#Claire says it's my turn behind the wheel

[nightcity-scrapbook]

Entry 15: Get a look at this goofy ahh gonk thinking he's about to take the wheel. Move aside choom. Last time you got in a car you were skezzed-out and crashed. The audacity of this digi-ghost strikes again...

[redroses07]

The Rock Show // Finn Wolfhard

Finn Wolfhard x Fem!Reader

WC: 2k

Based on/lyrics from 'The Rock Show' By Blink-182

Warnings: Swearing, Kissing

Summary: Finn falls in love with a girl at one of his shows, but does she feel the same?

A/N: I know I said I'd post this last night but I didn't have time to make my last few edits. Anyways, It's out now! This is also based on one of my favorite songs (I'll link it below) so it was super fun to write! This is the first time I've written for Finn in a while so I hope y'all like it! -Claire ♡

You stand outside the concert venue with your friend. Her boyfriend was the drummer for some band that was playing tonight, and she was intent on you coming along.

“Maybe you’ll meet a cute guy.” She teased, an obnoxious smirk on her face.

“Yeah, right.” you rolled your eyes, elbowing her playfully.

It was a small indoor venue, yet the line was still wrapped around the building. Luckily your friend’s boyfriend could get you special access through the back door.

When you saw the flight of stairs leading up to the stage door, you immediately regretted the heels you were wearing.

You followed closely behind your friend, unsure of where to go.

“Y/N hurry up!” Your friend called to you from the top of the stairs. You thought about how much you envied her comfy tennis shoes.

She held up the pass her boyfriend had given her, opening the door with ease.

The inside was stuffy, and even though the show hadn’t started, you could still hear the sound of the crowd cheering.

ultraviolet lights littered the ceiling, giving the area a purple glow. You could see the curtains pulled over the stage, blocking the crowd's view.

You were careful to watch for the cords strewn across the floor, connecting electric guitars and other equipment.

As soon as your friend saw her boyfriend sitting at his drum set she ran up to him excitedly, leaving you standing awkwardly backstage. You didn’t mind her going to see him of course, but you didn’t technically know anyone else back there and were worried about being thrown out.

“Hey, are you playing tonight? I’ve never seen you here before.” A voice pulled you away from your thoughts.

You turned your head to see a tall boy with messy dark hair. He had a guitar slung over his shoulder, and a mic attached to his shirt, so he clearly was playing tonight.

He was cute.

“Oh, um, no-“ You stumbled over your words, forgetting how to speak for a moment.

“I’m here with her.” You managed to say, pointing at your friend.

The boy smiled kindly, once he saw who you were pointing to.

“Third wheeling I see?”

You scuffed your heels against the floor nervously.

“Yeah, she made me come. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing now though. And clearly I look out of place too.” You said half jokingly.

The boy wore a look of surprise, which changed into embarrassment.

“Oh no, no that’s not why I started talking to you, I actually just thought you were pretty.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

You felt your face get hot, and you found yourself unable to look him in the eye.

“Thank you.” You said, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Shit, sorry if that was too forward, what’s your name?”

You giggled, finding the courage to make eye contact again.

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“Finn. Nice to meet you Y/N.”

You blushed, standing in awkward silence.

"What time do you go on?" You asked.

You wanted to make sure you didn't miss him playing.

"Around 11."

Maybe you would have to stay longer than you anticipated. Although, now you had something to look forward to, so maybe it wouldn't be half bad.

"I'll be there," you smiled.

Finn ran his hand through his hair, curls flopping over his face. He was quick to brush them away, keeping his eyes glued to you the whole time.

The background noise heightened, and you heard someone yell for all the players, no matter what time their sets started, to hurry up.

"Shit, I've gotta go...but you have good seats tonight right?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, right up front." Having a connection to one of the players did have its perks.

"Okay! Hold on a second!" Finn ran out of the room leaving you standing around awkwardly for a second time.

You peered through the door he ran through, eagerly waiting for him to come back. That is, if he was coming back at all. You were thoroughly confused and decided to lean back against the wall while you waited. Maybe you'd blend in better that way.

Finn came flying back around the corner, the guitar that was strapped around him swaying slightly.

"I couldn't find any paper, so is it okay if I write on your arm?" He held up a black sharpie, one of the big ones you'd use to write on posters with.

"Uh sure?" At this point you wondered if turning away was a better option, but nonetheless, you let him take your arm.

You watched as Finn frantically scribbled a few letters and numbers down on your arm. When he lets your arm go, you squinted at the messy black writing.

"That's the venue I'm playing at tomorrow. If you like what you see tonight, come tomorrow and I'll take you out afterwards."

You looked at your arm and smiled at the gesture.

"You know you could've just written it in my phone right?" You laughed.

"This is way cooler." Finn replied with a toothy grin.

"I really have to go now." He began to walk backwards towards the stage.

"Hopefully I'll be seeing you soon." Finn shot two finger guns at you before turning around and rushing off.

You were left alone once more, but you no longer felt awkward. You were too preoccupied with the butterflies in your stomach.

"Come on let's go- what's that?" Your friend asked, a suspicious smirk appeared on her face.

"I'll explain later."

You rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed her hand, dragging her towards the hoard of people.

You surfed through the crowd, finally reaching the front of the pit below the stage. You were close enough to where you could reach up and touch the stage if you wanted.

You stayed in the same spot for most of the show, and time passed rather quickly. The music was enjoyable, but you had to admit that you were waiting for Finn to show up.

Finally, when the lights filled the room, signaling that another set was beginning, you saw him. He was standing center stage, guitar in one hand, microphone in the other.

You don't know how, but he managed to spot you among-st all the people. He winked in your direction, and you could feel your face light up.

Finn's singing voice definitely kept you interested, more than you had been all night. And if you weren't already convinced to go out with him, his guitar skills sealed the deal.

At the end of the night your friend called a cab, your feet hurt far too much to walk back to your apartment. During the ride you rambled to her about the cute boy you had met backstage, and how glad you were that you let her drag you along.

She argued that this gave her best friend bragging rights for at least a week. You scoffed, but agreed.

The minute you got home, you changed your clothes and crashed in your bed; already excited for the date you would surely be going on the next day.

From the moment you woke up, you were riddled with excitement. The show wasn't until late but you started getting ready around mid-day.

When the time finally came, you could feel the nerves coursing through your veins. But they were good nerves, as good as nerves could be of course.

You arrived at the venue alone, not the safest option but you were careful. You made your way up front about fifteen minutes before the show started so you didn't have to push through as many people.

The place was more like a club considering most of the attendees were standing and there were hardly any seats, save for the few in the back.

In what seemed like no time at all, the show began.

Finn was center stage yet again, and you could see him scanning the room. You hoped he was looking for you.

He had yet to spot you before starting the first song, which was an upbeat ballad. You bobbed your head along to the beat of the music, relaxing into the environment.

Finn's voice was like honey, each word flowing off of his lips beautifully.

Once the song was over, he approached the microphone.

"Thank you all for coming out here tonight." He scanned the room once more, but this time he did see you. His face lit up, just as it had the night before.

"This next song is a cover, and it reminds me a lot of someone I just recently met." His deep brown eyes never left yours.

He began to sing, a wide smile on his face as he did.

"I fell in love with a girl at the rock show, she said "what?" and I told her that I didn't know."

You smiled at the lyrics, surprised by how much you felt for this boy you had known no more than a day.

You let yourself float closer to the stage, still keeping your eyes on Finn. He was clearly focused on his guitar, playing through the riff before starting to sing again.

Finn noticed you standing below the stage and began to navigate towards you.

"And if I ever got another chance, I'd still ask her to dance. Because she kept me waiting."

He leaned down, knees hitting the floor. He continued to sing, doing everything he could to inch closer to you while he did.

You reached up, grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him down further. Half of his body was hanging off of the stage, yet he still continued to sing.

"With the girl at the rock show..." His singing voice became breathy and strained.

The song ended and Finn pulled you up on stage with him. You could feel your heart beating with anticipation. Just like that, he pulled you into a messy kiss. The crowd erupted into applause, cheers, and even a few whistles could be heard. It was too brief for you to really enjoy the kiss, but it was perfect nonetheless.

When you broke apart, Finn leaned into you and whispered in your ear.

"Go wait backstage, I'll see you in a bit."

You smiled at him, and made the bold decision to kiss him on the cheek. The crowd cheered once more, and you took that as your queue to exit.

You sure would never forget tonight.

[goldenfigtree]

Lipstick Smudges

Part 1 of 3

Summary: Leon attends your engagement party to support you despite his repressed feelings for you.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x FemReader

Warning: fluff

A/N: Tried something a little different from my usual writing but I hope y’all enjoy lemme know what y’all think :)

Part two is right here: Part Two

The car radio made up for the silence in Leon’s jeep as his knuckles tightened around the steering wheel.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. But then again, how could he not? You practically begged him to come, he was your closest friend after all.

Friend.

He hated when she used the word, yet couldn’t really blame her. It was technically his fault for not toughening up and confessing. Leon’s communication skills strike again and now here he was, driving to your engagement party in his best suit, his hair slicked back. He remembered you saying that you liked how it looked on him once. Your voice softly echoes in his brain as he recalls this memory,

“I like your hair like that, really brings out your eyes”

Your smile inks into his memory. What he would do to make you smile like that again. Like he was the only one in the world.

Somehow, these thoughts thread together like a spiderweb, at its center the sentence:

Maybe, just maybe there’s still hope.

It was impossible to forget that little twinkle in your eye when he walked into the room, the smile that outdid all the sunrises he witnessed in his lifetime, the laugh that made his heart flutter with every ripple of tone.

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles white. Shaking his head, his pupils retreat to a smaller size. He knew he couldn’t do that to you. It would be unfair, selfish. But God, he wanted you all for himself. It’s barely the car ride there and he’s already wanting this engagement party to end.

Once he parked his car, he made his way to the ivy covered villa with windows projecting a yellow glow. He could already hear the cheerful congratulations and cheers to the happy couple, his stomach churned at the sound of them. He was only a second away from entering when a familiar face swung the door open and turned to him in a bit of surprise, car keys in hand,

“Hey stranger, you’re a bit late” it was Claire, red gown and all.

“And you’re leaving early” Leon acknowledges, eyes fixated on the car keys. He had to stop himself from asking if he could go with her. Come up with an excuse—that he got sick. He knew he was about to be sick soon, so it wouldn’t really be a lie, just a preparation. Claire blinked at him curiously and tilted her head down to see where he was looking,

“Oh! I’m just getting my present from my car” Claire assures nodding her head towards the car, her ponytail swinging from side to side from the motion, “I’m surprised you’re here”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks defensively,

“Well, everyone knows you’ve had a thing for her since I don’t know how long” Claire responds with a shrug,

“That… was a long time ago” Leon mutters, his cheeks warm and his eyes fixated on the door, preparing himself to find what’s behind it. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Claire meets his eyes and gives him a reassuring grin,

“Hey, I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. Ya know, I have to say, you’re a good guy for doing this despite.. ya know”

He certainly didn’t feel like that now, remembering the shimmering string of hope he dwelled on in the car ride. Not making eye contact with Claire, he merely nods his head and wraps his fingers around the golden doorknob,

“Right, see you in there”

Swinging the door open, voices swell the room and ring in his ears. The beautiful villa lit with large lit crystal chandeliers and the large amounts of people, made the whole place stuffy. Grimacing to himself, he subconsciously tried to find any trace of you as he pushed past the elegantly dressed guests.

Then there it was, your laughter. So loud, so unique, so unapologetically you. Turning his head he forgets how to breathe from the mere sight of you enjoying the conversation you were having. Champagne glass in your hand, the giant rock on your ring finger blinding anyone nearby and an elegant gown framing your figure, you don’t even realize Leon is halted there, mouth agape. Laughing and conversing cheerfully, you fan away the compliments and thank those who congratulate you while passing by. After finishing a conversation with one of the guests, you take a look around until your eyes are met with his. Time stopped and music deafened the moment your eyes locked on his. A joyful smile grows on your face as you shove your way through the people to get to him,

“You made it!” You exclaim so he can hear you over the boisterous chatter.

“Sorry I’m late” he greets with an apologetic smile.

“Don’t be, it’s not your type of scenery anyway” you insist, grabbing a champagne glass from one of the caterer’s trays and handing it to him,

“You know me too well”

“Come on, I know a much quieter place we can talk” you suggest, already walking through the crowd. Before he could even question this sudden suggestion, he almost loses sight of you and walks through the sea of people. He feels the warmth of a hand wrap around his wrist and tug him through, your giggle being the only distinct thing to make out that that hand was yours. Eventually, Leon finds himself outside in a garden. Bushes trimmed into elegant shapes and certain animals. Flowers of various colors in full bloom.

“So how’ve you been?” You begin to ask, both hands cradling the champagne glass, “I haven’t seen you in a while”

“I’ve been busier than usual” more like busier avoiding you and your fiancé, Will, at all costs. The sight of you two together made his heart shatter at the sight. The silence in response was enough for Leon to know you didn’t believe him, “I am busier” he insists.

“Alright” you respond with a shrug, a look of disbelief still remains on your face, “What do you think of Will?”

The both of you stop walking as he contemplates what he should say. He hated just looking at him for taking what he could’ve had. Looking at them, together, revived a battle of whether he should hate Will or himself for letting this happen.

“I don’t know Will” Leon decides to say, which was true. A sheepish giggle escapes your lips as you continue walking, “But as long as you’re happy”

“I guess that’s true” with your gown trailing behind, you sit at the edge of an extravagant fountain, placing your champagne glass on the cobblestone ground. The very top of the fountain had an eagle perched on a branch, the rest of it was ivy and smaller birds perched carved into the stone. The pad of your index finger strokes along the water. It was warm from being under the sun. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, facing you, he studied your face. Your eyes were much more solemn, your lips in a frown, a large contrast from a few minutes ago inside the villa.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks gently, his hand instinctively reaching to lay atop of yours— he pulls it away.

“Leon, I wonder what you would think of me” You begin to say, your eyelashes flutter as you look ahead at the garden, biting your lip softly.

“I don’t know what you mean”

“What if, I didn’t marry William” there was that beam of hope in him, rising again. Guilt covering it shortly after,

“Why?”

“I just, don’t know if he’s the one you know?” You gingerly reply, eyes finally looking into his, “There’s just… this feeling I can’t shake away. But I’m not sure if it’s just me having cold feet or if it’s real”

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, your eyes were set on his lips. He could hear his heartbeat patter in his ears as you leaned toward him, twinkling eyes and lips parted. Your breath against his skin sent a shiver down his spine. He could only remember one time the two of you were this close. His eyes gave into their hunger and watched as your lips moved closer and closer to his own. He couldn’t take it anymore, leaning forward, he closes the gap.

Trapped in the scent of your expensive perfume, the texture of your lips, he can feel goosebumps rise on his skin. Your lips follow this dance he’s leading, an excited breath shudders in the midst of it as his hands hold your face and keep you in place. Your heart was beating at an alarming speed from it all, but it only encouraged you to want more. Your senses were dulled by his lips, his presence, his scent, you didn’t want to stop. Your tongue meets his own, earning a sound from Leon that instantly makes you want to hear it again. That is, until you hear someone calling your name. You knew that voice, it was Will. Pulling away you look at Leon in horror. Everything that had happened setting in at once. Your lipstick smudged on Leon’s lips, his bright blue eyes looking at you like a deer in headlights as your future husband calls your name.

“I’m so sorry” you whisper, lifting up the skirt of your dress and running off to meet her fiancé. Leon sits there, paralyzed from everything, Will’s voice greeting you and breaking Leon in the process,

“There you are, I was looking everywhere for you”

“Well here I am” you say sheepishly as Will takes your hand in his.

Your lipstick smudged on his lips, his heart in turmoil, he drives home.

[aestheticaltcow]

What Happens in Vegas Doesn't Always Stay in Vegas... Part 2

A four-part series about a drunken mistake and realizations starring our favorite neurotic chef.

Jack takes matters into his own hands. Did Carmy make a mistake? Featuring an angry sister and Richie challenging authority.

CW: There is an arrest in this part; if it is something you don't want to read, skip the third paragraph. This part will still make sense if that paragraph is skipped.

The Bear Masterlist

Previous part Next part

Part 2 - The Bear, Abuse of Power, and a Dick Measuring Contest

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later?” Carmy said over the phone; he could practically hear Claire roll her eyes. He frowned and waited for her to say bye before entering the kitchen. “Hey Carmy.” Syd greeted without looking up from her notebook “I think I came up with a new idea for the dinner menu.” Carmy nodded and went to the lockers to put his backpack away. Claire was upset with him again. It had taken him months of begging her, but she took him back after what happened last year when The Bear opened. “Carmy?” Syd asked, finally looking up to see the sleep-deprived man she’d come to think of as more than just a coworker or a friend but as family. “Yea?” he responded “Dinner idea… you good?” Carmy shrugged “Yea. Same shit, different day.” he chuckled as he slipped his non-slips on.

“So, in theory, we could get a star this year?” Syd grinned as she chopped onions next to Carmy. He chuckled “Sure, Syd. In theory, we could get a star this year.” “Are you and Claire fighting again?” Carmy shook his head “Let’s not talk about that.” Syd shrugged “You cook better when you’re not fighting with her.” 

Carmy was about to say something witty when the kitchen doors were kicked open to reveal two men in suits with guns drawn. “What the fuck!” Syd yells, dropping her knife and putting her hands in the air. The back door swings open, and the group hears laughs “Anyway, I told her- what the fuck!” Marcus stopped putting his hands in the air as well “What’s goin’ on, cousin!” Richie yelled, approaching the station. “Sir. Stay where you are!” one of the agents ordered, pointing his gun toward Richie, “Drop the knife.” the other agent said; Carmy listened and placed his knife on the counter. The agent holstered his gun and moved closer to him “Hands behind your back.” Carmy followed the orders “What the fuck is goin on!” Richie yelled, stepping closer to Carmy “Sir. Stay where you are.” “NO, what the fuck is goin on!” “Richie shut the fuck up,” Carmy said as calmly as possible as he was handcuffed. 

The agents walked Carmy out through the front of The Bear as Tina and a few waitresses walked toward the alley to enter the kitchen. “Jeff, what’s goin on?” Tina stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide with concern and fear. “Gettin’ arrested? Call Sugar.”

Carmy’s leg shook a mile a minute as he waited in an interrogation room; he stared at the door, wondering what he’d done to end up here. After what felt like hours, the door finally opened to reveal a well-dressed man; he chuckled as he closed the door. “Well, that makes sense,” he chuckled again “I’m special agent Jack Aubrey. Do you know why you’re here, Carmen?” “N-no.” Jack continued to chuckle as he sat across from Carmy. “You really don’t know why you’re here, Carmen?” Carmy shook his head “I was just doin’ prep at my restaurant, and these guys bust in-” “Okay, Carmen. I could arrest you for any number of things. But I’m feelin’ a bit generous. I’ll cut you a deal.” Jack explained as he pulled a folded paper out of his jacket pocket, ensuring Carmy could see the gun attached to his belt. “Come here. Tomorrow. 9 AM. If you don’t, I’ll arrest your ass during dinner service. Think that’ll be good press for you, Carmen?” “O-o-ok.” “Good. You’re free to go.” 

Sugar gripped the steering wheel of her car. Her knuckles were turning white from just how intensely she held it “Fuck I need to smoke.” she sighed. Carmy shrugged, “Thank you, Natalie.” “What the fuck did you do?!” “I don’t know!” Carmy yelled back just as loud as Sugar. She parked in an underground structure of what appeared to be an incredibly fancy office building. She shook her head as she hit the steering wheel, “Carmen Anthony Berzatto. I swear to fuckin’ god, I’m going to skin you alive if you speak without my okay in there. Do you understand?” Carmy nodded with wide eyes; he’d seen Sugar stressed. He’d seen Sugar upset. He’d seen Sugar angry. But he’d never seen Sugar like this. “O-o-okay Natalie.” 

The two took the elevator up to the 17th floor like the instructions had told them. Natalie looked at her phone. It was 9 AM on the dot. The two walked into a law office. Carmy immediately recognized Jack from the day prior but didn’t know the other man he was speaking to. “So, I got tickets to the fight on Saturday. Jess hooked us up with reservations at some super fancy steakhouse before, and then after, we could probably just bar hop or somethin’.” “Anything sounds fine, Bren.” Jack chuckled, and Sugar greeted the men. Bren greeted her back while Jack glanced at his phone “She’s on her way.” he said to Bren before slipping his phone back into his jacket pocket. Carmy noticed he wasn’t armed this time. 

“Why was my client-” Sugar started to say before being cut off by a familiar voice. “Bren, I am sorry I’m late. Brunch prep went longer than I thought. But I did bring you those sourdough popovers you like. I also have strawberry compote and jalapeno cream cheese.” Carmy turned his head and saw her, “El?” he noted how her once short blue hair had changed to a shaggy style in a more natural red color. Her eyes still sparkled like stars in a night sky behind thick dark eyelashes and her signature winged eyeliner. Of course, he’d noticed her plump lips were just as kissable as they had been eight years ago. Eight years… how did Carmy let her get away? Her aesthetic may have changed, but she was still his Ellie. “Hey, CAB.”

Carmy goes in to hug Ellie “Wow, I haven’t- how are you?” Carmy asked, smiling from ear to ear “Pretty good. I opened my breakfast spot down in DC. Had to come stage with Omar from culinary school while I was in Chicago. You took over your family restaurant, right?” Carmy nodded “Yeah, kinda changed it into my dream- except no Mikey…” “Yeah, I heard about that. I’m so sorry.” “It’s all good-” Carmy was cut off by Bren clearing his throat, “Let’s step into my office.” “Of course, Bren- sorry, I haven’t seen Carmy forever. So, CAB, do you remember that trip to Vegas? 

“Fuck I love you.” Carmy laughed, burying his head in her shoulder nipping at her collarbone. Ellie giggled and gently tugged at his hair “I fuckin’ love you too.” The two sat in silence, “We should get married.” Carmy said assertively, “What?” “Look, it’s one of those chapels- fuck it, right?” Ellie laughed “Will you marry me, Carmen Anthony Berzatto?” “Of course, Elanor Elizabeth- what’s your last name again?” “Dam Carm- two years. We’ve been fuckin for two years, and you don’t know my last name?” Carmy shrugged “You can just take mine.” 

“Where’s Ellie?” Carmy asked as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. “Airport. She got the call about that European training program she applied to.” one of the other guys who’d come on the trip clarified. “She-” “You were passed out by the hot tub, dude. What did you guys do last night?” “I don’t remember,” Carmy yawned as he stretched his arms above his head “I think we did something crazy…” “Anal in a hot tub?” Carmy rolled his eyes “Nah, she’s not into that.” 

Carmy had tried to reach out to Ellie when she was in Europe, but they were on opposite schedules. She stopped texting him back a few months into her time there. Carmy got busy, and she wasn’t around. He found a new girl to spend his minimal free time with, and Ellie went from the girl he’d secretly loved for two years to just being a notch on his belt. Maybe if he’d taken her on actual dates or spent time with her fully clothed, things wouldn’t have fizzled out the way they had. 

“So I need both of you to sign these papers. Unfortunately, this is a divorce, so it will take some time to process- Ellie, you will still have your spooky wedding, or you can shave my eyebrows off- There will be no property division. Shouldn’t take too long to process.” Ellie and Carmy both shook their heads. They both signed copies of the paperwork, and Bren grinned “Okay. In 30 days, what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas.” 

“How much longer are you in the city for?” Carmy asked Ellie as she grabbed her purse from the floor. “Probably a few more days. I want to visit some other friends and check out this deli downtown.” Carmy nodded “Come check out The Bear.” “To dine or to Stage?” “Why not both?” Ellie laughed “You’re such a bitch, Berzatto.” “So, see you tomorrow at 3?” Ellie rolled her eyes and shoved Carmy playfully “You know it.”

[first-edition]

ICE

TMI BUT- recently I got my NiPpLes pierced and that shit hurt like a mother. My soul almost left my body. Anyway…here’s a cute fluff of Bucky with reader getting her titties stabbed.

Piercer Bucky x fem! Reader

Warning- peircing, talk of breasts, chest and nipples, cursing.

Your heart beats at what feels like a million miles an hour you’ve been saying it for months.

“I want to get my nipples pierced.”

But never until tonight have you acted in it. Luckily for you instead of showing your tits to some rando your boyfriend oh so graciously happens to be a piercer.

Walking into the shop a lady at the front desk helps you out. You fill out the form and pay.

“You excited?” Nat asks as she links arms with you.

“N-not really…it’s gonna hurt.” You say not being the best with pain.

She rolls her eyes but her expression changes when her eyes land on the figure behind you. Turning your head to see as well a smile forms across your lips seeing your boyfriend of 2 years. James Buchanan Barnes.

“Bucky!?” You exclaim happily.

“Hey doll. What are you doing here?” He asks coming up to you placing his arm around you pulling you for a kiss, the height difference truly immaculate, and places a kiss on your lips. His sent of cologne and cigarette smoke makes you feel at home.

“She’s getting her nipples pierced!” Nat says way too excitedly.

Bucky raises his eyebrow at you.

“Really?…” he asks lowly before looking you up and down.

You who’s only ever gotten your ear pierced at Claire’s, which Bucky hated, and cried the entire time. You squeezed his hand as if you were giving birth. Thank goodness it was his metal one.

“Come on.” He says.

“W-what?” You say

“I was called out here I’m the only piercer on duty doll.” He says holding out his hand. You look at nat who gives a thumbs up and then back at Bucky taking his hand. He leads to to the back of the shop to a room.

He flips the sign in the door before closing it and locking it and walks over to you.

“Sit baby. And take your top off and bra is your wearing one.” He says switching into a semi professional mode.

You sit down and remove you top half of clothing leaving you nude on top. Meanwhile Bucky washes his hands and puts on black gloves and sets up new supplies.

“Honey I can hear your heart beat from there lay down if you want to.” He says glancing back at you. Before taking off the gloves and putting new ones on.

“No I’m okay.” You say a slight shiver in your voice that makes him chuckle shaking his head. As he places the tray with tools on a side table and sits on a stool wheeling himself over.

“Arms to side.” He says you listen and he leans over turning on a far before ripping open a disinfectant wipe.

“Ah. Cold” you gasp looking up at the ceiling.

“Come on now be a big girl.” He chuckles.

Blush burns against your ears shoulders and cheeks as having your boyfriend so close to your tits in an non-sexual way both turns you on and scares you due to what’s to come.

He take a marker and begins the process of marking where the pericing will go after taking a few minutes to center them he wheels back looking from a distance to get the placement right and too admire his half nude lover sitting so perfectly in front of him.

He wheels back over to you and reaches to the table.

“These are the clamps okay?” He says you nod.

He picks up the needle, that you were trying so desperately not to look at, and holds it between his fingers while holding the clamp.

“You ready?” He asks your heart skips a beat as it’s already time to jab a needle through one of the most precious parts of your body.

“…yes.” You say.

“Don’t hold your breath alright.” He says knowing that exactly what your doing.

“And, one two- breath in and out” he intstructs.

Pain then pressure then pain.

“F-fuck..” you sniff trying not to cry. That was only one.

“You okay?” He asks planting a kiss against your cheek before putting in the jewelry

“yeah. It wasn’t bad but damn.” You squeak. He laughs and nods.

“Next one.” He says and does the same and clamps and then counts.

“Mother-Ahh Fuck!” You curse the second one almost ascending you to the neather realm.

“You’re okay doll.” He says pushing the jewelry through.

“Okay look.” He says moving back so you can get up to walk to the mirror.

You gasp and smile they came out so good.

“Ooohh!!” You giggle.

“I’ll help you clean them at home and then when three-5 months roll around if you wanna change the jewelry let me know.” He says taking his gloves off throwing them away and cleaning up the space.

“Did you drive here?” He ask

“No nat did.” You reply still admiring yourself.

“Good, don’t drive for 24 hours the seat belt might hurt and cause damage, wear clothing that is close to your body for support but don’t wear a bra for a few days. Um.. after 10 minutes pass or so you will be in a bit of agony it’ll hurt for few hours so as soon as possible take something. I’m glad you came over right now, at night, I’m off. And you can sleep the pain away.” He says walking over to you.

“They look good.” He says nods kissing your shoulder.

“Come on I’ll drive you home.” He says. You grab your things and he helps you put on your shirt before walking out of the room. Bucky grabs his jacket and keys following you.

“How was it?!” Nat asks

“Owie!” You say

“Bucky’s off so I’m gonna go home with him.” You say she nods

“Send me a picture! And let me know what it’s like.” She winks you nod. She waves walking out.

“That’s another thing.” Bucky says holding out his hand for you as you both walk out.

“What?” You ask.

“No sex for 3 weeks.” He says

“WHAT!?”

[drivinmeinsane]

Wild Country (Part 2)

SIERRA SIX × F!READER

Part 1

Part 2 (This one)

Part 3 (coming soon)

*Summary: Six is running on empty in more ways than one when he pulls into that gas station out west. He just wants to make sure he and Claire survive when he does the unexpected and says he'll take on the job as a ranch hand. It was a position offered rhetorically and out of frustration, but damn if he doesn't fit the bill of what you need.

*Content/tags: Slow burn, Pining, Movie canon compliant, No use of Y/N, Cowboy!Six, Adoptive Daughter!Claire, no need to have read the books

*Rating: 18+ for future mature content

*Status: Ongoing

*Author's Notes: The burn is still burning slow, but we're getting there folks.

The drive from their motel to the cattle ranch is a short enough trip, but it's an uncomfortable one. The roads are pitted gravel at best and crater pocked dirt at the worst. Any time he glances over, he can see Claire holding anything she can get her hands on. Hitting one particularly large, unavoidable rut just about knocks the air out of him and causes her to let out a yelp and grab his forearm hard enough to leave the half moon indents of her nails in his skin. He holds back the wince of discomfort.

His grip on the steering wheel loosens in silent relief when he makes the turn onto the winding driveway. They pass a couple rolling acres dotted with horses. Claire has both her hands on the window ledge now, her death grip on Six's arm forgotten as she stares out the window. He hadn't expected her to be captivated by the animals, but he supposes that it's a novel experience for her. Being the niece of a CIA handler and having a heart condition surely led to a mundane life spent locked away. Six feels a pang in his chest when he thinks about Fitz. He should be the one with Claire, not him.

The drive opens up into a dead end parking lot. On his right is a massive barn, on his left are a couple of bunkhouses, but it's straight ahead that catches his attention. You had said to park in front of the large, white house, so he does, pulling right next to a green truck that he had noticed at the gas station. The truck settles into park with the enthusiasm of a reanimated corpse finally allowed to rest again. Six pushes the door open and wrestles it closed behind him. He's greeted by a large, rust colored dog. It stands in front of him, panting expectantly. He ignores it in favor of ducking down to speak into the truck's cabin, one arm casually resting on top of the vehicle.

"Let's go find my new boss."

Claire gives him one of her skeptical looks and shoves her own door open with a dramatic sigh. He's surprised it doesn't fall off its hinges. He feels the dog's hot breath against his knees and inches around the animal to join his adoptive daughter at the tailgate.

"What's the plan? Is there even anyone here? I th-oh!" Her voice cuts off as she spots the dog. She crouches down and enthusiastically starts petting it. He supposes that the dog is pleased with the arrangement if the lolling tongue and kicking back leg are any indication.

He watches on in silence for a moment before he hears banging noises and a loud whinny from the barn. He looks in that direction and gives Claire a quiet "Hey". He makes a gesture for her to follow him when she looks up at him. The dog runs ahead of them as they crunch over the gravel before impatiently doubling back to match their speed.

───※ ·❆· ※───

You're kneeling next to one of your horses when you hear the scuff of feet and scrabbling of dog nails. You finish velcroing the sports medicine boot in place before you stand up. Your mare nudges your arm and snorts when you don't produce a treat despite having a bucket of grain with a few mouthfuls left. You absently run a hand down her face as you turn to face the people coming into your barn.

You're greeted with the sight of the gas station man and whom you presume is the daughter he had mentioned. The ranch dog is wagging his tail furiously as he stops next to the girl, pressing in close for the pets she provides him. He's clearly smitten with her.

"Come on over." You call.

The man, Six, makes piercing eye contact as he approaches. His arms are casually at his sides but there's tension in his broad shoulders. The girl is right on his heels, nearly tripping over both her dad and the dog. She's clearly nervous but there's a look of fascination on her face. Her skin is pale, almost translucent like she hasn't had much sun exposure.

Your prospective ranch hand is a formidable presence up close. He's tall enough that you have tip your head back to make eye contact. You feel a little like an insect under a magnifying glass with the way he stands over you, running analyzing eyes over your face. You brush it off and square up to him like you would to one of your cow horses. You were long since used to winning the respect of larger animals. You weren't about to squirm.

"Sierra." You say, offering your hand.

He takes it immediately, no reservations about the horse sweat and grime coating it. He says your name in the same tone you said his. His hand is warm and calloused in yours. There's strength in his grip that you can clearly feel even from such a brief clasp. You offer the same hand to the girl. She takes it. You give her a smile you didn't give her father.

"Any friend of Winston here is a friend of mine." You say brightly, gesturing down at the dog doing his best to wiggle into the middle of things.

"Must have a lot of friends then." Her response is fast. She's clever, confident through her nerves.

"Surprisingly not. You must be special." You say. "So what's your name, honey?"

"Claire."

There's a sharp intake of air from the man next to her. You cut your eyes at him. There's a flash of worry on his face that gets smoothed over so quickly you almost wondered if you imagined it. Something was off about this situation, but the girl seemed to trust the man implicitly. None of your own instincts were dreaming danger either. Strange. Winston and the mare behind you weren't agitated by his presence either.

"Well, Claire, it's nice to meet you. How about I give you two the tour and we'll go from there?"

Six gives an agreeable nod and his daughter's face lights up. You double check the quick release knot securing your horse to the tie ring. You can feel his gaze like a physical hand on your back. It takes everything in you to not involuntarily shiver under the imaginary weight. You give the black mare a pat that's more reassuring to you than to her before you turn around to meet that heavy gaze head on.

"After you." His voice is like velvet, rich and promising.

You fight down the urge to swallow thickly at the sound of his voice and begin the overview of the property.

───※ ·❆· ※───

He and Claire follow you for the better part of an hour. His eyes tend to wander more towards you than the surroundings you're explaining. There's something appraising in the way he watches you. It's nothing like the looks you've gotten from some of your other ranch hands. Their stares make your skin crawl at times, but his... well, it has you wanting to crawl in an entirely different way.

"How many others are there?"

The question catches you off guard. The three of you are standing in front of the bunkhouse you told him he would be staying in. He's been so silent throughout the tour that you had nearly forgotten what he sounds like.

"There's three. Dallas, Jimmy, and Charles. We had four, but one of them decided to light out about a week ago."

"Why did he leave?"

"Conflict of interests." There's more steel in your voice than you intended, but Six gives an accepting nod and changes the topic.

"What about my daughter?"

"Oh! Right, yes. She'll be staying in the main house with me and Suzanne, the property owner. Claire's a minor and not under contract so I don't want to toss her in with you and the other men. If that's alright with you?"

"Good." His tone is warm. "She has a pacemaker. I worry about her. Having her safe is my priority." He has a softer presence when he speaks about Claire.

"Good dad. I'll introduce you after I put you through your test. As long as you find everything suitable, I'd like to see how you are on a horse."

He agrees, and your small party tramps back over to the barn to where you left your horse waiting patiently. She rumbles when she sees you cross the threshold. Claire's interest is at its peak and she's nearly vibrating.

"Here." You say, pulling a treat out of your pocket. You press it into her hand. "Show her your empty hand and then close your fingers and offer it to her to sniff. If she bumps it with her nose, you can pet her."

She follows your directions to the letter and is soon petting the animal. You beckon her father over closer and step out of the way to give them room to interact with the mare. He's got such a tender look on his face while looking at his daughter that your breath catches for a moment.

"Claire, if you hold your hand out flat and under her nose, she'll take that treat from you now that you've gotten acquainted." Your tone is casual and you avoid looking at the man's face again

"Oh!" She laughs a bit as the horse's whisker's skim over her palm.

"Her name is Belladonna. Sierra, she'll be the horse I test you out on. If everything goes well, the two of you will be partners during the term of your contract."

He nods and that's that. You quickly swap the mare's halter for her bridle and then you and Claire are soon leaning against the indoor area railing watching Six swing a leg over the Quarter Horse's back and settle into the saddle. He rides well enough. You watch him as he urges Belladonna to a walk. His hands are gentle on the reins and he's well balanced in the saddle. He's definitely not spent long hours and days mounted, but he's not the worst you've ever seen ride. Some of your own ranch hands have been hired with a worse seat.

"Bring her to a jog and have her circle those cones." You call to him.

He raises a hand in acknowledgment and clicks to the horse. She tosses her head in excitement and gives a little cowhop. There's barely any movement or surprise from her rider, he's got a natural grace to him that automatically shifts and sways to accommodate the mare's movements. He does what you ask of him and before long you're calling him back over to dismount. His feet barely hit the ground before you're pulling the folded contract out of your shirt pocket. He turns to face you and the two of you both start speaking.

"Are you ready to-"

"I'm not too exper-"

There's a brief silence only accompanied by Belladonna's swishing tail and Winston panting happily as Claire scratches between his ears.

"You go first." Six says, encouragement in his tone.

You take a breath. "If everything is suitable to you, I would like to take you on for the season. I've got the contract right here if you would like to look it over and sign it." You hold you the paper and a pen out to him. He takes both with steady hands.

"He doesn't know how to read." Comes Claire's earnest voice.

Both you and her dad look over to see her face dripping with sincerity. He shakes his head somberly. "Don't tell all my secrets."

You have to stifle a laugh at the two of them. The man quickly scans his blue, blue eyes along the words on the page. He quickly scrawls his signature at the bottom of the page before handing the signed page and the pen back to you.

"I'm yours now."

It sounds like a promise.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Dinner is a singlesidedly noisy affair. The old woman started fussing over the father and daughter from the second you introduced them to her. She doesn't allow for any lulls in the conversation and it really starts to feels like a hostage situation. Six finally begs off with the excuse that Claire needs to go to bed. You spring at the chance to escape and show them to the bedroom that the teen will be staying in.

"If there's anything you need, just let me know." You say before wishing Claire goodnight and going back down the stairs to give them some privacy.

You need to do the dinner cleanup anyway. This old house never got updated with a dishwasher. Suzanne passes you in the kitchen with her eyebrows raised and an amused look on her face. You ignore her pointed look towards the stairs where you can both hear the muffled voice of the man you just hired. You don't want to talk about his presence. You have never let any of the other ranch hands further than the front porch, much less invited them to dinner. Granted, none of the other hands have had a child with them.

You're in the middle of rinsing off a plate when an arm reaches around you to grab the dish towel hanging by the sink. You stare for a second, taking in the rolled up sleeve and flex of his muscles underneath his tattooed skin. You can feel the heat of him against your back and your mouth goes dry. He gently takes the plate from your hands when you go to set it aside and dries it off. The two of you work in comfortable silence only accented by the sounds of water and clink of dishes. You wash and he dries. You savor the glimpses you get of his hands and his strong forearms. His hands are scarred and calloused but the way he uses his fingers is delicate. His pace is unhurried, steady. You sneak a glance at his face and it's relaxed.

Finally, when he's drying the final dish and you've pulled the plug in the sink, you turn to him. There's a breathless moment where the two of you simply look at eachother. Neither of you speak as you show him to the front door. There's a pause on the threshold, and you can visibly see him struggle with himself on what to say. You wait patiently.

"Goodnight." It's low, intimate in the glow of the porch light.

You smile at him for the first time. He doesn't return it but there's a softer curve to his lips when you do.

"Goodnight, Sierra." Your voice comes out quieter, more tender than you had meant. You flush. You hope he can't notice.

He nods, a slow include of his head, and steps out of the doorway and turns to go down the porch steps. You close the door behind him and let out a shaky breath. He is all but a complete stranger. There is no reasonable explanation for you to respond to him the way that you have been since he showed up on the property. Or, if you're being honest with yourself, since you spotted him at the gas station.

He had clearly stuck out as an outsider. A little sweaty and worn. There was pained exhaustion written in the lines of his body and despite your anger over the situation involving your deserting ranch hand, your eye was drawn to him. You watched him analyze his surroundings with a practiced eye and saw his sleight of hand. A desperate man.

You made sure to raise your voice when he came to the register. He focused in on you and your heart lept in your throat when he said he'd do the job. His gaze had been so intense, so hopeful. When he mentioned that he had a daughter, your mind was made up.

You know that you are just going to have faith in him. Somehow he doesn't seem like the kind of man who would fall short.

N E X T.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten (Part 2)

I have never known cold in my life like the cold of the early morning in Berlin. It’s the kind of morning that feels like the sun will never rise. The cars still have their headlights on as Claire and I haul our bags up the stairs of the U Bahn station and out onto the street for the first time. It is seven in the morning, and it is not beautiful here. 

We huddle together beneath a massive BAHNHOF NEUKOLLN sign and peer through the grey in search for a familiar face. The metal barriers all around us are lined with chained up bicycles overlapping each other, and there is careless graffiti on the shutters of the electronics shop across the road from us. It isn’t open yet. Nothing is open yet, including our hostel, so we stand with our backs against the frigid metal of a cigarette machine and wait. 

He’s like an otherworldly spirit when he emerges from the fog, bundled in a big black coat, breaths turning to clouds that absorb into the thick mist around him. He raises a hand in a wave, and his smile is the brightest thing for miles.  

“Good morning.” Jude says. “I’m sorry I’m a bit late.” He bends down to hug me and I immediately feel my lack of sleep. I could almost sleep right here on the cushiony softness of his puffer coat with his cheek somehow still warm despite the weather. 

“So this is your home.” Claire says as he gives her a hug, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “Looks like shit this morning, to be honest. It literally couldn’t be uglier, but welcome to Berlin.” He offers to carry some of our bags, and we let him. We head down an identically bleak street that’s lined with Doner Kebab takeaways, phone shops and tiny supermarkets, all closed. Jude gently tugs on the back of my collar when I try to cross the road. 

“You have to wait for the green man.” He says near my ear. 

I stare at him incredulously. “I know, but there’s no cars coming.”

“I don’t make the rules here.” We stand then, stupidly, waiting for the lights to change as not a single car passes us by. Then finally, it does, and we can cross. 

“That was ridiculous.” I say. “What’s going to happen if I just walk? They’ll throw me in jail?”

“No, worse.” He says. “An old German woman will materialise and start scolding you from her kitchen window. Happens literally every time.”

“Hm. So they’re pretty rule bound here.”

“You’re telling me.”

Jude lives a twenty minute walk from the station in a large brutalist block of flats that is identical to all of the other brutalist blocks of flats that flank it on all four sides. I wonder how he can ever remember which is his, or how many times in his first few weeks he found himself wandering around trying to recall which block he walked out of that same morning, because I can certainly imagine that for myself.

“Oh, cats!” Claire comments as a pair of tabbys appear from the vegetation around the base of the building, one of whom starts winding her slinky body in between Jude’s ankles and mewing rather impatiently at him while the other sits watch from a short distance away. He leans down to scratch her head. “Nothing for you right now.” He says to her. “I’ll come back later on.”

“You feed these cats.” I say. Not a question, a fact. 

“I’m the crazy cat man of the neighbourhood.” He admits. “But they just love me, they must know that I have a kind soul.”

“It’s because you feed them.” The tabby gives up on him and approaches me next, mouth open in a startling maw, her meow the cat equivalent of a screech. “Jesus.” I whisper.

“It’s just how she sounds.” He explains. “She’s actually a well tempered cat.”

“What’s her name?”

“I call her Main Street, because that’s where she mostly hangs out, and that one.” He points his thumb toward her noticeably more timid pair, hovering by the wheels of a parked car. “That’s Ten Feet Behind.”

“Because she’s always-”

“Yeah, ten feet behind the other cat.” He grins with chattering teeth. “Let’s go inside, it’s so damn cold.” With stiff fingers he punches in the code for the apartment and leads us into a hallway stuffed to the gills with more bikes. There is no lift, which means we have to carry our things up the stairway, winding around and around, hoping that each landing will be our last, but we keep going up until the seventh floor, where finally, mercifully, Jude lays our bags on the floor and fumbles in his pocket for his keys. 

“Jonas is probably still asleep.” He warns us. “So let’s try and keep it down until he surfaces.” He gingerly opens the door to his apartment and lets us inside, and the heating is on, and my body is flooded with the kind of warmth and comfort that makes me want to curl up on that inviting green couch in the living area and fall asleep for hours. 

“You two can sit down wherever.” Jude says, so we peel our coats off and leave them hanging in a closet by the door. “I’ll make something for us to eat.”

“Oh? Food?” Claire says, as she and I sink into the soft cushions of his couch. “You don’t have to make anything.”

“I’m hungry, I’m sure you’re hungry, we can eat.”

“Okay.” She says, immediately convinced, and I wind my arm with hers and rest my head on her shoulder as my eyes flutter shut with contentment. The apartment is so nice. It smells good. There is nice art on the walls that looks as though it was picked out by someone with a good eye, rather than the usual landlord special back in Dublin, which consists usually of some ancient picture of a hideous, jowled dog that was likely dug out of the bottom of a bargain pile at a car boot sale. 

I can’t believe that this morning I was in Dublin, and now I’m in a different country. I’m really in Berlin. I’m in Jude’s house. He’s cooking breakfast. It feels like something that would only happen in my head, but I keep opening my eyes to make sure that it’s real, and finding out that it is. After a while I peer over the back of the couch, and he has his back to me, whisking eggs in a bowl, and I read the spines of the cookbooks stacked neatly by the hob. Ottolenghi. Samin Nosrat. Grace Young. There are no books with unsophisticated titles like One Pot Wonders or Meals in Minutes! His are specific cuisines. Middle eastern food, Japanese food, North African, Italian, Chinese, French. I prop my chin on my hand and regard him with fresh interest. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Of course.”

“I mean that I didn’t know that you cooked cooked, as in, more than just improvised tomato pasta and shepherd’s pie from a container.”

He chuckles. “I seem like I enjoy food from containers, do I?”

“Not particularly, I just never thought about it.”

He takes a serrated knife to a hunk of soft bread and cuts off several thick slices. “I’ve always liked to cook. I had to do it a lot when my parents were too busy to make dinner for my sister, it all kind of fell on me, and I grew to like it a bit, I suppose. Luckily. There’s not much that beats the taste of something you made yourself. When it’s good, I mean.”

He casually drunks a slice of bread into the beaten eggs with one hand and fires up the gas stove with the other. “Weird that you never knew that about me, honestly.”

“I suppose it never came up.”

“Hm. Well, surprise.” 

The door from an adjoining room suddenly opens, and I glance around to see a very broad, bare chested man emerge from the darkness of his bedroom. “Hello” He says groggily. “What smells good?”

Claire, who had drifted into a shallow sleep before, regards him suddenly with wide, shocked eyes. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, looking like a viking, with blonde hair the length of his shoulders and messed up on one side to suggest that he sleeps on his right. 

“Oh.” He says when he notices us on the couch. “Hello ladies.” He steps in front of us so that we’re just about eye level with his crotch and extends a hand for Claire to shake, then me. “I don’t need introductions. I know that you’re Claire, and you’re Evie.” He points his thumb at himself. “I’m Jonas.”

Jude peers at him from the kitchen. “Yeah, they’re pleased to meet you, Jonas, can you put trousers on please.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Okay! If you want.” and goes back into his room. 

“Oh my god.” Claire says under her breath. I can’t tell whether she’s appalled or impressed, but she’s wide awake now. 

Jude starts dealing out plates at the counter, and we get up to take our seats as he carefully places a slice of perfectly golden French toast in front of us. He takes a bowl of fresh berries out of the fridge, along with some sort of mascarpone cheese cream, and slides a jar of maple syrup across the counter into my waiting hand. “Enjoy.” He says, and stands on the other side of the counter to eat his the way that Italians drink espresso, al banca. He stabs his fork into the centre of the toast and swipes the knife across it. He’ll have it all eaten in ten seconds, but Claire and I will savour every delicious mouthful. 

“Sorry about the berries.” Jude says eventually. “They’re off-season.”

“Oh God, no, we don’t mind that.” Says Claire. “It’s actually so good, this is unreal.”

“Absolutely.” I agree. “This is like something you’d get in a restaurant.”

“Calm down, lads, it’s just French toast.” Says Jude, but the tips of his ears have gone red. 

When Jonas reemerges, dressed, he takes a plate from the cupboard and starts unceremoniously shovelling food onto it, and then stands barefoot in the middle of the kitchen eating it like a wild animal. I side eye Claire to gauge her reaction to this, and just like I expected she’s horrified.

“What is everyone going to do today?” He says, mouth jammed with bread. 

“No big plans.” I tell him. “Maybe see the sights a bit, wander around. Look at the shops.”

“Oh, have you got costumes for Saturday night?”

“Sort of. Halfway, maybe. We were hoping to find something here.” I glance at Claire and she nods. I have the shoes I want to wear, but nothing else. She hasn’t got a single item, so some serious shopping is in order. 

“There are so many places for thrift shopping.” He says with a wave of his fork. “You will find something great.” He prods Jude’s shoulder with his fork. “Are you going too?”

“Nah we’ve agreed to meet up in the evening, I have to go to the studio today, unfortunately.”

“Work work work.” Jonas says with an eye roll. “I hope you get a good job after all of this is finished, or it will all be for nothing.” 

“Agreed.” Jude says flatly. “Who are going as, by the way? I mean, costume wise” he says to Claire and I then, eyes flitting back and forth between us, and I smirk at him. “We’re not telling you.” We don’t know. “We’re going to surprise you on the night.”

“Fine, then I’ll surprise you too.”

“Well I’m expecting to be impressed.”

His smile falters. “Don’t hold your breath.”

“You mean you’re not overly prepared?”

“It was a difficult theme.”

“It’s not difficult.” Jonas informs him. “It would be difficult if it was, I don’t know, 1930s soviet politicians, but it’s 60’s celebrities. It really couldn’t be easier.”

“Okay.” He shrugs. “Just mostly men were just wearing variations of the same suit.”

“Not true. You could have been a beatle, or a rolling stone, any of those groovy woodstock men, you didn’t think outside the box.” Jonas turns and winks at us. “My costume is good. Wait and see.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[zazidot]

lacy pt2

a/n: finished this in the car coming home from a birthday dinner, sry if it’s shit. creds to claire-robinson58 for helping me with this one .

——————————————

“Do you really think you need anymore?” A strong Dublin accent spoke from behind me.

I didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. Johnny Kavanagh’s presence was already a constant in my life to the point where I was automated to know when he was there.

“Fuck off, eejit. I’m fucking starving.” I responded tiredly.

“Course you are after all those drinks you downed. Don’t know how to ever slow down, do ya?” Johnny retaliated teasingly.

“What’s your fucking problem? It’s a party, only here for one purpose and that’s to get wasted. Besides, no need to act like you care when you’ve been hanging round Lynch all night long, not even batting an eyelash to the rest of us.” I spoke angrily, feeling myself get worked up at his constant lectures.

“What’s my problem? What’s your problem, I’ve never seen you this bad. This isn’t like you, Y/N. This isn’t the best mate I’m used to.”

“Save your sob story for the pillow, Kavanagh. I’m not in the mood for this best mate shit tonight”

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?” He snapped at me.

“It means stop wasting your time, I’m tired of going round in circles with ya. Just fuck back off to Lynch and leave me alone. Matter of fact, keep Lynch as far the fuck away from me as possible.” I slurred as my head hit the wall.

“You’re fucking intoxicated, eejit. I’m taking ya home.” He replied as he steadied me.

I felt his large hands wrap around my waist, trying to escort me out of the kitchen.

“Get off me, cunt.” I spoke, trying to release myself from his grip, but he wouldn’t budge.

A few moments later, I found myself in the passenger seat on his car, my attempts of pushing him away clearly failing. I felt him strap me in, sitting me upright to make sure I wouldn’t fall or hit my head.

“Christ Y/N,” he hollered at me, “you need to get your shit together. You wouldn’t be doing this if you were sober. I really expected better from you.”

“I don’t need a lecture tonight, and besides- what’s your expectation of better. Lynch?” I added with a roll of my eyes.

I could sense the anger rushing through his body after I said that. I knew I was crossing the line, but I was fed up with the topic of conversation always being her. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he turned the engine on.

“What’s the issue with Shan? Because it seems every fucking time something goes wrong her name is brought up.” Johnny replied.

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with her, but it’s kind of irritating how you never seem to shut up about her. Her fucking hair, the mixtape you’re making her, or some fucking book she’s reading- if she can even read. And by god, if you mention how she’s like the fucking Shannon river one more time, I’ll have your head on a platter.”

“Jesus Christ”, he mumbled under his breath. “You’re being fucking jealous right now! You’re my best mate Y/N, you’re supposed to be supportive of me. That’s how it’s been since we were kids.”

“Yeah well, a lot has changed since then. I’m not a little girl anymore. And for the record, to you I might be your best mate, but to me you’ve always been more than that.” I slurred, the words leaving my mouth before my brain could fully comprehend what I was saying.

That was the moment October 31st had one of the biggest fuck-ups of my life. The moment that Johnny Kavanagh, my forever best friend just found out the one secret I had always vowed to myself to keep a secret.

The drive home after the party felt suffocating. Johnny didn’t say a word, and I didn’t dare look at him. The alcohol swirled in my system, but it wasn’t enough to dull the sharp edge of what I’d just confessed.

The car screeched to a halt outside my house. I fumbled for the door handle, desperate to escape, but his voice stopped me cold.

“Y/N, don’t.”

I froze, my hand still gripping the handle.

“What do you want me to say, Johnny?” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “You heard me. I can’t take it back.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what? That I’ve been in love with you since we were kids? That I’ve been dying inside every time you looked at her like she’s the fucking sun, and I’m just the shadow you forget exists?” My voice rose, trembling with years of repressed pain. “What good would it have done, Johnny? You’re in love with Shannon.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” I snapped, finally turning to face him. “You don’t see the way you look at her, but I do. God, I’ve memorized it, Johnny. The way your whole face lights up when she walks into the room. You don’t look at me like that. You never have.”

The silence was deafening, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words, but nothing came.

“That’s what I thought.” I laughed bitterly, wiping at the tears streaming down my face. “So don’t sit here and act like this is news. I knew where I stood from the start. I just—I couldn’t keep pretending anymore.”

His voice broke the silence, low and raw. “You think I don’t care about you?”

“You care,” I spat. “But not in the way I wanted you to. Not in the way I need you to.”

Johnny slammed his hands against the steering wheel, the sharp sound cutting through the tension. “You’re wrong,” he said, his voice shaking. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you laugh when you’re trying to hide how you feel? Or the way you avoid looking at me whenever I talk about Shannon? You think I haven’t felt it too?”

I blinked, the weight of his words hanging in the air between us. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ve been an idiot,” he said, turning to face me fully. “I didn’t know how to handle it—how to handle us. So I ran. I told myself I couldn’t ruin what we had, that it was better this way. But you’re right. I did look at her like she was the sun, but only because I was too scared to admit that you were my whole damn sky.”

His confession hit me like a freight train. I stared at him, the raw emotion in his eyes threatening to undo me.

“But you still didn’t choose me,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash. “You chose her.”

He reached for my hand, his touch tentative, as though afraid I might break. “I didn’t choose her, Y/N. I just didn’t know how to choose you without risking everything.”

Tears streamed down my face, my chest aching as the weight of years of unspoken words crushed me. “You’ve already risked everything,” I said, my voice trembling. “You’ve broken me into so many pieces, Johnny, I don’t even know how to put myself back together.”

His grip tightened on my hand. “Then let me help you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let me try to make it right.”

I shook my head, my tears blurring his face. “You can’t, Johnny. Because no matter what you say now, I’ll always feel like I was second best. And I can’t live like that anymore.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he was going to let me go. But then he leaned forward, his hand cupping my cheek, forcing me to meet his gaze. His voice broke as he whispered, “You were never second best, Y/N. You were always the only one.”

Before I could respond, his lips crashed into mine, desperate and raw, like he was pouring every unsaid word into that one kiss. My breath caught, the pain in my chest giving way to something entirely different—something electric, something that felt like it could fix the cracks I thought were irreparable.

I melted into him, my hands gripping his shirt as if letting go would shatter me all over again. His hand tangled in my hair, holding me like he was afraid I’d slip away.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“I’m sorry it took me this long,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I’m here now, and I’m not letting you go.”

Tears fell freely down my cheeks, but for the first time in what felt like forever, they weren’t from heartbreak. I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’d better not.”

And for the first time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we could be whole again.

[renee-writer]

Love Comes First Chapter 11

AO3

“Twins?” She stares at her midwife. Jamie, holds her hand, his disbelieving eyes on the sonogram screen.

 

“Without a doubt. One was hiding behind the other. See?”  She points them out.

 

She looks where she points and then at Jamie. Her lip quivers, turn between a cry or a laugh. Laughter wins out. The absolute absurdity of the situation allows for nothing else.

 

“From five to seven.” He says before he joins her in giggles.

 

“Well, we wanted a big family,” as their laughter dies away, they look at the midwife who has been taken measurements of the babies, “are they okay?”

 

“They are. All is fine right now.”

 

“Right now?”

 

“Aye, Pastor Fraser. This slightly high risk pregnancy is a bit more so. Claire, I need you to take frequent breaks throughout the day. Place your feet up. You will see us more often. Now, try not to worry. Precautions eh, all is going well.”

 

“Twins,” she sits beside him on the way home. Her hands rest over them, “we can’t say God doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

 

His eyes are wide as he watches the road. “No,” his voice is strained, “we cannot.”

 

“Jamie are you…” She places one hand over his where it is dusted on the steering wheel.

 

“Worried about you,” He explains,” and them. I know God has this and they say all is fine, I just…”

 

Her head rests against his shoulder. “Oh my love, so do I. These guys and the five we have at home. One was going to be tough enough but two?  It is terrifying but also exciting. All gifts, eh?”

 

He smiles at her as they stop at a light. “Aye, all from His bounty. A bit generous though.” They start laughing again.

 

The children wait to hear about their coming sibling.

 

“Well, how is it?” James asks.

 

“A lad or lass?” Faith asks.

 

“Doesn’t matter. Is it healthy?” from Tabby.

 

“Right but a lad would be brilliant.” Adds Peter.

 

“Something is up.” Leah sees their faces. Always aware, from birth she has been alert to those around her, empathetic, she sees there is something her parents are waiting to share.

 

“Aye, it is. Guys, we have news.” He looks to Claire.

 

“Yes, the babies are doing well. It is to early to tell the sexes.”

 

It takes just seconds. Tabby and Faith share a look then look towards James. Peter stares at his parents while Leah looks to him.

 

Tabby speaks first. “They. How many is they?”

 

“Two. We are having twins.” Jamie replies.

 

“Oh wow.” Faith breathes out.

 

“Utterly brilliant.” James replies.

 

“Oh let them be lads. Please God.” Peter does the math. They will be completely outnumbered if the twin are lasses.

 

“Two! One is bad enough.” Leah bemoans. Faith draws her against her side.

 

“It will be wonderful. You will have two little ones to be big sisters to.”

 

“Mama, how are you?” Tabby asks as she walks up to her.

 

Claire smiles. “Shocked but okay. Me and the babies are doing well.”

 

“She will need more rest. I know you will step up and help, eh?” Jamie addresses his children.

 

“Aye.” Echoes back.

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black Water, Chapter 1

A/N  Thanks to everyone who voted in my unofficial straw poll.  As you can see, I’ve decided to write the Outlander / Man from Snowy River crossover next, mostly because it requires the least amount of planning or research.  You can thank 38cm of fresh snow and a busted knee for the fact I churned out this first chapter so quickly.  Subsequent chapters should arrive at a rate of 2 or 3 per week.

For those not familiar with The Man from Snowy River, it was a movie released in 1982, set in frontier Australia.  This might seem like the least likely contender for a crossover, and maybe it is, but Jim Craig, the protagonist of the film, and Jamie Fraser share a lot of similarities, as do Jessica Harrison and Claire.  Plus, I just really love the film.  It’s pure rom-com fluff with a side of horses and history - what’s not to love?

For those who do know the movie, I have essentially shifted it to 1880s Scotland and made the necessary adjustments, plus a few extra twists to keep things fresh.  I will include a full character mapping in the notes on Ao3, if you’re interested.

Rocky clods of Scottish earth struck the pine coffin, their percussion muffled by a steady downpour and dark clouds that stole the daylight from the sky.  Insensible to the punishing weather, Jamie Fraser knelt in the mud by his father’s grave, his lips moving in silent prayer.  Rivulets of rain stained his auburn hair to mahogany, dripping from his forelock like tears.

Lallybroch’s thin soil had to be convinced to permit Brian Fraser’s burial, as though protesting his untimely death.  A wooden headstone marked the callous details of the Highlander’s life in roughly carved letters:  

                                  Brian Robert David Fraser

                                Died of Accident – May 1885

 Next to the freshly turned earth, another headstone was already grey and weathered to the point that it could barely be read:

                                   Ellen Mackenzie Fraser

                       Gone Home to God – December 1882

At long last, Jamie rose to his full height and redonned his tweed bonnet.  He trudged to where Murtagh awaited him in his ramshackle wagon, feeling far too broken for his nineteen years.  Rollo, the family dog, followed faithfully behind him.

“United in death, the minister said,” he looked up at Murtagh who sat in his only Sunday suit, impervious to the rain.

“Superstitious rubbish,” Murtagh spat.  “Fit fer widows an’ glaikit fools.”

“Tis’ a nice thought, Murtagh,” Jamie defended, tugging at his waistcoat with reddened hands.

“There’s more tae life than death, lad.”

Rollo’s ears pricked up, signaling danger with a low growl.  Riding out of the clag were a half dozen men, their faces obscured by thick beards and low-brimmed caps.

“Wha’ do they want?” Jamie said, pulling his shoulders back to brandish the height and breadth he’d inherited from his father.

“Campbells, by the look o’ them.  Best go ‘ave a listen tae wha’ they ‘ave tae say.”

By the tone of his voice, it was clear Murtagh knew what was coming, but Jamie did not.  The Campbell ringleader, a man with a barrel chest and a thunderous voice, ordered Jamie from his land until he was man enough to farm it.

“Lallybroch is my place now,” his voice rose in defiance.  “I own it!”

In the eyes of the law this statement was patently untrue, and Jamie knew it.  Centuries of tradition saw Highland crofts passed from father to son, while the local laird technically owned the land and collected rents for farms that were considered next-to-useless.  With the arrival of English land barons and the introduction of sheep farming, crofters were being pushed from their holdings, either by ever-increasing rents or through outright eviction.  In Glenshee, Brian Fraser had been one of the last hereditary crofters, clinging to his birthright by sheer tenacity and hard graft.  Now, Brian Fraser was dead.

“Look!” the Campbell henchman bellowed so loudly his horse jumped. “Ye’ll gang down tae the Lowlands, and earn the right tae live up here, jes as yer faither did.”

Without waiting for Jamie to acknowledge this ultimatum, the men wheeled their horses, galloping away until the mist enveloped them.

“I dinna ken what they’d have me do,” Jamie railed at Murtagh as he loaded his meagre belongings into his godfather’s wagon.  “Da sold off the stock bit by bit tae pay their criminal rents. If I leave, wha’s tae stop the Duke from seizing the land outright?”

“Tis a hard country.  Makes fer hard men,” Murtagh shared in his dour philosophical way, slapping his wooden prosthetic leg for emphasis.

Jamie slumped on the wagon’s bench, pulling an oilskin over his shoulders to escape the worst of the rain.  With a flick of the reins, the old wagon bounced across the rocky ground, heading away from Lallybroch.  From behind him, Rollo let out a plaintive whine.  Jamie kept his eyes fixed forward, refusing to glance back in farewell.

***

Unlike Brian Fraser, Murtagh Fitzgibbons had no right to his home, customary or otherwise.  He lived a bothy high in Glen Isla, so old it appeared to have sprouted directly from the stony earth.  There, he scratched out a meagre living raising a small herd of scraggly sheep and reiving the occasional cow that strayed into the secluded glen.

For as long as Jamie could remember, Murtagh also distilled whisky, guarding the location of his still and the source of its water with religious fervour.  Only Brian Fraser had known the secret and had taken it with him to his grave.  

Entering the bothy with an awkward but surprisingly spry gait, Murtagh set about unsmooring the fire and grabbing an unlabeled bottle from the mantle. Jamie stood in the centre of the familiar room, feeling like he might cry.

“A toast,” Murtagh proposed as he filled two filmy glasses with a pale amber liquid.  Lifting his glass to the heavens, he then intoned:

Here’s a bottle and an honest man – What would ye wish for mair, man. Wha kens, before his life may end, What his share may be o’ care, man.

So catch the moments as they fly, And use them as ye ought, man. Believe me, happiness is shy, And comes not aye when sought, man.

The poem was by Robert Burns, and one of Henry Fraser’s favourites.  Jamie raised his own glass in reply and knocked back the entire dram.  It burned his already tight throat and smoldered in his belly, making him forget the damp chill of the stone hut.  Dashing away an errant tear, he filled both glasses again and gave his own short but heartfelt eulogy.

“Tae Brian Fraser, the best man I knew.  May I do honour tae him as his son by keeping Lallybroch in Fraser hands.”

Two drams of whisky combined with the sorrows and indignities of the day, making Jamie’s temper burn hot.  His adolescent ego licked its wounds, committed to revenge both sudden and complete.  He would pour his heart and soul into making Lallybroch profitable once again, and once that was done, he would track down those Campbell henchmen and offer them the rough justice of his fists.

“Ye should concern yerself wi’ keepin’ yerself alive,” Murtagh injected his usual dose of cold reality.  “If ye return tae Lallybroch now, the Campbells will shoot first an’ ask questions later.”

“They’d ha’ tae catch me first,” Jamie blustered.

“Shouldna be sae hard, considerin’ ye’d be on foot.”  

Seeing the lad crumple at the renewed realization of his dire circumstances, Murtagh took pity on him and led him outside to where a small corral hid in the lee of a rock face.  The old nag responsible for pulling Murtagh’s cart stood next to the feed trough, dwarfed by a dark bay gelding with inquisitive ears and a kind eye.

“I’ve no notion of his breeding,” Murtagh began, “but he’s a Highland horse, sure-footed as they come.  He’s yours.”

“I canna pay ye fer him,” Jamie sputtered, shocked by his godfather’s generosity.

“He’s no’ fer sale,” the old man insisted gruffly.  “A man wi’out a horse is like a man wi’out a leg.”

Brian Fraser would often say that his old friend was like a sea urchin: spiny on the outside but filled with tenderness.  Never had this truth been more apparent.

Jamie climbed through the fence, extending a hand until the gelding nuzzled it warmly.  Despite everything, he smiled, having always felt a bond with any animal.

“Thank ye, Murtagh.  Truly,” he said with the utmost sincerity.   “Does he have a name?”

Murtagh grunted in the negative.

“I shall call him Donas, then.  A wee devil tae help me rain misery down on those scabby Campbell louts and win back Lallybroch.”

“Dinna throw effort after foolishness,” Murtagh admonished.  “Ye’ve got a lot tae learn about bein’ a man, Jamie Fraser.”

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 583, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication, death of a minor character

WORDS: 1196

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:

Well, it’s pneumonia. Yeah, that’s right- I have pneumonia. As Baby Tommy would say, ‘yay yay’ (not)

“Go have fun, Elizabeth!” I urged my daughter, watching with fond eyes as she skipped off to her ballet class. “Your father or I will be here to pick you up again!”

“Okay mommy!” she called out as she disappeared into her classroom, leaving me to retreat back out to where Peter and the babies were parked out in the parking lot.

“Sush an adorable child! She really does take after her mommy!”

I smiled, nodding my thanks over towards a mother waiting over in the coffee corner for her child to get out of class.

“She gets that from her father!” I confessed with a sweet giggle before scurrying out the door and over to my husband’s Doom Buggy 3.0. “Hihi my love. Hihi sweet babies.”

“Mommy, mesies wantsies nibbles?” Baby Tommy meeped out just then, kicking his little baby feet as he chewed at her hand. “Peasies?”

Peter and I both exchanged looks and her opened his mouth to answer him when-

“I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE AHHHHHH”

I took my cell phone out from my bra and answered it, “Hihi Isabelle! What’s going on?”

“Hello, is this Mary Claire Ratajczyk?”

“It is yes.” A furrow formed in my brow as a knot grew in my stomach. “Now, who are you and why are you using my daughter’s cell phone?”

Peter perked up at the worried tone in my voice, settling his hand onto my knee and letting out a soft hum.

“My name is Officer Harvery- there was an incident with an attempted burglar at your house.”

“Peter-” I whimpered, throwing my cell phone at him before tearing off into the dance studio to collect Elizabeth.

“I’m so terribly sorry, but I need to collect Elizabeth,” I announced, calling my daughter over to me, where she quickly grabbed her duffle bag and exchanged her ballet slippers for trainers before the both of us ran back out again. “My love, drive.”

Peter peeled out of the parking lot and quickly hopped onto the freeway, the tension in the air thick as Peter gripped at the steering wheel with white knuckles.

“Jesus fuck-” Peter swore at he parked catty corner to the corner, narrowly avoiding ramming into a haphazardly parked police cruiser. “Sweetheart, you go on up- Bitty and I will get the babies.”

I simply just tore inside, finding Isabelle having her hands taped up by a paramedic and Katie hugging Jing in tight to her as she cowered behind the family nanny.

“Mommy!” shouted Katie, rushing over to wrap her trembling arms tight around my waist.“Mo stór,” I murmured as I welcomed her embrace. “What happened?”

“Well you see ma’am-”

“Was I talking to you?” My voice went chilly and soft with a moment’s notice. “No? Then shut up.”

The police officer looked at me with something akin to fear as I turned to Isabelle.

“Baby Noah’s father broke in, possibly hoping to kidnap the little boy,” she told me. “I beat him up some before holding him on the floor and Katie called 9-1-1. Those martial art classes were a good investment.”

“Is there a reason as to why the security feature wasn’t on?” I asked her softly as Peter and Elizabeth both came in, my big beefy soulmate wearing the triplets on his chest and Elizabeth carrying Baby Eve on a hip and Baby Tommy and Baby Noah toddling closely behind her, Baby Tommy toting Elle in his chubby little man arm.

“I didn’t think to turn it on,” Isabelle confessed sheepishly, thanking the paramedic with a brisk nod of her head. “Besides, you and Peter were to be gone for two hours tops. I also really wanted to finish that book that I stole from your office, and I knew that I probably wouldn’t go to sleep until you all have returned.”

“I can activate the security cameras and make a copy for you,” Peter offered, handing the babies over to Isabelle and I while he and Katie both led two of the policemen into his office.

Wah… wah… wah… whimpered Baby Jojo before erupting into a sudden WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… howled Baby Mattie and Baby Teddy, the three babies screaming their heads off as the policewoman nearby jumped three feet into the air at the sudden loud commotion.

“Sorry, they’re teething!” I explained, offering Baby Mattie and Baby Jojo my curls to chew on, cooing at the two babies in my arms.

“I remember when my son was teething. The only thing that would stop his crying would be slices of frozen cucumbers. He would just chew away, happy as a little chickpea.”

“Frozen cucumber? Huh, I never heard of that hack before!” I hummed, looking up as the three mean and eleven year old girl reemerged from my husband’s office, one of the men clutching at a DVD in his hands. “My love, can you remember if we have any cucumbers in the freezer?”

“No idea sweetheart,” he answered me, his long hair tossed back and out from his hazel blue eyes in a sensible man bun. “But I also gave them a copy of Sammi’s will and custody paperwork for Baby Noah, just in case any questions come up.”

“Ah, smart thinking, my love!” I told him with another gentle hum, pressing motherly kisses to the temples of the babies in my arms. “And now, can you kindly kick everyone out of the house? I’m exhausted and really need to crash into bed now.”

“Of course sweetheart.” he intercepted the babies from me, where they immediately calmed down once up against his manly chest. “Go upstairs, take a shower, wash your hair, get changed into your jammies. I can handle this.”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[an-android-in-a-tutu]

The answer to that question, it turns out, is "steal a car."

The road they landed on is gently winding and wooded on either side. It's not wilderness, the road is well-maintained, and you can catch glimpses of openness through the trees where it's been clear-cut, the loggers leaving just enough of a strip of greenery to prevent people in passing cars from seeing the ugly barrenness left behind. At least, that's what Claire's mom told her, once, in the back of the car driving down a road just like this one, and she never questioned it then.

She's learned since that parents aren't as infallible as they seem when you're twelve.

(She still doesn't know what happened to her mom. Now she never will.)

The point is that it's not a busy road and it's not studded with helpful landmarks that'll tell them where they've landed, so they've got no way of knowing how long it'll take them to get anywhere by following it.

They need transportation.

Of course, their ability to procure it relies on a car actually turning up, and it takes a solid half hour of walking down the side of the road before they hear the approaching rumble of an engine cutting through the quiet night. Claire sticks out her thumb, and Cas slides back down into the ditch out of sight.

The car that ends up slowing to a stop next to her is a blue prius, and the guy at the wheel looks like a total soccer dad. He's got laugh lines for fuck's sake, and the first thing out of his mouth when she cautiously approaches the window is "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just looking for a ride." She mumbles.

"What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" He asks, all fatherly concern.

"Trying to get back to town." She replies vaguely. "Do you know how far it is?"

"About another twenty minutes, if you'll let me give you a ride." He smiles at her. "A lot longer if you keep on walking."

Claire hesitates, wavering on the spot.

"Do you?" He asks, smile fading. "Want a ride, I mean."

"Yeah, that's kind of what the whole sticking out my thumb thing was about." She replies, but she still doesn't move.

His expression softens. "Hey, it's okay, I promise. Why don't you hop in the back? I'll take you wherever you want to go, no strings attached, I swear."

"Shit." Claire grimaces. "I was kinda hoping you'd be a creep or something."

"What? Why?" He exclaims.

The driver's side door gets yanked open and he turns around to come face to face with the barrel of an assault rifle.

"Get out of the car." Castiel orders, voice about as rough as it always is, but in context it's probably especially intimidating. To Claire, he adds: "Not every car theft is going to function as karmic retribution, sometimes you have to go with the convenient option."

"Oh god. Oh god, please don't shoot me." Says the guy, putting his hands up and staring wide eyed at the gun."

"I know that I'm just saying I'd feel better about it if he'd been at least a little bit skeezy." She rebuts, pulling open the passenger side door as well. "I'm young and pretty and I've got nowhere to go, it wouldn't be that hard for some guy to get ideas."

The guy in the driver's seat hasn't moved, and he looks about ready to wet himself.

"Out." Cas repeats, gesturing with his gun. The guy whimpers a little, and Claire winces. "It's not as though people never pick up hitchhikers with altruistic intentions, this was as likely as any other outcome. Maybe more so."

"Yeah, whatever." She rolls her eyes. "Dude, you gotta get out of the car."

He jerks up in his seat, finally startled into motion, and immediately gets caught on his seat-belt.

"You have to unbuckle yourself first." Castiel informs him helpfully, gun never wavering an inch. The guy starts scrabbling at the buckle frantically, not looking at what he's doing and making about zero progress.

"Please- please don't kill me." He begs, voice cracking. "I have a family."

"Congratulations." Castiel replies, bored. "Most humans do."

Claire makes a face. Castiel sees her making the face. He sighs.

"Claire." He says, disapproving.

She puts up her hands. "I feel bad!"

"We need transportation, Claire."

"He says it's not that far, we could probably make it to town on our own and just steal a car there." She points out. Not that either of them are great at hot-wiring vehicles, but they could probably manage, between the two of them, right?

"My feet hurt." Castiel declares, like it's the worst thing in the world and a totally reasonable reason to steel a car from a perfectly nice man instead of walking for an hour or two.

"Point." Claire says, sliding into the car and reaching over to unbuckle the guy's belt for him. Because, well, Cas' feet hurt. What can you do? "Sorry buddy, them's the breaks."

The guy lurches out of the car to get away from her, and then veers aside to give Cas as wide a birth as he can, hands coming up again. Cas keeps the gun trained lazily on him.

"You'll- you'll let me go now, right?" He asks.

"Mhm." Cas shrugs, gestures dismissively with one hand. "You need anything?"

"What?" The guy sounds like he's about to start crying.

"From your car." Cas clarifies, looking unimpressed. "Do you need anything?"

For a long minute the guy just stares at him.

"... Can I have my briefcase?"

Cas looks to Claire, and she twists around to look in the back.

"It's under the seat." The guy says, helpfully, and she contorts herself around over the centre console to grope blindly for it.

"You could just get out and go around." Castiel points out.

"I got it." Claire snaps back, feeling her fingertips brushing leather. She heaves herself forward a little more and manages to grasp the handle, yanking it up with her when she pulls back. "HA!"

She passes it through the open door to Castiel, who tosses it to the guy, who fumbles to catch it with numb fingertips and clutches it to his chest.

"Anything else?" Castiel asks.

"I think I left my cellphone on the passenger seat?" The guy replies tentatively. Claire turns around to look for it.

"I'm not seeing a cellphone." She says.

"Are you sitting on it?"

"I think I'd know if I was sitting on it, Cas-"

"What?"

"...Found it."

"Were you sitting on it?"

"Shut up." She tosses him the phone, which is a lot clunkier than she remembers cellphones being when she was a kid. She didn't actually ask how far back they ended up, if that's even something Cas can tell. Has she even been born yet? There's no way they're that far back in time. For one thing, the guy in the car is dressed basically normal. For another, there are cellphones. Cellphones aren't that old, are they?

Cas catches the thing, and instead of passing it along, he flips it open, looking at the little screen.

"Is this the date?" He asks, turning it to face the guy.

"Um... yeah? Wait, no-" He stutters, sweating under Cas' bland scrutiny. "The damn thing kept resetting on me and it's always such a hassle to change it so I just leave it... like that..."

He trails off, withering as Castiel stares at him.

"What is the date."

"October tenth?"

"Year."

"2005." He supplies promptly, clearly too terrified to comment.

"Thanks." Cas says, slinging his gun back over his shoulder, he tosses the phone over, underhand, and gets in the driver's seat. "Call someone for a ride."

"Our other car is in the shop-" The guy starts to say, but Cas slams the door and starts the engine, and he skitters back to the edge of the road like they're gonna swerve and hit him as they pull away.

"See? He'll be fine." Cas says. "He has another car and everything."

"Yeah but it's in the shop, Cas." Claire counters, waving at the guy in the rear-view as he stands there watching them, clutching his phone and briefcase to his chest. "Who's gonna drive his kids to soccer practice, now?"

"Soccer practice?" Castiel asks, amused.

"Well not in this car, obviously. This car is a sensible hybrid he takes on business trips. His wife drives a station wagon- ooh or a minivan- to cart their five kids to their various extracurriculars." She informs him, tilting her seat back and putting her feat up. "Soccer and baseball for the boys, ballet for the girls. Violin for their youngest who's the sensitive type. His names Jeremy. But now with no transportation, they won't get their required enrichment, driving their mother up the wall and putting a strain on their parents' marriage, leading to a messy divorce, and the stress will put Jeremy onto a dark path that leads him to abandon his passion for music." She shakes her head sadly. "He'll never play Carnegie hall, now."

"Claire, you never told me you were such a talented psychic." Castiel says mildly. "If you'd said something, perhaps I would have spared him. Also, put your seat-belt on."

"Whatever." She rolls her eyes, snorting, but she complies, not even bothering to point out that he's not wearing his, the hypocrite.

"We'll switch cars when we get to town," Cas says after a moment, "he'll get it back in a day or two, tops."

"We should," Claire points out, "because he is definitely going to call the cops on us. Kind of a bonehead move, giving him his cell back. You looking to get into a police chase?"

"Not yet, he won't." Castiel informs her. "He didn't have any bars."

"Sure," Claire says, "you couldn't help it could you."

Castiel keeps driving in silence.

"He was just... so pathetic." He says, finally. "Like a sad, wet dog."

Claire barks out a laugh.

"Mean!" She says, punching him in the shoulder, and he smiles back at her, pleased with himself.

"Where are we headed, anyway?" She asks. "You got a plan?"

Castiel hums thoughtfully.

"It's October tenth," he says, "on November second, in Palo Alto, California, Sam Winchester's girlfriend is murdered by a demon, sending him and his brother down the path that will eventually lead them to starting the apocalypse.

"It's not the first or the last domino, but it seems like as good a place to intervene as any."

"Plus, you know, sucks for her," Claire says. "Dying and all."

"Yes, sucks for her," Castiel muses. "Best if we can prevent it."

"So we're headed to California then?" Claire asks. "That'll be cool. Hey, we've got like three weeks, maybe we can hit the beach."

Castiel doesn't reply.

"Cas?"

"We have another stop, first." He doesn't look at her.

"Where?" She asks, uncertain.

"Pontiac." He says. "First, we're going to Pontiac."

They don't talk for the rest of the drive.

I HAVE. A self indulgent AU that I'm not sure I've ever discussed here but I'm too lazy to check. It's about endverse Cas travelling in time back to season one to stop the apocalypse, which has been done and done very well, but the twist is. Endverse Claire.

[almostgenerallyalways]

Surveillance

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader (no gender specific pronouns used) Category: fluff, angst Word count: 1.7k  Cw: canon typical violence, mention of sexual harassment Authors note: Aaaah I’ve been so busy with work but I was so happy to get this out :)

Summary: After a not quite voluntary transfer to the BAU, you have trouble feeling like you fit in. Over the course of many hours running surveillance with your colleague Dr Reid, that might change.

August: Beaumont, Mississippi

“Will you sit still for once?” The annoyance in your voice is evident, and Spencer stops bouncing his knee mid-movement. Outside the parked sedan, the dusk is slowly turning to dark.

“Sorry”, he says. “It’s just, we’ve been sitting here for two hours and there’s been no sign that anyone’s home. I think we’re wasting our time here.”

You lean your elbows on the steering wheel and pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Look, Reid. I know I’m still new and I wasn’t Hotch’s first or even second pick to reinforce the team, but I’m not a complete idiot, alright? I’ve got a hunch about this one.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, a hunch. I don’t know how they did things back at the Sacramento field office, but at the BAU we tend to use science and ev-”

“Reid.” In the space of a second, your entire demeanor changes, and for a fraction of a moment he’s distracted by the way the streetlight catches your eyes, suddenly on high alert. “We’ve got movement.”

He looks over at the house, and he almost misses it, but there it is: The shadowy figure of a man, slipping out the side door, clearly taking care not to be seen.

He looks back over at you, but you’re already closing the car door behind you without a sound, drawing your gun. He reaches for his own weapon and follows you into the night.

* * *

October: Montpelier, Idaho

The frame of the beat-up pick-up truck dips slightly as Spencer gets in and closes the passenger door behind him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You turn to him, tearing your eyes away from the run-down bar across the street, and gratefully accept the paper cup of coffee he offers you. “Any news from Prentiss and Morgan?”

“Miller hasn’t shown up to his daughter’s house either, so I guess we’re stuck here for the time being.” He leans forward and peers at the unsub’s place of work, which you’ve been assigned to watch. “Anything happen here?”

“In the five minutes you were at the truck stop? No.”

Your tone is almost amused, and that’s unusual enough for him to ask: “What?”

Your face breaks into a grin, and that’s even rarer, he’s not sure he’s ever seen it. “It’s just, I’m picturing you at that truck stop. I’m not sure you could’ve blended in less if you tried.”

He looks down at his pressed shirt, argyle knit vest, purple tie and slacks, then shifts his eyes over to you: jeans, dusty hiking boots, flannel shirt. “Oh.”

“It’s alright, Reid. I’m like ninety percent sure this guy is never going to show up to work again.” You tap the steering wheel lightly with your fingers, and glance over at him. “Besides, I like the vest.”

“Oh.” He says again, and suddenly he can’t look at you. He takes a sip of his coffee instead.

* * *

December: Eau Claire, Wisconsin

“God damn it, it’s so cold.” You blow on your fingers, trying to regain some feeling. Outside the night is dark, and you wish you could run the motor for even five minutes, but you can’t risk being detected.

Spencer wiggles his gloved fingers at you and grins. “I told you.”

“Yeah, well, genius, tell me this: Why is it always us getting stuck on the worst surveillance shifts together?” You jam your hands under your thighs, hoping that may save you from imminent frostbite. “I understand I’m still paying my dues, but you’ve been here forever.”

Spencer shrugs. “I don’t mind it, actually. I keep weird hours anyway, and it gives the others a chance to sleep. Did you know the word surveillance comes from the Fr-”

You groan. “Surveiller. To watch over. Thanks Reid, I took high school French too.”

He smiles, and chides softly, without malice: “You’re always so defensive.”  

You look over at him, a little sheepish. That fucking smile of his will be the death of you. “Yeah, well. Can you blame me?”

He seems puzzled, though it’s somewhat hard to tell, half obscured in the weak glow of the streetlight you’re parked under. “What do you mean?”

You look back out the window, over at the hangar that has seen no movement in the last three hours. “Come on, Reid. I know things are slightly better now, but I still feel like I have to defend my right to be on the team every single day. At least in Sacramento, I had my place.”

He hums. “Why’d you leave the field office, then?”

You let the air leave your lungs in a puff of breath. It’s two in the morning, and you guess the truth is coming out. “I didn’t want to, really. But the bureau chief tried to… well, he was getting weird ideas about the nature of our relationship.” You keep your eyes fixed ahead and shrug. “I filed a complaint, but it was his word against mine, you know how these things go. He torpedoed my next eval, so I asked Strauss for a transfer, anywhere she thought could use me.”

Spencer swallows the burst of anger that threatens to spill out of him. “Fuck. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

He watches you bite your lip, and continues: “For what it’s worth, she made the right call transferring you to the BAU. You’re a great agent, and we needed you.” His voice catches on the last part. “I’m sorry if we weren’t very… welcoming, in the beginning. Strauss tends to take unilateral decisions, and there’s some history there.”

You glance over, and to his relief, a smile plays around your lips: “You mean, besides Rossi not calling her back after they hooked up?”

To his own surprise, he bursts out in laughter. “Defensive and crass.” He peels off his gloves and tosses them at you. “Here. We can take turns.”

* * *

February: Terre Haute, Indiana

You get back in the car quickly, glad to be out of the pouring rain. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

When Spencer doesn’t reply, you stop trying to wipe your wet hair out of your face and look over. His face is drawn. “Hey,” you say softly, “Are you alright?”

He shakes his head, seemingly trying to clear his thoughts. “Yeah. Sorry. I tried to call my mom while you were out, but she wasn’t… I couldn’t get through to her.” He swallows and looks out the passenger side window, turning his face away from you.

You’re not good with words, not the way he is, so you reach across the center console and take his hand in yours. He lets you.

You sit like that, watching drops of rain roll down the windshield, until Hotch finally radios you back to the police station.

* * *

April: Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Heat is rising off the asphalt in waves. It shouldn’t be possible for it to be this muggy in April, you think, but Louisiana is proving you wrong.

Even Spencer has rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. You’re trying not to linger on his exposed forearms when a movement catches in the corner of your eye.

“Reid.” You sit up, but he’s already spotted it too: Your unsub, pulling up to the storage unit Garcia found registered under his mother’s name.

Suddenly, his vehicle grinds to a stop, causing red dust to cloud the air. “Shit,” you say, “I think we’ve been made.”

You jump out, brandishing your gun, while Spencer radios the team for back-up, but you’re slow, too damn slow. A shot rings out, Evans ducks behind the open driver’s side door of his truck, and to your horror the windshield on your own vehicle shatters into a million pieces.

“REID!” You’re around the back of the car in a second, frantic, desperate, and pull open the passenger’s side door.

“Fuck.” He groans. Blood trails down his face, and your heart stops.

Then: “I’m fine - It’s just the glass - GO.”

For a second, your brain doesn’t catch up, but then he tells you again to go, and you remember you still have a serial killer on the loose.

Evans is reversing his truck back up the drive, so you steel yourself, take aim, and pop goes his front tire. The next thing you know he tumbles, more than steps, out of the car and takes off running.

You take one last look at Spencer, to tell your thumping heart he is alive, and take off after him.

* * *

Still Baton Rouge, Louisiana

“Hotch.” You grind through clenched teeth. “We’ve been over this three times. I tackled him, Prentiss and Morgan arrived with the PD, they booked him. How many more ways can I describe it?”

Your boss raises an eyebrow – You’d call his expression amused, if that was something he was capable of. “Are you in a hurry to get somewhere, Agent?”

You do your best to stare daggers at him, but it only serves to make the upturned corner of his mouth more prominent. Finally, he releases you with a nod and a knowing smile. Unbelievable.

Running past the long line of storage units, you finally reach the parking lot, and the ambulance, its rear doors thrown wide.

Spencer is sitting, legs dangling over the side, while a tall paramedic applies a final bandage to his face before her colleague calls her over. The humidity in the air is still palpable, and time seems to slow down as you take him in – in one piece, thank God.

He smiles at you, then winces. “Hey.”

In a split second, your mind goes over all the reasons you shouldn’t do this, from the mundane (you’re drenched in sweat – a positively disgusting swamp creature, at this point) to the potentially catastrophic (for your ego, or your career for that matter).

Then you decide, fuck it.

You take Spencer’s face in your hands and kiss him, like you’ve wanted to for months, like your life depends on it.

“Oh, shoot.” He hisses. “That hurts.”

You immediately start to pull away, but his hands fly to your wrists. “Wait – don’t stop, though.”

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, surprising you, and you smile as he recaptures your lips, and gently guides your hands back to his face. Something between a sob and a laugh escapes your throat, as you kiss his chin, his temple, his nose. “Damn it, Reid. I thought you were a goner for a second there.”

His hands squeeze your waist. “Please. Who’d run surveillance with you? No one else could stand it.”

You’d swat him, but you guess he deserves a pass today.

In the background, you hear Emily’s wolf whistle.

You think you might finally feel like you belong.

---

If you liked this please read my previous fics Mutual Understanding and A Matter of Record :) :) <3

[buckybarnesdiaries]

a place called home

© credits to the author, i found it on google. if you own it, send me a message to add your @.

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Request by @dora-wolfram-blog: Hi <3 so happy to see your requests are open! How about ex Avenger reader who can manipulate the forces of nature and she comes to help Sam? (Idk maybe calling fish from the sea so his family can sell and earn enough money for the boat?) There she meets Bucky who she briefly met after endgame and they get to know each other? Domestic stuff is my weak spot so thank you so much luv u <3

word count: 1.206 words.

warnings/tags: none. bucky being a gentleman and sam a pain in the ass as always.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Saying that Bucky and you were friends wasn’t something exactly. You fought together a couple of times before you retired from superhero life. Like many of them, the war had finished and you chose calm over being a private agent. More or less like the ex-soldier, with the difference that he went to New York and you didn’t be able to find a home until Sam made you a call. He was quite the opposite of Bucky for you, connecting since the very first second you met. After he told you about his sister’s financial trouble, he offered you a roof to sleep under in exchange for your powers to control the tide and promote the movement of fish stocks. Of course, it was a hit, and you finally found peace in Delacroix. A celebration was inevitable, it was part of Wilsons’ DNA, but you weren’t expecting Bucky to show up with Sam; although he told you in your last call that they were working together. Or something like that.

As soon as your eyes laid on him among the crowd, you knew he had changed after more than six months without seeing each other. You couldn't help but feel happy for Bucky when you saw him smiling for the first time. He had a beautiful and innocent smile, seeming like a new man. Renovated, with want to live, enjoying playing with kids and talking to old men about war stories.

You had placed your back against an oak column, away from the crowd but close enough to check on everyone, in case they need help with anything. A beer was resting against your lips, doubting on continuing drinking, lost in your thoughts. There was something about Bucky going from one side to another, laughing unworried, that had fully captivated your attention. You weren't able to stop looking at him, chuckling when you saw one of Sam's nieces putting a magnet with the form of a crab on his left arm.

“I have that teen-in-love's face on camera”.

You frowned at Redwing some inches away from your face. As a response, you tried to slap it down. But your friend was faster than you controlling that thing.

“He looks good, uh?”

“Oh, shut up…” You replied by clicking your tongue and rolling your eyes, having a sip from your drink to put your eyes away to the sea.

“He asked if you'd be here… Just saying”.

“Shut up, Samuel!” You implored, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

As the night went on and the guests started to leave, Sarah asked you to take Jim and Jody home while she stayed there cleaning with his brother about the business. You were exhausted too, and she noticed it. And after saying your goodbyes, you headed to the parking where your car was stationed, carrying the younger Wilson onto your arms —peacefully sleeping— as his big brother was yawning loudly. At that point, you realized that it was going to be a tough mission to put them in the car.

“Wait! Lemme help”.

The male voice coming from behind you made you turn around and before you could react, Bucky was taking Jody from your arms to his. You smirked softly in response, looking for the key in the right pocket of your jacket to unlock the car. The soldier tucked the younger in the back seat, placing the belt around him as Jim occupied the other side of the SUV.

“It's been good to see you”. You said after closing the door, staying outside in front of him.

“Same”. He replied, not knowing what else to say.

Puckering your lips and clapping the key on your palm, you nodded with your chin, feeling the nerves running through your veins. “Good night, Bucky”.

“Good night, (Y/N)”.

You gave him your back, sighing inappreciably, to open the pilot's place and came in.

“He— Hey, wait”.

“Uh?”

“Sam told me… you were tired. I might give you a ride back home. I can wait for him there”. The offering made you glance towards him, already sitting in your car but with a leg rest on the ground. “If you want, I mean…”

Of course he did (...). That son of a bitch had the audacity to push you onto the other. You bit your inner cheek, landing your eyes on the wheel. Yes, you were tired. You woke up at five to sail with Sarah, then you organized the party and cooked for it. You hadn't had a single second of rest during the whole day. And Sam took advantage of it, feeling like he was some kind of Cupido. And you had to recognize that it was also very considerate coming from Bucky.

“I'd appreciate it… actually”. You ended up agreeing, stepping out to give him the keys and ceding your seat.

The ride was silent between the two of you, hearing some quiet indie music playing on the radio while you fought against your brain to stay awake. Luckily, it didn't take him too long to reach Sarah's house —although you were barely keeping your eyes open at this point. Again, he helped you with the kids, walking indoors and following you to their respective rooms. You tucked Jim and Jody on their beds, making sure they were comfy before placing a kiss on their foreheads and wishing them a good night. Bucky had rested his back against the wall, in front of the elder’s room, just waiting for you. And you could swear that you saw him briefly smirking because of the tenderness in your actions.

After closing the last door, you waved your head to urge him to follow you downstairs to the living room. With an exhausted sigh escaping your lips, you let your body fall on the sofa, curling on a side of it to give Bucky some space. You couldn’t help but yawn, turning on the TV by using the control remote.

“It’s good to have a home to come back”.

“Yeah… After all the shitty situations we’ve been through… We deserved a rest, don’t you think?” You replied grabbing a cushion from the floor, using it as a pillow over the armrest. “Sorry, I… I’m deadly tired…”

“Come here, that will hurt when you wake up”.

Bucky didn’t hesitate on beckoning to his arms, taking off his boots heel against heel to place both legs over the coffee table. You didn’t resist, knowing it would be comfier by his way. Sitting up, you lied to the opposite side, being wrapped instantly and snuggled against his warm body. Shameless, you rest your head on his right forearm, practically laying over his lap. But you felt good. You felt like it was a good reward after a long day, rolling down your eyelids and focusing on the caresses in your hair you didn’t know you needed.

For a moment, your mind wandered and fantasized about this last hour being part of your real life. Putting your kids to sleep and then cuddle with your husband till falling asleep. Smell Bucky’s strong and edgy scent. Your hands scratching his back. His fingertips stroking your scalp. Your legs laced (...)

Oh, God, Sam. What did you do?

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[lightlybrilliant]

Later that night: 

Her phone rings at exactly the time the tarot card their father had left said to call. Not a second after the clock hits 10 PM, Or 9 PM in Carbondale, where the twins live. Molly smiles at her reflection to prepare to hit answer. She does.  “Did you miss me?” She asks, the other side of the call showing a ceiling. “SEE! I told you it would be her!” Nathan exclaims, Malina shrieking in excitement as they turn the camera toward themselves, studying Molly’s face as she studies theirs in return. “Of course we missed you, Molly.” Malina says to break the silence. “We were so worried about you.” Nathan continues.

Molly blushes, rolling her eyes. “A little death doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world....Claire taught me that.” Suddenly, tears fill her eyes and she sets her phone down on the couch to collect herself.  The kids don’t know what to say, but they give each other, and Anne, who is in the room with them a concerned look. 

“I’m sorry.” --”It should be her here with you and not me.”  Nathan tries to make her feel better, and smiles at the camera on his phone. “I’ll just boost that guys ability again and-” He’s cut off by Molly who refaces her phone toward herself. “He’s..not doing too well.” She rubs her temples. “It’s nothing you did, and I don’t think it’s due to a lack of a channel, like you used with each other, she gestures to both of them. 

“How do you and...our....father...know about all of that?” They ask together.

Molly smiles. “Everything changed when Claire jumped off of the ferris wheel. I can’t tell you everything, but between your Bio-Dad-- Who you can call Hammer, by the way-- between the way that Hammer connected some dots and some psychic texts left behind from generations before us, he figured it out. And then he shared that information with me. And Only me, Hero Truther and the guy whose ability you boosted. --But Only me and Hero Truther know that you’re Hammer’s son. And only I and Hammer know your complete identity. Everyone else has promised to mind their own business.”  They sit in silence for a minute, Molly allowing them to take in the new information. “And the guy whose ability I boosted, what is wrong with him?” Nathan pries, Molly, sighing says “He’s just....really tired. And he’s having trouble healing things. He can heal flowers-- barely, but it comes to animals he’s having trouble. And he can barely heal humans right now. I think he just needs to rest, I can’t imagine the power and energy you two used to reanimate a corpse-- and I’m not just a reanimated corpse, by the way.” Molly smiles in disbelief. “Like. It’s me. I have my own consciousness, I just feel like I took a really long nap....and lost all of the muscle and fat on my body...it was difficult for me to walk at first, but now I’m fine. This isn’t like that one storyline in Supernatural where Sam comes back without a soul. It’s really me, guys. I have my soul....if those exist.” 

Nathan and Malina smile at Molly, then at each other, and Anne. Molly notices them look away and uses her ability to see who they’re looking at. 

“Hey Anne, sorry for the lack of communication. I hope you’re not worried about the kids Biological father hanging around...He wouldn’t hurt a fly, really....unless like.....maybe that fly hurt someone he loves? I don’t know. But he’s just a big teddy bear. And a total nerd.” 

“Thank God.” Anne says, still nervous.

Malina smiles at Molly and decides to be bold. “Grandma is afraid our biological father might be Sylar. Is he Sylar? Is Hammer Sylar?”  A look of shock paints Molly’s face. “God no. Claire would have never slept with him. They were tolerating each other’s presence at the end, but they were almost never around each other. They worked in different groups. --And besides, I was one of the very few who even knew that Claire was dating someone, and one of the few that she told when she found out that she was pregnant. ....I also had you guys DNA tested when Hammer was in a coma. He is definitely your Biological father. Not Sylar.” 

“WHAT?!” Everybody except Molly, including Hammer, who had just walked in the door exclaims. 

Molly smirks “I trusted Claire, I knew she wouldn’t lie to me, but I figured it would be nice for everyone to have the DNA results when we could all get together to talk about this. Molly glances over at Hammer. “Angela was afraid you were Sylar, can you believe that?” She pauses before continuing while West stands there in disbelief. “Claire would be pissed if she knew the thought even crossed Angela’s mind....and hurt....she’d be so hurt.” 

Before anybody could speak up, Molly smiles at the camera. “Well, Daddy dearest is going to make me dinner now, so I should probably go. But I’ll call you guys again soon. Stay in school! Don’t do drugs! Love you!” Molly hangs up, giggling. She uses her ability to watch the aftermath of what just happened. 

“Oh relax, West. They’re relieved you’re not a retired serial killer.”

West sighs. “That’s...good, I guess.” 

"You can't just ignore me." She screams into the phone before hanging up.

'HAMMER' flashes across her screen as she hits the button to try again. Sigh. He won't answer her and she knows it. He has this thing that he does when she calls. Where he just pretends like he can't hear his phone ringing, or like he can't feel it vibrating...or like he can't see it lighting up with her nickname on it when it's literally sitting right next to him.

Because he knows. He knows she's watching him. and the more she sees someone ignore her calls purposefully, the more it hurts her. So, for her sake, he will pretend like he doesn't know he's missing her calls.

Until--

*Six hours later* --Hammer enters the loft quietly, resetting the code on the alarm system before it goes off. He sets his balaclava and mask down on the kitchen island as he makes his way to the living space. He stops to watch Molly's back rise and fall while she sleeps. There are maps and pushpins scattered across the table in front of them, along with two whiteboards with nicknames and locations of their loved ones, and the names and locations of their enemies. "Shit." He thinks to himself. He shouldn't have been gone all day. Carefully stepping over levitating above the pins on the ground, he picks up the empty wine bottle and glasses, one stained for her and a second one, clean, waiting for him. He puts them in the sink and returns, picking up the pins and maps, setting them in piles. Red pins for enemies. Blue for Allies. He'll ignore the one red pin that she placed in the location he was in earlier. In fact, he will slowly remove it and put it away.

He slowly meets Molly's eyes with his own as her eyelids flutter open. He can tell by the disappointed and slightly hungover look on her face that she's upset with him. It kills him to see her so upset, but it kills him more to see her so...alone. The look in her eyes when she opened them, how she wasn't even surprised to see that he had snuck back inside, it hurts him. And it hurts him to hurt her. "Molly, I'm....trying." "Mhm." She responds, rolling over against the back of the couch. He grabs a blanket off the back of the recliner and lays it over her, crawling underneath of it as well to wrap his arms around her as he lays against her.

"I wish you would've left me in the Renautus Freezers." She whispers, causing a tear to roll down his cheek.

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 22: Birthday

Claire steps out of Jay Street Diner with relief. It wasn’t a bad morning shift, overall. She overheard a few out-of-towners gossiping about a weird death a couple cities over that she’ll check out tonight. Plus, she only had to deal with one creep who stared at her ass and just ordered black coffee. Jody’ll be happy; Claire didn’t stab him in the neck with a steak knife when he called her sweetheart.

Outside, she takes a deep breath of air that doesn’t smell like pancake syrup and bacon and pulls out her phone. The screen lights up with no new texts from Cas, even though he usually makes plans for lunch by now. But no, the last thing he sent her was a link to a video of a cat walking across a piano three days ago.

She pockets her phone, irritated. Whatever. It means her afternoon is free after all.

Claire looks up and stops dead in her tracks.

The Impala idles next to the curb.

Dean grins as he spots her, leaning over to roll down the passenger-side window. He calls, “Get in, loser. We’re going shopping!”

A smile tugs a her lips. What a dork. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Dean scoots back into the driver’s seat. “I’m taking you shopping. I swear, it’s like you don’t even listen when I’m talking.”

Claire yanks open the door and clambers in the Impala. As Dean starts the engine, she says, “I thought Cas was gonna pick me up.”

“Cas is busy.”

“Doing what?”

“I dunno, Cas things. I don’t have him on a leash.”

Claire throws him a look. “You sure about that?”

Dean frowns as they slow for a red light. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Claire rolls her eyes. Her texts with Cas are usually about stupid things like Cas’s garden behind the Bunker and his recent obsession with Thai food. But whenever they meet up in person, especially lately, he can’t shut up about Dean.

About Dean’s high cholesterol level, which Cas can’t do anything about because he’s not an angel anymore.

About the new movie Dean insisted he watch; had she heard of it? The Avengers?

About Dean, Dean, Dean.

Hopefully Cas doesn’t act that desperate in front of him. Claire almost feels sorry for Cas.

But she gets it, kind of. Dean isn’t that bad. He gave her her first gun (even though he took it back at the end of the hunt). He’s one of the best hunters in the world, from the stories Jody and Cas tell. He’s weirdly overprotective of her in a way that Cas isn’t because Cas judges that kind of behavior as too father-like and overstepping. Claire doesn’t mind, though, not exactly. But she’d rather face a dozen werewolves on the full moon than tell that to Dean’s face.

“Are we really going shopping?” Claire asks, slumping in her seat. If she has the afternoon free, she’d much rather check out suspicious death those customers were talking about over breakfast.

Dean lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Not if you don’t want to. I could do it tomorrow, I guess.” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “But you’ve got a free ride. Where do you want to go?”

“With an old geezer like you? You’ll ruin all my street cred.” Claire turns to him as Dean scowls in exasperation. “What are you doing up here anyway? You live in Kansas.”

Dean taps his fingers against the wheel, casting a sidelong look at her. “A hunt, actually.”

What the fuck? And he thought he’d take her shopping?

“What are you hunting?” she demands eagerly.

“Woah,” Deans says, eyes widening. “Slow down, Polly Pocket. I don’t have a lot of intel yet.”

“I could help.”

Dean snorts. “I bet.”

“Seriously,” Claire insists, “I took out two shifters by myself a week and a half ago.”

Dean’s fingers clench on the wheel. “You did what?” he asks, his voice oddly quiet.

“Yeah,” Claire says smugly. “One of them actually stole my face, so I got them to turn on each other. Smart, right?”

“But you were careful?”

Claire huffs. “Hunting isn’t a careful sort of gig.”

“Claire.”

She pushes her hair back from her face and stares out the windshield. “I mean, I guess. A few bruises, you know the drill.” She turns back to him. “So what kind of monster are we looking at?”

Dean chuckles. “You’re like a dog with a bone, I swear. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you really were Cas’s kid.”

Claire rolls her eyes. Dean, still, is the only person who doesn’t shy away from referencing the fact that Cas is wearing her dad’s face in normal conversation. Cas only does it if they’re having a talk.

“So?”

“Fine,” Dean grumbles. “I’ll tell you over lunch. How’s that? I’m starving.”

“I could eat,” Claire says. “No diner food, though.”

“I can work with that,” Dean says as he takes a left turn. Soon, too soon, they’re pulling up in front of the Lemongrass Cafe.

Thai food?

They get out of the car, but Claire pauses outside of the restaurant. “Wait,” she says, staring up at the sign with narrowed eyes. “Thai food - Cas on some suspicious errand - zero mention of my birthday the whole way over, like you’re actively avoiding bringing it up.”

Dean edges towards the door, a sheepish expression on his face.

Claire glares at him. “Is there a surprise party in there?”

Dean’s mouth opens, but no words come out.

Bingo. Caught.

Claire throws up her hands. “You guys know I have no friends, right? Apart from, like, Alex and Kaia? Maybe Patience on a good day?”

“No, I mean, yes, but - fuck,” Dean fumbles, “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” Claire says flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. Spending her afternoon cooped up with a bunch of strangers Cas wrangled together on her behalf isn’t her idea of a good time.

“Look,” Dean says in a low voice, pulling her off to the side and out of view of the restaurant windows. “He really wanted to do this for you. It’s been exactly five years since you went on your first hunt with us and, I guess, he wanted to celebrate that too.”

Claire’s heart twinges, despite herself. “Oh.”

“Anyway,” Dean says, subtly jerking his head back to the door, “he invited a bunch of our younger generation contacts - Krissy, Tracy, Max, and a few others - because you need more friends who you can talk to about this sort of stuff. Every person in there is a hunter. Maybe you’ll get a partner out of it. Who knows.”

Claire unwinds her arms. “Fine, I’ll do the stupid party.”

Dean claps her on the back, a shade too hard. As she glares up at him, he says with a grin, “That’s the spirit, Scream Queen.”

“But I’m not doing a stupid surprise face,” Claire says. “I figured it out, after all.”

“Sure,” Dean says easily. He opens the door for her, saying out of the corner of his mouth, “By the way, Cas and I are dating now.”

Claire’s mouth falls open as the whole restaurant shouts, “Surprise!”