#let alone against john brady???

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Brad Colbert losing in a beauty contest is my villain origin story

[flawdchaos]

Opposites Do Attract

Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven x Reader

Word Count - 915

Based off of this request - Can I request a Buck x reader, where the reader is very extroverted, maybe even the opposite of Buck, but they fit so well together. They could be going out for drinks or her meeting the boys or something similar.

Anyone who met Buck Cleven and Y/N Y/L/N at Thorpe Abbotts shared a common thought - they were an unexpected pair. It had become all too common for the newcomers to assume Y/N was with Bucky with her loud, bubbly energy and it almost seemed brash for cool, calm, collected Buck to be with Ken Lemmons loudest female mechanic but damn, did it work. They had met one morning as Y/N was going over some last minute inspections on Buck’s plane for his daily missions.

“How’s she looking, ma’am?” his voice startled her, her head hitting against the plane’s metal.

“Good lord!” she exclaimed. “Give a girl a warning before you sneak up like that.” she complained, rubbing the back of her head. She fully stepped from under the plane's wings and caught a glimpse of the man behind the voice. Her eyes widened once she noticed a Major was standing before her awaiting her response. “Major Cleven” right hand flying to her forehead to salute “Plane is all ready, sir.”

“No need to salute, ma’am. Thank you for taking such good care of her. I put her through hell.” Buck spoke as he opened the plane’s hatch to stow his bag and she couldn’t stop the scoff that left her mouth. “I think that’s an understatement, sir.”

Most of the guys probably wouldn’t have taken this kind of attitude, per se, from a mechanic - let alone a woman- but he couldn’t care less. The sight of her almost made him want to laugh. There she stood, hip jutted out and hand secured atop it, eyes squinting up at him most likely awaiting some sort of angry remark but all he could do was shuffle the toothpick around in his mouth and nod in agreement. “I’ll be waiting to fix her right back up for ya later, Major.”

The couple had been sealed since. When Buck finally caved and spilled the beans about a woman to Bucky, he thought John was going to have a medical emergency right there in the mess hall.

“You have a woman and you just now think to bring it up?” Bucky said, astonished. “I didn’t want you to scare her away.” Buck quipped. If he only knew.

“Well.” Bucky clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. “When am I gonna meet this mysterious young lady?” he urged, squeezing his hands down before an idea crossed his mind “Bring her to the pub tomorrow!”

______

If Buck could have taken a picture of the looks on the boys’ faces when he walked in with Y/N on his arm, he would have framed it and taken it with him on every flight he ventured out on. “Well I’ll be damned, Buck.” Bucky uttered, for once in his life he was almost speechless. Almost.

“I’d suggest you pick your jaw up off the floor, Major. I’d sure hate for you to swallow a bug.” She teased and the entire table erupted in laughter. Buck couldn’t help the small smile that broke out on his own face, a sense of pride soaring through his body. Bucky took a long swig of his drink before retorting. “Seems you’ve got yourself a jokester, Buck.” He nodded. “She’s a little more than that.”

“Wait, ain’t you the girl who works with Lemmons?” Blakely spoke, realization washing over the faces of a few of the men. “Yeah! You’re the girl who fixed my landing gear the other day.” Brady sat up, pointing at the girl standing firm besides Buck.

“You’re welcome by the way.” she waved her hand towards him. “Actually, everyone is welcome. You can thank me for getting you up in the air in the first place. Now I’m getting a drink. Keep the gossip to a minimum while I’m gone, now.” She turned, patting Buck on the chest. “You want something, baby?” looking up at her doe eyed boyfriend. “Just a Coke for me, honey.” She jokingly saluted, walking off towards the bar.

____

Buck had full confidence Y/N would fit in with his crew of men. Whether most of them had realized it before or not, she was the sole reason they were able to make it off the ground in the first place. He couldn’t help but say it almost made his heart swell with pride watching her interact with his friends. “Should I sing?” Bucky’s voice broke through his train of thought, hands tapping against his arm chair. There wasn’t time for him to protest before Y/N jumped up from her place on his lap. “Let’s go, Bucky!” Y/N’s laughed.

He couldn’t explain the feeling that was coursing through his body but as he watched his best friend - more so a brother at this point - and his newfound love sharing a laugh together over the less than perfect singing, he only grew more confident in his relationship. Many would describe Buck Cleven as a many of very little words but if anyone asked about Y/N, his Y/N, he didn’t think there were enough words in the dictionary to explain just how he felt.

Once the song stopped and the singing duo had left the stage, Buck watched as Y/N headed to the bar and Bucky made his way back to him.

“Buck, I gotta say -“ pausing to take a drink of his whisky. “You’ve found yourself a keeper. You two couldn’t be any more opposite but man, does it work.”

[zevred]

Good Friends

pining and in denial rosie is doing something to my brain chemistry

rosie rosenthal x gn!reader

wc; 699

Rosie likes to think he’s friends with everyone at Thorpe Abbott. He’s been with his crew for years and he makes an effort to befriend the new guys when they come in, even if they won’t be around for long. Even John Brady’s stopped making snide remarks, and Rosie swears the band has started playing more of the songs he likes.

He’s definitely friends with you. That’s what he says when Pappy elbows him in the ribs, grinning, and when Crosby wags his eyebrows over the rim of his glass. It’s just that you like to dance and Rosie’s usually the one to indulge you. He can’t control when the music slows down and he can’t help but pull you close because he’d never ruin the last song of the night for you.

Maybe he’s given you a ride or two on the handlebars of his bike, or when he’s conveniently forgotten his bike at home, he takes the time to walk you across base. He likes hearing your laugh and even during those late nights, your smile is radiant under the moonlight. He’s chased you through the rain and let you muss his water-logged curls. Rosie’s hands tense at his sides when he sees the hair plastered to your neck. He tells himself he’d do the same for any of his friends and brushes the wayward tendrils into place. He says goodnight but Rosie knows you’ll haunt his dreams. The curl of your lips is superimposed on the inside of his eyelids. Your whispered taunts linger, brushing up against the shell of his ear. Even the smell of you is stuck on his skin.

He does his best to scrub himself of you before each mission. Rosie knows there’s a job to be done and he hates that the thought of you might distract him. So, he uses extra aftershave the morning he flies and slicks his curls into submission. He doesn’t have time to think about his friends flying in other forts, certainly not enough time to think of you. There’s only him, his crew, and the mission. There’s no room in the plane for the ghost of you.

When he lands and interrogation is over, Crosby tells him you’ve been a live wire, on edge for hours up in Air Exec. Rosie aches to know you’ve been fretting, but when he sees you, he plasters on a cocky smile—the one that always has you rolling your eyes—and asks if you’ve been missing him.

You always look a little shaken, a little like a ghost when you see him again, but without fail you scoff and turn to walk away from him, allowing him to sling an arm around your shoulders and haul you into his side. You walk like that, hip to hip, and Rosie can almost feel your ribs folding, making room to interlace with his.

You stop outside the gear room, and the rest of Rosie’s crew is already inside, stripping out of their flysuits. It’s the two of you alone in the hallway and his name is a hoarse whisper on your lips. Rosie. He’s never Captain Rosenthal when it’s just the two of you. You called him Robert once, to accuse him of cheating in cards, and the aghast look on his face sent you into such a fit of laughter, the game of cards was abandoned. But when you say his name like that…

Rosie.

Your bodies are pressed close, near enough to share breath. You’re looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, cheeks flushed and—he shouldn’t notice but he does—your lips are bitten-red. He doesn’t need to hear your question to know he’ll say yes. You could ask him to fish down the moon and he’d steal it from the sky. Usually, you’re asking to see his plane or to swap sides at meals. There are some things, some things that make his breathing hitch, that Rosie wonders if you’ll ever ask. He could ask, step just an inch closer, but the question tangles in his throat and he repeats the same mantra he’s been saying for months.

You’re just friends. Good friends.

[brotherwtf]

“ don’t… don’t touch me. ”

bucky to gale bc he can’t stop remembering being carted off to be buried and the bodies pressing down on him, gale knows that the only thing that will help him is firm, solid cuddling, even tho bucky tries to push him off

oh very good anon! Bucky just wants to be alone but Buck absolutely won't allow that 🥹

John had been in the Stalag all of two hours before Gale had started worrying about his wounds. The doc had told Gale to look over it, clean it to make sure it didn't get infected, but John was going to be alright. Still, it didn't stop Gale from fussing over John like a mother hen.

The day was brisk, not quite cold, and Gale was wiping a damp cloth over John's bruised and bloody face, trying to make conversation, but it was like talking to a brick wall. John just looked straight ahead, not even flinching when Gale brushed over the crushed wound of his eye socket. His eyes are dead, even beneath the matted blood and Gale can't help but hold back a small sigh. He discards the cloth on the wood below them and shuffles closer to John, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. For once in John's while life; he flinches at Gale's touch.

"Don't... don't touch me," John whispers and Gale almost gawks at him.

Gale had no idea what John had gone through, and if it was anything like what he had gone through when he came down? Well, Gale knew the feeling of being the only person in the world to have experienced such a thing. But he also knew that the company of Brady, Crank, Hambone, everyone from the 100th soothed the wound ever so slightly. While they didn't talk about exactly what happened when they went down, they just sat and talked for hours on end, and it had helped.

And Gale was trying to comfort John in the way that he and John knew best, but John was pushing him away like he was nothing. It hurt Gale, but he couldn't hold it against him entirely. Everyone here was entirely fucked up, John included.

"How do you want me to help?" Gale asks, reaching a hand across and trying to link their fingers together.

It's risky, they're still outside where the Krauts and other POWs could see, but Gale was past caring about those things now. He wanted to help John.

But John pulls away again, shoving his hands inside his coat, away from Gale. Gale swallows around something thick and keeps prodding.

"Buck, just leave," John says, voice scratchy from abuse.

Gale feels anger well up in his stomach, knows it unjustified, but somehow can't muster up the courage to care.

"I'm not doing that, Bucky. I'm gonna stay here until you tell me what you need," Gale says, firmly rooting in his spot on their barracks deck.

John could stand and walk away, could tell Gale to fuck off and leave him alone, but he doesn't do that. He stays seated next to Gale and just sulks, which almost makes Gale feel worse.

"I don't need anything from you, Buck. You're not my mama," John says icily.

Gale looks away from John, running a frustrated hand through his hair before looking back at him with a new heat in his eyes.

"John do not push me away! You told me we're gonna get through this, and by fuck, we're gonna get through this. Now let me help," He emphasizes the last word with a shove to John's shoulder.

It seems to jostle something in John's brain, something rattles into place, and he crumbles in front of Gale. He doesn't cry, but he leans forward and puts his face in his hands and starts heaving breaths. Gale tentatively puts a hand on John's back and rubs slightly and John doesn't push him away. Then, with a firm grip, he grabs John's bicep and hoists him up, pulling him in the direction of the rinky-dink library. He spots Hambone and whistles him over.

"Make sure no one comes in here, got it?" He asks lowly.

Hambone salutes and stands outside of the door, pointedly looking away from the Majors and their compromising state. Gale guides John to sit in one of the chairs, refusing to let go of him, and pulls John's head into his shoulder. John goes graciously, hands coming up to grip the lapels of Gale's jacket as he breathes even heavier.

"You don't gotta talk. Just let me... let me hold you," Gale says into John's matted hair and feels him nod ever so slightly against his chest.

Gale plans to stay here as long as John needs, whether it be for a few minutes or for the rest of his life, Gale was never going to let go of John again.

oof this one got away from me. this ask thing might get to me, already weeping 😭

[swifty-fox]

yo you post your fics on AO3? if so please share your user babe

omg yes I do! you can check my swiftywrites tag but

Masters of the Air:

Kingdom for a Kiss - 104k Long-form Postwar exploration of Clegan's relationship and their trauma. Explicit.

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.”

understanding in a plane crash: WIP (5 parter, three parts up) Prequel fic to Kfak, as told from John Brady's perspective as a POW

“The thing you can't quite put your finger on about DeMarco,” He says, “is that you want him to fuck you til you cry. Sorry to spoil the game for you.”

Brady stares at him and stares at him, alone in the Base’s Chapel and rosary halfway finished. He thinks he might throw up, or maybe strangle Curt Biddick and then throw up.

“Lock it up, Johnny, they’re gonna see you bleeding it all over soon.”

press your tired hands against my lips darling: Finished. 3K word re-write of the Bucks final conversation in the cockpit. Loose prequel to KfaK but with some minor inaccuracies Mostly SFW

Gale takes John's hand, brings the scarred knuckles to his mouth and holds it there, turns their hands over til he can place his lips to the pulse point at John’s wrist. It’s not a kiss, there’s no press or pursing of lips, but tender nevertheless, intimate in a way that makes Gale shudder. Cautious of whether John will even allow this.  

“I ain’t prayed in a long time,” Gale says whisper-soft. He feels John’s pulse skip a beat, “but I prayed every day you were safe and alive and coming back to me. Every morning, and every night.”  He lets himself cry again, tears hidden against the scarred skin of John's hand. 

Little Beast: Ongoing. Porn with a bit of Plot modern au of Burnout John and Priest Gale. total of 30k of them fucking and arguing. Three Parts so far. NSFW to the max

“It’s such a shame you’re cooped up in here like Rapunzel there Buck.” John drawls lazily. He makes a show of looking around “Is Mother Gothel nearby?” 

Buck has to fight back against another smile, wouldn't give him the satisfaction or the encouragement “Father Huglin is away at a conference today.”

“All alone without a chaperone.” 

The Old Guard:

in another life maybe you and i would be walking down an aisle in white: Finished Joe/Nicky (18K) Art Professor Joe & Art Conservator Nicky reconnect after ten years. This one is uh. Sad. Mind the tags. It's an incredibly personal piece to me and probably one of my favorites .NSFW

Dear Joe, you have always been the brave one and I wished every moment for even a drop of that. Perhaps that is why I claimed you as mine, out of a desperate need to have even an ounce of what made you, you. I desired you but I would not, could not ever let you in. I loved you and kept you and hurt you, keelhauled you against the impenetrable ship that was my heart and when the ragged pieces were left behind I still asked of you your silence.  

It is no wonder our love was left in bloody tatters on that lawn. 

Make me a Saint: Finished (8k) Nicky and Nile mete out some justice to a corrupt priest. NSFW for violence. Mind the tags. As of right now, my most popular fic

“ I was a priest before your bible was even written old man ” Nickys voice thunders in the tiny room, crackling over the walls like fire. Even Nile flinches at the sudden volume. He takes another step forwards, bracketing Father Marcus’ arthritic twisted feet with his own.

His voice does not shake.

“I preached the word of God before your language was even invented . I have known the church for longer than you can comprehend. I have seen great men and evil men take up the word of the Lord and I have seen them all rendered dust. I have seen you and I have judged you, Father Marcus. The Church may practice restraint but I do not. The diocese may have turned a blind eye I but I do not. The courts may have found you innocent but I do not . 

Calcification of a God: Finished (4K) Nicky has a lil Menty B and then Joe gives him a bath. Mostly SFW if I recall correctly

“I think,” Nicky says “If I were God, it was you I modeled humanity after. I think if I were God I would have left my throne in heaven to walk beside you and I would have been richer for it”

Yusuf chuckles “Death makes you sentimental my darling.”

Wolfstar:

Oh Captain, My Captain!: Finished, 1.6k Drabble of Wolfstar cuddling and reciting poetry. SFW

He cups the back of Remus’s head, presses him further into the safety of his body with a hand on his mismatched, misaligned rib cage and rocks them slightly. Remus grunts slightly. Sirius hides the teeth of his smile against the follow of his own neck and allows the curtain of his hair to cover them both for a moment. He listens to the two of them breath, always slightly out of sync, out of rhythm. Remus quick and labored, Sirius racing to catch up only to find himself charging ahead only to drop back behind when he tries to slow down. 

“ If I vibrate with vibrations other than yours, must you conclude that my flesh is insensitive ” That doesn’t fit quite right, so he tries another, brow furrowed and fingers tracing the knobs of Remus’ spine like the knots on a tree, with reverence and a little hint of greed. 

[wexhappyxfew]

whispering prayers into her hair

(a/n): requested by @sunny747 for Annie x Brady and ‘wrapping arms around the others neck when standing behind’. ie — annie and brady being two adorable people in a horrible situation and all their deepest thoughts seem to surface underneath a cold sun. and oh. annie wants to be a mom (distant sobbing). please enjoy this rather sad piece and commentary on two people struggling to hold onto each other in a world like this. (plz know i am sobbing !!!!) thank you so much for this prompt - quite literally has altered my life <3

Staring was the worst part.

At what was just past the barbed-wire fence; what stood between her and the world on the other side.

It had been six months and she was still standing here, still on this side of the fence, still staring at the opposite end of the threshold. Through the wires, the wood, and the dust. The world was on the other side and she was here.

Annie knew she shouldn't be out here alone - especially with the way the Germans had been ever since the British had dug those tunnels. She crossed her arms tighter over her chest and let a sigh escape her chapped lips as she squinted in the bleak sun, the warmth seeming to dissipate just as it reached her body.

Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as some of the men in the bunk room next to their groups began playing a scrap game of ball in the dust pit that could become a makeshift play field when needed. The kick-kick-kick of the pathetic ball bounced about, as the wind whistled past her ears and the sound of silence hung above. There were little-to-no animals around the place - no birds sang, no crickets chirped, there was no sign of life except for the American officers.

Otherwise, they were a dead zone.

A black 'x' crossed out a dot on a map.

"Hey, little birdie." Annie glanced over her shoulder and saw Brady coming towards her. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, his coat looking a little too big now on his form, his broad shoulders now swamped in the scarf and the wool button-up, he still looked like the John Brady from her first day on base at Thorpe Abbotts. Even with his hair a little longer and his cheeks dotted with stubble, and that scar nestled near his jawline.

He was still John Brady.

"Hi." Annie said, watching as he approached her, that lopsided smirk growing on his face, as his eyes fought to keep that grin growing.

He'd been growing quieter in the coming weeks, she'd noticed. Not majorly, not anything that would make her incredibly concerned though, she would always worry - about the crew and about Brady.

He'd say a little less at dinner, when they all sat around and were inhaling what food they had, and then when they were all sitting around, and she was tucked into her bunk, attempting to read (she never did get through any of the books or even a page anymore), she'd glance towards Brady's bunk and catch him in his silent prayer.

His lips a silent whisper, his hands clasped together, eyes and those long lashes gently shut. Everything about him calm and at peace.

And by the time she was curled up beside him, she swore he'd been whispering prayers into her hair, against her forehead and through their threaded fingers, like if he said it enough it'd get them through. And she clung to that more than anything.

He came to stand beside her, this awkward distance between them as they stood there, eyes locked on one another, this fence in between them and the world, dust at their feet, the war at their backs. Hands empty. Annie couldn't look away.

"How are you doing?" she asked him quietly, watching as his face winced slightly, like the question was more hurtful than the response, "You didn't eat much at breakfast." Which was true - his plate still had some oatmeal (they called it oatmeal) on it and he had looked withdrawn and distant. And Annie had watched, her stomach in knots.

It reminded her of when she had to get her siblings ready for school and sometimes one of them wouldn't eat - usually because they didn't feel good or were upset about something - and she'd get a pit in her stomach because she wasn't sure how to fix that. And she had felt that here. Watching Brady.

"Okay." Brady said with a nod, a stiff smile. She wanted to make him smile. More than anything. "Just wasn't super hungry." Annie caught his gaze for a moment and nodded slowly.

"I don't know," Brady said with a shrug, his smile falling, face focused on the world just past the fence, "just think this place is getting to me a bit." And she could see it in his face - just saying that, admitting that - she could see it hurt. He looked over at her and nodded weakly. "You know?"

"I do." she answered quickly, wanting to comfort him as her immediate response to the pain in his voice, "And I try to tell myself it's not. That doesn't usually work anyways, but…." Brady quirked out a small grin that faded just as fast as it'd appeared.

"You shouldn't be out here alone." Brady said quietly, hands shoved deep into his pockets, but it wasn't in a way that was scolding or even upset. Just a statement, a fact, something they all kept a conscious eye on.

"I know." Annie said quietly, her voice strained as she looked out through the barbed wire again, "I just….couldn't keep staring at the bunk room ceiling, you know?" Brady chuckled slightly, like it was some funny inside joke they'd all remember one day.

"I know." he said, voice soft, as they met each other's eyes again. He put on a hopeful smile, as best as he could it seemed. "The sun suites you, An, by the way." Annie caught his gaze, the small flutter in her chest warm, gentle and comforting.

God, the sun. So bright and gleaming even in this gloomy world that had been their ever-present for the past six months - in this bitter cold, this dull air - the sun still would shine even on days where Annie felt like it shouldn't.

"Who was your letter from?" Brady asked - it had seemed like he'd been waiting to ask her that question all morning - between his longing stares, those split second gazes where she swore she could breakdown in front of him and he'd patch her right back up. With all that, it seemed he just wanted to be there with her, to ask her that, alone.

Annie watched him, biting back her lip as the cold rushed over her cheeks. Something in the way his face was strained, like it pained him to even beg the question, knowing her response would hurt either way - knowing her response would hurt him, because it hurt her. The ache never dulled in a place like this.

"Dad." Annie said, her voice a whisper; quiet and shallow.

Seeing her dad's handwriting had sent her into a new dimension - she was sure of that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd even gotten a letter since being back at Thorpe Abbotts. So seeing his handwriting there, loopy and scratchy had made her heart ache in a way that she knew wouldn't fade in a lifetime.

You're mother isn't doing well, kid. She's really sick now, won't eat much or drink much, keeps saying something's tugging her arm. She's calling out for you. Don't know what to say. Keeps saying it's my fault you're gone. She's going down the tubes.

Annie looked to Brady, who was watching her in that unspoken way where it seemed everything and nothing was on his lips, that vulnerable glint of his gaze destined only for her, the want to reach out towards her.

They were always reaching towards one another, she thought.

In every lifetime there was, she was reaching for him and so was he.

But stood out here - in the open - with the eyes of the Germans on their backs, waiting for them to pulsate into the barbed fence just to shoot them, to make a run for it, she couldn't risk it. Instead, watching him made her yearn for every bit of him and more in those other worlds, those other times.

"What was he saying?" Brady asked quietly, tightening his jaw a bit, noticing her evident quietness. Annie sniffled and crossed her arms together in front of her and shifted her shoulders.

"Mom's probably going to be gone soon." Annie whispered quietly, looking at him, "She keeps asking for me. She's blaming Dad. For me being here. For me even joining up in the first place probably. It's…..it's basically a shit show."

"Annie, I'm sorry…." Brady whispered shifting towards her, that unspoken distance when they were outside the bunks room seeming to make a reappearance as he froze and then watched her as she stared back at him.

"It's okay…..it killed her." Annie whispered quietly, nodding, "Having to take care of us kids. Her and my dad…..one night, they were talking about it all. She never wanted to be a mother. She never wanted any of that. But that was what she got and that was her life and she drowned herself in cheap liquor to get rid of that pain." Annie looked at Brady with tears in her eyes. "I didn't want to end up like her."

Those inches between them pushed on her stomach like a heavy weight; it hurt, physically hurt. Annie glanced up behind his head towards the guard station, before looking back at Brady and his crestfallen face.

What hurt was, there were no amount of words a person could say take it all away, to magically get Annie back home to watch her mother's passing, to be there with her family.

War didn't care, the Germans didn't care, life didn't care.

Despite being dealt the short straw with a mother who wanted nothing to do with her, Annie still wanted to be there for the end of her life. She still had that want to be there for a mother who was still her blood. And that want made the guilt explode inside her chest and suffocate herself nearly to death.

"It's why you joined up," Brady whispered quietly, looking down at her, "in the USAAF. You didn't want that life."

"Yeah." Annie whispered back with a nod, "I'm sorry, you probably came out here to want to talk about anything else rather than this." Annie reached up to wipe at her eyes, but Brady only gave her a smile and watched her.

"You know I came out here because I wanted to be with you, you know that?" Brady said with a sad smile, "Now, c'mon, you got me interested now. What was it like? Joining up for yourself?" Annie watched him and couldn't help but smile a bit.

"It was probably the proudest I'd been of myself in my life, to be honest." she said, "Especially after the war broke out and I had enough money to get myself doing something more than farm work. I flew a few planes with kids from school. At the fair. Little things, but enough to make me want to do it more." Annie smiled up at him. "And sometimes they say you can't do something and usually that's enough to make someone do it."

Brady seemed to step forward and cut off that silent agreement to not make contact when outside the bunkhouse or in daylight hours - and he didn't seem to care.

For a moment, they just took to watching one another there, listening to the sounds around them, the chatter of voices in the background, the shuffling of feet, the linger of stale air. It was consuming, but yet, when looking at Brady, she didn't quite mind the sudden presence and stillness of the world around her.

"I remember seeing a poster," Annie said quietly with a smile, "in the local market. Surprised something like that even made it up, that's to say, even got put up in a market in Mankato, but….I saw it and." Annie looked to him. "I knew what I wanted to do right then and there. Then I signed up. 'Your Fight Too Sign'. Must've gotten the masses out because of that." And Brady juts smiled at her that wide grin, standing there like he couldn't look away from the sight of her. Despite where they were, despite it all, he could still stand there and look at her like that.

"What about after this?" Brady asked her, "Where you going?"

"I always wanted to be a mother." Annie said quietly, her heart squeezing as Brady's head tilted to the side and that certain, pained look erupted across his face as his fingers trailed to the side of her cheek. She nodded.

"You will be." Brady said quietly, encouraging smile on his lips, "When you get out of this. That guy's a lucky son-of-a-bitch." Annie watched him, her big eyes exploring his face before settling on his gaze again.

You, she thought, I want you to be that lucky son-of-a-bitch. And she couldn't seem to form the words, tell him that all she ever wanted was right here in front of her, but that look in his eyes, the war standing around them, she couldn't. Making promises that she wasn't sure would come true or not.

"Do you want kids?" Annie asked him quietly, watching as Brady smiled just as the word 'kids' left her lips. She managed a watery smile. "You'd be such a good dad. I know that."

"I do." he said with a small smile, "Always have."

"I know you'd be a good one because that one time I got way too drunk, you made sure I got into my bunk and had water and ate the next morning. You even let me use your sunglasses. And you didn't have to, but you did it just because." Annie said with a smile, watery grin, "They'll be lucky." Brady watched her inches from her face, seemingly taking a minute to simply watch her and then nodded.

"They will be." he whispered back, before licking his lips and smiling at her, "Why do you want to be a mother?" Annie watched him.

"My mother told me I wouldn't be one. A good one." Annie said quietly, watching as something shifted in Brady's gaze - from soft to protective in a manner of seconds that was enough to make her heart race, "But it means I can selflessly love this child that is my own. Nuture them into their life, fulfill them with all that is goodness and love that I never got myself. Give them a better life than what my own childhood was. I can give them what they deserve." Annie smiled. "I get to be the person I never had." The emotion swirling in Brady's gaze was enough to make her smile, eyes welling with tears, and reach out towards him and brush his cheek fondly.

"That's what growing up is sometimes, not for everyone," she said, "being the person you never had when you were little." Brady seemed to lean into her touch a bit as they stood there, cuddled in jackets and wool sweaters and warm hands, underneath a cold and frostbitten sun, staring at each other like it was their last time together ever again.

"What are you going to do if we get out of here?" she asked him quietly.

"We will." Brady said back to her, clenching his jaw, "We're getting out of here. One another or another." Annie stared at him. "I'll be heading back to New York, most likely." Annie cracked a smile at him.

"With your parents?"

"Yeah." Brady said, "I'll try and get my gig back teaching. Play some more music." Brady watched her. "I can finally take you on a date." Somewhere in that string of words, Annie felt her body shutter to a stop and all she could do was stare back at Brady with wide eyes, slightly glazed over and frozen as she watched him.

"A date?" she asked him quietly and Brady grinned instantly, and nodded.

"A date." he said quietly back, "You and me. Where I grew up. In the mountains." Annie couldn't help but watch him with some much awe in her eyes - despite how battered and bruised they looked, he was making promises that could be hard to keep in a place like this, looking at her the way he did. He didn't seem to care or mind and when he looked at her that way, she believed it would happen to.

She wanted a life outside of this and she wanted, somehow, someway, to share that with John Brady.

"I'd love that. With you." Annie said quietly with a smile, staring at him with wide eye still, taken aback by his words, his forwardness, his sudden step over that invisible line they had drawn when they had both started acting like more than just friends. When whatever 'this' was appeared more than just what friends were to each other. And they'd been just too scared to acknowledge that maybe there was something more there.

"What's it like? New York?" she asked him quietly as she stared at him. Brady grinned.

"You'll have to wait and see. It's a surprise." he said with a chuckle, "One that'll be worth waiting for."

"What about a hint." Annie said quietly back to him, "In the mountains and all?"

"Here," Brady said softly, placing his hands on her shoulders and slowly turning her towards the barbed wire fence and holding her there. Warm hands on her shoulders, pulsating through to her skin, she felt a shiver run over her as his face appeared above her shoulder.

"You see that out there? All that greenery, trees, shrubbery?" he asked her with a smile, a nostalgic twinge to his voice that made her long for the sight of where John Brady had lived and breathed as a small child - who had grown to become the person standing there with her now. What had made him to be the person he is today. Her heart clenched.

"Imagine all the birds out there, the wildlife. Frogs, birds, foxes, sometimes bears, the cicadas in the summer. Leaving the windows open. You can hear the frogs from the lake. Everything's alive." Brady said, his voice dropping, "So different from here." Annie tilted her head to look up at him. "You'd love it, Annie."

Staring at him there on her shoulder, she slowly felt his arms wrap around her neck loosely and hold her against him. Leaning back against his chest, enveloped in the warmth from his jacket and his arms and simply his body, she had never felt more relaxed in a place like this, comforted by the touch of a person who she was growing more and more feelings and thoughts for by this point in time. And someone who had seen her in far too many phases of life now than she would've thought.

Looking out past that fence, she did imagine a life in New York, near those Finger Lakes, John Brady playing his saxophone as the sun set, listening to the frogs and the cicadas and the birds, his gentle, jazzy thrum, watching his eyes glow with mirth and life, a quiet step away from war and this camp and the world. A place where she could let herself simply be. A home. With him.

And for a moment standing there, she could imagine her life where it was just the two of them, watching the sunset, listening to the world around them, being enveloped in the presence of one another. She could practically feel it, reach out and grab it with her fingertips. It was so close. It was right there.

[toasttt11]

calls

May 10, 2024

Lucia was ringing out her hair having just stepped out of the shower after her first official game for Worlds and US lost 2-5 to Sweden.

“Hughesy!” Brady yelled from the locker room seeing Lucia’s phone ringing.

Lucia furrowed her brows walking back into the locker room seeing Brady holding out her phone towards her and her phone was ringing.

Lucia’s eyes widen grabbing her phone quickly knowing exactly who is calling her and answered the call holding her phone up to her ear.

“Hi.” Lucia breathed out happily smiling to herself as she walked to her stall and started packing up to head back to the hotel so she could facetime her John.

“Hi Luce.” John smiled warmly as he heard her voice through the call, he was now sitting out on the dock by the lake having been watching her game from inside.

“You played good.” John softly complimented her, he may of been pouting a bit as they were only calling and he didn’t get to see her face.

“Yeah?” Lucia teased softly chuckling as she put her airpods in and slipped her slides on and grabbed her backpack slinging it over her shoulder and heading out of the locker room not even paying attention to the looks she was getting.

Brady and Cole shared a suspicious look immediately noticing the smile on her face and how much softer she was speaking to whoever she was speaking to. They have never seen Lucia ever act that way with anyone and they shared another look deciding to pay closer attention to Lucia during the tournament.

“Hi.” Lucia greeted her partner again as she clicked the call to FaceTime the second she stepped outside of the locker room.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” John softly cooed his smile widened seeing her beautiful face. He chuckled softly seeing her blushing and her glaring at the phone.

“Sorry.” John playfully apologized still laughing softly.

Lucia hummed disbelieving rolling her eyes fondly as she stepped outside the arena and let out a sigh of relief not seeing any fans because she really just wanted to talk to John without any interruptions.

“How was your morning?” Lucia asked softly looking at the screen to stare at John and frowned slightly missing John a lot.

Lucia smiled contently as she listened to John talk about his morning, she walked through the door of the hotel building and walked to the elevator and clicking the button for her floor.

“Hi Pauly.” Lucia smiled waving at the screen seeing Paul walking in the background.

Paul turned his head hearing his name being called and saw John turn his phone and saw Lucia waving on the screen, he beamed, “Lucia.”

Paul only waved back to her not walking over, wanting to let John have alone time with Lucia especially as he knows how much John misses her.

Lucia opened the door to her hotel room tossing her backpack on the floor and took her slides off, she set her phone of the desk taking her airpods out and grabbing John’s hoodie pulling it on.

Lucia grabbed her phone smiling at John as she listened to him talk as she pulled her covers back and got under her covers laying on her pillow.

John smiled admiring Lucia as she got all cozy in her bed and he could tell she was tired and her eyes were drooping.

“Go to sleep i’ll be here.” John softly promised making Lucia look at him and reluctantly nod as with them being in different time zones they haven’t got much time to talk, she shifted over and plugged her phone in. She set her phone up against a pillow and snuggled more under her blankets.

“Read to me?” Lucia sleepily asked her eyes fluttering open and close, she knows John has a book near him he always does.

“Of course.” John smiled softly grabbing the book that he set next to him when he can outside and opened it and started reading out loud.

Lucia fell asleep quickly to the sound of John reading to her.

[latibvles]

playing pretend.

who up mourning that this is the last prompt. it’s me im up. anyways for Dress Uniform we’re going all the way back to Wendover. It’s December, 1942, and John Egan’s about to find out that he is in fact, a very good actor.

—

The frigid air reminds him vaguely of Manitowoc.

Of course, it would get much colder, snow piling up against the door. He’d help his dad dig out the pathway leading up to the house, the sidewalk, the driveway. And he remembers steam puffing up around their mouths, how he’d take his dad down in the snow to save his sisters from the “dragon” and how powder would cling to his curls. It’s something sobering, warming — he’s not drunk, not enough to have much trouble finding his way.

Wendover isn’t big. There’s base, and there’s the town, and the local bar. On a weekend, they might’ve taken a bus into Salt Lake City, but it’s Thursday, so they all settled for this instead with no practice flight tomorrow. He could take his chances walking back alone, and he doesn’t hate the memories that are choosing to accompany him. He likes the cold, for the most part.

He shoves his hands into the well-worn pockets of his dress uniform, hums under his breath as he takes in the windows with their lights off. If he had a watch, he’d check the time, but he doesn’t. Bucky just knows that it’s late, because he’s never been the kind of guy to call his nights early.

The song they’d been singing in the bar has wormed its way into his thoughts and he’d have to pester Brady for the name of it tomorrow.

He’s halfway between bar songs and shoveled snow when he hears hurried footsteps behind him. He doesn’t have much time to turn around before he’s being swathed by the scent of a peachy perfume, arms hugging one of his and he’s met with slightly frizzy hair, and eyes boring into his own; hazel ones, alight with something indiscernible. He knows her face, because it’s hard to forget something that pretty, but he and Lieutenant Savorre hardly ever spo—

“There you are!” She practically chirps, jovial. If it weren’t for the fact that he can’t smell anything on her breath he’d ask if she was drunk. She’s not though, as she tilts her head up to sear a kiss against his cheek that’s warmer than the whiskey in his blood. Her breath ghosts against the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

“Sorry for the trouble, Captain, but those boys back there have been trailing me for the past block. Could you play along?” Bucky hears it, then. The loud laughter, and as he turns his head he catches glances of the group in his peripheral vision. How they double over one another and stumble, loud and reckless in the quiet. They aren’t Army, not by the way they’re dressed. If Savorre’s scared or nervous, she doesn’t show it. Her lips are pressed into a tight smile as she looks up at him and they keep walking.

Bucky’s never been much of an actor, but he figures he can try.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he leans forward, daring to press a kiss to her hair and Savorre bows her head to let him, like they’ve practiced this before. “Took you long enough.”

“Got caught up with a friend,” Savorre’s reply is breezy as she lifts her head once more. “Missed you like crazy though.” Bucky swallows, harder than he means to, at how easily the words come to her. And if it weren’t for the clamor behind them, he could easily forget that she was just saying it to say it.

“Like crazy, huh?” he counters with a grin of his own. Savorre’s nose scrunches, her eyes narrow.

“Don’t tease me.”

“Can’t help it,” he counters. She huffs, and he chuckles. “C’mere.” Bucky moves his arm from her grip to drape around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and dunking himself further in the scent of her, the warmth of a body pressed against his own. Her hand finds his heart through his jacket, hand curling against fabric.

She’s too good at this.

Savorre keeps looking up at him, laughs at the jokes he comes up with and counters his quick remarks with her own. His thumb presses into her shoulder as he tries to make sense of their predicament. Or rather, the fact that this is the most they’ve really spoken since meeting a couple weeks ago. And he can’t help but be mildly surprised at how easy she makes this all look: she laughs and lightly pats at his chest and bats her eyelashes like she really is his “sweetheart.” It’s impressive. It’s off putting.

He glances behind them momentarily as he leans down as if his plan is to whisper something salacious in her ear.

“Bank left,” he mutters, and Savorre giggles and gasps out a “Sir!” that sells as he veers down a sidestreet with her in tow. They move a few feet behind and Bucky looks behind them to watch the group of boys stumble past, paying them no mind.

Savorre untangles herself from him with a soft sigh, straightening out her jacket and he watches for a moment. His well of words has run dry and all he can really do is stare as she rights herself; straightening her tucked in tie and rumpled collar, before her gaze drags up the length of him to settle on his face.

“Sorry for the trouble, sir. I hope I’m not uh– in trouble for that.” Bucky balks at her.

“What? No. I’m not—” he pauses, before waving his hand dismissively. “Stays between us. That happen often?” Savorre looks a little caught off by his question, before she presses her lips into a line.

“Sometimes, in Texas.” She shrugs, looking at the main street. “Usually we… travel like a pack but my partner had to make sure our Radio Op got back safe and I was handling something with the bar owner.” She reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He doesn’t miss it — the way she keeps the details vague and he isn’t going to press her for them. But he does smile a little bit.

“Your partner, that’s—”

“Neumann, yeah. Tiny one, black hair,” Savorre demonstrates by holding her hand near her mouth and Bucky can form the image pretty quickly. It was hard not to stare at them.

“I don’t think she’s a fan of me,” Bucky admits and Savorre chuckles at that. He’s pretty sure this is a real laugh of hers, and she shakes her head a little bit.

“Everyone thinks that. It’s just her face. Promise she hasn’t said anything bad, sir.”

“So you girls talk about us?” Savorre rolls her eyes, but he doesn’t think it’s malicious as she raises a brow towards him.

“If you’re hoping for the inside scoop all I can offer is that we’ve been calling you ‘the tall one’, so don’t get too excited,” Savorre smiles a little, like it’s the secret he’s been waiting to be let in on. Maybe it is, because he’s been curious about all thirty of them since he met the pilots on the runway. He presses a little more.

“If I’m the tall one then what’s Kidd?”

“That’s classified information for the 349th to know and for neither you or Kidd to ever find out.” Bucky kisses his teeth, makes a hissing noise as he puts a hand over his heart as if he’d been wounded. She laughs again, with a slight shake of her head and a roll of her eyes.

“Y’know Savorre, they say secrets are poison to a marriage.”

“So now it’s a marriage? I thought it was a rescue mission.”

“Well I’m hoping if I promote myself I’ll get clearance to know what it is.” Savorre makes an ‘ah’ noise, then hums, like she’s really considering it. Makes a point to take her chin between fingers and stroke it pensively, staring up at the cloudy night above them before clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“Sound argument, sir, but no can do. Plus I’d have to be the one to promote you anyways if that’s how you wanna play it.”

She’s got him there. There’s a glint to her eye — something like mischief — and Bucky’s pretty quick to decide that he likes talking to her and wants to do it more. Mostly because she’s funny, which he didn’t know, and in part because somehow she’s made the idea of Jack Kidd being called anything besides Jack or Kidd seem like the most interesting thing in the world. It feels like a game in some respects and Bucky likes a good game.

“You can drop the sir,” Bucky offers. “...when we’re offbase.” An olive branch, or something like it, he watches the way her face softens up some in surprise, before she tilts her head and furrows her brows.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s just us. Bucky works fine.” Savorre looks like she’s contemplating it for a moment, her expression virtually unreadable. It’s always been pretty easy for him to decide who he does and doesn’t like; it’s easy for him to file Savorre into the prior category as opposed to the latter. She nods, slowly, mutters his name under her breath before fixing her gaze back on him with a smile; warm, friendly.

“This isn’t just a way to get yourself on the fast track to promotion, is it?” Bucky scoffs in mock offense.

“Y’know, if you weren’t smiling all nicely I’d be offended by that.” He whines. Savorre snorts a little bit, which he doesn’t expect.

“Well then sorry, Bucky, and you can call me Viv when it’s just us. If that’ll make it up to you,” She offers and he nods. Viv. And then it’s almost like an immediate switch; how she rocks back on her heels for a moment, looking away from him to one of Wendover’s low rows of businesses and houses. “And thanks again for… playing along. I wouldn’t’ve done that if I had another option.” She sounds almost apologetic and Bucky rejects the unspoken apology with a wave of his own hand, a shake of his head.

“Anytime,” he assures, before amending the statement. “Well, maybe not anytime but if you need a bailout I’m not… it doesn’t bother me.” Viv nods, and he takes her in a little bit. The pinkened state of her cheeks and tip of her nose from the December air, and the progressive softening of her features.

She’s not readable, at least not in any way he understands quite yet. But she’s not stiff either, or rigid. The only other time he’s ever gotten some kind of read on her was when she’d breezed past him with two other pilots to go greet Veal with a “What took you so long?” and a smirk that reminded him of just about every other pilot he’d met, including himself. Maybe she didn’t have sharp edges, but she wasn’t shy or meek about anything.

She’s not shy or meek now either. Maybe comfortable, which feels like some kind of reward for him.

“I might give some of mine the heads up on that,” she admits. “If you don’t mind. Some of them are too shy about that kind of thing and don’t know how to ask.” It doesn’t sound like a complete thought, more like she had more to say but is withholding it. He decides not to pry into it.

“I don’t mind,” he agrees, instead. They lapse into silence for a moment, stiff with that uncomfortably frank knowledge that, yeah, this isn’t the first time any of them had been followed around. Bucky decides, quickly, that he doesn’t like it: the silence and the knowledge. He can do something about both, thankfully enough. “So can I keep walking you back or do you plan on leaving me in the dust?” Viv makes a noise, somewhere between amused and disbelieving.

“Yeah you caught me, I was planning on running for the hills ‘till you opened your mouth.”

“Yeesh, am I that bad of a husband?”

“Well I wouldn’t know. You promoted yourself pretty quick — and it still doesn’t count.” She walks towards him, and then brushes past, and he turns on his heel to follow her, falling in step pretty easily.

“I’m taking that as a ‘No, Bucky, you’re great and also terribly funny. An absolute catch.’” That makes her snort again and she reaches to lightly shove at him, but he doesn’t move much as she shakes her head.

“Sure, Bucky. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

[skyyguy]

Angst and post angst sentences:

“ hey, everything okay? [Buck]? [Buck]! ”

( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)

This took me way too long, I'm sorry. 😅 But it's my werewolf au when they're in the Stalag, so it's a fun time :3c

The Nazi’s had kept Gale all night. John knew because he hadn’t slept, waiting for them to bring the wolf back. They hadn’t, not till after the prisoners had all eaten breakfast, not till after everyone was starting their boring days. They didn’t have the grace to actually bring him back, instead letting Gale stumble, exhausted and pained, across the mud and ice, towards the boys. DeMarco was the first one up, crossing the few feet to grab Gale’s arms, helping him to the step and seating him where he’d been. Gale rubbed his face, biting down on a yawn. 

“Welcome back,” John said, humourless, barely looking at the blond. Gale didn’t look back, but DeMarco saw the way he jaw twitched, as if angry with John. DeMarco and Brady exchanged a glance. 

“Major, we were wondering what you thought we should do today,” Brady asked carefully, arching an eyebrow at John, directing his words to Gale. Gale’s eyes were unfocused for a moment before he seemed to snap back in to himself. 

“We should try to patch up some of the holes in the roof,” Gale replied, voice soft but distant. Hambone glanced over from where he leaned against the wall. 

“We’ll need materials for that,” Hambone stated flatly, shrugging his shoulders. 

“I’ll get them for you,” Gale promised. DeMarco frowned, his brow pulling together, at something in Gale’s tone. 

“We’ll get ready,” DeMarco replied, shooting Brady a look before he opened his mouth. Both of them could tell something was wrong with Gale, but it had been the full moon the night before and he’d spent all of it with the Nazi’s. That alone was enough to make things seem wrong. Hambone stepped around Gale, between John and the blond, padding away into the bunk room to take stock of how many holes needed patching. 

“I’ll go check and see if anyone has anything to help us,” Brady muttered, grabbing DeMarco by the arm and dragging him away, leaving John and Gale alone. 

“John,” Gale muttered softly, glancing at the man. John unfolded his spine, leaning back on the steps and thumping his heels to the muddy ground. 

“Buck,” John replied, voice tight. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back last night,” Gale explained, as if he had just stayed out and not been kept away. 

“You’re not the one who should be apologizin’ Buck.” John growled. Gale went silent with a small hum. John rose to his feet after a long moment, swiping at his nose with his wrist, taking a few steps in the suctioning mud. 

“Well, Buck, you promised the boys,” John’s voice was deceptively light, “You promised you’d get them the materials. Let’s go get ‘em.” John didn’t look at the blond. Gale sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“You don’t have to come,” Gale told him, arching an eyebrow as John stretched his arms over his head, his spine popping. 

“I’m comin’. You can’t stop me,” John replied, turning to look at Gale, hands on his hips, a frown tugging at the edges of his lips. Gale rolled his eyes. 

“Stone in my shoe,” he said, voice lacking any humour or emotion. John smiled thinly, it didn’t reach his eyes. After a long few seconds, Gale stood up– it looked excruciating and difficult– and took a few steps toward John. His footsteps wavered, not walking a straight line, legs shaking with effort. 

“Hey, everything okay?” John asked, suddenly consumed with worry, ”Buck?” as John said his nickname, Gale’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body pitched forward, crumbling to the mud, “Buck!” John shouted, falling to his knees beside his friend and grabbing his shoulders, pulling his head into his lap and shoving his hair out of his face. 

John was quick to scoop the blond up in his arms– alarmed at how light he was– ignoring the mud on the both of them as he rushed into the bunk house with him. 

“Hambone,” John barked at the other. Hambone jerked around, eyes wide. It barely took him a few seconds to jump into action, dragging extra blankets off of other bunks, setting up a nest of sorts on the floor, pillows and threadbare blankets not much of a cushion to the hard wood. Yet John didn’t hesitate in putting the man down in it, pulling his jacket off and throwing it over the werewolf, concern etched in his face. 

“What happened?” Hambone asked, cautiously, aware that John was at his limits. 

“Not a clue,” John ground out, pushing the hair off of Gale’s face, eyes searching for any sign of what was ailing the man. Hambone huffed but took a step back, dropping it, nonetheless. 

John sat there, unmoving, until Gale stirred 10 minutes later. He breathed a sigh of relief when Gale’s eyes blinked open, hazy with the remnants of unconsciousness. 

“Buck,” John greeted him. Gale blinked up at him, curling into a tighter ball, pulling the blankets and jacket tighter around him, making the nest smaller. 

“John,” he croaked out. 

“Do you need some water?” John offered, holding up the cup Hambone had bought a few minutes ago. Gale nodded and started to try to push himself up. John hushed him and adjusted himself so he could pull Gale’s head into his lap, letting him lay against his stomach, and bringing the cup to his lips. 

“They gave me… something…” Gale said after he drank the cupful, barely above a whisper. 

“What?” 

“I don’t know,” Gale muttered sadly, “I can’t turn.” 

“... Can’t… What?” John asked, not following. 

“Whatever they gave me,” Gale cleared his throat letting his eyes close, “it blocked me from turnin’.” 

“H-how is that even possible…?” John stared down at Gale, confused. 

“Dunno,” Gale muttered, shifting to roll onto his side, nuzzling against John’s thigh.

“What does that mean?” John tried to pry information out Gale. 

“I didn’t turn last night,” Gale bit out, frustration tinging his voice, “I dunno when I can turn, again,” Gale continued, eyes screwed shut to avoid looking at John. John processed this quietly– for once– and let his hand stroke through Gale’s dirty hair, scratching gently behind his ear. Gale tilted his head slightly, tension easing out of his shoulders at the familiar, soothing feeling. John knew he liked it more as a wolf, of course, but that he still enjoyed the soft affections as a human. 

Neither of them spoke, then, just letting the truth wash over them, the silence comfortable. John was aware the moment Gale’s breaths slowed and deepened, turning into the easy breathing of sleep, and John was relieved. He shuffled the other, carefully, and curled up in the nest of threadbare blankets around the other, tucking the blond’s head under his chin. It didn’t take him long, not with Buck’s scent in his nose, for sleep to claim him too.

[lpmurphy]

Spring in Tchakova Park

Read on AO3

Master List

Chapter Playlist

Summary: Green was the color of the grass where he used to walk in Tchakova Park.

In which John meets a stranger in the park, Violet learns of the care and keeping of Spartans, and Cortana offers dating advice. (Completed 5/7/24)

Chapter Three: Goose

The rain had continued into the evening, cold and thick as it fell. The dreary weather had seemingly deterred the citizens of New Alexandria from utilizing the park. John found himself alone by the pond. Occasionally, a citizen or two would pass under umbrellas turned against the drizzle as they marched towards their destinations. The lack of life left the park hauntingly silent, save for the soft rustle of wind through the surrounding foliage and patter of raindrops. His head was still heavy with the sounds of the last deployment; weighed down by the constant noise of gunfire and the grunts of dying Sangheili. The gentle natural rhythm around him was calming, soothing, cleansing as he listened.

He counted the lights that started to illuminate on the water and glanced over his shoulder at the open grass that remained empty. He brought his focus back to the lights of the apartment buildings over the water and checked his watch. 1745 rolled by, but he continued to find himself alone by the pond. Perhaps the dreary weather had deterred her as well. He felt foolish as he stood there under the downpour, the rain biting at his skin through his soaked civvies. This had been foolish, he thought. He began to turn back towards the transit station despite Cortana’s protests to wait another five minutes.

The sound of a dog’s bark stopped him before he could take a step. He turned to watch the border collie bound across the field to him, her bright orange ball gripped in her mouth. Sadie ran to him and dropped her ball at his feet before she jumped up onto him, her wet paws pressed against his legs as she barked at him happily.

“Hey Sadie,” he greeted her.

She threw herself down at his feet to roll over and show him her white belly. Her tail pounded against the ground and set a spray of damp earth splashing against his boots. John chuckled and crouched down to scratch the dog’s belly. 

“Sadie, you’re such a pest,” a familiar voice sighed. 

Familiar electric pink sneakers stepped beside the dog, speckled with mud and blades of grass. John looked up to find Violet standing above him, the hood of her rain slicker pulled up over her head. She had let her hair down since he had seen her in the lift, no longer twisted into the tight regulation bun. Instead it tumbled out of the hood of her jacket, twisting and curling slightly in the rain. He felt a twist in his belly that he couldn’t quite identify when she smiled at him; that same warm smile from the first time they spoke that somehow felt brighter than the lights reflected on the pond.

“Sorry, we got a later start today,” she explained. She brushed away the strand of wet hair that stuck to her cheeks, “Someone ate a pair of shoes while I was at work instead of chewing on her perfectly good toys, so I had to pick that up. I won’t name names, though, but it definitely rhymes with Bradie.” 

Sadie nudged her ball towards John’s feet with a high while. Her rear wiggled as he straightened up. Violet’s eyes followed him as he stood, her face turned up to the gray skies. That smile didn’t leave her face, still bright and warm. He scooped up the wet ball and give the pup a scratch between her ears. Sadie responded with a series of licks to his hands as if she were greeting an old friend. 

“I told you, she’s been looking for you,” Violet said.

John looked back up to where she stood. She hugged herself against the soggy weather, rubbing her hands against her arms. Her breath curled into the chilled air in wisps of steam, her cheeks pink and bright. Her fingers were the same shade of bright pink and he felt the urge to cover them with his own to chase out the chill. Sadie took his moment of distraction to strike and pepper his face with a furious frenzy of wet licks. Violet let out a snicker, apologizing profusely as he pinched his eyes shut tightly, turning his head in hopes to twist out of her licking range with little luck. She reached down and gave the dog a gentle push back, but Sadie lurched back forward towards her new friend and continued to lick his face happily.

“It’s nice to see you too, girl,” he muttered, pinching his eyes shut as he turned his face against her tongue.

He scooped the ball out of the damp grass and held it up to Violet. Sadie leapt up like an errant spring.“May I?” he asked.

Violet gestured towards the empty grass field before she tucked her hand back into the fold of her arms, “I think she’d be offended if you didn’t.”

He gave the ball a toss and Sadie trailed after it in a spray of rainwater and mud. The ball touched down on the opposite side of the field with a hard bounce, but the dog followed it in a low, agile sprint. He brushed the splatter of cold mud from his pant legs and watched the dog on her determined race across the grass.

“Sorry for dragging you out here in such shitty weather,” Violet said earnestly. She wiped the cold wet off of her cheek with the back of her hand, “It was really pretty up until a few days ago, and then it just started pouring. Bummer that you have such crummy weather on your first day back. How was your… trip?” 

An unsurity twisted her smile as she considered him, as if she were still determining if it were appropriate for her to ask. He shrugged as Sadie bounded up to him, her ball gripped tightly in her mouth as she skidded to a stop and sat in front of him. He bent down and held out his hand for the dog, who instead dropped the ball on the ground beside his open palm. He shook his head, snatched the ball up, and gave it another toss. Sadie bolted away in a streak of black and white.

“It was…” he searched for a neutral enough word, “fine.”

“I’m assuming you can’t say much about it,” she acquiesced. 

Rain collected on the edge of her hood and grew heavy as it strained against the weight of itself. He felt the urge to wipe it away before it could drip onto her freckled nose. Instead, he tucked his hands into the pocket of his jacket before he pulled his stare from the collection of freckles so vast he thought he could chart constellations in them.

“It’s classified.”

She nodded. She followed his stare to where Sadie approached the ball and scooped it up, giving it a few squeezes in her jaw before starting her run back to them. A silence fell between the two, John unsure of what to say to the woman beside him as they watched her dog trot across the grass. What do people say to each other? What does a man say to a woman? Violet shifted beside him and cleared her throat.

“You have been silent for 6.3 seconds, Chief. Humans can only handle 4 seconds of silence before they begin to experience feelings of discomfort or rejection. Talk to her!”

Sadie dropped the ball at his feet again, already starting to trot in the direction in which he had been throwing. He scooped it up again and tossed it several feet ahead from where the dog ran towards.

“I didn’t expect to see you at FLEETCOM,” he stated. Sadie skipped to a stop. Her paws slid in the mud before she snapped up the ball, “You don’t strike me as a marine.” 

“I didn’t say to insult her, John,” Cortana groaned, “Ask her questions about herself. Get to know her.”

Violet feigned a gasp and pressed a hand to her chest in faux offense, “You wound me, good sir.”

He looked over at Violet, prepared to apologize, but the dark haired woman held back a laugh at his bemused shake of the head. Jokes. Alright, people joked with each other. He could manage that, he guessed. She dropped her hand and laughed that clear, high laugh. He liked the sound of it.

“You would be right though. I’m not. Just another lowly little civilian contractor- I’m a scientist.”

“Yeah? What field?”

“Botany.”

The hollow feeling returned to his chest at the word. The word had meant nothing to him a year ago; just another discipline in which the UNSC weaponized. But now, it carried the image of a plant lab projected in his HUD in the ruin of his childhood home and cloudy memories of his father calling him into the room to show him plants that seemed to grow by magic. He pushed those memories down and glanced back at Violet with an acknowledging nod.

She hugged herself again, “I spent the last four years on a dying planet in the outer colonies working to implement artificial forests and farmland,” she explained, “We taught the locals how to grow and sustain crops. It was a very, very modified version of what the UNSC tried to create with artificial ecosystems a few decades back. The hope was to teach the villagers how to provide for themselves so that they wouldn’t become reliant on insurgent groups.”

“Sounds like important work.” 

Sadie deposited the ball at his feet, now panting heavily as she looked back up at him. He bent down again and the dog gave his brow an appreciative lick before he straightened back up to lift his arm. Violet gave a little shrug before she adjusted her weight on her hip and facing him again.

“It’s a tree-mendous job, but someone has to do it.” 

He stopped mid-throw and gave her an incredulous look as the joke hit him. She smiled at him expectantly as if willing him to laugh, stifling a giggle. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, he noticed, uncertainty lingered in the green. 

“I believe she made a play on words. See, instead of saying ‘tremendous’, she used a domain specific word to her area of study-.” 

“I got it, Cortana.”

“Oh, good.”

He chuckled and shook his head at the pun. She laughed again; a pleasant, happy sound that tilted her head back, punctuated with a snort. He liked the sound of it. How the noise lifted the corners of his mouth and wrinkled her nose. 

“Wow,” he murmured, his lips tugging up at the sight of her brightening smile.

Violet laughed, “Sorry, that was really bad. It usually kills with other botanists. Sometimes.” 

“No, it was funny,” he assured her with a nod, “You’re funny.”

She dropped her eyes from his, her cheeks as pink as her sneakers as she brushed her hair out of her face again, tucking a wet strand behind her ear. Her eyes met his again, the uncertainty replaced with the same pleasant warmth that rang from her laughter. It twisted that thing in his stomach he didn’t know how to identify. 

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Sadie trot was slower and she moved across the field back towards John. She panted heavily as she dropped the ball, ears dropping with exhaustion before she flopped over, her muddy paws pointed to the skies. 

 “I think I broke your dog,” he said with a chuckle. 

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand and laughed, “You can break her whenever you would like. She’s going to sleep so well.” 

Violet whistled and Sadie twisted upright to sit beside the woman as Violet fastened her lead. His heart sank at the punctuating action that signaled the end of the evening. 

“Offer to walk her home.”

He jerked a thumb behind him across the pond in the direction of the transit station, “Could I walk you back to base?”

She shook her head and made a face as the collection of rainwater broke its tension on her hood and dripped into her face. His hand twitched at his side as he considered wiping the wet away. She wiped her brow, “I actually don’t live on base. Perks of being a lowly botanist; the powers-that-be really don’t care about keeping me close.”

She raised a hand and pointed in the opposite direction towards the apartment buildings that towered over the park. He followed her finger to a familiar white building freckled with balconies; the building he had been watching before she arrived.

“I’m that one, actually.”

---

“You didn’t have to carry her,” Violet laughed, “You’re going to spoil her.”

John shifted Sadie under his arm. The dog pressed herself against him with a happy groan and leaned her head against him with a sigh. He had picked up the tired pup before they left the park after Sadie proved that she was not in the slightest bit interested in obeying Violet’s whistles and tucked the pup under an arm like she was no more than a child’s toy. Violet had apologized five times on the short walk from the park to her building for the dog’s behavior, but John waved it off dismissively. He didn’t mind, and neither did Sadie from the way she stared up at him with adoration in her heterochromatic eyes as Violet led them down the hallway from the lift to her apartment.

“This one is me,” she stopped halfway down the hallway and pointed towards the door brandishing D-43. She smiled up at John as she leaned against her door. 

“It was really nice to see you. I’m sorry you got soaked, though,” she said, gesturing to his damp clothing.

He shrugged, “It was worth it.” 

She dropped her eyes again and her cheeks turned that pretty pink. 

“I’d like to see you again,” he said. He kicked himself for how quickly the words left his mouth before adding, “If that’s alright with you.”

She nodded and smiled up at him with that smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

John returned her smile with a nod in return. A beat of silence passed between the two before Sadie scratched at the still closed door with a displeased whine, the pup’s thoughts of the park now replaced by her motivation to eat. Violet sighed at the dog and scanned her access card on the pad beside the door. The light flashed green and the lock rolled in the tumbler before she gave the door a push open and dropped the lead to led Sadie dart into the dark apartment.

“She probably wants dinner,” she explained as if in apology. 

He nodded and tucked his hands into his pockets. She didn’t move, and neither did he. Instead, she continued to crane her neck to look up at him wordlessly, that smile still stretching her lips. He wondered idly if it was ever absent from her face. She held up a finger and turned into the doorway.

“Hold on one second, actually,” she said, “Wait here?”

He nodded and watched as she disappeared into the apartment. John peeked in the open doorway as a light flickered on somewhere beyond the entryway. On the far wall, he could make out a series of shelves covering the walls in the dark, adorned with plants in pots and vases of various sizes and a few frames. Sadie trotted out of an unseen room, her lead still trailing behind her. She stopped in the middle of the dim living room to shake out her wet coat beside the sofa, her tags jingling as mud splattered against the leather.

“Ugh, Sadie!” Violet groaned. 

Violet reappeared in the doorway, her rain slicker gone to expose a gray long sleeve water stained by her hair. Muddy footprints decorated the wooden floors behind her as she walked back towards him. She held out a slip of paper to him. His fingers brushed against hers as he took it from her. They were still cold from the rain, but soft against his own. The want to warm them with his own remained as they lingered on his for a moment before she pulled away. He inspected the sage green square; her comm number was written in neat, bulbous print on the notepaper. A cartoon house plant was printed in the corner. 

“This way, we don’t have to stand in the rain to find one another,” she said with a shrug.

John tucked the paper into his pocket with the hope his wet clothing wouldn’t cause it to smudge.

“Not to worry, Chief. I have already programmed into your contacts,” Cortana announced proudly.

Violet continued to watch him as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. She missed the doorway, obviously miscalculating how close she thought she had stood to it, and quickly corrected herself so that she leaned against it. A glimmer of embarrassment crossed her face as John smirked at her. 

“Okay.” He said.

“Okay,” she repeated. She lingered in the doorway still, twisting her wet hair around a fist. He wondered if it felt as soft as it looked. “Goodnight,” she murmured before she stepped into the apartment and pulled the door shut behind her.

“I like her.”

“Cortana. We’ve talked about this.”

“Right. Boundaries.”

John shook his head before he retraced the path they had taken back to the lifts. He yanked the hood of his jacket back up as he stepped onto her street, the pavement glowing under the streetlamps as the last lights of the evening dissipated beyond the horizon. He crossed the street towards the park and kept a quick pace towards the walking path that would lead him pack to the transit station, ready to rid himself of the cold, rain sodden clothing that had only started to feel uncomfortable in the minutes since he had left her door. 

He stopped on the sidewalk to glance back at the building and counted the windows on the fourth level, his eyes resting upon the window of her apartment. Inside, a light flickered on and bathed the window in warm light. He stood as if transfixed by it, watching for a few moments before he turned and continued through the park, the light of her apartment reflected on the smooth surface of the pond.

---

Vannak was a horrendous snorer. 

John laid on his bunk, eyes fixed upon the ceiling as he tried to force out the sound. The other Spartan’s snores echoed off the walls and filled the barracks with the roaring noise. He lifted an arm and tucked it under his head, his hair still slightly damp from the blisteringly hot shower he had taken upon returning from the park. The snores came to a conclusion and the room fell silent again. Relieved, John closed his eyes in hopes to find the release of sleep that he had found so little of the last two weeks. He shuffled down on the familiar, firm mattress. Kai’s covers shifted as she turned a few feet away and mumbled something in her sleep. He sighed and allowed his body to relax.

The silence disappeared as quickly as it came when another snore ripped from Vannak’s bunk. Riz groaned and turned over to swat at his shoulder with her pillow and grumble at him to turn onto his side before she fell asleep again. John’s eyes opened again as an annoyed sigh whistled through his nose. He turned over, silently accepting that sleep was a mission he would be unable to accomplish that night. He reached to the shelf beside his bunk and his fingers closed around the crumpled slip of paper he had peered at repeatedly since he pulled him from his pocket before he hit the showers that evening. Her loopy handwriting stared back at him, the numbers slightly smudged and rain spotted. The cartoon face of the houseplant met his gaze with expressionless eyes as it smiled out from under her short message.

He reached for his pad and tapped until an empty conversation thread appeared under her name.

“It is well past midnight, Chief,” Cortana warned, “I doubt you will get a response at this hour. I would recommend against contacting her tonight. Many dating experts recommend waiting at least two days before making first contact in order to not seem overly eager.”

117: Hey, goose girl. 117: It’s John. 117: From the park.

He dropped his pad onto his chest and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. He sighed and ran his hands across his face, his cheeks burning. Cortana was right, he assumed. He wouldn’t hear from her until the morning, if she would respond to him at all. Three messages back to back hardly came across as cool and collected. He closed his eyes and willed his spinning thoughts to still long enough for him to sleep.

When the sound of an incoming message chimed mere moments later, John nearly threw his pad across the room in the speed in which he sat up.

Violet Harris: Hey, John from the park. Gotta say, I don’t entirely hate goose girl. Violet Harris: Thanks again for tiring out Sadie. She’s been asleep since you left. She did, however, expect to be carried to bed. So I think you owe me one for that.

117: Anytime. I guess I do.

Violet Harris: Shouldn’t you be asleep? I thought they kept you Spartans on a tight bedtime. 

117: I could ask you the same thing.

Violet Harris: You’ve got me there, big guy. Guess I should turn in for the night. The plants won’t catalog themselves tomorrow, after all.

117: They certainly won’t. 117: It was nice to see you tonight. I had a nice time.

Violet Harris: :-) Me too. See you tomorrow maybe?

117: What is that?

Violet Harris: It’s a smiley face. People put it to show they’re happy.

117: Copy. 117: See you tomorrow.  117: :-)

[newagesispage]

                                                                 FEBRUARY     2024 

THE RIB PAGE 

***** 

Among the inductees for the 2023 Library of Congress selections include: Fame, Desperately Seeking Susan, Lady and the Tramp, Home Alone, Terminator 2, 20 feet from Stardom, The Wedding Banquet, Apollo 13, 12 Years a Slave and Love and Basketball. 

***** 

The Supreme Court will hear the Colorado case of Trump on the ballot on Feb. 8. They will also be looking into the responsibility of hospitals in no abortion states. ** And what were those red marks on Trumps hand? Dry skin? Syphillis?** Roger Stone has called for killing the opposition. 

***** 

Mark Knopfler is selling most of his guitars at a London auction house with some of the proceeds going to charity. 

***** 

Joey Fatone and AJ Mclean are going on tour. 

***** 

Willem Dafoe, Charlie Wilson and George Clinton got their stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Garrett Morris will be getting his on Feb. 1. 

***** 

Our Flag means death was cancelled. 

***** 

John Kerry is stepping down as the U.S. Climate envoy. 

***** 

The FDA ruled the Florida government can procure prescription drugs from Canada. This could save taxpayers as much as $183 mil a year. Big Pharma is none too happy. This was rejected in New Hampshire. Many other states are in the application process.  

***** 

A resolution to prevent a partial shutdown of the government was passed for funding until March. The zealots are furious. ** According to a new book, Find me the votes, Lindsey Graham testified that if you told Trump, “that martians came and stole the election, he would probably believe it.” He also gave the Fulton County D.A., Fani Willis a big hug and thanked her for letting him get it out. 

***** 

Hiking with Kevin is back!!!!! Hooray!!!!! 

***** 

The innocence project is looking into the Scott Peterson case claiming new evidence. 

***** 

Paul Thomas Anderson will bring Sean Penn, Regina Hall and Leo DiCaprio together for his next film. 

***** 

Rachel Dratch has a podcast, WooWoo, with ghost stories. 

***** 

There is prejudice everywhere, it does no good to give it back. - Ship of Fools 

***** 

Marilyn Monroe’s home at 12305 W. Helena Dr. Has been declared a historical landmark by the LA cultural Heritage Commision. The actress purchased the home shortly before she died there. 

***** 

Fox News has cancelled My Pillow due to past due bills. 

***** 

Why does Bonnie Hunt not have a talk show anymore?? C’mon!! I miss it!! 

***** 

Jason Momoa and Lisa Bonet are divorced. 

***** 

Taiwan elected William Lai Ching-te for a third term of the Democratic progressive Party. 

***** 

Food Network Star Darnell Ferguson was arrested on strangulation, terrorist threatening, assault, menacing criminal mischief and burglary charges in Kentucky. 

***** 

A U.S. labor agency has accused SpaceX of illegally firing 8 employees.** Sports Illustrated seems to be in a real mess like most of print media. Does corporate everywhere want to fire the writers and use AI?? 

***** 

A 7.5 magnitude earthquake hit Japan. 

***** 

Days alert: Steve Burton is out at Days and back at GH. ** Bring back Jen Lilley. They seem to be pushing Brady and Teresa to be closer again and these actors have no chemistry. ** The cast of Days have been putting out many messages at the loss of Bill Hayes. I miss him already!!** Glad that they R bringing back an old story like the pawn. The characters act like nobody knows but I thought the town knew that John was the pawn? ** But hooray for Johnny and Chanel, let one couple be happy!!  

***** 

Rage against the Machine has broken up again, according to drummer Brad Wilk. 

***** 

Iran attacked Pakistan and brought death. Pakistan retaliated and brought some more death. Is there a place in the world that is not filled with hate right now? 

***** 

The Girl Scout cookies are here!!** Why is Kris Jenner selling Oreos? 

***** 

Fruit Stripe gum is no more. RIP 

***** 

How refreshing to see the economy doing so well. ** Some are upset that Biden launched strikes against Yeman without congressional approval. The Houthi’s have interrupted the supply chain route. ** And why do Trump and friends bitch about Biden at all? According to them, a President has total immunity so what is the problem?? Can’t he do anything he wants?  Why did we never have this problem before? Trump claims a President needs immunity but I don’t think it was a problem until now. ** Chris Christie is out .. Asa Hutchinson is out... Vivek Ramaswami is out... DeSantis is out (much has been made of the leader of Ron’s Superpak with nothing to do but put a puzzle together). DeSantis used a Churchill quote to end his campaign that Churchill never said. ** Scary Clown 45 told the Iowa caucus goers, “You can’t sit home. If you’re sick as a dog, even if you vote and then pass away, it’s worth it. “ People stood in line up to 4 hours in sub zero temps to see him. In attendance were Coach Dan Gable and WWE’s Kane. He later cancelled 3 rallies. ** The comics made much of the pics from the caucus like the Iowa caucus looked like the opposite of Martin Luther King Day. We also must remember that Ted Cruz once won the Iowa Caucus. **32% of Iowa Republicans say that Trump is not fit for office. 14% of Republicans actually voted and 51% picked Trump. DeSantis was a distant second and Haley third. ** Tacopina and his partners in the law firm have parted ways with Trump. 

***** 

Trump took New Hampshire but Haley was not that far off. The whole thing about the DNC fucking up the order of the states and Biden not getting on the ballot was just stupid. It made the Dems look unorganized and petty. No more of that! ** Should we be worried about a second Trump term yet or are we all William Holden in a disaster movie?  Why are we so, “nothing to see hear, everything is fine?”** A recent story broke about the pharmacy in the White House. Apparently, when Trump was in office, the rules for said pharmacy were pretty loose. The word is they didn’t believe in generic drugs and they were handed out like candy. ** Trump was ordered to pay E. Jean Carroll $83 mil.** A judge dismissed the Disney case against Ron DeSantis. 

***** 

Shucked will be a film. 

***** 

Say Something is the tip line provided by Sandy Hook Promise. A recent study in the Journal of Pediatrics looked to study one of the 23 states that provides the service. Of the 18,000 tips submitted from 2019- 2023, 10% referred to a firearm. The tips prevented 38 instances of school violence, and more than 100 planned suicides. There were a thousand mental health interventions. More than 42,000 people have died from gun related injuries in 2023. Firearms are the leading cause of death for children and teens. 

***** 

Jason Reitman is bringing us SNL1975 with Gabriel LaBelle playing Lorne Michaels. The film will also star Cooper Hoffman and Rachel Sennott. 

***** 

Alec Baldwin was indicted again for involuntary manslaughter. 

***** 

Fire ants have gone a bit nuts in Australia. 

***** 

A woman can’t be Vice President.  - Meghan McCain 

***** 

An ancient city was discovered in the Amazon in the 70’s. After 25 years of research there are some findings. Scientists feel this is the oldest settled site in the Amazon. It was built about 2,500 years ago with thousands of platforms and a system of roads and canals. The civilization may have been bigger than the ancient societies in Mexico and Central America. 

***** 

Riley Keough is finishing up Lisa Marie’s memoir and we should see it by October 15. 

***** 

Ban dictionaries? OMG!!! Florida laws have led some schools to take out the dictionaries. 

***** 

Super/Man is a new documentary about Christopher Reeve. 

***** 

Look for a new comic book about The Creature from the Black Lagoon. 

***** 

It’s awards season!!!!!!! 

The Golden Globes sure got some smack. Jo Koy was raked over the coals for his idea of hosting. He kept angrily making excuses and telling the crowd he didn’t write some of the jokes. What?? It is a tough gig and I can sympathize BUT I don’t think he said any terrible things but it was the way he said it. Everybody was talking about Taylor Swift but I didn’t see that she seemed angry, she often looks like that. I was taken aback by the Barbie thing. He was right, as Greta Gerwig pointed out that it was true that they made a movie about a doll with big boobs. I think it was the way he said it. He was so dismissive on a night that was sort of celebratory for women. To have a box office smash all around a woman theme was a breakthrough. He treated it like it could not compare to the ‘important’ movies. He made fun of their work instead of some of the actual celebrity eccentricities like a Gervais might do. I don’t know that it was the big deal the press made of it, just don’t ask him back. My best dressed were Issa Rae, Nicolas Cage, Rosamund Pike, Rachel Brosnahan, Brie Larson, Selena Gomez, Julia Garner, Andra Day, Taylor Swift, Sheryl Lee Ralph, Jim Gaffigan, Matt Rhys, Natasha Lyonne, Natalie Portman, Margot Robbie, Lenny Kravitz, Deacon Phillippe, Kristen Wiig, Meryl Streep, Jodie Foster and Emma Stone. The theme of the night seemed to be slicked back hair. Winners included Ricky Gervais, Davine Joy Randolph, Robert Downey Jr., Ali Wong, Lily Gladstone, Sarah Snook, Matt McFadden, Paul Giamatti and KIERAN CULKIN!! The whole audience stood when they called Culkin’s name which seemed to embarrass him but he so deserved it. There is always one older celeb who acts a bit strange, this year it was Kevin Costner who mumbled his banter and seemed to hate America Ferrera. They were an odd couple. A great couple was Martin Short and Meryl Streep who insist they are just good friends. They were so cute and I want them together in the worst way!! I was thrilled that the powers that be made this award show easy to watch. Award shows are very strict about keeping things on the network that broadcast the event. This show was on multiple sites. I always wonder about that because they don’t have enough ratings to be so selfish. 

***** 

The Critics Choice awards were hosted by Chelsea Handler who did a good job. To me, the best dressed were Jen Aniston, Carey Mulligan, Jodie Foster, Margot Robbie, Colman Domingo, Harvey Guillen, Chelsea Handler, Christina Ricci, Tracee Ellis Ross, Kieran Culkin, Alison Williams, Lenny Kravitz, Ali Wong, Mandy Moore, Rosamund Pike, Quinta Brunson, Bella Ramsey, Kaley Cuoco and Karen Pittman. I was so glad to see Ramon Rodriguez nominated!!!** Kieran Culkin won again!! Other winners include Da’Vine Joy Randolph, Ali Wong, Barbie, Oppenheimer, Succession and American Fiction. When Meryl Streep is nominated for tv, it reminds me of the Nascar Cup drivers that compete in the other races. She didn’t win anyway but it just doesn’t seem quite right. 

***** 

The 75th Emmys was hosted by Anthony Anderson and he did a good job too. His Mother was even better. TV theme songs were front and center. I think Mr. Anderson just really wanted to sing them!  My best dressed were Sheryl Lee Ralph, Rhea Seehorn (who I was really routing for but no win), Ken and Tran Jeong, Alan Ruck, Dominique Fishback, Taylor Tomlinson, Brian Cox, Ali Wong (she nailed it at every show), Niecy Nash, Joy Sunday, Sarah Snook, Briga Heelan, Katherine Hiegel, Jenna Ortega, Donald Glover, Giancarlo Esposito, Jessica Chastain, Mario Bello, Keiran and Jazz, Claire Danes and Riley Keough. Princess Poppy stood out for the Green Goblin look. I was most excited to see Holland Taylor, Marla Gibbs, the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel cast and Carol Burnett. Winners include Kieran again, Quinta Brunson, Niecy Nash-Betts, Sarah Snook, The Daily Show with Trever Noah and Succession. I laughed the most when the It’s Always Sunny cast came on. Give those funny humans some love academy!!!!** Seriously, I liked the winners in any Saul category that won but Better Call Saul was so overdue with 0 for 53. They did set a record though for the most nominated show that never won.** Kieran Culkin may be doing a comedy next. ** Listen to a drag queen.- RuPaul 

***** 

The BAFTA noms were announced and include Barbie, The Color Purple, Poor Things, All of us strangers, Napolean, The Holdovers, Killers of the Flower Moon, Maestro, Oppenheimer and American Fiction. 

***** 

The Oscar noms were also announced with love for Cillian Murphy, Jeffrey Wright, Colman Domingo, Paul Gimatti ,Lily Gladstone, Emma Stone, Robbie Robertson, Jodie Foster, Sterling K. Brown, Robert DeNiro, Robert Downey Jr and Ryan Gosling. Scorsese now has had more nominations (10) than any other living director. People made much about Greta Gerwig and Margot Robbie not getting noms for directing and acting respectively. I get that but for once I agree with Whoopi Goldberg who said, “Not everybody gets a prize!” I mean there are only so many slots.* * The Oscars will broadcast on March 10. 

***** 

Great Kurt Russel stories have come to light, thanks to his children. Kurt beat up Tex Watson, he was there after the Bronco chase and had a plate of food stolen by Ted Bundy! This guy is full of surprises! 

***** 

Turkey has approved Sweden’s NATO membership. 

***** 

Sexual assault news: Vince McMahon and his former head of talent at WWE, John Laurinaitis have been sued for sexual abuse and sex trafficking. ** Caroline Manzo sued Bravo over sexual harassment and assault by Brandi Glanville. 

***** 

Sean Kehoe and Kirra Potts have sued Pauly Shore for assault and battery from a 2022 incident. 

***** 

Javier Bardem and Chloe Sevigny will star in the Lyle and Eric Menendez story. 

***** 

A U.S. Judge has blocked Jetblue from acquiring Spirit Airlines. 

***** 

Marlon Wayans will star in GOAT from Jordan Peele. 

***** 

Why does Bill Maher have such a crush on Elon Musk? He was teasing celebs in a little bit on his show but after Elon, he giggled that he was kidding like he can’t offend the dude.  And, he is still bitching about that Barbie movie. ** And, did a poll really say Maher was the most trusted man in America? 

***** 

People sure seem to be upset about the way the NFL is broadcasting this season. Games that they really want to see are on channels that a lot of people do not have. $$$ just to watch football. ** I will never understand why teams are allowed to run out the clock. They should be actually playing football and still trying to win. It is wrong!!  

***** 

It sounds like we have a new cult to worry about. The University of Cosmic Intelligence of Missouri seems to be run by a convicted child molester from prison. Rashad Jamal has about 200,000 subscribers on YouTube. Six people have turned up missing. 

***** 

Can’t wait for the film, A Real Pain with Keiran Culkin, Jennifer Grey and Jesse Eisenberg. 

***** 

The Superbowl is here with Kansas City and San Fransisco. They are already bombarding us with commercials for their commercials. How did this country come to love this day so much?? 

***** 

Looks like it is time for a movie of the week about Elle King. Word is that she has had several drunken performances lately. It was the recent Dolly Parton tribute at the Opry that went awry. Her performance was filled with cussing for the family audience and struggling to get thru the song. I always respected her music so I hope she works it out. I am sure that Dolly will be on the case. The age old question of how the public will react in the long run will have to play out. Will she stay a rebel and get thru? Will she have a reality show or do rehab? Will she want to do anything? 

***** 

So, they give a woman a late night show and Taylor Tomlinson seems funny enough but they saddle her with a sort of game show where points don’t count and it’s about stupid internet stuff I am always trying to get away from. Just give a woman a show like the big boys. And while you’re at it.. A show for Bonnie Hunt. 

*****  

Will and Harper looks like a great film that shows Will Ferrell and friends journey thru another friends transition. 

***** 

It looks like Alabama loves the death penalty so much they are killing people twice. Nitrogen? Look, if it doesn’t work the first time, perhaps there is a reason to keep them alive. Yikes!! ** The UN has condemned Alabama for the execution. 

***** 

Kate of Wales had abdominal surgery which will sideline her for months. King Charles will also have a minor procedure and be gone for a bit. 

***** 

Pierce Brosnan pled not guilty to trespassing at Yellowstone. 

*****  

In the past 25 years, tobacco use among teens has dropped by 93%. 

***** 

LaPierre is out at the NRA for ‘health reasons.’ Andrew Arulanadam will be interim CEO. Membership has dropped from about 6 mil to 4 mil in the last few years. The corruption trial has started. The NY AG has already reached a settlement with former executive Josh Powell. The Director of Operations has reached a $100,000 agreement with her office and admitted to wrong doing by failing in his fiduciary responsibilities and a misuse of charitable funds. ** There is so much corruption all over the country in little stories throughout the right wing. Florida and Arizona and elsewhere in local papers have stories of illegal financial dealings, sex scandals and broke coffers. There are too many to mention here. Look it up! 

***** 

Westgate Resorts in Kissimmee Fla. canceled a Marjorie Taylor Greene event. The room was supposedly rented for a book signing but the venue found out this was really to be a commemoration of Jan.6. 

***** 

Nobody is sure why the sec. Of defense, Lloyd Austin kept his cancer diagnosis and procedure so hush hush. The President should probably know these things.  

***** 

Hungary’s far right, Our Homeland Party, says it will try to claim a western region of Ukraine that is Transcarpathia, if they lose the war. 

***** 

Trump thinks we need a dome over the country like a Simpsons movie, I guess. ** Trump complains about being in court when he is not required to attend. ** James Carville thinks we should use mockery and ridicule ala Mel Brooks and Mark Twain to get rid of Trump. Carville also asked the question, ”When was the last time Trump saw his dick?” ** Nikki Haley was victim of a swatting incident at her home in South Carolina last month. 

***** 

Aaron Rodgers has proved again what a schmuck he is as he accuses Jimmy Kimmel of being a pedophile. This particular mudslinging seems to be the go- to for dick heads everywhere now. It was reported that he was banned from ESPN but that turned out not to be true. Aaron was back in no time.** Charles Barcley said he would have hit him in the face. **ESPN had to return more than 30 Emmy’s to the television academy after it was discovered the network submitted fake names to get around eligibility rules.* * But.. Why was Kimmel interviewing Depend models and telling them, they would be humiliated the rest of their lives?” This product is crucial for a certain population of this world. I see these elderly and handicapped people everyday. Should they be humiliated too? And why should those models be humiliated? Seems like a real, honest job to me. 

***** 

Robert Kennedy Jr. Threw a party and nobody wanted to come. Martin Sheen, Dionne Warwick, Mike Tyson and Andre Bocelli were among the scheduled guests but none of them had agreed to come or even support his candidacy. The party was said to be a 70th Birthday/ fundraiser and even RFK did not show up. A pac calling themselves Fighting for one America has been blamed. 

***** 

New technology may have told us the identity of DB Cooper. The latest guess seems to be a Crucible steel worker employee named Vince Peterson. 

***** 

Peecycling (urine recycling) is becoming a thing. 

***** 

How to dance in Ohio is coming to Broadway. 

***** 

A nude man was nabbed from a Bass Pro in Alabama after he took a dive into the giant aquarium. 

***** 

Jon Stewart will be back hosting The Daily Show on Mondays. He is also Exec. Producer! 

***** 

The Walton kid actors have mentioned an Earl Hamner stamp. I think we need to look into that! 

***** 

Habitat for Humanity is looking to tear down an old nursing home in East Peoria, Il to build a little village of 5-8 homes for vets. 

***** 

R.I.P. Mickey Cottrell, Glynis Johns, war victims, Tom Johnson, Amanda Davies, Joyce Randolph, Chrissie Slusher- Philips, Norman Jewison, Mary Weiss, Marlena Shaw, Norm Snead, Bud Harrelson, Tanya Berezin, Phill Niblock, Alec Musser, school shooting victims, Bernice Johnson, Harry Johnson, Cindy Morgan, Tisa Farrow, Peter Crombie, April Ferry, John Bush, David Beckwith, Charles Osgood, Adam Harrison, Melanie, Gary Graham, Ruth Ashton Taylor, Harry Connick Sr., Chita Rivera, Dexter Scott King, Bill Hayes, Lynne Marta and David Soul. 

[ruinedsam]

27 & 30 for the Sam ask game please

27. Your take on Bobby's treatment of Sam?

Bobby fans look away

I can admit I'm hard on Bobby compared to John, which may sound strange because if you consider their treatment of Sam in terms of the effect it has on Sam, John clearly did more long-term damage. But, bear with me, I have good reasons - I actually did some soul searching recently because I was puzzled about my widely different responses to Bobby and John. The key difference, for me, is that John loves Sam and Bobby doesn't. I can forgive mistreating Sam (to some degree), but i can't forgive not loving Sam.

Bobby may talk about loving the boys, but from the very beginning he treated Sam differently. I don't see any actual love for Sam in his behavior, I just see him loving Dean and being vaguely fond of Sam because they're a package deal: He barely reacts when Sam dies in AHBL yet when Dean sells his soul, he's almost crying. In Born Under a Bad Sign, when Sam had to live through a possession and gives him a smile, Bobby only gives him a suspocious look. Of course there's his role in locking Sam in the panic room and forcing him in a dangerous detox. In 5x20 he said some bs about Sam having evil inside of him and told Sam he's too weak to fight Lucifer. He didn't notice somethin was off with Sam when he was soulless - or he did and didn't care enough to do sth about it. He wanted Dean to have a life outside of hunting but shamed Sam for trying to do so. Come on, when he was dying he reminisced about a day he spent alone with Dean. That man didn't love Sam. So yeah, I don't care for him at all.

30. Which character(s) deserve(s) to rot in hell for crimes against Sam?

Who doesn't? Everyone and their mother hurts Sam and no one within the story gives a shit💀

I'd say Dean and Cas deserve a temporary stay in hell because they both deliberately hurt Sam but were never held accountable in any way, shape or form. They barely even acknowledged it, let alone apologized or tried to atone for it. They need some time in hell to realize and atone for their sins. I'd let them out after a while tho 🙂

Wait I forgot - Charlie deserves some helltime too for thanking Dean for saving the world while making a shitty comment to Sam about his dead girlfriend, along with everyone who fails to appreciate Sam. Which is basically everyone tbh. Well, they made their own bed, now they gotta lie in it :)

Lucifer, Toni Bevell and all bmol except Mick Davies, Chuck, Azazel, the demon inside Brady, Gadreel, Metatron, Tim & Reggie and Lillith on the other hand deserve to suffer for eternity :)

Ask Game Here

[holylulusworld]

The preacher’s daughter – forever and always

Summary: Always the good girl, always the saint, you meet someone from your past leading you down the road of temptation.  

Sequel to The preacher’s daughter    & The preacher’s daughter – On the run

Pairing: Biker!Dean x Preacher!Daughter

Characters: John Winchester, Rufus Turner, Ellen Harvelle, Pastor Jim, Bobby Singer, Sam Winchester, Carson Brady, Ofc's

Warnings: angst, language, fingering, mentions of arranged marriage, virgin reader, smut, protected sex, oral (female receiving), slow sex, gentle Dean even though he’s a rough biker

A/N:  Part 3/3

Words: 3,8+ k

A/N2: Lyrics by Dusty Springfield ‘Son of a preacher man’ (did i just get an inspiration for another story?)

Watching your father and Brady’s rush toward their car Jim calls his friend. He cannot let anyone destroy your and Dean’s happiness. 

“John, we’ve got a problem. Y/F/N is out for blood and I am afraid it is your son’s. I will meet up with you at our usual spot. Maybe that stubborn man will follow me and leave the couple alone long enough…”

“Let me just,” Dean smirks when he picks you up in bridal style to carry you over the threshold, “bring my beautiful bride inside before I hide the car deeper down the path.”

“That’s a beautiful cabin Dean,” looking around the large but well-hidden cabin you smile. “I always imagined spending my vacations at a place like this.”

“Bobby and Rufus both built the hut,” explaining his father’s friends built the hut for their ‘wifeless’ weekends Dean carries you over the threshold. He's smiling wildly when he places you carefully on the couch.

“Stay here, I’ll get the bags. Ellen and the girls prepared the hut. We got food, and everything we will need until Jim got the license.” 

Pecking your lips Dean smirks when you wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. “Just a minute, sweetheart. I swear I’ll kiss you all over.”

“I see you around Mr. Winchester,” smirking you tug at Dean’s tie. “Did I tell you that you look good in a suit.”

“Well, Mrs. Winchester, if you want me to,” he kisses you again, soft, slow, “I’ll wear a suit for you more often.”

Dean came back with the bags minutes later, exclaiming he will fly with you to France for honeymoon.

While you got comfortable on your husband’s demand Dean lit candles, opened the bottle of champagne John gave him, and played smooth music.

“Shit, you are so beautiful, Y/N,” Dean holds out his hand, a soft smile on his lips, “May I ask for this dance?” giggling you take his offered hand. 

Slowly swaying you to the music Dean smiles when you lean your head against his shoulder. He hums the songs for you, holding you in his arms. “I have to admit, I am an awful dancer.”

“You are a great dancer, Dean,” you hide he stepped onto your foot more than once within the last minutes. “I could dance with you for the whole night.”

“Your toes will be black and blue if we do so,” laughing Dean twirls you around, grinning as you squeal when he grabs your waist to pick you up, holding you above his head. “That’s the Swayze, sweetheart…”

“Jim calm down and tell me what happened,” alerted John, Bobby and Ellen look at Pastor Jim, waiting for more information than his cryptic call. “Jim?”

“He was there, Y/F/N, threatened to find Y/N and force an annulment if he must. I think this is not about Y/N and Dean, it’s about Mary,” Jim huffs, falling onto a chair. “I think he never got over her rejection.”

“Jesus, Jim,” John furrows his brows before his hands ball into fists. “That was a lifetime ago. Mary and I met, we fell in love and married. She never saw more in Y/F/N than a friend. When he admitted his feelings, Mary tried to be as nice as possible. We were already engaged, Dean on his way and all,” Ellen sighs deeply, shaking her head at your father’s behavior.

“I remember that time well, John. Y/F/N never looked twice at Mary. I know they were friends but things changed and then, one day, out of the blue he admitted his love,” Bobby runs one hand down his face, nodding at Rufus who enters the clubhouse, a frown on his face.

“Someone slit my tires, just like yours, Bobby,” Rufus grumbles. “John, yours are damaged too.”

“That idjit!” Bobby curses. “I bet he came here, not finding his daughter and let out his anger on our bikes. Son of a bitch!” Rage taking over Bobby gets up to take a swig from his beer. “What now?”

“I told him Dean and Y/N are on their way to France, not a complete lie as Dean plans to spare money to have a honeymoon and all,” Jim sighs. “This is a messed-up situation. I do not know how to make Y/F/N see Dean is not you and that Mary, never belonged with him.”

“Let’s find that idjit, John. We will try to talk some sense into that man,” Bobby looks around the clubhouse, grinning as everyone nods in agreement. “We should keep the youngster out of this as no one else knows about Mary and Y/F/N.”

“I’ll come too, John. Mary talked to me after Y/F/N admitted his love,” Ellen claps her hands, looking at her partner. “Come on Bobby don’t make a face. We are talking about a preacher; he will not shoot me.”

“I called the Sheriff on my way, she said Y/F/N has no right to force Y/N to annul her marriage with Dean. She willingly married your son, we all are witnesses, even Y/N’s mother was there. We will try to talk to Y/F/N. He has must give in,” Jim gets up, smirking at John. “I always wondered if I still can ride a bike. I’ll borrow one.”

“Let’s ride then,” John smirks, looking at his ‘old gang’. “Just the oldies this time, awesome…”

“Dean, I am a bit nervous,” you whisper, swallowing thickly while Dean hums, lost in the music and the feeling of your body against his.

“Why? Because of your daddy?” Looking at you in his arms Dean watches you lift your head to meet his gaze. You bite your lip, shaking your head.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to do anything tonight,” Dean whispers sensing you are nervous about your first time he softly kisses your hair. “We rushed everything else. How about we take our time?”

“No,” pouting you fist his jacket. “I am nervous, but I want to have sex with you,” Dean holds back a chuckle at your serious expression.

“Baby girl, we can do it any other time,” murmuring the words he peppers soft kisses to your nose, forehead until his lips claim yours. “I’ll wait for you, Y/N.”

“I want you, Dean! You are my husband, fulfill your duty,” giggling you press your lips to Dean’s eagerly slipping your tongue into his mouth. “I don’t want to disappoint you, is all.”

“Y/N,” murmuring your name Dean presses his forehead to yours, just holding you for a moment, “you could never disappoint me, sweetheart. If someone loses his cool tonight it is me. I mean, you never had sex before and I don’t want to mess up and ruin your first time.”

“It’s with you, Dean. Nothing can go wrong,” you smile when Dean’s hands slide to your back to slowly unzip your dress. “Just don’t ruin my dress and we are good.”

“Y/F/N, listen,” Brady’s father sighs, “I know we agreed our children marry one day, but it seems your daughter is in love with that Winchester boy. Let’s call everything off,” while Carson nods, silently agreeing to his father’s words your father hits the breaks with full force.

“We will not give up now, Brady. Your son will marry my Y/N, period,” he grunts. “I will not allow a Winchester to steal another of my girls.”

“Is this about Mary, Y/F/N?” shaking his head your father glares at Carson who tried to talk to his father. “We all know she met John Winchester and fell in love before you ever said a word about your feelings. She could not know, just like John. It’s called love, Y/F/N, we preach love every Sunday at our churches.”

“Dad is right, Mr. Y/L/N,” Carson finally finds his voice. “I was a bit forward last summer and tried to kiss, Y/N. Honestly, I struggled with alcohol and did stupid things but I will not force your daughter into marriage making us both unhappy,” glaring at your father Carson clears his throat.

“You made us believe Dean forced Y/N into marriage or worse, but she willingly married him, and I am out. You can do whatever you want, I can’t stop you, but I’ll get out of the car and drive home.”

“Right, Carson,” while the Brady’s leave your father’s car, hoping he will stop hunting you and your husband your father drives off, clenching his jaw.

“I hope he does not do anything stupid dad,” Carson sighs. “I mean, he lied to us, pretending Y/N is in danger.”

The only one who could ever reach me

 Was the son of a preacher man

 The only boy who could ever teach me

 Was the son of a preacher man

 Yes, he was, he was, ooh, Lord knows, he was (yes, he was)

Dean sings along the song, while you giggle the whole time. He did not want to ‘go straight for the goal’, instead, Dean started with taking his jacket off, followed by his tie. Now he is busy to slowly open his button-up to distract you from your nervous state.

“I am a daughter, Dean, not a guy,” you giggle again when he drops the button-up, along with his undershirt. Your eyes roam his body, admiring the tattoo at his chest, loving it’s an orchid. “Dean?”

“An orchid for my orchid,” whispering the words Dean watches you stroke the tattoo. Your name written right next to the flower makes you sniffle. “Got it when I had to left town, Y/N.”

His lips claim yours and you lose all fear or worry when you feel his hands gently stroke your back. “Couldn’t forget about you, needed something to remind me of my girl. I remembered the orchids in your window.” You feel his lips travel along your neck, leaving little kisses all over your skin.

“Dean, I dreamed of you when you were away,” with trembling hands you touch his skin, let them travel over his back. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” mumbling the words Dean presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before he looks down at your chest, wiggling his eyebrows. “I got to get rid of that bra, sweetheart,” he playfully threatens, and you squeal when he deftly unclasps the strapless bra, a big grin on his lips.

Left in your panties, stockings, and a blue garter you feel exposed at first, but the way Dean looks at you makes your heart jump in your chest. He’s carefully touching your left breast, squeezing it slightly and you gasp when his thumb brushes over your nipple.

“You’re so responsive,” you swear Dean’s eyes are three shades darker now, or it’s just your imagination but you can’t think about it for much longer as he dips his head to press a searing kiss to your lips while his other hand gropes your breast a bit rougher now.

“Going to make you feel so good, sweetheart. What do you want me to do? Touch you with my lips or fingers?” Confused you look down your body before you take Dean’s hand to press it to your mound. “Naughty girl goes for the hand right away.”

“I mean, don’t you want to,” his lips silence your worries, kiss all the tension away while his hand slips into your panties to toy with your clit. “Feels so good, Dean.”

He’s running his fingers down your clit, rounding the little nub with his fingertips before he brushes over your opening. “Let’s get more comfortable. We will not do it while standing here,” Dean moves you toward the bed, kissing you the whole time.

You drop to the bed with a giggle and a grunt from Dean. He landed on top of you, kissing his way down your body.

“Going to kiss you all over,” he threatens playfully. “Maybe even your sweet pussy,” you look flustered at Dean who grins like the devil again. “I was not joking, sweetheart.”

A peck to your lips later Dean works his way down your body. His lips start at your neck, sucking and nipping demandingly to leave a mark.

“Perfect,” his voice rougher now Dean presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before licking along your skin, down to your collarbone. The whole time his hands mirror his lips, touch the skin his lips and tongue can’t reach.

You close your eyes, gasping whilst his lips wrap around one nipple to suckle harshly at the pebbled nub. Your hands fly to his head, fisting his hair at the same time that Dean turns his attention toward your other nipple. He smirks at your reaction, rutting his erection against your core to make you cry out at his hardness.

“Dean, is it normal that you are that hard?” Innocently looking up at you, hiding he is rock-hard since he saw you in your wedding dress Dean nods, licking along your nipple. “Only for you, Y/N, now…”

Soft kisses get pressed down your tummy and you open your eyes again to watch Dean gathered the fabric of your panties with his teeth, giving you a wink.

“Dean? How?”

His hands move under your ass, encourage you to lift your body to help him get rid of the piece of clothing covering your most private part from Dean’s prying eyes. 

“There we go,” panties tossed over his shoulder Dean stares at your exposed sex, grinning again. “First the garter, sweetheart, and then I’ll eat this sweet pussy.”

You watch him grab the garter, looking at you before he turns his attention toward your body, nibbling at your thigh. He slides the garter down your leg, holding it up like bait before he stuffs it into his pants. 

“Mine to keep,” humming to himself Dean settles between your legs, spreading you on his way. “Now, let me taste your sweetness.”

Not knowing how to react or if you should do anything you watch Dean dive in to slide his tongue through your folds. He’s humming now and then, stroking your thighs with his thumbs while he lazily licks up and down your sex, never breaking eye-contact.

“Dean, it feels, oh-this is,” fisting the sheets you start grinding against his face.

Your body seems to know what to do so you shut your brain off and let your body talk to Dean. “More…”

“You’ll get more, sweetheart but for now let me just,” a finger joins his tongue, circles your entrance carefully, “open you up, Y/N.”

His finger slips inside, and you wiggle slightly, not used to feeling anything bigger than a tampon inside your body. “If you want me to stop, tell me so, Y/N. I need to know if you feel uncomfortable.”

Dean’s concern makes you smile. “It feels odd, but you do not hurt me, Dean. I want more,” licking your lips you look at his hand. “Two?”

“My baby gets two fingers,” adding another finger Dean starts curling his digits, pressing a whimper out of you just when he brushes over the spot making you squirm. “Going to scissor my fingers to open you up a little.”

Dean almost purrs against your flesh when he dives back in. Two fingers knuckle deep, curling he wraps his lips around your sensitive nub, and you feel something happening in your belly. 

There is a knot forming and you do not know if you like it or not, but you arch off the bed feeling the knot tighten. “Dean I…uh-baby, fuck,” you cry out, hit by an unexpected orgasm.

“There is my girl,” Dean grins up at you, still curling his fingers. “Knew you can make it, baby girl. How do you feel?”

“Good, so good, Dean. I want more,” whining you watch Dean slips his fingers out of your slit. “Can I have more?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll give you more in a minute, just let me get rid of my pants,” Dean smirks, hastily leaving the bed to get rid of his clothing. Pants end up on the couch, his socks hang from the lamp and we do not talk about his boxers on the table.

“Dean, you look, damn,” biting your index finger you glance at Dean’s penis, admiring the way it bobs when he walks toward you. 

“Let me fetch a condom and we can start making you my dirty girl,” giggling again you nod eagerly, watching Dean dip one knee into the mattress. “Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

You hold out your arms, shaking your head when Dean still hesitates. “I want you to…you know, make love to me,” you whisper watching Dean roll the condom over his length.

Watching you spread your legs wider Dean kneels between your thighs. He admires your body, for a moment before his eyes meet yours and his heart flutters. “Love you, sweetheart.”

He’s covering your body, moves one hand behind the back of your head to bring you closer to his lips. “Just let me,” you can feel him run the tip up and down your sex, coating his length with your slick, “love you.”

For a moment you feel pressure when he slowly presses into you. His right-hand grips your thigh, holding it in a tight grip while he sinks further into you. Dean moans when you grip his biceps, digging your blunt nails into his flesh when he finally bottoms out.

You blink a few times, ludicrous as Dean’s body is flush against yours. “That’s odd,” you chuckle looking down your body. “Dad wasn’t right. I mean, there is no pain or hellfire. I feel stuffed and I can feel you twitch.”

“How do you feel?” Dean whispers into your ear, moving his right hand to the small of your back to press your body to his warm chest. “Does anything hurt?”

“I want to feel you move, Dean. I want to know how it feels when you,” biting your lip you look up at Dean. “Fuck me.”

“Bad girl, naughty even,” his lips hungrily meet yours, not that innocently anymore. “We will fuck later, tonight we will make love, Y/N.”

Disappointed you feel Dean slide back out, feeling empty you pout. Dean stills, just holding the tip inside, a grin on his lips. Before you can protest he slides back in, making you gasp at the force. 

Your hands move over his back, caressing the skin as he slowly moves inside of you. There is a pressure building up, more intense than before and you want nothing more than to experience another high. 

While Dean holds you against his body, giving you harder thrusts you can’t stop the moans leaving your lips. It’s like Dean broke all seals and now you are lost in the pleasure he gives you, not caring about rules or being ‘a good girl’ any longer.

Your legs wrap around his waist, your hand's paw at his back, and to Dean’s surprise, you raise your head to look him straight in the eyes. “Fuck me, Dean. Make me your dirty girl.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” cursing Dean speeds up, too close to his release he fights against his body, imagining anything but you calling his name, writhing on his dick while you beg him to take you like his dirty girl. “I am going to, fuck me, please. Oh-shit, baby please cum for me.”

Eagerly rolling your hips to meet Dean’s thrusts you throw your head back, crying out Dean’s name before pleasure takes over and you fall back onto the pillow a smirk on your lips. “Damn, Dean.”

“Y/N,” collapsing on top of you Dean buries his face into your neck, moaning your name. “I never came harder, baby girl.”

“Can’t say the same,” giggling you ruffle Dean’s hair, making him laugh against your skin. “I bet no man could make me cum harder.”

“I am your husband, no one but me makes you cum,” humming you close your eyes, enjoying the afterglow. “I love you, baby girl.”

“Love you too, my big bad biker boy…”

“End of line Y/F/N. Cut the crap and let's talk like men,” John sighs, not letting your father pass. “Mary and me, we did not know anything about your feelings. Back then we were in love, I proposed and we married.”

“I loved her, and you stole her, Winchester,” your father spats, pointing toward John’s bike. “You are the devil and seduced her with your cigarettes, the leather jacket, and bike. She should’ve been my wife, not yours.”

“Enough!” Ellen steps toward your father, clenching her fists. “You will not destroy Y/N’s luck out of jealousy. Mary, she was a good woman, loved her children and John. I was the one she turned to after you told her about your feelings. Mary was torn between clarifying that she only loves John and that she’s expecting his child and not wanting to hurt you, her friend.”

“She was pregnant back then,” your father gasps, stepping backward, placing one hand onto his heart. “I did not know. I thought I got a chance.”

“Y/F/N, she loved you like a friend or brother. Mary’s heart only belonged to John, till the end. I am sorry, but that’s the truth,” Ellen’s voice is softer now, full of compassion. “I know it’s hard to lose someone you love, I lost my Billy,” she sniffles now, giving your father a cracked smile.

 “But the old geezer over there,” she points toward Bobby, giving him a soft smile, “is my second love and I do not love him less, just differently. You have got a wonderful wife, a beautiful daughter and soon you will have grandchildren. Do not mess things up, even more, you already missed her wedding. Give her love a chance and we can, if they agree, have a second wedding at your church.”

“Grandchildren, oh, Lord,” falling to his knees, folding his hands your father cries silently, “what have I done.”

“Nothing you can’t fix, Y/F/N. Stop the hatred and let your daughter have her life. We can arrange a second wedding with you leading her down the aisle and marrying her to my son,” John holds out his hand, gripping your father’s hand tightly when he takes it. “I am sorry you loved Mary and lost her, but I lost her too.”

“I do,” smiling wildly you watch Dean put the ring on your finger for a second time. As promised everyone helped to arrange a second wedding, at your father’s church, with your father marrying you to Dean.

“My last words to the newlyweds are private. I must apologize for my stubbornness, for the bad words, and judging this fine young man. I will try to be a better man, husband, father, and man of this church to fulfill the promise I made to my wife and Mary Winchester’s grave. I promise to be the father Y/N deserves, the husband my beloved wife deserves, and the man offering his blessings to the men and women of the MC Purgatory…”

Walking out of the church, holding Dean’s hand you remember the first time you met Dean all those years ago. His green eyes shone, and you knew, you will marry him one day, and you did… 

Tags in reblog

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

It’s the Asexual Pumpkin, Sam Winchester.

Asexuality can be defined as the quality or characteristic of having no sexual feelings or desires.

Fifteen year old Sam Winchester can't stop fussing his lower lip with his teeth, constantly biting the corner, as he reads fervently, and in a hurry.

It may be considered a sexual orientation or lack thereof.

He buries his head in his hands, fingers in his hair, and breathes out. It's not a lack of sexuality - not to him, that is. He feels everything - he's just not sure if he's feeling the right things.

And he can't stop thinking about it.

*

He's sixteen when a girl first kisses him. She's practically a stranger, given they've only had a few classes and a group project together - which makes it really weird for him when she walks up to him when he's sitting at his lunch table, cups his cheek, and closes the gap between their lips.

"It was a dare," She explains, pulling away. Sam blinks up at her as she hurriedly adds, "I had to kiss my crush."

She's probably making sure Sam doesn't think the dare had been to kiss the weird kid who always sits by the window at lunch with his nose in a book.

"Okay." Sam says, not knowing what to do with this information. "It's okay."

And that's it.

*

Sometimes when Sam's supposed to be researching monsters his dad's gone off to hunt, he fades out and inadvertently starts to research his own.

He's sure he isn't normal. This constant nagging inside his head which tells him there's something terrifyingly wrong with him because - there just is.

*

"Oh, Sam!" The boy he's got pinned against the wall groans, instinctively grabbing a fistful of Sam's shirt - Dean's hand-me-down flannel. "Sam, you're - Jesus, that's good."

Sam's got an arm wrapped around his waist, one behind his neck, and their hips thrust erratically, but together, in some sort of rhythm. 

He's trying.

He's trying to want this.

Sam kisses him harder, holds him tighter, and pulls him closer.

He's never been more scared than when it's all over, and the guy falls forward heaving, face buried in Sam's chest and strings of praise in his breath - because Sam still feels nothing at all.

And he realizes there’s a possibility that he’ll never feel anything.

*

Before he leaves for Stanford, Dean takes him out for a drink. John doesn't want them to go - or maybe he just says that, because then Sam insists that they do.

"You're gettin' out, Sammy." Dean says out loud, and there's only sadness in his eyes, for all the bright in his smile. "Jus' like you always wanted."

Sam blinks away his tears, and drinks to it.

His brother drinks heavily that night and they talk for hours, like they've never talked before - pretending that they'll never talk again.

Sam almost says it.

He almost ups and admits to his brother that he's a goddamn freak who doesn't want to have sex. That he knows it isn't normal, and he knows Dean can't understand how or why he feels the way he feels - but he needs to tell it to him, because he needs to tell it to someone - and he really doesn't trust anyone else.

But then he doesn't, because the night's coming to an end, and Dean pulls him into a hug when they get out to the Impala, and Sam doesn't let go for a very long time.

There's more important things, he tells himself, when Dean all but breaks down in the driver's seat, and asks Sam not to leave with just that look in his eyes and no words spoken - and Sam has to wrench his heart away, and close his eyes as he shakes his head.

He has to leave.

And that's enough he's done to Dean already.

*

All his future packed in a military backpack and a barrel bag, Sam walks into his Stanford dormitory for the first time. Before he even gets to his room, there's a guy with a stack of stickers and a Stanford cap, standing in his way.

"Nametags." He simply says, showing Sam a grey sticker, and proceeding to stick a cardboard under it so he can write. "I fill them for you." He adds.

"Sam Winchester." Sam says, leaning to see what else has to be written. They're asking for his pronouns. "Uh, he/him." He continues, after a pause.

"Are you sure you're sure?" The guy grins.

Sam gives him a look. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "Just taken aback."

"Well, I'll have you know," The guy gives Sam his hand. "I pretty much led the movement on there being pronouns on these, instead of majors."

Sam shakes his hand, feeling a little out of place, but warming up to the guy. His eyes flick down to his nametag and he reads Brady, above 'they/them'.

Oh.

"Okay, then." Brady smiles, putting the sticker on Sam's shirt himself after looking at him explicitly for permission, which Sam grants. "Don't go 'round changing your shirt, Sam."

Sam grins at them before walking off to his dorm.

*

He's at a bar the next time he meets Brady. It's been a long first week - good, but tiring. He's never been so bound by a schedule before, but then he's also never felt this free.

Brady's wearing a hoodie which could've fit another one of them in it, and they slide up next to Sam on a barstool.

"So?" They ask, as means of a greeting. "How was your first week?"

"Not bad. Can we talk about something else?" Sam says, because he's talked about it with himself so many times already - and he's here because he wants to stop.

"Sure." They shrug. "Would you order a drink for yourself, because I don't know what you like yet, but I'd like to buy you a drink."

Sam turns to them uneasily, but before he can even think about it, he's already blurted it out.

"I'm asexual."

That's the first time he's ever said it out loud, and something so minor provoking such a huge declaration - a milestone, for him - makes him realize just how free he feels.

"Cool." Brady answers, furrowing their eyebrows. "You mind me asking if you're also aromantic?"

Sam pauses.

He's never researched about this - and he's never even thought about it, but from the word, he can gather what it must mean. And from the context, he's even more sure.

"I don't." Sam answers. "And no, I'm not."

"Do you drink?" They lick their lips.

"Yeah." Sam breathes out, and it feels like a burden he'd not known about has finally been lifted off of his chest - and he turns to the menu.

"Awesome."

*

Eventually, Brady and he end up close.

Sam's not surprised. They've been friends for weeks now, and he's comfortable around them in a way Sam's never been around anyone before.

And they know so much about so many things, that Sam realizes how little he knows of the world outside hunting. They spend most of their evenings holed up together in Sam's room, watching movies, reading aloud to each other, and talking through the night.

Even if they fall asleep on the same bed, it doesn't feel weird, because it's Brady - and Sam trusts them.

Sam loves them too, but apparently not in the same way as Brady loves Josh, because one evening, almost a couple months in, he brings it up, and just as easily as they'd fallen in place together, they fall out of an undefined relationship.

"I don't think I'm over him." They confess. "I want to be, but I don't think I am, and that isn't fair to you."

Sam gets it. He isn't going to push.

"Let's still be friends, though."

"Obviously."

*

That's when Sam meets Jess.

She's perfect, Sam knows, every fibre of his being knows, and above all, she loves him. On their fourth date, Sam swallows his fears and explains to her that he's asexual.

It's become easier to do it - especially because when he's all out of words, and completely vulnerable, Jess takes his hand and asks, gently, if she could kiss him.

Sam nods, because he wants her to, and not just because no one's ever stopped and asked him that - and then he has her come close, linger for a second, and slowly, sweetly, kiss him.

For the first time, Sam feels something akin to what he knows he's supposed to feel - and he lets her kiss him, closing his eyes, and trying to stop thinking about everything.

He falls for her, irrevocably, very soon - but he still can't stop thinking.

What if he's not asexual?

What if he's been lying to himself all this time?

Jess and he move into an apartment in their second year.

She may not have been able to dispense advice like Brady would've, when Sam had his first panic attack - a hot mess, caused by everything at once; being away from Dean, being all alone, and being a fake - but that's the first time they fall asleep together, and not just on the same bed.

Sam wakes up with Jess's arm curled around him, and feels his heart flush with emotions.

When Jess wakes up too, she finds Sam staring at her with tears in his eyes and apologies on his lips, and he kisses her deeply but also confesses that he still isn't ready for sex, and he doesn't know when he will be, even though he's beginning to research demisexuality, and he tells her as much about Dean as he can, and he tells her how much he loves her but is still so afraid -

And she holds him in return, and reminds him that she loves him too, and that what matters more than all the labels Sam gives himself, is that Sam is happy.

"What would I do without you?" Sam asks, for the first time ever.

"Crash and burn."

*

Dean comes to get him - Sam drives the Woman in White to peace, they return home well in time for his interview - and then Jess burns to her death in front of his eyes.

Dean drags him out of the house forcefully, though Sam fights to get back to Jess - he fights with all his strength because he knows nothing will ever be the same. He's going to crash and burn without her - so why not do it right away?

Why not just let go?

But Dean's stronger than he is, and he won't let him. He holds onto Sam until the firemen have extinguished the entire fire, and he doesn't let him go out of his sight for days to follow - always unsure of what Sam might do, because he might not know why Jess meant so much to his brother, but he can tell how much she did.

(Sometimes, it's a really good thing he knows Sam so well.

And sometimes, it's the worst.)

*

Sam's starting to feel lost.

There had been comfort in a label - he could call himself asexual, tell himself he wasn't alone, tell himself he wasn't a freak - he was just different, and that was okay.

But now he feels like it's all a lie.

He's a liar and a coward and a freak - and god-fucking-dammit, he might call himself a fake, but Sam still isn't attracted to anyone, so he's just so fucking lonely all the time.

And he knows he's completely alone.

*

Sam punishes himself sometimes.

He'll go out with someone, like Dean does - and pretend to himself that he's trying to convince the world that he's normal, that he's okay - but the real reason he does it is because he always comes back guilty.

And he deserves that pain.

He deserves more of it - the depressing detachment which overcomes him in the middle of the night, the sheer repulsion he feels for what he did in the morning, and his perpetually burdened conscience.

When he doesn't feel like himself at all, with a stranger wrapped around him in an unknown bed, there's a cruel voice in his head which tells him this is what he deserves.

He doesn't deserve to be the real him - and Sam isn't even sure he knows who he is.

*

When Ruby enters his life, everything changes. Sam Winchester falls for a demon - though no one will ever call it love out loud, because that simply wouldn't be true.

But there's absolutely nothing else it can be.

She's demanding and feisty, and has a way with Sam which makes him want to shove her against a wall and fuck her until that smirk goes away. And she shows up everywhere, sometimes naked, wanting Sam to drink her blood or pin her to a bed, or both at once.

Sam would pick her up and she'd wrap her legs around him, and devour his lips with passionate, angry kisses until Sam forgot every other way to kiss.

This isn't him, he knows. Dean doesn't need to keep telling him that - he fucking knows.

It's the least himself he's ever been.

(But at least, he's goddamned strong.)

*

Brady shows up, again.

Sam's unsure of how to react to a demon possessing his best friend from Stanford - for Christ's sake, this is Brady, but then the demon admits to killing Jess and that's when the switch flips and Sam forgets he ever trusted this face.

Sam forgets he ever loved him.

*

Then, Lucifer happens.

It's unimaginable pain - forever. The Devil pierces through his flesh with knifes and ice cold hands, and tears him apart. The Creator of Hell tortures him, and breaks his bones and burns his skin and makes him beg for death a million times, with each breath.

Sam's chained and bound and raped, and Lucifer owns him for 180 years in the Cage, and makes him hate himself for every choice he's ever made.

Except the one which brought him there - for Sam knows he saved the World and he won't undo it, any chance he gets.

Even though nothing can save him now.

*

Castiel, his brother's angel, pulls him out of the pit, soulless.

The following fifteen months are a blur, but Sam knows enough to be utterly ashamed of himself.

And when he gets his tormented, ruined soul back, there's a fleeting thought that at least Lucifer's given him a reason to never want sex again - right before he loses his head.

*

With Amelia, Sam complicates things too much in trying to make them simple.

He can't think about himself anymore - so he stops thinking altogether, because he definitely cannot think about Dean or Castiel. Everything hurts, so he ignores it all, and pretends he's happy.

She believes him.

Sam's unwilling to go through the tiring process of telling her he's asexual - and frankly, as time passes, it feels like he left that word behind in Stanford.

So they sleep together a couple of times, though Sam's heart is never in it. Together, they neither have the emotional connection he and Jess shared, nor the needy attraction the demon blood caused between him and Ruby.

And then Don Richardson returns, and Sam takes the easy way out.

It's too easy leaving her, and not just because the world needs saving again and Dean is back.

Sometimes Sam wonders how real she had been.

*

Toni Bevell tortures him, on the behalf of the British Men of Letters, to get information.

When it doesn't work, she seduces him, and when Sam wakes up, they're under the covers, and there's wine and candles, and he's completely swallowed in this trance - until he suddenly has a flashback of the dungeons where she'd kept him, and sees through the hallucinations.

But it's not before they've had sex, and he's blindly answered most of her questions, and now it makes Sam feel disgusting.

It makes him feel abused.

*

Things never go that far with Eileen, but Sam supposes it's the closest he's come to trusting someone as much as he wants to, before he's comfortable kissing her.

She kisses him back gingerly, closing her eyes, and it's goodbye.

Because Sam wanted her to stay, and everyone he's ever wanted close, has always left.

*

It's after the end of Chuck.

Gabriel returns, for good.

And Sam realizes he has feelings for him, just barely in time to get him to stay - and wonder of wonders, he does.

*

They're on the bed, with Sam sprawled out in the middle, and Gabriel curled against his side with his arm tucked around him, and Sam's holding him there with a hand, while his other hand intertwines his fingers with Gabriel's.

In this moment, everything's perfect.

"I'm asexual." Sam whispers to the ceiling, quietly. "Or at least, I used to be."

Gabriel hums.

"Can people change?" Sam goes on, braving his heart for the answer.

"What their sexuality means to them can." Gabriel answers, as simple as that. "And it can mean so much, Samwise. Of course it changes."

"Asexuality is the quality or characteristic of having no sexual feelings or desires." Sam repeats, from memory. A really old memory. "It may be considered a sexual orientation or lack thereof."

Gabriel is quiet - they both are, until Sam realizes the archangel thinks he has more to say.

"That's it." Sam admits shyly. "That's the definition fifteen year old Sam read so many times in his head that thirty seven year old Sam remembers."

"Oh, you." Gabriel sits up, cross-legged on the bed. He stares at the hunter and sees the lack of acceptance in his own eyes. "That's over twenty years old, Sam. Listen to me."

"Okay." Sam swallows.

"You can relate to some traits of asexuality and not all of them, and still be considered asexual." Gabriel begins, serious. "You know it's a spectrum, right? So you may think differently about sex than other asexuals. Every asexual is unique, and their identities are shaped by all that that they've gone through, and not just what they were born as."

Well, nobody could've had the same experiences he did. Does that mean -

Gabriel goes on. "You may be grossed out by sex, find it uninteresting, or think it's mildly enjoyable if it's with the right partner."

Sam's eyebrows go up.

He liked sex, or something almost like it, when he was with Jess. It was boring, but not the worst thing in the world, with Amelia. And if all the other times, he's repulsed by it - apparently that's okay too.

"I - I didn't know that."

"Knowing you're on the ace spectrum can be enough." Gabriel tells him, squeezing his hand. "You don't have to define your sexuality every day of your life - it's there to decide who makes you happy, and not who you are."

Sam's speechless.

He's never thought about it like this.

"Call yourself whatever you like, Sammich." Gabriel smiles. "Asexual, demisexual, grey asexual - it's up to you. But don't let a label, or the seeming defiance of it upset you. You're human, not a piece of research you can label and file away in inventory - you're you, and believe me, that's all that matters to the rest of us."

"I -" Sam wishes he has the words to express what he's feeling right now, but he can't find any, so he just squeezes Gabriel's hand back. And mumbles, "I love you."

"I know," Gabriel teases, so Sam lets out a short breath of laughter and leans up to kiss him but Gabriel meets him in the middle. "I'm pretty great."

"Thank you." Sam breathes out, pulling away. "Thank you for everything."

"Shuddup." Gabriel blows a raspberry, just so he can ruin the moment and Sam swats at him playfully. "But hey, quick thing."

"Yeah?"

"Please don't let PTSD affect your take on your own sexuality." Gabriel says, adopting a serious voice again.

"It's hard when a lot of that trauma is related pretty closely to sex." Sam confesses, sighing.

"Yeah. I believe you, it - it must be hard." Gabriel sounds pained to say it. There's silence for a while. Finally, he says, "You know I'm always here if you need to talk, right?"

"It goes both ways."

"Noted." Gabriel leans in this time, and Sam lets him traverse all of the way so that it gets easier to pull him back to bed, instead of him sitting up.

"I'll be truthful with you, Gabe." Sam speaks up, a whole while later. Gabriel turns around to face him, pulling slightly away because they'd been cuddling. "I don't think I'm going to want to have sex ever again."

Gabriel nods in acknowledgement.

"What, that's it?" Sam makes a face. "Here I am, feeling guilty because I'll never be able to want sex with my partner who loves sex, and you're just going to nod?"

"Believe me, Samshine. I've had enough sex in my lifetime." Gabriel clears his throat, throwing in a wink which makes Sam laugh. "And for that matter, I'm pretty self-sufficient."

"You're gross is what you are." Sam rolls his eyes, trying to contain a smile.

"Sure, that too." Gabriel takes it in his stride. "And I'm sure you wouldn't be completely unwilling to help poor me out, if I needed it." His eyebrows dance. "You know, flex for me shirtless, say my name in your sexy voice sorta thing."

Sam swats at him with a pillow as he dissolves in laughter.

"Or even just a quick shoulder peek maybe." Gabriel shrugs, nonchalantly.

"What is it about my shoulders?" Sam huffs, mostly kidding. "I swear, I never stood how they can be an attractive feature on anybody."

"Ah, well." Gabriel makes a dramatic show of giving up hope. "I guess you'd have to be pansexual to get it."

Sam rolls his eyes again.

And that's that.

[swifty-fox]

so would anyone care for a Kfak-Compliant Brady one shot?

Telling Major John Egan to jump is the first and last time Johnny Brady gives an order to a superior officer. It’s automatic, not-thought out. A knee-jerk reflex; if I don’t make sure this man gets off my ship he’s not leaving. 

He can’t go without him. The idea of facing Buck Cleven in a prison camp or in the afterlife however many hours, days, years from now and telling him he let his man die is unfeasible. It’s not how the rules work. Buck and Bucky make it, that’s the big rule. So if he breaks the little rules, ordering Major Egan to jump, taking him up in his fort even though he’s not supposed to be here, then he rationalizes it that way. 

It’s quiet up in the sky, the sound of burning screeching metal snatched away in seconds by momentum and gravity. He’s alone for the first time in years, and it’s a disconcerting panicked feeling as he floats helpless in blue, blue heavens. When he hits the ground, rolling his ankle and gouging a furrow in thick peat mud and without his Major, he realizes just because he made John Egan jump doesn’t mean he’s saved his life. It’s automatic, standing and testing his ankle on the strange moss-covered ground that pitched and wobbled like the deck of a ship with every shift of his weight. Sinks his teeth into his wrist until blood bubbles to muffle his cry when his ankle barely accepts his weight. Bundles his parachute and stuffs it in the mud so the white color doesn’t give him away and rips his insignias from his uniform.

It’s the best he can do.

It’s not more than two hours before he’s captured, gun to the back of his head and harsh German voices telling him to kneel. Mud that’s also blood coating his face and burning with a rage so hard he shakes. It could be the cold, sunk down to his bones with damp and unfamiliarity. Soil that wasn’t his by birthright, you don’t belong here soldier boy. This isn’t your gravedirt. It could be cold and grief and fear, but he chooses to name it as rage and grits his teeth as he limps on his bum ankles and tells the interrogator his name rank and number and recites his mother's recipe for soda bread when anything else tries to come up. 

Has Major Egan or Major Cleven come through? Did you pick up a man named Bernard Demarco?

They threaten to kill him. He’s reliably sure it’s a bluff, because there’s rules to all of this. They try to woo him and he knows that’s a bluff because you don’t make soldiers with kindness. He has his rules, he has his orders. He says nothing and wishes they would hit him so he could hit back. Wishes they would turn the blood he tastes on his teeth real so it feels less like terror.

They don’t. Everyone follows routine.

A RAF pilot binds his ankle on the train ride to the rest of his war, it rains and he cups his hands through the slats of the train to wash his face clean of peat-mud. Chill settles over them all at night, damp and horrible and he doesn’t sleep a wink, too aware of being surrounded by men who didn’t belong to him until David Solomon and Crank’s heads pop up from down the other end of the cart and the three of them fall together in a hushed pile of who made it who did they see who went down. Did you see John Egan? Did you see Bucky I got him out but I lost him in the clouds.

He wonders if maybe God snatched Bucky right from his parachute harness. 

He gives Solly his crucifix, feels mildly sick when it’s pulled from his slack fingers and almost snatches it back until Crank takes in the look on his face and presses his rosary into Brady’s empty palm.

“Here. It’s my sister’s anyway, she’d rather it be on the neck of someone who uses it.”

“Thank you,” it’s unfamiliar against his chest, warm from Crank’s body heat and a different shape. But it’s got fifty-nine beads like all the rest and he counts them one by one with frozen fingers and recites the five decades in his head until he falls asleep on Crank’s shoulder. 

He’s never been a good sleeper, even before he started dropping bombs. Now and then he rouses enough that he feels the phantom of his grandmother's fingers in his hair, gnarled from years of hard work and soft in their caress, brushing filthy strands off his forehead. It’s her spare crucifix around Solly’s neck. He thinks she would forgive him. He thinks she would find it a noble decision.

[monicawoe]

spn fic masterlist

(updated 5/29/21)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Between Hell and the Hunt - Dean's deal is due, but Sam has found a way to save him. He's made a deal with someone else - someone Lilith can't touch. (2k words, Wild Hunt season 3 AU)

Closer Than You Think - Five times Sam’s eyes were demonic, and one time they weren’t. (3k words, boyKingSam AUs of multiple eps)

Behold the Beast, Behold the Lamb - Season 4 AU.  Sam tried to free Dean from Hell, but angels intervened and took Dean for their own purposes. Sam is determined to get Dean back and will do whatever it takes, embracing his abilities fully. The more demon blood Sam drinks, the more demons he kills, the more he changes inside and out until it’s impossible to hide his monstrous side. Ruby, Uriel and Castiel push Sam to fulfill his destiny and become his true self—the Beast of the Revelation. (gen, Sam/Ruby, 20k words; featuring art by @quickreaver​)

Prayers Answered - written for the boy king Sam discord server prompt: Sam has grown up in a very religious environment. He's devoted, he goes to church, he prays. He knows that God is with him, because he listens to his prayers. But as Sam grows older, he realizes it's not God that's been listening. And he realizes that he's not asking - he's been ordering, and his loyal servants would never deny their King. (2k words; gen)

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver​ for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

On His Head a Crown - written for the 2019-2020 SWBB, art by @slytherkins​ Hunters drug Sam, force-feed him demon blood, and bring him to where they’ve captured Brady. Brady tells Sam he knows how to stop the Apocalypse, and Sam, despite his better judgment, hears him out: Sam himself is the horsemen Conquest—aka the Antichrist—and he alone can bring Lucifer’s apocalypse to a grinding halt. Sam resists, but when he discovers the good he can do with his new powers, he decides to use them to atone for all his past mistakes.   (21k, Sam/Brady, gen, AU of 5x03-5x04)

Many more under the cut

Best Self - written for @alyndra9​​  for the prompt: King of Hell Sam meets Kale!Sam and they have many differences of opinion to work out. (aka the only one who knows what Sam really wants is Sam.) words by monicawoe banner by @quickreaver​​! (~4k words, Sam/Sam)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver​ for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Tear You Apart - written for @wetsammywinchester​ who wanted Soulless!Sam/Brady & Soulless!Sam taking on the mantle of King of Hell:  Sam doesn’t want his soul back. He resurrects Brady who helps him figure out a way to outsmart Death: by damaging his soul so it can’t be reintegrated. With Brady’s help, Sam reclaims his power, and takes his soul apart one piece at a time. (8k words; Soulless!Sam/Brady)

Hellbound - Sam is in Hell, and then he isn't. He's standing on a sidewalk with a stranger looking back at him—a stranger that has his face. My 2020 spn-summergen fic! Featuring soulless!Sam, disembodied soul-Sam and amnesiac Dean. (gen, 8k)

Lakeside Fishing - written for @denugis​ - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (4k words; Sam/Patrick; set after My Bloody Valentine; witch!Sam)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean​​ - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.    After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver​ -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Make Angels of Us All - art by @amberdreams1960​  - Sam has a guardian angel. It’s been with him his whole life, trying to keep him safe. The angel gives Sam power he can’t control: power to move things with his mind, power over fire, and wings that nobody else can see—bony and jagged with scaly feathers. Dean says monsters aren't real, but Dad thinks they are. Sam's power scares him, and he’s not always sure what's real, but what he does know is people keep trying to kill the three of them, and he won't let that happen. (~20K, gen)

Burdens, Doublefold - cowritten with @quickreaver​, art by ileliberte What if Dean left Sam at Stanford after the fire, hoping it would keep his little brother safe and make things better? Somehow, 'better' never seems to be in the Winchester Family cards. Sam gets tangled up with his ex-roommate Brady, tracking psychics, but dealing with demons is never honest business. Dean carries on until his father is put in grave danger. He is left on his own to deal, stumbling into Harvelle's Roadhouse for help, where Dean gets just a little more than he bargained for. Eventually, the brothers’ paths twist and turn their way back to each other, but the results could mean the End of Days. (67k, gen, AU of seasons 1-2)

Before the One You Serve When Dean comes to get Sam at Stanford, he finds him living with Brady. And Dean doesn't trust Brady, even though he can't quite put his finger on why. Not at first. (5k, Sam/Brady)

He Who Fights Monsters - cowritten with nwspaprtaxis, art by @quickreaver​ AU of the summer between Seasons 3 and 4. Dean's dead, dragged down kicking and screaming to Hell. Sam's not dealing well. And Ruby’s got her work cut out for her. (52K, Sam/Ruby)

John Winchester is Dead They say those Winchester boys're crazy. Drive around in a big black beast and drink too much and laugh about mean things. They say their daddy's worse, but you never see him. He's just a voice on the other end of the phone or a darker shape in the back seat of their dark car. They say John Winchester died two years ago. (2k, gen, horror)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - featuring art by @quickreaver​ When Sam opened Lucifer’s Cage, the only thing he found inside was Lucifer’s grace – his grace. With the return of his grace, Sam remembered his past – his war against the Host, his Fall, and his plans to bring about the End. The thing is…he doesn’t want the Apocalypse anymore. He likes things the way they are, and tries everything to keep his identity a secret- especially from Dean. Of course, the four Horsemen, Hell and Heaven have other ideas. (13K, gen)

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver​ The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver​ Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Pattern Recognition: A Hannibal/Supernatural fusion AU  -  Sam and Dean split after River Pass, and their confrontation with the Horseman, War. Since Will’s escape from the Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane, he and Sam have been in hiding. They have a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, that keeps them off the radar; they find comfort in each other. But they can’t stay off the chessboard forever, especially not when Lucifer, wearing Hannibal Lecter as a vessel, is tearing the world apart around them. (33k, Sam Winchester/Will Graham)

Impala's Run - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by adrenalineshots Sam and Dean Singer (aka Winchester) aren’t your average young Kansas farmers. Their home is very, very far from Kansas, in fact. Many light-years worth of ‘far’. The boys may look human, but certain talents set them apart: Dean speaks the language of machines, and Sam can heal through manipulating energy. Hidden on Earth by their father, their agricultural lifestyle gets rocked when warring alien races discover where they’ve landed, and Sam and Dean are forced to make the run of their lives. (23k, gen)

All Our Wrath and Cutting Beauty - art by @quickreaver - Sam killed Alistair, but not before Alistair reminded Dean of who and what he’d become in Hell. Dean knows Sam can take down Lilith, and he’ll make damn sure Sam gets strong enough to do just that. They’ll stop the Apocalypse – together, no matter how many bodies stack up, or how much blood is spilt.(11k, horror) 

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU