#it drives me so crazy how it seems like sam doesn’t even tell him…

[samdeancrimespree]

very small detail in mystery spot… but the very first tuesday sam goes to brush his teeth and there’s toothpaste like all over the tube and it’s mostly empty. and he looks at dean like “seriously?” and dean shrugs. then after dean dies, during the montage of sam living alone on his revenge mission, there’s a shot of him brushing his teeth and the toothpaste tube is clean. the trunk is organized, the photos on the wall are lined up, the guns are spotless, the bed is made. the toothpaste tube is clean. dean was always the one who made the motel room a home, made it messy, made it lived in. there’s no mess. there’s no dean. sam doesn’t know how to do that. he’s never needed to. maybe never even noticed that’s what dean was doing; he was too busy complaining about his dirty clothes being everywhere.

it is so extremely codependent how sam’s ocd behaviours spike when dean is gone. like dean is his emotional support animal. “we keep each other human” in a very non-supernatural way. sam can only function on a normal level if he knows dean is ok. no one and nothing can drag sam out of that spiral other than dean, because there’s no reason to get out of the spiral if dean isn’t there. sam calls dean selfish for making the deal not because sam wouldn’t do the same thing, but because the prospect of living without dean is hell to him.

[rubyvhs]

living that life [ samjess ]

summary . sam & jess visit her parents for the weekend, it doesn’t go the way sam thought it would. notes. you guys are kidding with the no. of samjess fics (zero) step it up guys!!

When Jess first said they should go celebrate Christmas at her parents Sam couldn’t help but freak out. He’s a twenty one year old with a lousy part time job and no connection to his own family— the only things he has going for him are his grades and Jess. He’s not someone her parents would want for their beloved daughter. 

Sam loves her too much to actually go through all of that, have her family disapprove of him or, worse, tell her that she can’t be with him. Jess is as independent as they come but he’s not too sure she wouldn’t take her mother’s words to heart.

So he disagrees, tells her he’ll stay in Stanford to catch up on work until of course he doesn’t and she drags him halfway across the country to her parent’s house all the way in New York. 

It’s a 43 hour drive that he insists they take (which means they get there four days later) just so he could work up the nerve to actually do that… and to spend time with his beautiful girlfriend. Despite plane tickets being the more affordable option, and he sweet talked Jess into it.

They get into Jess’s car two days before the 23rd and pray they get there on time. Sam is all nervous as he drives to their first stop, a motel they booked for the night, it’s bringing back some serious dejavù and not the good kind. Weeks on end where John would completely disregard his kids and throw them at the nearest motel, times when Dean wouldn’t be able to pull together any other dinner than Mac n’ cheese for the fifth time and Sam would make him throw it away.

He doesn’t like those memories and would very much rather not relive them but he’s— Sam’s hiding it from Jess but he was made aware about her slight fear of flying when the two times they tried she was tearing up in his arms and couldn’t breathe. It reminds him of Dean in some ways. Except while his brother wouldn’t touch a plane with a ten foot pole, Jess simply… Well, okay, she overreacts too but it won’t stop her from getting on the plane. It’s one of the ways Jess is so tough: doing whatever scares her even if she does it through tears.

But Sam can’t take that no matter how strong he seems, seeing those tears flow down her face make him want to put the plane right back on the ground. He coos her through most of take off; her head laying on his chest, but it still hurts him to see his girlfriend terrified, so he made her think it was his idea to drive. He knows deep down she’s thankful for it.

“Sam? You okay?” Jess asks an hour in when the last song stopped. She takes off her shoes and jacket, ready to get comfortable enough to nap. He supposes these moments are the ones he hates himself during; wondering why he would ever call Dean to ask about their dad when the man wanted to stop Sam from having this. 

“‘M fine. You gonna take a nap?” She nods, clearly tired. She’s been planning for this trip like crazy with it being the first Christmas they spend with her family. Sam never met the Moore’s but he’s talked to them over the phone, FaceTimes, sent presents all the way from his home the past Christmas. He tries to be a good boyfriend but he’s also careful to not move too fast with Jess, stanfords never really been a ‘sure thing’. 

He turns the radio down slightly but she just shakes her head. “It’s okay. Wake me up when we get to the motel. Or a restaurant.”

Because they do restaurants now, not diners. 

Led Zeppelin plays randomly on the way there and Sam looks over at Jess' unconscious body as if she’ll stare back at him with wide eyes. He’s trying to store his old life away in a neat box, he can’t have any of it leaking out, especially not this weekend.

They make it to the motel, finally. They’ve both been on edge but now that they’re going to sleep in a real bed Sam’s not sure his body knows how to be tense. He’s calmer than he’s been in weeks just getting out of the car and holding her in his arms for a few minutes. 

Jess isn’t uncomfortable with PDA but it isn’t her favorite and yet she doesn’t mind throwing herself into Sam’s arms the second she feels like he needs it. It’s something the Winchester appreciates more than she’ll ever know, he’s always thought love was about trying your hardest to give what you have but Jess showed him that it’s always been about compromise. Sometimes she does things simply and only for his sake. 

“Hey.” He smiles into her hair, placing a chaste kiss there. When she lets go he keeps an arm around her, dragging her next to him as he takes out their two backpacks that have everything they’ll need in the motels instead of having to open and repack luggage.

“‘M hungry.” Jess whines, leaning on her boyfriend as they make it to check in. He laughs softly before addressing the clerk and in less than ten minutes they’re in a moderately sized room with a TV, couch, kitchenette, and a queen sized bed that Sam can think of a few things they’ll do in.  

“Chinese or…” Jess takes a second to think as she rummages through her bag for pajamas, “oh! We could do fried chicken– I've been craving that Nashville sandwich ever since we tried it a couple of days ago.”

Sam hasn't moved from his spot in the doorway watching his girl with awe, her gorgeous blond hair covering most of her face as she faces the bag down on the bed; not that he needs a reminder of how stunning she really is, he's mesmerised every freckle on her face. In his old life everything is temporary. Even john was occasionally temporary. He relied heavily on his memories of motel rooms or conversations or his father’s face. It’s obvious he hasn't magically stopped.

He’s the first to notice if jess has put on a new brand of makeup or tries a different hairstyle or if she’s lost a pound, he’s so observant of her and he realises it isn’t only because of how he used to live— its because he can’t bear the thought of going a day without thinking about her. “Earth to sammy! You with me?”

“I’m here. We’ll get whatever you feel like.” she flashes him a bright smile before stripping down to change into the festive red and green Christmas PJs. she insisted her and sam get matching, to his dismay, they actually ended up doing it. She gives him a little twirl when shes done, posing to get his reaction and he chuckles, walking towards her to hold both sides of her face. “You look beautiful.”

Understatment of the year, in his opinion. Jess looks angelic the second she puts on a smile. Shes otherworldly and all he can do is bas in er light when she looks up at him. “‘Kay, your turn.” he groans, falling back on the bed. “C’mon! You love it dont lie to yourself.”

Only a little, but she can pry that information from his dead hands. 

He changes into the matching set, nonetheless, and jess’s joy at the simple action makes it worth it. “Sam you look so good! Oh god, i love it.” she stands on her toes, puling him down for a kiss he doesnt expect but welcomes immediately. He pulls her closer to his body, his hands on her waist. 

That night, he sleeps better than he thought he would.

When they get to Jess’s parents, they’re the nicest damn people Sam’s ever met. They greet him with hugs and wait for the two of them to settle into their room before calling them downstairs for dinner. Jess had to calm Sam down a little in that half an hour but they go back down to an entire feast on the table.

Sam hasn’t had such an incredibly cooked home meal in ever really, and he says as much. They ask him about his family, we don’t talk much, they’re travelling and his studies, really good, just finished my LSATs, and his plans for the future, he has an interview with a law school next month. 

They treat him like family, tell him about Jess’s most embarrassing stories and only smile when she places her head in his chest mid conversation. He’s never been a fan of food and talking, but the Moores make it too enjoyable. 

He, begrudgingly, puts the Christmas outfit on. Thankfully, Jess isn’t a complete monster and allows him his normal white shirt with just the pants so he feels slightly less ridiculous as he walks around her parent’s house. Especially now as he walks down the stair and to the filtered water, filling up a cup.

Her parent’s are both beyond sweet to him and he’s glad he’s doing this if it’s making Jess happy, that’s all he wants for her.

They also let him sleep with her in the same bed which he didn’t expect— so it’s going better than he had imagined. Her dad looked impressed when Sam mentioned knowing how to fire a gun and fix cars (even if the latter is somewhat of an exaggeration). Her mother couldn’t care less that Sam is in the top one percent of his class, or that Sam got a 174 in his LSATs. 

But she’s sweet, asked him to taste the pie filling to see if it’s missing anything (‘it’s perfect, Mrs. Moore’). He’s not complaining— except maybe about the fact that he wants Jess again even the night in the motel and he’s not risking his hard work for a little pleasure. When he finally finishes drinking the water, he checks the time. It’s almost midnight. 

He hears soft footsteps and quickly turns around. There she is, in all her glory, his girlfriend. “Hey, sweetheart.” She smiles, throwing herself into his arms and he wraps his around her small frame, not that much smaller, if you ask her. “Why’re you up?”

“You weren’t next to me.” He still can’t believe that this is his life. That he has someone to sleep in a bed next to and that they know when he isn’t next to them. “Can we go back?”

“Yeah, baby.” He pulls a loud yelp from Jess when he carries her suddenly, though she quickly wraps her legs around his torso. They get back to their bed and he gets into it with her, letting her rest next to him so she has her face on his chest. “I love you.”

He refrains from saying it too much but he’s not really sure if there will ever be a better time to say it. He’s not sure he wants to wait. Jess doesn’t respond, way too tired, but for the first time in his life he isn’t holding his breath or waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

[theoddcatlady]

I keep getting invited to this church called The Enlightened. They won’t leave me alone.

I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m paranoid, I can’t sleep, I can’t stand this anymore. I need to tell someone what’s going on.

It started last month, when I was walking to the bus stop to get to work. I don’t drive, not since my car accident about two summers ago. Car got totaled and getting a new one just wasn’t in the cards. Since there was a bus stop less than a mile from my apartment anyway, what was the big deal?

I wouldn’t have run into them if I did have a car though.

A pair of guys were at the stop. Both were probably around my age, both were clean cut, wearing white button ups and ties, and both wore matching blue disposable face masks. One of them was tall and scrawny, a toothpick of a guy, a bag full of papers slung over his shoulder. The other wore glasses and was about my height, and uh, let’s just say I’m not exactly a tall lady, and he was trying to hand out said papers… which were so clearly religious pamphlets.

I thanked Christ my bus was pulling up right then. Jehovah’s Witnesses are a menace. The shorter guy cleared his throat as I passed and was likely about to start his spiel. I cut him off with ‘I have to get on this bus’ before he could even get started. I was not in the mood, I had things to do and I did not want to get preached at.

I practically forgot about them by the time I got to work anyway. I cracked a few jokes about it to my coworkers, we laughed, then we got our heads down and went to work. Wasn’t worth the second thought. By the time I clocked out and got on the bus to go home, I was thinking about dinner and how to extend my groceries a little longer so I could save up for a new laptop.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I got off the bus and those two guys were still there. Tall guy with his bag of pamphlets, shorter guy trying to strike up a conversation with less than interested people passing by. Even if they were still the same guys, I could tell they were disheartened. The tall guy was starting to nod off from where he sat on the bench and even the upbeat short guy was losing steam. I got off the bus just in time to hear a passerby tell him to fuck off and the poor short guy looked like a kicked puppy. I’d bet twenty bucks they hadn’t given away a single pamphlet all day.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I felt bad for them, even if I find what they were doing completely obnoxious. So I slowed down.

“Yeah?”

The short guy’s eyes went wide. I thought it was because he was shook someone actually stopped but it was actually for something else.

“Hey, you passed by this morning!” He reached up and tapped his mask. “I recognize the cats on your face mask. I remember thinking how cute they were.”

I laughed weakly before glancing at him and his buddy. “Have you seriously been here all day?” I asked.

“Yeeeaaahhh… keep telling the minister that we’d probably get better success stories if we weren’t in these monkey suits,” The guy pulled at his shirt collar and mock gagged, “Everyone just thinks we’re Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

“Wait, you’re not?” I blurted out. I couldn’t help it, but can you blame me?

The guy chuckled, the area by his eyes crinkling as he no doubt was smiling. “Hell no. We’re a bit different. Hey, it’s about time to give up for the day. Peter and I are gonna go grab a coffee, how do you take yours?”

I snorted. “Just because I’m being nice doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen to whatever crap you want to tell me,” I said.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna get you a caramel macchiato.”

I sputtered for a moment while Peter gathered up his bag of pamphlets. The short guy held out his hand.

“I’m Sam. Do you want a caramel macchiato or not?”

In the end, I accepted the free drink. It was cold, I didn’t want to seem like a jerk, and I enjoyed it outside with the pair of weird street preachers. Now that they were done with their thing, both had immediately relaxed their wardrobe. Both had ditched their ties, Peter had pushed up his sleeves to show off a fantastic flower themed sleeve tattoo on his right arm, and Sam had untucked a necklace from his shirt that had a bunch of little strange silver charms on it.

Sam sipped at his latte while we made polite conversation. Turned out Peter wasn’t really the chatty type, only offering a ‘mmhmm’ and ‘sure’ every now and then to the conversation, but Sam was the one carrying the conversation. He had to take off the mask to enjoy his drink and he was actually kinda cute, completely inoffensive appearing human being. We didn’t talk religion. We just talked about our days, what we do when we’re not at work or preaching to uninterested people on sidewalks, and by the end of it I figured they weren’t so bad. I only took a pamphlet after Peter offered one the second time, turned out Sam wasn’t the only one who could look like a kicked puppy. I left figuring I’d never see them again, that this was just a funny little coincidence and it’d make a great story.

Now I can’t help but wonder if they had stayed at the bus stop waiting just for me to come back.

The next day I was heading back from work when I heard someone call my name.

“Amy! Amy, wait up!”

It was just Sam, now dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, still wearing that goofy charm necklace but now wearing a neat custom face mask with little skulls dotted all over it. Under his arm he was lugging along a laptop. I stopped and he caught up, a little bounce in his step as he pulled his mask down to reveal his beaming smile.

He raised the laptop up to me. “For you,” He said.

I stammered and immediately went to reject it. “I can’t accept this-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Sam laughed, “When you said yesterday you were trying to be a writer but your laptop wouldn’t stop freezing when you tried to do anything on it, I remembered I had my old laptop just chilling in my closet. So what the hell, better put it to better use, right? If it makes you feel better, consider it a loaner until you get one for yourself.” Once again, he presented it.

I won’t say it was like brand new, but it was clearly bought within the last two years. And man, a free laptop. I chewed the inside of my lip before I slowly reached up to take it. “It’s a loaner, then. It’s yours when I get my own. How often do you get new laptops?” I asked.

“Practically every other year,” Sam grinned sheepishly, “I play a lot of video games, and I always want the best. I can afford it.”

“Didn’t think that giving out Jehovah’s Witness pamphlets paid that much,” I said as I continued to examine the laptop.

“Funny,” Sam scoffed. “You didn’t even read that pamphlet, did you?”

I knew I was blushing, I always do when I’m embarrassed. Sam, thankfully, didn’t seem all that offended. “It’s cool. I know you were trying to be polite. I won’t tell Peter, but if you ever see him again, he’ll totally figure out you didn’t. And he’ll be grumpy. He’s pretty passionate about this sorta thing, you know?”

I sighed. “Fine, I’ll read it once I’m home.”

“Great! I gotta get going,” Sam rolled his eyes, “Pamphlets to give out, people to talk to. Ta for now!” With that, he pulled his mask back up and hurried back the direction he came from.

I took my new treasure home and almost immediately booted it up. It ran like a dream compared to my old computer. I was thrilled to bits and resolved to read that pamphlet while I worked on dinner, as my thank you to these pair of weird street preachers.

The pamphlet itself wasn’t too bad. It was white, with a black clip art oil lamp on the front and Times New Roman font reading ‘The Enlightened’. Inside was more basic clip art of people holding hands and it really just gave off the really basic feeling of community and raising each other up. The first line read ‘The age of enlightenment is upon us. The reason behind everything exists with us.’ Sure, I laughed, that sounded cheesy as hell. But I read the whole thing, and it didn’t seem all that nutty off the bat. The whole message can be summed up as how we’re here to lift each other up in this world and that should be our goal in life.

I had just finished boiling the noodles for my spaghetti when I heard a knock at my door. I didn’t think much of it, wondering if it was just a late package as I headed for the door.

I opened the door and there they were. Sam and Peter, back in their clean white shirts and ties, Sam raising his hand to knock again.

We both froze. Sam’s eyes bugged out before he chuckled. “Huh. Funny coincidence. Hi, Amy!”

I cleared my throat. “Hi… how did you find out where I lived?” Get that question out first.

“We didn’t,” Sam shook his head, “We’re just going door to door to see if we can get more pamphlets out and if anyone that took one has any questions. Did you read it?”

He sounded honest, completely innocent of anything creepy. I glanced around the door to make sure there wasn’t about to be like a mob coming in to murder me and steal my stuff. “Yeah, while I was cooking dinner. It’s… interesting?”

I could tell both guys were smiling. Sam pulled his mask down. “Then can we come in? We’ve been already going door to door for like an hour, and we’re supposed to be out until eight. Love to kill some time just chilling with a friend.”

I don’t know why I didn’t say no. They were near strangers. Maybe I felt obligated because of the coffee and the computer to at least give them some of my spaghetti, let them do their little ‘come to god’ thing before finding a way to shoo them out the door.

Honestly? I would’ve taken Jehovah’s Witnesses over this. This was on the same level as Scientology for me, as in it was completely freaking batshit insane.

The Enlightened aren’t a Christian sect, Sam explained as we ate dinner and I tried to remain as open minded as I physically could. They worshiped the Beings, well, not really worshiped. Peter cut in to say it’s more like they respected the Beings, relied on them for guidance. The Beings were here before humans were, and oh, how did humans get here? They were originally fish swimming through space, finally coming to earth and evolving into life as we know it.

Oh, and apparently, the sun is apparently a portal to hell. No. I’m not shitting you. The sun. Is a portal. To hell. It took literally all of my restraint not to bust out laughing at that point. I would’ve thought they were pulling my leg if Sam hadn’t said it all so calmly and matter-of-factly. By the end of our meal, I almost gave Sam his laptop back. This was absolutely ridiculous and I wanted no part of these crazy people.

But before they left, Peter took my hand. He didn’t even ask.

“The Being I rely on most is called Yehunee,” He said, which was the longest sentence he’d said all night, “She can see the future. I’d like to see your future.”

I tried jerking my hand back but Peter had a firm grip. My heart started to pound a bit and I started thinking of how stupid it was to let two strange men into my place when Sam grabbed Peter’s arm.

“Peter, let her go, you’re freaking her out.”

Peter released me before Sam turned to me. “I’m sorry, he was a raised Enlightened and I swear that broke his brain from common sense. Just let him do the reading, it’ll be like a minute, and then we’ll go. We hope to hit a few more doors tonight.”

I sighed. If this was the best way to get them out of here, so be it. I gave Peter my hand back and he stared at my palm so intently it made me want to squirm. I almost expected him to start speaking in tongues.

“… Don’t be afraid of strangers, they’ll mean well and be there for you when you’re in a bind. You’ll find what you love doing is not only an option but a profitable one as well. Look out for hooligans, they won’t try to hurt you but they won’t know their own strength. And by the end of the week, you’ll need your love to keep you going.”

Peter finally released my hand and I sighed with relief. “Right, so you said you had to be going?” I said, practically jogging to the door to escort them out.

“Yup! Thanks for letting us take a break tonight!” Sam grabbed his face mask and headed out, Peter right behind him. “Hope to see you again sometime!”

When I closed the door behind them, I was already thinking about how to get to work without going to that specific bus stop. Thanks, but no thanks.

It was just too uncanny that the next day Peter’s prophecies began to fulfill themselves.

I was picking up my groceries, since I no longer needed to get a laptop I splurged a little, got a few wants along with all my needs. For me that made it all the more humiliating when I reached for my wallet and it wasn’t there.

My face turned tomato red as I dug through my purse before checking all of my pockets, the girl at the register looking less and less impressed by my insistence that it ‘had to be here somewhere’. I wanted to melt into the floor when I confirmed that somehow, one way or another, I’d lost my wallet. God. Damn. It. I could just feel the judgment from everyone witnessing this.

Then I felt someone tap my shoulder and I turned to see the elderly woman in a nice red coat who had been in the line right behind me. I opened my mouth to apologize and she held up a hand. Then she looked at the cashier.

“May I pay for this girl’s groceries?”

I nearly started crying. I almost told her to not bother, but something stopped me. And that something was Peter’s freaking voice in my head saying ‘Don’t be afraid of strangers, they’ll mean well and be there for you when you’re in a bind.’ So instead I thanked her, again and again, while she laughed and said it was hardly a big deal. In this world we’re here to look out for each other, after all.

I didn’t notice until I was about to walk away that this woman had a few pins in the lapel of her coat. The two that stuck out the most were a small fish and a lamp. An oil lamp.

I just thanked her once more before I excused myself out of there. It was a coincidence, of course. I knew of a few Christians that also used fish as a religious symbol, same with the lamp. It was just bizarre.

It was when I was heading home that I got the sudden impression that I needed to duck. I practically dove to the ground, and it was lucky for me that I did that. A glass bottle flew through the air right where my head had been, shattering on the wall behind me. It had come from a black car whizzing by, and judging by how loud and rowdy they sounded, they were probably drunk and just having a good time. The car sped down the street and rounded the corner with a screech of the tires. Like that, they were gone, off to keep on partying and doing whatever a bunch of drunk morons do on a weekday.

‘Look out for hooligans, they won’t try to hurt you but they won’t know their own strength.’

My skin, I swear it crawled as I remember Peter’s third prophecy. I reminded myself that there was just no way he could tell the future. It was just a bizarre coincidence.

I got home, I made dinner, and I crawled into bed.

The next morning I woke up to several missed calls from my boss. He was so apologetic, but it was an emergency, and he recommended I turn on the local news for the full effect.

I won’t be too specific where I work, because I don’t know who’s reading this, but where I had worked had burnt to the ground. It looked like faulty wiring had just taken the building down, thank god no one had been inside when it ignited. But because the kind of work I typically do isn’t really one you can do from home, I was now out of work.

‘By the end of the week, you’ll need your love to keep you going.’

My head swam as I instinctively headed for my new laptop and started scrolling through my email, looking through all the writing jobs that I had been wanting to apply for but never had the time for. Submissions for magazines or anthologies, things like that. I wanted to test something and that something was Peter’s only unfulfilled prophecy.

‘You’ll find what you love doing is not only an option but a profitable one as well.’

Sure enough, by some miracle or whatever, I got an email back from one of the jobs I threw my name in the hat for. They liked what I had to offer and were going to pay me double the rate if I could it done by the end of the week. Which I could, because I had a lot of sudden free time.

Every single prophecy. Every single freaking one. Just as Peter had told.

But I couldn’t shake this nagging feeling that these prophecies were self fulfilling. I felt like I was being played with, and I wasn’t going to accept this at face value.

So. I started by googling the name of the editor of the magazine that had offered me the job. He was pretty internet absent shockingly enough, but I found his Facebook page. It was practically vacant, except for two things-

He was friends with the old lady from the grocery store and a Samuel Sutton. And the one thing he’d liked was The Enlightened Facebook group.

Samuel Sutton didn’t have a picture on his Facebook profile that was of his face, but I recognized the charm necklace he was putting together in one of the public photos. Sadly, The Enlightened Facebook group was not public, at least it wasn’t now. Maybe it had been in the past. I don’t know. Either way I was definitely spooked. I knew I was right to be suspicious.

Of course this is when my internet started cutting in and out on my laptop, making further research from there damn near impossible. So the rest had to be done from my phone, all while I side eyed the innocuous laptop from where it sat on the table, the webcam now covered with duct tape.

I didn’t have any scotch tape and I was starting to feel rightfully paranoid.

I googled The Enlightened and didn’t come up with much other than a webpage clearly designed in the 90’s. I scrolled through the bad website design and I came up with basically nothing new, other than the Enlightened were founded in the late seventies by a man named Ray White, formerly Ray Bram. He’s now ‘forever with the Beings’, aka he’s food for the worms… or whatever the Enlightened do to their dead. I do not want to know.

I blamed my following dreams that night about all the Enlightened crap floating through my brain. I dreamed about floating through space, followed by thousands of others just like me. Not floating… swimming. We saw the beautiful blue orb that grew bigger with every moment, until I realized that the blue orb was a planet. There was a golden light in the distance that also attracted by attention, and although its warm pulled at me, I knew I had to go to that blue planet. So down I went, through the atmosphere, through the clouds, and into the ocean below.

I woke up before I started turning into a person, because I presume I was one of those stupid fucking fish Sam talked about. I hated it.

What I hated more is that Sam just ‘bumped into me’ while I was out for coffee. Nevermind I’d never seen him at that coffee shop before he got me that stupid macchiato that started all this in the first place, and now suddenly he was there, acting like he’d been getting coffee there his damn life.

He perked up when he saw me and waved. “Hey, Amy, you’re usually at work right now, right? Something happen?” He said, sounding so casual and relaxed.

My stomach twisted. “I’m just here to pick up my coffee and go, I’m busy,” I said, trying to hold back the shakes that came from seeing him here. “When do you want the laptop back?”

“When you don’t need it anymore. But hey, if that one’s not working out, I can see if Peter’s willing to give up any of his old machines,” Sam laughed, “But I doubt it. He still has one of his dad’s laptops, the thing’s practically a blunt weapon with how heavy it is.”

“Yeah, I have to go,” I said, almost dropping my coffee with how fast I grabbed it.

“Same, see you again, Amy.”

Sam left just in front of me, and when I left the coffee shop I swear my heart stopped. I dropped my coffee and didn’t even try to pick it up as its contents spilled out all over the sidewalk.

Sam was getting into his car. A black car. Not unlike the black car I saw that night with all the ‘hooligans’ inside. He noticed me staring real quick and managed to pull off confusion pretty frikken’ well.

“You good, Amy? You need a ride? I just have to make a stop back the church, but I can get you home.”

I swallowed, shaking my head. “I… I’m good,” I murmured before I walked away, using all my restraint not to bolt down the sidewalk and get away from what was no doubt an actual fucking crazy person. Some sort of deranged stalker hiding behind his bizarre religion to freak me out and try to manipulate me.

I threw the laptop away in the dumpster. I locked my door and all of my windows. I drew the shades, I curled up on the couch and dug out my emergency wine stash. I did not want to be sober anymore.

I don’t think I drunk that much. I don’t know anymore. Because I remember pouring myself a glass and the next thing I was waking up in bed, and I could hear someone in the kitchen. Someone was humming.

I was still wearing the clothes I had been the day before, which was a fucking relief, but I still crept out into the kitchen expecting to see a psycho. Instead, it was just Sam, frying up some eggs and bacon, buttering toast and looking perfectly natural.

“What the fuck?!”

Sam looked up and winced. “Ooooh, that’s how bad the hangover is, huh?” He said.

True, my head was killing me, but I wanted to run. Run like hell. “How the hell- why are you-”

“Did you forget?” Sam walked over, his brow knitting in concern. “You called me last night and asked if I could come over.”

“I don’t have your number,” I said.

“I gave it to you yesterday at the coffee shop. You wrote it down on your hand.”

I was trembling as I raised my hand up.

It was a phone number, in blue ink, my handwriting, in my palm. Like where I write everything that I’m scared of forgetting.

“I didn’t call you,” I said, shaking my head.

“You did, and you sounded… really drunk,” Sam exhaled as he went back to the stove to turn over the bacon. “You were crying about losing your job? I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to come off as insensitive or anything yesterday, I didn’t know about the fire until you told me.”

I bolted for the living room, my head throbbing so bad I wanted to vomit. I picked up my phone and unlocked it, checking my outgoing calls. Sure enough, around eleven I’d made not one, not two, but five fucking phone calls to the number scrawled on my hand.

“I was worried, so I came over. You cried all over my t-shirt, you were upset and I didn’t really know what else to do. So I helped you get to bed and I figured I should stay, just in case you got sick or something. I was worried, Amy.”

I shook my head. “I locked my door though, windows too,” I said.

“Did you?” Sam frowned. “I let myself in after you didn’t answer. I didn’t check the windows though-”

I did. I ran around the apartment like a chicken with its head cut off, checking everything. Windows weren’t locked, my emergency wine bottle was empty even though I can only remember that one glass. My makeup was all ran like I had been crying, like Sam said I was. Everything lined up with what he said had happened, except for my own memories.

When I finally returned to the kitchen, Sam had two eggs, two pieces of toast and a stack of bacon ready on a plate and was pouring a glass of orange juice for me. He still looked worried. “You look a little pale, Amy, are you okay? You look messed up.”

I opened my mouth to respond but instead just ended up running for the sink to vomit. Sam held my hair back and just patted my back while I vomited up was I presume was the oh so lovely mixture of stomach bile and wine.

“You know what? How about you go lay back down, I’ll bring you your breakfast in a bit. You got tums or advil for the pain?”

I shoved Sam away, wiping the puke off my mouth best I could. “I don’t remember calling you. I know I locked the door, I know… I know I did. I threw away your laptop. I didn’t drink that much, what the fuck is going on?” I sounded pathetic I’m sure, but you try sounding great during what felt like the worst hangover of my life.

“You what?” Sam left my side and poked his head into my office before he laughed. “What are you talking about, Amy, my laptop’s right there. Christ, how wasted did you get?”

No. No way. Despite the room spinning around like I was on a carnival ride, I ran to the office. The laptop was still there. Not broken. Not even dirty.

Had I thrown it out after all? I can’t even tell you for sure now. I just sunk to the floor, ready to start crying, while Sam squatted down next to me.

“I… I…” I swallowed. “I need to be alone. Or, I need my mom, she’s not far from here…”

Sam handed me my phone, I’d probably dropped it somewhere along the way during my run around the apartment panic. “Go ahead. I gotta go to church anyway. If you need some support while you’re between jobs, I promise, The Enlightened can give you any help you need,” He said, giving my back a final pat before he got up and left the apartment.

I didn’t end up calling my mom. We’re not that close. I’m not really close to many people, if I’m honest. I lost a lot of my friends after high school when they all took off for college and I hung behind to join the work force. It’s not like they dumped me on purpose, we just lost contact. I wasn’t really close to my coworkers either, I’d chat with them but I never really made plans with them. I’m not lonely, or I don’t think I am. Maybe I am. Maybe that’s why I talked with Sam and Peter that day. I was that pathetic and lonely that I talked with two randos I thought were Jehovah’s Witnesses.

This all started a month ago and I keep finding Sam and Peter in my life. Mostly Sam, and never Peter without Sam. I’ve refused all other fortunes from Peter, which clearly upsets him but I don’t know if I care about his feelings. I am getting more writing jobs thanks to that first connection I made with that editor, but I am not using the laptop Sam gave me. That’s currently in a box, that’s in another box, that’s duct taped shut and shoved to the back corner of a closet.

I don’t know how Sam’s wormed his way into my life so efficiently, but now I even find myself calling him on my own. It feels like he’s always been there. Sometimes I even see him in my dreams, laughing or smiling at me, looking at me with fondness and warmth that makes me feel… good about myself. I sometimes wonder how good I felt before I met him, if I felt this good before.

But I don’t know. My brain’s been so turned around. I don’t know how much I can trust myself, if I’m losing my mind. I know I cannot join the Enlightened, even if Sam and Peter are okay at times. It’s nuts, right? It’s all crazy talk. There is no Being in my dreams telling me it’s okay to doubt, but it’s never okay to assume something’s wrong from the get go. His name isn’t Riesis, and I know that those shadows outside my window aren’t people watching me, it’s just trees.

I don’t know anything anymore. I just. Don’t. All I know is that every time Sam asks me to go to the Enlightened Church with him, it’s becoming harder and harder to say no.

[nikosheba]

Okay but. you guys know this scene right.

i HAVE to talk about this.

because we’re so used to the beautiful way it’s cut. Faramir brings in the hobbits, he says to take them to Denethor, that he’s sending a “mighty gift.” But shit goes down and he thinks better of it and lets them go. This is intercut with Sam’s magnificent speech about Some Good In This World That’s Worth Fighting For and the victory at Helm’s Deep and Isengard being obliterated by Ents. 

but

the thing is

if you cut out the other scenes

and JUST look at what’s happening in Osgiliath

this is what happens word for word:

Faramir: Take them to my father. Tell him Faramir sends a mighty gift. A weapon that will change our fortunes in this war. Sam: Do you know why your brother died? He tried to take the Ring from Frodo! After swearing an oath to protect him, he tried to kill him!* The Ring drove your brother mad. Scout: NAZGÛL! Frodo: [walks slowly up a bridge to stare at a Nazgûl] Sam: [tackles him] Frodo: [draws Sting] Sam: It’s me. It’s your Sam. Don’t you know your Sam? Frodo: I can’t do this, Sam. Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going because they were holding on to something. Frodo: What are we holding on to, Sam? Sam: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for. Faramir: I think at last we understand each other, Frodo Baggins. Madril: You know the laws of this country, the laws of your father. If you let them go, your life is forfeit. Faramir: Then it is forfeit.

OKAY. SO. Being intercut with the other scenes REALLY gives this one a boost because I didn’t realize how weird this is until this most recent viewing which has to be like my 40th time through. 

Faramir has made his choice and then he sees Sam tackle Frodo and make a nice speech and then he says I think we understand each other Frodo Baggins???? What EXACTLY has this taught him about Frodo that’s worth ALLOWING HIS FATHER TO EXECUTE HIM (according to this nebulous “give me the ring or else” law Denethor supposedly has in place)???? Like he just sees Frodo being wet and pathetic at Sam and is like “hold on I have to rethink my entire life”?????? He genuinely goes from “Take them to my father, I’m sending a mighty gift�� to “AH NOW I UNDERSTAND” in 5 minutes and explicitly seems to understand FRODO after hearing Sam make a speech at him??

how did I never notice this before it’s driving me crazy i’ve been thinking about this for 6 weeks

* Asterisk because Sam, one, you don’t actually know how Boromir died so that was a weird power play, and two, if we know that Faramir ALSO doesn’t know how Boromir died it occurs to me that it kind of sounds like Sam is saying, “Yeah, I did it, I stabbed your brother for coming after Frodo and I’ll stab you too, Legs.”

[ggfj84]

Batfamily Week 2023 - Day 3 - Undercover

Easy assignment, Bruce had said. Dick might even call it a vacation.

It became glaringly obvious hour one that billionaire Bruce Wayne had never actually worked a day in his life. Dick wasn’t a stranger to work, though, having pulled beers, drove a taxi, taught kids how to tumble, and even curated a museum, but nothing compared to Dick’s undercover assignment at Bat Burger.

From the unrealistic demands from customers - “Why can’t I Jokerize my soft drink?” - to the superhuman speed Dick needed to serve a thousand burgers an hour - he soon came to know Gotham’s greatest villains weren’t locked up in Arkham. They were the customers who frequented his particular restaurant.

And Dick’s own family didn’t help the situation.

“Can I get the Robin nuggets on the Two-Face sandwich?” Jason said, leaning against the counter on Dick’s first day on the job.

“You can order the Robin nuggets and the Two-Face sandwich, and put the nuggets on the sandwich,” Dick replied flatly.

“But it doesn’t taste the same since the sauce from the sandwich isn’t on the nuggets.”

Dick thumbed behind him. “You really want me to go back there and inconvenience Sam, who has seventy other orders, just so you can have sauce on your nuggets?”

“You really didn’t seem to mind inconveniencing me last week when you needed my help with Double Dare.”

“You hit on one of them!”

“Technically I hit on both of them. I only scored with one of them.” Jason winked. “So, how about those nuggets?”

Dick sighed.

A week later, Damian pushed his Bat-Mite bag back onto the counter. “The meal came with a Batman figure. I paid for a Nightwing one.”

Dick’s heart tugged; he offered Damian a commiserating smile. “As I told you, we don’t have any control over the toys.”

“It is not a toy,” Damian scolded. “It is an action figure, and I do not want Batman. His uniform is incorrect, and he barely looks like Father. I want a Nightwing figure.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, kiddo.”

“Then I demand to speak to someone in a leadership capacity who can meet my needs.”

“No, I’m not letting you threaten the manager with a dagger.” Sam had three kids, a wife who moonlighted at the Kitty Club, and a dad who was struggling to remember his own name. There was no way Dick was unleashing Damian on him.

“Tt. Fine. I shall ask Father to buy the establishment.”

…why hadn’t Dick thought of that? Or rather, why hadn’t Bruce thought of that before he asked Dick to go undercover and find out if the restaurant was a front for the Penguin’s money laundering scheme?

After Steph stopped by and demanded the company change the name of the Batgirl Chicken Breast sandwich - Dick didn’t disagree but it’s not like a crew member had any say in that - Dick switched to the night shift, which got him an extra two bucks an hour and a whole lot more crazy.

Dick thought he’d escape his brothers and sisters since they worked nights, but nope - they just stopped by in uniform.

Batgirl – Cass – came to the drive up his first night and ordered the Ivy Not Poison Salad.

“No tomatoes.”

“It doesn’t come with tomatoes,” Dick said into the headset.

“Carrots, onions, cheese, and olives.”

“You want those out of the salad?”

“Only things in the salad.”

“You don’t want lettuce?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a salad if it doesn’t have lettuce?”

“Don’t care.”

Right. Dick sighed.

Robin pulled up a day later, ordered his Bat-Mite meal, and looked inside the bag.

“I want a Nightwing figure.” He placed the bag back on the window’s ledge. “This is a Red Hood figure.”

Dick leaned forward and pulled his microphone away as he whispered, “Why don’t you collect them all, huh? If Jason sees you don’t have his -”

“Then he’ll be like every other Gotham protector. I only want the Nightwing figure.”

Dick sighed. “And I’d love to give you one, but we don’t have one.”

Robin seized the bag from the window. “This establishment is an absolute disgrace to the very idea of service with a smile.”

Dick waved with a put-on smile as Robin drove away. “Have a great night!”

Red Robin popped in a few nights later when Dick was on break and sat on the building’s roof while Dick ate his daily allotted free burger.

“Why don’t you wear costumes like all the other crew members?”

Dick stiffened, then mumbled something.

“What? Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

“I said, ‘They won’t let me,’ alright? I started in a Batman costume, but some kids were taunting me for not sounding like Batman. So I did the voice and scared them shitless. Literally. So my boss says I can only wear a collared shirt and visor now.”

By the time left early that morning, the rest of the family had heard and were sending him memes.

“Did you seriously just ask me if I wanted to ‘Jokerize’ my fries?” Red Hood demanded two days later. “Really?”

Dick sighed.

“I thought I asked for the Red Robin toy,” Signal asked before cringing with a sip of his coffee. “Also, this is decaf.”

“You’re a kid. I’m not giving you caffeinated coffee.”

“Oh, right, sure, I can fight Arkham bad guys on a daily basis, but caffeine is my archenemy.”

Dick sighed.

The Batmobile roared as it drove around and stopped at the drive-up window. The Dark Knight himself took one look inside the Bat-Mite meal and sighed.

“My son would like the Nightwing figure.”

Dick threw up his hands. “I quit! Buy this place, find whatever clues you were looking for, and raise everyone’s salary! These people are heroes, Batman, the true heroes of Gotham, and I am done!”

If Dick didn’t know any better, he would have swore he saw Batman cringe, and suddenly, it all clicked.

“Oooh, there was no evidence of the Penguin using this restaurant to launder money, was there?”

Batman sighed. “I was hoping to find some evidence of wrongdoing, so I could get rid of this abomination of a restaurant. But now...”

“These people are heroes, Batman! You can’t close the restaurant!”

He didn’t. The next day, Bruce brought Bat Burger chain and changed the name to Wonder Burger. Clark didn’t speak to him for a week, but Sam got a pay raise and a promotion.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Innocent Until Proven Guilty

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: when the Avengers notice signs of Peter having a girlfriend, they suspect he’s not as innocent as he seems

Masterlist

“Hey Pete the treat.” Tony greeted Peter as he passed him in the hallway. “Have you seen my screwdriver with the orange handle?”

“Oh, yeah.” Peter remembered. “I used it to fix my web shooters. It’s on my desk in my room.”

“Mind if I grab it?”

“Would you listen if I said no?” Peter asked, assuming he knew the answer?

“Nope.” Tony smiled at how well Peter knew him. “I’ll go get it.”

Tony waltzed into Peters room and went straight to his desk, rummaging through the papers and sketches he had strewn about.

“Now where are you hiding?” Tony drummed his fingers on his chin as he looked around Peters desk. He opened the top drawer and found nothing, so he opened the next drawer and began to rummage around. After moving a notebook to the side, Tony found an unopened box of condoms among Peters things.

“Hm.” Tony furrowed his eyebrows at the surprising find. “Well it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

He put it down and continued searching through the draw before the box caught his eye again.

“Value pack?” Tony read off the box. “Jesus.”

He shut the drawer and found the screwdriver in the next drawer, mindlessly tucking it into his pocket. As he left Peters room, the box stayed in his mind. He walked into the living room and found the rest of the Avengers chatting.

“What do you guys think about Peter?” Tony wondered as he toyed with the screwdriver.

“I don’t think about Peter.” Sam deadpanned.

“He seems lonely, no?” Tony shrugged. “He could use a companion of the female variety.”

“We should set him up.” Steve suggested. “He could use someone.”

“I don’t know.” Nat scrunched her nose. “He seems too young to be dating.”

“He’s in college now. It’s about time he gets a girlfriend.” Tony decided. “I had dozens by the time I was his age.”

“Are we even sure he likes girls?” Rhodey asked.

“He complimented my hair color once.” Nat shrugged.

“There we go.” Tony nodded, getting excited now.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bucky asked quietly as he entered the room.

“We want to set Peter up on a date.” Steve told him.

“Parker? I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend.” Bucky said, making everyone look at him.

“What?” Tony asked. “No way.”

“Yeah. My room is next to his.” He shrugged. “He’s on the phone all night almost every night.”

“What?” Nat laughed in surprise. “With who?”

“Someone named Y/n I’m pretty sure.” Bucky went on. “I hear her name a lot.”

“Y/n.” Tony rolled it around his mind. “Interesting. I have to know more.”

“I think if Peter wanted us to know more, he’d tell us.” Nat clicked her tongue.

“And I think I don’t care.” Tony retorted. “I’m gonna find out more.”

That night, Tony sat in the dark as he waited for Peter to come home. He heard the elevator coming up and shivered with excitement at the incoming confrontation.

“Hey, Parker.” Tony dramatically turned on the light once Peter walked in the room, making Peter jump.

“Hi Mr. Stark.” Peter stammered as he took off his coat.

“Are you just getting back?” Tony asked coyly.

“Yeah, I was out with my…friend.” Peter shifted his eyes at the mention of you.

“Oh really?” Tony feigned a gasp. “What’s his name?”

“Her name is Y/n.” Peter said casually. “I was with her.”

“So I see.” Tony nodded. “Is she from school?”

“Yeah. She’s in my organic chemistry class.”

“So one might say you two have…chemistry?” Tony shrugged as he walked closer to Peter.

“Anyone with our schedules would say that.” Peter laughed nervously.

“Whats she like?” Tony persisted. “Is she pretty?”

“She’s great.” Peter smiled. “She can talk circles around me about just about anything. I don’t even know why we’re in the same class. She’s so much smarter than everyone in the room, even the professor. She’s just...she’s great.”

“So I hear.” Tony smirked. Peter completely avoided the “pretty” question, and that told Tony everything he needed to know.

“Hear?” Peter asked curiously. “What did you hear?”

“Thin walls, buddy.” Tony knocked on the wall. “Bucky told us all about your late night phone calls with your lady friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Peters face heated up. “I’ll be quieter.”

“You don’t have to be quieter.” Tony told him. “Bucky doesn’t deserve a peaceful nights sleep.”

“Why do you say that?” Peter asked.

“Because he murdered my parents. Night!” Tony threw up a peace sign before leaving the room. Peters jaw dropped a little before shutting. He quickly pulled out his phone and clicked on your contact.

“I think Mr. Stark is onto us” He texted you.

“Good. He can pay for our wedding 👀” You wrote, making him smile. He put his phone away and went to bed himself.

~

A few weeks later, Tony needed the screwdriver again and had an idea of where he could find it.

“Hey Pete. Did you use the screwdriver again?” Tony asked when he found Peter in the hallway.

“Yeah. It should be in the same place.” Peter informed him.

“Thanks.” Tony nodded and went into Peters room. He went to the desk, expecting to find the screwdriver in the same drawer it was in last time. When he didn’t find it there, he opened the drawer above it. Right on top of a pile of notebooks was the box from last time.

“I shouldn’t.” Tony sighed and chewed his lip. “But I’m feeling snoopy.”

Tony picked up the box and to his surprise, it was significantly lighter. Tony opened it up and peered inside, only to see it was nearly empty.

“Who did this to you?” Tony gasped. “Who took your goodies?”

Elsewhere in the tower, Peter was heading back to his room when he crashed into Natasha.

“Oh, sorry.” Peter apologized as he caught her before he could knock her over.

“It’s fine.” Natasha assured him, sniffing the air a little. “Why do you smell so good?”

“Hygiene is very important to me.” Peter straightened his shoulders to solidify his lie.

“Yeah, but,” she sniffed him again, “you smell fruity.”

“I’m a fruity boy.” Peter stated, regretting it immediately.

“Oh.” Natasha backed away a little, giving him a strange look.

“Not that kind of fruity.” Peter stammered. “I have to go.”

Just as Peter scurried away, Sam walked into the hallway.

“Am I crazy or did Peter smell like perfume?” Natasha pointed behind him.

“I don’t care.” Sam mumbled as he walked by.

“Romanoff.” Tony rounded the corner after leaving Peters room. “I think the Manchurian Candidiate was right. I think Peter has a girlfriend.”

“I think so too.” Natasha nodded. “He smelled like perfume just now.”

As Tony and Natasha exchanged evidence, Sam passed by Peters room just as he was going inside.

“Hey Sam.” Peter greeted before he shut his door.

“Don’t talk to me, Parker.” Sam mumbled without looking up.

“Sorry.” Peter chuckled and rolled his eyes, making Sam briefly look up.

“What’s that?” Sam narrowed his eyes when he spotted something peeking out over Peters collar.

“Whats what?” Peter asked as he pulled away.

“On your neck.” Sam caught his collar and pulled it down. “Is that a hickey?”

“No.” Peter said quickly as he covered his neck with his hand. “I burnt my neck with my curling iron.”

“Oh, okay.” Sam was satisfied with the answer. “Wait, what?”

“Bye Sam!” Peter stammered as he quickly shut the door.

~

Tony’s plans to interrogate Peter about his love life the following day were halted when he found Peters room empty. A quick check in with Friday showed Peter leaving earlier that morning with a few presents in hand. Tony sighed and went on with day, anxiously waiting for Peter to come home to get more information.

“Another late night.” Tony announced his presence as he flicked on the light. It wasn’t until after midnight that Peter had come back, so Tony waited him out in the living room.

“Oh, hi Mr. Stark.” Peter waved awkwardly, not having expected anyone to be there.

“Were you with Y/n again?” Tony asked casually.

“Yeah.” Peter smiled shyly as he shed his jacket. “It’s her birthday so I spent the day with her.”

“How come I never see her here?” Tony proceeded with caution, not wanting to overstep.

“She lives kinda far.” Peter shrugged. “That’s why we talk on the phone so much. I don’t want her driving all the way out here and she doesn’t want me swinging at night.”

“She knows?” Tony raised an eyebrow, not realizing they were at that level yet.

“Yes. But I only told her because I trust her.” Peter quickly assured him. “She won’t tell anyone. She promised me.”

“Oh, I’m not mad.” Tony smirked. “Trust is good. Especially in relationships, so I hear.”

“Yeah.” Peter smiled at the thought of you. “It’s good. We’re really good.”

“Have you told her you loved her yet?” Tony jumped to the point, taking Peter by surprise. “Because that smile on your face says you do.”

“I have.” Peter admitted as his face flushed. “And she told me she loves me too.”

“Aw.” Tony couldn’t help but smile at his protégé being in love. He was so moved that he took out one of his business cards and scribbled something on the back of it.

“Here.” He handed it to Peter. “Don’t abuse it.”

“Whats this?” Peter curiously looked at the number Tony had written in the card.

“It’s the number for my personal driver. One of them.” He corrected himself. “I always forget who I employ so I have about 18. This one makes unforgettable coffee cake, though.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark.” Peter smiled in appreciation. “But why are you giving this to me?”

“So you and Y/n can see each other.” Tony said simply. “And so more people can experience this coffee cake.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate this.” Peter said softly, knowing Tony wasn’t much for displays of affection.

“Don’t mention it.” Tony brushed it off. “Really, don’t. I don’t have enough personal drivers for everyone. I mean, I probably do, but I’m not known to share.”

“I won’t tell.” Peter nodded. “Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

Tony have Peter a fond smile before nodding as well.

“Night kid.”

~

“Mails here.” Tony announced the following morning as the team sat around the kitchen table.

“Thanks for bringing it in.” Steve reached for an envelope addressed to him. “Who delivered it today? Was it Michelle or Rodney?”

“Michelle.” Tony concurred.

“Oh, nice.” Steve smiled. “I like her. She’s always friendly to me.”

“Yeah. Nice girl. Nice name too.” Tony put the plan into action. “That was the name of the first girl I ever kissed.”

“I remember my first kiss.” Steve recalled. “It was at a school dance when I was in high school. I bought her a milkshake after and she never spoke to me again.”

“What about you, Peter?” Natasha asked causally. “Have you had your first kiss?”

“Um, yeah.” Peter chuckled like it was obvious.

“With who?” Steve asked curiously, and the rest of the team leaned in to hear the answer.

“Um, my girlfriend.” Peter flushed a deep red as he avoided eye contact with the group. Everyone collectively let out a gasp at the news, making Peter flush even deeper. He looked up to a table full of dropped jaws and wide eyes and felt his ears turn red.

“Isn’t it neat?” Tony tried to take the attention off Peter. “The innocence of young love.”

“Yeah. Innocence.” Sam narrowed his eyes at Peter as the hickey on his neck suddenly made sense.

“When can we meet her?” Nat asked, and everyone nodded softly. Peter looked around in surprise, not having expected everyone to care as much as they did.

“You want to meet her?” He asked with a small smile.

“Of course.” Tony shrugged. “You’re on our team and if she’s your girlfriend-“

“She’s on our team too.” Sam concluded with a gentle nod. Everyone nodded in agreement, making Peters heart swell in appreciation.

“She was gonna come over so I could swing her around the city.” Peter told them. “I could ask her to come up and say hello.”

“I think you should.” Natasha encouraged. Peters lips twitched into a smile as he pulled out his phone to tell you to come up. Within a few minutes, you were coming up the elevator and Peters heart was pounding in his chest. He met you at the elevator and escorted you to the rest of the Avengers, his hand holding yours.

“Hi.” You smiled shyly as you met the team. “It’s nice to meet all of you. I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Steve said politely. “I’m-“

“Steve, right?” You smiled a little. “Um, Peter talks about you guys all the time. You’re also a little famous.” You chuckled, and everyone laughed as well, breaking the ice.

“Yeah, I guess we are.” Steve smiled back at you. “So you’re the girlfriend? I can’t say Peter has told us that much about you.”

Peter looked at you anxiously, hoping you wouldn’t take that the wrong way.

“It’s okay.” You laughed and rubbed his shoulder. “We agreed to keep it on the down low. Plus, I doubt there’s anything about me that could impress the Avengers.”

“That’s not true.” Peter cut in as he twirled your hair around his finger. “You’re very impressive.”

“Tell us more.” Nat smiled as she leaned on her hand. Everyone watched you and Peters display of affection with childlike wonder, a collective peace settling in the room as they watched the baby of the team experience happiness.

“Y/n volunteers as a candy striper at the children’s hospital a few blocks from here. When she’s not with me, she’s there.” Peter bragged about you. “And she’s a lifeguard in the summers, CPR certified, valedictorian of her class, organ donor-“

“These are not impressive things.” You laughed as you cut him off.

“Yes they are.” Peter insisted. “She can make the worlds best brownies, her ponytails are always perfect on the first try, she can parallel park, she-“

“She sounds amazing.” Tony cut him off as he smiled at you. “And we’re very happy to finally meet her.”

“I just can’t believe the guy who watches Dance Moms in the living room with no shame actually has a girlfriend.” Sam snorted. “And a normal one too.”

“Why is it so surprising?” You wondered as you leaned on Peter arm.

“Because he’s so innocent.” Sam shrugged. “I doubted he ever even held a girls hand.”

“Wait, you thought Peter was innocent?” You laughed abruptly. “He literally webbed me to the headboard last night and-“

“Ah ah ah.” Peter quickly cut you off. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

“I think she should say them.” Bucky chuckled as he sipped his coffee.

“One time, he used his-“

“Well, Y/n and I really need to get going.” Peter cut you off and quickly ushered you to the door. “We won’t be out late.”

“It was nice meeting you all.” You called as Peter pulled you out the door.

“Nice meeting you too.” Tony yelled back. He and the team exchanged knowing looks, a collective happiness for Peter settling among them.

Tag List 🏷

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[phantomrose96]

Joyrider

(Welcome to another warm-up writing piece. cw for mild body horror)

...

The mall food court doubled rather nicely as a battle-dome.

It fit the bill: a flat and circular arena, crowned two-stories up by a hemisphere of glass windows which lapsed iridescent in the maelstrom of ecto-fire.

Spectator chairs sat empty, hastily shoved back and knocked over by the Amity Park mall patrons who knew to leg it at the first sound of explosions and the first sign of the atmosphere tipping dark. Admittedly, the patron evacuation took longer than Danny anticipated, and he backed himself into a corner playing defense for the 50 some-odd people who, worn-out on the every-day mundanity of ghost alarms, took their time gathering belongings, or shutting off burners, or working in a few last bites of a burger.

So with the crowd gone and the stage their own, Danny found himself pressed back against a vat of french fry oil, hands braced against the handle of a broom he held out horizontally, which the ghost gripped with equal measure and shoved her full weight against.

“Oh, why not take a little dip, Ghost Boy? I hear the water’s nice.”

“No thanks,” Danny answered, shoving harder. “I never was much of a hot tub guy. You on the other hand—”

Danny set a foot forward and pivoted, body fueling the torque as he spun the broom, and tore the ghost with him, a pirouette to swap their spots and jam the ghost back-pressed to the fryer.

“—you seem like you’d like it hot.”

The ghost barked a laugh, jaw stretching lower and loose than Danny was comfortable with.

“Ha! You sure? Not very heroic of you to deep fry this girl I’m possessing.”

Danny faltered. His grip slipped. His blood chilled to ice as the information clicked in place – as he recognized the sensation of a ghost talking through someone. This wasn’t the ghost’s own form. This was some girl. How had he not felt—

A blast took him by the ribs. Danny doubled over, immediately kicked back. A foot found contact with his face, driving him down, until the girl’s wet and slippery fingers pinned him down by the wrists.

Danny strained. He could pivot his wrist a fraction of an inch left or right, but he could not break the hold.

“Get off me!”

And a voice answered from behind him.

“I can help with that.”

Danny craned his neck. Upside down, vantage point from the floor, he registered Sam’s combat boots slam into focus. She bent to one knee, a bazooka locked on the other. It charged, whined, and erupted with an explosion of green light.

The ghost shrieked. It took only an instant of resistance before the ghost tore cleanly from the girl possessed.

“Now if you don’t mind me—” Tucker, by the voice. Danny heard the whine of a Fenton Thermos heating up. “—I’d officially like to change my order from fries to soup.”

The beam burst forth, and the writhing, shrieking, yelping form of the exorcised ghost clawed and scratched in Danny’s direction before the thermos consumed her in full.

“Really? ‘Fries to soup’? Even Danny can do better than that.”

“Hey,” Danny answered.

“I was thinking on my feet, Sam. I didn’t hear any witty quips from you.”

The conversation fell away from Danny’s focus as the full human weight of the possessed girl dropped down on him. Gently, Danny gripped her by the shoulder, lifting her as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Your parents’ anti-possession gear is getting good. I don’t think I’ve seen an exorcism work that quickly.” Sam’s voice, now at his side. Danny glanced over, finding her kneeling beside him. “Is she hurt?”

Danny gave the girl a once-over. She was pale, cold, lips seeping blue. A mottled, blackish bruise spread across her temple, partially hidden beneath loose red bangs.

“I don’t… totally know. I didn’t land any hits on her, thankfully. But who knows what that ghost might have done. We should call an ambulance.”

“On it,” Tucker, from behind.

“Do you… do you think the bazooka might have hurt her?” Sam asked.

Danny shook his head. “Mom and Dad have blasted each other with that thing a hundred times. Dad got himself possessed by the box ghost for a trial run. It doesn’t hurt people. …Maybe she just needs a minute.”

“Lay her down, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

Danny eased forward, careful in his movements. Something about his grip slipped, sliding loose and rolling forward, and she fell unceremoniously from his arms, shoulder knocking ground as she lay there partially turned on her side.

“Danny!”

“Sorry! I didn’t—something slipped!”

“Well don’t leave her like—” Sam gripped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, weight behind her wrist to roll the girl fully onto her back. Sam’s hand froze, and then yanked away.

“What?” Danny asked.

“That didn’t feel right.” Sam only stared down, her hand hovering, twitching in increments. “Way too cold… and loose.”

“Loose?”

“Danny, look at her hands. What’s wrong with her hands?”

Danny looked. The skin stretched and wrapped the bones of her fingers as if rotated partway around. Her fingernails sat off-center, twisted around and bunched up like a glove. Sam’s hand came back into view, and she clamped it to the girl’s wrist.

“It’s like jelly. Danny it’s like jelly. Why is she this cold? Danny, I don’t think she’s—”

Something new caught Danny’s eye, a purple discoloration peeking out from the bottom ruffles of the girl’s shirt. His hands seemed to move on their own as he reached down, and pinched the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it back.

Black bruising consumed her torso, caving deep and bloating, pruning around the trails of heavy stitching that ran along the tracks of surgical cuts carving through her abdomen.

Danny yanked his hand away as if burned.

“Danny, she’s not breathing.”

The rest of Danny’s thoughts drowned in the swelling wail of the approaching ambulance siren.

…

Outside the Fenton Portal, green lighting doused the only part of Danny’s form not hidden in shadow, and danced with the fire of his glowing green eyes. Danny uncapped the thermos in his hand, and he trailed his thumb along the eject switch.

A new consuming green light belted forth, lasting only a moment until it vanished with a twin-braided ghost in its wake. The ghost blinked, smoothing over her hair and pulling the ends of her braids over her shoulders.

“Oh, it’s the Ghost Boy again. I thought you’d just throw me back in the Ghost Zone. Are you interested in a round 2?”

“No, not interested,” Danny answered, tone colder than ice.

“Yeesh, you’re quite sour. No more puns?”

“Why were you possessing that girl?”

“Hmm?”

“Why were you possessing her?”

The ghost blinked, green portal light mixing murkily with her purple eyes. “No particular reason. It was just a joyride.”

“A joyr—she was dead.”

Another blink. “Yeah I know. She was sitting in the morgue. She was in like a car crash or something and they already took all her organs. They didn’t need her. And I was gonna give her back, but you had to go and make it a whole thing.” The girl swooped forward, eyes wide and roving over Danny. “You seem mad. Wanna call a truce?” She stuck a hand forward. “I’m Melissa, by the way.”

Danny jolted, eyes flashing brighter. “No, you’re not. That girl was Melissa.”

“Oh for real?” Melissa let out a chuckle. “Crazy coincidence. I like don’t even know that many Melissas. Anyway truce?”

“No.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “You were possessing the body of a dead girl and you made me fight her! Don’t you see how that’s—that’s so—how fucked up—that you’d even—”

“Well I mean, I didn’t make you fight me. You made that happen. I was minding my business.”

“Doing what?”

“Shopping. Why else would I take a body for a joyride? I stole some cute clothes to wear. Stole some food to eat. Oh! That outfit I was wearing when we were fighting? Yeah I picked that out. She was in like a hospital gown when I found her. Super cute improvement right?”

An ectoblast sounded and connected with the wall behind Melissa, missing her a foot to the right. Danny’s hand glowed, and his eyes focused with a razor sharpness.

“Stop talking like that, okay? It’s pissing me off. I need you to tell me you know this was fucked up.”

Melissa put a finger to her chin. “I mean I guess stealing is kinda wrong. They were all like, big box corporate stores don’t worry.”

“The. Dead. Body.”

And Melissa fell silent a moment, violet eyes probing deep into Danny’s before widening. “Oh. Oh you’re like for-real mad about that. Like actually. I thought you were like, making an ironic joke.”

“Why the hell would I be joking about this??”

Melissa cocked her head to the side. “Well because you’re doing it too, duh. Like, duh.”

A huff of air cut against Danny’s teeth, an involuntary noise, incredulous, a guffaw he didn’t consciously make. The jelly sensation of decomposing flesh was back under his fingers. “I am not—would never—I’ve never even seen a dead body before this thing with you and I’d never in a million years even think for even a fucking second that I’d want to possess a dead body. What’s wrong with you?!”

Melissa bobbed a little in the air, ends of her braids trailing over the straps of her ephemeral sundress. “See this is why I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not. What are you talking about? You’re doing it right now.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The black-haired boy whose corpse you’re possessing. Why are you allowed to do it?”

Danny froze. He laughed, heavy, with an uncomfortable force. “Myself, you mean? I’m not possessing myself. I am myself. I’m a half-ghost.”

Melissa met his laugh. “Oh what? No way like, that’s your own corpse? How’d you even get back to it in time? That’s crazy lucky like you must have died right near a portal or something.”

An involuntary shiver traced down Danny’s spine.

“…I’m not dead.” His eyes shifted around, and Danny dropped to the floor. He set a hand against the wall, throwing on the lights to the Fenton basement. Rings swept around his form, green iridescent eyes sweeping blue, white hair seeping black. “Look. Literally look at me. I’m not dead.”

And Melissa swooped closer. She set a finger to her bottom lip and hovered a foot in front of Danny, drinking him in. She swept to the side, like a swimmer in the water, sweeping around him in a full arc. She edged closer and pinched her fingers against the exposed skin on Danny’s arm. He flinched.

“Oh wow there’s like, not even any decay or anything. Your human brain even feels like it’s working it’s all like, electro-magnety. How long were you dead before you got back to your body?”

“I didn’t die.”

“Then what did happen?”

“I got shocked by the Fenton Portal, okay? It was just a lab accident and it gave me powers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Melissa’s eyes shot wide. “Oh you didn’t die near a portal… You died in a portal. You didn’t even have to get back to find your body at all. You must have appeared like practically on top of your own body. That’s crazy lucky. That’s so lucky. Your body was like, probably only dead a microsecond before you hopped back in. No wonder it’s so well-preserved.”

Danny swatted her away. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me.” Melissa floated backwards. “What do you think is more likely? A bajillion ecto-volts somehow gave you superpowers that exactly mirror everything a regular dead ghost can do? …Or you died, and became a regular old ghost, and did what any regular old ghost can do, which is possess a freshly-dead dead body?”

“…I’m half-ghost,” Danny answered, human heart pounding in his chest. “I know what I am.”

Melissa bobbed back, feet pointed backwards until the soles of her feet skimmed the matrix of the portal. “I see you’ve made up your mind. That’s alright. But it was still pretty mean of you to accuse me like a big hypocrite like that.”

“I’ll destroy you if you ever try that again.”

“Oh I’ll try asking permission next time okay? Promise.” Melissa’s feet sank into the surface of the portal. “But, before I go, I’ve just got one more question to leave you with.”

“Go.”

“Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?”

“Go.”

“Maybe you’ll have an answer for me next time I see you. Byeee!”

A spark of white erupted from the portal, consuming, absorbing, and fizzling out as Melissa’s form vanished into the ether beyond.

…

“Hey! Yo! Danny, come check this out!”

Danny rounded the stairs, unsocked feet creaking the floorboards with each step. Danny yawned, and blinked, and rubbed at his bruised eyes with the sleeve of his pajama top.

“Still asleep? That’s fine! You don’t have to do anything. Just come over here and look at what your old pop’s been up to.”

Danny entered the living room, where Jack sat hunched on the couch surrounded by an arsenal of power tools, rags, oil, soldering equipment, and scrap metal. From beside him he hefted a bazooka into view.

“This is the Fentonzooka 3.2.17. Amped up and equipped with all the latest in ghost-busting and human-saving technology.”

Danny blinked. “3.2.17?”

“Yep. This baby’s got 17 bug patches, tweaks, and internal improvements since the 3.2.0. The 3.2.0 was the advent of the snack compartment in the side. Look!” Jack spun a dial, revealing a chamber half-filled with pistachios.

Danny only stared.

Jack hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder. “Even better, Mads and I finally got rid of the last little sting humans feel when it’s fired. It’s now completely 100% harmless to humans. It feels like the breeze from a standing fan when it hits ya.” Jack turned, and he aimed the barrel at Danny. “Wanna try it out?”

Danny stood, and Danny stared, and Danny said nothing.

What might happen when it hit him?

Would it hit like the gentle breeze of a fan? Wash over him like air conditioning? Tingle cool and pleasant against his human fingers, human face, human skin?

Would it do something else?

Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?

Jack eased the bazooka a bit off center, pulling his eyes away from the sight. He stared directly at Danny. “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to try it out?”

Danny stood.

Danny stared.

Danny wondered if he’d have an answer for Melissa the next time he saw her.

[wenellyb]

I don't know how to explain this but TFATWS reads a lot like “yes Sam and Bucky are romantically involved but this is not a romance so we won't delve into their relationship”.

If you think about it, in Marvel movies, the romance is not at the center of the plot. Even in solo movies, there is usually just one kiss, never more. And it the Avengers, there are usually no kissed between the couples. 

I'm trying to stay away my shipper googles but even then, some scenes don't make sense to me. I love watching movies and TV shows and one thing I like is that dialogues are not put there randomly, the script has a meaning, the words have a meaning, and the scenes they decide to keep have a meaning.

And for some of the Sambucky scenes in TFATWS,  I’m struggling to find any other meaning than “Sam and Bucky had feelings for eachother at some point”.

You can argue that jokes about the 2 partners being more than just friends is a recurring joke in a lot of buddy cop movies, but in those movies, it is usually a joke, just for laughs. The only scenes that would fall into that category in the FATWS are the rolling in the flower field scene and the therapy lesson scene where Sam and Bucky get so close that there legs are intertwined. 

All the other scenes are so emotionally heavy it's difficult to categorize them as only fanservice, or two guys being friends. I'm not saying they aren't any emotional scenes in buddy cop movies, but usually the emotional scenes don't go as deep as what we've seen  in the Falcon and the Winter Soldier. 

I tried to look at all their scenes together and split them into different categories, and I stilll end up with some scenes that point to a relationship that goes beyond friendship between Sam and Bucky:

Scenes that fall into the fanservice category and there just for laughs:

The bickering about wizards and sorcerers in episode 2

The rolling in the flower field scene and the beginning of the therapy scene.

Sam asking Bucky to do something when the Dora Milaje are attacking John Walker in episode 4

Scenes that can be seen as purely friendship:

In episode 2:

 Bucky deciding to follow Sam because I quote  "he doesn't trust Redwing". What is that even supposed to mean? ... He probably meant I don't trust Redwing to protect Sam like he would.

Bucky standing up from the stack where he was sitting on, to go sit next to Sam when they were on the flight back from their mission. 

Sam waiting for Bucky in the police station, even though they try to act as if they're not friends

Sam agreeing to go see Zemo with little to no protest

In episode 3:

Sam making sure Bucky is alright and asking him if he's ok

Sam touching Bucky's metal arm when he’s pretending to be the Winter Soldier

In episode 4:

Bucky saying "I'm going with you" when Sam says Karli wants to meet with him alone.

In episode 5:

The shield practice scene when they have a heart-to-heart talk in episode 5 about what the shield meant for Bucky and Bucky finally apologizing for the way he treated Sam and explaining how as a White man he couldn't possibly know what it would mean for Sam to be Captain America

Sam asking if Bucky is ready for some tough love.

Scenes that make no sense if we see their relations as just friendship:

In episode 2: 

The therapist said she heard a lot about Sam, she wants Sam to stay for the therapy for I don't know what reason, she makes them do a couple exercise, and says it explicitly.

Why would the therapist say she heard a lot about about Sam, that she want to do a couples exercise with them? Those scenes alone are alright, but when you take them together it's quite interesting. 

The couples therapy trope has been used in a lot of Buddy cop movies or TV shows, but usually they don't delve into sensitive topics like they did in TFATWS, the scene was so emotional for a few seconds, I forgot it was a Marvel show.

In episode 3:

When Bucky tells Sam he helped Zemo escape, Sam was furious, and couldn't stop yelling at Bucky about how insane his plan was, and Sam was right. But the moment Bucky looks him in the eyes and basically says, "please do it for me", Sam agrees right away... Excuse me what??? How does this make sense?                                                                              

If my friends ask me to work with an international criminal who just escaped from prison, I wouldn't just stop arguing with them just because they looked at me with puppy eyes. I would continue to yell at them until the end of the mission. Sam was like, “ok, ok, I'll do it for you”? I'm sorry but that is not friendship only, it's something else.

In Episode 5:

 Can we talk about Bucky's reaction when Torres arrived in Episode 5?? The annoyed face when Torres walks in and Bucky walking away right after that, without even saying goodbye? Torres is the sweetest soul on earth, how can anybody hate him? Why would Bucky not like him??? This scene make no sense unless they're trying to tell us that Bucky is jealous or something.

Bucky asking a favor to Ayo, when he's not in good terms with the Wakandans. I'm sorry but do you realize how heavy this scene is? Ayo, just told Bucky that he should lay low for a while, and Bucky understands that, but his first thought is "I need to get a gift from Sam" first. Nope nope nope, you can't tell me this is just friendship. Ok, maybe it is, but I don't understand this filming choice. Plotwise, Sam could have asked for a suit or new wings himself.  I'm sure Sam is in very good terms with T'Challa and the Wakandans... What does it mean that Bucky was the one to ask for it as a gift to Sam, when Bucky was in a already in a difficult situation with the Wakandans due to him freeing Zemo.

Bucky touching Sam's waist to ask him to move when he starts helping him with the boat repair. And Bucky coming from behind to do so, giving us a very short but intimate scene.

Their conversation about Bucky staying over for the night: Bucky saying he doesn't want to make things weird with Sam and his family by staying over, and Sam saying how the people in the town are so open-minded. Why would they have that conversation if Sam and Bucky are only friends? Sarah knows about Bucky and his past, she know that he and Sam are friends (sort of), why would a friend staying over make things weird between him and his family? Why would Sam need to say that the people in this town are open-minded?

The video montage of them building the boat the day after. Anyone knows why they would show us that if they were only friends, and with THAT music choice? 

The extra long handshake at the end of their training scene, when they kept holding hands and looking into eachother’s eyes while talking together, and Bucky basically says he'll be there for Sam whenever he needs him.

I’m sorry but it doesn’t seem to me that they are being portrayed as just friends

Usually in buddy cop movies/ TV Shows, there are always joke but in the FATWS, some scenes are so emotional that I feel like I'm missing something. Bucky has this whole passive agressive behavior with Sam and yet he's unable to let Sam go on a mission on his own. One thing I really can't understand is that Bucky always seems know where to find Sam, as if he had been keeping tabs on him. 

So yes, there's definitely chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie, due to their friendship but it’s not only that. The writers and director have made the choice to keep some scenes and some dialogues ambiguous.

In some of the scenes we can see that there's more to Bucky and Sam's story than we know.

And they're not the first Marvel couple to have a similar treatment: Wanda and Vision's relationships was very subtle at the beginning, same for Natasha and Bruce, we rarely see them together explicitly but we knew they had a relationship.

It's the same for Sam and Bucky, some of the scenes only make sense if there has been a romantic relationship between Sam and Bucky at some point.

To me it's really like Sam and Bucky are set up as a couple or at least two people who have been romantically involved in the past, but the show won't expand on that because this is a superhero show, not a romance.

In an action movie, you would see some couples, or people who are obviously in a relationship or hints that there is something going on between them, but rarely would you see a kiss, that’s what I feel is happening here.

Last point: if Sam and Bucky had kissed in Episode 5 after their talk, it wouldn't have been out of nowhere and it wouldn't have changed anything to the plot. That's how I know my theory isn't that far-fetched.

I would love to hear your thoughts about some or all of these scenes (especially the Torres one, that one is driving me crazy)  and see what you think about it?

If you see their relationship being portrayed as pure friendship, I would like to know why. And would also love to hear how you guys interpret their other scenes together and if you have some different point of views about the scenes in the show.

[witchthewriter]

Hello ! How are you? I was wondering if I could have a level 3 ship with House of the dragon, Game of Thrones and Marvel if that’s not too much trouble ?

So about me :

Age : Early 20s

Gender : Female

Sexuality : Demisexual heteroromantic

Height : 175cm

Body Type : Pear/A type (I'm a bit on the curvy side)

Hair : Short, Dark brown and really curly (3a/3b)

Eyes : Almond shaped, black

Style : casual chic, tends a bit toward preppy sometimes

Zodiac signs : Scorpio Sun, Taurus Rising, Gemini moon

Mbti : INFP

Hogwarts House : Ravenclaw

Favorite food : Sushis

Hobbies : reading, martial art (I just started so I'm not very good but I keep trying), writing, baking cookies, walking, listening to music, surfing on tumblr (obviously XD).

Personality : I'm a introvert, and I may seem a bit closed off at first, but I'm fun to be around once I feel comfortable being myself around you. I'm really sarcastic, and sometimes I put myself in ridiculous situations because I'm a dumbass. I hate confrontations, from the bottom of my heart, and most of the time I'm more of a diplomatic person. But if I have to stand my ground for someone or something I care about, I will. I'm a really loyal friend, so long as you show me that you "deserve" my loyalty (ex : being there when I need you, Not ghosting me XD). I'm an eldest, and I love my siblings, even though they drive me crazy most of the times. I love learning new things, reading new things.

And I think that's it ^^. Thank you so much for your time and have a nice day :)

Want one? Here be the rules 🦋🌈

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Thor! I think you two would be an absolutely adorable couple. The height difference would be comically hilarious because everyone would think that Thor is a tough, scary god but he’s very similar to you. He has such a good heart, and his boisterous nature would uplift you all the time.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・He takes you EVERYWHERE. He wants to show you EVERYTHING. You get to see more than any human. You encounter aliens, beings from other worlds, wizards and kings.

・Likes to make you laugh, and whenever he does so, he gets a warm feeling in his chest

・He’s actually very clumsy when he’s in your house/apartment. He constantly knocks his head on the ceiling, bumps into walls and has knocked a few things over. He’s way too big

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

↬ Fairytale by Harry Gregson-Williams

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

↬ Dreamy, Creative and Kind (You) x Aloof, Outgoing and Bold (Thor)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆:

↬ Holiday Romance

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Sam! He has such a gentle heart and I think you would do well with someone who treats others with kindness. You wouldn’t have a good relationship with someone who doesn’t think of others. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・He does find it hard to find his voice, but know that he will never let anyone bad happen to you. He would do anything for you

・He loves giving you forehead kisses, it’s his way of expressing how deeply he feels about you

・Constantly telling you that you deserve the best, you deserve the world, better than him, better than whatever he can give you

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

↬  Over Hill by Howard Shore

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

↬ Madly In Love (Sam) x Ridiculously Oblivious (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆:

↬ Trapped: our lovers are stranded together, with forced proximity kindling their relationship. 

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with (grown-up) Jacearys Targaryen! I’ve fancasted Aaron Taylor-Johnson as older(er) Jacearys. I think he actually looks a tad like Harwin with his curly brown hair, but also Rhaenyras destinct features. Anyway! Onto why I ship you - 

Just like the other ships, you need someone who understands sensitivity, being an infp, I think you definitely have sensitive aspects (pls don’t be offended, I don’t mean it as everyone has to walk on eggshells around you, no way. I mean sensitive as the opposite of insensitive.)

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Protects you fiercely; he’s lost a lot, and the dance of dragons will be brutal. But having found you, he has something even more precious to fight for. Rather than titles and crowns. He wants to keep you safe. And he would go to the ends of the earth to do that. 

・Calls you “ Issa vys “ which is “my world” in High Valyrian

・Vermax loves you so much, the same feelings of protection from Jace are mirrored by Vermax

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

↬  A Close Friend by James Newton Howard

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

↬  Looks Like A Jerk But Has A Heart Of Gold (Jace) x Looks Like A Cinnamon Roll But Is Also A Badass (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆:

↬ One Bed Trope

[donutloverxo]

Sometimes I just put on some sappy romance music and think about being Steve Rogers' perfect wife ✋😔

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

I'm thinking about being his wife 24/7🥺 Warnings - daddy kink, slight consesual nonconsent, spanking.

Being Steve's wife means waking up to the smell of delicious breakfast. He's a morning person, so he has already had his morning jog with Sam, trained recruits, showered and gotten ready for work, made breakfast by the time you're up.

You better be ready to ditch your phone. He doesn't want you looking at your phone when you're together. There will be no TV while eating either. You both either talk or share comfortable silence. He may read the newspaper sometimes like the old man that he is.

He makes like healthy breakfast which is hit or miss because he isn't that good at cooking. Ya know? Like pancakes made of oats. Or like oatmeal. Sugar free orange juice and lots of fresh fruits.

You give him a nice big kiss goodbye. Hugging his huge body too. "I don't want you to leave, daddy." He just kisses the top of your head, "I don't want to leave either. But I gotta go fight bad guys. So I can keep my princess safe."

He expects a kiss when he gets home. You run to the door when he hear the keys jiggling like a needy little puppy. Throwing yourself in his arms because you just missed him so much🥺

His welcome home kiss is a lot more passionate and needy. He wants to feel like your Steve after a long hard day. He turns his Captain mode off when he's just lounging on the couch with you. Catching up on a show on Netflix.

One time you were talking to your old friend on the phone. You only have him a smile. He pouted the whole evening! But you made up for it by giving him lots of kisses later. And by sucking his cock. He could never stay mad at you for long anyway.

People ask him what he does to unwind. Sure he sketches and runs and ruins gym equipment (and our panties😏) but most of all he just chills with you. No matter how bad a day was he knows it'll get better as soon as you cuddle close to him, look upto him with your doe eyes, "Love me, please," you'd ask.

Loving can mean anything. Nonsexual but still intimate squeezes to your breasts or ass, playing with your hair, giving you kisses and tight hugs. Or ruining your pussy on the couch while the TV still plays Gordon Ramsay or something.

You always wear 1940s style nightgowns at home. They seem more domestic than they do sexual but you just know that they drive Steve crazy.

Said nightgown sometimes rides up your thigh exposing your soft skin to Steve. He can't believe he has a sweet little wife like you. Who is so loving and amazing.

He loves teasing you. Foreplay with Steve begins way before you even get to bed. Touching your thighs, whispering dirty nothings in your ear.

You sometimes like to play pretend. That you may be don't want it (how could anyone not omg) "Not now, daddy, lemme watch my soaps," you'd whine.

He can tell when you're in the mood for pretending just by the sound of your voice. You absolutely love it when he overpowers you, you're so small and weak before him. He could literally do anything he wants to you but he only ever uses that leverage for good.

He loves buying you jewelry. If you don't like jewelry he'll buy something else that's expensive and feminine and thoughtful. Like a day at the spa, makeup or a nice dress.

You still ask for more sometimes. Even though you have more diamonds than you'd ever need. "I want this one, daddy," Showing him a pic of the newest design from Tiffanys.

"I don't know, princess. I got you those diamond studs just last month."

"But wouldn't I look so pretty in these? I wanna look pretty for my hubby. So he doesn't get bored of me."

He sees right through that pathetic attempt at manipulating him, "You'd look pretty in a trashbag, puppy. But you have to wait till Christmas for those."

Daddy husband Steve will spoil his wife but he's also a disciplinarian so don't expect to get away with everything. If you're too bratty he'll spank you real good. He's extremely traditional in that way.

Speaking of traditional, forget about touching your wallet ever again. Better yet you don't even need to carry it anymore as long as he's with you. You don't even remember the last time you opened a door for yourself.

Steve likes to be the one planning the dates. If you wanna go somewhere new or try something new all you have to do is tell him and he'll make it happen.

He gets a smoll boner everytime someone calls you Mrs Rogers. You literally completely belong to him now. He made sure to put a huge rock on your finger so you'd never forget either.

You like to ask Steve to help do your nails and toes when you don't have time to go to the salon. He's good with brushes. But he has one condition - you let him pick out the color and the design. He likes pink and red on you the most.

Most of the times you pick out Steve's outfit for him. Along with accompanying him to boring events he has to attend because he's Captain America. You're proud of your husband and feel your heart swell when people say amazing things about him. Steve's humble so he doesn't like it and turns completely red.

[l4verq]

late night calls (with you) | d.w

reader misses dean.

gif by @canonspngifs

angsty for no reason, fluffy too, listened to iu’s through the night the whole time while writing this, not set in any particular szn

“OH AND NO phones this whole weekend.”

jody shoots you a pointed look, a playful smile lingering on her lips.

you make sure your eyes roll all the way to the back as everyone slowly but surely turns to smirk at you.

even alex, now who was she to speak on excessive usage of phones?

“i won’t die if i don’t get to use my phone, just so you guys know.” you huff, crossing your arms in annoyance as donna barks with laughter.

so, you had to give up your actual phone, the other one too and the other, other one sitting in the car as well.

claire made a whole show out of it, collecting each and every one in a bucket labelled distractions crossed out in red.

“time to bring out the vodka!”

you can’t help crack a chuckle at jody’s scandalized expression at claire’s screech.

it was going to be one hell of a girls weekend.

——————————————————————————

your heart is in your mouth, pounding with each light step towards the bathroom. a slight weight tugs the pocket of your cardigan downwards, it’s your old flip phone.

in your defense, you didn’t even know it was still with you. (well, you kind of did but it’s not your fault claire couldn’t find it.)

you cringe as the door creaks open, pushing it one inch at a time until there’s enough space to slide in.

the phone takes a lifetime to switch on, you’re luck there’s a bar of charge left.

your fingers fumble around, accidentally pressing the wrong buttons each time you press one right. jesus, how did you use this back then?

the contact list doesn’t extend beyond one click of the down arrow key.

bobby.

bobby fbi.

bobby home.

your heart clenches a little, remembering how easy it was to just call bobby up whenever you wanted. he was within your reach, a phonecall or just a drive away.

it’s crazy the little things we take for granted.

a few more names pop up, all dead or estranged, mostly dead and you feel sick to your guts.

you hurriedly hit the back button several times until the ugly, default wallpaper, with pixels you can count, greets you.

dean’s number materialises on the screen as you punch in the numbers to his personal cell, meant for only sam and you.

he picks up on the third ring, “ok, who did you kill to get this phone?”

you deadpan, slightest bit of annoyance flaring “ha ha, dean. i risk my life to call and that’s the first thing you say?”

his laughter crackles in your ear, he seems to switch the phone towards the other ear.

“jody gave me the low down about girls weekend. no phones, no men and definitely no insanely hot boyfriends.”

you perch yourself on top of the toilet bowl, barely just hovering over it. it’s uncomfortable but better than standing idly.

“looks like that won’t be a problem for me.”

he gasps so loudly you have to muffle the phone with your hands, manically shushing him.

“i’m hiding in the bathroom, can you be a little more quiet?” you hiss, keeping an ear perked up for any telling sounds outside.

you’re met with silence and a gentle buzz of static letting you know dean’s still on call.

“hello?”

“thought you didn’t want me to speak.” he whispers, probably wearing a shit-eating-but-also-adorable grin.

you almost crush the poor flip phone in your bare hand, “yeah, i didn’t mean to shut up, you ass.”

he’s chuckling again but you’re well prepared to muffle the phone this time, quite possibly damaging the ancient speakers.

“you know, even if we’re miles apart, the sky we share will always be the same.”

you mock gag at his words, “did you steal that from a movie or something?”

dean scoffs through the phone and you can practically see his eyes roll back.

“i’m a romantic, you’re just a boring, old realist.”

a muffled chuckle leaves your lips, free hand clamping it shut, hyperaware of a cabin full of hunters who sleep with a loaded gun under their pillow.

you peek a glance up, the moon’s not even out, little to no stars jewelled beside. you think you see a tiny sparkle in the distance if you squint hard enough.

“there are no stars on my end.”

“that’s cause you’re not looking in the mirror.”

a giggle escapes your lips despite your attempts to remain indifferent towards his god awful pick up lines, like always.

you can almost hear his smile through the phone, he’s probably pumping his fist up in the air in proud victory.

unadmittedly, something about the shared night sky is intimate, tugs at your heart. it’s a jarring, welcomed constant in both of your lives.

one too many car rides spent under the night sky, sometimes admiring it with a mildly infuriatingly warm beer and an equally riveting squabble with sam over who gets to ride shotgun next.

a longing want overwhelms you, you have so much to say, so much more dean needs to know.

time feels stolen, borrowed every second you spend with him. you’re always scrambling to cook a new recipe or go to that new diner around the block. never stopping because just in case.

just in case a hunt goes wrong, just in case you piss off the wrong deities, the wrong witches or the wrong demons.

just in case he dies.

the words die in your throat each time, etch themselves in your diary instead. they stay locked up in the confines of pages, wash away like the engravings of your initials he always draws on the sand of kansas beach.

his initials rests on the nook of your clavicle around a delicate, silver chain.

d.w.

he’d gifted it to you the previous christmas, citing the importance of you wearing it all the time so those shrimp jack asses stop hitting on you.

sam pointed out how it doesn’t lessen the chances of you getting hit on because strangers couldn’t possibly know what d.w stands for or who he/she is.

dean placed bugs in his bed that night.

god, you miss his petty ass already.

“i miss you.” you blurt out while he’s rambling on about sam’s poor outfit choices for his most recent date.

a pause, he seems to absorb, understand the depth of your words.

“i know,” his voice’s softer, hushed like the sky might hear and tell the moon, “i know.”

the way he says that, you’re sure you’re falling for him all over again.

“i have half a mind to come and bring you back home right now.” he teases lightly, an edge in his voice that seems to suggest otherwise.

you simply smile, fingers lifting to trace his initials on your neck. it’s silent for a while, comfortable and you bask in it, knowing he’s on the other side doing the same.

“what are you doing?” you ask after a while, drawing your knees to your chest, resting your chin in the nook of their valley.

“just thinking of you.” he muses. you should be chuckling at that, teasing him for such a cheesy line but your heart just swells ten fold.

“can you promise me something?”

dean hums, gulping down a drink, probably a cold beer. (which you strongly, strongly disagree with. he just waves you off whenever you bring up his cholesterol and all the old age stuff.)

“don’t die, okay? atleast not before me.”

he chuckles lightly, “you usually only say that before a hunt, or when i have a plate of bacon infront of me.”

“i know, just reminding you.”

it comes off sadder than intended, your desparation slips in right at the end and he seems to notice.

“i solemnly promise that i won’t die. it’s a pinky swear and you know how serious i am

about these pinkies.”

you raise your pinky to no one in particular, imagining his snug around yours, thumbs meeting in unison, a kiss on your lips to seal it.

a yawn involuntarily escapes your mouth, eyes watering slightly and it hurts to keep them open.

“hey sleepyhead, don’t doze off on me.” he mumbles, sounding half asleep himself.

“i’m no-.”

a light flickers on outside, streaming in through the keyhole.

“shit, i think they’re on to me.” you whisper, frantically flushing the toilet. your arm knocks over a shampoo rack in the process, no doubtedly waking everyone up to atrociously loud clanging.

dean has the nerve to laugh at your predicament, “just make sure you come home to me whole.”

[slutforbuck]

Pancakes for Dinner

Pancakes for Dinner by Lizzie McAlpine

You drop your bags to the floor as you fall into the chair. Hearing your chair scrape across the floor, Sam turns toward you holding a stack of books. “Y/n this is crazy. How are you going to fight a REAPER?” “I’ll figure it out Sam, quit being such a worry-wart.” Rolling his eyes, you bumped his shoulder with yours as you stood. “I can’t help but worry Y/n. The only way to even SEE a reaper is to..well..be reaped.” A sudden chill ripped through the air, thickening the tension as Sam realized what you were setting out to do. “Y/n. You can’t do that. We can find another way to fix this.” Frantically, the tall hunter spun around flipping through pages while all you could do was shrink down into the chair, feeling smaller and smaller. The hunter seemed to be getting taller by the second, and when he suddenly froze and spun towards you, it was almost as if you couldn’t even see his face anymore. “Y/n,” His voice, slow and deliberate with a touch of sadness, reached toward you like molasses. “He doesn’t even know you’re leaving does he? If he did he would be in here.” Your eyes began stinging as you felt tears begin to form. Strong arms pulled your tense shoulders into a tight embrace. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll be fine.” Pine and vanilla filled your nostrils as you breathed in deeply, trying to stop the salty tears from falling. “Sam, If I crash in this plane..”

Voices echoed off the steel walls in the bunker as Dean walked towards the war room. “I wish he could hear me when I talk to myself. Sam, we both know this plane might not land safely. I don't have anything to lose.” Dean heard the crack in your voice as you tried to hold your voice down, in fear that he may hear everything you weren’t completely ready for him to hear. “I want to eat pancakes for dinner. I wanna get stuck in his head.” Emerald eyes peered around the corner and watched you as you burrowed into Sam’s arms, bags at your feet. Plane? What the hell is she talking about?

“Hey. What’s going on?” The two of you looked up to see Dean striding around the corner. Your eyes sparkled with tears as you looked up and found his green eyes piercing yours. “Oh, uh..Just gearing up for a hunt.” You felt as if you may catch on fire from his eyes burning into you, trying to see what you were hiding. “A hunt of what exactly?” Nimble fingers snatched your bags, and your feet swiftly carried you to the stairs. “Nothing if I miss this flight.” The thud of metal echoed behind you as Dean followed you up the stairs and out of the bunker. “I’m driving and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

The air hung heavy while the Impala sped towards the airport. I have to say something right? I don’t want to be weird. I mean isn’t he still in love with her? Maybe..Maybe I should just let it be. Again you felt his eyes on you, and you realized you had been silent for too long. Floating back into reality, the music from the radio filled your ears. You almost laughed as you recognized the song “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, one of Dean’s favorites. He looked to you, waiting for you to speak. “Oh. Uh..So what’s this song that’s playing?” Baby jerked into a parking spot as Dean swiveled his head to you. “What the hell is going on with you?” His sudden outburst in the silent car took you by surprise and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. It was as if a demon had you by the throat against a wall. “Nothing is going on with me Dean. I’m just focused. That’s all.” “I know you Y/n. What. Is. Going. On. There’s something you’re not telling me.” Your middle fingers found your temples quickly and tried to rub out the oncoming headache and anxiety. “Fine. What do I have to lose right now? I’m tired of trying to hide it.” Dean’s eyes doubled in size when he realized you weren’t talking about the hunt. “Stop. Stop. Y/n.” HIs calloused hands grabbed your shoulder and pulled your face up to look at his. “This isn’t what I thought was wrong. We can talk about this after.” Searching his face for a hint of what he was feeling, you only found that his face had softened. “I’ll be right here to pick you up when you get back. Swear.” Before you could respond, you were met with soft flannel. Tears soaked your eyes. He would be here, but would you?

Dean watched your plane take off before he slid back into the Impala and drove slowly back to the bunker. “Sammy!” The younger brother looked up from his books as Dean stalked towards him. “What is she hunting?” The books all slammed shut. “Sammy,” Dean called out again with a warning tone before snatching the laptop from the table. “Shit.” Sam braced himself for a fight while Dean read the news articles and the notes that you and Sam had written. “A REAPER? YOU LET HER GO OFF TO TRY TO FIGHT A REAPER?!?!” Dean’s gruff voice got louder as he got closer to Sam. “Sam you sent her to die.” “Dean stop.” Sam held his arms out, trying to keep Dean at bay as he attempted to explain. “I tried to stop her Dean. I didn’t even for sure know her plan until she went to leave. Dean please.” Dean growled in response. “I’m already tuned into air traffic control so if something happens, we’ll know. She can handle this; She’ll be fine Dean.” The words had barely left his lips, and the scanner came to life. “TransNational Flight 3975 to Traffic Control. We’re going down.” The boys looked to each other before running out the door.

“You cannot stop what is happening Y/n. These people must die.” You looked to the Reaper. “No. They don’t and they won’t.” You reached into your jacket and pulled out your Angel Blade. “Where did you get that??” A smirk spread across your face, “Oh just an old friend. Why? Are you scared?” The blade twirled between your fingers while you advanced on the Reaper.

“Where is she???” Sam and Dean searched through the passengers frantically, rescuing the ones they could in the process.

A blinding light engulfed you as the Blade pierced through the Reaper.

“Dean!” Sam shouted for his brother at the end of the plane. “I found her!” Dean rushed to your side, whispering promises in your ear as he carried you back to the car. Sam drives towards the bunker with you laid across Dean’s lap in the backseat. His palm was pressed against your cheek when your eyes fluttered open. “De..Dean? You’re here.” A soft smile was passed between the two of you as he replied. “I’m here sweetheart. Just like I promised.” Your eyes closed with a smile still on your face.

Dean laid you on your bed when you arrived home, sitting next to you and waiting for you to wake again. He had dozed off when you began to stir, and jumped awake when you tapped his shoulder. “Dean?” “You’re awake!” The air was knocked out of you when he pulled you into a bone crushing hug. You gasped for air and he loosened his grip a small bit, and rested his face in your hair. “Y/n, I was so scared I was going to lose you..” “Oh Dean stop..Its fine, I’m fi-“ “No. Y/n, I wanna eat pancakes for dinner. I want to get stuck in your head. I wanna watch a TV show together, and when we’re under the weather we can watch it in bed. Let’s go out on the weekends. I want to get dressed up, just to get undressed. I-“ You pressed your lips against his, stopping his impromptu speech. “I was going to say that.” He smiled against you, pulling you in for another kiss, “I said it instead.”

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[wikiangela-fanfics]

Heartbeat

Ao3 here

This is dumb. I was listening to Enrique Iglesias and when I heard 'Hearbeat' I had this idea and decided to write it and, well, it sucks haha

Wasn't sure if I even wanna post this, but fuck it 🤷

It doesn't make any sense, I don't know what this is,

But enjoy, I guess hah 😅🖤

***

Bucky was a super soldier. That was common knowledge. And what it meant was having super strength, being super fast, having enhanced senses… like enhanced hearing. And look, by now he got used to it. He could just tune out certain sounds, or focus on that certain thing he wanted to hear. But there was one thing that he kept hearing, even though he didn’t try not to.

No matter how hard he tried to resist, his super hearing became really sensitive to Sam’s heartbeat. Which was crazy, and he didn’t exactly understand it. Just, whenever he was in a close vicinity with Sam, his ears were picking up on his heartbeat. In a short time he knew what even the smallest change meant.

What shocked him the most, was how it changed around Bucky.

How it would get a little quicker every time Bucky smiled at Sam - which he didn’t notice at the beginning, but he was observant.

How it would skip a beat whenever their hands accidentally touched, when they hugged, when there was any kind of physical contact, really.

After a while, Bucky even started noticing Sam’s heartbeat quicken when Bucky simply walked into the room where Sam was. And that’s because his super hearing started to pick up Sam even when they weren’t in the same room, somehow.

Honestly, the fact that he heard all that and physically couldn’t tune it out made him feel invasive and a little creepy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Again, he really tried not to do that.

Now, Bucky wasn’t stupid. He knew what it meant. He observed Sam and his behavior for a while after he started noticing this. He knew Sam’s heartbeat around others, while doing different activities, and he knew the difference. He knew how Sam felt about him.

And he felt the same way about Sam. His heart was doing all the same things as Sam’s. Plus, he kept thinking about him. He wanted to always be around him, though at the same time keep his distance, because hearing his heartbeat was intense and overwhelming, and hearing it on top of everything else was sometimes making his head hurt. He loved Sam’s smile, his stupid unfunny jokes that Bucky laughed at anyway, his movie references Bucky rarely got, but also how kind, good, and amazing he was. Bucky was just… so in love. He could list things he loved about Sam without end. He couldn’t imagine his life without Sam anymore, in whatever way he could have it, even if he tried.

But he didn’t want to ruin their friendship, especially at the beginning. And then with more and more time passing by, them becoming more comfortable with each other, becoming best friends, it became harder to both ignore the feelings, or gather courage to admit it. That’s when Bucky’s hearing started to hyper focus on Sam’s heartbeat and Bucky got the confirmation he needed - that Sam felt something for him too. Still, it was difficult. Because there was a possibility he was wrong.

With more and more time passing, he was getting more sure, but, to be honest, he was just scared. So he decided to keep ignoring those feelings, and wait until whatever was gonna happen between them happened - because he had no doubt it would eventually. For now, though, he decided to keep those feelings to himself. Until finally he couldn’t do it anymore.

***

They were in Delacroix, sitting at the docks, drinking beer, talking and just relaxing. Well, Sam was doing most of the talking, as usual. Bucky enjoyed listening to him talk, like he always did. But then Sam said something that made Bucky laugh, and suddenly Sam’s heart skipped a beat, reminding Bucky that, oh yeah, he could still hear it. Fuck, Sam was in love. And it made Bucky extremely happy, but constantly hearing it made him feel not only annoyed, but also just bad.

Still, he looked at Sam and saw him already looking at Bucky and smiling, and Bucky couldn’t not smile back. That’s when he heard Sam’s heartbeat quicken, just a little bit, but Bucky was really sensitive and attentive to every smallest change.

For some reason, that was the moment he couldn’t handle it anymore. His smile dropped and he quickly got up.

“What’s-” Sam started to ask, also slowly getting up, but Bucky interrupted him.

“I can’t, uh-” he exhaled heavily. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“Go where?” Sam seemed confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, yeah there is.” Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t stop hearing- fuck.”

“Hearing what?” Sam tried to put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but Bucky moved away. “Buck, you’re starting to worry me.” yeah, Bucky got that. He heard his heart start beating like it did when he was concerned.

“I feel insane, you know?” Bucky chuckled. This was ridiculous. “It’s gonna sound insane, and really bad, but don’t judge me, I really don’t have control over it.”

“No judgement here. Ever. Cross my heart.”

“Okay.” Bucky took a deep breath. “For a while now, I haven’t been able to- to stop hearing your heartbeat.” he more mumbled the last part, but he was embarrassed having to admit it. “My hearing just focuses on it, and it’s always there, in the background, even when you’re in the next room.” he wasn’t looking at Sam as he was talking, not wanting to see his expression. “It’s the only thing I can’t tune out. And it’s driving me crazy. I can hear your reaction to literally everything, including-” he sighed. “Including me.”

“Oh.” Sam said. He tried for a calm tone, but Bucky knew he was nervous. “And you, uh, you don’t like how, um, I react to you?”

“What?” Bucky looked at him now. Sam seemed unsure. “That’s not it at all, Sam. That I’m happy about. I just, it’s overwhelming. And it makes me feel like I’m invading your privacy, which I am doing, but I really don’t mean to.” he hoped he sounded as genuine as he felt. “I’m sorry, I’ve been trying not to listen. It’s not happening with anyone else, I don’t know-” he exhaled loudly again. “It’s just frustrating. I’m so sorry.” he repeated.

“Bucky, it’s fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You could’ve just told me.”

“And then what?” Bucky scoffed. “We’d just stop hanging out because of it?”

“We’d find a way to fix this. There has to be a reason, right?” Sam tentatively reached out again, putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “We can deal with this.”

“And you’re not mad?” Bucky asked doubtfully.

“Dude, how many times can we go through this?” Sam asked incredulously. “I can’t be mad at something outside of your control, okay? Besides, it’s just my heartbeat. Why would it be a big deal to listen to it? It’s not my thoughts.”

“You can find out surprisingly a lot by just listening to someone’s heartbeat and observing what caused different reactions.” he pointed out.

“Oh, really? And what did you find out?” Sam grinned, his heart quickening, probably already knowing what Bucky was gonna say.

“That, um, apparently-” Bucky cleared his throat, gathering his courage to say it. Here goes nothing. “Apparently you feel about me the same way I feel about you. If I read that correctly.”

“Well, that’s not ambiguous at all.” Sam rolled his eyes again. Then he moved his hand from Bucky’s shoulder to his cheek. Bucky felt his own heart start pounding in his chest. “So, if I am reading this correctly, uh- you’d be okay with me kissing you?” Sam asked, his voice shaky, heart beating as fast as Bucky’s, slowly bringing his face closer to Bucky’s.

“God, yes.” Bucky exhaled, and that’s when Sam linked their lips. And at that moment, their heartbeats, beating in the same rhythm, were the only thing Bucky could hear. All that existed was just them. It was amazing, and beautiful, and so much more than Bucky could’ve imagined. It felt long and short at the same time, and Bucky felt so much, he felt as if his every enhanced sense was working at the highest possible setting, and it was one of the most insane experiences he’s had. When they pulled apart, he felt lightheaded, and almost drunk, if he remembered correctly what feeling drunk felt like.

“You know, maybe the reason you couldn’t tune out only my heartbeat,” Sam started, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s, “is that you stole my heart and it’s yours now.”

“That was so cheesy.” Bucky laughed, not able to stop himself.

“Fuck you.” Sam pushed him away playfully, also laughing. “I’m trying to tell you I love you, and you're making fun of me.”

“Could’ve found better words for it.” Bucky shrugged, a huge grin not disappearing from his face. “I love you too.” he added, his voice softer now.

“Now go fuck yourself.” Sam said, amusement clear in his voice, as he sat down. Bucky just laughed and sat down next to Sam. “I’m serious, I take it all back.” he tried to make his expression serious, but failed. He couldn’t contain a smile, but he was looking ahead, not turning towards Bucky.

“Sure you are.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “I can hear when you’re lying.”

“Shit. Maybe it is an invasion of privacy. Should I be mad about it?”

“Yeah.” Bucky immediately responded. “But please don’t. I wanna kiss you again, and I have a feeling it won’t happen if you’re mad at me.” he added, leaning into Sam and putting his chin on Sam’s shoulder, so that his nose was against Sam’s cheek. Sam chuckled.

“Fine.” he sighed theatrically, then turning his head towards Bucky, bumping their noses. “I guess I can make out with you a little. And we’ll deal with the whole eavesdropping on my heartbeat stuff later.”

“That’s fine by me.” Bucky responded, because despite it still being intense and overwhelming, he felt a little better knowing Sam wasn’t mad about it. And that he knew about it now. So it wasn’t like, well, eavesdropping.

Bucky kissed Sam again, forgetting about anything else but the man next to him. They’d deal with whatever they have to deal with later. For now, he was happy, finally getting to express his feelings to the man he loved - getting to make out with him was even better, because damn, Sam was a good kisser. And being this close to Sam, Bucky could not only hear his heartbeat, but feel it, too. Sam was overwhelming all his senses, but for once, Bucky wasn’t gonna complain.

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part Five (Final Part)

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: angst, swearing, arguing, jealousy, fluff, kissing

You stood at your door, hand gripping the hardwood as you looked up at him with a crease between your brows and a narrowed gaze. He could see the confusion pooling in your eyes, could see the myriad of emotions flooding over your face. He could see it all and none of them seemed to be good.

He expected that, he did, and he also expected for you to slam the door in his face and he was fully anticipating it.

You swallowed thickly as your heart raced in your chest, gripping the door a little harder. “What are you doing here?”

“Well hello to you too, sweetheart,” he says, his unease in his tone as the corner of his mouth quirks up.

You roll your eyes in an instant then, a huff leaving your lips as you take a step back to turn around and close the door. Now was not the time for his teasing antics, now was not the time for him to be so lighthearted. You were trying your hardest to keep that pressure behind your eyes at bay, to try and stave off your tears because the mere sight of him had your heart squeezing in your chest.

“Y/n, wait,” he urges, palm pressed to the door to keep you from shutting him out.

“What exactly am I waiting on?” You ask, anger in your tone as your eyes squint up at him, and you try to ignore the race of your heart.

“I need to talk to you, really, I do.”

You rolled your eyes, watching his gaze narrow down at you in a flash of confusion and frustration. “I think you’ve said enough, Dean. I heard you loud and clear. I really don’t think there’s anything else you need to say.”

“Would you cut it with the attitude, Y/n?” He asked, voice a fraction louder as his frustration simmered in the pit of his stomach.

His jaw tensed as he bit back his anger, trying his hardest not to lose his temper because he knows it’ll only dig him deeper in that hole. He knows he’ll only blow it even more than he already did. So he bites it back as he looks at you, as he watches you roll your eyes at his words.

You laugh, humorless as you shake your head. You pull your gaze from him, looking away as you rub your tongue along the inside of your cheek. That pressure was building behind your eyes, threatening to boil over despite your annoyance with the green eyed Winchester. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was making your decision to leave easier or harder the more he stood on your doorstep.

You spun on your heel and turned around, the door left open as you heard him huff behind you. “C’mon, Y/n. I really—”

You stopped in your tracks at the pause in his words turning and catching the way he eyes the packed luggage and duffel bags, his gaze lingering on every single one. You saw the way he swallowed hard, the way he nodded softly, the way he bit the inside of his cheek. Your jaw tensed as the crease between your brows smoothed for a moment as you watched him, returning once he looked at you once more.

He looks at you for a moment, eyes bouncing back and forth between yours. “You weren’t kiddin’, huh?”

That tension in your jaw increased for a moment. “Had a little encouragement.”

Your tone was sharp and your words were indirect, but he knew exactly what you were talking about, he knew exactly who you were talking about. It made that feeling in the pit of his stomach build and swirl there, made a pang in his heart.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says, quiet and soft and spoken through near gritted teeth as he looks at you with a spark of worry and fear.

You laugh softly, humorless as you nod and your arms cross over your chest. Didn’t mean that. Those words stuck in your mind in a loop in that moment, replaying over and over as you looked away, looking to the pile of packed bags by the door. Those words sparked a feeling within you, one of relief as you looked at them but it was quickly replaced with frustration.

“Sure as hell seemed like it,” you said, lips pursing as your gaze pulled to him.

“Y/n, I—”

“You said it was a great idea. You even said you’d pack my bags, Dean,” you said, faux amusement in your tone. You always did that when you were angry and he knew that, he knew you like the back of his hand.

“I didn’t mean it!” He said, voice louder as the words fell from his lips. Your brows furrowed more as you looked at him, watching as his chest heaved a little heavier than it did moments before. “I didn’t mean a damn thing I said.”

You look at him, the words rolling over in your mind as you did, the emotions flooding over you as you did. He was so clearly distraught as he stood in front of you, that much was evident and you couldn’t deny it. But that hurt, that feeling simmering in the pit of your stomach was still as insistent as ever in controlling the way you felt. In swaying the way those words made you feel.

You saw the way his cheeks tinged pink, rapidly making you all the more aware of the freckles spattering over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. You grit your teeth for a moment, that ever familiar pressure behind your eyes building again as that lump in your throat makes it’s reappearance.

“Then why’d you say it?” You ask, words so soft and full of something that tugged at his heart as you stood there, that look on your face nearly tearing him in two. But he stayed quiet as he stood there, swallowing thickly as he looked at his feet with a quivering frown, a mix of anger and regret coursing through him. “Why’d you say it, Dean?”

“I don’t know,” he says lowly, quietly as he shrugs his shoulders. He felt it was the hardest thing in the world to be out right with his feelings in that moment, couldn’t spit the words out for the life of him despite the way they sat on the tip of his tongue.

You scoff then, eyes rolling as you shake your head and turn away from him. “Yeah, right. Of course you don’t.”

His eyes narrowed then, his stare returning to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You pick at the straps of one of your duffel bags, unzipping it to look inside despite having no real reason behind it as Dean stepped closer. “Y/n.”

You zip it back shut before brushing past him to get to your suitcases by the door, hearing his huff sound behind you.

“Y/n.”

You turn to look at him, tears beginning to line your eyes as you did and your breathing is a little bit heavier than before.

“You’re stubborn, Dean. You’re so damn stubborn all the time and you can’t even tell me just why it is you said what you said to me that day. You’d rather brush it off and act like you don’t feel anything like you always do. You always do that, Dean Winchester, and it’s driving me insane.”

“I was jealous!” He said, nearly shouting as his chest heaved and his lip quivered under the pressure of his emotions. “I was jealous, okay?”

The tension in your shoulders relaxed a fraction as they slumped a bit more, your brows furrowing. You may have suggested it that day, might have brought it up, sure, but to hear him say it, to hear him admit it was something entirely different. You didn’t know which emotion to feel first, didn’t know which one to express first.

You thought maybe he was but you didn’t fully believe it, couldn’t fully believe it. Confusion pooled in your stomach as you looked up at him, your eyes telling of that feeling.

“Seriously?”

He rolls his eyes then, his shoulders dropping as he looks away briefly and a sigh leaving his lips.

“Would you quit yankin’ my chain, sweetheart?” He said, frustration wrapping around his every word as he looks at you once more, your expression unchanged save for a little more of your own frustration.

“You’re seriously jealous of Sam?” The dimples by the corners of his mouth deepen at the question, his posture stiffening. “Why?”

You watch the way his nostrils flare slightly, almost unnoticeable to someone who hadn’t been paying close attention to his every expression, every feature on his face. But you were, you find yourself doing that a lot and you’ll never admit it, not for a long while.

“C’mon, Y/n.”

“No, I want to know. Why?” You ask again, arms crossed over your chest as you stare up at him.

“What is this, twenty-one questions?”

He sees just how unamused you are, he can see it with the way your frown pulls downward just a little more, and how your gaze narrows even more. It’s your silent way of asking him that same question, and he can see just how much it bothers you. It’s written all over your face on how badly you want an explanation because clearly you’d been far too oblivious for your own good.

You’re the smartest person he’s ever known, you along with his brother of course, you had a knack for picking up on everything. You had a talent for reading him like a book, could sniff out his lies from a mile away. You knew green eyes like the back of your hand even though you told yourself you couldn’t stand him, told him that on more than one occasion despite the words being followed by a smile you knew you could never fight. He knew how well you could figure him out and yet you were oblivious as ever when it came to this.

He wished you would’ve caught on, wished you would have realized because he doesn’t know how you haven’t yet. He became less and less discreet the more time went on and it nearly drove him crazy. Dean Winchester knew his way around flirting, knew just the right things to say. He could sweet talk better than anyone but he was a mess around you. A heart hammering, lovestruck fool when it came to you and it scared the hell out of him.

It was terrifying and exciting to feel so strongly for someone, for someone he deemed to be the embodiment of sunshine. You gave him a hard time, gave him a run for his money. He met his match with you and he always knew that. You weren’t afraid to toss his wit right back at him with a smile on your face that makes him weak in the knees. You’ve gotten good at doing that to him.

You make his heart race and his mind stick on you, you’re someone he knows he can’t stop thinking about even if he tries. He’s never been hung up on someone the way he’s hung up on you, never felt so strongly for someone that he’d do anything just to get you to stay even though he doesn’t feel like he’s doing a very good job. In fact, he feels like he’s blowing it as you stand there and give him that look that makes his stomach twist in knots.

But he stands there, his words caught in his throat and sitting on the very tip of his tongue as he looks at you with a tense jaw, his tongue swiping over his lips. He stands there and watches the flurry of emotions flicker across your face and none of them are helping his cause.

You look up at him for a second more as you bite the inside of your cheek, nodding softly as you brush past him with no real idea of where it was you were going—anywhere in your apartment but there would suffice.

“Sam and Bobby are gonna be here soon,” you say, tidying up things that didn’t need it.

It’s quiet and tense, near unbearable in that moment as he stands there. As he stands there with a million and one thoughts running through his mind, all of them revolving around you.

All of them.

“I love you.”

You stilled in your spot, heart jumping in your chest as you stand there with parted lips. Your gaze has yet to fall on him as it lifts from your hands. In fact, you’re not even sure you heard him correctly as you stand there for a brief amount of time that felt like hours to him, wordless and unreadable.

But you looked at him, brows furrowed and you watched as he swallowed thickly. You took a step or two closer, a couple more.

“You what?” You ask, soft and baffled and entirely unsure of the three words you just heard.

His jaw tensed some more, his gaze shifting to the side as he shook his head slightly, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip before his hand dropped down to his side and he looked at you.

“You know what, just forget I said anything,” he says, quiet as he turns on his heel in all but a few seconds before reaching for the door knob.

Without a beat of hesitation your hand wraps around his wrist, tugging him to turn around and he does. He does and he looks at you with that crease between his brows and those green eyes fall on you once more. He looks at you in a way that makes your heart race more than it already had been and anything you might’ve said in that moment dissolves on your tongue and slips from your mind.

Seconds feel like hours as you look at him, your gaze flickering downward to the way his lips remain parted, thinking about the way his breath fans warmly over you in a mere whisper of a touch.

But just as quickly you lift your eyes to his once more until you couldn’t, your hand settling on his cheek as you lean on your toes and press your lips on his. He parted from you for a brief moment as the beginnings of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, pressing into yours once more as he draws you closer, arm circling around your waist as his other hand hovers on your cheek.

Your hands drop to rest on his chest, his kiss gentle and firm all the same as his nose bumps against your own when he tilts his head. Breaths mingle and sweep over your lips, warm and soft and it feels as though your heart just might burst in your chest at the mere thought of kissing Dean Winchester. At the mere feeling of his kiss that was more than hard to part from.

But you don’t stray far, his lips brushing against yours softly as you settle back on your heels some. You’ve got that smile, the one that drives him crazy and it’s sitting pretty on your lips and making it all the more difficult for him to keep from kissing you for the rest of the day, for an indefinite amount of time.

“I don’t want to forget about it,” you whisper, soft as every word is nearly spoken against his lips.

He hums softly as he nods, the tips of his fingers tracing over the curve of your ear and the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheek as he kisses you once, twice, three times more. The last lingered longer than the others, lingered even when the thud of two car doors sounded, muffled on the other side of the door.

“They’re here,” you murmur against his lips, sinking back on your heels as he nods.

His hand is warm on your cheek as he stays for a moment longer, pulling away with all the reluctance in the world as his finger hooks in the curtain on the window, tucking it back in hopes it wasn’t so. In hopes he could stand there in that living room and kiss you for the rest of the evening, for the rest of the day. But he eyed Bobby’s truck, and he eyed the two of them walking up the stone pathway and his head tips back with a groan before he makes his way back to you.

In a matter of moments the front door pushes open, confusion crossing Sam’s face at the sight of his brother despite having already seen that ever familiar car parked outside. Bobby was soon to follow after as he stepped inside, his gaze bouncing from Sam to Dean to you.

“What?” He asks, speaking his own confusion.

You look at Dean and he looks down at you, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards as he bites the inside of his cheek, the beginnings of his own smirk shining through.

“Nothin’, Bobby,” he says, his gaze still on you with all the contentment in the world simmering within him.

—

Dean set the last box on the floor with a thud, sighing as he stood up straight with a stretch and a sigh before he kicked the door shut behind him.

“Have you always had this much stuff?” He asks, his groan in his voice as you put the last of your things on the shelf in your living room.

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes at the older Winchester.

“Have you always complained this much?” You counter, brow raised and you watched the way his lips pursed and his brows dropped to a neutral expression, one all too telling of his lack of amusement at his words.

His gaze followed you as you walked by, pinching his chin softly with a smile of more than enough amusement for the both of you.

“I already know the answer to that one,” you say, catching his frown as he catches your hand, letting it slip through his fingers as you brushed by him in favor of walking towards that last box.

“You’re a pain, you know that, sweetheart?”

“Actually, I do,” you say with the sweetest grin you can muster.

You sink to a squat as you swipe the scissors from your back pocket, gliding them over the seam of the packing tape before tossing them to the side. You opened the flaps of the cardboard box, the corners a bit dented and worse for wear. You knew exactly what was inside, you knew it all but you still sighed, still bit the inside of your cheek as you peered in at its contents.

Within the box sat all your law books, all your notes and all your assignments, some graded and finished and some left undone as they sat within a plethora of binders and color coded folders. A wave of emotions coursed through you and rumbled in your stomach, that familiar pang hitting your heart and weighing heavy in your mind.

You’d gone back to Stanford with Sam, you’d gone back a week ago like you said you would but for reasons entirely different than you planned. You’d gone back and packed up the rest of your belongings with a more than understanding best friend and even though he was sad to see you go he wouldn’t hold you back, not even for a second. You packed your stuff and moved back to Kansas, Dean Winchester waiting for you in the airport with that smile on his face and a kiss at the ready.

You were back and you were staying.

You heaved another sigh as you brushed your fingers along the textbook sitting on top of the pile, dust collecting in your fingers as they swept over the cover and wrapped around its edge. You lifted it from the box, heavy in your hand as you stood to your feet.

You looked up at Dean, his expression curious and confused for a moment until his eyes landed on it, and he nodded. He took it from your hands and set it back in its box, folding the cardboard flaps over it once more before shoving it off to the corner with a push from his boot.

He turned to you, a half smirk on his lips as he looked down at you. Your brow raises in curiosity, your gaze narrowing at him.

“What, Winchester?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up a little higher as his arms circle around your waist loosely, his hand coming up to brush along your cheek, thumb swiping away a bit of dirt that sat smudged along your skin. His lips purse in his smirk as your arms rest up and wrap around his neck, he tipped back slightly to look at him.

“I’m glad you came back here,” he murmurs, watching as your eyes roll and a laugh falls from his lips at that.

“Why, ‘cause you got me all to yourself now?” You ask, watching as his smirk turns to a grin.

“Well, yeah,” he starts, pressing a kiss on your lips. “That ain’t so bad.”

He laughs again when you shove at his shoulders, your smile shining through faux annoyance as he pulls you closer once more. His smile softens then, softens as he looks at you and the sincerity filling his expression is something you can’t miss.

“But I’m serious. It takes a lot of guts to make that kind of a decision,” he says, and you bite back your smile as you look up at him, head tilted as you sigh. Just those words themselves had settled your nerves on the subject, had put your worries at ease on committing to such a big decision. But your attention is quickly pulled to green eyes as his smirk returns, telling of the fact that he’s up to no good. “Especially considering you’re, you know, stuck with me.”

There it is.

You tip your head back and laugh, a sight and a sound that makes him weak in the knees as he gazes at you, his heart racing when you look at him once more with that lingering smile.

“You’re somethin’ else, Winchester,” you say, breathing out a contented sigh.

“I know,” he says, his smile softening as he drops a kiss to your lips before he sighs softly. “‘M sorry for being a pain in the ass, sweetheart.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up into a smirk. “Which time?”

His lips pursed and his head tilted as your smile remained. You knew exactly what he meant, could see it in his eyes and could see it in his expression that held all the sincerity in the world. But you didn’t want to think about that. It was over and done with and to be fair, you’re both a couple of stubborn idiots who were too in love to see it. Too caught up in your feelings to realize it.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you start, watching the beginnings of an eye roll. “You’ve got that broody frown you do. Actually, maybe it’s even a pout—”

Your words are cut short with your squeal as he draws you close and lifts you off your feet for a moment, cut short as he lips press to your own to quiet your teasing as his smile presses into yours.

His lips were warm and soft as he kissed you, and any last bit of stress and worry, every last bit of anguish over your decision dissolved in that very moment. When you first came back to Kansas a few months ago you had no idea what you were doing, and you still wouldn’t say you do. When you first came back you had no idea you’d end up in this very moment, but life has a funny way of surprising you.

You were here and you were staying. You came home to something old, and you wound up with something new.

—

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