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jackoshadows · 4 years ago

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I would like to address some posts I saw that talk about misogynistic double standards when it comes to Jon and Sansa regarding bullying - that Sansa gets criticized and taken to task for bullying Arya but Jon gets a pass for bullying fellow recruits at the Night’s Watch.

First of all, who is giving Jon a pass for bullying Grenn and the others? Are there like 5 page essays out there writing about POV traps and how Grenn was unfairly jealous of Jon and hence deserving of being bullied, how it’s just new recruits being new recruits and Jon did nothing wrong etc.?

Jon’s my favorite character, and I will outright state it - Jon bullied the other recruits at the NW because he was a privileged brat. He was wrong to do it. The text pretty much calls him a bully and unlike some stans, no one is twisting those words to argue otherwise.

And I have never seen anyone defend Jon’s actions there. In fact I have seen these same Sansa stans use Jon’s actions at the Wall to justify Catelyn’s emotional abuse of a child. That even though Jon is a bastard, he was better off than other NW recruits and hence should shut up and stop whining about Catelyn. That his treatment by Catelyn was okay because he had it better than most others in Westeros.

Jon’s actions at the wall are just not mentioned often because it’s accepted that he did wrong. The reason why Sansa’s bullying is often brought up is because Sansa stans write essays about how Sansa never bullied or mocked Arya, how it was just sibling being siblings, how it was because Arya was jealous and hated Sansa, how Arya’s wrong and biased POV is meant to trick readers into hating Sansa when Sansa never actually did anything wrong etc. So it’s book readers responding to this whitewashing of Sansa - because one can read the very real effects this bullying had on Arya’s self esteem and self worth.

In fact the only time Jon’s actions are brought up are when Sansa stans bring it up as whataboutism, to point fingers and accuse others of misogyny - even though no one is actually defending Jon Snow.

And you know what? Yeah, Jon was a bully. But he acknowledges that he did wrong, learned and grew from his mistakes. And I love that about Jon.

“No. They hate you because you act like you’re better than they are. They look at you and see a castle-bred bastard who thinks he’s a lordling.” The armorer leaned close. “You’re no lordling. Remember that. You’re a Snow, not a Stark. You’re a bastard and a bully.”

Donal Noye leaned forward, into Jon’s face. “Now think on this, boy. None of these others have ever had a master-at-arms until Ser Alliser. Their fathers were farmers and wagonmen and poachers, smiths and miners and oars on a trading galley. What they know of fighting they learned between decks, in the alleys of Oldtown and Lannisport, in wayside brothels and taverns on the kingsroad. They may have clacked a few sticks together before they came here, but I promise you, not one in twenty was ever rich enough to own a real sword.” His look was grim. “So how do you like the taste of your victories now, Lord Snow?”

“Don’t call me that!” Jon said sharply, but the force had gone out of his anger. Suddenly he felt ashamed and guilty. “I never... I didn’t think...” - Jon, AGoT

Jon noticed Grenn a few feet away. A thick woolen bandage was wrapped around one hand. He looked anxious and uncomfortable, not menacing at al . Jon went to him. Grenn edged backward and put up his hands. “Stay away from me now, you bastard.” Jon smiled at him. “I’m sorry about your wrist. Robb used the same move on me once, only with a wooden blade. It hurt like seven hells, but yours must be worse. Look, if you want, I can show you how to defend that.” - Jon, AGoT

Dareon gave him a look. “The stewards are fine for the likes of you and me, Sam, but not for Lord Snow.”

I never asked for this,” he said stubbornly.

“None of us are here for asking,” Sam reminded him.

And suddenly Jon Snow was ashamed.

Craven or not, Samwell Tarly had found the courage to accept his fate like a man. On the Wall, a man gets only what he earns, Benjen Stark had said the last night Jon had seen him alive. You’re no ranger, Jon, only a green boy with the smell of summer still on you. He’d heard it said that bastards grow up faster than other children; on the Wall, you grew up or you died. Jon let out a deep sigh. “You have the right of it. I was acting the boy... - Jon, AGoT

Jon Snow being hurt by words calling his mother a whore and later making Satin Flowers,a prostitute, his steward despite opposition.

“Words won’t make your mother a whore. She was what she was, and nothing Toad says can change that. You know, we have men on the Wall whose mothers were whores.” Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind. - Jon, AGoT

Jon is constantly getting his worldviews and his privilege challenged at the wall. He is confronted by some ugly truths about himself and he then takes that advice and changes for the better. It’s the same when he goes among the Wildlings and recognizes that they too are human beings deserving of being on the other side of the wall. We get this gem from him:

“We look up at the same stars and see such different things.”- Jon, ASoS

That’s the difference between how Jon and Sansa are treated in book one. When Jon acts bratty and selfish, other characters call him out on his actions, he acknowledges this, apologizes and makes up for it.

With Sansa, on the other hand, we don’t really see anyone taking her to task over her behavior. Quite the opposite. Catelyn and the Septa only encourage it. Ned ‘both sides’ the issue, often talking to Arya about how she should get along with Sansa and behave like sisters. We never see him giving those same talks to Sansa.

Which is weird because most parents would talk to their elder kids to bring about peace in sibling disputes. But in this case, Ned keeps reasoning with his younger daughter instead of his elder one. Probably because everyone thinks that Sansa is the good girl and Arya is the problematic, unruly one.

And because she is never reprimanded over her behavior, Sansa continues to be a spoiled and selfish brat right till Ned is executed at the end of the first book.

Sansa does become more empathetic in the later books after she becomes sadistic Joffrey’s political prisoner and she tries to help where she can. But while GRRM said this about her:

Sansa was the least sympathetic of the Starks in the first book; she has become more sympathetic, partly because she comes to accept responsibility for her part in her father's death.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/feature.html?tag=westeros-21&ie=UTF8&docId=49161

I don’t think I have actually read Sansa showing true remorse or regret for tattling Ned’s plans to Cersei. Or even feeling bad about how she treated Arya. As late as ASoS she thinks of her dead sister as being unsatisfactory compared to beautiful, graceful Margaery Tyrell. In the Vale, she pretends to be a bastard and yet never once recalls the bastard brother she looked down on.

There is a lot of self pity in Sansa’s POV chapters and she reprimands herself for being naive and stupid. But she never acknowledges the way she treated Arya, the Trident incident and Mycah, betraying her family etc. She does reflect at one point on how she wrongly trusted the Lannisters and she would never do that again.

Other than that there is very little introspection in Sansa’s POV chapters. Jon feels guilt, Arya feels guilt, Dany feels guilt, even Catelyn feels a twinge of regret and guilt about her treatment of Jon after meeting Mya Stone. But this is something I find lacking in Sansa’s POV chapters.

But when readers point this out, we are labelled misogynistic haters who just hate Sansa and want her to suffer, and how Sansa has nothing to apologize for, she did nothing wrong, she’s flawless and blameless of everything.

I am hoping we get acknowledgement, regret and apologies from Sansa when the older, wiser sisters meet again and resolve their issues. There is nothing wrong in apologizing for bad behavior. Everyone does it. It does not make one a super villain. It would go a long way towards humanizing Sansa and making her more likeable, in my opinion.

So anyways this turned into an essay, but yes, Jon Snow was a bully in AGoT when he went to the wall and beat up some new recruits. There is no defense of that behavior and I am glad that Donal Noye gave him a good talking to and set him straight about his privilege.

#Jon Snow #Sansa Stark #AGoT #Night's Watch #asoiaf #GRRM

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i-drink-and-i-write-fics · 3 years ago

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Vote: What fic is next?!

Hi all my lovely readers!

During this next rotation, Father’s Day and Avoidance will be completed. My list will finally be reasonable and I will be adding Let Nature Take Her Course back to the rotation (I want to add Mirror as well, but I still haven’t figured out a non-depressing ending).

Unfortunately, I won’t be opening my requests just yet. But only because I have so many on my TBW List. So I’m creating a poll! Comment on this thread with an emoji tied to the fic you would like to read next:

🧚‍♂️ (fairy): The Hidden Realm - Queen Rhyannon (OFC) x Lord Elrond

🤖 (robot): Prodigy Child - Tony Stark x GN!Reader

🧝‍♂️ (elf king): Kings & Queens - Thranduil x Laddien/Ladi (OFC), Thorin x Ladi

🏵 (rose): The Queen’s Guard - Myria Stone (OFC) x Jorah Mormont

👩‍🍳 (chef): Peredhel - Erestor x Samantha/Sam (OFC)

🦇 (bat): Battle of the Billionaires - Tony Stark x Mya (OFC), Bruce Wayne x Mya

🐆 (panther): Just a Moment in Time (Sequel to Agent or Princess) - Everett Ross x Black!Fem!Reader

All summaries can be found here. If you’re voting on your computer and can’t use emojis, just comment the title instead. Since my rotation is still full, voting will end on Aug 14th (and will be extended as needed).

Thanks!

Marvelous Mutant

Ps: you can also send in anon votes!

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mkstrigidae · 4 years ago

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Okay this one is just my rambling theories and hcs. So for Neon Rain I'm so excited to see how Jon's parentage plays out? Like Lyanna was Rhagar's soulmate right?? and Winter's child I can't WAIT for Sansa to freeze everyone's asses off and see Jon's reaction- he'll just be in awe. APWH what's gonna happen with Gendry and Mya and Robert Baratheon?? Is Shae gonna lose her cool when she finds out the Lannisters were involved? 1/2 cause I have no self control

(2/2) I have this hc that Lyanna, Elia, and Cat know that Jon and Sansa like each other before they do, like Jon touches Sansa's back a liiiitle too long and Sansa blushes at an innocuous thing that Jon says and the Moms™ are like 👀? And they just think it's ADORABLE and happy that the Targaryens will officially be apart of the family (though it could be dicey with Jon being Sansa's lawyer). And the trial is gonna bring up Sansa's call with Petyr right and it's gonna be rough on her poor thing

Hi friend! You’ve got some absolutely galaxy brain theories going on here for sure! 😁 My answers are below the cut, just because there might be some accidental spoilers if people want to avoid those!

You’re absolutely right about Lyanna in Neon Rain, although it is interesting that she isn’t currently in Rhaegar or Jon’s lives. The question becomes, what happened to her, and why isn’t she there? 😉

In APWH, Gendry and Mya’s shared ancestry is definitely going to come up at some point. I’m not quite as in-tune with Gendry’s character, but I can tell you with certainty that Mya would not take kindly to the idea that her biological father was a wealthy man who abandoned her and her mother without so much as a word. I don’t want to get too deep into it yet, because plot details can change, but there are a few points to keep in mind: that Ned Stark was previously close friends with Robert Baratheon and knew him very well once, that Mya is going to visit Sansa and the Starks in two chapters, and that APWH is very much going to try and get into the consequences of this type of case and the media exposure that it brings. You do the math 😉

I don’t know yet how Shae is going to react to learning what, if any, role the Lannisters played in the whole thing. The most important thing about Shae in the story is that, above all, she is hell bent on being an advocate for Sansa, as is Oberyn. So I imagine that she would swallow the desire to scream at her ex-husband and call Oberyn and scream at him about it instead haha. But keep in mind that Shae is primarily hearing details about the case from Sansa, who wouldn’t be the one exposing any kind of Lannister conspiracy, because she has no idea who the Lannisters really are. That’s more Oberyn’s department- but there’s a lot of plates spinning in the story. One very important thing to remember: Lyanna is an investigative journalist, who is currently trying to follow some odd financial shenanigans for a specific Northern businessman/politician. The details of this story unfold slowly, primarily as Sansa begins to learn about the Starks, and as Oberyn digs into details that needle at him, although one of the most interesting reveals we get- though not about the Lannisters- is probably going to come out of a conversation Sansa has with Sam Tarly!

And yes, haha, at least one of the moms is going to notice Jon and Sansa before they do! Catelyn is definitely the most enthusiastic about it- although I would probably tell you to look a bit closer at the dynamics of Elia and Lyanna’s relationships with each other- and with Rhaegar. One of them might not be as enthusiastic about it as everyone else, although they both adore Sansa.

With regards to the trial, there probably would be a bit of a conflict of interest if Jon was Sansa’s lawyer haha! I’m basing Westeros’ system off of the American system, because I unfortunately do not have the time to dedicate to developing a legal system just for this story, and so Sansa doesn’t technically need a lawyer, because she isn’t the one on trial, and it’s a criminal case! If it was a civil case, she or the Starks would be the party suing, but as a criminal case, it’s technically ‘The Northern Province of Westeros vs. Petyr Baelish’ and so Daenerys is prosecuting the case, as a rising star in the Westerosi department of justice. Jon is going to be assisting her on it, along with a few others. He’ll be helping Sansa prepare to testify, and taking statements from her, preparing her for potential cross-examination as a witness, etc.

(Think about how Sansa feels about Petyr, and what her aim if deciding to testify would be, compared to Dany’s determination to throw the book at him. Once Sansa realizes that they’re going to throw the book at Petyr, do you think she’ll be okay with that? It’s going to be wild to write, and, yes, the trial is likely to be rough on her, poor baby. I need to write a fluffy story where Sansa can just be happy, but I am not very good at those).

As for Sansa’s phone calls with Baelish... I’m not sure they’re quite done yet! 😉 And if she did have more calls with him, do you think the trial would be the first time they come up? Think about it this way: Sansa is able to keep certain things from the Starks and Ellaria because they’re still getting to know her. There are a few people, though, who really know Sansa, and who can read her like a book. I’ve given you a clue in one of the above paragraphs- but the calls are going to be a plot point sooner than you might expect!! 😉

Thank you so much for sharing your headcanons!!!! I really loved reading them, and I hope I can do this story justice! 💕💕💕

#my writing #APWH #joanofarkansass #ask answers

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deanscroissant · 5 years ago

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Jackpot! Ch.1

Summary: We often dream about winning the lottery, thinking that it’ll turn our lives in a fairy tale. But that’s far from the truth in Dean Winchester’s case. What will happen to Dean and the lives of his loved ones when they win the $900,000,000 Powerball Jackpot?

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Violence, Angst, Fluff

Word count: 4,707

A/n: I hope you enjoy the first chapter to this series. Feedback is greatly appreciated. :)

Dean hated his job working in construction. He would have loved it if they didn’t pay him below the minimum wage since construction and working on cars were his two main passions. It sucks because he has a family he has to take care of and the money he’s earning isn't helping one bit.

His wife Y/n, two eldest sons Michael (11) and Carter (10), and twin daughters Mya and Cheyenne (2) were the absolute world to him. But he can’t help but feel like a failing father and husband to them whenever he would bring home a three hundred dollar check every two weeks. He hated the sad look his children would give him when he could only afford one present for them on their birthday or Christmas, or couldn’t afford to give them money for school lunch.

Even if the twins didn’t know better and was happy with whatever he gave them, it always feel like he could have done better or work harder. He would also feel even more guilty when he couldn’t help his wife pay bills. She would ask him to give him at least 10% for the bills and tell him not to worry about it when it would bother him, but deep down he knew his wife couldn't take struggling like this anymore.

It was putting a strain on their relationship. She was tired. He was tired. He doesn’t remember the last time they went on vacation with just the two of them. He tried saving up but wasn’t able to. He wanted to give her the world, show her how much he appreciates her besides having sex, which they don’t do as often either.

Dean didn’t know which way to turn. He hated asking his brother for money, even though Sam would be more than willing to give him anything. He sure as hell was NOT going to ask his father for anything. When his mom died their relationship has been rocky. The last time he spoke to him was almost four years ago, and was hoping to keep it that way.

But when Dean was talking to some of his coworkers during lunch, one of them brought up the lottery. The Powerball prize was at 900 million dollars and apparently everyone has been talking about it. Dean couldn’t figure out how he didn’t know about it, but the idea of playing the lottery was tempting to him. He doesn’t really think about playing it often. He always felt like he would get bad luck if he’d play, but something in his gut was telling him to try, so he did.

When he got to the gas station during his lunch break, he didn’t know if he should spend his last two dollars on lunch or buy a play slip. But when he saw his coworkers at checkout asking for one he joined them. He quickly filled out his play slip, playing the random numbers he made up but the powerball number, 18.

The number 18 was special to Dean, because when he was 18 he met the love of his life. Y/n was someone special and he was so glad that he didn’t let you go. The sacrifices were worth going through with her and he would do it all again in a heartbeat. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought about her; her beautiful smile, her pretty, y/e/c eyes, the way she carries herself. She was perfect in his eyes.

Looking at his scoreboard once more, he hands the cashier the play slip then received his ticket. He puts it in his wallet to make sure he doesn’t lose it before heading back to work with his coworkers. By the time five o’clock hit he clocked out and headed home. He couldn’t begin to explain how tired he was. The next time he’s off is Sunday, which is tomorrow. Only having one day off every week was bullshit to him.

When Dean walks into his home, he’s greeted with the sound of screaming toddlers playing in the living room and the sight of his wife’s distraught form, sitting at the kitchen table with papers scattered everywhere and a laptop sitting in front of her. Michael and Carter came running down the stairs just in time to see their father.

Dean greeted them with hugs and a kiss on top of their heads before they ran off, not giving Dean enough time to ask them how their day was. He only shakes his head and chuckled as he watched the little boys chase each other. He walks over to his wife next, “Hey, baby.” he says before kissing her temple.

“Hey.” She mumbled as she was focusing on whatever she was doing on the laptop. Dean glanced over her shoulder to see what she’s reading on the screen. “What are you up to?”

She stops to look at him with a look of exasperation, which made Dean confused. “What’s the matter?”

Y/n sits back in her chair while taking off her reading glasses, “The water cut off today while you were at work. That’s what’s wrong.” she explained.

“Shit.” he cursed under his breath and ran a hand down his face. This was the second time Dean forgot to give her money for the water bill and he promised her the last time that he’ll give it to her. “Is it still off? How much is it?”

“Five hundred, Dean.” she sighed, “Now I only have ten in the bank.” Y/n was beyond frustrated with him. She reminded him a week before the bill was due that he needed to pay his half.

“I’m so sorry, y/n/n. I was gonna tell you I wasn’t going to be able to give you the money. I promise I’ll-”

“No!” she snapped, “You’re not going to pay me back so quit lying to me!”

“I’m not! Next paycheck I’ll just give you my whole check. That way you won’t have to keep asking me.”

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Don’t even bother, Dean.” They both stare at each other for a few moments, the tension in the air getting thicker by the second. “When are you going to quit that job anyways?”

This time Dean rolls his eyes with a groan. He stalks his way to the fridge to grab himself a water bottle. A glass of whiskey seemed appropriate right about now, but Dean ran out of it a couple of weeks ago when they both got into an argument about not making enough money and Dean needing to quit.

“I said I was gonna think about it, y/n.” he said and sighed while slamming the fridge door shut. “I don’t wanna get into that right now.”

“Well, think quickly, Dean, because we’re not getting anywhere. You know how my situation is.” Y/n is an online teacher for homeschooling. She used to be an assistant teacher in high school but had to quit because she became a stay-at-home mom, and plus, she wasn’t making enough money anyway...as so she thought. The money that she’s making right now is way worse than before.

“Yeah, I know, y/n/n. You know I can’t quit right now.”

“Yes you can, Dean. You can go back to working with your dad-”

Dean was not going to let her finish that sentence. His jaw clenched at the thought of that asshole. “The hell if I am. I’m not working with him again. Ever.”

“Why can’t you two just put your differences aside? You made a decent amount of money there.”

He gives her a look as a warning to cut the conversation short or he’ll go off on her. She began to speak but, saved by the bell, Cheyenne was tugging on her shirt for her to refill the sippy cup she was holding. When Y/n got up it was Dean’s cue to leave, not wanting to talk anymore.

But Y/n was right behind him once she gave Cheyenne her juice. He was ascending the stairs and she trailed behind him, “We’re not done talking about this, Dean.” she says.

“Well, I am.” he grumbled as he walked into their bedroom to take off his grimy work clothes, “Why’d you think I walked away?”

That ticked her off and she slammed the door behind her, “You know what? I’ve had it with you! I’m tired of you ignoring this situation we’re in-”

“I’m tired, y/n!” Dean snapped, “I don’t want to talk right now, okay?!”

“Oh don’t give me that sorry ass excuse!” Y/n fired back, “You need to stop putting our problems aside like it’s nothing. It’s like you don’t care at this point.”

“I do care. Why do you think I’m working damn near fifty hours a week?”

“Just to bring home half of what I make?!” Her voice began to go higher, “It’s pointless working there, Dean.”

Dean shook his head at her while walking back to the bed to take off his shoes. He couldn’t believe she was acting like this, “Are you appreciative of anything I bring to the table?”

She scrunched her face looking at him confused, “What? Of course I am! But you gotta step up your game, Dean.” She stops for a moment as she began to feel her throat tighten, trying to gain back her composure, “We can barely put food on the table. I don’t want to starve our children. I’m tired of feeding them the same thing over and over again.”

Dean kept quiet as he went to his closet to put on some clothes he found on the floor. He didn’t even bother to take a shower since it seemed like he won’t at the moment. He knows this is going to be another heated argument, so he’s ready to storm out whenever it gets to that point.

“I don’t know what’s so hard about going back to your father and asking him for your old job back-”

“That son of a bitch is not my father.” Dean was getting sick of her bringing him up and she can tell, but she is not letting it go, despite the fact that his father treated him like he was a slave and humiliated him in the most inhumane way ever.

“You two need to settle your differences. I know what he did was terrible and he shouldn’t have done that to you, but you need to talk to him.” y/n persuade, crossing her arms.

Dean yanked his shirt down when he put it on before looking at y/n with fiery eyes, “I’m not talking to him. He put me through hell working for him and I’ll be damned to go back and be his little bitch!”

“You don’t even have to do that!” she said, matter-of-factly, “Just ask him to give you some money or something.”

Dean was so disappointed. Y/n knew about him and his father’s rocky relationship ever since she met him, and for her to say this to him was shocking. He saw it in her eyes that she was desperate, but Dean couldn’t face his father again. Not after the things he did to him. He promised himself he wouldn’t ask him for nothing.

“Are you crazy?” he said, incredulously. “Do you really think I would ask him for money? He barely gave me money when I was working for him!” His raised his voice louder, which did shook y/n and add more flame to the fire when she raised hers.

“It’s better than fucking nothing, Dean! My gosh you’re so stubborn!”

“Well how about you go prance your ass down there and ask him! Because I’m not going back there to be humiliated by those freaks!”

“You’re not supposed to give a damn about them. You’re there to work for us, not to please them!”

“It affected the way I worked for us!”

Meanwhile, the four children could hear their parents arguing from downstairs. Michael and Carter were holding the twins, frightened that they would begin to get physical again.

Y/n and Dean did put their hands on each other on some occasions. The last time it happened was last year when Dean pushed y/n into a wall and left a crack where her back had hit it. Due to not affording a hospital visit, y/n didn’t bother to go get it checked out. So now she still suffers from back pains from it.

They promised each other they wouldn’t lay a hand on each other again, and apologized to their children countless of times for ever showing them that kind of violence. Those fights did traumatized the oldest children, and it broke their hearts that their children had to grow up remembering those fights.

A few minutes passed by and Dean came from out of the room, slamming the door shut then storming down the steps as he put on his flannel. When he looks up to see his children staring at him in fear, his whole demeanor changed. It angered him, at himself, of course, to see his children be fearful of him when he yelled. Dean hated the yelling just as much as they did.

Dean sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m so sorry, guys. Momma and I were talking about grown up stuff.”

“Were those grown up stuff about money again?” Michael spoke softly.

Dean also hated that his children knew what was stressing them out. He didn’t want to lie, so he nodded and replied, “Yeah. But it’ll all be taken care of, okay? Don’t you guys worry about a thing...” He smiled, crouching down to meet them eye to eye, “...besides those princesses you’re holding.”

They both returned a smile back as Dean tickled the two girls, who both roared in laughter just to get them to cheer up. Dean stopped to back away and look at his beautiful offspring, “You know I love you guys to death, right?”

“We know, Dad.” Carter giggled, which made Dean smile. He pulled them into a hug, and seconds later his eyes were beginning to water. Dean doesn’t want to end up like his father when he was growing up, so he’s trying his damndest to be a better father and role model unlike him.

He pulled away as he quickly blinked back the tears. He had to get out of the house to clear his head, so he asked if they were up for the park and ice cream, which they did not decline at all. With a smile, Dean took the kids upstairs to get them dressed then headed out to the park.

Nearby was an ice cream parlor. Dean remembered that he didn’t have any cash on him, only his credit card that he maxed out a few days ago on groceries. Right now he didn’t care. He just wanted to make his children happy. He’ll just have to deal with the overdraft fees later.

Dean watches his kids play on the playground while eating his Cherry Garcia ice cream, as his mind goes to the $900M Jackpot. First off, Dean wasn’t so sure if he would even live if he finds out he won because he would probably die if he did. That’s a whole lot of money, enough to last you a lifetime. Second, he wouldn’t know where to begin due to the adrenaline rushing through his body. He did gave it some thought over his lunch break today.

He would first quit his job and get the heck out of Kansas and move to Texas where him and y/n dreamed of living since they were teens. Then he would pay off any debt they had, and then start his mobile mechanic business. Of course he’d save up for his children, and probably invest in stocks. Those were the main things he wanted to accomplish first.

Dean didn’t realize they were out for almost two hours. He wasn’t shocked that y/n didn’t bother to call and check on them, because it was typical of her whenever they’d fought. They left around six for dinnertime and when they got home you were already finishing up cooking leftovers from two nights ago.

Dean walked upstairs to finally take a shower for supper and bed. Once dressed he folds up his lottery ticket then puts it in his pocket for later, then walked down to the living room to play with the kids until it was time to eat.

“Dinner is ready!” y/n shouted from the kitchen as she sat the last plate of food down on the table. Moments later the kids came running into the kitchen, their laughter filling the air. She caught their contagious laugh as she watched her little girls struggle to catch up with their brothers.

Her husband came in and swooped up Mya, kissing her temple before placing her in the worn down highchair that used to be Michael and Carter’s. You did the same with Cheyenne before sitting down next to her, then placing some of the food on her tray.

Y/n glanced around the table to make sure everyone was situated before she dug in. The table was mostly quiet tonight, besides the babbling between the twins and the boys exchanging a few words about school. But y/n and Dean haven’t even glanced at each other.

Carter noticed that and he looked between them frowning, “Momma, do you and Dad not love each other anymore?”

It caught both the parents off guard, making them halt their eating. For the first time Dean looks at you for your reaction, which mirrored his before he turned to Carter, giving him a confused look, “Of course we love each other, Carter. Why would you think that?”

He played with a piece of meat on his plate, sighing softly, “Because you’re always arguing. I thought the more you argued, the less you love each other.”

Y/n was lost for words. It made her heart hurt for that to be on her child’s mind. “Baby, no.” she spoke, reaching for his hand to squeeze then glancing over to Dean, “It’s what married couples do. Not every marriage is perfect. We still love each other, okay?”

Carter was going to bring up about y/n and Dean’s violence toward each other and ask was that okay for married couples to do, but brushed the thought away and nodded and continued on with his meal.

Y/n squeezed his hand again before pulling away. Turning back Dean was staring at her, and she knew what he was thinking about. He was getting ready to say something but she stopped him by giving him a look, not wanting to talk about it anymore until later.

After dinner, Dean offered to clean the kitchen while y/n took the kids upstairs to get them ready for bed. Once he’d finished he kissed his children goodnight before going back downstairs to watch the drawing, while y/n went to the bedroom to catch up on paperwork.

Dean got comfortable on the couch, with his ticket in one hand and the remote in the other as he changed the channel to the drawing. He wasn’t so optimistic about this but figured it was worth a try at playing. He did begin to get a little nervous when the drawing had started.

He watched the TV attentively at the announcer, who was introducing herself and explaining tonight’s drawing while the numbered balls were spinning behind her in clear containers. Dean’s heart was racing as he watched the air in the containers spin them around. It stopped spinning so that the first ball would raise and drop down into the tube where the winning numbers are shown.

The announcer read off the numbers 20, 12, 51, 34, 53 and the powerball number 18. Dean looked down at his ticket and couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He quickly paused the TV to study the numbers again. He first thought that someone pulled a prank on him. He thought maybe one of his work buddies set something up. But it didn’t make sense to him. None of this was making sense to him.

He decided to call up his work buddy Benny Lafitte, who was someone that he grew close to over the years and saw him more as a brother. He didn’t want to sound unusual and let him think he was being suspicious so he told himself to calm down before making the call.

Benny picked up after the third ring and greeted in his southern drawl, “Hey, brother! The dang on lottery robbed me again. No lucky over here.”

Dean breathes out a laugh, “I only got one number. Not much luck either.”

“Well you had more luck than me. What number was it?”

“I don’t remember. I’m out right now getting some last minute stuff for y/n. What were the numbers again?”

“It was…” Dean could hear shuffling going on in the background, “20, 12, 51, 34, 53. The powerball was 18. How could it be possible for anyone to guess those numbers?”

His eyes grew wide as his phone slipped through his hand and fell to the floor. One thing he knew about Benny was that Benny would never lie to him. Dean was trying to think back if anyone was watching him, or if the cashier was up to no good either.

But it wasn’t making sense at all. No one was watching him or did anything suspicious to his knowledge.

Dean was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Benny’s voice coming from the floor. He quickly picked up the phone, “S-sorry, Ben. I’m driving and I accidentally dropped my phone. So it was those numbers? Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He said, rather in a question type of tone. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Dean said quickly, “I thought it was 13 I had but it was 12. So I’m in the same boat as you, brother.”

Benny chuckled, “Man, Andrea had no luck, my in-laws had no luck, them knuckleheads at work sure didn’t. Can’t win them all, ya know?”

“Yeah.” Dean just realized he actually won. Benny wouldn’t let anyone pull a prank like this on his best friend who knows that he’s financially unstable. It just didn’t add up.

“Listen, Benny, I just got home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright?” They said their goodbyes and Dean hastily ended the call before throwing the phone on the couch as if it stung his hand. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees when he felt like he was about to pass out.

“I fucking won.” he spoke softly. His breathing was labored and his hands started to shake. He suddenly dropped to his knees, and his vision went dark.

Dean had jolted himself awake from his own snoring. He sat up and blinked his eyes to regain his consciousness before rubbing his eyes. He looked around and wondered why he was sleeping on the floor. Realization hit him like a freight train when he saw the lottery ticket laying there on the floor staring back at him.

With wide eyes he picked it back up and stared at the ticket. “Son of a bitch!” he breathed out as he felt his eyes begin to sting. He turned around to find his phone to check the time. It was midnight, so he had to have been passed out for three hours.

He threw the phone back on the couch before he hopped off the floor. A rush of euphoria coursed through him as he jogged up the stairs while screaming out y/n’s name. He burst through the bedroom door to see her passed out with her laptop open and papers scattered around her and on her stomach.

But she bolted awake at the noise and her eyes were on Dean, who was walking towards her with a smile that actually terrified her. “Dean, what the hell-” she started in a grouchy tone but Dean cut her off.

“We won!” he exclaimed in delight as he threw his hands up. “We won the Jackpot, baby!”

Y/n blinked at him a few times, not only confused but trying to adjust her eyes to the bright lights. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Come ‘ere I’ll show you.” Grabbing her hands he almost yanked her off the bed before leading the way to the living room where the TV was still paused to the numbers from hours ago. He points at the TV then at the ticket in his hand while handing it to you, “They’re all the same fucking numbers, even the powerball.”

She squinted as she tried to read the numbers on the ticket, “Dean, I need my glasses.” she said, tiredly.

“Just read the-” he stopped himself and let out a breath. “I’ll go get them.”

He came back in no time with her glasses. She puts them on and reads the numbers back and forth. Y/n felt like Dean was pulling one of his pranks again and she wasn’t having it right now. She cuts her eyes at him, “You really think this is funny, huh? Waking me up out of my sleep for this shit?!”

Dean’s smiled faded and his face scrunched, “What are you talking about? Babe, this is real! As real as it’ll ever get!”

“You know how bad are finances are and you wanted to pull some prank that you won the lottery? How dare you!”

“Why would I prank you about this? Babe, this is not fake! Where would I go to print out a fake ticket? You know I’m not that good with computers. How would I be able to get those numbers on TV?”

Y/n stayed quiet for a moment. It made sense to her, but a part of her was saying otherwise. “I don’t know, Dean.” she said softly.

“I thought someone was pranking me, too, until I called Benny to confirm it.”

“You told him?”

“No. I made it seem like I didn’t win. I asked him to tell me the numbers again and made it seem like I was out. He repeated back all of the numbers.”

Y/n went quiet again to process what he said and she couldn’t believe it. It was impossible. They were terrible at finding luck and all of a sudden this shows up. A wave of mixed emotions hit her suddenly and she began to tear up, “Are you sure, Dean?”

“I would never lie to you, sweetheart.” Dean said with tears in his own eyes.

She looked back at the numbers again and almost choked when she realized that it was true. She was holding the key to making a better life for her family. They won nine-hundred million dollars.

She met her gaze with his and held his head in between her hands. “You mean to tell-” she hiccuped then smiled, “tell me that you won? You’re telling me that right now?”

Dean shook his head with tears flowing down his face as he placed his hand on top of hers, “No, baby, we won.”

“We won!” she screamed happily and threw her arms around Dean. With a toothy smile he picks her up and holds her close. She pulls away when she remembers about the fight they had. When she was doing paperwork earlier she was thinking about the things she said and thought how wrong she was. “Baby, I’m so sorry about what happened earlier. I-”

Dean cuts her off with a kiss to silence her. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Let’s put that all behind us. We have bigger, exciting things to worry about now.”

She nods and goes back to hugging him and continues to sob happy tears on her husband’s shoulder. The pair couldn’t wait to see what the future held for them and see the impact of this fortune helping their family.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x y/n #spn au #dean winchester au #angst #fluff #supernatural #dean angst

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thekrazykeke · 7 years ago

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TITLE: Mad, Mad World

FANDOM(S): Black Panther, MCU

RELATIONSHIP(S): Sam Wilson & reader. T’Challa x reader.

SUMMARY: Sometimes when you’re in a dark place, you think you’ve been buried, but truthfully, you’ve only been planted.

WARNING(S): Captain America Civil War spoilers, fighting, sassiness, UST

A pale hand appeared in your line of vision, reaching out to press a button on the vending machine. Blinking, you turned your head. It was Carter, thank God for small mercies.

“Everything okay?” Genuine concern is visible in her gaze, while the rest of her features are carefully neutral and you’ve known the woman long enough -- much longer than the two of you have worked for the CIA -- to relax a fraction.

“Just a little shell shocked, is all.” You give her a small smile. “I’ll shake it off.” She tossed you a can of Monster. Popping the cap off, you took a swig of the energy drink.

“Well, if you ever want to talk about it...”

Giving her a thumbs up, you took another swig of the drink as you walked away towards the cafeteria.

Sometimes you thought that Sharon still saw you as this innocent and wide eyed, greenhorn SHIELD agent that used to shadow her around like a baby duckling. So much had happened, too much, since SHIELD was revealed to be rotten, infected, by HYDRA, since the very beginning.

Now, this soulmate business?

Clenching the can a bit too hard, you cursed as the acid green liquid sloshed over the sides, spilling onto your hand. Tossing what little remained in the can into the trash can, you snagged a sanitary wipe or two from a dispenser attached to the wall, using that to clean up the juice on your hand before it dried and became a sticky mess. Once that task is complete, you go about purchasing a BLT and medium sized sweet iced tea. Sitting at an empty table, you unwrap the sandwich, snagging a few condiments from the container placed in the center of the table (these sandwiches are always dry as hell) and dig out your cellphone from your breast pocket with your free hand. Applying a liberal amount of mustard to the sandwich on both slices of bread, you unlock the cellular device as you take a bite, beginning to read the text message that had been sent to you from a member of your team.

[From: Mya Hensen 18:05 The psychiatrist assigned to the Soldier is a fake. Get out of there, he’s being triggered!!]

The food might as well be ash in your mouth, as seconds later, the alarm blares through the building. Swallowing the bit in your mouth, you abandon your lunch and race for the stairs, just like everyone else that’s either a civilian, or retired. The active duty agents swarm the Soldier, and there’s no doubt that this is the ghost, the legend, not that tired and worn down guy who tried desperately to seem smaller than he was, because he’s cutting through them like they’re nothing, just nuisances in his way, all with this frighteningly blank expression.

‘Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!’ Part of you wants to keep moving, get further away from the danger zone, but when you see the Soldier drawing his gun, about to fire on the downed agent he’d tossed onto a table like a ragdoll, your body reacts. Placing one foot on top of the railing, then the other, you throw your body over the side, tucking and rolling to minimize impact. Having landed safely, you’re just in time to see Stark engage the renowned sniper/assassin.

It’s a quick and brutally short altercation.

Carter is taking lead and you’re a few steps behind her. Her approach is a frontal assault with kicks. He blocks and aims to knock her out with a right hook with his metal fist (holy fucking shit buckets!), she ducks. Romanov goes for a nut shot and any other time, that would have been amusing, especially because you saw his face, the minute surprise and shocked pain, but as you’re fighting for your life, you capitalize on his distraction and aim to take out his knees. He anticipates the move and dodges the attack, lashing out at your face. You flip backwards and seamlessly, Carter is going in again. Her heeled boot smacks him in the face and she wraps her legs around his waist, one fist held high, about to punch him in the face, again, then he throws her through a table.

The table collapses.

Romanov wastes no time. Swinging her body just so, her thighs are around his shoulders and she’s hitting him repeatedly. He slams her onto a table, that metal hand wrapped around her throat, choking her. You reach for a gun out of habit, only it’s not there. Cursing yourself and also cursing Ross for making you come in today, you’re about to do something undoubtedly stupid, like kick the Winter Soldier in the back of the head, but suddenly he’s there.

His Highness, T’Challa.

The soulmate bond, new and unexplored, hums beneath your skin. Ignoring the sensation is difficult but you manage. First, you check on Carter, she’s just knocked out, thankfully. Then you migrate towards Romanov, making sure that she’s fine, while in the back of your mind, and in your peripheral vision, you’re keeping a close eye on the fight between your soulmate and the Soldier.

Much to your surprise, T’Challa is actually...keeping the Winter Soldier on the defensive? Logically, it shouldn’t be possible, Barnes has some version of the super soldier serum, just like Rogers, so, maybe, just maybe, T’Challa is enhanced in some type of way, too.

Reinforcements soon arrive but it’s too late.

Barnes is in the wind. Gone.

‘But where is he going...?’ Inserting a mini USB (or something that looks like it) into the port of your cellphone, you enter the code to unlock the screen and a red dot appears; the dot is steadily moving.

He’s on the roof. But the only thing up there is...

‘A helicopter!’

You’re about to warn Ross, when the dot vanishes. Pressing a few buttons, the screen readjusts before zooming in and you realize that the tracker you’d slipped onto him is malfunctioning. So, either Barnes found the tracker or it fell off, the former being more plausible than the latter. Engaged in your task as you are, you don’t notice anyone until the masculine scent of pine, something forest-y at the very least, teases your senses even as the soulmate bond sings to life once again.

You want to ignore him but know he won’t go away, “How can I help you, your Highness?”

T’Challa is staring at you, his gaze intense and intent. “We need to talk.”

And that’s not ominous at all.

Nevertheless, you subtly signal to Ross that you need a moment and he begins to herd everyone else away, getting medics to look over Romanov and Carter. Having an inkling of how this conversation would go, you lead the heir to an area where surveillance is lowest. Leaning against the wall, you tuck your hands underneath your armpits.

The urge to touch him is strong, but you ignore the impulse.

It’s just the bond striving to be complete.

T’Challa hasn’t said anything during the walk to get here and he’s not said anything for the past five minutes. Normally, you’d ignore the other person who did that, maybe play games on your cellphone, but you don’t have the patience to pull off that type of nonchalance today, right now.

“As much as I like silence, maybe more than the average person, we’re on a schedule. We do have a triggered, amnesic and deadly assassin to catch.”

He blinked.

Then his lips pulled upwards into a faint, wry smile, and your brain whispered ‘Oh no, he’s hot!’, which you’re trying to ignore.

This is a serious moment. You must be serious and prof--

“What are you doing?” Although you tried to make your voice come out strong and confident, much to your dismay, it’s breathy and barely a whisper. T’Challa has you crowded in, carefully not touching you skin-on-skin (but god did you want him to) and he leaned his face towards yours.

For a wild moment, you wondered if he was going to kiss you, and then his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, the whisper of touch causing sparks of electricity to dance up and down your spine. “I am very much taking this seriously. No one wants to catch Barnes more than myself.” The words are soft spoken, but hit you like a lash and you’re berating yourself for your earlier insensitive words. “However, while I am also interested in you, I will not chase you if that is not what you want.”

Although he probably meant his words to come out soothing, reassuring, your traitorous brain is putting it in a very different context. Swallowing thickly, even though your throat feels dry, you nod. “Barnes first. Once that’s handled,” You try to pull off an indifferent shrug, but don’t know if he believes it.

“We’ll see.”

His eyes roam over your body from head to toe. Then slowly, reluctantly, he backs out of your space, you can see the faint outline of a bulge, proving that no, he’s not unaffected as he lets on by your presence, that the soulmate bond might be just as intense for him as it is for you. T’Challa dipped his head in a curt farewell, adjusting himself (this guy really had no shame, but oh god, that was sexy) before turning and walking away.

Once he’s out of sight, your legs can’t support you anymore. You slide to the floor, pressing your shaking hands to your forehead. How the hell were you going to keep from touching him, let alone resist bonding, when the time came?

The real question is: did you even want to deny this anymore?

#mcu #t'challa #mcu imagine #t'challa imagine #marvel #black reader #marvel imagine #t'challa x reader #avengers #t'challa x black reader #avengers imagine #thekrazykeke

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wind-in-the-weirwoods · 7 years ago

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Hogsmeade, Chapter 1

A/N: hello friends I got inspired to write the Harry Potter AU I didn’t know I wanted. I haven’t thought this out too much so brace for some errors. because it’s my AU, Harry is of Indian descent and Hermione is Black (she hasn’t appeared in this chapter, but may show up later. we’ll see. mainly I want to make that very clear right now)

idk how long this is gonna be bc I’m just flying along while I’ve got the energy to put these ideas into writing, so please just enjoy it for whatever it turns out to be

thanks for reading!

Jon Snow looked out at the Forbidden Forest and sighed. The Owlery was Hogwarts’ highest point, and one of his favorites. He could see for kilometers from up there, the forest spread out before him. He knew all the landmarks – the lake, the groundskeeper’s hut, the fierce old Willow – but his sight was drawn to what lay beyond. Smoke rose invitingly from the chimneys of Hogsmeade far off in the distance.

Jon sighed again and looked away, bending to draw a stiff-haired brush from its bucket of steaming water. He lifted his wand and paused, then put it back in its place at his belt. He adjusted the thick yellow-and-black scarf at his neck and brooded.

Lord Stark’s advice had been clear: working hard was good for one’s character. Cleaning the Owlery with magic would have been the smart thing to do, but sometimes Jon needed to work with his hands and feel it in his back.

He set to scrubbing. His fifth year had been a whirlwind so far, stuffed to the gills with difficult coursework and responsibilities as one of his House’s leading lads. His favorite outlet for expressing frustration, Quidditch, had even eluded him thanks to Gryffindor’s new seeker; the talented second-year was coming into his own and had dealt Hufflepuff a heartbreaking defeat.

Jon, a beater, had sat helplessly and watched as the Potter boy outraced their own seeker in pursuit of the snitch. The thin lad was even nearly as good at scowling from a balcony as Jon was; they had passed each other on the castle walls as Jon was ascending, the bespectacled Indian having likely sent off a letter by owl-post. Jon couldn’t escape him.

So here he was now, angsting in the turrets of the Owlery with a bucket of soap.

His best friend Sam had promised to help later after he was finished tutoring first-years for the day.

“Honestly, Jon, why go through the trouble?” Sam had questioned while seated in the common room hours before. He had leaned in from the armchair he slouched, and whispered, “Do you not remember the automation charm? I can go over it with you again.”

Jon’s cheeks burned. “I know how to do it. It’s just something I’ve got to do.”

Sam shrugged and reached for a thick book. “If you say so. Still,” he licked his finger and turned quickly through the pages, “all those stairs, all that scrubbing. There’s better uses for your time.”

At that Jon had stood up and muttered something impolite. He turned and stalked away.

Sam sniffed placidly and began to read. “It’s your time.”

Jon had cleaned the first three rows in the Owlery and just started the third when he heard soft footsteps approaching. His shoulders rose and fell before he turned, wind whipping the dark curls framing his face into a frenzy.

He had started to speak but his voice caught in his throat and his thoughts froze. Sansa Stark approached, dark robes clutched tightly against the wind. The witch’s eyes darted from the foamy brush in Jon’s hand to his unruly hair, then settled inquisitively on his face.

They knew each other, though not well. Sansa’s younger sister Arya had joked that Jon was their American cousin, though that wasn’t quite right. Jon’s father, some Muggle businessman in New York, had never acknowledged him before his mother’s death so he had been adopted by her distant family back in Edinburgh as a young boy.

Jon’s potential for magic had emerged not long after, quelling any fears that he may have been born a Squib. Lord Ned Stark, a prominent voice in the Ministry of Magic, had raised Jon as his own. That met with varying success in the family: Sansa’s brother Robb embraced Jon unquestioningly, as did her other siblings. But she took after her cold mother Cat and had always given Jon a wide berth. He had silently preferred it to outright distaste.

“Hello,” Sansa greeted cautiously.

Jon replied too quickly, cutting her off. “Hey. Why are you up here?”

The tall girl collected her thoughts. “I was looking for you. Sam Tarly said you would be moping up here.”

Jon seethed. “Well, he’s right.”

Sansa had not yet moved from her spot atop the stairs, but she raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jon aside. The gesture seemed owlish to him. “Why?

“It’s something your lord father always said,” Jon answered slowly, dropping the brush into the bucket and shaking his hands dry. He crossed the room and knelt to collect some of the dried straw, tossing the rubbish into a sack.

“I know what he said about working hard,” Sansa replied coolly, following Jon as he cleaned. “But why this?”

He paused before speaking. “When I was in my second year, old Professor Aemon caught Sam and me in some mischief or another. He had us help him clean the Owlery twice a month for detention.” Jon lifted a hand, index and middle fingers outstretched. “It still needs cleaning, and I need something to keep myself busy. So two birds, one stone, you know?” He closed his fist for emphasis, but had to brush his long hair away. It was beginning to annoy him.

Sansa digested that for a moment and waved towards the stairs. “Well, could you step out with me? It’s dirty in here.” The wind howled and her brow furrowed. “And it’s loud.”

“I’ve been cleaning,” Jon protested, but she took him by the wrist and stepped down into the staircase, protected from the northern winds.

Safe from the elements, Sansa faced Jon with an inscrutable expression. “We’re going to Hogsmeade this Saturday.”

Jon blinked in surprise. “You and Margaery?” The Tyrell heiress was nearly inseparable from Sansa, the politician’s daughter, especially in public. Even if Slytherin prefects did not usually escort Ravenclaws to and from their classes, chattering happily all the while.

That got Sansa to drop her façade. She rolled her eyes and exhaled deeply. “Hardly. She is going with Robb. And you’re going with me.”

“She’s with Robb?” That was newsworthy, at the least. How hadn’t he told Jon?

Sansa was tentative, but the exasperation never left her voice. “Well, not with him. But I’ve seen the way she looks at him. Now they’ve gotten a date, and I suppose it’s only a matter of time.”

Jon leaned against the mortared wall. He hadn’t realized how tired he’d gotten, having spent most of the morning in the Owlery. What time was it?

Sansa looked at him strangely. Almost nervously, but that couldn’t be right? It occurred to Jon suddenly that he’d gone longer than was appropriate without responding to her.

“Right, then, so Margaery’s going to Hogsmeade with Robb. And we’re going too?”

Relief flashed across Sansa’s face so quickly Jon doubted if it truly had. She spoke confidently in a rush: “We are. I’ve already reserved the carriage and ordered breakfast for the ride into the village, we’ll have more time to shop that way.”

Jon’s voice was apprehensive. “Who is ‘we’? Arya and Bran can’t go yet, they’re just in their second year.”

Sansa’s lips were set in a firm line and Jon tried not to pay them much attention. “We are,” frustration edged in as she stressed the first word, “you and I. The day passes are addressed to Sansa and Jon.”

Jon blinked. “That’s,” he searched for a word, lost, “that’s specific.”

“Yes,” Sansa said through gritted teeth, “so you’ll be ready?”

“Um,” Jon replied.

“We’ll just be doing some shopping,” Sansa explained soothingly, “and some eating, we can find lunch in the village. And maybe some drinking.” Her eyes sparkled and Jon failed to look away.

Jon was still stammering. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Sansa stared at him hard, blue eyes intense. “It sounds nice,” she answered flatly.

Jon’s mind was racing now. “It really does,” he insisted, “I need to do some shopping anyway. I’m out of yarn, and this scarf has been fraying,” he tugged at it helpfully to display the loose ends.

“You knit?” Her voice fell to a bizarre tone of confused approval.

“I do, Gilly taught me some years ago. It’s taken me time, but it’s not so hard once you get into rhythm…”

“I know how to knit, Jon.” Sansa shook her head slowly. “I don’t know that you know anything. I’ll see you Saturday morning, and remember not to worry about breakfast.”

She spun and descended the stairs, leaving Jon shaken and alone with his bucket. “What just happened?”

Sansa sat at Ravenclaw’s House table in the Great Hall, absentmindedly listening to her friends Jeyne, Sheila, and Mya argue about something or another. She reached for a lemon-crusted scone when it was intercepted by a green-jeweled hand.

“Hello, best friend!” Margaery slipped into the vacant seat beside Sansa and offered her the pastry. “Really, love, you’ll turn into a lemon if you eat them everyday.”

Sansa snatched it away wordlessly and took a bite. Margaery laughed and playfully nudged her shoulder. “Don’t be so sour,” she warned lightheartedly.

Slytherin’s favorite daughter sitting at the Ravenclaw table had drawn attention in the past, but Margaery’s continued pushing on that boundary had lessened its impact. Now even her most jaded critics suspected she genuinely liked the Stark girl.

“If you want sweetness,” Sansa said, then paused to placidly sip her pumpkin juice, “you should see my brother Robb.”

Margaery’s eyes nearly sparkled. “And why would he be so sweet to me?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Sansa said while staring hard at her dinner plate.

Margaery tapped a nail thoughtfully against the wood table. “He’s sweet to my eyes, sure. But he’s interested?”

“Of course he is,” Sansa answered, forcing herself not to answer so quickly, “why would I bring it up if he wasn’t?”

The hazel-eyed girl nodded, counting off each point against her fingers. “Slytherin and Gryffindor. Two prefects of opposing Houses. A year’s gap in ages. It has the makings of something scandalous.”

Troubled, Sansa turned and looked Margaery eye-to-eye. “Not that you’re seeking to start a scandal.”

“Of course not,” Margaery replied softly, placing a comforting hand on Sansa’s, “I just have to be aware of these things, given our families’ standing. Of course you understand.”

She knew that all too well. “Of course,” Sansa agreed, “but you really should speak with him. He’s free this Saturday.”

Something playful danced across Margaery’s expression. “Why isn’t he telling me this himself?”

That was because Sansa had coerced Robb into cooperation, threatening to tell their mother why he had really stayed at school for Christmas holiday during his fourth year. Things hadn’t worked out between him and Alys, but Robb still didn’t want those details reaching home.

“He wanted me to test the waters,” Sansa lied helpfully. In truth, Robb wasn’t at all opposed to Margaery’s affections. She was as pleasant as anyone could be, much less a Slytherin, though he didn’t know as much of her as he would have liked before agreeing to distract her for a day.

Sansa could dispatch Sheila and Jeyne easily enough, and Mya was quick to take a hint. But Margaery had been a more-difficult nut to crack, and Sansa found herself elated at the scheme working out.

“I’ll have to call on him, then,” Margaery said sweetly. She stood and stepped lightly away, gracefully navigating the crowd of dining students.

Sansa took another bite of the lemon scone and savored it. This contrived trip to Hogsmeade may work out for them all after all. But her goals were lower than most – not that she dismissed the difficulty of it. If she could get the dour Jon Snow to smile just once, all this scheming would be worth it.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #jon snow x sansa stark #harry potter au #hogsmeade fic #my writing #jonsa fic #jonsa fanfic #jonsa fanfiction

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tomhortons · 8 years ago

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Promos!

WOW so I entirely forgot about these :’D Work’s been a little crazy, sorry. Better late than never, though!

@dimensionhoppingrose - Sam!! I love your blog so much, you have so much good content and I think you’re a fantastic writer. (I can’t wait to read your book btw, I just bought it! :D)

@lastbluetardis - Ashley, I absolutely adore you and your blog, you have some of the best Doctor Who content that I’ve seen. You’re also super sweet and nice and aaahhh ilysm :’’’)

@quite-right-too - Chloe, you are absolutely amazing, I love you and your blog so much! I always see you and Mya on my Instagram feed, which always brigthens up my day, so keep bein’ amazing <3

@travelingrose - Umm Cio, where do I even begin uh?? You are an amazing artist, never stop drawing! I also adore your love for Billie Piper (she is v amazing) We should definitely do an art collab in the future <3

@cryofthewolf - Hey!! A new mutual! I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, but I look forward to seeing you on my dash from now on! You have a lot of great Doctor Who content, which is always great to see :3

@pipertennant - Moony!!!! You are one of my favorite bloggers on this crazy website, your content and fics are beyond amazing, and I wanna give you a special thanks for everything you do to stop re-posters; artists and other content creators salute you :’) Keep being awesome <3

@pillie-biper10 - BECKY!!!! ! You are literally my fave person on here, you art is beautiful and I really really love all your OC’s and their stories. You’re probably one of the first mutuals I had since I joined the David Tennant posse, so we go wayyy back. Keep being absolutely amazing <3 <3

@sequencefairy - Jess!! My Canadian buddy :’) You should definitely visit me in Ottawa and come to the Tim Hortons where I work, I’ll make u a delicious Latte :’D But anyway, you have such amazing content on your blog, and you are such a sweet person, I love seeing you on my dash <3

@gallifreyan-uprising - Martha! I always see you on my dash, and you have such a lovely multi-fandom blog, I especially love all your Star Wars content, that’s always nice to see :’) Keep being amazing <3 <3

@ofstormsandwolves - Omigosh your art is beautiful, I just had to say that :’’’’) Your Doctor who fics/edits/content in general is absolutely delightful, keep it up, lovely <3 Also David and Billie content as well!!! That’s always awesome to see <3

@natural--blues - Pia!!! Your fics are absolutely wonderful, I really enjoyed making the chapter art for you, and thank you again for commissioning me! Your content is also very high quality, I especially love all the vintage film posts, they’re amazing :’) Keep being awesome! <3

#follow all these beans pls #my promos #lou does a thing #long post //#hope i didnt forget anyone :'D

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queen-of-songs · 7 years ago

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Chasing Fire or Rather Getting Rid of It

Sansa arrives in California, with that comes big changes and surprises along the way. Chapter Title inspired by Chasing Fire by Lauv

Sansa walked off the plane and went straight to the bathroom. She took out her brown contacts out and cleaned them before putting them back in. It always gave her a strange rush seeing her eyes. She secretly envied Jon’s eyes. Brown eyes were vastly underappreciated. They had layers of mystery to them that blue eyes didn’t, which is exactly why she picked her contacts.

Brown eyes with a hint of light blue specks in them. It gave her edge. Alayne was going to be edgier than “Sansa”. She wore dark colors and preferred black over anything.

All that was left was the hair. Sansa didn’t want to dye her hair brown or black. It felt almost too dramatic……

Melisandre suggested light blonde. That would be a good change. It would look nice and not be too dramatic. I just need to find someone who’ll take a walk-in.

“Hello Alayne, welcome to Storm End Salon! My name is Ros, I heard you wanted your hair dyed today. Why the change?” A short red haired woman came up to her with a friendly smile.

“I’ve always wanted to be blonde and I just got out of a bad relationship.” Sansa smiled.

“I totally get that. I dyed my hair pink after my ex Petyr dumped me for this crazy chic named Lysa.”

……..Gods…...she dated my creepy step-uncle?....More so a win for her….

“Oh, I am terribly sorry.”

“No worries. I’ve been talking to this guy online.”

“Really? Do you know his name?”

“Oh no. We’re going to wait until we meet in person. Right now he’s on mission, so it’s not safe for him to tell me his name.”

“I bet you’re excited to meet him.” “I am beyond happy. I’ve never felt this deeply for someone before. He understands me better than anyone else. He hasn’t judged me for my past.”

“Your past?”

“Before I became a hairdresser, I used to work in a stripper joint. That’s how I met my ex Petyr. He was the big boss. But the joint got robbed because he took horrible care of it. When he told me he was breaking up with me, he said he wanted a presentable woman to raise a family not a stripper with no future for herself.”

Sounds like creepyfinger…..

“I am so sorry he said that to you.” “It hurt but it was somewhat true. I didn’t have much a future because I didn’t graduate high school. But it gave me fuel, I wanted to prove him wrong. I got my GED and I went to beauty school. I got my license in hairdressing and worked up the chain. I co-own this salon with Selyse Baratheon.”

“That’s really amazing!”

and Encouraging.

“Thank you! Now let’s make you a blonde!”

“Woah…..it looks so different. I love it so much!” Sansa looked at her reflection. She couldn’t believe it. She was really becoming Alayne now.

“I’m glad you like it.” Ros smiled behind her and then took off Sansa’s cape.

“Thank you so much for this!” Sansa dug into her purse and handed Ros a one-hundred bill.

“......Oh Alayne this is too much….The dye job is only forty.” Ros’s eyes widened.

“No, I insist. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” Sansa smiled and Ros’s eyes filled with sadness. Somehow she knew the bad relationship was much worse than Alayne was willing to let on.

“Thank you Alayne. I wish you the best future in California. Come by whenever you need touch-ups!” Ros smiled and hugged Sansa.

Despite all the ugliness Sansa faced in this world, it always filled her soul with hope to find kind souls.

“I definitely will and I am going to recommend you to everyone I meet!”

Sansa walked down a ways and finally called a Lyft. The Lyft driver was sweet. He introduced himself as Grenn. He told her he had been in the Night’s Watch for five years and Sansa resisted every urge within her to ask if he knew Jon. Probably not...The Night’s Watch is a fairly large operative base.

“What made you quit?” Sansa asked after looking at the cheapest hotel prices. None were in her price range.

“Eh. I wasn’t feeling it anymore. Too much inner drama between the ranks. I wanted to do something I enjoyed. I love driving and meeting new people, so this job is perfect for me. But I do miss my friends.” Grenn tapped on the wheel.

“What were their names and what were they like?”

“Sam, he was overweight. I was kinda perplexed on whatever possessed him to be in the Night’s Watch. He’s one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met. He’s one of those learner types too. Great medic, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s enrolled himself in medical school by now. He has his second child on the way with his wife Gilly. Pyp loves to sing. Can sing just about anything. I remember when his girlfriend Val heard him sing for the first time. She fell over herself in the bar and after the singing, went up to ask him on a date. I’m pretty sure he’ll propose soon.. Then there’s Satin….”

“Wait….you have a friend named Satin?”

“Yes.” Grenn chuckled. “His mother named him that because he was so soft as a baby. He had loads of people from all over flirting with him and giving him their number. I can’t remember how many numbers he has in his phone. Edd is a very funny and bitter man. He has a lot of wit and very sarcastic. He loves to laugh at all of us, especially Sam.”

Sansa smiled to herself. It sounded like a wonderful group of friends. She missed Jeyne, Mya, and Myranda. She wondered what they were doing with their lives now. She was swept up by memories of her teen years when Grenn’s voice spoke a name she knew well.

“Lastly, there’s Jon. He’s quite shy and kept to himself. But he’s a great leader. Youngest Captain to ever serve in the Night’s Watch in years. He’s very thoughtful and will do anything to help a friend. Fiercely protective. Loves to talk about back home.”

“Where’s he from?”

“Wintertown, Virginia.”

“Oh…….” “Oh? You know him?” Grenn looked over at her and she quickly shook her head. She couldn’t risk anyone she loved lives, especially with the possibility of Ramsay coming after her.

“Oh no. My friend Sansa knew him.”

“ Ooooooh. You know the famous Sansa?” Grenn smiled maniacally and Sansa rose an eyebrow.

“The famous Sansa?”

“Yes. Jon could never stop talking about her. He’s mad for her that’s certain.”

“Sansa told me she didn’t think he loved her.” “Jon’s shy and he has a hard time opening up to others. He told me he doesn’t think he’s good enough for her, which is complete madness.”

Sansa’s heart felt constricted. Jon didn’t think he was good enough for her? More she wasn’t good enough for him. How did this happen?

After a long silence, she spoke up again.

“Does he know what happened to her?”

“......No. What happened?”

“She was caught in a house explosion. They weren’t able to find a body.” Her voice broke and tears streamed down her face.

“Oh gods…...how recent was this?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Have you told her family?” Grenn’s voice sounded grim and Sansa could barely stand to look at him.

“I...I never….I thought she was an orphan. I never knew she had an actual family.”

“She did….Jon said he loved her family. They were tight knit and loved each other strongly. They’re going to be…..and Jon’s going to be devastated to find this out.”

Grenn’s voice was full of pain for his best friend and Sansa felt horrible. But this was for their own good.

I can’t let them get hurt for my foolish mistakes.

“When…..when you tell them say you heard it from the news. Sansa had a vengeful ex-boyfriend and I am scared of him……..I cannot let him find me.” Sansa began crying and Grenn pulled over the car. He held her for a few moments until the tears stopped.

“I promise I won’t tell them that I heard it from you. Should I tell them about the ex?”

“No. I assumed Sansa never told them about him because he’s an abusive monster. I told her she should leave and she almost did but it was too late.”

The rest of the ride was met with silence until Grenn asked if Sansa if she wanted something to eat before he drove her to the Dragonstone Hotel. She nodded vigorously.

Sansa sipped at her Oreo milkshake as the car slowly pulled up to the Dragonstone Hotel. It was different than most hotels she’d ever seen. It looked like a castle you would see in Europe.

Am I in a fairytale? Sansa mused.

“Here we are Alayne. It’s been great getting to know ya.” Grenn had a soft smile on his face. Sansa dug in the purse and pulled out eighty dollars. Grenn’s eyes widened.

“No, no, no. I don’t deserve this Alayne…..” He was attempting to refuse but Sansa wouldn’t let him.

“You comforted me when I cried and put up with my large order. It’s the least I can do.”

“But Alayne….”

“But nothing Grenn.” She began to hand him over the money and Grenn tried to take his slowly away from it, when his elbow hit the horn.”

“Ah seven hells. I hate when I do that!” Grenn gruffed and Sansa resisted every urge to laugh. While he rolled his eyes, Sansa placed the money in the cupholder. She began to go out of the car, when a dark tanned girl with long black hair walked out of the Dragonstone to look at the car. Sansa wished she could look that flawless.

“.....Is that who I think it is?” Grenn whispered and sunk lower in his seat.

“....Who do you think it is?”

“Arianne Martell…..she’s…...oh gods…...ugh...she’s my...I don’t even know at this point. I cannot let her see me! I’m going to leave now. If you need me, you have my number. See you later, Alayne.” Grenn muttered and gestured for Sansa to leave the car. She quickly grabbed everything and got out of the car. Sansa waved at Grenn as he backed out of the driveway and onto the road again.

A knowing smile played on her face. Oh man, Grenn’s got it bad. It reminds me Bran when he stumbled all over himself when he saw Meera in her homecoming dress. He had such a big smile on his face……

The thought made her full of sorrow. She would be never be with them again. See Bran with his sweet demeanor after reading a book. Watch Arya smirk after scoring a goal against a snotty goalie. Hear Robb’s deep laugh after Theon huffing behind one of his conquests after calling her the wrong name-her twin sister’s. Smile at Rickon’s blue eyes widening at a pair of new hockey skates. Cry in Dad’s neck after his big arms hugged her after she told him she got a full ride music scholarship. Cuddle closer to Mom’s fingers running through her hair after Joffrey broke up with her. Jon’s brown eyes looking into her own, making her feel known and……..

No. I can’t think about that. That’s dead. Sansa Lyarra Stark is dead. Kill the girl and let Alayne be born.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and saw Arianne. Arianne had a small yet kind smile on her face and held out her hand to shake Sansa’s.

“Hello, my name is Arianne! I’m the Dragonstone Event Coordinator. You must be the new cabaret singer Alayne! The boss absolutely loved your audition tape. She’s excited to meet you.”

“Hello, nice to meet you Arianne. I am excited to work here!”

“Let’s go in and meet the boss. Then we can get you settled into your room.”

The inside of the hotel smelled like chocolate chip cookies. It almost felt like walking into Winterfell. Especially with the sound of giggling children coming closer towards her. Five boys ran out into the lobby chasing after one another. Laughing and calling each other names. It was precious. But then a short, blonde woman waddled into the lobby.

“Boys! I told you not to run in the lobby! If you do it again, you will not be allowed to go to Disneyland with your Dad!”

“But Mom…….” The tallest one with olive skin and long black hair whined.

“But nothing Rhaego Aerys Dothrak! You know better. You need to be a good example to your little brothers.”

“Yes Mom. I’m sorry.” Rhaego looked down at the ground. The petite yet very pregnant woman walked over to him and hugged him as tightly as she could. It was a sweet scene. Sansa tried to erase the memories of her own mother hugging her but failed to no avail. Thankfully, Arianne spoke up.

“Daenerys, our new cabaret singer Alayne just arrived a few minutes ago.”

“Oh hello, It is so nice to finally meet you in person! My name is Daenerys Targaryen-Naharis, owner of this fine hotel. I absolutely loved your audition tape.” Daenerys smiled.

Sansa smiled back and noticed a boy with light brown hair trying to wink at her. She tried her hardest to keep a straight face. But the Tullyness won out over the Starkness. Daenerys rose an eyebrow and then followed her gaze. She ruffled the boy’s hair and he groaned.

“Mama..…..I’m trying to impress the pretty girl.”

“I know.” Daenerys laughed and nodded to other boys to come closer.

“These are my all of my sons. Boys’ why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

“Hi. My name is Rhaego. I’m twelve….um I like Ironman and karate.” He re-introduced himself and then Dr. Lovestruck coughed.

“Hi! My name is Jorah. I’m ten. I named after Mama’s old friend.

I love music and every genre it has. Maybe we could sing together sometime. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty one.” A small smile appeared on Sansa’s face and Jorah sighed.

“In eleven years would you wait for me?”

How sweet…..but in eleven years I’ll be a mom to a pre-teen…..Oh I need to make an appoinment soon!

“Alayne? Is everything alright?” Arianne asked.

“Oh yes! I just remembered I have to make an appointment with a doctor soon. I just want to check up on things.” Sansa smiled and Daenerys tilted her head.

“If you want, I can recommend you to a great doctor. His name is Dr. Luwin, he’s absolutely fantastic! His number is in my office, I can give it you it right now.” “That would be lovely, thank you so much!” Sansa began to follow Daenerys when they heard a collective “Ahem.” They turned around to see the youngest three boys looking at them. The older two went off somewhere with along with Arianne.

“Oh that’s right. The triplets didn’t get to introduce themselves. They’re seven and complete rascals.” Daenerys laughed.

“I’m not! I’m good, mama. My name is Maegor. Um….I like comic books. I’m going to be a Superhero.” The shortest boy out the three smiled. He had wavy dark brown hair and blue eyes covered by glasses, ending with a face full of freckles.

“My name is Brynden. I like food….. No! I love food! Especially cupcakes!” The boy with cherubic cheeks and deep set dimples giggled. He looked just like his mother.

“I’m Barristan. I like the MMA fighters on the TV. I’m going to be the Dragonstone fighter. I know how to kick butt!” The tallest boy spoke full of confidence. He had light brown hair with blue with hints of lilac in them.

They’re all so sweet.

Daenerys looked at her boys with loads of love and Sansa hoped she would love her baby just as much.

What if he/she looks like Jon? That would hurt……..but at least it would remind me of good memories.

“Ready to go to my office?” Daenerys’ soft voice broke through Sansa’s thoughts and she nodded.

*Recommendations*

Book: The Summer of Chasing Mermaids by Sarah Ockler

Song: I Like Me Better-Lauv

TV Show: The Mindy Project

You all are the best and you are greatly appreciated:)!

--Queen of Songs

#jonsa #Jon x Sansa #sansa x jon #jonsa fic #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa fandom #actuallyjonsa

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cevansbrat0007 · 3 years ago

Text

Good Girls & Little White Lies

Title: Good Girls & Little White Lies

Summary: You and your friend, Mya, never set out to lie. It just kind of…happened that way.. Steve Rogers x Black!Reader Sam Wilson x WOC!OFC

*Warnings: Inane Fluff, Slight Daddy Kink, Slightly Bratty Reader, Slightly Bratty OFC, Name Calling, Angry Avengers, Cursing, Spanking (mentioned), Punishments (mentioned), Hangovers, Ridiculousness for no real reason, Minors DNI

A/N: Not super proofread. All mistakes are my own.

Good Girls & Little White Lies

A little white lie never hurt anyone. Right?

You and your friend hadn’t originally set out to lie. It just kind of…happened that way. You just wanted to have a little fun away from the judgmental, overprotective eyes of your loving boyfriends. You assured yourselves that they would never find out about your night out. But then someone took pictures. And then it all went to hell.

—

Saturday Morning - 10:00am

God, you feel like death. You come to with a groan on Mya’s bathroom floor, your body stiff and sore. You attempt to sit up before immediately thinking better of it. It felt like someone had punched you one at a time in both eyes. Using every ounce of your strength, you manage to roll away from the toilet just in time for Mya to stumble in and empty her stomach into the bowl. Between the two of you, you weren’t sure who was prettier.

“I’d offer to hold your hair back…” You sound pitiful, even to yourself. “But sitting up feels dangerous.”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” She heaves into the toilet yet again.

“You could’ve brought me a bucket.” You mumble, whimpering slightly when she swats at your leg. “Just sayin’.”

“Seriously, shut up. We are in so much fucking trouble, Y/N.” Mya visibly wilts, nestling herself between her toilet and the bathroom sink.

You manage to perk up at the word trouble. “What trouble? Why? How?” This was more than you could process right now.

“They know, dipshit.” You feel your stomach churn at that. God, she really should’ve brought you a bucket. Or a bowl. Just how much had you had to drink?

“They don’t know anything, Mya.” You just want to go back to bed. “Look, for all they know we had too much wine and fell asleep early.” You’re both too hungover for this right now. You needed some Gatorade, a blanket, and a pillow. Stat.

“No bitch!” She huffs before lobbing a loose roll of toilet paper at your head. You manage to catch it and throw it back. The bitch dodges. “You don’t get it. They called us. Or at least Sam called me.” You groan as memories from last night start flooding back. “You gotta know Steve called you too.”

Fuck. Yes he had. Had you answered? You were afraid to check.

“Right. They came by here.” You whimper, throwing an arm across your eyes. “We were at Carnal.”

“Uh huh. And then they went to Carnal. And we were gone.” Mya gags again. You flinch as she tosses you her phone, letting you read her messages.

Big Daddy: *Message Includes 2 Attachments* (Received 12:55am)

“Wait.” You look over at Mya, not even bothering to hide your surprise. Do you seriously have Sam listed in your phone as “Big Daddy”? Like, how did I not know this?” You can’t help but laugh, even though it hurts your head.

“Bitch, if you don’t shut up and focus!” Right. You blink once, twice. And then get back to the task at hand.

Big Daddy: Princess, please tell me these are old pictures. (Received 12:56am)

Oh God…they were pictures of the two of you. Dancing on each other at Carnal. Great!

Big Daddy: Why aren’t you picking up??? (Received 1:00am)

Big Daddy: I’m officially concerned. Steve can’t reach Y/N either. Are you ok? (Received 1:08am)

Big Daddy: I’m not playing, sweetheart! Answer your goddamned phone! (Received 1:20am)

Big Daddy: Damn it, Mya. If I don’t hear back from you in the next 5 minutes I’m coming over. (Received 1:33am)

Big Daddy: That’s it. I’m on my way. So is Steve. For your and Y/N’s sake, you had better be sleeping. Otherwise we are about to have a serious fucking problem. (Received 1:38am)

Big Daddy: We’re here, Maya. WHERE. ARE. YOU? (Received 2:01am)

You collapse on your back with a pitiful moan, while Mya attempts to drag herself into the living room. You two were dead meat.

—

The Night Before - 7:45pm “I’m serious, girl!” You manage to laugh as you gulp down another mouthful of wine. “This man, I’m talking the Captain America, actually had the audacity to sit in front of the door and refuse to let me leave. He pretended he was stretching. As if he hadn’t already spent all day trying to get me to cancel with you!” Your friend, Maya, can barely contain her laugh at the thought of a big man like Steve willingly sitting on the floor, pouting in front of his own door.

“Mind you,” you continue on, “this is after the same hardened veteran purposely hid my keys from me and then had the nerve to act like it was my fault.”

“Mmhmm.” Mya nods sympathetically. You knew she’d been there, done that. According to her, she’d also spent the better part of her day trying to escape the clutches of a certain dark and broody Falcon. Superhero status aside, it was basically common knowledge that Sam Wilson could be a terror when he felt like he wasn’t getting his way.

“How’d you figure out he had them?” Your friend hands you her now empty glass, which you are quick to fill.

You can’t resist puffing out your chest just a little. Blame it on the wine. “I waited until he finally paused his protest to go to the bathroom, and then I tackled his ass to the bed, girl. Told him I was never going down on him again unless he let me check his pockets.” You both cackle like a couple of fools.

“Bet he regrets teaching you those self defense moves now!” She says as she raises her wine in mock salute right as the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of your pizza. And not a moment too soon. All this wine and talk about your men had you positively starving.

(10 minutes later…)

“So I was thinking…” You trail off as you start working on your second slice of pizza. “Well, more like wondering…” What was the best way to phrase this? “Are we still…you know…fun?”

Mya pauses mid-bite. “Uhmm…we’re not not fun. We’re just, you know, at different points in our lives now.” You nod at that. “Plus, we’re dating members of The Avengers. It’s not exactly like we can go out and party like we used to…”

You sigh and lean back against the couch. She had a point. It wasn’t like this was the first conversation the two of you had ever had about your men’s expectations of you. You were expected to be their good girls like all of the time. It went almost without saying. Whether it involved you hanging on their arms at some glitzy charity function or simply running everyday errands, you had to play your roles. Your job was to smile and wave, to be sweet, and never (ever) misbehave. Cap and Falcon were major sticklers about that last one.

The boys were, and would always be, soldiers first. Yes, they loved you, but they were accustomed to living lives lead by duty and discipline. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a little much sometimes, that having to constantly toe the line didn’t make you itch to rebel.

“Okay”, you concede, “but what if we broke the rules? I mean, just for a night?”

Mya stares you down, her face unreadable. “Like…you wanna tell the boys we’re going out to a club or something?” You roll your eyes and shove another bite of food into your mouth.

“Argh! Nooo, Mya. We don’t need to tell them anything. We are adults, girl!” Mya hums in agreement. “And did you or did you not just tell me earlier that Sam has been on you to sell this place?” Your friend nods, which meant you were winning…hopefully.

“Think about it. The moment you give up your apartment and move in with Sam, girls’ nights like this won’t even be on the table anymore.” Of course you would still hang out, but things just wouldn’t be the same.

“Alright, so just to be clear”, Mya interjects, “you want to forget all about tonight’s totally safe pajama party, that we both had to fight to have, and hit the club instead?”

Well, yeah.

She cuts you off when you open your mouth to speak the words out loud. “You say this fully knowing that, if the boys find out, they will lose their collective shit?”

Granted, you could typically count on Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson to remain calm and level-headed in the heat of a battle. But all bets were off when it came to the safety and security of the two of you. You were their girls. Call it overly protective, call it overly possessive. Whatever. However you wanted to phrase it, your men were who they were: two sexy halves of one whole menace.

You bite your lip and shrug. “Yep, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Uh huh. And do you remember what happened the last time we got into trouble?” You did. Steve had spanked you for it, among other things. It wasn’t the first time, and while you had tried to be good since then, you knew it wouldn’t be the last. You were pretty sure that Mya had experienced something similar, but you two had never really traded details.

However, in your mind it had been worth it, even if it meant having to sit on a pillow for the better part of a week. Instead of responding, you flash her a knowing smile and a wink.

“Fine, fine…” Mya’s face breaks into a matching grin. “But I get to choose the place. And I don’t want to hear a motherfucking word from you when I’m dancing on top of the bar tonight.” She stands and motions for you to do the same. You giggle, already searching your phone for the perfect pregame playlist.

You feel her grab your hand. “C’mon Thelma, let’s go raid my closet. If we’re gonna act up, we damn sure better look good!”

—

The Night Before - 10:35pm

It’s opening night at Club Carnal, and the place is packed. You were initially surprised when Mya chose this particular spot when you pulled up, noting that the line was wrapped around the block. But your protests were squashed when she assured you that she knew a guy. ‘After all’, she’d said, if the two of you were going gonna be bad, ‘you deserved VIP status’. And your girl was never wrong.

One quick phone call, and before you knew it, you were being escorted into the club via a private door. You allowed yourself a moment to take in the atmosphere. From the swirling colors and beautiful people, to the thumping bass and spacious bar - you no longer had any doubt that you’d made the right decision. After all, you knew from experience that this really wasn’t Steve’s scene. And you didn’t fault him for that. If you’d spent most of your life fighting aliens, terrorists, and the occasional Hydra baddie, you’d probably be a homebody too.

Your red dress, courtesy of Mya’s wardrobe, is short, tight, and hella sexy. If the situation was different, you would’ve teased your boy with a picture or three. But you couldn’t and that sucked. Mya wasn’t looking too bad herself. She was currently rocking an all black ensemble that left very little to the imagination.

The air in the club is hot, a little sticky, and just kinda damn near perfect. Mya hooks an arm around your waist and proceeds to drag you to the bar. Tonight you two were apparently drinking for free, thanks to some cool as shit chick named Sharon. “It’s time for shots, boo. We bout to get chocolate wasted!”

You for sure wanted to get wasted. Preferably without the chocolate. You feel your phone buzz as you push your way to the bar. It’s a text from Steve. Lucky, lucky you.

Stevie: Hey, sweetness…miss you. How’s girls’ night going?

You: So fun, baby! We’re about to watch Crazy, Stupid, Love. Miss you too.

Stevie: Not more than I miss you. Tell the truth. You being a good girl for me?

You: Of course I am, Captain. ;)

In an attempt to really sell it, you shoot him a quick picture of you and Mya smiling into the camera, dressed in your pajamas. You bite your lip, feeling slightly bad for lying. You glance at Mya as she slides what looks to be a lemon drop shot in front of you. She points at your phone and mouths: “is that Steve?” You nod and show her the brief conversation, which earns you a thumbs up. Placing your phone back in your purse, the two of you clink glasses and toss them back. It goes down so smoothly. You proceed to order another as your phone buzzes again.

Stevie: Well, don’t you two look cute. Hey. Tell Mya to text Sam back. You know how he gets.

Your eyes flash to Mya.

You: Okay, I will. But Stevie, honestly, we’re fine. Now shoo!

You poke your friend in the arm, showing her your phone again. She rolls her eyes, making you giggle as she fishes out her own phone. A quick glance at her screen and the look on her face lets you know that she’s missed what had to be a number of texts from Sam.

*Buzz*

Stevie: No, no can do. I’m always going to see about my best girl. Check on you later.

You smile as the bartender passes you another shot. You and Mya were determined to make the best of your night, even if it killed you. Five more shots and several Amaretto Sours later, the two of you are ready to hit the dance floor. God, it had been so long.

—

The Morning After - 10:17am

Eventually, you manage to gather enough strength to follow Mya into the living room. Your memories from last night are still hazy, but you had a feeling that what was in your phone would help bridge at least some of the gaps. Whether you wanted it to happen or not.

When you find your phone you see it’s nearly dead. You make quick work of plugging it into the wall before reviewing your own messages. Initially, you recall the first few texts. But you see that the rest almost match Sam’s to a tee…except for the last couple.

Stevie: WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? (Received 2:31am)

Stevie: Y/N. Answer me. Don’t think I won’t shut this fucking city down! (Received 2:35am)

Stevie: Alright, have it your way. (Received 2:58am)

What way? You grimace as you check your call log. Apparently there was a point during the night when you had spoken to Steve for…6 minutes and 37 seconds. At 3:42 in the morning. And then it hits you. That call had been brutal. And you hadn’t been alone for it either.

—

Saturday Morning - 3:40am

“Argggh!” Mya screams into the empty street. You two had been waiting on your Uber for the better part of 20 minutes. “Sammy keeps fucking calling! Whaaddafuck does he want me to say?” She slurs in your general direction.

Truthfully you didn’t know. Most of your concentration was currently dedicated to remaining in an acceptable upright position. Stevie had called you too and – ope! Here he was again!

This time you look at Mya, awkwardly motioning for her to come stand by you. “I’m gonna answer it. I’ma do it,” you tell her. Eyes wide, she frantically shakes her head “no”. But your mind is made up. Mya, the good friend she is, drunkenly tries to snatch the phone from your hand, but it’s too late. One of your wayward fingers inadvertently swipes the “accept” button. Here we go!

“Ahem, hello?” You breathe into the phone, silently willingly yourself to sound sober.

Steve’s voice comes in loud on the other line. “Y/N? Damn it, I’ve been calling you all night!” Boy, he sure sounds irritated. “Hello, Steven. How may I be of assistance to you today?” Nailed it! You try not to laugh.

Steve grunts as someone, Sam you assume, grabs the phone. “Y/N, it’s Sam. Is Mya with you?” The girl in question again shakes her head “no”. Which makes no sense to you.

“Of course she is, Big Bird. Where the hell else would she be?” Mya snorts beside you.

“The hell did your girl just call me?” An indignant sounding Sam erupts over the other line. There’s more jostling and then Steve is back. “Where are you two? I’m not happy, sweetheart, so don’t make me ask again.”

“Then don’t fucking ask!” Mya hiccups into the receiver.

“Are you two…drunk?” Steve fires back.

“Hell yeah, we are!” The two of you hi-five. The voices on the other line sound briefly muffled, but your drunken ears can almost swear you hear the words “told you we shoulda put a tracker on them”. A tracker? What the what? You can tell Mya heard it too, and she is clearly just as confused as you are. And then it clicks.

“Steve, you had better not ever–” You sputter.

“Sammy, if you even…I swear…Redwing…I’ll break him!” Mya is leaning on you now. It’s kinda hard to sound sober and hold up another human being at the same time. But good on her for threatening Sam’s little pet. You were pretty sure you could get Bucky to help with that. Knowing him, he’d probably be all for it.

“You even think about touching Redwing and I’ll make sure you regret it, baby girl!”

Mya rolls her eyes so hard you’re honestly surprised they don’t get lost in the back of her head. “I’ve heard that threat before, Samuel. You and your boy Captain McKringleberry over there need to simmer down already.” Now it was your turn to laugh as you hear Steve mutter: “Sam…what the fuck is a McKringleberry?”

“Watch it, Mya.” Sam snaps. You both giggle, unable to help yourselves.You flick Mya in the shoulder. Pull it together!

“Whatever”, you mumble into the phone as your uber finally arrives. “We’re still VIP’s, and we’ll deal with you tomorrow.”

“Goddamnit you two, it *is* tomorrow! We’ve been looking for all night!” You and Mya find yourselves looking up and around at the sky like idiots. You weren’t a scientist, but you were pretty sure that it was definitely still nighttime. “Umm, guys, it’s still very dark out so…”

“Okay, Mya, Y/N,”, an exasperated Sam chimes in. You can tell by his tone that he’s struggling for patience. The nerve of that man! “You know it’s nearly four in the morning right now.”

Errmm…what?

“Whatever”, Mya huffs, clearly over the conversation. She grabs the phone from you again before you can stop her. Not that you tried all that hard. “Well if that’s the case, then let me be the first to wish you a big old cock-a-doodle-do! Now goodbye.”

Woah. Who knew your best friend was such a brave little toaster? Cue serious drunken admiration.

She hits “End Call”. Your phone buzzes again. And then so does Mya’s. What the fuck? Time to ignore. You both haphazardly climb into the uber. God, you both really needed to go to bed. You’d deal with the boys tomorrow. Or in a few hours. Whichever came first.

—

The Morning After - 10:45am

The two of you pause your animated discussion on how to proceed next when you hear a lock click and the door open. Aww shit.

It was too soon. You didn’t have a plan, an excuse, or a story. You weren’t quite used to being caught without…well, something in place. Shit, you were gonna throw up again. But before you can, you decide it’s time to designate a sacrificial lamb. Offering up a silent prayer for forgiveness, you push Mya out of the kitchen and into the living room.

You flinch when you hear her eek out a tentative “hey guys!”, which is met with silence. Oh, great. “Where’s Y/N?” You hear Steve ask. His voice sounds calm and level, but you know he is anything but.

“Umm…she’s in the kitchen. Come on out, girl!” You resist the urge to hiss in her direction before summoning the courage to poke your head around the corner.

“Ah, hey boys, we were just about to start breakfast.” Two sets of unblinking eyes focus on you. “Do you…maybe want some?”

“No.” Both men growl. Did they time that?

“If you know what’s good for you, Y/N, you’ll come out and pack your bag right now.” The beauty of it is, sober you does know what’s good for you. Which is why you’re currently hiding in your best friend’s kitchen. “If I have to come and get you, I’m gonna make sure you feel it.” You gulp at that.

“Okay, but Stevie…baby…you sure you don’t want, like, an English muffin or something?” You try your best to appear as sweet, and innocent, and also as hungover as possible. “How about you, Sam?”

Sam blinks. Steve starts to move towards you. Crap! You quickly note that your friend is too busy packing up her own things to be of any real aid at the moment. You scuttle out of the kitchen to grab your stuff before your boyfriend grabs you.

“Oh, it’s Sam now?” Sam grumbles at you. “Coulda’ sworn my name was Big Bird.” You wince. Not sure how to recover from your previous drunken misstep.

“Umm, well, I would like to take this moment to apologize, and also point out that the actual Big Bird is a well-revered and highly respected member of Sesame Street.”

“Uh huh.” Sam growls, clearly not convinced. So, like an idiot, you keep going.

“And for you to be associated with him is kinda like a compliment so…”

Sam rolls his eyes. Steve snarls. Solid oops. Oh well.

“Save it, Y/N. Get your bag and let’s go. You’re in deep enough as it is.”

Mya chokes back a laugh. You shoot her a glare. Steve issues a hard slap to your ass, making you yelp.

God, you really were way too hungover for this shit.

END

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