#i was adamantly “buddie is endgame buddie is coming it is HAPPENING”

[min-kit]

Okie seeing this take on here but did Lou in any way confirm that bucktommy is a stepping stone to buddie??

No, I don't have the links to anything he's said, but he's been playing nice about buddie cuz ppl have ofc asked him about them (in the way that "hey is bucktommy a stepping stone for buddie" type way), but he's also kinda gently pressed to give bucktommy a chance. Which only makes sense! Like he's an actor, and 911 is one of the most popular scripted series on television right now. He wants to stick around! (I want him to stick around coughs)

People (certain shippers) just like to say everyone has said bucktommy is a stepping stone for buddie when no one has said that at all, and Tim has in fact said that buddie is not in the works right now. Oliver has said that he doesn't even know if he wants buddie to happen, but that he'd be open to the possibility of it should they decide to take the story in that direction (but has also said he doesn't want to tell the story of a man discovering he is bisexual and automatically be seen as having feelings for his male friends).

But people take all of these other things of them going "I could see this [about buddie]" and taking it as a confirmation of things to come for Buck & Eddie when... that's not what they're saying at all.

I've decided not to worry about it & enjoy the ride Tim is going to take us on & considering he keeps calling BuckTommy a "love story" and a "rom-com", well.....

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hey! I added a new addition to my post-Endgame fix-it AU! This particular fic has been sitting in my WIPs folder for two (2!) years. Hahaha. But here it is, finally ready to read!

A Cabin Full of Fever by happyaspie

Part 5 of Where There's Love There's Family

No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated G || Chapters 1/2 || Peter Parker, Morgan Stark, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts

Summary: Tony and Pepper need to conduct business in another country- together- for the first time since Morgan was born. It just so happens that May and Happy were already scheduled to be out of town at the same time. Fortunately, Peter was on spring break and Tony and Pepper trust him completely. Unfortunately, both Peter and Morgan get sick while they're gone.

[This story is a part of my post-Endgame fix-it AU but can be read on it's own]

“Are you sure you don’t mind doing this, Pete? We could always try to postpone the trip for another week or two,” Tony said with mild concern. All the while, Pepper hustled about behind him, gathering suitcases and checking itineraries.

“I’m sure, Tony. I don’t mind, I promise,” Peter assured as he looked past towards Morgan who was happily sitting on the couch watching cartoons. A major last minute business deal had come up, requiring both of the Starks to be out of the country at the same time; something they had adamantly avoided since Morgan was born. Of course, they had occasionally left her overnight before, but never for so long or to go so far away. Worry was rolling off of Tony in waves. It likely didn’t help that neither May nor Happy would be in town either.

“I know you don’t mind,” Tony began. “But it’s your spring break and Morgan can be a bit of a handful- which I recognize you're already aware of. I swearI’m not worried about whether or not you can handle it, Kid. I know, without a doubt, that you’re more than capable. I just can’t stop feeling like we’re leaving you two to fend for yourselves while we take off halfway around the world,” he rambled, then sighed heavily. “I just wish it didn't have to be this week. I would feel considerably better if you had May or Happy around for back up.”

Peter forced a smile and nodded his head. The unexpected business trip had fallen on the exact same week May would be out of town with some friends and Happy visiting his mother. But as luck would have it, both of those things had also coincided with Peter’s spring break. He, of course, had been looking forward to having some alone in the apartment. Or more likely, out of the apartment, spending copious amounts of time in the Spider-suit. However, he was just as happy to stay at the Stark’s cabin watching over his sister.

“Seriously, Tony. I’ve put her to bed before while you and Pepper went out and I stay here all the time. Including the last three days. I know her routine and everything. Besides, you guys made me a list. I’ve got it,” he said with a smile. Though, at that point, Tony’s unease was starting to rub off on him and he found himself starting to grow a bit anxious himself. Pepper must have noticed because she appeared seemingly out of nowhere and swatted her husband on his prosthetic arm.

“Stop it, Tony. You’re making him nervous,” she said. Subsequently, she looked towards Peter and eased her tone. “There are emergency numbers on the refrigerator, and we’ll be on call the whole time. But we trust you completely, okay? Tony just likes worrying.”

“I know,” Peter replied, allowing the corners of his mouth to twitch upward into a modest smile. Pepper’s vote of confidence was enough to even out the overwhelming majority of the second hand anxiety. And she wasn’t wrong. Tony did tend to worry. Especially when it came to his family.

“I’m sorry, Buddy,” Tony apologized while giving Peter’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I have nothing but faith in you. I just, well, I’m going to miss you guys, that’s all.”

Peter tilted forward and wrapped his arms around Tony’s middle and breathed him in completely. “We’ll miss you too,” he said, his words muffled slightly by the way his face was buried in Tony’s dress shirt. “But Pepper’s right, we have all kinds of people we can call if we need anything. We’ll be okay until you get back.”

Tony returned the gentle embrace with his prosthetic hand, while using the natural one to thread through Peter’s hair. “I know you will, Kiddo,” he whispered tenderly. Then he kissed the side of Peter’s head and walked towards the front of the room to help Pepper with the last of the luggage.

From there, time passed in a blur. Pepper went over the heating instructions for all of the homemade meals she’d prepared in advance. And Tony reminded him that no matter how much Morgan protested, she had to wear a life vest should they decide to swim. Good-byes began after that. Morgan cried as her parents walked out the door and if Peter was being honest, his eyes teared up a little as well. Although he managed to convince himself the reaction was a result of empathy for his little sister rather than a mild case of separation anxiety on his own part.

“It’s okay, Mo,” he said as he picked the little girl up in his arms. Together they watched the car drive away, Tony honking the horn in a happy rhythm as they went. “They’ll be back before we know it.”

Morgan snuggled into his hold and pressed her damp cheeks into his neck as she bobbed her head. While she was used to her mother or father occasionally rushing off to take care of some sort of business, it was obvious she wasn't used to them leaving together. Peter held onto for quite a while. When whispered reassurance didn’t help, he offered her a juice pop from the freezer. The pleasant distraction worked. They sat on the back porch swing together eating the frozen treats. When Morgan was done, Peter watched her run off to play in the small tent that had been set up in the corner of the yard.

“What should I heat up, Mo?” Peter asked once the clock had struck six and he'd carried his worn-out charge back into the house. He placed her on the counter beside him and opened up the freezer to survey all of the nearly stacked aluminum trays. “Do we want cheesy chicken and rice, lasagna, breakfast casserole, meatloaf and mashed potatoes”, he listed off, then glanced at the menu that had been taped to one of the cabinets.  “-or do we want to make tonight our pizza night?”

When the only response he received was a shrug, Peter pulled out the chicken. He was tired and outside of pizza, it seemed like the easiest option. It didn’t require him to cut up fruit or toss a salad to go on the side. There was already an excessive amount of broccoli mixed in it. He popped it in the oven and had Morgan set the table just as she would have on any other night. And when the food was warm, they sat down in their usual seats. Peter scooped out appropriately sized portions onto each other's plates and immediately dug into his. Although he quickly noticed that Morgan wasn't doing the same. Rather than eating, she was absentmindedly poking at a piece of chicken with her fork.

“Are you not hungry or do you just not like it?” he asked, already wondering whether or not it would be a bad idea to offer to make her a peanut butter sandwich instead.

“No, I like it,” Morgan replied with a shake of her head and a deep sigh that Peter interpreted as exhaustion. He supposed that wouldn't really be that surprising. She’d been up since dawn and had spent the last couple of hours running laps around the lawn. However, that didn’t seem to be the case, and he was not prepared for the next words that came out of the five year old’s mouth. “I don’t feel good.”

“Don’t feel good?” Peter repeated, raising his eyebrows so high that they virtually disappeared into his hairline. “Don’t feel good, how? Is it your tummy?” he asked with nervous trepidation. He had no idea how he would handle Morgan being sick.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

[iwantthedean]

Let It Rock

Summary: While still separated from Sam and Castiel, Dean again crosses paths with an old hunting buddy -- and this time he isn’t feeling to negative about it.  Pairing: Dean x OFC Word Count: 2890 Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, strippers.   Challenge: @d-s-winchester‘s Bon Jovi Challenge; my song was Let It Rock. I’m exactly a month late with this ... forgive me Ash! 

A/N: Part Two to an ongoing series, Promised Land. To be entirely honest, I have no idea what I’m doing with this series. Read the author’s note in part one for more info on the inspiration for this pairing! 

Some poppy music number was blaring from the over-used speakers as Dean entered the strip club. Beautiful women, scantily-clad and money hungry, were dancing everywhere it seemed; on tables, on poles, on laps. Dean took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

Tonight, he wasn’t here for pleasure. The girls who worked this place were disappearing one by one, out of the blue, and all signs pointed to a supernatural culprit. Though he had avoided actually stepping foot in this place until now, there was no avoiding it anymore.

He took a seat near one of the stages, dropped a few dollar bills and ordered a drink, so as not to appear suspicious. The girl dancing now was a pleasant distraction, but he really needed to concentrate on the case.

Bite marks on the victims that had been recovered thus far pointed to a werewolf, but all hearts were intact. No other vital organs were missing, and none of the vics had been drained of their blood. The coroner’s report noted evidence of a heart attack, but to have it happen to so many young women in such a short time frame … therein lay the mystery.

There was one particular man whose eyes were darting around one too many times for Dean’s liking when Bon Jovi came blaring over the speakers. Let It Rock was a song Dean was well-familiar with, and when the lights went down before gradually coming back up as a new girl took the stage, he couldn’t help but let his focus drift to the silhouette at the back of the stage.

She was shorter than other girls, but there was no mistaking her curves. Her body was athletic, a build borne of years of staying fit from everyday activity, not from extra effort in the gym or special attention to her diet. Her short, blonde hair was a wig, and Dean found himself wanting to push her up against the wall and toss the wig away to tangle his fingers in her naturally long hair.

“Israel,” he muttered out under his breath.

As the lights flashed around him while the song continued, Dean’s mind flashed back to a month or so before, when his relationship with Israel had taken an unexpected turn. They had agreed to stay in touch after that night, not to force things, and mostly had stuck to that – but seeing her in cheeky shorts and push-up bra made him want to do a lot of things he had been forcing from his mind the last few weeks.

Images of water drops over her bare skin were interrupted by the catcalls, hoops, and hollers of the other men in the joint as Israel danced over the stage and on the pole. Dean took some deep breaths, reminded himself that she wasn’t necessarily his, and let himself once again be carried away by the movement of her hips as she danced.

When the song ended, Israel disappeared from the stage. Much to Dean’s chagrin, the suspicious man had also disappeared while Dean had been distracted by the woman on the stage.

 Israel tossed the blonde wig to the side, allowing her own hair to fall down her back. She pulled a tank top and jeans on before securing her hair into a ponytail. She pulled on her lace-up boots and shouldered her bag.

“Hey, Sarah! Leaving so soon?” one of the other girls called.

It took Israel a moment; she still wasn’t used to answering to her most recent alias. “Uh, yeah, I’m tapped out for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The other woman waved, and Israel made her way out through the back of the club. She felt sweaty and disgusting – had no idea how so many of these girls did this on a regular basis – but she was certain she had pegged the werewolf attacking the girls that worked the club. Even more certain that her suspect had pegged her as his next victim.

When someone grabbed her by the arm, instinct was to throw a punch and defend herself. A second too late, she realized that it was not the suspected werewolf attempting to abduct her, but instead, a familiar face.

“Dean!” Israel cried, kneeling next to him on the ground.

He worked himself into a sitting position. “We gotta stop meeting like this, sweetheart.”

Israel smiled. “You all right? I’m sorry, I thought you were –”

“A werewolf?” Dean finished. “It’s all right. I’ll survive.”

She helped him stand, checking for any signs of serious injury. When Dean assured her again that he was fine, Israel nodded.

“C’mon, Winchester. I’ll buy you a beer.”

The closest bar was within walking distance, so they took the sidewalk there, with Israel telling Dean what she knew about the werewolf case so far. She started with what had brought her to the town, how she had worked her way into the strip club, and, once they reached the bar, told him about one of the vics she had spoken with before the girl was killed.

“She said this guy who comes into the club all the time had started taking her out every now and then, but she couldn’t tell exactly what his endgame was – there were some romantic moments, but he was also distanced. He asked a lot about her childhood, about her life now, about what she wanted for her future. He would ask random questions, trying to feel out her character.” She took a long gulp from her pint glass. “Anyway, so the day before they found Leslie dead in the alley, she told me that she was pretty sure this dude was into her. He’d told her that he liked strong women, and he couldn’t wait to see what the future held for them together.”

Dean’s brow wrinkled. “So you think this guy is looking for a mate?”

“It isn’t unheard of.” Finishing off her beer and motioning to the bartender for a round of shots, she took a deep breath. “Fortunately, I’ve set up the perfect trap for him.”

Dean shook his head adamantly. “Oh, hell no! You’re not setting yourself out for bait, Israel!”

Pulling a thick stack of bills from her take from the club that night, Israel tossed a couple on the bar. She tossed back her shot and the one that had been intended for Dean, and shrugged.

“It’s already done.” She shouldered her bag and slid off the stool. “What’s it going to be, Winchester? You want to fight about this here, or you gonna give me a ride back to my room?”

Dean clearly didn’t like it, but Israel knew he wasn’t about to let her go anywhere alone with a werewolf target on her back.

 As much as he wanted to drop the subject and get down to a continuation of the images that had plagued his brain while Israel danced earlier, Dean just couldn’t stop thinking about this werewolf business. Back in her room, he let the door slam behind him; Israel’s back to him, but he knew by the way that her head dropped back momentarily that she was well aware he wasn’t going to just let her do what she wanted.

“It isn’t safe,” Dean said.

Israel turned to face him. “What part of this job is safe, Dean? You act like I’m new to this, or making rash decisions. When I made my stand in the club for that guy to see how strong I am, I knew exactly what I was doing. You and I have both set ourselves out as bait a hundred times over the years – why is this time so different?”

Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed. “When have I ever thought anyone but me being bait was a good idea?”

“It wasn’t that long ago that you didn’t give a shit if I lived or died, I’ll remind you.”

“Yeah, well –” He paused to rub the bruise forming on his chin. “—that was before some … other things … came to light.”

Israel frowned. “Other things? Like what?”

Taking a few steps towards her, Dean reached out to push her long bangs off of her face. “Like, I realized that maybe there’s more to you – that you mean more to me – than I saw before. I’m gonna do something I don’t usually do and be completely honest with you, Israel. Watching other guys drooling over you while you danced on that stage tonight was more than enough to piss me off. Thinking about you with some dirty dog all over you? That’s just more than I can handle.”

Israel barely let him get the last of his sentence out before she threw herself at him, her lips roughly moving against his, her hands scrambling under his shirt. Dean pulled the elastic from her hair, the locks flowing freely just as he was remembering them earlier. He carded his fingers up to the roots of her hair, tugging slightly.

“C’mon, Winchester,” Israel smirked against his lips. “You know I like it rough.”

A growl came from deep in his chest as he pushed her against the first wall he could find. From there, Dean took complete control, losing himself in Israel for the night.

 She was sore and tired the next morning, but Israel had a meet-up with her suspect. She wasn’t about to miss her opportunity to execute her plan.

Dressing quietly, she was out of the room before Dean woke. He was going to be pissed and she knew that, but she wasn’t about to risk an entire case on whatever was going on with him.

Just before she left the room, she spotted the Impala keys on the table. Smiling to herself – and feeling somewhat mischievous – she quietly picked the keys up, and made her way to the Impala.

 Funky town.

The two words in the text message were accompanied by a location, thanks to the wonders of modern technology. Dean rubbed the heels of his hands into eyes, trying to force himself into full consciousness. He looked around the room first, praying he was seeing things.

Israel’s absence confirmed it; she was in trouble. Dean dressed quickly and went to grab for the Impala keys, only to realize his beloved car was gone.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he set out on foot. He’d pick up a cab or something along the way to the location Israel had sent.

The cab dropped him in the better part of town. The house in front of him was a two story with a large porch and columns. The yard was immaculate, the garden perfectly maintained. The only thing marring the whole scene was the sound of dogs barking inside.

Dean was debating his way in when he heard a crash come from inside the house, prompting him to kick the door in and enter that way, his gun at the ready. The barking had stopped and the house was deadly silent.

Making an assumption, Dean found the door to the basement and made his way down the steps. Sure enough, there was Israel, bloody, bruised, and tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Dean shoved his gun in the back of his waistband and made short work of untying her.

“Did he bite you?” Dean asked.

Israel shook her head. “No. He figured me out, beat the crap out of me. Said he was contemplating turning me, but he needed permission from someone first. Haven’t seen him in the last few minutes, but I know he’s in the house.”

“Let’s get you out of here – we’ll worry about him later.”

As they started up the stairs, the werewolf blocked their way. The two hunters took steps backwards as the werewolf walked towards them, eyes changing and claws pushing out from his nail beds. He was the same man Dean had labeled suspicious at the strip club the night before.

“You should not have come for her,” the man growled. “Too much mess to clean up after I change her.”

Dean tucked Israel behind him. “You can’t have her.”

“But we want her.” The werewolf’s lips turned into an evil sneer. “She is strong and, even better, she is a hunter. She will tell us how to avoid others – she will teach us how to survive.”

Brandishing his gun, Dean aimed and shot almost in the same second. The silver bullet seared a trail between the eyes of the werewolf, dropping him right there on the steps. Israel put a hand on his arm.

“Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“He said, ‘we’.”

They exchanged a glance then; Israel grabbed for her own gun, and they made their way up the steps. She stayed several steps behind Dean, covering him for whatever may jump out at them.

“You should not have killed my son,” came an elderly voice to their left.

Both hunters turned to see a woman, neatly dressed, hair perfectly groomed. Fangs pulled out from her pearly, white teeth.

“Your son was trying to change my girlfriend,” Dean bit out, walking closer to the woman.

“For our family,” the woman said, with the same sinister smile her son had shown before Dean killed him. “I made my son, and I wanted him to take a mate. Surely two, strong, young werewolves would give rise to the most notorious werewolf family in history. Those other girls just didn’t have what it took – their weak hearts could not handle the change. But her …” She pointed a clawed finger at Israel. “… this one has exceptional heart. She will give birth to and mother the strongest of us. I suppose I’ll just have to change her myself.”

The woman leapt towards Israel, but Dean intervened. His gun was slapped aside, but the fighting match went on for some minutes before a shot rang out. Dean felt the heat of the bullet on his shoulder, but that didn’t compete with the wide-eyed, empty look of the old woman as she slumped to the ground, blood dripping from her mouth.

Holding his shoulder, Dean turned to Israel. She lowered the gun and let out a deep sigh.

“See?” she said. “I told you. I can handle a situation. I know when I need help.”

Dean looked at her like she was crazy. “You shot me!”

Israel rolled her eyes, picking up his gun and handing it to him. “I didn’t shoot you. That was the cleanest shot I had. It’s a flesh wound.”

“Last night you punched me and today you shoot me! What the fuck?”

Finding her bag, Israel pulled it onto her shoulder, grimacing a little at the ache in her muscles, over-worked from a few different activities in the last twelve hours.

“Come on. Let’s get back to the hotel and I’ll patch you up.”

After separate showers, Israel did as she promised and patched up Dean’s shoulder. She wasn’t about to apologize, although he was one-hundred-percent certain an apology was in order.

“Not only for punching and shooting me, but you stole my car! I don’t even want to think about what could have happened to my baby if you weren’t able to send that text.”

Israel tossed him the keys. “Yeah, well, the fucking car is fine, and you’re patched up. We can part ways now.”

Hastily shoving things into her bag, she spooked only a little when Dean softly took her by the elbow.

“Hey, wait. I haven’t had a chance to check you over. Are you okay?’

“I’m fine,” she shrugged. “I’ve taken a few punches in my day, remember?”

Dean insisted on looking her over, just the same. When he was convinced she would be okay, he pulled her against his chest.

“I had an idea. Maybe it’s horrible. But, since I seem to be more worried over your well-being than I thought I would be, you know – maybe we can stick together for a while.”

Israel thought it over. “I mean, yeah, that could be good. Work some cases together. Can I ask you something first?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“What about The Darkness?”

He released her from the embrace and shrugged again. “I don’t know. Amara’s under my skin, Israel, I’m not going to lie to you – but so are you. I know that I don’t want any part of Amara, but you … I can’t get enough of you.”

Israel forced herself not to smile. “All right then. We’ll stick together for a while, but I want to be very clear, Dean. You are not the boss of me. You don’t get to order me around and stop me from doing my job, same as you do yours.”

Dean approached her again slowly. “Never? I never get to order you around?”

His lips brushed over hers, chilling Israel’s spine. “Well, maybe every now and then.”

Dean grinned, tightening his arms around her middle and pressing his lips fully against hers. Israel’s tongue immediately sought access to his mouth, and Dean didn’t hesitate to give it up. After all, he hadn’t been lying; while The Darkness plagued his dreams and confused the hell out of him, Israel was the only woman he seemed unable to resist.