#pls some one pull him out from the trenches of my love

[irisesforyoureyes]

to piss of this one guy and get his bickering mouth shut I started reciting the entire periodic table (yes flex) and I’m out of breath having just finished it and he just goes “I think I just fell in love” the science rizz never fails

[sillybaekgu]

Rosy cheeks and sunsets

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Pairing: non-idol!Sunoo x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, friends to lovers, love confession, cute

Warnings: Mentions of rooftop, not entirely proofread

Summary: The warmth you’d usually feel from the sunset was nothing compared to what two people in love irradiated.

Word count: 0.5K

a/n: I WAS IN THE TRENCHES WRITING THIS. I wanted it to be perfect but I just couldn’t get it right! But finally it is here!! Hope you enjoy! You can always reblog with feedback, commentary or anything you’d like to say!! Also, while I was writing this all I could think of was Sunoos short golden hour cover so pls have that bgm in mind for this scenario!

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This was your last year of high school, the nostalgia washed over you as you hung the decorations for your last carnival at school. Within seconds a voice broke the little bubble you were in, turning your head immediately following the sound you encountered Sunoo. He had his backpack over his shoulder, handing yours to you with a warm smile like he always did. It was a little past five and the sun was soon setting, decorating the sky in beautiful orange and pink colors, the warm sunbeams sneaking through the windows painting the classroom in a beautiful orange tone, some of the light reflecting in your eyes. Sunoo couldn’t hide his feelings anymore, the way he stared and saw the world in your eyes made his heart weak, he finally gathered the courage to break the silence “Come with me, there’s something I want to show you!” He smiled and held your hand without warning, you could feel the warmth of his hands in your cold ones. To you, this was exactly what Sunoo represented, the warmth to your coldness, the light in the dark; he was warm, he made you feel warm and loved, it was hard for you to understand if it was just his personality or the fact that you were head over heels for him. As you made your way quickly through the empty halls, you tried to store every second of this in your memory, Sunoo’s warm touch, the sunlight shining on him only seemed to make him look even more ethereal, the way your heart skipped a beat every time he looked at you and smiled. Fast forward you finally reached the school’s rooftop, Sunoo turned to you “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I love sunsets as much as I love you” you froze, you couldn’t have possibly heard that properly, right? He just confessed but it was just a friend coded <<I love you>>, right? You looked at him, eyes wide open, heart pounding in your chest, your words trembling as they left your mouth “Do you mean it?” You looked at him, you felt as if your chest was opening up and showing your most vulnerable form to him, your vision got blurry because of the tears forming in them. You looked at him, an intense stare and asked once more “Sunoo, do you mean it? Do you love me more than you love a friend?” Your heart was about to escape out of your rib cage. His eyes deep into your soul, he came closer to you, grabbed your hand and put it on his chest “I mean it, every single word.” He then pulled you into a hug, a tight hug. He fixed your position to rest his forehead against yours as he wiped the tears escaping your eyes “I love you and I would never forgive myself for not telling you how I feel. Every last cell in my body is smitten to you.” You held him tighter, resting your head against his shoulder while staining his shirt with your tears “Thank you…thank you for brightening my life, for being my sun and for making me feel warm.” You faced him and saw his tainted cheeks being illuminated by the last bits of light from the sun set, you couldn’t hold back anymore, at this point you were agonizing and just had to have his lips on yours. You gently cupped his face in your hands, admiring his features you pulled in and finally connected your lips sealing your love under the beautiful sky.

[hollandsangel]

we need a milf reader x tom where dads are ogling at her

pls and thank you

i was truly obsessed with this concept it was so cute and fun to write

shameless | tom holland

gif by @thollandgifs !

it’s late evening. tom had gotten off work a little later than usual, and you’d taken your time eating dinner together before wandering to the grocery store for the week's shop. 

the store is relatively empty, considering the hour, and it’s the picture of peace as you walk leisurely down the aisles with your hand in one of tom’s, the basket hanging from his other arm.

“okay,” you begin, holding up a small slip of paper littered with tom’s messy handwriting, “we’ve got the eggs, almond milk, peaches…” you’re mumbling to yourself as you check things off the list, and tom is watching you intently, smiling as he observes you. “oh! we need to get some more of those cookies, the little ones with the…the…” you snap your fingers, trying to remember.

tom quirks a brow, “the fudge ones?”

“yes! those ones.” you nod, looking over to search the shelves for the familiar box.

“i thought you didn’t like them?” his brows furrow together, reminiscing on a time when you forced the box away from you, hardly able to handle the scent.

“well i guess the baby changed their mind.” you shrug, rubbing a hand over your swollen belly with a hum.

tom looks down, admiring the action you do so absently now, without as much as a thought. he shifts the basket into the crook of his elbow to free his own hand, joining you in the soothing motion. he can’t help but grin, over taken with joy at the reminder that you’re carrying his child, that in a few more weeks, you’ll be parents. he leans in and presses his soft lips to your temple. you hum in acceptance.

down the aisle, tom catches the maundering stare of man about his age glued to your body. you’re wearing a loose knit sweater under your trench coat, but with your due date growing nearer, you show through most of your clothes. tom hardens his gaze at the man, who is shameless in his ogling of you. it makes his skin crawl.

“c’mon love,” he tugs on your hand, his eyes forward, “i think they’re in the next aisle.” he doesn’t really know, but he can’t stand the hungry look being shot at you, so he pulls you away, pressing himself closer and glaring at the bloke as you pass him. 

“are you okay?” your sweet voice pulls him back to you, expression matching your tone when he meets your eyes.

“yeah, m’ okay.” he nods, pecking your cheek to further his point.

“mmk,” you hum, “what flavour of protein bars did you want, lovie? you didn’t write it on the list…tom?”

“what the fuck?” he mutters, head turning as another man eyes your form.

“excuse me?” you remark incredulously.

“baby, we gotta go.” with a bit too much urgency, tom tugs your hand, and the waddle you have to do to keep up with him must look ridiculous.

“tom, tom, slow down, pregnant lady here.” you remind him, still as confused as ever, “what’s wrong?”

“oh, shit, sorry, love,” he seems to calm, “are you alright?” and there he is again, your attentive, loving husband.

“yes, i’m fine, are you okay?

he huffs and looks around. you’re in the health food aisle now, and it seems pretty vacant, “these men keep looking at you, darling, like they want to fucking ravish you.” he explaims in a hushed voice, seriousness crawling amongst each word.

you laugh, and tom pulls back.

“y/n,” he says sternly, “i’m serious.”

“i know,” you giggle, “that’s why it’s so funny.” with a squeeze of his hand you release it, moving yours up to his shoulder instead, “why does it matter?”

tom seems almost offended by this question, “because you’re my wife?” he says, as if the answer should be incredibly obvious, “and it’s weird to look at a pregnant woman, who is clearly in a relationship, so shamelessly??”

you can’t bite back your laugh any longer, and it tumbles out when you shake your head and pat his cheek, “you’re ridiculous and cute. go get your protein bars, doof.”

[freelancearsonist]

111 smut prompt abel 👁👁

i made myself giggle with this one pls enjoy

111. “are these handcuffs” from this prompt list

You were excited at the prospect of spending the day with Abel. He so rarely gets days off that you made dozens of plans for the day, intent on doing as much as possible while you have his unbridled attention.

“I just need to swing by the office really quick,” he tells you as you buckle yourself into the car. “Five minutes tops.”

Except five minutes turns into an hour and now twenty percent of your plans for the day are ruined.

“I’m so sorry,” he winces when he finally returns to his office. He’s been scrambling around the place trying to calm the unexpected chaos that’s gripped his staff today after a freak truck accident, and he left you to keep watch over his office.

“It’s okay,” you reassure with a gentle smile. “You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

“We can go now,” he tells you as he dips down to kiss your forehead. “The situation’s under control and I don’t want to miss out on anymore of my time with you.”

“Thank god,” you giggle as you watch him pull on that heavy trench coat that you love so much. “Do you have some gum?”

“Top drawer.”

Both sides of his desk are drawers, so you take a chance and try the left side first.

What you find… is definitely not gum.

“Abel?”

“Hmm?”

You lift the handcuffs out of the drawer by one fluffy pink wristlet, unsure of how you feel about this new revelation.

“Are these handcuffs?”

He takes a long, slow breath—blinks a few times at you before answering, “you weren’t supposed to see those.”

Of all the answers he could have for your question, that’s the most worrying thing he could’ve said.

“What are they doing in your desk drawer?”

He clears his throat—looks down at his hands like he’s ashamed. “Well, they were supposed to be part of your Christmas gift. This was the only good place I could hide them that I knew you wouldn’t look.”

You blink slowly as you process this information, because it’s definitely not what you were expecting.

“Just out of curiosity… what’s the rest of my gift?”

“Me, naked and handcuffed to the headboard.”

“Fuck.”

Abel can see the lust evident on your face—he knows you need to take care of it sooner rather than later.

“Can I have my present now?”

He chuckles at that. “I don’t have a headboard here, darling.”

You simply raise an eyebrow and beckon him over. “You have a desk.”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

[vermillionbones]

I'd love to hear more of your Phobditor HCs!!

ohoho thank you for enabling me anon i am going to kiss you directly on the mouth /pl

also slight warning for spoilers to the new(??) ending of project nexus!! i don't talk explicitly about what happens in general, but the stuff involving phobos is mentioned in the very first hc so for those of you who don't wanna be spoiled you can just skip that one lol. grab sum popcorn lads this one's a long one snbcnkcnvmv

Phobditor HCs!!

rbs very much appreciated 👉👈

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so i hc that phobos didn't actually get banished at the end of MPN, but he did get his ass handed to him to the point where he was so injured and drained of energy that he couldn't use most of his abilities. he went into hiding for a while and eventually found the AAHW, which he proceeded to join since he didn't really have anywhere else to go. after he'd healed and returned to his full strengh the auditor recognised how potentially useful he could be as a second in command, but ofc he'd have to earn her trust first. normally i don't try to make things make sense like this but since the auditor isn't actually in MPN i thought i'd at least try lmao

the auditor: ruthless girlboss by day, feral spouse-adjacent shithead by night

phobos is basically the same but instead he's manipulate mansplain by day and malewife manwhore by night /hj

before they got closer they'd never really physically interacted w/ each other, so phobos kind of assumed the auditor would be at least slightly painful to touch [cuz yknow. she's made of fire lmao]. plus he'd witnessed her setting things and people on fire with her bare hands before and he'd rather not get turned into a walking bonfire, thanks. the closest she'd ever been to touching him previously was like flicking the antenna on his helmet to piss him off

but like way, WAY later he finds out that audi can actually manipulate the temperature of their flames to an extent, so when they touch his hand for the first time he's really surprised when they're just like. pleasantly warm. kinda like the fuzziness you feel after you drink something hot but on the outside of your body

however this has also resulted in phobos using her as a mobile safety blanket lmao. sometimes if it gets too cold in the office he'll wander up to her and bug her until she folds a wing around him and tucks his head under her chin

when he's being a shithead sometimes she'll just pick him up by the back of his jacket and drag him off like a disobedient kitten lmao

They don't really have a super crazy height difference normally [i hc that audi is around 6'3 and phobos is 5'10 if he's not slouching] but sometimes she just morphs herself to have a several-foot height advantage just to fuck with him. like she'll appear in his office as this 9-foot-tall behemoth and he'll just be like "?? excuse me?? ma'am?? you can't do this to me???"

before he got to know her better, phobos had no idea the auditor preferred she/they pronouns over they/it like the agents around him seemed to think. he never made a big deal out of it and never explicitly brought it up, but he remembers to switch it up for her every now and then. plus whenever audi overhears him doing that she gets all fuzzy inside sfbfnckvj

phobos really likes her wings. he actually might be a little jealous of them, but he'd never tell her that sfvngk

ever since audi found out about this, they tend to subtly unfurl them and use them to gesticulate more when he's around. occasionally she'll use the claws at the peaks of her wings on touchscreens in place of a finger n stuff. she's also [gently] swatted him upside the head with a wing a few times when he was being a dickhead, but it doesn't really hurt him lol

she also lets him pet them when they're not busy. contrary to what he'd assumed, it doesn't actually feel like a whole lot to her - she's described the feeling as something similar to how it feels to have someone tracing their fingers along the back of your hand

phobos stims sometimes!! he has a bad habit of masking while he's working since a few of them are vocal and he doesn't want to distract anyone, but if he's just hanging out with audi he's totally chill. one of his more common ones is when he thinks out loud, either quietly narrating his current train of thought or saying unrelated words - usually confirmations like 'yeah' or 'mhm' - out loud cuz he thinks they're fun to say. occasionally he'll start humming low in his throat kinda like a microwave cuz he likes how his voice feels in his chest

also when he's standing idle sometimes he holds his arms closer to his chest and fidget with them

the auditor doesn't stim, but to people who know them well their wings are like big signs that can wordlessly describe how they're feeling [which is like my favourite thing to write cos wing emoting is really fun skdjbknk]. occasionally they might subtly flutter their wings when they're very pleased or receive good news, or flare them out when they're irritated/stressed

i always forget that phobos is actually like super powerful in canon so i hc that audi does too lmao. like it always slips her mind that he can teleport too so she'll dramatically disappear after telling him off for doing some dumb shit and fuckin scream when he somehow appears in the same room as her less than a second later

phobos has a red and black lava lamp in his office!! he'd never admit it but he got it cuz it reminds him of audi :]

phobos loves watching audi in combat for some reason. i mean he already likes watching them do stuff so he can backseat drive, but he's also quietly admitted that her fighting style is interesting to watch

he can't really put it into words, but it's because the way they fight looks incredibly effortless and fluid, mainly due to them having so much time to adapt to and understand their powers [both their original powers and the ones granted by the halo]. when phobos' own abilities started to surface he was incredibly unstable and struggled to properly harness them for months, so he thinks it's nice to watch someone who actually knows what they're doing for once.

much to the auditor's surprise, phobos is actually a bit insecure behind all that confudence, particularly about scars. after being close to her for a while, phobos came out of his shell a bit and explained how he managed to grant himself his powers/abilities, which is something i'll absolutely go further in depth with later [via a longer hc that i'm gonna post eventually lol] but to summarise he basically infused himself with raw madness in what he's eloquently dubbed 'the incident'. Of course, doing that to himself didn't come without consequence, and he's permanently scored with a variation of lightning & burn scars on his forearms, thighs, and most of his torso.

for the longest time, the most casual thing he'd wear even around just her was the long-sleeved sweater he wore underneath his trench coat, and he refused to change even if he was literally overheating. though eventually after he told her about what happened he felt way more comfortable and now whenever they're in their shared room audi practically has to throw a shirt at him to get him to wear one sbkcjcnk

the auditor has a sort of subspace/pocket dimension where they can store different items and recall them at will. normally it's pretty empty, but ever since she grew to like phobos she's started keeping miscellaneous things in there for him. sometimes she pulls out a drink or snack that he likes, sometimes she pulls out a little water gun with phobos' name scrawled on it and shoots him with it when he's being a shithead

they are both,, SO fucking touch-starved. like they will not let go of each other [at least if they're not currently in the middle of something or around agency employees] cuz internally they're both just going "wow!!! that's a hand i'm holding!!!!! there's a hand holding my hand!!!! wow!!!!!! i love this!!!!!"

having one eye isn't exactly the best thing for depth perception, especially when you're really tired, so sometimes audi has to hold phobos' hand and guide him around in the mornings because he can [and has] walked into walls and counters

even since before they became a thing, phobos had been a little envious of the auditor's halo and the powers it granted her. he used to subtly try to yoink it from her, maliciously at first but far more playfully later, where he'd like lightly grab it and give it a gentle spin above her head like a mobile. but his infatuation with the halo kinda died after she decided to let him borrow/try it out once by allowing him to link with it

by linking i essentially mean like wearing it, but the halo is so powerful that you can't just 'wear' it without letting it bond with a part of you

long story short, he went into it with far too much overconfidence & cockiness and the halo violently rejected him, kind of like how it rejected the auditor once. he wasn't at all prepared for the sheer amount of power that surged through him the moment it started to link with him, so it essentially short-circuited his brain and knocked him unconscious for the better part of a week. when he woke again, the auditor told him he was lucky his head didn't explode and calmly suggested they never tried that again, and he felt inclined to agree.

of course, he still toys with the halo while the auditor's properly linked with it since he knows it can't link to more than one host at a time. and despite his seeming ease and "it's in the past" sort of mentality about the whole event, if someone mentions the concept of him actually taking the halo and linking with it again, he'll shudder and shake his head, saying it's not his place to do so.

the auditor has no doubt it delivered a pretty harsh blow to his ego [being rejected by the thing that would make him a god would prolly do that], but knows he's too prideful to admit that.

audi likes listening to phobos when he goes off on super long monologues, especially if they're like those super cheesy villain monologues. like he could literally be talking about anything and she'll sit there to hear him out, especially if it's less related to work and more about himself

the auditor is super deliberate in the way they pronounce things and they tend to casually drawl their words out to further cement their cool, unbothered boss persona. however the way she talks doesn't really intimidate phobos anymore since he's also been next to her right after she's been woken up, when she's mumbling quietly & slurring some of her words together. he knows the big scary boss side of the auditor is just a persona used for everyone but him, so he feels a lot more at ease with them even when they're trying to be scary

even after being together for a while, phobos still has no fucking idea what the auditor is made of. like he's admitted to her that he's genuinely clueless, and if she lets him he'll spend like 99% of their downtime quietly interacting with her flames [read: curling his fingers through them and petting them] while he muses about his hypotheses for how stuff like her liquidy-shadow form works. they were a little suspicious of his motives at first, but after they relaxed they realised he was just genuinely curious and willing to share his concepts to see if he was right

they have like. the smoothest banter anyone at the agency has seen. like it's super cheesy back-and-forth stuff that wouldn't sound out of place in an 80s sitcom, but it just kinda flows out when they're both comfortable. and ofc they'd deny it if anyone mentioned it but they literally banter like an old married couple lmAO

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[whereisten]

Valentine Boy

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Preview | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary:

You’ve been dating College Student!Jaehyun for a few months now. He’s unbelievably sweet, smart, oh..and very handsome. Best of all, he gives you the best love you’ve ever had. He’s the love of your life and you can’t see anything going wrong as your relationship sails smoothly..that is..until you discover his biggest secret. He’s been hiding the fact that he’s a camboy and you start to wonder..Is Jaehyun as sweet and honest as you think he is?

Pairing: female reader X college student and camboy!Jaehyun

Genre: Smut, Angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: cursing, alcohol mention, cheating, deception, manipulation, gaslighting. Dry humping, car sex, protected sex.

A/N: hellooooo thank you everyone for your immense support on this fic, I hope you enjoy this preview, I haven’t proofread it but I will later!! Also, I am working on the tag list right now, if you would like to be added, pls send a message/ask or reply to this! The rest of Part 3 will be up very soon❤️❤️❤️❤️

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The sunlight couldn’t be any brighter as its rays peaked through the slim blinds and onto your bed. You grumble a little bit when you feel the heat on your arm. You turn over slowly, your body still aching from the night before. But you’re able to reach out and tap the fluffy white blanket next to you.

“J-Jaehyun?” You say, peering out through one eye to see your brown haired boyfriend.

But you don’t see him. 

As your senses awaken, you hear the tapping of keys in the living room.

“In here, babe!” Jaehyun yells out.

You smile when you hear his sweet voice and lay back down in the bed. “Oh my God, I can't feel my legs.” You chuckle.

“Ahh..sweetheart..I didn’t even go that hard on you..” he trots into the bedroom with a cup of coffee.

“Here..I’m working on a paper that’s due tomorrow, but I’m almost finished.” He places the cup down on the dresser beside you before ruffling your hair with his fingers.

He looks delectable with no shirt on and just boxers. His hair is still messy too, with his soft hair falling into his forehead limply.

You clutch the blanket to your naked chest and smile widely. “Thanks, baby..how do I look?”

“Hmmm..” Jaehyun tilts his head and smirks. “Like someone pulled your hair a few times last night..”

You chuckle a less than sexy laugh, but lick your lips as you remembered the way he pinned you against the bed just a few hours ago.

You sit up on the bed and place a finger into the waistband of his boxer shorts, tugging it teasingly as your eyes lock.

“I miss having my hair pulled…”

He bites his bottom lip and sighs as he watches your daring eyes below him. A low groan escapes his perfect lips.

“Mmm..baby, I wish we could..but I have to finish this assignment..” 

You pout and withdraw your finger. “Okay.” 

“I’ll make it up to you later baby, it’s our last day in Bali..we’ll go to the beach one last time and do whatever you want to do.”

He holds your chin and rubs his thumb on it.

You smile.

“Okay, my smart baby, get back to work!”

Jaehyun gives your forehead a light kiss and leaves.

“Professors that assign homework to do during spring break don’t make any sense!” You yell out and fall back into the bed.

Jaehyun only laughs and sits back on the couch with his laptop.

After about two hours, Jaehyun finally finishes his work and walks back to the room.

He plops down into the bed and places his iPad in the center.

You put your phone down and turn to him.

“Wanna watch some Tik Toks with me?” He gives you a cheesy smile.

“Of course! You look like you could use some decompressing..”

You rub your hand on his hair and smooth it out of his face.

He takes the move as an opportunity to kiss your wrist.

“Hey!” You laugh at the ticklish feeling and move your hand.

The two of you watch many, way too many, videos well into the afternoon. But losing track of time with the one you loved the most was okay.

You and Jaehyun laughed together as you laid on his chest and scrolled through his ‘for you page’. You’d look up at his face every now and then just to watch him laugh. His eyes crinkling into thin lines and his dimples becoming deeper than any of the earth’s trenches. The warmth from his chest when something made him echo our thunderous laughs and the way his fingers drew small circles onto your naked back. He made everything feel right in that moment. Your spring break with Jaehyun was working out to be one of the best vacations you’d ever had. You never wanted it to end.

“Alright...I think it’s time we head to the beach..” you run your eyes.

“Yeah..but remember when you said you missed having your hair pulled?” Jaehyun’s raspy voice entered your ear.

You put your hand onto his chest and looked into his eyes.

“That was a while ago, Mr. I-am-a-devoted-student.”

Jaehyun pouted. “Hey..don’t be so harsh, sweetheart...does the offer still stand?” He places his thumb onto your lips, running over it slowly.

You open your mouth slightly then stick your tongue out. You lick over the top of his thumb while looking into his eyes.

Jaehyun’s breath hitches. He swallows hard as he watches you take the rest of his thumb into your mouth and past your gorgeous lips.

You lift your head up and place the iPad to the side. You then crawl over his lap and straddle him.

You bite your lips as you feel his hardening member strain against his boxers. The thin fabric of it being the only thing separating your bare opening from his aching manhood.

He immediately places his hands on your thighs and relaxes into the bed.

You move forward and backward slowly, too slowly.

Your hands are resting on his toned chest as he struggles to breathe normally.

He pushes up into your body more, trying to stay at your pace but finding it difficult as your beautiful body moves above him. You’re like an angel. Even with disheveled hair and smudged makeup, you’re the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

“Ahh..baby..” Jaehyun licks his lips. “You’re beautiful..so beautiful.”

Jaehyun is fully hard now and reaches into his shorts to pull his dick out. But you hold his wrist and shake your head.

“Not yet..” 

You whimper, your entire body trembling as you tease him, your folds now dripping from the steady movement. You swivel your hips and grind down onto him a little harder.

Jaehyun groans just as you lean down to kiss him. The taste of alcohol and coffee on his tongue sends a rush through your head. 

“Baby..please..I wanna feel you..” Jaehyun looks into your eyes as you pull away from the kiss. He tightens his grip on your thighs.

You give a half smile then lean down to his ear and whisper. “You can feel me..after you shower..”

Jaehyun pouts.

“You smell like alcohol, babe.” You plop down onto the bed beside him and laugh.

He sighs loudly and turns over to you. “Why do you do this to me?”

You run your hands through his hair. “Get washed up baby, we can’t spend our last day here inside!”

Jaehyun hurries into the shower as you laugh.

You hear the water start to run in the shower and get up to get your outfit for the day together. But as you arise from the bed, you see a notification pop up on Jaehyun’s IPad.

It’s a text message.

From someone named ‘R’.

It was nice seeing you last night ;)

Your brows furrow. Who could this be? Who of Jaehyun’s friends had a name that started with R? And why wouldn’t he just save their real name? How could he have seen this person last night when you were both at the club together? This person had to be texting the wrong number.

Another text comes in..it’s from the same person.

Can't wait til you get back..

You stare blankly at the IPad, trying to remain calm as you read through these mysterious and yet flirty messages. Or were you over exaggerating? Maybe this person was just a classmate working on a project with Jaehyun, maybe it was just someone from your university that just so happened to be in Bali for Spring Break like you guys were, because Bali is a popular destination for college kids, right?

But why were you looking at his IPad anyway? You should’ve respected his privacy, but you had your suspicions still. You just couldn’t push them away, could you?

Another text..

I’m gonna make up for it when you get back, Jaehyun, gonna show you..

“Everything alright?” Jaehyun’s low voice speaks out from behind you. He’s so close, you feel his warm breath hit the back of your neck.

You swallow hard and turn to him. You didn’t hear the water stop or even his light steps. Did he know that you were reading his texts?

He stared into your eyes intensely then shifted his attention back to his screen on the bed. You stepped in front of it and smiled.

“Y-yeah..everything’s fine..I just..I got kinda dizzy when I stood up too fast.” You chuckled but Jaehyun only gave you a small smile.

“Are you okay now?” 

“Yeah! I’m fine!”

Jaehyun forces a wider smile and nods. “Good! I was wondering if you wanted to shower with me..we’ll save on water. It’ll be good for the Earth.” He raised his eyebrows and winks.

You smile and join him for a shower, forcing the many thoughts you had away. You don’t want to ruin the vacation as Jaehyun had accused you of doing the night before during your little “fight.” You want it to be a good time for both of you, so you continue on and go to the beach.

‘R’ could’ve simply been a classmate or friend of Jaehyun. You shouldn’t overthink it, there had to be an explanation. While walking on the beach together with your hand in his, you try to think of your moments together. Sweet and tender moments of laughter like this morning, or when he held you bridal style when you first went to the hotel. Or when he surprised you with a large bouquet of flowers while you were in class and risked getting scolded by the professor.

That was the Jaehyun you knew. There was nothing to worry about with him. He loved you and proved it many times, so why did you feel this unshakable tremble in your chest that screamed ‘danger’?

—————

[Two Weeks Later]

Back in class, you tried hard to focus on the lessons, but something still upset you.

“I’m gonna make up for it when you get back.” What did that mean? And what else did that person text.

But then, you rubbed your eyes and looked back at the screen. 

You thought about Jaehyun’s sweet smile and how he loved you during your break together. You smiled to yourself and remembered when he told you he misses you whenever he is at work.

The person next to you then took out their container of strawberries and popped the cover off. The sweet smell filled your nostrils and made you exhale. You could really use some refreshing fruit from Bali right now.

That’s it! You could visit Jaehyun at work and drop off a basket of fruits from the market. It was time that you spoiled him for once. He’s given you so much already, it’s the least you could do. You smile to yourself as you imagine the grin that would cover his face once you surprised him.

Luckily, you remember the name of the place that he works at even though he mentioned it only once in the past and never again.

You show up to the prestigious building with your best dress shirt and office skirt on. You wanted to look professional as it was a very serious work place. You just hope that you came late enough to deliver these fruits and not upset the manager.

The woman at the front desk looks intimidating, but you put on your brightest smile.

“Hi, excuse me, I’m looking for Jaehyun. I think he’s working right now.” you give a small smile to the older blonde haired lady with a silk Versace handkerchief tied around her neck.

She gives you a small smile and nods, “I’m sorry dear, but there’s no employee here by that name.”

“Oh..um, could you look again? I’m sure he’s just not showing up in the system, but he’s working until 5 today.”

She sighs then takes a look at her screen. “Hmmm..nope! No one here by that name, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re not thinking of ‘Johnny’?”

“No-no it’s Jaehyun...Um there may be a misunderstanding or something..” you blink rapidly.

She shakes her head and turns the computer screen to you.

“See...here’s the schedule for next week..”

You scroll through the names.

“Normally, I wouldn’t show this to anyone...” she whispers, but you’re too focused on finding his name to listen.

Taeil.

You continue scrolling until you get to the bottom.

Jaehyun’s name isn’t there on the list of employees..

It didn’t make any sense. Your grip on the basket starts to weaken. You can feel a small crack in your beautiful world start to spread.

Jaehyun was lying to you..all this time. This wasn’t even his workplace.

You step back as she turns her screen back to face her.

You look at the floor and fight back tears.

“Dear...are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” But you really weren’t. You couldn’t fight back the tears anymore. The floor below you became decorated with one, then two then three teardrops.

“Here.” You wipe your eyes and hand the fruit basket to the lady at the desk.

She looks puzzled. 

“Sweetheart..” she starts.

“Please!! Just take it!..I’m sorry for wasting your time..” you turn and leave the fruit basket on the front desk.

There were too many thoughts running through your mind. You walked heavily, with fury running through your veins and clenched fists.

How could he take you for a fool like this? How could he lie to you? Was he spending time with ‘R’ whenever he said he was “working?”

But you would confront Jaehyun, you would get answers when you met up for dinner. You had to know the truth and let him know that whatever game he was playing was over.

————

[Later That Night]

You meet up with Jaehyun at your favorite restaurant.

You wait for him outside and when you see him walk over you stare blankly.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby!” Jaehyun gives you a bright smile as he trots over. Maybe he didn’t see your frown, or wet, red eyes..maybe he didn’t notice your voice crack before you swallowed hard.

“We need to talk.” You look up at him once he stands over you, his bright smile fading slowly and his grip on the strap of his backpack tightening.

“You’ve been lying to me, where have you been?”

You say sternly, your lips pursed as Jaehyun stands tall in front of you now.

“What are you talking about?” He gives you a confused look.

“Cut the bullshit, Jaehyun, I went to your “job” to bring a gift because I’m a nice girlfriend, but to my surprise you weren’t there. And you know what the icing on the cake is? You’re never fucking there, you don’t work there Jaehyun! And don’t you dare lie to me with some dumb excuse, don’t insult my intelligence! Because the nice lady at the front desk even showed me the schedule and guess whose name was on it? Taeil’s but not yours!” Your voice raises, but there is no one outside to hear.

Jaehyun’s mouth opens and you see a slight panic in his eyes. “Y/n..you can’t be serious.. Why are you getting upset with me? That lady is new! She doesn’t even know how to operate the employee system properly yet! I’ve only seen her once.”

You scoff. “Oh God, here we go..”

“Y/n! I wouldn’t lie to you okay?”

“Then why aren’t you on the schedule and everyone else is?! Did she just delete your name completely?”

“My name isn’t on the schedule for next week because I asked for time off..after all we’ve been through..”

He shakes his head and turns away.

“Don’t give me that, Jaehyun! We just had spring break, why would you need to take time off?”

“Because my dad fucking hates me, okay?!! He keeps putting pressure on me because I’m failing my fucking business classes. They aren’t easy, none of this shit is easy, especially when it comes to being his only son! He’s going to stop paying for my classes if I don’t get pre-selected for the business school by the end of this term, so yeah I need a fucking break!”

He turns back to you once you remain quiet after his outburst. “Listen..I’m sorry..I’m sorry, I’m just stressed out...I should’ve told you I was gonna take time off, but I don’t understand why you are making me feel guilty about this?..”

You feel an immense pain in your heart. You feel guilt, confusion. You had accused Jaehyun without considering his personal issues at home. From the very beginning, he told you just how demanding and controlling his father was. He told you that he loved painting and creating art and hated that he would have to take over his father’s position in a big company one day.

It was something he struggled with constantly. The tug of war between being who he is expected to be and being who he truly wants to be.

“I’m sorry, forget I said anything.” You say quietly now.

“Trust me...please just trust me, I’m not hiding anything, I need you to understand that if we are going to make this work.” Jaehyun steps towards you and places his hands on your arms.

You look away.

“Unless..you don’t love me..do you want to end things? I try so hard, but it isn’t enough is it?” Jaehyun looks at you through teary eyes.

You shake your head and look back at him with furrowed brows. “Jaehyun..”

“No. It’s okay, let’s just end it since you don’t trust me.” Jaehyun says.

“Jaehyun, no, I love you and I’m sorry. It’s my fault for blowing up at you. But I love you so much..I just wanted to surprise you.” You break down into a sob before he takes you into his arms and holds you close.

“Shhh...it’s okay..I’m sorry too..” he kisses your forehead. You look up at him and kiss his lips. 

The two of you stand there for a moment, embracing each other lovingly, enjoying the proximity of your bodies and the way they fit perfectly together.

Jaehyun pulls away and looks into your eyes. “Are you hungry?”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He chuckles. “Me neither. Let’s get out of here.”

He takes your hand and leads you to his car. He then drives and parks in an empty parking lot.

A soft song plays in the background as you begin to kiss again.

Jaehyun’s tongue traces over your bottom lip, you turn your head and run your hand down his chest, your delicate touch sending shivers up his spine.

Your hand travels all the way done to his jeans, then rubs his bulge. He fidgets and moans into your mouth.

“Needy.” *kiss*

“Girl.” *kiss*

Jaehyun growls.

You laugh out, but continue to press onto the growing tent.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You whisper.

“It was kinda hot.” Jaehyun kisses your neck and pulls your leg over his lap.

“I was thinking of how I would punish you for it..how I’d shut you up.”

You climb over the center console and onto his lap, his arm around your waist as he helps you.

He pushes the seat back and puts his hands behind his head.

“No teasing this time, baby.” 

You nod, quickly unbuttoning your shirt. The cold night air hits your chest but the warmth in the car quickly comforts it. 

Jaehyun then pulls your bra down, your breasts popping out from it and bouncing gently.

He leans forward to palm both nipples, watching you as you bite your lips and moan quietly. The stars shining on your skin through the sunroof. 

He licks one of your nipples and listens to you cry out.

Your head falling back as he flattens his tongue against your heated skin once more.

He looks up at you through his lashes then sucks your nipple. 

“Jaehyun..that feels so good.”

He hums and sucks as you move back and forth on his lap. His bulge presses against your underwear as your skirt slides up your thighs.

He zips his jean down. You watch his length spring out, the tip red and dripping with pre cum. You could orgasm from the sight alone.

You leave your skirt on but shimmy out of your panties.

He then pulls out a condom and glides it down onto himself.

“Come here..” Jaehyun calls to you then lays back down on the seat. You lower yourself slowly, thankful for your own essence that allows him to enter you easily.

“Fuck.” You mutter once he fills you up completely, you feel every ridge of every vein run against your silky walls. For some reason, he feels bigger than usual. 

You move up and down and swivel your hips. His dick glides into you easily now, your wet entrance happily greeting it each time. He looks so hot below you. His jaw clenched and his abs flexing under his white t-shirt.

Jaehyun watches you through low eyes. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t frown. It’s a blank face, it’s almost like he’s not really there with you.

Truth is, Jaehyun was thinking about how close he was to being caught. You went to his workplace and discovered the truth. He was able to cover it up quickly but he made you feel bad in the process. A part of him truly regretted lying to you. But he knew one day he would find a way to explain it all to you and he knew you would forgive him because you love him.

Your whimpers grow louder as you approach your climax, but Jaehyun is nowhere near his. You bounce up and down faster, hissing as you take in sharp breaths and closing your eyes as you clench.

He stares at you again and thinks of how precious you are to him. Your face is beautiful even as your mouth falls open into loud moans and your eyes shut tightly. Your jawline and neck sparkle not only with sweat, but the reflection of the stars above you.

Your womanhood feels amazing around him as it always does. He rubs your clit to push you further along.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me.” His deep voice echos.

The car is filled with lewd sounds of skin on skin and your cries.

“J-Jaehyun..” your name falls from his lips. He watches your perky nipples. He palms one with his other hand then pumps your breast.

You cum hard not long after. Curse words leave your lips as you fall apart on him. He continues to push into you, even as you clench uncontrollably around him.

He grips your waist and slams you down onto him, your tight pussy providing sensational vibrations to his cock.

“Ahh..that’s it, sweetheart.” Jaehyun grunts

“Baby!” Your eyes fly open. You are so sensitive and on the brink of passing out from your intense orgasm but he doesn’t stop to let you recover.

He pushes into you hard from below, you breathe heavily and look up at the sky as tears fall from your eyes.

“This pussy is mine right?”

Jaehyun growls.

“Y-yes…yes.” Your head is empty as he continues to fuck into your body from below.

He then cums and stares at your body above him, so beautiful, so perfect.

You lay on top of him for a moment. He holds you against him in his arms.

“I’m sorry..” he whispers then kisses your ear.

“I’m sorry, too.” You whisper back.

A few minutes later, you get into the passenger seat and let Jaehyun drive you home.

However, he has to make a stop at the gas station to fill up.

When he goes inside to pay the cashier, you grab his phone.

You tried to think of the security code. What could it have been? You tried his birthday, but it didn’t work, you tried several other basic combinations like ‘1,2,3,4’ or ‘9,8,7,6’ they didn’t work.

Jaehyun was still inside, but you only had one more try before his phone would lock  itself for a few minutes.

You thought for a minute then tried one final code..your birthday. And it worked.

You quickly went to your contact name on his phone and selected “share my location with this contact.” This way, if you ever needed to get to him, you would know exactly where he is.

The idea sounded crazy to you, but a part of you still felt unsure about everything. You wanted to bring up the text messages you saw, but you knew that would make him upset again. He’d ask why you invaded his privacy. So instead, you decide to have his location turned on for you to see...just in case.

Jaehyun gets back in the car and you’ve already placed his phone back in the cup holder.

“Let’s get out of here..” he gives you a wide smile and winks.

[orionwhispers]

Feels Like Home // Bucky Barnes 🍂

(a/n- ok holy shit ive finally finished my first bucky oneshot. its long as fuck but im so so happy with it. pls let me know what you think. i have lots of requests and peaky stuff coming up as well. love you guys SO much) probs loads of mistakes but its 12k words and im exhausted lol. (also this is inspired by the song feels like home by bea miller and jessie reyez. highly recommend)

warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, HEAVILY implied smut, so much fluff your dentist will kill me, angst and canon level violence. 

Bucky Barnes had thought a lot about death.

He thought about it often during the war. Wondering if perhaps a bullet would pass through his gut as he ran through the trenches, or a bomb would explode under his feet as he walked across the battlefield. It was everywhere he looked, his fellow comrades bandaged and bloody, the nurses in the infirmary tent smelling of saline and strong, sweet, copper.

He thought about it more than anything with Hydra. Wishing that the torture would send him over the edge, pleading for the sweet release that death would give him. Thinking that what was waiting for him on the other side surely couldn’t be worse than what he was already dealing with.

Even when he moved into the tower, and into a routine with people who understood and trusted him, death had followed him for so long that it was like a friend.

He always thought his death would be something violent; something carnal and savage, almost poetic for him to die the same way that he had lived.

But who would have thought his demise would have been at the hands of the sleepy eyed, honey lipped, gentle girl that made him coffee and brought him raspberry donuts?

You turned his world upside down on a Thursday. He remembers it well, and thinks back to that autumn morning like it’s a picture he keeps in his wallet or a well thumbed book next to his bed. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are - he could be in battle, bloody and bruised, or five thousand miles away from you on a mission in the depths of some town he doesn’t know the name of, feeling himself start to crumble - and the thought of you is enough to steady him, your light luring him back to rationality, his girl.

His sweet girl.

He owed it all to you, and the way you changed his life on that rainy, dreary day and made him realise that home wasn’t a place, it was a person.

The compound was quiet. The Avengers all in a state of limbo; exhausted from hours of travelling, the ghost of bruises and cuts on their knuckles and blood under their fingernails. But more powerful than anything: the red hot relief to finally be back in the tower after two weeks.

The rest of the group fell into their own routines, their own little grooves that they had mastered over the however many years they had been saving the world. The showers were turned onto the highest setting, the smell of Sam’s ridiculously expensive mango shower gel and Nat’s deep, woody body scrub lingering across the floor. Comfort food was made in the kitchen, the throaty sound of laughter and bare feet on the tiles as popcorn sizzled and snapped on the stove. Blankets were draped across the sofas, mugs of hot chocolate and cans of sweet, dry beer passed around and over tangled limbs.

It was something they needed - something they craved. That comforting, warm feeling of family, something so trivial and domestic that it was enough to dull whatever they had been faced with, that for the evening they could think of terrible rom coms and laughter and teasing, rather than civilians dying and the smell of blood and the sound of gunshots. For those stolen moments of happiness after days of heart ache and exhaustion - it was enough.

Well, it was enough for almost everyone.

Whilst the others were arguing over the remote and whether peanut M&Ms were better than chocolate, Bucky was in his room with the lock bolted, methodically cleaning his weapons with surgical precision. He had been at the compound for almost six months, and despite the amenities and luxuries that came with his new home, he felt anything but comfortable.

He liked the people he lived and worked with - and most of them liked him too, but that didn’t do anything to dull the ache in his skull and the uncertainty deep in his gut. After so many years of not being in control of his own mind and body, of having his thoughts and feelings altered by people who saw him as nothing more than a weapon, he was struggling to adjust to his new life.

Amongst all of the chaos though, he had Steve.

The familiar sunshine haired boy that helped ease the storm. His best friend, his brother. The once scrawny teenager that he would follow to the end of the world, all guns blazing, no questions asked. Deep down, he knew that the golden boy was perhaps the only reason he was still at the tower, blending in with all the rest of the wonderful, shining eyed superhero’s around him, making him stick out like a sore thumb.

He knew they thought he could change, but he wasn’t so sure. Sometimes - like the times when he found himself grinning at something Clint said in the back of the jet, or when Nat patted his shoulder in thanks when he covered her in battle, or when he sat on the roof with Steve, talking about faded memories of pin up girls and Coney Island, he felt like perhaps he could be the man Steve thought he was. But then he caught sight of himself in the reflected surfaces of his bathroom, or felt the ricochet of his gun against his shoulder or the blood coating his hands and dripping down into his boots - and he remembered that sometimes people just don’t change.

He listened to the rain as he folded away his weapons that day. Listened to the way the patter of the water muffled the noises of laughter and playfulness coming from the lounge and dissolved into silence. It was too early to retire into bed, and besides, after a mission like the one they had come from sleep wouldn’t be on his mind for a while, his body was still racing with adrenaline.

Then, amongst the patter of raindrops and mingle of voices, he heard something.

A commotion in the hall. His body was finely tuned to pick up anything out of the ordinary, and he could hear the magnetic whir and clang of the elevator as it reached their floor. Everybody was crowded in the living room, which meant it would be somebody from outside the inner circle, and usually that would send cold chills down to his spine, but for some reason this time it didn’t.

Ghosts. Premonitions. Fortune telling. All a load of horse shit to him. He might have been to space and been frozen in time and met some really, really, bizarre people - but there were some things he just didn’t believe in.

Until that rainy day.

It was like a magnetic pull inside of him, when he wanted to lock himself away and not speak to anyone, something inside of him made him want to get up and join the rest of the crew in meeting the stranger.

Even before he saw your face you had him, hook, line and sinker.

So he begrudgingly got to his feet and stood in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame, metal arm out of sight. Steve glanced at him quickly with his eyebrows raised but he ignored him, focusing his eyes on the elevator as it slowly started to open.

Tony looked up suddenly as the doors opened , furrowing his brow at the semi circle of avengers watching him intently. Rather then question it he rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly and stepping forward, gesturing wildly with his arms. “Gather round, gather round, circus freaks. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Because Tony’s personality took up almost the entire room by himself, he had to step to the side for everyone to even get a glimpse of who he was talking about. They waited patiently, with crossed arms and gentle smiles as you stepped out of the shadows.

Bucky felt himself freeze.

You looked so... scared. Not in the traditional sense, not like you were terrified of them or fearing for your life, but the kind of alarm that always trudged through his blood, the feeling of unease and instability, as though you didn’t really belong.

Everybody fell into their roles the way he knew they would. You were young, probably not much older than the Parker kid, and that was why Nat and Steve stepped forward instantly, very protective of you before they even knew your name.

Your hair was mused and loose, eyes wide and lips puffy, as if you had just woken up. You were dressed all in black, baggy clothes and no makeup, your fingers interlocked, your rapid heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

And for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Everyone, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Tony said, one arm resting gently on your shoulders, pushing you forward.

Bucky had to stop himself from saying your name aloud, wondering why he wanted to taste it on his tongue.

As everybody spoke, introducing themselves with just enough reservation to make you feel comfortable, your eyes met, and his heart stopped. Your eyes were more white than not, a little glossy and swimming with uncertainty, and he felt the urge to do something, anything, to make you feel even a little bit calmer.

The feeling was so foreign that he stepped back, tearing his gaze away from you, suddenly unnerved. He didn’t miss the way you exhaled, and he pretended not to notice the way his body seemed to pine for the warmth he had felt when your eyes met.

Bucky heard him whisper to Nat, his usually sardonic voice dripping with genuine concern. “Keep an eye on her, for me, please.”

And although he knew Tony would never ask that of him, he knew that without a doubt, he would.

—————————————————————-

Those next few days, you stayed hidden in your room - which just so happened to be opposite his own.

Despite that, he never saw you. Not even once.

You weren’t at any team meetings or debriefings, you were never nestled in one of the chairs in the lounge, never sat on the balcony watching the sunrise or slicing up strawberries and grapes in the nook in the kitchen.If it wasn’t for the small, barely there noises you made every so often, he would have thought you had left.

Through the vents he could occasionally hear the whine of your door and the gentle sound of your footsteps at midnight darting to the kitchen. Sometimes he heard Wanda speaking softly to you, so kind and gentle that he could even hear the anxiety leave your voice for a little while. He’d hear Tony’s loud and obnoxious knock in the middle of the night, the two of you leaving for the lab under the cover of darkness.

Bucky hardly slept. It had never come smoothly to him, slipped through his fingers too easily like grains of sand. He used to train to block out the noise, attacking a punching bag until all he could hear was the steady thump, thump, thump of his knuckles. Steve had taken him running whenever the nights got too long or too loud, sweating out the frustration he felt as they darted through the streets at midnight, but now he found another way to pass those hours in the dead of night.

There was something oddly comforting to him about laying upright in his bed, reading whatever novel somebody had leant him and told him was a classic, listening out for the shuffle of your footsteps from the other side of the hall. He remembered what it had been like for him when he first moved into the tower. He knew how hard it was, moving into a space that wasn’t your own.

So now he found solace under the breeze of his ceiling fan and the slow drip of that one leaky tap that he still hadn’t fixed and the low hum of whatever sitcom you were watching vibrating through the walls.

He liked to make sure that you were safe. You were obviously scared of something, or someone, and it made him feel better that he was keeping an ear out for anything out of the ordinary. He told himself that it was for the benefit of the whole tower, but that didn’t explain the ease he felt in his chest when he finally heard the quiet, even snores coming from your room, and the way that it made his own eyes start to close.

The next time he saw you in the flesh was almost a month after you had moved in.

He was in the lounge with the rest of the avengers that had slept most of the morning away, Sam nursing a cup of vanilla coffee and Steve watching the news as he made some kind of bizarre and disgusting protein shake. Bucky sat on the sofa with his back ramrod straight as he did the daily crossword, something about filling out the empty boxes comforting him.

It was a rare free day and he had slept in a little longer than usual, only falling asleep after he had heard the squeak of your bed frame and the whir of your fan flittering in his ears. When he had woken up your room was still, and he assumed you were still asleep as he headed out for his run, but by the sound of your voice in the stairwell you had obviously slipped out unnoticed, and he couldn’t help feeling impressed.

He perked up instantly when he heard you. He listened to the soft way you spoke against the sharp click of Pepper’s heels against the floor, his eyes darting to the doorway as he heard you approach. He saw the girls first, the three of them flanking you like a security detail. Wanda and Natasha at your sides, Pepper walking slightly ahead; gesturing with her jewellery clad hands as she spoke to you.

You faltered as you stepped forward, eyes widening like a deer in headlights as you noticed the boys watching you from the other side of the room. Sam awkwardly removed his hand from where he had shoved it down a cereal box, waving kindly with lucky charm marshmallows stuck to his fingers. Steve - ever the gentleman - gave you his classic golden retriever smile, greeting you as though you were an old friend.

You relaxed a little at that, and Bucky felt himself deflate. He would never be the most warm and welcoming person, not anymore, and he wondered why that bothered him so much when it came to you.

Pepper gently placed a hand on your shoulder, and you leaned into her touch like a cat. “Boys. You remember (Y/N).”

You looked up, waving a hand that was hidden by your oversized sweater sleeves. “Hello again.”

A shy smile. Big eyes. A voice like melted chocolate. Bucky felt fourteen again.

He wanted to say something to you, but he couldn’t get any words out. Pepper was on a mission though, perching her hand motherly on your shoulder and escorting you forward. “Right. The lab. This way!”

Bucky’s gaze followed you all the way down the hall, not stopping even when you faded into nothingness. He turned slowly, feeling Steve and Nat watching with matching smirks on their faces, their eyes flickering with childish glee.

He scoffed.

“Shut up.”

———————————————————

As the weeks passed, Bucky hardly caught a glimpse of you. He didn’t even realise he was searching for you, his eyes just flitting over the empty chair at meal times or trailing through the gym, wondering if he might make out the bounce of your hair or the curve of your lips.

Not that he had been thinking about your lips. He definitely hadn’t been thinking about your lips.

You had piqued his interest though. He thought of the way he had been when he first moved into the tower, and knew that the first few weeks were always the hardest. You spent the majority of the time in your room, occasionally leaving for Tony’s floor or the lab, but always hiding in the night and the shadows, falling just out of reach before he got lucky enough to see you.

Fortunately, there were enough recon missions to fill his days. He found distraction in snow capped mountains and dry, dusty deserts, searching for old HYDRA bases or intel that might have been missed. His mind was filled with coordinates and strategy plans, and that worked for a little while. Until the jet landed and he found himself wondering if you would be there with the rest of the team welcoming him back, and every time he was left feeling a quick, pang of disappointment when you weren’t.

Eventually though, things started to look up.

At three in the morning, like clockwork, he began hearing your door squeal as you opened it, and then the sound of sock clad feet padding through the hallways. The first time it happened his heart leapt and he jolted upright, convinced that something bad had happened. He didn’t relax until he heard Natasha speak, voice crystal clear despite the early hour.

“You ready?”

He soon discovered that Natasha had taken you under her wing, and was helping you spar at the times you felt the most comfortable - when the rest of the building was asleep. He knew he wasn’t the only person who was curious about you, wanting to know if you had any powers, and Nat had stopped Steve from asking a million different questions about you.

He didn’t want to make you retreat once again, so he left it alone.

Eventually, you started sleeping in, getting more comfortable and leaving your bed much later than before. The others still kept their distance, entering the gym just as you were leaving, drenched in sweat and smiling. The first time that Bucky saw you smile like that was after a run with Sam, and he swore his knees almost buckled at the sight of you, wide eyed and sparkling like a diamond, sucker punching the air right out of his gut.

It was just about dawn when he next saw you, the sun barely risen, the compound bathed in a golden, ethereal light. No matter how many early mornings they had had, the kitchen still smelt like triple shot espresso and cans of red bull every day, sleepy eyed avengers mumbling and grumbling as they fought over who got to use the coffee machine first. Bucky smiled smugly across his mug of instant grounds that Sam had so tastefully called, “disgusting cheap crap,” as his $3 coffee capsule got crushed once again.

Steve made some quick joke as he towelled off his hair from his shower, but his words crumbled into TV static when Bucky saw you coming off the elevator. You were limping, just a little, but enough to make his heart thunder in his chest. You were smiling though, wide and happily. As bright as the full sun, and Bucky wanted to stay in your warmth for a little bit longer. Natasha held onto you as though you weighed less than a newborn baby, and the two of you stumbled towards your room. Before you disappeared you shot a small and hesitant smile at the boys, one that pierced through Bucky like a steel bullet.

He wanted to keep quiet but he couldn’t. Not after he had seen you.

“You don’t think Natasha is being to hard on her?” He said finally, clearing his throat in an attempt to sound nonchalant.

“Why do you care?” Sam had asked, halfway through a breakfast burrito that was dropping more food on his shirt than into his mouth.

“Camaraderie.” He quipped.

“Camaraderie my ass. Remember that time I almost broke my leg sparring with you? You made me walk myself to the clinic.”

“That’s because you were being whiney and dramatic.”

“Oh? Well I’ll tell you what I think. I think that Mr Barnes here is - ”

“Alright. That’s enough.” Steve said finally, cutting the conversation short, knowing exactly where Sam was going with his thoughts and not wanting to put his best friend through any embarrassment about his... interest in you.

Sam gave him a glare that said that the conversation was definitely not over, but Bucky ignored him, his eyes trailing the hallway you had walked through, his belly aching and flipping from the way that you had looked at him, filling him with a warmth that didn’t dim even long after he had fallen asleep that night.

——————————————————————-

Things really started to change at midnight. When the sky went black and turned into a blanket of obsidian and twinkling stars, that was when both of you came alive.

The nightmares were back, and they were bad. Blood. Metal. Rust. The pain that felt as though his bones were snapping one by one. Gasping for air. Sweat. Fists. Gunshots. No longer could he stay asleep listening out for you, his body didn’t want him to feel comfortable, safe, whatever the way you made him feel. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of something as sweet as you. He was not a man that deserved good things, and he knew he certainly didn’t deserve you.

The compound was so big and he felt so small in his bed. Sometimes he swore he could feel the walls closing in, even though he knew his quarters were more than triple the size of some of the hellholes he had been trapped in. He needed space. He needed air. And that was what led him to wander the hallways like some kind of spectre as the city roared and thundered and thrived below him.

The rooftop had always been his favourite spot. Tony loved using it for parties, setting up a bar and filling the hot tub with champagne and hiring some idiot to blast stupid music that made Bucky want to smash his head against a brick wall. But it was often just used by the team, swimming laps in the pool and laughing under the summer sun, strawberries and wine in the spring and late night swims in the rain in the winter, making Clint jump in the frozen water naked after he lost a round of poker.

It was one of the rare places that Bucky felt truly safe. Out in the open air, watching the water sparkle teal under the stars, the city so big and beautiful, lights flickering and horns blaring. He came up when things went bad, losing himself in the noise and the ice cold air. He often pulled a chair out to the edge, drinking a beer that had no effect on him but somehow made him feel a little bit lighter, just watching the world go by.

He hadn’t been up there in a while. The nightmares had stopped for a while, incidentally the same time you arrived, but recently they had started to trickle back in, like rain at the end of summer.

He was in a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a henley with far too many holes in, cradling a mug of cocoa with a shot of dark rum as he stepped off the elevator, stopping suddenly when he noticed the outdoor lights shining brightly. He knew that everybody else was asleep, and his field instincts kicked in quickly, until he noticed the soft lilac hue of your satin pyjamas glistening under the moon.

Perhaps he should have left. He knew that you liked to keep your distance and God, did he understand that, but his feet seemed to stay cemented to the floor. You were luring him like a ship to a lighthouse, beckoning him to follow you, and who was he to resist?

You were bent over a row of plants and flowers, watering them from a buttercup yellow can, your fingers stained with mud. You moved gently, tentatively fondling the leaves and petals and clipping away any stray stems and weeds. He watched you with curious eyes, amazed at how something so simple could show so much about your character. After so long of not seeing you he felt lucky to catch a glimpse, and he didn’t want to do anything to scare you off.

That was, until his foot caught the edge of one of the sun loungers.

For a trained assassin, he could really be a dumbass sometimes.

You looked up quickly, eyes as wide as dinner plates, your face just starting to flush. He held up his free hand, all the air leaving his lungs like a balloon. He stepped back to leave you in peace, but then he heard you softly say:

“Wait.”

So he did.

You looked nervous but enchanting, with your mussed hair and fluffy slippers and long eyelashes. You smiled timidly, but warmly, and looked at him. Really looked at him. And something about that made him feel truly seen, for the first time in a long time.

“Bucky, right?” A pause lingered in the air, he was suddenly face to face with you and somehow all of his words dissolved into the night air. You mistook his turmoil for something else, and straightened up, the trowel in your hand spilling dirt onto the floor. “Oh I’m so sorry. Do you prefer James? Or...”

“Bucky!” He said, almost shouting, and then calmed himself down. He could feel a blush rising up his throat from his outburst, but if it meant you would look at him the way that you were, then he would happily embarrass himself forever.

A moment passed, the stars overhead round and full despite all of the pollution in the city air, and for once Bucky didn’t find them the most beautiful thing he had seen.

“What are you doing?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh, um.” You were a little flustered, the apples of your cheeks rounding and your lips twitching up, like you were laughing at a joke he so desperately wanted to be a part of. It was infectious. You were infectious, and the ice cold assassin felt the frost around his heart start to thaw.

“Tony got them for me.” You said, barely meeting his gaze. “After everything.” You stopped awkwardly and cleared your throat. His interest was piqued but he knew better than to probe you, instead letting you ramble. “He thought it would be good for me to have something to take care of. Something to look after, you know?”

He nodded.

“It’s not much, but sometimes coming up here and watering them just takes my mind off of things, you know?” You said, somewhat absentmindedly. He watched as you stroked the petals, pushing your finger into a droplet of water on the leaves. He wasn’t much of a gardener but he recognised a few of the potted plants. Forget me nots, African violets, buttery yellow primrose and icy purple orchids. You had other things too, sweet mint and thyme and rosemary, and budding stems of strawberries and blackberries and tomatoes.

It was amazing how much life you had grown along the usually industrial looking balcony. It was rare to see something thrive amongst the smoke of the city,

“I like it up here too, it’s peaceful.” He said, looking out at the skyline and smelling the crisp, cool air.

You mistook his honesty for an annoyance at breaching his personal space, and held your hands up apologetically. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” You were about to make excuses and leave, not wanting to upset the very handsome man who had occupied far too much of your brain anymore, but he stepped forward and said quickly:

“No! In fact, I er - I think I like it much more now.”

You smiled, and oh boy, did Bucky know he was done for.

———————————————————-

Bucky started to like the nights.

After the first midnight meeting it somehow became unspoken for the two of you to meet up on the rooftop. Bucky never wanted to overstep or make you feel uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to see you again in the privacy of the twilight, the moonlight casting gold flecks into your eyes.

It should have been awkward. An ex HYDRA puppet and a girl with a blurry past that had just joined the biggest crime fighting organisation in the world should have found it hard to open up to one another, but somehow that didn’t happen.

You both kept the conversation light, the silences were warm and comfortable, and everything felt bizarrely natural. You’d often be preening your plants and Bucky would be sat on a lounge chair, reading a book and sneaking glances at you. You talked about the city, he told you how much it had changed since the 40’s, and you told him about the crappy apartment with no heating and a nest of owls you lived in before Tony took you in.

Family never came up, it was a subject you danced around and Bucky respected your privacy. He told you about his though, it slipped out accidentally when he saw you preening foxgloves the colour of ripe and juicy plums - and how they reminded him of the ones his mother once had in the window box of their kitchen. Somehow the memory hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, and you expertly swerved the conversation onto something else. It lingered in his mind for the rest of the night, only dimming when he came home from a workout the following morning and saw a little vase filled with purple petals and a book titled “Caring For Foxgloves” left outside of his door.

His smile didn’t fade the whole rest of the day, even through Sam’s relentless teasing.

He remembered you talking about your favourite cafe off campus, and the white hot chocolate and raspberry donuts you would kill for, and took an hour detour from his running route to pick them up for you both to share later that night.

It was amazing, how this girl he only knew through the sounds from his wall was now sitting with him in the early hours of the morning, talking to him like he was a real person and not just some shitty science experiment. You exchanged books, giving him ones that you thought he would enjoy, and he devoured them in less than a week, finding traces of you between the pages.

The two of you never sat right beside one another. You knew his past and you were cautious not to overwhelm him, always leaving generous inches and metres between you both. For the first time in a long time Bucky didn’t want somebody to give him space, he craved those moments when your fingertips would brush as he helped you pot a plant, when your thighs would touch as you leant over him to watch the stars, when he could feel your warmth orbiting him like a planet.

He used to loathe the night time, but now, he spent the whole day aching for the sun to set so he could be with you.

Eventually, as you grew closer with him, you also grew closer with the team, and soon you were joining them sporadically for movie nights and “Friends” marathons and training. You mainly stayed with Wanda and Nat, the two girls sparring with you and showing you the ropes and coming from a place you could understand the best, but you always ended up back next to Bucky - and he loved it.

The rest of the team noticed too. The way that you brought Bucky out of his shell and he helped you to feel grounded. Steve instantly saw that the smile on his best friends face was wider than it had been in fifty years, and he enjoyed watching the two of you together, happy his best friend was happy.

Bucky felt his own change, too. He was no longer a blushing, stuttering mess around you, (well, not completely. He was still a wreck when you smiled at him, or laughed, or did basically anything) but he had found a comfortable middle ground in your friendship, the two of you able to tease and joke with each other like old friends. Finding ways to talk the whole night and day away, watching the sky turn from obsidian to sweet purple and then milky blue, both of you wondering how you had managed to once again miss an entire night quicker than a snap of fingers.

He knew that he was in deep when you got cleared for your first mission.

He remembered waking up, running with Steve, drinking coffee and making eggs, all whilst pretending he wasn’t looking over his shoulder waiting for you every few seconds. Sam came in with a smug smile and stole a slice of toast, buttering it until it was dripping and eating it in seconds, his brow furrowing a little as he watched Bucky.

“What?” Bucky asked, shooting him a curious glance.

“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to your girl?”

“She not ‘my girl’.” Bucky said through a mouthful of coffee, hating how the words made him feel.

“Oh, right. Of course not. It’s not like the two of you don’t spend every second of every day and every night together, and it’s not like you’re totally head over heels -”

Bucky decided it would be easier to just cut him off, taking his frustration out on the eggs he was now whisking a little too hard. “Why would I say goodbye to her?”

“You didn’t hear?”

He shook his head, suddenly feeling a million tiny needles prickle his skin.

“Bruce signed her off. She’s heading to Madrid with Nat.”

“She’s what?”

That was all it took for him to leave, Sam watching him closely and smirking to himself. Not noticing until it was too late that the pan had started smoking, and the smell of burnt eggs wafted through the air, and Sam was left alone to grab the fire extinguisher and coat the meal in clouds of white foam.

Bucky stormed through the halls, he wasn’t quite sure what his plan was, his mind felt like a bowl of alphabet soup and he couldn’t quite place his anger or frustration, but that didn’t stop him from tearing through the rooms with a face like thunder. He found Tony in the conference room, finalising the mission plans and murmuring under his breath. Bucky feet moved him forward before he could even compute it.

“You signed her off?”

Tony exhaled loudly, and with obvious frustration spun round on his three hundred thousand dollar shoes.

“I was wondering when you would pitch in your two cents.”

“Do you think she’s ready?”

“Yes I do.”

“What if -? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? What if - ”

“It won’t.”

“What if it does?”

“Look, Barnes. I know you and (Y/N) have been getting on well, and I know that she’s opened up a lot because of you -” He paused, mulling over the distaste in his mouth. “... As much as that might irritate me. But you don’t know what she’s like on the field, she’s brilliant.”

Bucky didn’t doubt that for a second, but his blood was as cold as ice. Missions went wrong all of the time, even a simple recon with Clint ended up with them both littered in bullets, and the mere thought of that made his head spin. He had no real reason to be so overprotective of you, but he truly couldn’t help it, everything in him was screaming at him to keep you safe.

“Are you even sure that...”

“Bucky?” He felt like a scarecrow shoved in a pool of mud, stuck straight and stiff as you said his name and rendered him totally tongue tied. He wondered how much you had heard, and he felt like there was an ice cube trailing down his spine.

“Aha! There she is! Superwoman!” Tony said, clapping his hands together, always knowing how to diffuse the tension.

He turned around and felt his heart jack hammer in his chest. He could see Nat, but his eyes totally passed over her, because you were there: your hair tied up and back from your face, subtle makeup with long eyelashes and syrupy lips, a black and powder pink tactical suit that fit and hugged every curve and bow of your body. His brain totally let him down, short circuiting at the mere sight of you. You looked so happy and healthy and glowing, and also like you could knock him out with a single punch - and good god would he let you.

“Bucky I was erm, I was looking for you. I wanted to say goodbye.” You clasped your hands together, appearing so sweet and shy, a total contrast to the femme fatale you portrayed.

“Natalia!” Tony said quickly, and for once Bucky was grateful for his interruption. “Come and look at this strange bird with me.”

All of you knew it was quite possibly the worst fake distraction ever but you ignored it. Nat just rolled her eyes and followed Tony to the balcony, but not before wiggling her eyebrows at Bucky.

You moved forward tentatively. “I wanted to tell you this morning but I couldn’t find you.” You weren’t quite sure why you were so cautious and apprehensive, desperate to speak to him. You had been travelling and fighting for as long as you could remember, you had spent many years alone and entered the battlefield countless times - and yet, that morning as Bruce gave you the all clear, the only person you wanted to see or speak to was Bucky.

“I was running, I’m sorry.”

You smiled, and it made him smile. “Well I’ve found you now.” You stepped forward, Bucky inhaled air so sharply it almost sliced the back of this throat. “I wanted to say goodbye, and that I’ll see you soon.” You paused, then blinked up at him almost cheekily. “Would you do me a favour? If you have time? Could you water the plants for me?”

He grinned, toothy and white. “Already on it.”

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

He put his hand on your shoulder, and he swore he could feel you melt into his touch, or maybe that was his knees buckling at his stupidity and the way that you were looking up at him. He wanted to say a million things, but instead he settled for: “Goodbye, (Y/N). Be safe, okay?”

“Of course.”

He watched as you packed your things and headed to the jet, the rest of the crew coming out to say their farewells and wish them luck. His eyes were trained on you as you spoke to Tony, nodding your head as you listened to him. He felt Natasha sidle up next to him, her hair shining copper in the sun.

“She’ll be alright, Barnes.”

“I know. But - ”

“I’ll take care of her. Promise.”

“Thank you, Nat. Good luck.”

“Don’t need it!”

Three hours later and he was in the gym, punching out his excess energy. The bag was splitting at the seams, and sand trailed sadly onto the floor. Bucky ignored it, his hits getting harder and faster, his blood pounding in his ears. Since you had left he had taken to pacing the floor and biting his nails down to the wick, hovering over Steve as he spoke to Nat through her wire. He only left when he realised that he was driving everybody else crazy with his obsessive twitching and marching, taking out his frustration on whatever he could rip apart with his fingers.

“Tony’s going to kill you if you break anymore punching bags.” Steve said from behind him, his voice echoing around the dark room.

“Hmph.”

He couldn’t stop. His hands were red raw and his knuckles were scraped but they would heal soon, and he’d go back to tearing them up all over again, anything to get rid of the adrenaline and nausea that had been swimming in him since the morning.

A minute passed. And then two. And then three. He exhaled, pausing, his hands midway in the air. He was about to say what he had always known, right from the second your eyes met that crisp autumn day, and Steve was the only one he could confide in.

“I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Steve hardly even blinked, just clapped a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting, his brother.

“I know.”

Because of course he did. He knew it from the way Bucky smiled, the way he was lighter, brighter, like you had made him switch on and appreciate the little things around him. He had seen Bucky doe eyed and loopy over hundreds of girls back in the day, he knew how he got, but this... this was something bigger, magnetic, the clash of two electric people.

There wasn’t much Steve could say, he was great at saving people but not so good at the more personal side of things, he still turned into a puddle when Sharon looked at him. Instead he laughed, his teeth white as snow and his eyes playful and teasing. “You got it bad, dude.”

Despite everything Bucky smiled. Because yeah, he did.

————————— ————————————

You came back from the mission unharmed and euphoric.

And the second. And the third. And the fourth.

Bucky still tracked mud across all of the carpets and tapped his feet mindlessly for the entirety you were gone, but he was getting better. Steve had even bought him a joke present of a pear shaped and scented stress ball, but Bucky had ripped it in half when there was gunfire in the background of your coms, followed by an apologetic “Sorry!” from Sam. Bucky had then poured all of the tiny fruit smelling beads under the duvet in Sams bed, and then put all of his toilet paper on the holder backwards, knowing how annoyed he got about it.

Every time you came back you were exhausted and elated and beaming, and after having a nap and a shower you spent the rest of the day with the team, but the nights were reserved just for him. You grew even closer together. Steve had watched from the rooftop doorway gobsmacked one evening when he had left his phone up there, watching the way you two interacted, the way that he curled into your touch, never away from it. You got electric shocks when your fingers touched, you would blush when his knee playfully nudged yours at something stupid somebody had said at dinner, and you found yourself falling asleep to the image of chestnut hair and ocean eyes. You had crushes before, but this was all consuming, the kind of thing that made your stomach erupt in butterflies and your eyes turn into hearts.

You were worried that it might be one sided, but Bucky was totally, completely, smitten.

He watched you. Noticed the way that you smiled and laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear. He thought of the girls in the forties, with their painted lips and curled hair and immaculate clothes, and how you blew all of them out of the water, even in just your flannel pyjamas and bunny slippers. The coil in his belly when he looked at you reminded him of being sixteen and holding hands at the pictures, but that had just been a flicker, and this was a forest fire.

The first mission with the rest of the crew was when things went sour.

He got to see how you acted first hand. The way that you were quiet in the jet, but smiling strawberry red, taking in all of the orders that Steve meticulously laid out, your eyes wide and eager. He watched you as he helped Nat set up the guns and stock the ammo, the way that you toyed with the knife in your boot, the gears in your head turning and working on something he was desperate to discover.

He hadn’t been on a mission with you, not only because they way you looked in your suit and the way that you grinned would have led to him inadvertently getting a bullet in his head, but because from what he had heard, your fighting styles were totally different. Your powers and your skills were a mystery to him, one that he badly wanted to solve, but you kept that side of you hidden and guarded with barbed wire, and he respected that.

You were paired off with Sam. Nat with Clint. Bucky with Steve. Wanda with Vision. It was a simple mission, there was some intel locked in a safe of a seemingly abandoned factory in the south of Russia. Tony had discovered the place crawling with hidden members of a gang that specialised in human trafficking and organ farming, and he needed what was hidden below to help blow it out of the water.

It was going to take a lot of skill. There was no doubt that the enemies would be heavily armed, possibly even with illegally manufactured weapons, and all of you had to keep your heads straight the entire time. He had wanted desperately to be paired with you, to keep his eye on you, (not that you needed it) but he knew it was out of the question. Instead, as you all split up a few miles away in the woods, he grabbed your hand quickly and rubbed his finger across your knuckles, looking at you intently, his eyes swimming with sincerity.

“Be careful.” He said, his gaze locked on yours.

You smiled. “Always.”

He stuck his middle finger up at Steve’s smug face as they headed towards the factory.

Things were going well. As well as they could be when they were covered in blood and sweat and surrounded by the sound of gunfire and cracking bones. Nobody had been hurt so far, the coms quiet as the pairings cleared their sectors and worked their way down to the basement. Bucky had just pushed the last man over the railing and onto the concrete floor below when he heard the crackle of panicked voices in his ear, his eyes darting to Steve.

“Shit! Fuck!”

“Sam?”

“It’s (Y/N)! Fuck! One of them took her!”

“What?” Steve said instantly, switching straight from solider to captain, immediately alert.

“There was too many, it was an ambush!”

“Sam just stay there and - ” Steve tried to keep his voice steady and level, but it seemed as though the walls were closing in. To make matters worse, he saw a blur of black in his eye line, and watched helplessly as his best friend tore down the stairwell, his footsteps a clap of thunder. “Fuck! Bucky!”

Bucky knew that he was going to get one hell of a lecture and probably some six week course in impulse in the force, but all that he could think about was you, his blood was ice cold, his body numb and his brain conjuring up a million different pictures of you that made him feel sick to his stomach. He leapt over the bannister and landed haphazardly on the floor, his gun cocked and ready. His eyes were nothing but jet black pupils, scanning for your face through the halls.

He knew that you and Sam had been working through what used to be the laboratory, and that was on the other side of the building. His legs and arms moved almost mechanically, determined to get to you as quickly as possible, taking out anybody that stood in his way. He could hear Steve calling from behind him, and the sputter of the others in his earpiece, but his focus was on one thing. You.

The men were big and brawny and mean. Tattooed arms and shaved heads and gold teeth. Bucky shredded through them like they wore nothing. He flung them over tables, threw them through doorways and dragged them up by the roots of their hair. They were strong though, laughing at him through coffee stained teeth, loving his anger and desperation.

“Where is she?” He snarled at one particularly vicious thug brandishing two assault rifles.

“Who? Your whore? Dead.”

He snapped his neck like it was nothing but a twig.

He ran from room to room, his boots squealing across blood and stray bullets, his breath as ragged and sharp as glass. Everywhere was empty. Rows of vials and big glass cylinders and cages for animal testing, there was nothing, the place completely ransacked and bare. He hissed, getting ready to fight his way through another floor until he heard exasperated grunts and the clash of metal from a small room off to the side.

He skidded into the doorway with his rifle up at his shoulder, his finger right on the trigger, ready to shoot somebody’s fucking head off. Instead he paused, his mouth agape and his hands lowering, the whole room standing still. There was a freezer. Probably for samples and test tubes and whatever crazy fucking thing they kept in a place like this, but they had used it as a cage, the handles tied with thick copper chains and padlocks. Sam was using the butt of his gun to smash his way through, and they were old and rusty and starting to crumble easily, and Bucky watched helplessly as he finally busted in, clouds of ice puffing around him.

Bucky didn’t know why he couldn’t move. Couldn’t help. But his feet were as heavy as cinder blocks, and his heart was thundering in his ears. There was a small squeal, broken and half hearted, void of anything other than exhaustion, and then the smell of tears and blood, followed by sweet mint and wildflowers. Unmistakably you.

He wanted to run forward and scoop you in his arms, press your head against the crook of his neck and get you far, far away from this place, but he couldn’t move, and so he watched as Sam tugged you into him, running his fingers through your hair, cradling you like a child, soothing you as you cried hot, wet tears into his suit. And Bucky wished with everything in him that it was him instead.

He stayed back as you flew home with Sam. He kept away when you were in the hospital with Bruce, lurked in his room when you went over everything with Tony, locked himself away when you confided in Steve. He felt as though he had failed you, no matter what the others said. He felt as though he had let you down, and the noise you had made when Sam tugged you from the depths of that tiny little box, it played in his head like a warped record, haunting him and his dreams.

For a week he kept to himself. For a week he ran a different route and trained at a gym down by the water. For a week he took his motorbike out to a shitty diner in the bad part of town and ate soggy pancakes instead of having dinner with the team, for a week he did everything he could to not see you, thinking that would ease what you had been through, but instead it left you feeling torn and hurt and completely alone.

Tony made him come in to test out a new reloading system and so he reluctantly snuck down to the figuring range under the cover of darkness. He allowed himself to get lost in the sounds of carnage and the smell of metal, until he heard soft footsteps from behind him.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You seemed so sad, and that made his heart clench.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Silence. That had never been awkward between the two of you, ever, and yet now it was so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

You wrung your hands together, your eyes flitting around the room, never quite landing on his face. That hurt. After a moment you cleared your throat, using the toe of your sneaker to kick up dust from the floor. “Do you - do you know? I mean, has anybody said anything to you? About me?”

He shook his head. “No.” There had been a million times when it was on the tip of his tongue to pry the truth from Nat or Steve, but his respect for you was stronger than his need for answers.

He felt his stomach flip when you finally blinked up at him. You looked as though you hadn’t slept and he knew he looked worse. You were still so beautiful though, looking so young and angelic under the harsh lights and surrounded by all the weaponry. Like a powder pink rose amongst giant, violent thorns.

Unable to stop himself, he blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

“You said that.”

“Not for avoiding you. For letting you - For not being there for you.”

Your mouth was open, brows furrowed as you took in what he said. “What?”

“I should have helped you.” There was desperation in his voice, and he turned to face the targets rather than look at you, not wanting you to see him so weak.

You were silent for quite a while. It was difficult for you to digest his words, like swallowing glass. You had been under the impression that seeing you tearful and cowering and broken had scared him off, had made him look at you differently, but now you knew that he blamed himself. “Bucky...” You said, biting back emotion. “Its not your fault.” Your tone was definite. Strong. You wouldn’t let him feel guilty for something he had no control over.

He brushed you off, shifting his weight, turning playful. “Yeah I know. It was Sam’s.”

You rolled your eyes.

He clicked his tongue. He set the gun down on the table and turned to face you fully, his eyes solid and unwavering. “I am so sorry you got hurt.”

“I wasn’t - I.”Finding the right words was hard. You had so much you wanted to tell him but no idea how to, the sentences sticking to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. “It was just...Can we? Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“The roof?”

“Yeah,” You smiled, and Bucky swore even the strongest industrial lights couldn’t even match your spark. “The roof.”

Under the stars and above the city as the cars raced and the sirens blared, you told him everything. Growing up as a lab rat, twisted and moulded by scientists and pumped full of chemicals. You told him of finding your powers and being forced to use them for vile things you couldn’t even repeat, and when he heard the tremor of your voice and saw the gloss on your eyes his whole body vibrated and turned a shade of red that it was almost black. You told him how the people that created you had wanted you back, and how Tony had saved you from being taken again, how you owed him your life.

He wasn’t good with comfort. He wasn’t good with words. He was good at tearing people apart limb from limb and shooting them from distances and breaking their bones like they were toothpicks, but for you, he would try. In a move so unlike him that it felt as though he might have been brainwashed once again, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

You froze at first, but eventually thawed and melted into him, grateful for his touch. You had wanted to be close to him since the first time you met but you held back, and now everything felt right, like the missing piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he gave someone a bear hug, his nose buried in your hair, his fingers locked around you, desperate to keep you safe. Perhaps it was way back then, a time of uniforms and alleyways and candy floss and city smog, a time he used to long for with everything in him.

But now the memories of the past didn’t even compare to what he felt when he held you.

———————————————————

Everything came to a head on the first mission you had alone together.

Two months passed. Two months of subtle touches and shared smiles and inside jokes. Two months of rooftop laughter and midnight meetings and eating ice cream straight from the tub as you sat under the stars. Two months of utter, dreadful, aching, slow burning, and it was driving everybody else crazy.

Mostly Sam.

“I’m just saying,” Sam had murmured to Steve over chocolate eclairs one morning as they watched you teach a wide eyed, love struck Bucky how to play Mario Kart. “Can’t we just lock them in a room? Force them to kiss?”

“No.”

“It’s just so gross.”

Wanda flicked a grape at him, smiling cheekily as it bounced off his nose. “It’s sweet.”

He cocked a brow and tilted his head, his eyes filled with mild disgust. “Is it?”

Steve flicked through the files in his hand and licked whipped cream from his fingers. “He’s happy. Leave him be.”

“He’s a dumbass.”

“They both are.” Natasha interjected from behind them, wiping sweat from her brow and pulling off her boxing gloves. She was monotone and her face was straight, but even the black widow couldn’t bite back the smile she had as she watched the girl she now thought of as a sister and the once murderous, unbeatable assassin arguing about blue shells on the sofa.

The first mission you had been assigned together was in a small town in the Midwest somewhere. There had been unusual sightings in an airfield in the middle of nowhere, and a fugitive from Germany had been spotted in the bars that bordered the little village. Tony didn’t want to send too many people and blow the cover, just your powers of manipulation and telekinesis to apprehend the subject, and Bucky for added strength and precision.

Initially Tony was hesitant on pairing the two of you together, but there was no denying that you both worked brilliantly together. You understood one another on a level that nobody else did.

Bucky didn’t get nervous before a mission. In fact, he hardly felt anything. He spent the hours in the jet preparing himself and his weapons, going over maps and plans until they were drilled in his brain. But as the two of you took off, you with your rose blossom lips and eye watering suit and soft laughter, Bucky felt a warmth coiling in his stomach.

Apprehension.

You were staying at a cheap hotel a few blocks from the airfield. Tony had thought of everything and booked the two of you in rooms the opposite end of the hall from each other. Three floors apart. Bucky had slipped the receptionist a twenty for the room next to yours. For protection, of course.

Working undercover could be mind numbingly boring. Hours sat in a parked car in the dead of night, freezing to the bone as you watched an apartment from the bushes, trailing a suspect for days on end - but any time with you was a blessing for Bucky, even if it was sat behind the wheel of a cheap car with painful seats and broken heating.

The mission was a quiet one at first, you’d spotted the subject and had been following him, but all he seemed to do was eat crappy diner food and watch hours of cartoons. You both remained a safe distance but you managed to eventually bug his apartment when he spent the evening at a strip club. Tony and Steve updated you often, they had intercepted his phone calls and learnt that he was sending out a shipment late one night, and the two of you needed to stop it before it reached the air.

The rain was torrential when the two of you left the hotel. You smiled secretly to yourself as you walked through the slick streets, noticing how Bucky always made sure you were on the side away from the road, and how he moved so that you never got your feet in puddles. You were in the middle of nowhere following a criminal who spent far too much time eating potato chips and watching Rick and Morty, and yet you struggled to think of a time when you had been more content.

It meant everything to you.

Staying up late to listen into his apartment, Bucky buying practically the entire vending machine, the two of you pigging out and talking about nothing. You had breakfast at diners and communicated at night through knocks on the wall. Whenever you were out and the air was ice cold, Bucky would always move in close to you, his arm brushing against yours, his body your own personal heater. He wanted nothing more in those moments then to pull you into him and warm you up some other way, but instead he kept his eyes fixed forward, and bit the inside of his cheek until it bled.

You arrived at the airfield at midnight. The moon was high and the sky was dark and you both had to crouch low to be avoided by the overhead lights. You saw the suspect speaking to someone on his phone, and not long after a large white van pulled up towards him, the driver getting out and opening the boot.

“That’s it.” Bucky said pointing at the wooden crates. His voice was right by your ear, and you tried to ignore the way you shivered.“You ready?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Always.”

What happened next was mostly a blur. The two of you kept your heads down and your hands on your weapons, the pounding of the rain disguising your footsteps. You made it across the tarmac with Bucky covering you, his eyes alert and prepared for any imposing danger. You lifted your hands, ready to snap your fingers and apprehend the man rooting around the boxes, but before you could even feel the warm buzz of your powers through your veins, six men leapt out from the back of the van, guns raised and smoking.

“Fuck. Fuck! It’s a set up.”

Without even a second thought, Bucky pushed you aside. His body totally covered your own, and he hissed and swore, firing back at the bullets rapidly charging at you. You swung your hands and fought back, sending out flickers of fire and air, setting one of them alight and watching as he howled in pain. Bucky shot at everyone he could, sharp pierces right in the skull, always one hundred percent accurate, but his brain was whirring a mile a minute. He was trying his best to keep his eyes on you, his only goal was to make sure you were safe.

It wasn’t like he thought you were weak - far from it. He had seen you out on the field, been knocked on his ass from the aftershock of your powers more times than he could count, and he knew he had no real reason to be so worried but that did nothing to stop the prickling feeling across his skin like a million tiny little flames at the thought of you getting hurt.

You were determined to keep him safe as well though.You tossed back bullets and threw your knife through the air, smiling as it slashed through on of them, leaving him crumpled and crying on the floor. The two of you worked well together, playing off of each other’s attacks and combining your skills to get as many of them down as you could. Right when the last man hit the floor, you exhaled, and Bucky allowed himself a soft smile, looking beautiful and bruised in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Are you alright?” You heard him say, but his voice faded into static in your ears. Behind him one of them had struggled to his feet, blood spurting out from his neck, his face filled with nothing but venom, his eyes wild and vicious. You didn’t even blink, thrusting your hands forward and sending a wave of power through the air.

But it was too late.

He had already lifted his gun, a ripple of bullets flying towards you both. You leapt in front of Bucky, pushing his head down and trying to soften the impact, but his hands curled painfully around your waist, dragging you onto the floor and under him. The bullets missed the two of you by centimetres, piercing into the airplane behind you both. Your surge of power had knocked the man back and he was down once again, his body now pale and lifeless. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and Bucky’s. He was fully on top of you, warm and solid and absolutely seething, his chest rising and falling above your own.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Bucky...” You inhaled, trying to get him to calm down and look at you but he merely shook his head, his body vibrating blood red.

“No. We’re leaving. Now.”

———————————————————-

After the ambush, it was too risky to return to the hotel, and so Steve sent out coordinates for a safe house an hour away. The ride there was completely silent. You didn’t even try to speak or diffuse the tension, you could practically feel Bucky’s anger, and the steering wheel had even started to bend from his grip.

The safe house was a small cottage. The only heat was from a tiny wood burner in the lounge, and the only food on the shelves were tinned peaches and cans of custard. Everything was oddly cosy. Pink knitted throws and round plush cushions and mismatched sofas, dried lavender tied to the wall and exposed brick and white, ceramic milk jugs. In any other circumstance you would have been happy to spend the night, but Bucky’s sour mood was quick to dim your spark.

You sighed as he threw his duffel bag onto the table, angrily heading to the sink and twisting the tab, exhaling loudly at the thin dribble of water that came out.

“Bucky.” You started to say, but he held his hand up as a warning.

“No.”

“Yes!” You snapped, needing him to understand you. “You have to listen to me.”

He dismissed you, too overcome with annoyance to even process your words. You could have died tonight, and you were acting as though it didn’t matter. “You were a goddamn idiot out there.”

“No I wasn’t!”

He slapped his hand on the wooden counter, a slap ringing through the small room.“You jumped in front of a bullet -“

“You almost got shot Bucky!”

“You almost got shot.”

“It was what was best for the mission.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the mission! I only care about you.”

“What?” Your voice was soft. A whisper. You could hear everything around you, feel him before he even stepped forward. Your breathing was shaky, adrenaline spiking through your body. The man you were in love with looking at you desperately and longingly, as though there was a physical ache inside of him.

He shrugged, because what else was there to say? He was looking deep into your own eyes, wanting to drown in them. His face was stern and hard and he was pissed, and yet, strangely, none of what had happened seemed to matter. He stepped towards you, his gaze running across your figure, looking for any cuts or bruises one of those fuckers might have left on you.

“Are you hurt?” He said finally, his face millimetres from your own.

“No.”

“Good.”

He kissed you. His hands went up and into your hair, his chest pressed against yours, his lips were warm and soft and hungry, ready to devour the one thing he had wanted since the very first time he laid eyes on you. You melted into his touch and he smiled. The kiss got more intense, teeth clashing and hands under sweaters and his body rolling against yours. You moaned in his mouth and he bit your lip and your pulses synced and raced and leapt. This was six months of pure longing and frustration and the need to portray everything that had gone unsaid for far too long.

It wasn’t long before you ended up on the floor. You were both too greedy and touch starved to even stop or make your way upstairs, you both needed the other like air, like addicts desperate for another hit. His lips were all over every bit of skin he could find, you lasted like sweat and cinnamon and vanilla and he swore he would give up everything he had if he got to feel you like this, whining and writhing and grabbing him, tugging him closer and kissing him like an angelic little devil.

He had once been a Casanova. He had once made ladies swoon and mothers blush and fathers clench their fists. Then he had been shattered, rebuilt in a way that wasn’t quite right, his body used for torture rather than pleasure. And yet, with you, the rain pelting the windows and your bodies intertwined and your lips tasting like summer strawberries and everything that he had ever dreamed of - he felt whole, for the first time in a long time. The noises you made were sinful, and his thoughts were nothing but you,you,you, the girl he had fallen in love with through the sounds in the wall and with the flowers on the roof, the girl that occupied his brain more than anything else.

Everything was too much and not enough, his head was buried in your neck, your legs were around his waist, pulling him tighter, urging him to go deeper. He had dreamt of this moment for a long time. He had imagined a candle lit dinner and red roses and awkward touches and itchy dress shirts, he wanted everything to be perfect, because you deserved the world. But in the living room of a safe house in the middle of nowhere, covered in sweat and blood and surrounded by thunder and clashing furniture seemed oddly magical for a couple with roots like yours.

After, you were cradled in the crook of his arm, with your hair splayed across his bare chest. Bucky was having a hard time controlling his rapid pulse and heavy breathing because holy shit he had just slept with the girl of his dreams, but one look at you under the moonlight looking ethereal and exhausted and everything else just dissolved into wisps or smoke.

He wanted to tell you in a better way, but he just couldn’t keep it in any longer. His brain was fizzled with pleasure and dizzy with euphoria, and he just wanted, needed you to know everything.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since I first saw you.”

You froze. After a beat, you buried your face into the flesh of his chest, your soft laughter tickling his abdomen, his fingers trailing loosely across your spine. You smiled like a child, looking up at him with big eyes and heart shaped lips.

“God. We’re both idiots. I’m so in love with you too, Buck.”

He grinned, and he felt like his heart might tear in two.

—————————————————————-

You arrived back at the compound with interlocked fingers and matching grins and Sam nearly collapsed with relief. Tony almost went into cardiac arrest.

For the first time in fifty years, happiness followed Bucky wherever he went. Things were easy, light. You were his. You crawled into his arms at the end of a bad day and you laughed into his shoulder and you held his hand and kissed him and killed him and resurrected him all at the same time. He had never felt home in this modern world, and now he looked forward to each day and whatever strange and inane adventure the two of you would end up on. The anvil that had been crushing his heart for so long had started to lighten, and he owed it all to you.

Still, there were hard days. When he woke up slick with sweat with eyes wider than the moon and an urge to wrap his hands around something, or when you thought of the past and became consumed by the memories, tears falling down your face before you could stop them. He got jealous, and he had multiple stern talks with Steve about “not threatening the interns just because they speak to your girlfriend,” you could be stubborn, take on more than you needed, return from a mission with a limp you tried to hide, one that eventually led to an argument about your reckless choices. But nothing ever lasted more than a day. You were always there for one another, with open arms and gentle smiles and the unconditional love that people would kill for.

He had been in a million different situations where he felt like he was drowning. Like something was pulling him under the depths, crushing his lungs and shattering his oesophagus. But nothing compared to how he felt around you. Nothing could match the way you consumed him completely. the electricity that coursed through his veins when your fingers brushed against his, there was nothing quite like the way his heartbeat would slow when you were around, the way that he suddenly felt warm and full whenever you laughed.

He had spent so long alone. He had spent so many years fighting a war he never signed up for, and he was exhausted. He was starved of attention but terrified of exposing himself, and he lived with a chain link fence around his heart. Your soft voice so soothing, the sweetness in your eyes and the innocent bat of your lashes disarmed him better than any soldier ever could. There was something about you - something magnetic, magical.

Your sweetness went straight to his brain. One look at you and his mind dizzied, a sugar rush that only you gave him.

Whenever somebody asked where he was from, he thought partly of Brooklyn, of his mother and Steve, of cobbled streets and dog tags and ink stained newspapers. He thought of darkness. Of being moulded and reshaped deep down in the depths of bad places, of iron and rust and metal, his hands coated in blood.

But mostly, he thought of you. Safe and warm and sweet and so good. How expensive mattresses and dim candles and hot chocolate didn’t make him feel half the way that you did. How you grounded him, calmed him, made everything feel light and coated in sunshine when he had spent so goddamn long being frozen.

So when somebody asked where he was from, he thought of you, because you were home.

[nineteenninety-six]

Arguments of Concern - Part Three

The love I got on ‘escapism’ was so great, thank you so much <3

I also don’t remember much of the beach scene so ignore inaccuracies pls lol

WORD COUNT: 2105

[PART ONE] [PART TWO]

Adam was fast asleep on (Y/N)’s lap as Tommy drove them towards Margate. He was excited when he was told that he was going on a trip to the beach and spent the first couple of hours excitedly chatting and asking his parents a hundred questions before he became bored and tired, allowing his parents to spend the remaining hour of the journey to talk without the chance of having little ears overhearing anything that was said.

Whilst their relationship had slightly improved compared to before, (Y/N) was still bitter at Tommy for getting involved with Mosley and subsequently dragging them into the mess too. Adam was her number one priority and despite how much she hated the idea of it, she would take him and leave Tommy if she needed to. Tommy was the love of her life and has provided her with everything she could ever need but slowly the bad was overtaking the good and she didn’t think she could just watch from the sidelines anymore.

Tommy’s hand on her thigh brought her out of her thoughts,

“You okay?”

“Hmm, just thinking about this mysterious friend of yours” (Y/N) teased, pulling his hand off her thigh before lacing their fingers together.

Tommy brought their conjoined hands up and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, “Don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“The surprise...” (Y/N) scoffed, “Don’t tell me it’s one of your old flings or girlfriends?”

Tommy snorted a laugh, “If I did that, I wouldn’t have to worry about Mosley killing me since I know you’d kill me before he’d even get a chance.”

(Y/N) made a vague noise of distress before she pulled her hand free of his and whacked him on the arm,

“Don’t joke about dying” She scolded him.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” Tommy threw her a smirk and wink causing her to giggle.

If (Y/N) tried her hardest briefly forget about the actual reason why they were going to Margate, she could pretend that they were just taking a small holiday as a family.

“When all this is over, we’ll go away somewhere. You, me and Adam. Just the three of us eh?” Tommy spoke up after a few moments, glancing at her.

“Hmm, we can go to Wales or Ireland.”

Tommy smiled at her, “We could stay in a caravan. Adam would enjoy it.”

(Y/N) bit her lip before she spoke again, slightly hesitating, “When this is done...you’ll take a step back right? From the more dangerous stuff?”

Tommy sighed “(Y/N)...”

(Y/N) also sighed, “I’m not being unreasonable Tommy, I’m not telling to completely stop with the illegal side of the business. All I’m asking is to not get involved in dangerous situations with dangerous people like you have nothing to lose, because you do Tommy. You have us.”

“We’ll talk more about it when everything is over.”

(Y/N) simply nodded, not wanting to fight and wake Adam.

They had arrived at Margate now, driving right by the coast, no doubt close to their final destination.

“It’s gorgeous.” (Y/N) gasped as she peered out of the window, gazing at the beach and at the people making the most of the end of the summer heat before autumn fully settled in. The scent of the salty air and the sound of the seagulls made (Y/N) smile, she found the place somewhat calming.

Five minutes later and they were pulling into the drive of a mansion and even though the hedges were preventing her view, (Y/N) knew they were still close to the seafront as she could still hear the crashing of the waves and the faint sound of people.

Tommy got out of the car first and made his way over to her side of the car and opened the door for her. (Y/N) missed the figure step out of the mansion and make his way down the stairs that were in front of the mansion as she tried to step out of the car with Adam in her arms.

“Here lemme take him.” Tommy took Adam in his arms, the young boy still fast asleep. As grew older, he also grew heavier meaning that (Y/N) couldn’t hold him for long periods of time, making her miss the days where he was tiny and never wanted to leave her arms.

“Mrs Shelby! It’s wonda-ful to see ya lovely face again, shame you brought ya husband along with you though.”

(Y/N) whipped around to where the voice came from, instantly recognising it. She couldn’t believe her eyes and when she looked back at Tommy to make sure that she wasn’t hallucinating, she received a nod that told her that he was real.

“Alfie? Jesus Christ…” (Y/N) murmured as she made her way over to him.

Her eyes caught on the large scar on his face, “What happened to you? Tommy only told me you had died.”

“Oh, this thing ‘ere?” Alfie pointed at his scar, “Yea well, you can blame your husband for tha’”

“You asked me to kill you, Alfie.” Tommy sounded like he’d had this conversation many times before.

“You what?!”

“In my defence luv, I did think I was going to die anyway.”

“I...uh..” (Y/N) was speechless.

“I’ll explain  when we get inside.” Tommy told her as he moved to stand next to her.

Alfie’s eyes catch on Adam who was clinging on to his father in his sleep, “If it isn’t little Tommy Jr, he’s grown a lot hasn’t he?”

Alfie had only met Adam once when he had visited Tommy at the house, (Y/N) had just come home from a walk with a then two-year old Adam when Adam had run into Tommy office to say hello to his father. Alfie had immediately taken note of how similar the father and son looked and the started to call Adam, ‘Tommy Jr’. (Y/N) was pretty sure that he had only done it to annoy Tommy, which it did- not that Alfie would ever find out.

“I think we need to talk, don’t we? Let’s head inside yeah” Alfie led them into their house and sent his maid off the make them some tea.

Tommy placed Adam on the couch so that he was laying down before taking a seat next to him and (Y/N) sat on Tommy’s other side so that he was in the middle.

“Right, so what happened?” (Y/N) asked as she shrugged off her coat.

Alfie a slightly guilty expression on his face but Tommy began talking before she could question him.

“Remember the boxing match a few years ago?” Tommy asked his wife

(Y/N) sat up slightly, “When you were dealing with the Italians? Yeah, why?”

“Alfie had betrayed us-- me and sent Changretta’s men undercover as his to kill me, except they attacked Arthur instead.”

(Y/N) stared at Alfie, gobsmacked, “I..why would you do that? Actually, why am I surprised, you’ve betrayed us before!”

Alfie just winced and kept silent.

“And so when I went to confront him, he tells me that he’s suffering from skin cancer but he wanted to go out his own way--”

“He wanted you to kill him?” (Y/N) caught on.

“I didn’t wan’ to die because of fuckin’ cancer. The doctor said that I most likely got it from the trenches in the war and that’s not how I wanted to die. He also said that it would be painful and long an’ that’s no way for a gangster to go out is it?” There was both pain and anger in Alfie’s voice.

“So you betrayed Tommy because you knew that he would kill you?”

Alfie nodded, “(Y/N)...I wanted it to be quick and painless. I didn’t want to die from cancer.”

“Oh, Alfie.” (Y/N)’s heart hurt for him.

“I didn’t want to shoot him at first but then he shot at me so I shot at him back.”

“You got shot?! You told me you were dealing with Arthur after he had one of his episodes.”

“If I told you I got shot, you would have killed me.” Tommy smiled at his wife.

“You’re absolutely right.”

Whines and grunts came from Adam as he slowly woke up, his body shuffling against Alfie’s couch. (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh as he sat up, his face was puffy and his hair was a mess, there was also a frown marring his face, clearly not appreciating the fact that he had been woken up.

“Mama?” He croaked as he crawled over Tommy and into her arms.

“Hello poppet, did you have a nice nap?” (Y/N) ran her fingers through his hair, trying to tame it.

“Uh-huh, I had a dream that there was a big lion but dada saved us before it could eat us!”

“Dada saved us? How lucky are we huh” (Y/N) pressed a kiss to his forehead

“Here, drink this Adam” Tommy passed Adam a glass of water that he easily gulped down.

Feeling refreshed and no longer tired, Adam twisted on (Y/N)’s lap but froze at the sight of Alfie sat opposite them.

“Hello there, I’m Alfie Solomons.” Alfie lent forward and held his hand out.

Adam silently stared before leaning forward and shaking his hand “I’m Adam Shelby.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr Shelby.”

Adam paused before he spoke again, “What happened to your face?”

“Adam!” (Y/N) hissed but she didn’t know why she was surprised, he was a kid and kids were curious.

“Nahh it’s orright, he’s fine. I had an accident and hurt myself”

“Did it hurt?”

“For a bit, yeah, but I’m fine now”

“Okay!” That seemed to satisfy Adam who no longer seemed interested anymore.

Tommy shifted as he pulled his watch out of his pocket and sighed when he checked the time, “I have to go.”

“We’ve just got here.” (Y/N) whispered, upset.

“Do you like ships Adam?” (Y/N) smiled at Alfie, knowing that his plan was to distract Adam so that she could talk to Tommy.

“I don’t think he’s ever seen one.” (Y/N) laughed.

“If we’re lucky we can see one from the balcony, wanna see if can see any?”

Adam looked up to his parents for permission, excited at the prospect at seeing ships. (Y/N) and Tommy nodded and he eagerly jumped up off of (Y/N)’s lap and allowed Alfie to take him to the balcony.

“Can you not stay any longer?” (Y/N) asked her husband.

“I wish I could. You have no idea how much I want to stay with you and Adam and hide from everything back home.” Tommy pressed his head against hers and wiped away the tears that slowly began to fall down her cheeks.

“You must come back to me. You must come back to us because I don’t know how I survive if you’re dead.” (Y/N) sobbed.

“I will come back to you but if something does happen then you must promise to do what we planned yeah? You take Adam and you go.”

“Thomas!”

“Promise me (Y/N)” Tommy made sure she was looking at him in the eye as he made her promise.

“I promise. I promise you, Tommy. If something happens, I’ll take Adam and go.”

“Good.” Tommy pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I love you so much, Tommy.” (Y/N) kissed him back and they continued kissing before Tommy pulled away and stepped back.

“Adam, come say bye to dada!” (Y/N) called out so that Adam could hear her from the balcony.

“Bye? Why?” Adam wondered in with Alfie’s binoculars in his hands.

Tommy knelt down in front of him, “Dada has to go back home for a bit but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Adam frowned but nevertheless nodded, “Can we see the ships together when you come back?”

“Of course. We’ll go to the beach as well okay?”

Adam grinned excitedly and hugged Tommy, “Okay. See you soon! Love you!”

Tommy tightly wrapped his arms around Adam and kissed the side of his head. “Love you too”

Alfie took Adam back outside while (Y/N) followed Tommy to the car to say one more goodbye.

“Come back to me okay?”

“I will. I love you.” Tommy gave her one last kiss before getting into the car.

“I love you too.” (Y/N) said before Tommy drove away.

[lets-play-gwent]

Some Canary

Well, here it is! Thanks so much @chaotic-bard for the lovely prompt. I changed it just a smidge, but I think you’ll enjoy the final product. I plan on continuing this fic for at least a couple more chapters, that is, if people are interested :)  Complete story under the cut, soon to be on ao3. If you enjoyed it, please reblog! 

Chicago, 1932-- High profile mob families run almost every joint in the city, speakeasies launder money and sell bathtub gin through prohibition. Geralt Rivi is a lowly footsoldier for one of the most powerful bosses around: Tommy Morano himself. What is Geralt to do when he swoons for the son of rival gang leader Frank Pankratz?

The routine was so remarkably monotonous that the two men could almost rely on muscle memory alone. Approach the target, sit leaning slightly forward with hands clasped on top of the table. Do not remove hats or coats—this isn’t a permanent conversation. Keep eye contact with the target. Allow them to break the silence, subtly reminding them who has the power. The less chinning, the better. Let the reputation, and fists if necessary, do the talking. Once the target gets the picture, settle up or square up—no negotiating under any circumstances. Leave that to the big guys up top.

It was simple. A well-trained hound could do it. Why should tonight be any different? Geralt, none the wiser, was about to find out just how much his world could change in a night. His only warning? A few words from the night’s host and bandmaster.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and friends, now comes the time in the evening you’ve been waiting for. Without further ado, put your hands together for the lovely, the gorgeous, the sensational, Buttercup!”

It’s raining too hard for a cigarette, Geralt thinks to himself, reaching for the plain case in his pocket and carefully rolling a strip of tobacco and paper into a slender white cylinder. The paper dampened and drooped. Dammit. Turning up his collar against the wind, he walked towards the nearest dry patch of pavement he could find, a drugstore two blocks down. Ducking under the overhang, he lit his cigarette and took several long drags.

“Hey! Bum! Get outta ‘ere!” A short and rather lanky man was leaning out of the doorframe of the drugstore, shaking a broom and shouting. “We don’t want any trouble with the likes of yous!”

Geralt straightened his shoulders and grimaced hard at him. Despite the darkness of an autumn Chicago night, he could see the blood rush out of the man’s face, who quickly stammered an apology and slammed the door shut.

A rickety Ford pulled up to the curb. Geralt threw a quick glance up and down the street, stamped his cigarette butt into the gutter and climbed in.

“Where to tonight, boss?” His voice was gruff, hardened by years of smoking and a churly demeanor.

“The Passiflora. There’s a little fuckin prick there trying to weasel out of another payment. Collect 160 or take him out back and break his thumbs. Got it?”

Geralt gave a grunt and a curt nod in affirmation. He focused his gaze on the raindrops pattering against the window, toning out the superficial chatter of the three other men in the car. He hated the way they preened and boasted relentlessly at each other, always about some new broad or bar fight, sometimes both. He couldn’t stand the men he usually took shifts with, could barely keep their names straight, except for Lambert. Currently he was engrossed in recounting his latest run-in with cops—complete with obscene gestures and impressions—but when separated from the rest, Geralt found him tolerable, even funny at times. Yet, no matter how irritated he was, or how clever his jokes could be, Geralt knew never to rag on one of the Captains. Bottom-of-the-rung soldiers like him only needed to make that mistake once, and he had the scar on his jaw to prove it.

The brakes screeched in protest as the car slowed to a halt in front of an imposing brick warehouse. Lambert and Geralt climbed out, easily slipping into the ‘intimidating’ demeanor they carried for jobs like this. Lambert rapped on the door and waited. A small panel at eye level opened with a sharp crack, and a surly woman with a cigar and frizzy hair glared at the two men from behind the door.

“Who sent ya?” she said, puffing rank smoke directly into Geralt’s face. He cringed and turned away.

“Fat Sammy Morano and his cat,” Lambert replied, equally surly. The panel slammed shut, and almost simultaneously the door to their left creaked open a few inches.

Inside, Geralt’s eyes watered as his senses were assaulted with the bitter stench of bathtub gin. “I hate these fuckin places,” He rolled another cigarette. “Whose our guy?”

“The chrome dome with the green vest up by the stage. Let’s just get this over with and then we’ll get some grub, yeah?”

“Hmm,”

They wove through the tables together, trench coats occasionally brushing against a patron or chair. An irascible-looking waiter stopped them with a snide remark about wearing hats inside, and tried to seat them, but apparently one look from Lambert was enough to convey ‘don’t fuck with us’ because he quickly turned on his heel and attended to a nearby booth.

The routine was so remarkably monotonous that the two men could almost rely on muscle memory alone. Approach the target, sit leaning slightly forward with hands clasped on top of the table. Do not remove hats or coats—this isn’t a permanent conversation. Keep eye contact with the target. Allow them to break the silence, subtly reminding them who has the power. The less chinning, the better. Let the reputation, and fists if necessary, do the talking. Once the target gets the picture, settle up or square up—no negotiating under any circumstances. Leave that to the big guys up top.

It was simple. A well-trained hound could do it. Why should tonight be any different? Geralt, none the wiser, was about to find out just how much his world could change in a night. His only warning? A few words from the night’s host and bandmaster.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and friends, now comes the time in the evening you’ve been waiting for. Without further ado, put your hands together for the lovely, the gorgeous, the sensational, Buttercup!”

The curtain rose to reveal a lean man in a dazzling pigeon gray pinstripe suit. Humbly waving down the audience’s raucous applause, Buttercup began to pluck at the delicate strings of his guitar. His voice—silvery and saccharine, yet somehow still mellow—rang clearly through the now silent room.

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’

Birds singing in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me

Geralt was suddenly thankful for the chair next to him and quickly sat, trying to catch his breath. Years later, every time he told this story, he insisted that his Buttercup stole the air right out of his chest.

Say ‘nighty-night’ and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me

While I’m alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me

Gone was his sour expression, gone was the rank smell of moonshine. The scratched wooden floor and sticky tables of the speakeasy seemed to fall away, leaving only two men, one guitar, one spotlight, and a long-forgotten smoldering cigarette.

Stars fading, but I linger on dear

Was it Geralt’s imagination, or was the singer… looking at him…?

Still craving your kiss

His hair, slicked back and shining underneath the stage lights, reminded Geralt of a Clark Gable movie poster he once saw. Had he ever noticed someone’s hair before?

I’m longing to linger ‘till dawn dear

His eyes, his face, his hands, were the most beautiful Geralt had seen in his life. Those lips, soft and pink, shaped so delicately around the words of the song, he found himself staring at them, wondering how they’d feel…

Just saying thi-is…

A sharp smack upside the back of his head brought him sailing down from the stars back to the speakeasy. Back to the job, where Lambert and the target were staring at him, the former’s face covered in bewildered rage, the latter’s face still shaken, albeit slightly confused.

“As we were saying—” Lambert emphasized the last two syllable’s in Geralt’s face, who cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders once more.

“You can se—ttle up now, or we’ll take it out back,” All three men at the table tried desperately to ignore the voice crack that took every drop of intimidation out of his words.

Nevertheless, the target fell into the familiar routine, terrified of Lambert if nothing else. “Aw jeez come on boys, you know I always come through, I just need a little more time is all, just until next week I pro—” he was suddenly on top of the table, Lambert’s fist pulling his shirt collar far too forward for comfort.

“Out back it is,”

The two men stood and strode quickly towards the side door, the target scrambling to keep up with the fist still clutching his shirt. Geralt took one last glance back at Buttercup, who to his utter surprise, was glaring at the group as they left the hall.

…

A dull crack echoed down the alley as Lambert’s fist left the target’s face. He groaned and stumbled to the side, bracing himself against damp bricks. “Pl—please, my wife—”

“I don’t want to hear it. 160 today, or we come back and fuck you up for real,” He dealt another blow, this time aiming for the target’s stomach. Two more hits and he was coughing and sputtering.

Geralt stood to the side, keeping watch on the street for any unlucky passersby. Keep your cool, focus on the job, he thought to himself, rolling another cigarette, thankful that the rain finally let up. The rattle of a doorknob and sudden burst of light, however, startled the paper and tobacco right out of his hands.

“Why good evening fells, waiting at the stage door for me? My my, a bit forward isn’t it?” Buttercup draped himself carefully against the doorframe, but his smirk faltered as he took in the blood dripping down the bald man’s face and the imposing nature of the trench coat cornering him against the wall. “Is there some sort of problem here?”

“Scram, kid, this doesn’t concern you,”

“Why, sir, don’t be so shy! I’m sure we can come to an… understanding…” he winked at the two bewildered racketeers and sauntered gracefully down the stairs. “I’m Julian. Aren’t you two a coupla tall glasses of trouble? Might have my hands full tonight,” Geralt carefully controlled his expression, trying to ignore Julian’s intoxicating smile and the fluttering in his chest. “What’s your name, hon?” He was addressing the target now.

“Eu—Eugene” A quite preoccupied Eugene held his bleeding nose in one hand and wrapped an arm around his midsection. “P-please—mister, I don’t-t have it all now, j-just just give me until next week, hey? N-n-next week, I promise, sound reasonable fellas?”

“Shut up!” Lambert barked.

“Now now! That’s no way to treat a faithful patron of the Passiflora, now is it? Eugene here is a friend of mine—” Julian strode over to the wall where Lambert was towering over the target and nudged his way between the two men. “Tips well and brings friends in whenever he can. Lord knows I owe him some money, why don’t I settle up?”

Lambert’s face darkened. Straightening his shoulders and looking down, he towered over the performer. “Don’t make me say it again, kid. This doesn’t concern you. Go back to your dressing room.”

Julian only laughed, seemingly impervious to the serious threat levied against him. The sound—so musical, even gentle—made Geralt’s breath catch in his chest.

Shock, confusion, and then comprehension quickly flashed across Lamberts face as he found himself with a fistful of cash. Counting it quickly, he grabbed Geralt’s arm and pulled him towards the street. “Let’s get out of here, before I do something stupid,”

“Toodeloo, sweethearts!” Julian called after them, helping Eugene stagger back into the building.

…

The car was quiet except for the rumble of the engine.

“Some canary, huh?”

“SOME CANARY? SOME?? CANARY??” Lambert’s voice was shrill with fury. “YOU FALL HEAD OVER GODDAMN HEELS FOR THE SON OF MORANO’S WORST FUCKING ENEMY, AND ALL YOU CAN SAY IS SOME? FUCKING? CANARY? JESUS CHRIST GERALT WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR HEAD?”

“You mean that’s—”

“You guessed, it bub. That’s Julian Pankratz, of the Pankratz crime family. You know, those German pricks who’ve been trying to take down Morano for the past FIFTEEN YEARS??”

Geralt coughed out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, some canary…”

************

I hope you liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Here’s a link to the song jaskier sings :)) 

[paradise-creator]

Hellooo!! I love love LOVE the diamond box matchup you did!! You're amazing!! Your blog is incredible!! Now I'm here for a romantic haven box Haikyuu matchup pls🥺

Appearance: My name is Kay! She/her, black, straight, 5'1, I have a slightly athletic & curvy-ish figure (lol idk), short-ish hair(like mid-neck), dark brown eyes, shoe size 9, I like to dress comfy so I'm always in oversized hoodies, sweatpants, sneakers, sweatshirts and shorts. I like colorful clothes too, high waisted jeans and shorts and boots. I'm not very fashionable but I try lol.

Personality:

Basics: infp-t, Hufflepuff, Taurus sun, scorpio moon, sanguine, chaotic good, ambivert.

Some positive traits: I'm optimistic, friendly, energetic, organized, enthusiastic, observant, happy, open-minded, loving, encouraging and inquisitive!!

Some negative traits: I'm annoying, perfectionist, insecure, forgetful, easily distracted, kinda lazy, argumentative, too nice at times and clingy.

I love learning new things!! Currently I'm learning Korean, how to draw, how to paint and songs on the saxophone.

When I'm up for it, I love fun physical activity!! Going for a hike, going to the gym, bungee jumping, mountain climbing, going camping and etc :D

Although I love going out, nothing beats lazy days at home. I can spend hours by myself and still be happy. When alone I usually sleep or watch a movie/anime or practice my drawing or saxophone or try and learn something new!

I have a horrible memory and can never remember important dates 😭 I've forgotten my own birthday a few times (rip) so people can get mad at me for missing appointments, forgetting birthdays and other important days. I try my best to organize everything necessary on my phone calendar so I can be reminded.

I love seeing people happy! Nothing can fulfill my day more than knowing I put a smile on someone's face! I usually try my best to help out anyone who needs it and to the best of my ability! This has led to me getting taken advantage of in the past but I can't help but try and make others happy. I've developed a thicker skin and some trust issues as I've grown up because of it.

I love hyping my friends/family up!! Do you need a boost in confidence? Here I am, ready to help you remember the absolute king/queen/royalty that you are!! I'm usually very energetic and enthusiastic about many things and I love spreading positivity around!!

My love language is physical touch! So touch is very important to me in my relationships. Though I am insecure so I tend to think that I smother the people I care about with too much affection idk lol. I live for hugs and cuddles and hand holding 👉🏿👈🏿 but because of that I feel like I'm very clingy and annoying skskfksjd

I'm introverted in nature so although I mean usually full of energy and love making new friends, I can't do it for too long lol. My social battery runs out really fast and I have to hide away and recharge before I can be fully social again, otherwise I won't be my best self. I treasure personal time and understand when people need time for themselves too.

I love spontaneity!! I love living in the moment and doing stuff just for the hell of it!! Wanna go on a road trip? Dance in the rain? Build houses for charity? Go to McDonald's at 2am? Go on a long walk? SIGN ME UP!!

I can also be lazy and unmotivated to do stuff. If something doesn't interest me, I'd find myself incapable of doing it or I'd do it with great difficulty. I'm one of those 'do something when inspiration/motivation hits you otherwise it'll be absolute shit' types.

But when I do have motivation/inspiration that's when my perfectionism comes in and I have to do it in the best possible way and anything less is an insult to me, my family, my ancestors and descendants lmaoo. Unfortunately I subconsciously set a very high bar for myself which can be overwhelming and stressful but when I manage to produce work of that quality, it's very satisfying and rewarding jshkshdhsj

I have more to add but I feel like this is getting way too long 💀 lemme just move to the next section heheheh

Hobbies: I LOVE listening to music, learning new things, watching movies/anime, sleeping, reading, writing, playing saxophone (I'm still learning tho lol), swimming, drawing, journaling, making friends, and cooking!

My music taste: any type of rock (punk rock, grunge, j-rock, metal), pop, KPOP, RnB, jazz, dubstep, lofi hip hop, rap, trap, krnb, anime OP's and bangers from: Elvis, the beach boys, Queen, Khalid, Ateez, Harry styles, Kendrick Lamar, p!atd, mcr, fallout boy, Nirvana, BTS, mxmtoon, Marianas trench, twenty one pilots, stray kids, Jay Park, crush, Dreamcatcher, Skrillex, MJ, troye sivan etc

Fun facts:

I'm more of a cat person but I live dogs and think they're adorable!!

I have four piercings and I plan on getting more soon!!

I'm a night owl, and get super grumpy in the mornings especially when woken up unexpectedly >:/

Although I love making friends, I only have like 1/2 super close friends and like 20+ acquaintances lol

I want to get a tattoo soon but idk what to get :(

I'm super addicted to coffee (rip) and if I don't take some for some time (like a week) I'll get the worst migraines and I won't feel better until I drink some coffee 😭

That's it!! I hope i wrote enough stuff!! Did I leave anything out? If you need more pls tell me and I'll send another ask :D Take your time!! I'm in no rush. I'll patiently wait even though you get writers block or have a large amount of asks 😌 pls stay safe and healthy!! Drink lots of water, sleep well and have an amazing day/night!! 💙✨

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ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Journal of Feelings

- 3 am shenanigans

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Sugawara Koushi, Vice-captain of Karasuno

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

- OKAY so like, as I read your description I thought of Akaashi or Yaku or Sugawara

- Me being the indecisive author I am had trouble picking

- But then I remembered that you loved to do spontaneous things.

- And that's when I realized that Sugawara is THE ONE

- You two would be deemed the "3 am couple"

- Or in the team it would be "Epitome of Chaos"

- He takes care of you

- He will alway remind you that you don't need to be perfect

- Insecurities? BE GONE

- Nagativity? BE GONE

- That's basically his motto

- He is both your mom and partner in Crime

- did I mention he will take care of you?

- CUDDLES AND KISSES FOR DAYS

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Journal of feelings

- Once this man realizes that you LOVE physical affection. He will give it to you. EVERYTIME HE SEES YOU

Kay entered the gym to watch her boyfriend play. She tried sneaking in and so far it has been great. She thought she was off the hook but then felt a familiar arms wrapped around her waist. "I found you~" Sugawara said with a smile.

- You both would often plan pranks and majority of the times, it would succeed

"Okay okay, so what are we doing today?" Kay asked the silver haired male. "Oh~ maybe we can scare Asahi or anyone for that matter with a beetle?" Sugawara suggested. "That's--no," Kay responded.

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3 am shenanigans

It’s 3 am in the morning. Almost everyone is fast asleep or in their homes, well almost. The night sky is littered with diamond in the sky. The streets were silent but it was comforting. A few people walked here and there. And a few cars passes by there and here. “What are we doing up so late?” A silver haired man said as he yawned. “We’ll be going to Mc Donald’s! What else?” The female responded as she smiled at him. “Is it even open at this time?” He asked. “Koushi, darling, it is open,” Kay, the lover of our beloved silvered male man said as she smiled. Sugawara chuckled and held her hand, the smile on his face was evident. “You know, we should be sleeping by now right?” He said as he pulled her closer. “And so what? I wasn’t planning on sleeping early! I slept the whole day yesterday and missed the chance to hang out with you,” The girl responded.

A small blush appeared on the male’s face and he giggled. “That’s very sweet bu-“ He was about to say but was silenced by the girl. “That was very sweet but we could’ve done this later on or tomorrow. Well, sorry to break it to you, Love. But, we are here,” She said as she pulled the male inside the fast food chain. And soon enough, the two got their orders and enjoyed their meal. “I don’t know why but this hits different,” Kay said as she eat a French fry. “It really does. Especially since you are here,” Sugawara stated as he patted her head. Now, she was the one blushing. As the two chatted, the other customers and staff glanced at them every now and then. None of them were annoyed at their interactions. On the contrary, they enjoyed watching them,

Some felt envious of their relationship. Some dreamt to have something like that. And others remembered the times of old. The two were so sweet, it’s almost too much. Laughter and chattering echoed through the building from both the couple and the people around them. Then they were dub the “3 am couple” as the two would often venture in that restaurant at 3 am in the morning.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

I'm so so sorry for the long wait! This week has been hectic. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this matchup~ and thanks for requesting!

[casgetoutofmyass0907]

Happy Birthday Dean Winchester

I know it’s late but here is my fic for Dean’s Birthday!

Summary: (After 15x19) Dean was able to save Cas from The Empty, but now Cas is asleep and Dean’s only wish for his birthday is for Cas to wake up.

also on ao3 :)

Dean hit the ground hard as they landed, his feet unable to keep him upright as they made contact with the loose gravel. He groaned at the sting of small rocks piercing the skin of his hands and had to swallow back the bile that was rising in his throat. Flying always made him nauseous.

“Damnit Jack you couldn’t have landed us in a patch of grass or something?” Dean asked as he pushed himself to his feet and began to pick rocks out of his palms. 

“Sorry Dean, I am still new to flying with other people. Let alone while one of them is unconscious.” Jack replied with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Cas. 

Dean quickly forgot the churning of his stomach as he laid eyes on Castiel, who was, in fact, unconscious in Jack's arms. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in as relief washed over him. They had been trying to break Cas out of The Empty for months, and every time Sam had suggested they give up Dean insisted they keep fighting. This was Cas, and Dean would stop at nothing to rescue him from an eternity of suffering. 

Dean finally found a solution, but they only had one shot. A spell had allowed Jack to open a portal to The Empty that would remain open for 24 hours. If it closed while they were still inside there was no exit. Dean volunteered himself to search for Cas, if it closed at least he would be there with his best friend, the man he loved. 

Finding Cas proved itself to be difficult, the vessels of thousands of angels and demons were scattered across the nothingness that surrounded him. Three hours into his search dean caught a glimpse of Cas’s trench coat and quickly made his way to the angel. He carefully flung Cas over his shoulder and made his way back to the portal. The weight of Cas causing a cramp in his muscles was found to be more of a relief than a burden. The pain showed that it was real. Dean had Cas and he was never letting him go again. 

No spell can be simple and straightforward, especially not one that opens a portal to The Empty. The kicker was that the portal moved locations every hour. Not in The Empty itself, but in the outside world. They opened the portal in Kansas, but by the time Dean made it back, it had moved 6 times, one for each hour he was inside. It was a small inconvenience for getting Cas back, but he wanted nothing more than to get back to the bunker and have everyone back together. 

The portal let them out in Tombstone, Arizona, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle as he remembered Cas in his cowboy hat as they impersonated Texas Rangers on a hunt a couple of years back. He had set Cas down carefully on the ground, shedding his own jacket to lay Cas’s head on. Dean had prayed to Jack as it was the easiest way to summon him to his exact location and from there Jack was able to fly them back to where the Impala was parked. 

Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and made his way towards Baby. He unlocked the driver's side door and leaned inside to put the key into the ignition, but he hesitated on starting the car. “Hey kid,” Dean said as he turned to face Jack, “want to drive?” 

“Uh, sure,” Jack said as Dean opened the back door on the driver’s side so Jack could lay Cas across the back seat. 

Dean opted to sit in the back with Cas rather than ride shotgun. He slid into the back seat and lifted Cas’s head into his lap. He mindlessly ran his fingers through Cas’s hair as he directed Jack with driving back to the bunker. He was happy to have Cas back, but now he just hoped that he would wake up. 

~~~

“Is he awake?” Sam asked as Dean made his way into the kitchen.

Dean just shook his head. It had been a week since he got Cas out of the empty but he was still asleep. Dean was exhausted, dark circles were present under his eyes and his hair was a mess from tossing and turning all night. 

“I’m sorry Dean. We all want him to wake up, I wish there was more I could do.” Sam replied as he poured Dean a cup of coffee. 

“Thanks.” Dean took the coffee from Sam and took a long drink. The liquid burned his tongue slightly but he was grateful for the caffeine. 

They sat in silence as Dean drank his coffee, Sam had opted for a smoothie. Once he was finished Dean grabbed both of their glasses and placed them in the sink, not bothering to rinse them out. “I’m going to go check on Cas,” Dean said as he made his way out of the kitchen. 

“Okay,” Sam replied. “Hey, Dean.”

Dean stopped at the doorway and turned to face his brother. “Yeah?”

“Happy Birthday.” 

“Thanks.” With that Dean made his way back to his room where Cas was asleep on the bed. 

He gently shut the door behind him and looked to Cas. His face showed no emotion so Dean hoped that he was not having nightmares like he would be if he were still in The Empty. Dean climbed into the bed beside Cas, laying his head on Cas’s chest. 

“Hey Cas, I hope you can hear me.” He let out a breath and felt a burn in the back of his throat as he tried to hold back tears. “It’s been a week. A week that I have been waiting for you to wake up.” 

He paused and closed his eyes, letting tears fall down his cheeks onto Cas’s shirt- his shirt. “I hope that it’s okay that I’ve had you sleeping in my bed. I try to just sleep on the couch, but I’ll admit that I end up in here with you every night.” He coughed out a chuckle before he continued. “I put you in some of my clothes too, you didn’t look very comfortable and I didn’t know how long it would be before you woke up.” 

Dean shifted to be closer to Cas if that were even possible. “It’s my birthday today. I never really celebrate my birthday but ever since you came into our lives you always made it special. Thank you for that.” 

He smiled slightly through his tears, remembering all of the birthdays he had spent with Cas. The time they attempted to make a homemade pie and Cas almost burned the bunker down. When they went for a drive in Baby and stopped at a sketchy diner and Dean ended up getting food poisoning. Or his favorite, when they were alone for the night and snuggled up on the couch in the Dean Cave and watched movies. Neither of them talked about how Dean fell asleep in Cas’s arms and Cas didn’t bother to wake him up. He watched over Dean until the morning came and they never spoke of that night again, but Dean would always remember it. 

Dean cried silently into Cas’s chest as memories came flooding back. “If I could have one thing for my birthday Cas, it would be you. I want us to eat pie and laugh, and then we can come back to bed, just the two of us. We can talk or lay here in silence. I don’t care, I just want you to wake up. I need you to wake up.”

Dean felt Cas begin to stir underneath him and he sat up. “Cas?”

Cas slowly opened his eyes and bright blue orbs met Dean’s green ones. “D- Dean?” Cas said hoarsely. 

“Here,” Dean reached over Cas to grab a glass of water from the bedside table. “Drink this.”

Cas took the glass from Dean with shaky hands and took a few small sips. “How am I here?”

“Jack and I got you out, but that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you are here and awake and I can finally tell you what I should have a long time ago.” Dean reached up to take Cas’s face in his hands.

“Dean you don’t have to-“

“Yes. Yes, I do Cas. You deserve to know. I kept everything pushed down, all of my feelings because I thought they were wrong and that it wasn’t real. How could I have these feelings when I have been told my whole life that it is wrong?” Dean closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. “But they aren’t wrong. They never were, and I know that now. You showed me that it is okay to let people in and that I am deserving of love.” 

Cas just stared at Dean, his eyes never leaving Dean’s as he listened to the Winchester’s words. 

“And that I can love.” Another pause. “I love you too Cas. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before but now you will never stop hearing it. I love you. I love you. I love you.” 

Before Cas could say anything in response Dean pushed their lips together. Cas sat there for a moment in shock before he returned the kiss. When they finally pulled away from each other, lips swollen, and eyes filled with love. “You mean it?” Cas asked. 

“Yes, of course, I do.” Dean smiled at the angel, his angel. 

“Well, I’m happy to be back. Thank you.” Cas placed his lips on Dean’s once more, and Dean melted into the kiss. 

“I wasn’t going to let you rot in there. I know you sacrificed yourself for me and all but I would never let you suffer if there was something I could do about it.” Dean said against Cas’s mouth. 

Cas smiled and wrapped his arms around Dean. They stayed in silence in each other's embrace until they were interrupted by a growl. Cas quickly pulled away from Dean, eyes wide, and said “I think that was my stomach.” 

Dean let out a laugh and clapped a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get you some food then.” 

The two of them made their way into the kitchen where they were hit with the smell of bacon and maple syrup. Sam and Jack sat at the table, Jack shoveling large pieces of waffles into his mouth as Sam nibbled on a piece of what Dean assumed to be turkey bacon. Sam was the first to notice their entrance. “Cas, you’re awake?!” 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Cas responded with a smile. 

Jack flung around in his seat and quickly got up to hug Cas when he saw his. “Castiel! It’s good to see you. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too Jack,” Cas said as he returned the hug. 

Jack pulled away and looked up to Cas with confusion. “You’re human now?” 

“I am?” Cas questioned. 

Jack nodded, “Yeah, I think so anyway. I can’t sense your grace anymore.”

“Well, that explains why I am hungry.” Everyone burst out in laughter and Dean began making Cas a plate of bacon and waffles. He let Cas put syrup and whipped cream on his waffles while he made his own plate. 

The four of them talked and laughed as they enjoyed their breakfast, grateful to have Cas back and well. After many cups of coffee and all of the bacon was consumed Sam got up and walked out of the room without a word. Dean didn’t pay any mind to it but after a few minutes, a small pie was placed in front of him with a single candle lit in the middle. “Happy Birthday Dean,” Sam said. “Make a wish.” 

“I already got my wish,” Dean responded and looked over to Cas, but blew out the candles anyway. 

The rest of the day was spent playing games and drinking beer- lots of beer. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled this much, but he was happy. His family was back together, Chuck was defeated, all was well. He could finally relax and allow himself to be happy. 

Dean was sitting at the table in the main room of the bunker, listening to Sam tell a story about some of his adventures during his college days at Stanford, when Cas came and tapped him on the shoulder. “Dean, can I show you something?”

“Yeah.” Dean set his beer down on the table and followed Cas back to his bedroom. 

“What did you want to show me?” Dean asked, he had seen Cas’s room a million times before and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. 

“I guess I wanted to give you something more than show you something,” Cas responded, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. 

“Okay?”

Cas walked over to the nearly empty closet and pulled out a small box wrapped in newspaper. He handed the box to Dean “It’s nothing special, but I wanted you to have it.” 

Dean tore at the newspaper and opened the box to reveal a tie. It was dark blue with silver and white stripes, Cas’s tie. Dean smiled as he removed the tie from the box and ran his fingers over the fabric. “Thank you, Cas. I love it.” 

“You’re welcome.” Cas took the tie from Dean’s hands and placed it around Dean’s neck where he tied it. It was backward and Dean was wearing a flannel and tshirt but he smiled at the gesture. 

Dean took Cas into his arms and held on tightly, his happiness stood before him and he was excited to spend the rest of his life with Cas by his side. “I love you Cas.”

“I love you too. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

If anyone wants to be added to a tag list let me know :)

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Nightmares (Nate/Danny)

I ended up having a sick day from work today, so I had time to write up the second of these... after this I’m going to need some time before the next! But it’s coming, I promise!

For @badthingshappenbingo​, @my-whumpy-little-heart​ requested: For BTHB, could you do nightmares with Danny and/or Nate? It would be interesting if they were still with Abraham, but you can do whatever you want with the prompt. Thank you :) 

That ended up being… a hell of a prompt. I actually got a second request for nightmares with Ryan, so I’m going to do that one twice! It will get a second sticker. (Chronology: within the first year of captivity, but I’m not sure exactly where in that timeline)

Requested: blood stain Completed: puppy sticker

Tagging: @bleeding-demon-teeth​, @spiffythespook​, @special-spicy-chicken​

CW: Implied/referenced/pretty obviously noncon, noncon touching, noncon kissing, referenced evidence of violence/torture. NSFW implications, although nothing outright, as always. As always, keep in mind that Abraham Denner is a bad, bad man. Well, not man… he’s a bad something.

“Psssst. Wake up.”

Nate’s used to this, so when he feels the fingertips, cold as ice, against his forehead, softly brushing the black hair back and away, he doesn’t even tense up. He floats back to wakefulness slowly, trying to cling on to the dream he’d been having. 

It had been a warm and hazy thing, one of those bizarre dreams that means nothing but neurons firing at random inside the brain, the dreams he liked because they were so much better than all the ones about the living hell he’d never been able to fully escape.

He’d been dreaming about the doorbell ringing. The cabin doesn’t have a doorbell, but it doesn’t really matter, it rang anyway. Bram sent him to answer it, and when he opened the door he discovered fifteen cats in a trench coat and black film noir detective’s hat waiting when it opened. 

Can I help you? He’d asked, baffled not so much by the sight of fifteen cats in a trench coat or even that they had somehow managed to find them this deep into the woods, but mostly by the fact that they were coming by so late at night.

Fifteen pairs of night-reflective eyes had turned to look at him all at once, and he’d heard Danny behind him shout, let them in, Nate, let them in!

He’d stepped back and opened the door wider, gesturing inside in that foggy ghost way you sometimes do things in dreams. As soon as he did, they simply collapsed back down into cats, leaving the trenchcoat and hat in a cartoon puddle on the doorstep and racing through the cabin.

They climbed onto the fireplace, knocked books off the shelves, meowed happily and loudly, scratched up Bram’s couch and pulled threads from the woven-rag rug.

A brightly-colored calico, vibrant with red and brown and black and white, settled herself into Danny’s lap where he sat on the floor looking around at the chaos with delight. Do you think the cats could save us? Danny asked him, smiling, as the whip-skinny calico had put her paws on his shoulder, licked a rough tongue up the side of Danny’s face, batted at his hair. Do the cats know the way out?

Nate had jumped when he realized one of them had climbed straight up him and settled around his shoulders without him realizing, a black cat with cold blue eyes that swiped gently at his hair. Baby, wake up, you have to see this, the black cat purred, rough in his ear, in Bram’s sleep-slurred, loving voice.

“Nate. Wake up, sweetheart.” The voice is low, and soft, a breath of cold air against his ear, and he shivers a little, pleasantly, at the feeling. 

“Mmmmn, is Ashley up already?” He asks, and he doesn’t know why - she’s dead, she’s been dead for a year now at least, why is he asking that? But for a half-second, with Bram’s voice in his ear, he forgets.

There’s a hesitation, and then Bram says softly, sadly, “Not yet. That takes time. But look, Nate, look at him.”

He opens his eyes... and looks right into Danny’s face, baffled for a second before he remembers that Danny had slept in the bed last night.

Danny had cooked Bram’s favorite dinner without being asked, had remembered all the rules all day without even one slipup, had made their drinks with dinner perfectly and faster than ever before, served their food and waited to be given permission to get his own, waited for Bram to tell him if he could use fork and spoon to eat with without having to be reminded.

He’d even dropped to the floor to eat sitting right next to Bram’s chair like he wanted him to, with Bram’s hand petting through his hair, Danny’s eyes on the ground and the red flush of humiliation in his face. 

He’s been so good today, baby, and the King always says you have to include positive reinforcement, too. Do you not think he’s earned some positive reinforcement? 

Th-that’s not what I m-m-meant-

No, that’s definitely what you’re saying, that you think he shouldn’t be given good things when he’s good, Nate. That seems mean, don’t you think? Cruel to make me hurt him when he’s been so good.

I’m n-not telling y-y-you to hurt him, I’m s-s-saying leave him al, alone!

No, our pups has two choices tonight: get his reward or I’ll open all the wounds from last time up on his back again. I’ll let you choose.

Bram, pl-please-

I said choose, baby.

… the r-reward.

While Nate doesn’t particularly want to think about last night ever the fuck again (and neither, he is certain, does Danny), he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret seeing Danny actually warm for once, this morning.

He’s curled up in the center of the bed under the layers of heavy blankets, rather than the thin and threadbare things he’s normally allowed on his little mat in the living room. If it hadn’t been for the wrists bound together above his head, nearly palm-to-palm, and tied hard to the headboard, he might have even looked comfortable.

Bram had been on the other side of Danny when they fell asleep but that side of the bed was empty, now. Instead, Bram was behind him - the cold at his back where he leaned over from where he stood, fingers curled just slightly to shift back his hair, gentle and loving. Nate felt himself split like he always did into two people - the version of him that wanted to snarl and push the hand away, and the version of him that wanted to melt into the touch.

He settled for somewhere in the middle and just whispered, without really moving at all, “Is it m-morning already, Bram?”

Sometimes he stammers less when he first wakes up, when his voice is still mostly the voice from his dreams, where he never stammers at all. His dreams never seemed to catch up with whatever had happened to the connection between his brain and his mouth.

“No, baby, it’s like four.. But look at Red.” Bram’s fingers slide down, slide along his cheekbone to his jaw, take hold of his chin, tilting it up a little bit. Nate can feel the bed shift, as Bram leans his weight on it by one knee, the pressure of it along his back. 

“B-Bram, I-”

“I said look. Our little puppy is dreaming.”

Nate blinks the last of the sleep from his eyes, the final hints of the cabin full of cats, the calico climbing up on Danny’s shoulder to look at him with the same bright hopefulness Danny wore, sometimes, before the darkness took it over again. 

Bram settles down behind him, his cold breath on the back of Nate’s neck as the two of them look over at Danny.

Nate hadn’t really noticed it at first - he’d still been too lost in trying to find his way to consciousness, honestly - but Danny’s eyebrows are furrowed together beneath the healing bruise on the side of his forehead, and his already-rubbed-raw wrists jerk a little at the ropes, fingers twitching like he’s trying to grab at something. Nate watches his mouth moving, breaths of air that weren’t quite sentences escaping in occasional snatches of words Nate can almost, almost hear if he listens hard enough, the healing cut on his lip.

The red marks around his neck from the last round of barbed-wire are nearly faded completely, but underneath the thin sleep shirt Nate knows there are more bruises, more cuts. Danny’s back is still bandaged from the drinks incident, and Nate couldn’t forget the way he’d screamed when Bram punished him for that moment of rebellion, couldn’t ever forget the look on his face.

The top part of the bandage, the adhesive holding the giant swaths of gauze over it, is sticking up out of the neck of his shirt, nearly up to his hairline. 

Danny whimpers, softly, in his sleep, and Nate winces at the sound. It’s too much like the dog Bram keeps insisting he is now.

“I think he’s having a nightmare,” Bram breathes with unabashed delight into Nate’s ear, rubbing at his shoulder with one hand in excitement. “Like a midnight snack to feel all that coming off of him. I wish you were already like us, so you could feel this, this is so… does anyone still say ‘jacked’? Or is that out of style now?”

“H-how would I know?” Nate mutters. “I didn’t know what people said before all of this.”

“I guess you wouldn’t. Still... I wish I could read thoughts, I’d love to know what he’s seeing in that head of his…”

“I al-always kind of th-th-thought you c-could read minds,” Nate whispers back, keeping himself still and relaxed under Bram’s touch, refusing to react one way or the other to the hand that runs back down his arm and curves over one hip through the blankets, rests there, like a block of ice that won’t melt holding his body down. 

Danny’s little breaths are faster, now, his eyes moving rapidly under his closed eyelids, Nate struck again by the odd copper-bright eyelashes he’d never really seen on anyone else before, how pretty they are. He jerks a little harder at the ropes, whispers something, and Nate feels Bram leaning even closer from behind him, sees the sweep of white-blonde hair from the corner of his eyes.

If he doesn’t look, doesn’t see the cold ice-blue, he won’t fall in, and he can hold onto the hatred that he feels, hold on to wishing he was somewhere else. Hold on to his sense that someday, someway, he is going to get himself and Danny out of this.

I got myself out once, I can do it again.

Can’t I?

“No, baby, I can’t get into anyone’s head unless I do it the old-fashioned way, like I got into yours.” Bram’s fingers dance up the side of Nate’s head, over his ear, ‘walking’ over his hair, and Nate grinds his teeth together and keeps his eyes firmly fixed forward.

“St-... stop,” Danny whispers in his sleep. Bram chuckles behind Nate and he’s trapped - he’s stuck between Bram’s happiness and Danny’s unconscious misery and he can’t get out of this moment. All he can do is lay still, wait for Bram to move, wait to see if Danny wakes himself up. “D-don’t, st… b’good… be…”

“Oh, he’s dreaming about me, fuck yes.” Nate can hear the smile in Bram’s voice as he presses an excited kiss to the back of Nate’s neck, then pushes himself back up to get a better look. “I love when they dream about me.”

“Wh-who’s ‘they’?” Nate blinks, twisting back to look up at him without thinking. Bram looks back down and their eyes meet. Nate smiles, a little, at the man he loves and hates and cannot resist, and Bram smiles back.

“All of them,” Bram answers, as though that says all he needs to say. “All my boys.” 

How many boys are there inside your head? Nate wants to ask. How many people like us have you destroyed? Also, do you actually understand that I am a grown man? 

Somewhere in him, there is still a man who can think, I wish someone would bury a knife if your goddamn heart and I wish it could be me.

Stronger than that man, though, is the one who thinks, I love you.

“Stop… st, stop, ‘braham, I c’n, I’ll be good, want to be good, I… pl-... I, I don’t... stop… stop!” Danny’s whole body shudders all at once and his eyes fly open, wide open without quite being fully awake, unseeing. He pulls hard at the ropes and hisses in pain as they only tighten even more, dig in deeper. Nate sees the first smear of red just below one of his palms. “Oh god, I just, I… where-...” 

“What did I do to you, Red?” Bram asks, in a low voice nearly thick with an awful happiness. He looks like wolves covered in blood on nature shows, licking their chops after eating a kill. 

Danny looks slowly up where Bram looms over he and Nate, Danny’s warm blue eyes dark with Bram’s shadow as he tries to shrink back, stopped by the ropes, kept right where he is in the center of the bed. “I… I don’t… Abraham? N-Nate, why am I…”

“Don’t you remember yesterday, little Red? You were so good for me and we gave you your reward?”

Danny swallows, hard, and then slowly nods, his fingers wrapping around the ropes like he can find some comfort in holding onto them. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I remember… I remember now.” His face turns bright red, nearly fading the scars out completely, all the way red to the end of his nose with embarrassment, with shame. “Ah, um… thank you for my re-reward-” His voice cracks a little on the word, barely forcing it out, and Nate has to keep his eyes open until they burn to avoid seeing behind his eyelids what Danny’s reward had been. “-and letting me sleep, Abraham… I’m s-sorry, I woke up, I woke you up… I’m sorry, can I go back to my mat now?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Bram laughs, sliding back and off the bed, giving Nate a few precious seconds of space and the ability to breathe and warm air at his back, before he gets back in on the other side, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed, looking avidly down at Danny like a child on the library floor at storytime. “Oh, no no no no. Nate, baby, go make us some coffee.”

Danny gives Nate a pleading please don’t leave me here look, then turns back to Bram, searching his face for any sign of gentleness, finding none - just that terrible good cheer. “Coffee’s my j-job, if you just, if you just untie me, I can go make, um, make the coffee, Bram-”

“No, puppy. Nate will make the coffee today. Do what you’re told, baby, I gave you an order.”

“Y-Yes, Bram,” Nate says, standing up himself, guilty as he all but flees the room with Danny’s eyes burning into his back… but not guilty enough to go back in before the coffee’s good and ready.

Yesterday he found something in the back of the closet and had an idea, but he doesn’t have enough courage yet to use it, and he doesn’t know how much time there is left before Bram is done with Danny, before he wants to find someone new to break. 

He can’t kill him. I can’t lose him, I can’t lose Danny, I can’t. 

Do you want to save him, Nate, or do you just want to have him instead?

Does it matter which, if I would never ever hurt him?

As he steps into the living room and heads for the kitchen, he hears Bram’s voice behind him, the slippery-smooth snake charmer voice, soft and vaguely hypnotic.

“I want you to tell me all about that dream you were just having… because I want to make sure we recreate it in the most excruciatingly accurate detail. If you don’t tell me, then I’ll just have to come up with something fun to do to you all on my own, hm?”

Nate hears the rattle of Danny’s ankle chain as he tries to move again. “I don’t, um, I don’t want to…”

“Since when have I given a single flying fuck about what you wanted, puppy? I told you to tell me about your dream. If you won’t - or if you try to lie, you know I can always tell when you’re lying - we’ll just have to see if maybe some time down in the dark will help convince you.”

“N-no! No, I don’t need, um, I don’t need the cellar. I swear I don’t. I’ll be good, I’ll try harder, Abraham, I want to be good for you!”

“Then prove it.”

“Just, um. Give me a sec. Will you - will you please untie my hands, then I can, I can tell you…”

There’s a silence as Nate pulls down the coffee beans and the little electric grinder Danny asked Bram to pick up on his last supply run (whole bean coffee is, um, it’s better, Abraham, this would let me make better coffee for, for you - can I please make better coffee for you, Abraham? please?) , the pressure like the air just before a storm.

“... you’ve got a deal, little Red.” There’s a pause, far longer than the time needed simply to untie the knots, long enough that Nate feels bile rising in his throat at the thought of what might be going on behind him. Finally, he hears Bram laughing, the high-pitched hyena bark he only makes when he’s truly, genuinely happy. “Oh, you’re good at that now, huh? Who says I’m not nice to you when I want to be, hm? Now what do we say when someone does us a favor?”

Danny’s voice, when he speaks, is low and soft, nervous and eager-to-please. “Th-thank you for untying me, Abraham. I can… I can tell you the dream now.”

“Don’t try to lie, puppy, you’re the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.”

“I… I know, Abraham. I won’t. I was just-... I did something bad, so you said, you said I had to learn my lesson...”

The defeat and fear, the submission in Danny’s voice is too much. He can’t take it. He can’t, or he’s going to start screaming and never fucking stop. This is his fault, for meeting Danny, for talking to him when he caught the younger man looking at him, for agreeing to see a movie together. This is his fault for thinking he’d gotten away, that maybe Bram would let him be, think he was too much trouble to go after.

He’d made a mistake, leaving Bram, and Danny is suffering for it.

And he’s about to suffer more.

“What lesson am I going to teach you today, Red? What did you forget in your pretty little head while you slept?”

“I-I… um, I, I-” Danny’s voice cuts off, and there’s another pause that lasts too long, that Nate knows too well from long experience. His skin crawls, but it’s his fault, isn’t it, that Danny knows the rules? “-forgot the rule not to pull away from you…”

Bram begins to laugh again. “Oh, that’s my favorite rule… What do we say when we break a rule, Red?”

“You say you’re sorry and then you get hurt so you don’t break the rule again,” Danny says all at once, memorized, pushing the words out so quickly they’re barely even separated sounds. “I, I know, Abraham, but it was just a dream-”

“Breaking rules still counts in dreams, little one. Come here and let’s talk about how you can fix that mistake you made in your sleep so you won’t even dream about breaking my rules again…”

 Nate jams the coffee grinder on and tells himself he’s not complicit if he can’t hear a thing over the sound.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Peggysous Week Day One: Edelweiss

Read on Ao3 (tumblr’s a fuck pls click the link)

Thanks to @fandomsandxfiles-writes for hosting!

Edelweiss: Signifies deep love and devotion. Native to the Alps, so those who harvest this flower must face danger to prove that love and devotion.

***

The war is over. They’re home now. And yet, Peggy still has not stepped foot in a cinema? Daniel’s not having it. Plus, they both could do with a…little reminder, of sorts.

“I’m not one for the cinema.”

“I know, Peg,” Daniel says, handing her the bowl, “believe me.”

Peggy stifles a laugh at Daniel’s patient exasperation. “I believe Mr. Jarvis had a…similar reaction.”

“Did he?”

“We were at the racetrack, looking for Calvin Chadwick.” Daniel hums. “I didn’t know who Whitney Frost was.”

“Wait, seriously?” Daniel turns off the sink and drapes the towel over the fridge handle. “Peg, her face was on posters everywhere in New York.”

Peggy shrugs. “Like I said, I’m not one for the cinema.”

Daniel just shakes his head with a smile. “And what did Jarvis have to say to that.”

“He asked me if I assemble rifles in my free time.”

Daniel throws his head back, laughing. Peggy glares at him in mock offense, only to have it ruined when she can’t help but smile when he looks at her. He slumps against the counter for support, still laughing.

“If only he knew,” Daniel murmurs through the last of his chuckles.

“If only he knew what?”

“That you spend your free time reading Agatha Christie and muttering about how stupid the characters are under your breath.”

“It’s not like it’s hard,” Peggy mutters.

“Like that.”

Peggy whacks his arm halfheartedly with her own dish towel. “I’ll have you know I’m getting better at it.”

“What, predicting the ending or not getting frustrated with fictional characters?”

“…yes.”

Daniel bumps her shoulder lightly. “Well, call me crazy, but I think that might have something to do with what you do for a living.” He turns around, leaning against the counter. “Long days solving mysteries, chasing bad guys, all you’re missing is a trench coat and a fedora.”

“I’ll have you know I have perfectly suitable hats,” Peggy says, making them both laugh.

“Seriously, Peg,” Daniel says after they both stop laughing, “if you don’t wanna go, you don’t have to. I just…well, I kinda wanna know why.”

Peggy sighs, making sure none of the drying dishes will topple over as she hangs up her towel. “I suppose I’ve never understood the appeal.”

Daniel shrugs. “Escapism? Momentary reprieve?”

“But the same thing can be accomplished through a book,” Peggy says, “and then I’m not limited by whomever they cast to play the roles. I can let my imagination do the work for me.”

“True,” Daniel says, “but there are some things that words can’t really do when they’re just on paper. Sometimes you need the nuance of spoken word to really get everything out of a certain situation.”

Peggy squints. “Why does this sound suspiciously like how you argued for Dooley to give us the recordings of the interrogations as opposed to just the transcripts?”

The innocent shrug and the look he gives her fool absolutely no one.

Peggy switches tactics, perching one hand on her hip. “Why do you enjoy it, then?”

“I’ve always found them to be a bit better at holding my attention.” Daniel gestures with his hand. “Not just my imagination, but my sight. The sound. The music of it. Helps me flush everything out.”

“A more complete experience, then.”

Daniel nods. “Plus, it’s not just the picture itself. It’s going out, late at night, to see a show. It’s…you know, it’s its own deal.”

He pushes off the counter, taking Peggy’s hands in his. “It’s walking back late at night,” he murmurs, “your head buzzing. Someone special in your arms, both of your hearts still beating fast.”

Peggy smiles when he takes her into his arms. She’s learned that Daniel can be very persuasive when he wants.

“It’s sitting in a room full of people and only being able to pay attention to the person right next to you.” Daniel rests his chin on her shoulder. “It’s being able to share a story with someone.”

He pulls back, that terribly cocky smirk on his face. “Can’t really do that with a book, now can you?”

Peggy huffs. “Oh, alright.” She raises an eyebrow at Daniel’s childlike excitement. “You’re certainly eager.”

“Come on, Peg,” Daniel laughs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to her cheek, “let me share a story with you?”

Well, that’s just not fair. How the hell is she supposed to say no to that?

They choose next Friday. Daniel picks the picture, buys the tickets. Peggy picks the restaurant. They discuss the last of the work plans over pasta and garlic bread until Daniel reaches across the table to cover her hand midway through a discussion of their current case.

“Peggy,” he chides gently, amusement sparkling in his eyes, “no more work talk tonight, okay? Take the night off, please.”

Peggy protests halfheartedly until Daniel gives her those puppy-dog eyes that she swears do not work.

“Oh, alright,” she relents, “I suppose one night won’t throw us overboard.”

“It won’t,” Daniel promises, “but it will do you some good. Now,” he continues, picking up his fork again, “tell me about the current book you’re reading and how stupid the characters are.”

They make playful jabs at mystery tropes until they’re finished, carrying on as they walk down the block to the theater. The night is young, the sun just setting behind the horizon. The air is still warm from its rays, bathing the street in a soft haze that makes the streetlights glow a little fuzzier at the edges. Peggy finds that as their conversation meanders, she cares less and less about trying to follow it, letting Daniel’s arm in hers hold her steady as they fade into the nightlife.

“Right here,” Daniel says, sweeping them through the doors. “This way, I think.”

“Have you been here before?”

“Once,” Daniel says, “came with Rose after I lost a bet.”

“You should know better than to take a bet against Rose,” Peggy laughs.

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel mutters as they step into the auditorium, “it wasn’t a big deal.”

“What was the bet?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Daniel,” she laughs, poking his shoulder as they sit down, “tell me.”

“Alright, alright.” Daniel lays his crutch out of the way. “It was a stupid filing competition. Who could finish their stack of paperwork first.”

“Why on earth would you take that bet against Rose?”

“Because if I could suffer through Thompson and Krezminski’s filing,” Daniel shoots back, “I could damn well suffer through my own.”

Peggy laughs, conceding. The New York office did not exactly have the best reputation for scrupulous filing. “And you lost and came here?”

“Rose wanted to see the noir based on The Brick Foxhole,” Daniel explains, “it was called ‘Crossfire’ or something.”

Peggy makes a noise of understanding, glancing around. The place is filling up nicely, even though it’s not quite full. Daniel follows her gaze.

“Normally the shows get fuller as the night goes on,” he murmurs, “picked an earlier time so we wouldn’t get caught in the crowd.”

Peggy nods in thanks, settling into her chair. Soon enough, the lights start to dim and the screen lights up. The film begins to roll and Daniel carefully nudges her shoulder. She looks over to see him staring at her hopefully, his hand laying open in the space between their seats. She tries to pretend she isn’t blushing when he smiles warmly as she takes it.

It’s dark, she can get away with it.

As always, her trust in Daniel is not misplaced. The picture is, indeed, a mystery story. Something about a female spy returning from abroad to team up with an older detective, trying to find out what’s happened to her missing husband. The characters, while…limited, perhaps, by the constraints of the medium, are interesting enough that Peggy finds herself furrowing her brow in concentration as she tries to figure out the story before the characters do. She hears Daniel chuckle a few times when nothing funny has happened on the screen and glances over, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve got your focused face on,” he whispers, leaning close so as not to disturb the other movie-goers, “you enjoying it?”

“Don’t be smug,” she whispers back.

“I’m not,” he defends, leaning back a little, the flickering light from the screen showing a warm smile, “I’m happy.”

Unfortunately for Peggy, this time when she turns away, the screen is bright enough that she can’t hide her blush.

She figures out it was the husband fairly easily. He had faked his own death, it turns out, and has secretly sided with the enemy, becoming the very antagonist the spy and the detective were attempting to vanquish. She does understand what Daniel was talking about; the nuances of the actor’s faces convey things she has no idea how to put into words, the music in the background makes her heart beat faster when tensions rise, and she finds her work instincts taking over, getting frustrated when the camera won’t pan down far enough to let her see the whole room.

She keeps a hold of Daniel’s hand the whole time.

Right before the climax, there’s a quiet scene. The spy is standing by the window, looking out over the city. The detective comes in behind her, shutting the door.

“I don’t know why he did it,” the spy sniffs, folding her arms, “I don’t know why he decided to go off and join the people he signed up to fight.”

“People do crazy things,” the detective mutters, coming up behind the spy, “for crazy reasons.”

“Even go to war?”

Peggy scoffs at the melodramatic delivery.

“Even go to war,” the detective agrees, looking at the spy. “You know that, right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” the spy says, making Peggy scoff again. Honestly. “I went to war because I had nothing. Because it took everything from me and I had to try and take some of it back.”

Oh.

“And you didn’t go to war,” the spy cries, whirling around to point a trembling finger at the detective, “so how could you know? What would you go to war for?”

“I’d go to war for you.”

Ah. There it is.

The husband gets caught, the detective kisses the spy, the screen fades out.

“Well,” Daniel says, turning to Peggy as the other people start to get up, “what did you think?”

“Why didn’t they realize it was the husband when they initially found his draft card?”

Daniel rolls his eyes fondly, getting to his feet, grabbing his crutch, and starting out of the theatre, still pulling Peggy by the hand. She keeps up her ‘review’ of the story as they walk back along the street. It’s cooler now, the breeze ruffling her hair, the indigo sky turning brisk where the streetlights glow amber. They chat idly about the story, what they liked, what they didn’t, lapsing into silence when they run out of things to say.

Peggy glanced down at their entwined arms. Daniel is warm against the gentle breeze.

“Peggy?”

They stop, Daniel turning to face her with a look of concern on his face. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” Peggy says quickly, “just thinking.”

“Uh-huh.” Daniel squeezes her arm gently. “I know you better than that. Come on, tell me.”

“It’s silly.”

“If it’s worrying you, it’s not.”

Peggy smiles at the sincerity in his voice. “It was one of the scenes,” she confesses, “the one where they were…at the window.”

Daniel curses under his breath. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I tried to pick a picture where there wouldn’t be a lot of that, but, uh, guess we can’t escape from it.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Peggy shakes her head. “I just…it reminded me of…something.”

Daniel’s face falls, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean to make you sad, Peg, or to remind you of—“

“Not Steve,” Peggy clarifies, smiling a little when Daniel’s shoulders slump in relief, “just…how I got started.”

Daniel nods, accepting the answer and gesturing to the sidewalk in front of them. Peggy accepts his invitation to keep walking, the slight daze from the movie beginning to sap some of her strength. She leans more heavily into Daniel who comes a little closer to support her, sharing their warmth.

“I get what you mean,” he says out of nowhere, “about that scene. It, uh, well…it had a good question in it.”

At Peggy’s quizzical look, he elaborates. “About what people go to war for.”

“Ah.”

Yes, well, that is quite a question, isn’t it?

“That was quite the declaration,” she says, trying to lighten the mood, “the detective saying he’d go to war for her?”

“Yeah.” Daniel’s crutch clicks against the sidewalk. “That’s one way to do it.”

“Well,” Peggy murmurs, “let’s hope we never have to worry about that. One war in my lifetime is quite enough for me.”

Daniel chuckles. “I don’t know if I’d say that.”

Peggy stops them, frowning. “What on earth does that mean?”

Daniel stops too, turning to face her. “Peg, what does that quote mean to you?”

“Pardon?”

“When the detective said it,” Daniel says, “what did it mean?”

Peggy blinks. “That the detective was willing to go to war for the spy.”

“So she wouldn’t have to or to fight alongside her?”

Peggy’s words die in her throat. Daniel scratches the back of his head and takes a deep breath. When he looks up at her, the trust and faith in his eyes is enough to take her breath away.

“If working at the SSR has taught me anything, it’s that war isn’t just two sides shooting at each other on a battlefield,” he says. “It’s information, it’s secrets, it’s covert operations and talking and teamwork.”

He gestures between the two of them. “We can fight wars every day at our jobs, just by doing paperwork and making phone calls. Hell, we’ve fought wars by doing that.”

“Daniel,” Peggy says, holding out her hands, “what…what are you saying?”

Daniel takes a step closer. “I’m saying I’ve already gone to war for you, Peg. I fought the whole damn War Department for you. And yeah, I’d do it again.”

He holds out a hand when she opens her mouth. “And before you say anything, I need to tell you that quote means something different for me.”

Peggy closes her mouth, waiting as Daniel comes close enough for her to see the glow of the streetlight reflected in his eyes.

“I would go to war to follow you, Peg,” he says, “because I know damn well you’re going anyway and I’m sure as hell not stupid enough to try and stop you.”

“Oh, Daniel…”

“Just…” and it’s his turn to blush, the tips of his ears going red as he coughs into his fist. “Let me share the story with you?”

How is she supposed to say no?

Instead, she kisses him, bathed in the warm glow of the streetlight, until neither of them can say anything.

[team-free-will-oneshots]

Half a Man

Title: Half a Man Prompt: ‘Half a Man’ by Dean Lewis Pairing: Destiel (Dean x Castiel) Warnings: angst with a fluffy ending Word Count: 1.5k

note; okay so i heard this song and my mind immediately went to destiel, and what was intended to be a drabble turned into an actual oneshot lmao, hope u enjoy (pls forgive any typos, it’s 2am as i write/post this)

Masterlist

The first time they kissed, Dean hoped that it would last forever.

The moment Castiel’s lips met his own, every doubt seemed to melt away, every reason that this could never happen scorched to nothing beneath the fire of the angel’s touch. Dean’s lungs burned, but with Cas’s insistent lips on his, he felt as though he were breathing for the first time.

Cas was the first to pull away, and Dean’s lips followed the angel’s, desperately seeking to close the cold space that had opened up between the two of them. Cas smiled, and the little breath Dean had snatched up was knocked again from his chest.

How long had he been dreaming of this moment? Dreaming of Castiel’s arms closed around his body, holding their chests flush, the angel’s breath fanning over his lips with a delicious warmth that had him putty in his hands? Dreaming of the overwhelming familiarity being flipped on its head as a new world opened up for the two of them, a universe brimming with possibilities that all ended with finding solace in one another?

The answer was easy to find - he’d been dreaming of this moment since the minute Castiel’s blue eyes bore into his soul, unravelling the thoughts even he himself couldn’t acknowledge within mere seconds of meeting. After barely a conversation, the angel already seemed to know him better than he knew himself.

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

He’d been right - and yet, Castiel had saved him from far more than just the tortures of Hell. Cas had saved him from himself, countless times. And now, it was time for Dean to return the favour; to save the angel he loved so intensely that it rocked his soul. Dean had to save him - even if it killed him.

“We can’t,” Dean mumbled, his eyes settling on the floor. He couldn’t bear to see the light dissipate from Castiel’s gaze, but he felt the pain radiating from his body as though it were a physical force. It slammed into him like a truck, breaking over him like a wave that dragged him back into the depths of an agony he had become all too accustomed to. Dean refused to look up - he’d rather go back to Hell than face the anguish written into his love’s eyes, carved into the slope of his lips that had mere seconds ago been bruising against his own.

“Why not?”

Castiel’s gruff voice held the beginnings of a challenge, though it was heavy with a torment that sliced into Dean’s heart more violently than a blade could ever hope to.

“I can’t- I can’t give you what you deserve, Cas. You don’t... you don’t want me,” Dean whispered, voice hoarse. He swallowed, throat like sandpaper as he futilely tried to summon moisture over his dry tongue. 

“That’s not your call to make,” Cas said gently, his large hand running down Dean’s shoulder. He felt the warmth even beneath his jacket, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to give in and let himself drown in the angel’s affection.

“I’m a sinking ship that’s on friggin’ fire, Cas. You deserve someone who can love you - really love you. How can I give you all of me, when... when I’m only half a man?” 

Dean chuckled dryly, the sound falling flat as it died on the tip of his tongue. Castiel’s hand found his, their fingers interlocking like the final pieces of a puzzle. Dean finally dared to raise his gaze, and nothing could have prepared him for the onslaught of despair that crashed into his chest at the look in Castiel’s eyes.

“Let go of my hand, Cas,” Dean whispered. Cas’s jaw tensed, and suddenly the cold was crawling over Dean’s knuckles as the angel withdrew his touch, leaving behind an empty space that lodged itself into Dean’s chest, a void that swallowed up the mangled remains of his heart.

“Dean, if you don’t want to pursue... this, then I understand. But don’t you dare claim to be anything but a hero,” Castiel said firmly. Dean allowed a shaky breath.

“I’m not a hero, Cas. Maybe once - maybe, a long time ago, but now... Now I’m just broken. There’s no fixing me, no making me whole again. I-I’m sorry.” Dean’s voice was thick, and he vaguely realised that these were the hardest words he’d ever had to force from his lips.

Castiel bowed his head solemnly, and Dean was grateful, if only that he didn’t have to see the pain in his eyes - the pain that he had incited.

“I see.”

The angel’s voice rang with defeat, and Dean felt the tears creeping up behind his eyes. He blinked them back and ducked his head, sighing shakily as he heard Cas take a backwards step, boot echoing on the bunker’s floor. When he dared to look up again, Castiel was long gone.

It was only when he was alone that Dean finally let himself break.

Dean grabbed the nearest object - an empty beer bottle - and threw it against the wall in a fit of rage that burned through his veins and temporarily ate away the agony writhing in his chest. He watched as it shattered against the hard surface, spilling onto the floor in a mosaic of glass shards that glinted in the dull light and reflected Dean’s pained gaze back at him a thousand times over. He clenched his jaw, refusing to cry as he composed his expression and stormed from the room. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and though his palms blossomed with blood as his fingernails dug into his skin, the eldest Winchester didn’t notice.

There were far more potent pains on his mind.

He didn’t know quite where he was headed until he was slamming the door to his room behind him, hard enough to rattle the frame. Dean took another shaky breath, biting his lip to restrain his emotions as he reached for the bottle of whiskey at his desk. He hastily downed a shot, the burn of the liquor replacing the burn of the tears he refused to shed.

He would not cry.

Dean flipped the switch on the wall, blinking as he became entrapped in the cold artificial light that bled into the room. He raised a shaky hand to rub his jaw, his fingers idly tracing his lower lip as he recalled the moments leading up to their fateful kiss.

He remembered the words that he had thoughtlessly blurted out, the result of one drink too many and the overpowering sense of longing that had crashed into him at Castiel’s smile - at the crinkle of his eyes, the wide stretch of his lips that he had imagined against his all too many times before...

“Dammit, Cas, I love you.”

He’d barely even noticed that he’d voiced his thoughts when suddenly Castiel’s mouth was falling into place against his, and for one moment everything had felt right in the world - as though every second of the last ten years had been leading up to this one perfect, blissful moment. But of course, he had to go and ruin it.

Dean had been running his whole life, as fast as his legs could carry him - running from his demons, from himself, afraid of what he’d find if he sat still a moment too long. At least now, he knew - he’d relaxed a moment too long. Long enough to spill the words he’d vowed he’d never share, long enough to draw Cas in, to dare to dream that he’d finally find happiness.

Happiness?

Dean scoffed. As if he deserved such a luxury.

He dragged out his desk chair, collapsing into it as he pressed his face into his hands, eyes squeezing shut as he cursed himself. He hadn’t just hurt himself, not this time - he’d hurt the one person he’d never wish pain upon. 

He’d hurt his angel.

“Hello, Dean.”

The familiar voice had Dean’s head rising eagerly, and his heart broke at Castiel’s wary stance in his doorway.

“Cas.” The word fell from his lips like a prayer, a name his lips felt unworthy of forming.

“Dean... you’re not broken. Whether or not we continue with... this, it’s important that you know that. You’re not broken - you never were.”

Dean swallowed hard. Don’t cry.

“You’re wrong, Cas,” he rasped. “I’m beyond help. Don’t- don’t give your heart to me.”

“It’s too late for that,” the angel replied with a wry smile. “It’s been yours from the moment I dragged you from perdition.”

Dean clenched his jaw, and his eyes fell shut. He licked his lips, shaking his head to himself, but Castiel’s words still echoed in his mind.

You’re not broken - you never were.

Maybe he was right. Maybe there was hope for him, yet.

Maybe, all this time, he hadn’t been running from himself but, in fact, towards someone else.

For the first time, Dean allowed himself to consider that, maybe, there was some truth to Castiel’s words. When Dean found a home once more in his angel’s arms, he felt his tears finally spill down his cheeks and seep into the coarse fabric of Castiel’s trench coat.

And when they kissed for a second time, Dean finally found hope - and perhaps, this time, it really would last forever.

__________

Forever tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting @bee-happy-buzz-on

Dean tags: @polina-93 @justagirlinafandomworld @coupleofgoons

if you’d like to be added to any tag lists just let me know !!

[lesbiansastiel]

so far untitled fic

this is kind of my take on what happens in s5e16 (dark side of the moon) but it happens earlier in the season (like after the convention ep).

cas x sam, kind of dean negative, very gay & emotional. i use every pronouns for cas here dont mind that. title is reference to a Shura song. pls listen to it it’s good

Chapter 1. Nothing’s Real

Sam. Ashtabula, Ohio, 2009

He turns the Impala's radio on and takes another left turn, towards the beach. It's been a long while since Dean first gave him the keys of the car, after the talk they had about trying to be "more equal", whatever that meant. Since then, Sam has enjoyed being able to drive around and clear his mind from the job, and the hassle, and, well, Dean. Since the whole thing with Lucifer being freed, it has not really been easy living with Dean and having to bear the guilt of the world ending, as ridiculous as it sounds. Actually the only good thing to happen recently has been the permission to drive the Impala and get away, on the excuse of doing research, going shopping, or meeting with local hunters for more details on the job at hand. Sam takes the car, buys Dean something to eat from any gas station close by, and drives until it gets dark. Then he parks the car somewhere peaceful and sits there, listening to music (but never classic rock), or in silence.

Now he's parked in the parking lot near a tiny beach. The moon is almost full, and the parking lot is dimly lit with street lamps. He's wearing a winter jacket but the car is nicely warm after the drive so he takes it off and throws it on the passenger seat. He has not had time to think about normal everyday regular life things in so long, because they barely even live anymore. Yet, somehow, when he just sits in the car and lets his brain choose the thoughts, he ends up thinking about normal things, like the increasing price of gas, his old friends and how they're doing, the state of Dean and his laundry pile back at the motel, all the little things of regular life he needs to take care of before hitting the next case.

But his everyday life is more than those things. Here, alone, in silence, he can think about the other stuff too, without feeling the weight of it all. More often than not, when he takes time off to drive, Sam thinks about the angels, and Ruby, even Jess, even their parents. He wonders if God really is real, and out there, and if Cas will be able to find them. Sam misses Cas when the angel is not around, he has this weird anxiety about Cas being gone some morning, for good. Sam wants Cas to know how much he thinks about them, how much Cas helps him and Dean, more than just with his powers. That stupid trench coat brings them hope. At least to Sam, since Sam can't say for Dean, who seems to have given up all of his hope. Sam has all the pressure, making sure he never shows Dean how much Sam fears, how weak he is. He wonders if Cas, and the other angels, can see how weak Sam is. If they can tap into his thoughts at any moment and just see how much sadness and misery he holds, that any moment he could snap and give up the fight.

Sam won't do it, though. He's meant to fight this fight, till the end, even if it kills him. Sometimes when he goes on these drives, he cries thinking of it all.

Sometimes when he does, he hopes Cas would be there when he opens his eyes.

That seems to only happen to Dean, though. And it’s not like Cas would know where Sam is right now, because of the Enochian sigils. Sam opens his eyes slowly and turns the radio off. No one else in the car, or outside of it. His limbs are getting tired and his eyes feel heavier and heavier. He rolls down the window to let in some fresh air and the sounds of the waves and the wind come with. When he places his head back against the seat and takes a long breath in he gets goosebumps on his arms. It’s a weird feeling, drifting away in a familiar car, at a strange beach, in the dark. The impala is more than just a familiar car, it feels more like home to Sam than anything else does. Falling asleep in this car is more familiar than falling asleep anywhere else. The sound of the waves, crashing in and out, the wind humming in the air, the cool autumn air, lull Sam fast to sleep. 

When he next wakes up, he is shivering all over. It takes half a second to realise why, with the breeze coming from the window, so he rolls the window back up and takes his jacket from the passenger seat and onto his lap and covers himself with it. Sam yawns again and looks at the clock on the dash. It’s two AM. He had left the motel at midnight. Dean is probably asleep by now, so he’s not in any hurry. He ends up just sitting there for a while, with his mind black. Eventually he takes his phone out of his jeans’ front pocket to check for messages, just in case. Three notifications, one message from Dean, one call from Dean and one call from Cas. Sam reads the message, it says to come back to the motel,  sits up straight and pulls the jacket on. He’s not panicking, but he’s not calm either. He turns the keys in the ignition switch and backs away from the parking lot. He drives fast, but not quite as fast as he could, and tries to keep calm. Why had Cas called?

Sometimes when Sam is alone, his brain goes fuzzy, like he’s resetting from his social-Sam back into himself, his brain not quite making sense in words, his thoughts kind of blurry, memories hazy. Being alone is truly freeing, but it’s also sad and lonely. He tries not to like it too much, because being lonely is his way of punishing himself, too, and liking it would mean he wants to punish himself, to make himself miserable. So he tries to keep himself social, talk to people, think of people, spend time with Dean outside of the jobs, try to remember that he is worthy of love and appreciation. He tries really hard to be loved, so that he doesn’t forget that he deserves it, too. Dean rarely shows his appreciation. Not with words or affection, anyway. Dean has probably saved Sam’s ass more times than he has in any way signaled that he doesn’t hate to spend time with him. Sam does try to be “touchy-feely” but Dean won’t let him. He turns it into a joke, tries to silence Sam with hurtful truths, anything to stop feelings from happening. In fact, Dean’s feelings are so repressed Sam sometimes wonders if Dean has feelings at all. But Sam tries to understand, after all, Dean is an innocent man who was in Hell for what felt like 40 years. And from what Sam understands, he even remembers it all. Sam tires himself imagining how hell must’ve been, trying to find anything to say to help, comparisons to draw to make himself understand Dean. Sam tries to imagine Dean as a war veteran who was on the battlefield for 40 years, but somehow, even that doesn’t quite compare. Sam often wonders about how Cas saved Dean, tries to imagine how a soul is grabbed from literal Hell and raised to a body quite like the original thing but without the scars. How does Cas have that power, when not a single demon Sam killed seemed to think it was possible? And why do it? And why was it Cas? And who gave the order?

After a 10-minute drive Sam comes to the centre of town and there is a big knot in his belly. The night is too ominous, too dark and yet too calm to make sense of and Sam doesn’t like it. The straight road continues for too long and Sam feels helpless. There is so much fear and anxiety in his life he can barely contain it. Sam’s mind is fuzzy with nothing but the words “please be okay, please be okay, please be okay”. 

The motel is around the corner, and its cheap neon lights are reflected on the wet asphalt. Sam parks the car swiftly in front of their room and hurries out of it. His back and legs are sore from sitting for so long and he feels like he’s getting old too fast. The room number is 12, the door yellow. Sam doesn’t have keys, but the door is unlocked. 

He marches in and sees Dean and Cas sitting on the two beds, silent, Dean looking uncomfortable, Cas staring at the wall. They both look at him, and Dean looks tired.

“What is it?” Sam lets out a big breath of air and puts the car keys on the table next to the door.

“Where were you?” Dean says with no change in expression.

“Just, out” Sam points to the general direction of the beach with his head.

“Well, Cas here,” Dean looks at Cas, “found something.”

Cas looks at Sam with a regular expression, not the frowny one, and Sam is relieved. 

“Oh?” Sam says and rips the jacket off himself. The motel room is way too warm. Cas sits silently, looking deep in thought, and Dean stands up from the bed, and walks to the other corner of the room. Then he walks back. 

“Cas? Please share with the rest of the class,” Dean sounds annoyed and sits on the couch that is on the opposite wall from the door. 

Cas looks at Dean and then Sam. He seems worried… or anxious.

“I’m going to find God,” Cas begins and looks at Sam, “and I will need your help.”

“Of course, but I don’t think there’s much we can do-” “Not us, Sam. You,” Dean says, frustrated. 

“I’m taking you to heaven, Sam,” Cas says, “to find Joshua.”

[isa-ghost]

Stuff About Mantis Nobody Asked For

His actual name is Adrian.

Adrian Connor Parker. The Connor is definitely not named after the android idk what youre talking about yes it is

He got the nickname Mantis bc he wields two big fuckoff knives that when he puts their tips on the ground he looks like a praying mantis.

Punk ass bitch. Valid punk ass bitch.

All of his high school friends were goth and/or a stoner. He has no idea how he is not also a stoner.

His mom is a pill addict. It caused the divorce. Maybe this is why Mantis doesn’t do drugs.

His dad’s name was Peter. Peter Parker. Mantis’s grandparents knew exactly what they were doing.

He was a tall beanpole dumbass theatre kid. Now he’s a tall muscular dumbass theatre kid.

He is clinically not 100% sane. Thanks a lot Anti you cucklord.

Anti was the only ego he knew existed when the war started. He thought it was a good idea to willingly go to him. He slit his own throat to prove he was worthy. He is Not Good At Judgement. He regretti spaghetti this, but thinks the scar is pretty lit despite the bad memories.

Don’t touch his neck tho he’ll panic. Also don’t touch his chest if he’s laying on his back. Thanks a lot again Anti.

He can and will throw you. For fun or to fight depends on you.

He is bisexual, 98% prefers women, 2% prefers men. At least for right now. Two of his longtime guy friends sexually confuse him so he is Unsure.

He’s 20 this October (2019) and is already married to his wife who was also a theatre kid because Fuck It, It’s The Apocalypse. Less salty thanks a lot this time, Anti.

Anti gave him three powers. Infinite stamina, magnetic palms to call his big fuckoff knives back to him at any time, and sticky fingers/feet; aka he can climb walls and ceilings.

He uses his sticky fingers to hang from the ceiling and kiss his wife Spider-Man style.

His fuckoff knives look like he broke a big fuckoff pair of scissors and wields both halves.

The trench coat is a Heathers play costume he stole from the prop department of his old high school while raiding it with his wife who was just his gf at the time. He was JD so he was reclaiming his trench coat.

He’s a very good singer. He used to sing Isa to sleep every night when they were Anti’s puppets.

Very scary temper. Scary scary quite contrary, piss him off and youll be in the very bad place.

He was a total Homestuck trash once upon a time. He likes Dave, Gamzee and Karkat. His zodiac’s troll is Terezi bc he’s a Libra. If you dunno who any of those are just Google is its nbd.

I looked up some Libra trait things. Oh my fucking god he’s such a Libra. I chose his birthday completely random, just pulled it outta my ass. How is it so accurate. Fuck omg.

His fave Septic is Henrik. He likes feisty doctor man. He’s very happy that his best friend is his stepdaughter. His favorite Iplier is Dark. He’s a basic bitch. He also looks kinda like Dark when his hair isn’t dyed lol.

After becoming a puppet and getting a septiceye he hated having red hair bc “he looks like a septiplier lovechild.” This is why he dyed it blue/green now.

His music taste is Angry Energetic Punk Rock. He fite.

He’s terrified of being a dad bc he doesn’t wanna turn out like his mom. Plus he doesn’t trust his Not 100% Sane-ness.

He’s a flirty dingus. You’re not allowed to be ugly around him, he will list everything about you he thinks is hot and you will not be able to deny it. Nobody is ugly when Mantis is present.

He has many tattoos. One for his closest childhood friend, one of his favorite band, one of lyrics that mean a lot to him, one that he got after his parents divorced, and a matching one with one of his theatre friends.

Don’t pull his hair omg. You’d fluster him less by grabbing his butt tbh, his hair is very sensitive. You can play with it but god forbid you pull.

He can skateboard. Sah dude.

He’s very agile. He go /zoom and also do flips.

Have you seen the boots he wears?? Thems bitch kickin’ boots.

I’ma cut this off here or it’ll be 800 miles long. Anyways, I fucking love Mantis pls appreciate my son, esp in my asks.