#get help instead of shoving sam into guilt tripping

[hexedwinchester]

isn't this the episode right after he killed Amy? and Sam doesn't find out until 7th episode about this i believe? so Dean is literally lying through his teeth (no surprise, that's what he does) by telling him that he trusts him? Wow, Dean, aren't you the poster boy of deceit!

the way he basically just confessed he never trusted sam right to his face

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Imagine helping Legolas deal with a sprained ankle

It was all your fault, so Legolas would say.

“If you hadn’t had been so reckless, I wouldn’t have had to jump down from the boulder to assist you with the orc,” he’d complain regularly, from his position forcibly laying down in his sleeping pack with an elevated foot.

Whenever he’d try to rise again to bicker louder with you, a tending Aragorn would push him down again with a hand to his chest.

It was funny the first few days, you couldn’t lie, but now? Well, now it was just sad.

Legolas prided himself on his athletic ability, that much was obvious to you and the rest of the Fellowship early into your journey.

He’d regularly prance ahead like a young foal, or walk across snow with a smug smirk on his face. He was the strongest member there, and never let anyone forget it. This is also why he took injury the worst out of everyone.

It wasn’t, in all actuality, technically your fault. You needed help with an orc, yes, but Legolas timing his jump wrong and spraining his ankle had nothing to do with you.

Alas, he was gaining cabin fever from his immobilised state, therefore anger was bubbling in his chest—directed at you. You didn’t take it personally, but it was starting to wear down on you.

The walks through the days were slower, as Legolas would limp along with a homemade walking stick, fashioned out of a long branch.

Whenever he’d notice you or someone else looking at him over his shoulder, as he bared his teeth in wincing hurt, he’d quickly glare and push on harder.

You’d softly shake your head, but look away regardless.

It was unnatural to see an elf in such a state, like roses freezing over. Even more so, it was unnatural to see Legolas so grumpy. He was quite light-hearted at the beginning of the journey—you remember making a mental note that he’d probably be one of the best to hang around with due to so.

Alas, his sprained ankle and no doubt self-inflicted embarrassment brought the deeply rooted competitiveness out within him.

You were all sat around a fire tonight (save for Boromir and Gimli, who were off scouting the area), like many other evenings—laughing and pulling rabbit meat off of a skewer.

Legolas was a few yards away, pouting in his sleeping bag. You had brought his food to him a few minutes earlier, but he turned you away and claimed he wasn’t hungry.

“You’ll need sustenance to heal, little elf,” you laughed, trying to humour him.

All you received was a gruff grunt, and, “Don’t tell me how elves heal—I’m quite aware of my own race, thank you very much.”

You heard Pippin hissing through a wince, and bared your own teeth in cringe as you turned on your heel and headed back towards the campfire.

“Pay him no mind,” Aragorn said, leaning across to you. “Elves, especially the Mirkwood strain, are very prideful folk. He’ll come to his senses once his foot heals.”

“I can’t imagine it’ll heal anytime soon if he keeps pushing himself every day like he’s doing,” you pointed out.

Aragorn sighed. “That is entirely Thranduil’s blood coming out in him.”

“Remind me to never step foot in Mirkwood then,” you grinned.

Aragorn gave a toothy smile back, and bonked his skewer with yours in a “cheers to that” motion.

You could feel Legolas’ eyes burning into the back of your head, but paid it no mind. You didn’t dare glance over your shoulder, lest Mordor freeze over.

The rest of the camp continued on in low chatter, that is until Boromir and Gimli came rushing back—completely out of breath.

“What is it?” Aragorn asked right away.

“Orc scouts,” Boromir answered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Thirty, give or take, approaching from the west.”

The camp looked around at each other quickly in fright, before Aragorn jumped into action. Rising to his feet, he grabbed his sword and dictated everyone else to do the same.

“We’ll meet them half way and use the element of surprise,” he said.

Legolas began rising to his own feet, though, a great deal of strained effort was noticeable on his end.

“I’m coming, I just need to get my bow,” Legolas announced, barely able to move the foot resting on a sleeping pack.

“No, not you, mellon nîn,” said Aragorn, upholding a hand and motioning for Legolas to lay down again. “Please, stay behind. Though your valiance is admirable, you will only get in the way of this fight. Rest, and fight when your ankle heals.”

Legolas’ face contorted in hurt, and you imagined this was the first time the athletic prince had ever been sidelined.

You all stood around in misplaced guilt, fiddling with your swords and avoiding eye contact with Legolas.

Finally, the elf’s jaw set, and he forcibly fell back down into sheets—turning over and pulling the covers up over his shoulder.

“We can’t leave him vulnerable,” Sam pointed out, whispering quietly as to not anger Legolas further. However, you could see his pointed ears twitching back, and knew he heard every gut-punching word.

Aragorn nodded, and turned his eyes to you. The hobbits had to stay under the protection of Aragorn, and leaving Frodo and the Ring out of sight and alone behind in the camp simply wasn’t an option.

Aragorn gestured between you and Legolas discreetly. Understanding his words, you dropped your shoulders and sighed.

“I’ll stay back and tend to the camp,” you announced.

The rest of the Fellowship gave you an apologetic look, before running off into the forest towards the orcs.

You were soon left with the silence of the camp, save for the angered breathing of Legolas and the crackling of the dimming fire.

Stood there unsure of what to do in the awkward space, you continued fiddling with the pommel of your sword, and looked at Legolas.

His back was rising and falling quickly—clearly infuriated with the whole situation. You felt bad for him, you really did, but you were still unsure of how to approach him.

Looking down to the fire again, you saw untouched skewers of meat, and arrived at a resolution.

With the food in hand, you walked over to the prince. He could hear you coming, and with every crunch of your boots on the foliage, his eyes twitched.

Sitting down beside his back, you placed a hand on the broad of his shoulder and shook him gently. “The rabbit smells really good, and has that beautiful, slightly charred smoky taste. Seems a waste to not eat it, no?”

“Not hungry,” Legolas grumbled.

“You need to heal your ankle, Legolas,” you said again, this time sterner. “You need to ea—”

“Not. Hungry.”

Thinning your lips, you shook your head down at Legolas in disappointment. “Legolas, I know you’re upset with me regarding your ankle, but holding a grudge isn’t going to—”

He swiftly turned over in his pack, and stared at the dimming fire.

“We need more firewood,” he said, glaring at the dying flames.

You followed his line of sight, and noticed he was indeed right. However, you recalled the orcs and what Aragorn expected of you.

“We’ll just have to wait for the others. I can’t leave the camp to fetch more, and I definitely can’t leave you vulnerable to—”

“Ugh! I’ll do it myself!” Legolas exclaimed. He rose swiftly and tried limping out into the woods with clenched fists and squared shoulders.

“Legolas!” you called, quickly grabbing your sword and cursing under your breath. “Wait! You shouldn’t be on that ankle!”

But he was already marching on.

Heading a few strides out into the forest, Legolas went farther and farther to find the best firewood. You ran behind him, surprised he could go so far for someone who was injured.

“Wait!” you yelled again, finally jumping out in front of him. “Go back to sleep, Legolas. Now.”

He merely glared at you, and stepped around your form—pushing on.

Groaning in frustration, you turned around and pulled on his shoulder. “I’m serious, Legolas! There are orcs out here at the moment, and I need to stay by the camp!”

“Then you can go back,” Legolas growled, forcibly shoving your hand off of his shoulder. “I don’t need to be babysat by you.”

“No,” you agreed, “but you do need my help with your ankle!”

Grabbing the bottom of his cloak, you started pulling him back towards the camp.

“Let go!” he shouted, digging his one good heel into the ground and pulling his cape back—initiating a tug of war between you both.

“No!” you denied, pulling the cloak again. “You’re coming back with me, and that’s final!”

“NO!” Pull. “I’m helping by getting firewood!”

Yank. “You’re not helping at all! You’re putting me in a tough situation instead!”

“It’s not your problem!” Tug.

“Yes, it is!” you exclaimed, pulling the cloak one more time. “It is my problem, because you’ve become a HUGE problem for the entire Fellowship!”

Upon pulling one last time, Legolas lost his footing and tripped, causing you both to fall down.

You each groaned in pain as your backs were sprawled across the foliage. Legolas was the first to sit up, but immediately yelped in pain as he did so.

He held his ankle tight, and bared his teeth as to stop himself from crying out.

“It’s worse,” he whispered, avoiding your eyes. “My ankle—I think I hurt it more.”

You stared at Legolas in horror, as he clutched said sore ankle. You sat up next to him, and ran a finger along it.

He jolted immediately, and fought back another cry by biting down on his bottom lip.

“Dammit, Legolas…” you cursed, furrowing your brows and shaking your head. “Why couldn’t you have just listened to me? You need to rest.”

Upon glaring up at him, you were taken aback, for there were unshed tears in the elf’s eyes. He was clearly holding himself back from letting them fall, as he sniffled and studied his ankle.

“Legolas?” you called softly, reaching a hand up and gently directing his chin to face you. “What’s going on with you?”

Letting the first tear fall, and swallowing the lump in his throat, Legolas spoke up in a quiet voice—finally unbottling his emotions.

“I’m supposed to be the athlete,” he said, studying your eyes before looking down again. “I was always the best in training. I’ve pushed myself through rain, mud and more, because I’ve always been the best. And now? Now I can’t even fetch firewood for my friends...”

Sympathy overtook your eyes, as you suddenly understood the elf.

“You still are the best here, Legolas,” you promised, trying to catch his eyes as he averted them. “A sprained ankle means nothing in the grand scheme of it. You are, without a doubt, the strongest one of us here. None of us think differently of you simply because you’re hurt.”

“But I feel so useless!” he exclaimed, letting a few more tears fall. “My friends are out there right now pulling their own weight against the orcs, and I’m stuck here crying on the ground because I can’t even walk.”

“But you will walk again,” you assured him, turning his chin once more. “And when that day comes—which isn’t too far off, mind you—those orcs will wish they hadn’t ever left Mordor.”

You laughed brightly for a moment in afterthought, earning a smile from Legolas.

“What?” he asked gently.

“Do you remember how you took that cave troll down in Moria?” you chuckled again, thinking of the memory. “You scaled atop the darn thing and shot two arrows into its brain!”

“Three…” Legolas sheepishly corrected, now grinning in a shy way.

“Three,” you annulled, grinning back up at him. “Trust me, Legolas. Your friends think nothing less of you than pure amazing talent. Don’t let it eat away at you.”

Legolas nodded to himself for a moment, before another sheepish grin formed on his lips. “Speaking of eating…are there any of those rabbit meat skewers still left back at camp?”

You smiled warmly, and helped him up.

He tentatively accepted your aid, and slowly wrapped an arm over your shoulder, as you helped him limp back to camp.

“C’mon, athlete. Let’s get you some food.”

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part sixteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist

smut warnings: female masturbation, porn, mentions of choking

“‘We’? Like, you and me?” you clarified, hoping you had misunderstood.

“Yeah, it’ll only take a second,” Tom assured you.

You looked to Sam for help, but he looked just as lost as you were. “I’ll go try and find a microwave to heat up your leftovers,” he offered and took the container back from you. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

“Okay...”

You watched him shrug past both you and Tom and then disappear into the hallway with a sinking feeling in your chest, knowing he trusted you completely. He had no reason not to, and that’s what consumed you. 

“What do you want?” you muttered, reluctantly stepping to the side to let Tom in. 

He didn’t answer right away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. His eyes followed you around the room as you found your pants and tugged them on. He averted his gaze when he realized you were getting dressed mumbling a “sorry” as he trained his eyes on the carpet. 

You sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain why he was there. 

“You weren’t there today,” was all he said. 

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“Was it because of me?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

Tom’s tongue poked at the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”

“I had a lot to drink last night,” you reminded him. 

“So you don’t remember anything?”

“I never said that.”

“So it was because of me?”

“I never said that either.” You sighed. “If you’re here to ask me if I told him you kissed me, I didn’t. And you could’ve just texted me to ask.”

“No that’s not why- I don’t have your number anyway.”

“I’m in the trip group chat with your family.”

“Oh, right. I’ll save it to my contacts.”

The tension in the room was palpable. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out and replaced with thick, suffocating silence. Arbitrarily, you wondered who the most famous person in his phone was. He was a Marvel actor, he probably had Simu Liu’s number, right? Who would your contact information be sitting in between? Maybe if you ever forgave him for what he did you could ask him. 

“Is something funny?” The firmness of Tom’s voice cut through your train of thought and brought you back to the present. “Why are you smiling?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said despondently. “Sam’s gonna be back soon. What did you want?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. Sam said you were sick.”

“Oh, so you wanted to see if I was lying?”

“No! God, why is it so hard to believe that I’m genuinely concerned about you?”

“Because last night you only seemed concerned about yourself.”

Tom pursed his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets, expelling a breath harshly. “Okay, I deserved that.”

You hummed in agreement, and let your eyes trail down the veins of his arms to where they disappeared into his pockets. It looked like he was fiddling with a coin or something small, but you couldn’t tell. 

“Are you feeling better?” he said the last part through gritted teeth.

“Yes, thank you. This chat has helped considerably.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Well, lucky for you I’m not your problem to deal with. I'm Sam’s.”

He flexed his hand in his pocket and sighed. “Okay, well, I also wanted to apologize again for...” the word kiss seemed to die on his lips, poetic irony at its finest. “Being a dick.” Less poetic. 

He finally fished his hand out of his pocket, holding a delicate piece of paper between his pointer and index fingers. He shifted uncomfortably where he was leaning against the dresser. “We went to the Academic Gallery today. I saw this in the gift shop and thought of you.” He presented you with what turned out to be a postcard, creased down the middle unevenly and smudged with pen ink.

You turned it over to look at the front first, admiring the artwork printed on it. It was a picture of Michelangelo’s David drawn in swoopy black lines and filled in with watercolor paint. Instead of a museum, the statue was in the middle of a garden, the centerpiece among dozens upon dozens of flowers. 

 “Sorry it’s folded,” he mumbled. “It wouldn’t fit in my pocket.”

You flipped it over to read the back only to see iou scribbled in his handwriting and nothing else. You turned it over again to see if you had missed something on the front, but there was nothing.

You looked up at him in confusion. “Iou?” 

“Yeah, you know... I feel really bad about last night, and I don’t really know how to make it up to you so I’m letting you decide.”

“That’s not really how it works.”

“I think that this counts as an exception, since we’re kind of in uncharted territory.”

“Maybe for you. My boyfriend’s brothers make out with me all the time.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t make out with you- it was barely a peck.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It was more than a peck.”

His cheeks were beginning to grow pink with what you couldn’t tell was either embarrassment or frustration. He cleared his throat awkwardly and changed the subject. “Anyway, if you ever need a favor or anything, just let me know. Think of it as me owing you one.”

“And do I have to give back the postcard when I cash in this ‘favor’?” you asked.

“No, you can keep it.”

“Good, because I was going to keep it anyway.”

He chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head. “Knew you’d like it.”

You flattened the card on your lap, smiling as you tried to iron out the little crease with your fingers. 

“It’s pretty, thank you.”

Tom nodded in acknowledgement and straightened his posture. “I should get going. I just wanted to give you that, and see how you were doing since tomorrow’s a travel day and I know you get a little motion sick sometimes. I didn’t want... whatever you’d come down with to make it worse.”

How did he know that? Had Sam told him? You didn’t have time to ask because he was already walking towards the door. He paused when he reached it and turned his head towards you, hand already on the knob. 

“Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Tom.”

  He opened the door and let himself out into the hallway, catching it suddenly on his foot as he saw Sam coming off the elevator. Tom held the door for Sam, since his hands were full, and then said goodnight to his brother as he finally left.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find the microwave,” he explained. “I had to ask the night manager and they heated it up in the break room for me.”

“Oh, Sam, you didn’t have to do that! I would’ve eaten it cold.”

“I know you would have, and that’s why I’m not letting you.” You gave him a look, which he ignored and handed you the container of food. “It’s carbonara, it’s one of the things Rome is known for. I couldn’t have you eating it lukewarm.” 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He ran a hand through his hair and took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, pulling the ottoman closer to use it as a makeshift table. He watched as you tried the first bite, gauging your reaction. It was something he did whenever he cooked for you, especially if he was trying out a new recipe. He always needed your approval, and valued it above anybody else’s. But he hadn’t even made this, and as his eyes searched your face you found yourself wondering if they were looking for something else. 

“Do you like it?” 

You breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Your paranoia was starting to get the better of you. “It’s delicious,” you assured him. “I’m sad I missed dinner.”

“I’m sad you missed the whole day. Spending time with my family without you was hell.”

“Oh come on, it’s probably good that you got some real family time.”

“It’s real family time when you’re there. It felt like something was missing.” 

You let a small smile slip past your lips despite the guilt that bubbled under the surface. You pushed it down and took another bite of the carbonara. 

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? It can’t have all been bad. Tell me about the good stuff. I wanna hear that.”

Sam nodded and pushed his curls back again, grinning like he’d been caught. “Fine, maybe there were some okay moments.”

“And what were they?”

“We went to the Accademia Gallery today. I think you would have really liked it. They had a whole wing of instruments from some of the most famous inventors and musicians from history. They even had pianos from Bartolomeo Cristorfori, the inventor of the piano.”

“Wow,” you said, impressed. “I bet it was beautiful.”

“Of course if it was played, it wouldn’t sound anything like the piano we’re used to hearing today, but I’m sure it would still sound incredible.”

“Even if it hasn’t been tuned in a few hundred years?”

It was his turn to give you a look. “Yes, of course.”

“Sorry.”

“And they had a Strativerius, I don’t even want to know how valuable that thing is. It must cost millions. I took some pictures for you, but I know they won’t compare to the real thing. The lighting in museums never does the art justice.”

He handed his phone to you to scroll through. You swiped the photos, smiling whenever you came across a selfie he’d taken with a statue or painting. You reached the pictures of David and couldn’t help but zoom in on-

“Hey!” Sam yelped and grabbed his phone back from your hands.

“What!”

“Michelangelo would be so ashamed of you! I bet he’s rolling in his grave right now.”

“No way! If anyone appreciated good dick, it was Michelangelo.” 

“Unbelievable.” 

“If you don’t want me to judge these statue’s penises, don’t take pictures of them.”

“I didn’t take pictures of their penises! I took pictures of the whole statue- you’re zooming in on- you know what, nevermind. Arguing with you about this is pointless.”

“Smart boy.”

Sam rolled his eyes at you and put his phone in his back pocket. “Oh yeah, did Tom give you that postcard?”

“He told you about that?” you asked, suddenly panicking. Sam hadn’t said anything about last night so far, but maybe Tom had-

“Yeah, said he wanted to give you an iou for the limoncello last night.”

“What?”

“He said you paid the tab for it since he left his wallet in the room and that he wanted to pay you back for it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Another lie. You had very much not paid for the drinks last night. Tom had. And you knew he had to make an excuse for why he was buying his brother’s girlfriend something from the gift shop, but to add another lie to the ever-growing list made your throat burn with regret. You wouldn’t be able to keep the secret forever, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down around you. 

-

In the morning you took the train from Rome to Naples, and then took a taxi to Sorrento to spend the last bit of your week in Italy by the sea. The atmosphere was much more relaxed than it had been in the busy cities of Rome and Florence. Even though there were still hordes of tourists, they were far more dispersed and less overbearing than you expected. The whole town seemed slowed down, like it had escaped the chokehold of time. 

Sam’s parents took everyone out to lunch by the water and went over the schedule for the next day and a half. 

“So, you’re on your own after dinner tonight, and then tomorrow morning we’re going to take the ferry to Capri for the day before our flight that night,” Nikki explained as she read through the spreadsheet on her phone. 

“There’s an Irish pub down the street from our hotel,” Harry said. “Do you guys want to go after we eat tonight?”

“I’m down,” Sam agreed. 

“Sounds good,” Tom chimed in.

The boys all looked at you for your answer, but you hesitated. Thinking about what happened the last time you drank didn’t make you eager to do it again, and you were already exhausted from travelling.

“I’ll pass.”

“What? Why?” Sam asked, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m tired, and I’d rather go somewhere Italian... since we’re in Italy.”

Harry shrugged. “Your loss.”

“We’ll have a shot in your honor, babe,” Sam said and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Please don’t. Something tells me you’ll have plenty to drink without an extra shot for me.”

“You know us so well.”

After dinner, you walked back to the hotel with the Hollands and said good night to Sam’s parents before parting ways to your separate rooms. Sam went with you to change into clothes for going out while you changed into pajamas. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

You nodded from where you were on the bed and yawned. Sam didn’t push any further, instead resolving to finish getting ready in silence. He paired his black jeans with a pair of converse and a dark green button up over a black t-shirt. 

He turned to you for approval.

“Fake girlfriend approved?”

“Fake girlfriend approved,” you repeated and gave him a thumbs up. 

“Okay, well I’m headed out,” he announced. 

“Have fun! Don’t kiss any cute girls without me!” 

It was something you always said to each other, but it sounded strange since it was supposed to be coming from his girlfriend. Sam just chuckled and blew you a kiss as he let himself out. 

You heard him greet his brothers outside and then listened to their footsteps fade into the distance before pulling up an incognito window on your phone. It had been weeks since you’d been able to get off and it was killing you. The amount of stress this trip had given you only made it worse. You were wound so tight that you were sure you’d snap soon if you didn’t get some relief. 

And you thought that maybe if you rubbed one out it might help you forget about... the confusing feelings you had for your best friend’s brother. 

Seeing as you had the night to yourself, you figured you might as well take advantage of it. You copied a link from your notes app and pasted the url into the address bar. You didn’t feel like digging through your luggage to find your earbuds so you set the volume low enough for only you to hear. 

The video started playing and you let your hand wander from your side up to your neck, brushing your hand lightly across your collarbone. You traced the curve of your breasts with a finger before squeezing one of them gently, feeling your nipple harden under your palm. You only had one hand to use since the other was holding your phone, but you made do. 

The video was one of your favorites, one you found yourself watching at least once a week. It was one of the few videos of hetero couples you had favorited, and it started with the guy going down on the girl before fucking her...

You admired the muscles on the man’s back, watching intently as they flexed whenever he moved his head. The woman moaned, struggling to keep her legs open while he brought her closer and closer to orgasm. 

You let your hand travel down further until it was sitting at the waistband of your pajama shorts. You knew you had a while before Sam would be back, but you were too impatient to wait. You propped your phone up on a pillow next to you to free your other hand as you started to play with your clit. 

You pictured someone’s head in between your thighs, imagining them moaning against your pussy as they tasted you for the first time. 

The man was taking his pants off now and lining himself up with his partner’s pussy. You tried to follow along, putting yourself in the moment with the couple. You gathered your own wetness on two of your fingers to lubricate them and slid them inside yourself, sighing in relief. Your entire body tensed as it accommodated to the stretch and you gave yourself a few beats before moving your fingers. 

When you finally did, you felt yourself relax and sped up your pace so that it matched the actors on screen.

The angle the video was shot at hid the man’s face and you found yourself wondering what he looked like. If you squinted you could almost picture Tom- no. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, but it was already there. 

Closing your eyes didn’t help either. You just imagined Tom’s fingers sliding in and out of you instead of your own, imagined the veins on his arms becoming more pronounced as he tightened his grip on your thigh. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, knowing you should stop. 

You were too close to stop now, and the pleasure was clouding your judgement. Suddenly the man brought his hand up to the girl’s throat and began to choke her, sending her hurtling into her own orgasm. You moaned accidentally, thinking about Tom’s hand around your throat. You curled your fingers up so that you were hitting your g-spot and whimpered pathetically.

This was wrong. This was bad. Not only were you fantasizing about your best friend’s brother, but you were confusing yourself even further. 

You tried to fight it, at least that’s what you told yourself, but all you could hear were Tom’s moans echoing through the speaker. You pictured the way he’d look on top of you. His eyes would be so dark and he’d be smirking like the cocky asshole he was, chain hanging down in your face- just inviting you to take it into your mouth. It didn’t take long before you felt your orgasm begin to build. The video was still playing in the background, the man still chasing his own high and bringing his partner to her second orgasm, but you’d tuned it out by now. You came around your fingers thinking about Tom’s hips snapping into yours. 

You were fucked.

lmk what you think!! i always appreciate feedback

forever tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped-blog @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson @everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician @livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @swim-deep-or-die @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @mildcockandballtorture @uglypastels @gennyld @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @peterunderoos @fuckyeahhomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @softholand @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @jillanaholland @dinasaur36 @farfromhaz @hanlons-wp @moon-390 @parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown @almondholland @noisyzineeggsbandit @5sos-microwave @quackson-love @smilealways19 @quackeroos @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @wolvesofwinter @mukesnugget @mytonycinematicuniverse @itsjusttor @percysmcu @peterquillzsblog @lovewolfspirit @biebsmylife95 @a-disappointing-teen-author @justanotherusername80 @b-buckys @sunkisseddreamerr @hufflepuffprincess24 @princessxcryxbaby @tinyyoungblood @holyfrickfracks @amii-nyc @clara-licht @veryholland @captainamirica @ultrunning @cocoamoonmalfoy @nellbellzz-blog @bookfrog242 @honeymoonlover @nellabellaa @its-the-solar-system @spiitfiires @tomhollandfangirl1 @parkeromanoff @randomstufflol29 @pogueslandia @hollandswife @bunnyweasley23 @determined-overthinker @madz-holland @hi-yekaterina @rinaaa33 

send me an ask to be added/ removed from a taglist

[starshipsofstarlord]

God is With You, Even as You’re Sinning

Pairing | Sam Winchester x reader

Summary | it was your first time not killing a monster, and in its place, taking the life of one of your own. Guilt entraps you, and it is up to Sam to break you out of your pitiful hypnosis.

Warnings | mentions of death, blood, angst, guilt, some smut, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of murder

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Fuck God. This was all his fault, everything was to be fair. He had left the world to continue on its own accord, the apocalypse threatening to spill over the planet and destroy it and all beauty that was lingering through the existence of humans.

They killed each other, and the creator of all could care less. It was his smallest problem, he didn’t mind that the murderer was succumbed to guilt, or how many restless nights that he or she endured. God was cruel, even if he held up a facade of being your ally, and trying his hardest as he supposed, to be your friend.

Your hands shook as you remembered the entailment of your mistake. It was a slip up, a vast and surreal experience that people usually learned from. But what were you supposed to do, not kill a human again? Yeah you had gotten that, after all, the initial deed had not at all been intentional.

There was the victim’s blood dried upon the outer layer of your skin, casting you in the perfect image of murderous intent. However, you had no thirst to kill, instead, your hunting of monsters, alike to many others partaking in a similar lifestyle, executed the mythical beasts to protect the human population.

It pained you truly, to know that you had killed a person. You hadn’t even spared the familiar body a second glance, and out of panic, you fled the scene, leaving the body of the city cleaner in the gutter, laying in the remnants of his friends’ and family’s waste, burying him in their crude excrement.

The thought alone, and the sight that was engrained in the peripheral of your mind had you feeling sick. Slowly, you plodded down the steps of the bunker’s entrance, surely leaving footprints trademarked in all kinds of grotesque evidence.

Without much care for what lay heavily inside, you dropped your duffel from your shoulder, allowing it to fall on the ground with a disgruntled clatter. Nothing meant anything anymore, not if you were indeed a real killer. Whilst some monsters had weaselled their way into society, ending their pathetic attempts at normality was different than taking away the life of an innocent and mortal bystander.

Often, with the darker and crueler species, there were reasons as to why they pretended to be of human birth. Mostly, it was so that they could feed from the naive flock, or kill for their own amusement. Either way, none of their reasons were good.

But now, you thought of yourself as no different than them. A creature that needed to be put down for their crimes. Filing, you breathed in, only inhaling the various moulds of putridity that was weaved into your hair, and stuck to your skin like a face mask.

“Should I call you Cassie now?” At the joke, a laugh from the speaker was triggered. He was quite amused with the sight of you, and thus, you sneered at the tall man, hating him a little bit more than usual.

“Your pop culture references aren’t appreciated Winchester, it’s more Dean’s street.” Shoving past him, his high shoulder floundered back at the harsh and ignorant impact, an expression of offence covering his stupid face. Like a fawn, he tumbled after you, watching as you walked sullenly into the kitchen, yanking the door to the fridge open, and extracting one of his brother’s store bought beers.

“I’m going to guess the hunt went bad.” Sam speculated, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, and staring expectedly down at where you popped the cap off the bottle recklessly with your teeth. He almost winced at the sight, but he wished to keep this arrogant demeanour up with you, it was a natural desire to piss you off, and he’d be pissed at himself if he let it slip out of simple pity.

“Guess correct. Well done, you’ve won a trip to Hawaii.” You waved your free hand mockingly in the air, as the other raised the liquor to your mouth, allowing you to wilfully gulp the bitter liquid down. At his presence that remained nursing over you, you cocked a brow, leaning forwards as you expectedly looked back at the moose. “Just leave me alone Sam, I’m not in the mood for putting up with your bullshit.”

He, however, seemed not to be phased by you wanting to be left alone, and instead, quickly snatched the poison out of your hand, leaving you throughly prepared to keep him right in the balls. “What the fuck?” You all but screamed at the not so jolly giant. In turn, he crossed his arms across his chest, placing the bottle down on the island.

“I could ask you the same y/n.” His tone was dominantly serious, causing you to cower back into your shroud of guilty conscience. “Tell me what happened on that hunt, of which i told you that you shouldn’t have went on alone, since you wouldn’t have been able to handle it solo.”

You felt demeaned by his words, they sparked an anger out from the firm pit of your stomach. But you knew deep down, he was getting through to you, which was something that you had not managed to even do by yourself. Air heavily passed through and out of your nostrils, as acidic tears pooled in your eyes; a crack was falling down your walls, and out of all people, it was Sam Winchester whom had caused it.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone alone, but you know what, I thought of what a Winchester would do. And then I remembered, I am sure as hell not a Winchester and I don’t have a brother anymore! Not now, he didn’t even know who I was earlier, didn’t even recognise a single genetically identical hair on my head as he watched me parade through the town, the very one that I ran away from when he was a baby and I was seven, wanting to hunt a monster. Yet, i didn’t kill a damn monster Sam, I murdered my brother because you’ve been right all along, I’m not fit for this job. I am a mess, so congratulations, you finally have got me to admit the one thing that you keep reminding me of.”

“Y/n...” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond, he felt the waves of shock ripple through his body. Never so freely had you been vulnerable around him, and here you were now, with very visible tears cascading down your utterly torn face. He understood it was an accident, and the times that he and Dean had tried to kill each other under supernatural circumstances had him wondering what if.

Shaking your grime tethered head at the sound of his cracked voice, you stormed past him, and immediately raced towards the shower room, finding to your luck, which had been non existent during the rest of the day, the halls were barren of life. Walking through the door, you tore your ruined clothes off, chucking them upon the floor without much acknowledgement, before you went under the warm spray of the shower head, trying to calm yourself.

To rid your skin of its evidential accessories, you had to scrub your skin until it was immediately raw. Everything within you ached, as you flicked back to the memory of the clueless expression that had been worn by your blood brother. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know who you were, or else, he’d have known that his own sister murdered him due to her incompetence to listen to others.

Now, you were not even sure what were your tears, and what droplets of water belonged to the shower itself. For over an hour, you basked int eh warmth that seemed unable to cure your cold blooded system, turning the spritz off, and covering your body in a fluffy towel, that you were sure belonged to someone else, but right now, you could care less about who owned what.

As you reached the door to your bedroom, you found it to be preached slightly open, and as you pushed it the rest of the way, you saw Sam sat on the corner of your bed. You held your arms around yourself, insecure on the fact that beneath the stolen towel, you were nothing more than you. A wolf in sheep’s skin.

“Can I help you?” You bitterly asked, your eyes still burning from your own faulted loss. Sam breathed in, his eyes trailing up to your face, that was naked from any gruesome cosmetics or make up. The bareness to your completion illustrated an aura of innocence, and evidence that you were the same as him - human.

“That’s my towel.” The male hunter laughed, in hopes of changing the previous and well wounded subjected to ensure that you felt better. But what was he kidding, nothing could fill the void that you had dug in your own heart, nothing was closer than the bond between siblings, even if you were considered as strangers.

“Take it back then.” Too exhausted from your gruelling day, you dropped the material, your confident action making his eyes go wide, as he tried to look away from your exposed skin to respect your boundaries. It was impossible though not to allow his hazel hues to slip up the trunks of your thighs, up to- no, that was wrong, very wrong.

You had just lost your brother, not to mention, by your own hand, and he was prone to checking out your freelancing body, taking in every curve and twisted scar that was prominent to his speculating eyes. His eyes dropped to the discarded towel, which he had purposely left on the heating rail for later use, and then, they switched back towards you.

He stood, walking behind you as you looked through comfort clothes within your dresser. A light touch of his hand brushed your hair away from your neck, as he breathed a sweet hoax of hot air upon your scare. Sam was relieved that you didn’t reject the contact, and instead, pressed his lips upon the flesh, finding succession whence you hummed deliriously to yourself.

This interaction had been inevitable for a long time, but now no longer were the suspected intentions for such an exchange to be to release well endorsed frustrations. No, he was going to clear your mind for some sensual moments, and make your pretty little head forget for a moment that you had pained yourself in the worst of ways.

Turning, you laced your hands through his chocolate locks, massaging his scalp as you pulled him closer so that your lips could endure a rougher clasp against his. There was no passion, behind each contribution there was a spur of hunger, he grasped your ass cheeks, pulling you up to be sat upon the top of your heavy dresser.

Obliging his command, you spread your legs so that he could stand between their partition, his hands now running up the windows of your thighs. For a while, the pair of you did nothing more than make out, and cup a feel here and there, but soon after, Sam dropped to his lanky knees, leaving kisses in the wake of his descent.

His thumb and forefinger spread your fluttering folds, watching as your slit squirmed for attention. Sam licked his lips at the sight, running his middle finger up the expanse, until he came to your yearning entrance. Slowly, after making sure you were wet enough, Sam slipped his digit inside, you wiggling your hips to adjust to the thrust of his one finger.

To add to the sensations that were overriding your body, he moved his mouth to closer proximity, smelling the divine aroma that pulsed out of you. It was far too addictive to not get a taste, and thus,he pulled his finger out, sucking off your juices contently.

But that small sample just wasn’t enough, which encouraged him to dive face first into your pussy - literally. His long tongue teased your folds, slurping at the lips, and then switching to your clit to heighten the stimulation. He kept up a rhythm, using it as a pattern to push you closer to that edge, and he was surely certain that you were enjoying his oral work as you ground your face against him, moaning at his succulent administrations.

“Sam.” Oh god, was it pleasant to hear his own name fall out your mouth in such an erotic manner. It was far different from the way that you usually used it to snide at him, though, the thought of your regular treatment of him aided only to spur his lustful actions on. He wanted you to cum, for your juices to run down his face in waterfalls, looking as though someone had tried to drown him.

His work would not be complete until you found it difficult to even pronounce his short name. Digging his tongue in the hood of your clit, tracing around the protective area, his fingers returned to their earlier placement, and he quickened their pace until he could hear a satisfying squelch in the air.

Rapid sounds of parted moans raked from your mouth, your chest sticking out as you breasts heaved with your heavy breathing. It was noticeable that you were close, not just from that, but you were squeezing the circulation out of his fingers. “Fuck.” Left you in the form of a squeal, as you pussy wept its juices.

Sam was quick to lap everything that left you up, once more, tasting those that clung to his fingers. He went back in for another taste, but you tightly grouped his hair, pulling him away from your sopping cunt. “Need you to fuck me Sam, now.”

In an instant, the hunter stood, working precariously on undoing the buckle of his belt, and pushing all material that covered his lower half to the bottom of his thighs. He read already hard, and oozing precum. You swept your finger across the tip of his dick, bringing it to your lips to taste his foreshadowing seed.

Sam huffed at the sight,picking his prick up in one hand, and jerking himself a couple of times. And then, he aligned himself with you, rubbing his cock around your wet crevice a couple of times, slapping his tip teasingly against your puffy clit.

“Want my cock baby?” He asked, smirking as he watched you nod your head repeatedly. With that being all the confirmation that he needed, he pushed into you,feeling even more turned on as he heard you mewl, and watched the ecstatic expression cross your face as his dick fit inside of you all the way.

He grasped your hips, pulling out once before pushing in again. He repeated the action, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head at how tight you were. This would make you forget the cruel method of god, his story was not as epic as he though, for his characters were screwing against his will, basking in a distraction rather than the regretful pain that seethed in your trodden heart.

Another thrust had your nails clasping onto Sam’s covered back, biting onto his shoulder through the plaid, as you held back the tears that were trying to creep out of your blissful eyes. A few grunts left Sam, as his pace increased, and with every thrust, which only served to fuel him further, the dresser smashed into the wall behind it, most likely leaving a decent dent within the historical architecture.

“Gonna cum.” You told him, dragging him in for another tongue filled kiss as your cunt pooled around him, coating his cock in the honey from your delicious pot. He soon followed after, and for a moment, he remained against you, allowing you to bask in the comfort of his strange presence.

And then he pulled out, watching as his distraction dripped from your entrance, trailing down your thigh in a white streak. An orgasm smile was pulled onto your face, but it was certain to not last long for when you returned to the reality that laid waiting for you to return.

Sam stepped closer again, moving his fingers towards your cunt, and pushed his seed back inside of you, watching as your puffy pussy lips swallows any part of him that it could get. He would distract you for as long as he could, and then, deal with the inevitable.

[icefire149]

An Angel’s Vow

Chapter Ten - (Read on ao3 | Read from the beginning)

It didn't take long to get all the shopping bags in the house. With the heel of her boot, Claire held the front door open for Cas. She knew it was because of his angel powers, but she was still silently impressed by his carry-it-all-at-once-I'm-only-making-one-trip game.

Claire followed behind him with Jack in her arms. He was still deep asleep and his face was squished into her shoulder. His downy hair pressed against her neck. She kept a hand on his back while they went into the living room.

Cas unceremoniously dropped the bags in the center of the room. He turned and his eyes softened, falling on the sleeping nephilim. "I can put Jack to bed." He held his hands out.

Wordlessly, she passed Jack over, and watched Cas take a moment to study the baby’s sleeping face. A prickle of irritation made her want to snap, that she didn’t do anything to damage the kid, but she managed to keep it choked down. Cas murmured something to Jack’s temple, and then he left a soft kiss there. After that he promptly disappeared upstairs. A weird tight feeling circled through Claire’s chest. She suddenly felt very alone.

Trying to push that thought aside, Claire started poking through the bags until she found the one with school supplies. They somehow managed to fill an entire bag with pens, notebooks, post-it notes, and high-lighters. Now she had to find a place for it.

Claire brought that bag into the kitchen and stood there for a moment surveying the room. Eventually she decided to toss it onto the table. With a shrug, she figured the table would be where their hunter school would happen anyways.

When she circled back to the living room, Cas was already there and sorting the clothes. He glanced at her over his shoulder with furrowed eyebrows. “Did you take the notebooks? They’re not here.”

“I beat you to them. They’re in the kitchen,” she said pointing with her thumb over her shoulder.

Cas nodded, and went back to making two piles. The next bag he picked up made him pause. “Oh, this one’s yours.” He passed it over.

“Thanks,” Claire mumbled, biting the inside corner of her bottom lip. She rolled the plastic bag in her hands. Inside was the black bomber jacket with the blue stripe down the sleeves and the galaxy shirt Jack picked out. Some tiny part of her just couldn’t leave them behind.

Cas went back to sorting the clothes immediately. Sighing, Claire slowly made her way towards the staircase. She didn’t particularly want to help, but she did glance back at Cas again. The bottom step groaned under the weight of her foot. “Hey Cas?”

“Yes?” He looked up. The traffic-cone, orange sweater, that Claire dubbed an abomination, was in his hands.

“Where were you going to store your stuff upstairs: in the closet or the drawers? I don’t wanna get in the way while I’m borrowing the room.”

His gaze squished into an intense squint. “I hadn’t thought about that yet.” The corner of Claire’s mouth hooked into a small, amused smile. Cas continued, “I suppose though...that I should just repack everything into the bags again. Store them out of the way down here.”

“Why?” Claire’s eyebrows furrowed. “You have an entire bedroom.”

“Yes, but I gave it to you. I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

Her smile vanished. Claire crossed her arms. “I’m living out of a duffle bag and the backseat of my car. I’m not messing with the furniture in your room.”

Cas’ head turned to the side. “But you could unpack and use that space while you’re here.”

“Or you could put your shit away like a normal person, because it’s YOUR ROOM!”

Standing up straighter, Cas tossed the sweater aside on the couch. His stare never broke from Claire’s. “For all intents and purposes the room is yours. I already told you that I don’t need a bedroom.”

“And I thought you said that I was free to leave at any time!”

“You are. I don’t under-”

“NO. So I’m supposed to just pretend I don’t see the whole little family act?” Claire took her foot off the step. Her voice dripped with venom. “Is this whole ‘helping me be a better hunter’ thing just something to ease your conscious? You couldn’t run away from playing house this time….so why not try to make up for lost time?”

Claire shoved the plastic bag into Cas’ chest as hard as she could. Cas didn’t flinch. He didn’t speak either. The shine in his sad, blue eyes made her want to scream.

The next thing she was aware of, Claire was slamming her car door shut. Her hands trembled, and that pissed her off even more. Again and again, she slammed her hands into the steering wheel until her eyes were too blurry to see a damn thing.

-

Claire had no idea how much time had passed when she heard a light knock on the passenger side, front window, but the blanket of night was indicator enough that it had been a while. There was no point in looking, she knew who it was so instead she started wiping the remaining tears away with the palms of her hands.

The door creaked opened and Cas slid into the front seat. In with him came the wafting smell of hot food, and Claire’s stomach immediately growled. She finally turned to him, and Cas held a plate out to her in one hand and a covered container in the other.

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you bring me grilled cheese and…?”

“Creamy tomato soup.”

She took both, and got herself situated with the plate in her lap and the soup container in her hands. But  Claire stopped herself before digging in. She eyed the grilled cheese cautiously. Only one corner looked like it was auditioning to be a piece of charcoal. “Did...you cook? Like actually made this from scratch?”

“Yes.” He looked away, leaning his elbow on the door. “And the house is still standing.”

“Why did you cook when you know it’s a hazard?”

Cas sighed, and rolled his gaze back over to her. He held it for several moments before speaking. “Eat before your food gets cold. I can still remember how unpleasant that can be.”

Nodding, Claire started taking big mouthfuls of soup. They sat there like that in silence while she ate. Cas stared out the window lost in his own thoughts.

It wasn’t until Claire’s bites slowed down that Cas finally spoke. “I’m sorry.” Claire burst into a coughing fit. Her mouth had been full, and that was the last thing she was expecting from the angel.

He continued while eyeing her carefully. “I never meant to upset you. I’m in no way trying to force anything on you.” Cas turned away and leaned back in the chair. He stared at the ceiling above him.

“I know.” Claire’s voice was quiet. She put the empty soup container in the cup holder between the front seats and slid the crumb covered plate onto the dashboard. “Loo-”

“It surprised me….I surprised me..when I asked you to meet me out here. Giving away my secret location…”

“Why’d you do it then?” Claire ran her index finger across the side of the steering wheel. “You won’t even let the Winchesters near Jack.”

Cas shifted his whole body as much as he could in the front seat to face her. “I was scared when you said you were hunting alone. The feeling was overwhelming.”

“I’m not a child, Castiel.” Claire clenched her jaw. The embers of her anger were growing hotter again.

“I’m aware.” There was a low warning tone in his voice. “Don’t mistake or misshapen my fears. This isn’t about coddling you or...treating you like you’re incapable.” The tension eased in Claire’s jaw. He continued, “Those feelings mean…..your presence as well as your absence...they matter to me. You matter.”

Claire stared at him in disbelief. Her hands squirmed awkwardly in her lap. “So the teaching sessions…?”

“I haven’t lied. I want to help you, and I want to pass my knowledge along.” His head tilted just a bit. “Claire, I’ll never be able to repay you or...make anything right. I know that, but….this is something I can do. And selfishly...I’d like you to be the best.”

Claire’s lip twitched. “That’s...uh..a high bar.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth pulled into a small grin. “Honestly, I don’t think it is. Many hunters speak of Sam and Dean like they’re legendary. And….while I understand the reasons why….”

“They’re stumbling ass-backwards into everything,” Claire grinned.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Cas deadpanned. He shook his head. “The difference maker is knowledge and I have millennia of information.”

Claire’s gaze fell to her lap. She felt a myriad of emotions bouncing around her head. It made her chest feel tight. “So….this is about your guilty conscious.”

“No,” Cas frowned. “Um...uh, well, to a degree, yes. I’ll never forgive myself for the wrongs I’ve done, but my guilt isn’t why I care...or why I want to see you succeed at something that I hear you enjoy a lot.” That got Claire to glance back at him. “I see you as my friend and as my family. Just like Sam, and Jack, and Dean. And...things have been hectic since I last saw you. A part of me honestly called you here, because I missed you.”

“You did?” Her lip twitched.

He nodded. “Initially, I thought distance would be better. I didn’t think you’d want me around….” Cas glanced down at himself and sighed. “or to have to look at me.”

“Well that’s not the case,” Claire snapped. Cas looked at her startled. Her voice softened. “I thought I never wanted to see your face again….but then I’d hear through the grape vine that shit was going down...and I’d be waiting to hear from you.”

She crossed her arms and refused to look at Cas. “I figured that if Jody was on Sam and Dean’s goodbye list for the end then I was on yours, right? And then I’d get radio silence.” Claire paused. The pain in her voice didn’t hide well. “It sucks being disappointed all over again…”

“I’m so sorry. I-I…” Cas reached a hand out but stopped halfway between them. Looking away, he withdrew his hand. His next words tumbled out in a whisper. “Of course I would have called you….I wasn’t able to when things went….badly...I’m sorry. That’s a poor excuse.”

Claire rolled her gaze over to him. “Explain then.”

“Okay,” Cas nodded. ��So...Dean was dealing with the mark of Cain.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “That was a while ago.”

He sighed. “It was, but it’s where a lot of bad things started.”

“Okay. Continue.”

“It took a lot of effort to free him from the mark, and….he was resistant. Turns out he had good reason instinctually. Removing the mark also removed the bindings keeping the Darkness out of creation.”

“The Darkness? With a capital D…...Jody wasn’t kidding about that?” Claire stared at him incredulously.

“No, regrettably. Her name’s Amara, and….she’s God’s sister.”

“Yikes.”

Cas shook his head. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Claire turned in her seat, bending a leg and leaning her back into the door. “Sooo the mark broke and the Darkness was released. Nice going dumbass.”

“I know…...and it got worse.” Cas rolled his eyes. “The witch we had helping us with the spell-work, Rowena, she stole a very powerful book when the spell was complete and she….hit me with her magic.”

Claire sat up straighter. “Magic works on angels?”

“Yes, but luckily not perfectly,” he said very matter-of-fact. “She calls it her attack dog spell. And it makes the victim rabid until they drop dead with bloody eyes.”

“What….did it do to you?”

“I….I eventually broke through the rabid behavior, but I was still at the mercy of Rowena removing the spell completely. And she was persuaded to do so, but it did have lasting affects…” Cas wouldn’t meet Claire’s eye. He was carefully choosing his words. “The spell might have killed me in the long term, but it did dig deep into my being and shredded everything it touched. I’m grateful Sam and Dean were there for me during that time. The recovery was...longer than I would have liked.”

Claire nodded and ran a hand over her knee. “What happened with Amara?”

“Oh...yes. Amara.” Cas took a deep breath. “After that, Amara was the pressing issue. She took a personal interest in Dean as...he was the last bearer of the mark.”

“Gross.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas chose to ignore that. He continued, “We learned that it took Chuck….um, God – he likes to be called Chuck – and all the archangels to cage her away before.” Claire grimaced. “And there’s only two archangels left.”

“Okay, that’s a not so fun fact.”

“No. There’s nothing fun about that.” Cas shook his head. “And they’re both caged in Hell so….they weren’t exactly available.”

There was a quiet pause where Claire was still processing every bit of information Cas shared. She didn’t miss that he seemed to be growing uncomfortable. He was twitching and pulling at his coat sleeves. And then, it dawned on her. “You asshats freed the devil, didn’t you?”

Defensive, Cas argued, “We….I was trying to do what was best..for everyone.” Claire’s gaze narrowed. “Lucifer was our only option. We didn’t know where or who God was, and Sam was receiving visions as answers to his prayers. Sadly, we were being tricked.”

She nodded. “So, rip the band-aid off. How’d you do it?”

Cas frowned. “I….I couldn’t ask Sam to make that sacrifice again. Lucifer wanted to use him as a vessel again.”

“Again?” Claire coughed. Cas hummed in response. Claire continued, “We need to go back to that later. Keep going.”

“And Dean nee-the whole world needed Amara gone. To do that we needed Lucifer. So I said yes.”

Leaning forward, Claire dropped her face into her hands. “You let the devil walk around in my dad’s body. Your body.”

“I’m not infallible, Claire.”

“My dad would be spinning in his grave...if he had one.”

“Yeah….let’s not tell Jimmy about that. He would be rather upset.”

She lifted her head and stared at him oddly. “Last I checked Heaven doesn’t have cell service. How am I supposed to tell him anything?”

“That’s fair.” Cas shrugged. “These days I feel like anything is possible eventually. I’d like to be prepared.” Claire nodded. “Granted all you need is to send an angel with a note.”

Stunned, it took Claire a moment to speak. “If you weren’t hiding from Heaven...you could talk to my parents?”

“I could.” His voice came out softly. “If there’s anything you want me to pass along to them...let me know. One day I may be able to….or at the very least I might run into an angel I trust that could do that for you.”

Claire shifted her gaze so she was looking out the windshield instead. Quietly, she turned his words over and over again in her head. She was still processing when she gave him a small nod. After a few more minutes she was ready to push that information aside for a while. She turned back to Cas. “So if Lucifer was walking around in…..well, where were you?”

“Oh, um…” His gaze fell to his lap, guilty. “I agreed for him to possess me so...uh, I was right in here..as well. Only, he was in control and I had no way to overpower him.”

“You agreed to be trapped in your own mind?”

He still wouldn’t meet her eye. “Yes.” The silence stretched on long enough that Cas glanced up and saw that the last traces of Claire’s anger had cooled. She looked concerned, and between that and the guilt of his past mistakes, Castiel felt like his airway was being crushed.

“What….what happened next?”

“That’s where...it gets...uh, Dean...would call it fuzzy. I’m aware that he did pretend to be me, but that was short lived. He lost my car. He terrorized Heaven, and Hell. I’m told…..” Cas’ voice grew quieter. “-that Dean, Sam, and some of our tentative...allies..they put a lot of energy into reaching me so I could expel him.”

“Good,” Claire snapped. Cas’ looked at her quizzically. “What? I’d kick their asses if they didn’t fix your boneheaded dumbassery.”

His tone was sharp. “I did what I thought was necessary.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it was stupid.”

“I know,” Cas barked. They both sat there in their frustration for a bit. “Eventually….Chuck came back and Amara tore Lucifer from me. Problem solved.”

Claire glared out the window. Her jaw was taut. “Don’t do that again.”

“I don’t intend to. It was vile.” Exasperated, Claire exhaled loudly. Cas continued, “Chuck and Amara came to an agreement and the world was fine again. Lucifer was free so I spent my time pursuing him.” He didn’t miss the shiver that Claire tried to hide. Softly, he added, “But there’s nothing to worry about anymore. He’s caged. He’s just a distant memory.”

They sat there in silence after that. Eyes closed, Claire leaned her head back against the glass of the window. “Thanks….for you know, telling me…”

“Thank you for...being understanding,” Cas said gently.

She opened her eyes. “Our lives are insane.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be.” Claire shook her head. “Things suck, but I’m glad I met Jody, and Alex, Sam and Dean.” Her eyes looked sad, but there was a soft smile fighting to stay on her face. “Jack...and you.”

Dumbfounded, Cas nodded. The emotions swelling in his chest felt inordinate. Her words meant more to him than he knew how to express.

“Whoa!” Claire flew forward, putting her hands on the dashboard and pressing her chest to the steering wheel. “Did you see that?”

Castiel tensed. “What?” He leaned forward, studying the view in front of them.

“The lights flickered. Like some kind of power surge.” She opened the car door. “Come on, let’s see what Jack did this time.”

Exhaling, Cas deflated in his seat for a moment. He knew what caused the electrical issue and it wasn’t Jack. Cas took another deep breath and composed himself. He swiftly got out of the car, taking the trash from dinner with him. Before Claire could open the house door, he paused, “Claire?”

She pivoted on her heels, turning around. “Yeah?”

Momentarily, he struggled to find the right words. He knew that he needed to get this out now. “All...um, all you need to do is ask.”

“What?” She looked at him like he grew several more heads.

“In the future...if you decide that you want me around more...or less. Just ask.”

Claire rolled her eyes, and pushed the front door open. “Yeah, yeah. I get it now.” Cas followed her into the house. She went to the staircase and paused on the bottom step again. Her eyes found his. “I’ll consider it when you start doing the same.” She went upstairs, leaving Cas confused in the living room.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): 

@nightandwine  @autumnapologist

[chemist-ana]

Chapter 13 The Morning After— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Vivan and Mason Dalton

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N I know there are a lot of people that do not like Sam Dalton- that being said, this chapter was especially difficult for me to write, because I am trying to give him a redeeming character arc. As a person that is involved with the family business, I can understand to a degree where he is coming from with the guilt and what he chooses some of the decisions he does. BUT please do not forgot that MC is culpable and definitely at fault as well. There are definitely some cringe worthy things in this chapter- but I hope y'all love it! Also a super big thank you for @txemrn for talking me through some of these ideas and for being the queen of angst. Love you p.

Summary: In the cold light of day, will you and Ana be able to face the consequences of your actions?

Word Count: 5800

Tag List:  @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @lifeaskim @aussieez @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations @somersetmummy @melalicious8383 @chrissythadon @shannonwrote @jerzwriter

The sound of my footsteps, my labored breathing, and the early morning traffic are the only sounds in my ears, as I push my legs faster through Central Park. I reach up and wipe at the sweat that is beading on my brow, silently cursing the wretched New York, humid, summer mornings.

I usually run with music blasting in my ears… but I decided this morning to torture myself, and I can’t decide whether its working. The sounds of Ana’s moans echo through my mind, as steady as my heart beats. I see a gorgeous blonde running towards me and I give her a crooked smile as our eyes connect. She just about trips on the pavement before composing herself mid stride and continues past me, avoiding my gaze.

Well that didn’t help.

I push myself harder in the last few hundred yards of my run, and when my building finally comes into view, I slow down to a walk, reaching my arms up to catch my breath.

“Good morning, Mr. Dalton.” The morning doorman greets as he opens the door to the lobby for me.

“Thanks, Felix.” I nod as I breeze past him, waving my keycard at the scanner to my penthouse elevator.

When the door dings open, I hold my breath as I walk quietly through the still living room, everyone is still sleeping. I stop outside of Ana’s door. Resting my hands on her door frame and closing my eyes. I take a deep breath, what the fuck happened last night… I walk into my master bathroom, turning the shower water on cold.

My brain delves into the guilt that is sitting heavy on my shoulders. The guilt that I have for the years I spent fucking off in college instead of setting myself up for my future. The guilt I have for losing Eva. The guilt I have for hiring Ana… And now to add more… the guilt that I have for fucking her last night. What the fuck were you thinking? I tilt my head up into the cold water, letting the shock send a shudder down my spine.

My life has revolved around this family business… watching the countless hours my father has spent building it from nothing into this global conglomerate. The knowledge that one day, this would all be mine. The endless chiding from my father to fit into his mold of what the perfect CEO would be. Married with children. I have truly never been in control of my life… even when I married Eva. I thought she was the one… but now that I have Ana… stop it you fool, you don’t have Ana… she deserves better than your spineless tricks. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am i doing? I reach up and rest my hands on the shower wall, letting my head lull forward.

What the fuck happens next?

***

“Good morning.” I greet the twins and Ana as I round the corner into the kitchen.

“Morning, dad.” The boys look at me with defeated looks, I’m guessing it has something to do with the beige mush in their bowls.

I cast a quick glance at Ana as a blush creeps up her neck.

“Ana? Are you alright?”

She shakes her head slightly before looking at me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about last night.” Her eyes linger on mine.

The all too clear memory of her moans and the feel of her body come flooding back into my mind again, but I quickly shove them away as I stare back at her.

“Yeah! Carter said you went to that fancy party thing with Dad!” My eyes flick to Mason as he sets his spoon down.

“Did you pull any pranks?” Mickey asks with a smile.

“Not this time. Maybe we just needed someone to show us how it’s done.” I look between them.

“I’d rather stay home and eat pizza, thanks!” Mickey’s eyes grow wide as he takes another bite of his mush, god that doesn’t look good at all.

I grab a cup of coffee and turn to walk towards my office.

“Can we talk later?” Ana whispers as she leans in close to me.

My stomach drops and I feel my body stiffen. I don’t spare her a glance before answering. “… Yes. Later.”

Without another word I head to my home office, leaving a stunned Ana behind. I can feel her gaze as I round the corner and close the door quietly behind me.

I don't know what to say to you yet, Ana…

I sit down in my Wegner chair, switching the Tiffany Lamp on. I rub my hands down my face with a sigh. The silence is broken by the ringing of my cell phone, I glance down and my fathers name is flashing on the screen.

“Hey, dad.” I set my phone on my desk and turned it on speaker.

“Sam, things in Italy are not clearing up. I need you there to fix this mess.”

I let out a sharp exhale through my teeth and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“This is pretty short notice.”

“After what happened in Milan, LEMA is having some hesitations as to our abilities to run a company that handles sensitive medical information. I don't think I need to tell you how important this deal is. We need to take care of this ourselves, unless you want me to send Robin?” I can hear the challenge in his voice as my chest constricts.

“How long do you think I will be there?” I ask, avoiding his antagonizing, my mind flashing to the boys… and then to Ana..

“Does it matter, Sam? As long as it takes. I already spoke with Sofia, she is going to go with you. I have some briefs and copies of all the contracts being sent to your office now. You will need to read them all to get caught up. I also scheduled you the jet for tomorrow morning.”

My head falls back as I close my eyes.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, yeah, dad, I heard you. I will be there soon.”

“I’ll be in your office at noon.” He ends the call.

I glance down at my watch, it's already 11.  FUCK.

I look at my office door, time to do whatever needs to be done.

I walk quietly through the penthouse, running over the words in my head. I hear the twins in their room, and I decide to start with them. When I see Ana putting their laundry away, my breath gets caught in my throat. At least you only have to say this once…

“I’m about to go into the office, but I wanted to talk to you first.” I say as I walk into their room.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Ana turns towards me. I move further into the twins room and take a seat on the edge of the lower bunk bed. Mason and Mickey stand in front of me.

“What’s wrong, Dad? You look sad…” Mason’s face drops when he notices my crestfallen expression.

“I’m not… sad. I just know you’re not going to like what I have to say.” I take a deep breath and clear my throat.

“Then you gotta just rip it off. Like a Band-Aid.” Mickey smiles.

“Right, like a Band-Aid.” I keep my eyes fixed on the twins but I can feel the heat from Ana’s gaze. “I have to go to Italy for a business trip… as soon as possible.”

A silence settles over the room as the twins look between themselves..

“What? You’re fleeing the country, just like that?” Ana breaks the palpable silence.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘fleeing’. Dalton Enterprises has been in negotiations for months, and after the Milan breach… well my dad just doesn’t trust anyone else to handle it.”

“What about us?” Mason murmurs sadly.

“Aunt Sofia isn’t staying here, is she?” Mickey's eyes are wide.

“No, she’ll be in Naples with me. But don’t worry, you won’t be alone. You’ll have Ana.” I turn to  face Ana and her gaze is focused on the twins, but I can see the hurt in her emerald eyes.

“Let’s not overreact here. It’s just a flight and some meetings, right? I bet your dad will be back before you know it.” A smile trains on the corners on her lips as she tries to brighten the mood.

I wish that was all…

“Actually… depending on the negotiations, I could be gone a couple months.”

“A couple months?” Mickey shouts.

“But… that’s the rest of summer.”  I look at Mason and see only one thing: disappointment.

“Seriously, Sam? That’s so long! For the boys I mean.” Her eyes fall to the floor.

“My parents were often overseas for months at a time when I was younger. They’ll survive.” I hate the words as they leave my lips.

“But don't you want them to do more than just survive?” She looks up at me in concern.

“I’m trying to not let emotions cloud my judgement here. I don't have a choice in the matter.” I clench my jaw.

“You always have a choice, Sam.” Her eyes hold mine.

I take a deep breath turning my attention back to the twins.

“Can we at least come visit you while you’re gone?” Mason is picking at a piece of string that is fraying from his blanket.

“Of course, buddy. I’m sure we can work something out. In the meantime, why doesn’t Ana take you two out for the day?” I rest my hands on the twins' shoulders. “I’ve got to prepare for my trip, but we’ll have a special dinner tonight before I go. Promise.” I wrap my arms around them and bring them tight to my sides. I wish I didn't have to leave you… someday you will understand. I hope.

I walk out of the twins room, avoiding the heat from Ana’s gaze as she watches me.

***

The words all run together as I sit at my desk and try to read the briefs from Italy. My office door opens and my eyes meet my fathers’s as he strolls in and sits in the leather chair in front of me.

“Did you read all of those?” He asks gruffly, his eyes flicking down to the papers that are strewn across my desk.

I collect all of them into a stack as I avoid his gaze. “I got the jist.”

A silence settles between us and I can feel his eyes trained on me. When I finally raise my gaze, he narrows his eyes and his mouth sets in a thin line. “What’s going on with you, Sam?”

“Nothing, Dad, I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Don’t insult me, I know you better than that. You are distracted, you have been since your mother and I got back from Italy. Have you been drinking too much again?”

I raise my brow at him incredulously. “Dad.”

“Is it that pretty nanny of yours?” He says mockingly.

My eyes fall to the stack of papers.

“Oh, son. Really?”

“No, dad, it-it’s not her.” Boy that wasn't very convincing.

“Yes it is. I know that look.” A long silence stretches and I avoid his gaze. “Remember Pam?”

I meet his eyes.  “Aunt Pam, your old secretary?”

He purses his lips and nods. He takes a deep breath, clearly warring with what he wants to say next. “It only lasted a few months, and your mother knows nothing about this.”

“Wait, you had an affair?”

“It’s not something I am proud of. But let me tell you something. Women like her, and your nanny…” He waves his hand dismissively. “Are only good for one thing, son.” He leans forward in his chair and arches his brow. “And it’s not making you the man that you need to be to run this company.” He leans back, steepling his fingers on his knees. “Now, a woman like Sofia, that is who is going to take you far in life, and bring you where you need to be.”

I’m fucking speechless. I can’t defend my honor, or Ana’s.  Because what if he’s right?

***

My phone dings with a text, Ana.

Ana: Heading back, ETA 20 min

Ana: You need us to pick anything up on our way?

Ana: Or do you have the special dinner all planned out?

Fuck. I’m not getting out of here for at least another hour.

Sam: About that…

Ana: Why am I not surprised? This is becoming your MO.

I clench my jaw.

Sam: What’s that supposed to mean?

Ana: You’re a smart man. Figure it out.

I whisper a quiet fuck and I see Robin’s head snap up.

“Trouble at home?” He asks, as a cocky smile spreads across his face.

I ignore him.

Sam: Ana…

Ana: I’ll take care of dinner for the boys sake. But you’d better come up with an AMAZING apology dessert for them.

Sam: I am sorry to bail on this

Sam: I will bring something home for dessert.

Sam: Okay?

She doesn't respond, and I pinch my eyes closed in frustration.

I turn back to the final pages of the contract with LEMA before sighing and throwing it to the table.

“Find anything?” Robin asks.

“No. And I need to go home. I need to spend what little time I have left in the city with the boys.”

“Go, I will make sure all of this makes it onto the jet tomorrow morning.” Robin leans back in his chair. “You know dad wants me with you tomorrow, right?”

I stop in my tracks and slowly turn to him. “No. I was not aware of that.”

He shrugs his shoulders and crosses his leg over his knee. “Now you do.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, and decide against saying anything else. Can just one thing go my way today? I grab my keys and phone, stuffing them into my pocket. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See ya.” He waves as I walk out of the door.

***

I walk into the foyer with my suitcase, setting it next to the elevator doors just as they ding open and Ana, Mason, and Mickey step out.

“Welcome back. Did you three have fun at the museum?” My eyes are locked on Ana, sadness filling her emerald eyes. My chest constricts as my thoughts are haunted by my fathers confession.

“The museum was alright but dinner was even better! We stopped at a food truck festival on the way home.” Mickey chimes.

“I tried a poke bowl!” Mason is vibrating with excitement.

“Really? Did you like it?” I ask him, surprised.

“It was amazing!” Mason cheered as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“And we got something for you!” Mickey gestures to the bag in Ana’s hands.

“That was thoughtful of you.” I look at Ana as she hands me the bag, not meeting my gaze.

“It was their idea.” She murmurs looking down at the boys.

I look inside of the paper bag, Kung Pao… god it's my favorite. “I love Kung Pao. How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess.” Her tone is even and neutral. Distant.

“Right.” I take a breath, clearing my throat and turning back to the boys.

“Why don’t you two wash your hands, then head into the kitchen for your special dessert?” The boy's eyes widened.

“On it!” They race toward the bathroom, leaving Ana and I alone in the hallway. Still avoiding my eyes, she breezes past me into the kitchen. I follow her slowly, watching the soft sway of her hips.

“Ana.” She stops in her tracks and I see her shoulders tense.

“Yes?” She slowly turns towards me.

“Thank you for dinner, for both me and the boys. I shouldn’t have backed out of my promise to have a special meal with them.” My apology comes out even and measured as I watch her carefully.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She says matter of factly, her eyes finally rising to mine. She sighs softly. “And you’re welcome.”

“It really looks delicious.” I set the container on the counter, taking a big bite with a fork. My eyes are trained on hers and I can see her face soften.

“You’ve got a little…” She grabs a napkin, stepping up slowly and reaching up to wipe at my lip.

The smell of jasmine and Ana fill my senses as our breath mixes in the air between us.

“Oh…” I whisper in surprise at the intimate gesture.

“... All better.” She smiles softly up at me, her emerald eyes piercing. An electric charge lingering in the space between us.

The moment is broken when we hear the boys running towards us in the kitchen. She takes a step back, turning away from me.

“Dessert time!” Mickey cheers as he slides into the kitchen.

“What’re we having?” Mason shifts from foot to foot.

“I thought you’d like to make some s’mores…” I know they are your favorite.

“With the mega-big marshmallows?” Mickey’s eyes grow wide. God, I am going to miss these kids…

“Of course.” I match his smile and gesture towards the platter of s’mores supplies laid out on the counter.

“I’ll, uh, leave you three to it.” Ana says softly as she slowly backs out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even had s'mores yet!” Mason turns to Ana.

“I don’t want to intrude on father-son bonding time with your last night together.” She smiles softly at Mason.

“You wouldn’t be intruding.” I say hopefully. Please stay…

“Still… you should have some privacy.” She holds my eyes for a moment longer before turning and walking out of the room. What have I done?

***

I am sitting in the dim lighting of my office. My fingers wrapped around a glass of Eagle Rare Bourbon as I gaze out of the window. My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I bring the tumbler to my lips.  I hear the door open slowly and I glance over to see Ana enter quietly, clicking the door shut behind her.

“I thought I might see you again tonight.” I say as I turn my focus back towards the city lights outside.

“Sam, we need to talk about us.”

I can sense the sadness behind her words.

“Ana…” I sigh as I look at her with regret.

I see her shoulders tense as she balls her hands up into fists at her side. Red hot color rising on her cheeks.

“You owe me this, Sam. Don’t pretend like you don’t.” Anger drips from her every word.

I take a deep breath and give her a small nod, but I have no words. I get lost in my own thoughts again... You’re right… but I have no idea what to say to you. There is nothing I can do about this fucked up situation I put us in… I am so sorry that I dragged you into this mess. I am a selfish man that longs to be with you… but I have no control.

“We had sex last night, Sam.” Her voice cracks.

My chest tightens.

“I haven’t forgotten.” My eyes still trained on the city lights outside.

“It feels like you want to. In fact, it feels like you’re running halfway around the world because of it.”

My breathing gets shallow as she takes a step towards me, the anger rolling off of her in waves.

“You’re a lot of things, Sam, but I never took you for a coward.” Her voice laced with contempt as she stepped in front of me.

My eyes flick to hers as a new emotion bubbles to the surface: anger.

“A coward?” I whisper as I lift to my feet and we stand face-to-face.

“You heard me.” She tips her nose in the air. “You could have walked away last night.”

I can't help the humorless laugh that escapes my lips. How does she not understand that I cannot control myself around her?

“I wish that were true.” It would make my life a whole hell of a lot easier. God help me, I can’t resist you.I reach up and run my fingertips down her cheek, watching her shudder at my touch, but her expression remains guarded and angry.. “I’ve been trying to walk away from you since the moment we met. Yet somehow… I always end up back here.”

She steps back out of my reach, crossing her arms in front of her chest. My eyes scan down the length of her body.

“That’s not good enough, Sam.” Her eyes bore into mine.

God Dammit woman.

“Let’s get one thing straight here, Ana. The timing of this trip may seem suspicious to you, but I don’t want to go. I have to go.” I take a step toward her, narrowing my eyes. “And every time I look at you, it’s a reminder of what I’m leaving behind.”

Her eyes widen as her anger starts to slip. “Really? You aren’t relieved to have an escape?”

“No! This is so much worse.” I take a deep breath, trying to reign in my anger. My urge to control her and have her bare before me is making my cock twitch.  I watch as Ana turns and steps to the window. The war inside of my head battles on before I finally give in. I step up behind her, running my nose along the sensitive skin below her ear before grabbing her hips and pulling her against me. I feel her body melt into mine. She turns to face me, and I place my hands on either side of her head, the cold glass a welcome reprieve from the heat coursing through my veins. I press my desire against her and I watch as her eyes darken.

“Sam, you should fire me now.” She whispers. “Neither one of us has the strength to resist. Stopping cold turkey is the only answer. You go to Italy, conquer the business world, marry Sofia. I’ll move out and find something else. We both walk away, hands clean. Well… as clean as they can be.”

I can see it in her eyes that she doesn’t believe the words she is saying, but it doesn't stop them from stinging my heart.

“My hands aren’t clean, Ana. How can they be, when I think about you every time I touch myself?” My eyes flick down to her plump, pink lips. “Or when I want to murder the next man who touches you?”

“Then what’s the endgame here? What do you want?” She pleads, her eyes shining in the dim light.

“I want you, dammit.” I confess.

She grabs the lapels of my suit and pulls me even closer to her curves,

“Prove it.” She challenges, her eyes dark.

She brings her lips to mine and our lips ignite into a frenzy of heat and frustration. I bring my arms around to her lower back and pull her hips snug to mine. A sudden feeling of regret passes through my mind and I pull back, a question in my eyes.

“Ana…” I warn.

“Don’t think. Just feel.” She purrs as she pushes my jacket off of my shoulders. She runs her fingernails across the back of my neck softly before pulling my lips down to hers again. I grab her hips, spinning her around and pinning her back against the cold glass of the window. She gasps at the sensation as I grab her wrists and pin them over her head. I use my free hand to roam the planes of her curves, her body igniting under my touch.

“Sam...” She moans as her eyes flutter shut.

I find the hem of her shirt and dive underneath, finding the lace of her bra, I run my fingers along the gentle curve of her breasts. Her chest heaving and pushing her perfect body into my eager hands.

“Has it really only been a day since I last touched you like this?” I whisper against her lips. “Already feels like a lifetime ago…”

She arches her back, pressing deeper into me as I let out an involuntary moan. God the things this woman does to me…

“Can you really go the rest of the summer without this?” I can feel her smile against my lips.

“I can’t even go the next five minutes without it.” I admit as my cock hardens uncomfortably in my pants.

I reach down and cup her ass, picking her up and carrying her to my desk. I sweep everything off of my desk and lay her down. Her emerald eyes dark with desire as she watches me remove every article of her clothing, throwing them haphazardly around the room. Her chest rises and falls, and her lips are swollen with our kisses. I kiss each piece of newly exposed flesh, the soft moans coming from her lips a sound of pleasure and surrender.

“God, I want to eat you up…” I say against her hip. She looks down at me and takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’ve gotta earn that privilege.” A challenge in her eyes as she sits up and places her hands on my chest, pushing me away from her. Her nearly naked body glowing in the colored light from the Tiffany Lamp.

“Ana?” I ask.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Sam.” She purrs. “And you know what that means, I’m going to tie you up.”

“Fuck.” I whisper and her words send another surge of heat and desire through me. I watch as she gracefully slides off of the desk, motioning for me to sit down in my chair.

“Wait. Undress first.”  She leans in and skims her fingers across my chest, then tugs lightly on the flap of my shirt. “I don't want to have to deal with this later.”

You naughty, fucking minx.

I quickly strip off my clothes, my eyes never leaving hers as I take a seat in my chair, resting my arms on the armrests. I watch her carefully as she digs through a drawer in my desk, pulling two spare computer cords out. I watch as her steady hands tie my forearms and wrists to the chair. My eyes travel across her barely clothed body and I think of all the things I wish to do to her perfect ass.

She steps back, a look of pride flashing across her eyes.

“Aren’t you a sight?” She smiles as she looks at me hungrily.

“Ana…” I murmur.

I tried to move my arms, but she did a damn good job tying me down.

“This isn’t fair. I want to touch you.”

“Oh… You want to talk about not fair?” She clenches her jaw as she saunters up to me, the movement of her hips accentuated by the delicate fabric. “Everything that’s happened today hasn’t been fair.” Her eyes narrow at me as she leans towards me. She is careful not to touch me but I can feel the electricity crackling between us. Her perfect breasts are right in front of my face and I know she can feel my hot breath against them. “And now you’re being punished for it.”  She stands up and gracefully hops back up onto my desk.

She leans back, spreading her legs wide open, revealing every single perfect inch of her perfect body to me. I watch her fingers slide down her curves until they come to rest between her legs, slipping underneath her panties to rub at her center.

Fuck me.

“Ohmygod…” I moan as my cock hardens more than I even thought possible. The throbbing is almost unbearable as I watch her fingers spread the moisture that is pooling in between her legs. Her head lulls back as moans escape her lips.

“Ohh, YES!” She cries out, her body tensing.

My eyes are trained on her perfect cunt as she worships it with her fingers. My breathing is growing labored as I think about all the things I want to do. Her hips are bucking as she nears her edge.

“Ana, please…. Let me touch you.” I beg, my voice husky. I can’t help but lick my lips as I think about her sweetness.

Her eyes open and her fingers slow as she considers me.

“I don't know… Have you been punished enough yet?” She smiles.

“No… but I can’t make it up to you properly unless you let me touch you. Please.” I am not above begging at this point.

She leans forward, and I watch her untie the cords from my wrists. As soon as I can tell that I am free, I reach up, grabbing her body and hauling it into mine. I bring my lips to hers and kiss her deeply, tasting her, reveling in the feel of our tongues together. I stand up, pressing her back down on the desk and I grab the delicate lace of her panties and push them down her thighs.

“I haven't been able to think about anything else all day…” I whisper against her lips. I can feel her smile. “You drive me to distraction even when you aren’t spread out in front of me…”

“And now?” She asks as she arches her back up off the desk.

I trace a delicate line up her bare legs, slowly teasing my way to her center.

“And now… I can barely control myself. I want to devour you.” I growl.

She leans back and spreads her legs wider.

I stand up and run my eyes slowly over every single piece of her exposed flesh, she blushes that delicious color.

The most beautiful thing I have ever fucking scene.

“Yes… I love seeing you open like this for me.” I murmur as my eyes scan her body over and over again, lingering on her exposed cunt.

I drop to my knees, and lower my mouth between her thighs as I lap up her pooling moisture. I watch as her eyes flutter closed, her eyelashes laying like fans across her cheeks. Her breathing intensities and her moans echo around the room. She calls out my name in ecstasy.

“If you want me to make this up to you properly, then you can’t come yet.” I challenge her. “Can you do that, Ana? Can you hold back until I tell you?” I punctuate my question with a devilish twirl of my tongue and she gasps.

“Yes! Sam… bring it on. I can take whatever you have to give. Don’t hold back.” She is panting and her perfect cunt is dripping for me. Her eyes find mine and I can see the challenge accepted. Good girl.

I trail kisses back to her center, dipping and tasting her pooling wetness. So fucking sweet. Her body shivers as I continue to flick my tongue against her. I reach down and grab my aching cock, running my hand up and down the throbbing shaft.

“Oh god… I’m gonna…” Her body starts to tense and my pumping increases.

“Already? I thought you said you could take it.” I say, my lips moving against her.

I feel her body tremble as she moans.

“Ohmygod, that feels… Sam, don’t stop.”

Never, beautiful. I will never stop doing this to you.

I groan out her name as the pleasure in my body nears the edge, my tongue continuing to flick at her exposed flesh. I call out her name as I find my release and I feel her body tense as she cries out mine. We ride out each other's orgasm, ecstasy blinding me.

Eventually her body sags against the desk, her breathing rapid. I stand up and wrap my arms around her body, bringing her tight to me as our breathing slows.

I untangle myself from her and we both stand and get dressed in a silence that is thick with tension.

The reality of what just happened hits me hard as I watch her button up her silk blouse.

Fuck. Again. No fucking control, Dalton, you total fuck up.

Without a word she moves towards the door, lingering with her hand on the door knob.

“Sam, I-”

“I’m sorry, Ana. I didn't mean to get so carried away. It won’t happen again.” I interrupt her, saying the only thing I can think of at this moment… words I regret as soon as they escape my lips.

I watch as confusion spreads across her face and she gives me a silent nod.

“My flight leaves early. I’ll be gone before you wake up…” I say softly.

“Oh. I see. I guess this is… goodbye.” She looks down at the floor, her fingers playing at the hem of her shirt. She wraps her arms around herself and slowly begins to slip out of the door.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. You deserve so much better than me.”

My words halt her in her tracks. She looks over her shoulder at me, and I see her eyes shining.

“I can decide what I ‘deserve’ for myself.” She walks out of the room without another word, and I am left even more pissed with myself than I was this morning. I sit down at my desk and run my hands through my hair.

She’s right… you are being a coward. I am avoiding this shit storm I created for myself by running away…

I sip another glass of bourbon as I come to the only solution I can think of: postpone my trip to Italy, and even though it will probably bite me in the ass… Ana and the boys have to come with me. My stomach sours at the thought of Robin getting a hand on this before me… but I shove the thought aside.

That's it.

***

I nurse my second cup of coffee as I watch the sunrise through the windows. I hear soft footsteps walking down the hallway and I swallow my nerves. Ana rounds the corner and stops short when she sees me, a glimmer of hope and surprise flashing through her eyes.

“Sam?! What’re you going here? I heard you leave this morning…”

“I did a lot of thinking last night, but I didn’t come to a conclusion in time to cancel my car earlier.” I try to control my excitement.

“What conclusion?” She asks carefully.

“That you were right. I was being a coward and running away from my problems. I sent Robin ahead and postponed my meetings to next week so I could do this right. I’m turning this business trip into a family vacation for all of us.” Her face lit up.

“You mean…” A smile playing on her lips.

“Pack your bags, Ana. You’re coming with me to Italy.”

[pitch-pearl-void]

A pebble struck Danny's shoulder and he yelped, crashing into Tucker. The two exhausted boys collapsed on the track field. Several of their classmates ran around them, laughing and hurling insults as they passed. One leapt over them, nearly clocking Danny in the head with her foot. 

Danny growled and snatched up the pebble, but before he could throw it back at his classmates, the pebble jerked out of his hand. Frustrated, he looked around for a new one, but movement drew his eyes back to the original pebble as it rolled across the bare earth of the track. Danny's eyes widened. 

Tucker pushed Danny off his chest. "I know being clumsy is sort of your thing, but--"

"Tucker!" Danny scrambled to his knees, grabbed his friend's shoulder and pointed at the pebble. He didn't need to say anything else. The dim green glow surrounding the pebble said enough. 

It was rolling toward the bleachers.

Danny struggled to his feet and chased after it without another word. Tucker followed, though he had plenty of words such as you know not every ghost is friendly like your boyfriend, right? and you know luring targets to a secondary location is kidnapping 101, right? and do we have to run?

Phantom (because of course it was Phantom; he would never allow another ghost to come within miles of the school) smiled up at Danny as soon as he rounded the bleachers. Phantom had tucked himself into the shadows instead of turning himself invisible, but his glow kept him from truly being obscured. If it hadn't been such a bright, sunny day, Danny would have spotted his glow far sooner--as would all the other kids.

The pebble leapt into Phantom's waiting palm, the green energy around both disappearing upon contact. "Sorry," Phantom said, his voice raspy, the word barely distinct. "Had to...get...your attention...somehow."

Bright green ectoplasm saturated the dirt around him. 

Danny gasped, "Phantom!" and then banged his head against a metal footrest. He yelped. Tucker actually reached Phantom first, dropping to his hands and knees and crawling forward. Danny quickly followed his example. 

"Skulker," Phantom croaked by way of explanation.

"Hey, man, maybe you shouldn't talk right now," Tucker said gently as he stopped beside Phantom's legs.

Danny ignored the ectoplasm on the ground--the cold tingle as his knees entered the puddle, the way it soaked into his gym shorts--and crawled up to Phantom's side. Dutifully and without needing to be asked, Phantom rolled off his elbow and onto his back, stretching out so Danny and Tucker could see the damage. 

The most obvious and eye-catching was a slash along his side. Most of the ectoplasm was leaking from there, although Phantom's hand obscured most of the wound. Ectoplasm didn't bleed like blood--it was too thick and wasn't pumped through the body--so to create a puddle like the one Danny was crouched in, Phantom must have been waiting there a while. 

Danny swallowed. Waiting for Tuck and me to finally reach the bleachers...

If they weren't such slow runners they would have completed the lap sooner, they would have reached the bleachers sooner, and Phantom wouldn't have needed to suffer as long.

Danny guiltily allowed his gaze to move upward, intent on looking Phantom in the eyes, but he stopped at Phantom's throat. It was shaped oddly. And discolored. Gently, slowly, he reached forward and lightly touched just below Phantom's jaw.

"He crushed your windpipe?" Danny asked in a whisper.

He lifted his eyes to find Phantom watching him. "It's...healing," Phantom rasped. 

"Definitely don't want to talk, dude," Tucker said, sounding as stressed as Danny. "We'll get you patched up in no time."

Phantom pinched his eyes shut. "Please. Hurts."

Danny bit his lip. He lifted his hand to Phantom's face and gently brushed his white hair aside. Phantom didn't say anything more or open his eyes, but he turned his head, pressing into Danny's touch.

"Sorry we took so long," Danny said, his voice shaking. 

"Yeah," Tucker said, equally guilt-ridden, "maybe you should have tried getting Sam's attention."

"Tried." Phantom's lips twitched. "Too fast. Missed."

Tucker forced a laugh. "Oh, I get it. You could only catch us slowpokes."

"Yes."

Danny turned to Tucker. "Go find Sam and tell her we need the ghost medkit. And get my backpack from my locker in the locker room--I stowed some of those pain blockers Frostbite gave us in there."

Tucker nodded. He grabbed Phantom's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "Hang in there, ghost-dude." 

Phantom forced his eyes open and flashed Tucker a grin. 

Tucker patted his hand before crawling out from beneath the bleachers and charging onto the track field. Danny watched him go through the gaps in the bleachers. They were close to the school doors and the finish line, which was likely where Sam was waiting for them, so fortunately Tucker didn't look too conspicuous running in a direction opposite to everyone else. He could probably claim he needed to use the bathroom. 

Unfortunately, whether they had noticed Tucker leaving the bleachers or noticed Danny and him heading toward them earlier, Dash and several of his football teammates were looking and pointing in Danny's direction. He cringed and ducked down. They were still pretty far away (they had yet to cross the finish line) but given how fast Danny knew they could run, it was only a matter of time before they arrived to investigate. 

"What?" Phantom croaked. 

"Dash is looking this way." Danny glanced down at Phantom. For all that Phantom was staring up at him, it looked as though he was struggling to keep his eyes open. His gaze, usually so intense, particularly when staring at Danny, lacked the kind of focus Danny was used to. He ran his fingers through Phantom's hair. "It's probably nothing," he said, forcing a smile. "You can rest."

Phantom's eyes slipped closed without argument. "If he...hurts you...I'll kick his...butt."

"Uh-huh," Danny said doubtfully. "Maybe once you're better." He chewed on his lip, looking down at Phantom's wounds. "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" There wasn't much he could do without supplies...

Phantom leaned his head back, encouraging Danny to continue stroking his fingers through his hair. 

Danny smiled. He brushed the white hair off Phantom's forehead and leaned down to kiss just below his hairline. As he sat back again, he saw Phantom smiling as well. Shadows passed in front of the bleachers, and Danny bit his lip.

Phantom forced his eyes open. "Danny?"

Danny stroked Phantom's hair until those green eyes closed once more. "We're about to get some extra help, that's all."

Phantom frowned. "Only one...I need."

"Yeah, well--"

"Hey, Fentina, what are you and the techno-geek hiding under--"

Dash's voice cut off in a gasp, echoed by several others. Danny pinched his eyes shut and cringed. 

"Danny Phantom!"

"Holy shit, it's really him."

"What's all that green stuff?"

"Oh my god, is that ghost blood?"

A large hand grabbed Danny's shoulder and shoved him to the side, throwing him into the dirt. "Out of the way, Fen-Freak, we have to get him out of here!"

"No!" Danny scrambled onto his knees again and grabbed Dash's arm. "Ghosts need privacy when they're wounded, you can't--"

Dash used the arm Danny was holding to throw him backward. Other hands--Kwan's, he thought--caught him before he could fall into the dirt again. "Get him out of here!" Dash ordered.

Thrown off balance without his legs under him, Kwan easily dragged Danny away from Phantom. He fought, wiggling in Kwan's grasp, trying to free his arms. "I had it under control!" he shouted, frustrated. "You don't need to do this!"

"Yeah right," Kwan said sarcastically, "just let us handle this, Fenton. We've actually dealt with injuries before."

Danny watched, dismayed, as Dash scooped Phantom into his arms. The ghost was wincing in pain, teeth visibly gritted, but soon there were too many jocks between them to see what was happening. 

Someone outside the bleachers shouted, "It's Phantom! He's hurt!" a call that was swiftly picked up by others. 

Sunlight fell on Danny as they passed from beneath the bleachers. "He's not some football player," he objected to Kwan's previous comment, "he's a ghost. You don't--"

Kwan threw Danny onto the ground. He landed on his front, air woofing from his lungs and sending a puff of dirt to float in front of his face. 

"He's a person," Kwan snapped before charging back under the bleachers.

Danny pushed himself onto his knees, coughed, and patted dirt from his gym shirt. "Gee," he muttered darkly to himself, "I hadn't noticed. I'm only dating him..."

He climbed to his feet and turned to face the bleachers. Some of the jocks were pouring out again, and a moment later, Dash carried Phantom out into the sunlight. Phantom was still grimacing, one eye tightly pinched shut, but the remaining eye searched the surrounding humans. When it finally landed on Danny, Phantom's eyes and forehead visibly relaxed, though his jaw remained clenched. 

Danny ran forward. Another jock, Brad, stopped him before he could reach Phantom and shoved him back. "Back off!" he shouted.

Danny stumbled backward, tripped over his heel, and fell to the ground again. Phantom opened his mouth--he seemed to be saying something, but either no one heard his butchered voice over the noise they were making or they ignored whatever he was saying. 

Danny stood up, but the crowd grew between them, bolstered by those that were leaving the track. Soon it was no longer only Dash and his football friends crowding around Phantom but half their class. Worse, Dash's friends were building a wall around Phantom, forcing the crowd to move back as Dash carried Phantom forward. 

Danny, the resident loser on the field, quickly found himself shoved farther and farther away from Phantom. 

"Is he okay?"

"What happened?"

"Is he bleeding?"

"Oh my god, oh my god, what do we do?"

"Phantom!"

"Put me down!"

Danny sucked in a breath. For all that the voice sounded like it had been scraped by rocks, it was unmistakably Phantom's. "He shouldn't be yelling," Danny muttered anxiously to himself. "Oh hell, he shouldn't yell..."

Whether he was fit enough to raise his voice, however, Phantom had succeeded in halting the crowd. Danny jumped a few times, trying to see over his classmates. The crowd wasn't moving anymore, so Dash must have stopped. Danny thought he saw Dash kneeling on the ground--obeying Phantom's wishes--but it was difficult to tell with so many people between them. 

Danny gritted his teeth. "Right," he muttered. "Time to get obnoxious, Fenton. Make them listen." He raised his voice and shouted, "Excuse me, I actually know how ghosts work!" He began shoving between his classmates, forcing his way through. "I can help him!" He squeezed between Mikey and a cheerleader and then around Kevin. "This isn't how you help ghosts!" 

Brad grabbed Danny's arm before he could go farther, halting him at the jock wall. Danny leaned to the side and peered through the gap between Brad and Russel. Phantom had been set on the ground and Dash and Kwan were pressing what looked like someone's gym shirt against the wound, trying to stem bleeding that would have been little more than a trickle if they had only left Phantom under the bleachers instead of making a spectacle of him. 

Paulina knelt by Phantom and was pulling his head and shoulders onto her lap, tears overflowing her eyes. Danny would never have dared, given Phantom's injured throat, but Phantom seemed oblivious to the angle Paulina was forcing on him just as he was oblivious to the boys pressing on his wound. Instead, Phantom had both hands clasped over his ears. 

His grimace revealed sharpened canines.

Danny sucked in a breath. Phantom often complained human emotions were too "loud" when they got upset. Danny didn't fully understand, but he would be willing to bet a group of exhausted teenagers worrying over their fallen hero counted as more than a little "loud". What kind of mental state that would push Phantom into when he was already weak and injured... 

"Dash!" Danny shouted. Dash ignored him. "Dash!"

Dash's head shot up and he glared at Danny. 

"You have to get everyone away from him!" Danny shouted, undaunted as Brad squeezed his arm in warning. "With his wound and everyone around him like this, you're going to throw him into an instinctive state. He's--"

"Did your parents teach you that, Fenton?"

Danny froze. That didn't sound like the usual belittling tone Dash used on him. Dash actually sounded angry.

"How do we know your parents weren't the ones who did this to him?" Kwan added.

"Wha--" Danny's word cut off in a hiss as Brad's grip turned suddenly, painfully tight. 

The crowd, perhaps sensing the accusation, grew quieter. One by one, faces turned toward Danny. 

Dash leapt to his feet. Ectoplasm stained his fingers green. "Is that what happened, Fen-Freak?" He advanced toward Danny. Danny tried to step back, but where before Brad's hand had kept him from moving forward, now it stopped him from going anywhere. "Is that why you're the one that found him? Your parents tipped you off so you could collect their specimen?"

"No!" the word burst out of Danny's mouth with such force he actually recoiled. 

Unfortunately, Dash didn't listen and the crowd was beginning to mutter their own accusations. Danny only heard a few, most of which were directed at his parents for attacking Phantom on a near daily basis, but with Danny's parents nowhere in sight and adults besides, his classmates had set their sights on a more easily accessible target. 

Him. 

Danny tried and failed to take another step back. "Wait! That's not fair, I never--"

"He's friends with that mayor who hates Phantom too!" someone shouted. 

"I am not!" Danny objected, offended. He looked around, alarmed to see so many glaring at him, but he squared his shoulders. "Look," he said, "yeah, my parents are ghost hunters, but that just means I actually know what I'm talking about. More so than any of you. And I'm telling you, you all need to--"

A fist struck his cheek, the blow strong enough to wrench his head to the side. Danny cried out and would have fallen to the ground if Brad hadn't been holding onto his arm. As it was, Danny's legs gave out and his arm was wrenched painfully upward as he fell to his knees. 

A second later, his arm was released. 

Danny would have thought Brad intentionally let him go if someone hadn't screamed, had Paulina not shouted Phantom's name, had Dash not cried out in fear. 

Danny pressed a hand to his throbbing eye and scrambled to his feet. His classmates had thrown themselves apart before him, creating a clear path back to the bleachers. Why became clear as Danny's good eye fell on Phantom. For all that green glowing ectoplasm continued to flow from his wound, Phantom had grabbed Dash by his gym shirt and was pinning him to the bleachers. Several yards above ground. 

As Danny watched, shocked, Phantom pulled Dash toward himself and then slammed him against the bleachers again. "What did you do?" he roared, his voice deeper, the echo more resonant, distorting the words.

A cold wind blew across the grass, pulling at Danny's shirt. 

"Wh-wh-what?" Dash stuttered. 

"You hurt him!"

"No! I mean--it's--he's--"

"I heard his pain!" Even several yards away, Danny heard and felt the air vibrate as Phantom growled. The hair on his arms and neck stood on end. Something like a green aura flashed around Phantom. Several of his classmates backed away. "What. Did. You. Do."

Danny ran forward. Someone grabbed his arm, but he shook himself free. "Phantom!" he shouted up at the ghost as he neared. "Phantom, I'm fine!"

Phantom didn't move, but he stopped shouting. He was too high up for Danny to reach. He ran around to the front of the bleachers and began running up the stairs instead. 

"It was just a misunderstanding!" he continued. "Right Dash?"

"Uhhhhhh?!" Dash screamed uncertainly back at him.

"Say yes, you idiot!"

"Danny?" Phantom said, his deep voice sounding suddenly lost.

Danny finally reached the highest seat and looked over the side. As if sensing him there, Phantom tilted his head back and looked up at him. His eyes glowed a brilliant green, the whites of his scalera, his pupils, swallowed up in the bright shining light. 

Danny forced a shaky smile on his lips, fear for Phantom warring with a wholly inappropriate admiration. "Hey," he said softly. "See? I'm fine."

Phantom floated higher, carrying Dash with him. The jock whimpered in fear and clung to Phantom's forearms. "Are you?" Phantom questioned. 

He released Dash's shirt so only one hand was holding him in the air and reached for Danny's face. Dash squawked in fear--he did not let go of Phantom's moving forearm, however. Phantom's fingers pushed beneath the hand Danny had clasped over his eye, forcing him to remove it. Danny didn't know the damage Dash had caused, but he guessed from the throbbing in his cheek and eye, he would have a black eye in a matter of minutes. 

Phantom's hand glowed with blue energy, his fingers turning ice cold. Danny sighed and leaned into the touch.

"You're hurt," Phantom said, almost like a reproach.

Danny snorted. "Like you're one to talk." He laid his hand over Phantom's. "It was just a misunderstanding. I'm safe. You don't have to fight anyone." 

Phantom's brow furrowed slightly. "But they were so angry. And afraid. You were afraid."

Danny looked past Phantom at the crowd of students gaping up at them and then back at Phantom. "What about now?"

"Worried. Afraid." Phantom's nose wrinkled. "Mostly."

Danny grinned cheekily. "Aww, is your power display turning some of them on?"

"Turning you on more," Phantom muttered, his cheeks gaining a green blush. 

Danny cleared his throat. "They're worried for you because you're in no shape to be flying around like this. Get over here and sit down already."

Phantom hesitated. He looked down at Dash. Another growl rumbled in his chest, and this time Danny was close enough to feel the vibration in the air. "He hurt you."

"He's sorry, though, right, Dash?"

Dash nodded furiously.

"He won't do it ever again, right, Dash?"

"No!"

"Not even when I call him a major fucking asshole for not listening to me, right, Dash?"

"Fenton!" Dash cried. "Yes! Fine! You were right!"

Phantom sighed. "I don't feel so good..."

Danny wrapped his fingers around Phantom's wrist and backed away from the bleacher's edge. To maintain contact with him, Phantom dutifully followed him onto the bleachers, turning himself and Dash intangible so they could float through the bars. As soon as Dash's--solid--feet touched the bleachers, they gave out and he collapsed onto a seat. Phantom let go of his shirt and kept floating toward Danny until he landed against his chest. 

All at once, Phantom's flight, the green aura, the cold wind, the solid green glow in his eyes winked out. He closed his eyes and fell into Danny's arms, his hand falling from Danny's face. His weight drove Danny to collapse on a bleacher seat himself. He grunted. 

He half expected Dash to run to safety but Dash was at his side in a moment, fretting. "Shit, shit," he swore. "Is he okay? What the hell was that all about, Fenton?!"

Danny sighed, Phantom's white hair dancing in front of his mouth. "Hey, Dash, the next time I tell you you're forcing an injured ghost into an instinctual state, maybe you should listen, yeah?"

"Uh..."

Danny sighed again. "Never mind. Just help me--we need to lay him down. He passed out."

"Ghosts do that?"

"When they use too much energy. He...I don't know, he might have drawn some from his core." 

Danny looked up as Dash helped spread Phantom out over a bleacher seat. Tucker and Sam were running toward them, the bag with the first aid kit held above Sam's head as she waved her arm. He wanted to sigh in relief, but the crowd--no longer entertained from the side of the bleachers--was making its way to the front. Paulina was already climbing the stairs. 

"Fuck," Danny groaned. 

"You said he needs privacy before?" Dash asked.

"Um. Yeah. Except for Sam and Tucker--they're bringing the medical supplies that actually work on ghosts." 

Dash puffed out his chest. "Right then!" He pounded down the steps of the bleachers, shaking the metal seats. "Back off!" he shouted. "Ghosts need privacy when they're injured, you idiots!"

Danny bit his lip and looked down at Phantom. If Phantom hadn't defended him as he had, if he hadn't reacted to Danny's pain so quickly, Danny would probably have been beaten by the football team--perhaps even his whole gym class. They certainly had no problem doing so when he had filled in for the mascot and they lost their homecoming game during freshman year.

Still...once the crisis of Phantom's injuries passed...how many of them were going to remember Danny had calmed him down? How many would recognize what had happened as something more than just a hero protecting someone? How many would recognize a ghost defending his mate? 

Note to self, he thought, brushing his fingers through Phantom's hair, don't underestimate Phantom's protective instincts.

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

Fallout of the century 🌑💔

Part 3 🥜

Read part 1 & part 2 here 😌

🌼🌸Masterlist🌼🌸

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: angst, car accident, moving on

The ride to the airport was quiet. I wasn't sure how Harrison managed to get tickets so soon, but I didn't question it. We made it through security and were almost ready to board when my phone rang. I looked down to see Sam's name across the screen, I answered it almost instantly, an uneasy feeling washing over me.

“Sam?” I asked.

“You need to get to the Hospital Y/N,” he was crying. I felt my head get light as a million thoughts ran through my head. I didn't say anything, I just turned and ran until I got outside. Leaving my bags and Harrison in my dust. I called a cab and went straight to the hospital. I ran in through the big revolving doors and found Tom and Sam sitting in an empty waiting room. As soon as they saw me they both wrapped their arms around me tight. It was bad, but I wasn't sure how bad.

“Where?” I asked, my voice not seeming to work.

“Surgery,” Tom sniffled, while urging me to sit. I sat down and they explained what had happened. A car had hit him in a crosswalk, while he was looking down at his phone. Guilt washed over me and consumed me. I probably cried for an hour straight, although it felt like a century. I couldn't seem to catch a breath. At some point Tuwaine and Harrison both showed up, but I didn't pay them no mind, I was to busy being consumed by my worst fears. 

Surgery took almost eight hours. Eight hours with no update. Eight hours thinking that Harry was gone. Eight hours of agonizing guilt and torture in my mind.

“Holland family?” a man's voice called from behind us, Tom, Sam, and I ran over to hear the news that the doctor had. “All of you are family?” the doctor pondered.

“Twin, older brother, fiance” Sam told him.

“OK, well we were able to get the bleeding under control, unfortunately I can't promise he will wake up, but if he does, his injuries won't prevent him from living anything less than a normal life,” It was a mixture of good and bad news, but he was alive, ad that was enough of a bright side for me.

“Can we see him?” I asked.

The doctor brought us to a recovery room where Harry was laying, lifeless looking on the bed. I felt tears rush back to my eyes and I was sure I could not breathe. I walked over to the side of his bed and grabbed his hand, I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Don't you dare leave me,” I whispered, tears escaping my eyes.

The waiting game was the worst. Sam and I sat in the room for hours holding Harry's hands, waiting for a flicker of life to become present. Tom had left to go get their parents from the airport.

“You guys need to put this behind you,” Sam said quietly. I looked up to see him looking at me with sad eyes. He was right, this game of cat and mouse had to come to an end.

“I know, I’m done with this whole run around.” I told him. “I want to be with him, I want to marry him, and grow old with him. If that means forgiving and forgetting, then that's what I'll do,” I said between sniffles.

“You still want to marry me?” His voice was hoarse and sounded dry, but it was his. Both Sam and I shot our gazes to Harry's now open eyes. He was staring at me, with his dopey smirk.

“You're awake,” I cried, getting up from the chair and leaning down to hug him. I lifted my head from his shoulder and found his lips, kissing him softly before backing up to let Sam give his brother a hug.

“This whole time, all i had to do was get hit by a car?” He asked in a joking manner. Both Sam and I laughed.

“Shut up you idiot,” Sam laughed. “I'm going to go get the doctor, so he can come check you, or whatever they do,” He told us before leaving the room.

“Hey,” Harry whispered. I sat on the edge of the bed pulling his hand in between mine and listening to him. “I'm sorry about everything. I only slept with her that one time. I was just trying to hurt you,” He paused and moved his fingers so they were intertwined with mine. “Give me another chance, and I'll never hurt you again,” His words were sincere and filled with love.

“Okay,” I whispered. Leaning down and kissing him once more. “Your parents should be here soon,” I told him.

“Oh boy,” He groaned.

The next few days were spent in the hospital, so I refused to leave Harry's side. Luckily nothing had been broken so other than a scar from surgery and some minor cuts and bruises he was walking away from a run in with a car practically unscathed.

I got a text from Harrison as I was packing all the Get well cards and animals into a hospital tote bag.

‘Hey just wanted to see how you were doing, I heard he's going home today. That's great! Hopefully we can talk soon. Just to clear the air?’

I didn't respond right away. I wasn't exactly sure what to say. Sorry I led you on? Sorry I left you at the airport? Sorry I had you take care of me for the last seven months while I was broken and damaged? I didn't know.

“Are you coming home?” Harry asked me as I finished packing all the stuff.

“To help you, or for good?” I asked him, not turning around.

“Either?” He wondered.

“I don't want to go back to that apartment, Harry. I can't.” I sighed. I turned to face him, and he had a smile on his face. “What?” I was confused as to why he was smiling at me when i had just told him i wasn't coming home.

“Let's get a different place,” he told me, stepping forward and taking my hands in his. “Let's just start over,”

“What about right now?” I asked him.

“Your place?” he proposed.

“I guess for a few days that would work, but for the love of god. Do not start fighting with Harrison. Please?” I begged. He rolled his eyes and kissed my cheek.

“I have no hard feelings for him going after a prize like you,” he told me, making me roll my eyes.

“Let's go,” I laughed. We walked out of the room and out of the hospital where Sam and Tom were waiting with the car. Luckily neither of us had anything here so there wasn't much to pack back.

“Home?” Sam asked as we climbed into the back seat.

“Only so I can run up and get some clothes,” Harry said, making both of the other Hollands turn around to look at him questioningly. He shrugged his shoulders, “She doesn't want to be back at the apartment, I'm not going to make her go.”

“So does that mean-?” Tom started to ask but Harry interrupted him before he could finish.

“You'll know when I do,” He told Tom. and with that we drove to my old apartment, somewhere I hadn't been in seven months. Tom and Harry got out and went to go get a few of Harry's things, while me and Sam stayed in the car.

“So what's going to happen? Are you guys going to start dating again, or are you going to reschedule the wedding?” Sam wondered.

“I'm not sure. All I know is I want him in my life. So I guess we take it one day at a time,” I told him as I stared out the window.

“And Harrison?” Sam asked the question I was dreading.

“I love Harrison, he's my best friend, and he stepped up and took care of me when I couldn't even take care of myself. And maybe in a different life we would have ended up together, but I can't see a future with him the way I can with Harry. Even after everything we have been through, it's still Harry I see at the end of the line,” 

I sat on the floor of my bedroom folding the clothes Harry had shoved into his bag. He never was one to fold his laundry so I wasn't even surprised when I opened the bag to find clothes just crumpled in. “You don't need to do that,” He laughed from where I had made him lay on my bed.

“It'll drive me nuts if I just let your unfolded clothes get all wrinkly in this bag,” I told him as I continued folding his shirts. I grabbed a pair of pants and a small white box fell out, a box I instantly recognized. I picked it up and opened it to see the ring that I had worn on my finger for nearly a year. There was a small folded up piece of paper in the box as well. I looked up to see if Harry was watching me, but his eyes were closed, so I unfolded the paper.

I know I messed up.

I'll live with the fact that I hurt you for the rest of my life.

I've known since that first time I saw you in that club that I wanted to marry you.

The first time you yelled at me for folding the towels in the apartment wrong.

The time we went to the lake and you told me to put sunscreen on my nose because you were afraid I was going to burn.

When I introduced you to my family, you didn't even second guess that you were now a part of it.

How when I took you to the pet store, you insisted we get a rescue dog instead of a puppy, because they deserved to have a good life.

How even after I did what I did, and said the things I said, you still sent me messages checking on me.

Making sure my laundry was done.

Asking if I had gone grocery shopping.

Checking to see if I had finished the milk before its expiration date.

But i think my favorite is when you texted me excitedly that one of my favorite movies was playing at the little indie theater we used to go to.

A movie I know you hate.

My heart was made for you.

We can't end this way.

I'll fight for you until it kills me.

Because at the end of the day, a life without you, is a life I would rather not live.

I sniffled as I folded the paper back up. “You were supposed to let me read that to you, not read it yourself. You know for dramatic effect,” Harry said from where he was now sitting on the bed.

“Sorry,” I muttered, wiping the tears from my eyes. “You brought this?” I asked him, referring to the ring in the box that was still in my hand.

“Thought i might need it,” He said.

“For dramatic effect?” I asked teasingly. He rolled his eyes at me. I stood up and walked over to the bed sitting beside him.

“Things aren't going to be the same,” He whispered. “Do you remember the fight we had before you left for that business trip?” I looked at him, thinking about what he was referring to.

“And why does it always have to be you?” He shouted at me as I packed my suitcase.

“Because it's my project Harry, I'm the one that organised it so i have to see it through,” I told him, keeping my calm even though he was livid.

“You were gone all last week, you have only been home a day and they're already making you go back, doesn't that seem a little unfair?” he asked me.

“Unfair to who harry? To me, or to you? You told me to go after my dreams, you told me you'd support me no matter how hard it would be. We're building these kids better lives and I get to be a part of that,” I told him as I took his hands in mine.

“I'm proud of you, for following your dreams, I am. I just feel like you're losing sight of everything you already have to chase something you want,” he pulled his hands away from me and walked out of the room leaving me alone thinking about what he said to me.

“I remember that fight vividly, and you were right. I had lost sight of everything I had, and once we finished the project, I was left alone and broken, with nothing to show for all my hard work,” I sighed as I laid my head on his shoulder.

“I should have been more supportive and understanding. I fell in love with a woman with a strong will and a good work ethic. I knew what I had gotten myself into,” he told me as he put his hand on my thigh. “I've missed you Nut, like really missed you,”

“Me or my body?” I chuckled.

“Is it wrong if I say both? Or is that the right answer?” He laughed.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Yeah?” I called out. Tuwaine opened the door with a grim look on his face.

“I think you're going to want to see this,” he handed me his phone which had a screenshot of an Instagram post. “My mate sent it to me asking if i knew the girl cause he was sure he'd seen us all out together at parties,” on his phone was a picture of Olivia, with a pink bow around her swollen belly captioned ‘Its a Girl!’ I looked at Harry whose jaw was practically on the floor.

“What the fuck,” was all i could think, and say.

Would life ever be easy?

I was standing at the kitchen counter, my knuckles had gone white from how hard my grip on the counter was. “Are you doing alright?” Harrison's voice startled me, but I didn't react.

“Nope,” my voice sounded like it was a million miles away. I was trying to stay calm, and not freak out, but my body was quivering with anger and I felt like my blood was boiling. Harrison put his hand on my shoulder, probably in an attempt to calm me down, but it did the opposite. “You know, I am the most genuine person. I am loving and caring. I'm respectful even if people don't deserve it. I'm always willing to lend a hand to people, even if they don't do the same. I literally work for a nonprofitable organization making next to nothing because that was my dream. I deserve a break, I deserve happiness!” I wasn't meaning to shout at Harrison, and I was sure he knew that.

“So it's his?” he guessed from my angry outburst.

“I don't know. He called her and i couldn't be in there to hear the conversation, i refuse to do that to myself,” i sighed. I leaned over the counter and rested my head on my hands.

“What if it is?” he asked.

“I don't want to think about that right now Haz,” I groaned.

“I mean, I don't blame you, but that's kinda a big deal.” he said while rubbing my back.

“I didn't sign up for this. If he had a kid prior to us getting together then it would be different. But this.. This is like the epitome of a shit show,” I told him.

I heard footsteps come down the stairs and I knew from the sound it was Harry. I didn't bother looking up. “Can you give us a minute mate?” Harry asked Haz. Harrison walked out of the kitchen leaving me and Harry alone. I couldn't move, I didn't want to look at Harry afraid his face would confirm my worst fears. “So that was an interesting conversation,” he said.

“Was it?” I asked.

“I've been avoiding her calls for months,” he said.

“Spit it out Harry,” I snapped.

“She's not positive, she said there's a chance it's mine, and a chance it's the other guys,” he said quietly.

“If it's yours?” I asked, as I stood back up.

“Huh?”

“If it is yours, what does that mean for us?” I asked him. He stood with his arms crossed, looking at me as I stared at him, waiting for an answer, but dreading the one I knew I was going to get.

“Does it have to mean something for us?” he asked in a quiet, barely audible tone.

“Harry, I know you. Well. too well. I know that if that is your child then you are going to want to be there, as a dad, and I respect you for that. But I didn't sign up to be a stepmom, I'm not even ready for my own children, let alone a child of the person I despise most in this world. I would resent that child, even if I didn't want to. I would.” I felt the tears falling down my cheeks as I said the words, feeling like an absolute monster.

“So this would be over, for real then?” He asked.

“It would,” I nodded.

“She said she would do the DNA test, and we could do it next week, so can we just forget this until then? Can we just spend the week living in a bubble?” he asked me. I looked at him, and all I could see was the boy I met at the pub almost six years ago. Goofy, an awful dancer at the time, and so full of love. So ready to give all of himself to someone, and somehow that someone was me.

“Can I get you a drink?” A voice asked from beside me. I turned to see a hot redhead next to me. The club was dark but I could make out most of his features, especially his curly, crazy hair.

“Sure,” I smiled at him as he sat down next to me at the bar.

“Can we get a beer and a,” he looked at me waiting.

“A peanut butter cup,” I told him.

“And a peanut butter cup,” He told the bartender, who got to work.

“Peanut butter alcohol drink, huh?” he asked me.

“It's good, but I just really like peanuts,” I giggled, pulling out my keys showing him the peanut key chain I had had since middle school.

“That's cute Peanut,” he said, already assigning me a pet name. I blushed as the bartender brought our drinks to us. We sat for hours talking, eventually moving to the dance floor to compare our equally awful dance moves. My phone started to ring and I noticed I had about a million texts from Olivia demanding we leave now.

“My friend,” I gestured to my phone. “I have to go,” I went to walk away but he caught my wrist in his hand.

“Will I see you again, Peanut?” he asked me.

“You will...,” I paused realizing i had never gotten his name.

“Harry. Harry Holland,” He grabbed my hand shaking it.

“I'll see you around Harry Holland,” And with that I left.

I walked over and pressed my lips to his. I didn't want to lose him. Harry Holland was my person. The one I would choose every time. Despite anything that could ever happen, it would always be him. Today. Tomorrow. Next year. Always.

Was I willing to toss the love of my life away because of something like this?

Was I willing to live with the consequences of his actions forever?

part 4

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow: day 4

Character A is desperate to find a particular item (book/toy/etc.) as a present for someone, but it’s been sold out everywhere. Character B helps.

Percy nearly slams into a brick wall because of how fast he’s running. He doesn’t have time to actually stop and apologize to the poor child he’s almost trampled as he continues running. He has to make it to the store before it closes or else he’ll never forgive himself.

He tried so hard not to go Christmas shopping last minute, yet here he was on Christmas Eve panicking that the store is going to close before he can make it in. His mom had seen a pretty ring she fell in love with, and Percy had shoved it to the back of his mind in an attempt to remember to get it for her. He had remembered to get it— it just happened to be on December 24th that it happened. It was also just his luck that every one of the jewelry shop was sold out except the one that was furthest from him.

His mom is the sweetest person in the world, and yes, the ring hurt to buy, but she put him through college so he figures he can return the favor.

Percy barely makes it into the jewelry shop on time, but him sliding through the door before it locks counts. As he enters the store, he finds it alarmingly empty, and he turns around, worried that he might have just broken in on accident. He checks the time, one minute until closing, and only feels a little bad for the workers.

He makes his way around the store quietly, looking through some of the glass cases. He doesn’t find the ring, and he begins to think that he’s out of luck and will have to tell his mom that he’s a failure, but then he spots another rack of rings along the walls. He walks up carefully up to it, but he hesitates as he sees the glass case open.

He tries to keep his distance from it as to not seem too suspicious, but then he catches sight of the ring, and there is no one else around. He considers waiting, but he has to be home soon and there’s no one around, so he ends up grabbing it anyways. He inspects the band size, wonders if it’ll be the right size for his mother.

It’s really pretty, he thinks. There’s a big gem in the middle, and she had loved it in that catalogue he stole from her. He even notices the matching set of earrings next to it, and he just knows his mother will be so happy to get it. He brings it closer to his eyes, and it gleams, and—

“I hope you’re planning on paying for that.”

Percy jumps, looking towards the voice. He spots a girl leaning against the wall, her arms crossed and eyes expectant. Her grey eyes seem to piece directly to his soul, and he can tell from the single look that she fully thought he was about to book it.

“I was just—” He swallows. “I wasn’t going to steal it.”

“Hm.”

“I just needed to buy the ring, and I couldn’t find anywhere, so I just picked it up to look at it! I wasn’t going to just take it! I– I’m not a thief!”

In his ramble, she turns more towards amused, nodding along with his story. She pushes off the wall to walk behind the counter. “Next time, maybe don’t walk into a jewelry shop and just start grabbing things. Especially not if you snuck into the shop.”

“I didn’t sneak in,” he mumbles.

She holds a hand out, and it takes him a moment to realize that she’s demanding the ring he still holds in his hand. He gives it to her, and she says, “I’m pretty sure walking into a store after closing when no one’s around qualifies as sneaking in.”

“It wasn’t closed yet,” he points out.

She doesn’t respond, instead choosing to look over the ring. He stands there awkwardly, eventually diverting his eyes to anywhere else around the room. He must have been so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed the way the shop was decorated. He guesses that she must be one of the owners, and he has to say that he likes her taste in décor. Instead of the usual red and green themes, she seems to have taken the more Winter Wonderland route. There is white along every wall, and sparkling silvers lining the tables, everything pulled together by the white and silver Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

“I like the decorations,” he tells her.

She just smirks, and he imagines that she says something along the lines of I’m sure you do in her mind. He reads her nametag — Annabeth. He thinks it matches someone with her personality. Pretty, but has that edge to it take makes people tremble with a single look. A name really does say a lot about a person, and hers fits her perfectly. He has to admit that he’s intimidated by her, but he’s also drawn in.

“It’s a pretty ring,” she says, setting it down onto the counter in front of him before reaching for something underneath the counter, giving him a wry smile. “She’s a lucky girl.”

He just hums, still too busy analyzing her. Then, he realizes that she thinks he’s about to be engaged, which was definitely not the case, and he didn’t want her to think that either. “Wait. No. It’s for my mom.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They fall back into a painful silence as she rings him up. When she speaks again, it physically pains him to hear, “That’ll be five-hundred twenty-three, and fifteen cents.”

He’s sure his eyes practically bulge out of his head, but he reaches towards his pocket for his wallet. He shoves his hand in, mumbling, “I’m not going to be eating for the next few months, then.”

She must have heard him because she laughs. “That bad, huh?”

“How could a ring possibly be so expensive?”

“I mean…” She raises an eyebrow, smiling. “You did choose a family business to get it from. Handmade.” “Aren’t all rings handmade?”

“Ours are made with love.”

“Made with love,” he mumbles. “Right.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. He reaches into his other pocket for his wallet, and only starts to panic when he feels nothing there. He pats his sides frantically, and Annabeth gives him a look.

“You good?” she asks when he keeps searching his pockets.

“I can’t find my wallet.” And this is mortifying, because he just wants to get home and not make a fool of himself in front of this pretty girl, but it looks like neither of those things are going to happen. His vision that one spot on his couch that he’s almost certain he left his wallet on. His hand drops from his side, defeated, embarrassed. “I left it at home.”

“You left it at home?” she repeats.

Percy can’t even speak to confirm it, knowing that if he opens his mouth, he’s just going to start crying. He’s a full half-hour away from home, and the shop is closed, and tomorrow is Christmas, and he is inevitably screwed.

“On Christmas Eve,” she says, mirthful, “you left your wallet at home.”

He pouts. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not,” she swears, but her lips are turning up.

“It’s not funny.”

She brushes away her blonde hair from her face, smiling fully. She pinches her fingers together as she says, “It’s a little funny.”

Percy’s nervous, but when she starts to laugh, he can’t help but do so himself. He doesn’t know her, but he feels comfortable in this moment, listening to the sound of her voice that reminds him of a warm winter day, spent inside with the ones he loves. Before he can help himself, he’s already imagining that she’s the one he’s spending the winter day with.

He bites his lip in a smile as she continues to snicker at him, and he is absolutely captivated by this girl making fun of him. Everything about her fits in perfectly right now, her name to her personality, her curled hair framing her face, herself to Percy.

“Do you need to run home?” she asks, eyes still gleaming.

“You’re closed,” he points out.

“I’ll wait if you need me to.”

“I’d feel bad holding you here on Christmas Eve. It’ll be at least an hour.”

“I don’t mind.” She pauses. “What’s your name, so I know who to report if I find anything stolen?”

“Haha. Funny.” A beat passes. “I’m Percy.”

“Then really, Percy, I don’t mind waiting.”

Percy debates it for a moment. He knows it’s not polite – she has people waiting for her to get home too, he’s sure – but it gives him an excuse to come back and work up the courage to maybe ask her if she’d want to get something to eat with him at some point.

“Are you sure?”

She rolls her eyes fondly. “Go.”

Percy wastes no time in turning around and booking it. He drives what is way too fast, and he makes it home in only twenty minutes. He may have run Santa over. He doesn’t really know.

He practically trips running up the stairs to his apartment, and when he unlocks his front door, he snatches the wallet from the couch before doing a complete U-turn. The drive back is a little longer, but he makes it quickly enough. He tugs open the door to the shop, and spots her along one of the other walls, fixing up the display.

He notices that she’s taken the jacket off that she had on earlier, and he suddenly feels another wave of guilt as he realizes she must have been about to leave before he popped in.

She turns her head at the sound of the door chiming, and he holds up the wallet. “Got it.”

She smiles, waving him over to her again. “I’m glad to see it.” She helps him pay quickly, and then he suddenly doesn’t have another excuse to stay any longer. He doesn’t leave as he pockets the small box. He truly doesn’t know why he so badly wants to stay because he barely knows her, but maybe that’s what it is. Maybe he could know her, and if he does, something tells him he’ll fall in love with her.

“So,” Percy says.

“So,” Annabeth teases.

He glances out the glass windows at the front of the small store. “It’s really cold outside.”

“Is it?”

He looks at her, and that humor is back in her eyes. “You’re making fun of me again.”

“This is too funny not to.”

“This is humiliating, and you’re not helping.”

She gives him a soft smile, and she comes around the counter to throw her black long coat on. She comes up close enough to him that he can smell her perfume; she smells really good, a warm scent on an icy day. She tugs her hair out from the back of her coat.

“Ask me,” she urges.

It’s then that he knows she does feel the same thing he does. She feels that fascination at the possibility of what they could make and what could they be. It provides Percy with the boost of confidence he needs.

“I don’t have to do anything else today,” he says, a silent offer. “I know Central Park is nice this time of year. We could go there for a walk?”

And she grins. “Central Park is nice.”

“Maybe we can get something to eat?”

“I’d like that,” she says. She begins to walk to the door, and she looks over her shoulder. “You coming?”

Percy follows her steps, and he begins to think of the future. There’s something about this moment that whispers to him that they are going to turn into something incredible. She just fits him, the pure definition of perfection, and he wants to see where this takes him.

So he follows her out the door into the Winter sky, the snow falling upon their heads, snowflakes delicate on her eyelashes, and when he grabs her hand later that night, she feels warm and safe.

When she kisses him in the middle of the city that never sleeps, he falls in love.

[parkersbliss]

Better | T. Holland

Pairing: Boyfriend!Harrison Osterfield X reader, Tom Holland X Reader

Warnings: No-no words, reader cheating on my baby Haz

wc; 1.6K

request: @ohhh-boo-tiful Hey! I saw your post about request for imagines!!! You should do one where reader is dating Toms brother or Harrison maybe idk and its kinda serious but then there is this crazy tenSion and connection with tom. They know its there and they kissed and everything is messy. WHAT WILL HAPPEN?! WILL THEY END UP TOGETHER?

synopsis: Despite dating Harrison, you can’t deny your feelings for Tom.

a/n: Currently haven’t had human contact for 19 days.

Masterlist | Taglist

Not my gif

...

Tom was your best friend. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. You had a boyfriend- Harrison- to be more specific. And you were happy with him, you loved him with your whole heart, but when he introduced you to Tom... your heart skipped a beat. Tom shook your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles and holding your hand slightly longer than necessary, but you didn't mind and Harrison didn't notice. You didn't see the brunette much do to his work, which you were completely grateful for. The longer you spent in his company, the more your heart urged you for something that you couldn't have. You never told Harrison about your predicament, finding it rude to tell your boyfriend that you were indeed attracted to his best friend. After all, he always had to deal with people only wanting to be friends so they could get close to the movie star. At this point, you had completely zoned out of the discussion. Your thoughts running free in your head.

"What do you think, baby?" Harrison asked, his full attention now placed on you. All the boys were looking eagerly at you, Tom primarily, oh how you wish his stare didn't affect you the way it did. You shook your head to get rid of the thought of those gorgeous honey eyes, the ones that held so much warmth, emotion, and love in them.

"(Y/N)?" Tom probes, your name rolling off his tongue like a melody.

"Uh, yeah, sorry zoned out, what was the question again?" You said apologetically, turning your head away from Tom.

"Tom was inviting us over for a movie, probably a marvel one knowing him," Harrison laughed.

Oh, this couldn't get any worse. Movie night, with Tom. With your boyfriend. You could decline the offer, but for what reason? You were all friends. There shouldn't be any reason you diss them. You lean your head onto Harrison's shoulder, he shifts to wrap an arm around you.

"Mmm that sounds lovely," You decide. Harrison leans down to press a short, innocent kiss to your lips.

"PDA!" Harry shouted, "Cover it up!!"

"I need to bleach my eyes!" Sam groaned.

"Oh please, you're just jealous you don't have a lady hanging off your arm, completely smitten for you," Harrison teases. Yeah, smitten.

Tom laughs, setting his beer down on the table, "Mate I've got millions of ladies smitten for me."

That causes the whole table to riot, everyone ganging up on the movie star for being so movie starry.

"You're such a stuck up div," Tuwaine comments, everyone laughing and clicking their beers together.

...

You were curled up next to Harrison on Tom's couch, your head resting on Harrison's lap and your legs resting on Tom's. Tuwaine was chilling in the love seat, the two twins were leaning against the couch where you Tom and Haz were. As Harrison said, a marvel movie was playing on the big screen. You, however, were focused on different things. Like the way, Tom was keenly watching the movie, despite presumably having seen it at least ten times. He was wearing a pair of glasses and you watched how he slowly pushed them up to rest on the bridge of his nose. A smirk graced his lips and you raised an eyebrow as to what caused the action. If only you could guess.

Tom could see you out of the corner of his eyes. He watched as you studied his figure and the way he slowly pushed up his glasses. He smirked to himself, knowing you were watching him. Tom moves one of his hands to rest on your leg. He can feel your muscles stiffen underneath his touch, your lower lip trapped between your teeth. Harrison's hand was running through your hair, he was unaware of the exchange between the two of you. It didn't help that Tom was now rubbing small circles on the exposed skin from your shorts. Goosebumps had erupted over the skin and you knew that you had to get out of the room and fast. You pushed yourself off the couch, telling Harrison that you needed to go to the bathroom. He nodded, still watching the movie. You carefully stepped between the twins and made a mad dash for the bathroom.

Quietly, you shut the door behind you and stared into the mirror. You felt horrible, disgusted by your reflection. Harrison didn't deserve this, but you couldn't deny the allure to Tom. Every time you hung out it only got worse, you thought distancing yourself from him would work, but instead, it only made you crave him more and it was driving you crazy. No matter the situation, breaking up with Harrison only to start dating Tom was corrupt. The longer you stayed in the bathroom, the more suspicious you became, you knew that, but you couldn't will your body to open the damn door and face Harrison or Tom. You sat down on the toilet, intent on figuring out an excuse as to what took so long, your period? Stomach bug? Either would work, but then Harrison would get worried over you and just hug you closer and you were afraid you couldn't handle that.

After ten minutes of contemplating what to do, you opened the bathroom door to find Tom standing outside, his fist raised to knock. You felt your heart drop and slammed the door shut, forgetting about the other boys in the house, you only hoped they didn't hear it. You gripped onto the sink, taking in deep breathes to calm your speeding heart rate.

"(Y/N)," Tom said from behind the door. "Please open the door."

"I can't," You choked out, still gazing at your reflection.

"Please," He tried again, a little more urgency in his voice. You caved in, knowing that eventually, you'd let him in.

You open the door and grab his arm, dragging him inside before closing the door again.

"What do you want?" You ask, surprised at the harsh tone of your voice.

"I- I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, it's been 15 minutes," He explains softly.

You didn't meet Tom's gaze, "Shouldn't Haz be checking in on me?"

Tom flinches at that, "He wanted to watch the movie."

"I'm fine," You lie, turning toward the door fixed on getting out of this room before things escalate.

"Bullshit," Tom declared, your head snaps up meeting his gaze.

"Whatever, dude I'm leaving," you turn the handle of the door before Tom slams it shut again, now leaning against it to prevent you from leaving.

"Don't act like you don't feel it too. "

You tense up at that, "W- what?"

Tom rolls his eyes at you, "This," He gestures between the two of you.

You take a step back, scared if you stand any closer that you'll end up in his arms. The arms of someone who was not your boyfriend.

"Tom," You sigh, "You know I'm dating Haz."

"Are you happy though?" He interrogates. A heavy silence follows that and you can feel the tears spur at the corner of your eyes.

"We can't do this, Tom. It would kill him."

"But it's killing both of us too and you know it."

You rub furiously at the tears, this was so stupid. In love with your boyfriend's best friend? How cliche. How wrong.

"Please don't cry," Tom whispers, taking a step forward to hug you.

You wanted to stop him, you really did, but the heart wants what it wants. In a few seconds, you found yourself embraced in Tom's arms. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and you cursed yourself for wanting more, for wanting this. He doesn't say anything, just hold you to his chest letting you think.

You look up at him after a while, staring into those captivating honey eyes. Tom leans down slightly, his lips a breath away from yours.

"Tell me you want this too."

Despite every cell in your body, you nod and connect your lips with his. It was electrifying. You felt your heart thunder against your rubs and your arms pull him closer too you. It was so wrong, but it felt so right. You had waited forever for this moment and it was everything you wanted. Tom backs you up against the sink, caging you in. That's when the door opened.

"Hey guys, you've been go- holy fucking shit," Harry said.

You shoved Tom off of you with a force you didn't know you had, he trips and slams his head against the rim of the toilet.

"Fuck!" You scream, bending down next to him.

Harry stands there, hesitant about what to do or say.

"Harry," You breathe out, "Please, don't say anything not now."

He nods just as Haz and the other two boys arrive at the doorway. Harrison pushes past Harry, "What the bloody hell happened, did someone die?"

You were cradling Tom's head in your hands, as he moans in pain.

"Shit, Tom, I'm so sorry."

"Uh..." Harry mumbles. You look at him with pleading eyes and he forces himself to look away. "(Y/N) wasn't feeling well and Tom reached to grab the meds, but slipped because his short self couldn't reach it."

"Someone please get ice," You asked, stroking Tom's hair, trying to soothe his discomfort.

Tuwaine and Sam rush off to get it, leaving Haz and Harry with you. Haz leans down next to you, "You're not feeling well?"

You silently thanked the tears from earlier that had probably left marks on your face, "cramps," you mutter. Harrison nods understandingly then looks to a dazed Tom.

"You doing okay, mate?" Tom gives him a thumbs up. You look to Harry who's staring down at the three of you. His eyes meet yours and you can see the guilt and remorse in his eyes.

He shakes his head at you, "I thought you were better than this, (Y/N)."

You did too.

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: Part Eleven is finally up. Again, I deeply apologize for the wait. I had a good reason, I promise. For now, though? Here we go... As always, feedback is incredible. If you want tagged, please send an ask or message so I am sure to see it. Same goes if I missed your tag. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mostly Smut. Rushed, bathroom/public sex. A little reference to the movie Focus. Some feelings. Not enough editing. That’s all, I believe.

Word Count: Roughly 3,100

“Dance with me?” You looked up to a little old man. Even though his dark skin was wrinkled and worn, his eyes vibrated with life.

Alice and Bane were having a get together at their place. Something normies got to indulge in. You had gone to help set up. A simple enough task. However, before you could dip out? The guests had begun to arrive, and Alice had insisted you stay. You hadn't even known she knew that many people not involved in the life.

“Sure,” You got up to your feet slowly. Completely out of your element.

“Anyone ever teach you how to salsa?”

“No,” You answered honestly. More than a little weary.“You willin' to teach me?”

“I'd be honored.” His face lit up, making him look ten years younger.

Sam watched as your hand landed on the elderly man's shoulder, and the other on the crook of his elbow as his hands settled on your body. What is she doing? A few minutes later, he couldn't help the smile on his face as he peeked back up.

You were stumbling a little, moving to the beat of the music with a large smile as you worked with the man. A simple, peach colored skirt swung around your legs as you stepped where instructed. The white tank top would have been immodest if you hadn't paired it with a cream colored cardigan. Showing almost more than it covered.

The guy had been sitting by himself for the longest time, until he'd sought you out. Nothing but darkness coating his wrinkled face. Now? He looked as if you'd given him the most precious thing in the world. Helping him find his youth in the small crowd.

Over the past week, a careful distance had been kept between you and Sam. You kept looking at him as if you wanted to try and repair the damage, but never found the courage to make the first move. His pride was still stinging. However, it didn't keep him from being aware of you. Only, this time, it was more than just your body.

He'd zeroed in on everything he'd missed before. The way you chewed your lip when you concentrated. How although you had a mix of modern and classic literature, the classics came off the shelf most often. You didn't have a favorite musical genre. Instead, you listened to whatever suited your mood. A glow spread across your face whenever you saw Ava smile a gummy little grin up at you. More often than not, if you were out? You'd gone down a path that led to a smaller pond to take in the nature. How restless you seemed to be since you'd gotten out on the road again. The way you turned away from your own gloom to entertain an elderly man you'd never met...

“You're still thinking about her.” Cas's voice made Sam jerk lightly as he turned to the angel. “Sorry,” His gruff apology wasn't quite enough to take away the frown on the hunter's face, “didn't mean to startle you. Or listen in.” The last bit was added in as an afterthought.

“You can't help it,” Sam grumbled, turning his head back to the scene in front of him. Then the words sunk in. “What do you mean by 'still'?”

“Almost every time I'm by you? I pick up something about her.” Castiel shrugged lightly. Simply speaking matter of factly. “It's fascinating, really... how many different thoughts there are regarding one person.” That made Sam pause, and turn back to watch you trip over your own feet. Laughing all the while. “I was human for a short time, Sam... It allowed me a bit of insight,” The angel smiled a bit at how foolish you were on the floor. Missing some of the roughness both boys carried. “But, I never got to experience something as...” He paused for the right word, “intense as what you're experiencing.” Sam's hands shoved into his pockets. Despising the truth in the words. “I'm almost jealous.”

“Feel free to take her off of my hands.” Sam suggested readily. Wishing he could escape the flood.

“You don't mean that.” He wasn't as sure as Cas seemed to be over that claim. “Is she leaving with you two?”

“Dean wants to bring her.” Sam shrugged out. Trying to act indifferent. “Hasn't asked her, though.”

“If it helps, Sam,” Cas turned back to his friend. Blue eyes boring into the hazel. Making sure the earnest words sank home. “You're not the only one struggling.” His lips pulled up lightly, “She's thinking about you, too...”

–

Hands came out from the bathroom, yanking you towards a looming figure. Your fist came out instinctively, connecting with the perpetrator before you had processed that you knew those hands. As it clicked, you meekly looked up.

Only to find Sam's wry, pained grin aimed at you,“You have a heck of a swing.”

“You had that coming.” You shrugged, turning to see if anyone had seen you get snatched. When you were sure it was clear, you pushed Sam further in and shut the door. Ensuring that you wouldn't be found with the enemy. “What are you doing?”

“Take a guess,” His eyes trailed over your body. The golden brown in them shined through that day. Full of heat. That look alone had you squeezing your thighs together. The necklace from before was hidden in the swells of your breasts, making his gaze linger there. His nostrils flared lightly as he took in the exposed skin. “I've been dying to know what you have on the end of that chain.” Your hands came up to play with it in response. Unintentionally rising to the bait.

“I figured you were still mad over the word vomiting incident.” You stated, moving over to  the counter to sit. Noting the way he turned with you. Leaving no room between your bodies. He wasn't even trying and you were almost ready to rip your clothes off. “You haven't pulled any sick tricks, lately. Just ignored me.” You sat looking at him patiently. Waiting for an explanation.

At one time, you might have been relieved by his behavior. But, not anymore. The dynamic had shifted enough that the distance bothered you.

“Well,” He moved over to you, letting his hands settle on your knees, “there's two options in a situation like this.”

“I wasn't aware this is something you had experience in.” The teasing in your tone couldn't be denied. You leaned back, supporting your upper body on your hands. Making it easier to look him in the eyes.

“Oh, I don't... The internet, though? It has answers to everything.” He replied seriously. As if he hadn't pulled the answer from thin air.

“The more you know.” Sam tried to keep his face straight, but he broke at your tone as you played along. A small laugh revealed his dimples. The sight enough to melt away the rest of your worries. There'd been guilt, before. For all his rough edges, you hadn't intended on injuring his ego. “So, what are the options? Since you're clearly educated on the subject.” Your lips had turned up at the sound of his chuckle.

“Well, there's the easy one.” His hand started drifting higher. Thumb grazing along the bottom of your inner thigh- just under the hem of your skirt. “We let that be the end, and go onto other partners. Pretend it never happened.”

“And the second?” Your breath hitched lightly as his fingers tightened on the soft skin he'd found.

“We don't stop.” His other hand reached around your back, pulling your body closer to him. Stretching you out more along the counter as he settled in between your legs. His lips dipped down dangerously close to yours. “Keep going til we figure out just what you think is missing...”

“What's your vote?” You asked, bringing your hand between your bodies. Toying with his shirt. Chewing on your lip as you waited for a response. You didn't even care in that moment that your uncertainty had become his challenge to conquer. His hands moved up to your face. Cradling you as he kissed you hungrily. Not bothering to use words. You pulled away from his lips just long enough for one, husky word: “Agreed.”  

His mouth was back on yours in record time. Then trailing down your neck to the tops of your breasts. Kissing. Licking. Sucking. The occasionally bite mixed in. All marks were gone almost as soon as they appeared. But, you were past the point of caring. It felt too right to consider the consequences.

Your hands pulled open his red and blue plaid shirt. Desperate to get down to skin. Rounded nails scratched against the firm flesh. He tugged off your cardigan as his tongue tangled with yours. Nearly ripping the material in his haste. The two of you moved as if it had been years instead of days without touching.

“Please tell me that you're ready.” The husky tilt paired with his lack of breath went straight to your crotch. You just sent him a seductive smile while yanking open his belt. “Thank God.”

The soft material of your skirt was hiked with ease. Sam didn't slow down. Didn't wait for you to lift your hips. Instead, his fingers tore at the fragile lines of your panties. Making quick work of them.

Your own fingers were busy. Yanking at his button. Ripping his zipper down. Before his pants hit the ground, common sense prevailed.

“Condom?” There was no way you were giving up any method of birth control. Sex god, or not.

“Check my wallet.” Nothing. “Damn it.” He growled out, taking it from you to check himself before tossing it to the side. Another heavy, sexually frustrated curse leaving his lips. “Give me a second.” He started searching the medicine cabinet and drawers like a man possessed.

“Oh, this is so wrong,” You huffed out. Leaving all morals aside to hunt down a form of birth control in your friend's home. No luck. “Shit.” You were aroused. More than a little annoyed. A deadly combination to be sure. “Wait!”

“You are not leaving me here like this.” Sam ground out, seeing the wheels turn in your head.

“I'll be back in two seconds.” You promised. Crossing your fingers over your heart symbolically before adjusting your clothing back into semi-decent shape.

“Y/N-” You stopped him by pulling his head down to yours. Kissing the protest right out of him.

“I have more clothing on.” You managed to get out against his mouth. “I get caught? Less of a big deal.”

“Fine.” He said after a second of frustrated silence. Knowing it was that, or a longer wait. “You leave me like this, and I swear...” He trailed off, letting all kinds of disastrous images line your mind.

“While that sounds fun,” Your inner minx couldn't be contained. Cupping his erection in your hand, you continued. “I have much more...pressing issues.” Your thumb stroked over the bulge, making him practically hiss. A quick peck against his lip, and you were gone.

Sam's hand rubbed over his face as he waited. Awkward, now that he was on his own. Wondering if you really would be mischievous enough to ditch him- he knew you could be. Or if you needed him just as badly as he seemed to need you.

It had built throughout the day. Castiel's words only encouraging him further. Goading him until he'd planned on doing something about you that night.

Then, you'd walked by. Innocent fun was the only plan when he'd pulled you into the bathroom. Then, hormones ruled the moment he had you alone. A little foreplay to warm you up. Something that would make the night that much sweeter. That idea lasted until he'd touched you. Fucking the entire plan up.

He sat leaning against the counter with his shirt open. His belt and pants still undone, and a hard on for the ages pressed out angrily. A pair of destroyed peach, lace panties rested by his feet. His wallet was over on the other side of the room. If anyone else stumbled across him, he'd have a hell of a time explaining it. Luckily, you spared the Winchester.

“Got it,” Locking the door was first priority. Something that hadn't been thought of before.

“Where the hell-”

“Your brother is an easy target.” You pulled the wallet out of your top. Knowing right where the protection was stored. “Now...shut up and make use of this.” Dean's wallet was tossed over by Sam's. No longer worth your attention.

It took two steps for him to reach your side, and slam you into the door. His lips sealing over yours again. As the kiss deepened, his hands gripped your thighs. Silently demanding you jump. He didn't hesitate, pulling you up to his waist when you gave him what he needed.

You held on as he carried you. Not breaking contact with his mouth as he moved you back to the counter. Knocking over several toiletries in the process when he tossed you back onto the counter.

It was impossible to keep your hands off Sam. Your fingers got in the way, trying to help him lose the pants. Rolling the condom into a place.

A small squeeze of his erection led to a growl from the man above you. An answering bite to your lip drew a breathy moan from your lips as he moved your hands away. Your skirt was pushed back up. Fingers just barely ghosted over the wet folds as he lined up.

Sam's mouth swallowed your cry when he filled you with a snap of his hips. Your hands tangled themselves into his shirt and onto the base of his neck. Ankles locked around his back, digging your heels into his ass to help set the pace. Hard and fast.

Pulling away your lips, you turned them to his throat. Tasting his skin as he had yours earlier to draw a groan from him. Letting that muffle the sounds he was forcing from your throat.

His teeth held his lip as he moved, rolling his body into yours. Keeping himself as silent as possible. Not wanting to be caught anymore than you did. Wanting the moment to last.

You had no idea how long you two were locked together. Grasping. Thrusting. Whimpering at the rush. Every push and pull sending you closer to oblivion.

As you got close, your head fell back away from the taste of his damp flesh. Your teeth dug into your lower lip harshly, but it wasn't enough. Skin slapped harshly together, echoing through the small room. Then you heard it: voices.

Sam paused. Bringing his hand to your mouth, he covered it gently. Gauging your reaction to his action, as the sounds of your bodies meeting didn't lessen. You didn't complain, letting him protect the both of you two. Instead, you nodded your consent.

Neither of you stopped the push and pull you'd started. Not even when the voices were right outside. Rocking into each other all the while. Eyes locked, you held each other through it. Whoever it was didn't stay long.

You ground yourself against him as soon as they were gone, wanting him to speed back up. To send you over the edge. Needing it.

Luckily, Sam understood. Wanting the same thing, himself. His head buried into your shoulder. Bracing his free hand on the counter, he slammed into you. The once covered whimpers turned to cries as you clung to him. Your body clenched tight as you came, encouraging him to follow you. Thighs trembling all the while.

With every thrust, his rhythm grew more sloppy. Fighting to refrain. But, it was all too much. Sam's teeth sunk into your shoulder to keep his own shout from being heard when he came.

Breathing heavy, you pulled apart as soon as you were able. Almost shyly cleaning up and getting your clothes situated as best as you could. You helped fix his hair while he wiped off the smudged liner under your eyes.

Not much was said. Especially regarding the 'missing piece' that seemed to be standing like a brick wall between you two. That is, until Sam picked up the wallets.

“How'd you get this, anyway?” Dean's leather was waved as he looked at you.

“He was grabbing a beer, and talking to Bane in the kitchen.” You shrugged, slipping on your cardigan. “I walked past, grabbed it out of his back pocket, shoved it in my bra, and got up here.”

“Without him noticing?” Sam didn't buy it. Dean was too good of a hunter to have missed that trick.

“There's a skill to it. You just touch directly while grabbing what you want.” It seemed too easy. “For example,” You touched his bicep while looking at your hand, and his eyes followed. “I touch you here.”

“Okay...” He trailed off in confusion.

“And, I pick this up.” You wagged the wallet that had been in his back pocket in his face. “Easy. Even if the other person hunts? Their attention is diverted.”

“You're nothing but trouble, aren't you?” He grinned, pulling the leather from your grasp. Shoving it into his pocket for the second time.

“All I had to do is tap his arm from behind. Say excuse me. Done.” You unlocked the door. “Take your time, will ya? I'm going to schmooze. Play innocent.” As you walked out, you stopped and looked back at the younger Winchester. Eyes still full of fire, “Oh, and Sam...My door won't be locked, tonight...” You winked when his nostrils flared in response before leaving him alone to over think.

When he finally walked out, he was sure you two had gotten away with it. Another item kicked off of his bucket list. As far as he was concerned, he could die happy.

“How long?” Dean's voice made Sam turn around quickly, towards the other end of the hallway. His brother leaned against the wall. Shadowed, still. Maybe I spoke to soon...

“What?” He tried playing innocent. Shouldn't have bothered. It only made the older Winchester's glower deepen.

“How long have you and Y/N been sneaking around?” Well, shit...

Part Twelve

Tag: @burningmusicmachine​ @missmarrinette​ @sherlockedtash88​ @rathersuspiciousbumblebee​ @sasbb23​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @baby-bunker-pie​ @neii3n​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @malfoysqueen14 @calaofnoldor @hhiggs

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Maybe I Am? - Chpt.3

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Summary: The guys meet up for a casual Sunday farmers market trip but when they get back to Bucky’s apartment things heat up fast. Master list HERE.

Content Warning: basic second base smuttiness; swapping hand jobs and some frottage.

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I told ya'll there was gonna a lot of smut in this one and I'm starting to deliver as of this chapter :) So please, enjoy some lovely smuttiness on this fine Wednesday evening lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Three

“I told you so.” Natasha cheered over their plate of danishes the next morning. 

Bucky’s smile was sphinx-like as he nibbled on his pastry, “You did. I’m still not 100% sure he’s not going to just bolt at some point but I think that’s a risk I’m going to have to take.” 

“It sounds like a risk worth taking if one kiss has you smiling like that twelve hours later.”

“Ugh, Nat! And for the record, it was more than just one.” Bucky chuckled as Natasha shoved at him playfully.

Across town Steve was helping Sam tidy up in between classes and trying to avoid the grilling he knew Sam wanted to give. They had recapped the last class and personal training sessions and planned out the room for the next group coming in. They went over all the adjustments needed to the next week’s schedule since they were still covering for Thor who was out on paternity leave for the next four weeks now that his wife Jane had the baby. By the time they were setting the last of the kettle bells on the rack they had run out of gym related topics. Sam gave him another side eyed glance and Steve sighed, knowing what was coming.

“So are you still talking to Bucky?” Sam finally asked.

Steve had been reluctant to tell Sam about anything other than their first meeting. He hadn’t even told Sam why he’d bought the new outfit for earlier that week. It was still so new and he was unsure himself of where things were going, or where he even wanted them to go. He figured if in the end he realized he was bi or gay or whatever, then he could tell his friends. But until he was sure there was no point in announcing anything. “I am.” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“And how’s that going?” Sam seemed genuinely interested but Steve still clammed up.

“Good, he’s a good friend. We’ve been swapping memes all week.” 

“Nice. See, it all worked out and now you have someone else to send those stupid GIFs from The Office to.” 

“Hey, don’t knock one of the best TV shows of all time.” Steve glared pointedly.

“Whatever floats your boat, man.” Sam moved on, heading over to the desk to check the roster one last time before he started pulling out mats for their next class. A small twinge of guilt bit in Steve’s stomach, knowing he had let Sam make a wrong conclusion and hadn’t corrected him. But really, what was the point if he still wasn’t sure of everything himself? 

xxXxx

Bucky woke early on the Sunday after their date, restless in a way he hadn’t been in a while. He wanted to see Steve again but it had only been a day. Bucky busied himself with too much coffee and a book while he did laundry in his building's basement, trying to distract himself for a while. By 10am all of his standard keep busy chores were done and he was staring at his phone, trying to make Steve text him by sheer force of will. Giving up he started swiping through Instagram, catching up on his friend’s weekend adventures. Pepper had posted a cute picture of a bouquet she bought at the local farmers market and Bucky realized he had found the perfect reason to text Steve. It was innocent enough and casual so if Steve was busy or declined it wasn’t earth shattering. Plan in place, Bucky fired off a quick text.

Bucky Barnes [10:17:44AM]: hey u. im heading 2 the farmers market in sunset park. gonna stop 4 more of that wine. wanna come?

Steeeeve [10:19:23AM]: Hey! That sounds fun. What time?

Bucky Barnes [10:19:52AM]: headed over now if ur free

Steeeeve [10:20:08AM]: Okay. I just need to throw on some shoes and I’ll head out. I can be there in like 15min. 

Bucky Barnes [10:20:33AM]: k see u then

Bucky scrambled to fix his hair and pick a shirt from the pile he’d just brought up. He hadn’t expected Steve to be willing to meet up so quickly and he was still wearing his laundry day sweatpants. He was closer to the market than Steve but he also needed more time to get ready so he ended up getting a “I’m here” text from Steve on his way. 

Steve was waiting by a jewelry stand when Bucky caught up with him. He had been wandering around for a few minutes and the display of beaded bracelets caught his eye. They reminded him of the ones Bucky had worn when they first met and he wondered which ones Bucky would like. 

“Hey!” Bucky greeted him with a small wave as he approached.

“Hey.” Steve echoed happily. He almost reached out for a hug but something held him back and after a second ticked by he realized he should have just done it but the moment had passed. 

“What are you looking at?” Bucky asked, a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten their standard greeting hug and wanting to move on. 

“Oh, these things caught my eye while I was browsing.” 

“They’re nice. I love the way the translucent ones almost glow.” Bucky picked up one of the vivid pink ones, letting the sunlight hit it from different angles. 

“Let me buy it for you.” Steve offered before his brain caught up with his mouth. 

Bucky looked skeptically at him, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to, please?” 

“Thanks, Stevie.” Bucky said softly, handing the bracelet over. 

Steve blushed at the nickname, ducking his head and walking over to pay the sales girl for the bracelet. Once purchased, he returned it to Bucky who slid it on his wrist next to the two others he was currently wearing.

“Perfect.” Steve praised. 

Bucky was looking appreciatively at his newest addition while Steve was looking appreciatively at Bucky. God, he was gorgeous. Bucky was dressed casually in light washed jeans and a dark grey shirt with no one should live in a closet written in fancy script with a wand below it, all in rainbow colors. Leave it to Bucky. “I like your shirt. Harry Potter reference, right?” Steve guessed.

“Yep. I found it at Pride last year and I’m completely in love with it.” 

“It’s very you.” 

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Bucky preened for a moment. 

Steve chuckled, “Come on, let’s go get some coffee. Altitude Coffee has a little pop up shop back that way.” 

Steve and Bucky trailed their way through the bustling farmers market, picking up things here and there. Some they actually needed for groceries, but others were just fun impulse buys. They each had overly full canvas totes by the time they were done, and hauled their finds along with them to the wine shop. They each bought a full box from the shop, having stocked up on a half case of their favorites, which only further slowed Bucky down. While Steve had the muscles and endurance to haul a giant tote and six bottles of wine around the city, Bucky did not. 

“Uh, Steve.” Bucky panted out, finally giving up. 

Steve looked over and realized Bucky had fallen a few steps behind while he was talking about a winery he had visited while in Canada a few years ago. 

“I think I need to tap out.” Bucky admitted while shifting his bag as much as he could to get comfortable. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Steve shifted his tote higher on his shoulder, wondering if he could sling Bucky’s on next to his. “Here, let me take your bag.” he extended a hand towards Bucky’s bag.

Bucky was conflicted, he wanted to try and at least get his stuff home but Steve probably could carry both without breaking a sweat. Damned muscled god of a man. “How about this? Since I’m the one wimping out, let me call us an Uber. I can probably get us one less than five minutes.” 

Steve frowned at the idea of an expensive ride all the back to Park Slope. “You don’t have to do that. I can carry our stuff.” 

“If I call us an Uber we could go back to my place and try that baguette and jam I bought.”

“Ooh, that’s a good bribe. I have that cheese I got too.” Steve looked at Bucky for a long moment. An afternoon of good food and even better company was too tempting to pass up. “You sure you don’t mind me coming over?” 

“Not at all. It’s a tiny little crap shack of a place, but it’s my tiny little crap shack.” 

Bucky was already pulling up the app and ordering them a car when Steve finally said, “Okay, let’s go.” 

The Uber ride back to Bucky’s place was barely more than ten minutes and they sat cramped in the back of a Prius with their wine boxes in the trunk and their totes in their laps. Bucky was trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness and shot Steve amused glances every so often, making the blonde have to tamp down his own laughter. By the time they got to Bucky’s apartment Steve practically leapt out of the tiny blue car, grateful to stretch back to his full height again. He insisted on carrying both of their totes and his box of wine bottles up to Bucky’s apartment, leaving Bucky his own wine to carry. Thankfully the building had an elevator and Steve seemed barely phased under the weight of all their stuff. Bucky tried to ignore the filthy thoughts racing through his head of what else Steve was strong enough to do. Like pick him up and fuck him against a wall. Or something. God, Bucky hoped Steve figured things out soon because he was barely through their second date and wanted to climb the man like a tree. 

“Home sweet home.” Bucky announced as he swung the door open to his apartment. He flicked on the recessed lighting in the living room and showed Steve to the kitchen where he could put their bags down. It was a cute little one bedroom apartment with a decent sized living room and dine-in kitchen. 

“It’s nice.” Steve said looking around as he placed their bags on the faux granite countertop. 

“It’s tiny but it works.” Bucky shrugged. 

Steve noticed the would be dining room area of the kitchen was set up with a desk and three wide computer monitors instead of a table. “That’s quite a set up over there.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky looked embarrassed for a moment, “It’s a little ridiculous, but when you work from home it’s kinda nice to have a sweet setup. When I signed on to work for Stark Securities they gave me a signing bonus so I splurged and bought better equipment and that fancy office chair. It was completely worth it too.” 

“Good for you, you deserve it.” 

Bucky blushed lightly at the sincerity of Steve’s tone. He nervously spun the bracelet Steve had bought him around his wrist a few times, hoping he wasn’t setting himself for heartache. “So, lunch?” Bucky offered, the momentary tension dissipating. 

“Absolutely. Let’s break out that bread you got.” Steve started rifling through his bag for the soft cheese and candied pecans he’d bought while Bucky pulled out the heavy loaf of artisan bread, the little pot of homemade plum jam, and a bottle of Chloe Prosecco he’d bought at the wine shop. The bottle had been adorable with its fancy little bow and the sales girl had said it was a popular choice.

They laid out their feast on a large cutting board, teasing each other about how posh the whole thing was. It was a simple but seemingly elegant lunch spread and Bucky liked that their official second date had a bit of a classy feel to it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a table or anything for us to eat at.” Bucky waved his hand at his little office space. “I normally just eat on the sofa like a heathen.” 

“Honestly so do I.” Steve admitted with a chuckle.

“We can be heathens together then.” Bucky picked up their wine glasses while Steve carried the large tray out to the coffee table where they set up their feast. Flicking through his streaming channels he settled on Disney, knowing everyone loved those movies. “Have you seen the new Beauty and the Beast?”

Steve shook his head, “No, I heard it was good though.” 

“Good?” Bucky feigned offense, “Stephen Gilligan Rogers.” 

“Not my middle name.” Steve chuckled but Bucky was undeterred.

“BATB is not good. It is iconic. The elaborate costumes, the backdrops, the music, oh my god Steve, the music. We’re watching it. End of subject.” Bucky started up the movie, not even slightly apologetic for his dramatics. One had not lived until they saw Emma Watson as Belle. 

Two hours later Bucky was curled up against Steve, watching with misty eyes as the palace furniture turned back into real people as the curse lifted. Steve was completely engrossed in the movie, barely registering that he had been stroking Bucky’s hair for the better part of an hour. 

“Now do you see?” Bucky demanded as the credits rolled a few minutes later. 

“You were right. That was amazing.” Steve conceded. 

“It was always my favorite Disney movie as a kid but seeing it redone in such a perfect way really gets to me. I’ve threatened to dress up as Belle for the past three Halloweens now.” 

Steve grinned at the idea, “I think you’d make a beautiful Belle.” 

And just like that the air shifted. Bucky was suddenly very aware of how close they were curled up together and the way Steve was looking at him like he’d hung the moon. He didn’t want to rush Steve, he was willing to wait as Steve figured himself out, but if he kept looking at Bucky like that, his timeline needed to hurry up. “You’d make a very handsome beast.” he finally said, going for levity but falling short. 

Steve blushed so prettily, his eyes locked on Bucky’s lips, the bottom of which he was chewing on again. Steve knew now it was a nervous tell and it gave him a little thrill knowing he wasn’t the only nervous one. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.” he admitted quietly. 

“You don’t have to ask, honey.” Bucky purred, leaning in to press a tender kiss against Steve’s lips.

Steve’s body was shaking with nervous energy as Bucky shifted up onto his knees so he could kiss Steve easier. Bucky tasted like wine and plums and something very uniquely him. It made Steve’s head spin as he chased Bucky’s tongue with his own. The fears and worries over what he was doing died away in that moment, his whole being consumed by his desire for the sweet man who was practically in his lap. Steve still wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he knew he wanted more. 

Bucky was so thankful for a repeat of the night on Steve’s couch. Kissing Steve was electric and Bucky couldn’t get enough. The hard planes of his body pressed firmly up against the softer ones of Bucky’s, which only made Bucky more desperate for the close contact. Despite having a thicker build, Bucky felt small next to Steve and he loved it. Feeling brave, and praying desperately that Steve wouldn’t bolt, he swung a leg over Steve’s lap and sat himself atop Steve’s thighs. “Is this okay?” he asked once he was settled. 

“Yeah.” Steve shuddered, “Yeah, it’s fine.” Steve let his hands come to rest on Bucky’s thick thighs on either side of his smaller ones. While Steve’s thighs were hard with well earned muscle, Bucky’s had natural musculature and a softness to them that had Steve wanting to sink his fingers into their plush expanse. Bucky had gone back to kissing him while his mind wandered and Steve decided to give Bucky’s thighs an exploratory squeeze. For science really, just to see if he would feel anything. The kissing so far had been fantastic but Steve worried they’d eventually hit a point where everything went to hell and he realized he was most definitely straight. And then he’d lose Bucky forever. 

Bucky made a light huffing sound when Steve sunk his fingers into the soft meat of his thighs. He was thankful Steve was getting a little braver and decided to run his hands up and down the length of Steve’s ridiculously muscled chest and stomach in a tentative exploration of his own. 

A choked noise made its way out of Steve’s throat as Bucky touched him with feather light hands. He wanted to rip his shirt off and give him all the access he wanted. But he was taking things slow, Steve reminded himself. Unfortunately, not all parts of Steve got that memo. 

Bucky had shifted a bit trying to sprinkle kisses along the sharp edge of Steve’s jaw when he accidentally brushed against an unexpected guest. “Oh, shit, sorry.” he blurted out, moving back an inch so he wasn’t pressed against the, frankly enormous, erection in Steve’s pants. 

Steve blushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his throat. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.” 

Bucky glanced down at the tenting of Steve’s pants. Damn, he wanted to get his hands on Steve like yesterday. “I could, uh,” he cleared his throat roughly, “help you. With that.” Steve looked at him with wide bright blue eyes, so open and unsure, that Bucky started backpedaling all in a rush, “Or not, we can stop. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” 

Steve just grinned and leaned in to kiss Bucky again, his motions almost questioning. “I think I’d be okay going a little further this time.” he said quietly against Bucky’s mouth. 

Bucky squeaked involuntarily at Steve’s words. He was now dealing with his own growing problem at the idea of getting to fool around a little with Steve. “If you’re sure. We can stop at any time.” he promised. It would probably kill him, but if Steve said stop at any point he would be off him in a second. 

“I trust you, Buck.” Steve told him, brushing a strand of hair back behind Bucky’s ear. 

Bucky wanted to melt at the trust Steve had in him. He was too good to be true and Bucky just had to hope it would all work out. Gay or straight or somewhere in between, Steve Rogers was an absolute dream partner. Bucky shifted himself forward a little so the hard length in his pants could rub against the one in Steve’s while they kissed a little more. Bucky let his hips rock a little as they moved, giving them both a little bit of tortuous friction. 

Steve was panting like he’d run a marathon, and he knew this from personal experience when he and Sam had run the New York City Marathon a few years back as publicity for their gym. He’d never thought making out on a sofa would have quite the same effect but life had been full of surprises for him lately. The friction against his dick felt amazing and there was a naughty little zing of arousal knowing it was from Bucky’s erection rubbing against his. He would never have expected to enjoy that so much but there he was, fighting for self control like a horny teenager. He wanted to get Bucky off too and not just selfishly sit back and let Bucky take care of him. Steve was well acquainted with getting himself off and really how different could it be doing it to someone else? He was feeling bold and brash, knowing a hand was just a hand and really he had to start somewhere. “I think I’m ready for more.” he spoke up in between heated kisses. 

Bucky paused, jaw hanging open in shock. “Like, more more?” 

Steve nodded rapidly. “Like second base more?” He held his breath, waiting for Bucky to process what he’d just asked for. 

“God,” Bucky heaved out a breath, “You’re gonna be the death of me. Yes, second base, yes. Get those pants off, Rogers.” He stripped his own shirt off eagerly while Steve just sat there, amused.

“I kinda have this gorgeous guy on my lap at the moment.” he teased.

“Sorry!” Bucky yelped, hopping up so Steve could pull his pants down and off, quickly followed by his tee shirt. He sat in just his boxer briefs on Bucky’s sofa, looking like every Calvin Klien ad fantasy Bucky’d ever had come to life. “Jesus.” he whispered harshly. Bucky couldn’t get his own pants off fast enough, leaving him in his own silky boxers to resume his perch on Steve’s lap. 

Unconfined by pants Bucky got a better feel of Steve’s cock and he was thanking every saint he could think of for what was about to happen. He shifted himself closer to Steve, his thighs spreading wider, and he reached down to give Steve’s cock a tentative squeeze over top the soft cotton of his underwear. 

“Ohh.” Steve gasped out, his body trembling once again. His eyes were glued on Bucky, not wanting to miss a moment. He was so handsome sitting on Steve’s lap. His long hair shining in the afternoon sun that flooded in the glass balcony doors, his lightly tanned skin decorated with a series of finely detailed tattoos. While his muscles weren’t hard and cut like Steve’s, Steve loved the slight softness of the other man’s body, giving him something to sink his fingers into along his sides. It felt nice, and right, and Steve realized in that moment he was more invested in what was about to happen than he had been for most the sexual encounters he’d had with Peggy. It was startling but Steve pushed it down to deal with another day. In the moment, all that mattered was Bucky. 

“Can I?” Bucky asked, trailing his fingers along the waistband of Steve’s boxer briefs. 

“Yeah. Can I?” Steve echoed, tugging at the silky material at Bucky’s hip. 

“If you’re sure.” Bucky prayed silently that having an actual cock in his hand wouldn’t send Steve running for the hills. 

But it didn’t. Steve pulled his underwear off when Bucky hopped up to do the same and he was all nervous excitement when Bucky resumed his perch. He hadn’t thought of what to expect but Steve was blatantly staring at the thick length of Bucky’s dick. It was shorter than his own, but Steve had already known he was considered a bit above average, and it was girthy in a way that made Steve wonder if he topped or bottomed. Because, Steve thought with amusement, these were things he had to consider now. But not right away. They would take things slow and he would see if this was even something he wanted to try. Steve reached out a hand to test the weight of Bucky’s dick in his palm. He slid his hand up and down for two quick strokes, testing how doing that made him feel and was pleasantly surprised that it was a pretty familiar act. The way Bucky hissed out a sharp breath and craned his neck back, eyes shut tight, made Steve’s own dick jump for attention. Oh, this was kind of fun. Steve moved his hand for another few stokes, enjoying the way Bucky’s body reacted so blatantly to the pleasure. It was easy to get him worked up like that and Steve was genuinely enjoying himself watching Bucky become a desperate, needy thing in his lap, thrusting a little into Steve’s fist. 

“God. Fuck. Stevie, slow down.” Bucky pleaded. “I wanna take care of you too, honey. Can I? Please?” 

“Okay.” Steve acquiesced, bracing himself for the pressure of Bucky’s hand around his dick. 

Bucky eagerly wrapped his fist around the hard length of Steve’s cock, sliding it up and down the impressive length until Steve gasped. He leaned forward to kiss Steve from his jaw down his neck to his collarbones while he groped him fervently between their two overheated bodies. For as simple as it was, it was absolutely exquisite. “How you doing, Stevie?” Bucky prompted, wanting to check in to ensure Steve was still on board. He rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, waiting patiently for him to respond.

“So good.” Steve managed to moan out. “This is amazing.” 

“Wanna try something even more amazing?” Bucky grinned devilishly. “Just hand stuff, promise.” he added for reassurance.

“What can be better than this?” Steve questioned but motioned for Bucky to go ahead with whatever he had in mind.  

Carefully, Bucky shifted forward one last time, pressing as close to Steve as humanly possible making his over stretched thighs burn in the process. He slipped his hand from Steve’s cock and lined it up with his own, wrapping his fist around them both the best he could. He gave them a quick stroke, reveling in the sensation and waiting to see if Steve would enjoy it too. 

Steve’s whimper was a good sign. “Please.” he begged, “Please, please do that.” 

Bucky picked up the motion again, rhythmically pumping them in his fist. Steve was making little broken ahh sounds, unable to keep up with the pleasure thrumming through his body, and it spurred Bucky on to bring them both racing towards their release. 

Steve could feel the pressure building, his body was on fire and he could barely bite out a warning to Bucky as he felt his orgasm ripping through him. A half formed “I’m g-” was all the warning Bucky got before Steve was spilling all over his hand and cock. Watching Steve come undone, the pure bliss on his face, had Bucky following him over the edge of his own climax seconds later. His body shook hard as he spilled over his hand and across the rippled muscles of Steve’s abs. 

Steve’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining, and Bucky mused he probably looked about the same. Steve was so stunning sitting there with a wide, lazy blissed out smile on his face. Bucky giggled a little realizing how incredibly lucky he was. Steve really was just perfection. 

“What?” Steve asked, joining in Bucky’s infectious laughter. 

“You’re perfect.” Bucky admitted, speaking what was on his mind. 

“And you’re beautiful.” Steve leaned up to push Bucky’s hair back where it had fallen forward in his face. He pressed two chaste kisses against his lips before pulling back, feeling a little extra affectionate in his post-orgasmic haze. 

Bucky made a muffled mmph sound, leaning into Steve, just wanting to be close for a moment. “We made quite a mess.” he said finally, the squidgy feeling of their come between their stomachs not exactly a pleasant one. 

“We should clean up.” Steve agreed. 

“Come on, I have some wet wipes in my room.” Bucky lifted himself up off of Steve’s lap, suddenly cold without their skin to skin contact.

Steve noticed his shiver and as soon as he was standing, he pulled Bucky close against him in a warm embrace. 

Bucky basked in the warmth, his brain effectively turning to mush again at how sweet Steve was. “You spoil me.” he whispered against Steve’s firm pecs.

Steve dropped a kiss on top of Bucky’s head, “You deserve to be spoiled.” 

It took every bit of willpower in Bucky to pull back and lead Steve down the hall to clean up. He could have stayed wrapped in Steve’s arms forever, sticky cooling mess on his stomach be damned. They exchanged quick, adorably awkward glances at each other as they cleaned up. Both wanting to get a more detailed look now the heat of the moment had passed. Steve tossed his wipes in the wastebasket by Bucky’s dresser and then pulled Bucky close by his hips, “You really are so beautiful, Buck.” he told him softly.

Bucky had been careful to wall up his heart when he decided to give Steve a chance. He didn’t want to risk another heartbreak less than a year after what he’d been through with Brock. But Steve’s sweet words and affectionate touches had the walls crumbling a little despite Bucky’s best defenses. “Careful.” he teased with a pang of truth to his words, “You’re gonna ruin me for all other men, you keep this up.” 

Steve chuckled and kissed the top of Bucky’s head yet again. There were so many things he wanted to say in that moment. Raw, honest things that ached in his chest. But Steve kept them inside, not willing to let down his guard so completely just yet. He still didn’t really know what he was doing but damned if he wasn’t loving every second of it so far. 

“Come on you, let’s get dressed.” Bucky said finally, tugging Steve’s hand into his and leading him back down the hall.

Steve left shortly after they’d redressed and cleaned up the mess from their lunch. It was a long, drawn out goodbye in the doorway, neither one of them really wanting to part despite knowing they both had to get on with their usual Sunday routines. Steve promised to text Bucky once he’d made it home, insisting he would have no trouble carrying his tote and box on the subway. And then he was off down the hall, looking back just once before he got on the elevator and wishing he could have stayed. Bucky walked over to his glass balcony door, watching the street below as Steve crossed it heading toward the nearest subway station. He was trying not to get too attached but after the day they’d spent together, Bucky knew it was a losing battle.

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

I notice you post quite a bit about your family being extremely poor but also are an adult and seem to write a lot. Do you work to help out your family, or are you unable to? There are jobs out there that involve writing if that’s the extent you're capable of, like if disabilities get in the way of normal jobs. The level of poverty you describe your family dealing with is really depressing.

So...

I spent 11/14 years in one Christian School. There was a hiatus of 3 years of me trying out public school but I got shoved back into RBCS in 8th grade and stayed. I did not not want to go but Sperm Donor said it was a punishment for my behavior, so I’d be forced to be around Bible Thumpers every damn day.

Private Schools in America cost money. Tuition for this place was $1500 a year for kids over 10. I found out my mom’s brother John paid all my former years of education there to try and keep me close to the family(since my Nana was my school teacher) and make sure my mom didn’t go full broke.

Sperm Donor was in a pickle himself at the time. He was in the processes of being arrested for stealing nearly a million dollars from his clients(he was a financial adviser). He only took from the very desperate, disabled clients too. One died because her parents couldn’t afford her medication, because he was stealing their money. We were in a tight spot as a result, though I didn’t know enough until later. He didn’t pay my tuition or book fees($100+).

So he’s carted off to prison a month before 8th grade ends and I’m sent back to my mom’s custody. And my principal(also pastor) calls my mom to inform her that she has a $1600+ bill to pay for my schooling. She definitely does not have that and I certainly don’t either.

Next day at school I get cornered about how stealing is a sin and dishonesty is a sin(instead of blaming Sperm Donor because God forbid the man in prison for STEALING be in the wrong here). I’m offered a chance to lower the bill if I go candy-selling with the rest of the students every Friday. I will get half the profits made and it’ll be taken off my debt. So I told my mom I’d help her out and I went and did it. I ended up having to stay in the school another year where the money added on and I went candy-selling on Tuesdays too to try and make up for it. I’d earn about $50 each time so $100 a week was put toward the debt, meaning $400 a month. 

The chick who was the school/church secretary however, was a bitch who had it out for us. Monthly we’d get notices about how much debt we were in with the school, and one month a student would have $457 and the next month on the first day they apparently had $890. If tuition monthly is about $150 for teen, how did the number shoot up so much? Mine kept getting abnormally higher and reaching into the $3,000s. And I told my mom who then bitched at the school. 

The secretary barely finished high school and the only reason she was in that position that she was not capable of handling alone or at all, was because she was kissing the church’s ass. She had sex outside of marriage on school property and got pregnant and was forced to marry him to save her dignity the moment she turned 18. They kept her very close with guilt ever since. Instead of just leaving, she chose to stay and be a bitch to everyone.

My tuition issue plagued me the entire time no matter how much I did. I was so stressed constantly and letters from Sperm Donor who got to write to me in prison, said the school wouldn’t accept his tuition payments when he re-enrolled me. He said he even got his new fiance to monitor a fund he set up before leaving, and sent the money in monthly for the year he signed on. IDK who to believe because he’s a pathological liar, but the church has also been trying for 4 years to get me back into their fold, popping up at my mom’s house uninvited, trying to guilt trip me with Godly reasons, accusing me of being a ‘whore’ who needs to get right with God all because I wore pants, and using my terminally ill Nana as an excuse. They very much would and have actually taken payments without recording them in the logbooks.

I spent my HS years in debt, working hard to get out of it. My HS teacher actually helped me by letting me clean her house once a month and I’d earn $150 in two days because the house was pretty big. I ended up candy-selling more and more days a week and bringing candy boxes home to sell in the neighborhood.

And it seemed to never let up. The numbers did not match. Somehow my debt was always in the $2000s+ but I was making at least $300 a month? My mom finally snapped and said she’d call the cops on the school if something didn’t change. A month later we get the updates to our accounts and the numbers dropped drastically. My Senior Year and I only had a couple hundred dollars left. And the Secretary was suspiciously quiet from then on and kept to herself and left us alone.

Still, I spent the whole time doing candy-selling for them so much, and having to attend church activities for them, that I never got a job. Candy-selling actually brought in more money than what a teen would be allowed to earn anyway. At the time I was so up the church’s ass and scared to make my own decisions that they said I wasn’t capable of making because I was so young, I had already agreed to continue being the church pianist past graduation and they’d agreed to help me fund college so long as I went to the one of their choice with my friends. They had set up my future vocation(teacher in the their school, pianist in their church) and my future husband(Sam most likely) and I wouldn’t have to do anything but follow rules. And as I was scared, I planned to go along with it.

But then they fucked me over a week before Senior Year ended and when June 5th passed and I got my diploma, I peaced out. We changed our phone number, stopped coming to the door when they came by, and ignored their chances at re-connection. And it was months after I got fucked over when they found out they were the ones in the wrong and tried to half ass an apology to me. Didn’t work.

After graduating, my step-dad demanded I get a job finally. Mind you, his failure of a son dropped out of HS & moved to PA with us and proceeded to rely on daddy to do all his work for him. Daddy got him a job at Weis, he faked being sick so much he was fired. Daddy got him another job at Walmart, he took too many days off and he got fired. He moved out of our house and in with his new girlfriend(after milking 3 of their cash already). This one was a trust fund baby(Bree) who was adopted. Her parents paid for her apartment, her nursing education, and gave her a card with $1,000 on it a month for anything she needed. Step-bro moved in and they wasted that whole card name-brand candy in a week. 

She started skipping classes to go out to eat with him. Her parents stopped by to see if she was doing well because the school became concerned over abnormal behavior. They wanted step-bro out of the apartment and the relationship to end because they said he was using her for her money(he was and admitted it to mine and my mom’s faces) and would get in the way of her goals in life. She refused. They said they’d take away her card if she didn’t. Well, they did. And another month went by with no changes and they withdrew the full payments for the schooling too. She dropped out. And finally the apartment a month after that.

So now she’s homeless and step-bro manages to swindle both of them back into our apartment. They have to sleep on the floor in the living room. Daddy got them both jobs at Amazon with him. The pay was pretty fucking good at the time. There was a year in between there where we had money and were contemplating getting our own house for the first time. Things were going well.

Step-dad didn’t try to help me get a job though. I asked for help because my search went nowhere. Those 3 got transportation every day and I was stuck with walking. We lived on a mountain and all businesses were at the bottom 2 miles away, so I applied to all available businesses within 2 miles, either in person or online. Never got any responses. As it was a bust, my mom just said, ‘help clean the house since they’re gone all day and help be my legs to watch your sister and I’ll consider that your rent’. So I did. Every day. And I hated it. And there are a lot of posts on here from then of me complaining about it.

So I asked him for help and he never did. But he would demand to know why I didn’t have a job yet or why the house wasn’t perfectly clean? And I’m like, “Dude, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere. You don’t take your dishes into the kitchen. I clean in the day, you get back in the evening and trash the place and by the morning when you’re gone, it’s all a mess. You only see mess because it’s all you 3 make all day with candy wrappers and soda cans!”

After year he had a seizure on the floor and had to be rushed to the hospital from Amazon. Epileptic issues meant no more work at Amazon because his job was operating heavy machinery and he kept having small seizures weeks later! Without him there every day to keep step-bro and gf on their toes, they started calling in sick together or skipping work with dumb reasons. They got fired soon after. The job hunt was a failure, but daddy was still getting jobs for all of them! Instead of over the table jobs, they now worked under the table, fixing up houses(sheetrock, spackle, insulation, etc...). Still didn’t try and help me get a job. I didn’t know how to do any of that, but gf didn’t either but they taught her how to do it.

Frankly, it got to a point of me being a live-in maid in exchange for me staying under their roof, while step-bro and gf made up excuses to not have to help step-dad. Sick, business, too tired, whatever they came up with. I remained home, handling my sister’s online education with my mom, cleaning the house, handling my sister’s bullies, handling our shitty inspector, and all that crap.

Step-dad takes in a friend of his who was evicted and homeless so he’s sleeping on our other couch at this time. Kind of easy to forget but we felt bad for his situation as it was his girlfriend who fucked him over.

And then step-dad and step-bro opened their mouths on something they should have avoided. In that place we kept to ourselves. There was shady shit going on. Murder, drug deals, drive-bys, etc. Mom and I left them all alone and turned the other way and they left us alone. 19 years in that place. If a cop came by asking questions of the only white person in the joint, she’d go, ‘we know nothing, we saw nothing, sorry’. But step-dad and Junior opened their mouths and one of the newer guys reported the son and gf because they weren’t on our lease. We got evicted after 19 years of good relations with management because someone inserted an opinion in something he should have stayed out of.

So 30 days to gtfo, no one in the house has a real job with consistent pay, we move in with my mom’s uncle for the time being. The house is huge with many bedrooms but to conserve space, I, mom, and my sister bunk in the same room. Mom and Bethy got the bed and I slept on the floor for 2 years. Step-dad don’t know what the eff he’s doing for months. We’re up in buttfuck Egypt. He and the Tweedle dimwits are still doing what they were doing before but now have to drive 3 hours to and 3 hours back just to make it. Mom is doing surveys online to make extra money. She’s trying to do her best while disabled. I’m helping clean the house as my form of payment. The car fails, money that was being saved up to move out, has to go to that. The next one fails too so that has to be handled and we’re in debt now! Christmases and Birthdays are nonexistent. Her Uncle’s new wife isn’t quite so open to us being there and complains a lot.

Step-dad manages to make a deal with a guy he’s working with. He fixes up a house the guy owns, and works for him on more houses after that, and he’ll get a considerably low payment for the rent monthly. He didn’t do much work and lied to mom about what was done and when all was said and done, we moved in and it was a wreck. Worse than it is now but it’s still pretty effin terrible. No kitchen, the bathroom is half-finished still, no insulation, power problems, you name it. It’s bad. But cheap because the lease shows we owe $20 a month instead of $200 because the guy forgot to add a zero when he was drawing up the contract.

Then step-bro and gf manage to convince step-bro’s grammy to move down to PA and rent a house for them to use. They still don’t have jobs, disabled grammy pays for everything. Step-dad’s couch-dwelling friend gets a new gf and moves in with her. Step-dad is driving 3 hours to work and by the time he gets back, he sleeps for 4 hours and then has to leave again. Finally he starts staying at his son’s place because it’s closer and less gas to spend, but that also means he’s taken the car. We’re stranded here with only a mini mart across the street as the only shop for miles! He makes excuses for why he can’t come up. Mom has so many health problems but hasn’t seen a doctor in 5 years because of this. I haven’t seen one in 6. My sister is the only one with regular appointments because they’re necessary for school. If anything, at least she remains unaffected by this crap.

I too have taken to doing surveys now. If I get 500 pts a day that’s a $5 gift card to target which delivers here. One of the few places that do.

I can’t even work at the mini mart because the man has 6 employees for each day of the day. 1 works with him each day but Monday where he works alone because there’s less rush on Mondays.

No matter how I complain it’s not like I can go anywhere. There’s still a roof over my head and I have access to the internet. Even if I’m cold every day, borderline ill, and miserable, it’s better than being on the streets.

Some poor people are very unlucky. We are those people. The ones where everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Step-dad’s been through 4 cars since coming here cuz they keep breaking down and needing to be fixed. My sister’s been sick every other month. Power goes out a lot.

I cope by whining online.

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

What If I Told You (8)

Characters: Jensen x Reader; Jared Padalecki; SPN Cast members at times.

Summary: You and Jensen have been the closest of friends for years after meeting on the set of SPN, but what will happen when you and Jensen have a kissing scene?

Warnings: Cursing; divorce; break up; angst-ish at times, but mostly fluff. For this chapter: Canon divergence from the show, spn-related sadness.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is divorced from an unnamed ex in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

A/n: Just a tiny bit more until the big one. Special thanks to my rosie for beta-ing this for me.

11 Months Ago

 “You’re going to do what, exactly?” You hissed as the ‘brother’s stood adjacent to their marks. “A soul bomb? What the hell are you even talking about, Dean?”

“You heard me, Y/c/n.” Dean barked. “I have to do this. I have to get rid of her.”

“Your girlfriend, you mean?” you sassed, voice laced with annoyance.

“Don’t!” he bellowed pointing a finger towards you, a gruffness present that was unmistakably Dean.

“Oh, give it up, Winchester. This is just another way for you to sacrifice yourself! Another self-deprecating, ‘I have to save the world because no one else will’ guilt trip you’ve managed to load on your own shoulders! Failing gloriously, I might add, to notice that there are actually people here who are trying to help you!”

Your voice cracked slightly, standing in the library of the bunker with Sam, Rowena, and Crowley, waiting as the witch gathered the ingredients to inlay Dean’s body with a million souls to remove Amara from earth, thereby shredding his very existence with her.

Dean moved closer to you, taking slow, methodical steps. In reality, Jensen was moving towards his secondary mark, following the track given to him by the director.

“I know that, Y/c/n… but there isn’t any other way.”

A single tear shed from your eye as you yelled, “Yes there is! There’s got to be! We can find another way!” you choked.

Sam stood off to the side, witnessing your outburst with a slightly solemn frown.

“Hey.” Dean murmured, closing in to your space, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, okay? I am… but I’m the only one who can do this, sweetheart.” He confided, pain, guilt, and defeat enlaced in his gaze.

He drew a single finger gingerly across your cheek to catch the tear that fell.

“Why? Why does it always have to be you, Dean?”

This was the closest your characters had ever come to any indication of feelings for one another canonically, but in true ‘Supernatural’ fashion, it was brazened with heartache and despair.

Jensen’s stare was heavy with emotion before he pulled your form into his arms, yours wrapping around his midsection as one of his hands cradled your head, placing a chaste kiss to your temple before quickly moving away, an unspoken word left when he moved to stand in front of Ruth, ready to accept the spell.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” He said.

“AND CUT!” the director bellowed across the set. “Reset, everyone! 5 minutes!”

Rushing towards the makeup chair to have the tears wiped from your cheeks, Jensen caught your arm.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his eyes.

“Um… yeah. I think so.” You answered, wiping at the sides of your eyes with your knuckles.

“Come on, Y/n. That was your first emotional scene. It’s normal to have some issues with it. It’s just you and me now. You can tell me.”

You huffed, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips. “Yeah, uh… that was kind of hard.” You said, your bottom lip trembling.

It was strange, the scene ended, but a lump was still lodged in your throat caging the hurt and sadness that you felt while in character. You weren’t a noob on the show at this point, but it was true that it was your first stint as an actress where you had to get super emotional in a scene. Couple that with the hurried embrace that was intended to leave your character in a state of abandonment and disarray as Dean rejected her support, it seemed to bleed over even after the director called cut. When Jensen, or Dean at the time, took you into his arms, you had felt safe; but it ended as quickly as it came.

So, when he practically whimpered, “Hey, c’mere.” And opened his arms with a sorrowful expression, you were actually a little hesitant to step into his hold, fearing a tightly built damn would break.

But when he circled his arms around your waist tightly, a sense of relief and calmness flooded you from his warmth. A few more residual tears fell as you pressed your cheek into his chest, from nerves and sentiments previously spoken, as he gently rocked you from side to side.

“I know it can be hard, darlin’.” He whispered into your hair, his slight Texan accent making you smile. “Its almost like you’re really there.”

“It was.” You confided. “It was almost like…” you stopped yourself, biting your lip, feeling as though you were about to reveal too much. It’d been about a year that you had been hiding your feelings for your costar, and you didn’t want to blow it now.

“Almost like what, Y/n?” Jensen asked as you cursed yourself. He pulled away and cradled your face in his hands, “Tell me, sweetheart.” He pleaded.

You still had your lower lip pulled between your teeth as you look up at him through your tear stained lashes, his thumbs lightly brushing against the apples of your cheeks where tears still lay.

“It was almost like I was begging you not to leave me.” You confessed, a ball of nerves sinking into the pit of your stomach.

He smiled sweetly and wiped a few more tears, his large hands caressing your face soothingly. He placed a kiss to your forehead and professed, “You don’t have to worry about that, Y/n… ever.”

The memory caused a swirl of emotions as you hopped into the backseat of a large SUV sandwiched between Jared and Jensen with Misha riding shotgun. Cliff was transporting all four of you to the set location for the day, each of you having a specific scene to film in the house that was rented by the studio that was supposed to be yours and AU Dean’s home for the episode. Riding with the three of them was always filled with teasing and torturous pranking, usually on Misha, Cliff merely rolling his eyes with a small chuckle. Clint was following behind, carting some of the other actors and crew members in his car while you elected to share in the hilarity that was sure to ensue in the ‘J2M transport’.

When you piled in, Jared made sure to get in last and take up as much space as possible, practically smushing you and Jensen into one seat of the giant back row. Jensen threw his hands up as you were crushed into his side, a laugh bubbling in his chest at his friend’s antics.

“Good Lord, Moose. Do ya mind?” you giggled as he shoved one of his long legs into your space.

“I’m just trying to get comfortable.” He mused, smirking.

“I can see that… princess.” You cooed mockingly, to which he respondent by contorting his long body into an even smaller space so he could jap you with his knees, pushing you even further into Jensen’s frame.

Finally, as Cliff berated Jared that he needed to get going—although the smile never left his face—Jared settle into his seat, still taking up a good proportion of the available space. Jensen was still leaning against the doorframe with one arm leaning on the armrest of the door and the other splayed across the back of the seat. When you attempted to sit up strait instead of practically laying on him, his arm enclosed around you, caging you into his side as his hand rested on your shoulder.

You looked up at him with a curious smirk, to which he responded by grinning and throwing you a subtle wink. You sort of snuggled back into him, getting comfortable for the ride, only catching the end of a shared, playful look between Jared and Misha.

“So, you guys are coming to Rob’s party tonight, right?” Misha spoke, a bit too cheerfully.

“That’s tonight?” you asked, worry laced into your words.

“Yep. The fourteenth at 7.” He replied, holding up his phone to show you his Google calendar. “We’re getting out by 5 tonight.”

Jared started laughing sheepishly, what could only be described as a chortle, “Hee. Hee. Hee… you have a Google calendar. You nerd.”

“Hey, now.” He defended. “I accept that title proudly.”

Almost as though Jensen could sense your nerves, knowing that the two of you had promised to talk later, he ghosted his lips over the shell of your ear and whispered, “Don't worry… we’ll make time. I promise.”

You closed your eyes and slightly nuzzled into him further, feeling the trepidation dissolve. You began to feel confident that things were going a certain way… Jensen was endlessly flirting, if that was even the word, essentially holding you into the curve of his body in front of the three people he was closest to. Even if the words hadn’t been spoken, his actions were indicating what you had been hoping for the past two years. You two had kind-of-sort-of snuggled before, but this was definitely different. Your grandmother would’ve called it ‘canoodling.’

Before you could respond to his statement, Misha and Jared’s teasing got into a friendly debate, wavering your attention from the concern of your whatever-it-was that was blooming with Jensen as the began to swat at each other. Jared playfully poked at Misha from between the seats while Misha was helplessly batted his hands away.  

“Hey! Children!” you chuckled, sitting up and trying to separate them. “Don't make me turn this car around!” you said, using your best ‘mom’ voice, courtesy of Kim Rhodes.

Before long, you were pulling into the set location shortly after you had settled back into Jensen’s side.

As you received your direction, nerves bubbled slightly as you remembered that you would have to kiss Jensen once more. A wave of heat coursed through you as you were reminded of the feeling of his lips and the way his tongue moved against yours. Granted, as this was for film, there probably wouldn’t be as much of that this time, if there were any, but now with everything sparking to the surface, this kiss may be even more intimidating than rehearsal.

You were pulled to the side as they touched up your make-up and hair. Thankfully the rain had dissipated by now, and all that remained was early morning dew clinging to the leaves and branches of the trees.

You were led into a quaint cottage that had a red front door and a swing on the porch that overlooked a small garden and a large maple tree hovering off to the side. It was impressively picturesque. Quiet and small, but lovely; something you wouldn’t mind having one day.

You were handed a copy of the pages for the scene you were about to film and took a deep breath, eyeing Jensen out of the corner of your eye as he spoke to the director. He always seemed so calm and collected. His brows furrowed as he took calculated mental notes and expressed his wants for the act to unfold. There wasn’t a scene or a stunt that edged his nerves or that he didn’t give every ounce of talent to. You wished you had that ability—to make it so effortless and even lighthearted in the darkest of times on set.

You couldn’t help the way your lips curled at the sight of him, even as you twisted the pages you were given anxiously in your hands. The director gave you your queues and set instructions and positioned you on your first mark.

As you were taking a deep, calming breath (yeah, right), Jensen appeared in front of you.

“You doin’ alright, sweetheart?” he asked, ever present in ‘actor’ mode seeming as though all of his energy was now focused on the task at hand, while you were busy in your own mind and emotions.

You huffed uneasily and replied unconvincingly, “Y-yeah. Kind of.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and kneaded the muscles that tensed under his touch before grasping the back of your neck gently and pulling you closer to him.

Jensen rested his forehead against yours and encouraged you to take a deep breath. Your eyes fluttered closed but your mind raced, as you feared the multitude of eyes that were trained on the two of you, waiting and wondering, but being in his powerful embrace made your surroundings disappear, even momentarily.

“Remember, Y/n… its just you and me, okay? You don't have to worry. I promise.”

You nodded at his reassurance and opened your eyes to his gaze, “Just you and me.”

He parted from you and took his mark, and the director called, “Action!”

“Hey, Dean. You’re home early! Did you have a good day?” you began, waltzing down the stairs into the living area of the foreign home, trying to seem as energetic as your alternate self, but one with no knowledge of monsters or things to hunt in the night.

Jensen slipped seamlessly into his characterization of Dean, a shocked and worried expression donning his features as he stood in the doorway just off of the porch.

“Y/c/n?” he sighed in disbelief.

Dean had just found his ‘home’ and tracked down what he and Sam believed to be the cursed object that sent them to this world. It wasn’t until he checked the mailbox and saw an envelope addressed to ‘Dean and Y/c/n Winchester.’

“Yeah?” you lightly chuckled, meeting him in the hallway and placing your hands on his chest. “Are you okay, honey? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The scene progressed with Dean standing in bewilderment and quizzing you on the historical events of the timeline he was thrown in to. When he asked your character how many years the two of you had been married, you entered into the lines you’d rehearsed.

“Dean? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” You recited, choreographing your steps to land on the second piece of green tape.  

The two of you danced around each other in the small space, narrating the lines you were given for the scene until the arc was timed.

“I need you to destroy your grandfather’s pocket watch.”

“What?” you breathed in shock, “Dean, that's all I have left of—“

“I know. Really I do. I’m so sorry, but you have to do it or something bad could happen… to me. And to the rest of our family. You have to trust me, sweetheart.”

As you nodded cautiously, he stepped lightly on his feet to carry himself around the table in the dining room, a set of windows shining a dim light into the small space from behind him. As he rounded, he gave you a slight, subtle nod, as if encouraging you to be prepared for the dialogue to come.

“But listen, Y/c/n…before I go, there’s something I need to tell you; something I could never tell you before, in my other life, because—well, because I’m not brave enough…” he closed the distance between the two of you, tracing his hands along the backs of the chairs that were pressed into the table as he passed, but never removing his stare from your eyes. When he reached you, he traced his fingertips along your hair, careful to avoid disturbing your soft curls.

“I need to tell you how much you mean to me. I—“ he choked, pausing to swallow thickly and run his tongue along his lower lip. “I love you. I always have, from the day that we met. I don’t dare cross this line in my real life, but I don’t know that I’ll get another chance to tell you, Y/c/n. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I need you to remember that, forever.”

You didn’t fail to notice his improvisation this time—and that he remembered to use the accurate name—your heart fluttered as he looked at you with such sincerity and a passion burning behind his eyes. As much as you wanted to indicate that you caught it in some fashion, whether it be a little change in your facial expression or throwing caution to the wind and pulling him into your arms, the large camera that was less than two feet from you in either direction reminded you of your current need to stay in character. The blocking continued, each camera operator moving in sync to capture each of you from different angles until they backed away slowly, preparing for you to retreat.

“Baby?” You whimpered, pulling from his grasp and backing away slightly. “I’m just going to go call Sam, okay? Maybe he can help.”

As you turned, you felt Jensen’s fingers thread through yours as the director shouted, “Hold!” indicating that you were to stay in your position as they adjusted angles and filters. As you were frozen in place, a light but purposeful brush of Jensen’s thumb back and forth across yours caused a chill to run up your spine, but if you looked in his eyes at this moment, all would be lost, so you continued to face the opposite wall.

“All right, action!”

Jensen’s—or Dean’s—hand gripped your wrist and spun you quickly against him, his hand flying to your cheek to hold you steady as his lips pressed to yours. You brought your hand to his neck when his mouth molded, relishing in the wistfulness as all sensation flooded your system and lifted you into oblivion.

He trailed the pad of his thumb across the apple of your cheek and pulled away slightly, allowing you to remain in his hold.

“Tell me you love me, Y/c/n. Please? I need to hear it, just once.”

Tears pricked at the sides of your eyes at the emotion of the line. Dean was so torn between being with the woman he secretly loved, in a world where he was safe, and being back in the universe he belonged in. The simplicity of his want was not lost.

You gripped his hand that was still on your cheek and let a tear fall, something that wasn’t scripted, “I do love you, D-Dean.” You stammered. “I do. I love you.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for everything. I hope it all makes sense soon.” He whispered.

Dean placed one more kiss to your lips and retreated, leaving you standing with a bewildered expression and watered eyes. Sam met him out front and they hopped into a hotwired truck to attempt a spell to return them to the correct world, but not before Dean turned and glanced longingly at the small house with a wooden picket fence, a regretful and sorrowful smile on his lips.

You watched the playback with the director, made a few small adjustments to a few lines, and finished the scene.

You and Jensen sat beside each other on the front porch swing and took sips from the waters that were brought to you, both of you resting your elbows on your knees as you swayed.

“You know,” he spoke up after a few moments of silence, glancing down at his boots. “That was probably one of the hardest scenes I’ve filmed in a long time.”

Slightly surprised, you looked at him with confusion, “Really? Why is that?” you asked apprehensively.

“You remember when we filmed the soul bomb scene? How it felt real? Do you remember what you said?”

You nodded, “Of course I do, Jay.”

He directed his eyes to you, emeralds shining in the sunlight, “This time… I was begging myself not to leave you.”

<Series Masterlist / Part 9>

A/n 2: I received an anon ask when I was looking for fic ideas(see below) for a Jensen x actress!reader fic a while ago, but recently got hit with a spark of inspiration. This is based off of the song “What if I Said” by Anita Cochran and Steve Wariner and will be a short mini-series. Also there is a wife mentioned in some parts, but I purposefully left this person nameless as to not insinuate anything for Jensen’s real life.                                                                

Anonymous said: Hi! Just saw your post about looking for fic ideas. I’ve had this idea that I really like where reader is an actor on Supernatural and is friends with Jensen. They have a scene where they have to kiss or even just have to be right up in each other’s space and it makes them realize they like each other. It’s probably a common thing to write about, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Thanks!

[as-write-as-rain]

Once Upon A Dream (remix) - Chapter 4

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A Sleeping Beauty/Winter Soldier remix, featuring the reader as a SHIELD agent who might have powers (or just a really finely tuned intuition)

Warnings: None. If you’ve seen and enjoyed the Captain America films, you shouldn’t find anything troubling here.

The fourth chapter of my Fairy Tale AU for @moonbeambucky’s 5k Writing Challenge! 

Chapter 4

While the droning computerized voice monologued, your feeling of danger had increased. And you’d been correct, as always – but it turned out things were a lot worse than even you had expected.

Still, the new information you’d obtained from the computer-claiming-to-be-a-man did serve to answer a lot of your lingering questions about why things at SHIELD had felt increasingly off, and precisely why all of you were now being hunted by your former colleagues.

As you drove back down the same highway you’d driven up only a few hours earlier, Nat napping in the backseat and Steve dozing beside you, you couldn’t help but mentally berate yourself for your inability to have foreseen this situation.

What good was an acutely sensitive sixth sense if it only told you something was up, but not what to look for? That’s like a fire station whose alarm only says there’s a fire somewhere, good luck finding it yourself. You depended upon your intuition, and your team depended on you – and you were letting not only them down, but the whole freaking country at this point.

“You alright?” Steve’s voice was a low murmur, careful not to wake Natasha; yet it startled you out of your internal diatribe.

“Yeah.” You paused and shook your head. “I mean, no. I mean – I just don’t even know anymore, you know?” He stayed quiet, listening, so you rushed to fill in the silence. “I just…how did I not see this coming?” You hated how your voice sounded strained, like you were on the verge of tears. There was no way you were going to cry.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. None of us saw this coming.”He reassured you.

“Okay, but I’m supposed to see stuff – stuff like this. And I’ve known for a while something was up, but this….this is so much more than what I’m used to. I just feel so far out of my depth, Steve. And I feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

“Y/N.” His voice was so calm and so serious you heaved a sigh and took your eyes off the road for a few seconds to glance at him. Even in the dimming twilight, the kindness in his eyes almost made you break. “Nobody blames you for this. Nobody expects you to see everything. Your quick thinking in there, shoving us into that vent shaft or whatever before the missile hit? That saved our lives. Nobody cares that you didn’t see this coming ten years earlier.”

You took a shaky breath and let it out. His words made sense; was it possible you were being too hard on yourself?

“Hell, if you wanna blame someone, blame me. I’m the one who failed to stop Zola all those years ago; if we’d managed to take him out then, this never would have happened.”

Stunned, you glared at him, quicker to leap to his defense than to your own. “Now you’re just talking crazy.”

Giving you that small, sincere Captain America Believes In You smile, he responded, “No crazier than you.”

“Steve. How could anyone think Zola’s actions – or HYDRA’s actions – were your fault? You did everything you could and then some. You were Captain Freaking America, the biggest hero of World War Two. You punched Hitler in the face like a million times! Nobody could possibly hold you responsible for anything that happened while you were in the ice.”

The volume of your whispers climbed higher, threatening to wake Nat, and Steve motioned for you to keep it down.

“What I’m trying to say, Y/N, is that the only people we can blame for Zola’s – or HYDRA’s – actions are Zola and HYDRA. Sitting around pointing fingers, even at ourselves, is a waste of time. It doesn’t matter whether any of us could have seen it coming – not that I’m even sure we could have done something to prevent it. This was put in motion long before you were even born; and even if you had noticed it last year or five years ago, would that even have made a difference?” He shook his head firmly, as if to answer his own question. “Ultimately, what really matters is what we do next, now that we know the threat.”

You made a face and chewed on the inside of your lip. There was a definite logic to what he was saying. The seeds of this had been planted eons ago. And regardless of whether you could have seen it coming, you hadn’t – so every moment spent beating yourself up about the past was a moment not spent figuring out what to do about the present. Continuing to waste time and energy on self-flagellation was far from helpful, and could honestly only make the situation worse.

“I guess you’re right,” you finally mumbled. The smartest course of action would be to immediately put all your focus into your intuition – to be fully present so you could know what to do. After all, tuning into your sixth sense took a lot of concentration, so being distracted by a self-inflicted guilt trip was bound to make it hard to hear. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” He gave you a wider, warmer smile; you tried to return it, but ended up yawning instead. He chuckled. “Here, pull over at the next rest stop and I’ll take over. You need to get some sleep.”

You napped until the sun came up, but couldn’t really get much more rest. Your dreams were once again full of searching – this time through a wild, tangled forest where thick branches choked out the sun and every strange sound felt menacing – so even though you slept for a good chunk of time, you still woke up exhausted.

Now the three of you were parked in a parking lot near the Tidal Basin, keeping an eye out for a guy Steve knew, a former Air Force pilot he thought might be able to help out. Apparently he jogged along the same route every morning, since Steve had seen him here on more than one occasion. Just as you were about to voice your hope that he’d pass by soon (you were in dire need of a shower and some grub), Steve turned the engine back on and started to exit the parking lot. Glancing around, you spied your target not far ahead, and sighed in relief. Steve slowly and covertly followed him back to a small complex in VA, and the three of you threw yourselves on his mercy.

One hot shower and one hot breakfast later, you’d found yourselves a fourth team member, and had at least a vague plan. You’d been impressed by Sam from the moment he invited the three of you into his home without hesitation. And his willingness to join the cause, knowing the risks involved, definitely endeared him to you.

Tracking down and threatening that jerk Sitwell had done wonders for helping you work out some of your frustration about the whole situation, and you were riding happily in the back of Sam’s car, listening to the traitor whine, when suddenly your intuition went absolutely haywire. Tensing, you grabbed Nat’s knee, and one look at your face told her to stay alert; Steve caught your expression in the rearview mirror and did the same. Sitwell was screaming some nonsense when suddenly something or someone jumped on top of the car and dragged him out of the window. You ducked instinctively, grabbing your knives from your boots and narrowly avoiding the bullets the assassin emptied into the seats.

Sam hit the brakes, and suddenly your attacker was skidding to a surprisingly graceful stop on the road in front of you, as though he hadn’t just been hurled though the air. He stood there menacingly, all black leather, metal arm, and muscle, a creepy mask covering the half of his face that wasn’t obscured by his long hair.

With a gasp, you rolled yourself into a ball, suddenly anticipating a collision. It came in the form of a heavily armored Hummer, which slammed into the back of Sam’s Impala and shoved it back into motion, propelling it directly towards the masked figure. He leapt back over the car, landing on top of it and shattering windows with the force of his impact.

“Sam!” you screamed, but you didn’t even have time to finish your warning before a metal fist penetrated the windshield and snatched the steering wheel through it, as easily as grabbing a handful of candy.

The weight on top of the car lightened considerably, and you knew the metal man in black had disembarked once again. However, the damage had already been done, and you braced yourself, knowing that it was only a matter of seconds before you were forcibly ejected from the vehicle.

Sure enough, mere moments later the four of you were rolling across the asphalt, trying to keep your injuries to a minimum. The other three jumped back up, but you lay there a minute, gasping – your head was screaming every time you looked at the assassin, and you couldn’t piece together a single coherent thought.

Once four men exited the Hummer and opened fire, marching forward with an almost mechanical calm, you dove behind a vehicle to shield yourself. The bullets tracked you relentlessly, and when Steve got flung off the bridge, you and Natasha immediately headed in opposite directions, hoping to split their barrage of bullets.

The meaty metal-armed guy – what had Nat called him? The Winter Soldier? – went after her, while the four agents focused on you. You drew your glocks and tried to return fire when you could, but their machine guns had the advantage. Luckily, Natasha swung off the bridge and managed to get in a nice shot at her pursuer, giving you the distraction you needed to deploy your own utility belt and join her at street level.

Taking a couple deep breaths, you looked around, trying to gauge exactly where in the city you’d landed. So many of the federal buildings down here looked the same, which meant it was often difficult to get your bearings.

But with enemies hot on your trail, you knew you didn’t have time to dally. You picked a direction and ran, praying your intuition would guide you to the location least likely to be filled with civilians. Luckily, it was still the middle of the workday, so you were counting on the fact that most people would be safely ensconced in their office buildings.

You spied an abandoned gift shop with a small park beyond, so you ran around its corner and knelt behind the trashcan conveniently located there, ready to ambush anyone who followed you. Your ploy paid off immediately, as two figures hurried around the corner and past the trashcan, eyes sweeping the grassy area. If it had been lunchtime, there might have been more people on the benches surrounding the bronze statue at the center, but right now it was empty.

You pounced silently from your concealed hiding place onto the shoulders of the closest agent, swiftly incapacitating him with a blow from your electrified gauntlets – Nat had given you a pair once after catching you admiring hers, and you never tired of using them.

Your assailant’s partner whirled around, but you were ready, and with a few swift kicks you managed to knock him unconscious too. Quickly checking both bodies, you disarmed the men and then used a length of cord you’d found on one of them to tie them up, back to back.

Hopefully when this was over, your team would be able to question these men and formulate a better plan for how to beat HYDRA. But for now, no new enemies arrived, and you realized the rest of the assailants must have decided to follow your friends instead of you.

You desperately wanted to get back out there and help them, but first you desperately needed to pause and get a handle on what your intuition was trying to tell you. It was something about the guy in the mask, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Cursing your sixth sense for the 600th time that day, you gathered yourself back up and headed in the direction of the gunshots and screaming.

You reached the action just as Steve and the Soldier were fighting one-on-one in the middle of the street. Cars had been abandoned left and right, and a battered bus lay on its side at the closest intersection. Luckily, it appeared that any civilians who might have been in the area had managed to flee. At least that much was a relief.

Natasha and Sam were nowhere in sight, though that didn’t stop you from scouring the area hoping for a glimpse of them, before finally turning your attention back to the main event. Creeping carefully behind the parked cars lining the street, you kept an eye out for an opportunity to shoot. Unfortunately, the two men were fighting at near lightning speed, literally inches apart – making it nigh impossible to get a clean shot.

Sure, Steve would likely survive if you shot him by accident, but you’d rather not help his attacker if at all possible.

Watching the action intently, you noted with interest just how evenly matched the two of them were. Usually Steve took out every opponent with ease, sometimes five at a time. But this guy was able to block a lot of his hits, and get in more than a few of his own. You quickly deduced this was no ordinary human, that he was probably enhanced in much the same way Steve was. Maybe it was gamma radiation? You’d heard some scientists had had spotty success creating superhuman strength that way.

Finally, Steve got in a few good punches and threw his foe far enough away from him that you knew it was the perfect opportunity to shoot – though you were admittedly unsure at this point whether your bullets would even make a difference, you had to at least try.

And yet, as you raised your gun, time seemed to slow down, and you suddenly found yourself unable to pull the trigger. Because when you glimpsed his face, you recognized it in an instant, and your heart leapt.

You knew every inch of that face.

You’d seen that face every night for the better part of 10+ years.

 I guess he wasn’t really dead after all.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Truth Pt. 11

Truth Master List

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Feels, mentions of addiction, violence 

A/N: HELLO MY DARLING PRECIOUS PATIENT PUMPKINS! Did you miss these two? I know I did. This starts off domestic and then veers into like two-three completely different territories. It’s a ride that’s for sure. 

I hope y’all like it! 

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4  @piensa-bonito  @handplucked  @buckysstar  @sam-jae  @marauderconvos –harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom   @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets  @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes

He stills your hands with his. Your eyes meet his, tears sneaking down your cheeks. He wipes them away.

“You keep your memories displayed… I shove mine in a box under my bed…”

When you had pulled all of this out you were on the verge of completely melting down. Days without sleep, hardly eating, seeing that woman’s face over and over again, the flashbacks… You wanted to remember what you were before you became a monster.

It only served to remind you of everything you lost. That’s when you’d gone to the gym when Bucky found you… You’d forgotten your misguided attempt to keep yourself together until there it was spread on your unmade bed.

There wasn’t much. Your family hadn’t been big on photos, just a few posed pictures, school photos, some holidays. But you loved photos… A grotesque amount of polaroids of your friends… people whose names you forgot or who were possibly long gone… at shows, parties, on the street. Glazed eyes, leather jackets, cigarettes hanging between smudged lips are spread out. 

Maybe the names alluded you for some but you could smell the sweat, the smoke, the whiskey. Faded flyers from underground shows at Safari Club and other D.C. and East Coast punk venues add pops of color to the mix. A few misbegotten AA coins peak out to remind you of wasted time.

You pick one up as he looks over at a photo of 15-year-old you standing stiffly between your parents in front of a Christmas tree. Your expression annoyed, kohl heavily lining your eyes, hair bleached within an inch of its life and huge.

“Is this you?!” A smile curls his lips and you almost laugh.

“Yeah, don’t judge me too much… it was the 80’s.” You flip the coin in the air and catch it. “Probably the last Christmas I spent sober.”

His brow knits and you sigh. “Hi, my name is Y/N, I’m a cocaine addict… and an alcoholic... and… you get the gist.” You toss the coin at him. He looks it over. “Nine months… as long as I ever got.” Picking up the photo of you and your parents you feel your chest tighten.

“She wanted me to be perfect. Her pride. Pushed me to be the best at everything. I was a nationally ranked athlete, excelled in everything from cross-country to martial arts, incredible at any art she threw at me, damn near a genius, graduated high school at 15, got into every Ivy League school…”

Setting it aside you pick up a photo of you and someone who’s name you do remember, Dana, your first girlfriend. “I was even excellent at being a drug addict, never OD’d, high tolerance… Others weren’t so lucky.” You toss the photo aside, not wanting to linger.

Bucky takes your hand, lacing his fingers through your own. “Who kept these for you? Family?”

“I don’t have any family.”

“But… anyone? I mean… you’re so young?”

You snort, “Is 47 young?” Jesus, you were almost 50… such a strange thought.

“Well,” he laughs a small empty sound, “in comparison.”

You nod conceding. “My Mom… she lost her family in the war… in the camps,” you can’t look at Bucky. “Dad was an only child. Fury kept them tucked away in a storage locker at S.H.I.E.L.D. after…”

He nods, “He knew your father didn’t he?”

“Yeah, they worked together…” You release his hand and push through photos to find your favorite of you and your Dad. It was from that nine-month stint of sobriety, he’d been so happy that you’d been doing well that on your 20th birthday he took you to Paris. His smile was so bright… your hand trembles a bit.

“You look happy here,” Bucky rests his cool left hand on your bouncing knee as he looks at you and your Dad, posed in typical cheesy tourist fashion in front of the Eiffel Tower.

“I was… we were…” Your voice cracks. “I never knew what he did… just thought he was some low-level diplomat, never questioned it… I don’t even know that Mom knew…”

“Was she here?”

“God no,” your eyes slide shut for a moment, remembering. “She was hardly speaking to me… I was a disappointment.”

“She didn’t…”

“Tell me that? Oh yes.” You hold up a hand as he opens his mouth, “I don’t know that she was wrong. I… I did everything I could to be the opposite of what she wanted me to be. I doused her American Dream in gasoline and set it on fire…”

“Still you’re not-”

You shrug, “Doesn’t matter. I… never got to prove otherwise.” Your eyes scan your memories, hazy and painful as most of them were.

“They killed her, ya know? Hydra…”

He gives your knee a gentle squeeze, “I assumed.”

“After my last go at rehab… I really thought… I was going to be better, I wanted to be better. Go to school, live my life, make her proud. They took that away… left her bloody on the kitchen floor.” Your skin tingles, energy pulsing through you.

“I… what about your Dad?” The look on his face is pained like he doesn’t want to ask but feels like he must.

“He killed himself.” You shake your head, “At least that’s what the official report says. “Makes sense though… wife dead, daughter missing, all because you were getting a little too close.” Glancing over at his smiling face a tear slides down your cheek, “Who could blame him?”

A small sob trips over your lips and Bucky pulls you into him. Surprising yourself still, you allow him to comfort you and allow yourself to feel this… to mourn them even a little.

Ever since being here you had tried to bury the guilt and the grief. Thinking about the void they left in you, the years you wasted, the final image of her… dead for days collapsed by the back door… It was too much. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you’d been there, instead of in rehab, you could have saved her… even though you knew the ending would have been the same.

After a bit your sobs quiet. He’s leaned against the headboard, you’re curled into his arms, the steady beat of his heart soothing. When you look up at him his eyes are so soft, warm despite the cool color. The feeling of his fingers gently grazing your skin as he pushes stray strands of hair from your face sends shivers through you.

“Sorry…”

He smiles, “For what? Having feelings?” You shrug a little. “Well if you want to make it up to me,” he reaches across the bed a bit and grabs a picture of you sporting a particularly heinous head of Aquanet enforced hair looking like some combo of Cindy Lauper and a Clash groupie, “explain this.”

You can’t help but laugh and agree to explain your questionable fashion choices.  

The rest of the day is spent intermittently cleaning your apartment and telling Bucky what you remember of who you once were. The good, the bad, and the ugly. He listens and most importantly doesn’t judge.

When you put on some music from your own youth he's not too pleased. It was safe to say that bands such as Bad Religion and Misfits were maybe not his speed. However, he’s much more in tune with Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, and surprisingly The Runaways.

“I’d say you’ll pass inspection,” Bucky says as he puts your mop in the closet.

“Definitely.” You look around and feel oddly sad. His place really was so much warmer than yours. It felt like someone actually lived there, rather than just existing.

“What’s wrong?” Your face must be showing your disdain.

“Nothing,” you flash him a smile. “So… got any dinner plans?”

The smile that lights up his face takes your breath away, “None.” He grabs your waist and pulls you close to kiss you.

“How about I cook? Your place?”

“You cook?”

“I mean, I’m no Julia Child but I can promise it will be better than those packaged meals in your fridge.”

He laughs, “I’ll take your word for it.” You grab some things from your own kitchen and a change of clothes, which he doesn’t even question before you both head down to his place.

-

Five days later Bucky watches you slip into a pair of leggings as he sips his coffee.

“Are you sure you can’t even have some coffee?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure, 12 hours fasting for the tests.”

“You don’t have-” You cut him off with a glare. “Fine. But if you decide you want me there-”

“I’ll call. I promise.” You toss on a tee and a cardigan.

He looks away, chewing on his bottom lip. “Hey,” you pluck the coffee from his hands and set it on the nightstand, “I’ll be ok, Buck.” Cupping his face in your hands you place a kiss on his lips. He can feel his heart stutter just a touch, he wonders if it will ever go away. You release him and he buries his face in your chest, breathing in your now familiar scent.

When he lifts his head your smile makes his breath catch. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” Your soft lips press against his forehead. All he can do is nod. 

As soon as the door closes he feels himself wilt a bit, anxiety rising with each passing moment. He wants to believe you but he knows they could accidentally trigger something in you. Be it a memory or a reaction with your power, either could have horrible consequences.

After almost an hour of running worst case scenarios, he can’t stay here anymore. He tosses on some gym clothes and texts Steve to see if he’s free to train. Bucky’s already to the gym when he gets a response of ‘No, sorry pal.’

Sighing he turns around and heads to the shooting range. Clint is already there, experimenting with some new arrows Tony whipped up for him. While Bucky usually prefers to be here alone, he doesn’t necessarily mind Clint. He’s a fellow sniper after all and doesn’t ever seem to want to force Bucky into conversations he’d rather not have. 

The two men shoot in silence for a little more than an hour before Clint pipes up. “So, you and Y/N seem to have taken a turn for the better.” He’s taken up the spot next to Bucky under the pretense of changing his angle.

“What of it?” He may like Clint but the thought of sharing details of his private life isn’t high on his to-do list.

“Nothing. I think it’s great.”

“Yeah, you and Romanoff seemed to have an opinion the other day.” Bucky’s tone is gruff remembering Clint’s quip about her owing him.

He laughs, “Just a good-natured bet. I saw the chemistry between you two.” Bucky doesn’t respond. Some mix of anger and embarrassment blooming in his chest.

“Look, man,” Clint has stepped out of his booth and is leaning on the wall between them, “people like us should take any chance at love we can and run with it. It’s rare enough for civilians and most of them don’t spend their free time getting shot at.”

The tone in his voice drips with sincerity and Bucky can’t help but look back at him, the glare quickly melting off his face. “Who said anything about love?”

Clint shakes his head smiling, “You’ll be one lucky bastard if it ends up being that Barnes. Even if it doesn’t, friends are worth a whole hell of a lot too.” He claps a hand on Bucky’s metal shoulder, “As soldiers, it’s sometimes hard to allow ourselves to be happy. You deserve it. Promise.” Bucky says nothing for a minute and Clint nods, walking away.

“Thank you,” Bucky’s tone is low, sort of unsure. He does mean it though…

“You got-”

“Sargent Barnes and Agent Barton, you’re both needed in Mr. Stark’s lab immediately.” Jarvis’ voice cuts Clint off and Bucky feels the blood drain from his face. The two men hold one another’s gaze for a fraction of a second, a flood of emotion and information being exchanged in that one fleeting moment, before sprinting to the elevator.

When they burst out of the elevator they’re met by Steve and Natasha. Everything seems fine, nothing is on fire or blown to bits so that has to be a good sign. Still, as soon as he’s got eyes on you nothing could keep him back.

You’re sitting in a chair, wires stuck to you all over leading to a computer, tendrils of white light pulsing beneath your skin. “Y/N?!”

“Hey! I’m fine,” his hands are lightly grazing your body where the wires touch you, eyes frantically searching your own for any signs of distress. “Really, Bucky, I’m fine.”

You do seem ok. He wishes he was. His heart is thundering, muscles tense, ready and willing to do whatever he needed to keep you safe. Taking a shaky breath he rests his forehead on yours, trying to calm himself.

“Sorry if we scared you, Manchurian.” Tony quips from beside the computer as he pops a baby carrot in his mouth. Bucky shoots daggers at him.

“They were able to get a lock on the specific energy signature I emit pretty quick and scan for it. We found a match.” His eyes shoot back to you, unsure if you’re glad they found something or not.

“Well,” Bruce pipes up from another monitor, “near enough anyway. Too close to her unique signature to be a coincidence.”

“Another base?” Natasha asks from behind Bucky, who’s still kneeling in front of you, unable to move away.

“That’s what we were hoping you and Clint could clear up for us,” Tony flicks some images up so everyone can see the area they narrowed the signal down to.

Your eyes dart between the two and Bucky finally looks back. The map shows a spot just outside of Cleveland. Yet another nondescript building, nothing that says den of torture about it at all. Clint and Natasha exchange a look.

“Yeah,” she holds a finger to her lips for a minute thinking. “We may have something on this, didn’t seem like much so it’s low on the list.”

“Well, it’s top priority now.” Bucky doesn’t like the tone in Steve’s voice. It’s the one he gets when he’s going to do whatever bullheaded thing he has in mind no matter the consequences.

He sees you nod in his peripheral. “When’s the soonest we can head out?”

Bucky’s glare shoots back to you. “Absolutely not!”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not doing this.” His tone is just as stubborn as Steve’s, if not a bit more so.

You scoff, “Oh? I’m not?”

“No. You are not.”

“I hate to break it to you but you don’t get to tell me what I am and am not going to do, Bucky.” Your eyes darken just a touch as the air around you dips just a touch toward cool.

“After last time you really think this is a good idea, Y/N?!”

“No. But I’m the only one who can properly handle these assets if they attack. I’m the only one who understands even a little how this energy functions. I’m the only one-”

He can’t believe this. “So you’re just gonna throw yourself back into that?! After what almost… after… Y/N you’re being-”

“I’m doing what needs to be done. I cannot in good consciousness allow this to pass unchecked. Too many people are at risk if-”

“This isn’t a negotiation!” He bellows. “You’re my-”

“I don’t give a damn what I am to you or you to me.” It feels like you punched him in the chest. “You don’t give me orders, Barnes.”

When you look away from him to Natasha the dismissal is clear. “There’s some good surveillance footage of the area from local businesses security and traffic cams. Should be enough to establish patterns. After last time we know trying to scan is a lost cause.”

Bucky feels his rage prickle under his skin. You don’t look back to him when you’re done. Huffing he stands and stalks to the elevator, unable to be a part of this ill-begotten plan a moment longer.

-

“You know he’s coming right?” Natasha’s tone is light but she knows her words are heavy.

“Yeah.” You clip the stabilizer cuffs Tony made for you onto your belt. They were just a prototype and only to be used if you felt like you were about to lose it but they still felt strangely comforting to have. Nothing like the comfort you’d felt with Bucky… who you hadn’t seen in three days.

“Assuming you still haven’t spoken to him?”

“Not much to say.” You don’t want to have this conversation now.

“That’s bullshit.” She slips her Widow’s Bites on.

You shrug, “No. You heard how he spoke to me. In front of everyone. Like I was a fucking child like he could just say no and I’d say yessir.”

“He’s from a different time, Y/N.”

“I don’t give a fuck. It’s not 1945.” You slam your gear locker closed. “Plus, not like he’s spoken to me either.”

You barely catch a glimpse of him before he gets on the jet. Grinding your teeth you hang back for just a second.

“Need me to whoop his ass,” Sam says from behind you.

“That is not a fight I’d care to see.” You sigh, “But no. Just think we got ahead of ourselves is all.”

“Well,” he slings an arm over your shoulder, “you’ve still got me, kid.”

You laugh, “You do remember that I’m older than you right?”

“Psh, age is just a number. I got one of them old souls”

As usual Sam’s ridiculousness puts a smile on your face and by the time the two of you are boarding the jet you’re cackling. That all fades the moment you feel Bucky’s stare. Steeling yourself for the uncomfortable mission ahead you keep your eyes averted and your mind on the prize.

Things have gone smoothly for the most part. Some minor scuffles, every computer has been beyond destroyed, and no files that tell you a goddamn thing to be found but less than an hour into the mission and it seems this will be in and out. You’re not even sensing any of the telltale energy like you did last time.

You’ve all spread out a bit to try and wrap this up quickly since it all appears quiet. The area you’ve chosen is just about clear, or so you think. There’s the slightest whoosh in the air before you feel a blade nestle itself in your back.

“Fuck!” You scream as you stagger in pain and surprise. Just barely you can hear Bucky’s voice call out in the com as a foot crashes into your jaw.

It takes you a second but you get your bearings and land a blow to the asset’s abdomen. “I’m good!” No need for anyone to run to your aid when you don’t need it.

You focus a thin sliver of energy in your right hand and shoot it toward them like a tiny spear. They dodge and for a moment you think nothing of it, spinning despite the throbbing in your back from the knife wound, determined to take them out. A groan rings both in your com and from behind you followed by a thud.

Somehow you know before you even turn who’s going to be on the ground. You feel yourself somehow grow cold while also pulsing with energy, dread and rage and heartbreak crashing into you all at once. The asset forgotten, you rush to Bucky’s crumpled form on the floor.

“What the hell?!” His eyes are squeezed shut, teeth grinding in pain as he grasps the wound in his side, red sliding over his fingers.

“Heard you,” he grunts through clenched teeth. You can’t even feel the knife in your back at the moment.

“I said I was good!” You force his hands away and he groans. It’s bad, not as bad as it could be but still…

“Behind-” He doesn’t finish his statement. The asset grabs the knife and twists.

You scream, pain surging for an instant before it’s replaced with something else entirely. Thick cords of energy curl around you, pulsing in time with your suddenly steady heartbeat. There’s nothing in your mind for this moment, not even Bucky. One goal. Eliminate the target.

Pulling away the knife rips out of your back. It should feel like something. It’s just a tingle. Whirling you grab the asset by the neck. You could make this much faster than you do but… Pinning them against the wall you let your power trail down their body from your hold on their neck. They make a noise somewhere between a scream and a gurgle as superheated energy burns its way through them. It only takes a minute.

Once their eyes go dark you hurl them to the side. The sound of bones cracking. It’s then you come back to yourself, the monster sated. Bucky.

“Bucky is down. West sector cleared, I’m taking him up.”

“No, I-”

“Shut up,” you growl as you lift him.

Sam is stitching up Bucky when Nat and Steve declare the facility cleared. Nothing of value gained. They know you’re all looking for them, that’s clear enough by how quickly they abandoned this place.

The ride back is quiet. Sam takes care of the wound on your back and you can’t take your eyes off Bucky’s side. You could have killed him. If you had…

As soon as the door opens you’re bolting out. You think you’re going to run to your apartment but instead, you go to the range. Even so, all you manage to do is pace in the space anxiety thrumming through you, yet you’re unable to bring yourself to let loose the energy that almost killed him…

Before your brain knows what’s happening you’re riding the elevator up to not your apartment but Bucky’s. You know he’s in medical but he’s not hurt badly enough to stay there more than an hour or so. Pacing the hall, you wait.

The elevator doors slide open when you’re at the end of the corridor. Two voices, Steve’s and Bucky’s. You freeze.

“I’m good, promise,” you hear Bucky say.

“Alright. Call me if you need anything.” The doors slide closed and Steve is gone.

He hasn’t even opened his door before you’re on him. A small surprised noise comes from him as you turn him to face you. Logically you know he’s injured, need to be careful, but…

Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him to you. His kiss tastes like sweat and desperation. Tears burn your eyes as his tongue finds its way between your teeth, his arms winding around you, holding tight.

Suddenly you pull away, pushing against his chest. You punch him hard in his left pec. “You fucking idiot!” Your voice cracks.

“Yeah. I am.” A sardonic smile curls his lips. “Just for you though.”