thesavagetorebrothers

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Reblogging because I feel like this didn't get nearly enough love

worst mistake||j.b.b

A/N: I got a sudden burst of inspiration and had to write. I'm not lying when I say I sobbed writing this. I don't have the energy to make a separate warning list, but severe injury, death, minor cussing, lots of sadness, yelling, abuse mention if you squint. Also I haven't written in so damn long so I'm sorry if it sucks.

Summary: A terrible accident leaves Bucky reeling and full of regret.

Bucky had never considered himself weak, even in his younger years, before his life crashed upside down in the war, but as he stretched his flesh arm towards your body, and couldn't quite meet your skin, he felt so horribly, helplessly weak. He thanked the stars that he could hear a soft whisper in your lungs, so dangerously close to empty that your chest didn't register the intake.

Glass dug into his skin, no doubt becoming imbedded as he healed the scratches, as he used whatever strength he could muster, mind not even registering snapping off the seatbelt, instead pulling against the wet asphalt until the tough fabric ripped, no doubt inflicting the same damage on his skin. He didn't feel the pain though, not while his fragile angel was likely breaking from her own. Your whimpers were soft and frequent, the only thing preventing screams your lack of consciousness.

A car screeched to a stop (an early 2000s dark blue Jetta, the license plate already burned into Bucky's mind), an older lady stumbling out, hands trembling as she dialed the numbers to bring you help.

Maybe it was the new sense of crippling fear seeing you so injured or his own panic from the crash, but Bucky's legs would not listen to him. So he dragged himself towards you, the muscles that had caused so much harm, the ones he hated, finally paying him back for centuries of torture as he felt your skin.

His legs obeyed him then, pulling him to his knees to tower over you better, assess the damage, though he knew from listening to you it was severe. His hands, one flesh and callused, another glistening metal, adorned with a thin silver band, your gift to him after his proposal, went to wrap behind your neck, pull you up into his arms, stopping when the woman screamed at him to stop, voice shaky as she moved forward.

She was right, Bucky realized. If he risked moving you before the paramedics could get here and have you stabilized, he could paralyze you, if you weren't already, or even kill you. He hadn't seen what happened to you as the car flipped, too blinded by rage that in this moment felt so stupid, so insignificant. How could he have possibly been mad at you? If he knew what it would've turned into, he would've locked that rage tight in a bottle and threw it out to sea. He would've traded anything, anything including Steve, Sam, the whole goddamned world even, to turn back time, to have you cuddled into his side, warm and calming, instead of here, cold and clammy, blood riddled down your body to the point he couldn't determine where you were actually wounded.

He slid his left hand over yours, intertwining them like you had down hundreds, if not thousands, of times, the two engagement bands clinking together, as if in promise, that he would not leave your side.

It felt like hours passed before the sirens came screaming, the flashing lights only a blur in Bucky's mind, clouded by the rain that continued falling. He could have, would have, fought Zeus in that moment, to end the rain so you could have some semblance of warmth.

When a shove came to Bucky's shoulder, a younger blonde paramedic, he let it push him away, let his hand disconnect from yours, even as the fear that this would be the last time your living flesh touched him coursed through his veins.

The same paramedic gave him a quick glance-over, pausing when his eyes scraped across the metal arm, gears turning for a quick second before the realization clicked that Bucky didn't need his help, that his attention should be devoted entirely to you.

They made quick work sliding your neck into a brace and maneuvering you onto a backboard. A memory flashed through his head: you sitting on the couch across from him, hair in that messy bun he loved, in your PJs, exclaiming how much you hated those stupid stiff things you wound up in several times during your childhood, a clumsiness that hadn't dissipated as you aged. he could've smiled at that moment, picturing you cussing out the paramedics for putting them on you, for restraining you into the "most uncomfortable device known to man", but there were no dirty words falling from your mouth, even your whimpers gone now.

He didn't hesitate to pull himself into the ambulance after you were loading, not sparing a glance at the ruined car littering the side of the road. The police would soon come to take care of it, not that he cared about a hunk of metal, not with your life in the balance.

Bucky seemed to blackout the hospital ride, his only focus keeping his skin against yours the only place that wasn't covered by paramedics, a sliver exposed between the hem of your leggings and sock. Even the sounds of your breathing and heartbeat faded into the background, him clutching that contact as his last ray of hope, last ray of sanity. He couldn't lose you, not in death. He would watch you leave 1000 times of your own volition, a nightmare he had seen too many times and woken up screaming from, if it meant he didn't lose you like this.

Memories sprinted through his head at breakneck speed, watching your stories unfold: the first time you locked eyes across the old-school diner, his breath stopping in its tracks, the first time he touched your skin, a small wispy touch at the small of your back, guiding you into a doorway, the first time he saw you naked, the first time he fucked you, your soft kisses and touches to the joint of his left shoulder the most vulnerable he had ever been up until that point, the pride he felt when you started to get the hang at defending yourself, punching him solidly in the jaw and your little hop of happiness afterward as he beamed, all flashing, flashing so blurringly fast away from him, all coming to a screeching halt as the most recent filtered in.

Your tears ran down your face as you yelled at him for getting ready to leave again. He didn't have a choice, the mission was important, vitally important, even if he had just gotten back a few days prior.

"God-fucking-dammit, Bucky. You've served this country enough to make up for a thousand lifetimes of hurt, you've done enough." The hurt was laced heavily into your voice, enough so that it would have crashed to the ground, underneath it even had it been tangible. "If you don't fucking get out now, there won't be enough left of you to marry." He saw the regret in your eyes, knowing you always tried your hardest not to yell, to break the vicious cycle your parents hadn't been able to. But his own rage flared.

"Easy for you to say, you've never had blood on those pristine fucking hands of yours," hands he adored and never wanted to see callused and rough, "not with daddy's money. Never been without a choice or a better option. You knew what loving me meant, you said 'yes' knowing I would be gone, knowing the blood debt I have to pay down. If you couldn't handle this, you should've just fucking left before you ruin us both." He heard your heart stop, not 10 seconds later hearing your seatbelt unbuckle.

His metal hand slammed down on a button, ensuring you couldn't unlock your own door and leaving a dent behind, not that it would matter soon anyway.

"Fucking let me out." You seethed, not even able to make eye contact. His hair brushed his shoulders as he shook his head. His eyes left the road, focused on you trying to unlock your door, knowing it wouldn't work, then resorting to throwing yourself at it, breath hitching. "Let me out, I fucking hate you." A last smash against the window as Bucky realized he wasn't driving anymore, too late to fix his mistake as everything fell apart.

He was drowning in the memory, in the self-hatred, your last words smashing into his skull over and over again. Bucky didn't even realize he had moved, that your skin was no longer on his, that his surroundings were unfamiliar, nothing registering until a soft hand placed a feather-light touch on his shoulder, the right one, even though the body was closer to his left.

He felt hollow as he looked up, a small petite woman in front of him, clearly a doctor by her getup. He could see the blood under her fingernails where she had hurriedly washed her hands and neglected them, presumably in a hurry to get to him.

"Mr. Barnes, do you need medical attention?" She knew he didn't, the mention of his name enough for her to know why. The glass shards had likely already been spit out, lying in the now gone ambulance or on the floor below him in the dim waiting room.

He stood up quickly, towering over the doctor. She didn't back down as others normally did, the spark flaring in her eyes reminding him of the reason she was here.

"Is she alive?" That's all he could hope for right now, just a little bit of hope, just the chance that you could come out of this fine, but he knew the likelihood was slim from your breathing earlier, the rasped so horrid and ringing in his ears as he used what little strength he could muster to drag himself-

"She's stable enough. She's still in the worst of it." The doctor moved toward the hallway, an invitation to follow, and he did, screaming inside to see your face, apologize, repent to whatever gods would listen for her to not pay for his sins, the sins of the monster now buried deep in his skull.

"I'm not going to lie to you and tell you she'll be fine. I understand she wasn't wearing a seatbelt when you crashed, she sustained a lot of injuries." They rounded the corner and he could see you through the window of your ER room, bruises covering almost all the skin he could see. Your tiny jaw he had peppered millions of kisses over was propped open by a tube, a contraption connected to it. He knew enough that his heart sunk. The doctor knew what he was seeing.

"The good thing is it looks like she's breathing on her own, but she was struggling enough we decided intubation would save her some energy that she doesn't have to spare. She needs surgery to set the bones in place, that are undoubtedly broken, but I don't know that she could handle x-rays to confirm and surgery right now. If- when," Bucky's teeth ground together, "she gets a little better, possibly wakes up, in a few hours, we can try."

"She's not going to get better, is she?" A hole opened up in his lip, gushing blood as the sadness and fucking regret tore through him.

"The odds aren't in her favor, I'll be honest," that same hand, lacking fear, rested against his bicep, the small touch soothing him a little, for whatever it was worth, "but the fact that she's held up this long is a testament to her strength. We just have to hope she can keep it up."

She stepped back as Bucky strode forward, temporarily scattering the few nurses around you. His left hand slipped over yours, hoping that this would turn out to be a nightmare, the worst he'd ever had, and he'd open his eyes to the back of your head, his arms wrapped around you. But the next time you opened your eyes, you were still the same.

---

Bucky, in a strange twist of irony, didn't go on the mission that had caused this chain of events. He refused to leave your room, watching your every breath, except for the rare times he slipped into sleep, his own body exhausted from the healing, his hand never leaving yours if he could help it, even as you had been transferred to a longer stay room in the hospital.

Days had gone by, your bruises got much worse and then seemed to blur as they started their long process of dissipating. The doctor seemed hopeful, the original staying to oversee your case as the others seemed too terrified of Bucky to treat his fiance. X-rays had confirmed quite a few broken bones, almost all of your ribs among them. They had decided a day or two in to go ahead and set the bones into casts. Bucky paced as close to the surgery suite as they would let him, ears listening intently in case they called a code.

The hope he had fallen sharply though as the doctor disconnected your oxygen tube, a test to see if you could be brought off of intubation, as your body had come out of shock. The doctor was optimistic and had full faith in you, but the breath that was given to you before the oxygen was pulled off never left your lungs. She tried to give you time, let your lungs burn a little in hopes of triggering a reflex, but after too many seconds of silence passed by, she hurriedly hooked the tube back up.

Bucky wasn't the only one who looked like he was about to cry.

---

The two of you had discussed this in preparation for married life, even argued over it. He knew you didn't want to be kept like this, barely alive, struggling to stay that way.

For another week, he kept you like that, purely for selfish reasons, he couldn't bring himself to let go, hoping that you would give him a sign that you were still there, still in your body, but it never came.

He woke up beside you one morning, your hand still in his, although he'd had to settle for your right as your IV had been moved over to prevent infection, not that it mattered anymore, and he knew you would leave him today. He felt the heaviness and dread in his bones and knew you couldn't, shouldn't have to, hold on any longer.

His voice broke as he read you the incomplete vows he had written, still rough and disorganized, as the wedding was over a year away and the thought never crossed his mind that it wouldn't happen, that he wouldn't see you walking down the aisle in a poofy, overpriced dress, that he wouldn't immediately cry or run down the aisle to you, that he wouldn't slide a wedding band onto your finger and kiss you in front of everyone that cared about either of you, that he wouldn't kiss every inch of you that night.

He had begged and begged you to come back to him, that he would retire effective immediately and never leave your side again, would never put himself in danger, and would consider his debt paid. He would have given his life for yours if he could've.

The doctor, whose name was Annalise, he'd learned in the past few weeks, knew what the sadness in his eyes meant when she came in for rounds that morning. She gave him a soft nod, assuring him that this was the right thing to do.

Bucky had crammed his body onto your bed, holding onto you like you were his last tether to this world. He held his tears back, knowing that if some part of you was left, you would be terrified seeing him so heartbroken. His head rested on your chest, nestled beneath the intubation setup. He listened to the weak heartbeat, again screaming internally for a sign that you weren't gone so he didn't have to let you go.

You decided for him, sparing him the words. He heard your chest still underneath him, his own screaming as he held in whatever tears he could by stopping the breath in his lungs, the world's deadliest assassin curled up on the body of a fragile woman who had coaxed the brightest parts of him out after they hadn't seen the sunlight in decades.

The screeching machine didn't register in his mind as much as the running footsteps of the nurses did, screeching to a halt as they entered the doorway.

His eyes met theirs and he shook his head, watching their faces fall. He might have well died with you because whatever heart he had left after HYDRA, you had taken it with you.

[thesavagetorebrothers]

worst mistake||j.b.b

A/N: I got a sudden burst of inspiration and had to write. I'm not lying when I say I sobbed writing this. I don't have the energy to make a separate warning list, but severe injury, death, minor cussing, lots of sadness, yelling, abuse mention if you squint. Also I haven't written in so damn long so I'm sorry if it sucks.

Summary: A terrible accident leaves Bucky reeling and full of regret.

Bucky had never considered himself weak, even in his younger years, before his life crashed upside down in the war, but as he stretched his flesh arm towards your body, and couldn't quite meet your skin, he felt so horribly, helplessly weak. He thanked the stars that he could hear a soft whisper in your lungs, so dangerously close to empty that your chest didn't register the intake.

Glass dug into his skin, no doubt becoming imbedded as he healed the scratches, as he used whatever strength he could muster, mind not even registering snapping off the seatbelt, instead pulling against the wet asphalt until the tough fabric ripped, no doubt inflicting the same damage on his skin. He didn't feel the pain though, not while his fragile angel was likely breaking from her own. Your whimpers were soft and frequent, the only thing preventing screams your lack of consciousness.

A car screeched to a stop (an early 2000s dark blue Jetta, the license plate already burned into Bucky's mind), an older lady stumbling out, hands trembling as she dialed the numbers to bring you help.

Maybe it was the new sense of crippling fear seeing you so injured or his own panic from the crash, but Bucky's legs would not listen to him. So he dragged himself towards you, the muscles that had caused so much harm, the ones he hated, finally paying him back for centuries of torture as he felt your skin.

His legs obeyed him then, pulling him to his knees to tower over you better, assess the damage, though he knew from listening to you it was severe. His hands, one flesh and callused, another glistening metal, adorned with a thin silver band, your gift to him after his proposal, went to wrap behind your neck, pull you up into his arms, stopping when the woman screamed at him to stop, voice shaky as she moved forward.

She was right, Bucky realized. If he risked moving you before the paramedics could get here and have you stabilized, he could paralyze you, if you weren't already, or even kill you. He hadn't seen what happened to you as the car flipped, too blinded by rage that in this moment felt so stupid, so insignificant. How could he have possibly been mad at you? If he knew what it would've turned into, he would've locked that rage tight in a bottle and threw it out to sea. He would've traded anything, anything including Steve, Sam, the whole goddamned world even, to turn back time, to have you cuddled into his side, warm and calming, instead of here, cold and clammy, blood riddled down your body to the point he couldn't determine where you were actually wounded.

He slid his left hand over yours, intertwining them like you had down hundreds, if not thousands, of times, the two engagement bands clinking together, as if in promise, that he would not leave your side.

It felt like hours passed before the sirens came screaming, the flashing lights only a blur in Bucky's mind, clouded by the rain that continued falling. He could have, would have, fought Zeus in that moment, to end the rain so you could have some semblance of warmth.

When a shove came to Bucky's shoulder, a younger blonde paramedic, he let it push him away, let his hand disconnect from yours, even as the fear that this would be the last time your living flesh touched him coursed through his veins.

The same paramedic gave him a quick glance-over, pausing when his eyes scraped across the metal arm, gears turning for a quick second before the realization clicked that Bucky didn't need his help, that his attention should be devoted entirely to you.

They made quick work sliding your neck into a brace and maneuvering you onto a backboard. A memory flashed through his head: you sitting on the couch across from him, hair in that messy bun he loved, in your PJs, exclaiming how much you hated those stupid stiff things you wound up in several times during your childhood, a clumsiness that hadn't dissipated as you aged. he could've smiled at that moment, picturing you cussing out the paramedics for putting them on you, for restraining you into the "most uncomfortable device known to man", but there were no dirty words falling from your mouth, even your whimpers gone now.

He didn't hesitate to pull himself into the ambulance after you were loading, not sparing a glance at the ruined car littering the side of the road. The police would soon come to take care of it, not that he cared about a hunk of metal, not with your life in the balance.

Bucky seemed to blackout the hospital ride, his only focus keeping his skin against yours the only place that wasn't covered by paramedics, a sliver exposed between the hem of your leggings and sock. Even the sounds of your breathing and heartbeat faded into the background, him clutching that contact as his last ray of hope, last ray of sanity. He couldn't lose you, not in death. He would watch you leave 1000 times of your own volition, a nightmare he had seen too many times and woken up screaming from, if it meant he didn't lose you like this.

Memories sprinted through his head at breakneck speed, watching your stories unfold: the first time you locked eyes across the old-school diner, his breath stopping in its tracks, the first time he touched your skin, a small wispy touch at the small of your back, guiding you into a doorway, the first time he saw you naked, the first time he fucked you, your soft kisses and touches to the joint of his left shoulder the most vulnerable he had ever been up until that point, the pride he felt when you started to get the hang at defending yourself, punching him solidly in the jaw and your little hop of happiness afterward as he beamed, all flashing, flashing so blurringly fast away from him, all coming to a screeching halt as the most recent filtered in.

Your tears ran down your face as you yelled at him for getting ready to leave again. He didn't have a choice, the mission was important, vitally important, even if he had just gotten back a few days prior.

"God-fucking-dammit, Bucky. You've served this country enough to make up for a thousand lifetimes of hurt, you've done enough." The hurt was laced heavily into your voice, enough so that it would have crashed to the ground, underneath it even had it been tangible. "If you don't fucking get out now, there won't be enough left of you to marry." He saw the regret in your eyes, knowing you always tried your hardest not to yell, to break the vicious cycle your parents hadn't been able to. But his own rage flared.

"Easy for you to say, you've never had blood on those pristine fucking hands of yours," hands he adored and never wanted to see callused and rough, "not with daddy's money. Never been without a choice or a better option. You knew what loving me meant, you said 'yes' knowing I would be gone, knowing the blood debt I have to pay down. If you couldn't handle this, you should've just fucking left before you ruin us both." He heard your heart stop, not 10 seconds later hearing your seatbelt unbuckle.

His metal hand slammed down on a button, ensuring you couldn't unlock your own door and leaving a dent behind, not that it would matter soon anyway.

"Fucking let me out." You seethed, not even able to make eye contact. His hair brushed his shoulders as he shook his head. His eyes left the road, focused on you trying to unlock your door, knowing it wouldn't work, then resorting to throwing yourself at it, breath hitching. "Let me out, I fucking hate you." A last smash against the window as Bucky realized he wasn't driving anymore, too late to fix his mistake as everything fell apart.

He was drowning in the memory, in the self-hatred, your last words smashing into his skull over and over again. Bucky didn't even realize he had moved, that your skin was no longer on his, that his surroundings were unfamiliar, nothing registering until a soft hand placed a feather-light touch on his shoulder, the right one, even though the body was closer to his left.

He felt hollow as he looked up, a small petite woman in front of him, clearly a doctor by her getup. He could see the blood under her fingernails where she had hurriedly washed her hands and neglected them, presumably in a hurry to get to him.

"Mr. Barnes, do you need medical attention?" She knew he didn't, the mention of his name enough for her to know why. The glass shards had likely already been spit out, lying in the now gone ambulance or on the floor below him in the dim waiting room.

He stood up quickly, towering over the doctor. She didn't back down as others normally did, the spark flaring in her eyes reminding him of the reason she was here.

"Is she alive?" That's all he could hope for right now, just a little bit of hope, just the chance that you could come out of this fine, but he knew the likelihood was slim from your breathing earlier, the rasped so horrid and ringing in his ears as he used what little strength he could muster to drag himself-

"She's stable enough. She's still in the worst of it." The doctor moved toward the hallway, an invitation to follow, and he did, screaming inside to see your face, apologize, repent to whatever gods would listen for her to not pay for his sins, the sins of the monster now buried deep in his skull.

"I'm not going to lie to you and tell you she'll be fine. I understand she wasn't wearing a seatbelt when you crashed, she sustained a lot of injuries." They rounded the corner and he could see you through the window of your ER room, bruises covering almost all the skin he could see. Your tiny jaw he had peppered millions of kisses over was propped open by a tube, a contraption connected to it. He knew enough that his heart sunk. The doctor knew what he was seeing.

"The good thing is it looks like she's breathing on her own, but she was struggling enough we decided intubation would save her some energy that she doesn't have to spare. She needs surgery to set the bones in place, that are undoubtedly broken, but I don't know that she could handle x-rays to confirm and surgery right now. If- when," Bucky's teeth ground together, "she gets a little better, possibly wakes up, in a few hours, we can try."

"She's not going to get better, is she?" A hole opened up in his lip, gushing blood as the sadness and fucking regret tore through him.

"The odds aren't in her favor, I'll be honest," that same hand, lacking fear, rested against his bicep, the small touch soothing him a little, for whatever it was worth, "but the fact that she's held up this long is a testament to her strength. We just have to hope she can keep it up."

She stepped back as Bucky strode forward, temporarily scattering the few nurses around you. His left hand slipped over yours, hoping that this would turn out to be a nightmare, the worst he'd ever had, and he'd open his eyes to the back of your head, his arms wrapped around you. But the next time you opened your eyes, you were still the same.

---

Bucky, in a strange twist of irony, didn't go on the mission that had caused this chain of events. He refused to leave your room, watching your every breath, except for the rare times he slipped into sleep, his own body exhausted from the healing, his hand never leaving yours if he could help it, even as you had been transferred to a longer stay room in the hospital.

Days had gone by, your bruises got much worse and then seemed to blur as they started their long process of dissipating. The doctor seemed hopeful, the original staying to oversee your case as the others seemed too terrified of Bucky to treat his fiance. X-rays had confirmed quite a few broken bones, almost all of your ribs among them. They had decided a day or two in to go ahead and set the bones into casts. Bucky paced as close to the surgery suite as they would let him, ears listening intently in case they called a code.

The hope he had fallen sharply though as the doctor disconnected your oxygen tube, a test to see if you could be brought off of intubation, as your body had come out of shock. The doctor was optimistic and had full faith in you, but the breath that was given to you before the oxygen was pulled off never left your lungs. She tried to give you time, let your lungs burn a little in hopes of triggering a reflex, but after too many seconds of silence passed by, she hurriedly hooked the tube back up.

Bucky wasn't the only one who looked like he was about to cry.

---

The two of you had discussed this in preparation for married life, even argued over it. He knew you didn't want to be kept like this, barely alive, struggling to stay that way.

For another week, he kept you like that, purely for selfish reasons, he couldn't bring himself to let go, hoping that you would give him a sign that you were still there, still in your body, but it never came.

He woke up beside you one morning, your hand still in his, although he'd had to settle for your right as your IV had been moved over to prevent infection, not that it mattered anymore, and he knew you would leave him today. He felt the heaviness and dread in his bones and knew you couldn't, shouldn't have to, hold on any longer.

His voice broke as he read you the incomplete vows he had written, still rough and disorganized, as the wedding was over a year away and the thought never crossed his mind that it wouldn't happen, that he wouldn't see you walking down the aisle in a poofy, overpriced dress, that he wouldn't immediately cry or run down the aisle to you, that he wouldn't slide a wedding band onto your finger and kiss you in front of everyone that cared about either of you, that he wouldn't kiss every inch of you that night.

He had begged and begged you to come back to him, that he would retire effective immediately and never leave your side again, would never put himself in danger, and would consider his debt paid. He would have given his life for yours if he could've.

The doctor, whose name was Annalise, he'd learned in the past few weeks, knew what the sadness in his eyes meant when she came in for rounds that morning. She gave him a soft nod, assuring him that this was the right thing to do.

Bucky had crammed his body onto your bed, holding onto you like you were his last tether to this world. He held his tears back, knowing that if some part of you was left, you would be terrified seeing him so heartbroken. His head rested on your chest, nestled beneath the intubation setup. He listened to the weak heartbeat, again screaming internally for a sign that you weren't gone so he didn't have to let you go.

You decided for him, sparing him the words. He heard your chest still underneath him, his own screaming as he held in whatever tears he could by stopping the breath in his lungs, the world's deadliest assassin curled up on the body of a fragile woman who had coaxed the brightest parts of him out after they hadn't seen the sunlight in decades.

The screeching machine didn't register in his mind as much as the running footsteps of the nurses did, screeching to a halt as they entered the doorway.

His eyes met theirs and he shook his head, watching their faces fall. He might have well died with you because whatever heart he had left after HYDRA, you had taken it with you.

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Hey.... hey (to the tune of that one TikTok sound).

I’m not dead, I promise.

College sucks rn bc of everything being online and I also got a dog that I’m training for service work. Add writers block on top of that 😊

I’ve been making this scenario/love story in my head and it’s been helping me fall asleep and actually want to sleep.

It’s like a beta/mate sort of story. I’m not sure if anyone would want to read it since it would be in my POV and it wouldn’t be for a character or person, since the dreams are connected to someone I’m guessing I made up.

If anything, I would write it to keep the memory and maybe get out of writers block?

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Update:

Hey guys! I know I’ve been gone for a bit and I’m really sorry. I started a new job and my mental health wasn’t (and still isn’t) great. I fell off the bandwagon with writing and it makes me sad.

I’ve started writing a Paul Lahore request, hopefully I can finish it soon and put it up cause I miss getting feedback and all the feels.

💖💖

[thesavagetorebrothers]

As a fic writer, i need every reader to know that:

I don’t care if your comment is coherent. I know what you mean and i love you

I don’t care if you ramble. I read every word and i love you

I don’t care if you leave a comment on a fic from four years ago or leave comments/kudos on like ten of my fics in one go. This isn’t IG, pls stalk my AO3. I love you

I don’t care if you mention the same thing in your comment that four other people have already mentioned. It’s actually really useful to know what resonated with people and I love everyone who takes the time to tell me they liked a particular turn of phrase

I don’t mind if your comment is super long or just a couple of sentences, i love them all

I love you

[thesavagetorebrothers]

That’s a big woops

I’m talking to this guy and he had started talking about how he likes to write, and of course, I was like, oh yeah me too. AND HE KEEPS ASKING ABOUT WHAT I’VE WRITTEN!!! How the fuck do I explain this shit? Jesus. 

[thesavagetorebrothers]

It’s Okay to Share Your Pain || J.B.B.

Summary: Based on this promp\t ->“Don’t ever try to get inside my head,” he snarled, slamming me against the wall. For several beats we stayed there, his grip crushing my wrists. Finally, his mismatched eyes softened. “It’s too dark for you.” 

Warning(s): mild cussing, 

You followed Dr. Banner into the Avenger’s compound, pulling your suitcase behind you. 

“The majority of shared space is on the first floor, then up from there are living spaces.” He led you over to an elevator and punched the button. “Your room is on the third floor,” he steps into the elevator and you follow behind, “I believe Steve and Bucky are up there as well. I’m on the fourth with Nat and Clint.”

You nodded and looked up at Banner, who looked so small and unassuming in his sweater and glasses, compared to what he could be. 

“If you don’t mind, could I... y’know? So I don’t get lost and you don’t have to explain everything.” You were cautious in your words. You knew the Avengers dealt with some crazy shit, but you always expected bad reactions. 

Banner blanked for a second and then nodded, pulling up the sleeve of his sweater. “I would love to put you in an MRI machine while you read.” A small grin pulled across your face as you let your suitcase rest on its own and gingerly touched Banner’s wrist, quickly seeing the layout of the house, as it was on the front of his mind from your question. 

“I can show you. It’s going to feel a bit funny.” When he eagerly nodded, you let the memory of intaking Banner’s memory and seeing the images run through your fingertips into his nerves. 

You feel a twinge of sadness from him, that of missing out on his passion for medicine and science to be here to do good, where his brains took the backseat. You release his wrist and grab your suitcase again, pulling it out of the elevator and onto the third floor, where FRIDAY had taken you both. 

“Freaky, huh?” You quipped, making Banner grin.

“Around here, you’ll fit right in.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been several days since you moved into the compound. You had met everyone at this point and had several briefings about a potential mission. Your powers weren’t exactly fit for the field, as you had to have contact to gain and share memories and it wasn’t exactly a dangerous ability. But all you needed was one soldier who knew what was going on and you could tell the others what was going to happen and where important things were. 

You snapped out of your daze of thinking about the last few days to heavy footsteps. You stopped stirring your pasta to look over at Bucky, who was pulling open the cabinet, huffing and getting more upset the more he looked.

“Whatcha looking for?” Bucky’s eyes snapped over to yours.

“Nothing.” He kept looking. You pulled your pasta off of the hot stovetop and onto a cool one, before getting closer to Bucky.

“Maybe I saw it. I can help if you want. ‘S not exactly a small kitchen.” You tried to joke. 

“I don’t need your damn help.” The plates in his metal arm shifted as his hand clenched around the door to the fridge. 

Without thinking, your hands reached out to his exposed hand, wanting to help him. 

In the blink of an eye, your hips were against the counter, both wrists locked in his metal hand and pinned behind your back. A little wince showed on your face. 

“Don’t ever try to get inside my head.” Your eyes shifted downward, shifting uncomfortably between him and the counter, not daring to pull your hands away from him. His shallow breathes slowed down and deepened and you felt a slight relaxing of his grip on your wrists. “It’s too dark for you in there.” 

“I’m not as fragile as you think. I’ve seen the darkest parts of the darkest people. I’ve been drowned in memories of joyful murder and raging anger. You will never be too dark for me.” You let yourself relax, releasing tension against him. He wouldn’t hurt you, he wasn’t dangerous, not like this.

He slowly released your wrists, hands resting on the countertop instead. You slowly pull your arms in front of you, watching his eyes for a reaction. You lifted them at a snail’s pace to hover beside his temples, waiting for him to say no, shake his head, grab your wrists again. 

When he doesn’t react, keeping eye contact and his breathing still slow, you gently place your hands over his head, your eyes slipping closed.

Memories rush through you, cold, warm, agonizing, empty. You see his family, a laughing pre-serum Steve, Bucky in battle, you feel the wind whip against you as Bucky falls from the train, smell the gunpowder as Kennedy is shot, the kickback of the sniper rifle as another target is eliminated, so many feelings, so many emotions, Bucky’s mind screaming behind them, begging to be let out. You feel the electricity run through his body, the heaviness of the arm, the aching it causes at the joint. You felt the crippling sense of loneliness from an overpowering desire to keep others safe.

Your eyes flashed open, hands slipping into his hair, where the transfer was slowed from his hair. You pulled him forward, him willingly following. When he was close enough, you let your forehead touch his. His shoulders slump, putting more weight onto his hands now. His nose brushed against yours, breath running across your lips. 

You felt a tinge of shame coating his fresh memory, you also felt the relief of sharing the burden with someone, someone else knowing exactly what you went through. 

“I understand how much the memories hurt, but they weren’t your fault, James. You never willingly hurt anybody, never caused unnecessary damage yourself, never wanted lives to end. It isn’t your fault, you aren’t the monster, they are.”

Bucky’s breaths became shaky, his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pressing you further against him, arching your body up beside his. His head buried itself into your neck, breathing in your scent. 

Your hands slid from his neck to his torso, gingerly slipping your hands under his shirt, as keeping them attached to his neck was difficult because of the height difference. 

“You aren’t what they did to you. You hated every single second of it. You aren’t a bad person, James.”

Soft, silent tears hit your shoulder and you wanted to cry yourself for this broken man. 

You brought a few memories of Steve talking about Bucky, about his kindness and everything they used to do as a kid, your own memories from the past few days of Bucky smiling, seeming to genuinely be having a good time, one where he noticed you wanted something passed to you at dinner but couldn’t speak up above the raging conversation, so he got it for you. Little memories, little sparks of proof that he was human, a good and kind one. 

One worthy of love and kindness back.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

From then on, when Bucky was having a bad day, he could come to you and you would give him more good memories, even some you had collected from other people: hard laughter with friends, pride after a child’s dance recital, finally achieving confidence in oneself, cold ice cream on a summer day.

Eventually, you used it to show Bucky the moment you fell in love with him, he froze and a slow smile spread across his face, asking you to see the memory he was thinking about, where he realized he shared the feeling. 

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Step Up to The Plate||S.M.

Summary: Shawn has to learn his alpha duties much sooner than expected. (My Human part 5)

Warning(s): cussing, kidnapping, violence, drugs, addiction,

A/N: Hey guys, its been a long time since I’ve written, mostly because I’ve been feeling uninspired and I’ve been weighed down with school. This might not be the greatest it could be, but I’m going to try. 

part 4

Shawn was upset with you in this moment. A few days after he found out about your secret, you announced that you had to go on a little trip to another pack for a council meeting that involved several packs in a few weeks. 

You were upset as well as Shawn couldn’t go with you, but you understood why. He was a human and the meeting was very important to intra-tribal peace. Once he solidified his commitment to the pack and started picking up some Alpha duties, it would be less of a hurdle. 

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

“I’ll be back in a few days, baby, okay?” You murmured against Shawn’s neck as he clung onto you. “You know it hurts me to be far away from you.” Shawn nodded, but continued to hug your waist as tight as he could. “I’ll text you when I can and I’ll be back before you know it.” You leaned back and Shawn did the same, still holding you tight. 

“It’s going to feel like forever. I don’t feel like Michael and Jasper are really on board with me yet, ya know? I don’t want to screw up in front of them.” Shawn had been looped into helping with Alpha duties while you were gone to give him a little insight into how it would be. 

“They can’t not love you, my love. And you’ll do great. They aren’t expecting you to be perfect right away, they understand it’s a lot. Jasper’s your right hand man in this, don’t be afraid to ask him anything.” Shawn nodded and hugged you again, seeing Kris come up behind you, ready to break up the goodbye.

You hugged his waist tightly, feeling his taut muscles under his shirt. “It’s alright, baby. I gotta go though, okay?” Shawn squeezed you tighter and then released you, moving his hands to your jaw and neck to kiss you, fire still spreading across where his lips touched yours. 

“Bye, Shawn, you’ll do great!” You quickly pecked his cheek and then turned to follow Kris to the loaded car, pushing your sadness at being away from Shawn down into the pit of your stomach. 

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

The meeting was going well, most updates on projects were positive and ideas were peacefully debated. You got your input in when necessary, discussing to Kris about potentially implementing some projects the other packs had. 

You texted Shawn as much as you could, which wasn’t often, as meetings ran almost constantly and phones were not allowed in them. 

On the second to last night, you and Kris had settled into your rooms in the pack house when you decided to take a run. Shawn had been asleep for hours at this point and you had been so exhausted after meetings that you hadn’t been out. 

You shifted after leaving the house, shaking out your fur and stretching your muscles. You took off running into the forest, which was blocked off to prevent humans from seeing anyone. 

You ran for what felt like hours, circling around several times so you wouldn’t hit the fence. 

Out of nowhere, a large body hit yours and seconds later, so did another. You got a few good bites in, feeling muscles tear under your teeth and skin rip under your claws, but in the end, the two bodies managed to smash your head over a rock, knocking you out cold. 

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Shawn woke up in the middle of the night gasping, muscles suddenly aching, head pounding hard. he let out a short scream of agony, likely waking up everyone in the pack house. He had been sleeping in your room, telling his parents the two of you had gone on a vacation together to rationalize the amount of time he would be at the pack house.

Jasper had busted open the door by the time the second scream sounded. He couldn’t decide whether he was calmed or panicked by the fact there wasn’t anyone murdering Shawn. 

“What’s wrong?” Jasper’s hands were pulling the covers off of Shawn. “Where does it hurt?” 

“Fucking everywhere. My ribs, my head...” Shawn was halfway to tears in that moment. He barely heard the others rushing into the room before he passed out. 

It took a few moments before his eyes opened again, body still sore, but now only a soft ache. Jasper and Michael stood next to the bed, worriedly watching Shawn, Jasper with a phone in his hand.

“Dammit, Kris pick up.” Jasper’s fingers pinched his nose, breath heavy.

“What’s going on? What just happened?” Ava, the pack healer, moved to Shawn’s side, and started to ask him questions, but Shawn was too focused on Jasper’s words.

“Kris, something’s wrong with Y/N.” Silence for a few moments, the other wolves could hear the pounding footsteps as Kris ran to her temporary room.

“What do you mean she’s not there?”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

The next few weeks were hell for Shawn. Everyone acted like they were walking on eggshells around Shawn, talking softly. 

Jasper assured Shawn that Y/N wasn’t dead, Shawn hadn’t had another painful episode, and Shawn would be able to feel her die, even if the human side of the bond weakened it. 

“She was thinking about you when you had that episode, when she was in pain. Her pain transferred to you because she was relying on you to get her through it. She’s alright, we just have to find her.” Jasper swore, Michael nodding along as they all sat in his office. “We have to continue on while the others keep looking for her. You have to take this difficult time and learn how to harness it.”

So Shawn’s lessons continued, he scraped through, helping to make difficult decisions, including that of sending most of the pack fighters to find Y/N. It seemed never-ending and he went to bed in tears every night, begging for you to be there in the morning.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

You weren’t a prisoner here, not really. You spent the majority of weeks in a board room, discussing a peace treaty with the man who had hired your kidnapping. 

Lukas Johanssen, the new alpha of an old pack. His father had recently died and he decided to exercise his power to attempt to get his brother, Mikael, released from your pack. 

“Mikael murdered my people, Lukas. I can’t just release him to you!” You were perched on the edge of the seat, a stern look gracing your face.

“You’re the Alpha-to-be, you can do what you want. Mikael was innocent.” His teeth gritted together, and his temper was ready to flare.

“He was not innocent. My guard found him covered in blood, so out of his fucking mind he was laying there with the corpses. You knew your brother was an addict, and you did nothing to help him. He dug the grave for himself. He couldn’t control himself to begin with and adding the drugs and full-moon to the mix made it worse.”

“Where is he?!” Lukas’ hands slammed down on the table, but you knew better than to flinch.

“He’s with my pack, being handled. Just like we’ve been handling him for years. You sure waited an awfully long time to get him back.” His eyes lit up, fire burning behind them. “Almost like you wanted us to handle him for you, because you couldn’t.”

Lukas stood up, rounding the table, and hands gripping the armrests and pinning you into the chair. “You will not speak to me like that, not here, not about my brother.”

“This is why you took me. You wanted to know the truth, you want your brother back. I can give that to you, but only if you take me back home.”

“And how can I possibly believe you will follow through with handing Mikael over?”

You pushed back against him, standing up so you could look him square in the eye.

“Because I would do anything to get home, back to my mate. Same as you would do for your little princess upstairs.” Your words held a slight threat, bringing his mate into the talk. “Take me back tomorrow, and you can have Mikael back.”

With that, you turned and exited the room, going back down the hallway towards your room, guards trailing after you to ensure you didn’t run.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

You came back in the middle of the night, while Shawn was curled up in your bed, gripping onto a sweatshit of yours, deep in a nightmare where your hand kept falling from his, getting farther and farther away. 

As the Johanssen’s car entered the gates, you heard howls set off, making you grin. The driver stopped at the entrance of the pack house. 

“I would let me get out first, wouldn’t want them to make a mistake.” You casually mouthed to Lukas, cracking open the door. Wet noses instantly were on you, then excited howls erupted. 

“Someone get me Shawn, my dad, and Jasper, now.” Three wolves shot off towards the house and you turned back, motioning Lukas and his Beta to get out fo the car. 

Then you took off running, heart pounding, rushing to see Shawn, to hold him in your arms again. 

You stumbled into the house, hitting the top of the stairs as he rounded the corner, all sleepy eyes and messy curls, white t-shirt and flannel pants. You crashed into his chest, arms squeezing him for all you were worth. 

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Shawn was pulled out of his dreams by the howling, then a subsequent bang on his (your) door. Angel, one of the wolves, ran into the room, barely covered in a pair of boxers.

“She’s here, Y/N’s back.” Shawn was instantly out of bed, pushing past Angel and running down the hallway, half-prepared to jump down the stairs even with his foggy brain.

And then he felt your arms around him. He gripped you tight, hands cradling the back of your neck, tears running down both of your faces. 

“I’ve got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m not leaving you again.” You whispered softly to him, hands tangled into his hair. 

His eyes opened, seeing two strange men and a woman at the entryway, one clearly the Alpha and looking annoyed. 

“Who the fuck is that?” He tensed and started to release you.

“No, Shawn. We aren’t fighting, we’ve had enough of that for now.”

Michael appeared under the stairs, dressed in a suit, presumably why he had taken so long to appear. Jasper was by his side, almost matching in terms of business wear. 

“Mr. Johanssen, Mrs., and Cason,” Michael nodded at them all in turn. “Let’s go into the conference room, shall we? We appear to have a lot to discuss.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

The meeting was short and sweet, most of the terms having already been ironed out between you and Lukas in the weeks prior. You sat on Shawn’s lap, his arms around your waist, holding you tight.

You were surprised when he interjected, discussing other potential terms, adn arguing against a few of Lukas’ suggestions. He had grown mentally since you had been gone, and you were so, so proud of him. 

Mikael was released to Lukas, clean from drugs and having undergone training to control himself during the full-moon. 

Finally, you were back in Shawn’s arms. 

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Tag List: I’m so sorry it took so long, it’s been a hell of a semester.

@rbforsmileycal​ @shawning-tomblr​ @vampiregirl1797​ @astartysword​ @someinsanefangirl​ @meatte​

[thesavagetorebrothers]

My Human part 5???

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Missing Piece||J.B.B.

Summary: James went missing on a secret mission four years ago. When you finally bring yourself to start picking yourself together again, you get a phone call. [based on a TikTok by jordybouletviau captioned: “You are on a date with your new boyfriend and you got a call from your military husband that has been mission in a mission for 7 years.”] this is a long one, buckle up

Warning(s): MIA, sadness, depression

T-Minus 2 Months

Dropping Bucky off at the airport was always difficult. He was often gone for months at a time and you felt so alone without him. But he always hid love notes around the house and left plenty of his scent for you to burrow into. 

You parked your car, stepping out with Bucky, who shouldered his bag. Your hand slid into his as you walked him through the airport, clinging to him like a lifeline for the last few moments that you could. 

The last few moments before Bucky left each time was precious to you. Your hands never left each other as you waited for the loudspeaker announcement, beckoning Bucky away from you. 

The two of you didn’t speak, just pressed against each other, your head tucked into his neck, sharing each other’s warmth and prescence as long as you could. 

Then the staticky voice called for Bucky’s plane and the two of you became tense. The goodbyes never got easier. You shared a chaste kiss, neither one wanting to be the one to pull back, but finally Bucky did. 

He engulfed you in a warm hug.

“I put your letter in your side pocket.” You whispered, holding back tears. 

“I’ll see you soon, love.” He murmured, squeezing you tighter before letting you go. “I love you, with every ounce of me.”

“I love you too, with every atom I’m made of.” You stroked the side of his face and then he was gone, going through the gate with a look back and a wave. 

T-Minus 7 Days

You were at work when he called, trying to distract yourself from his absence, which grew more prevalent each day he was gone. 

You quickly answered the phone, excited to hear his voice.

“Hey baby!” You cooed, excited to hear his voice. 

“Hey doll.” He sounded quiet today.

“What’s the matter?”

“I won’t be able to call for a few days, okay? I can’t tell you much about it, but it’s another one of those missions.” Bucky sounded tired, meaning he had probably been working non-stop with the mission. This wasn’t the first time he had gone on a mission he had to keep secret, and each time you worried. Not being able to talk to him for days on end hurt. 

“You gotta be careful baby, you hear me? You have to come home to me and everything.” You tried to keep your voice light so you didn’t upset him even more than he already was. “How was your day?”

And for the next 30 minutes, you forgot about the mission. 

Day 0

They called when you were at work, just like Bucky would have. (Your boss knew about the situation and ok’ed phone calls from him.) Seeing the military number made a smile cross your face, thinking Bucky’s mission had ended early. 

The smile was premature.

“Bucky?” You answered the phone, excited to hear his voice.

“Ma’am, this is Sargeant Barton.” The breath left your lungs.

“Oh.”

“I apologize for disturbing you, I know you’re currently working, but we have a situation we feel you should be kept up to date on.” His voice sounded solemn.

“Is-is Bucky okay? He isn’t hurt, is he?” The words left quickly, your heart beating fast and your breathing picking up.

“Mrs. Barnes, to tell you the truth, we aren’t sure. As you know, details are classified, but he was supposed to contact us 48 hours ago with an update.” 

If you weren’t sitting already, you would have fallen to the floor. 

“Of course, this could be because of complications, but as he missed a check in and there isn’t a way to reach him, his status has been moved to Missing in Action.”

“I don’t- he can’t be.”

“I will update you if new information comes and an officer should be coming by in the next few days to discuss the potential outcomes.”

Day 1

It had been less than 24 hours since you learned that Bucky had been reported missing. You were a nervous wreck. 

You had left work early, your boss understanding what was going on after having a similar situation in her life. You hadn’t slept, staying close to the phone, hoping it would ring so Sargeant Barton could tell you Bucky had been found and was safe.

But as the sun sank and rose again, the phone stayed silent. 

You cried, feeling hollow, scared for Bucky and scared for yourself. Bucky was your support, your best friend. 

The officer came around noon, but her words didn’t seem to register in your brain. You felt empty. 

Day 8

You had gone back to work to distract you from the feeling of loss inside of you. You went through the motions, brain blank, not really thinking about what you were doing. 

Everytime the phone rang, you picked it up before it could ring again, desperate to hear Bucky’s voice. 

But you were let down,

again,

and again.

Day 19

Three o’clock on the dot.

Sargeant Barton called to let you know there was no new information. 

You pretended it didn’t break you inside. 

Day 25

Your brother came to stay with you for a while. He said it was for work, but your family was scared for you. Bucky was your life and he was gone. 

The sheets had stopped smelling like him and you had to ration his clothes, so you still had something to hold onto.

Day 42

You found one of Bucky’s notes in the laundry room and almost had a mental breakdown. 

Hey darling! Remember I love you and I’ll be back soon! 

Your crying led to your brother finding you, curled up on the floor in the laundry room, clutching onto the empty dryer sheet box where the note was hidden. 

Day 83

No news. Sargeant Barton’s calls became once a week instead of every day. 

Day 126

Another officer came by today to discuss how benefits would work moving forward. 

We can give him a funeral, give you some closure.

You declined. You wouldn’t give up on him.

Day 335

Sargeant Barton called at 7:30 in the morning instead of 3. You felt hope when you picked up the phone.

“Did you find him?” You were groggy, but you felt electrified with hope. 

“Not exactly. We found what we believe to be his dog tags close to where he was supposed to check in. If forensics doesn’t find anything, would you like me to send them to you?”

You nodded, as if he could hear you through the phone.

Day 365

It had been a year since Bucky was declared missing. The only new information you had was his tags, and they hadn’t given you much. They resided around your neck now always, as a piece of him, hoping to give them back one day. 

You didn’t leave your room that day, the jagged hole Bucky had left behind torn open again by realizing it had been a year without him. 

Day 400

Your brother moved out, needing to focus on his family. You assured him you were doing better and he handed you a brochure, detailing an organization for those military members left behind. 

The brochure was shoved into a desk drawer to be forgotten.

Day 562

You had the first good day in a long time. Work went well and you went out to dinner with some friends. 

The dog tags hung around your neck like a promise. 

Day 730

Two years since Bucky went missing. At this point, all of his notes had been found. An officer came around again, offering to bury an empty funeral. You refused again, holding out hope. 

Day 800

Bad day. At this point, you starting thinking about moving. The little money you got from Bucky’s benefits and your paycheck was starting to be a struggle to pay the bills. 

Day 823

Several of your friends came over to help you pack after you promised wine and dinner. No one asked you what to do with Bucky’s things, just quietly packed them away.

Day 830

You said goodbye to the house you and Bucky shared. Unsurprisingly, it helped you heal to get out of the place the two of you had shared.

You found the brochure as you unpacked, put it on your mental list to see if it was still running. 

Day 923

You were now a regular member of the group. It felt nice to be around people who felt the same as you did, instead of being looked at like a broken toy. 

You adopted a pitbull named Charlie from the shelter.

Day 1013

A man named Jason came to the group. The two of you clicked instantly. 

Day 1020

You moved Bucky’s things into the attic from the guest room. The tags around your neck felt lighter. Charlie likes Jason.

Day 1045

Jason kissed you after a dinner at his place. You both cried, feeling like you had betrayed your spouse. 

Day 1056

Jason stayed the night after watching Disney movies. Bucky went to the back of your mind.

Day 1395

Sargeant Barton called for the first time in several months, said he didn’t want to get your hopes up, but they invaded a base and found Bucky’s DNA.

Jason said he was happy for you, but you saw the sadness in his eyes, he wanted his Dylan back and he didn’t want to leave you.

Day 1396

 You stayed close to the phone, just like you had at the beginning of the cycle, scared you would miss news.

Day 1430

Barton said they seemed to be getting closer and a raid was planned soon. He would update when he could.

Day 1454

The phone rang. 

An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen. 

You answered and put it on speaker, Jason by your side. 

“Hello?” You murmured.

“Darlin’?” A hoarse voice whispered, strange but familiar at the same time.

“W-who is this?” You didn’t want to hope, scared to be broken again.

“Did you forget me already?” You heard the smile in his voice, memories rushing back. 

“Bucky.” You cooed, tears streaming down your face. Jason held you as you cried, Bucky telling you he’d be back soon on the other end. 

Sargeant Barnes called, said Bucky was on a flight back to the U.S. and you could meet him at the hospital. 

Jason helped you pack.

Fin.

A/N: Hey guys! I know its been a while, college has been weird and I haven’t had any inspiration. Lmk if you want a part two to this and leave feedback below. Thank you darlings!

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Hey guys!

If you are waiting on an imagine, I apologize. This week is my birthday week so I'm trying to get as much done as possible so that on my birthday I don't have to stress a lot. This weekend is looking pretty bare, so I might have time to write then. I believe there's a 1920's bucky coming and also a Paul Lahote

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Oh No||S.M.

Summary: Shawn finds out your secret. [part 4 to My Human part 1, Hair Problems part 2, and Hockey Date part 3]

Warnings: none?

A/N: didn’t turn out how I hoped, but did turn out kinda long

You had planned to tell Shawn about you and about the two of you soon. You had worked out several situations in your head, trying to predict how he would react and try to make a decision based off of that. Your parents had tried to help, as your mother was also human, but the decision was ultimately your own. 

Through the past several weeks, you and Shawn hung out as much as possible and went on a few dates since then. He kept dropping similar comments to before as to how fast he was falling, but they started to wane as he stopped questioning it. You were blissful with him, calm. 

He found out on a Saturday. The night before, you had gone on a date to a little cozy diner and then went back to his house to watch a few movies. You kissed a few times and then you had to go home.

Saturday was mainly a training day for your pack, and especially for you. As you were in line to be the next alpha, your father’s Beta trained you, both in and out of human form. 

You had woke up early that morning, eaten breakfast, gotten dressed for training, just like any other Saturday. You left your phone inside, because it was a policy in your pack that no sort of recording devices be around while your people were in wolf form, just in case the God’s Eye theory was true. You couldn’t risk your pack’s safety like that. 

You had texted Shawn a ‘good morning’ and then went downstairs and out onto the lawn to train. 

~

Several hours later, you were in wolf form, fighting Jasper and panting hard. He wasn’t going easy on you, chasing you around the yard and not being afraid to hurt you. 

You didn’t hear his car over your panting or Jasper barking and growling commands. The two of you stopped when a howl reached your ears, something was up. You immediately took off sprinting towards the gate, where any wayward wolves typically came and where members of other packs were greeted. 

That was odd. Your father already had another alpha upstairs in a discussion, and you hadn’t heard of anyone else coming today. 

You saw Shawn and ran faster, as he was pressed up against the inside of the gate, one of your jackets crushed against his body. He looked scared of the wolves surrounding him, the vast majority confused because they’d smelled his scent before but couldn’t place it, as you’d wanted to keep him secret from the rest of the pack. 

When you reached him, you growled for the others to leave him alone, and they did, backing off a few yards, settling down on the grass and watching curiously. 

Jasper had thought ahead and went to the house to phase, running back outside in shorts and a t-shirt. Your head whipped around to him as he got closer and slowed down. 

“Hey man, sorry about that. They aren’t used to other people.” He said, a grin taking over his face as he reached out a hand to Shawn, who took it fearfully.

“I didn’t know Y/N had wolves.”

“They’re the whole families, technically.”

You got closer to Shawn slowly before rubbing your head against his stomach. He let out a nervous laugh, his head coming down gingerly on your head to rub behind your ears. You liked the way it felt and pushed your head against him harder. 

“That’s enough,” Jasper hissed, making you step back with angry eyes. How dare he tell you what’s enough for your mate? But Jasper knew better than you, so you had to listen. 

“You’re Shawn, right?” Jasper asked. When Shawn nodded, he continued. “If you’d like to come inside, I can get Y/N for you. Jasper’s eyes met yours and you took off towards the house, hurriedly rushing into the back door, which had no true closure the majority of the time. 

You rushed past your mother, who looked alarmed, and up to your room, where you phased and started throwing on clothes.

“Shawn is here!” You yelled down the stairs, going back to put on some shoes. 

You waited for Jasper to call out your name before running down the stairs and into Shawn’s arms. 

“Hey bub!” You mumbled into his chest, feeling his heart still racing. His arms wrapped around you, cushioned by that damn jacket.

“You left your jacket in my care last night and I tried to call, but you didn’t answer. So I figured I could just bring it to you and I remembered the gate code, so I came in, and then all of your wolves came at me. It was terrifying.” He rambled, voice changing as he told the story. 

You laughed and pulled back. “Sorry about that.” You bit your lip and turned to Jasper. “Will you go get dad and Kris please? I think it’s time.” Jasper sent you a questioning look, and you nodded, biting your lip. 

He turned and left and you gently took the jacket from Shawn, placing it over the stair rail and leading him into the living room, where your mother was waiting. 

“Oh, you must be Shawn,” she cooed, standing up and bringing Shawn into a hug, which he lightly returned. 

“I’m Anna, Y/N’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Anna. Your house is very nice.” 

His head turned as your father, Kris, and Jasper came into the living room. 

Your father, Michael, introduced himself to Shawn, and then Jasper and Kris, who both quickly set down in their own seats, pretty close together, so that Jasper could talk to Kris. Kris was your future Beta and Jasper was trying to teach him as much as possible before him and your father retired.  

You pulled Shawn down beside you on a loveseat as your dad sat next to your mom. 

“What all has Y/N told you about our family?” Your father asked softly, intertwining his hands in your mother’s.

“Not much, just that you have a really large one and like to live on the same property.” He blushed, heart racing from being put on the spot. 

“Shawn, I need to tell you something.” You squeezed his hand, shifting your body towards his. Your father gave you a nod of encouragement. “You know how you keep making comments about not understanding why you felt so strongly, so fast?”

Shawn nodded, eyes doe-like and confusion all over his face.

“You feel that why because we are like soulmates. I knew it the moment I saw you.”

“I-I don’t understand. How would you have know that and I don’t?” He asked quickly, not even thinking to object to the soulmate part, which made you happy. 

“Because I’m not human, Shawn. None of us here are, besides you and my mom.” You said slowly, trying to ease him into the idea. His head snapped to your mother, who gave him a little wave.

“Like vampires?” He whispered, voice suddenly hoarse. You shook your head, a small smile on your lips.

“We aren’t Children of the Night, but they do exist. We’re what humans call werewolves.” Your parents and the Betas tensed, waiting to see his reaction. Your hand on his relaxed, afraid that he would be scared.

“So all of those wolves outside, were actually people?” He looks around at the others and then tries to see outside, looking for them.

“Yes, they were. I was one of them.” 

“The one that snuggled me?” You almost ‘aww’ from how he looks saying ‘snuggle,’ although it would be highly inappropriate in this situation.

“Mhmm, and I can prove it if you want me to, all of us can.” Shawn hurriedly shook his head.

“Nope. I’m good for now.” He suddenly looked panicked. “Not that I think you’re scary or ugly or anything.” Your mother chuckled and patted your father’s knee, causing Shawn to look over at her. “How come you aren’t a werewolf?” He stumbled over the word, as if it made him nervous.

“I was a blind human, just like you. I met Michael at a football game in college. We dated for a few months, and then he clued me in to what was going on.”

Shawn nodded, then turned back, opening his mouth as if he wanted to ask something else, but hesitating. You nodded and squeezed his hand, urging him to go ahead. 

“What does that mean, for us, for me?”

“Well, wolves mate for life, so you’re it for me. If I were to lose you, I’d lose myself. You’ve already started to notice your side of the bond. It isn’t as strong for humans, and there have been some cases where the humans ignore the bond or they lose it over time, but it’s extremely rare.” You paused, giving him a second. “My father is the current Alpha and when he steps down, I will be the next. Kris will be my Beta, the second on the chain of command. And, since you are a part of me, you will be an Alpha as well.”

Shawn glanced over at Kris, as if sizing him up. Kris was shorter, but husky, with brown hair and green eyes. Then he turned towards you, a lightbulb clicking in his head.

“Your family doesn’t really like to live together, do they?”

“Not all of them, just the wolf ones.” You smiled, proud of him for taking the situation so well. “I think that’s enough for today. You’re brain is probably already about to explode.” You rub his arm, hearing his heartbeat pan out to normal.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“How about we have a movie night after Michael finishes his meeting?”

Shawn nods and offers her a smile. “I’d like that.”

Fin. 

Don’t forget to send me requests and drop feedback down below! 

Tag List: @rbforsmileycal @shawning-tomblr

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Omg a Bucky Barnes mob boss au set in the prohibition would be so cool!! And for some reasonBucky has to keep her safe from something and they are like haters to lovers I would die for that

That would be so fun to write! The Great Gatsby is my favorite book of all time. The justice system at that time so really corrupted, so maybe the reader is a cop (maybe undercover bc of the gender norms at that time) and she realizes she doesn’t want to betray Mr. Barnes and his handsome face. Maybe like a Bonnie and Clyde type of situation. Are you alright with me writing it?

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Protection||P.L.

Summary: Paul tries to get you to understand why he needs to keep you safe.

Warnings: yelling, some aggression

When you heard about the wolves training session with the Cullens, you immediately wanted to go. You had heard Paul and the others talk about how evil vampires were, but you were very open-minded and liked to see all sides of the story.

Paul glared at Sam, who had made the announcement, as the others went dead silent at your eagerness. 

Feeling Paul’s body tense underneath yours, as you were sitting in his lap with your head on his chest, you sat up. 

“It’s not like it’s dangerous.” You stared in his eyes, pouting, thinking Paul would give you what you wanted this time.

Paul’s temper had cooled down since he had imprinted on you, so you had never truly dealt with the full extent of his anger. You saw the fire in his eyes as he pushed you off of him, nearly throwing you onto poor Quil, who had been sitting beside the two of you. 

“You think it’s not dangerous?” He hissed at you. “Those bloodsuckers could snap your neck in an instant.” His hands came up to your throat, making you flinch. “They could take you away from me without a second thought.”

“But you will all be there. You will be there.” You insisted. “I’ll be safe.”

“There’s a chance you could get hurt, and I’m not taking it!” He pushed himself up, pacing around the room. Several of the others had left, not wanting to intrude on the conversation. Sam stayed behind, presumably to watch Paul’s temper. “They have powers, Y/N. For all we know, one is telekinetic or something. I don’t trust them.”

“Paul, they haven’t given you a reason not to! They haven’t done anything to you or the pack, ever.” Your face was stern. 

“That doesn’t mean I give them the chance to take my life away from me!” He was starting to shake and Sam stepped up. 

“Paul, calm down.” He urged, a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “She hasn’t had to see you like this, and she doesn’t need to now.”

“You haven’t hurt me, but I still trust you! You think that your whole pack isn’t capable of killing me?” You screamed.

Paul pushed past Sam, entwining his fingers into the hair on the back of your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes, his body towering over yours.

“They can never hurt you. Them doing so would result in me getting revenge because they broke the code. They know how it would break me if something happened to you, you understand? The leeches don’t.” His grip on your hair didn’t loosen up as he spoke.

You bit your lip, trying to hold in tears. You hadn’t had to see Paul get angry before and his closeness and volume had you on edge, no matter if you trusted him or not. 

“Paul, none of us will let them hurt her. You don’t even have to leave her side.” Sam gripped Paul’s bicep, pulling him back slightly, Paul loosening his grip on your hair. “You’re hurting her, scaring her.”

Paul fully released you, stumbling back and almost running over Sam. 

~

Once Paul had come to his senses, he had came into his room, where you had locked yourself in, and cradled you in his arms, wiping your tears away. He had apologised profusely and agreed to allow you to go, as long as you stayed flush by his side.

This led to you being perched on his back as the pack ran to meet the Cullens. The pale figures emerged as the wolves walked into the clearing. As soon as Paul stopped, you slid off his back, weaving your fingers through his fur. 

There were several of them, all pale and beautiful. And then there was the girl you presumed to be Bella, the center of this whole mess. She was pale as well, but her beauty was plain compared to the others. 

“Is she the human?” You murmured in Paul’s ear. He nodded, bringing his head back to rub against you. “Thank you for bringing me,” you whispered.

As the tallest began to talk, translating what the wolves were thinking, you admired them, studied them. 

“The human with them is Paul’s imprint. She was curious.” He remarked, before moving on to other matters. One of the men, the blonde, looked towards you, your heart racing from the excitement of seeing new people. He cocked his head and you felt a calm come over you and you buried your face into Paul’s fur as a soft growl came from him. 

The blonde stepped up and started to talk, instructing the wolves on what not to do on the battlefield. You eventually got tired of standing and sat on the ground in front of Paul’s front paws. He nuzzled your head from time to time, making you laugh softly. 

The practice ended and you wound up on Paul’s back again, laying on top of him, as you were exhausted from the events of the day.

You must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, you were pulled into someone’s arms.

“I’ve got her, Paul.” Sam whispered, cradling you. A moment passed as Paul shifted and then he took you away from Sam, bringing you into his room and laying you down.

“Thank you.” You whispered, eyes still closed.

“Anything for you, princess.” He murmured, moving into the bed and pulling you into his arms. 

Fin. 

A/N: I forgot how much I liked Paul. There really isn’t a lot of imagines about him and it’s pretty disappointing. Feel free to send me requests. 

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Hockey Date||S.M.

part 3 to the my human ‘series’

part 1

part 2

Summary: You and Shawn go on your first date, finally.

Warnings: I’ve been skating once, so I’m not an expert

Shawn directed you to the skating rink, his apparently excellent navigator skills coming to the surface. The two of you took turns playing your favorite songs over the radio. 

You learned that Shawn had an adorable habit of mouthing along to the song, then belting out the chorus. His voice was lovely and it made your insides sing, rejoicing that this perfect man was your mate. 

You arrived in an empty parking lot, the streetlight casting golden glow over the white building in front of you. Shawn unbuckled and pulled out a key.

“I get special privileges.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows. You giggled at his goofiness, opening your door and getting out of the car. He followed suit, closing his door and walking around to your side. 

“You look really pretty right now.” He murmured, hands stuffed into his pockets. And to him, you did. You leaned up against the car, blushing like crazy. Shawn followed suit and pulled his hands out of his pockets to place them on your sides

“Can I kiss you again?” His brown eyes gleamed, taking on a doe-like appearance. 

You sat there for a moment, taking in the sight of him, which he took to be denial.

“I’m so sorry for asking. Tonight’s already been a lot.” He started running his hands through his gelled hair, a flush taking over his cheeks. “I swear I’m normally not like this, I just feel so different with you and-” Shawn moved to turn around, but you pushed yourself off of the car and grabbed his wrists, pulling them from his hair and placing them on your hips. 

Your placed your hands on Shawn’s cheeks, pulling his head towards you, pressing your forehead against yours.

“It’s alright, Shawn. I love that you want to kiss me.” You whispered, breath fanning against his face. “Calm down, alright?” You softly pressed your lips to his, hearing his heart rate pick up. His arms moved from your waist to around your middle, wrapping you up and pulling you closer. The height difference between you, made you lean back to be able to kiss him properly and he was arched over you. 

Shawn pulled back to breathe, still holding you. “Ready to skate?”

You nodded and locked the car doors, before sliding your hand into Shawn’s and pulling him towards the building. 

Shawn quickly unlocked a side door and pulled you inside, using his phone to find the lightswitch and lighting up the rink. 

“C’mon, let’s go get some skates.” His warm hand wrapped itself in yours, on top so that he could lead you, for a change. He led you over to a counter, through a door that read “EMPLOYESS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.” 

“What size do you wear?” He released your hand, poking through the shelves before pulling out his size.

“I wear a Y/S/S.” Shawn nodded and grabbed the right ones. You sat down on the floor and pulled off your shoes. Shawn laughed and pulled you up.

“You have to wait, doll. The floor isn’t right in here.” You made a face, causing him to chuckle and he took your skates from you so that you can carry your tennis shoes.

He led you over to a door, pulling it open and attaching it to the outside of the rink so it wouldn’t slam closed.

You sat down again, carefully lacing up the skates. Shawn did the same beside you, though faster than you, knowing exactly where his laces needed to be so that he was comfortable.

Shawn stood up when he was done, waiting until you had finished before offering you his hand. You took it and he lifted you up with ease. He left a soft kiss on your temple before carefully walking into the rink. 

“It’s alright. Just hold on to me.” He placed your hands on his shoulders, slowly leading you out. “It’s just a weird way of walking, alright?” You nodded, moving your hands to Shawn’s so you didn’t pull him down. 

He led you carefully, letting you get used to the push-and-pull of skating, before letting your hands go and skating a bit away from you.

“Come here.” He said almost asking, holding out his arms. You slowly made your way to him, picking up the pace a little once you felt alright. You crashed into him, arms wrapping around his waist, his arms around your shoulders. 

“Good girl.” He whispered, kissing your hair and laying his head on top of yours. You blushed and held him tighter.

The two of you stayed like that for a minute or two, before you pulled back. “You should show me your skillz.” You liked to see him do things he enjoyed. Yes, you craved his touch, but his happiness outweighed your own, and you could tell he felt at home on the ice by his heart rate. 

Shawn carefully led you over to the side of the rink, where you held onto the siding, so you could watch him without worrying about yourself. He skated to the middle and then started basically running towards you, making you tense as he came closer. At the last moment, he angled his skates, curving in front of you.

He continued to skate, seemingly getting lost in what he was doing. You saw the concentration on his face, the lip biting. You felt content, watching your mate be happy and lose himself. 

When he snapped back into it, he decided he was going to try and show-off. He gave you a wicked grin, before picking up his pace and throwing himself into the air. He did the twist fine, but he came down on the back of his skates, sending him onto his back.

Your heartbeat picked up. What if he was hurt? You pushed yourself out onto the ice, unsteadily making your way to Shawn, he laid on the ice, stunned. You fell to your knees, cupping his face. 

“Are you alright?” His skin was cold against yours, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the exertion.

Shawn met your eyes, smiling and nodded. 

“Of course I am. I’m not afraid to fall.” He pulled your lips down to his, stopping to wait for your nod before fully pressing them together. 

Fin. 

A/N: Next part will likely be him finding out the truth, so stick around. I’m enjoying writing these, and y’all seem to be enjoying them, so this series might last a bit. As always, feel free to leave a comment or request down below or in my inbox. They truly make my day, as do reblogs, follows, and feedback.

Taglist: @someinsanefangirl

Those who I thought might want to be tagged [let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part or not]:

 @ashwarren32​ @shawning-tomblr @astartysword

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Try Harder||J.B.B.

Summary: Bucky gets frustrated because he feels like you aren’t trying hard enough in training. (This is a shorter fic than normal)

Warnings: fighting (training and verbal), yelling, cussing, a slap mentioned that could be percieved as domestic abuse (but is used to get at Bucky)

A/N: Everytime I look for gifs, I get sucked into a rabbit hole and find tons of perfect gifs, but I want them to go with a specific type of imagine. So thank you Apple for the space on my laptop. Also, please please please leave me requests and/or feedback. It really makes my day. My masterlist and character list are linked in my bio.  

Bucky’s fist slammed into your chest once again, sending you sprawling onto the padded floor, once again. He stood over you, muscles tensed, an angry expression on his face.

“It’s like you aren’t even trying, Y/N.” He practically spat, waiting on you to push yourself off of the ground again.

“We’ve been training for hours, Buck. And it isn’t a fair fight. You’re a super soldier and any harm I do to you is going to heal up in a matter of minutes.” You huffed, going for your water bottle to silence your burning lungs.

Bucky stopped you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.

“If HYDRA comes here, it won’t be a fair fight. You’re the only person in this group that doesn’t have special powers or experience. The fight will never be fair and they won’t hesitate to use it against you.” You went to punch him in the face and he grabbed your arm, twisting it behind your back. You cried out, muscles screaming. 

Once his face was close enough, you threw your head back, until a crack sounded. 

“That’s not enough, princess.” He remarked, once you waited for his pain to distract him from you. “You can’t hurt them once and expect them to let go. You add to the pain.” His leg swiped yours out from under you, sending you to the floor on your side, where Bucky grabbed ahold of your throat.

“And just like that, you’re dead.” He whispered, jaw clenched. “I can’t be worried about you too.”

Your cheeks were red, anger filling your mind as you shoved Bucky’s arm from your throat and sat up. 

“I’m so sorry I can’t be all strong and tough like you.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I’d accept your apology if you actually tried to fix it.” Bucky stood up, backing off so you could breathe for a few seconds.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing right now, James?” You stalked towards him, pressed against his chest. He knew you were pissed, but he was too.

“You aren’t trying hard enough. We’ve been doing the same thing for days, and you still haven’t taken me down once, or even come close to it, for the matter.” 

In your anger, and hoping to finally get at Bucky, you moved to slap him. You anticipated his reaction of moving a hand to your wrist and one to your throat, and as his arms moved, you ducked under them, grabbing his flesh arm and pulling it behind him. 

His strength didn’t allow for his arm to be pulled back further once he understood what you were trying to do, and while he was focused on his arm, you kicked his feet out from underneath him, sending him down towards the floor, where he caught himself in a push-up position. His hair sprawled across his face and as you stepped over him, he saw glimpses of your sneakers as you grabbed your things and hopped off the mat.

“I’m going to shower. Maybe once you realize that I’m actually fucking trying to make you happy by busting my ass, you can come to bed.” Your voice was stern, the look in your eyes cold and Bucky regretted what he had said. 

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, only to protect you from whatever was to come. He sat up and put his head on his knees. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the empty room. 

[thesavagetorebrothers]

Can i get on the tag list for my human and hair problems??

Yes ma'am. I don't really have a formal taglist, but I will @ you for the next parts 😊