#at first I thought that it was just cause Cassie has fond memories of the daycare

[eclipsedcrystalstar]

ohhh reading the fnaf wiki page on that book with Moon on the cover makes the daycare music playing in the Fredbear Cutout ending really connect more to the filename for that ending

[faby-montana]

me & u

“i’ve been waiting. think i’m gonna make that move, now.”

paring: haechan x reader

summary: a collection of memories that happened between us.

warnings: 18+ for smut— (they only go to 3rd base tbh) handjobs, cumming, awkward kids (that are of legal age!)

a/n: this was supposed to be part of a series, not sure yet if I’ll make it one. let me know how you guys enjoy! (i also don’t really write smut so uh let’s see how this goes—)

recommended song: me & u

You bit your lip, your phone clasped in your hand beside you. You haven’t spoken to Donghyuck in almost a week. It was only about noon, maybe it’s too early to text him. Rolling to your side, you turn on your phone and go on snapchat, seeing if he had even been active recently. Not much to your surprise he was.

Your computer sat at the foot of your bed, a classroom tab open as you sat on your phone to pass the time. Your mother walks in, telling you that your principal was on the phone.

Shifting to sit up, you could only wonder what he wanted. After all, you haven’t been in school since the 15th and your athletic season is long over.

“Happy birthday!”

Wow. Even he remembered. You have yet to receive a happy birthday from him just yet. Once another hour passed, you wondered if now was the perfect time to send a text.

hey, are we still on for today?

Shutting off your phone instantly, you place it down as you pick up your laptop. You were scared to know the response, if he would even respond. You weren’t in the mood to get rejected on your birthday. You glance over your assignments, slowly starting to work on one to distract your hyperactive mind. Has he seen it yet? Did he ignore it? Maybe he’s busy.

The buzz of your phone makes your heart smile, focusing on your assignment you try to finish the sentence before going to see his response.

where are we going again

this ice cream place, it’s only like 10 minutes away i can meet you at your house if it’s easier

Smiling extra hard you hop out of your bed and walk over to your closet, trying to figure out the perfect outfit to wear. The two of you had confirmed plans to go after his mom goes to work around six, so you two had settled for seven. You showered, spent hours on your hair, deciding against makeup so your mom wouldn’t be too suspicious.

After eating dinner with her, you told her you’d be visiting two of your friends. You left out the part of going to see him too, but he lived down the street so if she tracked you she wouldn’t know the difference.

You hopped in your car, nervous about what might happen. You knew something might happen tonight, how far would the two of you go? You hadn’t necessarily shaved off your entire bush, god you flushed hard wondering if he’d mind. Your thoughts had you so distracted, you hadn’t even noticed you’ve been sitting outside his house for three minutes. Taking a deep breath you grabbed your purse, spraying yourself in the perfume he had bought you months ago and took a step out the car. You locked the door and took notice to the sun starting the set. You knocked on the front door, stunned to see his mom standing in front of you. She was very fond of you, so she greeted you kindly as she always did and told you she was on her way out. She wishes you a happy birthday and apologized for not getting you anything.

He jogs down the steps in a sweatshirt and his grey joggers, slipping on his black sneakers. You stood quietly by the door as he asked his mom for the keys, her telling him to be careful as he only nods in compliance. You knew he wasn’t really listening, probably already hearing that from her more than once. She says goodbye to the two of you as you walk out the door, him unlocking the door to take a seat.

You’ve never actually been inside of it before, it was a bit surreal considering you’ve stood outside of it for a very long time. You run your hand over the passenger seat that you sit on, putting on your seatbelt and laying back. It smelled good, just like him.

He tells you his mom had actually been off that day, him not knowing about it to which you only shrug. You reach for his phone, asking him if you could play a song. He unlocks his phone for you, and you clown him for using Spotify. It’s a routine almost, the two of have to tease each other.

Me & U by Cassie begins to play, him asking what was playing as you loudly sing along. The rest of the songs are ones you both enjoyed, but the first one was just to indulge you.

Once you get there, you both go inside to order and the biggest smile graces your face. You’ve been meaning to come here since October when it opened, and you finally got the chance. You already knew what you were ordering, and funny enough he orders the same. The two of you go back inside the car once the order is prepared, both of you sitting while soft music is playing. There’s not much talking, just the two of you being in each other’s presence as you watch the end of the sunset. He’s playing a game on his phone, and from time to time you glance over to annoy him.

“Hey so,” placing down the spoon in the jar, you look at him. It was now or never you figured, if you didn’t make this move now it just might never happen. “You actually like me?”

His head immediately looks up at you, raising an eyebrow. “what kind of question is that?”

You giggle, “a valid one.” You tear your gaze away, “I’m really sorry about not sending you anything..” You slightly shift towards him, “but I thought yours were cute.”

“uh huh.” He was embarrassed, you could tell that much. He also didn’t take you seriously, so you placed a hand on his knee to grab his attention. His gaze focused on it for a split second before looking at you once you started talking.

“I’ll let you take pictures of me if you want.”

He scoffs, “your lying.” Why is he acting so awkward? Was he just as scared as you were?

You leaned in a bit closer, telling him you were wearing that black bralette he liked. You could see him swallow, and before he could open his mouth again you opened the car door and went into the back seat. Taking off your top you told him to come join you.

Still flustered, he does as told and gets into the backseat. Sitting beside you, your knees touching he seems a bit clueless. You slid back a bit, “do you really want this?” You were giving him a chance to back out now. If he really wanted this he would have to make the first move.

“Yeah.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Part of the insecurity you had of him not wanting to be with you left instantly. “Do you?”

You let out a huff, “I literally have my shirt off.” His eyes cascaded downwards briefly, not wanting to stare too hard. You sat back, wanting for him to make the first move, it was silent between the two of you before he slid closer, gaining the courage to finally kiss you.

It was short, as if he was testing the waters with you. His lips were soft and sweet, damn near addictive. You were glad he was at least a good kisser, knowing his experiences probably haven’t gotten him farther than that.

Climbing onto his lap you wanted nothing more than to continue, you even wrapped your arms around the back of his neck to bring him closer. Noticing his hands hadn’t really moved, you reached down and placed one on your waist. His other hand followed suit as you put your hands back on his neck.

This. This is everything you dreamed of. You’ve never felt closer to him, happier to be with him. You hoped you conveyed that when you grinded down against his lap.

You heard him moan lowly, which only made you smile. Gliding your hand down his front, you felt him shiver under your touch and shift a bit under you. Did he expect for you to grind down again?

Giving into him immediately, he whined against your mouth. Did he have any idea of what he was doing to you?

His hands gripped your waist a little tighter, pulling his lips from yours. “S-stop.” You immediately halted your actions, leaning away from him as you watched him catch his breath.

Was he about to bust in his joggers? You couldn’t help but feel a little proud as you saw just how hard he was.

You were going to get up to sit back next to him, in case you were heavy on his legs but his arms wrapped around you. He stared into your eyes a bit, causing you to mutter a small “what..” to cover up how nervous you felt. He kissed down your neck, making you blush darkly as a moan escaped your lips. Your straps, which had been previously falling, had been tugged on. You pull them down, his warm hand cupping your breast. It was different to feel someone else’s hand groupe you, you glanced down to see how it filled his huge hand. He massaged it slowly between his fingers, you leaning back to give him more access. Another moan left you as you felt his warm mouth on your left. You couldn’t help but rub against him again, wondering what he was thinking of.

Pushing him back a bit you run your hand down his front, a soft groan leaving him. You untie the top of his joggers, sticking your hand down his pants as he gasped. He shifts a bit again, tugging down part of his pants to make it easier. You go back to kissing him, wanting to feel him moan against your mouth as you brought him closer to his edge.

“Baby..” He moaned, a small whine towards the end of his words. He was close and you had no intent on stopping. You only hummed, kissing down his neck as he got even louder after cummming. You didn’t stop, right away wanting to see his face. Taking your hand away you felt proud, and you knew you’d remember this for a long time. He looked at you while you glanced at your cum covered hand, deciding that you wanted to try it. You sucked on your fingers and glanced up to still see him staring. You blushed, turning away as he only chuckled. He asked you how it tasted, to which you could only shrug.

You got off his lap so you could turn, sticking your ass in the air as you reached for the napkins. You wiped off your hand first, grabbing a few more before turning back around. He took them from you cleaning himself off and pulling up his pants as you pulled back on your straps. He grabbed your waist, pulling you towards him as you leaned on his chest. The two of you stayed like that for a while, sitting in each other’s presence. You heard the sound of his heart beat, closing your eyes to the rhythmic sound. “We should get going soon.” As much as you wanted to fall asleep in his arms, you knew you shouldn’t. You couldn’t spend all night out here, and you shouldn’t give yourself the chance to get attached.

He sighs, saying okay as you separate to move into the front seats. He turns the car back on as you grabbed his phone, going back to being dj. You smiled to yourself, singing along as he drove through the night.

When he parks back in front of his house, you lean over and kiss his cheek, thanking him for such a great night. You would leave right after, going back into your own car and about the rest of your day.

You wondered, if you had sent that text- would that have happened?

i’ve always wanted to play this song on what would’ve been our first date. or hang out. or whatever it was gonna be. i had so many hopes for us back then. so many hypotheticals about what we could’ve been.

[cassiesboy]

hi same anon as the deancassie ask this is the last one i promise (sorry for the mistakes english isn’t my native language and i wrote a lot) i just think it’s insane that they are the only canon het relationship on the show (besides saileen) that was well written lmao i mentioned their love scene in the previous ask and i think i like it so much because they aren’t cringy or uncomfortable to watch partially because their chemistry is really good but also because they seem so hungry for each other (and again you don’t see that happening between dean and his other female interests) like please his grip on her hair, her biting his nipple, the last bit when they are just breathing in each other mouth, the forehead touch. idk if it was in the scrip or if that’s just the way megalyn and jensen decided to acted it but they literally eat other mouth whenever they kiss. i mean i too would kiss my first love like i want to alienate all thoughts from their brain. they’re so hot for each other and not in a gross way but in a i miss you so much way, also the intimacy ?? the fact that he kept caressing hers arms and her back during their pillowtalk and the fact that he admitted her he couldn’t lie to her and that he was afraid of working things out with her, i’m sorry but he can fight monster but he is afraid of being vulnerable and taking about his feelings yet he chooses repeatedly to do so with her cause he is in love (literally dean thesis) and his grip on her waist during their movie kiss and the fact that he kept his eyes close after the kiss yeah that’s peak of romance, the fact that he always steals glance at her and he only ever do that with one other person on the show, and they probably drove in his car, and he blasted his favorite songs and started singing super loud while staring at her with a goofy smile and she probably laughed from the passenger sit, i’m unwell lmao. in my alternative version of the show, cassie is back in season 6 and she is living with dean but cas has to erase her memories etc and the last shot of them is dean seating in his car staring at her (their) house, and after they never mention her again on the show because she is a bit of a taboo subject since she is the only other love dean ever had but when he thinks of her it’s with a lot of fondness…deancassie my beloved :) i’m going to stop my rant here because it’s so long but yeah i just think they are a good premise for any dean’s ship xx

"he can fight monster but he is afraid of being vulnerable and taking about his feelings yet he chooses repeatedly to do so with her cause he is in love" LITERALLY YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!!!

i have a lot of thoughts about her reappearing on the show... i think for one thing we should've seen a lot more of their stanford era relationship -- the flashbacks like u mentioned would've been a good option for that. but also i think... idk i like the idea of her reappearing but it's so difficult to come up with when to place it, because like in every season OTHER than the first season there's always some insane baggage for him. like not that he'd have to keep his hunting life a secret anymore, but originally, his secrets were, what. his baggage with john, the fact that he's a hunter. after season 2, it's that his dad literally made a deal with a demon to bring him to life and then promptly told him he'd have to kill his own brother someday. after season 3, it's that he made a deal with a demon where he sold his soul to bring his brother back to life. after season 4, it's that he went to hell for forty years, and when he came back, he found out that he started the fucking apocalypse while he was down there. like it never stops. and so at some point it's like, i don't know if they'd be able to work on any real level unless dean was finally given a moment to breathe, and then it's like... what could he possibly tell her? i think there's a seed of tragedy in that went unexplored since we never saw her again

[ppaperheartss]

Godzilla

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: a lil angst, some swearing

A/N: Hey! I really hope you enjoy this, I’ve worked really hard on it. Inspired by Godzilla by Kesha. Any comments or feedback are appreciated!

-

Bucky Barnes wanted to find peace. His whole life had revolved around fighting and angst and fear, and now he decided it was time for that part of his life to be over. It took him a long time to readjust to a life without meaning, without something to fight for. He spent his days wandering around the compound looking for someone he could spend time with, but most of the time the compound was a ghost town. So he kept himself occupied with therapist appointments, catching up on pop culture and exploring different music genres.

(Rumour has it that Bucky was seen working out to Taylor Swift’s new album, but he always denies it regardless.)

He was proud of everyone else on the team. Sam took on the role of Captain America with both hands and was eager to help the country with the pressing issues which the Avengers never got the chance to handle. Captain America is now the frontface for Black Lives Matter and is tackling gun violence one day at a time. He is making America great again. 

Wanda has taken on the role of training new agents and works very close with orphanages in New York to rehabilitate young people who have led traumatic lives. She even introduced the Pietro Maximoff Foundation which aims to find people that had been injured in all Avenger fights as collateral damage and get them the help they so rightly deserve.

Scott spends a lot of time with Cassie to make up for all of the years that they missed together, and he even has another little one on the way with Hope. Though Bucky isn’t very fond of children yet he’s open to the idea of a miniature sized version of Scott running around the compound and causing havoc. Even the thought of it brings a smile to his face. 

Parker recently graduated high school and now works with Bruce a lot of the time in their own lab in the centre of the city to continue on with the work that Tony had started. After the whole fiasco with his identity being outed he tends to keep a low profile, taking his time to get used to the spotlight that is everyday life as an Avenger.

Bucky is still coping with that too, honestly. It’s strange walking down a street knowing that everyone probably knows his name and his history, and has an opinion of him, when he has never seen them before in his life. Maybe he has. He struggles with his memory too.

When he was diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety, it was a strange experience. He had a little knowledge on it from his uncle who had fought in war before him and suffered from the illnesses, but it was different knowing about it and being diagnosed with it he realised quickly. He’s cautious around strangers and struggles to speak to someone who he doesn’t know if he can trust yet, but his therapist Dr. Walker says he’ll develop with time. He just needs to focus on his breathing and find something to distract hunsekd. 

And he did. He went from not being able to open up the door for his takeout - which the app to order said takeout took him just a bit too long to understand - to being able to speak at veterans meetings with Sam in front of a couple dozen people. He connected well with the other veterans, especially those who had lost a limb in war, and found himself looking forward to the meetings for the chance to speak to people who shared similar life experiences and didn’t give him a sad look whenever he opened up about his nightmares. Knowing he wasn’t alone gave him a sense of belonging, something that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He retired from the Avengers and moved to a small apartment in Brooklyn that Sam helped him look for. He even went couch shopping with him, making sure that he bought the deepest and comfiest one there. He didn’t mind, he loved how comfortable modern things are compared to the 30s, but he wondered why he insisted on getting that particular one. That was, until one night Sam came to his apartment blackout drunk and slept there for 15 hours straight. He only woke once to complain drunkenly about how small the blankets were, to which received a pillow to the head.

Bucky enjoys having his own place to live. He wakes up early in the morning to go on a leisurely run through his neighbourhood and watch the sky turn from red to pink to blue. He stops at the cafe at the bottom of his street for whatever pastry is fresh and a sweet coffee.

He then comes home to his cat and plants, and spends his days loving and caring for them. He found Alpine on what could have been one of the worst nights he’s experienced in his normal life. It had been raining heavily for hours and Bucky was walking home from therapy when he was jumped by a group of men. In the panic of it all he lashed out, and having not been in the field for so long he underestimated his strength.

A civilian got hurt in the scrapple, but she was so scared of who he was that she refused to take help from him. The police then arrived and Bucky had to fight his case for an hour in the pouring rain with only a running tee on. It was a witness from an apartment block on the other side of the street who came to Bucky’s aid and explained how he hadn’t started the fight and didn’t hurt the woman on purpose. He walked home in a storm of a mood, his whole body shaking with anxiety and the cold seeping into his bones, when he heard a faint meow come from a dark alley. 

He quickly swooped into action without hesitation, fishing the small creature out of the soggy box it was in and shielding it under his arm as he started to jog home.

That’s how he found himself an hour later sitting face to face with a small white cat with eyes he thought resembled his own in a strange way. He knew he was going to keep the cat without hesitation, he just wondered how something so pure could have made its way into his fuck-up of a day.

He even got a job in a coffee shop for a short while when Dr. Walker felt he was ready for it, so he could work on his social skills and how to control situations positively. He lasted a whole month in the shop and he made fairly good relationships with his colleagues and frequent customers, but he was asked to leave one afternoon as they had had a complaint from a daily customer about him. Apparently Bucky has a resting face that looks intimidating, and made the customer feel anxious. He had a tough time in his head that night. It took him a few days of wallowing in self pity and several conversations with Sam and Dr. Walker to realise he didn’t do anything wrong. He had to accept the fact he couldn’t convince everyone he was a good guy, and this is something he is still learning to accept.

He had felt so much misery over his lifetime that he thought he would never get the chance to be happy again, perhaps this new life would be enough for him. Though, he had to admit, that the fact that the only constant human interaction he had on a daily basis would be with store workers when he went grocery shopping, it was starting to make him feel lonely. It was like he lived on the moon, only watching others live their lives from a distance as he lived his own mundane life. That, of course, was before he met you.

You came shining into his life like a beam of sunlight that made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. There wasn’t a moment where your beautiful smile didn’t grace your face, and the joy on you radiated instantly made his day a whole lot better. You had been neighbours for quite a while before your first interaction, though you would always give him a chipper smile when he passed you in the hallways to which he responded to with a bashful grin.

Bucky woke up with a feeling something was wrong one day, and his suspicions were confirmed when he got a call from the nursing home informing him that Steve was sick. He knew he had to visit right away, just in case, but he didn’t know how long he would be gone and refused to leave Alpine alone. He couldn’t ask Sam, he was too busy being Captain America and a dumbass to properly care for a cat, so he moved onto what seemed to be his only other option.

The super soldier stood in your door frame (which was just too small for him to stand at his full height comfortably in) with a cat carrier in hand, blue bag slung over his shoulder and a desperate smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Bucky. Barnes. Bucky Barnes. Your neighbour. Room 6? Anyway, I need to ask a huge favour of you. I have to visit a friend out of town but I can’t leave Alpine alone - she doesn’t like it at night, and I was really, really, hoping you could watch her for a few days. I understand if you’re busy or have plans, though!”

You listened to his ramblings with an amused smile on your face, hand on the doorframe and leaning forward slightly. “Alpine?” you mused, eyebrow raised slightly.

His cheeks tinted instantly as he nodded down to the now meowing carrier. “Yeah, my cat. She’s two. She’s lovely, I promise. Doesn’t scratch or anything, she’s a real doll. You won’t even notice she’s there.”

You had bent down to look inside the carrier as he continued to ramble, only to be met with remarkable blue eyes which matched its owner’s perfectly. Cooing softly at her, you look up to meet the other pair of striking blue eyes. “Of course I’ll watch her for you. What else are neighbours for?”

He smiles instantly, shoulders relaxing as he lets out a breath. Holding out the carrier to you with his metal arm which you took instantly, he starts, “Thank you so much…”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N.” he repeats, setting the bag at your feet. “My number’s in there if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m better at calling than texting. Thank you, again, I owe you.” He smiles before waving quickly as you exchange goodbyes, turning on his heel and walking quickly to his car with keys in hand. 

After closing your door you set the carrier down and open it up, lifting out the small white cat into your arms. Smiling fondly, you press a kiss between her ears. You wandered over to your window to see Bucky climbing into his car as he held a phone between his ear and shoulder, and something deep inside of you knew this was the start of something special.

After that first encounter, you and Bucky seemed to be glued to the hip. It started off as a coffee date as a thank you after he got home from the weekend in which you watched Alpine, and you were glad to hear that Steve was well. It then evolved into a home cooked dinner from you the next day because Bucky refused to let you pay for your coffee even though you insisted and you wanted to pay him back somehow. He was always a gentleman with you. 

It then turned into weekly Friday night movie nights to catch him up on what he had missed movie-wise and supermarket shopping together the next morning because Bucky loved shopping in near-empty supermarkets just as much as you. Somewhere along the line you both got keys cut for the other’s apartment and you more often than not spent everyday together, even if it was just spending your hour lunch break from work sitting on a park bench chatting. You both had formed the best friendship possible, so it was no surprise to anyone that you wound up dating. It was meant to be, really. Soulmates. 

But not when Bucky went to the gym, because there was no way you would be caught dead doing physical activities.

You loved being around Bucky; he was sweet and caring and loved to try whatever new hobby you were experimenting with. He would always taste-test your cooking and baking and never say anything mean about it - even that time you made cupcakes and used salt instead of sugar he was quick to force it down and sing its praises. He cries at dog movies and volunteered at the local animal shelter weekly after you informed him one night that he could because he was just desperate for some interaction with the dogs. You were surprised he hadn’t come home with every single dog his first day there because he just wanted them to be loved so much. 

Bucky Barnes was a Saint sculpted by gods who had a heart of gold, and you could never see him any other way. Sure, you knew his history. Hell, you had even written a paper all about him and the Howling Commandos in your college History class, but none of that mattered to you. The Winter Soldier had been gone for over a decade, the trigger words meaningless and the mystery over, and you just wanted to know Bucky. Not his past - not that he could remember much of it anyway - but his and your relationship’s future together and what possibilities come along with that.

-

Bucky loved going shopping with you. He would give you an armful of clothes and make you give him a fashion show, where he would cheer for you and clap obnoxiously and shower you with the sweetest compliments, and you both savoured every second of it. You also had a fairly decent understanding of fashion, so you would help him keep up with all of the trends and keep him looking as gorgeous as he always is. So a Saturday spent together roaming the mall should be the perfect outing for the both of you. If only you could do it alone.

You held his hand tightly in yours, fingers intertwined and palms sweating slightly, but you were sure it was only his that was. You kept him near to know he was safe and coping, because crowds were one hundred percent not his thing. Maybe that’s why recently he had taken a liking to online shopping, because you could still have your famous fashion show in the comfort of his safe, judgemental free apartment. You could feel every set of eyes follow you and the six foot ex-assassin beside you for longer than necessary as they walked past you both, but you kept your head held high. No one was ever going to make you feel bad for loving Bucky. Not now, not ever.

“Oh my God.”

“That poor girl.”

“Stay back, he’s dangerous.”

“Do we just let murderers walk free now?”

You don’t know if the people walking by tried to be discreet with their whispering or wanted you both to hear, but you could hear them so Bucky definitely heard them. Looking up at him as you feel his breathing hitch, you follow his eye line and find a small girl being whisked away by her mother with fear evident on her face. The air around you grew thick, like you could feel his suffocating anxiety grow. He didn’t want to scare anyone, and this sight seemingly pushed him over the edge into a downward spiral.

Tugging on his arm you grab his attention, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t we get food? I’m starving.” He simply nods in response, not trusting his voice.

You sit across from him in the booth in the corner of the food court, eating happily as you watch him visibly relax into his surroundings. He has a mountain of food in front of him but you know it’s never enough, and you just grin as he reaches over to swipe some of your fries.

You both talk mindlessly about insignificant things; a jacket that caught his eye, where you’d like to go next, how you both are craving ice cream, oblivious to the numerous pairs of eyes staring at you two. The flash of a camera and a series of giggles catches your attention. You quickly look to Bucky to see his reaction, but just smile at him distracted by his milkshake which has now covered his face. You lean over the table to wipe it away with a napkin before kissing his nose gently, and he smiles happily at you as his cheeks tint red.

“Why don’t we just leave after this?” He looks up at you, and it pains you to see the hope in his eyes at the thought of leaving. “We can go to that ice cream parlour at the bottom of the avenue and have a walk in the park instead.”

You smile at him. “That sounds so much better than shopping, baby. Let me go throw all of this in the trash then we can go.”

“No, I’ve got it. I’ll be two ticks.” He slides out of the booth, pecking your lips quickly as he picks up the trays and walks over to the trash. You still have a smile on your lips as you pull on your jacket and pick up your purse, but it fades quickly when you hear a crash and yells from behind you.

Jumping out of the booth quickly you turn, finding Bucky standing with a now empty tray between a bunch of chairs and a woman draped across the floor covered in the remains of your lunch. Bucky’s shaking as he tries to stammer out an apology. You assume that they’ve bumped into each other, and with Bucky’s strength she fell back hard. 

People had started to crowd around as the woman went into painfully fake hysterics about how he had attacked her, and Bucky just stood there like a deer in headlights. Pushing through the crowd you run to him, grabbing the tray from his hands and setting it on a table. You take his hand in his, holding onto it tightly, and he leans into your touch to try to make his body as small as possible.

A hush settled over the crowd as the woman’s cries turned into whimpers when she realised she had an audience. “That thing just assaulted me! Did you see it? Doing this to a vulnerable woman!”

A few people murmured agreements to her accusations, and it only made your blood boil more. 

“Bucky is a person, not a thing,” All eyes turned on you, and you only stood taller to secure your confidence. “and he wouldn’t harm a fly. I’m sure this was all just some sort of accident.”

She scoffed as she was helped up to stand from a few bystanders. “He’s a criminal. He knows nothing but hurting people. Just look at that,” she gestured to Bucky’s metal arm that he was now trying to hide away behind his body. 

Just as you tried to defend Bucky, the crowd started getting rowdy again and you felt a tug on your hand. Looking back you see a mortified looking Bucky with glistening eyes. His voice is so weak you almost don’t catch what he says.

“Just leave it, Y/N. Please. I want to go home.” You nod quickly, fixing your bag over your shoulder and delivering the woman a scowl as you turn and practically run out of the mall together. You didn’t want to make a scene, because it always affects Bucky worse. 

The car ride is silent, you in the drivers’ seat and Bucky bouncing his knee beside you, eyes shifting around frantically. You sit in the parking lot of your apartment block for a while, Bucky’s head on your shoulder and your hand running through his hair softly as he finally lets himself go. You stay there until his shoulders ache and he can’t find anymore tears to cry. You hold him close as you walk to your apartment, and he sits on the bathroom counter as you run a warm bath. You drop in his favourite bath bomb, and that at least brings a smile to his face.

He finally begins to relax as he sinks into the warm water and you sit on the edge of the tub, treading your fingers through his hair gently. It’s quiet for a while, but both of your minds are loud. 

“I wish they would see you like I do.” Your voice cuts through the air like a knife. He sighs, shaking his head. 

“They never will. Why should they? I’m a monster.” Bucky sounds weak. He’s tired of living like this, scared that he’ll make one wrong move and his face will be plastered all over the news. 

“You’re not a monster, Buck.” You keep your voice steady. “You're the kindest, sweetest person I know. I don’t care about your past at all, and I… I love you.”

You weren’t planning to tell him you loved him for the first time, but it just seemed right in the moment.  He’s quiet for a while, and you begin to wonder if he actually heard you or has fallen asleep from the warm water and lavender. 

Bucky takes a deep breath before he speaks again. 

“I love you, too.”

You can’t control the smile that takes over your face and you lean forward, planting a kiss on his head. You hear him smile and he moves to see you. The water swishes as he moves. A wet hand cups your cheek and you lean into the touch, watching his eyes stare at your feet as he struggles to get his words out. 

“I love you so much it hurts. I wake up in the morning and see you laying beside me, and I know that I’m where I’m supposed to be. I just don’t want to screw it all up.” He finally meets your eyes. They’ve turned a stormy blue, and you can see all of his emotions swirling around them. 

You turn your head to the side and kiss the palm of his hand, your fingers still running through his hair gently. He leans in, the tension escaping his muscles. He sighs as he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours. You smile at him, pecking his nose quickly. 

“You could never mess this up. You’re my soulmate. Now, how about we have that ice cream now?” the two of you share a knowing smile. 

You squeal as Bucky pulls you in for a hug, both of you laughing as he soaks your clothes and peppers your face in kisses. 

-

“This is wrong, this is all wrong. I told you I should’ve worn a tie! Even Steve agreed with me on that one! I look so stupid wearing, why the hell am I wearing a leather jacket to meet your parents? Can we turn back? I’ll change quickly. Let me cut my hair. Is it too long?” Bucky pulls down the passenger mirror to inspect himself, his forehead creasing as he tries to perfect his already styled hair. 

You sigh as you reach over from the steering wheel and take his hand, bringing it over to kiss his knuckles gently. “You look great. It doesn’t matter what you wear. They’ll love you no matter what.”

He grumbles a disagreement as he sinks back in his seat, changing the song playing through the car radio until he finds a depressing song to play to match his mood. You had noticed he did that a lot after only a week of dating. Whenever he’s happy you will almost always hear Michael Jackson or Queen playing from wherever he is in the apartment, and he had downloaded Spotify’s Sad Songs for whenever he felt down. 

You reach over and change the song quickly, which earns a sharp look from him. You scoff, but you both know that it’s not malicious. “Calm down, Buck. You’re just nervous. We’re having a barbecue, not a fancy meal in a fancy restaurant.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t want them to hate me. Would you leave me if they hate me?” He sounds like what a sad puppy would if it were able to speak. Stopping at a red light, you turn your body to face him. 

“I love you, okay? Nobody will ever come between us, not even my parents. Just flash them that charming smile of yours and they’ll have you hooked.” He smiles bashfully at you, and you grin as you kiss him quickly. 

After that the ride is short and sweet to your parents’ home. Honestly, you didn’t know how they were going to react to Bucky. You hadn’t told them who he was specifically, just that he was your handsome boyfriend who you loved very much. They had always been accepting of whatever life choices you made, even when you decided to drop out of college. They just wanted you to be happy. And Bucky made you happy, so that means they should accept him. 

You held onto his hand tightly as you walked up the driveway, and before flashing him one last reassuring smile you knocked the door. The air was tense and time seemed to stretch as you waited for one of your parents to open up the door. Even you were becoming slightly nervous. 

The door handle jiggles before the door flies open, and you smile fondly at your mother standing in the doorway. Bucky smiles too, though it’s a nervous one. 

It had been so long since he had felt any parental love - he thinks about his family everyday - and as selfish as it sounds he was hoping he could use this as an opportunity to finally have a stable father figure in his life. From the stories he had heard from you, he decided you had lived the life he had always dreamed of. Family trips, game nights, going out for special meals together. Even just the little things, like how you called them every night to say goodnight. He craved stability in his life, and this may be one way he can achieve it. 

She looks between you both, the smile on her face fading the longer she looks at Bucky. Just as you open your mouth you see her eyes flit downwards - straight age Bucky’s metallic hand. He adjusts his hand to loosen his grip on yours and swallows dryly. A strangled gasp escaped her lips before she grabbed your empty hand roughly, tugging you inside and scrambling to lock the door behind you. 

“Y/N! What were you thinking, bringing that monster here!” She searched your face as if she was hoping to find bruises under your makeup, and your blood boiled. 

“What the hell?” You shouted at her. Reaching back you feel for the door handle, but she takes your hand in hers before you can. 

“Do you not watch the news? He’s dangerous.” She pulls away, staring at you like you were crazy. “Has he been lying to you?”

“I know exactly who he is mom-”

“Then it’s… it’s Stockholm Syndrome. I’ve read about that! I think I’m using that right.” she says. You scoff at how ridiculous she’s being, fully conscious of Bucky standing behind the door. She only frowns. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. That’s my boyfriend that you just locked outside.”

“Whatever’s you’re feeling isn’t love, honey. I’ve heard everything about him. Did you know he attacked some poor woman in a food court a few days ago?” There's a tinge of pity in her voice, and it only makes you more angry. 

“Oh my god,” you moan. “He is my boyfriend! That’s the James that I told you about! And you just slammed the door on his face and called him a monster.”

Her movements falter as realisation dawns on her face. She actually loves the monster, is what you assume she’s thinking. You turn and swing open the door, only to see Bucky seemingly frozen in place in shock and mortification. He just blinks and stares at you, and you just want to swaddle him up into a blanket and hold him close right on the spot. 

You reach your hand out for him, but he flinches back and stumbles down the steps. 

“Th-This is all wrong. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have come.” He sounds weak, like a child after being scolded.

He stands there looking lost, like he wants to run away and never come back but is also too scared to turn his back on you. He isn’t leaving you, just the situation. He doesn’t know what to do. Will you hate him for this? Are you angry that he isn’t standing up for himself? But he doesn’t want to shout what he wants to say. He wants to be calm. He’s learned how to be calm. How can he learn to be calm after everything he’s gone through, but no one else can?

Your dad comes to the door and you know things will only get worse. You step down to stand beside Bucky, holding his hand tightly. 

“Y/N, what’s going on here? Who is that man?” Your dad seems just as confused about the situation as you are. 

“Mom just- ugh. I can’t believe this is actually happening.” You didn’t want to cause a scene, just because of the sheer fact that your mom knows about what happened the other day so if one person sees this who knows what it will be escalated to in the media. 

“She ruined today. Today was supposed to be amazing and she messed it all up because she didn’t want to give Bucky a chance.” 

“Sweetie, look at him,” your mom began to defend herself. “Can you blame me? All I know is that he is a killer with an arm made of metal. He could hurt you!” 

“Like you are?” She stared back at you in shock. “You took one look at him and decided he was a monster. He’s a person just like us, and he deserves to be treated like one. I’m sorry, but I can’t stand here and allow you to treat him like that. I love him and he loves me, and that’s all that matters.”

Your dad calls on you as you storm to the car, but you don’t listen. Slamming the door behind you, you push your foot in the ignition and drive away as soon as Bucky gets in the car. 

Bucky doesn’t know what to do. Normally he knows how to help you, but he’s never seen you like this before. You’re shaking, and he doesn’t know if it’s from anger or fear. Fear that you’ve lost your parents? He’s so lost and feels terrible that he can’t help you. 

It takes about fifteen minutes for you to stop seeing red and finally slow down to the speed limit. It was like something else took over your body and you were watching from five feet away. Everything happened so quickly. What actually just happened. Are you in the wrong? Maybe you should’ve told them about him before. You don’t want to have to but you know you should have. Explain it. Him. Bucky. 

Looking over you see him half smiling patiently at you. He’s the one hurting right now, but he’s hiding it so he can be there for you. You don’t mean it, but the look he gives you when your lip trembles causes the floodgates to open. 

He manages to reach over to the wheel and guide the car off the side of the road when the road begins to get blurry from tears. 

“I’m so sorry, Bucky. I didn’t know she was going to do that. Never in a million years did I think she’d do that! She-she’s horrible and nasty and-”

“Y/N, please.” Bucky reaches out and holds your hand, his other reaching up to wipe the tears off of your face. “You don’t mean that.”

“But it’s still not okay.”

“I know it’s not,” he sighs. “I just thought they would be more like you.” He smiles weakly at you. 

“So did I.” You sniff as you lean over, resting your head against his shoulder. His lips instantly reach down to kiss your head gently. 

“Let’s leave it for now, and you can call in a few days. Maybe we can convince them to come around to me. I know you want them to like me.” Bucky’s voice doesn’t sound as hopeful as his words, but he wants this for you. You’ve always had a good relationship with your parents and he doesn’t want to be the reason it’s all messed up. He knows he’s not worth it. Well… yes, I am worth it, he forces himself to think. 

He knows his worth in this relationship. He knows he means so much to you. You mean the world to him. He hopes you know that. But he knows how much your parents mean to you, and he would never want to make you choose. That’s selfish of him. 

You look up at him and smile. “You know I love you, right?” 

He smiles back. “You tell me everyday.” He bends down, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

Bucky still had a long way to go with his recovery, but you made everyday easier. He couldn’t imagine his life without you anymore. You were the reason he got out of bed everyday, the reason he cared for himself, the reason he smiled. 

Who knew Godzilla could fall in love?

[havenoffandoms]

The Archangel’s Protégé

Pairing: Sam x archangel!Gabriel

Summary: 

“So, assuming my archangel is still alive… he will definitely, 100% show up if I was in immediate danger, right?”, Kevin asked, his tone careful and contemplative. Sam knew that he could not promise this to the prophet. For this reason, he merely shook his head with a defeated sigh.

“I can’t guarantee that anyone will show up. Especially if it turns out that Gabe… Gabriel is dead, then there’s no saying what will happen to you”

Mention: @swellsabriel (who inspired me to write this beautiful piece) and @warlockwriter (who requested a link) 

“So, let me get this straight… I am attached to an archangel?”, Kevin asked with a puzzled frown on his face. Sam merely nodded, offering an apologetic smile as if he were personally responsible for the prophet’s plight.

“Well, more like an archangel is attached to you, really”, Dean corrected, earning himself an eye-roll from Kevin.

“Same thing” Kevin let out a heavy sigh and absent-mindedly rubbed his temple, “So, uh… do we know who my archangel is?”

“Well, here’s the thing. Lucifer and Michael are in the cage, so we can rule them out. And Raphael is dead. The only archangel we believe could still be alive somewhere is Gabriel. That’s why we wanted to test our theory…”, Sam explained, trying really hard to sound calm and reassuring so Kevin would not freak out. He needed the prophet to keep an open mind about this. It was the only way this plan was going to work out.

“Okay, so…” Kevin briefly hesitated before meeting Sam’s hazel eyes, the faintest hint of worry discernible on his features, “This Gabriel dude… what’s he like? Is he one of the bad guys you want to get rid of, or…?”

“No! No, don’t worry Kevin, Gabriel is not a bad guy”, Sam immediately came to the defence of the archangel, glaring at his brother when Dean failed to hold back a derisive snort of laughter. “Dean, shut up!”

“Oh, come on, Sammy! Sure, Gabriel is not a bad guy, but he sure as hell ain’t a good one either…”

“He’s got his flaws, like we all do”, Sam added as he addressed Kevin once again, “but he’s on our side. We just want to know if he’s still around or if he faked his death again”

“Again?” Kevin’s eyebrows both shot upwards at Sam’s words. However, before the younger Winchester had a chance to explain what was meant, the prophet shook his head and exhaled loudly. “D’you know what, doesn’t matter! My life has been all kinds of crazy recently, and I’ve had it. I’ll do whatever you guys want, just please try not to get me killed!”

“Thank you, Kevin” Sam said, the genuine smile on his face reaching his eyes that shone brightly with gratitude. Kevin looked slightly surprised by the sudden display of emotion from the younger Winchester, but eventually returned the gesture somewhat nervously. Meanwhile Dean muttered something under his breath which neither Kevin nor Sam quite understood, but the taller hunter was convinced that not even his brother’s cynic remark could spoil his mood. The warm feeling that spread in his stomach at the prospect of potentially seeing Gabriel again was making him feel dizzy. He knew that he should not be getting his hopes up yet, but Sam simply could not help himself.

“So, how do we summon my archangel?”, Kevin asked innocently, causing Dean to shoot Sam a knowing look while the younger Winchester cleared his throat uneasily. The prophet picked up on both actions, instantly tensing up when he realised that the two brothers were up to something. “What is it?”

“Well, you see Kevin uh… this is where things get a bit, how should I put it… complicated and potentially… dangerous”, Sam started explaining, avoiding Kevin’s eyes as he tried to find the right words. Dean looked like he was enjoying himself far too much judging by the wide grin on his face. Sam shot his brother a pleading look, which was only met with a disinterested shrug.

“You’re on your own, kiddo”, Dean declared, the smug grin never leaving his face. Sam merely sighed as he realised that he would have no support from the older Winchester.

“A prophet’s archangel will only appear when said prophet is at very high risk of… well, dying”

Sam flinched when he saw the expression of sheer terror on Kevin’s face. The younger Winchester fully expected the prophet to backtrack and run far away from these crazy people who wanted him to put his own life at risk to potentially attract an archangel who, as far as Sam and Dean could tell, had died several years ago at the hand of his own brother. Sam understood, and he knew that he would not be allowed to blame Kevin if it turned out that the prophet wanted to put an end to their arrangement. The taller hunter felt his heart break in his chest at the thought of losing his only chance of finding out whether Gabriel was still alive.

“So, assuming my archangel is still alive… he will definitely, 100% show up if I was in immediate danger, right?”, Kevin asked, his tone careful and contemplative. Sam knew that he could not promise this to the prophet. For this reason, he merely shook his head with a defeated sigh.

“I can’t guarantee that anyone will show up. Especially if it turns out that Gabe… Gabriel is dead, then there’s no saying what will happen to you”

Sam mentally chastised himself for using Gabriel’s nickname. It brought up too many painful memories of their time spent together in the intimacy of Gabriel’s conjured up fantasies. No one could ever reach them there, no cell phones allowed for Sam either. Gabriel’s mind had been the only safe-haven from the cruel world outside. Gabriel had tried countless times to convince Sam to not go back to the real world, where only death and misery awaited him. Sam had always kept an optimistic outlook on his situation, knowing full well that if he started to despair he would take Gabriel up on his offer. And that would mean leaving Dean behind. The younger Winchester would never have forgiven himself for abandoning his older brother.

“Can you promise that you’ll save me if you notice that no one is coming to the rescue?”, Kevin enquired, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two brothers.

“Absolutely”, Dean spoke up before Sam had time to process what was happening, “Kevin, you’re one of us. Family don’t get left behind”

Sam only nodded his approval, too shocked to speak. Kevin was still considering this, despite the risks the plan involved. Sam felt his heart swell with fondness as he rose from his chair and went to pull Kevin up into a tight hug. To hell with the emotionless front the younger Winchester had tried to hide behind. Kevin had just given him the most valuable present Sam could ever dream of.

“Wow… I didn’t know you felt that strongly about it”, the prophet admitted, sounding slightly taken aback. Sam merely grinned toothily, pulling Kevin even closer if that was possible and patting his back amiably.

“You have no idea, kiddo”

OoO

“I’m feeling less confident about this”

Kevin stood awkwardly at the curb of the sidewalk, watching as Sam and Dean kept an eye out for any oncoming cars. The plan was to push the prophet onto the road early enough so he would not immediately get hit by a car, while keeping an element of immediate danger to incite his archangel to show up and save the day. Worst case scenario if nobody showed up, Dean and Sam had brought Cas along to save Kevin from being flattened by an SUV.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine”, Dean reassured him, tapping Cas on the shoulder, “you’ve got a back-up angel with you”

“Just when I thought that you two could not upset the rules of heaven and hell even more, you include me in the voluntary endangering of a prophet of the Lord” Cas’ disapproving frown did nothing to appease Kevin’s uneasiness.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll burn in hell for your sins Cas, we know. To be fair, it’s not like you won’t know anybody there”, Dean commented optimistically, earning himself an eye roll from the seraph.

“This is no joking matter, Dean”

“Ok, Kevin you ready?”, Sam asked, interrupting the hunter and angel’s bickering. The prophet looked like a deer in the headlights, however before he could pronounce himself on the matter, Sam grabbed him by the wrist and pushed him onto the road. Kevin watched with horror as a massive Ford Expedition headed his way, undoubtedly driving much faster than the legally acceptable speed limit. Despite his limited knowledge of physics, Sam knew that the car would not have enough time to break before it hit the prophet. The deafening sound of the driver honking at Kevin to move out of the way only seemed to intensify the prophet’s panic, which kept him rooted to the spot. All Kevin could do was close his eyes and hope for the best. Sam felt his stomach knot painfully as he felt Cas brace himself next to him.

“Son of a bitch”, Dean cried out as a bright light blinded all of them. Sam’s first instinct was to check if Cas was still next to him, but the flash of light made everything around him imperceptible. Sam felt the warmth of the glow burn his retina, which convinced him to bring his arm before his eyes to shield them from it. The several seconds it took for the light to die down felt like ages to Sam, Dean and Kevin. Sam was the first one to open his eyes, frantically looking around to ensure that everyone was fine.

“That’s impossible”, Sam heard Cas whisper next to him.

“It appears that you’re wrong there, Cassie”, a very familiar voice replied, causing Sam’s heart to somersault in his chest. The younger Winchester’s hazel eyes met Gabriel’s golden once, and it took every ounce of Sam’s willpower not to burst into tears of joy at the sight of his lover standing before him. Gabriel, on the other hand, looked beyond annoyed.

“Well Samshine? What have you got to say for yourself?”

Gabriel was holding a very faint-looking Kevin by the armpit, which was without doubt the only reason why the prophet was still standing on his two feet. Kevin’s face had turned whiter than a ghost’s, and his eyes stared blankly at the sidewalk as he recovered from his shock. Sam had the decency to look apologetic when he met Gabriel’s eyes again.

“I… wanted to test a theory”

“By pushing a kid in front of a car?”, Gabriel asked rhetorically, shaking Kevin slightly for emphasis. The harsh movement, however brief it had been, caused Kevin to moan in discomfort as he brought a hand to his mouth to kill his urge to retch everywhere. Noticing the prophet’s discomfort, Gabriel let go of him before focusing his attention on Sam again.

“Well?”

“I uh… it was a stupid idea, granted, but… it was the only way I could think of that would potentially force you to come here…”, Sam admitted, his tone laced with sadness when Gabriel did not greet him the way the younger Winchester had expected him to.

“It was careless of you! And I can’t believe that you agreed to this”, Gabriel exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Kevin, who merely flinched back when the archangel’s anger was directed at him. “Honestly, it’s almost like dad is purposefully assigning the most important jobs to those humans that lack the most common sense!”

“Gabe, babe…”

“Don’t you dare ‘babe’ me, Samuel Winchester” Despite the difference in height, Sam could not help but take several steps back as Gabriel took several threatening steps towards him, “I was in hiding, I went in hiding to save my ass and to protect yours! You’ve compromised the whole operation by calling me here”

“I needed to see you. I’ve missed you so much, Gabe. Can you blame me for wanting to make sure that you were actually dead?”, Sam asked, putting on his best puppy eyes. It was true that Gabriel had never been one to fall easily for them, but the younger Winchester had managed to get his own way using his beaten puppy face before.

“Blame you? Of course not, I mean who wouldn’t miss this hot stuff right here?”, the archangel said, pointing at himself. “I blame you for the way you went about it!”

“You didn’t leave me another choice. I prayed to you, Gabe, every night” Sam was beginning to lose patience with the archangel before him, and the way he raised his voice at Gabriel was a tell-tale indication that he had had enough, “You never came, no matter how desperately I prayed to you. So no, I didn’t see another way. I needed to know, I needed closure. Quit acting like I’m the bad guy here!”

Sam’s words seemed to have the desired effect on Gabriel. The archangel went quiet, merely sighing heavily as he met Sam’s pleading gaze. A quick look at the crowd that had gathered around them told Gabriel that he had attracted far too much attention to himself as it was. He clicked his fingers loudly, and before Sam knew it, everyone went back to minding their own business and ignoring the five strange men arguing in the street. The younger Winchester realised that Gabriel must have either wiped their memories, or meddled with time again. Regardless, Sam let out a relieved sigh.

“Don’t get into any more trouble, boys” Gabriel asked, his voice emotionless and his gaze cold, “I’ll see you around”

Before Sam could react, his lover disappeared before his eyes again, leaving the four of them staring at the spot where Gabriel had stood mere seconds earlier. Dean and Cas shared a worried look, while Kevin finally managed to throw up his breakfast in a nearby bin. Sam, on the other hand, felt like hitting something.

“Sammy?”

“Let’s just go home” Sam told his brother as he headed to the Impala.

OoO

“Are you sure you want to do this again?”, Sam asked Kevin when he came to him with his plan the same morning, “I mean, the last time was a disaster for all of us”

“Maybe so”, Kevin agreed before taking a sip of his diet coke, “but I saw the way you guys looked at each other. And I saw how devastated you were the next couple of days. This Gabriel guy seems to mean a lot to you. And if there’s any way I can help you guys work it out, then I want to help”

Sam could not believe his ears. He had not expected Kevin to speak to him at all since the incident, yet alone suggest a second attempt. The younger Winchester wondered if he should truly venture down that road again. Gabriel had been pissed. Justifiably so, of course, but Sam was not used to seeing the more authoritarian side of the archangel’s personality. It had been slightly scary, and incredibly arousing at the same time.

“Okay, but if we try this again, we need to go about it more subtly. I think if I tried to push you off a cliff, Gabriel would literally shove me off it with you”, Sam joked. Kevin nodded solemnly as he imagined the scene.

“Yep. Maybe something a bit less extreme will do the trick. How about I stand on a ladder and pretend to fall? I mean, not high enough to really hurt me, but high enough to make it potentially lethal…” Sam smirked at the infallibility of the plan.

“Let’s test that theory”

OoO

Cas had refused to help them out on this one, which meant that Kevin and Sam were on their own at the back of the bunker with the prophet perched on a ladder at the back of the bunker. Kevin was trying to explain the physics of falling to Sam, who was only half tuned into the conversation. All the younger Winchester could think about was Gabriel. True, the archangel was pissed at him, but despite that Sam would take the risk of facing his anger again. Anything to see his lover again after so many years of absence. He had missed Gabriel so much, and any opportunity to see him was one he was willing to take.

“So that means that it's not the fall that gets you, it's the sudden stop at the end. It depends a lot on where and which way up you land. For a hard surface, assuming you don't land on your head, you are almost certain to survive a fall from a height of 7m. Though "survive" is likely to involve life-changing injuries at the top of this range. Between 7 and 12m, you may or may not survive. Over 12 m, you are almost certain not to survive.” Kevin told Sam, not realising that the younger Winchester was not really listening to his explanations, “so really, considering the height I’m at, it could prove lethal for me. Ipso facto, Gabriel should appear to save me”

“Mhm… right, you ready?”, Sam asked, hoping Kevin would not ask him to repeat what he had just said.

“As ready as I’m ever gonna be”, the prophet retorted before taking a deep composing breath. Sam saw how Kevin shut his eyes and murmured something under his breath, possibly a prayer, before leaping off the ladder. Sam watched as Kevin’s body plummeted to the ground, hoping that Gabriel would show up once again. The last thing the younger Winchester wanted was to explain to Cas why Kevin had several broken bones in his body resulting of purposefully leaping off a ladder. Sam’s worries dissipated when he heard the ruffle of wings and caught sight of Gabriel catching Kevin bride-style at the bottom of the ladder.

“Oh, silly me”, Kevin uttered, nervousness evident in his tone as he was once again faced with the powerful archangel Gabriel, “What a clumsy klutz I am. Man, it wouldn’t surprise me if I’m the reason you develop a drinking problem in the future” Sam had to hold back a snort of laughter at Kevin’s exaggerated apology. Gabriel shot the younger Winchester a warning glare, which instantly shut Sam up.

“Believe me, if I could change the cosmic laws ruling this prophet-archangel relationship clause, you would be dead by now!”, Gabriel assured Kevin, who merely gulped audibly at his words. The archangel dropped the prophet, who merely grunted in pain as his body made impact with the wet muddy ground.

“Hey”, Sam greeted Gabriel, a small smile gracing his features. The archangel raised an exasperated eyebrow at his lover’s actions, no doubts refraining from zapping him back into TV land as punishment. The younger Winchester noticed the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of Gabriel’s lips.

“Hiya Samsquatch”, the archangel replied, his voice having grown considerably softer since the last time they spoke. Sam took this as a positive development, however he did not dare take the next step yet. For now, the tenderness he saw reflected in Gabriel’s eyes would do just fine.

OoO

The next couple of weeks were filled with Sam and Kevin coming up with more ridiculous scenarios where the prophet would put his life at risk. Even though the situations were becoming less and less life-threatening, Gabriel never failed to show up. Additionally, he also started to spend more time with Sam whenever he was around to ‘save’ Kevin from a particularly harsh cold, or when he randomly appeared to confiscate a butter knife from the prophet to eliminate the risk of ‘stabbing himself to death’.

Sam figured that enough was enough. He wanted the angel to stay for good. He had prepared a whole speech, dinner, flowers… the whole romantic crap Gabriel was into (and yes, he 100% owned up to it, too). The archangel was bound to stick around after that, right? So, Sam had asked Kevin for one last favour. Kevin would come very close to cutting himself badly with his razor, a scenario the two of them had already used on Gabriel before, and which had worked. Then, Sam would take Gabriel away to the dining area and treat him to a lovely meal, and surprise him with a home-made dessert. Sam knew the archangel would not be able to resist this gesture, and the younger Winchester was especially proud of his little plan.

Imagine Sam’s disappointment when Gabriel appeared earlier than planned.

“Samshine, we need to talk”, the archangel announced.

“NO! No, this was not supposed to happen that way! I had everything planned to the very last detail, and you think you can just show up and ruin everything?”

Gabriel’s puzzled expression at Sam’s reaction only intensified when his lover fisted his own hair in frustration, letting out guttural groan to emphasises just how upset he was that his surprise for Gabriel had failed.

“Sam, I…”

“I’ve been planning this for days, I have a speech”, Sam exclaimed, pulling out a folded piece of paper, “see? You can’t be here yet, I haven’t set anything up and besides, dinner is not even cooked yet, and the lemon-meringue pie is still cooking in the oven…”

“So that’s what smells so heavenly, huh? I simply thought you’d changed your shower gel”, Gabriel joked as he looked at Sam with all the love and adoration in the world. The archangel took several tentative steps towards his lover and tenderly intertwined his fingers with Sam’s. The gesture seemed to relax the younger Winchester instantly judging by the way his shoulders slumped at Gabriel’s touch.

“Gabe, this is not funny…”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong kiddo. It’s hilarious! You wanna know why?”, the archangel asked while wiggling his eyebrows. Sam looked utterly confused by the display.

“Why?”

“Because, my beautiful moose… you and I had the exact same idea. Fair enough, my dinner was gonna take place in Paris and dessert would have been a chocolate religieuse from the best pastry chef of the capital, but…” Gabriel smiled earnestly at Sam before placing a soft kiss on the back of the taller hunter’s hand without breaking eye contact, “I think I like your idea better. I can’t wait to taste that home-made lemon meringue pie”

Sam could not hold back the happy, albeit teary smile that graced his lips. Leaning down, the younger Winchester locked his lips with Gabriel’s, feeling the familiar warmth spread through his chest as his lover kissed him back just as lovingly.

All was good. And Sam was not about to let Gabriel leave him ever again.

[hesprettycuteforamonsterv4]

Acid Dreams

REPOSTING IMAGINES: (I don’t have the prompt for this one) I accidentally wrote about a funeral and not a memorial, so hopefully they’re not that different… Also, I changed the female pronouns in the song to male pronouns because, of course, the song is about him, not Cassie.

———-

The melodious chords of the piano almost seem disrespectful in this solemn ceremony, the dull voices of the guests attending Eric’s funeral muttering the lyrics drowned out by the over-enthusiastic piano player. Your hands grip the edge of the casket until your knuckles turn white, and you gaze down at Eric somberly, barely even recognizing him.

His face is deathly pale, and the wig they’ve put on his head to conceal the gaping wound that ended his life is too dark and shiny; it doesn’t even look like his hair. Trailing your eyes down his lifeless body, your lips curls. He’s outfitted in an expensive suit that is completely out of place, one that he’d be disgusted to see himself wearing.

Running a finger lightly down his sleeve, your touch falters right before you reach his hand, your lips twisting in a bitter smile that ends up being more of a grimace when you see his fingers wrapped around a gleaming silver rosary necklace as though his last words were a humble prayer of penitence and not blaspheming God, and you get a savage desire to rip it out of his hands.

Everything about this funeral is wrong; it’s like his family doesn’t even know him. You grow desperate, clenching the mahogany casket as the time ticks by and he still hasn’t opened his eyes, as the despair sets in and you have to accept the fact that he won’t. You know that other people are waiting to pay their respects and pray over his body or whatever it is they do at these fake ceremonies filled with fake people, but you can’t pull yourself away from him.

You haven’t even said goodbye.

You don’t even know how.

What the hell would you say that would even be close to adequate? What amount of flowery words and blessings could spill from your lips that wouldn’t sound as hollow and stiff as the suit they’ve stuffed his body into? You hear his mother weeping in the background, her cries muffled as she no doubt presses her face into her husband’s chest, but you can’t muster any tears.

You are plagued by that stubborn kind of sadness that seeps into your bones and drains all of the energy out of you until your days stretch into a lifetime of mindless weariness rather than the watery kind of sadness that causes people to explode in a waterfall of salty tears like his mother.

Your grimace deepens, and you shake your head, hoping his family is happy. They’ve finally gotten their perfect catholic boy, haven’t they? You think bitterly. Leaning over, you press a fervent kiss to his forehead, squeezing your eyes shut when you don’t feel him smile, don’t feel his hands playing with your hair like a light summer breeze.

He just lays there motionlessly, cold, grim, and dead. Allowing your hand to linger on his frosty, ashen cheek, you swallow hard before pulling away and walking back down the aisle, feeling even more exhausted and forlorn when you don’t hear his confident saunter following after you, or his raucous laugh at your miserable expression and this dramatic, showy funeral.

Making your way onto the little stage, you close your eyes briefly, hearing the scuffle of feet as a guy grabs a guitar and positions himself behind you. When you open your eyes, all the color has drained out of the room. Eric’s father’s leather shoes are dull, his mother’s red eyes have become the silver color that’s taking over the roots of her hair, and even the costly mahogany casket Eric is being buried in has lost its luster.

Gripping the microphone, a high pitched, shrieking sound explodes from it, and you wince. Taking a deep breath, you release it, wiping your clammy, trembling palms on the black dress Eric always thought looked so good on you. “Hey, everyone,” you say, trying to muster a smile. Many eyes bore into yours, some young, some old, all of them grim and glacial.

“This is a song I wrote for Eric.” You moisten your lips, but you don’t know what else to say that won’t come out bitter, so you offer another empty smile before the band begins to play. The gentle strumming of the guy’s fingers against the guitar strings are soothing in the tragic way that placing flowers on a loved ones grave makes you feel a bit closer to them, and the mournful notes spill into the hushed silence, guiding your eyes to the casket.

When the words begin falling off your lips, everyone else vanishes, and it’s as though you and Eric are the only ones in the room. “Do you believe in God?” Your voice trembles, wishing Eric would smirk and shoot back a snarky comment like, you know I don’t, or well, sure I believe in myself. But he doesn’t, and there is something insurmountably terrifying about the way his body is lying so unnaturally still in the casket, his hands folded in a way that suggests a peaceful death, but his gaunt face and sunken eyes that look like they’ve been glued shut saying otherwise.

“Written on the bullet…”

You gaze at Eric, but this body isn’t him; his spirit is no longer contained within it, no more than you are in your clothes after you’ve taken them off and cast them to the side.

“Say yes to pull the trigger.”

Whoever told you the bodies of people who have passed away merely look like they’re asleep has never seen anyone who is truly dead. They’re just referring to those who die in their sleep, you think. But Eric… Eric looks like the life was clawed from his skin and dragged from his lungs.

Eric went down screaming, and no one who has been through a war looks like their hands have never seen the blood of a battlefield.

“Do you believe in God?”

Your fingers tighten around the microphone.

“Written on the bullet…”

You close your eyes.

“And Eric pulled the trigger.”

————

The tub you filled with steaming water an hour ago is devoid of all its previous warmth, and you shiver, sending tremors rippling across the surface. Drugs pound through your veins and haze your clarity, a last ditch effort to find relief from your grief, and you feel your head slipping farther and farther under the glassy surface.

But you can’t find it within you to lift your head above the water, to continue breathing when the only thing that ever gave you life has disappeared like the breath from your lungs. Expecting to feel your lungs burn from oxygen deprivation as you stare up at the little bubbles escaping from your lips and wiggling their way to the surface, you’re surprised to find that this is the first time you can really breathe.

The surrounding water is calm and quiet, sealing any outside noises and silencing the screaming within your skull that’s causing your vision to bleed. A shadow casts over the water, and you gaze up at someone in a black getup peering down at you, but their face is too far away to make out, warped by the rippling water.

Eyes widening, you push yourself up through the water, hope flickering through you that it is who you think it is. When you break the surface, air rushing back into your lungs, you feel the water streaming down your face and splashing onto the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Eric smiles wryly at you, reaching out and tucking a strand of water saturated hair behind your ear. His touch feels ghost-like, a whisper of skin against yours, a soft puff of air, before it’s disappeared when he lowers his hand as though he’d never even touched you in the first place.

“Eric,” you breathe, gripping the slick edges of the bathtub and blinking rapidly to make sure you’re not dreaming. “You’re alive.”

The amused look on his face takes on an edge of bitter sadness, and he sits down on the floor wordlessly. Drawing his knees to his chest, his voice is a low rumble when he replies, “You know that’s not true.” He leans his back against the bathtub, releasing a sigh and letting his eyes drift shut when you comb your hands through his hair before wrapping your arms around his neck from behind and kissing his head softly.

You touch his skull in wonder, the skin somehow healed with no trace of blood or brain matter in sight. “It’s all fixed,” you murmur, and his lips curl ruefully. You feel his eyes assessing you, but you can’t rip your gaze from his soft hair that seems to be sparkling under the warm bathroom lights, a quality that you aren’t certain isn’t a result of the drugs.

But instead of saying anything, he leans in and presses a lingering kiss to your jaw, not even batting an eyelash at the fact that you’re soaking him, bath water sloshing out and pooling around his legs as you draw closer. “I love you,” you mumble, running your hands down his arms and lacing your fingers with his.

He squeezes your hands, as though hoping to soften the blow when he replies gently, “You’ll get over it.”

You blink, aghast and wounded at his callous remark. “Never.”

He grips your cheeks, staring into your eyes with a steely intensity. “You have to,” he urges, not releasing his grip on your face until you nod slowly, despite not agreeing with him at all.

“I don’t understand,” you say, distraught, and he smooths the damp tendrils of your hair from your face twisted sorrowfully, tracing your lips with his fingers and gazing at you tenderly.

He hesitates, resting his fingers gently on your shoulders and pressing his lips together until they form a tight line. “Do you remember the first time I ever cried in front of you?” You feel the distress leave you, softening at the fond memory under his affectionate gaze.  

“Yes.” It was the first time he’d trusted you completely, a moment you’ve cherished since.

“I was going through a really rough patch in my life, and I felt like everything was crumbling through my fingers like sand.” He pulls his body around until he’s facing you completely, taking your hands in his and holding them up, pressing them to his cracked lips. “It was you who reminded me that it wouldn’t last forever, that one day, I’d be able to move forward and leave it in the past.”

Your smile falters. “What are you saying?”

He leans in, kissing you like he’s just slipped a ring on your finger and not his hands through your damp hair, like it’s a diaphanous veil flowing across your back and not water streaming down your spine. It is slow and soft, comforting in ways that words can't verbalize. His palm rests on your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breaths mingle together. You reach out to pull him closer, but your hands pull at thin air.

His next words are urgent, as though he realizes his time is running out, and he grips your arms compellingly. But his touch is faint and seems far-away, and his voice is muffled, like he’s trying to talk to you under water. You frown at him, shaking your head in confusion and trying to understand, shocked to see wine colored blood begin spilling from his head and dripping down his cheeks, soaking his spotless white tee shirt in its gory aftermath. All of a sudden, your lungs begin burning, and you can’t breathe.

Choking, your heart pounds with panic and water begins running out of your mouth and nose as you cough uncontrollably, eyes watering as you hunch over the edge of the tub and wonder in terror what is happening? Hands pull at you wildly, and somewhere through the panicked haze, you see your mother crouching in front of you, pulling your body from where it is submerged in the frigid bath.

Eric has disappeared, and you feel the like you’ve been raised from a heavy, death-like sleep, air flooding your burning lungs as you pant, heart pounding. Your mother wraps you in a towel and screams for your father, saying something about you trying to drown yourself in the bathtub.

“What happened?” You mumble through chattering teeth, still searching for Eric’s familiar smirk through your foggy, incoherence, worried that you didn’t get to hear what he was saying and fearful that you’ll never be able to. “Where’s Eric?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother replies, looking absolutely heartbroken, and that’s when your heart plummets and you see the empty tablet packaging laying discarded on the floor.

You rest your cheek against the cold tile floor, gazing at the syringe without really seeing it. It was all a hallucination, you think despairingly. I was submerged under the water the whole time. Closing your eyes, you can still feel his calloused fingers caressing your face and the familiar twitch of his lips when he’s trying not to laugh.

Your father joins your mother, both of their heads hovering above you with matching expressions of unparalleled worry. Letting your head drop to the side, the last thing you see before you lose consciousness is Eric leaning against the door frame, blowing you a sad kiss before tearing his regret saturated eyes from yours and walking away.

If you had held on for one more moment before your vision faded away, you’d have seen him look back, clinging to the banister rails on the stairs, suddenly unable to force himself to move on without you.

But your eyes are closed, so he lets go.

When you wake up, he’s gone.

[webcricket]

Looking Glass

Chapter 18 - The Good Soldier

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader, AU!CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 1545

Summary: Conflicted and captivated by the reader’s affectionate attachment to Cas, sympathy stirred in affront to duty, AU!Castiel strives simply to be a good soldier.

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One broad hand fastened around your throat – the thumb poised perilously between jaw and jugular, your pulse pounding beneath the roughened pad – the other fist digging uncomfortably into the meat of your thigh to secure your squirming figure to the chair, sneering face suspended mere inches from yours, Castiel studies with macabre fascination the panicked astonishment dominating your demeanor in reaction to the callous caress of his lips that arose in such stark contrast to the fondness feathering your features only a moment ago as you remembered the other of him.

The inquisitive gleam of his blues diminishes, brow of his scarred eye twitching at a sudden swished onslaught of wings disturbing the dust-swirled firmament of the abandoned gas-n-sip where they hold you; this close, the minute muscular movement and the tenseness electrifying his fingers where they bite to bone conveys his unpleasant surprise at the unannounced angelic arrival.

“Cassie, Cassie, Cassie.” An angel suited up less tactically for combat and more for a Napoleonic era gala – sporting, as he does, a well-fitted navy waistcoat lined in crimson satin, capped in ostentatious gold fringe detail at the squared shoulders, streamers of useless buttons shining along every available seam, with neatly pressed crisp white jodhpurs, and polished black leather boots peeking out beneath spotless spats – dryly tsks your captor’s name from where he manifested in an unoccupied corner; evidently the officers comprising this angelic garrison are permitted certain liberties when it comes to their garb and mannerisms.

Unanticipated and unwelcome – thick lashes lowering in recognition of the tenor tone, Castiel subtly cringes into his coat collar; the unforgiving crush of his fingers constricts deeper into your muscle and neck in his effort to maintain a charade of composure.

“Cuh-cuh,” you choke on an airless cry of his name invoking mercy. Fringes of consciousness dimming, the cracked whimper vibrates and dies in your larynx where cruel reflex compresses blood flow and threatens to cave-in your windpipe.

Sniffing a sigh, blinking wide, something verging on abject agony tinted with a shade of pity – an expression defiant to his ruthless nature – bares itself to you.

At the brink of blackout, you see in that shift of stormy color something of your angel – the one who rebelled against Heaven at the cost of losing everything he knew, who endures unending doubt, who understands you can’t go home again, who loves humanity, who loves you, who struggles daily to determine what is right and good in the world and to do the rightest in a world of wrong.

You glimpse for a split second through the black barriers shrouding this angel’s heart what might have been and what is – an iteration of your Castiel who was denied choice; and in your heart, if it be the last thing you will ever do, purity of love forgives him of fault.

He feels that balm of forgiveness pall his skin as the life ebbs from your body. He feels . . . regret. Grip slackening, his grace diffuses through your offended flesh with enough reflected heat to sooth and save, though not wholly heal. It’s closer to an act of kindness than you would have thought him capable – closer than he thought himself capable.

Harshly coughing to garner Castiel’s obviously divided attention, swaggering forward a few steps into the naked wash of the overhead fluorescent bulb weakly illumining the center of the space, palm resting on the hilt of a sword hinged at his hip, the flashy newcomer glances about the grimy walls converted into an improvised interrogation chamber with a lip curled in unguarded disgust. “When they informed me I could find you in the trenches, I didn’t imagine you were in an actual pit,” he complains in a lilting French accent drifting on conversational. “This place is utterly abhorrent; I honestly don’t know how you manage.”

“Balthazar,” Castiel growls through a row of clenched teeth. The seraph’s benevolence, like the gentleness of his grace, slips ephemerally away. Nostrils flaring, mouth malignantly jolting into a smirk, he narrows his blue-lit focus on you in ominous intimation he is not done sifting through your memories – especially those memories concerning the him for whom your heart beats with curious rapidity. “Can’t you see we are occupied here?” Breaking backward to confront the angelic intruder, his grip on your body and mind dissolves leaving you dazed and gasping. “You disrupt my work.”

“Never one to waste time on niceties, eh?” Balthazar casts you a disinterested cocked glance.

Absent angelic influence, the dull hot ache of faded bruising throbs in your thigh. Burning air punches into your lungs through an abraded throat. If you could direct the lumps of jelly defining your legs into motion, you’d attempt to flee. As it stands, or rather, slumps, you sit secured by physical half-insentience. Judgement impaired by the shock of disorientation, you instinctively pray to Cas – your Cas – for help.

Hearing your voiceless plea to the other – the yearning of spirit, the faith you have in his ability to save you, the desperate need for him – the Castiel brooding before you stiffens as a surge of sympathy taints the blood bounding through his vessel’s heart.

Balthazar shrugs in affront to the stone-wall of seraphim silence. “As you prefer, all work and no play – Naomi requires a report.”

“And?” Castiel prompts in a rising clipped tone, covering for the fact that every sinew of flesh and fiber in his vessel revolts with rigidity in shield against the softness of emotion striking him from within your soul.

“And,” –Balthazar’s eyebrows arc askance and knot– “what?”

You pray louder – each contraction of your heart a deafening cry for Cas.

Overcompensating for and deflecting the impact of your prayers with a reminder of rank, demanding respect, concerned Balthazar hears and will betray even the quickly corrected course of compassion flooding his veins to Naomi, Castiel snarls, “And, what? What! Do you forget your place?”

Such intelligence would inevitably result in a reckoning all too familiar to the fragmentary framework of the seraph’s fundamentally rebellious and repeatedly reordered being – his countenance violently jerks to maintain forever slipping grasp on control, both of himself, and the situation. Jaw gnashing, he wishes you would shut up – would silence you himself, even, if it would not draw attention as to the motive. Or better yet, eying the door, he could drag you from this place, tuck you out of sight somewhere, plod through your memories one by one, take his time, just you and he alone.

Balthazar curtsies contritely. “Naomi requires a report,” he reiterates, bowing deeper to satisfy his captain’s abstracted scowl, adding a snide, “sir!”

“I see.” Circling the insincere emissary, Castiel stops to stare at his comrade’s crooked spine, asking, “And why did she send you? Any one of the soldiers here could have delivered this message and wasted less of my time.” Cold weight of celestial metal encumbering his sleeve, he ponders stabbing the pompous messenger in the back; peace descends upon his frenetic features as he runs through the probability of being able to smite the other two angels, too, before they realize what is happening in order to beat a hasty retreat with you in tow. They wouldn’t be the first kin he selfishly slew to serve subjugated desire.

“She felt you might be distracted by the latest … development.” Balthazar lifts his chin to fling the inflection of the last word at you. Obeisant bend deepening, he simpers in self-defense against the rumble of incensed thunder building within his superior’s chest at the insinuation of subversion. “Questioning a loyalist like yourself, of course, is absurd.” Nebulously recollecting his place in the battalion's pecking order, he mumbles a postscript of, “Sir.”

If Naomi suspects, then – stifling a shudder, Castiel stows his blade. “Let us resolve her concerns at once so I may continue my work here uninterrupted.” Prying a pair of gloves from his pocket and tugging them over his fingers, readjusting the snap of leather encircling his wrist, Castiel sweeps his glance over the impassive faces of the two other angels in the room. He wonders if they, too, perceive your continued prayers to him and read anything into his reaction; for in that insulated alcove of his angelic heart, your pleas touch and arouse an empathy buried time and again by Naomi’s reprogramming. Therein shelters ineradicable traces of a love for humanity which his Father nurtured at his creation – the foundations of fidelity to the purpose of protecting and serving mortal souls that even Naomi’s worst cannot rend to her will. There dwells the crack in his chassis where regret creeps out and choice sits for the seizing.

And yet, if Naomi has her suspicions, if any of these angels express a similar concern or contempt, Castiel is already damned – compliance exists as the only recourse. He is nothing if not a good soldier. “The Kommandant awaits,” he states sternly. Gesturing at Balthazar to commence with the winged transport, he flicks his attention upon you.

Looking up, you catch the unmasked sheen of remorse in his regard in the moment before he vanishes. Despite the fear and pain he caused you, an incongruous hope for his return flutters and sinks in the hollow of your stomach on his departure.

Next: Ch. 19 - A Real Dead Ringer

[rubiesintherough]

What would it actually take for someone to be able to convince Cassie to leave her father / the bar?

(( @tuppencetrinkets ))

So, the first thing to note is that the bar and the home above is her home… it’s where she was raised, it’s where she spent time with her mother — the only place that still has a tie to her — and, even with the substantial amount of horrible memories she has there, it’s the only place she still has fond ones of her mom… as they very rarely had the chance to actually leave the bar due to the amount of work that needed to be done, as well as her dad’s just very possessive nature and refusal to let them go places other than the store / park / occasionally the beach. So, her ties to the bar are already very strong. 

Now, add in the fact that, after her mother died, her dad was the only family she has left. Abusive, violent, drunken bastard though he is — and as much as there are days when she genuinely HATES him — he’s still the only relative she’s got. Or, at least, the only one who she has any connection to. Cassie hasn’t even seen her aunts, uncles, cousins, ect, since she was about four. And theyve all since, essentially, tried to forget that their part of the family even exists… so, her dad is all she’s got. And she feels like she needs him. He has INGRAINED it into her that she needs him. She has no idea how things are run outside. She’d have no idea where to go or even how to set up a new life for herself… so, staying with him is, in her mind, safer. Because she can  ‘ handle ’  the beatings, the name-calling, the being told she’s worthless or that the world would be better off without her… she’s used to it. It’s awful, and it hurts, and it kills her everyday, but it’s familiar, at least. 

With all that in mind, it would take a lot to pull her away from the bar. The only two scenarios I could really see that would actually do it are  1. the really bad option of her finally being injured to the point of near death… and that would be a wake up call for her, in a sense. But, it would have to be bad. She’s been rushed to the ER before because of him and the injuries he gives her — against her wishes, pretty much forced to go by one of the older regulars who has a soft spot for her — and that still didn’t change her mind. It would have to be to the point of extended hospitalization, of her actually being SEVERELY hurt before she would finally see that the ties she has to the bar no longer outweigh her need to get someplace safer and get away from him. 

The BETTER option… would be someone offering her something that she wants more than the perceived comfort of staying in the place that’s familiar. A relationship, for instance. But, it would have to be strong. And she would have to be convinced that it’s going to last, because she honestly doesn’t think she’s worth loving… her dad has ensured that throughout these past years, as did the first guy she ever  ‘ dated ‘. And she’s so scared that, one day, no matter how good the relationship feels at first, they’re just finally going to get bored of her and move on. Or they’re just using her to get what they want, and then they’re going to kick her back out. And she’ll have nowhere left to go. For her to actually consider leaving the bar and her dad behind, they would really have to PROVE to her that they intend to stick around somehow. ‘Cause the thought of being stuck, alone, out in the world she knows so little about is so much scarier to her than just putting up with the abuse… 

[maiden-of-wolves]

Expectation

So, my Beyond Words fic (Zen/Hyun Ryu x Cassandra Whilmer {OC}) has one scene only in my head at the moment that I really wanted to draw but it isn’t coming out right so... I know I can write decently so I’m gonna write it out. It’ll probably be the last chapter in the fic, but I wanted to write it now because it’s practically taken over my head recently. xD This will be from Zen’s POV so I can hide the surprise until. the. last. possible. moment. (tm) ;3

For those that haven’t read the fic (I hope you do check it out [here!]) I put English dialogue in italics and leave Korean in regular typeface. If you want to follow along with the song that’s included, here’s the link to the YouTube page for it. Also, this is gonna be REALLY long ‘cause I don’t really write short fic... so.. yeah. Strap in if you click on the “Read More”/”Keep Reading” bit. xD And if you really do like this long drabble, reblog it so other people can enjoy it too! ^_^

It had been almost half a year since Zen been able to visit America -- visit Cassandra, more importantly -- but he was here again. It had been upsetting that she wasn’t able to meet him at the airport this time, but she sent one of her friends in her stead so that he wasn’t alone. He could have handled it just fine by now and he told her several times but she wasn’t having any of it. Zen had long since learned that fighting her on simple things was a complete waste of energy so he simply went along with it unless it was something he was intensely opposed to and that had only happened once because she couldn’t have known his squick.

The truth was that she knew him so well that he found himself asking her for advice about what would suit him best. In this case, she’d suggested and set up something that he was surprised she thought he could do: playing Evan Hansen in a play called “Dear Evan Hansen”. It was a Broadway production and a romance title to boot so he was thrilled for that part, but he still wasn’t confident in his English. Not to mention that the lead was unsure, shy... things that he’d intentionally worked to stop being when he went out into the world on his own. This project made him feel like he was connecting with his formative years in a way he hadn’t before, which was both exciting and terrifying.

Cassandra had encouraged him for months to apply, even managing to sneak a copy of the script for the scene for the audition to him in order to help him feel confident and finally he did. She then got a copy of the song for the scene for him, which he found out later wasn’t too hard since they first round’s cast had already recorded a CD. Even if she’d had a shitty day, all she wanted to do for months was help him practice for this. She encouraged him every step of the way and made him laugh when he felt like shit trying to properly pronounce things. There was never a day where she didn’t impress him and he was grateful she was so devoted to him.

As he sat in the car, waiting to arrive at the theater, he remembered his last big interview back home. It was a few months ago, but since it was for a fairly big entertainment TV show it stuck in his memory. He remembered one particular part vividly: the female interviewer had asked him point blank if he was in a relationship and he’d been quick to insist that he was.

“We both have full fledged careers.” He had told the interviewer. “She’s amazing and I love her, but because of that I won’t make her choose between me and her job. Or her home. And I know she wouldn’t do that to me, either.”

“Her home? You talk like she doesn’t live in Korea...”

“She doesn’t,” he’d answered, a fond smile at his lips but a sadness in his gaze. “It’s expensive and time-consuming to go see her, but that just makes us enjoy every minute that much more.”

The female interviewer had sighed wistfully and put a hand over her heart. “That’s so sweet~ You sound quite happy with it, even though you’re not able to see her often.”

Zen had nodded enthusiastically before replying verbally. “We talk every day. At the very least we text each other but we prefer to video chat whenever we can.”

“You’re so devoted! It must be hard, though, not being able to physically be together much...”

She was harping on the hardest part, but that wasn’t enough to dissuade him. Even though he knew it was expressly against normal etiquette when filming, Zen had found one of the main cameras with his gaze and stared into it, knowing Cassandra would see this at some point soon (if 707 hadn’t already patched her into the feed somehow). “One day, when we feel like our careers can be put aside, we’ll never have to worry about being apart again.”

He turned his attention back to the interviewer, a broad smile on his lips. “I enjoy my career a great deal, but those will be the days I will cherish each and every moment of.”

The realization that the car had stopped forced Zen’s attention back to the present. Though his memories reminded him of how Cassandra had gushed to him about that interview and he had a bit of a stupid grin on his face as her friend let him out of the car.

“You seem excited,” she commented in English, clearly teasing him about his current expression.

“Yeah,” he answered in kind, still grinning at her. He was always grateful that Cassandra liked teaching him English. It made his trips to come see her easier and easier each time. He even liked the slang, though he was still usually pretty confused by memes. “I’ll see Cassie while I’m here.”

Her smirk betrayed her as she attempted roll her eyes and huff, “you two’ll make me sick. All this puppy love nonsense...”

Zen just kept grinning at her for a moment before he spoke up again. “Which way inside?” he asked, the grin finally being taken over by a serious expression. This was currently still business, after all.

Cassandra’s friend led him to a side entrance of the older brick building and gestured that he follow the wall. He offered her a short wave of thanks before heading off. Cassandra said she’d be driving him from here, which made him think that she’d be in the audience. As he approached the rear stairs and made his way up them, he was surprised to not find her amongst the sparse attendees. Maybe she just wasn’t here yet? It wasn’t like her to be late, but then again this was a really dense city. He pushed the concern away, attributing it to traffic, and made his way over to what looked like a stage hand. It was a guy who was even a few inches taller than he was, head bent over a clipboard and muttering to himself.

“Hey, I’m... here for the audition?” Zen hated that he was still so nervous over his English, but did his best to camouflage it. He was the best actor, he worked hard and it showed. This would be no different.

“Oh!” the brunet all but gasped. He blinked and stared for a moment, as if surprised to find that Zen actually showed up. The reaction brought back the actor’s nerves in full force but he pushed the feeling down. “You’re that guy that Cassie said would be coming...Zen, was it?”

“Yeah,” was all that Zen could manage aside from a nod.

“Your audition should be coming up soon.” The stage hand eyed him a bit strangely after speaking, as if sizing him up or something. “You sure you’ve got the lines?”

Zen barely managed to not glare at him. What was this guy’s damage? Did he really think he’d be here if he didn’t? “Yeah. I’ve got them. If you know Cassandra you know she wouldn’t have put her rep out there if she didn’t think I could do well.”

The other man chuckled, which only further concerned Zen. “Well, just listen for the chime and walk out. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes now.” 

As he was left to himself, his mind careened off the track that he’d done his best to keep it on. Did Cassandra not actually put in a good word? Why would she have suggested this if she didn’t have some kind of pull? The guy said he knew about him as well as Cassie so... why didn’t he think he was good? Had he never seen any of his performances? Did Cassandra not actually talk about him to her friends? Zen knew he talked about Cassie almost as much as he did himself with the RFA and had ever since he had to go back home after the first filming she’d helped him with.

A soft chime brought him back to the present and he took in a deep breath to collect himself. A quick glance out to the audience still showed him that Cassandra wasn’t there, which was really starting to depress him. Did she really not come-- his thoughts were interrupted as he started walking out on stage and recognized the woman walking towards him from the opposite side.

He would never in his life forget that perfectly flipped bob of raven hair or her sea green eyes. She was dressed very casually, in a simple blue T-shirt, stone washed jeans and sneakers. “C-Cassie?” Zen asked, both pleased to see her and shocked that she would be his partner for the audition. He realized in the back of his mind that he was a bit over-dressed with his tailored jacket and slacks, but this was supposed to be business.

She smiled at him, never missing a beat as she walked within a meter of him. “What? Did you think I was only helping you practice? I wanted to try this whole thing too.” When he just stood there for apparently a few moments too long, she reached up and playfully tapped his cheek. “You are blushing, you know~”

That pulled him back to functioning and he grasped her hand lightly before she could pull it away again. He pressed a quick kiss to her palm and looked to her under hooded lashes. “Thank you, babe.” The least he could do was play along, if it was actually true then he’d love it. If this was just a joke to help him do better, he was grateful for that, too. “I hope you get this part too, then... I’d be able to give my best performance ever playing opposite you.”

It was her turn to blush at that, which had Zen’s lips parting in a rather wolfish smile. Oh, he would get her back for this little prank tonight. He wanted to quietly tell her just how he planned to, but the music suddenly started up. For the moment he had to push the beast back down.

She carefully pulled her hand out of his grip. “I believe the first few stanzas are mine?” Cassandra asked, though it was clearly more of a reminder and rhetorical question than an actual inquiry.

Zen nodded. Cassandra wasn’t a great singer by any means, at least not the last time he heard her sing, but it has always been soothing to him regardless. For the moment, he had to get into character. He took another slow breath in and let it out just as deliberately. He was to be Evan Hansen; shy kid, insecure about anyone ever loving him. It made him think about himself, about Hyun, about his parents telling him he wasn’t ever going to succeed at what he wanted to do... it was him, in a way. That part was still there, no matter how flamboyant Zen became.

                     “I don’t need you to sell me on reasons to want you”

He was supposed to keep in character, but his eyes widened as he listened and a small flush painted his cheeks. She really had been practicing. She was on key and had good pacing. Thankfully he had his head down as per the cues he’d read in the script so he had some time to gather himself.

                    “I don’t need you to search for the proof that I should”

Cassandra had put so much effort into this, he was honestly wondering if she hadn’t gone for intense singing lessons while he was away. It made his heart thud heavily against his ribs. If this was all to just help him, he owed her even more than he already did. His precious babe was amazing.

                                “You don’t have to convince me                       You don’t have to be scared you’re not enough”

How many times had he thought that? Zen’s mind pulled him away from the act for a moment. He’d asked her several times during their months apart if she didn’t want to just go date someone else closer by. That it’d be better if she could get all the physical love she deserved. The second time she’d asked if he wanted to date someone else because it seemed like he was hinting that by continuing to ask. Zen had been quick to say there was no point. That he couldn’t make the time because of his work. She affirmed it was the same with her but that, as a proof of concept, they both were making time for each other regardless of their jobs and schedules. The relationship was difficult, but they were both willing to put the work in and that was what mattered.

                                   “‘cause what we’ve got going”

Cassandra’s touch drew him out of his thoughts, a gentle set of fingertips touched his chin and he happily followed their push upwards. 

                                                    “is good”

Zen smiled at her naturally, though they both knew it was also a cue for the scene. He searched her eyes and found the love he was so used to seeing and craved when she was away but there was something else, too. She reached out and grasped his hands, carefully holding them. His gaze shifted to them, surprised when she lightly caressed them with her thumbs like she normally would even though it wasn’t technically part of the cues.

                  “I don’t need more reminders of all that’s been broken                          I don’t need you to fix what I’d rather forget” The longer the song went on, he could only draw parallels. He and Cassandra had shared so many secrets about themselves, about their lives and their shortcomings and every one they’d accepted or helped the other change. As testament to all that he hadn’t smoked at all since he’d been away from her this time. Every day clean his lungs felt stronger and he felt energized more than he had before. Cassandra was, in so many ways, the best thing that had ever happened to him.                                       “Clear the slate and start over                                 Try to quiet the noises in your head”

Had they not been auditioning, he would have laughed. Of the two of them, he’d always thought that she was far more busy in the head than he ever was. But this was the role: Evan was always in his head so Zen simply gave her a sheepish smile as if he’d been the one called out.

                                    “We can’t compete with all that”

She pulled away from him and for a brief moment he instinctively reached out for her but remembered that it was part of the cues and simply watched as she hurried over to the chairs in the middle of the stage. It was supposed to be a double bed, according to the script, but apparently they hadn’t had one to work with yet.

                                               “So what if it’s us?                                                   What if it’s us                                                   and only us”

Zen began to break character as he watched her, expecting her to sit in the chair as the cues would probably dictate. She would have been directed to sit on the bed facing him. Instead, she was still standing. The more he looked, he even realized that she was shaking slightly. Was she just nervous because she was performing? He couldn’t ever recall her being so nervous that she shook, though...but she was still singing without breaking her voice.                  “and what came before won’t count anymore or matter?                                                Can we try that?”

Cassandra hesitated for a moment and Zen noticed her throat tightening as she swallowed. What in the world had her so nervous?

                                             “What if it’s you                                            and what if it’s me”

She reached behind her and pulled something out of her pocket. That isn’t part of the cues... he noted inwardly, his heart suddenly surging to overdrive in his chest as he tried to figure out what she now held so carefully in her palms.                         “and what if that’s all that we need it to be?”

He didn’t have to wonder long, since she knelt on one knee and held out the box for him in her hands. Zen’s eyes widened to the point that he began tearing up just from the fact that he was unable to blink and his face as well as the tips of his ears began flushing pink. What... is she doing...? There’s no way... his mind couldn’t even comprehend that this was happening.

                              “And the rest of the world falls away?”

She opened the box and there it was: a simple silver ring. Zen swore that his heart skipped several beats and everything but he and Cassandra disappeared just as the lyrics had suggested. This was above and beyond anything he thought would happen to him. She loved him so much that she would set all this up for him, practice until she was able to be on stage with him as an equal, if only for a few minutes, and propose? For a moment he felt intensely guilty that he hadn’t been the one to do this-- wasn’t he the man in this relationship? The one that was “sickeningly romantic” as Cassandra had put it several times?

                                            “What do you say?”

The entire theater went quiet, though Zen barely noticed through the pulse pounding in his ears. This had clearly all been a set up for this moment, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was the fact that he was being proposed to by the love of his life. Ideas for “sickeningly romantic” revenge proposals already drifted in to the back of his mind but he couldn’t focus on them now. “Babe...” he gasped. “Oh my god, babe...” He couldn’t actually say yes or no, even though he knew the answer the moment he was certain he knew what she was doing.

Cassandra didn’t say anything, but she looked absolutely terrified and was already sweating. The stage lights were hot, but she’d hardly been up there long enough to justify that kind of response to them just yet.

Zen didn’t want to keep her waiting and he knew how best to answer her. He gestured to the side stage, where he’d seen some of the audio equipment. “What’re you waiting for?” he asked, his tone bordering on playful teasing as a tiny smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. “Continue the song.”

Within moments the music began again, but as Zen looked back to Cassandra she still looked worried and now rather confused. That would all be cleared up soon enough. He closed the gap between them as he sang out his response.

        “I never thought there’d be someone like you who would want me”

She all but gasped out her “well?” line in response as the scene dictated, voice shaking.

              “So I’ll give you ten thousand reasons not to let me go”

He was in front of her now, leaning down a little so he could reach out for her face.

                                 “But if you really see me”

Zen gently cupped her cheek and she leaned into it as she closed her eyes. He felt awful for a moment as he swore she shed a tear. He would have to kiss those away soon. And every inch of her skin...but that was later. Now, he still had to perform. And perform he would.

                          “If you like me for me and nothing else”

Cassandra opened her eyes, silently begging him for the acceptance that he already knew he was about to give her. He quickly moved his left hand to the box, gently touching the ring.

                                  “That’s all that I’ve wanted”

Zen slipped his ring finger into the offered band and pulled his hand away to show her with his most dazzling smile.

                         “for longer than you could possibly know”

Cassandra dropped the box and all but shot into his chest, clearly continuing to ignore any kind of cue that they would have had, and wrapped her arms tightly about his neck. Zen continued to sing regardless, but happily returned her embrace.

                                           “So it can be us                                               it can be us                                               and only us             and what came before won’t count anymore or matter.                                           We can try that.”

He pulled away before she was supposed to sing with him, but his hands were still on her shoulders. She put her hands on his arms, grinning like an idiot with tears making her sea green orbs shimmer. At least now he knew they were from happiness... not that he wouldn’t kiss them away soon anyway.

                                       “It’s not so impossible”

Zen moved his hands to gently grasp her cheeks as he sang his line to her with a gaze so intense that it would have made anyone else step away. He made a mental note to serenade her more, watching her blush manifest as he sang.

                           “Nobody else but the two of us here”

As they moved to sing together again Zen really did feel like they were the only two people in the universe even though the music was still playing and they both knew they weren’t.

                           “ ‘cause you’re saying it’s possible”

She watched him with nothing but adoration as she took up her own line.

                “We can just watch the whole world disappear”

Their hands moved to intertwine as they continued, following the song and continuing to get lost in themselves.

                                    “ ‘Til you’re the only one                                       I still know how to see”

Zen squeezed her hands as he sang to her, matching her passion as best he could but still lowering his volume as the cues would have demanded.

                                        “It’s just you and me”

She smiled at him as she followed his lead with her response lines.

                                        “It’ll be us, it’ll be us                                               and only us                      and what came before won’t count anymore”

Though she came in with her lines quietly, they didn’t stay that way and Cassandra surprised him with passion and intensity that she could put into her voice without breaking. She really had to have practiced even harder than he did... and he had no idea when she’d even had the time to do so. He was thrilled to sing with her again.

                                           “We can try that                                               You and me                               That’s all that we need it to be                           and the rest of the world falls away                           and the rest of the world falls away”

Zen had carefully stepped closer as they sang, eyes never leaving hers, to the point that they were touching foreheads as they neared the end of the song. Had it been an actual performance, he would have been worried that they couldn’t sing loud enough for the crowd to hear but as it was he couldn’t have cared less. Cassandra could hear him, and that was more than enough.

    ��                                 “The world falls away                                        the world falls away                                          and it’s only us...”

They barely finished the last note when Zen leaned forward and latched on to Cassandra’s lips, his right hand divesting itself of her hand to grasp at the back of her neck. He heard cheers and applause, but he was far more interested in the woman who had just so boldly proposed to him. “Babe...” he panted when they finally parted. “You are... amazing.”

Cassandra seemed like she was going to reply but he quickly cut her off with another scorching kiss. He pulled away with a playful nip at her lower lip. “You’d better let me have my fun tonight, babe~”

“You realize you already accepted the proposal, right?” Cassandra teased him, pulling up a hand to brush some longer snow-white strands behind his ear where they belonged. “Too late to put in terms.”

He just shook his head. “Let me phrase it another way, then,” he mused, leaning forward to finish his thought next to her ear. “Once we get to the place you’re staying right now, you’re not leaving for days. And I wouldn’t recommend trying to walk much for at least a day more... so you’ll just have to let me take care of you even longer~”

Despite shivering at both the heated breaths and the promises contained in his words, Cassandra stood her ground. “As long as you let me have my fun when you return the favor.”

Zen pulled away, faking a look of shock. “Just what would I need to propose to you for? You’ve already done all this work... I would never dream of upstaging you!”

She chuckled. “Oh, I already see it in your eyes, Hyun. I can only imagine the elaborate sappy nonsense you are planning...” As if to emphasize the point, she shook her head slightly and rolled her eyes.

“My lady protests a bit too much,” Zen murmured. “You love it. And me.”

Cassandra smiled at him. “I do love you. Very, very much.”

“Then I suppose you’ll have no problem,” he began, reluctantly releasing his grip on her so he could grasp her hand and bring its back to his lips for a princely kiss. “Letting me off the chain tonight...”

“I will look forward to taming you again later,” she replied, her smile twisting slightly into a smirk.

“Get a room!” someone jeered. A chorus of laughter erupted from that and Cassandra even joined them.

“Come on,” she insisted, using their intertwined hands to lead him off the stage. “Let us go to my room so you can fully appreciate your fianceé~”

[iknaq]

May Your Days Be Merry And Bright

A quick WinterShieldShock short. Something has been bothering Darcy and no matter what they did, Bucky and Steve hadn’t been able to get her spirits up for Christmas.

-

Seeing Darcy down was breaking his heart but when Steve started getting down for not being able to cheer her up, it was too much.

‘Come on, Stevie. I’m sure we can figure something out. Jane is going to be back later today, Wanda and Storm have been helping her bake all the wonderful delicious goodies, hell...even Lang got her to join in on karaoke earlier.’

‘I know but she’s still not happy, Buck and it’s killing me.’

‘I know, punk, me too.’

‘Any word from Nat?’

‘Not yet, she should be back at any minute though.’

‘Okay, well...just let me know if you see her before I do.’

Bucky sighed in frustration as Steve wandered down the hall of the palace and all he could see was that little punk with his shoulders hunched over, looking like he went a few rounds and lost. The man that could go all day was worn down with worry because their little hellion had been subdued and withdrawn recently.

It had all started on the first day of Hanukkah: Darcy had told them how she didn’t remember all the blessings but she’d had a lot of fond memories of her Bubbe growing up and lamented the fact that she didn’t have her menorah to at least mark the days. He still wasn’t sure how he’d found out or where it came from but his royal highness, T’Challa procured a menorah from somewhere and Darcy had been looking a little brighter. That lasted several days but the closer they got to Christmas, the sadder she’d looked. Now it was Christmas Eve and she’d been moping all day, despite their best efforts she was still missing that spark in her eyes.

Darcy had been actively avoiding Wanda or singing lyrics in her head, leaving Wanda to think there was something she didn’t want to slip. Nat was out on a mission so she couldn’t get it out of their girl what was up. And any time he or Steve tried to bring it up, she’d just plaster on a smile and assure them that she was fine.

‘Bucky!’

He tensed when Wanda came running over but the smile she gave him had the former Winter Soldier relaxing and looking at the redhead curiously.

‘I know what’s bothering Darcy.’

‘Let’s grab Stevie.’

-

‘I think, that for this we will need Ororo...my Queen, what is it that they say...do you feel like spreading a little Christmas cheer?’

-

She tried, she really tried.

Despite the fact that they were in hiding, the past year had been nothing short of amazing. She’d grown to love Steve and Bucky. The Wakandan scientists had been able to remove the triggers from Bucky’s brain. Thor and Jane were on a break, so that was a big old bummer, but they were still getting along and she’d even volunteered to scope out some planets with Thor to help find a good place for the Asagardians. Thor was still the best bro and even had a wicked eye patch, she couldn’t help but make a joke about wanting a picture of him and Fury for Christmas. Sam had been teaching her how to fly. Nat and Wanda became sisters like Jane somewhere along the way. Lang taught her how to pick a lock. And his royal cat-ness was super chill and took care of the ragtag band of super heroes. All in all, things were going pretty good.

So, she totally didn’t have a leg to stand on to feel this bummed out. T’Challa had gotten her a beautiful menorah and Wanda had helped her remember the blessings. Steve and Bucky had even told them tales about the family that lived in the building with them and surprised them with some gelt the one year. Nat had promised to pick up the boys Christmas presents on her way back and Jane and Thor promised some crazy alien wine to help get the guys tipsy. They’d made allllll the cookies and candies and treats with a freakin Queen (Seriously, Storm could slay at anything she wanted and look stunning the whole time, total lady crush). Even Lang had been cheery after talking with Cassie and usually singing with him helped cheer her up anytime but it just wasn’t doing it right now.

She missed snow.

It was Christmas and it was sunny and warm and just totally did not feel right. They’d gotten a tree and decorated their wing and everything but it just wasn’t the same.

Maybe she’d feel better after a nap.

-

Steve held his breath when he saw her start to stir, the timing of her nap had been fortuitous and the royal highnesses had been so kind as to indulge in their plan.

Bucky had gone to intercept Nat and tell her the plan, leaving him to wake her.

Maybe it was a little cheesy, the dulcet tones of Bing Crosby echoing through the halls but Darcy had told them that was one of her favorite movies (they’d already watched it three times and Die Hard even more than that, with Scott and Sam arguing whether or not it counted as a Christmas movie) and it just felt right.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...

‘Steve?’

His heart stopped just like it did any time one of them blinked their baby blue’s at him and he couldn’t stop himself from crawling into bed and giving her a soft kiss.

‘Hey, sleepyhead. Nat is back, we were just about to wake you for dinner. T’Challa said that he was going to introduce us to one of his favourite pre-holiday meals from when he went to school in America.’

‘Mmmm, okay, sounds good. Hey...I’m sorry I’ve been such a bummer. I love you. You too, Mr Super Assassin, I can see you there...’

‘The greatest assassins and spies and superheroes in the world had a hard time finding me, how is it that you always seem to know where I am, doll?’

‘How could I not? I can always feel my boys...right here in this big ol heart, cause I’m that good and stuff.’

He couldn’t help but get slightly distracted as she patted her rather magnificent chest, flushing when Bucky cuffed him upside the head lightly.

‘Stick to the plan, idiot.’

‘Plan?’

‘Yeah, come on, may we walk you to dinner?’

‘Why, of course.’

The three of them walked arm in arm from their room, Darcy giving them an odd look when they started to veer towards the courtyard.

‘It’s such a nice night, thought we might take a different route.’

‘What are you guys planning? You know you totally suck at hiding things Steve, that cute Irish skin of yours blushes all pretty.’

He couldn’t stop the flush that started up his collar but when they stepped through the arches and towards the courtyard, her slackjawed surprise was enough to distract him.

She stepped out into the soft powder with a look of childlike wonder and Bucky grinned as he wrapped his arm around his waist. He wasn’t quite sure how a kid from Brooklyn got so lucky but he couldn’t stop his own grin.

‘How?’

‘Well, her majesty just happens to be able to control the weather and when we told her what was up, she was more than happy to help cheer you up. You should have told us sooner, Darce...I hated seeing you so down.’

‘I just...I didn’t want to complain, things have been as good as they can be and even better. It just seemed like such a silly thing...’

‘Doll, we would fetch you the moon if you asked.’

It had taken a while but that smooth, confident, smartass Steve remembered had started to come back and damn if he didn’t make him and Darcy speechless from time to time. Darcy pulled them each into a sweet kiss and Buck snuck one in between the two of them, making them all laugh as their noses bumped.

‘Smooth, medvezhonok. I got that all on camera, can we eat now? Snowman and cocoa after.’

‘Tash!’

‘Come, solnyshko. The boys told me you have been down.’

‘I was but I’m good now...now it feels like Christmas. Thank you, your majesty, thank you so so much.’

‘I told you, just call me Storm and I was happy to be able to bring that smile to your face. Come, the food is getting cold.’

-

It was an odd sight. Super soldiers, gods, royalty, master assassins, scientists and a former intern relaxing around a giant table eating Chinese takeout on Christmas Eve in Wakanda but Wanda could feel the happiness and love radiating in the room.

Somewhere along the way, they had become family and that was the best thing so far about her first Christmas without Pietro.

She smirked a little and used her power to shape some snowballs while they sat there, wondering how many of them she could get once they were done with the food.

[hekate1308]

Home Base

Part of my Season 12 Destiel AU. Enjoy!

To say his life has significantly improved, Dean things waking up next to Cas one morning, would be an understatement.

He smiles and snuggles closer to his boyfriend – no harm in morning cuddles – when he suddenly realizes things feel... off.

Not bad. Just... off.

And as soon as he raises his head, he knows why.

This is not the cheap motel room they went to sleep in.

The furniture is way too expensive, it’s light and airy, and is that a freaking lake he can see outside?

He sits up abruptly, causing Cas to grumble in protest.

“Cas – wake up!”

His lover shoots up from the bed, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“This is not our room” he states.

Dean nods as he calls Sam.

Despite everything, he smiles when he hears his brother sleepily grumble “Dean?” The little nerd likes to sleep in these days, too.

Sam immediately becomes more aware.

“What – where are we?”

“So I take it you’re not at the motel anymore either.”

“No, I – is that a lake?”

“My thoughts exactly” Dean breathes.

“We seem to be in the same house” Cas says, having stepped up to him to listen to their conversation.

That’s something, at least.

“Alright Sammy, best we try and find each other.”

“My duffle bag’s here” Sam tells him.

“Ours are too” Cas points out.

They’re not without weapons then. Good.

They arm themselves with guns and silver knives before exiting the room they found themselves in.

Dean almost takes a step back in surprise when the door next to theirs opens and Sam comes out, looking as good as he did yesterday.

“Gotta say, if this is some evil scheme, it’s starting off really nicely.”

“We do not appear to have been drugged” Cas muses. “So whatever brought us here, they must be strong.”

He nods.

Their best way to search this place quickly – how huge is it, anyway? The corridors go on forever – is to split up, despite his ingrained instincts not to let his little brother or anyone else he loves out of his isght.

“Be careful” he instructs them both, pressing a quick kiss on Cas’ lips and clasping Sam’s shoulder before ducking into the next corridors.

Stairs. Taht’s something, at least.

He makes his way downstairs.

And this, right there? It’s a freaking entrance hall with marble.

It all looks nice enough, he supposes. Expensive. Like someone wanted to show off and be comfortable at the same time.

He hears movement in a room to his right and makes his way there, weapon ready.

What he didn’t expect was Crowley sitting in another huge room next to a pool table, leafing through a book while sipping his usual glass of Craig.

“Crowley?”

He looks up.

“Squirell. How do you like the new home base?”

“Home base? Where are we?”

“Massachusetts.”

“Why?”

Crowley shrugs.

“As good a place as any.”

“So and this is...”

“Like I said – new home base. You let me deal with the more psychopathic of the British invasion army, and it was certainly a lot of fun” Dean probably shouldn’t enjoy hearing that as much as he does, but Ketch has done nothing to incite his sympathy or pity in any way, shape or form, and he can’t bring himself to worry much about it “but it also means their little club is up in arms, so I thought you might want to have safe quarters.”

“So you... built us a mansion.”

“There was a dilapidated structure that might once have been a house. I only added to it.”

Dean takes out his phone and sends Sam and Cas texts to join them.

They both arrive quickly, Cas a bit quicker than his brother.

“Aw, Cassie, don’t worry, your toy boy is as safe as ever.”

He shoots him a somewhat disgruntled look that’s still not without a certain fondness – that’s how crazy their life has gotten, and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Have you seen the library yet?” Crowely asks Dean just as Sam stumbles in.

“Nah. Good stuff?”

“Remember when you powered down the wards of the bunker so I could get in while we were dealing with Amara?”

He does. And he also remembers not putting them up again because – well because even back then, he and Crowley were barely enemies.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for that. I made sure to get anything the Men of Letters could use.”

“Thank you” he says honestly.

“I also made sure you had your beloved “memory foam” in case you felt like complaining about your back again – and your personal effects are in boxes in the dining room.”

Oh. He hasn’t thought about the things he used to decorate his room with in months. Sounds nice, though; Cas can get some stuff of his own, too –

Sam clears his throat.

“Do you have your own room?”

It occurs to Dean that he just thought of that as a given. Crowley hates Hell, and now that Lucifer has been dealt with, he has even less of a reason to hang out there, apart from short visits to make sure the demons are still behaving.

But for Sam to ask – that’s actually a pretty big step, now that he thinks about it.

Cas’ hand slips into his.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Now, in case you have – “

“Good.”

It’s the first time he’s seen Crowley speechless since Cain literally took his voice away.

They spent the rest of the day exploring their new home. Give it to Crowley, he really thought of everything, and it’s all brand new, nothing outdated like in the bunker.

There’s even a garage for his baby – next to the dungeon because, well, it’s Crowley. Nice he even included that in the first place considering their history with it.

As Dean and Cas soon find out, the water pressure in the showers is fantastic.

Plus, Crowley hasn’t just filled the library with the lore of their ancestors, but several works they love – at first glance, Dean sees the complete works of Vonnegut and Asimov. Jackpot.

And, okay, maybe Jane Austen is there too. Damn demon knows him too well.

And that kitchen.

“We’re going to have pancakes every day from now on” he announces, looking over the new equipment.

“Dean” Sam interjects.

“Alright, you can get some omelette with spinach. Figure I can do that if I try.”

His brother shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“Where’s Cas anyway?” he asks. “Did he need some rest after your...”

“Shower?” Dean prompts with a grin.

“Yes. That.”

But once again, there’s no fire nor true annoyance behind Sam’s words, as there might have been, once not too long ago.

As Dean walks back to his and Cas’ room – funny, back when he only allowed himself to dream of them in half-slumbers shortly before waking up at dawn, he often pictured them in his room in the bunker – Crowley appears in front of him.  

Naturally, we are still too important to walk.

“I wasn’t sure if I should put these in your boxes as well” he says, holding out a few pictures.

Dean knows them. The ones he left behind the day he turned his back on the bunker and their legacy, preferring to make his own path.

Their own path.

After reconsidering the pictures, he takes those of him and Sam.

“That’s all I need”.

Crowley understands and vanishes with the rest.

Idly, Dean wonders what Mary is thinking now, in the empty bunker. She might not have noticed their absence much, but the knowledge and weapons the Men of Letters collected is valuable.

He’s not worried about them investigating the theft. Crowley certainly left no traces.

He expects to find Cas napping, but instead he’s –

He’s painting their walls.

There is already a whole forest stretching itself towards the lake, green leaves shining, sun kissing small flowers underneath –

“Cas” he breathes.

He knew Cas likes to draw, of course. Ever since Cas fell, he’s liked to have something to do with his fingers (in moments when they aren’t... otherwise occupied, that is) and it was Dean who bought himk his first notebook. Things only spiralled from there.

Cas has sketched almost everyone they knew at this point and once made him sit completely still for a whole evening because “I need to find the right shade of green for your eyes in that angle.”

“Dean!” he stands up so quickly Dean cringes in sympathy for his spine.

“I – this – I wanted to surprise you.” He fiddles his fingers in the late afternoon light coming in from the windows, his arms covered in paint, and Dean has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? I freaking love it, man.”

He draws Cas into a deep kiss.

“Wait – You’ll get dirty – “

“You’ll have to clean me up, then” he whispers huskily.

“Why so much green?” he asks later, much later. He thinks it will be time for dinner soon, but he can’t be sure.

Cas is tracing patterns up and down his chest and he’s way too comfortable to move and find out.

“You know why.”

“Yeah” he says, blushing, “but why so little blue? Come on, this is our room...”

“You haven’t seen it, then?”

Dean frowns and looks at the forest again.

And he sees.

There’s blue everywhere, stronger and lighter shade mixed in with the green, until it becomes impossible to say which is which.

The message is pretty clear.

He attempts to pull Cas even closer. At the moment, he couldn’t care less about the Men of Letters.

When they enter the kitchen at eight pm, Crowley exclaims, “A miracle! We might get dinner after all.”

“You don’t need to it” Cas reminds him while Dean tells Sam, “You could have started dinner.”

“Your cooking is much better than mine” Sam says. “Always has been.”

Dean remembers another occasion, when Sam was surprised he even knew what a kitchen was, but dismisses the thought.

They have both changed a lot since then.

“Alright”.

Crowley has stocked the fridge full to the brim.

“What do you – “

“Burgers” Cas says immediately.

“Alright then, burgers with salad it is.”

Crowley groans.

“You like Dean’s burgers” Cas reminds him.

Crowley grumbles something that sounds like “Doesn’t mean I have to eat them every day” but still digs in once dinner is done.

“So you’re saying it’s shielded like the bunker too?” Dean asks while they’re eating.

“No one will be able to tell where you are calling from while you’re here.”

Sam’s text alert rings out.

Dean’s surprised this didn’t happen earlier.

“What does she want?”

“Are you behind this?” Sam reads out loud.

“Tell her it’s the demon she despises so much” Crowley says. “I’m sure Mummy would love to hear that.”

“I don’t answer her texts anymore. She knows that.”

Sam puts his phone away.

“She’ll have to find another way if she wants to keep manipulating me.”

He’s never called it that, before.

Dean, he knows now, actually suspected pretty early on something was wrong, only that he didn’tb want to admit it to himself.

At least now they’re all on the same page.

Mary sends another text.

Only this time, when Sam reads it, he blanches.

Then, with a blank expression on his face, he throws his phone against the wall.

“Sammy?”

“That wall is brand new, you know” Crowley remarks mildly, but his hand has tensed around his glass.

“I’ll need a new phone” his brother says. “And we’ll have to tell our friends.”

“Yeah, of course. Sam, are you okay?”

“Yes. Mo – Mary just said something about – you, that’s all.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t want to repeat it” is all Sam says.

“Good” Crowley comments.

Dean swallows. Knowing that Mary accused him of something – that she probably sounded like John – and that Sam would react this way – it has to have been bad –

And then Cas draws him close and kisses his forehead.

He relaxes.

He has Cas, he has his family, he has a new home.

Everything else can wait until tomorrow.