thinks you’ll let him go through that alone.

Both of you stay like this for a few minutes, soaking each other up. But the water has grown tepid and the bubbles had disappeared during your talk and you start to shiver in the cold air of the bathroom. He notices right away. 

“You cold? You wanna get out?” He questions as he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of the flannel he’s wearing.

“Yes, please” is your response as he quickly stands up to grab a towel that’s located under the sink. “I’m gonna need some help” you sheepishly say while ducking your head. Admitting you needed help had never been your strong suit, even when you’re not recovering from a vampire attack.

“It’s okay baby, that what I’m here for” he whispers as he grips both of his arms under your shoulders and lifts you out of the tub in one soothe movement. You arms wrap around his shoulders on instinct.“Do you think you're able to stand here for a second?” He questions you as he takes the full weight of your body. 

“Yeah, just give me minute” you say, as you close your eyes and will away the dizziness that threatens to take over. He stands there with you, your head on his chest, your hair soaking into his shirt as he waits for you to stand on your own. Slowly, your legs straighten out and are able to bear the brunt of your weight. He feels the shift in you and moves one hand out from under you and places it on your back. “You good, baby?” He asks as he starts rubbing soothing circles there.

“Yeah, I’m good” you respond as he slowly moves you away from him to stand up straight. He reaches to grab the towel he placed on the counter while also keeping one hand on your arm, steading you and ready to catch you if necessary. He uses it quickly to dry you off. Wrapping the towel around you when he’s done, he unplugs the drain and places one arm under your knees and the other on your back and around your shoulder. One smooth movement, and he’s carrying you out of the bathroom back to your bedroom.

Normally opposed to looking so weak, you let him help you as much as possible, knowing that being in control is how he copes with these situations. And with the energy spent to just get in the bathtub, you doubt you could walk back to your bed, even with his help. 

With steady steps he takes you back into your room and to your bed. He places you gently on top and tells you not to go anywhere. “Don’t think I could even if I wanted to” was your snarky reply as you sat there in your towel. He huffs as he walks over to your dresser and rummages around until he pulls out one of his t-shirts. 

“I don’t remember letting you borrow this one” he says as he lifts up his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt.

You silently curse yourself, totally forgetting that you had snuck that out of his room the week before you left for this hunt. “No, you definitely gave me that one, don’t you remember?” You say and you can’t even get it out with a straight face, letting a giggle slip past your lips. 

“Mmmmmhhhmmm” he says with a slight smirk as he walks back over to stand in front of you. “Normally, I would get mad cause I really love this shirt, but I think you’ve won yourself a free pass this week, don’t you sweetheart?” You smile at him sadly as he sighs and unwraps the towel off of you and places the shirt over you head. Arm by arm he situates the shirt until its resting comfortably on your form. 

“You hungry?” He asks as he rubs your shoulders in an attempt to warm you up faster.

“Not really. But I could absolutely take a killer nap right now” you smile at him as he gives your shoulders a loving squeeze. 

“Then let’s get you to bed” he says and he starts to lay you back on the bed and under the covers. 

“Will you stay with me?” You look up into his green eyes. He leans down and places a kiss in the middle of your forehead. 

“Sweetheart, there is no where else I would rather be.” 

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural dean #dean x y/n #supernatural romance #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #supernatural prompts #supernatural edit #spnfandom #supernatural imagine #oneshot

[amaratas]

I Didn't Know This Time Would Be Our Last

TITLE: I Didn't Know This Time Would Be Our Last PAIRING(S): Civil War!Steve Rogers x AFAB!Reader TRIGGER WARNINGS: Porn with plot, smut, unprotected sex, piv sex, angst, oral sex (female receiving), beard burn, abandonment, mention of vomiting (but not explicit). A/N: Reader is a civilian. Steve is (kind of) a jerk, but for a good reason tbh. It dangerous, obviously. Sharon and Steve are not a thing. Reader and Steve have been in a relationship since 2014.

You can't slow your heartbeat, that's the one thing you notice when the very publicized signing of the Sokovia Accords in Vienna ended in an event of terrorism, a bombing, killing the King of Wakanda and countless others. You'd hardly spoken to Steve, especially since Ross demanded he sign the Accords, and he'd refused. Peggy's funeral had passed them by and Steve was, quite rightly, distraught. Your thoughts drift to Natasha, your best friend, who was meant to be in Vienna for the signing. You shakily pulled out your phone as it buzzes, expecting it to be your boyfriend, but sighing in relief as a text message from Natasha comes through. I'm fine. Stay put. You let your phone fall to the floor. They were saying it was the Winter Soldier, and all you were wondering at the moment was where the fuck was your boyfriend.

Your hands covered your eyes as you started to take deep breaths. You stood up from your place on the couch, biting your knuckle as you paced the Brooklyn apartment. Eventually the sound of keys jingling on the other side of your front door became evident to you and you took a step back, holding your breath. And then Steve came through the door, "Y/N, I'm been calling you," He muttered, shutting the door, locking and bolting it behind him.

"What's happening?" You demand, voice unsteady. Steve was eerily quiet. He appeared as though he hadn't shaved in days, and it showed. Likely not since Peggy had passed.

"He didn't do it." Steve stated after a moment. You look at him hesitantly.

"Baby, it's all over the news..." You watched as Steve shook his head, walking to the bedroom and pulling a duffle bag off the top shelf, beginning to stuff clothes from his drawer in it. "What are you doing?"

"I've got to find him." You were taken aback. Not signing the Accords was one thing, though you didn't think Steve would ever lay down the shield willingly, but this? This was treason, wasn't it? Against the law? You took a deep breath. If Steve was doing this, he had good reason to believe it. And you would too. You weren't engaged and there was no ring on your finger to say it for you, but then again "for better or for worse" went without saying.

"Okay. Hand me my bag." You stated, hand outstretched. Steve looked over at you, expression vacant but blue eyes piercing. "...what?"

"No." He said firmly. You scoffed in disbelief.

"I'm coming with you." You declared stubbornly. You try to soldier past him into the closet, though you didn't really expect to be able to move him to the side. "Steve, just hand me my bag. I'm not letting you go alone."

He shook his head. "I'm not alone, Sam's coming with me."

You gave him a pointed look, "You know what I mean." And for a moment, he drops his bag onto the floor and turns to embrace you. You're on the defensive, though, hands placed against his pectorals and pushing him away. "No. No way. I'll stay at some safe house, but I'm not letting you go without me."

Steve looked to be some mix between forlorn and exasperated. "Baby, listen. This is dangerous."

Another scoff of disbelief falls from your lips, "Yeah. I know." And in a simple split second, Steve's demeanor changes, walls fall, and he shifts his weight, twisting to take your bag down from the top shelf of the closet. "Wait, are you serious?" You asked, "Just like that?"

Steve sighed, nodding. "Well, you're one of the only people I know who's as stubborn as I am," He admitted, shoving the bag into your arms. "We gotta pack fast, doll. Sam's picking me up as soon as night falls, we've got a lead in Romania."

Romania. The two of you were in England, so that'd be what? Thirty hours, give or take, by car? A sixth of that if they flew? How were they even going to get there? You blew out a short breath, moving to your dresser and pulling out clothes, shoving it into your bag. You drift to the bathroom and do the same with toiletries. "How are we getting there?" You called over your shoulder.

"Don't worry about it," Steve called back. "You done?" You replied in the affirmative and he made his way into the bathroom taking your full bag from you and dropping it at the foot of the bed. He cupped the side of your face, looking at you as if studying your features, something you didn't really think too hard on at the time.

"Are you okay?" You asked quietly. He nodded, kissing your forehead.

"I will be. I've got my girl with me." He muttered into your hairline. You pulled back, placing your own hand on the crook of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you.

"We've got hours, right?" You muttered against his lips. He nodded, grunting as his hands found your hips and hoisted you up with ease, his lips finding yours again. "I love you." You murmured.

"I love you," He replied swiftly, lips connecting once more as he held you steady with a hand cupping your lower back, pulling the bathroom door open and walking through it to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He gently tossed you on the bed, crawling over you, his hands intertwining with yours.

Bodies moved in tandem like a well-oiled machine, his five o'clock shadow rough against your petal soft cheek, against your chest as he fixed his mouth to the supple skin of your breast. His kisses trailed south, across your navel, on your exposed hip, and his fingers swiftly pulled your cloth shorts and unmentionables down, past your thighs, your knees, throwing them to some corner of the room to be found later.

His mouth connected with your core, tongue circling your clit. The burn between your thighs as he devoured you sent a jolt of electricity up your spine and your hands covered your mouth as you moaned out. He plied the use of his hands, thick digits slowly sinking into your cunt and one of your hands hit the bed, gripping the sheets tightly and pulling the sheet up as he brought you closer to the edge.

"Steve," You moaned. Your mouth fell open and you writhed beneath his touch, "I need you," You whined, and for a moment, he stopped, and you watched as he lifted his head to lock eyes with you, chin glistening with your juices after he'd consumed your cunt like a man starved. He stood, sending his shoes flying as he took them off, then unbuckling his belt, tossing it aside and kicking off his slacks and boxers. He parted your legs, crawling back over you and positioning himself with your soaking slit, sinking in without warning, causing a loud moan to escape your lips.

A particularly hard thrust had a sharp intake of breath leaving your body, his thrusts meaningful and particular. He was not slow, with each piston of his hips jolting her body, eliciting some noise. "Let me hear you," He begged in your ear, breath hot, voice low. You were all to happy to oblige, especially as you felt the coil in your core quickly winding up and burning red hot with desire. Your moans were loud and wanton and you could tell Steve was relishing in the way you completely gave him your body, your words, your mind.

His hands were everywhere. Within his bruising grasp, Steve desperately grabbed at the supple flesh of your ass, groping and pulling with each fluid movement. Sweat from his brow dripped down onto you, and as he hit a particular spot within you, you shuddered, suddenly going rigid and crying out as your walls clenched around his length, and you came. "That's it, baby," He crooned, his breath hot in your ear. You tapped him fervently on his shoulder, moving to take a different position.

He reentered you from behind as you flipped onto you stomach, Steve pulling your hips up and towards him. He brought his hands to cup your breasts, one hand trailing down to grip your hip for better leverage as he fucked into you. He pulled you up straight as he fucked you from behind so your back was flush with his chest, lips attached to you neck, marking you, leaving bites and hickeys as the rough movements of his hips became more fluid and more frenzied.

He was nearing his peak. You could always tell. He was faster, he made more noise, his breathing would change. Currently, he was breathing hard into your ear, leaning against you for support as he chased his high and quickly coaxed a second orgasm from you. It was almost overwhelming, this feeling of him inside of you, you looked over your shoulder at him as he began to grunt, began to pant faster and almost whine.

You were close too, and seeing the blissed out, desperate look on his face-- seeing his head tilted back and feeling how he slammed into you, you cried out, cumming around his cock once again. He was muttering like a madman, sweet nothings as his thrusts slowed, his hips jerked, "So good for me, so good..." Steve buried his face in your neck and let out a low groan, emptying his load inside you. You never felt so close to him as you usually did in these moments, fucked out together, feeling rope after rope of white hot spend battering your insides, feeling the little movements of his hips as he rode out his high.

The two of you fell to the mattress, Steve's heavy weight on top of you, weighing you down as you warmed his cock, the pair of you catching your breaths. After a moment of silence, he placed a kiss behind your ear, and the onslaught of kisses that he placed from your neck to your shoulder. After a few more minutes, him moving to cradle your figure from behind. You groaned in protest as Steve removed himself from you.

You felt his spend spill from your entrance, thinly coating your thighs and you flipped onto your back, gazing at him with nothing but love as he walked to the bathroom to likely get a washcloth for the aftercare, his usual routine. "Marry me." You muttered to him. You saw him freeze, turning back to look at you. "I know you heard me," You teased him. "We're running away, right? We're gonna save Bucky, and it'll be awhile before..." You sighed, sitting up. "I'm all in. That's what I mean. I'm all in. With you." You were startled as he walked over to pick you up off the bed, kissing you, and you grinned widely, giggling and peppering his face with kisses. "Is that a yes?"

Steve nodded, laughing softly, "That's a yes, Y/N/N." He carried you to the bathroom, turning on the faucet to the showerhead and kissed you softly, directing you into the tiled vessel.

After taking a quick shower in the bathroom, which included a slow and steamy round two, you flopped ungracefully back onto your bed, sleepy fingers fussing with the fitted sheet, having annoyingly come undone as he'd ravished you earlier. He settled in next to you, playing with your hair. The clock read 19:15. Finally giving up your battle with the bedspread, you ended up turning over, and snuggling into Steve's side. "Sam'll be here at midnight, right?" You watched him nod. "Don't let me sleep too long." You murmured, closing your eyes and yawning.

"I won't."

He lied.

Perhaps the only reason you woke up, two and a half hours later, was because you felt Steve hug and roll. The mattress dipped under the stress of his weight, and you, at first, thought he was heading to the restroom. But then you heard him picking up one of his bags, and you sat up quickly, almost glaring at him. "You were never going to bring me with you." You stated.

He shook his head. "No."

"Please, stay." You said softly, desperately. Steve was quiet, hand on the doorknob. "Please, just-" You didn't know how else to phrase it. "Please stay."

"Even though you know I don’t want to?" His voice was low, and serious. A tone he'd never taken with you before, left you breathless- and not in a good way.

"Yes." You breathing was faster now, he opened the bedroom door, walking out to the living room. You leapt out of bed like a bat out of hell, sliding right in front of him with your hands up. "Baby, think about it. Just think. I-If you sign the Accords, Tony can help you, right? The Avengers can help, and it won't break the team apart. You can convince Ross, I know you can, just don't do this. You said that we would... why would you say yes to me if you were just going to..." You were at a loss for words.

He was still quiet, before breaking the choking silence, "Stay put." Just like what Nat said. Your stomach twisted. "I'll be back before you know it, everything will be... fine. We'll have a church wedding, a house, a damn white picket fence if you want. I have to go, baby."

You dropped your bag onto the floor, shaking your head, "You don't believe that. Because if you did, you'd be looking at me. Because you've been lying to me the entire time you've been here, right? About why you've been here? I'm not stupid, Steven! You won't even fucking look at me! This is treason! You'd be a fucking war criminal, baby!" You exclaimed, wiping the tears as they welled up in your waterline.

He pushed past you, unlocking and unbolting the front door, hand hesitating on the knob as he spoke, "I didn't say you were, Y/N. I promise, I will be back."

Your jaw set, teeth grinding against teeth and you shook your head, "You're not fucking stupid either, Steve. If you go without me, I'm not going to be here when you get back!"

More silence.

And then...

"I know."

The knob twisted, and as Steve walked out of the apartment, the sound of the door slamming shut was synchronic with the sound of your breaking heart. Your hand covered your mouth, and you sank to the floor, a scream of... what? Sorrow? Heartbreak? Anger? Regardless, it was muffled by the skin covering your lips. Because even as he left you, you couldn't bring yourself to draw attention to his leaving. You still wanted to protect him.

For a moment it felt as though you were struggling to breathe, and as your stomach twisted further, your nerves on fire and slowly becoming sick, you bolted up from your place collapsed on the floor, scrambling to the bathroom and heaving into the toilet. Tears flooded your cheeks as you sobbed, as you heaved, as you choked on your own bile.

Damn him. Fucking damn him.

Everything was blurring together; time especially. How long had you been on the floor before running here to get sick? You coughed and hacked, trying to grab your mouthwash cup just to get some water down your throat, tryin g to dampen this parasympathetic response possessing your body and causing such turmoil, though none of it undue. You glanced at the clock, finally, as the water slipped down your esophagus and your stomach began to bear some semblance of settling.

God, was it already midnight?

As you slowly came back to yourself, you brushed your teeth. You jumped in the shower. You made your way unsteadily back into the bedroom, you picked your phone from your nightstand. Text message alert. From Steve.

I love you. I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm tossing this phone so they can't track it. Don't do anything stupid until I get back. I hope you'll still be there. Please understand, I had to. It's Bucky. I had to.

Against your better judgement, you dialed his number. When the call went straight to voicemail, that's when it really hit you. You swallowed thickly, walking to your balcony door and stepping outside, and throwing it as hard and as far as you could muster. You watched under the light of streetlamps as it landed in the street. No tracking his number, no reading your texts, especially as the phone shattered against the pavement four stories below. A car and its tires obliterated the remnants, and you let out a shaky breath.

He was gone. Steve was really gone.

And you were alone.

#steve rogers smut #smut #cacw #captain america smut #marvel smut #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

[satans-helper]

Back From the Dead

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~6700

Warnings: lots of angst & tears (Sam really is my token boy for that lmao sorry to my Sam girls <3); some sexual content (PIV--18+)

Another post-concert Sam fic. Hope you enjoy <3

---

Countless photos and videos of the boy who broke your heart, the boy who you loved so much it made you sick, continued to assault you day after day, month after month. You couldn’t help but become transfixed despite how it made your chest ache so deeply–Sam in shimmering cream, backlit by pillars of orange flame. Sam in glittering crimson, dripping jewels. Each photo and video captured that natural charm, that honed magnetism, all of that slick seduction that had won you over so long ago, and you were left feeling whiplashed with each scroll.

When the end came, your friends all told you that you were better off without him. They tried to raise you back up, tried to paint you as the victor despite you feeling like you’d lost the most precious thing in your life. You’d tried to rally along with their support but you never really felt it, not for one second. And as the months dragged on, your quiet heartache and gray despondency became old. Your friends didn’t want to hear about it anymore, not for one more second. You couldn’t blame them. You were sick of your own thoughts that tormented you–no matter what you did with your days, Sam was at the forefront of your mind, always. 

Not even sleep was much of an escape. You dreamed about him frequently, in situations that were nonsensical sometimes, but sometimes in situations where he’d come back to you. Sometimes the dreams erased the breakup entirely and there you two were, together like nothing had ever happened. Then you’d wake up covered in sweat and chilled with grief, your heart once again like a dead-weight in your rib cage.

Summer was here, but instead of feeling excited for beach days, boat rides, barbeques and all the weekend trips that had been tacked onto your calendar, you just felt the same old familiar grief and desperation. You were so exhausted from the pain that came from that horrible breakup that had come out of nowhere, a pain that should have left you long ago. 

Of course, despite the clear blue skies and beaming sunshine as you drove to meet your friends–yet another gathering that wouldn’t distract you–your thoughts found Sam and that final day with him. You never thought you’d beg any man for anything but when he’d dropped the bomb, you’d begged him not to, to take it all back, to just stay, to work it out. Because you loved him too much and truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. And you’d said all of that–you’d laid your heart out on the line, vomited your love, adoration and commitment up, but it hadn’t mattered. Sam said it was over, so it was. 

What made it so much worse was that you couldn’t even talk to him. You’d given up quickly–he’d made it clear that friendship was not part of the breakup package. For a little while, you’d held onto hope that he would reach out and at least mend that. But he never did, and it was another hard thing to accept. But what was harder was how everyone else in the world got to see him and experience him every night and it didn’t take long before you found yourself scrolling through apps just to see his digital beauty in the palm of your hands since you couldn’t have the real thing anymore.

The evening at the beach with your friends moved slowly. You tried, as always, to smile, to laugh, to match everyone else’s energy. But the cold drink in your hand only reminded you of how much you missed Sam’s warm hand holding yours; the blazing sunset, brilliant and beautiful reflected in the lake, only made you think of the flames that reflected in Sam’s dark eyes each night. The sand beneath your bare legs and feet only made you want the sensation of his silky skin against your own, and when you brought a cigarette to your lips, you knew you could still feel the long-lost ghost of one of his kisses. You’d never feel that again, you reminded yourself for the millionth time, and it almost made you cry right there.

But you managed to save your tears for the drive back home. They swelled into big droplets that rolled down your cheeks in the dark and you wiped them away continually, rubbing at your eyes too so the road would stop being a blur. Dejected and lonely, you dragged yourself back inside your home that always felt so empty without Sam’s scattered messes, even without his smell. 

The only one that you still managed to keep in touch with, though infrequently, was Josh. Bless his heart, and bless it even more because when you kicked off your shoes, dropped your back and checked your phone again while standing idle in the hallway, you had a text from him waiting for you.

Hey baby doll, what’s shaking? Sorry it’s been so long since we’ve talked. I was thinking about you tonight!

For the first time all night, a real smile curved along your lips. You started to type as you meandered over to the couch, sinking down just as you hit send.

Josh! I miss you <3 Did you guys have a show tonight?

Ironically, it was only when you got to talk to Josh that you ever felt relief. He was not only your one remaining link to Sam, but he was also just so pure of heart and kind–such a gem that you couldn’t not feel comforted whenever you two reconnected. Josh was your last thread to a whole world that you missed dearly and he was a true friend even if you wished you could talk to him more. 

Not even a full minute passed before your phone began to ring with Josh’s name and contact photo illuminating the screen. You took the call quickly and eagerly, settling back into the couch, your whole body feeling so much more alive than it had in ages.

“You know I’m not big on texting,” was the first thing he said when you picked up, a smile evident in his tone. 

“I’d much rather hear your voice,” you told him, smiling too. “I was thinking about you tonight too. Well–all of you.” You sighed, though Josh being on the other line kept the smile on your face. “As always.”

Josh said he missed you too. He launched into a whole recap of how much he and the boys had been writing and jamming, working on new songs, in addition to the touring that you were well aware of thanks to your incessant internet upkeep. You could visualize so much of it–you had garnered a fairly intimate knowledge of the boys’ creative process through dating Sam, plus you had seen them play numerous shows in the flesh. One thing you’d always loved about Sam was how he always found what you did and what you loved just as fascinating as you found his life.

Your life felt even less fascinating since Sam left it, but as you told Josh all of your most recent updates, he followed along with so much intrigue that you began to feel as though maybe things weren’t as boring as you once thought. Despite the constant heartbreak, you’d been pushing forward, carrying on doing things you love in addition to the regular grind. Even though you’d felt so broken, Josh affirming everything you’d done and were going to do made you feel whole again, if only temporarily. 

But then, just when you thought you were in the clear of even bringing him up, you blurted, “I still miss him so much, Josh.”

Josh let out a soft sigh on the other end. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve never been able to understand why he didn’t think it’d work. To me–to the rest of us–it always looked like it was working.”

“I thought so too,” you said, lying back flat along the length of your couch. You were vividly remembering some of Sam’s final words to you: “I’m not unhappy. I know you’re not unhappy. But eventually, we will be.” It had made you more angry than hurt the moment he’d said it–what a cop out. It had been way, way too late in the relationship for him to suddenly become noncommittal or to pull out a random excuse of fear. A preemptive breakup with no reasonable cause in sight, as far as you could tell. Fame wasn’t enough of a reason for you. It never was, it never would be. Eventually, you began to realize that Sam maybe–probably, if you were being honest with yourself–just never loved you all that much.

But as you conversed with Josh, his next statement gave you a light of hope that you wanted to dash away before you ran with it in futility: “Honestly, Y/N…I think Sam misses you too.”

You shot up into a sitting position, feet flat on the floor. “Why do you say that?”

There was such a long pause that you thought Josh had hung up. Then, slowly and softly, he said, “Well, for one, he hasn’t really been with anyone else since. Not that I know of anyway, and it’s not like there’s an abundance of privacy while we’re touring, anyway.”

“Okay…” you said, also slowly, the wheels of your brain already turning.

“He’s been bringing you up lately. Just like, in normal conversation…it’s like he openly reminisces about you. He didn’t do that before.”

You frowned. “Oh.”

“I also saw him looking at pictures of you, and of you and him together, recently. I don’t think he deleted any of them.” 

Your frown twisted into a confused purse of your lips, your brow tightening along with it–the statement, though encouraging, was so stark that it made you flinch. 

“I don’t–” You began, then shook your head. “Why won’t he just talk to me?”

“I wish I had an answer for you, love. But I do know, as you do too, that Sam is incredibly, ridiculously stubborn.” Josh clicked his tongue. “I think that his feelings for you are not totally gone. Personally, I never thought they were.”

-

Instagram alerted you to yet another end of the band’s tour. Well, a break–they’d all be off again soon and you were once again left to eventually play catch up with Josh, whenever that would be. You sighed as you paused on a photo of Sam. You gave yourself permission to look for another second, then just one more, before you locked your phone. It was time to move on, not only with your day but with everything. Sam wasn’t coming back to you. 

But then, when Sunday came around and when you were simply trying to focus on some back-to-basics self-care, Josh called.

“Hey, listen, mama,” he began, sounding a little on edge, which instantly put you on edge in turn. “I was sworn to secrecy but I just can’t keep it in. You deserve a heads up so you can figure out what exactly you want to do.”

“Josh,” you said, pausing your words as you began to peel away the Korean face mask from your cheeks. “What the heck are you talking about?”

“Sam’s coming to see you. Today. He flew in last night.”

A terrible, overwhelming wave of emotions swept over you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands–the used up face mask was stuck to one of them, your fingers clinging to it, with the bathroom trash can feeling so far away. The entire room surrounding you suddenly felt too small though, like the walls were closing in on you, and your heart began to beat frantically as the blood rushed into your ears.

When actual words entered your personal stratosphere again, you were tempted to ask if it was a joke. But Josh wouldn’t joke about this. Never. So you asked, “He was serious? How do you know?”

“Because he told me. He told all of us. He got on a plane, Y/N. He wants it to be a surprise and I just–” Josh let out an exhausted-sounding sigh. “I just don’t know what’s going through his head. I mean, do you want this?”

For the first time, you weren’t sure. 

But it didn’t matter–Sam showed up, just like Josh said he was planning to, just a few hours later. 

Nauseating panic made it hard to move right after the doorbell rang. You remained standing, totally frozen, right outside the door until it rang again and then, without having a coherent thought to drive your actions, you opened it.

No picture or video could ever compare to the real thing–you already knew that, but finally seeing Sam again in the flesh after so long was so uncanny and surreal that you wobbled back on your heels, so physically and mentally unstable. Josh may have warned you about Sam’s incoming presence, but there was nothing that could have warned you of the feelings his presence evoked–anxiety and confusion were at the forefront, so much anxiety that your vision blurred for a moment as you met Sam’s gaze, but also softer things. Adoration was there–that same adoration you’d felt throughout all of your time with Sam. Once upon a time, you’d looked at him like he was the sun, stars and moon combined. You just adored him that much.

“Hey,” Sam said, the first one to speak after what seemed like an eon of silence to you. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, long legs flexing slightly but visibly in just a pair of shorts. He inhaled deeply and his chest and shoulders rose and fell beneath the cream button-down shirt that you didn’t recognize. It looked like it could have been a thrift find, but you bet it wasn’t. 

“Hi,” you finally said, your own voice sounding strange to your ears. You left it at that, though there were so many other things another person might say–what are you doing here? Being the most reasonable one, and a question you were wholly justified in asking. But you didn’t.

“It’s been a long time,” Sam replied, and instead of the impossibly self-assured rock god you saw online every day, he looked sheepish. Trepidation wafted from his energy like a perfume, like he himself wasn’t even sure what he was doing on your doorstep.

You took a deep breath through your nose, trying to center yourself, and got a whiff of what Sam actually smelled like–amber and patchouli. A little bit of smoke. “Yeah,” you agreed. “It really has.”

Despite all the emotions that were gearing up, it took absolutely no convincing for you to let Sam inside. It was like muscle memory to open the door for him and to step aside, to follow behind and watch the subtle movements of his traps, shoulders and thighs as he made his way into your home. But now, he moved more slowly and his head turned from side to side, looking around as if to see what had changed. Not much had, you realized, apart from his own missing pieces. 

You needed a drink; Sam probably did too. So you both sat there on the couch, the ceiling fan above circling, sending drift after drift of his scent to you, and slowly sipped from beers you only ever started buying because of him. Awkward, tormenting silence ensued for far too long before you finally asked the necessary question of, “Why are you here?”

Sam looked at you, then looked down at the can in his hand. He brought it to his lips, tilted his head back and chugged the rest. After he wiped his mouth with the hem of his sleeve, he answered with, “I miss you, Y/N. I made a mistake.”

Your jaw dropped–then, quickly you realized you didn’t want to be so vulnerable again. Sam didn’t deserve to see you surprised. He didn’t deserve to see any emotion at all. You looked away, to the blank space of the wall above your TV–once upon a time, there were pictures of the two of you, and of you and all the boys, hung up there. 

“Oh,” you said, taking another drink. The beer tasted extra bitter on your tongue, and you felt your own bitterness, all the hard feelings that had been locked away inside your heart for so long, begin to seep out. “You seemed so sure of your decision before. I don’t see why anything would have changed.”

“At the time, I didn’t think we’d make it. We barely made it through that first tour together. Don’t you remember?” Sam asked, stuck in your peripheral vision.

You thought back to that time a couple years ago. Sure, it’d been hard–you couldn’t be with Sam as much as you’d wanted, but you were never the clingy girlfriend. You never made him feel guilty about any of it. Yet you’d come to learn that he felt guilty anyway, which led to resentment, all of which could have been avoided if Sam just learned to communicate better. But you never made him feel guilty for that either.

“You barely made it through,” you corrected, turning to face him again. His beauty struck you again like a slap in the face, making you falter silently–just a few weeks ago, you would have done anything to kiss those soft, plush lips. Has anything really changed for you?

“I know,” Sam said, one of the few times he’d ever admitted any kind of fault. “It was stupid. I should have trusted what we had.”

You looked away again, blinking as you felt a surge of rage and deep pain in your chest that was threatening to make you cry. How many times could you cry over one person? You were so drained. Then you felt Sam’s hand on your knee but refused to look down at the touch, though the sensation sent a shiver up your spine and a whirlpool of desire in your belly. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said, his voice soft, but too sad. You didn’t think he deserved to feel sad. 

You shoved his hand away and shrank back against the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest. “What did you think would happen here?” you demanded, the threat of tears in your eyes traded for blazing anger that you hoped was cutting through Sam’s soul. “You don’t talk to me for all this time–you didn’t even want to be friends, Sam!” Your voice was rising like the tidal wave all your heartache felt like. “You toss me aside like trash then just decide to come back when, what? When you’re desperate? Because you finally feel real guilt, not just your bullshit self-pity?”

Sam’s mouth gaped in shock, just staring at you. You stared back until he stood up, shaking his head. “You’re right,” he said. “This was wrong. Another mistake.” 

But as he began to head out, steps trailing a line right for the front door, you knew you couldn’t bear to see him walk out again. 

You shot up to your feet and grabbed his arm–you pulled him back with more force than intended, making him stumble back against you with a surprised grunt. He actually looked scared when you physically turned him around but the anger you felt was drifting away–now you just felt charmed. Despite the changes there, you saw the same boy you fell in love with years ago.

“You ruined everything, you stupid idiot,” you said quietly, no heat in your words. Surprisingly, Sam smiled. He brought his hands to your shoulders and gently rubbed them as if he could massage all the turmoil of the past straight out of you.

It was also like muscle memory to have Sam beneath you as your legs splayed over his hips, knees pressed into your mattress. His hair was fanned out against your pillow as you swept your fingers through the long strands while your other hand kept a determined hold on his face, your thumb aligned with his jaw to keep him in place. 

His hands roamed down your sides, his touch fluid and familiar, his kisses the same, and all the daydreams and real dreams of doing this again flooded your mind, making you question if what was happening was even real. You pulled back to look at him, to assure yourself that he was here, that it was real, and those dark doe eyes looked back into your own, his lashes fluttering as a little smile graced his rosy lips. 

“Did you really miss me?” you asked as you released his jaw and touched your fingers to his mouth, tracing down his chin, his neck.

He nodded, hands squeezing your hips. “Every day.” Then he answered the next question you had: “I felt too embarrassed to go back…to try to undo it.”

You shook your head with a sigh, stroking his hair. “For being so smart, you really are so stupid, Sam.”

“I know.”

You sat back, removing your hands from him entirely. “So…what does this mean? Are you just gonna ditch me when the tour starts up again?”

“That wasn’t my plan. But I don’t expect you to forgive me or get back with me either.” He sat up as much as he could, propping his upper body up on his elbows. “We can stop right now if you want.”

Maybe you’d jumped back into things too soon. Especially without a real declaration and a real commitment to, well, commitment, it seemed way too likely you’d just end up heartbroken again. 

“What do you want?” you asked, still keeping your hands to yourself. 

Sam sat up more and wrapped his arms around your middle. He rested his head against your chest and sighed, but didn’t answer–not with words, anyway. You knew what that hug, what that hold on you, meant. You could remember like it was yesterday the first time Sam hugged you like that.

“I was such a fucking idiot,” Sam said, breaking the silence. He pressed his face into your sternum and groaned. “I am such a fucking idiot. I wanted you to come back to me so bad. Why would I have ever expected you to do that?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders in return. “Why would you expect that?”

One of the many troubles you were now experiencing was how you knew sleeping with Sam right away wouldn’t be fair to yourself. It’d be like rewarding bad behavior, you thought. But you wanted to–that was never an issue. There had never been a moment with him where you hadn’t wanted to do but, more than that, there had also never been a moment where you’d felt even mildly uncomfortable with him. From the beginning, despite his chaotic, fiery and slightly unpredictable nature, you flowed into him easily, like a steady river.

With a sigh, you moved off him and sat up against the headboard. Sam followed, sitting next to you without touching. “You still haven’t told me what you want,” you reminded him as you glanced at your dresser across the room. Inside the top drawer, the photos of you and him and you and the boys that once hung above the TV and all over your fridge were trapped, hidden beneath socks and underwear. 

It was against his nature to not be touching you–you knew it was probably taking a considerable amount of willpower to curb that–so when Sam leaned against your shoulder, you stayed put. 

“I wanna be together again,” he told you, and the words sounded sincere. “I should have never ended things. I never should have stopped talking to you. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

You were inclined to agree, but you kept that thought to yourself. 

“You came back…and came back to me,” you began while Sam leaned more of his weight on you. “But it doesn’t really feel like it.” At that, you felt him shift away, almost not touching again. But not quite–his knee was still just barely pressed into your thigh. 

“Why not?”

You hadn’t completely realized it until you said it, but it felt so painfully true as the words came out of you: “I feel like I don’t really know you anymore, Sam. The last time we spoke, you were telling me it was over. You were dumping me for–for what? I still don’t get it. Maybe I never will. All it seemed like to me was that you just didn’t love me. Like you never did.” You turned your head, not even wanting to see a glimpse of him. “I’ve had to try and swallow that epiphany all this time. And all this time, not only did I feel like you never loved me, but you never spoke a single word to me to try and correct that.”

Silence returned, heavy and confounding, for a long minute, maybe even two. Then Sam said, “Fuck.” You physically felt more than you actually watched him get off the bed, but you looked right at him when he was standing on the other side of it. “You think you don’t know me anymore, Y/N. You don’t love me anymore.”

That wasn’t true, but you weren’t opposed to him thinking that for a little while. Who the hell was Sam to just waltz up to your door out of the blue, to step right back into your home and your life as if he’d never left after all the shit he’d said to you? After he tore your heart right out of your chest, threw it to the ground and stepped on it? He could sit with some heartache himself, you thought, for a little while. You’d had enough for a lifetime.

Still sitting on your bed, you watched him in silence–instead of actually leaving, he stepped over to your desk chair and ran his hands down the cardigan that was lying over the back of it. Like he was waiting for something, because he also knew what he said wasn’t true. 

Your hand found the warmth his body had left behind on the sheets and you definitively, without a shadow of a doubt, knew that you really couldn’t ever let him go again. 

“Don’t go,” you said, standing up and moving to meet him at the chair, standing behind him. You laid one hand over his. “I do love you, Sammy. I never stopped.” Before he could reply, you went on, resting your cheek on his shoulder: “Even though you’re selfish and stupid and infuriating. Even though you don’t deserve it. I can’t help it.” You closed your eyes and rubbed your nose into the fabric of his shirt before you added, “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, turning his hand over so he could lace your fingers together. “I know that.”

Despite craving any words from him for so long, you wanted something else now. You wanted Sam’s skin under your hands, his kisses back on your neck–as you both fumbled to get your clothes off, writhing on the bed, you got those wishes. And now that Sam knew he had you, his kisses were a little softer, a little slower as he straddled you; now that you knew you had him, you felt like you could breathe again. Your fingers danced easily over his skin, from the subtle slope of his shoulders down to his warm chest; he let out a soft little huff when your hands squeezed his sides, then used one to press against his belly, your thumb lingering right at the waistband of his briefs.

“We really can wait, Y/N,” Sam reminded you when you slipped your hand beneath the cotton. “If you think that’d be better.”

“I don’t wanna wait. I’m sick of waiting.” You arched your back, trying to get more of Sam’s weight on top of you. A confession, one that you’d been shamefully keeping all to yourself, rolled out next: “I haven’t been with anyone since you left.”

“No way,” Sam said, sounding both smug and in disbelief. He smiled a little while his own fingers roamed, making their way down between your legs. “Does everything still work correctly?”

His ticklish touch along your inner thigh made you giggle and tremble a bit. “As far as I know.” You looked down, watching his fingers slide down the center of your panties. When Sam didn’t confess on his own, you felt inclined to pry–against your better judgment: “What about you?”

Sam wrapped his free hand around yours, encouraging you to keep touching him–he was as hot and as hard as ever. “Feel for yourself,” he said, making your hand wrap more firmly around his length.

Your cheeks were blazing hot. “Seriously,” you insisted, keeping your hand still. “What about you?”

He planted his hands on your hips. “Just a few. Probably less than you’d expect, honestly.” He leaned down, bringing his face close to yours, his hair hanging down like a curtain. “I realized fairly quickly that no one made me feel like you did and I didn’t want to keep trying.”

“Oh really?” you replied, sounding more haughty and jealous than you’d intended. But Sam always unraveled you so easily, without even trying–it was no different now. You were honestly surprised you hadn’t burst into tears at some point since he’d shown up. 

“Yes, really, Y/N. What do you want me to do to prove how much I missed you? Want me to sing all your accolades and beg for forgiveness?”

You scoffed. “Yes, actually.”

Sam didn’t even look surprised. He smiled and leaned back, his hair falling back over his tanned shoulders, and shimmied down to sit between your thighs instead of on top of you. “Fine. I can do that.” He cocked his head to the side while his fingers tapped your thighs, looking you over. You were already almost naked but his gaze was lingering and penetrating over every part of your body, making you uncomfortable–what did all those other girls look like? Did he try to find ones that looked like you, or the opposite? Did he miss your personal brand of warmth and softness as much as you’d missed his? 

His hands reached out and quickly you were freed from your bra, it being cast aside to fall to the floor, and your underwear too. Your body tensed up instinctively, feeling far too exposed in front of the boy who’d destroyed your heart so easily, but then Sam stood up just long enough to match your nakedness.

He settled back down between your legs, draping his body over yours so he could meet your lips again. The kiss was deep and slow–no tongue, just his impossibly soft, sweet lips on yours while one of his hands cradled the side of your face and the other swept through your hair.

“Don’t get me wrong–I missed this,” Sam told you, pulling back. He looked down as his hands smoothed down your shoulders to gently squeeze your breasts. “But I really just missed being with you. I missed talking with you–you’re always so good at calling me out on my bullshit.” He laughed a little and your heart began to race harder–Sam was always more natural and skilled with physical action to express his feelings than words. The fact that he was letting his thoughts flow freely from his lips, speaking of love instead of destruction, made you wonder yet again if you were just in a dream. 

“I missed your voice. I missed you singing in the car,” he went on, lowering himself–he began to press kisses to your neck and chest as the rest of the words emptied out of him: “I missed the smell of your perfume on my clothes and your lipstick on my mouth.” You brought your hands to his head, finally feeling like you could move again, and let your fingers glide through his hair. “I missed hearing you laugh, especially when I was the one who made you laugh. All the noise from the crowds every night–” He shook his head with his face pressed against your sternum. “I always wanted to somehow hear your voice in all of that. I kept wondering if you’d surprise me by showing up at one night. But that was very selfish, wishful thinking.” 

He looked up into your eyes. “This is just the first step. But if you keep going with me, I swear that I’ll never let you go again.”

You let that declaration hang in the air for a moment before you asked, “Really, Sam?”

Without hesitation, he replied, “Yes, Y/N. I won’t go anywhere unless you want me to.”

Traitorously, the tears returned. They swelled big and hot in your eyes and you turned your head away, bringing one hand up to try and wipe them away as if Sam might not notice, which was impossible. You felt his whole body stiffen, like he didn’t know what to do–you didn’t either. But then, a second later, his arms were around your shoulders, holding you up against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head, just letting you cry.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” Sam said softly. 

“I just wish you’d never left in the first place,” you said, the words strangled with the attempt to suffocate your sobs. 

“Me too, baby. Me fucking too.”

All the times you’d cried since he left, you’d just wished Sam was still the one to hold you. Now you had just that–shocking and destabilizing, he was really there, and when the tears wouldn’t stop, you became desperate just for some relief from the ocean of emotion that you needed to break free from.

“Please say something funny,” you pleaded, sniffing, embarrassed that your tears were soaking his hair and his skin now.

Sam laughed. “Okay. Hmm…the last time we played Houston, I got so drunk after the show that I went to the wrong hotel room. I kept trying my key card in the door, wondering why the fuck it wasn’t opening, and eventually after me making such a racket out there, the person staying in the room opened the door.” He pet your hair and your shoulder blades and you found your tears slowing, your chest feeling more open. “And instead of just like, recognizing it wasn’t my room, I started arguing with them because I was so wasted I still really thought it was my room.”

That little story did make you laugh–the crying was traded for giggles, then louder, open-mouthed laughs. “God, Sam. What’s wrong with you?” you asked, hugging him tighter.

“So much. But you already knew that.”

Your laughter was contagious for Sam; all the laughter turned into silly, giggly kisses and then, when your skin was warm from love and not fear and your heart felt whole for the first time in a long time, Sam was all over you once more.

“Jesus, you feel so fucking good,” he panted with his mouth pressed just below your ear. His breath and saliva had made your skin and hair there wet–you didn’t care. You were both sweaty already, with Sam thrusting even and deep inside of you, his hips pounding against yours, and your hands all over him to keep him as close as possible. 

He felt amazing too. Not just the way he was fucking you–or really, as cheesy as it sounded in your head, making love to you–but his entire body. His whole essence. From his hair to his chiseled cheeks, the slightly scratchy beard, his warm chest with the fast-beating heart beneath and all of the silken, golden skin on yours, his beautiful body back in your arms, Sam was amazing. 

One particularly dense thrust against your tight walls made you gasp and dig your nails into his back. Sam groaned and sank his teeth into your neck, growling, “Fuck yeah, baby. Mark me up. I’m all yours.”

The sharpness of his teeth was brief–he resumed soft kisses to your neck then your mouth, capturing your moans and signs with his lips and tongue. You’d been on your back with your eyes closed moaning and sighing about him countless times since he’d left, but could never capture even a fraction of the real thing in those fantasies. When you would come, his name would crescendo from your throat like another sob, and when you’d open your eyes, you found yourself more alone than ever.

This time, when you came, his name didn’t sound like a desperate, aching plea–it sounded light and free even to your own ears, and when Sam kissed you right after the sound echoed through your bedroom, you could feel his smile on your lips. 

You hooked your fingers in his hair and held him against you while the movement of his hips actually slowed instead of sped up. Confused, you opened your eyes and turned your head to break away from his lips, to look at him instead. 

Flush-faced with his eyes bright, Sam smiled again and brought his hand to the crown of your head, his thumb stroking your forehead, his fingers curling into your hair. “That’s good,” he said, voice as soft as the summer breeze whisking through your open windows. “I wanted to look at you too.”

“I can’t believe I really am,” you said a little breathlessly, the last few aftershocks of your orgasm rippling through you. “After all this time.”

Sam smiled and worked up to his previous pace, never taking his eyes off yours; when he let out a huff and bit his lip, you pulled him down to do that yourself–your lips captured his in fierce kisses that you hoped wordlessly translated into “you’re mine forever,” your hands gripped his body like you’d never let go, and you squeezed yourself around his cock to make him whimper, then whimper your name in return as the muscles in his thighs fluttered and he let his whole weight drop on top of you.

Thankfully, he really didn’t weigh all that much. You hugged him, the two of you just breathing together, recovering from the confusion and madness and anguish to, as you now knew, steadily blossom together like the backyard garden you’d tended to in his absence. There was so much to catch up on, you thought while you stroked his hair and he stroked your skin, and so much to look forward to. 

Later, when the sun had almost completely dipped behind the trees and the stars were beginning to sparkle overhead, the two of you sat in the backyard, hands clasped together.

“How long are you going to be back home for?” you asked. That question had never bothered you before the breakup but now, you felt a little edginess as you asked it. You were now sure Sam meant everything that he said, that you two were as solid as ever, but simply knowing he’d be on the road again for however long after he’d finally come back to you made your heart feel heavy. 

“Tour starts up again in a month,” he told you, catching your gaze in the last little lingering bit of the warm sunset. “I was hoping I’d be here until then.” He brought his hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “If you still want that.”

A month. It wasn’t enough, because nothing with Sam was ever enough, but you silently vowed to yourself to make every second of it count more than it ever had before.

“I want infinity with you, Sam,” you told him, unable to help the smile that broke out on your face as he smiled with a lot of glee and just a little of that familiar smugness. “Always have, always will.” 

---

Tagging: @kissingsun @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @milojames16 @mindastreamofcolours @brokebellsgvf @wetkleenex-gvf @itsafullmoon @heckingfrick @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @jjwasneverhere

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#longest Sam fic i've ever written I think... #Sam kiszka #Sam gvf #Greta van fleet #gvf #Josh kiszka #Josh gvf #Sam kiszka x reader #gvf fanfiction #Sam fic #gvf smut #jake gvf #danny gvf

[writersblockedx]

The Side Effects of Curses: Part Two

You can read part one here

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary - When Y/n bumps into her forgotten friends on a hunt, they team up together, unaware of how they once knew her. Dean gets a hunch something is up and doesn't stop until he figures out what exactly. Warnings - Death, violence, angst Words - 4.6K

A/n - I finally finished watching The Boys so be expecting some soldier boy x reader soon!

Masterlist

Y/n should have told them from the beginning who she was. But how was she meant to explain that? They were in the midst of hunting a werewolf - it wasn't exactly the time to drop the 'We were incredibly close friends, almost like family, but I got cursed' bomb. So she kept her lips sealed and treated this like it were any other hunt.

Dean and Y/n had been left in the motel room to research. Something of which hadn't been either of their ideas. Instead, Sam got a lead on the latest vic and pretty much ran off before either of the two could protest. For Y/n, she didn't like the idea of being stuck alone in a room with Dean. Whereas, for the boy, he simply hated the idea of reading anything that wasn't just the headline.

The older Winchester sighed from Y/n's side as he dragged his gaze from the books and files in front of him. Y/n had to fight to not meet his eyes. "You find anything?" He questioned.

She sucked in a sharp inhale and lifted her head, giving in to that urge to meet his gaze once again. "Just that the werewolf family are a sort of legacy; they've been around for years." She informed as the boy gathered himself from his chair, wandering towards the fridge.

"Then why haven't we heard about them before?" He asked, glancing back before opening the freezer door.

Y/n only shrugged, looking back at the mess of paper which scattered the motel's kitchen table. "They're usually subtle with kills, make sure they look exactly like an animal attack. Which, considering where we are, wouldn't be obvious that it's anything else." She went on.

Dean hummed and took a beer out for himself. He paused, and looked over at the confused girl sitting at the table. They were both still in their 'FBI' uniforms. They were worn out, tired and frankly, in need of something that would take the edge of just a little. "You drink?" He offered as his hand hovered over a second bottle.

Y/n almost let out a chuckle; he had never had to ask before. "On days like this? Definitely." Dean flashed a smile before taking a second can and passing it over to her.

"How about we call it a day." Dean suggested, already shutting the lore book which had given him a headache from the moment he had opened it.

Y/n followed suit, gathering her files and books into a small pile before popping open her can. "That sounds like a good idea." She told Dean before taking a long, deserving swig of the bubbling beer.

"So..." Dean started as leaned back in his chair, "You been hunting long?"

"Good few years." She answered.

"You always by yourself?" She knew he was being polite, making conversation that wasn't about the current hunt, but he could never have any idea what he was truly asking her.

She shook her head, concealing the frown that tried to paint her lips. "Didn't use to be like that." Y/n said.

As much as she had tried to hide it, Dean had caught onto the pain that tormented her words. "Did you lose them?" He questioned through a gentle tone.

"I suppose you could say that." It wasn't like they were dead, but in a way, as she stared at Dean and he stared back, she knew that what they once had was dead. "You're lucky you have Sam. Hunting gets lonely by yourself." She went on, not wanting to linger over the memory of how things once were.

Dean nodded and thought over Y/n's words before replying, "Get's a lot more messy though. Made a lot of mistakes to keep him safe." He informed, going to a memory that plagued him still.

Instinct took over, and before Y/n could stop herself, she leaned forward, brushing her palm over his as a way to bring comfort. Dean didn't pull away. Something in his brain said that he was safe. "You were keeping someone you loved safe, that's not what I'd call a mistake."

There was a long pause that followed. Their eyes were both pooling in a sort of awe that Y/n had yearned for years to see again. There was a certain pull that they both felt. A pull of which Y/n had been resisting to act on since Dean left that diner without her. Neither of them knew what the next move would be. But that seemed part of the fun; the guessing, the dancing around each other until someone snapped.

This time, their moment was cut short as bright flickers of white light shined into the motel room, dragging them back to reality. "Speak of the devil." Dean muttered after an awkward cough.

They both watched as the headlights switched off, listening to the impala door open and then slam shut. By the time Sam opened the door, both pair of eyes were set on him. "Hey," He spoke, a brown bag hooked under his arm which trailed the smell of greasy diner food. A smell of which both Y/n and Dean were victims to. "I thought we could use the energy."

They both stood from the kitchen table as Sam started unpacking the various meals. "And the diabetes." Y/n uttered which brought a small laugh from Dean.

He pulled out the first box, "Salad for me." He said, earning squirms from both Y/n and Dean. "Cheeseburger...extra onions." He passed that one to Dean who took it like a young child on Christmas, already walking back to his place at the round table. "And another cheeseburger...no onions." He said as he gave Y/n the final box.

She took it with knitted brows. Sam seemed content, completely unaware of what he had just done. Y/n, on the other hand, could barely move from where she was standing, her eyes unable to peel from the younger Winchester. "How'd you know I didn't like onions?" She questioned him.

The question seemed to only occur to him then. He settled on a shrug as he grabbed his box of greens and headed for the kitchen table, "Lucky guess." Truth was, Sam had no idea, and that question had him completely stumped. But he seemed to bypass it as just 'one of those things'. Maybe it was more. Knowing what they did, it was probably more. Little did they know, it was a lot more than just one of those things or a lucky guess. "So you find anything?"

And like that, the simply lucky guess of Sam became nothing. They sat and ate their greasy food, Sam with his salad, going over what they had found about the case. For a moment, Y/n could have sworn nothing had changed. It was like a fuzzy memory of seeing old friends again. They still laughed the same, conversation still flowed the same and it felt as if she were in familiar waters once again.

It had been late at night when things started to become questionable. They shared a few more beers before Sam hit the hay, Y/n soon following in her sleepy state. Dean offered her his bed for the night, insisting he wasn't tired. So he sat at the kitchen table, left with nothing but his running thoughts. His gaze couldn't help but become tied to the girl who laid tranquil over the covers. Dean couldn't put his finger on in, but there was something enticing about her, something that begged him to know more.

For whatever reason, his hand reached for his pocket, pulling out his leather wallet. He flipped it open in curiosity - as if he hadn't opened it a million times before. Tucked away there was a photo of which he pulled out. It had always puzzled him the photo, but never enough in which he was questioning it. That is, until now. The small photo was just him. Him and an empty space. He wore a bright smile as his eyes looked directly at the camera. It was only now that he asked himself, why would he keep a picture of just him in his wallet? His eyes snapped to Y/n again.

The question yearned him deeper. Before Dean knew it, he was standing and walking out the motel room to the car. He jumped into the passenger seat, as quiet as he was able at this time of night. He flipped open the glove compartment, weaving from the guns and fake licences before getting his hands on another photo. This one depicts Sam, Bobby, himself and an empty space. The empty space was between him and Bobby. Enough empty space to fit a whole person into.

There was something more going on and Dean was beginning to unravel that thread.

By the time they'd killed the manic werewolf, that question seemed the only thing on Dean's mind. It plagued him, stuck to all the thoughts that passed through his brain. They were packing away their things to leave, Y/n in her own room, when Dean couldn't help it anymore. He looked up from his leather bag, t-shirt in hand and faced his brother who was standing over his own bed. "What do you think about Y/n?"

Sam raised a brow after placing a shirt into his bag. "She's a good hunter." He answered before continuing to pack his things.

Dean, on the other hand, wasn't stopping there. "No I mean like, her as a person."

The younger Winchester giggled at his brother, a mischievous grin spreading over his lips. "I can tell you like her Dean, you've made that pretty obvious." He laughed.

Dean chose to bypass that comment, moving on to the matter at hand. "No, I mean like, do you think she'd fit in with us?"

Sam finally stopped, letting his grin fade. "What is this about?"

The older boy pulled out the picture from his wallet and then the one from the glove compartment. He threw them to Sam's bed, "It's about that." Sam, with knitted brows, carefully picked them up, analysing their contents. "You see something odd about them pictures?"

Sam didn't look up when he answered, "Like there's someone missing." Then he looked to his brother and the expression which painted his face seemed to say he was onto something. "You think that what? Y/n is the person missing? How would that make sense." In that moment, it didn't. Not even to Dean. Yet that didn't stop him.

"I don't know yet. But there's something about her- Something...."

Dean couldn't put a word to it. Sam, however, could: "Familiar."

Silence followed. Both brothers were completely smothered by their thoughts as they tried to wrap their heads around what the hell was going on. "What if she was our friend?" Dean asked aloud. "I mean, I've looked through my phone. There's so many photos with empty spaces. Well, that is until about 4 years ago, that's when they stopped." He paused in thought. "If she was one of us, if she hunted with us, what's to say a hunt went wrong?"

"Dean we could just be overanalysing things." Sam then suggested, breaking Dean's thoughts. "She's a hunter. We found her on a hunt. And it's empty spaces in photos-"

The other boy cut in, "You knew she didn't like onions."

Sam rolled his eyes, "That's nothing."

"Is it?"

Maybe they were going too far with this, but Dean wasn't going to drop it just at the snap of his fingers. "Let me talk to her before we leave." He finally settled on before making his way out of the motel room.

The girl was leant against her own car, swiping through her phone for a possible next case. "You pack up quick." Dean commented, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stopped in front of her.

She put her phone away, meeting the boy's gaze with a smile, "Suppose when your whole life can fit in a suit bag, it is quick." Her smile didn't hide the pain that laced her words.

Deans eyes jumped to the belt on the girl's jeans, and the blade that was stripped tightly to her thigh. The same knife she'd shown them when they wandered onto the same crime scene. A knife of which he hadn't questioned in the moment. But as he stood there now, it became another reason to believe in this idea he had conjured. "You know we had a knife like that." Dean gestured to the weapon. "We actually lost it a few ago."

Y/n wasn't sure where he was going with this but, suddenly, she felt caught off guard. "Well, if I had another one, I'd give it you and your brother." Even if it did technically belong to them in the first place.

Nodding, he muttered a, "Yeah." He paused, unsure as to whether to keep pressing onto this matter that was plaguing him. "Thanks for helping us on this case." He shuffled through his pocket, taking out a card with his real number on it - rather than a fake FBI number he gave most people. "In case you ever needed anything."

Y/n stared at the card for a moment too long before she took it. "Thanks, Dean." Their pupils met and he couldn't say anything. He was utterly speechless, shattered by this itch he couldn't seem scratch. "I should get going." Y/n said, already pushing herself from her car for the driver's seat. "Tell Sam I say goodbye too."

And like that, they flashed a convenient smile as if this wasn't paining them both. For Y/n, she was letting Dean go for the second time now. For him, it was the first, and it urged him to know why it was hurting so much. As he watched her drive in the distance, something seemed like it was screaming at him and he just couldn't make out what the words were.

He was too consumed by his thoughts to notice Sam joining him in his stare. "So?" The younger one spoke. "Was she someone we once knew?"

Dean didn't answer straight away. Not until her car was fully out of his view. Then he turned to look at his brother, "I think so."

They got back to the bunker and Dean didn't stop. He spent morning to evening with books and websites, sieving through information on memory curses. He didn't realise it, but he'd read all these books before, around four years ago. Revisiting them and finding the same dead ends he had done the first time around. That was until Sam got his hands on one of the men of letters books. One specific to all things witchcraft.

"Dean," He spoke, gaining his brother's attention from across the table. "I think I've got something."

"Well I'm not going to stop you." He encouraged.

Sam quoted the book in front of him: "If one has been victim of a witch's memory curse, it must be the closest person to them, also the one to have forgotten them last, that must relive their memory." He looked up with knitted brows; Dean always hated how confusing their explanations were.

"Relive their memory?" He repeated. "It specify how exactly we're meant to do that?"

Sam shrugged, reading more into it. "Suggests using dream root and go to sleep with that person in mind." He paused before looking to Dean, "Pretty sure we've got some in the basement."

Dean was already standing, more ready than ever. "Great." He uttered.

Sam left his chair, stopping his brother before he got to ahead of himself - as if he wasn't already. "What if were wrong?" The green-eyed boy halted and slowly turned to face his brother. "What if Y/n is just another hunter?"

"Then at least my mind will shut up about it." And like that, he continued on.

They had both collectively decided that as Dean being the one to first get a hunch on Y/n, he should be the one to go under. So Sam cooked up a type of dream root tea which made the herb that bit more edible before he dared to pass it over his brother. "Remember," The shaggy-haired boy started. "You need to have Y/n at the forefront of your mind. Otherwise, this will have been useless."

Dean nodded and took the steaming mug. "Yep, I've got it." His eyes never met Sam's. They were captived by the mug in front of him and where it was about to take him.

"Dean?" He met Sam's worrisome expression. "Do you have any plan for when you wake up?"

Truthfully, neither of them had thought that far ahead. And Sam gained no comfort when Dean simply shrugged, "No, but I'm sure the me who remembers Y/n will."

"Dean-" Sam had some stern words coming, but Dean was far too deep in this to care for whatever it was he was about to say. So, he cut his brother off.

"Will you stop worrying? Truth your older brother." He said before taking his first sip from the vile drink, earning a squirm.

But he kept drinking, getting drowsier by the second. "Here," Spoke Sam as he handed over the picture from Dean's wallet. The one of him and empty space. "You should probably lay down as well." Dean hummed in response as Sam took the mug from his hands and guided him over to the couch before he practically blacked out.

Dean awoke on a bed. A bed of which he recognised to be an uncomfortable, cardboard-feeling motel bed. Not like his bed in the bunker or the one he usually shared with Y/n when they stayed at Bobby's. No, this was the type of bed he was all too familiar with.

He twisted and turned, dragging himself upward. His confusion continued as his eyes met a version of his younger self and looking down on him, his father - about ten years younger than when he had passed. "Dean, we're going." He said through a sharp, stern tone that he used to shake the boy to his core.

John had his hand on the motel door handle, eager to get to his impala and on the road again. Dean watched as if he were a ghost, the younger version of himself tugging at his father's leather jacket. "I don't want some random girl coming along with us now!" He had protested, which only caused his father's annoyance to bubble even more.

"Her dad was a hunter who's saved my life more times than I can count." He snapped back. "I couldn't save him this time, so taking in his daughter is the least we can do. Do you understand?"

Young, almost adult but not quite, Dean shifted on his feet, barely able to meet the glare his father was giving him. "Yes." He answered before following his father out the motel room.

Dean was still watching like a fly on the wall. He felt like this was a memory of which was just out of his reach, like moments of it were familiar but he couldn't truly remember it. He assumed the girl John referred to had to be Y/n. He just hoped he was on the right path with this. So the man walked through the motel door to follow his younger self and his dad.

What Dean hadn't expected was for, as he walked through the motel door, to end up in a bedroom at Bobby's. He had expected to meet the rain that poured that night. Instead, he was filled with a warmth he did remember, in a room that brought comfort. Giggles erupted from behind him, urging him to turn as he met, once again, the young adult version of himself and a young Y/n too.

It was then that Dean remembered. Or at least he started to.

The two were sat crossed-legged on the bed, facing one another. "I still can't believe you've never played chess before." Said Y/n as she moved one of her black painted pieces.

The young boy laughed as he attempted to grasp what his next move would be. "Can't really say I ever had the chance to learn it." He paused to meet her pupils. "You know? Killing monsters and all takes over a little."

Their smiles reflected one another. So much so, that the Dean who watched from afar, was smiling too. It dawned on him then, that he had remembered this moment. This small, quaint moment in one of the spare bedrooms at Bobby's, his dad far away on his hunt, leaving Dean and Y/n to entertain one another. It was in this moment that for the first time, he remembered feeling safe.

Y/n leant over and moved Dean's piece for him. "My dad used to say that strategy is a weapon more powerful than any gun or any blade." She recalled.

Silence followed. Comforting silence that made the warmth of Bobby's even warmer. It wasn't until they heard, "Kids!" From at the bottom of the stairs that the silence was broke. The two left the bed, and their game of chess to meet the dinner Bobby had made them.

Dean's eyes were fixed on the game of chess. It had been his very first and very last game. Just something they had done to pass the time. Though, he was sure Bobby had still kept the game hidden away behind his many lore books. As his smile began to fade, he turned and headed for the door.

When he walked through this one, he seemed transported to another different time, different place and a different memory the curse had forced him to forget. He was stood in the middle of a forest, surrounded by trees. It was quiet. Something he knew was about to change as the memory began to resurface.

The footsteps started. They came quick, brushing beneath the rustling piles of autumn leaves. They got heavier and heavier, before Dean knew it he could spot himself weaving through the woods. It wasn't until this alternate version of himself got closer, that he came to realise there was someone scooped into his arms: Y/n.

His legs never stopped running. "Y/n, come on," He spoke through a tone he barely used; it was desperate and begging towards the girl he cradled in his arms. "You just need to keep your eyes open, alright?" His voice cracked as tears pricked at his young eyes.

He got closer and the other Dean, the one seemingly invisible, was then able to spot her bleeding neck. And, once again, as if someone had just turned on a switch in his brain, he came to remember this very moment. The moment that had been closest to losing Y/n for good. "Dean," The girl whispered through fluttering eyes that fought to stay open.

"You're gonna be okay, alright?" He told her through words he could never be certain off. "You've got to be okay."

And like that, the two rushed passed the place in which Dean was standing. He continued to watch as they ran into the distant trees for safety. He remembered this night. The dreaded night. It had meant to be just an easy hunt. A couple of vampires. But, once they arrived at the nest, they came to find that the nest was much bigger than they first believed.

The moment Y/n got bit, he was at her side and he was out of there. There hadn't been much he could do. But Dean did remember thinking that he couldn't let her die, not now, not without telling her how much he truly loved her.

The boy started walking again. Every step beginning to transform the woods back into a room with four walls. And suddenly, he was back at Bobby's, back in the wood which had brought him and Y/n so much warmth. It was still dark in this memory. He wasn't sure what the memory it was until his eyes found Y/n and himself laying face to face within the sheets.

The night before she was forever forgotten.

"Hey," She said to gain his attention once more, "We've beaten more than this curse." Then he watched as the girl leant over and pressed the sweetest kiss to his forehead before moving back down. "I'll see you in the morning." That had been a promise.

"Night."

Her eyes fell shut; Dean's stayed open.

"Dean!"

He wished he could have said something more.

"Dean!"

He wished he never had never let her go.

"Dean!"

The boy was snapped back to reality from his brothers words. He jumped from the couch, gasping for the breath he seemed deprived off. Sam was straight to his side, a hand on his shoulder and eyes that pooled with worry. "Dean? What happened? Are you okay?" He asked.

And Dean was fine, truly. He was just in complete shock. He remembered it all. He remembered everything. But, most importantly, he remembered Y/n. "Call her." Were the first words he spoke to his brother. No 'yes, I'm fine'. No explaining. Just two simple words.

"Call who?" Questioned Sam.

"Call Y/n."

The brunette nodded, shifting through his back pocket before pulling out his phone. He tapped against the buttons before calling Y/n's number and handing the phone to dean. He pulled it straight to his ear, hearing it ring before finally, someone answered. "Hello?" Y/n's soft voice rung through his ears. And, for the first time in four years, he remembered the voice. He remembered her.

"Y/n?" Said Dean like it was the very first time.

"Hey, Dean, everything alright?"

"Y/n." He said it again as if he were testing, testing how it felt to say her name and remember every memory that was connected to it. "Y/n, I remember. I remember everything."

There was a pause before she replied, "Do you mean-?" She cut herself off, barely able to string the words together herself.

"I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out." He laughed a little at it. "Will you come see us?" He then asked.

She agreed rather quickly, getting sent the address of the bunker. The two brothers waited, their memory back intact and ready and waiting for their forgotten friend. Dean prayed that this was the end of this curse. That with his dream, he and his brother and anyone else, had their memories of Y/n returned. There were no more empty spaces in pictures and no more blurs in memories.

Everything was as it should be.

They both waited at the bottom of the stairs when they heard the door open. Dean was impatient, Sam excited. But they both watched just as intently as the girl wandered down the stairs. Her boots banged against the metal, her figure soon being revealed once more as her eyes met with Dean. Both of them mixed with tears.

Y/n took a moment when she reached the bottom of the stairs. They stared at each other. Four years worth of built up emotion was suddenly it was punching them both in the face. Y/n couldn't wait any longer. Within a split second, she was engulfed into Dean's warm embrace, his arms wrapped around her like a shield she craved. "Hey, Dean," She spoke through her tears.

"I can't believe it." He muttered against her hair.

Dean didn't want to move from his spot. He wanted to stay and hold her forever, making sure that another curse never hit her again. And while he didn't have control over everything in this world, he did make one promise to himself in that moment: He would never let her go again.

-

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[gummydummy19]

until you ruined it

Content Warning: SMUT, some degradation, enemies to lovers, L-bomb, hate fucking, cursing, enhanced reader, age gap (reader is early 20s, Bucky is early 30s), AU Avengers ft Steve Rogers, Wanda, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson all living in Stark tower together, kind off adopted stark reader, ANGST, happy ending, fluff.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this bhahahahah, as always, let me know what you think and requests are always open! ily x

Word Count: 4318

God you fucking hated him. You LOATHED him. Every single thing he did pissed you off.

You were sat in the kitchen of the Stark Tower, having a lovely quiet breakfast before Bucky had to stroll in and ruin it.

He stirred his coffee, the little spoon hitting the inside of the mug over and over again. You let out a deep sigh, trying to keep your calm. But as soon as you caught a glimpse of that amused smirk, you lost it.

He was pissing you off on purpose, because he fucking enjoyed it.

You shot a tiny electric spark his way, hitting his hand. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but it was enough to make him drop his mug. Coffee spilled over his pants and his shoes as the cup shattered all over the kitchen tiles.

“WHAT THE FUCK Y/N?!”

“Oops” you said innocently, as you grabbed your glass of orange juice and walked back to you room.

Okay maybe you had overreacted a tiny bit, but in your defence, the last couple of months had been straight up TORTURE.

Sure, your life hadn’t been the easiest, but you were perfectly happy with the way things were.

You lived in the Stark Tower, as a part of the Avengers. Tony and Pepper basically adopted when you were 16, which was now over half a decade ago.

Your father used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. He was killed by Hydra during an attack on his base when your mother was 6 months pregnant. They took her hostage and she died while giving birth to you.

That was what you had been told.

You don’t really remember a lot of what happened after that, you blocked most of it away.

When you were 5 years old, S.H.I.E.L.D rescued you from Hydra. You were put into a special foster program and were given pills for so called “allergic reactions”.

According to Pepper, S.H.I.E.L.D always kept taps on you, they just wanted you to have a normal childhood. When you got older the meds weren’t enough to keep your powers down, that’s when Tony took you in and made you an Avenger.

You were grateful S.H.I.E.L.D tried so hard to give you a normal childhood, you just always felt like something was missing, and when you moved into the tower, that void finally got filled.

They were your family. Your home.

Bruce and Tony helped you with your powers, while Steve and Nat helped you with physical training. When the physical training from Captain insane and Ninja Nat got too intense, you could always count on Sam for a good old jog in the park. You and Wanda even took some classes together to finish your degree, since you were only 2 years apart and she never got to finish hers.

Your life was perfect the way it was, until he had to walk in and ruin it.

Exactly 3 months ago, Steve introduced Bucky to the family. You didn’t know much about him, only that he was very important to Steve and they knew each other back in the 40s.

Bucky had been through a lot, spending years of his life brainwashed, fighting as Hydras personal murder puppet. It must have been awful. So when Steve finally found his best friend again, you were all really excited to meet him and welcome him to the team.

You remember the moment you first met Bucky like it was yesterday. You, Sam and Tony were sitting on the couch, watching some boring reality show, when the sound of the elevator dinging made you turn around.

Holy fuck. You didn’t mean to stare, but you were physically unable to tear your eyes off of him. He had to be the single most handsome man you had ever seen in your entire life, and you lived with the Avengers for christ sake.

Steve’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Y/N, Tony, Sam… This is Bucky. He’s moving in today.”

Damn, this man was hot. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, your throat went dry, your face burned and your brain was somehow unable to make a coherent sentence.

That lasted a whole 10seconds before he opened up his stupid mouth.

“I didn’t know stark tower had a kids department.”

Wait what? You could have died right there. You were damn near drooling over the sight of him and he just called you a child.

Get your fucking shit together Y/N, you thought to yourself.

Tony and Sam bursted out laughing beside you, Steve had the decency to try and stifle his chuckle, but overall it just made your slight embarrassment worse.

“Yeah, apparently now we are turning it into a retirement home.” You shot back.

“I was just kidding” Bucky said, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

“So was I” you replied, and with that, you left the room.

Ever since that day it had been nothing but snarky comments and disgusted looks between the two of you. And it only got worse.

You hated it. You hated him. But most of all, you hated how attracted you still were to him.

Maybe your attitude towards him was a reaction to his behaviour towards you, or maybe it was your way of covering up how you actually felt about him.

Either way, you knew where your hatred for him came from, but you didn’t have a clue what it was about you that made him so mad, and it was messing with your head.

You couldn’t stand how much you cared. How some days when the bickering got so bad, you’d lie awake at night thinking what was so irritating about you that he had to be so mean.

You made sure he never knew tho. He never had a clue how much his words actually hurt you or how much you just wanted to have one normal conversation with him. How badly you wanted to get to know him. And how desperately you craved just a tiny bit of intimacy every once in a while.

You were sitting in your room, behind your desk, sipping your orange juice while scribbling down some things on your to do list, when all of a sudden, your door bursted open.

“Why the fuck do you have to be such a fucking BITCH all the time ?!?!” Bucky shouted at you.

“Ever heard of fucking knocking, grandpa?!” You yelled right back at him as you shot up from your seat.

“I have coffee all over me because you can’t control your fucking temper!” His voice boomed through your room as he stalked closer to you.

“It was a fucking accident. Get the fuck over it, old man” you said, not really knowing how to react to the sudden lack of personal space.

“An accident?!” He questioned. “I spend the last 20minutes mopping the kitchen floor!”

“Oh dear! What are you, scared you’re gonna turn into a 1940s housewife when you touch a fucking mop?” You chuckled. “The hell you want me to do about it ?”

“Apologise.” He almost growled, you could feel his breath on your face.

“HAH, you wish” you laughed.

“I fucking said, apologise.” His voice was way more quiet now, but still stern.

“And I fucking said no.” You tried your best to make your tone match his, but the proximity made you nervous.

He didn’t reply immediately, you had no idea what he was thinking, or what he was going to say next.

Bucky let out an angry groan before surging forward and smashing his lips on yours. He pushed you back until your ass hit your desk.

“God you’re so fucking insufferable” he growled as he picked you up to sit you on the desk and moved to stand in between your legs, waisting no time in ripping off your shirt.

What the hell was happening.

“Fuck you!” You growled back at him as you fumbled with his belt.

“Shut your fucking mouth for once and then maybe I will” he said as he quickly pulled off his own shirt before crashing his mouth on yours again.

Your hands roamed over his torso. It felt so good to have him so close to you.

“Take off your bra” he said, while unbuckling his belt.

Your cheeks grew hot. This was just sex. A physical outlet of all the tension that had been growing between the two of you for months. He hated you, he was just horny and annoyed and he needed someone to take it out on. And as much wanted it to be more, you knew you would happily take whatever he gave you, and you hated yourself for it.

As soon as your bra hit the floor, his eyes grew wide, and 10 shades darker.

“Fuck” he breathed out, and he immediately latched his mouth on your nipple.

You let out a heavenly moan as he started massaging the other breast with his metal hand. The cold sensation of the metal on one breast and his hot wet tongue on the other had your mind spinning.

He moved to slide his hands under your skirt and dragged your panties down, letting them fall on the floor next to your bra.

His metal fingers came to mess with your folds and you swear you stopped breathing for a second.

“oh FUCK, Bucky” you moaned as he circled your clit, his teeth slightly tugging on your hard nippled before kissing up your neck.

Your hands moved to his waist, pulling down his pants and underwear enough to reveal his throbbing cock.

You took him in your hand and started pulling slow and steady strokes up and down his shaft, hearing his breath getting heavy in your ear. All while he kept rubbing your clit with his metal hand.

“Im gonna fuck that attitude right out of you, you little bitch” he said as he pulled his fingers from your dripping pussy, before pushing his length into you in one slow, steady motion.

“Oh SHIT” you both moaned in unison.

You wanted to wrap your arms around his shoulders, to kiss him, to pull him closer, but you couldn’t bring yourself to show him how much you wanted him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, or maybe you wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment.

You placed your hands on either side of your thighs, gripping onto the desk until your knuckles turned white.

He started thrusting into you, his hands held onto your hips so hard you were sure they were going to leave bruises.

His head was buried in your neck and his movements were rough. His pace was perfect, his cock dragged across that spongey spot inside of you with every single thrust. You bit your lip in a sad attempt to keep yourself quiet.

The room was filled with nothing but the sounds of pure filth. Flesh slapping against flesh, Bucky’s muffled groans and sighs and the occasional moan you just couldn’t help but let fall past your lips.

You felt a warmth starting to spread in your lower stomach and your walls started pulsing around his throbbing cock.

“Oh fuck I can feel you, are you gonna cum for me?” He breathed against your neck.

Bucky’s metal fingers started rubbing your clit and you were gone.

“Yeah” was the only coherent thing you managed to get out before you felt yourself tumble over the edge.

A few pathetic little “ah ah ah”s followed by a loud moan and a heavenly sigh left your mouth as your orgasm washed over you.

Bucky managed to fuck you through it until he finally couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“AARGHH fuck SHIT fhuh…” a string of curses and gasps filled your ears as he pulled out of you and finished all over your stomach, stroking himself until he was utterly and entirely spent.

When you both started breathing normally again, Bucky quickly pulled his pants back up.

“Let me know when you’re washing that, I still need this coffee stain dealt with” he said, signaling to your cum covered skirt and his coffee pants.

“Get the fuck out of my room, Barnes” was all you managed to get out before you hopped off your desk and walked into your bathroom, trying your best not to wobble too much.

What the fuck just happened?

You took off the remains of your ruined clothes and turned on your shower as you heard your front door close. Bucky had left. Just like you asked him to.

You let out a deep breath you didn’t know you’d been holding as you stepped underneath the streams of hot water.

Fog surrounded you. Clouding your vision as your thoughts clouded your mind. Bucky had slept with you. No, he had fucked you. He had used your body as he pleased and you had let him. And fuck, you wanted him to do it again. Over and over and over again until he grew tired of you, which you hoped he never would.

Part of you had never been so disappointed in yourself. Yet another part had never been so satisfied.

You stood there, in your shower, trying to wash away the guilt until the water turned cold.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Arrogant asshole” you spat in between kisses while your fingers clawed at his shoulders.

“Ignorant bitch” Bucky growled as he pushed you further inside of his room, mindlessly slamming shut the door behind him.

Somehow you had gotten here again, wrapped up in your steaming hatred for one another, engulfed in a passionate battle for dominance.

Ever since that day in your room, the two of your couldn’t seem to stay away from each other. Seeking each other out and getting under each other’s skin until one of you snapped.

Today was no different. You had gotten back from a mission, and you were hurt.

You got hurt, while saving Bucky.

“Couldn’t even do what you were told ONCE!” He yelled, spinning you around so your boobs were pressed against his wall.

“You’re lucky I fucking saved your ass, grandpa!”

He pulled down the zipped of your suit, revealing your bare, bruised back. The sight made him growl, he bend down and licked a long stripe up your spine, nibbling and biting along the way.

You winced when his teeth hit a cut. “Fuck! Watch it, Barnes.”

“I wouldn’t fucking have to if you had been more careful!” He snapped back, yanking your shoulder, making you turn around again.

His lips smashed back against yours, capturing them in a bruising kiss.

Your hands flew to his neck, tugging on the short strands of hair.

God it felt good to have him this close to you. It always felt so good.

“Hurry the fuck up, Barnes.” You growled as he took his sweet time, nibbling on your neck.

“Patience.” He teased.

You felt the air get thicker, as if time slowed down.

Bucky slowly slid the rest of your suit off, leaving you bare in front of him.

You felt your stomach turn as his hungry gaze scanned your naked body.

He pulled his own shirt over his head and started taking a few steps back, until his legs hit the edge of his bed.

Never breaking eye contact with you, he took off his jeans, leaving him in just his boxer shorts.

Bucky sat down at the foot of the bed.

“Come here” he said, a sly smirk teasing the edge of his lips.

You slowly made your way over to him, covered in nothing but cuts and bruises.

His hands immediately found your waist as you moved to straddle his lap, your mouth crashing on his.

Bucky groaned, sliding his hands flat over your exposed back. Roaming over every inch of bare skin.

His metal hand found the back of your neck, when you started grinding into his clothed erection, he tangled his metal fingers in your hair and pulled your head back.

“I said, patience.” His voice sounded stern yet playful.

“You need a lesson on how to do as you’re told” he chuckled.

“You need a lesson on how to say thank you, you ungrateful piece of shit.” You managed to snap back at him.

In the blink of an eye, Bucky had flipped you over on the bed, pinning you underneath him as he hovered over you, his nose flared and his eyes turned dark.

“Grateful?! That’s what you want me to be after you almost get yourself killed, you stupid little bitch?” He spat, pushing his hand in between your legs.

“Oh please, don’t make it sound like you care!” You suppressed a moan at the feel of his metal fingers teasing your wet core.

“I fucking don’t! But it would be nice to not feel like I’m babysitting the toddler of the group every time I set foot on the field!”

Ouch.

You tried your hardest to cover up how hurt you were. You thought that after all this time, Bucky finally saw you as an equal, an adult. More than some annoying 20 something only good enough to keep his dick wet. Guess you should have known better.

“God you’re so fucking annoying!” He growled as he finally tugged his underwear off, revealing his rock hard cock.

He stroked himself a few times before sliding in between your soaking folds.

You both let out a mixture of sighs and moans as he started moving in and out of you in slow, hard thrusts.

“There you fucking go. Like you so much better with my dick inside of you.” Bucky said as he picked up the pace.

His words from earlier were still ringing in your ears.

Babysitting the toddler.

He saw you as a burden.

“Shut up and make me cum.” You groaned, getting closer to that precious high.

“I told you to be patient.” He smirked as he slowed down again, just when you felt yourself giving in to that much needed release.

Maybe it was the heat of the moment, the pent up stress of the day, whatever. You felt your eyes getting itchy. Tears prickling at your waterline, ready to spill.

“GOD I FUCKING HATE YOU” you screamed.

No I don’t. I fucking love you.

Your mind was racing. Your body was aching. You just wanted Bucky. You were tired. So tired. Tired of games. Tired of pretending to hate him when in fact, you didn’t, not even a little bit, not even at all.

“I fucking hate you too” Bucky’s voice was raspy in your ear. Reminding you that this was no more than a primal need. A way to relieve some stress.

He picked up his pace again. Your ankles hooked around his lower back in an attempt to keep him there as his pubic bone rubbed against your clit, making you see stars.

Your hands flew around his shoulders, gripping his neck and tangling at his hair.

“Please.” you moaned, surprising both Bucky and yourself with your sudden vulnerability.

“What’s the matter, Princess? Change of heart?” He teased.

You were so tired.

And he was making you feel so good.

“Bucky, please.” You hadn’t noticed the tears finally started running down your cheeks until you felt him kiss them away.

“Please,…I…” you whimpered as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“Ssshhh” he whispered. The first moment of comfort you had ever gotten from Bucky.

It all became too much.

“Bucky, I…god….I…”

“Let go, princess. Cum for me”

That was all you needed. Feeling yourself tumble over the edge. Your mind was racing.

“Fuck, oh…oh…fhuh, I…I love you…”

Your voice was merely a whisper as you felt the fireworks erupting inside of you. It was all too much.

Bucky’s hips stuttered and he came inside of you with a deep groan, dropping his head on your shoulder as he kept slow fucking the both of you through your highs.

After a couple seconds, your eyes fluttered open, making you realize you had closed them a while ago.

Bucky was still breathing heavily, laying collapsed on top of you, when the realization hit you.

You didn’t say that out loud, did you?

As if he read your mind, Bucky raised his head. You were greeted with the most shit eating grin you had ever seen in your life.

Oh no. Fuck, god please no.

“Does someone have a little crush?” He chuckled. Making you want to die.

Before you knew it, tears started welling in your eyes again. You pushed him off of you, scrambling from under him and getting off the bed.

You hurriedly wrapped a loose blanket around yourself and picked up your discarded suit.

“Where are you going?” He laughed, not really understanding the situation.

You gave him one last look before leaving, finally making him notice the tears in your eyes.

“You know what, Barnes? Go fuck yourself.” You sniffled as you rushed out of his room.

This was by far the most embarrassing moment of your life. By the time you got to your room on the other side of the hallway, you full on broke into tears.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Bucky sat on his bed as he watched you rush out of his room. The sight of your teary eyes made his grin melt away like snow on a sunny day.

You loved him?

You?

Loved him?

The sounds of your muffled cries travelled through the empty halls and closed doors, reaching his enhanced ears.

Oh for fucks sakes.

He quickly pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and made his way to your room.

He padded through the desolate hallway, stopping in front of your door, trying to ignore the sudden nervous pit in his stomach.

He never meant to hurt you. When he saw you risk your life on the field today, in order to save him. Something inside him snapped.

Truth be told, from the moment he laid eyes on you, he was a goner. It had been so damn long since he had felt this way about anyone, and he had absolutely no clue how to handle it. He knew he had probably messed it up from the start, but he couldn’t stay away from you.

That being said, this wasn’t what you guys did. Feelings. Emotions. Communication.

No, you screamed at each other, and then you fucked each others brains out.

He had never seen you cry, not like this. And he hated it.

“Get your fucking shit together, Barnes.” He thought to himself as he raised up his fist, knocking on your door.

“Y/N?”

When he didn’t hear an answer, he leaned his ear closer to your door.

Hearing the distant sound of water running, and your wavering little sobs echoing against the walls of your shower.

Ok screw this.

He opened your door and walked straight to your bathroom, hesitant for only a second before he slowly turned the doorknob.

You had your back towards the door, running your fingers through your wet hair as you calmed your breathing, when you noticed a presence.

“Go away.” You said, not even needing to turn around to know it was Bucky.

But he didn’t listen. He slid off his boxers, and joined you underneath the steaming hot water.

The feeling of his bare chest pressed against your bruised back made you suppress a sigh.

“If you’ve come to laugh at me some more, I’m not in the mood.” You said, still facing away from him.

You felt his chest rise against your back as he took a deep breath. There was a second of silence between the two of you, before he finally spoke.

“Hearing those three perfect little words leave your perfect little mouth while feeling your fluttering pussy squeeze my cock, made me blow my load harder than I ever have before.” He said as he wrapped his arms around you, turning you around to finally face him.

He pushed you back against the tile covered shower wall. When he saw your puffy eyes stare up at him in confusion, he felt a tug at his heart.

“God you drive me crazy. In every possible way. And I am utterly and completely in love with you.” He stated.

Your mouth fell open and you felt your stomach flutter, unable to respond.

“I love how stubborn you are. I love the way you nibble on your bottom lip when you’re trying to focus on something. Or the way you frown your eyebrows when you’re mad at me. I love everything about you, and most of all, I love driving you as crazy as you drive me.” Bucky continued.

“There you go, feel free to laugh at me too.” He said.

You were baffled, having trouble believing those words truly just left Bucky Barnes’ mouth. You had absolutely no clue how to respond.

Bucky took your silence as a sign of rejection. A million thoughts crossing through his mind.

Did he just fuck up even more? Should he have given you space? Was that too much? What if you didn’t even mean what you said and it was just the orgasmic bliss talking? Oh god did he just ruin everything?

“I’ll just…uh….I’ll just go…now…I’m sorry I sho-…hmpf”

You cut off his nervous ramble with a bruising kiss. Surging forward as you latched yourself onto him.

Bucky moaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you and entangling in a heated make-out session.

When you finally pulled your lips away, it was for no other reason than a desperate need for oxygen.

You both heaved as you caught your breaths, still holding each other close.

“Not so bad for the kids department huh?” You teased.

“I’m sorry.” He said, sincerity and regret clear in his voice.

You leaned up and pressed a soft, sweet kiss against his lips.

“I love you.” You simply said.

“Yeah I guess I love you too, brat.”

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo @princessayveke @montsepliego @scxrletrecsmarvel @hopelesslyrogers @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @tfandtws @vicmc624 @ahahafudge @enchantedbarnes @wickedravyn @pono-pura-vida @amayaraestyles @matchat3a @fictional-hooman @sebastianexplicit @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @jamneuromain @tryingtoliveonmywishes @mrsevans90 @daybreak96 @tiredqueen73 @fallingforunrealisticromance @identity2212 @randomweirdoss @ragamuffin285 @juliaorpll78 @geralts-yenn @imjusthereforliam @bangtanstoeart @squeezyvalkyrie @enchantedbytomandhenry @superduckmilkshake @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @missgaygurl @foxyjwls007 @mollymal @urmomsgirlfriend1

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #enemies to lovers #marvel smut #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Mayhem: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Quickly following the events after the car explosion, you and Hotch are affected in more ways than one.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime." - Ernest Hemingway

It takes you a moment to figure out what the hell just happened, but when you hear the car’s blaring alarm and smell the smoke, you know there had been a bomb underneath the SUV. The back of your head is in so much pain, causing a massive headache. Your vision is blurry, your ears ring from the impact, and you have to fight to get up.

You look to your left and see Hotch standing in the middle of the road as he processes what happened. Kate is nowhere to be found from where you are, but you have to focus on yourself.

“Hotch,” you groan and roll over on the ground. “Hotch!”

He is stuck in his own world right now so it’s up to you to get up on your own. Your legs are shaky, but you manage to stand on your own two feet. You feel the back of your head and wince in pain, and when you look at your hand, it’s covered in blood. You’re bleeding but you can’t think about that right now.

“Hotch, we have to get out of here,” you cough and stagger over to him. You place your hands on his shoulders, and that seems to snap him out of his trance. “Hotch, we have to get out of here!”

There is no one on the streets--no cars or people--but a young man comes rushing up to help you since he saw the blast.

“Hey, are you two okay?”

“What’s your name?” Hotch says a bit loudly. “What’s your name?”

“Sam.”

“Call 911.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Call 911 and tell them there’s been an explosion,” Hotch says slowly.

“Sir, are you okay?” Sam asks again.

You look around and see Kate lying about twenty yards away from the blast.

“Hotch! There’s Kate!” You two rush over to her, dismissing Sam. “Kate? Kate, are you okay?”

“My purse! I can’t find my purse,” she says in a delusional state of mind. “I must have dropped it.”

“Don’t move, Kate. You don’t want to make it worse.”

“Aaron? Y/N? What happened to you?” she asks, looking at both your injuries.

“A bomb went off. I think it was an IED,” you cough.

“IED? I have to get up.”

“No, no, Kate, you need to lie down. Please lie still.”

“Am I moving my legs?” she asks twice.

You look down at her legs, but they aren’t moving. You know when people are close to death, and she doesn’t look like she is going to make it. If you can get her to a hospital now, she might have a chance, but you think she is going to die soon.

“I may have to turn you and see where the blood is coming from. It might hurt. I’m going to have to pinch it off.”

Hotch tries to turn her and feel for the bleeder, but as soon as she moves, more blood gushes out. He winces in pain thinking that she is also in pain, but based on her face, she isn’t in any pain at all.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.”

“No, it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt at all,” she whimpers.

“Kate, we’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

Police and ambulance sirens can be heard from down the street, and you look up to see them stop at the end of the road. They all get out and start making roadblocks with no intention of going to you to help.

“Officer down! Officer down! Here!” Hotch yells as loud as he can.

“Aaron, they’re not coming,” Kate sighs. “We told them not to, remember?”

“She’s right. The first wave of responders is targets. They’re not coming,” you gasp and touch the back of your head.

It’s sticky, but the blood is no longer flowing.

“Aaron, you two don't have to stay.”

“We’re not leaving,” he says to her. “Officer down! We need some help! We cannot move!”

“They’re not coming,” Sam says as he rushes back to you.

“We know. Our orders were to not let anyone in until the area is cleared. They’re just following the procedure,” you sigh.

Was yours the only van that blew up? What happened to the rest of the team? Are they safe? Are JJ and her baby? Is Spencer?

As soon as Spencer heard that something had blown up, news reporters were all over the scene as close as they could get. Spencer is back at the police station with Rossi watching the news report as they try to call everyone.

“We're getting reports that an explosion has rocked the neighborhood in the vicinity of the Federal Plaza. Authorities have closed down the entire area, and are not going to give any information at this time. With eight suspicious incidents in as little as three weeks, we have no room but to speculate whether or not there will be more attacks. We have no word yet on any injuries, but the explosion was heard as far away as Prince Street. An unconfirmed report said it was a car bomb.”

Spencer tries your phone again, but like the other five times he tries to call you, it went straight to voicemail.

“Damn it, Y/N, pick up,” he mutters.

“Reid, can you recall every site where the shootings occurred?”

“Uh, Hell's Kitchen, Murray Hill, lower east side, and Chinatown,” Spencer tries to list them off while still thinking about you. “Y/N isn’t answering her phone.”

“No one is. Listen, Reid, if our profile is correct and all eight murders were tests to gauge response times, then we're looking at eight suicide bombers who are about to hit every one of those locations. Call Homeland Security. Tell them to pour troops into all of those sites.”

“Actually, if we're correct, there'll be sixteen suicide bombers.”

“Sixteen?”

“Yeah, we predicted that they'll hit the second wave of emergency responders also.”

“Breaking news now,” the news reporter says. “We are just getting an update. The bomb is now reported to have been inside an SUV. A black SUV parked just blocks from 26 Federal Plaza.”

Rossi immediately gets Penelope on the phone since she is the command center, and would be able to have eyes on everyone in the city.

“Agent Rossi? We heard there was some kind of explosion. I just walked into the CCTV command post.”

“We got on the news that it was an SUV that exploded. A black SUV within blocks of the Federal Plaza. Do you have eyes there?”

“I’ve got, like, three hundred cameras right there. Give me one second,” she says as she gets to work.

“I’m here with Reid, but I don’t know where anyone else is. Please find them.”

“Yes, sir.” Penelope gets off the phone with Rossi and turns to the woman she’s been working with this entire time. “Okay, Lisa, I need every feed of every camera for twenty blocks concentrically out from the Federal Plaza. Get the best exposure from every angle you can and then back those feeds up. I'm gonna call the rest of my team.”

The first person she calls is Derek, and she is so relieved when he answers.

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Yes, you are. Thank God.”

“I'm almost back at the federal building. What the hell's going on?”

“I don’t know. We're going over the closed circuit footage right now.”

“Who else have you checked on?”

“You’re the first. Rossi and Reid called me.”

“Keep me on the line while you check on everyone else.”

Penelope dials Emily next, and she picks up on the first ring.

“Is everyone okay?”

“I've spoken to Rossi and Reid, and Morgan's on the line.”

“Emily, where are you?” Derek asks.

“I'm following Detective Brustin to one of the NYPD’s critical incident command posts.”

“One of them?” Pen asks.

“Yeah, after 9/11 they decentralized. They had way too many eggs in one basket on that day.”

“Has anyone talked to JJ?” Pen asks.

“She was headed back to the hotel as far as I know.”

“In an SUV?” Pen asks, her face pale.

“I think so. Stay with me. I’ll call her.”

Emily does so while keeping her eyes on the road, but JJ doesn’t answer. Her voicemail picks up, and Peneleop’s heart sinks at the thought of her and her baby hurt from the blast. However, the communication line was cut in the middle of her voicemail.

“What was that? What happened?” Derek asks.

“It went dead mid-message.”

“Try again. She’s probably back at--”

Emily’s line was cut in the middle of the message.

“Emily?” Derek goes to speak, but he, too, was cut off. “Derek? I just lost all contact with my team.”

“I found it. I found the explosion,” Lisa says.

Lisa shows Penelope the footage of the blast, and she can see someone plant the bomb, much like you saw before it went off. The stranger walks off, but he doesn’t leave the scene. No, he waits until the blast happens, and then the fucker walks right over to you and Hotch and asks if you’re okay.

The person trying to help you is one of the unsubs.

If your head didn’t hurt so damn badly, you could have seen Sam for who he truly is. Your cut may have stopped bleeding, but now it’s throbbing and you’re in so much pain because of it.

“Sam, you need to get out of the area,” Hotch says to him.

“I just want to help.”

“If you want to help, get somebody down here.” Sam rushes off to get help, but if you had been paying attention to him, you would have seen him stop on the sidewalk and just watch you. “Kate, I need you to wake up. Stay with me. Stay with me.”

“I feel cold. It's such a cliche, isn't it? I feel cold. Like in the cinema,” she chuckles tiredly. “Wait, that’s not right. It’s ‘movies’. You say ‘movies’, not ‘cinema’.”

“You've lost a lot of blood, but I think I've got it stopped. Just try to relax.”

“They just told me to get behind the barricade,” Sam says when he comes back.

“Come on, Hotch, let’s try to get her up.”

You and Hotch try to lift Kate, but as soon as there is enough pressure off her wound, it starts bleeding again.

“We're here! Please! Please! We're here! Someone!” Hotch yells.

You’re not sure what you’re going to do, but in ten seconds, you feel familiarity where the barricade is. You look up, and since it’s too far away, you can’t see who is there… but you can feel him.

“Derek!” you scream as loud as you can. “Derek! Please help us! Derek!”

After one minute, Derek runs past the barricade and over to you and Hotch. Relief rolls off you in waves, and you step back so you can finally take a moment to breathe.

“Morgan, we've got to get her out of here,” Hotch says.

“They're not letting any ambulances down here till they clear the scene.” Derek looks at Sam who has an indifferent look on his face. “Kid, you gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go. Go!”

“Good luck.”

Sam gets up and backs away, but he doesn’t leave. He stays and watches, but no one is paying attention to him. You touch the back of your head and wince in pain, but you force that down to focus on what you do know.

Before the blast, there was someone putting a bomb under your SUV. It hurts to think about it, but you can recall that scene right before the blast went off. You focus on the energy you saw, and you open your eyes when you know exactly who did it. You look around for Sam, and when you lock eyes with him, he smirks.

“Talk to me. Can we carry her? Hotch, can we carry her?” Derek asks.

“He’s the bomber,” you say, but the two men are distracted.

“No, I tried. Morgan, she's gonna bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We gotta do something.”

“Derek, he’s the bomber,” you say a little louder.

Derek’s phone rings, but he’s staring at you because he heard you.

“What did you just say?”

“He’s the bomber. He’s the one who planted the bomb.”

“Go,” Hotch says, not doubting you.

Derek immediately takes off running after Sam, and Sam does everything he can to run away from Derek. He likes the chase, but you know Sam won’t let Derek catch up to him unless he wants him to. As soon as he got past a few blocks from where the explosion was, he reached civilization.

Derek followed him all the way down to the train tracks only to lose him when Sam electrocuted himself so he wouldn’t be caught. Sam died, but for what? What is he hiding? What didn’t he want Derek or anyone else to find out?

As soon as Derek leaves, an ambulance comes barreling your way to help. An older man gets out and tends to Hotch and Kate, but you’re confused. If Derek says they aren’t letting anyone in, then how did this ambulance get to you? Why do you feel absolute dread when you look at this man?

“She's got an arterial bleed in her back and I'm doing my best to hold it closed,” Hotch says to him.

“Are you okay?”

“I just want to get her out of here.”

“Her pulse is weak and thready. I'm gonna need your help, okay? I heard you calling for help and I couldn't listen anymore. My partner was too afraid to come in here with me.”

“Kate, we're gonna get you out of here. We're on our way out of here,” Hotch says, believing every word this stranger says.

You reach into your pocket for your phone, but when you pull it out, you’re sad to see the screen is smashed. You won’t be able to call for help even if you wanted to. There is no choice but to accept help from this man, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I need to get a bag in and start getting her pressure up. Get the gurney from the bus,” The stranger orders.

Hotch does what he says, and the two of them load Kate into the back. The stranger stays with her since he’s the EMT while Hotch gets behind the wheel. You get into the passenger side and turn to Hotch.

“I don’t feel right about this,” you say low enough so the man doesn't hear, but the damage done to Hotch’s ears prevents him from hearing you.

“Where's the closest emergency room?” Hotch asks the man.

“St. Barclay's. It's four blocks uptown, one block east.”

“Where’s the emergency entrance?”

“Under the hospital. Just follow the signs to the ER.”

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #cm #cm fic #cm fiction #cm fanfiction

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Spider-Trauma Protocol

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55014697 by ItsOrea Peter Parker is in the training room with MJ when she noticies something is wrong. Hes forgetting things, and everyone has no idea why. Until, a huge bomb shell is dropped and everyone starts to panic? Will they be able to help their Spider-baby? OR My first and maybe only time writing something with Character.ai This was fun, ngl Words: 9654, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Spider- baby´s protocol, Part 4 of It’s okay to not be okay. Okay? Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Happy Hogan, Friday (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Michelle Jones (Marvel), Helen Cho (Marvel), Loki mentioned Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker Additional Tags: Fluff, Peter Parker Lives in Avengers Tower, The Avengers Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figures, Precious Peter Parker, Peter Parker Is Bad At Keeping Secrets, Poor Peter Parker, Near Death Experiences, Angst, Panic Attacks, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, MJ has a panic attack, Triggers read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55014697

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

[amysteryspot]

Borrowed Time | Six

Summary: When things go wrong, Crystal might prepare for what's yet to come.

Warning: mentiongs of major characther death (canon), grief, angst if you squint.

Word Count: 1.8k

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST| NEXT CHAPTER ►

Cyclone nods at her when she enters the room, sitting down beside Hondo. He smiles at her, patting her hand briefly. Then she hears Maverick’s voice over the coms.

“Dagger One, up and ready on catapult one,” he says.

Then Hangman’s “Dagger spare standing by.”

“Dagger four, up and ready,” Payback says.

“Dagger three, up and ready.” Phoenix says.

And, finally, Rooster says, “Dagger Two, up and ready.”

“Support assets airborne. Strike package ready. Standing by for launch decision.” One of the comms officers says, waiting for Admiral Simpson’s clearance.

“Send them.”

“Dagger One away.” She says as Maverick launches. “Dagger Two away.” A pause. “Dagger three away.” One last pause. “Dagger four away.”

“Comanche, Dagger One. Standby check in,” Maverick says.

“Comanche 1-1, set. Picture clean. Recommend Dagger continue.” The officer answers.

“Copy. Daggers descending below radar.” Maverick says.

The comms officer inside the control room says “Daggers now below radar. Switching to E-2 picture.”

“Here we go.” Maverick breathes. “Enemy territory up ahead. Feet dry in 60 seconds. Comanche, Dagger One. Picture.”

“Comanche. Picture clean. Decision is yours.”

“Copy.” Maverick answers. “Dagger attack.”

“Tomahawks airborne.”

“No turning back now.” Warlock sighs.

Crystal is breathing rapidly, barely able to contain her nerves. It’s an alien feeling for her. Maverick is one of the best pilots she knows, she had seen him fly several times, but this one was different. This time she had just lost her father, the mission was unprecedented and there was a good chance that her godfather wouldn’t come back alive. There was a turmoil of emotions swirling inside of her. 

They assume the attack position, entering the enemy territory.

“Thirty seconds to Tomahawk impact on enemy airstrip,” the comms officer says.

“Dagger, Comanche. We’re picking up two bandits. Single group, two contacts.”

“Where the hell do they come from?” Cyclone asks, looking at Warlock.

“Long-range patrol?” Warlock muses.

“Comanche, what’s their heading?” Phoenix asks.

“Bull’s-eye 090, 50, tacked southwest.”

“They’re headed away from us. They don’t know we’re here.” Rooster says.

“The second those Tomahawks hit the air base, those bandits are gonna move to defend the target. We have to get there before they do. Increase speed.” Maverick responds.

“We got you, Mav. Don’t wait for me.” Phoenix says.

“Sir, Daggers Two and Four are behind schedule. Time to target, one minute twenty.” One of the comms officers says.

Then a second one counts down for the Tomahawk impact, announcing that the enemy runaway was successfully destroyed.

“They know we’re coming now.” Cyclone says, his worried expression lightened by the screen lights.

“Bandits are switching course to defend the target.” Comanche warns.

Maverick asks, “Rooster, where are you?”

“Come on, Rooster,” Payback says, “Bandits inbound. We gotta make up time now. Let’s turn and burn.”

Hondo looked at her and then mumbled, “Come on, Rooster. Move it or lose it.”

This was what Crystal feared, that Bradley was going to let his doubts take charge and forget how good of a pilot he was. Now there was no way to escape it. He would either get himself and his wingman killed and cause the failure of the mission, or he would overcome his fears and show everyone why he was chosen to fly this mission.

The voice of the comms officer resonates in the room.

“Sir, Dagger Two is re-engaging.”

“All right, now hit your target and come home,” Cyclone says.

Seconds later Maverick, Phoenix and Bob are successful in dropping the first bomb. Crystal’s heart tightens. She doesn’t know what to worry about at the moment. Mav was flying directly to the SAM’s and at least a couple of bandits and Rooster still had to drop the second bomb before following him.

When the laser malfunctions she, and everyone in the room, think that this was it. This was the end, there was only a tiny chance that Bradley would actually be able to drop the bomb blind. But he does it

“Bull’s-eye, bull’s-eye, bull’s-eye!” The comms officer cheers with the rest of the room, but Crystal can’t do the same, her eyes glued to the screens waiting for the next steps to follow.

“Miracle number two.” She hears Warlock say.

Cyclone nods. “Now they’re in the coffin corner.”

The next few seconds are a mess of voices rumbling through the speakers. Pilots help each other and defend themselves. Crystal barely registers anything until she hears Rooster say he’s out of flares. She knows what comes next but doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

“I can’t shake them! They’re on me! They’re on me!” Rooster says, exasperated. “Mav! No!”

It’s like time itself stopped, cold running down her spine.

“Dagger One is hit!” Phoenix exclaims. “I repeat, Dagger One is hit! Maverick is down.”

She ignores the calls of her name as she runs out of the room, emptying her stomach as soon as she reaches the bathroom. The feeling of the cold tiles grounds her as she leans against the wall, closing her eyes. Losing her father and Maverick in the same week, Crystal remembers fearing that when they still flew together, but not after her father took a desk job.

“Lieutenant commander, ma’am.”

Crystal hears someone calling her and then a gentle knock on the door. She doesn't feel like answering, but the way she left the room might have gotten her into some trouble.

“Yes.”

“Admiral Simpson wants to talk to you, ma’am.”

Taking a deep breath, Crystal gets up, looking at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears she didn’t even remember falling. Bending down she opens the faucet, splashing some water in her face before gathering herself and getting out of the bathroom.

A lieutenant escorts her to the control room again. Before they can enter Hondo comes out in a rush. When he sees her, Hondo smiles.

“He’s alive.” The warrant officer says, holding her by the arms.

“He… What?” Crystal asks, confused.

“Maverick.” Cyclone explains from his place behind Hondo. He shakes his head, dismissing Hondo to his duties at the same time that Warlock appears from behind him.

“Sir, I’m sorry for…”

“There’s no need, Kazansky.” Cyclone cuts her off. “Considering this week’s events and the current circumstances I couldn’t imagine you reacting any other way and I was aware of that when I allowed you in this room.”

Crystal nodded. “Thank you, Sir.” She takes a deep breath before asking. “It is true, then?” She sees a hint of a smirk on his features.

“Yes,” he confirms. “Rooster went back to rescue him, they’re aboard an F-14.”

“An F-14?!”

This time Cyclone chuckled.

“Yes, an F-14. Hangman just launched to rescue them.”

Hangman. It appears that he would finally have his chance to redeem himself with Bradley and Maverick.

“We’ll be up in the tower.” Warlock smiled at Crystal, nodding at her as he and Cyclone headed to the tower.

Now Crystal could hear the ruckus outside clearly. When she reached the deck she was focused on looking at the sky, waiting.

“Lieutenant commander.” A voice called to her. She turned to see who it was. Phoenix.

“Congratulations on your success, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Phoenix smiled.

Crystal couldn’t help herself from taking her attention back to the sky.

“Rooster would not come back without him,” she said and Crystal turned her head to look at her again.

“I know.”

“It’s kinda strange if you think about how they act around each other all the time.”

“I know.” Crystal smiled. “It wasn’t always this way.”

Phoenix looked at her with curiosity in her eyes.

“Does it have something to do with the fact that Mav pulled his papers?”

“He told you?” Crystal asked and Phoenix nodded. “Yeah, yeah, it does.”

When the first plane landed, Crystal’s attention was immediately caught. She looked back at Phoenix.

“We can finish this conversation some other time, Lieutenant Commander.”

Crystal nodded, both of them observing as the second plane landed and the emergency procedures were done. When things were cleared Hondo signaled to Crystal for her to approach. She almost fell to her knees when she saw Maverick. The moment he stepped out of the plane, Maverick reached out to her, bringing her into a tight embrace.

“Never do it again.” She warned, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Parting from him, Crystal looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in them, and said, “I know, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

She sees him looking ahead of her and doesn't need to turn around to know who he is staring at. Rooster. Crystal watches as they approach each other, getting themselves in a tight hug. It feels almost wrong to be standing there, so close to them, while Maverick thanks Bradley for saving his life and Rooster tells him that it was what his dad would have done, hugging each other again. This moment belonged to them and not to her, but before Crystal can escape she feels a pair of eyes on her. When she looks up Rooster is already in front of her. Throwing caution to the wind she throws her arms around Bradley’s neck, bringing him into a hug. He stills for a second, but then his arms encircle her waist, holding her tightly against him.

“You owe me a beer.” She says in his ears and he laughs, partying from her.

“Are you familiar with the Hard Deck?” Rooster asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you there.” Crystal answers. Someone calls his name and she is certain he looks quite disappointed because their time has been cut short when he gives her an apologetic smile and turns around to leave.

“Welcoming the boyfriend home?” Hangman appears by her side. Crystal rolls her eyes, but smiles.

“Don’t push it,” she warns. “I hear that you chalked yourself another kill.”

His smile grows ten times, illuminating his face in pure joy.

“Now we’re equal,” he says.

“No, we’re not.” Crystal smirks, offering him her hand, which he promptly takes in his. “Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” For the first time since Crystal met him, Hangman actually sounded sincere.

He excused himself, walking up to his friends and Crystal took a moment to observe Bradley and Maverick with the rest of the team. It was impressive how far they’ve come on such short notice. How much they’ve outgrown and how many things all of them learned. Watching them together made Crystal’s decision a lot clearer.

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun: maverick fanfic #amysteryspot #mystery writings

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and The Death Angle Part 30

Hello dear reader, this chapter is another massive change to canon. One of my biggest issues with media is that violence against women is used as a plot point to further the stories of cis male characters. On this blog, we say no to women and their stories being used as props.

Part 29

Series Masterlist

Contains: Fluff, angst, violence, loosely follows the plot of 2x09, 2x10, mentions of sexual assault.

6.2K Words

Comment if you want to be tagged

Things just keep getting worse.

"S.O.S from CaraCara, Luanne's in serious trouble."

Sam snapped into action first, following on your heels and getting into the passenger seat of your car. The others were on their bikes seconds later. You handed your phone to Sam, having enabled the link from the security cameras to your phone.

"What are we dealing with?"

Sam looked over the feed, "five men, they still can't get in. They got bats and crowbars." At least you confirmed your suspicion that when they got in to steal the camera and the laptop, it was because they were let in.

"She's in the panic room, they can't get her in there. That won't stop them from trying or from burning down the building." Everyone was pushing the speed limit, and after that quick rundown, Sam had gone silent.

"I don't like it when you stop talking Sammy. You want to let me know what you're planning on doing?"

You could see his jaw clenching, "what do you think y/n. The woman I love is at constant risk from these fucks, I'm not going to let this continue."

You had heard them say it to each other in the kitchen one day, unaware you were in the hall. "I'm really happy for you Sam but if you're behind bars, that's going to be terrible for Ima. I'm not going to let you lose your shit and kill someone without a reason that the cops will take right away."

He shook his head, "my sister, you're a cold-hearted killer when you want to be." You pulled up at CaraCara, gun in hand as you closed the car door. The men still hadn't managed to break in, but the door was just about open.

The man with a crowbar paused, turning around to face you. "Drop the crowbar, now."

Half the guys had gone around the back, there was only three doors but there was no way they were going to be able to get into the loading dock without a bomb.

You raised your gun, "I do not shoot to wound and I will not hesitate, put the crowbar down or I will blow a fist sized hole in your skull." The man stood there, "one, two…." The crowbar fell, and there was a rush of skin and black leather.

SLAM

Sam had thrown the man against the building, hard enough for there to be the cracking of his skull against the wall. You could see him vibrate with rage but he had yet to start killing the man.

"Who sent you?" The man spat in Sam's face, "I won't ask again, who sent you?" There was no response. Sam jutted his head towards the open, "open the door y/n, I don't want to do this out in the open."

His tone was hard but calm, "I would tell him. The only way you live is if you tell us the truth, if you don't, I can promise you a horrible death." The man looked from you to your brother and the Sons behind you, holding their guns up.

"It was Georgie, he wanted us to send a message."

Sam wrapped one huge hand around the man's neck and started to squeeze, "how did you get inside last night? I'd answer if you want to keep breathing." Sam's hand loosened enough for him to speak.

"One of your new male actors was a plant, he left the loading dock open."

Clay and the other arrived with three of Georgie's men in tail, "I'm going to get Luanne, if they don't tell you everything, shoot them."

You went into the building, opened the storage room and moved a shelf, "Luanne, it's y/n. You can come out." There was a pause and then the noise of a pneumatic door opening, she emerged from the floor and you pulled her into your arms.

"Everything's ok, you're ok." She was breathing heavily, "I think you should stay with someone for a few days until this blows over, I'll get the guys at Anvil to and fortify the gates. This will not happen again." She nodded, seemly in shock.

"Thank you." You walked her outside the back way, intent on her avoiding what was going on by the front door.

You jumped at the sound of a gunshot, "what was that."

You waited for another, "I think someone just tried to run, I'll take you to Gemma's, some food might do you good."

The guys arrived back at Gemma's house an hour after you and Luanne, "Georgie's in Thailand buying women, we won't be able to do anything for three weeks."

You nodded, "Billy will be down tomorrow with Frank. They're going to fix up the fence themselves and put in a better fire suppression system. Short of a bomb, they won't be able to do anything."

Clay squared his shoulders and stared at Jax, "did you cause this?" Jax looked shocked, "what?"

Clay repeated himself, "did you cause this?"

Jax shook his head, "no, Georgie did. What did you want us to do Clay, he was a risk."

Clay got up in Jax's face, "so the payback at CaraCara had nothing to do with it?"

Jax got closer, "you are as blind as you are crippled."

Clay raised his voice, "no, the blind guy's in jail with a terrified wife because you almost got her killed."

That seemed to be the last straw, "I'm not the one murdering women."

Ok, time to go.

"That's enough, all of you. Luanne is safe and CaraCara will be locked up like a fort. In a few days, Sam and I are going to take the women to the gun range and get them armed and we are going to move on like adults. Need I remind you that the ATF is back up our asses and we need CaraCara so they don't put you all inside for life." Clay looked like he could have shot you.

"Yeah son, listen to your old lady. You're so fucking whipped."

You stood in front of Jax when you should have stood in front of Sam, he was so angry he managed to pick Clay off his feet, "take it back now." His voice was low, you had turned this tone before.

"Hey, hey, it's ok. I am not having any of you do anything on my behalf. We are leaving now and I will deal with this in the morning."

You put your hand on Sam's arm, "little brother, now."

He had never looked at you with such rage, "he can't talk to you like that, you've done nothing but help. Had we been left to do the security for CaraCara, Luanne would be dead."

He said it right to Clay, who never wanted to hire Anvil. "I'm sure Clay see that now, don't you."

Some animal part of Clay that told him if he answered wrong, he would die, "yeah, I can."

You nodded, "ok, see. I'm not offended by the comment. I know that our relationship goes against motorcycle culture, these comments are bound to come. However, thanks to that comment, I won't be helping anymore unless Clay apologises."

You turned to Clay, "now Mr Morrow if someone dies because of that, it will be on you." He looked down, the other men weren't impressed, Juice looked like he was about to open his mouth to protest.

"I think it's best that we all go home, we can talk about this with clearer heads tomorrow."

****

You had expected a fight when you got in the door, but you got the opposite. "I don't think you should help even if Clay apologises."

You turned your head to Jax, "I know that's how it feels now but let me talk to him, don't forget he thinks I'm ok with what happened to Donna. He still sees me as the cold pragmatist, I can use that."

Sam threw his hands in the air, "I can't deal with this anymore. Her book's out, did you know that? She's dealing with a fucking mob case, ten bodies in barrels are there because of Clay's old port pal. I know she warned me about how much one per cent Clubs hated women but this is something different."

Jax felt his heart sink, he had totally forgotten about your book. "I… I'm sorry."

You waved your hands, "stop both of you, we can't be at each other throats. Now, Samuel, you don't get to speak for me. If I was upset about the book, I would have brought it up. Work being hard right now is the fault of the DA, no one else."

Sam relaxed, "I'm sorry, it's just hard to see my sister do so much work and not get the appreciation she deserved."

Jax nodded, "I know, you don't think it pisses me off that no one thanks her for anything." You put your hands on your hips.

"Please, we can deal with in the morning. I have to go back to work and my head is aching. I'm going to feed Abel then come go the bed."

Jax followed, "I'm sorry about tonight."

You shook your head, "I'll fix it, don't worry. You can Clay are going to sort things out and we're going to be fine."

Jax willed himself to believe you.

****

"Did you see the paper this morning?"

Sam put the paper on the table, "isn't that of the Weston's men?"

You nodded, "yeah, shit." The headline was to the point.

"Man killed in freak bee attack."

The story went on to explain that while walking down mainstream, the man was stung by a bee and was unable to get help, he died on the way to the hospital. In reality, he was stuck with a pin covered in bee venom and a dead bee was dropped next to him.

"He should have been carrying his epi-pen, it's no one fault other than his."

Sam smiled, "is that because he's a nazi or because you can't stand people who take their health for granted?"

You shrugged, "both, I guess. A lot of these guys think life saving medication are created by the Jews to control people, his anti semitism got him killed." Jax walked into the kitchen with Abel.

"What's going on?"

You showed him the paper, "one of Weston's men just received his Darwin award."

Jax huffed, "what an idiot."

You took a deep breath, "I'm going to take Abel with me today. I have paperwork in the morning and Gemma can pick him up after two so I can keep doing exams."

Jax kissed your lips, "ok Darlin, I'll see you in the afternoon?"

You nodded, 'yeah, I've got to get this stuff sorted with Clay."

He put a hand on your face, "you know it's just Clay and Tig who don't like you? The other guys adore you."

You nodded, "I know, but Clay's in charge and he needs to like me so I don't cause problems for everyone."

He kissed you again, "I love you."

"I love you too. See you guys after five."

****

Gemma couldn't stop staring at the paper, you had actually gone and done it. All she felt was relief, maybe she would never have to tell anyone, maybe you would go so far as to keep her secret that you get rid of Weston and Zobelle too.

She had no idea, all she knew was that if she didn't fix things between her husband and her son, one of them was going to die. The guys had left to talk to Lin, and Jax had gone to see Otto. Clay was telling her less and less, and she knew that what happened with Donna was close to exploding.

For the first time since Thomas died, she was totally lost.

****

"What do you mean none of those bitches won't work for you."

Weston could have killed Darby, "they've refused, apparently they're getting paid enough not to need any more work. One of them is l/n old lady, she told me she's going right to her old man."

Weston was worried now, Zobelle wouldn't be impressed, "go back to your lab, I want Charming flooded with crank by the end of the day."

*****

"You want some, baked fresh?"

Clay shook his head, "shut the door."

Bobby did and then sat down, "Sam just came in to tell me that Ima and the other women were offered a hooking job by Darby." Bobby raised his eyebrows.

"They didn't take it?"

Clay shook his head, "I knew getting into porn was a bad idea, I want us out." Bobby was over it.

"That's not going to fly, Luanne is fine and the guys love it there. Clay, you're burning bridges you can't afford to, if you keep this up you'll lose your seat. Everyone knows something is going on between you and Jax, this will just make things worse."

Clay knew Bobby was right but he didn't care, "it's dirty and I'm done with it, liquidate and sell everything you can."

Bobby shook his head, "no, not without a vote. And you know how that will land."

Before Clay could complain more, the others walked it. "The judge is small-time, close to retirement. Widower, one kid, a son at Berkeley."

Clay lifted his hand, "that's out emotional leverage."

Clay turned to Tig, "I told Lin we needed to see the guns before we bought them, so I arranged a hardware test. That's you."

Tig didn't want that. "What, who's going to press the judge?" Clay's tone was dismissive.

"Bobby and Ope, and take Happy with you, he'll know how to persuade."

Tig gripped the back of the chair, "this is bullshit."

Clay nodded towards the door, "give us a minute." Everyone left and Tig started his rant, Clay wasn't having it, going on about how this was about bringing Ope into the Club. For once, Tig pushed back.

"The more we bring him in, the more we're protected."

Tig didn't like that idea, "yeah, and the more you hurt Jax."

Clay left, turning his head for the last word, "I don't give a shit about Jax."

****

You were with Jax and Kip in Chibs' room, Jax was telling Chibs all about last night, "how did Otto take it?"

Jax shrugged, "as well as any of us would. He calmed down a bit when I told him about the new security."

Chibs smiled softly, "it's not your fault Jax."

Jax nodded, "how long until you get out?"

You walked closer and sat opposite Jax on the bed, "the doctor said a week but they're moving him to Stockton."

They all looked worried, "he can't leave, can you give him a few more days?"

You rubbed your face, "hypothetical if you had sudden head pain and sensitivity to light, you'd have to stay."

Chibs smiled, "thanks y/n, you're a good girl."

You smiled and stood up, "no problems. As much as I love to stay, I have DNA and ballistics to run."

Jax shot you a sympathetic look "don't work too hard."

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "are you kidding me. After this case, I better get a pay raise or I'm going on strike. I'll see everyone later."

Jax stood up and gave you a peck, "love you."

"Love you too."

****

"Hey sweetheart, Sam sounded pretty worried about you."

Ima was waiting for Jax at CaraCara, "Darby got pretty pissed when we said no. I don't know if he's going to want payback." Jax ran a hand through his hair, Opie was already talking to Lyla in the dressing room.

"You can stay home for a few days, I don't think anyone's going to mind and the dogs will enjoy it."

Ima shook her head, "Luanne insisted on paying Billy this time, we're all logging extra on the sex cams to help out."

Jax nodded and put a hand on her shoulder, "don't leave anywhere with that gun. Georgie might not be here but we have no idea if he's got anything else in the works."

She nodded, "yeah I know, thanks for stopping by."

He gave her a warm smile, "nah, Opie wanted to see Lyla anyway."

Ima smiled, "yeah, they're getting along real well."

****

Hale was pissed, they had two meth overdoses in as many hours, so he went to the only place he could think of, Impeccable smokes.

"What you think you're doing?"

Zobelle didn't react, "I would be careful, Deputy."

Hale squared his shoulders, "that tape you have on me is nothing."

Zobelle smiled, "legally? yes, but it might call your run for chief into question."

Hale shook his head, "where else is Darby cooking meth?"

Weston came from behind him and handed him a bit of paper, "he's cooking in an old motor home, scrap metal yard." Hale took the paper without another word and walk out, he was really sick of these assholes.

****

Jax was done, hearing from Bobby that Clay wanted to shut down CaraCara had him fuming, "we need CaraCara, it's our only Club income."

Clay didn't even look at him, "gun business is back online, new twenty, new source. We're done with pussy"

Jax licked his lips, "just for a minute, try and think past this bullshit between us. Porn is a legitimate business Clay."

Clay finally turned to look at him, "so it auto repair, and that doesn't make my skin crawl."

Jax shook his head, "look at your runs with guns the last few years, we lost more than we've earned money and blood."

Clay was now paying Jax his full attention, "SAMCRO deals guns."

Jax stopped him before he could go on, "do you even know who the new supplier is?

"Hamas." Sam stiffened and looked at Jax. Jax had heard you both go on and on about them, he wasn't about to work with the enemy.

"We all voted yes, you need Club approval to shut it down."

Clay wasn't listening, "you had your little romp as porn king and almost got one of our member's old lady killed."

Jax was indignant, "you are really going to stand there and lay the guilt of a dead wife on me?"

Clay's eyes went cold, "you remember that promise I made?"

Jax pull his gun out of his kutte and threw it on the table "let me make it easy for you."

Jax spun around and the moment Clay picked up the gun, Sam's hand was on his. There was silence and Clay put the safety on, throwing the gun on the table.

"We put this out at church tonight."

Jax was sitting at the table smoking when Bobby came out, "you wanna tell me what that dead wife shit was about?"

Jax shook his head, "Donna man, had Clay gotten out if guns six months ago, she would still be here." Before they could take more, Tig came out.

"We gotta talk, you and me, alone."

Jax stood up, "I'm done with alone, anything you got to say to me, Bobby can hear." Of course it was about Ope, Jax had no sympathy for the guilt Tig felt.

"You're worried about losing your right hand seat." Jax was almost disgusted, "keep Ope light, I'll show up after I check those guns and work the judge."

Jax shook his head, "the way me and Ope are going, I try to talk him down it might be the very thing that pushes him to it."

Bobby had been listening, "maybe you should tag along anyhow."

Jax was chewing on his cheek, "ok."

****

"Fire system is in and the fence is done. We're going to head back to New York tonight, Frank's got Amy's presentation to go to."

The text lifted a weight off your shoulders.

"Thanks guys."

You went on your break early to go see Clay, it was time to put all this to rest. When you pulled up, Hale had just left, pulling you aside. "Hey, can we talk?"

You shrugged, "you've got five minutes."

He nodded, "I just got done talking to Clay, Zobelle isn't going to keep getting away with what he's doing to Charming."

You huffed, "it won't matter, your brother will see to that. I'd separate yourself for him if you want to get chief, shit's about to hit the fan for him."

Hale brisstled, "yeah I know."

You smiled softly, "my advice, be sure when you do, it's in public."

Clay came out of the Clubhouse and sat on the picnic benches, Tig, Happy, Juice and Kip were close by, "hello Mr Morrow, I think it's time we talk about what happened last night." His jaw clenched and he waved you inside, "no I think it's better to do it in front of everyone, I don't trust you not to misrepresent me or my words."

He made no move to get up and you sat opposite him, "what you said last night was unaccepted for more than one reason. Despite the fact that you have betrayed Gemma by being unfaithful to her, I have never commented on your marriage, you have no right to comment on our relationship." Happy's arms were crossed over his chest, it seemed he had a problem with how Clay treated his wife.

"I have killed for this Club, more than once. I have risked my life and my freedom for this Club more than once. Had it not been for me, you'd all still be inside. Not that it matters, but I haven't really gotten a genuine thank you from most of you for that." Juice looked sad.

"You crossed a severe line by telling Jax he was whipped. Just because Jax doesn't treat me like a warm sex doll doesn't mean he's whipped, just because Jax listens to me and cares about me doesn't mean he's whipped. I do not wish to cause issues with the Club but you haven't treated me fairly and I will not stand for it." It seemed that the other agreed with you.

"You have four-eight hours to give me a genuine apology, where you tell me why what you said was wrong, and what you are going to do to prove to me you won't do it again. If you lie or it's half-hearted my threat will stand, I will stop helping completely, no more medical care, no more information, and no more coving up your crimes. Understand?"

He didn't say anything but after looking around at his men, it was clear they were on your side, "I understand."

"Great."

Just as you left, other members were arriving to deal with whatever business Hale had brought and you went home to talk with Frank and Billy before they left tonight.

****

Jax knew this was a mistake, Opie had gone off the deep end trying to get the judge to talk. It was only his quick thinking that got the job done. They waited until they got the call and left, they had a vote to take care of and there was no way he was going to let Clay get away with shutting CaraCara down.

"Let's hear pros and cons."

Sam spoke up first, "there are no pros, if you shut down CaraCara, you will be getting rid of our biggest legitimate earner, you'll be putting those women at risk and you'll bring ATF back to our doorstep."

"He's right Clay, this isn't about CaraCara, this is about you and Jax."

Juice was next, "we're only in the first year and we've made more than any other studio in the area, if it keeps going like that, it's going to make us just as much as the guns."

Surprisingly Tig agreed, "we owe it to Otto to look after Luanne. He helped her start the business, we'd be throwing that in his face if we shut it down." Jax didn't speak, he spent the whole time glaring at Clay.

"Let's vote this shit."

Of course, Clay was the only no vote. "Are you happy?"

Clay stood up, "you need to learn some respect."

Jax threw his chair back, getting in Clay's face, "and you need to grow up. Every call you've made over the last few months has gone bad, you're losing you step."

Clay looked away, "you need to be careful son."

Jax was over it, "or what, you'll blow the back of my head off?"

They could all tell it was going to get worse, "that's enough, it's done. CaraCara stays." Bobby was trying to be the voice of reason.

"Yeah it is. I'm going home, don't fucking bother me tonight." With that, Jax left.

****

Jax got home just as you did, "hello my love. How did the vote go?" He smiled, "how do you think, did Billy and Frank get CaraCara sorted?"

You nodded, "yep, all done. The outside feed will now go back to Anvil twenty-four-seven so there's no way anything is going to happen again. How are things with Clay?"

He shrugged, "the same. I…I want to run something by you."

You put a hand on his face, "anything, shall we talk about it over dinner?"

He pulled you into his arms, putting his forehead on yours, "sure."

You put the meal in front of Jax and sat down next to him, "what did you want to ask me about."

His eyes were cast down "I'm thinking about going nomad."

You weren't surprised, "if you go, Sam will go. He won't leave you to be on the road all by yourself."

Jax nodded, "that might not be such a bad thing, he's close to killing someone."

You nodded, "yeah I know, that should calm down now that the studio is sorted. Do you think that's the right thing for Opie?"

He shrugged, "if I don't leave, Clay's going to end up dead."

You took a deep breath, "I know, it's been going that way for a while."

You picked up your fork, stabbing your food with disinterest, "it's your choice Jax, I'm here to support you, not to tell you what to do." He laughed softly.

"Really? I thought I was your bitch."

You giggled, "I'm guessing you heard about my chat with Clay this afternoon."

He nodded, "I did, everyone is on your side by the way. Clay will apologise just to avoid being blamed when shit gets serious with Zobelle."

You nodded, "I'm counting on it."

"Have you talked to Sam about going Nomad?"

He shook his head, "I'll do it tomorrow, I just wanted to have tonight before I started to move."

You nodded, "so your mind's made up?"

He smiled softly, "yeah, I can't stay. I'll go to different places for church, put a few more miles on my bike and come back when Clay's hands go."

You put a hand on his arm, "I understand, I don't agree with what you're going, but I get why you've gotten to this point."

"Thank you."

****

You went to T-M first thing the next morning, Jax was already talking with Gemma. When he left to go to church, you pulled her aside, "I'm guessing Jax told you?"

She nodded, "he can't go Nomad, on the road with no protection. Do you want the call to come pick up the body."

You shook your head, "no I don't, but you know how bad things are with Clay, maybe it's for the best."

She crossed her arms over her chest, "it can't happen, with all the enemies we have, he'll be dead long before he can come back home."

You threw your hand up, "Sam will go with him, he won't be able to stay here alone with Clay and Tig, he'll keep Jax safe."

Gemma got even more upset, "then Opie will be here alone."

Fuck, she was right, "then what do we do Gemma? Jax is leaving, nothing I can say to him will stop that and I won't ask him to be miserable on my behalf."

She rubbed her face, "give me some time to think."

You nodded softly, "we don't have time Gemma, he's already put the wheels in motion. If Jax gets his way and they all vote yes, he and Sam will be gone by tonight."

****

"Davy, DAVY."

Jacob Hale ran after his brother, "what, you planning on trying to convince me to side with those white hate assholes again?"

Jacob shook his head, "you have to see that this is a means to an end, they don't care about Charming."

David did his best to lower his voice, "I do, which makes one of us. They are flooding the town with bad meth, we've have four overdoses in three days, it only stopped because Darby's in hospital after blowing up his own lab."

Jacob shook his head, "I never planned for that to happen."

He didn't meet his younger brother's eye, "well it did happen. Don't you think this makes me look just as bad?"

Jacob didn't respond, "you always were just like dad, to busy filling your pockets to care about what was going on around you."

Jacob got within inches of David's face, "and you were too busy playing Captain America to see the bigger picture."

David was done, "Neo-Nazis are not the bigger picture, what do you think they're going to do to Charming when you're mayor?"

Jacob shrugged, "it will be better than what SAMCRO's going to do with you when you're chief."

David's fist moved before his brain gave permission, slamming into his older brother's face, "you take that back, I will never go dirty, unlike you."

Jacob wiped his face, "I'm sure the city council will disagree."

Derek was down the street taking photos of the altercation, the moment David walked away, he called you.

"How's the recon going?"

You could almost hear him smiling, "I just captured the deputy punching his older brother."

He heard a clap across the line, "fuck yeah."

Derek laughed, "when are we putting your plan into motion."

There was a noise from the other side of the line, it sounded like work, "how does tomorrow night sound?"

Derek nodded, "I'll get those photos blown up and meet you at your place with my ski mask."

"Great! This case is almost done, I'll buy you dinner tomorrow to thank you."

Your celebration was cut off by a text for Jax.

"The vote was unanimous on me but not on Sam, I'm gone by tonight."

Shit

****

After that, the day was long and hard. It had taken a few hours for everything to fall apart, by mid-afternoon Jax was leaving SAMCROW and one of the state cops had mishandled the case so it fell apart. You had suggested that it was intentional but his superior shrugged you off, it seemed the Mob had more a reach than you thought.

You clocked off early again, heading home to be with Abel, you had just started reading to him when Sthal got there.

"I'm sorry, I can't let you in."

She looked pissed, "sure you can."

You shook your head, "no I can't. Come back with a warrant or get lost."

She walked away, turning on her heel just before she got to her car, "are you Abel's legal guardian? I would hate to see anything happen to him if Jax got hurt."

You closed the door before she could keep speaking and called Jax, "hey Darlin, is everything ok?"

You took a deep breath, "not really, we need to talk about some things before you head off, can you bring Bobby by as well please."

There was a pause, "sure, we'll be there soon."

Once he hung up you went to your car and got out the papers, then you called Derek, "hey, the thing with Abel's been sped up a bit, can you come over as a witness?" Derek almost spoke over you.

"Be there in five." You smiled, at least if this went well, Jax wouldn't have to worry about Abel.

Jax and Bobby got to his place soon after Derek, when they came in, you and he were already sitting at the table, "is everything ok? You were pretty vague over the phone."

You nodded and waved for them to sit down, "everything's fine, Sthal showed up, I didn't let her in but she brought up a good point. If anything happens to you, there's no way the courts will give Abel to Gemma."

You pulled the papers out of their folder, "I was planning on waiting till everything with Zobelle blew over but with you going Nomad, we can't." You passed the papers to Jax, "this is a special issue adoption, if you sign it, I will legally be Abel's mother without us needing to get married. Bobby and Derek are here as wit…." Jax was halfway through signing the papers.

"You probably should have read it before you signed it, it is a legal document."

Jax shook his head, "I told you months ago you were his mother, the fact that it's on paper changes nothing." Bobby and Derek were smiling ear to ear.

"I don't know y/n, he signed it so fast I don't think I got to see it."

You slapped your friend on the shoulder, "just sign the paper and fuck off, you have other things to do."

Bobby wrote his messy signature, "congratulations both of you."

You shook your head, "as I was saying if you read it you would know that there are other things for us to talk about."

Jax wasn't really listening, so you handed him another piece of paper, a bank statement. "I started it when Abel was born, it comes from my book sales and will continue to be added to no matter what happens if even you file to have the adoption dissolved. By the time he's eighteen, his whole life will be set up, he'll never have to worry like I did growing up."

Jax looked over the statement with tears in his eyes, "you did this even though we weren't together?"

You nodded, "yep, I knew you were worried about providing for him and I knew how much you wanted out of guns, this was my way of helping."

Derek waved over at Bobby and they left, Derek calling out just before he opened the door, "I'll call later."

Jax pulled you into a hug so tight it was hard to breathe, "I love you so much."

You smiled, "one more thing, move in with me? Now that I'm Abel's mum legally, there's no reason for you two to stay here. My house is bigger, the security is better and you can keep this place as a rental opportunity, maybe put more money aside for Abel's future."

He nodded, "why not, if I'm being honest, your house has always felt more like home."

You smiled, "I guess it's our house now."

Jax pulled you into his arms, standing up and spinning you around his dining room, "I love you so much." You giggled as he put you down, holding his face and rubbing your noses together before kissing his lips.

"I think we should go tell everyone, they might enjoy some good news with what's going on."

Jax nodded and threw on his kutte, "good idea Darlin."

****

When you got there, the sun was just about to set. The air was buzzing with tension, Sam hadn't left, choosing to stay to bury himself in work. "Hey Sammy, I guess you're stuck with me."

He gave you a sad smile, "sorry cricket, we both know Teller would be better with me there but Bobby wasn't willing to let me go."

You nodded, "it sucks but Jax will be ok."

You wandered over to the picnic table where everyone was sitting, "I know things have been kind of shit, but we have good news."

Jax was smiling softly, "well dear, don't leave me to do all the work."

The smile on Jax's face stretched up till his eyes were twinkling, "I just signed the official adoption papers, y/n is legally Abel's mother." There was a cheer, everyone starting a heartfelt congratulations.

"That's wonderful news Lass, Jax and Abel are lucky to have you."

Bobby slapped you lovingly on the shoulder, 'I'm really happy for both of you."

Gemma wrapped you in a warm hug, "I always knew you were the one for my Jackson." She seemed sad, "is everything alright?" She shrugged and looked toward her son.

"Met me at my place later tonight, both of you."

She walked away and Jax pulled you into his arms, "we need to start packing, you can decide if you want to take furniture from your place or if you want to rent if fully furnished."

Jax chuckled, "your brother's right, you were born in your fifties."

You giggled into his chest, "yeah well, don't turn into a landlord. I can't have a capitalist for a boyfriend." Jax shook his head, "I love you."

"I love you too."

****

You were already there when Clay walked in, the air turning steely when they met eyes. "Sit down, both of you."

You went to leave, "you too sweetheart, you know what I need to do."

"What is this?"

Gemma took a deep breath, "the night of Bobby's party, I didn't get into an accident driving home, I was jumped. Minivan pulls up behind me and a woman gets out, say her baby's choking. She was very convincing, it was a God damn doll in the car seat. She hit me over the back of the head with a blackjack or something."

Another deep breath, "when I came to, I was handcuffed to a chainlink, utility house off the access road. They were masks, there were three of them. The one who spoke, I knew his voice, the tat on his throat, Zobelle's right hand Weston." Jax squeezed your hand tighter, clearly very angry.

"They beat me, it must have gone on for half an hour." You nodded softly, "had y/n and Unser not shown up, they would have raped me, all three of them, more than once." You jumped out of your skin when Jax let go of your hand and slammed his fist into the table.

"They gave me a message, stop selling guns to colour or they find me, and do it again." Jax got up and walked over to his mother, holding her hands and bringing them to his lips before he squeezed his stepfather's shoulder.

As much as you hated it, you realised it was time to make amends with Clay, no matter how you felt about him, it seemed he had the same idea. "I'm sorry for what I said the other day, and how I've treated you. Without you, I can't imagine what would have happened."

You pulled him into a hug, "all is forgiven, we have bigger problems then what's going on here."

Jax put an arm around your back, walking you out. He stopped before he left, picking up his flashes before leaving. You wondered if this was Gemma's plan all along.

Part 31 Snippet 4 - The Charming Gazette

This chapter was a bit all over the place, I've glossed over a lot of plot points but things will get more in-depth soon.

#Jax teller #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #fluff #soa #jax teller #sons of anarhcy fanficton #sons of anarchy fluff #jax teller imagine #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x you #jax teller x reader #jax teller x oc #samcrow #jax teller fluff #charlie hunnam #fix it fanfiction #jax teller smut #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jackson teller

[chasingmidnights]

I Think I Need a Doctor

Title: I Think I Need a Doctor

Summary: After a mission goes south, you end up badly injured. Bucky rushes you to the nearest hospital. The odds of you pulling through don’t look too good though. 

Warnings: character injury; being hospitalized; intubation; mentions of bombs going off; a bit of angst; and I believe those are the major ones. I apologize if I miss anything but you are responsible for what you read. 

Wordcount: 944

Bucky sat waiting anxiously in the ER waiting area as the doctors did what they could to help you. He was waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. His leg bounces uncontrollably, all of this waiting was starting to drive him crazy. Where the hell were they? Y/n is fighting for their life and they haven't arrived yet. He kept trying to push the incident out of his mind but it wasn’t working. It was all he could think about. 

“Y/n, don’t!”  He pleaded. 

They were taking out a HYDRA base and one of their soldiers had activated several bombs. You were both in a time crunch and had been separated. The first blast damaged the floor, making a huge hole in the  floor. Bucky had peered down into the hole and it led down to the basement. It was at least a forty foot drop if not more and at least twenty feet across. There would be no way in hell you could make it but when he saw the look on your face, he knew you were forming a plan. Going on several missions together and being best friends, he knew you all too well. He hears a voice come through the hospital’s intercom and he lets out a huff of air. He presses his palms together as he’s hunched over and has his elbows propped up on his knees. 

He can still hear the ringing from the blasts in his ears as he sat there. His thoughts flashing back to the mission, wondering if there was a way where he could’ve changed the outcome. You didn’t even have a chance to even try and jump before the other bombs went off. The blasts from the bombs were so powerful that they knocked both of them back. It even knocked him unconscious for a while. When he finally came to, his mind went straight to you and how he needed to find you. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he searched for you, completely ignoring his own injuries. It was hard to see through the dust that had gathered as he searched through the rubble. 

When he finally found you, his eyes went wide with fear seeing your body in the state that it was in. He threw rubble out of the way as fast as he could to get to you. He froze when he saw you, now that he was up close and getting a better look at your fragile body. Your body was slouched up against the wall and a pipe was sticking through your lower abdomen. Bucky found himself crouching down to examine your body further. He reaches his right hand out and gently brushes some of your hair off your face. You begin to stir and he urges you not to move. You try to speak but you’re not able to get a single word out before you go unconscious. He quickly checks for your pulse and is relieved when he finds one. He tells you he’s sorry before gently removing your body off of the pipe. Picking you up bridal style, he carefully carries you over the rubble and debris to get you to a hospital. 

Bucky is brought out of his thoughts when he hears his name being called. He looks in the direction of where the calling was coming from to see Steve approaching him who was followed by Sam, Nat, Tony, Bruce, and Clint. Bucky stands up to greet them and is embraced in a hug by Steve. They give each other a couple of pats on the back before releasing one another. 

“How is she?” Steve inquires, still holding onto Bucky by the shoulder. 

Bucky lets out a huff of air but before he can manage to say anything, he’s interrupted. 

“Barnes?” The doctor interrupts them as he approaches the group. 

Bucky glances back at Steve before greeting the doctor. “Yeah, that’s me. How is she?” Concern laced his voice as it wavered. 

There’s a long pause before the doctor speaks up. “Well, she’s out of surgery but I wouldn’t say she’s out of the woods quite yet. She needs to recover and that’s gonna be a long process.” The doctor takes a breath before continuing. “Good news is, that the pipe that went through her missed any and all major vital organs, it was a clean cut. A couple of stitches and it was an easy fix. However, our main concern is her collapsed lung and she’s struggling to breathe on her own. The collapsed lung is stable for now but we had to do a tracheal intubation, meaning we had to place a tube through her mouth to keep the trachea open so that air can get through.” The doctor finishes. 

The doctor was about to say something else when Bucky interrupted him. “When can we see her?” 

“Well, Mr. Barnes, she’s being transported to her room now. So, it’ll be a little while yet.” The doctor replies, he’s then pulled to the side by Tony and Bruce. 

When the group is finally able to see you, they’re all shocked at the state that you’re in. Even though the doctor had warned them, it still surprised them quite a bit. Sam and Steve became quiet and stoic as Natasha curled into Bruce’s side and let out muffled sobs. Tony and Clint let a few tears escape and slide down their cheeks, as did Bruce. Bucky takes a few strides towards your bed and when he reaches it, he falls to his knees. He lays his head on your hand and a sob rakes through his body.

#tales of a whumpee newbie #writing challenge #bucky barnes #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes one shot #sergeant james barnes #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan

[puzzlebean]

Title: Kissing Steve Rogers

Fandom: Marvel

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairings: Steve/Bucky, Steve/Sharon, Steve/Helen, Steve/Jane/Thor, Steve/Darcy, Steve/Rhodey, Steve/Emma, Steve/Scott

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Tower, Polyamory, Curses, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Bucky Barnes Feels, Mutual Pining, Getting Together (for steve/bucky eventually), Established Relationship (for Steve/Others), POV Bucky Barnes, Past Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Steve gets hit by a kissing curse on the field. If he doesn't kiss someone he loves within 24 hours he will die. Bucky, Sam, and Tony call Steve’s girlfriend, Sharon, because clearly he loves her. But Sharon is on the other side of the world and can't come. Then she drops a bomb. Apparently Steve loves a lot of people. Bucky doesn't know how he feels about that… Does Steve just love everyone but him?

Chapter One (948 words) is now available on AO3:

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #my fic #stucky #staron #steve x emma #steve x helen #steve x darcy #steve x jane x thor #steve x scott #steve x rhodey #steve rogers

[codependentfreaks]

prompt requested by @zxrocide :

how about an angst post-jess's-death ficlet?

author's notes: I'm not great at angst but I'll try! Also please remember english is not my first language but I'm trying my best with what I know.

______________________________

Sam was lying on his bed again, taking a deep breath as he tried to dissipate the stress of the day. He couldn't help but think about what Dean had said when they parted ways again: "we made a hell of a team back there." And the did, Sam knew it. Him and Dean were always a great team, but also the worst possible one. Like a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

His thoughts about his conflicting feelings towards his brother were interrupted by a sudden drop of something wet on his forehead, one and then two times. He opened his eyes to check on it, just to be faced with the horrifying vision of his girlfriend bleeding on the ceiling. He screamed her name in horror as she started catching fire above him, stamping in his brain a imagine he would never get rid of. Sam kept screaming, watching in a masochistic way how Jessica burned, wanting nothing more than to burn with her, die with her.

"Sam..." she whispered and he felt the tears running down his face. "Why Sam?"

He frowned, still frozen in shock, unable to move.

"Why Sam? Sam..."

It was like her voice was floating in the room, sounding more and more distant as she repeated the words.

"Jess! I'm here... please!" he yelled, knowing it was useless. She was already dead... But why was she talking to him?

"Sam..." she repeated, but the sound coming from her mouth didn't sound like her. It was different, rougher.

"Sam..."

"Sam..."

"Sam..."

That voice. That new voice sounded so familiar. It sounded like Dean.

And then, Sam opened his eyes.

"Sam!" Dean was hovering above him, sitting by his side on the motel bed. "Dude, are you okay? You were freaking me out!"

He wasn't okay. His body was soaking wet with cold sweat and his throat hurts, probably from screaming in his sleep.

"I'm fine" he lied, still trying to catch his breath. "Sorry for waking you up"

"Yeah, I'm gonna start asking for financial compensation" Dean tried to joke, but the concern in his eyes and voice were too obvious for Sam not to notice. "It was the same nightmare as always? I mean, about that night?"

Sam nodded, running a hand though his face as he let out a shaky breath.

"It's okay, Sammy. You're okay" Dean finally surrended to his big brother instincts, deciding to stop pretending he wasn't worried. He brushed back Sam's messy, sweaty hair and the younger one flinched.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Dean's confused and hurt expression. His green eyes were really easy to read, and Sam knew Dean was questioning why his baby brother would back off from his touch.

Sam always felt weird about Dean, things one brother shouldn't feel about the other. His confusing and utterly wrong feelings were part of the reason he needed to get out and go to Stanford. Of course dad and the hunting life were also a big part of it, but Sam really needed to get away from Dean before he noticed his deviance. Part of him felt guilty everyday, like he was using Jessica, sleeping by her side while dreaming about his brother every night and missing him like crazy. Sometimes he feared that, deep down, he wanted her to die, specially after spending time with Dean hunting the woman in white. Of course he loved Jess, but who knows? Maybe he was just a bad person and some obscure part he can't really access is happy she's dead.

He really wish he could access that because missing her was killing him as much as Dean's touches and the feelings they brought.

Dean didn't say anything, he just got up and went to get a beer from the mini fridge. "Here" he handed it to Sam, who just thanked him awkwardky, unable to say he preferred a glass of water.

The younger man drunk his beer silently while pretending not to notice his brother's concerned stare. He wanted to apologize, say he didn't mean to flinch and ask, beg his brother to touch him again. Not only his hair, but his face, his lips his body.

God, he was disgusting. Sick. Jess deserved so much better than a pityful man who thought about kissing his own brother while still grieving her.

He hadn't even noticed he had finished his beer when Dean took it from him and put it on the counter. "You should try going back to sleep. Are you calmer now?", he asked, walking back to Sam's bed. When his brother nodded, Dean mirrored the movement and started going to his own bed.

"Wait-" Sam asked and Dean stopped, turning to look at him. "Stay with me until I fall asleep... please?"

Dean took some time to answer and Sam thought for a moment he was going to make fun of him, but looking in Dean's eyes he noticed he was wrong. The oldest finally smiled.

"Sure Sammy"

Sam smiled back, lying down on his bed again. He felt the bed shift with his brother's weight as he seated next to his head and stayed there. He almost could feel Dean's hesitation about trying to touch him again, so he slightly moved closer. It was such a small movement Dean would only notice it if we was really paying attention, and he always was. That's why the next moment Sam felt Dean's fingers in his hair.

"Thank you, Dean" he mumbled softly.

"Anytime"

#samdean #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #fanfic #sam and dean #ficlet #protective dean #angst #hurt/comfort #wincest #wincest fic #season one #nightmares #this one is a mess #no beta we die like winchesters #my writing

[ao3feed-stevebucky]

Hiding Behind A Shield

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/aKW9VIF

by CosmicksFics

Steve and Bucky fall in love with each other in the worst time possible; Civil War times. Turns out keeping their relationship a secret from Tony is easier said than done.

Written from 6-27-22 to 6-28-22

Words: 2133, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Friday (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel)

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Additional Tags: Partially based on a meme, Language, Bucky Barnes Drops The F Bomb, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Is An Amazing Boyfriend, Bisexual Steve Rogers, How Do I Tag, i really dunno, Bear with me I’m a noob, Quote: On your left (Marvel), Starbucks, Spooning, big spoon steve rogers, little spoon bucky barnes, Fluff and Angst, Light Petting, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark Are Mad At Each Other, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Loses It, Love Confessions, Tony Stark Ships Stucky, If Bucky Barnes Doesn’t Drop The F Bomb In Thunderbolts…, Domestic Barbershop Quartet, Platonically ofc… except for Stucky duh

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/aKW9VIF

#ao3feed #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky #stucky #steve/bucky #stevexbucky #fanfic

[440mxs-wife]

Turning Back Time

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader, mention/hint of Dean x F!Reader (past). Other Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Thor Odinson, Loki Laufeyson, Clint Barton, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester and Jeremiah Nelson/Demon!Dazon (OMC). Mentioned: Happy Hogan, Castiel and Bobby Singer.

Word Count: 7497

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mention of reader’s parents’ death, Jealous!Dean, Protective!Bucky, mention of Reader’s past as a hunter, a little bit of reader self-doubt. Slight angst, but still has a good amount of FLUFF.

Summary: Your past has finally caught up with you. The last case your parents worked on was apparently unresolved at the time of their deaths. That means the demon they were hunting is looking for revenge, and has decided you make a great target. Now all you have to do is explain the hunting world to your fiancé and your friends, then hope they will believe you and will help you.

A/N: So here we are at the cross-over, which took on a mind of its own. I don’t think I’ve written anything this fast in a long time, if ever. It got to be so long I split it into two parts, and I swear this will be the last of this series. I’ve had a lot of fun writing it, though, and hope you will enjoy it as well. Thank you!

A/N 2: You can catch up on Part 1, Perfect Timing here, Part 2, Running Out of Time here and Part 3 In the Nick of Time here. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"You guys can't be here, Dean," you informed him.

"Wait a minute. Just hear us out, please. If you don't like what we have to say, then we'll leave," Sam promised.

"I already know I'm not going to like what you have to say, Sam. I left you guys years ago. I didn't want to be a full-time hunter, but got caught up in your crusade after my parents died. But listen to me when I say this. I'M. OUT. I got out, and I'm staying out. I have a good life here, great friends, an amazing job. I have a man who loves me and wants to marry me," you explained, holding up your left hand.

"Is there some kind of problem here?" you heard Bucky say from behind you. He slipped his arm around your waist from behind. The move was both possessive and to show Sam and Dean you were his. Bucky's eyes searched yours as you looked up to him. "Sweetheart? Who are these guys?" he asked.

"Old friends, James. They were passing through town, heard I was here and decided to stop by and see me. Now that they've seen me, they are leaving," you gritted out the last word through clenched teeth.

"We have something important to tell you, and we're not leaving until we do," Dean retorted.

Now it was Steve's turn. He stepped in front of you and Bucky, arms folded across his chest. "If the lady said you're leaving, then you're leaving," he remarked with his "Captain's voice".

"I think that's for her to decide, isn't it?" Dean snarked back.

"Dude, that's Captain America," Sam hissed. "I don't think you should push the issue any further," he warned.

Dean scoffed then took a closer look. "Wait a minute, you ARE Cap--you know Captain America??" Dean exclaimed, whirling around to face you.

You rolled your eyes at his sudden change in attitude from tough guy to fanboy. "Yes, Dean. He happens to be my fiancé's best friend. C-can we please move this away from the press and out of the lobby to one of the conference rooms upstairs? Something tells me there's going to be some 'splaining to do on both sides," you muttered.

"That's a good idea," Steve agreed. "FRIDAY, will you please assemble all available Avengers to Conference Room 3 for an emergency meeting?" he called.

"Right away, Captain Rogers," the AI responded.

"That is so cool," Dean grinned.

"Dean, please don't embarrass me," Sam pleaded. "We came here because you said you had important information about her parents. We're about to drop a pretty significant bomb here, one that could seriously disrupt her life. Focus on why we're here, and don't geek out," Sam ordered.

"Fine, have it your way, Sam," Dean grumbled. "I'm not gonna 'geek out'. 'Sides, if anyone's the 'geek' here, it's you, Sammy," he muttered under his breath.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the ascending elevator, Bucky kept you close to his side, always maintaining some sort of contact between you. He wanted there to be no question that the two of you were together, regardless of whatever there used to be between you and the Winchesters. As you exited the elevator, you took Bucky's hand in yours, interlacing your fingers.

You looked inside the conference room to see that Wanda, Natasha, Tony, Thor, Loki, Sam and even Clint were all seated. Steve motioned for Sam and Dean to head in before him, but he was close behind. Before you and Bucky entered the room, you tugged on his hand to pull him back.

"James," you started, locking your gaze on his concerned eyes. "There might be some things said in there that may be difficult or even impossible to hear. Or believe for that matter," you mumbled. "And it's not that I would intentionally keep anything from you, but--" Bucky stopped your rambling with a finger to your lips.

"Baby, baby, shh. You have nothing to worry about. I trust that if you haven't told me something, it's because you didn't think it was a big enough deal. I don't for one second think that you're trying to hide anything," Bucky assured you.

"I only hope that after you hear what's going to come out in there, that you'll still want to be with me. That....you'll still want to marry me," you whispered, tears threatening.

Bucky cradled your face with his right hand and you covered his hand with yours, almost desperately clinging to it. "When I said 'I love you', I meant that I love all of you, same as you've pledged to me. Every part, the past, the present and definitely the future, which includes our wedding and marriage. Now let's get in there and get this over with before Tony pops a blood vessel or something," he winked.

"I love you so much, James," you replied.

"And I love you, sweet girl," he returned. You shared a lingering kiss that was interrupted by Sam "The Falcon" Wilson obnoxiously knocking on the window. Bucky glared at Sam, then you and Bucky walked into the room, hand in hand. The two of you took the last unoccupied chairs at the head of the long conference table.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Would someone please tell me who these guys are, and exactly what they're doing here?" Tony demanded.

Before Dean could interject, you cleared your throat. "I can answer that, Tony. This is Dean Winchester, and his younger brother, Sam Winchester." Each man waved as his name was given, and you asked for the other Avengers to at least give their names.

You took a deep breath before continuing. "You've all heard of ghosts, witches, ghouls, werewolves, vampires?" you asked, pleased to see everyone nodding. "Well, they're not just campfire stories, those monsters and so many others are real. These two hunt them, and for a short time, so did I," you explained.

Instead of outbursts of disbelief, your friends looked around at each other before looking back to you. Natasha was the first to speak. "Is that it?" she wondered. "I mean, no offense Sunshine, but we have two Asgardian gods on the team and two super soldiers from the 1940's. We also have the Scarlet Witch, the Falcon, Hawkeye, me, and a billionaire in a red and gold tin can that bankrolls the whole thing. A couple of ghosts or vampires aren't really all that unusual, sweetie," she smirked.

Natasha's statement provided some tension relief, as you let out a breath that you didn't realize you were holding. To your left, you felt Bucky squeeze your hand in silent support. You smiled at seeing only love and understanding in his eyes. "Okay, let's dive right in, then. According to my family history, I am descended from a long line of hunters, some as far back as the Revolutionary War, or before."

Since it seemed everyone was still listening, you continued. "My parents were also hunters, and when I turned 16, they decided to teach me the basics of how to defend myself. I learned how to get rid of ghosts and other spirits, took out a werewolf, even a vampire or two."

"That's my girl," Bucky murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Your cheeks grew warm at Bucky's show of affection. "Anyway, when I turned 18, my parents told me I could choose between being a full-time hunter or going to college. They had a family friend, Bobby Singer, who agreed to take me in and train me to be a full-fledged hunter, if that was what I wanted. I didn't want that life, so I chose college."

"Sooooo, then how did you meet the flannel-jockeys?" Tony asked.

The younger Winchester raised his hand. "If I may? Dean and I have been hunters since we were kids. Our dad dragged us all over the country, seeking revenge for the demon who killed our mom when Dean was four years old, and I was six months," Sam disclosed. "Along the way, we helped some other people and kept on doing it even after we lost our dad."

"We usually find our cases online, and this one happened to come up on her campus. The three of us met over a case involving a vengeful spirit. That's a ghost that for whatever reason can't or won't 'cross over'. Anyway, it was terrorizing a certain section in the campus library, one where the deceased caught her boyfriend cheating on her. Anyone who tried to take a book out of that section didn't come back out," Dean revealed.

"By the time these two showed up, it had just claimed my roommate's friend as the latest victim. I researched it, figured out who the spirit was, and what object she was connected to. Once we destroyed the item that was keeping her here, the case was closed," you explained.

"How long were you a hunter with these guys?" Steve asked.

"A couple of years," you replied. "A few months after I graduated, I got word from Uncle Bobby that my parents died on the job. They had been tracking this big demon named Dazon, who was recruiting followers by the hundreds.

"Even though I'd just lost my parents, I didn't want any other family to go through what I did. So, I trained with Bobby, Sam, and Dean and became a hunter," you answered then narrowed your eyes. "Now. What I want to know is, what exactly was your purpose in coming here?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other in silent communication. You rolled your eyes in exasperation and pointed an accusing finger at the Winchesters. "Come on guys, stop that! It's always been annoying when you guys do that! If you've got something to say, then just say it, all right? Otherwise I will have you thrown out of the building," you threatened.

Dean held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. On our last hunt, we ran across a demon that knew about your parents' last case and their final battle with Dazon," he remarked. "He said that whatever happened before wasn't over yet, and that Dazon would have his revenge."

You stood up from your chair and braced yourself on the table in front of you as you searched your memory. "But Dean, you know as well as anyone that demons lie. And my dad took Dazon out first, while at the same time, one of his followers went after my mom. Another one ambushed Dad shortly afterwards and killed him while he was trying to save Mom," you replied, then paused to think for a moment. "Wait, Dazon is dead, so what does he have to do with why you're here?" you inquired.

Sam gave Dean an uneasy look, like he didn't want to have to tell you something. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother then turned to face you. "We have reason to believe that Dazon smoked out of his meatsuit just before your dad delivered the final blow. Which means--"

"Oh my....which means Dazon is not dead, and he's probably coming after me in revenge, since my parents are already gone," you whispered. The realization seemed to hit you like a freight train, causing your knees to buckle. Bucky reached out and caught you before you could fall to the floor.

"Any other shocking revelations, guys?!? I think it's time for you to be leaving," Bucky snapped. He guided you to sitting in your chair again, then turned his worried baby blues on you. "Baby, are you okay? Here, drink some water," he soothed, holding out an open bottle of water for you.

You took the offered drink and smiled weakly at your fiancé. "I'm okay, James," you answered wearily, carefully laying a hand aside his cheek, drawing him close to touch your forehead to his. "It's not their fault, they're just the messengers. It's a lot to take in all at once, my past coming back around." Looking at the Winchesters, you asked, "You guys got somewhere to stay?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean watched with twinges of jealousy as Bucky comforted you after the shocking news about your parents was delivered. Back when you were hunting together, he was the one looking after you, providing comfort when things went wrong. He cleared his throat before answering. "Um, no, we came straight here, but I'm sure we can find somewhere else to crash," he responded.

"James? Tony? Can I please talk to you guys outside?" you asked, motioning with your head. Both men agreed, and you rose carefully from your chair and walked out into the hallway. "I know this is a lot to ask of both of you, but is there an unoccupied room or two somewhere in the Tower? Only until we can sort this out," you hastily added.

"For them?" Tony exclaimed in surprise, eyebrows raised.

"Sweetheart, I know they're old friends of yours, but is this really a good idea?" Bucky wondered.

"If Dazon is intent on coming after me for revenge, which I'm sure he is, he could capture one or both of the Winchesters to draw me out. They're used to sleeping in crappy motels, but those don't provide a lot of security, if any, and I know they'd be protected here," you pointed out.

"That makes sense, I can see where that might happen. Any idea how to go about resolving this 'demon' situation?" Tony asked.

"I have some ideas, some of which may involve Stark Tech to gain the advantage. When I was hunting, it was a seriously low-tech approach. Salt and gasoline for burning bones, silver knives, daggers dipped in lamb's blood. Demons are trickier, though. You fight them with holy water and an exorcism spell to save the possessed person. If it all goes sideways and you can't save the possessed person, you have to use a demon blade. Sends the demon straight back to Hell," you explained.

"That is seriously low-tech," Tony muttered.

"Guys, I have to do this. Not only to avenge my parents, although that is an added bonus. But if I don't stand and fight now, Dazon will keep coming after me. Sooner or later, he'll take out someone else I love," you pleaded.

Bucky curled his arm around you and pulled you close to his side. "How do you always manage to get caught up in stuff like this?" he mumbled into the top of your head. "First, it was you rescuing me from HYDRA and Zalinsky, now this," he remarked.

"At least our marriage won't be boring," you quipped then turned serious. "I know, James, and I don't like it any more than you do. However, I'll have you by my side, and I like our odds a whole lot better that way," you affirmed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Before going back in, Tony scrolled through his tablet and found that there was an unoccupied room for the Winchesters to bunk in. It was at the far end of the floor below yours and Bucky's shared room. As eager as he was to show off his Stark Tech capabilities, Tony made sure to restrict Sam and Dean's access to their room and the common areas.

The three of you re-entered the conference room and informed the Winchesters of their new, but very temporary, accommodations. You also arranged for a space for the Impala in the Tower's parking garage. The last thing anyone needed was for the NYPD to go snooping around and discover what's in the trunk. Once all arrangements were made, the meeting was adjourned.

As you walked out, Dean caught your arm. "Hey, what's the status with the redhead? The one with the short hair, is she, uh, seeing anyone?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

You snorted, realizing who he was talking about. "You mean Natasha?" you asked, to which he nodded. You threw your head back in laughter. "Oh, Dean, no. She will chew you up and spit you out. Nat is so out of your league, you're not even playing the same sport," you remarked.

"Never mind all that, just answer the question. Is. she. single. If she is, don't worry. I can take it from there," he assured you while winking at Nat.

You held up your hands in surrender. "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. I'll tell her what floor you're on and what room you're in. After that, it's up to you Romeo," you replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first order of business was to provide the basics of hunting for Bucky and the other Avengers. In your room, you dug through to the back of your closet to find a box you thought you'd never open again. It was a wooden box, covered in symbols for protection of the contents, mostly words in Enochian carved by Castiel.

Inside this box was your leather-bound Hunter's Journal, given to you by your parents when you turned 16. It contained notes of monsters you'd encountered and how you defeated them. You set it aside to make photocopies of the pages or for Tony to make electronic copies. The more information you could provide to your friends, the better you would feel if something happened while you weren't around.

Also in the box were your weapons. There were blades forged from different metals, such as iron, silver, or whatever the Angel Blade was made of. Each blade's shape and length were for a specific type of creature, whether a vampire, werewolf, demon, angel, or even an archangel. The box also had shotgun shells filled with rock salt for ghosts, and bullets with symbols carved into them for witches and demons.

You were inspecting the blade of your machete to determine if it needed to be sharpened, when you sensed a presence behind you. Gripping your blade's handle in both hands and interlocking your fingers, you whipped around and prepared to swing. When you came face-to-face with your fiancé, you stopped before you could follow through. Breathing heavily from the adrenaline rush, you relaxed and slowly lowered your blade.

"Whoa, doll! It's just me," Bucky exclaimed. "Wait, is that a machete?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's for slicing the heads off of vampires. Only way to kill 'em," you added.

"What, no wooden stake through the heart? A garlic necklace to keep zem from sucking ze blood from your neck, pretty girl?" he growled playfully. Right after that, he attached his lips to your neck and sucked a mark into it, causing you to break out into laughter.

"James!" you giggled, trying to get him to stop pretending to be a vampire, but failing miserably.

Bucky finally relented and released your neck from his mouth but kept you held firmly to his body. "But dahling, I vant to taste your blood. I'm sure it's just as sveet as you are, my love," Bucky teased. "Soon you vill be my bride, and ve vill live forever!" he proclaimed with a flourishing wave of his hand.

"Oh, my darling Count Buckula, I dream of ze day you vill make me your bride. Zen ve vill be togezer forever, and nozing vould make me happier," you remarked dramatically. You cradled his face in your hands and stared into the depths of his ocean-colored eyes. The longer you gazed into them, the more in love with him you fell. You couldn't help the smile that grew across your face.

"What are you thinking about that's got you so happy, hmm?" he wondered.

"Thinkin' about you. How happy I am to be with you, that I can call you mine," you answered. "How I'll soon be Mrs. Barnes," you added shyly.

"I am yours, doll. Have been for a long time, will be forever," Bucky remarked. "And I can't wait for the day I call you my wife," he affirmed.

"And I am yours, James. Now and forevermore," you echoed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Up in their room, Sam was in the process of unpacking, while Dean was making full use of the luxurious shower. Twenty minutes later, Dean came out of the steam-filled bathroom, a towel slung around his waist. "Sammy, the water in there is the perfect temperature and the pressure is phenomenal," Dean grinned.

"It ought to be," Sam remarked. "Stark probably figured out a way to get optimal water pressure while using the least amount of water to do it," he gushed. "The guy's a freaking genius, just like his father was."

"Well, hopefully he's got something that can help us fight Dazon. Otherwise, we'll have to do things the old-fashioned way," Dean replied. After a beat or two, he asked quietly, "Do you think she's happy here?"

Sam sat up in bed, turning to face his brother. "Yeah sure, Dean, of course she is. She's happier than I've ever seen her. Look, whatever she's got going on here, it's good for her. Come on, you know she's not meant to be a hunter on a full-time basis. Not like us," he added wistfully.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, she has the motivation, revenge for her parents' deaths. But beyond that, she's better off helping people her way, from here, with her superhero friends," Dean commented. "I just....I miss her."

Sam chuckled lightly. "So do I, Dean. I miss arguing with her about Star Wars vs. Star Trek, and she was damn good at the research. I bet you miss the apple pies she used to make," he taunted.

"Oh, Sammy, don't get me started thinking on that," Dean groaned. Before he could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. "Who is it?" Dean called out.

"It's me, you jerks, let me in," you retorted teasingly.

Dean crossed the room to open the door for you. He had dried off and changed into his pajama pants, but he had yet to put on a shirt. Droplets of water from his wet hair trickled down his neck and onto his bare chest. It was a sight that used to drive you crazy about him, but now your thirst was instead quenched by a certain super soldier.

After closing the door, Dean took up a seat on the couch at the opposite end of where you were sitting. "Hey, thanks for getting us this room. Better than some 'no-tell motel'," Sam grinned. "Dean's already used the shower, which means he may never leave," he chuckled.

"You're welcome, guys. Wow, it's been awhile since I've been down this hall," you remarked as your eyes roamed the space. "I think these might be employee quarters. Sometimes people get so caught up in projects that they forget to stop working, so they crash here," you explained.

"So what do you do here? You know, when you're not cozying up to your sergeant fiancé," Dean asked. He was trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice, but wasn't quite as successful as he'd hoped.

"I used to work in the office filing after-mission reports, and that's where I met James," you mentioned with a shy smile. You felt your cheeks heat up at the thought of your fiancé. "After awhile, I asked Tony for a new assignment, and he moved me up to Communications. Whenever James or any of the others go out on a mission, I am their eyes and ears, making sure they get out in one piece," you explained.

"That's great, you always did have good instincts. The team is lucky to have you, and congratulations to you and Sgt. Barnes on your engagement," Sam expressed. "You deserve to be happy, and it looks like you've found it here."

"Yeah, if you're happy, then we're happy for you, sweetheart. Even if we didn't exactly work out, as long as Sgt. Barnes treats you well, that's all that matters," Dean affirmed.

"Thank you both," you replied. "It means a lot. And James treats me very well, so you have nothing to worry about there. Aside from you guys, everyone here is my family. In that respect, I'm lucky," you remarked.

"Good, because I wouldn't want to have to kick anyone's ass," Dean grumbled. Realizing what he just said, Dean broke out into laughter at the absurdity of his promise to kick some Avenger ass. You and Sam joined in, which seemed to break up any lingering tension in the room.

"All right, now that we've gotten the chick-flick stuff out of the way, I wanted to let you guys know there's a strategy meeting. Tomorrow at 10 a.m., we'll meet in the same conference room as today. We need to come up with a plan for how to take down Dazon. I think it's better if we can control where the final battle goes down. Hopefully we can minimize civilian casualties, and keep things mostly under wraps. Sound good?" you asked.

Sam and Dean nodded in agreement, and you stood up from the couch. They both walked you to the door and each man gave you a hug. Dean lingered by the door a little longer, while Sam headed to the bathroom for his turn at the "amazing shower". "It's great to see you again, sweetheart," Dean affirmed. "Just wish it was under better circumstances," he lamented.

"I know what you mean. I'm hoping you and Sam will be able to attend the wedding, but I understand if not," you mentioned. "Well, I'd better let you guys get some rest. Let me know if you need anything." You pulled Dean into another hug before heading back down the hall.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Dean whispered as he watched you walk away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you and Bucky were making breakfast for anyone who wanted it. Pancakes and bacon, along with scrambled eggs with ham, veggies and cheese were the order of the day. Dean stumbled in first, in search of coffee. He was mumbling something about his "health-nut brother" going for a run with Steve.

While you were flipping pancakes, Natasha and Wanda filed in, so you asked Nat to help Dean find a clean coffee cup. You joked that no one should try to deal with Dean prior to his first cup of coffee, not unless they are prepared to face his wrath. Loki snorted at the idea, which earned him a deathly glare from the eldest Winchester. Thankfully opting to not engage at the moment, Loki set about the task of brewing his usual morning tea.

"So what's on the schedule today?" Sam Wilson asked around a bite of pancake.

"Today is strategizing. I have a couple of ideas on how to draw Dazon out into the open, make him find us instead of the other way around," you explained while you fixed your plate. "Meeting's at 10 a.m., Conference Room #3, on the 76th floor." Dean nodded as Steve and the younger Winchester finally filtered into the kitchen to grab some post-run breakfast.

"Wow, Sunshine, this looks amazing, thank you," Steve remarked.

"You're welcome, Stevie. Remember--meeting. Ten a.m. Don't forget," you replied. He gave you a mock salute and resumed filling his plate.

>>>

Later that morning, you and Bucky had arrived at the conference room. You got there fairly early, mostly because you wanted to check over all of the material. It was likely that there would be questions from the group, and you wanted to be ready for them.

Bucky watched as your eyes darted back and forth across the page. He knew you were nervous about revisiting this part of your life again, and with so many people as a witness. Bucky vowed to himself that he would stand and fight by your side, no matter what. In a show of support, he reached over and squeezed your hand, earning him a soft smile from you in return.

Steve was the first to arrive in the conference room, about fifteen minutes early. He took his seat next to Bucky and looked over at you. "How's she doin'?" he asked quietly.

"'Bout as well as you'd expect, not that she'll ever show how nervous she is, though," he murmured.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that. I hope she knows that everyone's behind her, 10,000%. Whatever she needs, we'll be there, till the end of the line," Steve affirmed.

"She knows, Stevie, but I'll make sure to tell her anyway," Bucky replied with a small smile.

The rest of the Avengers and then the Winchesters filed into the room and took their respective seats. As soon as everyone was assembled, you stood from your chair and gave everyone a smile. "Good morning, all. Thank you for joining us today and for agreeing to help us figure a way out of this problem," you remarked.

"Don't worry, Solarbaby, we've got your back. Whatever you need, say the word and it's yours," Tony added.

"Thank you, Tony. This is very important: what we say in here STAYS in here. We can't take the chance that any part of our plan leaks out and gives Dazon the upper hand. A demon can possess anyone and take over their bodies. That is, unless you have an anti-possession tattoo like the Winchesters and I have. Dean, will you show everyone what yours looks like?" you asked.

Dean stood up from his chair near you then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it to the side. It showed a pentacle with a circle around it and flames on each of the pentacle's five sides. "As long as you have this symbol on your body, and intact, you cannot be possessed," Dean pointed out.

"So, Sunshine, when you gonna show us yours?" Sam Wilson smirked.

"Mind your business, Birdbrain," Bucky growled. He'd seen your tattoo many times before, and he wasn't interested in sharing its location with just anyone, let alone everyone.

"All you need to know, Falcon, is that I have one, and mine is perfectly intact," you glared.

"If you'll permit me, dear Sunny? I believe that with my magic, I can ensure that everyone will wear this protection symbol," Loki volunteered.

You nodded your head in agreement. "Thank you, Loki, I appreciate it." After everyone agreed to be tattooed, you presented your idea for drawing Dazon out of hiding.

It was decided that Tony would release through the media that he is holding a fundraising gala. At the event, he would announce that a scholarship was being created in your parents' name. Tony would give a speech, and you would present a certificate in the amount of $1million to the dean of your college.

"Whoever Dazon is possessing at the moment is likely to be someone of influence. Partly because he is a leader, and partly because he's that full of himself," you muttered. "Therefore, he is almost certain to attend the gala," you suggested.

After deciding on the set-up for luring Dazon to the Tower, you moved on to explain how to identify and trap a demon. You also had FRIDAY programmed with the exorcism chant and a code phrase to activate it, should everyone else be incapacitated.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

During the next couple of weeks, the Tower was a flurry of activity in preparation for the fundraising gala. Sam and Dean were still trying to track down who Dazon might be possessing, to know who to watch for. Three days before the gala, they caught a break on Dazon's identity.

"Cas said his sources told him that Dazon was possessing Jeremiah Nelson, of Nelson Technologies, Inc. Some of his VP's have noticed some erratic behavior in recent board meetings. One of the administrative assistants thought she saw his eyes flash black, but wouldn't swear to it," Dean reported.

"Oh, great," you muttered sarcastically. "Nelson Technologies Inc. is the main competitor to Stark Industries," you sighed. "I'll let Tony and everyone else know, though, so we can keep an eye on Mr. Nelson. Next time you see Cas, will you please tell him I said 'thank you'?" you asked.

"Sure. He uh, asked if you would be coming back to hunt with us again. He really misses you," Dean disclosed.

"Dean, we've been through this," you started. "My life is here, in the Tower. I'm happy where I am," you replied.

"We were happy together once, too, you know," he countered.

You crossed over to where he was standing and put a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, Dean. We were happy together, once. And even though I will always love you, I'm not in love with you anymore," you explained softly.

He dropped his gaze and paused for a moment to let your words sink in. "I know, sweetheart. It's just a little difficult because Sammy and I miss you so much. But, I can tell that you belong here, doing what you do. Bucky, Steve, and everyone else, they're your family. I'm glad that you have that," Dean remarked.

"Come on, Dean, you guys are my family too. You and Sam are just the family that I don't get to see very often, that's all. But when I do get to see you, it's almost always a good time," you grinned.

Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah, we're like those weird cousins or something that everybody has such fun with," he added.

"Exactly!" you exclaimed then looked at your watch. "Hey, listen, I've got to head out. I'm supposed to go shopping with Nat and Wanda to pick out a dress for the gala. Speaking of which, I'll let Tony know you guys need tuxes, and he'll recommend someone for you," you promised. "See you later!" you called over your shoulder.

"See you later, sweetheart," Dean muttered under his breath.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Shopping with the Black Widow and the Scarlet Witch was nothing to be taken lightly. Tony's oldest and most trusted friend, Happy Hogan, was nice enough to be your driver for the day. He was patient enough to take you to as many stores as you wanted. You returned the favor by buying him lunch and a blended coffee drink from the shop next door.

You found the perfect dress and accessories for the gala in the fourth store. When you exited the building, a black limousine that wasn't there when you went in was parked and waiting outside. The car's occupant was casually leaning against the rear passenger door as if he had nothing better to do than wait for the three of you.

As soon as you saw the man standing by the car, you stopped in your tracks. The man was none other than Jeremiah Nelson, who you knew was being possessed by Dazon. "Good afternoon, ladies," he called out.

"Keep walking, girls," you murmured to Natasha and Wanda. You explained who he is, and they agreed that now was not the time for a confrontation.

"Aw, now that's not very polite to walk away and ignore me," he growled the last part. Two of his men were soon standing in front of you, blocking your path. You watched as Jeremiah/Dazon strode confidently towards you, not stopping until he was towering above you. "Guess I should know better than to expect better manners from your kind," he muttered.

"And what kind is that?" you retorted, defiantly glaring him in the eye.

"You're a member of Stark's organization. It's no secret that he's cocky, reckless and self-centered, and also believes himself to be untouchable," Jeremiah/Dazon smirked.

"Careful, because those are some of the same things that could be said about you. Lately, though, you could add 'erratic behavior' and 'questionable decisions' to that list," you taunted. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we're due back at Stark Tower to help prepare for the fundraising gala this weekend," you retorted.

"Ah yes, Stark's favorite reason to throw a party, not that he ever seems to need one. He'd throw a party to celebrate the opening of an envelope. However, I do hope you'll be there my dear," he leered. "I look forward to seeing you there in your new gown," he remarked, gesturing towards the garment bag on your arm.

"And what about it?" you shot back.

"I'm sure you'd look lovely if it were in hunter green," he murmured. Jeremiah/Dazon gestured with his eyes for his men to return with him to the limousine. It wasn't until it pulled away from the curb that you felt able to properly breathe.

"We need to get back to the Tower," you whispered. You frantically looked around for Happy and the car that brought you and the girls to the shops. Finally your eyes landed on where the car was parked and you began rushing towards it, almost at a run. Natasha and Wanda were able to keep up, but they wondered why you were in such a hurry.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once inside the car, you were trying like crazy to regain control of your breathing. Wanda held your hand, patting the back of it to get you to calm down, while Natasha was on her phone. By her conversation, you could tell she was talking to Bucky. You heard him say he would be waiting for you out in front of the Tower. As much as you hadn't wanted to worry him, you also knew you needed to feel the safety of his arms around you.

About ten minutes later, Happy pulled up in front of the Tower on 45th Street. The door opened and Bucky stuck his head in. "Sweetheart?" he asked as he extended his hand to help you out of the car. You grabbed onto his hand like a lifeline as you nearly scrambled to exit the vehicle. As soon as your feet hit the pavement, Bucky wrapped his arms around you and held you close to his body.

"Shh, baby, it's okay," he soothed. "You're safe here, with me. 'M not gonna let anything hurt you," he crooned.

"'M sorry, James. I didn't want to worry you," you mumbled against his chest.

"Darlin', I love you. That means, no matter what, I'm going to worry about you for one reason or another," Bucky revealed. "Now, let's go inside and we can talk about this, mkay?" he suggested.

You nodded, then turned back towards the car in time to see Natasha and Wanda carrying your shopping bags. Bucky guided you towards the entrance to the Tower and over to the elevators. Once inside, Bucky's arm temporarily released you so that he could take your bags from the girls. When they split off to their rooms, you and Bucky continued to your shared room.

As soon as you walked in, Alpine was there to greet you by rubbing against your legs. "Hello, pretty girl, did you miss me?" you asked before stooping down and picking her up. You walked over to the bed and gently released Alpine before you maneuvered into a sitting position on the bed.

Bucky hung your garment bag on a hook on your side of the closet, then placed the other bags on the floor of the closet. He wandered across the room and over to the bed, climbing up on it to sit next to you. "Hey there, baby," he murmured softly. Bucky curled his arm around your back and the other around your front, caging you in. He drew you close to his right side, so you rested your head on his shoulder. "What happened today, love? Somethin' spooked ya, and if you want to talk about it, I'm here," he affirmed.

You took a deep breath before answering. "It was Dazon. He was waiting outside when we came out of the last store. We tried to walk away, but his goons stopped us from doing that. Words were exchanged and he mentioned something about my gown and hunter green. He knows, James. He knows about my past as a hunter," you choked out as a tear slid down your cheek.

Bucky tightened his hold on you a little and started gently rocking you back and forth. "Hey now, it's going to be all right, sweetheart. Everybody's behind you in this thing, whatever you need," he reminded you.

You leaned back to gaze into his warm blue eyes. "I know that, but it's not why I'm upset. I'm not afraid for me, James. I'm afraid for everyone who's involved in this plan. You, Stevie, both Sams, Dean, Tash, all of you could really get hurt if something goes wrong," you remarked.

Bucky guided your head back to rest on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. "Then we'll just have to make sure that nothing goes wrong, hmm?" he replied. "Remember, you said you liked the odds a whole lot better with me by your side, right?" he asked and you hummed in response. "Well, by your side is where I'll be, till the end of the line," he promised.

"Okay, James. By each other's side, till the end of the line," you replied softly. "I love you."

"I love you too, babygirl," he responded.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The morning of the gala, you held a final mission prep meeting to make sure that everything was in place. Based on your chance encounter with him, you confirmed that Dazon would be "wearing" Jeremiah Nelson to the party. Everyone knew of him through Tony's business dealings with him, so you all knew who to watch out for.

Sam and Dean assured you that the ballroom had been sufficiently prepped and decorated. Devils' Traps had been placed in various locations in the ballroom. Lastly, you checked the exorcism recording with FRIDAY to make sure each word was clearly pronounced.

"Okay, I think that about does it, everyone take a break till it's time to get dressed for the party," you commanded.

Bucky came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder. "That means you too, solnyshka," he murmured in your ear.

"I know, James, and I'll go. I was thinking of first getting a quick sandwich from the kitchen, then heading to our room for a nap. Care to join me, my love?" you asked.

"Hmm. I'm sure I could be persuaded to do that. Tell you what--I'll go get the sandwiches while you go to our room and get all comfy for a nap. Give me about 10-15 minutes, and I'll meet you there, okay?" he suggested.

You turned around in his hold so that you were facing him. Placing one hand on his cheek, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his in a slow, sensual kiss, full of your desire for him. "I'll be waiting, but please don't be too long," you urged.

"Yes, ma'am," he returned as he recaptured your lips with his own, leaving you breathless when the kiss broke.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few hours later, you were getting ready for the gala, by applying your makeup and styling your hair. While you were in the bathroom, you heard noises of frustration coming from your bedroom. "James? Are you all right, love? You sound a little upset out there," you observed.

"I can't get the bow right on my stupid tie. Every time I think I've got it, one side of the bow ends up bigger than the other, so it's uneven," he grumbled.

"I'm almost done in here and then I'll be out there to help you, my love," you promised with a light chuckle. When you stepped out of the bathroom, you were fiddling with your right earring. You were wearing a floor-length formal gown made of gold tulle, with a V-neck and short but slightly poofy short sleeves. On your feet, you wore a pair of gold pumps with straps woven across the top of the shoe.

Bucky was sitting on the edge at the foot of the bed, dressed in a classic black tuxedo with a white button-down shirt. He was leaning back on one elbow, but as soon as he heard the rustle of fabric from your gown, he sat straight up and watched intently as you padded over to him. His eyes grew wide but never left your form as they roamed freely up and down your body. "Ohhhhh, my Solnyshka," he whispered. "You are the embodiment of sunshine, delivered to me in its most perfect form, and all mine," he remarked with awe.

You felt your cheeks grow warm and your gaze dropped to the floor at such close scrutiny, even from the man you love. "Thank you, James," you replied shyly. "You're looking rather dashing yourself, my darling. Shall we see what we can do about this tie?" you asked.

Bucky reached out his hand, which he used to twirl you around once before pulling you closer to step between his legs. In his other hand, he held out the offending piece of fabric that needed to be twisted and formed to become his bow tie to complete his tuxedo.

As your fingers worked the strip of silk into the right shape and even on both sides, Bucky kept his hands on your hips. His thumbs rubbed small circles, the heat from which you felt through the multiple layers of fabric for your gown. When your task was complete, you placed your hands on either side of his neck, your thumbs tracing his jawline. "All finished, my love, and perfect as always. No woman shall be able to resist you," you remarked with a sweet smile.

"Well, I'm only interested in one woman, and even she knows resistance is futile," he smirked, taking your hands in his. You threw your head back and laughed at his comment, then dropped your head to meet his gaze. "I love to hear you laugh. It's one of my favorite sounds in the world, plus, I would do anything to keep a smile on your face," he replied. He brushed his lips across the backs of your hands to emphasize his point. "Shall we, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Absolutely, James," you answered. You curled your hand around his offered elbow and he led the two of you to the gala and the battle that awaited you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

@katelyn--renee​, @evergreencowboy​, @lassie-bird​, @phoenixisred​, @rslizj, @writercole​​, @vicmc624​​, @huffle-pissed​​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagines

[ao3feed-stevesharon]

Kissing Steve Rogers

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bQFvVuE

by hulkling616

Steve gets hit by a kissing curse on the field. If he doesn't kiss someone he loves within 24 hours he will die. Bucky, Sam, and Tony call Steve’s girlfriend, Sharon, because clearly he loves her. But Sharon is on the other side of the world and can't come. Then she drops a bomb. Apparently Steve loves a lot of people. Bucky doesn't know how he feels about that… Does Steve just love everyone but him? 

Words: 948, Chapters: 1/5, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of WIPs, Part 3 of Marvel Multi-Chapter Works

Fandoms: Marvel

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Multi

Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Sharon Carter (Marvel), Helen Cho (Marvel), Scott Lang, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Darcy Lewis, Thor (Marvel), Jane Foster (Marvel), Emma Frost

Relationships: Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Steve Rogers, Helen Cho/Steve Rogers, Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, Jane Foster/Steve Rogers/Thor, Emma Frost/Steve Rogers, Scott Lang/Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Tower, Polyamory, Curses, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Bucky Barnes Feels, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, (for steve/bucky eventually), Established Relationship, (for Steve/Others), POV Bucky Barnes, Past Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Angst with a Happy Ending

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/bQFvVuE

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #stevesharon

[mlmxreader]

For What It's Worth | Sam Wilson x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Ahhh i love your writing SO MUCH.

Can you do a Sam Wilson with a male reader? like it’s angst hurt/comfort fic with “Do you really think I’d be here now if I didn’t care?” and “It’s you. it’s always been you and it’ll always be you”

summary: when you're in need of help, Captain America is there for you, it's just a shame that things won't turn out the way you want them to.

tws: swearing, blood, injury, bruising

Sam knew he had the right place the second that he heard the muffled sounds of 'Yaad' by Bloodywood from the path outside, and when he unlocked the door with the spare key he had in his back pocket, the volume of the music hit him like a fucking freight train; it took him a second to come to his senses, but he soon made his way towards the sound, his brows furrowing a little as he listened to the actual lyrics. He hummed along, and when he found you in the kitchen, he frowned; a bloodied arm, a split lip, a bruise on your eye and blood all over your fingers. He shook his head, immediately turning tail and grabbing what he could use from the medicine cabinet, although it wasn't much and he almost dropped the plasters into the sugar jar; swallowing thickly, Sam came to you, sighing heavily and running a hand down his face.

"I take it this is from your little side-job with Frank."

You nodded, daring to give your arm to him and pretending not to feel it when he rubbed your arm down with kitchen roll to get some of the blood cleaned up. "What the fuck else was it gonna be, Cap?"

Sam didn't meet your gaze, he noticed the way you flinched when antiseptic wipes hit the wound but he couldn't bring himself to say anything; he had seen too many people hurt already, that's why he had left you when he did. Sure, he wished that you were still his boyfriend, but you were both in dangerous careers. Between Captain America and The Punisher, you weren't exactly safe at any given moment and even if you could handle yourself, you were bound to get hurt sooner or later; it was just a fact of life, he supposed, that no matter which way you went, you would get hurt. He just couldn't bear the thought of it being because of him, if it was because of Frank, he could chew him out and he could scream and shout and lose his temper. But he couldn't stomach the thought of it being because of him in the slightest.

The song changed to 'Dana-Dan' by the same band, and as he cleaned the wound, he dared to smile a little.

I put a fist through the face of a rapist and yeah, I tape this for the viewing pleasure of the nameless faces he disgraces and yeah one day I may change his kind with my mind, but I won't bow to the beast, never make peace, it feasts only if you're gonna let it eat, so the wife beater 'boutta get a beating on the beat, I'ma get 'em at the home and the street, dead meat, delete, going off like a time bomb, white heat, choke 'em out like a python, bonafide homicide then we're gonna ride on up into your mind and then we're gonna fight on

He finished cleaning the wound, tossed the wipes aside and got a good look at you; thankfully the wound wasn't incredibly deep, it didn't need stitches at least, but he could see the styrofoam-like texture of the flesh that made him gag a little as he cleared his throat and grabbed the bandages and plasters. He was gentle when he applied the latter, hoping that when it was time to change it, it would yank at your hair too harshly; even if he did know better, he still hoped. Sam was even more gentle when wrapping the bandage around, though, making sure that the padded bit was flush against the plaster and chewing at the inside of his lip when he stuck it down to your flesh with a bit of surgical tape. He swallowed thickly, still not looking at you as he cleared his throat.

"Let me see your lip."

You did as he said, turning your head so that he could get a good look at it and examine it for a second; he hardly blamed you when you growled softly at the antiseptic wipe hitting it. Split lips were always bastards and stung like a bitch. He nodded and went about putting things back and throwing the used wipes and plaster packets into the bin; but when he returned to your side, he held a bag of frozen peas and pressed them into your hand as he grabbed a tea towel.

"Put it on your eye," he told you. "It'll help."

You did as you were told, wrapping the peas in the tea towel and holding it against your eye as you sighed heavily. "Why are you here, Sam? I thought we were over."

"Do you really think I'd be here now if I didn't care?" He asked. "Be real, (y/n)."

You frowned, looking down at your lap and shaking your head. "I wish things had ended differently 'cause... y'know... as many dates as I've been on, as many times as I try to forget being your boyfriend, fuck, it's you. It's always been you and it'll always be you."

Sam nodded, swallowing thickly. "If something happened to you, j wouldn't forgive myself... keep ice on that bruise, change the dressing in the morning - unless you want me to come over and do it?"

You nodded, finally able to meet his gaze as you tried to smile. "I'd appreciate it... thanks."

"I'll come over at six," he said quietly. "You gonna be alright for the night?"

"I've got my music," you started, "I've got food. I've got energy drinks for days. I should be just fine."

Sam cleared his throat, putting his hand on your shoulder as he sighed heavily. "For what it's worth... I kinda like this band. They're not Marvin Gaye, but y'know, they're growing on me."

"For what it's worth, I miss you," you admitted. "You can... you can always come round and listen to more."

"I might have to," he smiled, giving your shoulder a little squeeze. "I should leave but... if you want me to, I can stay. Keep an eye on you. Y'know, in case that shit on your arm starts up."

You nodded. "I'd like that."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x yn #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #captain america fic #captain america imagine #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain America