#and hey i get it that Sam lighting candles and using that lighter

[whateverwhatevs]

Gap the Series: the Series with SO MANY open flames like oh my god!

[badassbuchanan]

Be Mine?

REQUEST: Could you write something where the reader has never had a valentines so bucky goes all out to celebrate valentines day with her? Like she just feels so loved at the end of it? Thank you💖

Warnings: smut; unprotected sex, fluff, hand job, pussy rubbing, romantic 

Word Count: 4884

A/N: I’m sorry, I tried but romance isn’t my strong suit - anyway, happy V day!

I tossed my hand carelessly through my freshly washed hair, trying to make it look somewhat decent as I made my way through the compound. “Meet me by the elevator at six.” That’s what Bucky’s text had said yesterday, and that was the first I’d heard from him since our conversation earlier in the week. 

“If you don’t get a better offer by valentines day, we should just do something together.” Bucky suggested as he absentmindedly scrunched up his nose. We’d been chatting over a pot of tea in the kitchen after listening to all of our friends’ special plans for the upcoming romantic holiday. “Otherwise we’ll be the only two in the compound without a date.”

“I don’t really do valentines dates.” I shrugged matter-of-factly, my heart sinking as I felt a soft blush of pink cover my cheeks. Dates in general had always been a touchy subject with me, but especially valentines day dates. I’d never had one. Ever. In my life. And it was embarrassing for me to admit. 

My comment didn’t get past the clever brain of the Winter Soldier, a soft frown of curiosity appearing on his chiseled face as he lifted his mug to his lips. “What do you mean, you don’t do valentines dates?” He emphasised the word ‘do’, blowing gently on the hot beverage before taking a sip. 

His eyes were fixed on me, patiently awaiting my response as I felt my heartbeat speed up. “I just don’t.” I shrugged innocently under his stare, noticing the little frown lines which appeared on his forehead as he processed my answer. 

“You think Y/N’s ever met a guy good enough to take her out on the most romantic day of the year?” Sam’s voice immediately had Bucky’s eyes rolling, turning his head to the side to watch the chuckling avenger stroll into the room. “You’re dreaming, cyborg. Even I wouldn’t try.” 

“It’s not that!” I jumped to my own defence, not wanting Bucky to think that was the reason I’d turned him down, because it wasn’t. Bucky and I had been great friends ever since he’d arrived from Wakanda, we felt somewhat connected by the commonality of the enjoyable silence and peacefulness of being alone. Something which people like Sam would never understand. “I’ve just never had a date for valentines.”

Bucky was a selfless guy and I knew he’d only offered to spend his valentines day with me out of kindness. He was an extremely handsome super soldier with a charming personality and a heart of gold. He’d be able to get a valentines date with a beautiful girl with a blink of his eye. 

“I guess I’ve never really felt strongly enough about anyone in that way.” I elaborated vaguely, looking between Bucky who was giving Sam a fed up look and Sam, who had grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and was happily leaving the room with a chuckle, knowing he’d done his job of winding Bucky up.

“It doesn't have to be a date.” Bucky pressed his lips together in a small smile, his voice softening as he looked over at me, his steel blue eyes shining bright. “We can just hang out like we usually do.” 

I smiled over at him sweetly, thankful for his understanding nature. “Okay, sounds good.” I let out a soft chuckle as his smile widened at my answer, taking another sip of his drink as his heart skipped a beat. 

I arrived at the meeting point right on time, deciding to wear a pair of distressed denim shorts with a floral top tucked into them after much deliberation. I was nervous. I didn’t know why, I’d hung out with Bucky hundreds of times before. But it was this damn day putting so much pressure on something as simple as two friends hanging out. 

The compound was particularly quiet where the rest of the team had already left for their dates. The silence only made the loud beating of my heart more evident. Bucky still hadn’t shown up. He’d probably found himself a proper date for tonight and forgot to tell me. 

“Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y, has Bucky left the compound recently?” I asked softly, fiddling with my hair as I prepared for a lonely night of movies. 

“No, Miss Y/N. Sergeant Barnes is currently in the south living room.” The AI answered immediately, the response surprisingly me as I raised my eyebrows. The south living room was an extravagantly decorated room of the compound, hardly ever used other than for special occasions and honourable guest visits. 

“Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” I spoke as I pressed the button for the elevator, my nerves calming a little as I tried to guess Bucky’s reasoning for being in that particular room. I stepped in the elevator, feeling the metal contraption move between floors. So maybe he hadn’t blown off our date - correction, ‘hang out’. Maybe he’d just forgotten where he’d arranged to meet me.

I stepped out of the elevator and wandered down the darkness of the hall, only illuminated by the soft light coming from the living area. I dragged my fingers along the cream coloured wall absentmindedly, the quiet sound of a song playing made me tilt my head questioningly. “Bucky!” I called out as I neared the entrance to where the AI had informed me of Bucky’s whereabouts. 

My breath got caught in my lungs as I turned into the doorway, my body completely still as I widened my eyes in shock.

“Bucky, what’s all this?” I whispered softly, my heartbeat speeding up as I looked in at the busy super soldier standing in front of me. 

“Crap, is it six already?” Bucky mumbled to himself as he rushed to light the candle in his hand, placing it carefully on the coffee table. He looked up at me with an innocent smile as he shoved the lighter into his back pocket.

He was standing near the roaring fireplace, the floor almost fully engulfed in rose petals. He’d strategically placed candles and flowers on the mantlepiece and the coffee table, a rug thrown down of the floor with pillows and a bottle of champagne ready for us to indulge. 

“Y/N, please don’t be mad.” Bucky begged as he saw the stunned look on my face. I tried to process what was going on, why he’d put all this effort in, but instead, I just stood there speechless. “I know you said you didn't want this to be a date but I just-”  “Bucky, it’s beautiful.” I spoke with eyes full of tears, my hands shaking slightly as I stepped further into the room. I’d only ever seen such a romantic gesture in movies, I’d never in a million years expected that one day it would happen to me. 

Bucky watched intensely as I walked towards him, his eyes softening into a smile as he realised I wasn’t upset with him. He sighed out in relief, holding his hand out to tug me close to him as I continued to admire the gorgeous set up he’d put together.

“You said you’d never had a date for valentines day,” He spoke deeply, shaking his leg nervously as his eyes stayed glued on me. His hand kept hold of mine as I looked up at him, attentively listening to his words. “Well neither have I.”

“Are you telling me that Sergeant James Buchnanan Barnes, even back in the roaring forties, never had a valentine?” I gasped in a playful tone, although I truthfully was surprised to hear his confession. Bucky was a catch, I would’ve thought he’d have been spoilt for choice back in his youth.

He rolled his eyes with a chuckle, reciprocating my gaze as his fingers absentmindedly massaged my palm. “Well at least I didn’t say I’d never had a date because I’d never found anyone good enough!” He raised his eyebrows accusingly, his lips falling into a sassy pout. 

“That was Wilson!” I reminded Bucky with a tilt of my head, a small smile playing on my lips as his gorgeous eyes bored into mine. I felt myself get carried away in the moment, tugging him slightly closer as I admired him.

“I made us some chocolate covered strawberries.” He mumbled shyly, a proud smile on his face as his eyes flickered down to my lips absentmindedly. 

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” I sighed out contently, walking passed him to sit down on the rug. I crossed my legs and looked up at Bucky who followed my lead, sitting down on the soft material next to me. 

I watched carefully as he leaned over to grab the flute glasses in his metal hand, his other grabbing the bottle which he sat between his thick thighs. Bucky’s arms tensed as he pulled the cork out with a pop, the soft music still playing in the background filled the silence. 

My heart fluttered as I gazed over admiringly, my fingers fiddling nervously with the blanket beneath us. Bucky’s brows furrowed as he focused on pouring the liquid into the glasses without it spilling over the top. 

I smiled maybe a little too widely, catching Bucky’s attention as he looked over at me innocently. “What?” He chuckled with a charming smile, placing the bottle down carefully away from where we sat. 

“Nothing,” I smiled back at him, too lost in the bliss of the moment to stop and think things through. I could feel myself falling for him, fast. The vulnerability of it worried me, but Bucky made feel safe. “You just get these cute little lines here when you frown.” I spoke sweetly, lifting my hand to touch between his brows delicately. 

Bucky smiled as he watched me, entertained by the mesmerised look on my face. “I think you’re the only person in the world that thinks frown lines are cute.” He chuckled softly, leaning over to hand me a glass of champagne. 

“I don't think frown lines in general are cute.” I corrected him, rolling my eyes with a cock of my eyebrow, our fingers brushing slightly as I took the glass from his hand. 

“Oh, so you just think they’re cute on me?” He smirked teasingly, watching my face blush pink as he caught me out. He lifted his glass to his lips, sitting closer to me now from where he’d handed me the glass of champagne. 

“Gosh, you really love making me blush, don’t you Barnes?” I sighed with a shy smile, sipping the fizzy alcohol as I watched Bucky’s smile widen. His eyes travelled up and down my body as I shuffled to sit with my legs sideways, leaning on my hand which moved me closer to him. 

“Hey, can I tell you a secret?” Bucky’s voice dropped to a serious tone as his heart started beating a little harder. I detected a slight hesitation from him as he coughed shyly, his eyes glued on mine. 

“Mmh hmm.” I nodded sweetly, my eyes softening as I tilted my head to the side, my finger circling around the rim of the glass as I anticipated his confession. 

“When I originally suggested we do something for valentines,” He looked down at his lap nervously, a small smile of his lips as he thought carefully about his words. “I wanted to ask you, you know, not just because we were going to be the only two people without a date.” 

Butterflies fluttered in my tummy as I shyly looked down into my lap, trying to hide the smile that had appeared on my face. “What was the real reason?” I asked curiously, my voice softening to match his. 

“Well, because I think you’re the greatest girl in the whole world.” He answered deeply, his eyes flicking up to my face just for a moment as he smiled at how happy I looked. “You’re beautiful, smart, generous, accepting, funny.” 

“Is this just another way of you getting me to blush again?” I cut him off, teasing him accusingly with a raise of my eyebrows. It broke the tension, Bucky scoffing softly as he took another sip of champagne. 

“No, that time was an accident.” His ocean blue eyes caught mine as he responded, both of our hearts beating a little faster than usual at the new depths of our relationship we were exploring. 

“You could’ve asked me, you know.” I spoke as I watched Bucky lean over to grab the chocolate covered strawberries he’d made from the table. He looked back at me as the plate lifted into his hand, waiting for me to clarify. “On a date. I would’ve said yes.”

“You would have?” Bucky’s eyes softened as he sat back down, strategically sitting so close that our arms brushed together. He offered me a strawberry after throwing one into his mouth, placing the plate and our champagne flutes safely on the marble base of the fireplace.

“Of course,” I nodded quickly as I ate the chocolate covered fruit, catching any of the excess juice with my tongue. “Bucky, you’re the most loving, kind, handsome, brave, loyal guy I’ve ever met.” 

Bucky held his breath as he listened to me speak, the both of us feeling so loved in a world of so much pain. “You’re not scared of me?” His voice cracked slightly as he furrowed his brows into a frown.

I confirmed my answer with a shake of my head, my heart aching a little at the thought of him worrying about people being scared of him. 

“I could never be scared of you.” I admitted softly as an intense moment started to build between us, which neither of us were able to control.

I felt the tension between us boil over, noticing Bucky’s eyes dropp to my lips as I instinctively leaned closer to him. I let my hot breath linger on him for a moment before I pressed our lips together. 

Bucky’s metal hand immediately rose to cup my cheek, keeping me close as he kissed me back, the taste of strawberries on our lips. I felt butterflies in my tummy as his stubble scratched against my skin, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. 

I sighed out in satisfaction of his mouth on me, his kisses sweet and gentle as I pressed my palm flat against his solid chest. I felt his pecs move with the rhythm of his breathing, my cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as I felt myself wanting more from him.

He was touching me with such delicacy, as if he was scared he would break me. I shuffled forward as Bucky breathed into the kiss, his hand snaking around to grab the back of my head. He pulled me against his lips harder as my hand slid up to hold the side of his neck.

I parted my lips encouragingly, mimicking his action by tugging him closer by my hand on his neck. Bucky grunted softly into the kiss which was becoming needier with every second. 

I whimpered into the kiss, our heads tilting as our lips collided. My palm held onto his strong jaw, his stubble scratching my hand as his metal fingers ran down the side of my body.

I sat up a little straighter which leaned me further into Bucky, the palm of his hand supporting me at my waist. I hummed contently between kisses, Bucky’s eyes falling to where my lips were moving to connect to his again.

I gave him a sultry look as I pulled back from his mouth teasingly, lightly tugging on the thin material of the white t-shirt he wore. Bucky immediately took the hint, removing his hands from me as he pulled the top over his head.

He shook his hair back into place as he threw the shirt carelessly next to him. I couldn’t help but stare at his body in amazement, running my fingers up to where his metal arm fused to his flesh.

Bucky’s lips pressed back onto mine, a small whimper escaping my lips as his tongue pushed its way into my mouth. I felt my wetness seap down onto my cotton panties, sliding my thigh to rest on top of his as he let his hand quickly move over my ass to grab the back of my thigh.

Bucky grunted softly as he tugged on my bare leg, the silky flesh under his metal palm had his cock stirring in his pants. I took the hint, shifting myself to sit straddling the super soldier’s lap.

It was as though all of our built up emotion had exploded in a moment, our touches getting riskier as we roamed each other’s bodies. I let Bucky’s bottom lip sit between mine, sucking on it slowly as his tongue ran over my top lip.

“Is this okay?” Bucky whispered against my lips, our chests heaving as I nodded in response. I closed my eyes when I felt Bucky’s lips travelling across my cheek, leaving little pecks in their path. 

I massaged the back of his head, my fingers dug deep in his long hair. I let out a shaky breath as Bucky’s lips reached my jaw, his tongue wetting my skin with his open mouthed kisses. 

I tilted my head to the side, granting him more access as my other hand clung to his strong bicep. His metal hand held the back of my neck, supporting me as my body gave in to the pleasure. His flesh hand tugged the hem of my top out of the shorts before letting his palm slide underneath the material.

Bucky groaned against my neck as his hand came into contact with my lacy bra, his kisses getting sloppier as they reached my collarbone. “Tell me to stop.” He huffed out as he tried to control himself, not wanting me to feel pressured into anything.

I shook my head softly as I turned my head to look at him through half closed eyes, overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and love I felt. “I don’t want you to stop.” I whispered vulnerably, Bucky’s head lifting to look at me with his gorgeous blue eyes.

He leaned in to press his lips back against mine, a whimper escaping my lips as I rolled my hips down onto his. A groan erupted in his throat, his hand travelling back down my body as he gripped the material of my top in his hand.

I leaned back momentarily, balancing myself with my palms on his bare chest as I helped him lift my shirt off of my body.

Bucky panted as he took in my semi-naked body, his hands rubbing the start of my hips needily as he watched me let my top drop on the floor. I leaned my hands back behind my body, making quick work of undoing my bra to let my boobs bounce freely.

I could feel his hardened bulge pressing against the inside of my thigh, his eyes fixated on my tits as he moved his lips onto my chest. I whimpered softly as his hot mouth left wet kisses on my breasts, his tongue flicking over my hardened nipples. 

Bucky’s hands hugged my body tightly, pulling me as close as he could as he sucked on my tits. I ran my hand through his soft hair, biting my lip as I closed my eyes in ecstasy.

Bucky’s metal palm slid down to my exposed lower back, holding me against him as he flipped us over. My back gently hit the blanket, Bucky’s large frame hovering above me as he moved his lips back up for another kiss.

My hands slid down his toned chest, over the chiseled abs of his stomach until I reached the button of his jeans. I tugged the waistband away from his skin gently, a little huff escaping his lips as I did so.

I broke the kiss to focus on what I was doing, Bucky’s head dropping into my neck as I popped open the button of his jeans. My head flew back, little moans escaping my lips as Bucky nipped at the base of my throat softly. 

My fingers pulled open his zipper, my pussy clenching as I slid my hand into his underwear. My touch was greeted by his hard cock, heavy in my hand. Bucky huffed out softly, his eyes closing as I felt my way down to his balls. 

I gasped softly at how big he felt, his lips kissing a strip up up the front of my throat and chin. His lips reconnected with mine as I circled his swollen tip with my thumb, smearing the leaking pre-cum. 

I lubricated my hand as much as I could with his juices before wrapping my fingers around his shaft. I tugged on his member gently, feeling his whole body tense at the foreign feeling. I hummed into the kiss, my pussy aching with need as I imagined how he’d feel inside me.

Bucky moaned as my hand jerked him off, his hips bucking to meet my touch as he hovered above me. He kissed me with so much force that my head pressed hard against the floor, softened slightly by the blanket. 

I felt his cock twitch in my hand, his hips jolting forward as he tried to control himself. Bucky lifted his flesh hand from the floor and moved it down between our bodies, his fingers tracing down my bare skin. 

His eyes immediately dropped to look between our legs, he licked his lips as his fingers came into contact with my shorts. Bucky’s jaw clenched as I squeezed his cock tighter, keeping my eyes trained on his gorgeous face.

Bucky skilfully flicked open the button on my jeans, his lips dropping to kiss me as he snaked his hand beneath the material of my panties. I gasped as he cupped my mound, my wetness leaking down onto his palm. 

My fingers dropped from around his cock, clinging to his bicep as he rubbed my pussy. My hips bucked up to meet his touch, needier than ever for his attention. I moaned into the kiss, my tongue flicking his as I arched my back off of the floor, feeling Bucky sit back from where I was. 

I looked up at him innocently, all baffled and horny as I watched him hook his fingers into the waistband of my shorts. In one swift motion, but slid my shorts and panties down to my knees. I wiggled my legs, helping him get them off the rest of the way as he sat back on his knees. 

“So beautiful.” Bucky mumbled as he looked down at my naked body, his cock standing proudly against his stomach. I bit my lip shyly a I sat up, my arousal dripping down onto the rug. 

Bucky crawled closer to me, his flesh hand running up my bare thigh as his cock throbbed desperately for attention. I breathed shakily, my arms wrapping around his neck as he pushes the last of his clothing down his thick thighs before kicking them behind him. 

He hovered over my body as I laid back down, now being cradled by the pillows he’d decorated the floor with. I could feel his big member against my thigh, trying to nudge its way into my warmth. I whimpered needily, bending my knees and pressing the heels of my feet against the blanket.

“Just let me know if this gets too mu-“ Bucky cut himself off with a moan, his nose crinkling in pleasure as he felt my hand wrap around his cock again.

I guided him to my entrance, encouragingly rubbing his throbbing tip into my wetness. My hand pulled away when I felt him pushing into me, filling me up with his big cock.

I let out a sensual moan of half pain and half pleasure as Bucky’s lips parted, a shaky breath escaping them as we felt my pussy clench around him.

My thighs clenched too, squeezing around his hips as his thick length slid out from where it was half sheathed inside of me. Bucky was going at a painfully slow rate, sliding his cock a little deeper into me with every thrust.

His lips dropped down onto mine, kissing me gently as he stretched my tight little pussy with his cock. The feeling of his thick length inside me made me dig my fingernails into the muscly flesh of his back.

I whimpered against his lips, my face screwing up in pleasure as he pulls his head back for a moment to admire me before crashing his lips on mine again.

I lifted my legs to wrap around his waist, my hips desperately bucking up to him in need. Bucky used his flesh hand to balance as his metal one ran up my leg, over my waist and up to my boob, squeezing it gently.

I cried out and arched my back into his touch, still in disbelief at how good he felt inside me. His cock filled me up again as he let out a grunt, breathing heavily as his body stilled.

Bucky moaned against my lips as he felt my pussy squeezing his cock, both of us lost in the overwhelming feeling of our bodies connecting. I pecked his lips over and over as he started rocking his hips back and forth slowly, making my tits bounce with every thrust.

His balls slapped against me, the sound filling the room as I let my mouth hang open. Our breaths met in a hot mix as Bucky squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure.

His hips jerked with each thrust, feeling himself rubbing against my walls as my pussy lips hugged his length. Bucky shuffled forward on his knees, deepening the thrusts as he picked up the pace.

I whimpered out softly, the new angle hitting all the right spots as my pussy welcomed his size, his cock soaked in my juices. “Bucky” I breathed shakily as I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly against me. Bucky’s head fell perfectly into my neck, his little grunts intensified in my ear now.

A shiver ran through my body as I inhaled his manly scent, overwhelmed by the emotion and euphoric feeling of the moment. I felt my pussy tingle with pleasure, already close to my high as Bucky fucked his cock into me.

I tugged on his hair lightly when I felt his lips on my neck again, both of his hands pressed into the blanket either side of my head as he nudged his hips forward, sending his cock deeper into me. Bucky moaned into my neck, his cock twitching inside of me as he became overwhelmed with the feeling.

Bucky stopped his thrusting with such a suddenness that my eyes opened, a worried look washing over my face. He panted breathlessly, gripping my hips and supporting my back as he picked me up, sitting back on his knees with me on top of him.

I let out a moan the new angle impairing me on his cock as my arms stayed clung tightly around him. Bucky groaned full of pleasure, kissing me slowly as he started thrusting up into me, using his new position to his advantage.

Waves of pleasure mercilessly washed over me, only being intensified by the way Bucky was watching me fuck himself on top of him. He leaned his head back to watch me, his hips lifting to meet my movements as his arms clung to my body.

His eyes were soft and full of lust, his lips dropped into a pout as he watched me whither on top of him, overwhelmed with pleasure. I moaned with as gasp as my orgasm suddenly took over, my body pulsating on him as I rode out my high. 

I leaned forward and kissed him deeply, our tongues playing as he kept me in place despite how my hips were jolting at the throbbing of my clit. Bucky’s face dropped into my neck, his hot breath against my skin as I felt his warm cum spurting inside of me. I sighed out in satisfaction as Bucky grunts, wave after wave of cum filling me up.

He kept me close, our breathless bodies pushed together as we sat there in the afterglow of our orgasms. I’d never cum so hard in my life, the gentleness and love of Bucky’s actions had only topped the experience.

I turned my head and smiled lazily, kissing his swollen lips as my fingers ran through his hair. Bucky reacted by leaving soft pecks on lips over and over, his softening cock still buried inside of me.

“Y/N.” Bucky whispered softly, his breath still warm against my lips as his hooded eyes gazed into mine. “Will you be mine?” 

“Your valentine?” I softly asked, holding him tightly as I thought about the coldness I would feel once his body retreated from mine. 

“No, forever.” Bucky replied hopefully, making my heart stop as a wave of emotion flooded through my body. 

“Forever’s good for me.” I smiled as my eyes filled with tears, nothing but love for the man in front of me as I connected our lips in a gentle kiss. The perfect end to the perfect day.

tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

@bestofbucky

@be-patient-be-good

@nothing0is4here

@velvetcardiganbucky

@sexwithhiddlesbatch

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It's Just a Movie: Part 21 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, blood mention

Word Count: 3674

The eight of you hopped down the stairs, heading down into the depths of the cave below. It was as if all had been forgotten, but you'd guessed that David's question must have creeped out Michael as much as it had creeped you out. But after a short laugh and some mild encouragement, Michael was following you all down into the sunken hotel.

Dwayne took the time to light the barrels so Michael, and you, could see in the dark cave. Paul went right behind the brunette, turning to help the little boy down the cave steps before holding his hand and jumping down into the cave with him. Paul stopped his cheering to say,

"Go get the rockbox, brother." And Laddie quickly agreed. Marko went straight for his pigeons, while Dwayne finished lighting up the room. You followed Marko, hanging near him as you looked behind you to catch David's eye. Everyone knew what speech was coming, and you grinned as you waited for David to start. Though, your eyes shifted to the brunette. You watched the awe come over his face, and you could imagine just what he was thinking. Even after so many months, the cave still had its own little effect on you. 

"Not bad, huh?" You walked past Marko, heading towards the fallen down and graffitied steps that jutted out of the wall. Paul was already making his laps around the fountain, while Laddie went to go give him the rockbox. You climbed up, popping a squat on the steps as David continued, "This was the hottest resort in Santa Carla about eighty-five years ago." You placed your elbows on your knees, settling your chin on your hands as David walked around the fountain and said, "Too bad they built it on the fault. In 1906, when the big one hit San Francisco, the ground opened up and this one took a header," Laddie climbed into the fountain as he spoke, and Paul stepped around the chandelier as he passed. David clapped as he said, "Right into the crack." He was looking at Michael now, and he stood just a step too close. "So, now it's ours." David finished. 

"So, check it out, Mikey." Paul said, putting emphasis on the nickname. He had lit a joint, and you laughed along with the other boys. David continued as if Paul hadn't interrupted him, and Star grabbed Michael's hand to try to stop David from leading him away as he said, 

"Marko. Food." He said, and Marko was tossing his pigeon over his shoulder as he went to climb back up the cave steps and out towards the world. "That's what I love about this place." He had lifted an arm to wrap around Michael's shoulder, but Michael reached back and shrugged him off. Star walked towards her room, watching the pair closely. David's hand hovered as he said, "You ask, and then you get." Paul hopped off the fountain, joint in hand. He held it up for David, who said, "Thank you." And Paul cheerfully said, 

"Yeah." Before he blew the smoke out of his mouth with a smirk on his face. You stood from the stairs, noticing how everyone, even little Laddie, was watching the pair. You climbed off the steps, heading towards the fountain near where Paul and Dwayne pulled Laddie up. "Appetizer?" David offered, and you watched as Michael took the joint. You stood next to Dwayne as David, "You'll like it here, Michael." And reached up to touch the flag tucked into Dwayne's pants.

In the movie, the scene cut right there. It flashed back to Sam's room, where he was reading all about vampires. But this wasn't just the movie. Michael was still there, being led to the couches to smoke while the seven of you hung out and awaited Markos return. You reached into Dwayne's pocket, and the brunette looked down at the feeling. You pulled his lighter out of it, giving him a grin as you walked over to the rockbox, pressing play on whatever tape was inside, and went to the brunette girl. You linked your arms, even if the girl seemed content to hide behind her curtains.

"Help me light the candles." You whispered, and she gave you a silent look, before a small nod. She found a pack of matches lying around, and the pair of you went around the room lighting the stray candles. Star was silent, casting glances over at the pair on the couch. You looked over, seeing that Paul had joined their minor smoke sesh. You rolled your eyes, and thought to yourself, Of course. You caught eyes with him when you looked back, and he gave you a wide grin and motioned you over. He was sitting on the couch with Michael, while David sat in his chair. While you had gotten most of the candles, there were still plenty left unlit. You smiled and shook your head, turning your attention back to the candle holder in front of you. You could hear Dwayne whizz past you on his skateboard, and you looked over your shoulder to catch a smile from him. You had barely looked away from the candle for a minute before a large hand was reaching out, lighting it before you could. When you looked over, the tall blonde stood next to you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hey there, gorgeous. Is it just me, or do I feel a spark between us?" He flirted, and you couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you went to light the candles on the chandelier. "Oh, c'mon." Paul drawled, following you over and helping you light the candles you couldn't reach. "That was a good one." Paul said, and you let out a little sigh.

"I'm pretty sure you've used that one before." You told him, and Paul scoffed as he picked up one of the candles, lit it, and set it down on the fountain.

"Ouch. Tough crowd." He said, looking over towards the boys. You saw that Dwayne has paused his skating to take a hit from the joint, but hadn't yet joined David and Michael. He even put one foot on the board, pushing off with the joint between his lips. The three of them let out soft laughs, and you looked over to find that Laddie was shadowing Star now. "Well, either way, you set my heart aflame." Paul said, choosing to sit just where you were going to place one of the candles, a candle in his own hand. You gave him an unamused arch of your brow, and he scoffed again. "Nothing?" He said, and you shook your head. Nothing. Usually, Paul didn't even have to flirt with you to make you swoon. You didn't know what it was, but you were enjoying teasing him. You were used to an audience, but, perhaps, you felt as though you had something to prove with Michael watching as well. Even if the boys seemed to be having their own conversation, you could feel the stares on your back. Paul stood and took the candle from your hand, setting it down where he sat. He reached out to touch your cheek, and you couldn't stop yourself from leaning into the touch. It made a wide grin spread across Paul's face, and he leaned close to say, "You're just trying to make me look bad." After a moment, you nodded with a grin spread across your lips. You giggled, but, when he ducked down to kiss you, you pulled away. 

It was just an inch of distance, but Paul looked absolutely insulted by the rejection. His mouth even fell open and his eyes had gone wide, the warning sign of amber already mixing with his crystal blues. Paul loved games, and you knew he was the most persistent of the vampires. But, for Michael's sake, you decided to end the game before it truly began. You grinned, and quickly closed the distance to give him a peck. He accepted the kiss, his lips twisting in an attempt to hide his own pleasure, before he held your chin and kissed you again. It was deeper and almost forceful, as if he was proving a point. He only pulled away when Dwayne skated past and thumped Paul on the head. Paul broke the kiss with a shout of,

"Hey!" And Dwayne's laugh rang clearly through the cave. You grinned as you watched him skate away, and he looked over his shoulder to send you a large, heart-melting smile. He looked positively picturesque. His board made him a few inches taller, his hair was blowing slightly behind him, and his jacket had fallen open to reveal just a sliver of skin. Paired with the smile on his face and the look in his eye, it was hard not to melt. Paul, however, only became disgruntled by how Dwayne had stolen your attention, and told him, "Get your own girlfriend, man." As Dwayne came nearer and passed the two of you, he leaned down and sent you a wink before he said, 

"Oh, I will." Paul's feathers had been especially bristled after that comment, and, on a normal night, he probably would've stolen you away to your room simply just so the brunette couldn't interrupt his night with you. But, alas, he had to stay put, as much as it bothered him to do so. Michael had moved to the fountain, so he could be closer to David. Or, perhaps, it was so he could stare at Star, who had come over to finish lighting the candles in the cave and decided to hang behind David's chair when she was finished. Still, the platinum blonde seemed to be the only one interested in talking to the boy from Phoenix, and, if you had been paying closer attention, you might've caught more of the questions David had asked him. The only thing that seemed to improve his mood was when Michael pointed between the two of you and quietly asked,

"So, you two are…" And Paul beamed as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You and the boys hadn't really discussed what you would tell Michael, but you knew that you wouldn't be able to hide it for long. Especially when you and the boys would share affection with eachother whenever you felt necessary. Instead, the pair of you shared a glance, then looked at Dwayne. Then, the three of you laughed to yourselves, and Michael stared at the display between the three of you.

"Something like that." You told him between giggles, and, while he smiled, he looked just slightly confused as his eyes flicked between the three of you. He was clearly relieved when the other blonde returned with the sound of feet hitting the floor and a call of,

"Feeding time! Come and get it, boys." As he walked towards where David and Michael had parked themselves. Dwayne skated past, ditching his board to sit in the corner of the couch with a small cheer of,

"Alright." While Paul scrambled for his spot on the ledge and chattered to himself. He pulled you next to him, and Marko, chopsticks between his teeth, paused to give David his order first. David looked at the container, and, almost in a bored tone, said,

"Chinese. Good choice." As though he'd known that's what he was going to end up choosing. Funnily enough, to you, the line sounded exactly the same as in the movie, with or without the prior knowledge. Marko threw Dwayne's carton to him, and Paul turned, saying, 

"Over here, bud." And held out his hands for Marko to throw him his food. The only difference was that Marko threw two cartons, one for you and one for Paul. He also tossed Paul a pair of chopsticks, which Paul passed to you. You shook your head as you looked over, seeing that Dwayne had already started to eat with his bare hands, and that Paul, and Laddie, was quick to follow. You opened your carton, using the chopsticks to eat your normal order of chinese food, and you would've commented if it wouldn't break the script. Marko stood behind David's chair, glancing at the brunette on the fountain.

"Guests first." David said, holding out the carton of rice to Michael. Michael mumbled a simple,

"No, I'm good." But your eyes flicked to David. He persisted with an almost surprised,

"You don't like rice?" And even though you'd seen the scene a thousand times, it was interesting to see it in person. From this angle. Everything was less dramatic, yet impossibly more tense. David's persisting was less of a plot device and appeared to be even more unnecessary. You could almost hear the tense background music, even if, now, it was just whatever cassette had been in the rockbox. Still, David had to. He continued with, "Tell me, Michael. How could a billion chinese people be wrong?" Earning a few laughs and chuckles from the boys around you. You forced yourself to smile as you ate your food, but you didn't even need to look at Star to know that she was staring at you. A glance only confirmed that, but you wished you hadn't. The confusion and speck of hurt in her eyes made you wish you had just watched David and Michael. David pushed even further, laughing and saying, "C'mon." Michael took the carton and fork, eating a small bit of rice if not just to satisfy the boy in front of him. After a moment, David asked, "How are those maggots?" Earning a small chorus of laughter from the boys around you. You stared down at your food, almost not wanting to watch the scene play out as guilt edged the back of your mind when Michael dumbly said,

"What?" Only for David to lean forward in his seat, his brow lowering and his face turning serious as he continued,

"Maggots, Michael. You're eating maggots. How do they taste?" The boy besides you was cracking up, and even Dwayne was letting his head roll back as he laughed. You stared at him for a moment, and looked back just to see Michael spitting out the rice. It caused a whole roar of laughter, even from the smallest of the boys. But, you could only bring yourself to laugh quietly, even if it quickly faded the second Star said,

"Leave him alone." Guilt was eating you up. You didn't want to bully Michael, and Sam's request from earlier was itching at your mind. Make sure Mike doesn't embarrass himself too badly. Those were the words that rung in your ears as Paul said,

"Pretty sad." But the boys fell silent as David stabbed his takeout. A frown had quickly replaced his smile, and he stared at Michael for a moment as the boy made sure to get the rice out of his mouth. You stared at David, but he seemed to be avoiding your eyes. Instead, he looked at Michael. You couldn't help but follow his gaze, and you watched as Michael tried to piece together what had just happened. You knew that he had, for a moment, saw the rice as maggots. No imagination. He'd seen it. Yet, now you were sure it had gone back to being just plain old rice. 

"Sorry about that. No hard feelings though?" David asked, and Michael looked at him before looking away and saying, 

"No." You were sure he was probably blaming it on his high, on the weed the boys had given him. Surely, that was the most reasonable explanation. You watched as David held out his noodles and said,

"Why don't you try some noodles?" And, from how the boys laughed, you were almost positive that if you looked into the carton you'd see worms inside them. To save your own appetite, you didn't look. 

"They're worms." Michael said, earning more laughter. Paul looked over at you, clearly enjoying himself. You smiled to play along, gently nudging him with your shoulder. David was quick to say,

"What do you mean they're worms?" As he looked down at the carton. As David took some noodles between his chopsticks, Michael said,

"Don't eat-" But he was cut off by the sight of David tilting his head back, licking the noodles into his mouth. They weren't worms, just plain noodles. David told him exactly that with the line,

"They're only noodles, Michael." Before Michael was grabbing the food from his hands. He looked at it, pulling it up with David's chopsticks. He saw with own eyes that they were, fortunately, no longer worms. Just noodles. Paul laughed and taunted him, saying,

"Worms." As if the idea was ridiculous. You gave him another small nudge, just as Star said,

"That's enough." But you knew none of the boys would listen to her. They couldn't. They had a script to follow, and Paul turned his head to tell Star to,

"Ah, chill out, girl." But it almost felt as if he was telling both of you. You looked away, burying your attention into the carton of chinese food as Marko leaned down, letting David whisper in his ear. But Marko knew what he wanted, even as he nodded and went to go fetch the bejeweled bottle. The lump in your throat was developing again, and no amount of swallowing could get rid of it. You comforted yourself with the reminder that Michael was kind of a creep, and that you needed to do this. For a moment, it made you feel slightly less bad. You watched as Marko brought the wine and passed it to David. Star walked around David, moving so she was behind Michael. She looked concerned. Rightfully so. She knew what was in that bottle, and she knew none of the others, not even you, would protest if David offered it to him. Michael looked over at Star as silence filled the room, but the tension was thick and heavy. It was time, and, if they succeeded, then they were one step closer to guaranteeing their survival. Or their deaths.

David uncorked the bottle of blood, taking a sip and letting his eyes close. He took a breath, before he opened his eyes and stared at the boy in front of him. Even before David said the words, you reached for Paul's hand and gave it a tight squeeze. He reciprocated the action.

"Drink some of this, Michael. Be one of us." He said, and then slowly held the bottle out for Michael to take. You watched him closely, even as Michael took the bottle. Even as your boys began to chant. Even as Laddie stood up off of the couch, passing the boys to stand besides you and reached to grab your free hand. Even as Star said, 

"Don't. You don't have to, Michael." And Laddie gave your arm a small tug. Before you could even think to stand, to go with him, Paul lifted your joined hands and moved them along with his chant. His grip was tight, and you knew it would be futile if you tried to pull away. So, instead, you gestured for Laddie to go to Star, to leave you on the ledge with Paul. He paused for a moment before he hurried away, just as Star said, "It's blood." And you almost wished that Michael had listened to her. Instead, he stupidly said,

"Yeah. Sure." And lifted the bottle to his lips. He chugged it down, earning a chorus of cheers, claps, and a loud, 

"Bravo!" From David. The boys lifted their arms and cheered, and David told the curly-haired blonde to, "Give me a ride, Marko." And, even if you were relieved that the plan was working, you couldn't help but pity Michael as the boys started a whole new round of cheering his name. He was a vampire, a half, and he didn't even know it yet. Especially when you caught Star and Laddies eyes as they slipped away from the scene, heading back towards the canopy, and shelter, of Stars room. They knew, and you knew Star couldn't believe that the five of you had done it again. Pauls hand slipped from yours as he stood, rushing up to Michael to say,

"You're one of us, bud. Let the good times roll." As they began to cheer and celebrate. While 'Cry Little Sister' didn't play in the background and the scenes didn't overlap, it may as well have. Everything was happening in such a rush and your attention was constantly being split that you couldn't find one boy to focus on. And you couldn't get rid of the bad feeling stuck in your chest, or the rock in your throat that stopped you from cheering along with them. It was making you dizzy, and it glued you to your spot. Even as Marko pushed Michael, Dwayne got back on his skateboard, Paul ran around the room waving his jacket around, and David walked around the candles on the fountain, you didn't move. You only moved when Marko offered his hands to you, and yanked you out of your seat. He dragged you along, hopping and running. You knew you should be excited. Hopeful. Just like you'd been the other day. You only laughed when Marko spun you around and dipped you, but it was more out of surprise than anything. He danced you around the fountain, and you were grinning the next time you looked at Michael. But the guilt of your actions and the betrayal you saw in Stars eyes made it flicker, and so that you stopped at where the tunnels went deeper, parted from the angel-faced blonde with a quick kiss, and leaned against the cave wall to watch them celebrate. You were doing your best to attempt a smile. After a moment, you reached up to place your thumb between your teeth and chewed on your nail instead.

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 17- Muffin But Books

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Bookshop/bartender/baking AU)

Word Count: 2,050

Summary: You go out to celebrate the reopening of the bookshop and have maybe a bit too much fun...and before you know it’s the day :) 

Author’s Note: So I hope you guys can get the feel of what the bookshop looks like now, I used some pics in the moodboard that give you an idea :) I also could not resist some sexy fun with Bucky because I never can. The bar they are at called The Park (pic is in the center of the moodboard) is unfortunately closed now but here is an article about it so at least you can see the space and know the story. Thank you all for continuing on this journey with me and a day early today! 😁 I love you and I’m sending you all my love always ❤❤❤

Warnings: soft fluff, fun with friends, smut, teasing, flirting, all the emotions (the good ones :) 18 + only please ;)

Top Shelf Masterlist 

You and Bucky are tucked into a booth at The Park, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. It’s the Saturday night before the reopening of the bookshop and Sam suggested everyone take the night off to celebrate. The two of you arrived early on purpose, enjoying some alone time while sipping your drinks and talking quietly together in the corner booth.

“Do you wanna sleep over at the bookshop tomorrow night? Or will it be too much to get up, go home and shower and then come back?” Bucky takes a sip of his drink while he watches you consider his question. “Let’s stay over. It will be our last night before it officially becomes “The Bookshop Bakery!” He agrees with a smile, leaning in for a kiss that he quickly deepens when your hand runs up his thigh under the table.

“Starting the party without us I see.” Sam’s loud voice breaks the two of you apart. “You have the worst timing Wilson,” Bucky groans before standing and pulling him in for a hug. Everyone finds a seat and orders some food and drinks. The next few hours are light and worry free. You talk about the excitement over the reopening, Peggy and Steve’s upcoming wedding and everything in between.

You’re halfway through your third drink when you hand starts inching up Bucky’s thigh again. He grabs your wrist, stilling your movements and whispering in your ear, “what are you up to, baby?” Striking up a conversation with Nat you ignore his question and wiggle from his grasp. He let’s your hand continue its path until it’s hovering over the growing bulge in his jeans.

He nearly spits out his drink when you start to gently rub him through the thick fabric. It’s hard to stop when you can feel him throb beneath your fingers, but you can tell it’s really getting to him. “Hey Buck, you ok. You look like a deer in headlights.” Steve’s question makes you bite your lip to stop from giggling. “I’m good. Yea, fine, thanks.” Steve raises a brow but doesn’t push it, turning his attention to Peggy.

“Doll face. What. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing?” This time it’s more of a growl than a whisper and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Just having a little fun is all.” With one more firm squeeze you remove your hand and slip into the conversation between Sam and Nat. Before you know it Bucky’s hand lands on your bare thigh and his fingers dance along your soft skin.

“Hey Nat, Peg, bathroom break?” You eye the two girls and they both nod, squeezing around the guys to get out. You give Bucky a wink and saunter off toward the back. “Fucking hell.” Sam smirks. “What was that Barnes.” Sliding out his middle finger, Bucky doesn’t answer, just takes another sip of his drink. Sam tries Steve. “So, how’s the beard working out for you?” Bucky can’t hold back his snickers and he dips his head, “we are never gonna let you live it down.”

When the three of you return the boys are still smiling and Steve’s face is red. “Oh god,” Peggy complains, throwing her hands up. You all laugh and slip back into your seats. This time you decide that Bucky’s lap is better than the booth. He definitely doesn’t mind and now you can continue your little game. Shifting back and forth you do your best to push your ass back and grind over him. His hands are digging into your hips and his breath is hot in your ear.

“What time is it?” he grits out. “Almost 1 am,” is your sultry answer. He reaches back to grab his wallet. “Ok gang, we’re out. We have some stuff to finish at the shop tomorrow and dinner with Grandma.” The boys boo but Nat and Peggy give you a sly smile. “See you all at the opening!” With that Bucky slides out from under you and grabs your hand.

The bar is only a few short blocks from your apartment and you both keep your cool until you’re in the elevator. The second the doors shut Bucky has you pressed against the wall, his hands slipping under your dress. “You’re a fucking tease, you know that.” Your sassy response dies on your lips the moment his fingers ghost over the wet patch on your underwear. He hums into your mouth, pushing the satin aside and gliding his fingers through your folds.

The elevator dings and he pulls away, letting your dress fall down and pulling you out and down the hall. You try to find your keys but it’s taking too long. Bucky turns you around and kisses you against the door. Breaking away he takes his fingers and traces them over your lips before pushing them past. You both moan as you suck them clean, tasting yourself.

“Fucking keys,” you breathe out, finally finding them at the bottom of your bag. The door flies open with your combined body weight and Bucky quickly slams it shut. You’ve barely dropped your bag to the floor, and he’s got your dress up above your hips. Trailing soft kisses along your neck his fingers hook into your underwear and pull them down your legs.

Your hands fumble with the button of his jeans, eventually working them down his thick thighs. His boxers are next, and you wrap your hand around his hard cock, slowly pumping the length of him. He parts your legs with his knee, removing your hand and running his cock through your arousal. “Is this what you want?”

He pushes into you every so slightly before pulling back out, loving the whine that leaves your parted lips. “Yes. I want you to fuck me.” He teases you one more time before slowly filling you up. He lifts one of your legs and goes deeper, causing your head to roll back against the door. His lips are on your neck as he thrusts into you hard enough to shake the door on its frame. His hand reaches between your bodies and it isn’t long before you’re clenching around him, chanting his name with your release.

Once you both catch your breath, he carries you to bed, covering you before he gets in and holds you to his chest. You can feel your eyelids grow heavy with sleep, the steady beat of his heart matching your own. Kissing his chest and snuggling closer you whisper, “I love you,” barely hearing his same words as you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Sunday is a flurry of last-minute preparations and dinner at Grandmas. She’s practically humming with excitement and makes you promise not to give too much away about tomorrow. “I want to be surprised and I have full faith in you all.” You help her clean up and sit and talk for a little longer before heading back to the bookshop.

You and Bucky stand by the door and look out and the new space. “Wow. I can’t believe we did it.” Bucky hums his agreement, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his head atop yours. “We did it.” You take a deep breath, loving how it smells like pumpkin and spice and coffee beans with the light scent of old books somehow weaving its way through in a perfect balance.

The books have been neatly shelved on the beautiful new dark wood bookcases, all the mismatched piles gone and free of dust. You wrote all the aisle and shelf labels by hand and encased them in brass adornments that match the new lighting fixtures. The front of the store was cleared out and now houses a completely new display case for the baked goods as well as some tables, chairs and a couch with soft cushions.

Behind the counter there are shelves for coffee mugs, teacups and plates, all of which you and Bucky picked out at antique stores, estate sales and consignment shops. The labels for the desserts are hand-printed on antique looking paper, framed by more brass and the new countertop is a dark oak wood with lighter grains running through it.

The lighting is soft with hanging lamps and candle holders that line the walls while the accents are bright and colorful without being overpowering. You got rid of the old blinds that covered the windows and went with light and flowing curtains that are pulled back with antique hooks. It has a charming and soft look that’s both comforting and classic.

You and Bucky head toward the back staircase, which is now closed off with an iron gate to prevent people from going up to the attic library. Once you’re upstairs you plop yourself down on the fluffy blankets, watching Bucky as he scans the bookshelves. “What are you looking for handsome?” He smiles but doesn’t answer as he stops in front of one and grabs a book. “Remember this?” He turns it around to reveal the cover. Your eyes land on the Auryn garnishing the cover. “Of course, I do. You read some to me the first day we met.”

He props up some pillows and leans back, opening his legs so you can sit between them. You lean your back against him and he cuddles you close, placing the book in your lap. “Ok, I still have the bookmark from that day.” He starts to read, and you feel yourself relaxing, his soft voice lulling you to sleep. When he realizes you’re out he sets the book down and shifts so you’re both laying down, kissing your shoulder before resting his head on the pillow.

Bucky wakes before the alarm, moving carefully and sitting up. “Hey baby, pssst.” Gently running his hands over your hair, he tucks it away from your face. “Sleepy head, hey, come on, time to get up.” You mumble something incoherent and roll over, smacking at the air. You took the week off from work using your vacation days so you could help Bucky with the launch as much as possible and getting up early just doesn’t sound appealing right now.

“Today’s the day!” he chuckles, “gotta get up.” His hands reach down and squeeze your butt and he watches a smile creep over your face. “I know you’re awake now. I’ll resort to tickles if you don’t start moving.” Trying to smack his hands away you curl into a ball, hiding in the pillows. “Ok, I’m up! I’m up!”

The two of you change and head back to his apartment to shower and get ready. You only have to grab a few things before heading back to the store and checking it all over for the last time. You have a couple of hours before the doors open, so you head to the back to throw some things in the oven, hoping to have them as fresh as possible.

“Hey, baby?” You hear Bucky’s voice from outside the door and immediately panic at his tone. “Bucky.” You quickly head out and around the counter staring at him first before following his line of sight. The line of people outside has you muttering, “holy shit,” under your breath, grasping for Bucky’s hand before you turn to him.

His smile hits you like a ray of sunshine and before you know it, you’re kissing and hugging him and jumping up and down in his arms. “There must be 25 people out there already Buck!” He keeps smoothing his hands down your hair and rests his forehead to yours, “thank you. Thank you for everything.” Tracing his lips with your finger you kiss them softly, “Bucky, I love you. Now hurry, we gotta get the muffins and cookies out of the oven!”

Once everything is out and properly displayed you straighten a few cups hanging along the wall and attempt to check your hair in your phone. “Are we ready?” Bucky gives your hand one last squeeze before you make your way to the door. You can already see Steve, Peggy, Nat and Sam and right beside them is Grandma Betty. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears and when they land on you and Bucky you know you won’t be able to hold back your own.

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @buckys-henley @bucky-on-my-mind @buckys-broody-muffin @buckys-minty-breath @breezy1415 @buckyandbowties @buckosawrus @chuuulip @eurynome827 @emilylyoness @hiddles-rose @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @imgaril-lindru @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @lorilane33 @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @scarletsoldierrr @tuiccim @this-kitten-is-smitten @the-wayward-robot @yansi1923​ @flyawaybay​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @amandatar-06​ @nd1998sc​ @captainchrisstan​ @vherriepie​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @fire-flv​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @irishflutiegirl​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @moonybarnes​ @nordlysinthewoods​ @inflxmes @curlyred2020 @lauratang​ @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​ @buchanansebba​ @addikted-2-dopamine​ @lady-pswrld​ @lookiamtrying​ @tales-of-spring​ @lokilvrr​ @mishaandthebrits​ @hopefuldreamers-world​ @rebekahdawkins​

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 24

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Roman went to practice an hour and a half later. Samantha had to rescheduled it, since she had a prior engagement. Roman didn’t mind but it meant that Janus wouldn’t come, since he always played at James’ Jazz Palace on Fridays. Which was fine, of course. He had just hoped that his friend (they were friends yes, he reminded himself) would be there and spend some time with him.

Because no matter how much Roman liked Patton, Logan, Virgil and especially his brother it was different to be around Janus. It made him relax and dream like he used to before so many things had happened. Well, not exactly like then but it was close enough to feel nostalgic and yet different enough to not hurt. And it was nice to have things not hurting you for a little bit.

A little lost and discouraged Roman parked his car and mentally steeled himself, so he could smile and go smoothly through practice tonight. With a last sigh he slid out of his car seat and walked towards the entrance. With a small hum on his lips, he went inside.

“Like what you see, Mr. Superstar Actor?”

Roman froze on the spot. In front of him stood Janus, repeating his words from the very first time they really spoke but now so much fonder and warmer than then. He wore a black dress shirt, the yellow vest from his performances, black dress pants, his black bowler hat and a yellow bow tie.

Under other circumstances, Roman would have whipped out a smart retort and asked playfully what was going on. But right now, Roman couldn’t do that. Life had been a lot lately and even though he was finally able to sleep in his own bed again, since they moved the kittens out of his bed last Tuesday, he still felt somewhat exhausted and watching Janus smile at him like this really did something to him.

“Hey...” Roman managed to mumble and pushed his hair back, despite it being in perfect shape.

Janus’s look softened more and he walked towards him.

“Are you surprised?”

Roman subconsciously scratched a spot on his hairline and bit his lower lip.

“Surprised would be a word for it, yeah,” Roman admitted not quite certain what to think of all of this.

Janus shifted on his feet, placing his walking stick in front of him and said calmingly: “That’s alright. It’s supposed to be a surprise but I don’t want to overwhelm you. This is meant to be relaxing for you, after all.”

Roman felt a little uncomfortable. He didn’t know why exactly. He was happy to see Janus, really happy even, but all of this seemed weird and he did not understand what was exactly happening in this moment.

“Tonight is no practice,” Janus explained without being prompted to. “I asked Sam to not tell you, so I could get you to take a break. The meeting wouldn’t have been today no matter what, so I was just seizing the opportunity to get you out of your four walls and, well, force you gently to have some time away from home and distress for a moment. I have planned a few things we could do, but you’re setting the pace, you will say what you want and if you want to go home to your brother and the kittens, I will not stop you.”

Roman let that sink in. He kept staring at Janus, who was still smiling, still standing and still being patient with him. It grounded him immensely.

“So, I have – I have a choice?” Roman asked slowly.

A shiver ran down Roman’s spine when Janus said: “You have all the choices, Roman. Tonight, you can have whatever I can reasonably give you.”

Roman’s lips twitched and he could not stop himself but smile. Not the practiced one for his friends but the wobbly one for himself. And Janus saw the difference and stepped closer stretching out his hand for him. And Roman took it.

Janus laughed lightly and asked him: “Does this mean you would like to stay with me?”

Roman nodded bashfully and Janus’s smile widened.

“Alright then. But first, before you decide what we’ll do; How are you Roman? How do you feel?”

Roman squeezed Janus’s hand and looked down to his feet. He watched his foot tap quietly on the floor and realized how tingly he felt.

“A bit nervous?” Roman tried not quite sure if that description was really what fit his current emotional state.

“There are no wrong answers. Take your time.”

Roman looked up again. He recognized the tone. It was the one Janus used for Virgil, when he got anxious for some reason. He knew he did not like that feeling. But he ignored it for the time being and instead said: “A bit uncertain and unprepared fits probably better. I – I don’t think I had an evening away from home and my brother in – in a very long time? I feel a little lost really, so, uh – maybe you could tell me what our options are?”

Janus playfully bowed his head and explained: “Of course, Roman. I can offer you several places to go and have a nice dinner, potentially a spa evening if that’s to your liking, a theatre or cinema visit or a casual dinner down in our practice room.”

Roman blinked. A spa... evening? He began to giggle and shook his head. With raised eyebrows he glanced down to Janus, who matched his look flawlessly.

“I think casual dinner sounds about right for now. I’m not fancy enough for high dining, too fancy for cinema and definitely not comfortable enough to go in a spa and let someone massage me or something like that,” Roman said and Janus bowed his head.

“Then, please follow me,” Janus said and Roman walked behind him as the went downstairs into the room where they usually had theatre practice.

Janus held the door open for him and Roman was about to make a joke about his gentleman like behaviour when he got a proper look of the room. It was a rather big room, only little natural light from three cellar windows on the west side, a few posters hung at the light beige walls and usually there was a circle of chairs in the middle of it. Yet now there stood a table in its middle with a white tablecloth and pristine plates and cutlery sitting on it. A few chairs stood in the edges of the room, decorated with red clothes and a few props were carefully placed on them.

“I hope this is to your liking?” Janus asked and Roman turned around with a stunned expression.

Janus raised one eyebrow and smirked. With a smooth motion he let him know to follow him and pulled out a chair for him. A bit baffled Roman sat down and Janus chuckled a little as he watched him.

“Would you do me the favour of closing your eyes for a moment? I have another little thing to prepare,” Janus asked of him and with a soft nod Roman closed his eyes.

He listened to Janus walking around for a bit. There was the sound of a lighter and then he got distracted by quiet music starting to play. He concentrated and recognized it from a play he had watched once. He liked it and forgot to listen to Janus’s steps for a few moments. Only when Janus’s steps were getting closer again, he turned his head towards the noise and realized that he was standing next to the table. Roman frowned a little when the lighter made a sound again and Janus walked away once more.

“Alright then, my friend. You may open your eyes.”

Roman did so and immediately turned to look towards the door where Janus’s voice had been coming from. Janus was standing next to the light switch and – the room was dimly lit with candles. He looked back to the table and saw a white candle flicker on the middle of it.

Roman just stared at the tiny light for a moment. Looked at it move and breath in its small and subtle way and pressed his hand over his mouth. The gesture was not grand. It was not hard to prepare a room like this or light candles. But it needed time and consideration and Roman was not sure if he remembered someone had given him either unconditionally in the past few months, maybe even year, besides his brother.

Movement from the door let Roman fall out of his thought process and he looked towards it. Janus was coming closer, expression a little softer, less suave. He walked to the opposite side of the small table and sat down slowly. For a moment Janus just looked at Roman and let him feel the quiet.

“Feeling alright there, Roman?” Janus asked finally.

The smile Janus got as a reply as Roman pulled his hand away from his mouth was blinding. It was the first moment in that evening that Janus would lose a bit of his cool and it was perfectly timed as Roman took his chance and used that little waver to his advantage.

“I need you to know something about me, Janus,” Roman said a euphoria and a tiny spec of playful teasing shining through. “I show my adoration for things through teasing, because sometimes it’s just too much to right out say how much something means to you, you know? And this? This room, the candles, the music? This is absolutely ridiculous.”

Both began to laugh a little, ignoring how Janus pushed a handkerchief over the table so Roman could dry his cheeks from the few tears that had fought their way out of his eyes.

“It looks fantastic, Jay. When did you do this? How long-?”

Roman had cut himself off and Janus took it as a sign to talk: “Thank you. While the plan was mine and mine alone, I had a bit of help from Rodriguez. We met this afternoon around three and I have planning this for around two to three weeks or so. It’s hard to catch such a busy individual as yourself off clock.”

Roman’s smile broadened and he asked Janus about the music he chose. Janus explained his process as he took out a fancy bottle and a plate of some appetizer sandwiches from a little cart close to the table. Even before Roman could say anything about the ‘wine’ Janus told him that it was in fact juice that he had put in a wine bottle for aesthetic reasons.

Janus couldn’t continue with his talk about his music because his explanation threw Roman in a five-minute-long laughing fit. He pouted but despite himself, he found Roman’s snorting and giggling quite endearing. When he finally calmed again, Janus resumed his talk about the music he had chosen and Roman took his time to listen and eat and drink. After a few titles and the reasoning behind them, Roman caught onto the music which was playing and his eyes began to light up.

“Defying Gravity? You put Wicked into this?” Roman asked while listening to Glinda and Elphaba singing in their dispute.

Janus blinked a bit taken aback from the sudden interruption but quickly caught himself and said amused: “You mentioned that you like dramatic numbers and this one is very powerful and uplifting. I expected you would enjoy it.”

“Oh, I adore it! Elphaba is one of my favourite characters! She’s so smart and strong and I just like her whole spiel! If I had a better range, I would absolutely try and sing more of her parts,” Roman babbled and Janus feels himself leaning back a little.

“If you could, you would play Elphaba? Not Fiyero or Glinda?”

“She’s the hero type and I’ve got a weak spot for those roles. A tragic hero, admittedly, but a hero nevertheless,” Roman said and took a sip of his juice.

They held eye contact for a long moment until Janus cleared his throat and announced: “I did order some food. Remus said that you enjoy Chinese take-out the most, which I know does not fit the vibe but it’s your comfort food so I took that risk. He told me which menu and which place is the best in your opinion and well, it’s arriving soon. So, let me go and grab it, while you think about what you want.”

“What I want? But you already ordered?” Roman asked confused.

A smirk appeared on Janus’s lips and he told his guest while already leaving the room: “I was not talking about the food, dear. What do you want in general? What would you want to have in your ideal world? In your dreams?”

And with that Janus disappeared.

As someone told me lately: “Everyone deserves the chance to fly!”

Roman blinked. What he wanted. What he dreamed about. In an ideal world. That was a rather dreamy question from a man like Janus. He seemed to be more of a pessimist or realist to Roman. And yet Roman could not bother himself to think about that anymore as his thoughts escaped to some fantasies, he had had to push away due to the life he had been living.

After ten minutes Roman heard the door open and swiftly got up, as he saw Janus enter with a few food containers. Janus already wanted to protest when Roman took a few of his hands, but stopped when Roman shot him a fond look and insisted: “Oh, just let me help you, you drama queen.”

Janus let it happen and they laid out their food for their dinner. Roman took noodles first, while Janus preferred to start with a soup.

“So, Rem knows of this?” Roman asked after swallowing his first bite.

“He does, yes,” Janus said casually. “Also, the rest of the theatre group even though that the don’t have any details. I had to tell them because Sam is away every year around this time and would have blown my cover had I not told them not to. And because of Renee’s noisy nature Patton as well as Logan are in the picture.”

Roman chuckled at Janus’s dramatic eyeroll.

“I’m impressed how many people managed to not let this slip through. You must have bribed them royally.”

“You’d be surprised, but no bribery was involved in this whole mission. They were eager enough to shut their mouths if it you would profit from it. Our mutual friends wanted to see you happy. Believe it or not.”

I don’t. Roman raised his eyebrows with a smile, not quite as certain and convincing as it usually was. Janus took note of it but did not bring it up again.

Instead, he changed the topic again and asked Roman: “Now, have you thought about what you would want if you could have anything?”

Roman paused his chop sticks mid-air. His eyes almost glazed over at the thought and then at once there shone through something warm and very, very vulnerable.

“In a perfect world, I’d be an actor and I’d perform somewhere far away from here and where I was born. I’d be happy to be myself, I’d have fans and I’d write autographs and I’d make people happy and I’d speak up for those whose voice is silenced.”

Roman paused and looked at Janus. The smile was still on his lips but he had crossed his arms and his fingers were digging into the skin of his upper arms even through the red fabric of his turtleneck sweater.

“That’s noble,” Janus said in a quiet tone.

Roman grinned and broke the eye contact.

“Maybe, but it’s not really perfect... There’s so much I can’t account for. So many things that would have needed to go differently for that to be true. And it would also destroy the good things, the more than good thing happening in my life right now...”

“Like what?”

“Like you.”

It came so effortlessly over Roman’s lips that Janus almost didn’t register the meaning of it. But as it hit, it let him miss the soft glint in Roman’s eyes as his look settled on the cane which was leaning against the table.

“Perfection is such a weird thing. Like it’s supposed to be perfect, but how would we have met you and the others, if it was not for our imperfect decisions and imperfect life? We would have missed out so much and while the bad things were there, I would not want to give this moment away.”

Put On A Happy Face was playing in the background. Roman laughed and pushed a few stray hairs behind his ear. He should be grateful for what he had. For the chances he had been given, not many people could live a life like his and could still call themselves lucky enough to be standing.

“You do know that you are allowed to dream and desire things nevertheless?”

Roman frowned and looked at Janus. The man looked at him intently, no longer caught off guard or uncertainty residing in his expression.

Softly, but firmly Janus continued: “While perfection is a deceptive thing, there is no shame in wishing for a better or different reality of future. Or even wishing some things in the past had gone down differently. Life is hard and you are your closest friend, Roman. It is your goal to make yourself happy. And that can mean that you act or think selfishly, which is fine too. I am a very selfish person and I’m absolutely not ashamed of it. Who but me will take care of me at the end of the day, pray tell?”

Roman gulped. He felt tears well up in his eyes and take an airy breath as a bitter smile spread on his face.

“... There are things I’d change or want even though I know I can’t have them... I’d love to perform or sing in front of a big audience. I... I’d like to be recognized for the things I do... And-” Roman’s demeanour changed and intensity stirred in his body - “I want Remus to be mentally stable. I want that he didn’t have to see my body after the accident. I want my father to be gone, just gone. I don’t care where but just somewhere where he can’t hurt anybody anymore.”

Janus was about to get up. To go and hold Roman for as long as he needed, just as Patton and Virgil had done it that evening after Remus’s attempt. Bur Roman held up his hand. Janus halted and watched Roman’s lips shiver but his expression softened and his shoulders slowly growing less tense.

Then he licked his lips and said to Janus: “You said that you’d give me whatever I wanted and you can reasonably give me… So, please, let’s not – not talk about this? Let’s not make my sorrow and grief be what we remember about tonight. I don’t want them to be with me tonight, even though it’s hard for me to push these thoughts away. But maybe I can do it with your help, so… Will you help me?”

“Yes. It’s the least I can do,” Janus answered without missing a beat.

A smile curled up in the edges of Roman’s lips and Janus found himself making mental notes of all those things he had mentioned. He would bring them up when the time was right. He would see if he could help Roman with his troubles.

But now he decided to go for a different route, took another spoonful of soup and asked Roman after swallowing: “When we first met here, you said to me that this is your chance to flee from the person you had to be everywhere else. It was an intriguing answer you gave me there, you know?”

“It was?”

“Oh yes,” Janus said in a slightly playful tone. “I have rarely looked forward to see a stranger again as much as I did back then. I wanted to hear more of his dreams, more of what the mysterious stranger’s wished his life to be like.”

“If it was with his life right now,” Roman said not quite looking at Janus but at the flame of the candle, “He’d like to get to have a guest number once on Broadway, Stay, I Pray You would be nice, he’d say. He’d want to eat a good meal on most days. He’d like to see his twin happy. Really, truly happy. And he’d like to go back one last time. Just see how it is now, how the people from back then are doing.”

And then Roman looked up. The candle light illuminated him warmly and the flame danced as a reflection in his eyes.

“He’d love to know how an artist like this charming man with the black bowler hat ended up working in the pet store of his nephew.”

A laugh died in Janus’s throat as he heard that and asked Roman while raising his eyebrow: “An artist? Me?”

Roman smiled softly and tilted his head to the side.

“Yes, of course,” he insisted nonchalantly. “I know what an artist looks like. A person who lives far more for the art they create than the audience they have or don’t have. I see it when you play all those Friday nights. What you do is not a performance. What you do is art. And I want to know how that art ended up in a pet store.”

Janus looked down at his now empty bowl of soup and took the Cantonese style fried rice with duck. Personal questions were not his favourite. Quickly, he glanced up and eyed Roman for a moment. He wouldn’t force him to tell him more than he wanted. This was not information he would use against him. Frankly, Janus didn’t think that it was information that could even be used against him.

“I don’t know about being an artist,” Janus said as he watched his rice between the chop sticks, “but I definitely ended up in a pet store because of Virgil. The kid – the kid ‘s always been important to me. And I didn’t have a lot of other things to do, anyway. I had been working in Sancus’s back office after finishing college and helping around with family business after I’ve turned 23, so I didn’t really mind the change when Virgil came up with the idea three years ago. He came to me and asked if I thought that opening a pet store could work out for him. And I said yes and helped him get everything together, took a few classes with him, so we would actually know what we were doing and asked some family for helping us with a location and where to get some trustworthy suppliers and after a year we had things ready to go.”

“That’s fascinating! What was your major in college if I may ask?”

Janus delayed answering that question for a moment by eating some rice. He didn’t manage to stall long though as he felt Roman’s eyes on him and eventually explained: “Music education. Not that I ever got to use that but I was good at it.”

“Music education? Like in becoming a teacher for music?”

Janus huffed, his eyes brows slightly twitched upwards and he had to force his voice to sound evenly as he said: “Yes, I know. People don’t see me in that position.”

“Why? I’ve never seen you teach someone something but I can see you doing a good job at it! You’re a good talker, have a fantastic presence and are patient. That’s ideal for any teacher, I’d say.”

The rice fell off Janus’s chop sticks. He blinked several times. He couldn’t believe that Roman had just said that. Even more so, that Roman sounded like he believed what he had said. Nobody ever thought that he would make a good teacher even though he had always been very good with all of his nephews and nieces of all ages.

“Are you alright? You look like you just froze,” Roman asked after a few more moments of Janus not responding.

“I – You most certainly weren’t the first person to ever tell me I’d make a good teacher. Totally expected that.”

Hastily, Janus began to pick up his rice again and kept his eyes on his food. Embarrassment was not something he was used to deal with and the second he heard Roman breathe in he tensed awaiting some amused jab or light joke Janus would not be able to take at all.

“It’s okay.”

Damned be that warm voice that led Janus to glimpse up and watch Roman as he continued: “Sometimes the people you’re closest with can’t see what you really can do. They can’t see your change and growth because they see you everyday and that all. So, they miss your potential and that’s how you miss your potential as well. You’re the closest person to yourself, you even said that before, which is why you sometimes miss how hundreds of little changes became a big one and made you a new person.”

Janus raised his eyebrow a little and smirked. It was his attempt to hide the fluttering heart beating against his chest and the emotion welling up within his mind. Judging the smug smile on Roman’s face it didn’t quite work and Janus found himself not minding it all that much.

They continued eating and Roman asked Janus about what he would have liked to teach his students and how his ideal school day would look like. Answering Roman was a lot easier than Janus could ever have imagined; he was attentive, gave him all the time he needed to formulate his statements, laughed and asked questions at the perfect places. Or well, maybe it just seemed perfect to Janus because Roman was interested in what he was saying, was listening, was genuinely happy as Janus talked and Janus really liked to have somebody listening to him and enjoying the time they spent together.

Janus really liked talking with Roman. Janus liked Roman.

They had stopped eating a while ago and by now their conversation changed topics several times and Roman was now talking about a play he had been in in High School. Janus didn’t properly listen to what he was saying though. His mind was preoccupied with finding reasons to not get closer to Roman, to not reach for his right hand which rested on the table, to simply not get in a dangerous distance to his … friend.

And suddenly Janus noticed that Roman had stopped talking. A little startled he refocused and saw how Roman looked to the speakers, which were playing a rather slow instrumental piece. Right, he had changed the playlist to a slower one a while ago.

Roman’s gaze was suddenly back on Janus. He rested his elbow on the table and placed his head on top of his hand with a teasing smirk on his lips. Subconsciously Janus gulped. Suddenly he felt very hot for some reason.

“This would be good music to waltz to.”

Wait. Waltz? As in dancing?

“Of course, as in dancing. I wouldn’t want to waltz over you,” Roman said slightly laughing and sat up in his chair.

“Did I say that out loud?”

That made Roman laugh out loud and despite himself Janus chuckled as well over his own awkwardness.

But eventually Roman regained his composure and told Janus: “But now seriously; this is good music to dance to. If I may be so straight forward, despite my very much queer nature, would you be interested in a dance with me?”

Janus was not a good walker. He was no sportsman in any sense of the word either. He hadn’t mourned those facts since he was twelve years old.

“You might have forgotten, but I am not particularly good at walking.”

“And?”

Janus gaped and shook his head: “Why would you want to dance with me? I can’t dance. I never learnt it and I am not really equipped to be good at it.”

Roman tilted his head a little to the side. Then he got up from his chair and walked up to Janus’s seat. Just in front of him he put his hand next to his on the table and leaned slightly towards him.

“Who asked you to be good at it?” Roman hummed and let his finger softly tap against Janus’s. “You don’t need to be good at it and I’ll show you how. You can even take your kind, whatever makes you comfortable. We can make it work. The question is only; Do you want to dance with me?”

And despite everything, Janus did want to dance with Roman.

“I do.”

Roman’s smile grew and he stepped back to let Janus stand up. After a short moment, Janus decided to go without the cane and let Roman guide him away from the table. In a low (and awfully sensual) voice Roman told him how it worked and placed his hands above Janus’s hip and one in his hand.

 And then Roman began to lead. Stiffly Janus tried to move along, stared down to his feet. He knew the rhythm, he was good at rhythm things, and his right leg seemed to move rather easily along the music. The left one though did not cooperate. He wasn’t used to move it backwards, to the left and to the right so much. It didn’t really hurt; it was simply uncomfortable and he wanted to better for Roman. He wanted to be good for Roman.

Suddenly, Roman’s hand was gone from his shoulder and beneath his chin softly lifting it up.

Wide eyed Janus looked up as Roman said: “My eyes are up here, love. Staring at your feet won’t make you more comfortable. Just focus on me.”

“Oh, just focus on you. As if I hadn’t been doing that already,” Janus mumbled which elicited a sweet little snort from his dancing partner.

“I almost can’t believe you. I don’t feel as if I had your unshared attention, you know?”

“Oh, you do Señor Segura Reyes, you do.”

Their voices had grown low and they stood far closer to each other than the dancing required them to be. Roman could feel the buttons’ of Janus’s vest through his own pullover and already registered that his forehead would most likely bump into the rim of Janus’s hat when he got just a little bit closer.

“Your eyes are the most intense umber I’ve possibly seen in my whole life.”

“Oh? What else?” Roman whispered breathlessly.

Janus grinned and let the hand on Roman’s shoulder wander towards his neck up towards his jawline, softly stroking over the skin and saying: “I can smell your aftershave and feel the stubble under my fingers. Both very attractive indeed.”

There was an almost inaudible wince from Roman at that last statement and Janus pulled him even closer to himself.

“And then there are your lips of course,” Janus said and looked from them up to Roman’s eyes.

They were sparkling with anticipation.

“They could have my unshared attention at any moment.”

They had stopped moving. They wanted to pull closer but that wasn’t even possible anymore.

“If you want to,” Janus added with a raspy voice.

“Yes, please.”

And then they kissed.

___

Taglist

@varthandi

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance

@whattheremus

For this fanfiction:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@a-non-binary-pan

@simone-the-weird-person

@tlhrfanfic

[aspiring-ginger]

Thunderstorms Ch. 2 (Fellowship x Reader)

Summary: Reader gets the Fellowship ready for bed, how the heck is she going to have room for everyone?

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2,496

Pairing(s): Platonic Fellowship of the ring x fem!reader, eventual romantic interest (Lord of the Rings)

Who do you want Reader to end up with? Vote here!

A/N: This one was fun to write! Reader is going to have some nice moments with each member of the Fellowship before the final romantic pairing is decided, so this chapter has a bit of Legolas! I am keeping a tally of who you guys want the reader to end up with, so go ahead and put your votes in lol 

Comments and feedback are always appreciated! Let me know if you want more!

Taglist: @thunderdog8​ @kathieycarrerarosshley​ @sleep-deprived-things​ @nabercnm​ @agenerallynicegirl @sammy201d​ @thefoxskinwalker​ @minimxno​ 

(If your name has a strike-through in it, I couldn’t tag you! Let me know if I spelled anything wrong, or check your settings so I can tag you in future parts!)

Masterlist I Previous 

You left the fellowship standing around your kitchen table while you went looking for candles and flashlights. It did cross your mind that the majority of the fellowship wasn’t even human so they might be able to see better in the dark, but you needed the light and using just your phone wasn’t going to cut it. It was probably for the best that you needed to grab these anyway, so you could use this time to process what the actual fuck was going on. 

No matter how many times you pinched yourself, the fellowship was still standing in your kitchen. It was fucking bonkers and you knew it. Hopefully you would be able to put them all to bed quickly so you could sleep and when you woke up it was all a dream and there weren’t eight strange men in your house. God, you hoped it really was a dream. 

You managed to find a few scented candles that you currently balanced in your arms as you returned to the kitchen. The hobbits were still seated at the table, busy whispering to each other with wide eyes. Aragorn and Legolas seemed to be discussing something in Elvish. They both seemed tense so it could actually be an argument, but honestly you had no idea. Boromir saw you struggling with the candles, so he strode over and took several from your hands. You tried to protest but he simply waved it off saying it was the least he could do for your generous hospitality. He helped you spread the candles throughout your house and watched curiously as you lit them using a lighter. You caught the hobbits’ attention as well when you put the last candle down in the middle of the table. 

“What’s that, there? You tryn’ to use some sort of a weapon on us?” Sam asked, eyeing the lighter in your hands.

You shook your head. “No, no. I’m just lighting the candle, see?” You clicked the lighter so the small flame would come out of the tip, then lit the candle.

“Is that some sort of magic?” Pippin asked.

“Why are you lighting the candles now? Don’t you have any torches or candles already lit?” Merry chimed in.

You handed the lighter over to Pippin so he could get a closer look. Wait shit, was that really the best idea to give it to him, of all people? Well, it was too late now as he was already twirling it around in his hands and fiddling with the trigger to try and light it. It was only a tiny lighter anyway, it wasn’t like he could actually set anything on fire….you hoped.

“Hm? Oh, it’s dark because the power’s out.” Merry gave you a blank stare so you clarified, “Our lights run on electricity, not fire. The storm must’ve hit a generator or something, so the power’s not on. I can’t turn any lights on without it.”

“Does this normally happen, lass?” Gimli piped up from his spot in the corner.

“No, we haven’t had a storm this bad in a long time, and if the power ever does go out it’s usually only for a couple seconds.”

“Well, the candles smell wonderful.” Boromir added with a smile. You smiled back and excused yourself to get them towels. Seriously, they were making puddles on your floor. You saw the lights flicker back on in your office as you grabbed them. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

“Alright, the power’s back on now, but I’m not gonna turn on a ton of lights because it’s late and it’ll be bright.” You explained as you handed out the towels. 

Tackling one problem at a time- the power was back on, and the fellowship was drying off. Now you had to figure out where everyone could sleep. This was going to be a real challenge. Two could fit in your parent’s bed, two in the guest bed. One on the loveseat, and either one or two on the couch. You had a small pullout couch underneath your loft bed you had since childhood, but that would mean one of them would have to sleep with you in your room. That might not sit well with them wanting to preserve your honor and hospitality. They had their sleeping packs with them and you had a sleeping bag as well, but you didn’t want them to have to sleep on the floor. Especially since you had no idea how long they would be staying and they’d been on the road for so long it felt wrong to make one of them sleep on the floor. You supposed you could clean off the couch that was downstairs in the family room, but it was sort of dirty. Sighing, you explained this to them, which they all assured you it would be no problem should some of them need their bedrolls. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the house, and then you all can decide where you want to sleep.” They all nodded in agreement. “So, you’re standing in my kitchen. Do you have any questions?” You asked as you flipped on the light.

“Will you show us how to use your equipment?” Sam asked, “We’d hate to have you cooking all by yourself. And I’d like to learn to help, if I could.”

“Sure, but we can worry about that in the morning. I think we could all use some sleep first.”

You led them throughout your house turning the lights on as you went. They didn’t have any questions, but you figured that all this was overwhelming so you didn’t launch into any explanations unprompted. 

After some discussion among themselves they came to a decision- Frodo and Sam would sleep in the guest bed downstairs, Aragorn on the couch also downstairs (he wanted to stay close to Frodo in case anything happened), Gimli took the loveseat and Boromir the couch in the living room. Merry and Pippin would sleep in your parents’ bed upstairs. Legolas insisted he lay out his bedroll down with Gimli and Boromir, he refused to sleep in your room.

“Please, Legolas. You’ve been through so much, just take the pull out couch,” you pleaded, “We wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed or anything. I promise, it’s fine.”

“No, I could not. Elves do not sleep the way Men do, you need not worry. I will be alright.” 

“If you don’t need as much sleep as humans, then it would be alright if you slept on the couch! We wouldn’t disturb each other, and you don’t have to stay in there once you wake up. I just want you all to be comfortable. Please, it’s the least I could do.”

“Would it not be improper, my lady? What would your husband think?” Boromir cut in.

“What? No no, I’m not married. Nooo way. It’s just me in the house, my parents are out of town and won’t be home for a long time. Besides this is a...weird situation, but you’re my guests so everything here is yours. I would give up my bed if I needed to, but I have a feeling you guys wouldn’t like that.” They shook their heads. “There’s nothing wrong with a friend sleeping in the same room and hey it’s 2020 so it doesn’t matter what gender. At least for tonight. If you want to move tomorrow I promise I won’t be offended.” You offered a final plea. 

Legolas caved. “As long as it is what the Lady wishes.”

You held up your hand “Okay let me just get this straight- I’m not a lady. Just call me (Y/n), I don’t have a title. I’m not nobility or super rich or anything so you’re not offending my honor or whatever by calling me by my name.”

They nodded in response, but you weren’t sure if they would actually listen.

“Okay, you all can start setting up your stuff and getting ready for bed. I’ll bring pillows and blankets, and I can dry any of your clothes. I’ll get you all some stuff you can wear tomorrow.” 

You set everything up, the fellowship trailing behind you until their respective ‘beds’ were made. Just Legolas was left, so you told him to get ready however he needed and you would change in the bathroom. Oh shit. The bathroom. You would have to explain that to them. You called them back upstairs and quickly gave them a run down of the bathroom, water in the kitchen should they need it, and whoever was the first to wake would come wake you up as well. Racking your brain, there wasn’t anything else you could think of.

You set up the couch for Legolas, then climbed up into your bed. You weren’t sure if you should say goodnight. Honestly, why did you push so hard to have this elf sleeping in your goddamn room? You laid there contemplating if you really should say something, if it would be more awkward to say something or not say anything at all, it was taking too long to decide so if you spoke up now it might be weird-

“Thank you for the bed. Sleep well, (Y/n).” Legolas softly called up to you, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s really no problem. Goodnight.”

You rolled over and tried to sleep. Minutes ticked by but you just could not fall asleep. Your thoughts were racing far too quickly. What if you said something while you were sleeping? Moved around too much? Made too much noise? Oh god, what if you farted? Why, why, why did you push so hard for him to stay with you? There was an elven prince sleeping underneath you. A real, actual elven prince. You flopped around in your bed to try and get a more comfortable position. Every time you did, you paused and winced realizing that your huffing and rustling around could keep Legolas up, too. Seriously, why did you think this was a good idea? By the time you finally began to drift off, you had no idea if Legolas was actually asleep. He hadn’t made a single sound since he bid you goodnight. Well, you could just apologize tomorrow for keeping him up.

---

You woke the next morning to a soothing voice calling your name. You groaned as you looked around, who would be waking you up this early? Rolling over, your eyes met with soft blue ones. Oh. Legolas was still here, in your bedroom. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Ah, good morning, (Y/n). I believe I heard some of my friends beginning to stir downstairs. I woke you so you might have time to dress before the hobbits bust down your door,” he chuckled, “They can get quite hungry in the morning, and I’m sure seeing a fully equipped kitchen has only made their hunger worse.”

“Oh, thank you.” You instinctively pulled your blanket closer to your chest. “Did you sleep alright last night? I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

Legolas’s laughter was bright and clear. “You needn’t worry. The dwarf snores far louder than your tossing and turning. I was still able to dream. If you like, I shall step out into the hall so you may prepare for the day in private.”

You hummed in thought. If the fellowship really was stuck with you now, they would eventually see you in your pajamas. It might be better if it was sooner than later so they could get used to it.

“Oh no, it’s alright. I’ll just use the bathroom, you don’t have to leave.” You climbed down your ladder and scooped up a bra and a brush, sticking them under your arm in an attempt to hide the fact you were carrying your undergarments. 

You went through your usual morning routine, double checking to put on deodorant and a little perfume. The non-humans had sharper senses right? You didn’t want to smell bad, ugh that would be embarrassing. As you exited the bathroom you heard loud snoring from downstairs. That must’ve been what Legolas was talking about. When you came back into your room, you found Legolas examining your things. His attention seemed to be on your bookshelf.

He had taken off his outer tunic and bracers leaving just his blue undershirt and trousers. His boots and socks were neatly placed beside the end table next to the couch. His weapons leaned against it as well, the string removed from his bow.

“Would you like some tea or coffee? Wait, do you guys even have coffee?”

“Coffee is not a common drink with the elves, but the halflings might enjoy it. Everyone enjoys tea.” 

“Cool. You can pick out what kind.”

Legolas followed you downstairs and into the kitchen. It was still early, the sun was barely poking over the tops of the trees. Gimli and Boromir were still asleep and Aragorn appeared to be waking up. There was no sign of the hobbits just yet. You pulled out your rather large selection of tea for Legolas to look through while you started on breakfast. Who doesn’t like waking up to the smell of food, right?

You didn’t have that much in your fridge so nothing too fancy, but you did have eggs and bacon. You took what little vegetables you had left and added it to the scrambled eggs- a few mushrooms, some spinach, a little onion, and some cheese. You put some bread in the toaster for good measure. Aragorn came up to join you, taking a seat across from Legolas. He launched into a conversation with him in elvish after saying good morning. Eventually, Legolas handed you a box of regular green tea and you put the kettle on. 

The others began to shuffle into the kitchen when breakfast was closer to being ready. Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas all offered to help, so you put them to work setting the dining room table and bringing kitchen chairs in to make room for everyone. You were quite pleased with what you were able to come up with, but now you definitely had to go to the store. Which meant leaving them home alone. Maaaybe not such a great idea. 

The hobbits seemed particularly happy with what you made, the mushrooms especially. Everyone happily sipped their tea and enjoyed their meals, making light conversation. Legolas and Aragorn were speaking to each other in elvish again, much to your annoyance, while Merry and Pippin described the dreams they had that night. Boromir and Gimli laughed on and added their dreams for good measure. It was easy to see how well everyone got along with each other, and the hobbits were kind enough to bring you into the discussion as well. This isn’t exactly how you thought your spring was going to go, but it sure was going to be lots of fun.

Taglist is open!

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter one: double deuces

chapter one of book three, of course ;)

"tell me a story (will ya, will ya) a real good story (I won't leave till ya) spill your guts old man; leave out any secrets, hiding in the... any skeletons, and all your other sins any skeletons, in the closet! any skeletons, any misfortunes any skeletons, hiding in the closet! any skeletons, any skeletons in the closet!"

“Happy birthday, my dear friend.”

Aurora had taken Sam out to that Vietnamese restaurant for lunch on her birthday. Twenty two years old and she could feel the very essence of age over her head. In New York for two years and it all felt like a blur and the clear real thing all at the same time. In a year's time, she would be on the brink of her mid twenties: it all felt so ephemeral and so quick at the same time. It felt so odd to think that not even four years ago she was still in high school and she had gone into a strange brand new place in the meantime.

Four years felt like a lifetime ago, especially since she looked on at her black hair and she swore it was growing lighter over her temples. It could have just been the reflection of the glass in the mirror for all she knew, but when she went to brush her hair, she swore there were some light tendrils near the crown. As long as it didn't turn into a striking pearly white silver color, she knew she would be fine.

Aurora raised her white china tea cup for a toast to her. The soft aroma of the green tea comforted her, and she followed suit with her own cup.

Ever since she and Emile had gotten together, and ever since she had gotten that dress for Kirk's wedding the next weekend, Aurora had been dressing up more nicely: at the moment, she had a rich deep purple velvet sweater wrapped around her body and a little red rose tucked behind her ear. Despite the bitter New York cold, she started wearing more floral print tights to go with her skirts; Sam had to take a second look at her face to make out the sight of the black eye liner about the smooth edges of her eyes.

Sam herself meanwhile found herself drawn more to black—Aurora said it was because of her hanging out with Testament the past couple of weekends as well as Joey on certain days after school.

“I think it could also be because I'm in the arts,” she told her the day before. “Marla wears a bunch of black and Belinda has been wearing a lot of it, too.”

“Hangin' around the arts and hangin' out with a bunch of heavy metal dudes,” Aurora chuckled.

The art scene seemed so far away from her given she was a student and she even began to struggle with classes in recent days. Indeed, the thought of forfeiting college itself to live down in the real bohemian side of New York City was more tempting than ever to her. But she had nestled in the Bronx, three floors over Frank and down the block from Charlie and Marla. It was either pick up and go live alone in another part of town or stay there and continue to do what felt like spinning her wheels day in, day out. Sam tried to not let her thoughts cast a shadow on her own birthday, but she couldn't help but look at her own reflection in her tea cup and frown.

“Maybe it's all the doing stuff after school that's getting to you,” Aurora told her. “We haven't really seen Marla in the past few weeks.”

“No, we haven't,” Sam confessed as she gazed out the window at the snow drifts along the sidewalk.

“Well, if it's any comfort, I've been getting antsy myself,” Aurora said. “Emile wants me to move in with him but it's gonna be hard to do it especially if it's just him who's helping me with the move.”

“And you're going from Long Island up to the Bronx, too,” Sam added, “it was bad enough for me to get my bed up the stairs in that building.”

“It was tricky for me, too,” Aurora continued. “And you and I also moved across country, too.”

“And how—from around the same area, no less. Well, San Diego is way further south in comparison to Lake Elsinore, but it's near the same range, though.”

“It's all within range of L.A., that's for sure. L.A. and Riverside.”

“Hey, if Greg, Eric, and Louie can talk nonsense while they're in the studio, we can, too,” Sam pointed.

“Makes sense—Southern California exiles, the both of us.” Aurora raised her cup again to her and they clinked them together before they took a sip in unison.

“When's your birthday, by the way?” Sam asked her as she held her cup close to her mouth. “I can't remember if you told me or not.”

“May twenty ninth.”

“Oh, I see. I kept thinking it was in October for some reason.”

Aurora chuckled at that. “Well, I haven't really made it much of a point because my parents always treated birthdays different in comparison to that of American culture. I always wanted an American style birthday party growing up in San Diego but that's probably the one thing they brought over from the Korean peninsula is the way birthdays are treated.”

“And how's that?”

“When we reach a certain age, they have different celebrations for them. Like your first birthday is 'dol' or three hundred sixty five days since you were born, and that came from the fact Korea didn't have as good of protection on their newborns as we do here: so when you made it to your first birthday, it was significant. The family says a prayer for the kid and then they eat rice, seaweed soup, and rice cakes—my mom has a photo of me from my 'dol', I'll have to show it to you if and when we go out to San Diego together. They have cake and candles just like Americans, but the cake is far different—it's a lot more savory than it is sweet. And on New Year's, they eat a soup so they can finish up the age they are for the certain year. So you're actually considerably older on the peninsula than you are here. If you're ten years old, in Korea, you're considered eleven or twelve.”

“Wow.”

“And when you reach fifteen years of age, and you're female, you're considered an adult. That said, I'm glad I'm a born American because I can't imagine coming to New York City as a fifteen year old.”

“I can,” Sam said.

“You can?”

“As a boy.” She thought about Alex right then.

“Now, boys have to wait 'til they're twenty before they're considered adults.”

“So Alex would still be considered a boy right now?” she asked her. “Being eighteen?”

“Yes!” Aurora then burst out laughing and clapped her hands at that. “Oh, god, I just pictured him in the traditional horse hair hat that boys have to wear on their twentieth birthday, and I also just pictured him picking up a giant rock and lifting it over his head, too.”

“How giant are we talking, exactly?”

“One that dwarfs his entire body.” Aurora raised an eyebrow at that.

“I dunno, Aurora,” Sam confessed with a shake of her head, “—he's pretty thin but he's also got that little bit of baby fat left on him. He looks pretty soft.”

“Bet you he's way stronger than he looks.”

“Joey is,” Sam continued as she brought her cup back up to her lips.

“Joey is!”

“Mr. Hockey Player—yeah, that boy's tougher than nails.”

“Well—we are going to be in the Bay Area next weekend,” Aurora pointed out. “A whole weekend of doing stuff while Kirk and—Rebecca, I think is his fiancée's name?—while they're getting married. We all can just hang out and be a bunch of genuine friends together for a couple of days.”

Sam squinted her eyes at that.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked her in a low voice.

“You'll see. And maybe Exodus and Death Angel will want in on the fun, too. Fun with the 'little four'.” She flashed Sam a wink as she sipped from her tea once again. Right then, the sole waitress in the restaurant showed up at their table with their bowls of pho: chicken for Sam, vegetarian for Aurora. One more toast and they both dipped into their bowls of fresh hot soup.

At least that night she was to have cupcakes courtesy of Marla, forty dollars courtesy of Belinda, and a jovial phone call from her parents that night. Nothing more, nothing less, but at the same time, she wished for more and she knew that her flight back out to California that next Friday was the start of something for her. Something big and grand, like that next weekend in the Bay Area. It would take place on a day that wasn't her birthday, but it would be something.

Since it was Wednesday, after lunch, she headed back to school for the rest of the day and then back to her place in the Bronx. She stepped in through the front door: the first thing she noticed was the vase of yellow tulips on the table. They had lasted so long, and for so long in the heart of the first winter following Cliff's passing, but she noticed the wilt as it began to settle in on the yellow petals.

She would keep them there on the table until the pure yellow color vanished and they lost their smell, much like with the black hat Cliff had given her.

Sam took her seat on the couch with her drawing pad rested upon her lap. She was an artist in New York City, and yet she lived so far from the actual art scene. The boots still on her feet and yet she had no means as to how to look for it outside of her school work. Marla and Belinda had their way, for sure, but there had to be something more. There had to be, especially since she began to put her head down and put more work into her art for her classes. The struggle still came down on her, even as she gave her fish tails more scales and her humans more of a shading around their heads. It all seemed to slip away from the in between her fingers.

Everyone seemed to be doing better: her classmates received more praise, even Belinda who, at one point, admitted that graphites were a challenge for her as well. And yet, when Sam drew a self portrait surrounded by roses and water lilies, one of the comments Miss Estes left for her on the back side of the heavy grained paper was “lots of effort.”

She was eager for the flight out to the Bay Area by the time that early Friday morning rolled around, and she and Zelda were seated next to each other. She had packed that copy of Siddhartha with her but she had no idea as to when she would get to crack it open over the weekend.

Zelda had put on a plain white T shirt and fitted black jeans, and she had combed her short bob of black hair back for the flight. Apparently all she had packed with her were white shirts and black jeans.

“Don't you wanna look nice like at Cliff's memorial?” Sam asked her with a chuckle.

“I've got some suspenders and a tie to go with them,” Zelda replied. “It's a wedding for a friend of ours, and he said that we can wear whatever we like. So I told him that I'm gonna be full punk chick there. I'm guessing you'll be the artist?”

“Of course,” Sam replied, “the full black, baby.”

Zelda raised a hand to her for a high five and the light for the seat belts flickered on right then.

“I'll tell you this, Zelda,” Sam began.

“What's that?”

She peered over her shoulder to make sure Marla and Charlie paid no attention to them, given they were right across the aisle from them. Sam then gestured for Zelda to move in closer to her: beyond her and outside the window, she noticed the first few flurries of snow against the pane. She hoped they would take off soon.

“I'm getting kind of bored of New York,” she whispered to her.

“Really?” Zelda raised her eyebrows at her.

“Yeah. It's just—falling into the whole 'same old, same old' thing. I'm an artist, I should be able to go places with it all.”

“Absolutely, absolutely.”

“And I just—” Sam shook her head. “It's a great big city but I feel like there's nothing for me there anymore. Two years there and I'm not feeling it anymore. I'm glad we're going back out to the Bay Area for just this one weekend because I feel myself slowly going insane.”

“And why are you telling me this in a whisper?” Zelda asked her in a soft voice.

“Because—I don't know how to break it to Marla yet, or Belinda for that matter. Aurora kind of knows, but not in that sense, though. I made note of it to her but she didn't really suggest anything to me.”

“You can come to Providence,” Zelda suggested, “there's tons to do in Providence. Narragansett and Natick, too.”

“I guess what I'm trying to say is I feel trapped. Two years ago, I came here to the Northeast for a change of pace and it feels like it's trapped me sideways. There's no way out unless I really genuinely leave. The downside of course is—leaving you ladies behind and leaving Anthrax behind.”

“Yeah, and—we kinda like you, Sam. I do, especially. And I know Aurora does, too. And Marla.”

“Aurora is one of my best friends. Her and Frankie. They're my best friends. I don't know how I would handle leaving them both behind for a change of pace. I feel me and Marla drifting, if I'm honest. Can't really blame her, though—school's getting hard on her.”

“Well—whatever you do, Sam,” Zelda started again, “I'll support you on it. If nothing, you'll get the full support from me.”

“Thank you, Zelda. That—that means a lot to me.” Sam showed her a friendly smile.

Zelda shrugged. “I'm from Rhode Island,” she replied. “Moreover, I'm a punk rocker from Rhode Island. We look out for each other more so than these metal boys.”

They touched down in the Bay Area at five in the morning, and right as the sun began to rise right behind them. The thick fog surrounded the airport and Sam thought about the one and only Christmas she and Cliff spent together.

“Looks like San Francisco,” she muttered. “Feels like it, too.” She closed her eyes as they rolled up to the gate. She and Zelda stepped out of the airport first and she breathed in that marine air. She swore that New York was in fact her one true home, but there was just something about California that brought her more so into that feeling. That feeling that she needed to be there. All the fleeting thoughts led up to that moment there on the sidewalk.

Cliff's remains were not very far away from there, either.

She, Zelda, Marla, Aurora, and Belinda all stood at the curb as Charlie and Emile fetched their rental cars. All those men awaited them not too far from there, and Sam was eager to see Joey again given he flew in from Syracuse. That morning in which he and Belinda woke up before her and flirted with each other went through her mind every now and again. She never realized how much she wanted him until he put his arms around her and they locked eyes with each other. She needed to at the very least see him again: he also promised her a birthday gift.

Within time, Emile showed up with the little black car for himself and Aurora, while Charlie rolled up to the curb in a short dark green van. The four remaining girls piled inside away from the damp cold; Sam wanted to refer to him and Marla in the front seat as “Mom and Dad” again but she decided not to as she shivered under her jacket.

It wasn't New York, but Sam had forgotten how cold San Francisco could feel once the winter time set in.

“Okay, so we're going to a place called Marin Heights,” Charlie told them. “I think that's where the guys—Metallica—got the loft for us.”

“I've heard of it,” said Belinda from the middle seat.

“Me, too,” Sam added from the way back; Zelda huddled next to her and shook her head about. Sam had no idea as to why she didn't bring a jacket with her given it was winter in California. But instead, she peered out the small notch of a window to the Bay itself. She remembered that Testament were to film a music video out in Alcatraz, and those cold yellow lights from the island itself pierced through the foggy darkness. She wondered if they had finally wrapped up the recording of their first album since she wasn't able to sit in with them over the past couple of weeks because of school. She also wondered if she would receive any credit on it like with Stormtroopers of Death.

Charlie wound through the city until they reached the freeway, which in turn brought them up to Marin Heights, nestled back in the hills on the north side of town: they reached a switch back on the hillside so Sam was able to see the very top of the Golden Gate Bridge as it rose through the fog. The clouds themselves split apart so as to let the first rays of sunlight through and the metal of the bridge shone that bright amber color with the sunrise.

No wonder Cliff loved it there.

She sighed through her nose and turned her attention back to the road ahead of her as it turned away into the hills. Within time, they reached the top, and a small villa of little brick two story houses nestled back in the trees. She wondered if the wedding was going to be there as Charlie pulled up to the gravel driveway and stopped before the one closest to the street.

“I think this is us,” he informed them. “Or it might just be check in, I dunno.” He climbed out and then Sam and Zelda followed suit. The latter raised her lanky arms over her head and closed her eyes. Meanwhile, the former spotted a tall lanky boy with long black hair perched on a stone post on the other side of the driveway. He faced the other way but she knew those rich jet black curls anywhere.

“Joey?” she called out.

“Hm?” Zelda asked.

“Joey's over there.”

Zelda peeked around the rear end of the van and she nodded at her.

“Yeah, he is! Go get 'em!”

Sam then ducked around the end of the van and hurried over to him.

“Joey!” she called out. “Joey!”

He turned to face her with his eyebrows raised. He had lost a little weight so his waist was rather slim like Joey's, and the black hair dye held up, but she knew those deep eyes anywhere.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted him as she skidded to a stop before him.

“Hi,” Alex replied back to her with a thoughtful look on his face. “What's happening?”

“I thought you were Joey for a second.”

“You thought I was Joey?” he laughed at that.

“You have similar hair to each other.”

“His has more of a pile, though. Like right on top of his head. That big pile of ringlets atop his head.” He gestured to the crown of his head. “Even though I'm sitting down, I think he's a little bit shorter than me, too?”

“I think so?” Sam shifted her weight right there. Stray strands of his black hair lifted off of his shoulders in the wind and he ran his hand over the back of his head. He shivered from the feeling over his skin.

“God, it's cold out here,” he muttered as he adjusted his jacket.

“Yeah, it's pretty nippy. Not New York, but it's that California cold, though.”

“You know, both my parents are from New York,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Both obscenely smart Ivy League professors. They came out here before I was born to teach over at Berkeley.”

“Is that why you had the gray streak?” she asked him.

“Nah, I have no idea where that came from.” He shifted his weight yet again on that post. He seemed uncomfortable sitting there but Sam had no idea where to go right then. Charlie's voice behind her caught her ear and she peered over her shoulder at his talking to James.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Alex told her as he shifted his weight a fourth time. “Aurora told the five of us last week that it was her assistant's birthday and she didn't know what to get you.”

“Aw, thank you—it was back on the twenty first, though.”

“Happy belated,” he corrected himself, and she swore he winked at her. Someone called his name and he looked off to the distance.

“Hang on—” he said, and he darted past her towards Charlie.

“Sam?” Zelda called out to her, and she jogged back to her. Aurora had climbed out of Emile's car right next to them and she shivered inside of her windbreaker.

“What's up?”

“Apparently the wedding is today,” Aurora announced.

“Today?” Sam was stunned.

“Yeah. Three o'clock. I guess Kirk's lady couldn't wait for it a second longer so they're doing it today.”

“So we get a full weekend of good ol' fun,” Zelda added as she clasped her hands to her upper arms.

“Exactly!”

Sam turned her attention to Alex, who was talking to Charlie about something. His black hair twirled in the cold winter winds. Even from a distance, he had such a grave expression on his face that it made Sam think he was much older than in reality.

Belinda had the right idea: he was very precocious. But now she had a little bit of insight into the boy in that he was raised by intelligent parents. It was a start with Alex and she could only wonder from that point onward.

Aurora and Emile led her, Zelda, and Belinda into the cabin behind Charlie and Alex, and once they stepped inside of the cozy foyer, Zelda was eager to turn on the heater.

“Terrible idea not to pack a coat,” she muttered as she hurried down the front foyer in search of the thermostat, “terrible idea not to pack a coat!”

Sam and Belinda meanwhile took to the narrow stairwell in front of them, and they made their way up to that second level: to the right stood a couple of rooms, while to the left was the bathroom and two more rooms. The door at the far end stood slightly ajar, such that when they reached the top, they spotted that head of black curls outside the doorway.

“Hey, Joey,” Belinda greeted him. That lopsided grin and those big brown eyes returned the favor, and Sam's heart skipped a couple of beats at the sight of him. He didn't appear to be ready for a wedding at all with his plain white shirt, extra tight blue jeans, and ragged white socks.

“There are my girls,” he said as he padded closer to them.

“Oh deary me, you're gonna be down the hall from us?” Sam teased him.

“Yup, me, Frankie, and Charlie and Marla. We're gonna be all here at the end of the hall if you need anything.”

“You know the wedding is today right?” Belinda told him.

“Oh, shit, is it really?” Joey raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, Aurora just told us,” Sam added, and her heart sank at the thought of him barely being in the know of these things. “Three o'clock. So Bel and I are gonna get settled in and get dressed.”

“Oh, damn, thank you,” he told her, and his brown eyes sparkled at the sight of her. Cold as the earth and as engulfing as venom. He doubled back to his room and Sam pushed open the door in front of her. Inside stood a small bunk bed and a heavy wooden dresser underneath the window.

“Top or bottom?” she asked Belinda.

“You're older and got way more inside, so top,” she replied as she lay her purse down on the faded blue comforter upon the bottom bed. Even though they had plenty of time before the wedding, Sam wanted to clean up, and change her clothes and look her best. She hadn't been to a wedding in what felt like forever: there was one from when she was three years old, but she had no memory of it and she had no clue as to who even got eloped then, either.

Belinda offered to curl her hair and do it up extra nice, but she promised her there was very little to actually do up given her hair sat flat on her head. If only she could make curls into a crown like with Joey, but she had what she had in the form of a red wine colored dress and a thin black sweater over the top: the dress was a bit snug around her hips but she need not obsess over something as trivial as that when she remembered what Joey wanted to give her.

She was about to head on back inside of their room when she spotted him on the other side of the hallway with the five men from Death Angel, if she recalled correctly. Once again with the quintets and she would learn all of their names in the meantime. But he had a box wrapped in old faded red wrapping paper tucked under his arm and she hoped it wasn't just a wedding gift, especially since he still hadn't gotten dressed.

He laughed at something one of them said and he turned around.

“Oh, there you are!” he called out to her, and he scurried towards her. The tape on the edges of the box and the crooked look of the paper itself told her he wrapped it in a hurry, but she didn't mind at all once she slid her fingers under the edge of the paper closest to her. Careful not to tear it, she unwrapped it and lifted the lid. Inside was a pair of black leather gloves and a red and white knit scarf, the latter of which she ran her fingers over to find it softer than anything she had felt before. It was as soft as a cat.

“It's your own pair of gloves plus a scarf,” he declared. “I just think about how cold you always get upstate.” He shrugged at that.

“I love it, Joey! It's so soft.”

“It's cashmere.”

Sam gaped at him. “Cashmere,” she echoed him.

“Yeah—it was marked down, though. But it's cashmere. I wanted to give you something nice and good and good and nice.”

She slipped the gloves on and they fit around her fingers as if they were made for her. Joey offered to put the scarf around her neck; he stood before her, a country boy in a plain white shirt before a California girl in a dark red dress, and he wrapped the scarf around her.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered to her. “Happy birthday. Double deuces as of ten days ago!”

“Thank you—” She put her arms around him and she held him close. His slender little body was as soft as that scarf, and he smelled of fresh baked bread, something she would be willing to experience as long as he didn't have a drop of alcohol on hand.

Maybe there was in fact something more to life than being in that groove all the time. Maybe she could find a way to break out of her shell, and she could owe it all to him.

And she still hadn't told her parents about him.

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: Gallows Pole

In the midst of the Lawboy shitposting, a Sam-centric chapter to see what he got up to after Dean went to hell. Special thanks to my bro @friedchickenangelwings for keeping me in check forever and always, I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.

Sam sobs. He can’t help it; he can’t do anything else. His big brother’s body is impaled on the post in front of him, the ground is littered with beheaded bodies, and two little boys are crying outside somewhere in the dark. And he can’t stop crying.

“It’s not okay. It’s not!” 

He tries to take back those words that had made his brother leave, but Dean's chest doesn’t shudder back into life, and it won’t. It hangs there, heavy and lifeless, and it always will. Dean is dead. 

And for what?

When Sam’s head starts to pound from the tears, he finally takes breaths to calm himself. Common sense floods back into his head and overtakes his grief, and he pulls Dean’s body off the stupid rusty nail that killed him. He lowers him to the ground and closes his eyes, because he can’t bear to look at his dead stare any longer. 

He doesn’t want to leave the barn. He knows he has to, but he doesn’t want to leave his brother there all alone. That’s what Dean had always been most afraid of: being alone. He stands frozen to the spot for more minutes than he should, trying to reason with his grief. Finally, finally, he wins, and he turns around to see his breath in the air before him. Sam immediately gasps, another desperate sob coming from nowhere, because the night isn’t cold enough for that.

“Dean?” He screams it. “Dean!” It’s gotta be him, Dean’s a ghost, Dean’s here, Dean’s trying to talk to him. “Dean!” 

“No, I’m sorry, Sam.” Kevin Tran flickers to form in front of him, pity and sadness in his eyes. “But Dean’s okay.” 

Sam rubs his eyes. He thinks for a second he’s hallucinating again, that losing Dean for real broke down all the sanity he’d built over the years. “K-Kevin?” Though he didn’t know it was possible, his stomach takes yet another plunge, like a boulder has just been dropped on him. Kevin’s incorporeal form shakes into being the thought once more that he did that, his hands killed Kevin, he’s the reason Kevin is a ghost. He’s in a room with the corpse and untethered soul of two people he loves and two people he watched die.

As if sensing all the ways Sam is shaking apart, Kevin nods and starts to reach out before realizing it would be no use. “Yeah, Sam, it’s me.” 

“But- w-w why?” Sam curses his voice for failing him, curses the shaking that sobbing left him with, curses it because he needs to be strong now. For Dean. “Why didn’t you help us?” A ghost would’ve been a great thing to have in a fight! A ghost could probably, I don’t know, push Dean away from a deadly-sharp hook on the wall? If Kevin has been here, why- “Is Dean in the veil? Can he hear me? Dean!” 

Kevin throws a gust of air in his face to get his attention, and it hits Sam like a slap. He looks back at the ghost, wideyed. Kevin looks apologetic. “I don’t have a lot of time, but you need to calm down. Seriously.”

“I can’t calm down-”

“No, Sam, you need to calm down.” Kevin looks upward nervously, as if he’s expecting to see some big figure raise the roof of the barnhouse up and peek down at them. “I’ll explain, but first thing you need to know is: Dean’s dead. He’s in heaven, and he’s in trouble.” 

---------------------------

Sam drives the Impala at exactly the speed limit, eyes dried to the point of aching. Dean’s wrapped body is sprawled out in the back seat, and if Sam just glances in the rearview mirror he can almost pretend he’s just passed out. Just had one too many shots of Cuervo and conked out so his little brother can drive. Sure. Whatever gets you through the night. 

Dropping off the kids was easy. Traumatized kids don’t say much, don’t ask too many questions, and they’ll forget the shellshocked stranger that saved them soon enough. Either that or he will haunt their nightmares, but Sam can’t help that. He can’t help anyone at this point, covered in dirt and blood and exhausted. He drives out to the middle of the forest anyway, Kevin’s words on a loop in his head. 

“You have to be normal. Chuck can’t want to watch you at all. So just play into his game. Pretend to only care about Dean, get out of the life, settle down.”

Sam had frowned, Eileen instantly springing to his mind. Surely he can care about her, right? “But-” 

“No, Sam, I’m sorry. Dean told me to tell you that Eileen… it’s just too dangerous. He likes you two. He’s gotta hate your life so much he doesn’t want to see it. It’s gotta bore him.” 

So Sam burns his brother's body in a forest alone, with only Miracle for company. There’s a dagger in his chest that tells him he’s betraying everyone he cares about, including Dean. Dean wanted a big funeral. He wanted his whole family there, not just his brother and a dog. And Eileen. There are three unread texts and a missed video call from Eileen already. Apparently Kevin hadn’t visited her yet. To let her know. 

It doesn’t take Sam long to leave the bunker. It just feels like a punch to the gut at this point. That table over there, carved with their family’s names, that’s where he and Dean swore they’d be free. They swore they’d get everything they wanted and everything they deserved. And now Sam has one pillow on his bed and an empty bunker full of the possessions of dead people. 

He knows there is a plan. He knows that. And it should comfort him, but it doesn’t, because he still has to live his long, boring, lonely life without the woman he loves or the family he misses or the brother he mourns. Time on Earth is torturously slow. 

The small things make the ache in his heart just a little lighter. He finds a job he likes, teaching history and the classics to teenagers. He remembers his old English teacher, and he tries to be that to kids that need it, kids that remind him of Claire or Jack. He gets to see Jody and the girls once every few years, a risk that he knows is worth it because it keeps him going. He can’t see Eileen. It would hurt too much. They both agreed the one time they called. He keeps learning ASL anyway, and he tells the story of him and Eileen meeting (slightly modified) to the kids in his class. 

He finds a wife. It was one of the things he put off, but after three years he knows he has to get on with it or he’ll get depressed. He needs someone, even if she is boring and too-nice and entirely too gullible. She’s nice and he’s good to her, but he can’t love her because she’s not real. Not in the way that Eileen is. She might as well be a blurred out mother figure action doll, for all she knows. And he hates himself for marrying her, when she deserves someone who finds her boringness interesting, but he knows this is what Chuck expects. He expects Sam to marry a nice woman and have a kid named Dean and grow old always hurting for the old times. Oh, and Sam does. 

He’d rather be back in the pit with Lucifer than this domestic djinn dream, but he reminds himself every day that someday they’re going to get rid of Chuck and then he’ll be able to live. Dean too. Cas too. And Jack. Sam’s going to kill that son of a bitch if it’s the last thing he does, living or dead. And it looks like it’ll be dead.

His fiftieth birthday has come and gone when Kevin finally comes back. The lights in Sam’s classroom flicker and go out, and then Kevin is there, chest heaving. He runs to the chalkboard and picks up a piece of chalk, and Sam’s talking as he writes. 

“Kevin, how’s Dean? Any updates on what’s happening in heaven? Is Chu-Jack okay?”

Kevin turns around, irritated, until he sees the look on Sam’s face. “Yeah, listen, everything is… fine. We’re working on it. Look, the important thing is that you get these ingredients-” he points to the chalkboard, “and perform the spell. But listen, it’s gotta be next week. Friday. There’s a full moon, it’s… you gotta make it happen.” 

Sam’s eyes bulge. “Friday? Kevin, what the hell, a little notice would be nice! How am I supposed to get-” he looks past him to the hastily written ingredients. “These ingredients are insane! It’lll take me weeks just to fly around the fucking world to grab them!” 

Kevin throws his hands up, looking almost as stressed as Sam. “Listen, man, we’re doing our best up there! Time is fucked up and we’re trying to be sneaky and it is a lot of pressure!” he finally takes a deep breath, which seems to help. “I’m sorry, I know it’s too much to ask, but we have no choice. Call a witch friend for the ingredients, summon Rowena and let her in on the plan. It’s Friday or never.” 

He flickers out before Sam can even reply. Apparently the stress and talking like that took too much out of him. Sam’s left alone to say “Sorry,” to an empty classroom. He sits down heavily at his desk and runs a hand through his graying hair. 

He copies down the ingredients and the spell and it’s then that he knows he definitely needs help. Luckily, he knows who to call. 

The phone rings so long Sam thinks about hanging up, but he picks up just before he can. “Sam!” Max sounds winded, and the first thought that enters Sam’s head is not appropriate for the occasion. 

“Hey Max, you got a second? You’re not…” busy? Jesus, Sam is blushing.

Max laughs. “Nah, you’re good, man. What’s up?” 

God, to speak to someone who understands his life again. To really get to talk to them. “Uh, it’s kinda not the kind of thing to talk about over the phone. Can I drive to you?” 

---------------------------------------

“Hey, Rowena,” 

Sam’s natural state is apparently social awkwardness now. Dean would say that had always been true… No, not the time to get sidetracked with that sad shit. He shuffles his feet again and adjusts a candle, waiting for Rowena to appear. He’s fifty fucking years old. He’s fine.

“Hello, dearie.” 

Sam grins at her, but is once again met with the sad eyes Kevin always gives him. “Fuck, can everybody stop with the dead brother horrible life shit?” She doesn’t look taken aback, no that’s not Rowena. She looks more like a school principal that just got told off by an 8th grader, surprised and a little offended. Sam softens a little bit. “Sorry, I just- listen, I get it, okay? My life is fucked up and it’s all a lie to beat God, I know. Can we move past that and get back to the saving the world stuff?” 

A slow smile spreads across Rowena’s face, and she pats him on the cheek. “There she is. Hello, Samuel.” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hi Rowena, how are you?” 

“Oh, just dandy. Tamped down a few ne’er-do-wells, not a problem. Being worshipped every day is hard work, but I manage, somehow.” 

“I’m sure. ‘Jack’ giving you any trouble?” 

She waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve barely seen the boy since he took over. Apparently he’s much more interested in watching his little short films in heaven than anything down below…” Sam’s got a question on his lips but she waves that away too. Too little time to explain the intricacies of eternal family drama that heaven is currently. “It doesn’t matter. I have free reign, which means I can pop in for our little soirees.” 

Sam nods, grateful that that’s true at least. He hands her the list of ingredients and the spell and watches as she studies it. “Problem?” 

“Hm. No, I can do that.” She looks up brightly at him. “I’m the greatest witch of all time, Samuel. I’m more worried about how you will accomplish it.” She looks down at his summoning ritual and bends down to correct a chalk mark with her finger. “You’re a wee bit rusty.” 

Sam scoffs. He’s missed this. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I called up my friend Max, Max Banes. He’s going to help me out.” 

“Max Banes? Hm.” For a second, Sam thought he saw something flash across Rowena’s face.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She shrugs it off. “I’ve heard of the witch, that’s all. He’ll be good help for you, I’m sure. Now, Samuel, if you’ll excuse me… Underworlds to run and all that.” She steps away, but Sam stops her before she can disappear again.

“Wait!” He hugs her tightly. She only resists for a moment before she returns the hug, a light tap on his shoulder. “Thank you, Rowena.” 

“Of course, Samuel. Until next time.” 

She’s gone with a puff of smoke and Sam is left hugging air.

tag list (ask to be added or removed):

Tag list: @dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus @damian-janus-pendragon

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Curses and Curios: One

“Hey, Romanoff?” Steve mused.

“Yeah?” she answered, pouring sugar into her tea. 

“You don’t happen to have a contact that owes you a favor, do you?” Steve asked. 

“Several,” She said, smirking. 

“Any willing to help out some criminals?”

Nat smiled a little and stretched her neck, glancing from Steve to Bucky, “I mean there’s probably a couple,” she said.

“Wanna make a call?” Bucky asked. 

“The only one I know that’s free, you don’t call.” Natasha glanced towards the mirror above the sink. 

“Then how do you contact them?”

She sighed, “I’m gonna need some opium... and a sharp knife?”

“Opium?” Bucky mouthed.

She nodded, “I gotta get her attention somehow.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow and Sam folded his arms, “What the fuck is she, a talking caterpillar?”

“A little less useless,” Nat snorted, “She’s demon born.”

Bucky sputtered for a second, and Steve visibly cringed while Sam huffed a disbelieving laugh. “A Demon?” he tsked, “C’mon, Nat.”

“No,” Nat said, “Demon born... She’s half-demon.” She neglected to tell them you were also half-dragon. One bombshell at a time. She didn’t need Steve to have the big one. She was surprised that he hadn’t gotten on his knees and started chanting a rosary. She also didn’t think Bucky was up to that either. He had some adjusting to do out of cryo. And Sam... Sam hadn’t seen enough of the weird side yet. They were gonna have to ease him into that one. 

“And how’s that supposed to help us?” Steve said, folding his arms.

“She has skills,” Nat said, “The family business has been assassins for hire for a few hundred years.”

“What’s she do?” Bucky asked. 

“She’s a dominatrix,” Nat said, kind of enjoying the look of eyes widening around the room. “She runs a club. Hall of Mirrors, it’s nice. It’s got good cocktails.”

“Just good Cocktails?” Sam asked, smirking. 

“And other recreational things... But she’s not gonna move unless I call her the right way,” Nat said.

“Which you need opium for because?” Bucky asked.

“Magical shit, I don’t understand,” Nat said, shrugging, “But the Hall of Mirrors is Accorded Neutral ground so unless she’s summoned directly, she can’t intervene.”

“And we can’t go there?” Steve said.

“Would you want to?” Nat asked, half teasing. 

“If it gets us what we need,” he said, trying not to blush as Bucky gave him a look. 

“Oh my god,” Nat said, pinching her nose, “You’re such a douche, Rogers. Just admit you really want to see a half-naked girl with a whip.”

“I don’t!” he yelped.

“You so do,” Bucky said, shaking his head, “Jesus Christ.”

____________

Natasha lit the candle, and then the Opium the Zippo lighter Bucky had handed her. The incantation she chanted was decidedly not English and decidedly old. It raised the hair on the back of their necks as the smell of burning Opium filled the safe house. It made them feel light-headed, and as Nat blew out the candle and doused the Opium to keep them all from getting too high, Sam looked around. 

“So,” he demanded, “Where is she?”

“All that does is tell her I want her. It doesn’t bring her here, you heathen,” she sighed, “It’s like ringing a doorbell.”

“So, what’s gonna bring her here?” Steve asked.

“Her fucking car, Steve,” Natasha said. She had a sinking feeling that this was a terrible idea. But, she knew she could count on this one in a bind. Even if it was a pain in the ass to get her to do anything, though, she understood the necessity of the rules that had been put in place. Left unchecked, she could do an insane amount of damage to the balance in the universe. But. Demon blood had intoxicating effects on men. Particularly when wrapped in a pretty face and a nice rack. Both of which this particular contact had in abundance. 

It didn’t take long for a knock on the door to make them all jerk. Bucky hissed as the knife he was using knicked his thumb. “Who the fuck-” he started, getting to his feet but, Natasha was already headed to the door. 

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, kissing you on the cheek as you walked through the door and gave your surroundings a once over through narrowed golden eyes.

“Hey, Tasha,” you answer, “Bit of a comedown, huh?”

“Just a bit, but still not as bad a Budapest,” she snorted, “How’s business?”

“Business,” you answer, laughing softly, ignoring the men that are staring at you with something between lust and interest. “So,” you ask, tossing a mane of hair over your shoulder and flashing a smile with sharpened canines, “Is there a reason you dragged me out of my lounge, or did you just wanna chat?”

“Straight to it, huh?” she asked, smiling a little. 

“They’re gorgeous,” you hum, prettily manicured red nails tapping the back of the chair impatiently. 

“They?” she asked quirking an eyebrow.

“Twins,” you say, shrugging, “And they really want to play.”

Steve backed towards Sam and murmured, “She doesn’t mean Scrabble, does she?”

“No,” you say, finally turning to assess the three men that had been steadily moving closer together, “I really don’t.”

“Be nice,” Natasha said, leaning against the door frame and crossing her arms.

You turn, pouting at her, “Still keeping your best toys for yourself, I see.”

“Please,” she answered, rolling her eyes, “The sexual frustration in this house alone could kill us.”

“I could help with that,” you purr, stepping towards them.

“Maybe later,” Nat said, instantly aware that if she dragged you away from whatever you had been doing, you were probably hungry. And some of your appetites would probably scare Steve for life. “Right now, I need a favor,” she said, holding out a single, silver coin. 

“Ooo,” you purr, turning back towards her, drawn by the coin, “You need me to work outside the accords.”

“Just a bit,” she said.

“How far?” you ask, taking it and putting it into your cleavage.

“I need you to help us overthrow a government,” she said exhaling slowly.

“Daddy’s going to be so proud,” you sigh, looking bored. 

“Yeah well... If you do it maybe I’ll drop by sometime.”

“Oh Tasha,” you sigh, popping your neck, “You’re welcome anytime... and maybe you could bring a friend.”

Tags:

@thorfanficwriter @lancsnerd @blameitonthecauseway @dumbubblegum

[coldlittlecuties]

Bundle Up

The boys are on an early season 1 hunt in Michigan but aren't quite used to how cold it is. (Words: 2086)

I might continue this if anyone is interested.

Dean shoved Sam through the entrance of the nearest store, the little bell above jingling. The younger hunter was shaking so harshly from the frigid Michigan air that Dean feared it was a seizure. He steered Sam over to the nearest vent, then began brushing off the snow while hot air blew over him.

"You okay?" Dean checked.

"F-F-FFF-F-Fi-Finnne," Sam stuttered.

"You're not fine, you're frozen! The Hell were you thinkin', man?!" Dean scolded. Sam looked at him with the most heart-wrenching puppy eyes he'd ever pulled. Of course him being all huddled up and shivery made it all the more effective.

Dean sighed. He brought his brother's icy hands out from his jacket sleeves to check for frostbite. "Look: I don't care how close you think the library is. When it's this freakin' cold, you call me to pick you up. You don't walk! Man, look at you! You better have all your toes."

"*fffffuhuhuhuhuh* N-N-NN-NN-No-ot th-th-that *buh-buh-buh-buh*bad," Sam denied. He then shuddered so hard Dean had to stop him from falling.

"Yeah, tell that to your teeth," Dean interrupted. "Geez, Sammy! If you're gonna be so underdressed, at least wear gloves."

"D-D-D-Do-on't ha-ha-avvve 'nnnny-y," Sam explained. Dean lightly smacked him upside his head.

"You should've said something! I told you we'd be close to Canada this hunt! Are these the warmest clothes you have?" He berated. Sam's lack of eye contact was all the answer Dean needed. He sighed, washing a hand over his face. "You trying kill me, Sammy?"

"Y-Y-You-u'd c-c-c-co-co-com*mmm*ee b-b-bb-back a-a-an *huhuhuh*haunt m-m-m-me."

"Damn right I'd haunt your ass," Dean smirked. "Now let's see if this place has anything to keep you from turning into the abominable snowman."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The brothers have stayed in some pretty awful places: motels that reek of cigar smoke, empty houses infested with pests, even outside on cold concrete if the situation was dire enough. This cabin might be their least favorite place. Sure it looked beautiful, was clean, and free from rodents or bugs, but it was not built for winter.

It's insulation is nonexistent, the windows are single paned which let the chill seep into the cabin, there is no fireplace, and no matter where they are, there is always a draft to send shivers up their spines. Dean was convinced that the cabin was colder than the snowy forest outside. He was tempted to sleep in the Impala, but since she was made of metal, she would be even colder (though he doubted it was possible for colder temperatures to exist).

Their father trained them to withstand cold temperatures and how to deal with cold weather emergencies. Dean kept trying to regulate his breathing like he was taught. Every inhale felt like a brain freeze to his sinuses, even inside! Despite all of this, Dean was still more worried for his brother.

Sam has never been very cold tolerant. His skinny body just didn't hold in enough heat. Living in the warmer climate of the Bay Area made him even less tolerant. Dean's stomach clenched at the memory of his baby brother shivering through cold weather training, his teeth clacking together so intensely that even their father allowed him to wear another layer. It was excruciating to see his little brother freezing without helping him.

This time wasn't cold training. This is one of the circumstances they trained for. Only this time, Dean won't sit idly by while Sammy freezes to death. He'll do whatever it takes to keep him warm. Whatever he did, he knew he'd have to do it quickly. Dean could already see his brother shaking from the cold, even in his new winter clothes.

"Why don't you go find some more blankets and I'll see if I can pump some heat into this place," Dean suggested. Sam nodded, rubbing his arms as he walked away. Dean examined the cabin, trying to find a thermostat or a furnace: anything. He nearly cheered when he found the water heater. All he had to do was relight the pilot light and... done! In an hour, it would be warm enough for a hot shower or two.

"D-D-Dean!" The older brother sprinted to where he heard Sam call. "We d-d-don't have p-p-p-p-power."

"Hang tight, Sammy! I'll try to find the generator. Stay here!" Dean ordered before running off. He checked the kitchen, the living room, the hallway, the bedrooms, the closets, even the bathroom. It must be outside. Dean rushed outside and around the perimeter of the cabin. Finally, he found the generator piled under a mountain of snow. His gloved hands made opening the control panel very difficult, but if he took them off, he'd lose fingers to frostbite. Dean's hopes fell when the door opened to reveal every piece either rusted or frozen.

"Sonovabitch...," he grumbled, slamming the door shut. Hopefully whatever they had in the Impala could help, just until they could drive back into town for supplies. Dean ruffled through the trunk, the hidden compartment, the interior: all he found were a few more scraps of clothing and a lighter. He sighed.

"Generator's busted. We'll pick up stuff to fix it tomorrow. I did find a few more gloves and socks though," Dean explained, shaking off the snow from his jacket before putting it back on again.

"Don't worry, Dean. The stove's gas powered with a full tank of propane. It's kinda cozy," Sam replied, holding his gloved hands close to the lit burner. Dean was glad Sam wasn't shivering anymore. He knew from experience that it made his muscles sore as Hell.

"You wanna roast marshmallows and chestnuts?" The older brother teased.

"I know you're joking, but I could seriously use some hot chocolate right about now," Sam smirked, rubbing his arms again.

"You said it. We should get some mix. And some milk! Watery hot chocolate is disgusting," Dean added.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

After a couple of hours researching, Dean heated up a few cans of soup over the fire. It was getting dark, especially with the increasing snowfall. It wasn't too bad thanks to the candles they lit. They also provided some much needed warmth. Both boys divided the remaining clothes and blankets among themselves, Dean making sure Sam got whatever was warmest. His kid was bundled up in as many layers as he thought he could wear without Dean noticing. Of course, he did. But he wouldn't say anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched Sam blow into his gloved hands and bounce his legs. While waiting for the soup to warm up, he rifled through the cabinets in search of something that could help Sam. He found a few heat packs and even one of those aqua bead pouches that could be heated or cooled. There was also some tea and sugar. Dean started to heat another pot of water for the tea and to heat up the aqua pouch.

"*huh-huh'PSHH! h'NSHuuh! hih-GISHhuuh!*"

"Hey, Sammy. Why don't you take a break for a bit. Stretch thise freakishly long legs of yours," Dean suggested, hoping to lure his brother closer to the heat source.

Sam happily left the dining room chairs, taking the long route to the kitchen so he wouldn't be too obvious.

"*HISHhuuh! tchSHOO! Heh-hih-ihHSHSH!*"

"You getting sick?"

"No. My nose is just running 'cause it's cold in here. And my scarf tickles sometimes," Sam explained, hugging himself.

"Wanna try one of these hot pack things? They're suplosed to be for injuries but they advertise heat," Dean offered, already preparing a pack. Sam nodded, but Dean would've put the pack on him anyways. The younger hunter shuddered violently when his shirt was pulled up in the back. He felt the pack stick to him, then Dean let go of him.

As upset as Sam wanted to be with Dean for invading his personal space, the glorious warmth of the pack started to kick in. He sighed contentedly, almost purring, as it helped his shivery muscles loosen.

"It's so warm," he thought aloud.

"That's why it's called a hot pack, Sammy. Here, eat up," Dean explained as he handed Sam a bowl of soup. The brothers stood by the stove as they ate the soup and drank the tea. Both were savoring the warmth from the dishes as well as their contents.

"You think you're gonna be warm enough, tonight Sammy?" Dean checked, handing him the warmed aqua pouch.

"Yeah, I'm good. What about you, though?" Sam worried.

"I'm too hot to freeze!"

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Dean let out another shuddery breath as a chill wracked him. He tried to curl himself into a tighter ball, but it wasn't helping. The hunter was so cold he couldn't stop shivering. His teeth kept making that annoying chattering sound no matter how much he wrapped himself in the blankets. He even used some spare towels from the closets!

"S-S-S-S-Sa-ammmy's w-ww-wwarm-m-m," Dean kept telling himself. "*huhuhuh*He's wwwwa-warm a-a-and s-s-s-s-sa*fffff*fe." He then shivered so hard it rocked the bed. Dean was wearing every piece of clothing he could. Everything else (minus the Fed Suit) was mingled in with the towels and covers. How was he still this cold?!

Finally fed up with turning into a popsicle, Dean eased himself out of the blankets to stand by the stove for a while. He was amazed to feel how much colder the room was outside of his cocoon. All his shivering reminded him to check on Sam. Dean shuffled around the corner and into the kitchen. He turned on the gas for the stove, but couldn't work the lighter with his gloves. He took them off then shuddered impossibly harder.

He dropped his lighter with a loud *THUNK!*. Dean winced, hoping the noise didn't wake his little brother. He decided to turn off the gas until he could find another way to light the stove. No sense in poisoning them both. While he waited for an idea to come, he saw one of the hot packs on the counter. Dean took off his gloves on the other hand so he could open their package. But he was shaking too much to properly grasp it.

"I knew it!"

Dean whipped around as Sam came out of his room with a blanket wrapped around him.

"You lecture me about the importance of of staying warm and wearing plenty of layers while you go and do the exact opposite!"

"M'f-f-ff-fi-ine S-S-S-Sam," Dean assured.

"You're not fine, you're frozen!" Sam echoed, wrapping the blanket around his brother. He grabbed the dropped lighter, then lit the front burners. Dean gave a shuddery sigh as he felt the warmth and held his palms out.

"Here: put these back on." Sam watched Dean struggle to put the gloves on for a few seconds before doing it himself. Dean looked away as he huddled into the blanket. Sam opened the hot pack and slipped it onto his brother's back before he had a chance to protest.

"Why didn't you tell me you were freezing? I could've added more layers and given you more blankets!" Sam demanded, preparing a pot of water for tea.

"Y-Y-Y-You wwwere *cuh-cuh-cuh*co-old a-all ddday," Dean explained.

"And you've been freezing all night. Maybe even longer!"

"*muh-muh-muh-muh*my-y j-j-jjjob-b... p-p-p-prot-tect y-y-yo-ou...."

"What's my job then? Sit around all warm and cozy while my big brother freezes to death? I can deal with being cold. I can't deal with losing you too." Sam looked away and took a breath to compose himself.

"S-S-Sam-m-my?"

"I'm fine!"

Dean unhuddled from the blanket so he could pull his brother into a hug. Sam burried his face in Dean's shoulder as he relaxed into the embrace.

"S'ok-k-kay S-Sammy. I-I'm g-g-getting warm-m-mer nno-ow. M-M-M'ok-k-k-kay."

Sam nodded into his shoulder. Dean's shivering slowed to a stop after a few minutes. Neither brother was willing to let go of the other just yet.

"You wanna try to sleep a bit more?" Sam offered, suppressing a yawn. "You can stay in my room 'cause it's warm."

"Yeah. Let's get'cha to bed, Sammy," Dean chuckled. Reluctantly, they let go to walk into Sam's room. They crawled under the covers on opposite sides of the bed, but they ended up gravitating towards each other. Their chilly and sleepy minds only registered the soft warmth and the presence of his brother.

Sam was snuggled up against Dean's chest, his head tucked right under the older hunter's chin. Dean wrapped his arms around his kid and nuzzled his soft hair. That was how they fell asleep: warm, cozy, and protected.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Half-Priced Chocolate

The day after Valentine's Day is great for many things. Basking in the glow of a night well spent, sharing the joy of love with your family, and eating chocolate priced considerably lower than it was the day before.

Except Sam can't enjoy any of that, because Dean won't let him. Because Dean woke up in a sour mood and has picked up the banners of war against romantic love.

Albeit, the three aforementioned things might make his conflict the shortest in history.

           Sam sits with his granola and his pressed juice for exactly seven seconds when Dean walks in. Storms in, trailed by a dark cloud that thunders and readies to soak through anyone unlucky enough to cross its path. Grey dead man’s robe already looking dark and wet, clinging to his body. He passes Sam and the healthy breakfast he prepared as they marched towards the fridge with murder and hunger burdened on his tense shoulders.

           Mornings like these warn Sam of a day spent tiptoeing around his brother lest he accidentally set off a bomb. Ignore muttered grumblings if he wanted to be spared listening to Dean spend hours talking about everything annoying him except the real problem. Bury his head in a book or website so Dean would find his own outlet and wear himself into an approachable mood.

           Only he’s riding a strong high, drunk on Eileen and careless enough to stomp around with his happiness.

           “Morning Dean,” Sam says, chewing around the spoonful of granola, “How’d you sleep?” Dean grunts, backtracked by sizzling bacon being slapped onto the pan. Undeterred, Sam continues cheerily. “Me? I had an okay sleep, I mean when I actually went to sleep… I had a pretty late night.” Sam sips at his juice, letting Dean’s silence balloon for a moment until he pops it again. “Eileen and I stayed up chatting for a long time… didn’t really want it to end.” He then describes the date he planned, setting up the tablet in the library. Watching his reflection while the screen loaded, fixing his tie and mussing his hair until Eileen’s face popped up over his. Her hair perfectly cascading over one shoulder, hiding one of the straps of the purple dress she wore. In front of her was a mirror to Sam’s set up, a plate of food, a candle, and a little rose. Eileen waved at him in greeting, and in return Sam signed his. “I mean, it was kind of difficult,” Sam confessed, “I promised Eileen that I would only sign the entire night – even though she told me it would be okay. But, oh man… you should have seen her eyes light up when I recited The White Rose by John Boyle O’Reilly. Was scared I got something wrong but she said my fingers were fine… those hours spent hunched over the laptop watching YouTube were really worth it to see her smile…”

           “Big deal,” Dean scoffs, back still turned, “you got your fingers to make some neat shapes. I can do that, too…” Then, he extends his arm to show his middle finger to Sam. Even if he wouldn’t face him, Sam knows his pursed lips and heavy stare burn holes in Dean’s head.

           “Wow, Dean,” Sam says, “I take it there were no presents under the tree with your name on it for Unattached Drifter Christmas?”

           “Bite me Sammy.”

           “I already have someone I can bite, thank you very much –“

           “Not like she’s here, though, is she?” Dean asks, finally turning. He crosses his leg at the knee, mockingly rubbing his chin. “Wouldn’t an in-person date be more romantic than sitting alone with your computer all night? That’s just an average day for you.”

           His balloon springs a small leak, and he floats towards the ground. “Okay, you’re seriously bringing down my mood,” Sam glowers, pushing his bowl away. “Can you take whatever bullshit you brought in and wade through it somewhere else?”

           Dean scoffs, “What mood? Pent up sexual frustration? Or did you take care of that, too, with your magic fingers.” He mimes around his crotch, sticking his tongue out with a disgusting wink. Snickers when Sam’s lips curl.

           His grip on his juice tightens, and he drowns the furious remark burning his tongue with the drink. Instead of playing into Dean’s game, Sam stirs his granola with an almost forgotten spoon. Ignores another jab meant to shake up his Jenga tower of patience. Dean lucky that each piece he pulls doesn’t damage the structural integrity.

           Except the tower wobbles. “Probably gonna have to get used to it, though,” he continues, leaning against the counter, “with how long the sabbatical Eileen’s taking, you’re gonna need it.”

           He jumps onto the line like a fish to bait. “What is your problem –“

           “Dean? Sam? What’s going on?”

           Across the room, Dean stiffens and whirls to the entrance. Face pale, Sam watches his brother hands tremble before hiding behind his open robe. “Cas,” he says, “what’re you doing back?”

           Castiel’s hands are also out of sight. He glances between the two men with trademark confusion. “I only stepped out for a moment –“

           “A moment?” Dean hisses. He peeks at Sam from the corner of his eye – red and puffy, now that he pays closer attention to those kinds of details. “A moment,” he says again, stepping closer, “Cas you’ve been gone for –“

           “Almost an hour, I’ll admit,” Castiel sighs, meeting Dean halfway, “I didn’t intend to be away that long, but the line at the store was tremendous… and the register system was glitching –“

           “The store? What were you doing at a store though?”

           A smile blossoms from his pursed lips, Castiel finally revealing his hands and the heart-shaped box in them. “I got this… for you.”

           Dean falters, stunned. Stares at the present with trepidation and awe. He reaches for it, caressing the edges and following the trail until his fingers skim Castiel’s hands. Flinching away like he touched the forgotten pan of overly crispy bacon. “For me? Why?”

           “Well,” Castiel starts, “I was lying up thinking about how we sort of celebrated the holiday backwards yesterday and… I wanted to make up for it.” Sam sees the flower of Castiel’s lips wilt. “Do you… not like it? I’ll admit, it was marked considerably low…”

           He can’t see from how Dean angled himself. But the shaky shoulders and how a palm drifts up to rub his face, Sam feels glad for his obstructed seating. “That’s because it’s the day after, you idiot…”

           “Dean?”

           “Shit, Cas,” he huffs, “no note, couldn’t have texted me or something –“

           “I… I wanted this to be a surprise,” Castiel tells him, “besides, after last night I figured you would need the rest. Three times at your age is exhausting –“

           Dean cuts him off, Sam blushing fiercely while his mind shades in the crude drawing the angel began. Aided by his brother’s finishing remark. “Well maybe if you didn’t renovate my insides my spleen wouldn’t have been squeezing my bladder.”

           “Guys,” Sam chokes, the granola catching in his throat, “guys what are you –“

           “Dean,” Castiel speaks over him, “what is this about?”

           “What is this about?” Dean mocks, chuckling darkly. He inches closer, eclipsing the heart from Sam’s view. “I thought you… I thought you left…”

           A serene wave of understanding washes over Castiel’s features, smoothing the lines marring his face. Sam wishes for a similar stroke of clarity. “Next time,” Castiel says, “I will leave a note. And text. And wake you… although you can’t be mad if I do, okay?”

           The next laugh is much lighter, Dean sniffling between rounds. “Yeah… I promise.” He turns again, Sam tactlessly falling into his seat from the whiplash of his brother’s emotional rollercoaster. Gapes as Dean flicks the stove off and leaves the ruined bacon in the pan. “Come on,” he says, rattling the box of chocolates Sam failed to notice where in his possession, “let’s see what fifty percent off tastes like.”

           They’re so close to escaping, except Sam finds his words. Buried deep under shock and confusion, they’re there for him to dust off and shout. “What the hell was that?”

           Dean stops, a hand over Castiel’s on his waist to slow the other. He finally remembers Sam’s presence, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks. “Hey,” his face twitches, “you see all that?”

           “…Yes!”

           “Well,” he drawls, leaning into Castiel while he thinks, “it was a… a fight.”

           Sam feels his eyebrows recede into his hairline. “A fight?”

           “Yeah, look,” he huffs, pointing at Sam with the heart box, “I know you and Eileen are still new but sometimes couples who’ve been together for a long time get into them every now and then. But then you make up and move past them.”

           “Oh,” Sam scoffs, “so you two are a couple now?”

           “Of course.”

           “A couple for a long time…?”

           “We only made it official last night,” Castiel says, tone easy despite the pitched voices of the Winchester brothers, “while you and Eileen were on your date, Dean and I sat and drank and shared a few words… among other things.”

           “But,” Dean carries on, “we’ve practically been together for over a decade. This is just an – an upgrade from our previous situation.”

           “An upgrade?” Sam asks.

           “Yeah,” he nods, “now I can do stuff like this.” Quickly, in a blink, Dean presses his lips to Castiel’s cheek. Rocking on his heels from the momentum of pulling back, face aflame like a bad sunburn. Almost laughable if Castiel didn’t gaze at Dean with heavenly wonder. “Whenever I want…” Dean adds, trailing off.

           The desire to tease Dean bubbles forth, but whether exhausted or blinded by the natural glow on Castiel’s face, it pops and dies in his chest. He grabs his spoon and stirs his granola. “Okay.”

           “Okay?”

           “Yeah, okay,” Sam smirks, “that’s it. Happy Valentine’s or whatever…”

           “Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, Sammy,” Dean says, being led out of the room by Castiel, “later, you’ve got to tell me how your date went. I’m sure it was great – Eileen’s a really lucky girl!”

           “Bye!” he waves, waiting until the two men fully disappear behind the corner. Leaving him in relative peace for a moment. But then Jack walks in, focused on the hallway. Sam thinks he can accurately guess what captured the younger boy’s attention, only hopes that his brother has enough wits about him to maintain restraint. “Hey,” he says, startling Jack, “you want breakfast?”

           Jack strides forward, sliding in across from Sam. “Why was Castiel holding Dean’s hand?”

           Sam rolls his eyes, “Because they’re dating.”

           “They are?”

           “Apparently,” he chuckles, “it’s their day-iversary.”

           Jack cranes his neck and glances behind him once more before leaning forward, near conspiratorially. “Is this a good thing?”

           “Uh… yeah?” Sam tells him, chewing around the granola and words carefully, “Dean’s happy, and Cas is happy, too… don’t you want them happy?”

           “I do, I do, I just…” Jack frowns, staring at his fists, “I wasn’t sure the Empty would agree to nullifying Cas’s deal. But since they’re together and he’s still here...”

           Sam chokes again, spoon clattering against the bowl when he drops it. “Excuse me?” he asks, coughing fitfully, “Cas made a deal with the what?”

[teatimewithlennon]

I Know The Way There [John Lennon] - Part 6

~~Lydia gets a talking to...again. This time she asks for it, well one of them.~~

Part 1 l Part 2  l Part 3 l Part 4 I Part 5

We vibin’ to Ten Years Gone this time

Word Count: 1818

{I thought querentine would make me write more, but it turns out that it just takes away all my motivation. So I’m sorry it’s been a literal month. I hope you still want to read it. This one is a bit longer so I hope that makes up a little bit. I also feel like I can see my writing slowly getting better, which is really what I want to get out of writing.}

“He chased you?!” The twins exclaim.

“Yeah,” I look up waving my hands around, “not like in a creepy ‘I’m gonna murder you’ way. At least I don’t think so…”

Cole eyes me over his glasses, “You don’t think so? That’s not exactly comforting Lydia.”

“Fine. I know he’s not a murderer.”

“You think your funny don’t you?” Cole points at me.

I smile widely, “Yes, yes I do.”

The conversation tapered off from there. Devolving into the normal backstage talk. I felt lucky that they dropped the conversation where it was, I’ve never been very good at lying. Cole could usually tell when I did anyway.

Our show was pretty good, other than the fact I was thinking about John the whole time and kept fucking up; playing the wrong chords and missing my ques. I’d never been like this before. My brain was so clouded. Something is wrong with me.

I rush backstage after the show, getting my guitar into its case. My instinct is to grab a bottle from the fridge. I go and take the last bottle of whisky but just as I’m closing the door to the fridge, Sam grabs the bottle from my hand.

“Hey!” I reach for the bottle, “That’s mine!”

He opens the bottle and takes a swig of the dark amber liquid. “You think I’m gonna let you drink after that?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“Just give me the bottle Sam,” He goes and holds the bottle above his head. Even in heels, my five-three is no match for his six-two.

“I’ll give it to you when you explain yourself,” He takes another drink then returns the bottle to its position above us.

I look up at Sam, his bright blue eyes have the same spark of mischievous joy they did the day I met him. It seems like an eternity ago to me, but it was only five years ago. Time moves so much slower when you have so much of it to spare. I feel like we both should be old and withered, but here we are, still too young and pretty for our own good. Though I still so clearly remember the older boy cheering me up during my freshman orientation. He had found me crying and having a panic attack in a stairwell. And being the kind soul he is thought that giving a fourteen-year-old a cigarette and a pat on the back was the best course of action. It worked, so I guess I can’t harp on him too much. Since then, he’s always had my back.

But I still can’t be truly honest with him, not about this.

“You wouldn’t get it.” I turn away from him, going to get my purse and coat.

Sam’s shoulders lower and the bottle falls to his side. “I just want to help, Lyds,” He sounds sincere, with a hint of sadness.

I guess that’s going around tonight.

“Listen, Sam,” I quickly spin to face him, “I don’t want your help.” I make my way to the door.

“I’ll be here when you do.”

I freeze in the doorway, sighing deeply, and make a half turn before shaking my head and walking away. Right past the others; Cole trying to stop me. I hear Lexi telling him to leave it be.

The back halls are filled with people as the night is starting to really get started. It’s making it hard to keep my head cool. When I find the backdoor, I pause again. Maybe I should go back and apologize for being a bitch.

Why do I always cover up by being a bitch?

I throw my hood up and exit the building, into the wet Seattle night. It feels so much like the moment I was outside The Cavern. This is the type of weather I’m used to. Wet and cold, even in the midsts of summer. There are still a lot of people out here, how very Seattle of them. I begin my walk in the rain, not really sure where I’m headed.

I don’t think I can go back to the house, it would just feel weird right now.

I could go to dad’s place, but I don’t really want to be asked any more questions.

But I do need to talk this out…

“Guess it’s time to go see mom.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I’ve been gone not five minutes and momma Cole is already calling me. Silencing my phone, I try to find a secluded place to jump. That’s not exactly easy at this time of night, in this part of town. Maybe I should go back to the venue, I could definitely find a closet or office to jump in, but I’m already pretty far away. I look again at my phone, if I hurry I can make it to the Seattle Center and find a place in the Armory before it closes. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I start a quick-paced jog toward the towering monument of the city.

When I reach the heart of the city, I am completely drenched. At least I can be inside for a bit. Pulling open the door I’m greeted with the smells of all kinds of foods, most predominately, pizza. The warmth of the crowded galleria envelopes my shivering body as I quietly make my way through the food court. It’s nice to be inside again. I pass the stage, where some sort of show is happening, it appears to be an amateur play. Part of me wants to stay and watch, but like always, I’m trying to be seen the least amount possible. Anyway, the last time I tried to get close to an interesting performance I ended up completely blowing the whole “anonymity” thing.

I pass behind the small audience of the show, to the back where the bathrooms are. Just from the slight separation of the bathroom’s hall, it’s much quieter. And much more secluded, but there are still people around. So I quietly sneak myself up the stairs, looking for cameras as I do. When I find a blindspot I lean against the wall and take a deep breath, closing my eyes, preparing myself for the jump. This is the most amount of times I’ve done this in such a small period of time, and I don’t know how much more my body can take.

My body releases the tension it’s holding, and when my eyes snap open I’m collapsed on the wet ground heaving for air. Clutching my chest, heart on the verge of bursting, I try to get my breathing steady. It takes a few minutes before I regain myself.

As I stand, I find myself in rain again, this time with the added bonus of it being nearly impossible to see three feet in front of me. The darkness surrounding me is almost hypnotizing. The only light coming from the moon. In the distance, I hear the howling of what I assume is a coyote. A familiar, crude, path of stone stretches into the darkness at my feet. I hop from one slab to the next, having done this a hundred times.

At the end of the path, I’m faced with a standing stone on a cliff. Okay, well it’s less of a standing stone and more of a taller than average stone with smaller stones stacked on top of it. All around are unlit lanterns and wildflowers. I grab a lighter out of my purse, illuminating the candles in the lanterns as I approach the monument. With each candle, the aura of the quiet cliff becomes warmer. More comforting. As the last wick is ignited, I sit down cross-legged next to the makeshift obelisk.

“Hey, mama,” it comes out quiet.

“Hey, sweetie. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know, it’s been a while. I’ve been meaning to come by,” I shrug, placing my hand behind my head

“Your father said that when he was here last.”

“I’m glad to see dad’s been here recently, these candles seem pretty fresh. So does the gardening,” my whole body is tense.

“Yeah, it’s nice, but how are you doing? You seem distraught.”

“Yeah, things have been pretty awful lately,” my voice quakes.

“What’s been going on?”

I don’t want to admit it out loud, “I’m sinking back into my old ways. The drinking, the partying, the pushing everyone away.”

“Well, that’s no good.”

“Yes I know that’s not good. Why do you think I’m talking to you about it?”

“You’re right, but I’m just trying to be light.”

“This is more than just the normal angst, mama. It’s about the time travel. It’s about a boy. It’s about my expectation of life,” I lower my head.

“A boy?”

“Why is everyone so focused on the boy?”

“Because here, we’re just supposed to be a normal mother and daughter.”

“Right this is supposed to be normal talk. No superpowers,” I sigh.

“So go on, no time travel though.”

“This one’s gonna be hard to work around that bit.”

“Is it Sam? Did you tell him yet?”

Huffing, “No, it’s not Sam,” this can be so exhausting.

“Well, tell me who it is already!”

“Okay fine, his name is John. And I felt a spark,” I gingerly touch my hands together. “A real one, like how you describe it with dad.”

“Is this like when you felt a ‘spark’ with Grace, or Jake?”

“I swear it’s not like all the other times,” A blush creeps across my face. “It is new though, but I just know that it feels right.”

“You should go for it then.”

I look into my lap, “It’s not going to be that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s famous.”

“Okay.”

“And he has a girlfriend,” I mumble

“Oh…”

“And he’s from the past,” It comes out barely a whisper.

“Oh, God.”

“Oh god indeed. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I put my head in my hands.

“I don’t know…”

“This would be so much easier if I could actually ask you,” I choke back a sob. “It’s all gonna work out. That’s what you would say,” tears flow freely, my body shaking with sobs. “I wish you were here mama.” I smile down at the framed photo sitting in front of me.

I sat there in the rain. Letting it soak into me as I choked on my breaths for the fifth time today. The torrents of water drowning the lanterns, leaving me in darkness. The rain eventually had to let up. Like the rain, my tears had to stop eventually, I could cry no more. There was nothing left. And I was left in the silence of the night.

I’d made up my mind. I was going to see John again. I had to try and get him, even if it can only end poorly.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

A Weekend Off

Dean x Reader

Summary: After a long cross country drive to help Bobby & Sam becomes unnecessary, Dean decides that maybe its time for him and his girlfriend, (Y/N), to have some down time.

A/N: This is porn with zero plot, but more importantly, a motivational gift for @closetspngirl cause sometimes, you just need some fluffy, smutty Dean to get through the day. Enjoy, hun! xo

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Oral (giving & receiving), 18+ only

Words: 3.2K

Everything Tags: @sorenmarie87 //  @lefthologramdeer // @rockyhorrorpictureshowstyle // @his-paradox // @letsby

SPN Tags:  @wings-of-a-raven // @kazosa // @negans-wife // @grace-for-sale // @geeksareunique // @tiquismiquis // @mrsbarnes-rogers  // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovianfangirl81 // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23 // @crowleysreigningqueenofhell // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles // @wayward-gypsy  // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy  // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @foreverwayward // @waywardvalkyrie// @fandomoniumflurry // @gnrfanfic // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98  // @lyoly  // @a–1–1–3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @pilaxia // @flamencodiva // @screechingartisancashbailiff//  @kgbrenner // @holylulusworld // @deansenwackles // @jamielea81

*Gif not mine, credit to owner

Hours on the road had made Dean weary and grouchy. There were not many stops along the way, and the places that were there, didn’t exactly give him the warm and fuzzies. The one truck stop that had a diner that was so full, that the wait to sit and eat would have taken longer than the act of cooking and eating the food itself.

Dean growled and motioned towards the Impala. You recognized his frustrated expression and just walked back to the car. Driving across country was starting to take its toll, but he was determined to get to the next job on the West Coast by the end of the day even though that was looking less than promising.

At one point you tried to explain that Sam and Bobby would be able to handle it until you arrived, but he wouldn’t listen. You loved Dean with all your heart but his stubborn streak was something you could sometimes do without.

“Babe, please…” you begged him somewhere outside of Omaha, “just either let me drive or stop at a hotel to sleep. I don’t think I’ve seen you shut your eyes once since outside of Pittsburgh. And, no… blinking doesn’t count.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled and glanced at you quickly. “I swear, I’m fine. We just need to get there.”

You just shook your head and sighed softly so he couldn’t hear you. It wasn’t that you minded running around the country with Dean, you’d follow him anywhere. It was when he put any regard for himself aside to help someone else that you worried or felt frustrated. Dean did so much for everyone else, you just wanted him to take better care of himself.

  It was about two hours after that, Dean finally found another spot that had a decent diner attached to a small gas station. He agreed to stop for gas, bathroom break and to order food to go. (Y/N) looked road weary and he felt terrible dragging her around the way he had. This certainly wasn’t what he had planned with her. But when the job calls, you gotta answer… at least that’s what he told himself. When he asked if she wanted to come along, she didn’t hesitate to say yes. That meant a lot to him.

(Y/N) had left to use the ladies’ room, while he sat at the counter and waited for the burgers, fries and sodas to be ready to go. Baby was all gassed up and waiting, now he just needed their grub.

The phone vibrated from deep in his pocket, signaling a text message notification from Sam.

Don’t worry about the job. It’s done. Bobby and I handled it.

Dean groaned and didn’t bother texting back. Instead calling him and not bothering with a greeting with his little brother answered.

“What do you mean, ‘you handled it’?” he barked upon hearing Sam’s voice.

“Bobby and I got it, its fine.”

“Seriously? Man, I’ve busted my ass to get out to you. Damn near broke the sound barrier hauling ass through Iowa.”

Dean could feel anger brewing and closed his eyes to stave it off. In that moment, he just wanted to be far away from people; just held up somewhere with his best girl by his side and a bottle of whiskey or bourbon to share.

“I mean, if you’re dying to hunt… Bobby got a lead on a werewolf outside of Bismarck. We’re headed that way—”

“No,” he said flatly just as the waitress handed him the take-out bag. “You know what. You guys can handle it.”

“You’re passing on a hunt?” Sam asked, a jovial lilt to his voice. “You? Dean Winchester? Passing on a werewolf hunt? You feeling alright?”

“Yeah, you know, for the first time in a while. I feel great. In fact, I’m taking the weekend off. Unless one of you is bloody, don’t call me ‘til Monday. (Y/N) and I will be unreachable.”

“Alright, call me if you change your—”

Dean ended the call, a flutter of frustration still in his chest. However, the idea that suddenly he doesn’t need to get to his brother made that dissipate quickly. (Y/N) rounded the corner just as Dean happened to look up at her. His minded wandered on how they should spend their unexpected bout of free time, but the way she swayed her hips, and the way she smiled upon reaching him, made him realize exactly what he wanted to do.

“Ready?” he asked, grabbing the white plastic take-out bag from the counter.

“Yes, sir. Seattle, here we come!”

The corners of Dean’s mouth turned down into his usual smirk. “Yeah… sure. Let’s go.”

  After eating the burgers and fries, the lull of the highway made your eyes heavy enough to fall asleep. Unsure of how many hours passed, the next thing you knew, Dean was gently shaking you away.

“Hey, honey… wake up,” his said, his voice was soft, yet raspy. When you opened your eyes, he was leaning over you, a wistful smile on his lips. “There she is. Hey, come on, we’re here.”

“We’re in Seattle? That’s not possible…” you sat up trying to get your bearings. You were NOT in Seattle. “Dean, where--?”

“Come on…” Was all Dean would say.

You nodded and when he was satisfied you would follow along, he exited the car and you followed suit through the passenger door. It was well past sunset, and all the colors had already faded with it. But when you looked up, the darkening sky was dotted with a full universe of stars and a crescent moon. As you looked around you, there were shadows of snow-capped mountains and small flickering lights of cabins and homes off in the distance.

“Dean, where are we?”

“We are on vacation.”

“Wait. What?”

He laughed at your confused expression and walked around to meet you at the front of the car. Dean’s hands were shoved down into his pockets, a look of mischief on his face.

“When we stopped at the diner, I talked to Sam. They finished the job.”

“Oh,” you replied, feeling a bit of relief that the urgency was gone.

“Buuut, they had a werewolf hunt lined up near Bismarck.”

“So, we’re in North Dakota?”

“No. Colorado. Up near Fort Collins. An old friend of mine had a cabin up here. He said if I ever needed it…”

“You’re gonna have to explain, Dean. Why are we here?”

Dean pulled his hands out of his pockets and placed them on the upper parts of your arms, rubbing lightly as he held your gaze. “We are taking a weekend for us. This is ours ‘til Monday. I told Sam no calls unless they’re bloody.”

Your heart began to pound with anxious excitement. “Seriously?”

“Mhm, and the cabin is stocked with snacks, movies and plenty of whiskey,” he smiled a big, cheesy smile and wiggled his eyebrows playfully.  

You jumped up and threw your arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. Though he was surprised at first, he kissed you back, but only for a moment. Dean pulled back and with no warning leaned down, picked you up by your legs, threw you over his shoulder and headed into the cabin.

 Once the lights were on, he finally put you down. It was a small space, but extremely cozy. The stone fireplace was stocked with wood, the plush couch was littered with pillows and blankets, and the loft contained a King size bed with at least six layers of soft fleece comforters. The kitchen area was larger than you would have though, with a center island and array of appliances that made it complete.

Dean went about checking the cabinets and seemed happy with array of snacks that were there. Even the refrigerator was well packed with all the essentials you would need for a few days.

“This place is amazing! How did you do all this?”

“I made a couple phone calls while you were snoozing. I wanted to surprise you. I’ve been a bit of a dick the last week, not purposely, but you know how I can be. I thought—I don’t know—we could just sorta, spend time together that wasn’t hunting. You know?”

Your heart rippled with a surge of love for him. Dean was always good to you, always kept your needs and happiness in the forefront of his mind. But this was a game changer, this surprise cemented the fact that you were head over heels in love with him.

“Dean…” your voice fell, unsure of how to express how much what he did, meant to you.

“Its ok, you don’t have to say anything. Hey, I got an idea. I’ll grab the bags from the car, get a fire going, get some food on and why don’t you go take a long, hot bath and just relax.”

You froze and just stared at him. “Who are you?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “What? I do nice stuff.”

“You do, all the time. Its one of the things I like best about you. But this… this is a different side to you.”

“A good side?” he asked, his frisky expression igniting your desire for him.

“A very good side.”

  The bathroom was gorgeous. Décor side, in the corner was a giant, claw-foot soaking tub, set on a small lift and adorned with a variety of candles along the ledge behind it. Finding the lighter on the window sill, you went about lighting all the wicks, and then made sure the plunger was set before turning on the water. When you finally stripped out of your clothes and slipped into the tub, you didn’t think it could get any better than it was at that moment.

Soaking in the warm, soapy tub helped to wash away the last remnants of the road, and made you feel human again. While it felt wonderful, you missed Dean and was curious as to what he was up to out there.

Once you drained the water, and started drying off, your mind drifted to him again. Being with him for the past few months was starting to feel like home. Hotel to motel, job to job… city to city, if you were with him, you were home. Dean wasn’t the kind of man you ever imagined you’d fall for, but nonetheless, here you were, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Drawing the towel tighter around your chest, you quietly opened the bathroom door, and saw that Dean had gotten a fire going, had something cooking on the stove, and currently was trying to find a station to come in through the radio. Stealthily, you walked into the room and stood by the fireplace, waiting for him to stop fiddling with the radio.

Dean settled on a classic rock station, and just as he turned around, caught sight of you by the fireplace. He was about to say something, but then stopped before he could, realizing you were still just covered by your towel. Rendered speechless, he stood in the kitchen, nervously fidgeting between crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on the counter.

Seeing him flustered flipped a switch, and made you want him more than you already did. The music kept playing from the small radio on the counter as you approached him. When you were a step away, he took a step back and bumped into the counter.

“You alright?” you teased.

“Uh, mhm, great. Bath? Your bath was, uh, good?”

You nodded and undid your towel, letting it drop to the floor. “Was hoping you could help me dry off. Maybe, find something to put on.”

Dean drank you in slowly from head to toe. When his eyes scanned over your chest, you saw him swallow hard. You closed the last gap between you, so your body was pressed to his.

“Whatcha cookin’?” you asked, nodding towards the stove.

“P-Pasta,” he smiled, his tongue running nervously over his bottom lip.

“Oh,” you said and went to the burners, shutting them off. “Care for an appetizer, first?”

Dean exhaled shakily. “God yes.” He reached out for your hand and pulled you into him.

There was no hesitation in his intentions. His mouth clamped down onto yours, bringing you into a passionate kiss; his hand tangled up in your hair and forcing your lips harder onto his. His other hand ran roughly down the length of your body, pausing to cup your breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Suddenly, both hands were on your ass and lifting you up, sitting you on the island counter where unopened boxes of pasta were. With one hand Dean, wiped it clean, sending everything to the floor and laid you down on the cold granite. He positioned himself between your legs, and slid your ass down to the edge before lowering his head to kiss the inside of your thighs. He looked up for a moment and glided his hands up your abdomen and then back down your sides to the tops of your thighs. Spreading your legs further apart, he bent back down and began to kiss the hood of your sex.

Your hands gripped his head before he could even feel how wet you were for him to touch you. Dean’s tongue parted your folds, sparking you to arch your back and moan softly. The sound encouraged him to further lavish your clit with his tongue relentlessly. One hand slowly slid down your legs, until his fingers found your entrance and teased you with penetration. The need to feel him inside you was maddening, and the more he lapped and teased your clit, the more you wanted to scream for him to fuck you.

Just when you didn’t think you couldn’t take it anymore, he thrust his fingers up inside you, causing you to cry out his name.

“Dean! Fuuuck!” you felt yourself getting breathless, and just needed him to be closer to you, to feel his weight above you, to kiss you… “Baby, please…” you moaned and pulled at him to come back up to meet your lips.

When he came up for air, you sat up on the counter and yanked at his clothes. He kissed you with such a fierce need between each layer coming off. As he pulled his t-shirt over his head, you pawed at the belt of his jeans and then shoved them to the floor. Dean finished removing them and kicked them aside. He paused for a minute and just stared at you, running his hands over your skin, sometimes soft and loving, sometimes rough and desperate.

He didn’t speak. Left with only his boxers on, but his erection clear through the thin fabric, he helped you off the counter and walked you over to the oversized, overstuffed couch near the fireplace. He turned to face you, as you easily slipped the boxers off his legs, then pushed him down to the couch.

Kneeling before him, you took the length of him in your hands and used your tongue to circle the tip of his dick. Dean’s eyes rolled back as did his head. His fingers dug into the couch cushions beside him, then found their way into your hair. Moving your mouth and tongue all over his cock, his hips moved with you and a growl of satisfaction radiated from his chest.

“Jesus…” he moaned, mouth hung open and his eyes once again fixed on you. He lasted only another minute before he was pulling your head up and guiding you to straddle him on the couch.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his cock. The more he filled you, the louder your moans grew. There was a freedom with how loud you could be in the cabin, just the two of you. Knowing that and being able to express how he made you feel, somehow heightened the sensation of it all.

You moved on his dick, swaying back and forth, side to side, each pass up, then down, his fingers would dig deeper into your sides as he moved with you. Dean leaned forwards and covered your nipple with his mouth, biting and sucking relentlessly. His arms reached around your back and pulled you into him fiercer, both of your bodies moving erratically towards climax. His mouth released your breast, and he buried his face in your cleavage for a minute before he looked up at you.

Unable to hold back, your walls fluttered around him, clenching against his dick and making him cum.

“God damn… fuck!” he mewed, just as you were crying out his name. “Fuck… where did that come from?”

You could only chuckle as you were trying to catch your breath. “I don’t know. I guess I just missed you.”

“Well, damn, baby, I wish you’d miss me more,” he teased, running his tongue over his lips as they were pulled into a smirk.

You went to climb off him, but he kept you put. Reaching up, he pulled your mouth back onto his and this time when he kissed you, he did so softly. He kissed you that way for a while, almost long enough for him to get hard again. When he did finally pull back from your lips, he lightly ran a thumb against your cheek, and tipped your down face to meet his gaze.

“You know, you make me pretty damn happy.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. A lot. You put up with a lot from me, and I want you to know that, uh—” he paused, and you could tell he was struggling a little, “I love you. But not just love you, (Y/N), I’m in love with you.”

You hadn’t heard that from him before. You knew he cared, that he cared a lot, but to admit he was in love with you…

“I love you too, Dean. A lot.”

“That’s good. Cause it would suck bad if you were just using me for my body,” he teased with a dead pan face, “or my car.”

Feigning shock, you playfully smacked his chest. “Why, I never!”

“Hey, you’re the one who dropped the towel, ok. I was just an innocent boy, cooking dinner for his very hungry girlfriend—Ow!” he cried as you hit him again, a little harder this time.

In a flash he lifted you off him and flipped you onto your back on the couch. As he hovered over top of you and gazed down, he smiled the soft, thoughtful one he reserved only for you.

“Now, I’m thinking naked pasta dinner in front of the fire. You down?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” you giggled.

He bent down to kiss you again and then jumped up and ran back to the kitchen. It only took him a second to come back and grab his boxers.

“Yeah, second thought, I should at least wear these… sauce splatters,” he shrugged and climbed back into them. He made his ‘yikes’ face and ran back into the kitchen.

In that moment, if he had asked you to give up everything and live with him in that cabin forever, you wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. Dean Winchester made you happy and, you fell more in love with him then you ever thought would be possible.

[ecto-american]

October Nights C3

Ectober fanfiction || Day One | Day Two || On AO3

Summary: Danny may have died, but he is certainly not gone. And he refuses to be forgotten.

Day 3: Cauldron & Electricity

It was a cliche night; dark, stormy, cold and bleak. Rain pitter-pattered on the roof and against her window, and she already knew from having been caught in it that the water was icy cold and stung her skin. In a way, it was the perfect setting for what Sam was doing.

Absolutely nothing.

She lay in bed, her hair flowed out all around her as she listened to music through a set of headphones. Her fingers fiddled with the wire connecting it to the speaker system, staring blankly at the window. That feeling of being watched never left her anymore. Even now, it was leaving her on high alert as she stared at the only way somebody could be watching her. Her bedroom door had been closed, and she knew her parents were out for the night. Her grandma was downstairs with her friends, and this gave her some comfort. She wasn't completely alone. Sam knew in her gut that she had unwanted company.

But yet she felt so alone, and she gave a chilled shiver as the room's temperature seemed as if it suddenly dropped. Sam twisted the cord around her index finger, anxiously keeping her eyes locked on the window.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But she knew she was waiting for something. What exactly, she was entirely uncertain. Or even when it would happen. No indicators, but of course, Sam wasn't an idiot. She had a very strong suspicion of what was happening, but being right? She almost didn't know if she wanted to be right or wrong, or her feelings on the suspicion.

Her head softly rocked from side to side in tune with the music. Dumpty Humpty's lyrics spoke to her mournful soul in a way that made her heart ache. Danny was so insistent that one day, one day...he and Sam and Tucker would all follow their favorite band on tour. All over the world. The cost was absolutely no issue, as Sam had immediately eagerly agreed to the dream and insisted that she'd pay. It was always a matter of being allowed to take that much time away from home on their own, away from parents.

Which reminded her…

Sam tore her eyes away from the window towards her desk drawer, where the tickets for that summer goal were already laying. Waiting for the trio to graduate so that they can be used for Dumpty Humpty's first concert of the summer in California. Her lower lip trembled. Maybe they could just invite Paulina…

No. They couldn't go on that trip anymore. It was for the three of them. It was hers, Tucker and DANNY'S dream. But could she and Tucker really go without Danny? They'd be short the person in the middle seat of the airplane flight, an empty seat at the show. No half ghost best friend that could sneak them backstage to meet the band. No boyfriend to cuddle up with during the opening act performance. No best friend that Tucker was going to sneak beers with. Those memories...they weren't ever going to be made.

God, it wasn't fucking fair! Danny did everything to protect Amity Park, and for what? For them to hate him, hunt him, slander him, disrespect and openly admit that they wanted to see him dissected. He sacrificed everything, and now he was gone. Amity Park had no clue what the hell they were missing. She didn't want to be here anymore. Maybe she should reconsider that all girl's college her mother wanted her to go to in New York…

Anger flooded her, and Sam ripped her headphones off, letting them fall onto the bed. The music continued to go on, and she went to the desk. She flung the drawer open, grabbing the tickets. Three tickets to fly to California, three to the concert. She clutched them tightly in her fist, feeling hot tears pouring freely.

A small cauldron, filled with pens, pencils, a pair of scissors, just various desk items, was grabbed, and Sam gripped it tightly. The cauldron had been a gift from him. He had found the tiny thing at the flea market with Tucker, and he gave it to her joking that she could properly begin witchcraft now. She dumped its contents all over the desk. Pens and pencils went rolling, but Sam didn't care. She slammed it back onto the desk, and she began to rip up the tickets of a fury of tears and frustration. All of the pieces went into the cauldron.

Sam flung open all the desk drawers, leaving them open and even pulling some fully out to throw behind her until she found what she was looking for. A lighter, originally for the many candles that decorated her room. Her hands shook as she held it, and she reached into the cauldron to grab one of the shredded pieces, barely big enough to hold.

Flickering the lighter until it finally gave her some flame, she set fire to the piece. The fire immediately began to burn her fingers, the paper burning quickly. She dropped it into the cauldron, and she stared as it began to consume the other pieces of paper. She felt as if somebody stood right behind her. That watched feeling was strong, but honestly? She could barely bring herself to care about it. She focused on the white straight pieces began to crumble and turn black as flames turned it into ashes.

There was immediately a little bit of regret. Tucker may had still wanted to go. And maybe it was best to go anyway. Danny would have wanted them to not put their lives and dreams on hold just because he was gone. But past that thin layer of regret was a sense of satisfaction of sorts that she couldn't describe. It was therapeutic to watch the pieces burn. She sniffled, wiping her nose using her nightgown sleeve.

She watched it burn until all of the pieces were just black soot staining the bottom of the cauldron. Slowly, steadily, the flames died as nothing more remained for them to burn. A trail of steady smoke replaced the flames, and Sam half-heartedly blew at the smoke. It flowed against her breath and into the wall her desk faced, reminding her of an ashy version of his ghost sense. Why did everything have to remind him of her?

Her hand waved at the smoke, trying to assure it wouldn't set off any smoke alarms before she grabbed a dirty shirt to use to help her safely pick up the hot cauldron. She took it to her attached bathroom to wash it out.

The water from the faucet caused more steam to rise as she rinsed out the cauldron. Clumps of wet black ash and soot were washed down the drain. Probably not the best for it, but Sam couldn't care less as she used her hand to lightly rub against the bottom to make sure it all came out. She squirted some hand soap into the cauldron, using her fingers to lazily wash it a bit. This was a gift from Danny, after all. She didn't want to see it get ruined because of her own stupid, rash actions.

Her lights flickered, and Sam glanced up curiously. The lights, all of them in the bathroom, flickered once more. And then the electricity went out.

Sam blinked as she touched around to turn the water off. The darkness around her lead to an immediate, eerily silence, and she was scared. The creaking of her house was unnerving. Of course, the house was old, having been in the family for a while. So the noises weren't unusual. But they still made it feel as if her house was haunted, especially with the watched feeling that only grew more and more.

Her eyes soon began to adjust to the new lack of light, and she could see the door to the bathroom, still open and into her room. Sam decided to abandon the cauldron for now in the bathroom's sink, and she put her hand on the wall. Using it as a guide, she went back into her room, and she stood in the doorway.

Her eyes squinted in the dark as she tried to remember the layout of her room. The window was absolutely no help. There was no moon, but the house rumbled as thunder echoed outside. That would explain the power outage. Shortly after the roar, a clap came, and lightning lit up her room for the briefest of moments. Enough for Sam to confidently make her way to her bed to grab her cell phone without tripping on laundry or scattered desk drawers. Her legs and hips met the bed, and she bent over to spread her arms around, patting down her covers for the electronic device. She soon found it, and she held it tightly. Sam unlocked it, and she called her grandmother. Faintly downstairs, she heard the phone ringing.

"Hey Grandma, are you alright?" she immediately asked when the ringtone stopped.

"Oh yes, yes dear. Just a little power outage from the storm," the comforting, familiar voice replied with a cheer that brought Sam ease. Sam felt her body relax, and she sighed.

"Alright, just making sure."

"I'm sure the power will be back on in a moment," her grandmother replied. "Don't fret about it, dear. Rosa and Frida left a little bit ago. When the power comes back on, I'm going to make some tea, you should come down and join me."

Tea did sound absolutely lovely on such a night. And with Grandma Ida? Nobody understood her better than Grandma Ida. Other than…

"I'd love to," Sam confessed.

"Just come on down whenever the power's back then, deary. Or even sooner, you shouldn't be tucked away so much. I miss you watching my shows with me."

Guilt hit Sam. She missed that too, and she nodded, despite knowing that her grandmother couldn't see her.

"I'll come down in a bit," she promised her. "I love you."

"Love you too, sweetie. Be careful."

Sam hung up. She put her phone into her pajamas pocket, and she felt around for her headphones. The music had, obviously, stopped playing, leaving her clueless as to where they had fallen. She patted around the covers once more. The thunder boomed outside again, and a clap of lightning followed. The room lit up once more, and Sam found herself unintentionally staring at a figure sitting cross legged in her bed. White haired, black suit, light blue skin. His eyes were closed.

She screamed, immediately backing up the best she could. Her foot stepped onto one of the abandoned drawers, causing her to fumble backwards. Her back hit another drawer, and she groaned in pain. She kept her eyes locked on red eyes that had snapped open upon hearing her scream. The eyes floated up a bit as the bed creaked.

They moved closer, and Sam scrambled to back up, scooting on her behind. Oh, fucking duh! Her phone!

Her hand shot into her pocket, pulling the device out and turning the flashlight on. The figure blinked, flinching a bit at the sudden light behind shined on him. He now stood barely four feet in front of her. Or rather, he floated off the ground, his body hunched over in a poor posture. His eyes locked onto her, burning intensely and she knew that feeling was from him. It was a haunting look of possessiveness that lit up when he saw that she clearly recognized him. But those eyes lit up for all the wrong reasons, and Sam felt her heart going crazy for all the wrong reasons.

"Sam…" It was indeed, Danny's voice, only worse.

As they all grew older, Danny's voice had dropped to a mature deep tone. A voice that Sam loved listening to talk, that was pleasing to listen to when he'd sing softly along to the radio in her car. She always loved how warm he made her feel when that voice talked quietly to her, right in her ear when he hugged her from behind as they cuddled up together.

This voice did not have Phantom's ghostly echo to it, not the charm of Danny's. It was deeper than both, with a predatory gravel to it that made her shiver. The echo was intensified, and instead of anything soothing, it rattled her to her bones, and him calling her name made her want to cry. And she did begin to cry. This wasn't Danny.

Looking at him, he resembled her hero boyfriend. That white hair that she'd run her hands through, that white symbol she designed. But his skin was light blue, icy, and she knew even without touching him that he'd likely be as cold as true death. Those eyes were no longer warm with love and affection. They were the haunting stare of a stalker.

His head had tilted in concern the second she had burst into tears. Concerned, and he floated closer. Sam stiffened, but she didn't move. She was too frozen and afraid to do anything anymore. The goth resigned herself to sitting on the floor amongst her own carnage, letting tears flow freely.

"Sam...I missed you…"

That voice sent her into a quivering, frightened mess of nerves, and she let out a sob. This figure, it came closer, and she felt too nauseous to stop it. His hand reached out for her, and Sam did her best to shy away from it. But his gloved hand made contact, and she gave a violent shiver. He was so cold. Much colder than her Danny had ever been.

His fingers lightly stroked her cheek, causing goosebumps to rise all over her arms, and she couldn't stop shaking. The figured tried to flash her a comforting smile. But it only resulted in a terrifyingly wide exposure of not just fangs, but all of his teeth being sharp. Sam couldn't look at him anymore, and she turned off her light to leave them trapped in the dark.

"I love you." His voice was trying to obviously copy his previous self's, where it would drop into a sweet and soothing whisper towards her as he expressed his love. But that voice just made it sound like a threatening growl, and she only continued to cry. "Sammy…" God, him calling her that made her absolutely sick to her stomach. "Sammy please...don't cry…babe, what's wrong?"

Sam finally found the courage to jerk away from his touch, rubbing her cheeks roughly with the palms of her hands. Trying to wipe away the touch, and she stared at where she knew he was. His eyes were shining brightly at her, looking at her with a cold concern.

"Y-you're not Danny," she whispered. Her stomach was weighed down with fear. A lump in her throat made her forcibly swallow before she could continue. "You look similar, but you're not my Danny."

Those eyes turned into slits in the darkness, and she could practically feel the tonal shift of the room. The figure, this ghost...he immediately seemed angry. Thunder boomed in the distance, making her jump. The lightning that followed lit up his features only briefly, but she could make out his deep frown and the way his eye twitched slightly.

"Sam…" The figure had dropped any and all concern or care, any attempts to pretend that what she knew had to be a ghostly obsession was just simply love. It let out a low, breathy grumble, and she whimpered. "I came back for you."

That statement just made her break out into a high pitched wail, and her shoulders jerked as she cried harder. Sam wanted Danny back more than anything. But not in this form. Not like this. This wasn't Danny. This was...she wasn't even sure.

"I don't want to go with you anywhere," Sam said, her voice shaking. The figure stared at her. Intense, unblinking. Absolutely fixated, and she found it hard to break away for even the slightest of moments. Too afraid to even properly wipe her eyes.

"I'm not going," it confessed. Ice cold hands grabbed her upper shoulders. Not angrily or posessively, but a very familiar touch. The way Danny used to do when she was crying, and he was about to hug her for comfort. The idea of this thing pulling her into his arms sent her into a paranoid thought process. If he did that, she just knew he would never let go of her.

"Please go," she begged. "Please, just leave me alone."

The hands tried to pull her to him. In for a hug, and Sam snapped from her frozen state. She jerked against him, fumbling out of his grip. Those eyes shined intensely at her. By now, her eyes had become accustomed to the low light of her room, and she could plainly see just how very unpleased this thing was. It kept her frozen, from getting up and just running downstairs to be with the safe company of her grandmother. But to her relief, he, at least, didn't try to grab for her again.

"I promised you that I would be with you forever," it breathed. "And I will be. I love you, Sam. We can still have a life together..."

She shook her head no. No. No, no, no.

"You're gone," she tried to reason with him. "We...I...please go."

"No."

Sam's mind raced as she tried to think of something. She had ghost gadgets all around her room, fuck, fuck, fuck. Where were they? She kept her eyes on the figure, but she remembered how her nightstand had the specter deflector. But she had a few weapons nearby…

She let her eyes briefly break the contact to glance around. Yes! She was close enough to a drawer, a drawer that she knew had a blaster in it. This thing wasn't ...going to be pleased about it. No doubt. But fear was growing and growing, and she had no clue what he was capable of. A reasonable idea of his powers, but this wasn't Danny...who knows what he'd do.

Her body slowly shuffled back a bit, and to her expected horror, he moved with her at the same pace. His hunched form stayed hovering near, unblinking eyes never moving from watching her. Sam kept locked eye to eye with him as she wiggled back until she felt the dresser against her back. She paused, and she did some mental math. How fast could she move? Could she move faster than him? Was it worth it? Did she have to...shoot...or would pulling a weapon scare him off? He was watching so closely...he'd notice any sudden movements.

"...Danny?" It was all she could think of to do. He did nothing but stare blankly at her. "Please back up a little."

The figure, to her surprise, respected the request. Slowly, it backed up a foot. That was enough. That was all she knew she was going to get.

In a flash, she turned to pull the drawer open and frantically searched by hand in the dark for the blaster. An angry rumble before her, and she could feel him come for her. Thankfully, thankfully...the blaster was right on top. Easy, and immediately accessible, and she pulled it out. There was no time to think, and she shot him right in the chest.

A loud howling hiss of pain, and the figure flew back. Sam scrambled to her feet, ignoring her foot hitting another discarded drawer in the dark. She kept her gun trained on him as she quickly made for her nightstand. She refused to turn her back to him as the ghost wisely kept his distance. Those eyes stared in anger at her, and her heart just could no longer settle down.

She reached her nightstand, and she opened the drawer, never breaking the staring contest. Her hand grasped the familiar cold metal of the specter deflector, and she stared at him. It took a minute to build up the courage, but she soon quickly set her blaster down and broke the look to pull the belt out. Anxiety told her that he had taken that opportunity and was coming for her. Her hands shook hard as she fumbled with it.

No sooner than she wrapped it around herself and click it on, she looked up to see Danny's face nearly to hers, less than a foot away. A scream caught in her throat as he gave a low, frustrated grumble, like a chatter. He slunked backwards, continuing to make the noise as he kept watching her. Her chest heaved as she let out another cry, more tears.

Sam shakily sat down on her bed, allowing more tears to flow. She cried silently for a few moments before she felt the bed dip as somebody else sat down. Through blurred vision, she saw the figure sitting next to her. He no longer looked angry, but concerned.

"Sammy…" His voice was still awful to her, and it did nothing to help her anxiety. "I'm sorry. I love you. I just want to be with you. I'll always be here."

It was meant to be a comfort. But it felt like a threat, and Sam felt trapped.

[samsylviasmoustache]

So have some self-indulgent GLOW fanfic!!

The Birthday Paradox

In a room of just 23 people, the odds of 2 people sharing a birthday are 50:50... 

“Okay, so.” Sam puts his hands down flat on the scored wood of his stolen desk. “Friday night after the show we’ll—”

“Oh, we can’t do Friday,” says Debbie.

He scowls up at her. “Why the fuck not?”

“It’s, uh, Ruth’s birthday.”

“Oh.”

Silence reigns for an awkward thirty seconds. Debbie’s immaculate eyebrows arch. “We could do Saturday instead?”

“Right. Sure. Yeah.”

He roots about his papers, discomforted, until she rolls her eyes and asks the obvious question.  

“Are you… okay?”

It’s not the kind of thing they have to ask very often, both of them usually perfectly transparent to the other. Like a pair of housecats. Just about able to tolerate being in the same room, and good at giving the other space when they come in hackles raised. Their claws generally reserved for other people. Which is probably just as well, given the amount of fur that would fly should they ever turn on one another.  

“I’m fine,” he says, too quickly. He makes the mistake of catching her eye and sighs. “It’s her actual birthday on Friday?”

“Don’t you have all of our birthdates written down on those consent forms you made us sign?”

“I’m not Klaus fucking Kinski, alright? I don’t remember that shit.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter. Forget I asked.” He tries to handwave her confusion away, but she’s damned if she’ll be dismissed like that by him.

“Fine. Yes, it’s her actual birthday on Friday. Are you…what? Wanting to buy her a present?” If she sounds incredulous it’s because she is. The idea of Sam giving enough of a shit about anybody else to go and buy a gift is laughably ludicrous.

“No.”

“Well, what then?”

“Jesus Christ. Will you just—? I mean, can you not—?” He stutters to a stop, scowling; realising he’s going to have to spill. “Because it’s my fucking birthday, too. Alright? Are you happy now?”

She blinks. Of course, Sam must have birthdays. He moves through linear time like the rest of them, despite his efforts to remain firmly stuck in his Seventies heyday. It’s just hard to think of him in the same context as cake and candles.

“Oh.”

He is shaking his head. “Don’t, don’t fucking tell—”

“I won’t. Any anyway, nobody’s going to care.” It comes out more harshly than she intends; she can see it stings from the sudden droop of his moustache. “I just mean: we’re all too old to give a shit about birthdays. Apart from Jenny.”

“Right,” he says, flatly. “We done?”  

“I will… make the arrangements for Saturday,”

“Great. You do that.” He’s making a show of taking out his cigarettes rather than look at her.

“Fine,” she says, determined to have the last word.

He slides open the door to his balcony, fumbling for the carton in his shirt pocket again. It’s a real Vegas sunset outside, the sky a lurid pink. He pulls out his lighter and hears the chirrup.

“Not this again,” he says, cigarette wobbling. The little white cat jumps down onto the concrete from the balcony above, winding herself around his ankles. Against his better instincts he pets the thing, and she starts purring like a thundercloud.

He sighs. It’s a sad fucking thing to have to admit, but it feels nice there’s something in the world that’s glad to see him.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he says, rubbing his thumb across her little bullet head. Somehow, she purrs even louder; batting at his hands when he stops. “Yeah, yeah...”

She tries to run inside when he’s finished his smoke, nosing at the door as he puts his hand on the glass. “Hey, no.” She chirrups up at him again, intentions clear. “No. I don’t want fucking fleas. Okay?”

Purr-purr.

He sighs again. But he’s always a sucker for a woman who won’t take no for an answer.  

“Hey.”

He looks up from his seat on the bleachers, half-watching Cherry and Carmen plan a match. “Oh, hi Ray. How’s things?”

“Good, man, good. A little bird told me tomorrow is an important day for you.”

Sam groans. “Was this bird named Debbie?”

“I can’t reveal my sources.” He smooths down his goatee. “Is it a big one?”

“Oh, no. But thanks for flattering me.”

Ray grins. “You have plans?”

“Ah,” he squirms, “I mean, it’s a Friday night in Vegas, right? If you can’t find a good time you’re just not looking hard enough.”

Ray purses his lips. “Sure, but it’s a birthday. You’re not inviting friends into town? Or family?”

He swallows. “Well, you know, they’re pretty busy with – with school and shit.” It sounds pathetic, Ray looking at him with something like sympathy in his eyes. And he can’t stand being pitied like this. Fucking Debbie. Why she couldn’t just keep her mouth shut—

“Well, I’ve been waiting to invite you to the monthly poker night,” Ray continues, oblivious. “Sounds like this Friday’s a good fit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Eleven o’clock in the Sinatra Suite. Unless, you know, your girls decide to take you out instead.”

“Ha,” he snorts, “I fucking doubt it. Thanks, man.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s a fifty dollar buy-in and last time I barely made it out with my shirt.”

Sam bares his teeth in something like a grin. “Sounds great,” he lies.  

Something sharp bites into his neck, dragging him up from the depths of dreamless sleep with a yelp—  

It’s the cat. Curled on his chest, digging her claws into him for reasons known only to herself. “Ow!” he says, grabbing hold of her to stop her doing it again. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She merely purrs in response, as if this is all perfectly normal; trying to lick his face with her rasp of a tongue.  

“Jesus Christ...” He wriggles upright, finding his cigarettes on the night stand, lighting one. It’s a little after five in the morning. Which means he is officially fifty-two years old.

It’s a funny thing, but the older he’s gotten, the more his thoughts turn to his mother on this day. After all, she was the one that put all the work in. He just turned up, fat-headed and late enough to make everything a real ordeal. Starting, it seems, as he was destined to go on.

The fat little cat curls into his side, as he finishes his cigarette and tries very hard not to cry.

The lighting box door opens, noiseless, and Ruth is framed in the lintel. “Hi,” she says. Still wearing Zoya’s face but dressed in a button-up shirt and jeans. The sight of her like that does something complicated to his chest.

“Hey,” he replies. “Happy birthday.”

She bites her lip and looks at her feet. Still, she’s smiling. “Thanks.”

“You have fun?”

“Mm-hm. Sheila has a contact at The Aladdin. We got to see all the animals.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Mm. Sounds great.”

“We’re all going for a drink. Do you… wanna come with us?”

No, if he’s honest. He’s sad and consumed with a horrible kind of nostalgia; thinking back to this day five years ago, fifteen and thirty. Counting all the ways he’s screwed things up for himself, lost every good thing he ever found.

But not Ruth. Not yet, anyway. Why not spend an hour or two in her company before he loses all his money in a poker game? There are worse presents he can give himself. “Sure,” he hears himself saying. “Which bar did you have in mind?”

“Oh, Ray said we could use the member’s one tonight.”

“Really?” Jenny’s party-planning skills are clearly better than he gave her credit for.

He follows Ruth down the stairs and sticky-carpeted corridor, to the door with the Members Only sign. She pushes it open and they are hit by a wave of noise: fourteen variations on “SURPRISE!” and a dozen party-poppers exploding at once, leaving them both covered in paper streamers.  

“What the fuck is this?” he says, stupidly. The home-made banners make it clear enough, one at either end of the long table loaded with party food. HAPPY BIRTHDAY RUTH says one. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM says the other.

“Sorry man,” says Ray, coming over to pass him a glass of champagne. “I couldn’t stop them.”

“Jesus.” He shakes his head but takes the glass. “And no poker?”

“No poker,” confirms Ray. “But I did manage to get us some other entertainment…”

The doors at the back of the room open on those words, and a literal circus enters the room. Fire-eaters and jugglers, gymnasts with spangled hoops and spinning plates. He vaguely recognises some of them, performers from a show at their sister casino.

“Thanks,” he shouts over the din. “I guess.” He catches Ruth’s knowing gaze. “And you can stop that right now.”

She presses her lips together, compressing her smile. Eyelashes fluttering as she makes up her mind about something; he recognises the tell even if he has no idea what she’s debating internally—

“Happy birthday, Sam,” she says, and kisses him on the cheek.

And there are too many people in the room for him to do anything other than swallow the sudden lump in his throat; to hope the sudden heat in his face will be attributed to the fire-eaters.

“Yeah,” he manages. “As these things go, it’s not so bad.”

[classic-rock-roller]

1. You and Kevin and Bonham and Tom are helping Cassie move into her college dorm room. You’ve almost got her moved in when she says, “It smells like a gym mat in here, I’m going to light some candles.” Kevin hands her a bic lighter, and she pushes the red button. Nothing lights. “Why isn’t it working?” Bonham goes up to her and says, “You have to push the spark wheel and then the button, just the button won’t light it.” Tom looks over and says, “How is it that you don’t know how to light a lighter? I know I taught you.” “No dad, that was Chrissy.” How does Tom respond, and what do you, Kevin, and Bonham say?

Bons and I giggle a little. 

Kevin: You’re getting old there, Tommy. 

Tom: Shut up, DuBrow. 

2. You, Bonham, Randy and Kevin are hanging out with Crue after they just got a record deal. In honor of it, someone ordered a lady-shaped cake, and the way it was frosted, she’s not wearing anything. Crue cheers when it comes out, and Bonham says to you, Kevin, and Randy, “Watch this.” She walks up to the cake and says, “This looks delicious.” She takes a big bite out of one of the boobs and says exaggeratedly, “Mmm, tasty.” It drives all of the boys nuts. How do you, Kevin, Randy, and Crue respond?

Crüe is howling like hyenas. 

I cross my arms and shake my head. 

Randy: ...uh...ok

Kevin: Hey! Let me get a slice of that cake! 

3. You and Tom are meeting Bonham and Kevin at their house to have game night. You both have work, so you’re arriving in separate cars. You get there and let yourself in when you hear something coming from the kitchen. You hear, “Kevin! You got it on my face!” “It’s just cream, baby!” You step into the kitchen and see that Kevin sprayed Bonham in the face with whipped cream when they were making shot glass desserts. What do they say when they see you, and what do you say?

Me: I can see you two are busy. 

Bons: Haha, very funny. 

Kevin: Yes we are. 

Before he dips her and kisses her. 

Tom: Ok, ok. Save that for the bedroom, please. 

4. You’re on your way back to your room at school when you hear an argument coming from inside. You’re due to meet that dude Tom from your psychology class later so you just walk in. As you do, you see Bonham sitting on her bed in tears. Kevin is there, and he says to her, “Why are you making such a big deal about it? I never said we were exclusive.” She screams at him in anguish, “Because, you were my first!” before sobbing pathetically into the pillow she’s holding. Just then, Kevin notices you standing in the doorway. How does he react to you, and what do you say?

Kevin: Oh...hi...BabyCarrot. 

I square my shoulders and go, “Kevin, I think it’d be best if you left. Also, you're a fucking asshole. 

I’d text Tom to see if we could make an appointment for another time and spend the night comforting Bons. 

5. You and Tom are at Kevin and Bonham’s house one day, and they’re talking about their valentine’s day trip coming up. It’s mostly logistical details, but at one point Kevin says, and is not discreet about it, “The headboard of the bed at this resort is solid oak and we’re not leaving until you have a concussion.” How do you and Tom react to that, and what does Bonham say?

Bonham blushes. 

Tom: ok, ok. I didn’t need to hear that. 

Me: At least you’re not giving Me concussions anymore.

6. Bonham’s been trying to get a haircut for ages but no one will do it. They keep telling her that “It’s too pretty to cut!” At one point when that happens again, you see her fish her pocket knife out of her pants and slice off half her hair in one swipe. She turns to the hairdresser and says, “Fix it.” How does the hairdresser react, and what do you say?

Hairdresser (gasps): Ok, I can make this look better.

Me: Should have done that after like hairdresser number eight. Besides its hair, it’ll grow back. 

7. You walk into the studio on recording day and no one is anywhere to be found. You finally find them out back, and you see Linus kneeling and kind of sobbing, Erik holding an old stage cape on a stick to function as a flag, Bonham standing at a salute and playing TAPS on a kazoo, and Sean standing on a box. You walk up and Sean is giving a speech, and you see them surrounding Linus’s favorite guitar, which has a snapped neck. It’s a makeshift funeral. How do you react, and what do they say when you walk up?

Me: Aww, Did Bertie finally kick the bucket? 

Linus: BERTIE!!!!!

Erik: Way to start him wailing again. 

Sean: It’s ok Linus.

Bons is still blowing taps on the kazoo. 

8. You and Kevin and Randy are at a school basketball game, and Bonham’s in the stands with the band. They play mostly old rock tunes, but at halftime you hear her on the mic, “In traditional halftime performance, we will be playing Hey Baby. But tonight there will be a slight revision. Ricky, count us off!” The conductor counts the band off, and they start playing the song. When the words ccome in, the band sings, instead of the actual line, “Hey Randy, I want to know if you’ll be my man.” You look over and Bonham has found her way over to you guys. She asks into thi mic, “What do you say, Randy?” then offers him the mic. What does he say? How does she react? How do you and Kevin react? How does the crowd react?

Randy: um, yes

She jumps up and down excitedly. 

The crowd cheers and Kevin and I watch like proud parents. 

9. You and Tom and Bonham and Kevin are going to a black tie event one night. Kevin stopped off at your house to get ready, but since Bonham had work she got ready at her house by herself. You all go to pick her up so you can ride together, and when she comes out of her house you hear Kevin say, “Oh my God.” She looks nice, but not like, amazing. She gets in the car and says, “Sorry I’m late, let’s go. Hey Kevin, you look really nice.” He just stares at her. How does she react, and what do you and Tom say?

Bons: Stop staring at me like that. 

Tom: ...Kevin, adjust your legs. 

Me: Oh god, Kevin, gross man. I really don’t want to see that. 

10. You and Kevin and Randy are walking back to your room at school one day to hang out. When you get there, Randy excuses himself to go to the bathroom, but he yells surprisedly when he gets there. He comes back out and says, “Your roommate is passed out in the shower.” How do you and Kevin react? Why is she in there?

Me: Not again. 

I go grab Bons and wrap a towel around her and wake her up and take her to her room. 

Kevin: Did you drink too much again? 

She went to a huge party the night before and had a lot to drink. 

11. You and Your band are setting up onstage. Everyone’s instruments are resting on their stands, but Erik’s bass tips very slightly. Without question, he fully vaults for his instrument, rather than just simply tipping it back the other way. Bonham says, “Jeez man, you were ready to die for your bass but it barely even tipped.” How does he respond and what do you, Linus, and Sean say?

Erik: I would take a bullet for my bass 

Me: That’s a little much. 

Linus: I get that. 

Sean: Hey, you do you, man. 

____________________

1) For one of your concerts, your singer thinks it would be a great idea to have her, you, Erik, and Linus attached to rigs that allow you to be flown out over the crowd. Your singer is the first to test it out and the roadies fly her out over the crowd area so fast she screams. She suddenly stops about 20 feet in the air and you hear the roadies screaming about how it jammed and they have to fix it. Your singer is just hanging there slightly spinning. What does she say and how do you, Linus, Erik, Sean, Tom, and Kevin respond?

2) The roadies have fixed the rig and during a concert one day, your singer is quickly flown out over the crowd while singing (she’s suppressed her screams). The rig is working brilliantly but all of a sudden, you hear her go silent and scream through the PA system. While she was flying over the crowd, the wire broke and she fell into the crowd. What do you, the band, and Tom do? Is she ok? 

3) You are helping your singer put away the groceries and she goes downstairs to put something in the basement freezer. She soon comes back up with Kevin whos holding his eye. Your singer goes, “Can you give me a bag of peas?” "Sure why?” Your singer goes, “Because dummy over there, decided it would be a good idea to hide in the dark basement and scare me.” She gives Kevin the peas. How do you respond and what does Kevin say?

4) Your singer takes you and Tom home with her for a weekend. During the weekend she takes you to a place called Lehigh Lookout which is on a mountain and overlooks the city. While there, she goes to Tom, “Please be careful.” He smirks and at her and goes to the edge before faking losing his balance. You can see her tense up.  Once Tom comes back, your singer grabs his sweatshirt and after a while when he tries to move again she won’t let go. He looks down at her and goes, “You can let go now.” How do you and your singer respond?

5) You, your singer, Tom, and their kids have gone on a hike and are overlooking a lookout. Your singer is on edge because the kids are still young. Cassie is 10, Sam is 6, and Chrissy is 4. Sam is getting closer and closer to the edge and your singer goes, “Sam, don’t you dare go too near the edge.” He doesn’t listen and he gets closer. He almost falls before Tom runs and grabs him. How do you and your singer respond and what does Tom say?

6) You’re at soundcheck for a concert in Galveston, Texas and while up onstage, your singer just starts screaming into the microphone. Kevin is holding his ears and goes, “BabyCarrot, what the fuck are you doing?” Your singer stops and goes, “Making sure you can hear me.” Tom screams to her, “Honey, you’re making our ears bleed.” How do you, Kevin, Linus, Erik, and Sean respond?

7) You are in the kitchen making dinner when all of a sudden, you hear your singer singing the sugar plum fairy song and you feel her smack your butt with a stick. She has this huge smirk on her face and she does the same thing to Kevin. How do the two of you respond?

8) You are getting ready for a concert on your joint tour with Crüe. Your singer has just put on her heels and you see her wince in pain. “I wish I was a man. Then I wouldn’t have to wear heels onstage.” Just as she says this, Nikki, Tommy, and Mick walk past the open dressing room door and says, “You realize we do that too right?” How do you, your singer, Tommy, and Mick respond?

9) You and your singer are at a party with her friend Jon. While there, a really drunk guy comes up and starts grinding on your singer and playing with her hair. She is very uncomfortable and Jon goes, “Stop touching her, man. Get off her.” The guy glares at Jon and goes, “What are you talking about? She loves it.” Drunk dude is about to kiss your singer when she clocks him right in the face and he's down. How do you and Jon respond and what does drunk guy say when he comes to?

10) Your singer is over at your house when you get a strange package in the mail. You open it to find a dark heart shaped box with a suit in it. Once your singer sees it her face goes white, and she backs away. You look at her, “What’s wrong?” “That’s a dead man's suit. His ghost is attached to it. I know someone who had it before you. Did Kevin buy it?” Just then Kevin comes into the room, “Oh cool, my suit arrived.” How do you and your singer respond?

11) You and your band are doing a joint tour with Crüe and at one point you have a meet and greet with fans. Tommy is just being a dick and after about ten minutes your singer smacks him lightly upside the head. Tommy rubs his head, “Oww, what was that for?” Your singer glares at him, “Stop being a dick.” How does Tommy respond and what do you, Nikki, Mick, Vince, Linus, Erik, and Sean say?

@osbournebemydaddy your move, Bons :)