#lucky for them sam has the most forgiving soul

[2sw]

Supernatural Season 4 vs Soulless Sam

[themculibrary]

Fics With Titles That Start With I Masterlist 2

part one

I don't know what's happening (but I know you) (ao3) - BrilliantlyHorrid phil/skye T, 14k

Summary: As weird as it was, if Daisy was going to be stuck in a bizarro universe, married to anyone, there were way worse options than Phil Coulson.

If At First You Don't Succeed (ao3) - SonnyD sam/bucky T, 8k

Summary: Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

If I Only Had A Heart (ao3) - Paint_Stained_Heart steve/bucky T, 48k

Summary: T’Challa’s tried to be neutral. “Leave him, take him, I do not care. Just don’t let him injure another soul,” he’d said in one of his rare contributions to the discussion. Steve knew, though, that T’Challa’s hand was being forced; his advisors don’t want to hold the Winter Soldier in expensive, high-security, high-voltage facilities for much longer.

The arguing has, eventually, come to consensus. Bucky’s coming out of cryo today and being shipped back to the United States, to the Avengers tower in New York. The doctors say it’s for further evaluation. For adjustment. For prodding and intel. For one of the most interesting case studies in the history of POW recoveries.

But for Steve, it’s simply time to bring Bucky home.

if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones (ao3) - Charlie_Balle M, 11k

Summary: >>BLACK WIDOW SPOILERS&lt;<

What if Yelena was just a bit younger? Still a teenager. What if the Red Room cracked down when Natasha escaped? Yelena was plunged into hell. She comes out colder and bitter. She won’t be so forgiving this time.

Basically, what I feel should have happened if Black Widow wasn’t restricted to a PG-13 rating

I Get a Kick Out of You (ao3) - attice steve/tony E, 3k

Summary: He looks Steve over. He's flushed—red-faced, tousle-haired, and completely out of breath. Something is definitely wrong. Tony's first thought is this isn’t possible, quickly followed by how does this pick-up line go again?

Ignore the Story and See the Soul (ao3) - MarcellaBianca steve/bucky, sharon/sam, peggy/angie E, 43k

Summary: Steve Rogers is doing great. He survived a tough childhood filled with illness and childhood asthma to become the owner of a lucrative "box" in Brooklyn, New York, alongside his best friend, Sam Wilson. He also works as a freelance artist and is slowly finding success in that side of his work. Overall, life is pretty awesome.

And then he gets dragged to a yoga class, and a man with a full tattoo sleeve and a devastating smile just might upend Steve's great, normal life.

Or - the yoga and Crossfit AU literally nobody asked for.

i'll always look best in your head (ao3) - ghoultown wanda/vision T, 308k

Summary: “I’ve been searching for half the day for an indication of humanity and life within myself, but there seems to not be any.” He folds his arms over his chest, defeated, “All of humanity seems so probable, so able to change and communicate and connect and live. So possible. And I just feel so...“

“Impossible?” Bruce points to the screen.

Vision follows his finger. He reads the words at the top, large and bold and simple, feeling his body lurch forward to get closer.

The Impossible Man by Wanda Maximoff.

Vision doesn't have a heart, but he could swear he feels his pulse quicken.

-

Wanda has begun to write a story about a man who cannot exist. Vision is searching for an explanation as to who he is. They seem to meet in the middle.

i'll bring you flowers in the pouring rain (ao3) - censored peter/harley T, 6k

Summary: Peter Parker knew that he didn’t live up to the expectations of people.

Harley Keener knew that he didn’t live up to the expectations of people.

In which: Peter is a tattoo artist and Harley is a florist. Somehow, luck is on their side.

I'm Right on Top of That, Tony (ao3) - DyslexicSquirrel E, 92k

Summary: “Excuse me.”

Two heads turned toward him, Ms. Potts standing with a practiced, professional smile. “You must be Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize the time.”

Stark looked from her to Steve and back, his eyes widening slightly. He got to his feet, shaking his head. “No, uh-uh, not happening, Pepper. Is he even old enough to work? If he says ‘I’m right on top of that, Rose,’ I’m jumping out the window.”

In Every Universe (ao3) - MagicalTear tony/stephen T, 16k

Summary: Tony Stark had been working for the Illuminati for years, doing his share to make the world a safer place as he worked alongside Earth's strongest heroes. He had his inventions and he had Stephen, and for a moment everything was perfect...until it wasn't. Until the Illuminati tore Stephen from his side and left him with a hollow heart.

The last thing Tony expected was for the multiverse to come knocking on their door so soon after Thanos' demise, throwing none other than Stephen Strange at his feet once again. He might have been a genius, but he was not equipped to handle a magic book chase, a teenager in distress, and one mad Scarlet Witch.

Perhaps it was time for Earth 838 to go through some changes.

(Or...grab the second half of Multiverse of Madness and make it IronStrange)

Inked (ao3) - WhoLetThisHappen wanda/natasha, steve/bucky T, 9k

Summary: Wanda had never really paid much attention to the tattoo parlor across the street that Pietro seemed to frequent. The thought of marking one's body in such a way seemed too unnatural for her to care much about the neon-lit building. That was, until the owner of said tattoo parlor came stumbling into Roger's Floral Gifts with an admittedly strange request.

___

A mix of the Tattoo Artist/Florist AU and the Tumblr prompt: Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

i really (really) like you (ao3) - onsolsix sam/bucky T, 10k

Summary: The date so far is playing through Sam’s mind like one of those old movie reels, and he’s pretty sure his mistakes have overrun the good things. “I stranded him in the middle of this place, spilled his drink over him, and I almost let him go hungry!” Sam pauses and shakes his head, running his hand over his hair before it comes down over his face. “I almost starved my date, man!"

Sam's has a blind date with a friend of a friend of a friend. There's a reason he keeps to the swipe right kind of lifestyle.

Irreparable (ao3) - aslightstep G, 131k (WIP)

Summary: Forgiveness is a journey, or so Tony was maybe told a long time ago. He doesn't know about any of that and doesn't particularly care to. In the wake of civil war, the Avengers remain, as do their enemies. And Tony Stark rebuilds, as always.

He destroys the phone, he burns the letter. But he can't (he won't) eliminate Steve Rogers from his mind.

I Said I Would Never Fall Unless Its You (ao3) - coolpointsetta tony/stephen M, 112k

Summary: “It took me a long time, but I realized my situation wasn’t entirely hopeless,” Strange’s voice was gaining confidence, bit by bit. “In my scouring of the multiverse, I realized that Christine Palmer wasn’t my destiny, but he was. It is written in the fabric of every universe, it is set in stone: Stephen Strange and Tony Stark are meant to be together. No matter where they begin or where their journeys end, they are meant to love each other…”

His voice trailed off a little as he became absorbed with watching his variants dance with different versions of Tony. The looks of happiness on their faces made Wanda’s heart break and her resolve crack, and she was beginning to understand more of where he was coming from.

“But Tony Stark is always destined to die.”

I Saw You Smiling At Me (ao3) - ChibiSquirt steve/tony E, 13k

Summary: Steve and Tony have (finally) gotten together! Now it's time to explore some of their kinks...

I Think We Need Each Other (ao3) - nataliasromanoff bucky/natasha N/R, 27k

Summary: Natasha doesn’t want to work with him.

Bucky doesn’t want to work with her.

But they have orders and a disgruntled boss and a high profile target that just might make these next few weeks worth it. The job, exactly?

Marital bliss.

Supposedly.

AU where Natasha and Bucky are partnered up for a mission neither of them want to be on. There's arguing, insults, anger, and the constant, irresistible urge to rearrange the angle of someone's nose. But it's when Bucky gets horribly injured does Natasha realize that she might need him more than she thinks.

It's all in the way you touch me (ao3) - antigrav_vector bucky/steve/tony E, 25k

Summary: This is pretty much shameless threesome smut. Plot is present but minimal. Consider yourselves warned.

It's A Secret To Everybody (ao3) - Snapdragon_in_the_Snow T, 97k

Summary: “I have kids," Clint said. "I know dad behavior when I see it.”

Tony blinked multiple consecutive times, processing the statement. “Excuse me?”

“Tony,” Steve said now, “how long have you had a son? And how come we’ve never known about him?”

“Yeah,” Clint spoke again, “I thought I was the only one with a secret family. Turns out you’ve had one longer than me!” ------- Peter gets to spend all summer living in Avengers Tower with Tony. When the Rogue Avengers get pardoned and come back to live at the Tower too, they're confused as to who Peter is. However, once they see how Tony acts around Peter, that confusion goes away, as they know for certain who Peter must be - Tony's secret son. Tony and Peter decide to make the most of the situation, and play along. They hope they can keep up the act all summer. But they soon learn that they barely have to act at all.

It Takes a Village (or a team of superheroes) (ao3) - aven_garde T, 33k

Summary: Three months after the Chitauri attack, Tony received a phone call that changed his life. (Or, the one in which a group of remarkable people come together and balance battling villains and raising a child).

i would shower you with roses if only they didn't make you need an epi-pen (ao3) - Anonymous steve/tony G, 3k

Summary: Tony has a plan to woo Steve, and is determined not to let Steve's health issues get in the way.

Which is hard, because giving him flowers make him have a sneezing fit, they have be careful about food because it seems like Steve is allergic to everything, and they end up spending most of their dates in the hospital after something goes wrong.

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark Legacy

part 01/?? "the only person"

master list

word count 4.3k

an: :3 welcome to a new fic bc idk how to control myself

WARNING: this part does depict alcohol usage, and mentions of other substances a character uses to cope (though nothing is explicitly mentioned).

“An unemployment and housing crisis skyrockets to higher levels as people still struggle to adjust and accommodate the population we had years ago. Streets are littered with people seeking hope-”

“According to world economists, the surge in loan denials is leading to an unprecedented end, leaving the experts scrambling for a way to get the economy back on track, also claiming that the Global Repatriation Council may be asking for too much-”

“Protests break out across Switzerland as support for the group known as the Flag Smashers rises, with the Global Repatriation Council denying any comment on the matter, as well as refusing to comment on the rumours that the newly titled Captain America is investigating the matter-”

“What can we expect from Stark Industries now that Tony Stark is no longer with us? Pepper Potts, while having led the company in a positive direction prior to the Blip, has had no new developments over the last six months. With these newfound challenges the world is facing we’re left to wonder.. Who is going to step up as the ingenious mind behind new innovation? Will the youngest Stark continue on in the steps of father and brother, or are we seeing the end of the Stark Legacy?”

Click.

Silence filled the blue colored cottage that was tucked away at the end of the street in Ransdorp. Though dim and lifeless inside the cottage, outside the sun shined while birds chirped away happily and the sound of children playing echoed through the air. But inside the cottage, all alone, someone stood and tossed a television remote back onto the couch that was once occupied. They shed the blanket that had been wrapped around their shoulders all night while listening to all the different news reports, and entering a small bedroom and dressed in the dark. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and after shuffling through the cottage to grab a few things, the back doors were pushed and locked open, and a breeze blew through the house.

You squinted as you put a sun hat on and oversized sunglasses, overlooking the green oasis you had worked on every day for the last six months. Pushing away the thoughts of what the news had been saying, you stepped down onto the wooden patio that lined the back door and carried a hefty packed bag with you to the garden you had planted. You set the bag down and kneeled into the soft grass, and got to work on picking on fresh vegetables to use for your dinner later. Lucky for you, the soil was perfect here.

So… How have the last six months been for you?

Well the garden was a distraction your neighbor had suggested after finally catching you one day while throwing out a bag full of alcohol bottles you had consumed. You could see her take a second glance over your disheveled appearance, but she ignored it for the most part (which thankfully she did, you were a little sick of people telling you how to feel at the time). Naturally, instead of working through your problems, you distracted yourself from them.

But in all honesty… It’s been hard. Maybe it was selfish of you to think so, but you felt like you had been dealt one of the shittiest hands from the universe. The pressure from the world after… After Tony’s death was suffocating. As more paparazzi followed you around, the worse that anxiety had gotten. With that newfound attention, you had also been summoned by the United States government to attest for your time as a HYDRA agent. Lucky for you, in some way, they dropped any serious charges due to your restraint under the program, but sentenced you to weekly therapy sessions (since SHIELD had denied to disclose your mental capabilities). To your knowledge, Bucky Barnes had been offered a similar deal. The therapy lasted all of a month before you… Negotiated your way out of it, and returned to this safe place.

You drowned yourself in drinks and other activities after leaving New York, which in turn made your black-out episodes reappear, which had become evident as the photographed wall in your second bedroom started to be crossed out fast. You couldn’t help but twitch at the thought, and steered clear of that subject. But as of five months ago, you were all but cut off from all things Avengers.

Everyone had gone their own separate ways for the most part. Wanda was off the radar, Sam had gone and gotten a contract with the Air Force, Clint got his family back, Rhodey was some top notch Air Force guy (you didn’t really know what he was up to nowadays), Thor was gone offworld, Scott was making up for lost time with his family, and Bucky… Well, you didn’t know much about that situation either. Sam had tried to reach out after everything, but in one of your drunken states you threw your phone in the Weersloot river. You didn’t need a reminder of that day, or those few weeks even.

You never played the message Happy had given you from Tony. You never had the courage to do so, and you had it tucked away in your room safe and sound. Honestly? You were starting to think you never would be ready to hear what Tony had to say to you before he died. You just couldn’t bear to hear it, never would… Because if he even mentioned someone’s name you didn’t know how you would react.

When you started to think about Steve, you picked up a drink to take your mind off it. You had yet to come to terms with him leaving, because it still hurt like the day it happened.

Losing Tony was the worst thing that could’ve happened in your eyes. He was your family, though Pepper and Morgan had become your family too, Tony was the last piece of your family you could hold onto. The last shred to the past you fought so hard to remember and cherish, and now him and that part of you was gone. He was your everything. He always would be.

But Steve? Losing Steve wasn’t something you had ever even considered. While Tony was your soul, Steve was your heart. Despite everything you two had been through, the feelings hurt and the years it took to make it back together, Steve always had your heart. He was the man you wanted to fall asleep with and wake up to. He was the man you talked about growing old with, what life would be like if he gave up the Captain America mantle, he was supposed to be your future...

And then he stayed in the past, and left you here confused. Hurt. Alone.

You lost the two people you had left in the world. Your heart and your soul. And it was the most devastating blow you had ever felt… Everyday you wondered how someone comes back from something like that, if it was even possible.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a hefty softball landed in a thud in your garden and smushed one of your little tomatoes. You blinked at the sight before grabbing the ball and looking up to see the familiar short boy next door pulling himself up on the fence that separated your yard from his, and you grabbed a rag from your bag and wiped the softball off.

“Je vernielt in zijn eentje mijn tuin, weet je,” (You’re single-handedly ruining my garden, you know) you said to the boy and looked up at him through your sunglasses.

“Vergeef mij,” (Forgive me) he said and rested his head on his hands to watch you finish wiping his ball off. “Mijn vader wilde niet met mij spelen” (My dad wouldn’t play with me).

You stopped wiping for a moment and could see the sad look in the kids face. You smiled softly and stood, making your way over to the fence and handing him his ball back, though his expression didn’t change.

“Vraag het me de volgende keer dat je wilt spelen, oké?” (Next time you want to play, come ask me, okay?) You told him, and the smile reappeared on his face and he gave you a nod. You ruffled his hair as he jumped back off the fence and played once again. You went back to your bag, now full with vegetables, and picked it up to head back inside. You had a sweet pasta recipe to try tonight, and you think what you selected should work great-

You stopped in your tracks right before the back door. You lowered your sunglasses and lowered your gaze to the ground as you tried to focus on the sound in the air, the shift in the environment. You may have been slightly hungover but the presence was not hard to miss. You straightened your stance and gripped your sunglasses in your fist.

“Sam?” You called out. At first there wasn’t any rustling, but after a few moments you heard your back gate unlock and creak open, and that’s when you could hear the extra set of footsteps. You slowly turned around to face who had finally tracked you down, and were met with Sam Wilson… And Bucky Barnes in tow.

“What are you doing here?” You more so asked Sam. The pair glanced at one another and Bucky nodded his head at his partner in crime (God, you could just tell they were up to something) and Sam shoved his hands into the jacket he had been wearing.

“We came to see you, check in on how you’re doing,” Sam said. You chuckled a bit, and shook your head.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you called him out. “What are you really doing here?”

“We need your help,” Bucky said. You bit your tongue and looked them over, maybe just a little curious as to what was going on. Just a little. “We stumbled onto something that I think you may have some information on.”

You hummed to yourself for a moment, thinking it over. Truthfully, the last thing you needed was whatever this was. So you shook your head and shrugged your shoulders. “I’m afraid I can’t help, but thanks for thinking of me.”

You turned your back on them and stepped up a couple steps into your house, and was all but ready to close the door to the world and close yourself off from Sam and Bucky, but Bucky took a step forward.

“There’s more super soldiers out there,” Bucky said in a serious tone. You stopped in your tracks, gripping onto your door for a few moments before looking back out to the pair. Bucky was watching you intently, in a stare you had only seen on him once before (which you didn’t want to recount at the moment). There was movement near the fence, and your eyes darted there to see the neighbor boy peeping his head over to see what was going on. When his gaze met yours, and you gave him “the look” he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared, and you looked back at the pair standing in your yard and against all better judgement, motioned your head behind you. Understanding your cue, Sam led the way inside, and you shut the door quickly behind Bucky.

You moved around the burly super soldier and brushed past Sam to set your bag of veggies in your kitchen. You had to take a moment to compose yourself before facing the duo who had been watching you intently. “Okay.. Go on. What do you mean there’s more super soldiers?”

Sam grabbed something from his pocket, a phone it looked like, and pulled something up before handing you the device. You hesitantly took it and looked down at the phone, where a video began playing of the recent Gasel Bank heist. You watched as someone got beaten to the ground, but what was astonishing was the sheer strength the masked person showed. Captivated, you carried the device into the living room and plopped down into the cushions of your sofa and watched more footage, this time up close from what you could guess were Dumb and Dumber who moved to hover over you.

“We were hoping you might know something,” Sam said. You handed his phone back to him which he graciously accepted, and you tapped your fingers together in thought before looking over at Bucky.

“What makes you think I know anything?” You asked. Bucky seemed to huff in annoyance at your questioning him, in all honesty you just wanted to hear him say it.

“You and I both know what went into the replication of that serum, your program especially,” Bucky said. You felt a lump form at the back of your throat and you casted your eyes downward. “You were still there after me… Did they perfect Stark’s serum?”

You looked back up at his question, and you held his gaze for a moment. You couldn’t believe this was how your day was turning, and you were pissed that he of all people were bringing up your past, like you volunteered for any of that shit.  You lightly bounced your leg as you fought to remember what you had known.

“HYDRA had been unsuccessful in using my father’s formula of the serum again, even after you managed to escape their hold,” you started. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and leaned back into the couch, averting your gaze from Bucky to the floor as you searched your memory. “They brought in a scientist, but it wasn’t my op, and it was on a need to know basis. The only reason we knew they started the research again was they started taking people from the Phantom program to test the serum on.”

“Phantom program?” Sam asked.

“That’s what they called us,” you mumbled. “All of us were deemed dead so… It was only fitting.”

“Did the scientist perfect the serum?” Bucky asked. You shrugged your shoulders and met his look again.

“Didn’t think so,” you answered honestly. “So if there’s serum still out there, he has to be your guy. Though I can say I didn’t see any kind of sign of that activity when working with SHIELD.”

“But it’s a start,” Sam nodded and Bucky looked his way. The two started sharing odd glances, and you watched in confusion. Sam suddenly looked your way and motioned around. “Think you could spare some time and do this mission with us?”

“Sam-” Bucky began to say as a warning, but you chuckled a bit which made him stop.

“I don’t do this anymore,” you told them as you motioned between them.

“Come on (Y/N),” Sam tried to reason as you stood up and walked your way back into the kitchen and opened up a cabinet in search of tonight’s bottle of wine to go with dinner. “I get that you’re going through it, I really do, but-”

Just as you managed to select the perfect medium-bodied red wine, Sam had come up beside you and took the bottle out of your hand. “This isn’t going to help you.”

“Yeah Sam and what is?” You asked while crossing your arms. “Because right now the only thing that would help me out is to see my brother again but guess what! It’s not going to fucking happen! It’s just me, here, and all by myself. All by myself…”

Your words trailed off as a heaviness grew in your chest. The atmosphere in the room was a lot more stuffy, and you would rather curl up and disappear then let Sam (and Bucky) see you cry. But here you fucking were, with Sam seeing the tears build up in your eyes and the look he gave you, you wanted to be mad but the only thing that you could seem to feel was just sad. You blinked back the feeling and took a glance back at Bucky, who stood in your living room and averted his gaze. You looked back at Sam, and put on the best front you could.

“You’re welcome to stay for the night, someone can take the bed in my room and someone can take the couch, but tomorrow? We go our separate ways again,” you said in a low tone. Sam’s look at you was… Disappointment. Before the sentiment could settle on your already guilty conscience you turned around and grabbed your keys and a peacoat and stopped at the front door. “Help yourselves to whatever you need.”

With that, you pulled the door open and just as swiftly shut behind you. The cottage walls shook for a moment before settling to a silence inside. Sam looked down at the bottle in his hand and set it back onto the counter before looking Bucky’s way, who still looked annoyed.

“What?” Bucky defensively asked when he noticed Sam’s stare. Sam shook his head at him and pushed the wine bottle to the back of the counter.

“You pushed that too hard,” Sam said, to which Bucky scoffed.

“Me? You’re the one who asked her to join us which, by the way, where did that come from?” Bucky questioned as Sam came back to the living room and sat down on the couch. Sam leaned forward with his arms on his legs and rubbed his hands together.

“Take a look around Robo-cop,” Sam emphasized and Bucky let out an annoyed sigh. “You’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?”

Bucky looked around at your surroundings. He wouldn’t peg it as chaotic, but he also couldn’t pin it as put together. There were personal touches here and there, but it didn’t feel like you belonged here. Bucky wasn’t blind to what was going on here, but he also didn’t see how that pertained to what Sam was suggesting.

“Sam, we came for some information, we got it, so why don’t you tell me what you’re trying to say,” Bucky replied. Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back into the cushions.

“We let her come here, by herself, even knowing how devastated she was after Tony died,” Sam explained. Bucky’s eyes darted to the floor at the memory of him following you out to that shed the day of Tony’s funeral, and the empty expression your eyes held. “Hell, we don’t even know how she felt about Steve. We should’ve been here for this. And that makes us shitty friends.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say we’re friends-”

“Oh I’m sorry, who's the one that said she owed you a favor?” Sam asked and Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“I did, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Nah ah,” Sam cut him off and Bucky rolled his eyes. “If you two owe one another favors, then your friends.”

“That’s sound logic, Sam,” Bucky sarcastically said.

You tossed your glass bottle of whatever the hell it was you drank earlier into a trash can on your way back home. You pulled your keys out of your jacket pocket and jingled them around until you found your house key and hipped quietly. Your cottage was just in view and all the lights were out. You grumbled to yourself as you neared, forced to remember what had happened earlier in the day (and boy did you work hard to forget that Sam and bucky were at your lace haha). You stumbled up the two steps to your door and used the wall to steady yourself, before quietly shoving your key into the door and pushed the door open.

It took a second to adjust to the environment, but the whole cottage was pitch black, besides whatever light from the moon managed to filter in. You carefully walked around the couch and glanced down at who occupied it, and when you saw Sam peacefully asleep you then looked at the door to your room and shuddered at the fact Bucky must’ve taken residence in there. You huffed a bit, and pulled a spare blanket out of a basket and moved to the back door. When you finally got outside and shut the door to not disturb your guest you tossed your blanket onto the patio sofa you had and kicked your shoes off.

After shedding yourself of your peacoat and plopping down on the hard cushions, you inwardly cursed the two men inside. You were doing just fine before their arrival, you had a schedule of self loathing and drinking then sleeping that they were interrupting. You just weren’t looking forward to the repercussions of tonight’s sleep. You laid back across the sofa and looked up at the sky, though nothing was there anymore. Or at least there wasn’t anything you could see.

Let’s be honest here. The reason you had turned to drinking was because of the fuzzy feeling you got after awhile. Your mind got to drift to something else besides the memories of your past, like… what to drink next, or in this case, is that a star or an airplane? It made the moment more simple, it made you forget who you were until you woke up again. That didn’t mean you didn’t resent yourself for your actions, but you just added that to the list of reasons why your endgame was the best resolution. You just weren’t ready to tell anyone what that endgame was.

Your gate creaked and you tilted your head to look in that direction. You could barely make out the figure as they neared, Bucky’s face became more clear. You looked back up to the sky and shook your head a bit to yourself. Bucky came to a stop close to you, and sighed a bit.

“You should go inside,” He said quietly.

“You should just leave me alone,” you quipped back to him. Though you couldn’t see it, Bucky rolled his eyes at your drunken response. You suddenly felt a lot more sober, and you turned your head to face him. “You had no right, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked and you huffed.

“You had no right to bring up the Phantom program. I didn’t tell anyone about that, not even Tony,” you admitted to him. Bucky bit his tongue and looked up at the sky for a moment to collect himself. “I didn’t want anyone to go digging into the extent of that.”

“I didn’t know,” Bucky admitted. You blinked at him as he caught your gaze again. “Look… I’m sorry.”

You fell silent before letting out a small sigh and adjusting yourself to be a little more comfortable, your head finally starting to feel dizzy again. But Bucky wasn’t ready to settle this, he shifted his weight and turned to face you.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Bucky asked. Your eyes fluttered back open and you looked over at him. He had taken a step closer, and hovered over you, and you raised a brow.

“What are you talking about?” You asked him this time.

“The drinking,” Bucky pointed out. You huffed and turned your head in the opposite direction into the cushions, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to help you know.”

“Yeah and how would you know?” You asked and looked back at him. Bucky leaned down to get in your face, and you tried to move back from him.

“Because I’m probably the only person who really knows what’s going on in your head.”

You bit your tongue, and Bucky backed off. In a bit of a daze, you plopped back down onto the cushions and pulled the blanket you brought out up to your chin. Bucky rolled his eyes at you shutting him down, and he moved to the door to go inside. The sooner the morning came and Sam and he could leave, the better for him.

“I never blamed you, you know,” you said in a light voice. Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked over at you. Your eyes were closed, and you were breathing evenly. Bucky retracted his hand from the door knob and took a couple steps closer. He needed to hear that again.

“What did you say?” He asked. You stirred a bit, but didn’t answer him. Carefully, Bucky used his gloved hand to touch your shoulder, and give you a small shake. When you still didn’t say anything, Bucky sighed and looked between the door and you and cursed in his head.

Bucky carefully slid an arm under your shoulders, and then hooked his other under your legs. He hoisted you up into his arms and into his chest, and your head rolled into his arm. Bucky shook his head at it and carefully brought you back inside, and past the couch, and pushed your room door open with his foot. Bucky sat himself on the edge of your bed and balanced you in his lap with one arm, and pulled your blankets open with a free hand. When he finally got you into your own bed, he took the blanket you had outside from you and tossed it onto his shoulder, and pulled the blankets on the bed onto you. Bucky stood from your bed, and before leaving the room he took a final glance at you as you stirred just slightly.

Bucky closed your door, and walked back towards the couch and settled himself onto the floor. As his back met the floor, he couldn’t help but wonder if you meant what you said, about not blaming him for what happened. One thing he did know was he meant what he said. Bucky stared at the door to the second room in the house, and he shook his head.

If there was one person he truly wanted to make amends with, it was you. After all, you were on his list of names.

- - - - - - - - - -

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[maeve-writes]

Little Red Corvette

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky x Reader

Rating: 18+; Minors DNI

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, public sex, slight praise and daddy kink.

Summary: Bucky finds happiness in fixing up classic cars. He has his sights set on one in particular. When he can’t find it, you make it your mission to do whatever it takes to get it.

a/n: This is written for @buckyblues 4k Follower Challenge. (Congrats again!) I chose Little Red Corvette by Prince. Normally I’m inspired by lyrics, but the idea of Bucky in a sexy red two seater with a pretty lil’ thing next to him made me weak. I wanted this to be straight up smut but feelings got in the way.

This is not beta’d. Forgive any mistakes!

-

When Bucky came to terms with his new life, found some peace in a world without Soldat looming over his shoulder, he found solace in his tinkering. He would often take apart whatever technology he could find to see how it worked only to put it together again. It was therapeutic, a constant reminder that things were never broken for long, someone would always be there to fix it.

You were the one to piece him back together. Sam helped, too, of course, tightening any loose screws you may have missed, but you did all of the heavy lifting. You found out what made Bucky work, what parts needed replacing and you fixed him. He would never be the original James Barnes, but no one ever stayed the same, and you didn’t want him to be. You liked the man you woke up next to every morning, who blinked at you with sleep hazed eyes and pressed lazy kisses across your face. You loved the man that ravaged you at night, on any surface, buried as deep as he could go so he could become a part of you, to feel you against his soul.

While you found his tinkering irksome at times, especially when he would steal the coffee maker or microwave when you were in a rush to get to work and just need to zap fry breakfast and fill up your thermos, it was mostly endearing to see his nose scrunched up in concentration as he disassembled things with childlike fascination. 

What broke you was when you flopped down on the couch with controller in hand and no console to receive its signal. 

Storming into the garage, you slammed open the door to find him hunched over his work bench. “James,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You could see his muscle tense underneath the grey henley he had on, his breathing stilled. Only two women ever used that tone with him, one was his mother, the other was you, and he wasn’t sure which he was more afraid of. When he didn’t answer, you leaned against the door frame and glared at the large frame of his back. “Care to tell me where my PS5 is?” 

His shoulder dropped slightly and he dared to look over it at you. Bucky had seen death, had seen war, had seen the near end of the universe itself and nothing made his blood run colder than the receiving end of your icy stare. “I’ll put it back together,” he offered. The grinding of your teeth made him flinch and he dropped his tools to cross the room and make things right.

It took two months to find a replacement for your beloved PlayStation. How could he have known how hard it was to find one in stock? Even when it came in and he hooked it back up for you, you still held out one more day before you finally caved and forgave him with a two day fuckfest that ended with a proposal that Bucky moved on from electronics to cars.

He took the suggestion and ran with it. The next day he and Sam went to the junkyard to find a good frame with potential and towed it back with that bright, genuine smile of his and an eagerness to get started. He spent days on the internet ordering parts, looking up facts on what modern modifications worked best, and watched video after video of reviews on classic sports cars.

You found him in the garage most nights when his dreams became too much and he didn’t want to wake you. Some nights you would bring him snacks with a kiss and leave him to his work. Other nights you would climb behind him on his bench, wrap your arms around his waist and sleep against his back. Either way, you allowed him to work because that’s what Bucky needed.

When he wasn’t off on a mission or wrapped up in you, he was researching cars or fixing them. After one was finished from the base up, he’d give it away or offer it to a charity auction, then start all over. He had his favorites, every “car guy” did, and he also had his white whale.

One night you felt him crawl up your body impressively hidden behind the spread of your book. You lifted a curious brow but before you could lower your novel, he shoved his tablet in your face as he took a seat on your thighs. “Every time I try to find one, someone snatches it away,” he told you, voice a little huffy as if he was seconds away from a tantrum. 

“It can’t be that hard,” you tutted, tucking your book away to help him with his search. It turned out that it was incredibly hard to find any sort of form of his new obsession. Every post that either of you found had been sold or had a sale pending. Even body frames were hard to come by, much to your luck. “I’m sorry, babe, but we’ll find one soon.”

Bucky resigned himself to finding a filler car. While he was still enthusiastic about fixing up something new, you could tell his heart was set on it - the 1965 Corvette Convertible, specifically, Rally Red in color. There wasn’t much that your man asked for in life, even though it owed him so much, so for him to yearn for one thing so much and not be able to obtain it, it upset you.

So, you were going to make it happen. 

You spent your days working as usual and your nights searching for his coveted car. Your browser was filled with tabs, each watching car auctions, only to be outbid on all of them. Frustrated, you flipped on your VPN, opened up your TOR browser and dipped into the dark web to dig deeper. It wasn’t your first time going through back channels to get what you wanted and it wouldn’t be your last. If it would make Bucky happy, it would be worth the risk.

Two weeks later you told Bucky you would be working later than usual. You had been playing up a huge project at work and the deadline was coming closer. He, of course, hated when you were out past dark without him, but he never vocalized his concerns because he knew the bite he would receive in return. You could take care of yourself, he knew that, but he would still worry because that was his job.

You took an Uber from work to meet the seller at the small airport on the edge of the city. The man was from Germany and specialized in vintage cars; if he didn’t have one you wanted, he’d find one for a hefty price, of course. But any amount was worth your man’s happiness, at least that’s what you tell yourself as you held the small bag of cash in your hand as you crossed the airfield.

Sitting outside what you assumed to be a private jet was the cherry red two seater, top already down and looking as beautiful as the picture you saw online. Yeah, it was going to be worth every penny. “Jonas,” you asked as you approached the man standing cross armed next to the car. He towered over you by at least a full foot and a half and was just as wide. His dark eyes watched you approach, a curious flint sparked in them.

“Yes. You are early,” he noted. He held out a beefy hand and you placed the money in it. “Not one for pleasantries, hmm?” His laughter echoed across the runway and you offered him an amused smile. “Your man is a lucky one.” His other hand was held out, this time with the keys to the car. “For you to meet a complete stranger in the middle of the night, it is dangerous, no?”

You narrowed your gaze and lifted a brow. It seemed your look was enough of an answer because Jonas gave you another laugh. “A woman of very little words, I like you. We will do business again, yes?” It was a statement rather than a question. “Enjoy.”

He swept an arm toward the driver seat and you slid inside. With a turn of the key, the car purred to life and a smile grew on your face. You revved the engine twice, nodded to the man a few feet away before you sped towards your house to give Bucky his gift. 

When you got home, he wasn’t there. You found a note left on the kitchen counter: Beers with Sam. -B

Normally you wouldn’t mind him going out because you were happy that he would be even willing to leave the house, but to only leave a note and not text you seemed worrisome.

You pushed any more negative thoughts out of your mind and headed to take a shower. By the time you got out and headed back to the kitchen to make yourself a quick sandwich, Bucky was home, sitting on the counter and watching you. “Hey, handsome, how’s Sam?” You leaned up to kiss him, but it wasn’t returned. “Something wrong?”

“You weren’t at work,” Bucky said evenly. “We stopped by to grab you dinner and you weren’t there.”

Your skin heated and you sighed. “Bucky, I can explain-���

He cut you off with a dismissive wave of his metal hand. “Don’t bother. If you’re seein’ someone else, you can just tell me.”

You recoiled like he slapped you across the face. “James,” you snapped, which caused him to tense up, “I would never, ever even dream of being with anyone but you.” You forced your way between his legs and cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you. “You are all that I want and no one will ever compare to you. Don’t ever say that again, okay? You’ll break my heart.”

He didn’t say anything, not for a few minutes, and neither did you. All he could do was stare into your eyes and see the truth in them. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay, I know why you did,” you assured him and pressed another kiss to his lips, this time you received one in response. “Now, can I tell you why I wasn’t at work?” He nodded once, a tiny glint of worry still lingering in his eyes. “Well, I’d rather show you.”

You stepped away from the counter and pulled him along with you. With his hand in yours, you led him to the garage and flipped on the light with a, “Ta-da!”

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed as he let go of you and stumbled into the room towards the car, all of the fear, worry and angst melting away instantly. “How did you-“ You pinched your forefinger and thumb together and twisted them in front of your pursed lips. He rolled his eyes but smiled and gestured to the driver seat.

“All yours, handsome,” you winked and hit the button to open the garage door.

He shook his head and patted the seat next to him, “You’re comin’ with me.” When you protested saying you were in your night clothes, he waved it off. “We’re just goin’ for a drive, sweetheart, nothin’ to dress up for.” You joined him with a reluctant sigh and flopped into the passenger seat. 

When the key turned and the engine purred, Bucky let out a pornographic moan. You turned to him, brow perked. “Sweetheart,” he rasped, “you have no idea what this car does to me.” Your eyes flickered to the quickly growing bulge in his jeans before his deep chuckle caught your attention, “Or maybe you do.”

He reached over to pinch your chin between two metal fingers before crashing his lips against your own. His tongue fought its way inside of your mouth and licked sinfully against the roof of it. “Buckle up,” he whispered against the gasp you released as he sat back.

Lightheaded, you did as instructed and watched him adjust the mirrors and lights before he pulled out of the garage and sped down the driveway and through the neighborhood. His face was bright in the evening light, his smile outshone the moon. “You’re gorgeous,” you told him breathlessly, and you would have most likely not been heard over the wind whipping around you by any other person, but your super soldier caught every syllable and flushed at the compliment.

He took your hand into his and brought it to his lips, kissing each knuckle before it came to rest on his thigh. You could feel the happiness radiating off of him, seeping into your own pores and filling you up until your lips turned up into a matching smile. “What’re you thinkin’ about,” he asked you, flicking his attention from the road to you and back again.

“You,” you replied, “always you.”

The smile on his face grew and he squeezed your hand once more. He found a new happy place, one outside of your shared home, one not between your legs. It was there, in that car, racing free down the open road with his best girl in the seat next to him. “I’m thinkin’ about you, too,” he said as his hand guided yours towards his lap.

“Mr. Barnes,” you gasped playfully but allowed him to rest your hand against his tented jeans, “we can’t do this, it’s sinful.”

“Live a little, darlin’,” he played along, forcing you to squeeze him which caused him to groan.

You pinned your bottom lip between your teeth and rubbed at him over his clothes, feeling the heat of his arousal coming off him in burning waves. Your fingers worked open the button of his pants and with a little maneuvering, you were able to fish out his cock, hard and thick, violently red and dripping with need. His hiss as it hit the cool air caused you to jump back for a moment, but his needy whimper drew you back again. “I swear to god, Bucky, if you crash and kill me, I’m going to haunt you,” you warned him.

He blinked, taken aback by the rather brash statement, about to ask what you meant by that but you were already unbuckled, bent forward and taking him into your mouth. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, metal hand gripping the steering wheel tight enough to pop the stitching on the leather coating. 

Your tongue swirled around his tip, gathering what leaked out before you flattened your tongue and took more of him in. He was thick and long, hard to take all at once, but you had learned from many hours of practice just how to get all of his glorious cock down your throat. Your hands worked what wasn’t wet with your tongue yet as you bobbed up to suck on his head and relax your jaw. “Feels like heaven, sweetheart,” he cooed above you, his free hand bundling up your hair to keep it out of the way. “Fuck, your mouth works my cock so good.”

Delighted at his praise, you hummed in return that sent sparks to his core. You took more of him in, nearly all of him, with your cheeks hallowed and your tongue dancing along his skin. More praise fell from his lips, encouraging words and filthy promises, you almost forgot you’re in the car until the tires started to hit the bumps along the white line - an indication that Bucky was veering off of the road.

You pulled off of him much to his disappointment and saw that he parked along the side of the road. “What’re you doing,” you asked, wiping your spit away with the back of your hand. 

“You told me not to crash,” he shrugged and undid his seatbelt. “Now get over here and ride Daddy’s cock.”

The words hit you dead center and you nearly collapsed from how weak and needy they made you. “We seriously can’t do this, Buck, anyone can come by and see.”

“That’s livin’, darlin,” he replied. His flesh hand wrapped around his cock and started to pull on it, staring at you with half lidded eyes and a groan rumbled in his throat. “Are you gonna just sit there and stare or are you gonna enjoy the ride?”

Absently, you licked your lips and watched his hand work himself and honestly felt a little jealous of it. That was your cock, it was your responsibility to make it feel good. Thoughts of getting caught and thrown in jail over public indecency were thrown out of the window and you crawled over to him, losing your sleep shorts on your way over.

“No panties? That’s my good girl,” Bucky grinned, his hand moved from himself to your hips as you climbed into his lap. “Been thinkin’ about this pretty pussy all day.” He hungrily licked his lips and reached between your bodies to run his fingers through your folds, drawing a gasp from you. “Absolutely soakin’, hm? Been thinkin’ about me, too?”

You nodded, your pussy clenching around nothing as Bucky’s fingers teasingly danced around your hole. “Daddy,” you whined, desperate for any sort of attention, “please?”

“What do you need, sweetheart,” he purred, his thumb ghosting over your clit as your slick began to run down your thighs. 

“You, Daddy,” you answered, hoping that was enough. “All of you. Only you.”

Bucky seemed to be happy with that and slid two thick fingers inside of you. “Such a greedy little pussy,” he hummed, slowly pulling them out again as you whined above him. “You need to be filled, don’t you, baby? My fingers won’t be enough.”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip once more, threatening to draw blood, when you shook your head in response. “Need your cock,” you told him. “Please.”

“Always askin’ so nicely, sweetness, how could I deny you?” He twisted his fingers inside you one last time before he held himself steady so you could line up. “Sink down on Daddy’s cock like a good girl.”

You steadied yourself with one hand on the headrest of his seat and the other was used to guide his tip towards your core. Once he slipped inside, your hand shot up to grip at his shirt as you lowered yourself with satisfied moan which was nearly drowned out by Bucky’s. “Too big,” you sighed, seated and feeling stretched and full.

“But you’re takin’ it, darlin’,” he smiled up at you, his skin flushed and covered in a thin layer of sweat. “You’re doing so good.” You preened at his compliment and returned his smile. “You move when you’re ready.”

You took the time to adjust to angle and his size, leaning down to exchange a lazy kiss. When you parted for air, you shifted your weight to wrap your arms around his neck and raised your hips to slide up his cock only to slam back down with a moan.

“Is that how you’re gonna to play it, sweetheart,” he asked breathlessly. When you replied with the same harsh roll of your hips, Bucky growled and his hands found your hips. You could feel the bite of his grip against your bone, you knew the bruises it would bring in the morning, but it would be worth it. “Can’t have a nice, slow fuck in the car, can we? My girl needs it hard and rough.”

He shifted his legs to plant his feet firmly on the floor of the car and started to meet your hips with a harsh snap of his own. Delighted at the feral snarl that curled his lips, you increased your speed, bouncing on his thick thighs as he fucked up into you, a growl erupting from him with each meeting of your hips. “Yes,” you gasped, “that’s it, Daddy. Just like that.”

“Yeah, I know how my dirty little girl likes it,” he grunted over the sound of your skin slapping and your slick sex sucking him in. “I can hear how much she likes it.”

Your head fell forward as he pounded up into you, the lewd squeak of the seat joined the chorus of your moans. “So close,” you told him.

But he already knew by the way you fluttered around him, coaxing him toward his own end. His metal hand left your hip and moved between you to seek out your swollen bud. “Gonna cum for me, good girl,” he asked. You tried to answer, tried to nod, but the way his hips shoved up into you and the cool metal against your heated sex that rubbed desperately at your clit was far too much.

A delicious snap came from within you and spread a white hot fire throughout your body. You came with his name on your lips, a desperate, holy cry. And he wasn’t far behind, a few hard thrusts and he spilled into you, whispering praise and adoration.

You stayed joined until the mess between your legs became itchy and the bugs started to swarm from the sweat on your bodies. “Best mill and half I’ve ever spent,” you sighed happily, lifting off of his lap.

“Wait, how much?!”

[laufire]

i’ve seen people compare dean to buffy (and dean/sam to buffy/dawn), and i do not have the energy to articulate how deeply fundamentaly WRONG that is. NO. he’s elena. (i do however see agree that there are dean/angel parallels.)

Oof.

I could imagine there were such comparisons, but I’m very, very glad I’ve never had encountered them personally xD.

There’s a lot to unpack alone in the Dean-Buffy comparisons that I’d feel more comfortable doing when I’ve watched more of Dean’s journey, but it goes without saying I agree with you: Buffy and Dean aren’t similar people, at all. The comparison bugs me, ngl, but, and this goes beyond parallels. I’m going to take comfort in the fact that Buffy would be disgusted by Dean xDD (and god, can you imagine how shitty Dean would be to her. Putting aside what a misogynistic creep he can be -I’m not forgetting that scene with Jess any time soon-, I can just picture the kind of shit Dean “rape joke” Winchester would say to her about her relationships with Angel or Spike and it sickens me). Not that I actually think Dean and Elena would get along either, similarities or not xDD

But boy, the Buffy-Dawn vs. Dean-Sam comparison. That one is a kick to the stomach. Even worse than the one with Wynonna and Waverly -Wynonna Earp takes clear inspiration from SPN, but it really only works on the surface level; so, if that’s how you watch the show, I could potentially understand those comparisons, fine. But Buffy and Dawn?? Are you kidding me???

Buffy cherishes Dawn, she encourages her growth and her relationships and bonds with others. She doesn’t restore to violence when Dawn says something that makes her angry. She apologizes to her and strives to make amends and acknowledges when she’s wrong. She’s forgiving and understanding and compasionate of Dawn’s mistakes. When she finds out Dawn is not human (that she’s not even her sister at all), she embraces it and never shames her for it.

If you think any of the above applies to Dean, you have completely bought into his POV, disregarded Sam’s, and have a blind spot in the narrative the size of every state they’ve been in s1 alone combined.

Now, Elena sending Damon to erase Jeremy’s memories when he becomes to difficult to control? That sounds right up Dean’s alley and, according to s9 (I think? The one where he tricks Sam into getting possessed by an angel without his knowledge. Good times I’m sure) wikia summaries, maybe even a little tame for him xD. Jeremy had to lie to Elena about what he was planning to leave town and her clutches, and that was by the time Elena’s influence was minimal. At least he seems to have a life separated from her doing what he wants.

Also, I’m never, ever going to forget something Dean said to Sam back in s4 that froze me where I stood: that threatening “If I didn’t know you, I would want to hunt you”. Try to put that phrase in Buffy’s mouth, *especially* in relation to Dawn, and tell me how that sounds.

I do concede there are similarities between Dean and Angel lmfao. For one, Doylist-wise I see them fitting into the same pattern: SPN seems to have started with the idea of being about BOTH brothers, but Dean’s POV (partially for his character type, partially for Ackles presence and charisma) dominates and redirects the plot from practically the first second. Angel wasn’t initially supposed to have as much weight on BTVS, but try to stop Boreanaz xD (he has the IT factor. How I wish he was cast as Bruce Wayne in a show lmao). His scenes on the pilot awakened memories of both Angel and Chuck Bass lmfao, in terms of how disruptive and all-encompasing his presence was.

I can see some similarities beyond that, too. I’ll never deny that Angel could be a terrifying mean cold mofo, soul or no soul. Hell, some of my favourite moments in the Buffyverse are whenever Angel acts like a cold mofo (Forgiving, anybody???). And I could see very unflattering yet not entirely unfair comparisons been made, although I’d probably have a good argument for those! Like with Buffy, I see key differences that to *me* matter in terms of how I react to each character, although I’d probably could say a lot more after I finish SPN.

For now, I’ll say that one of them is that Angel has proven himself capable of relinquishing control and make amends (see s2 of ATS), something that at this point I doubt Dean has in him in any meaningful way. And also... this is more abstract but Dean is so full of this self-righteous, poisonous hate in him for anything other. It’s one of the things I find so utterly frightening about him. And I don’t see that in Angel, at all. Because Angel is the other and he never, ever forgets that (in that one way, actually, Sam is closer to him. Dean could’ve never done what Angel did with Faith, or with Darla in s2. Sam could, and has done close enough things for comparison).

I must also say that a good romance softens audience reaction to a cold mofo like nothing else lmfao, so Bangel definitely affects how I see Angel. It’s not exactly a mystery why his episode with Cassie is by far the most likeable I’ve found Dean lol (likeable as in likeable, as opposed “fascinating terrifying character” the way I’ve done in other episodes lol). Still count myself lucky she never made a reappearance, with this show’s track record xD

But anyway. Dean is his own thing. And one of the many things he can be is a meaner, scarier version of Elena Gilbert lmao -because he doesn’t have the constraints she has and can be terrifying in areas Elena couldn’t. I get the impression I’m going to have a reversed reaction to their arcs, however. In TVD, I started out loathing Elena (on Caroline’s, and later Bonnie’s, behalf. Even Jeremy’s, to a lesser extent) and only could properly appreciate what an interesting character she was after I’d let go~~ of my hate lol (in her case, because she was no longer as serious a threat to those characters I cared about).

With Dean, as of now I don’t hate him. I mean, I think he’s scary and hateful as a person, but I don’t feel the way I did for Caroline or even Bonnie about anyone around him getting hurt, by him and their vulnerability to him; for now, my interest on him as a character construct trumps that -we’ll talk again when I properly see his dynamic with Castiel lol. Even if it turns out there’s no reason to feel as protective there as with the characters in TVD, the spoilers I’ve read (and contrasted with the wikia, I always do that) about how I know he treated Jack are going to be enough to make me wish the worst for him. His treatment of full grown adults he has complicated relationships with can fit within my “fascinating and terrifying protagonist” description. Driving a kid that, looks or not, has the life experience of a toddler to a suicide attempt to them tell him “no, I’m gonna be the one who kills you” is only going to make me feel nausea, because it already does. At this point, the knowledge that Jack has the power to resurrect him but doesn’t care to only fills me with satisfaction xD

[vcg73]

Glee Memories

Someone reblogged an old post to which I had contributed this run-down of my entire Glee fan experience. It made me laugh to read it, because I cannot deny ANY of the reactions even now. This is truly what it was like to watch the show in original air date Fox TV real time - endless mid-season hiatuses and all. Reposting just my own section:

Season 1 - SO good and fun! I want to see more of this!  Kurt, I love you. You’re so funny and I especially loved the second half of the season when you started singing solos and being a Cheerio!  Even the characters I didn’t really embrace I still want to learn more about. And the songs, and the hope for next year’s competitions…  Damn you, summer hiatus!

Season 2 - OMG, not as fresh as last year but still some amazing stuff!  Burt and Carole are cute together, though a little oblivious. Why didn’t we ever get any blended Hudmel family scenes?  Especially at Christmas.  *pout* Didn’t care for Kurt being basically sidelined at Dalton Academy for half the season, and his crush is kind of an oblivious jerk, but I have hope. Things much better by the end with Kurt back at McK and no joy to the bullies. Can’t quite make up my mind if I want to forgive Karofsky. He was awful, but also terrified. I’ll make up my mind next year. Aw, Jean Sylvester has died, I liked her.  Finn, a funeral should not inspire you to dump one girl and chase another. You big drip. Too bad about Nationals, but it’s okay that they didn’t go straight to the top. More reason to put out all the stops next year!  I liked this season a lot overall. Damn you, summer hiatus!

Season 3 - What the fuck has happened to this show? Blaine transfers in, acts like a dick, steals opportunities and insults people, but by the end every single character is completely up his ass. Wha-?  Wait, are Finchel a couple again for the 4,869th time, or are they broken up again?  I can’t keep up.  Am I really supposed to care about the suddenly evil Warblers and their smirking meerkat boss? Cause I don’t.  Warbler Council I miss you.  Shue, you’re horrible, get off my screen. Sue, go with him, you’re not funny anymore. Kurt ends up stuck in Lima with no prospects, while Rachel of the world’s worst audition gets his spot at the fancy performing arts school? What the hell!  And what do you mean, he only applied to ONE school, that makes no sense given his historic ambition to escape Lima, and determination to help Finn get out too. Someone at NYADA is a lazy bastard who couldn’t be bothered to send out the acceptance letters until JUNE, so most of their prospectives have probably accepted other offers by now.  This entire season made no sense and left a bad taste in my mouth. Thank God for summer hiatus!

Season 4 - Better in some respects. Really stupid in others. Kurt does an amazing audition and gets a second chance (that he should have had the first time) to get into his school.  I’ll take it.  Blaine, you’re a lying, cheating, selfish sack of shit and I’ve given up hoping you’ll ever improve. Just go away and stop horning in where you don’t belong. Adam Crawford, you’re a cinnamon roll too good for this world, but no way too good for Kurt. :)  I’m not usually a shipper, but you’re forcing me to ship hard.  New Glee Club, your boring clone selves need to step it up and show some originality if you want anyone to like you. Uh, wow, did that nasty Cheerio girl really try to kill the other girl by making her anorexic and totally get away with that with no consequences? Epic fail. Shue, you’re revolting. Oh, Unique. I like you, but why did you leave a star position at Carmel only to be meek about being shoved into the background at McKinley?  Really thought Blaine might get offed in that stink-bomb of a school shooting episode. It would have had emotional resonance for others and retired that character with a shred of dignity. Wasn’t that the point of having people declare Blaine teen angel/Jesus-standin for half the season? But no. Nothing happens and they chuck Becky-used to be cool but now is just super annoying-Jackson under the bus instead. (Also, why did nobody on the New York side even seem to know this headline-making event even happened?) Rachel, taking insensitivity and selfishness to new heights in New York. Why is Kurt suddenly your care-taker and general servant? Blech. Sarah Jessica Parker, completely wasted from great starting potential. Did Sam’s brain fall out in the deep end of the swimming pool and float away? Cause, whoa. Finn? Finn! Pay attention, dude. Cut your losses and go to your classes at Ohio state (or wherever). Burt, thank you for squashing that stupid proposal idea. But where is Adam?  Come back, adorable little cupcake!  Summer hiatus, thank you, I need a break but kinda like where everyone finally ended at the last of this year. This has definite potential.

Season 5 - Dead Finn = sadness. I kind of wish they had just retired him to off screen college somewhere. Wait, what?  God Damn It Writers! You can’t just transplant Finchel’s planned storyline to a totally different couple and expect it to make perfect sense, especially with no work or real character improvement to the horrible hair-gelled menace!  Copy glee club remains boring, and I don’t give a rat’s ass about their wash-rinse-repeat romances or lifeless competition performances. What the heck has happened to the timeline of this show?  Where did Adam go? Oh hey, it’s Demi Lovato and Adam Lambert!  Aww, I really like Elliott. It’s about time Kurt got a genuine friend. Rachel, just go away. I can’t deal with you anymore. Burt has been replaced by a pod-person. Creepy puppets more lifelike than most of their human counterparts by now. One Three Hill, I love you!  But I can already see that this is another great start with soon to be wasted potential when the contracts run out.  Damn it, writers! Don’t put Blaine in NYADA, that makes no sense at all.  If this school was as particular as you claimed, he wouldn’t have even made it to the audition round. Combat Jocks are all hot for Kurt, YESSSS!  Santana, I’ve never liked you because you’re horrid to everyone but you’re finally starting to grow on me a little. Aw, Chris Colfer’s episode plays like old time Glee!  Fun. More, please. Shirley MacLaine gives me the creeps as the old cougar lady. And we’re taking an early hiatus after shedding viewers like snake-skin all season. Can’t say I’m not relieved. I’m determined to see this show through, but my god…  

Season 6 - Only a dozen episodes this year? I can make it.  Ooo, Kurt dumped the albatross and sent him packing. That’s promising.  Rachel’s ego blew up in her face and she’s back in Ohio. Even more promising.  New New Directions, I surprisingly actually like you guys a little, though I liked One Three Hill much better. (And the Apples, whatever happened to those folks?) This could actually end with a bang instead of a whimper!  Aaand, I spoke too soon. Kurt get your cute butt out of Ohio, you can do so much better in New York, preferably single and dating new appreciative men!  Whoa, Sue is full on demented and dangerous this year. Why is she still in a teaching position again? Shue, you’re useless. Get off my screen. Santana previous potential goes right to hell in one fell swoop. Nice briefly knowing you, emotional development. Kurt, I’m serious, go back to NYADA and find whatever locker you left your spine in please. DO NOT take that asshat back for the 8,937th time, please!  He’s not worth it.  You … what …?  Oh my God, he did it, and fucking Dave Karofsky actually helped them along.  *beats head on wall*  No, please tell me everyone isn’t about to bend over backwards to put Rachel back on top of the heap again!  *sigh* That’s it. I’m done. 7 episodes left of this series and I just can’t take it anymore.  The writers-room monkeys have mixed pieces from 10 different puzzles, mashed them into a frame with a mallet, eaten the finished product, shit it into their hands, and tossed it at the few remaining fans still watching through the bars.

And that’s what you (lucky souls) missed on Glee!

[kyber-kisses]

Too Soon (part.10)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: ye old supernatural gore, spoilers for 15x03, more angst.

Summary: With the reader back on earth, she does what she can to help while Dean becomes over protective.

A/n: 15x03 fucked me up in more ways than I care to admit- it also helped fuel my creativity for this series. The angst is only rising my friends...

The moment your eyes opened, your body was lurching forward, fingers pulling on the handle of the backseat to open the door with a familiar click. You weren’t sure if it was the concussion or something else, but it had you feeling even more dizzy than normal, yet this time it was accompanied by a wave of nausea that had you dropping to the pavement as you fell out of the car. The ground digging in to your already scratched up hands as you gagged. If your stomach had food in it, it all would have come up at this point, but there wasn’t, which lead to you doubling over into a massive fit of coughing.

The world around you tilted on its axis, your head feeling like a bowling ball with too much weight on one side. Even your hearing was out of wack, everything sounded warped and muffled as you attempted to suck in air. Your lungs felt like they were being crushed under an immense weight.

As the rest of your body began to slump towards the pavement you could hear the muffled yells of your name, the blurry figure of Dean running into view. You could tell it was him by the set of bow legs quickly advancing on you.

At least it was him and not some insane spirit.

His hands were on your shoulders before you could even register how close he was. “Y/N!” His voice urgent as he helped you to lean back against one of the impalas tires.

You tried to inhale yet again, finding it difficult to get air into your lungs. Trying desperately to refocus your vision, your wide eyes found his own. You heartbeat was erratic, the force of it making you believe the organ might jump out of your chest.

Deans mind was a flurry of thoughts as he tried to think of a way to help you. “Y/N, I need you to try and calm down, can you do that for me sweetheart? Let’s try taking a deep breath.” He finished, inhaling slowly and signaling for you to follow along.

Doing as he said, you slowly sucked in oxygen, all the while your fingers gripping tightly to the sleeves of his flannel. Slowly, but surely the world came back into focus and stopped spinning, revealing a very worried and scared Dean Winchester.

“Are you okay? What the hell happened?” He questioned, eyes inspecting your face once he knew it was safe to ask.

“I don’t- I don’t know.” You shook your head, feeling your eyes burn with tears. “ I woke up and- and this feeling just washed over me. I couldn’t breathe. My vision went. . .” Wiping a hand across your face, you looked back up at the hunter. “Dean, what’s wrong with me?”

The way Dean was looking at you said that he wished he had an answer, but he didn’t. The two of you silently agreeing that something wasn’t right.

Your thoughts were both shifted as a ambulance whirred pass, lights flashing. Your eyes followed the vehicle as it took off down the street, Deans head snapping around as well.

“What happened?” Shifting forward from your position to watch the ambulance turn the corner. Dean fell back next to you, running a hand through his hair. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I just shot Ketch.” He stated matter of factly, and somewhat tired.

Your eyes widened as you turned to him. “WHy?”

Taken back by the tone in your voice, Dean leaned back, “woah, hey calm down. He was possessed. I had to do something.” He countered.

“Oh.” falling back again, you let your eyes wander down the road, seeing the rest of the group work their way back towards you. “So I guess you guys had an eventful time while I was asleep.”

A huff could be heard next to you indicating that Dean found your comment somewhat amusing. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

Both of your heads tilted to look up at the mass that was Sam Winchester as he neared the two of you, his head slightly cocked in confusion.

“You alright? Something happen?”

Waving him off, you pushed yourself up from the ground, Dean following suit, “I’m fine now. Everything’s fine.”

You didn’t see it but Dean glanced over at you again, worry clearly etched on his features. You may be back and alive, but something was wrong. He could sense it.

“Dean, could you please stop worrying? I can practically feel it radiating off of you in waves.” You sighed, looking up at him.

“Oh I’m sorry. It’s just that your back from the dead and I have a duty of care. Forgive me.” He stated sarcastically. Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before tearing way.

Clapping your hands together you turned to address the rest of the group. “ Okay so what’s the plan? Where are we off to now?”

Shoving his hands into his jacket, Sam walked around the front of the car, popping open the passenger door. “ Rowena thinks she might have a way to shut the opening into hell. We need to head back to the cemetery.”

Seeing as there was six of you, you slid into the front seat, successfully sandwiching yourself between Sam and Dean as Rowena, Cas, and the demon you honestly didn’t give a single fuck about settled into the back seat.

The soft rumble of Baby’s engine put a smile on your face as Dean started up the car, taking off quickly down the road towards the cemetery you had found yourself in when you first woke up back on earth. A part of you felt uneasy about the whole thing. These things never ended well, so here was to hoping this time might be different.

*. *. *. *.

The cemetery looked so different in the day light- apart from the corpses that still littered the ground. But this time sunlight filtered through green leaves and birds chattered somewhere in the distance. It wasn't silent like last time. . Yet somehow,in your brief time there, you had completely missed the gaping hole in the earth.

Tucking your hands into the jacket Dean had given you, you trailed behind the boys, footsteps falling into sync with the red haired witch. Your eyes continued to glance up at Deans back. You were just as worried about him as he was about you- there was no denying that.

“Are you alright Dearie?” Rowena's Scottish accent making its way into your ear. A small smile pulled at the corners of your mouth as you looked over at her.

“No. I'm worried about them.” Nodding your head towards the figures in front of you. They looked tired, and not just physically. Growing up with them, you had seen them shift and grow- but this? It worried you to no end. Even the way they carried themselves was different, it was heavier.

“Your death took quite the toll on them. Especially that Dean Winchester.” She shook her head with a small frown. “And now with Jack- and Chuck. . . They are lucky to have you back. They needed a win.”

“It’s not permanent.”

The words just slipped out, you hadn’t meant to say them aloud, but they just came tumbling out, making your steps falter. Rowena quickly stopped as well, eyes widening with surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”

A deep exhale left your body as you closed your eyes in shame. Shit. It was bound to come up at some point, you just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

Opening your eyes, you made sure the boys were out of earshot before turning to the witch.

“When Billie- when Death brought me back, she said that once everything was set right, my soul would be heaven bound immediately.” Sighing, you looked down at your feet. “I’m only here to help them. Once that’s done I’m a dead woman once again.”

“And you haven’t told them yet? You haven’t told Dean?” She questioned, slightly taken back by the information.

You threw your hands in the air, a sudden burst of anger coursing through your body. “ How?! How do I tell them that I have to leave them again? That this whole miracle has a rotten side to it?” You exclaimed, eyes burning with un-shed tears. “Tell me Rowena, how am I supposed to tell the love of my life that he has to go on without me?” Breathless, you took a step back, shaking your head. “ If you know Dean Winchester at all, you know he will fall into that grief and not come back. He will blame himself again.”

The silence from the witch told you that she understood. A comfortable quiet settling between you.

“You're right. But they deserve to know the truth. Dean most of all.” She stated, resuming her walk towards the crypt once again. “ I can tell that boy loves you a great deal. Hell- anyone can see that.” She scoffed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

She was right. They deserved the truth, and you promised yourself that you would tell them. . . When the time was right.

*. *. *. *.

There was a heavy silence in the crypt as Rowena prepared for the spell. Sam was helping where he could, Cas was starring daggers into Belphegor, and Dean? Dean was sitting quietly in a corner packing shotgun shells full of rock salt into a shotgun sling, all the while a stern expression set on his face. He wasn't doing well. That was easy to see. It took only a few strides for you to cross the room, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Dean.” He looked up at you, giving a very small and weak smile to assure you he was fine.

Damn this man and his stubbornness.

Kneeling down, you quickly grabbed his hands, successfully halting him from his current task. “Dean.” You said again, this time more sternly.

“You alright?” He questioned for the hundredth time, his mind immediately telling him that something was wrong as he looked up.

“Would you stop asking me that? Anyways, I should be asking you that question. I can tell something’s up. I’ve only been your best friend since forever.” You quipped, sending a smirk in his direction.

The green eyed hunter let out a light laugh, rolling his eyes. “ I’m fine Y/N. . . And best friends? Is that really all we are now?” He teased playfully.

Feeling a blush creep up your face, you shoved his hands away, standing up once more. “ Do shut up.”

“Never.” Dean chuckled, returning to his task and jamming another shell into the sling.

*. *. *. *.

You knew the plan was going to be some sort of insanity, but actually hearing it? Well, it just confirmed that your lives were literally insane.

“I need someone to go down to hell with me.” Belphegor stated clearly, shoving his hands into Jacks coat.

A handful of surprised looks ricocheted across the group. Hell really wasn’t a place any of you wanted to venture to.It wasn't what you would call a must see travel destination.

“Cas will go.” Dean spoke up, glaring over at the Angel, who in return gave him a look that could only say: Are you fucking serious right now?

There it was again. The tension and anger hanging in the air like a thick cloud. It was easy to tell when Dean was angry, and this was one of those times. His face remaining stoic as he bore into the Angel.

Cas finally agreed, not having much choice and You watched as he and the demon slipped out of the crypt before turning to shoot Dean a look.

“What the fuck Dean? Now is really not the time to be an asshole.” You snapped, slapping him on the arm. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to grow up.”

You could see his mind trying to come up with an excuse to give you, but you didn’t allow it, holding up a hand to silence him you took a step towards the door.

“Let’s just go do our job. You can tell me what happened later.” Picking up your own shotgun, you cocked it, waltzing towards the door.

Deans eyes widened, as he watched you retreat. “Where the hell do you think your going? It’s not safe.” He fired back, taking quick strides to reach you. “I’m not losing you again. You're staying here.”

You let out a light chuckle, leaning back in disbelief. “Oh I am, am I? Rowena said this part was a two man job. And I’m easily worth two men.” You stated, pushing you back against the door to open it. “You're welcome to tag along if you want.”

With that, you turned on your heel and made your way through the cemetery, leaving a stunned Dean in your wake.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be annoyed, scared, or slightly turned on, but either way he followed behind you, ready to face any danger that lay ahead because, no matter what, Dean Winchester would always follow you. Hell, he would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked. You were one side of a magnet, pulling him towards something he still didn't fully understand.

Taglist: @my-proof-is-you @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @a-crowd-of-newsies @iluvyewman-blog​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​ @orphiceseum​ @greenarrowhead​ @thevelvetseries​ @silver-winter-wolf​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @jxackles​ @ryansgirl5509​

[thecleverdame]

Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Ten

Series Master List

Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo

Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.

Words: 40k

Beta:  ilikaicalie

This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Van Tassel House - Sam’s Room

The doctor works by candlelight. Sam’s shirtless on the bed, feverish and sweating with open eyes staring at the ceiling, but seeing nothing except his injury-induced delusions. The wound at the top of his chest is raw but with the edge sealed shut.

Doctor Lancaster bends over him, Baltus and Dean observing.   “Remarkable. A wound like this should have killed him. But it needs no stitches, and there’s much less blood loss than one would expect.”

“He’ll live.” Dean steps forward, brow furrowed.

“The fever is the thing to beat now. He’s young and strong, he has a good chance.”

They watch Sam's eyes blink again and again, his body jerking. “He’s awake?” Dean looks to the doctor. Sam tries to rise, looking around, collapsing in pain. “You must be still, a fever is upon you.” Sam head lolls to the side, sweat dripping down his face and he says your name. “Y/N.”

--

You’re trying not to panic, bent over the hearth, chanting. You attend to the boiling beaker of milk and green leaves. There is a dead crow on the hearth, with one foot chopped off and a sharp knife lying alongside.

You don’t much care if Sam believes in magic, you believe enough for the both of you.

It was your mother who taught you the old ways, conjuring and divination. It was she that taught you witchcraft was nothing to be feared. For the ones who seek only the light, the love, the healing that flows in all creation, your magic isn't yours at all. You are not as conductors of an orchestra with a wand, but more as the soft music of the flute. You are one of duty, filled with love, moving with nature, inspired by the beauty of creation. You’re moved by the loving hands of the creator, yours and Sam’s, and have the power to resist the negative forces in life. The chaos of the universe has synchronicity that can only be seen by those committed to either the positive or negative side, the forces beyond what Sam would call 'reality.' Closing your eyes, you hold a hand over the concoction.  “Nostradamus Mediamus, Milk Of Mercy In Media Nos Laudamas.” Carefully pouring the drink in a mug you hurry upstairs, entering Sam’s room with the medicine. His brother, your father and Doctor Lancaster are bent over Sam. “Here,” Lancaster takes the drink from you, offering it to Sam. “Drink, it will restore you.” Sam closes his lips tight and refuses the drink, he doesn't trust Lancaster. You pat the doctor on the shoulder, taking his place, sitting on the edge of the bed.  He sees you, his eyes lighting up through pain and fever. The notion that he cares for you the way you have come to care for him makes your heart swell.

“I...I...tried to stop Brom but…” he sputters, imploring you to understand.

Leaning forward you run a hand through the sweat of his forehead. “Shhh, no one could have done more. Drink this down, it will make you sleep.” “The horseman was not set to kill Brom, or me,” Sam tries to explain, swallowing hard as his throat bobs. “If Brom had not attacked him...” “Later,” you coo, taking his clammy hand between the two of yours. “Rest now.”

“I have discovered something,” Sam whispers, eyes closing as the pain surges. Baltus and Doctor Lancaster glance at each other, a look that doesn’t go unnoticed by Dean. “These are ravings.” Baltus shakes his head. “The Horseman does not kill for the sake of killing, he chooses his victims.” “Drink,” you murmur, holding the mug to Sam’s lips. He drinks it all and falls back against the pillow, closing his eyes. Your father turns as your stepmother, Lady Van Tassel enters. She comes to him, anxiously gripping his hand.

“What is it, Baltas?” she asks.

“Nothing, nothing, don’t be troubled my love.” He pats her hands, as they both stare at Sam who’s now fallen asleep.

Sam’s Dream An empty church. Young Sam enters, he hears a sound and ducks down to hide in one of the rows.

Ahead, across the church, a red door opens. His father, John and the villainous third man steps out, shutting the door, speaking quietly.

The third man holds a piece of parchment paper as his father stands by, ever emotionless. Sam watches them, ducking down to keep hidden. John and the Man walk to leave down the aisle, passing close to Sam without seeing him. They exit, leaving Young Sam alone in the silent church. Sam rises, begins moving fearfully forward, sneaking to the red door and opening it. The room contains torture devices: iron cuffs, thumb screws, knives, and long, thick needles. There is a spiked chair, fitted with sharp spikes, adorned with straps for holding down the "accused." Sam backs away, terrified, then sees it. A shaft of light cuts across a large, sarcophagus, like an iron maiden. To his horror, he can see his mother’s eyes through the slit in the Iron Maiden's face.

Open eyes.

Dead eyes. He lets out a strangled cry, runs to the metal coffin, trying to pull it open, clawing at the lock. When he finally backs away he’s choking on misery. He looks around in despair before falling to his knees at the spiked chair, placing his hands on the spikes, pressing down. As he sobs, blood runs down from his hands. He looks down and sees the cat is there, looking up at him. The cat reaches up to rub its head against his face. -

Sam jerks awake, bolting upright, covered in sweat. His eyes are burning wild in the low candlelight of the room. He’s crying, tears falling from the corners of his swollen, red eyes. You take one look at him and wrap yourself around his damp, fever-hot body.

After several minutes you pull back, reaching down to take his hands when you notice blood on his palms. You carefully use a handkerchief to clean him up.

“Hush, hush, you were dreaming,” you whisper, keeping your voice low and calm. He draws in a breath, laying back on the pillow.

“Yes, things I had forgotten and would prefer not to remember.” He blinks several times, pulling himself from the grip of sleep. “Perhaps the remembering is the hard road to peace of mind. What ails you, Sam?”

“I was well in my dream. It was the world that was ill, but since I came here my dreams have turned dark...dark memories I fear.” “You were not a happy man when you arrived in Sleepy Hollow. I think your wound was deeper than the wound you received from the horseman.” You place a hand on his forehead. “But your fever is broken. And though I cannot cure the world I would make you happy to live in it. Tell me what you dreamed.” “How I found my mother dead. How good and evil sometimes wear each other’s clothes. She was an innocent, a child of nature condemned, murdered by my father.” “Murder?” You stare in horror, heart breaking for him at such a thought. “By your father?” “Yes. Murdered to save her soul! By a bible-black tyrant behind a mask of righteousness. I was seven when I lost my faith.” “Surely there must be something you believe in, Sam…”

“There is. Sense and reason, cause and consequence. An ordered universe. Oh lord, I should not have come to this place where my rational mind has been so controverted by the spirit world.” You can’t help but bristle at his words. “Is there nothing you will take from Sleepy Hollow that was worth the coming here?”

He stares at you in silence, one large hand finding yours and holding it tight. “No, not nothing. A kiss, and how rare a thing, affection from a lovely woman before she ever saw my face or new my name.” “Yes, without sense or reason.” You smile, looking down at his fingers entwined with your own. “The first kiss was a kiss on account.”

“And the ones that come after?” His eyebrows shoot up, a gentle pull at the corner of his mouth.

“A plan to lure you into my arms.” You grin slyly and he chuckles. “It seems to have worked.” “Oh, God forgive me, I talk of kisses and you have lost your brave man Brom.” Sam shakes his head, brow furrowing. “You had known him your entire life.” “I have shed my tears for Brom...and yet my heart is not broken. Do you think me wicked?” you ask carefully, awaiting his reaction. “No, but perhaps there is a little bit of the witch in you, Y/N.” “Why do you say that?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. “Because you have bewitched me.” He smiles this time, a full smile that pulls pink lips back over white teeth. “I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon. Not to mention brave and opinionated. If the only thing to come out of this awful place is meeting you, then I considered myself a lucky man.”

“Such flattery.” There’s heat in your cheeks, and you look away, but only for a moment. “I don’t want to appear too...bold, but…”

“Bold is not robust enough a word to describe you, my sweet Y/N. What is it?”

“We,” you pause, forcing yourself to look at him despite your embarrassment. “We are alone for the night. And I was hoping, despite your injury, that I might have another kiss.”

“You may have whatever you like from me.” His eyes shine, happy as the grin on his mouth as he leans forward, catching your lips in a simple, sweet kiss. Resting his forehead against yours he stays close as he speaks. “And if I wanted more than a kiss?”

“But you are hurt,” you whisper, placing one hand on his firm chest.

“I have been in much worse condition than this.” He kisses you again, this time his tongue sliding just past your lips, letting you taste him. You comb both hands into his hair, using the grip to keep him close.

“Then I would say we are a good match, because you may have whatever you like from me as well.”

He pulls you close with his uninjured arm, cupping your jaw before sliding his fingers into your hair in return. After a few more eager kisses you squeal in surprise when he turns and pushes you quickly onto your back with a flex of muscle. In peak condition he must be a force to be reckoned with because even now he’s powerful as he hovers above you, letting the weight of his hips press your thighs open for him.

“This dress is problematic,” he mutters, mouth ghosting across the swell of your breasts.

“Then we should remove it,” you gasp as he sucks at the skin under your jaw, drawing out pleasure in prickling excitement.

“Roll over.” Sam lifts his weight as you roll onto your belly. His fingers are immediately working on the corset tie at the back your dress, pulling silk ribbon out of the eyelets until it’s loose enough for you to shimmy out of.

Rolling back over, you sit up and look at Sam, clad in nothing but your simple sheath dress. His eyes are fixed on you like a hungry fox who’s spied a field mouse. Gathering confidence, you lift your backside off the bed pulling the material over your head, leaving you stark naked sitting in the constable's bed.

“My God,” he breathes, eyes falling from your breasts to your belly, then lower. “Every inch of you is perfection.”

“You think me flawless?” You blush, fighting the urge to cover yourself with your hands.

“Absolutely.”

“I want to see you.” You’re suddenly eager, apprehension fading into the background.

Reaching out you help him pull his shirt over his head, revealing a well-muscled chest, and the strong arms that picked you up in the woods as if you weighed nothing at all. He stands up to take off his trousers, shoving them down his legs.

You’re sitting in the middle of the bed, eyes fixed on his magnificent cock, standing at attention, curved up toward his belly.

He’s one to talk to about perfection.

“I wish I could kiss every inch of your body,” he confesses, kneeing his way back onto the bed. You lie back, spreading your legs as an invitation for him to crawl between them. An invitation he accepts eagerly. “But I don’t know that we have the time for that kind of indulgence when we’re in your father’s house.”

His cock is trapped between your stomachs, warm, hard flesh pressing over your belly as he swallows your gentle sigh, thick tongue once again filling your mouth.

“If not now, when will we ever find the time?” You hum against his lips as he moves down your neck.

“When I take you home with me.” He buzzes against your throat, lifting up enough to gauge your reaction. “When I have you in my bed and I can take you the way I’d like to.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You smile, holding back a squeal of utter joy at the thought of him planning to abscond with you in tow.

Most of his weight is being supported by his good arm, so you grow bold, reaching between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his massive shaft, shifting up enough to let the head catch between the lips of your sex.

“Be gentle with me.” He grins, catching your lips with his as he slides forward, burying his cock inside your tight channel until he can’t get any deeper. The weight and heat of him on top of you is delicious torture, pushing the air from your lungs as he pins you to the bed.

His hips meet your thighs with one powerful thrust that solidifies just how strong he really is. Injury or not he could fuck you until you begged for mercy. He mouth doesn’t leave yours for the first dozen thrusts of his hips, stretching your wet flesh open and filling up the space inside with his thick cock.

You’re tight and wet, unbelievably wet as the sound of your cunt taking his cock fills the room. He hasn’t been with a woman for more than a single night in years. Every woman he’s been with since Jessica was the result of a monetary transaction or a fleeting night fueled by liquor and loneliness. But in stark contrast you are warm and soft underneath him, a beauty beyond compare that has seen darkness and chosen to stand beside him instead of run in fear. You’re one of a kind and he can scarcely believe that you’re real.

“Careful,” he breathes hot against your breast. Long fingers curl under the clammy flesh of your knee, attempting to break the grip of your legs locked around his hips. “I’m close and I must not finish inside you.”

“You don’t want to be inside me?” you gasp, as he grinds deep, holding himself against your womb.

“I do,” he grunts, placing a kiss on your collar bone before lifting up to look down at you. His mouth is open, tongue darting over pink lips. “More than anything but we can’t.”

“Why not?” You moan in protest as his hand cups your breast. “I want to feel you. Just this one time, please Sam. Please. Just once.”

If you take this chance and his seed takes root in your belly there’s not much that could be done. But your need overrules all sense of logic as you wiggle under his weight.

“You’ll do me in if you keep begging like that.” His lip curls, eyes fluttering shut at the combination of pain from his shoulder and the squeeze of your walls around his cock.

“Please.” You claw at his back, nails digging in on either side of his spine. “Just this time.”

“Just this time.” He gives in, bracing himself as his hips move faster, his cock working your wet hole tip to base with every punishing stroke.

The scrape of his pubic hair over your clit is more than enough, but combined with the sensation of being so full you come undone almost immediately. It’s a quiet orgasm. You do everything you can to hold back the torrential rush of pleasure that rocks your entire body, sealing your mouth closed as you hold onto him.

Sam feels it, your cunt squeezing around him, clammy thighs locked around his hips and he’s done for. You’re making little strained sounds, whimpers caught in your throat that only seems to fuel his desperation. Two more pumps and he cums. His whole body jerks forward, filling you with every inch of his cock as he empties inside you.

-

“I should go.” You nuzzle your nose against the scruff of his jaw, wiggling close as his arm tightens around you.

“Already?” He sighs, looking toward the clock. It’s nearly four and the sun will be up in a few hours. “Shouldn’t I be the one sneaking from your room at all hours of the night?”

“In another life.” You smile, lips pressed into his cheek. “I wish I could sleep here with you. Wake up in your arms…”

“As do I,” he confesses, turning his head to kiss you. It’s a gentle kiss, sweet and chaste.

“Aren’t you afraid?” you whisper, tucking yourself back into his side, not yet ready to abandon the warmth of the bed.

“Of what? The Horseman?” he asks and you nod. “Perhaps a little, but there are far greater horrors in life. Our father believed evil lurked around every corner. He raised Dean and I to be ready for anything. While I hate the man that he became, I do thank him for giving us the tools to defeat such creatures. Most beasts that stalk the night turn out to be nothing more than men, but when the threat is indeed supernatural, we’re just as ready. The Hessian might be the nastiest ghoul we’ve encountered, but certainly not the first.”

“You’ve seen a ghost before?” you whisper, fingers threading through his chest hair, the pads of your fingers pressing down into his skin.

“A few.” He rubs his open palm over the curve of your naked hip. “Most of the time they’re just echoes of the past. Like a memory that gets stuck between the world of the living and dead. They end up trapped in a moment, reenacting the events over and over. They don’t interact, don’t even know you’re there. It’s sad.”

“What of the others? You said most are echoes.”

“The others are something else entirely. Tortured souls with unfinished business that rot and twist into something dark. I believe that’s what the Hessian is. A lost soul that turned rancid in death. He’s out for revenge and won’t stop until he gets it.”

You shiver at the thought, burrowing into Sam’s side. You saw the horseman burst from his resting place, you’ve seen first hand the terrible power of the black horse and headless rider.

“Do you think he will stop killing of his own accord?”

“I doubt it. Something brought him back to life and until his need is satisfied he will continue killing.” The hand on your hip grips your flesh, giving a squeeze. “Dean and I will stop him, some cases just take a little longer than others.”

“While I shudder at the thought of more murder, I will admit that I hope you’re required to stay in Sleepy Hollow as long as possible.”

“I meant what I said.” He cups the back of your head, kissing your hair. “When we leave this place, I’ll take you with me. If that’s what you want.”

“Yes,” you sit up, enough to look at his face. “I want that very much. I know we have not known each other long but I feel such a connection between us.”

“As do I.” His fingers trail along your jaw.

Glancing at the clock you grin, getting onto your knees and sliding your legs over his waist. He watches, a hand settling on your hip as you lean down to kiss him.

“I think we have time for just one more indulgence, don’t you constable?”

His cock is already hard and you eagerly take it into your hand, lifting up enough take him inside you, sinking down.

He sits up, shifting your position in his lap, twisting a hand into your hair. “Plenty of time.”

Porch Young Masbath slowly opens the door to peer out. He walks out onto the porch, watching as across the lawn, a cloaked figure walks carrying a lantern.

The figure heads onto the long straight road, into the forest, lantern light dissipating. Young Masbath steps off the porch, in cautious pursuit.

[the--sad--hatter]

My Big Fat Fake Wedding (Steve x Reader)

WARNINGS - IMPLIED, REFERENCED SMUT, STALKING. 

PAIRING - STEVE ROGERS X READER

I combined several requests to make this because my brain is sleep deprived and hopped up on energy juice and it seemed like a good idea. 

 8: “Oh no… there’s only one bed… whatever shall we do?” “You do realize we are dating right?” – With Steve

 9: “I know you like to make an entrance but that was ridiculous.” – With Steve, Bucky and Sam

 7: “Are you masturbating in there?” “It’s my electric toothbrush!” – With Bucky and/or Steve

My Big Fat Fake Wedding (1/2)

It all started with a simple, run of the mill mission. A group of bank robbers, clad in ridiculous rubber masks. It was hardly an Avengers level threat until one of the robbers shot green flames from his hands and suddenly the police decided that it was above their payroll and frankly, you didn’t blame them. So a small group of Avengers went in, rescued the hostages and took down the robbers. It went smoothly and was over in seconds.

 But it changed everything.

One lucky paparazzi managed to sneak a picture of Captain America, chastely kissing the lips of the Woman who’d punched the flaming robber in the face. Steve had been proud of you, and a little turned on. He’d slipped up, kissing you in public. Suddenly the word was out and the whole world knew about the First Avenger and his Bad-Guy punching, Avenging lady love.

 That was when the letters started.

  Everyone thinks he’s the Golden Boy, but he’s not good enough for you. Nobody is.

  You’re mine. Not anyone else’s.

  I know you play the hero but I see the darkness in you. It matches the darkness in me.

  Will he ever know you the way I know you?

  Will he accept you the way I do?

  They somehow made it into your fanmail and even Tony and Natasha were drawing a blank when trying to trace the sender. Whoever he was, he wasn’t ready to step out of the shadows, choosing instead to remain unseen but not unheard.

 “I can’t believe I have a stalker!” You said.

 “You’re not really famous until you have a stalker.” Clint agreed.

 “I know! It’s so cool!” You crowed.

 Steve stopped his pacing to shoot you a look of disbelief.

 “I mean creepy. It’s so creepy.” You amended quickly.

 “Please take this seriously. Please.” Steve begged and you made a zipping motion across your lips.

 “Cap relax, she’s not the first Avenger to have a stalker and I doubt she’ll be the last. Even if this weirdo crawls out of his basement to try and get to her, he has to get past all of us and you to do so. Even then, if he pulls all that off, he has to face her.” Natasha pointed out calmly.

 “She’s right, he’s just some creep with a crush. Chances are he’ll never act on this and if he does, he won’t get near her.” Sam agreed.

 “Why am I the only one worried about this?” Steve snapped.

 “You aren’t.” Bucky said, crossing his arms and glaring at you.

 “Down boy.” You said, smirking at the brunette super soldier and while his face remained impassive you saw the amusement in his eyes.

 “How about this. We’ll up security on her for a while, she can wear a tracker, take one of us with her when she leaves and we’ll have all her fanmail sorted through before it gets here.” Tony offered.

 “Do I get a say in this?” You asked, raising your hand.

 “No.” Steve said straight away and when everyone winced and backed away from you he realised his mistake.

 “Uh, I have an urgent… thing. Away from here.” Clint said and bolted, mostly everyone following him until it was only you, Bucky and Steve left.

 “Sorry pal, you’re on your own here.” Bucky said apologetically, slipping out of the room.

 Steve shot him a look of betrayal  before he looked at you warily.

 “So you wanna tag me, keep me under lock and key?” You snarled.

 “That’s not what I meant.” Steve said.

 “Really? Because that’s what it sounded like Captain. You think I’m so helpless and fragile that I’m in terrible danger from a fanboy.”

 “No.”

 “I’ve been looking after myself a long time, I can handle Hydra, Aliens, Inhumans, and Super Soldiers if I need to. I’m not now nor have I ever been helpless and you don’t get to ride in on your white horse and play Prince Charming to my damsel in distress!” You raged.

 “IT’S MY FAULT!” He shouted, breaking through your anger.

 “What?”

 “I kissed you. You were so fierce, so irresistible in that moment and I slipped up, I kissed you. I outed us and now there’s someone sending you these horrible letter because of what I did. I know you can take care of yourself, it’s why I lo… admire you so much but if something did happen, if he so much as left a tiny bruise on you then I would never forgive myself.” Steve said.

 His eyes were bright and shining, pleading with you to understand. He had all but fallen to his knees in desperation for you to hear what he was saying and you did, you heard it. You uncrossed your arms and flung yourself at him, his arms catching you automatically and his head lowering so his lips met yours. You melted into the kiss, into the feel of his warmth.

 As much as the apple pie comparison was a cliché when it came to Steve, it was accurate. He was comforting, familiar and delicious with just a touch of spice and heat. Enclosed in his arms, pressed against his chest and his lips moving in perfect tandem with yours always gave you that deeply content feeling in your soul and lit a fire in your blood.

 “Do whatever you have to do to keep me safe Steve.” You whispered against his lips.

 His fingers threaded through your hair, cradling the back of your head while his other hand pressed into the small of you back and he kissed you again, pouring all the unspoken love between you into it.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 The letters kept coming. At first they were every couple of weeks, the weekly, then every few days until there was a new letter every day. They always carried the same message, that Steve Rogers was unworthy and you didn’t belong with him. They grew more detailed, more frenzied and dangerous in tone until the day they went too far and it wasn’t Steve that snapped, it was you.

 “I don’t care how difficult he is to find, I want everyone on this. I want this sociopath found.” You demanded, slamming the latest letter down on the table.

 Bucky stood behind you on your right side, like a dark shadow. He was the first person you had gone to when the letter arrived and his anger, while quieter and more sinister than yours, was just as potent.

 Your stalker had crossed a line, and a big one. He was no longer satisfied with just insulting Steve, leaving thinly veiled threats. He had written a manifesto, a detailed plan on the grisly ways he wanted to kill Captain America while you watched, as a punishment for your ‘bad judgment’. It was so sickening, so horrific that while Bucky had been reading it, you had been in the bathroom, throwing up.

 “We’ve tried everything, looed into every avenue and lead. Whoever he is, he’s really good at hiding. There’s nothing we can do to track him down.” Natasha said apologetically.

 “Then lets stop looking for him and bring him to us.” Tony suggested.

 “Yes!” You said snapping your fingers and pointing at Tony.

 “You and Cap have been dating for a while now, don’t you think it’s time you two kids tied the knot?” Tony suggested, smirking at you.

 “No!” You said, your eyes going comically wide.

 “Wait, no. That could work. We plan a public wedding, make a big deal out of it. It might just push this guy over the edge and bring him into the open.” Bucky said from behind you.

 You glanced at Steve who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meeting and was now refusing to meet your eye.

 “Do it.” He decided, standing up.

 “What?” You yelped.

 “You told me to do whatever I had to do, so I’m doing it.” Steve said, still refusing to look at you.

 “Steve…”

 “It’s a fake wedding, we just need to put on a show to lure him out. Stark will take care of it, put on a big affair. He won’t be able to stand by and let it happen and then we’ll have him.” Natasha reasoned with you.

 “You really want to do this?” You asked Steve.

 He clenched his jaw tightly and nodded once.

 “Fine. Fine, I guess we’re getting married.” You snapped, storming out of the room.

 “Wait up.” Bucky called after you when you were halfway down the corridor.

 You looked over your shoulder and saw that he was alone. You scoffed loudly and carried on walking.

 “I know you’re not happy about this but neither is he. Steve doesn’t want a big fake wedding. It’s got to be killing him to do this but he’s doing it anyway, not because he was threatened but because you were.” Bucky snapped and you slowed down and turned back to face him.

 “He hasn’t even told me if he loves me, I don’t know if he does. And now I’ve got to marry him? To trap the physco who is threatening him? I’m allowed to be upset about it Buck and it shouldn’t be you chasing after me, it should be Steve.” You said, leaning against the wall and sighing heavily.

 “Want my advice?”

 “No.”

 “Don’t wait for him to say it. Wait for him to show it because Steve Rogers has always been better with actions than words.” Bucky suggested.

 “I know but…”

 “But?” Bucky asked.

 “He’s Steve. How can I believe he loves me when I’m so clearly not worthy?” You asked honestly.

 “You’re not Thor and he’s not Mjolnir. It’s not a case of being worthy and even if it was, you’re far too good for that punk.” Bucky said, smiling at you.

 “AW Buck, that was clever and sweet. Two characteristics nobody expects from you. You wanna sit down? Need a nap? Your brain must be hurting.” You quipped.

 “See if I’m ever nice to you again, sassy little shit.” He grumbled, stomping away.

 “Hey, old man?” You called after him.

 “What?” He snapped.

 “Wanna give me away?”

 He stopped dead and looked back at you, shocked. There was a flicker of joy in his eyes before he masked it with a scowl.

 “Fine, but I don’t do returns.” He said harshly, thought there was a flicker of a smirk on his face.

 ~~~~~~

 Over the next three weeks, Tony and Pepper went all out and put together the most over the top wedding that had ever been planned. Notices and invitations were sent, announcements were put in the newspaper, Pepper cornered you and dragged you to a dress fitting.

 “It’s a fake wedding!” You insisted.

 “But it has to look real. So you need a dress.” She told you.

 “As long as I can move in it and it has pockets, I’m good.”

 “You want a wedding dress with pockets?” Tony asked in confusion.

 “Yes…”

 “Why?”

 “For knives, chewing gum, my phone.”  You listed.

 “Fair enough.” He said with a shrug.

 Throughout the whole three weeks, Steve used any excuse he could to avoid you. Somehow, you were never in the same room as him alone. He was perfectly polite and caring when he saw you, kissing you on the cheek and smiling at you adoringly. Yet as soon as it was just the two of you, he would suddenly have something urgent to take care of. It was breaking your heart and you were sure he was pulling away.

 If it wasn’t for the flowers, the chocolate’s, the muffin basket and the little texts you would have been convinced you were over.

 Finally it was the night before the big ‘fake’ day. The whole team was whisked away the large estate in The Hamptons where the sting operation was going down.

 And Steve could avoid you anymore.

 “The Master bedroom, for the happy couple!” Tony announced, all but shoving you both through the door and slamming it closed behind you.

 You and Steve looked at each other awkwardly before you broke first and looked away first, checking out the bedroom.

 “Oh no… there’s only one bed… whatever shall we do?” You said dramatically and jumped onto the bed, striking a ridiculous pose.

 “You do realize we are dating right?” Steve asked you, looking befuddled before nervous.

 “Do you not want to share a bed with me? I can sleep on the floor.” He offered quickly, turning red.

 “Are we dating Steve? Because I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You said bitterly, fluffing a pillow up and settling back on it.

 He tentatively came and sat on the edge of the bed next to you, his back to you.

 “When I was young, I believed I would meet a girl and marry her. Then I always got sick and I thought no girl was gonna marry a guy who probably wouldn’t even survive the first year of marriage. When I met Peggy, I thought about it again but then I went into the ice and when I came out the world was different, I was different. So I put those notions behind me again. Then there was you and all those thoughts, they started popping up again and I didn’t know how to deal with them. I’m actually finally getting married, to the girl of my dreams. But it’s a sham.” He said softly.

 “Just because the wedding is fake, it doesn’t mean we are.” You told him, blinking back tears.

 “Is it something you want? I know not everyone does these days.” He asked, his shoulder tensed.

 You sat forwards and leaned on into his arm, pressing your lips to his bicep and lacing your fingers with his.

 “I want you Steve. We’ve barely begun and I don’t know where we’re going yet, but I do want you.” You said.

 He turned his head to look at you.

 “Do you mean that?” he asked.

 “Wholeheartedly.”

 For the first time in weeks he kissed you again and you felt complete. You felt at home. When he undressed you and kissed every part of you, you fell deeper into a state of bliss and when he took you into his arms and made love to you, your soul soared.

 ~~~~~~

 Even fake weddings were stressful and your wedding dress seemed to be glaring angrily at you from where it was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. You dabbed the concealer that you had begged off of Wanda onto the faint lovebites on your throat and sighed, gripping the edge of the sink tightly, trying to calm down. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack and all the noise and people had been getting under your skin so you had kicked everyone out, choosing to get ready alone.

 You pinned your hair up in a sort of messy but looks messy on purpose, tousled kind of look. Your make up was done, hickeies were covered, hair was styled… all that was left was the dress. You fidgeted and meandered, checking your reflection in the mirror again, looking for something to fix. You convinced yourself there was a stain on your teeth and pulled your toothbrush and toothpaste out of your toiletries bag. Just as you were starting to wonder if you even had any enamel left on your pearly whites, you heard the bedroom door open and let out a frustrated moan at the thought of interaction.

 “Are you masturbating in there?” Bucky asked bluntly through the door.

 “It’s my electric toothbrush!” You called, switching it off.

 He pushed the door open and glared at your fluffy bathrobe while you glared at his whole person.

 “Shouldn’t you be wearing something a little more bridal and less slumber party?” He asked.

 “Go to many slumber parties do you?” You asked, immediately giggling at the mental image of Bucky having his hair braided and watching Clueless while eating Ben and Jerry’s, face mask on and pink nail polish included.

 He rolled his eyes at you and plucked the dress off of the back of the door, tossing it at you.

 “Get dressed.” He instructed.

 “Make me.” You said childishly.

 He raised an eyebrow at you and took a menacing step towards you.

 “Ok, Ok, I’ll do it!” You yelped.

 “Good girl.” He said, patting you on the head and leaving the bathroom while you scowled after him.

 You pulled your robe off, muttering insults under your breath while you stepped into the dress. You yanked the door open and Bucky immediately snorted.

 “What?” You asked in a panic.

 “Steve’s going to have an asthma attack when he see’s you.” Bucky sniggered.

 “He doesn’t have asthma anymore…”

 “You’re about to bring it back.” Bucky said.

 “You know what, I’m taking that as a compliment.” You decided, turning around and gesturing to the zipper on the back of the dress.

 Bucky got the hint and stepped forwards to zip you up.

 “Really though, how do I look?” You asked seriously.

 He turned you around and put his hands on your shoulders to make sure you were looking at him when he answered.

 “Worthy.”

 ~~~~~~

 “I’m going to kill Stark!” You announced.

 You were waiting outside the hall where the ceremony was about to be held. Steve, your guests, The Avengers, they were all waiting just beyond the doors for the ‘wedding’. It was really happening, and then you had happened to glance up to the ceiling.

 “You might want to save it until you’ve killed Thor.” Bucky warned, watching the side door intently with his head cocked to the side as he listened to something that you couldn’t hear.

 You traced the elaborate set up along the ceiling with your eyes until you found the release mechanism. You glared at one of the staff.

 “You there, stand next to that rope and no matter what, do not, under any circumstances, let anyone pull it!” You ordered.

 You were so stressed and adamant that the poor girl immediately scurried over to it and stood in front of it trembling. At the same moment, Bucky suddenly released your arm and dived to the left.

 That was when all hell broke loose.

 A goat, an actual goat came bounding around the corner, bleating loudly. The girl guarding the rope jumped in fright and suddenly everything happened in slow motion.

 The doors swung open as the first notes of ‘Here Comes The Bride’ Were played by the string quartet Tony had hired, the girl lost her balance and instinctively grabbed the rope to break her fall and yanked it down. One thousand red, white and blue balloons fell down from the ceiling, showering you and floating through the open doors. The terrified goat wriggled out of Bucky’s arms and bounded away, skipping past you and straight down the aisle.

 You stood there, in shock as the whole ceremony stared at you.

 Clint was the first one to laugh, followed by Tony.

 “I know you like to make an entrance but that was ridiculous.” Sam shouted at you, from his spot next to a very awestruck Steve.

A/N This was getting stupidly long so I had to split it into two parts!

[scientificphilosopher]

Book List 2018

I’m a couple weeks behind on this, but here’s the list of books I read in 2018. I’ve broken it down by category, though this is pretty loose since, you know, genres bleed into one another and such. You can also find reviews of some of these books here, and I always take requests for reviews as well. Follow me on Goodreads to see what I’m reading and rating. 

Let me know what you think if you’ve read any of these books or have recommendations, and, as always, please feel free to send me malicious personal attacks if I say something you disagree with.

Non-Fiction

Philosophy

Pragmatism and Feminism: Reweaving the Social Fabric by Charlene Haddock Seigfried

The Pragmatic Turn by Richard J. Bernstein

Race Matters by Cornel West

Democracy Matters: Winning the Fight Against Imperialism by Cornel West

American Philosophy: A Love Story by John Kaag

Ethics Without Ontology by Hilary Putnam

Meaning in Life and Why It Matters by Susan Wolf

The Variety of Values: Essays on Morality, Meaning, and Love by Susan Wolf

The Really Hard Problem: Meaning in a Material World by Owen J. Flanagan

Meaning in Life by Thaddeus Metz

The Human Eros: Eco-Ontology and the Aesthetics of Existence by Thomas Alexander

Naturalism and Normativity by Mario De Caro (Editor), David Macarthur (Editor)

Truth in Context: An Essay on Pluralism and Objectivity by Michael P. Lynch

Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks

The Origin of Others by Toni Morrison

Experiments in Ethics by Kwame Anthony Appiah

Ethics in the Real World: 86 Brief Essays on Things that Matter by Peter Singer

The Ethics of Ambiguity by Simone de Beauvoir

A Very Easy Death by Simone de Beauvoir

The Story of Philosophy: The Lives and Opinions of the World's Greatest Philosophers by Will Durant

Why Buddhism is True: The Science and Philosophy of Enlightenment by Robert Wright

A Defense of Buddhist Virtue Ethics by Jack Hamblin

Living Buddha, Living Christ by Thich Nhat Hanh

The Infidel and the Professor: David Hume, Adam Smith, and the Friendship That Shaped Modern Thought by Dennis C. Rasmussen

The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World by Dalai Lama XIV, Desmond Tutu, and Douglas Carlton Abrams

Reality, Art and Illusion by Alan Watts

Democracy and Social Ethics by Jane Addams

Common Sense by Thomas Paine

From Bacteria to Bach and Back: The Evolution of Minds by Daniel C. Dennett

Science

Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst by Robert Sapolsky

The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs: A New History of a Lost World by Stephen Brusatte

Why Dinosaurs Matter by Kenneth Lacovara

I Contain Multitudes: The Microbes Within Us and a Grander View of Life by Ed Yong

The Evolution of Beauty: How Darwin's Forgotten Theory of Mate Choice Shapes the Animal World—And Us by Richard O. Prum

Gulp: Adventures on the Alimentary Canal by Mary Roach

Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife by Mary Roach

Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex by Mary Roach

She Has Her Mother's Laugh: The Powers, Perversions, and Potential of Heredity by Carl Zimmer

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari

21 Lessons for the 21st Century by Yuval Noah Harari

Caesar's Last Breath: Decoding the Secrets of the Air Around Us by Sam Kean

Why Evolution is True by Jerry Coyne

What Is Real?: The Unfinished Quest for the Meaning of Quantum Physics by Adam Becker

Brief Answers to the Big Questions by Stephen Hawking

Seven Brief Lessons on Physics by Carlo Rovelli

The Physics of Time by Carlo Rovelli

Physics of the Impossible: A Scientific Exploration of the World of Phasers, Force Fields, Teleportation, and Time Travel by Michio Kaku

The Spinning Magnet: The Force That Created the Modern World--and Could Destroy It by Alanna Mitchell

Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space by Carl Sagan

Visions for the 21st Century by Carl Sagan et al.

The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee

What the Dog Saw and Other Adventures by Malcolm Gladwell

The Soul of the Night: An Astronomical Pilgrimage by Chet Raymo

The Virgin and the Mousetrap: Essays in Search of the Soul of Science by Chet Raymo

Politics/Race/Gender

The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love by bell hooks

Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay

Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture by Roxane Gay (editor)

Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower by Brittney Cooper

Women & Power: A Manifesto by Mary Beard

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

I Am Not Your Negro by James Baldwin

The Origin of Others by Toni Morrison

Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson

Race Matters by Cornel West

Democracy Matters: Winning the Fight Against Imperialism by Cornel West

Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America by Ibram X. Kendi

The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois

Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City by Matthew Desmond

Tears We Cannot Stand: A Sermon to White America by Michael Eric Dyson

What Truth Sounds Like: Robert F. Kennedy, James Baldwin, and Our Unfinished Conversation About Race in America by Michael Eric Dyson

White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo

White Trash: The 400-Year Untold History of Class in America by Nancy Isenberg

The Common Good by Robert Reich

Transgender History by Susan Stryker

Memoir

Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay

South of Forgiveness: A True Story of Rape and Responsibility by Thordis Elva

Letter to My Daughter by Maya Angelou

The Chicken Chronicles by Alice Walker

The Last Jew of Treblinka by Chil Rajchman

My Own Life by David Hume

Tough Shit: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good by Kevin Smith

Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life by Tom Robbins

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass

The Sun Does Shine: How I Found Life and Freedom on Death Row by Anthony Ray Hinton

Black Klansman: Race, Hate, and the Undercover Investigation of a Lifetime by Ron Stallworth

Calypso by David Sedaris

Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris

Ink Spots by Brian McDonald

No Time to Spare: Thinking About What Matters by Ursula K. Le Guin

History/Biography

Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race by Margot Lee Shetterly

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West by Dee Brown

The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson

Barracoon: The Story of the Last "Black Cargo" by Zora Neale Hurston

No god but God: The Origins, Evolution and Future of Islam by Reza Aslan

God: A Human History by Reza Aslan

One Nation Under God: How Corporate America Invented Christian America by Kevin M. Kruse

The Etymologicon: A Circular Stroll through the Hidden Connections of the English Language by Mark Forsyth

Quackery: A Brief History of the Worst Ways to Cure Everything by Lydia Kang 

Fiction

Literary Fiction

Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin

Another Country by James Baldwin

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin

Blues for Mister Charlie by James Baldwin

Going to Meet the Man by James Baldwin

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Bartleby the Scrivener by Herman Melville

Home by Toni Morrison

God Help the Child by Toni Morrison

The Yellow Wallpaper and Other Stories by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

The Dead by James Joyce

Ishmael: An Adventure of the Mind and Spirit by Daniel Quinn

Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett

The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain

A Confederacy of Dunces by Jonh Kennedy Toole

The Dork of Cork by Chet Raymo

Genre Fiction

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green

Slice of Life by Kurt Vonnegut

2BR02B by Kurt Vonnegut

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin

I, Robot by Isaac Asimov

Foundation by Isaac Asimov

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer

Kindred by Octavia E. Butler

Bloodchild and Other Stories by Octavia E. Butler

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Pure Drivel by Steve Martin

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by J.K. Rowling

Pet Sematary by Stephen King

The Green Mile by Stephen King

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving

The Restaurant at the End of the Universe by Douglas Adams

Life, the Universe and Everything by Douglas Adams

The Bad Beginning: A Series of Unfortunate Events #1 by Lemony Snicket

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary by David Sedaris

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

Worst of 2018

Every single book I read this past year had redemptive value. Even if it was total garbage, it still taught me some stuff (like how not to write a book). Even a bad book can be a good book if you let it be.

So, here’re a few books that didn’t quite hit the spot for me:

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

Ishmael: An Adventure of the Mind and Spirit by Daniel Quinn

Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife by Mary Roach

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Ink Spots by Brian McDonald

The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson

Best of 2018

It was genuinely difficult to choose my top books of 2018. What a literary year it has been for me. 2018 marks the most books I’ve read in a year, and I was lucky enough to come across some real game-changers. I finally read the Harry Potter series and, boy howdy, did it ever live up to the hype. What took me so long?? But this was, more than anything, the year of James Baldwin. He has made an indelible mark on me as a reader, a writer, and a human. What a year this has been! I hope to read a fraction as much beautiful, lovely, challenging, profound prose in 2019. 

In no particular order, here are the books of 2018 that most moved me, shook me, rattled me, rolled me:

Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst by Robert Sapolsky

Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks

The Pragmatic Turn by Richard J. Bernstein

Pragmatism and Feminism: Reweaving the Social Fabric by Charlene Haddock Seigfried

The Ethics of Ambiguity by Simone de Beauvoir

What Is Real?: The Unfinished Quest for the Meaning of Quantum Physics by Adam Becker

Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space by Carl Sagan

The Soul of the Night: An Astronomical Pilgrimage by Chet Raymo

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson

Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay

Well, there you have it, folks. Here’s to many more good books in the years to come! 

The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story. —Ursula K. Le Guin

[my-proof-is-you]

Chasing Your Demons - Ch. 16

Summary: You thought you had left Dean Winchester behind you. After what he did, who could blame you?

But, when Dean is in trouble, his brother and your childhood best friend calls for help. You’re mad, but that doesn’t change that you care about them.

Soon you find yourself helping the younger Winchester and getting closer to him again. Dean has changed, but you want to help bring him back to who he was. If it works, though, what will the future hold for you and the brothers?

*I do not own and gifs or pics

Masterlist

Sam

Things between the three of you had been a little awkward over the last few weeks. Sam and your relationship was still pretty good, but it was hard to watch you and Dean around each other. You had forgiven him, that was clear. But Dean couldn’t forgive himself, and Sam knew it was possible that he never would.

Sam was laying in bed with you, the two of you having just woken up. He smiled down at you as you were wrapped up in his arms. Your eyes were still sleepy, but he couldn’t help but notice how damn beautiful you were.

Sam leaned in and kissed you slowly and tenderly. You returned it twofold, pressing your body to Sam’s, leaving nearly no space between you. He ran his hands up and down your torso, taking in your curves and smooth skin with his long fingers.

Sam rolled all the way onto his back and pulled you easily on top of him without breaking your kiss. He was already hard, and felt himself grow even harder at the feel of your center rubbing against him. You were in just your panties and a t-shirt while he was in just his boxers, leaving very little between you and him.

You both became more frantic, the friction causing you both to pant. Sam reached up and pulled your shirt off, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You continued to rub yourself against him while he took your breasts in his hands, kneading and rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. He had never been with a woman with more perfect proportions. Your breasts fit perfectly in his hands, which he loved.

Sam pulled you down so he could take one in his mouth. He lavished it with kisses and sucked and lightly bit your nipples. You let out a small moan, which only turned Sam on all the more.

Sam flipped you over so your back was on the bed, and slid his boxers off. While he did, you reached down and pulled off your panties before placing your hand on your clit and rubbing small circles. The movement drove him crazy; it was so sexy.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it away, replacing it with his mouth. He licked circles around your clit and long laps up and down your entrance. He looked up and saw your head thrown back and your back arched. Your eyes were closed and you were making the most perfect sounds of contentment. Sam smiled and laughed a little, the vibration of his mouth making you moan even more.

Sam put two long fingers inside you, finding the spot he knew would send you over the edge. You wound your fingers in his hair—a gesture he absolutely loved—and he felt you tighten around his fingers. You came, Sam’s name on your lips.

I’ve never loved my name more.

After you came down from your high, you looked at Sam with glazed over eyes. You sat up, pulling him up with you. You brought him to the edge of the bed before kneeling before him. You looked up at him and licked your lips, making his cock twitch.

You took him in your hand for just a moment before sliding your beautiful lips over him and taking him all the way in your mouth. The feeling was bliss, and when you started moving up and down Sam feared he wouldn’t last long. He held your hair back and closed his eyes.

After a few minutes, you pulled your head back and let him come out of your mouth with a ‘pop’. You licked the tip for a moment, and Sam knew he couldn’t wait to be inside you any longer.

He stood up roughly and picked you up before throwing you gently down on the bed on your stomach.

“Knees up, sweetheart,” he said. As soon as you were bent in front of him he slammed into you, his pace fast. You adjusted to him quickly and he was moving in and out of you, his skin slapping against yours. Sam reached forward and placed his hand on your clit, rubbing quick circles there.

You both worked your way back to a climax quickly. Sam knew he was going to come, so he adjusted his angle so he would hit your G spot. When he did, he felt you tighten again before falling over the edge, moaning into the pillow as you went. Soon after, Sam spilled himself inside you until he was spent.

He rolled off you and you were both panting and sweaty. You smiled at each other before snuggling in again to sleep for a little while longer. Sam held you as you fell asleep, still not sure how he got so lucky to have you.

Sam was in the kitchen a few days later talking with Dean. It was fairly early in the morning, and he had been surprised to see his brother awake at that hour.

“What’re you doing up?” Sam asked when Dean walked in.

“Oh, just couldn’t sleep all that well. Lots to think about, you know?”

“Yeah. Are you okay?” Sam asked, suspicious of the dark circles under his brother’s eyes. Dean had never really had too much trouble sleeping. He could sleep for two hours three nights in a row and still look better than he did then.

"Yeah, I just…I’ve been thinking about Y/N. Do you think she still hates me?” Dean asked, his eyes filled with guilt.

Sam thought for a moment. “It seems like she’s forgiven you for nearly killing her, so I would say no, definitely not ‘hate.’” Dean nodded, and Sam continued. “For what you did two years ago, though…I don’t know if she can ever forgive you for that.”

“I don’t blame her, I guess,” Dean responded dejectedly.

Sam felt a little anger flare up inside his stomach. “Dean, I just don’t get it. How could you cheat on her? Y/N is amazing, and I know how you felt about her. How could you just throw that away?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. I just did,” Dean said.

“Not even just that, but also the way you hurt her. I saw her face as she walked away that night. She was broken. How could you do that to her?” Sam asked angrily.

Dean just shook his head, not wanting to answer, which made Sam even more angry.

“Answer me, Dean. How could you do it? Why did you do it? I just didn’t think you would ever do something like that. How could you not have found everything you needed in Y/N? Was it really worth—“

“I never cheated on her, okay?!” Dean yelled. Sam sat stunned for a moment.

“What?” Sam asked, having a hard time understanding. Dean pushed away from the table, standing to his feet and pacing.

“I never cheated on Y/N. I only told her I did.”

“Why would you do that?” Sam asked, still confused.

“Because, Sammy. She was perfect. I loved her, I really did. But I was gonna fuck it up, I just knew it. She waited for me and looked for me while I was in purgatory. When I got back, I was different—I was less than I was before. And she deserved better than that. She deserved someone who was normal,” Dean said. He had stopped pacing, and Sam stared at him as he leaned against the counter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam finally asked.

“Because, the two of you are best friends. I knew you would tell her, and I couldn’t have that. She would come back to me, and I needed her to move on,” Dean explained.

“Well, you’re going to tell her now,” Sam responded, his face serious. He knew that telling you meant that he may even lose you, but he also knew he needed you to be able to make that choice.

“No, Sam, you can’t tell her. You two are happy, and I’m not getting in the way of that,” Dean said, stubborn as he always was.

“You have to tell her, Dean. You can’t keep this from her. She deserves to know!” Sam exclaimed. Dean stared at him, conflict clear in his eyes. Sam knew if Dean didn’t tell you, he would have to. Dean was always trying to protect people, and this was how he did it: by sacrificing himself. Sam had seen it so many times and he knew how it felt when he was on the other end of that. He wouldn’t let Dean do that to you, too.

You

It had been a few weeks since Dean was cured. The three of you hung out at the bunker a lot, Dean still not quite ready to get back to hunting. You knew that Sam was secretly looking for a way to get rid of the Mark of Cain, but had come up with nothing so far. You were hoping he would find something, but hadn’t really seen the Mark’s effect on Dean since he was human again.

You were walking down the hall one morning, heading toward the kitchen to get some coffee. You heard Sam and Dean talking, and it sounded a little heated, so you stopped to listen before you went in.

“…have to tell her, Dean. You can’t keep this from her. She deserves to know!” Sam said. There was silence for a moment, followed by Dean clearing his throat.

“I can’t, Sammy. I just want her to be my friend again, and I’m not going to do anything that could get in the way of you two.”

“You know what, whatever,” Sam said. You heard him stalking angrily toward the library through the other door. You leaned back against the wall, unsure of what to think. You didn’t know what it was that Sam wanted Dean to tell you, but you knew it was something big.

You weren’t sure what to do, but most of all you weren’t sure you could handle any jarring news right then anyway. You decided to let it go for the time being. You knew it wouldn’t last long, but what was more important was finding a way to live with the two brothers you loved at different times.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14

@divadinag

@lynne1993

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

@infj-slytherclaw

@onethirstyunicorn

@sammykb1994

Deanies:

@tftumblin

@deans-baby-momma

@akshi8278

@weepingwillowphoenix

@playingdeep17

This Fic:

@icequeen6666

@my-soul-is-the-moon

@teenwaywardasgardian

@lilulo-12

@heyyy-hey-babyyy

[winmance]

I love your writing & prompts so much 💝! Could you write Sam being 15 & Dean 19, one-sided feelings from Dean (or Dean POV, so Sam’s feelings are unclear), very guilty Dean but also very jealous.

Anon 2 : Hi, love your work!!! Could you write a very guilty, 18/19 year old Dean super in love with his unknowing/innocent brother? (Just some everyday slice of life)

Anon 3 : A weecest Dean pov??

Beta by @debivc78

When Sam was little, his whole world revolved around Dean.

A lot of people think that this crazy admiration for his brother started after their mom’s death, but Dean knows it was way before that.  When Sam was just a few days old, and their eyes first locked together. Maybe it was even before that, when Sam was still in Mary’s belly, and Dean would lay next to her and spend hours talking to Sam.

Sam would look at Dean like he could pick the moon, and Dean would look at Sam like he would crash it for him.

Their relationship wasn’t perfect, and sometimes they’d fight.  But at the end of the day, they were brothers, for better and for worse, and Dean wouldn’t dream of changing anything.  

Yet, something changed.

He doesn’t know when it happened.

One day, Sam is his lovely, goofy little brother, the one that he would shove out of the way to get to the shower first. The next, Sam is… Sam IS.

He’s not his little brother anymore.  He’s a boy that he could have meet at school. He’s the theatre kid.  He’s the nerd that makes jokes that no one gets.  He’s the cute boy with the dimples.  Maybe he’s always been this boy, but it’s the first time Dean sees him this way, and he hates it.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but once it does, he can’t see anything else.

Suddenly, all the normal, daily things are wrong and dirty.

The sound Sam makes when he’s eating. The way he walks, with his long, long legs that seem to never end  The way he lights up the room by doing nothing more than smiling.  And the way Dean’s heart misses a beat every time Sam moves closer to him during a movie.

One day, they’re watching the news and they show the picture of a man who kidnapped of a boy and raped him. Sam kept watching at the screen, a blank expression on his face.  The boy is fifteen, just like him, and he was just going home from school, like another day.

“Why would someone do that?” Sam asks, pushing his lunch away

“We live in a fucked-up world” Their dad says “We deal with real monsters so often that sometimes we forget that humans can be even worse”

“But he was just a child”

“I know” Dad replies “But sometimes… sometimes it doesn’t matter. I know it’s scary, Sam, but you know how to defend yourself, you don’t need to be scared”

“I’m not scared”

“You’re not?” Dad asks, a proud smile on his face. There’s a lot of things he’s done wrong in his life, and a lot of things he regrets, but his boys? His boys are what he’s most proud of, and there are times when he can see himself so clearly in Sam.

“No. Dean is here to protect me”

Sam turns toward him, his eyes shining with love and trust, and Dean feels the knot in his stomach growing even wider.

“Of course, Sammy”

His throat is tight as he says those words, and he can’t get Sam’s innocent smile out of his mind.

He’s no better than the monster on the news. He’s no better than any of the fucked-up people that are roasting in hell. He’s worse than them because Sam trusts him to defend him, while all Dean can think about is those awful things that he wishes he could do to him.

Most days, he can’t even look at himself in the mirror. He wonders if his mom can see him, from where she is.  If she knows what he’s thinking.  He told her he would protect Sam, he promised her the very first day he saw Sam, and he failed, miserably.

Will she understand? Will she forgive him? It’s not his fault. He doesn’t want to feel this way. He doesn’t want to hurt Sam.

He wishes he could tell her how disgusted he is with himself.  How he hates himself, more than she could ever hate him. He would tell her how much he loves Sam and how sorry he is.

He tries to stay out of the motel room as long as possible, burying himself in alcohol and no-name girls.  Even if it’s painful, even if he misses Sam. It works for a few weeks, until one night, he comes home to the motel room ans Sam is waiting for him, his eyes swollen from crying.

Sam, his poor Sam who didn’t ask any  for of it.  Who kept wondering what he did wrong, and why Dean doesn’t want to spend time with him anymore.

Because I’m a monster, he wants to say, because you deserve better than that.

“I’m sorry” He says “I’m so sorry Sammy”

He doesn’t say why he is sorry, but Sam doesn’t ask. Instead, he gets up from the bed and hugs Dean, promising him that it’s ok, that he’s not mad.

He enjoys Sam’s touch. The first in a long time, and it only makes things worse.

He promises to stay home with Sam. He can’t let his brother suffer because of him.

He won’t hurt Sam, ever. This sick feeling inside of him isn’t lust, it’s love, pure love, and even if it’s killing him, he knows that he loves Sam too much to hurt him.

“Wanna play truth or dare?” Sam asks, shutting the tv off

“Aren’t you too old?”

Sam rolls his eyes before climbing into Dean’s bed, sitting right in front of him.

“Ok, I’ll start. Truth or dare?”

“Dare” Dean says

“Uh… I dare you to… Finish your beer”

“You’re awful at this game” Dean laughs but does as Sam asked him. “Alright, truth or dare?”

“Truth”

Sam is too fast at answering, and that’s how Dean knows that something is going on. He frowns, trying to read Sam’s mind for the right question to ask.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Kind of” Sam says, as if it was nothing, but Dean can see how big Sam’s smile is.  How his eyes are shining with joy, and he clenches on his beer tighter.

“What do you mean, kind of?”

“It’s my turn” Sam says, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“What does the perfect girl look like for you?”

Like you, is the first answer that crosses his mind. All the girls he’s hooked up with have brown hair and hazel eyes like Sam, though none of them are as beautiful as he is. If he’s lucky, he can sometimes  find a girl that will let him call her “Sam” during sex. That only happened twice, but it was the two best fucks of his life.

“Blonde with big boobs”

“You’re so gross” Sam complains

“You don’t know what’s good” He says, taking another beer “Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“What do you mean by kind of?”

This time, Sam doesn’t reply right away. He bites nervously on his bottom lip, and Dean can see how his body shifts from comfortable to awkward.

“Well… It’s not really a girl”

“What?” Dean says, his eyes widen. No. Sam can’t go out with a boy. It’s painful enough to see him with a girl, but a boy? He can’t take it. He can’t.

“It’s a boy” Sam finally admits “He’s name is Brandon, and he’s really sweet, he’s… I don’t know. I’m good when I’m with him. He makes me laugh”

A long time ago, Dean was the only one to make Sam laugh. Dad would try everything, from jokes to grimaces, but Sam would keep a stoic face, judging him silently. One word from Dean and he would burst into laughter.

Now, a guy name Brandon is the one making Sam laugh.

“Are you mad?” Sam asks, his voice shaking with fear.

Sam is asking for his big brother’s approval, the only opinion that matters, and Dean tries to push his pain away, to bury it with all the other things he never wants to deal with, because Sam needs him now.

“Of course, I’m not. I’m happy for you”

“Yeah?” Sam says, a smile reappearing on his face

“Yeah”

Sometimes, Sam will look at him the same way he used to do when he was little. It’s beyond adoration, beyond love.  In those moments Dean is able to forget everything else and focus on Sam and Sam alone

“Did you have sex?” He asks “Because I won’t be happy about that”

“Dean!” Sam yells, throwing a pillow at him “You’re a dick!”

“I’m just asking!”

“Well, no, we didn’t” Sam admits, and Dean can feel a weight coming off of his shoulders. He knows that it’s just a matter of time before Sam does it, but he doesn’t want to think about it. “I’m not ready”

“You’re too young, Sammy”

“How old were you the first time?”

“17”

“Really?” Sam frowns.

“Yeah. I guess I wasn’t ready before either”

Sam is quiet for a long time, but Dean knows better than to think that the conversation is over. He can see Sam’s mind working, his eyebrows frowning in concentration. He’s adorable, with the way his nose twists and Dean has to close his eyes to stop staring.

“What’s it like to be in love?”

The question is simple, and yet, Dean has no idea how to answer. He’s been in love with Sammy for almost a year now.  But he didn’t feel in love with him, not like the other people do. He always loved Sam, more than anything, since before he was born, and he can’t even remember how it was before he was here. He never loved anyone else, but at the same time, he never not-loved Sam. Was he in love is whole life?

“I don’t know, Sammy. It’s… I think… It’s like looking at someone and seeing the other part of your soul, you know? Like someone that can complete you, make you feel whole. It’s not about being someones opposite or being identical. It’s… It’s something else. It doesn’t make you feel good, not all the time, but I think… I think it’s wanting the other person to be happy, even if it means that you’re not. Putting the other person’s well-being before yours”

Dean gives him a weak smile, and before he can react, Sam is in his arms, using his chest as a pillow. He’s not sure what is happening, but Sam is obviously upset. Maybe he loves Brandon, and maybe Brandon doesn’t love him back. Seeing Sam like this is more painful than the jealousy he was feeling earlier, and he can’t help but hug him tighter.

“Are you in love with Brandon?” He asks, rubbing Sam’s back

“No” Sam admits “I… It’s just for fun”

“Sure?”

“Yeah” Sam says, “Were you… Were you ever in love?”

“Still am”

“With who?”

“It doesn’t matter” Dean says “She… She wasn’t meant for me”

Sam buries himself deeper in Dean’s neck, enjoying the feeling of his brother’s protective arms around him.

They stay in silence for a long moment, not a sound around them except for each other breathing. If Dean had to choose what heaven would look like, he would choose this: Sam and him, on a motel bed, in each other arms.

The next time he comes to get Sam from school, he spots him kissing another boy on the lips, the boy hands curled around Sam’s waist. Dean wants to scream, to throw something, because it should be him kissing Sam, instead of this guy who doesn’t even know how lucky he is.

Instead, he waits patiently and congratulates Sam when he’s close enough, ignoring the way Sam blushes furiously.

He doesn’t give a second glace to the boy. Otherwise, he would have noticed all the freckles on his face, how green his eyes were, and maybe, just maybe, he would have noticed that the boy wears a Led Zeppelin shirt, a brand-new leather jacket, and a pair of black boots that put on display his bowlegs. Just like he does.

Maybe he would have noticed, if he wasn’t so focused on trying to hide his feelings for Sammy.

If you like my work, you can support me here

[lifejustgotawkward]

My Favorite Albums of 2018

Now that we’ve reached the end of December, I’ve compiled a list of my favorite albums from this year. I’m particularly proud of the emphasis that I placed on listening to new music by women, which will be obvious as you make your way through the post. As I hope is the case every time I make these annual rankings, my goal is not so much that anyone should be awed by my short paragraphs of explanation (doubtful since my schedule didn’t allow me enough time to edit my writing too closely - let me know if there are any weird errors!), but rather that my mentions of these artists will spread positive awareness of them. If I can share my appreciation for a singer or band and subsequently inspire someone to become a fan, the work will have been worth it. Have a good time with this, everybody!

Tagging @shadowfaxstables, @entrancedintime, @mr-top-secret, @walkingwiththemoon, @thehoodedone, @yung-lawsuit, @oystersaintforme - I hope you enjoy the music!

15. Seinabo Sey, I’m a Dream

Standout Tracks: “Never Get Used To,” “I Owe You Nothing,” “My Eye,” “Truth,” “Breathe,” “Good in You”

I might never have heard of Gambian-Swedish singer-songwriter Seinabo Sey if I didn’t regular check out Pitchfork reviews, although luckily I started listening to I’m a Dream before reading Katherine St. Asaph‘s piece, which unfairly marks Sey’s album with a 6.0 grade. Sey’s second album, following Pretend (2015), continues her interest in marrying soul/R&B with pop, moving through different tempi to exhibit her perspectives on romantic and familial relationships. Most inspirational among the songs is “Breathe,” an empowering reminder from Sey to herself that no matter what hardships she endures, she is valuable and magical.

14. Black Belt Eagle Scout, Mother of My Children

Standout Tracks: “Soft Stud,” “Keyboard,” “Mother of My Children,” “Yard,” “I Don’t Have You in My Life,” “Sam, A Dream”

There may not have been a more impressive debut single in 2018 than “Soft Stud,” a searing ode to unrequited lust. The rest of Katherine Paul’s album is fairly quiet by comparison, but her first full-length project as Black Belt Eagle Scout burns with longing. A self-described “radical indigenous queer feminist,” Paul draws from her experiences growing up in the Swinomish Indian Tribal Community in Washington to tell stories both deeply personal to her and universal in the desires they communicate. Album closer “Sam, A Dream” is the best example of how Paul blends those two concepts, taking a minimalist lyrical approach to expressing her love for the song’s subject before spending a solid two and a half minutes on a guitar solo to finish the record, a sound so beautiful that you feel like you’re floating when you hear it.

13. Blossoms, Cool Like You

Standout Tracks: “Cool Like You,” “Unfaithful,” “How Long Will This Last?” “Between the Eyes,” “Lying Again,” “Love Talk”

For those of us who love a good tune that pays homage to 80s New Wave and synthpop, Blossoms are your band. They don’t seem to have made anywhere near as much of an impact in the US as they have in their native UK, and British critics weren’t exactly bowled over by this sophomore album (despite it hitting #4 on the charts), but I’ll bet that most of today’s young American bands would kill to put out a single half as catchy as “Cool Like You,” or anything close to the upbeat yet still sort of bittersweet perfection of “Love Talk.”

12. Shannon Shaw, Shannon in Nashville

Standout Tracks: “Bring Her the Mirror,” “Broke My Own,” “Leather, Metal, Steel,” “Love I Can’t Explain,” “Cold Pillows,” "Make Believe”

Stepping away from her role as frontwoman of Oakland, California’s surf-punk outfit Shannon and the Clams, Shannon Shaw’s debut solo album Shannon in Nashville is an entrancing collection of songs deeply inspired by 60s girl groups, Roy Orbison and, of course, Dusty “Dusty in Memphis” Springfield. Even if you’d never heard Shaw’s voice before now, it would instantly become iconic to your ears thanks to melodies that sound just as timeless as their predecessors from half a century ago.

11. Say Sue Me, Where We Were Together

Standout Tracks: “Let It Begin,” “But I Like You,” “Old Town,” “After Falling Asleep,” “About the Courage to Become Somebody’s Past,” “Coming to the End”

Korean-American indie rock band Say Sue Me have a sweet, light touch that makes both their snappy power-pop efforts like “But I Like You” and “Old Town” and also somewhat more serious-minded guitar showcases like “Let It Begin,” “About the Courage to Become Somebody’s Past” (an instrumental that gives me real “This Magic Moment” vibes) and “Coming to the End” equally appealing. I don’t speak or understand Korean, so I don’t know how lead singer Sumi Choi’s lyrics of “After Falling Asleep” translate, but the fact that I love it anyway is a testament to the fact that fantastic music always transcends barriers of language.

10. Robyn, Honey

Standout Tracks: “Missing U,” “Human Being” (feat. Zhala), “Baby Forgive Me,” “Send to Robin Immediately,” “Honey,” “Ever Again”

I didn’t expect to love Robyn’s newest album upon first listen back in October, but now I do, so here we are. A couple of months spent absorbing her woozy beats has made me appreciate Robyn’s ability to evoke moods that feel specific to her particular talent as an artist. The loss that inspired the album - the death of one of her closest friends, Christian Falk, in 2014 - pervades nearly all of the tracks, but they are relatable and will still make you want to dance, closer to light than to darkness. Even in songs like “Human Being” and “Baby Forgive Me,” where the rhythms and (to cite the latter’s credits in the album liner notes) “sad robot voice” play with notions of human artistic creation juxtaposed with machine-manufactured products, Robyn herself is always in front and center, and in the album’s crown jewel, the title track “Honey,” her maturity as a storyteller is evident.

9. cupcakKe, Eden

Standout Tracks: “PetSmart,” “Cereal and Water,” “Garfield,” “Prenup,” “Blackjack,” “A.U.T.I.S.M.”

All Hail Queen cupcakKe. On her second album of the year, following January’s Ephorize, the Chicago rapper continues to show why she’s one of the best women in the game. “PetSmart” starts things off incredibly, exhibiting one entertaining brag after another, then the rest of the album displays more of her often laugh-out-loud humor, endless pop culture references, a bunch of her quintessential sex-centric jams (”Garfield,” “Typo,” “Blackjack”) and a song dedicated to people on the autism spectrum (”A.U.T.I.S.M.”). Every now and then there are moments that indicate that cupcakKe still has room to grow, like when she uses the R slur on “Garfield,” but ultimately her heart is in the right place; besides the aforementioned “A.U.T.I.S.M.,” she has also recorded songs in support of the LGBTQ+ community (”LGBT,” “Crayons”), so I am certain that she’ll eventually learn from her mistakes. As one YouTube commenter wrote on one of her videos: “She should be where Cardi B is.” Indeed.

8. Chelsea Jade, Personal Best

Standout Tracks: “Ride or Cry,” “Pitch Dark,” “Colour Sum,” “Laugh It Off,” “Over Sensitive,” “High Beam”

New Zealand-based singer-songwriter Chelsea Jade has not yet hit it big in America like her younger compatriot, Lorde, but there is an ample proof on Personal Best that Jade can craft earworms with memorable hooks and intelligent lyrics. (Seriously, when was the last time you heard the word liminal used in a pop song, as Jade does on “Laugh It Off”?) She has her foot in the door in America as a lyricist, credited as one of the writers of this year’s Chainsmokers single “You Owe Me,” but one hopes that the “Accidental Dream Pop Hero” of Auckland, NZ will claim her own chart-topping stardom one day.

7. Beach House, 7

Standout Tracks: “Lemon Glow,” “L’Inconnue,” “Black Car,” “Lose Your Smile,” “Girl of the Year,” “Last Ride”

I thought I knew what to expect from a Beach House album after following their career for the past few years, but “Lemon Glow” and “Black Car” hit me like gorgeous sledgehammers anyway when they were released earlier this year, still taking my breath away every time I hear them. I don’t know how Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally manage it, but they keep finding sophisticated ways to update their mining of the same musical territory in a tried-and-true comfort zone. Beach House’s secret seems to be that they have deduced all the algorithms necessary to hypnotize listeners. 7 is perhaps less exciting to me than the duo’s last album, Thank Your Lucky Stars, since the freshness of first being introduced to their music in 2015 has faded, but I’m glad to report that their new songs are absolutely worthy of praise.

6. Soccer Mommy, Clean

Standout Tracks: “Still Clean,” “Cool,” “Your Dog,” “Last Girl,” “Skin,” “Wildflowers”

Nashville, Tennessee’s Sophie Allison, who performs under the moniker Soccer Mommy, wowed me with this ten-track album full of indie rock gems. At age 20, she is ready to take the music industry by storm, evoking her heroes Liz Phair and Mitski while always maintaining a recognizable individual style. This is most apparent on the more upbeat tracks - “Skin,” for example, is a brutally honest articulation of yearning, and if ever there was a year that needed a blistering takedown of abusive relationships like “Your Dog” as its rallying cry, it’s 2018.

5. Courtney Barnett, Tell Me How You Really Feel

Standout Tracks: “Hopefulessness,” “Charity,” “Need a Little Time,” “Nameless, Faceless,” “Help Your Self,” “Sunday Roast”

It took a while for Courtney Barnett’s latest album to sink in with me. Tell Me How You Really Feel is the definition of a slow burn; it has just as much of Barnett’s trademark dry humor, but it also brings to the surface a sensitivity beyond what she revealed on her breakthrough album, Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit (2015). Most of all, I think she’s enjoying exploring what she can do with her melodies, like the guitar solo on “Help Your Self,” her incorporation of Margaret Atwood’s famous “men are afraid, women are afraid” quote in the chorus of the #MeToo/#TimesUp anthem “Nameless, Faceless” or the amount of time it takes her to reach the “Keep on keeping on/You know you're not alone” part of “Sunday Roast.” Listening to new music by Courtney Barnett is as rewarding an experience as any modern-day alternative rock fan could want.

4. Caroline Rose, LONER

Standout Tracks: “More of the Same,” “Jeannie Becomes a Mom,” “Getting to Me,” “To Die Today,” “Soul No. 5,” “Animal”

I was magnetized to Caroline Rose’s music from the intriguing opening notes of “More of the Same,” the first of many riffs that LONER gifts to us. My favorite track is “Jeannie Becomes a Mom,” which continues a classic singer-songwriter tradition of relating the ups and downs of another woman’s life, especially her dreams for a brighter future. She also moves through a few genres besides indie rock with skill, employing elements of trip-hop on “To Die Today” and R&B on “Talk” and “Animal” in engaging ways. (According to Rose in a press release, LONER is “as much inspired by Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears as it was late-’70s punk,“ which I can believe.) Rose’s sense of humor might be the best part of the album, though, as seen in her sharp wit and sarcasm on “Money,” “Soul No. 5” and “Bikini,” the last of which is a bouncy number mocking the industries that compel women to become sexualized puppets tailor-made for public consumption.

I also find this Out Magazine quote from Caroline Rose about how she incorporates her own sexuality enlightening: “When I was first starting, I was kind of afraid to make being queer a part of my identity for fear that it would consume it, because that happens to a lot of artists, unfortunately. When you’re first starting, that is the way people identify you cause that’s all you get. You get one elevator pitch and if you’re lucky, a 30 second clip of what your music sounds like—and that’s the pitch. But I hit a point where I was like, ‘That’s dumb.’ People should be as much of themselves as possible, ‘cause then everyone would be super unique. No one else is you. You are independent of other people and you can do whatever you want with your identity and your body and the way you dress and the way you act. I realized I should just be myself—middle fingers up and no fucks given, ‘cause life is really short. My life is zipping by and I’m okay with that, but I want to make sure I do it right.”

3. Wild Moccasins, Look Together

Standout Tracks: “Boyish Wave,” “Temporary Vase,” “Longtime Listener,” “Missing You (the Most),” “No Muse,” “Waterless Cup”

Few bands that I discovered in 2018 have dazzled me quite like Houston, Texas’s Wild Moccasins. When the pair at the heart of the group, vocalist/keyboardist Zahira Gutierrez and guitarist Cody Swann, ended their romantic relationship a few years ago, they turned their complex jumble of reasons and reactions into art. But Look Together isn’t a mopey breakup record; “Longtime Listener,” the song that immediately turned me into a fan, is a slice of New Wave heaven, while “Missing You (the Most)” and “No Muse” are just as jaunty but dig into the more personal side of the duo’s songwriting. “Missing” ends with a repetition of the lines “You only want me if you get the chance to change me/You only want me if you get the chance to save me,” while “No Muse,“ a pointed examination of how men (especially artists) undermine and belittle the women in their relationships, features this cogent chorus: “I’m no use to you unless I’m undressed/I’m no muse to you/You cut me in two unless I say yes/I’m no muse to you/And you can sing about it all you want/I must not want it bad enough, bad enough.”

2. Miya Folick, Premonitions

Standout Tracks: “Thingamajig,” “Premonitions,” “Stock Image,” “Stop Talking,” “Deadbody,” “Baby Girl”

Thanks to Pitchfork, I first heard of Miya Folick when her single “Deadbody” came out this past March. It immediately struck me as a manifesto for our new age, where women can move forward with confidence thanks to the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements. That song alternately demonstrates subdued menace and loud, unapologetic anger, but “Stock Image” and “Premonitions” show that Folick has a strong leaning towards modern pop music; “Stop Talking” is so commercially accessible that it’s as much of a bop as any sugary confection by Carly Rae Jepsen. Folick’s debut album - after having released a number of EPs and standalone tracks over the past few years - showcases a woman whose voice and songwriting abilities have limitless potential, and she’s only just getting started. To quote some of Folick’s lyrics from “Stop Talking,” seemingly a summary of her artist’s statement: “You have to make a choice/Don’t be an accidental voice/We have to speak with grace/We will become the words we say.“

1. Mitski, Be the Cowboy

Standout Tracks: “Geyser,” “Me and My Husband,” “Nobody,” “Pink in the Night,” “Washing Machine Heart,” “Two Slow Dancers”

It’s no mistake that so many end-of-year best-of lists have placed Be the Cowboy at the top of their rankings. Mitski’s fifth album finds her wading through deep pools of emotion in brief, lovely bursts of song, with twelve out of the fourteen tracks running two and a half minutes or shorter. It was pretty difficult for me to pick only a handful of highlights from an album that is so impressive in every conceivable way, so just know that every cut is a masterpiece. She puts words to the feelings we all carry inside, diamonds that glisten for fleeting moments but linger in the memory for a long time afterward.

HONORABLE MENTIONS (alphabetical)

Cher, Dancing Queen (”Dancing Queen,” ”Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight),” “The Name of the Game,” “Waterloo,” ”Fernando,” ”One of Us”)

Farao, Pure-O (”Marry Me,” “Get Along,” “Luster of the Eyes,” “Cluster of Delights,” “Gabriel,” “Triumph Over Me”)

Florence + The Machine, High as Hope (”Hunger,” “Big God,” “Patricia,” “100 Years,” “The End of Love,” “No Choir”)

Juliana Hatfield, Juliana Hatfield Sings Olivia Newton-John (”I Honestly Love You,” ”Physical,” “Hopelessly Devoted to You,” “Xanadu,” “Dancin’ ‘Round and ‘Round,” “Make a Move on Me”)

Marie Davidson, Working Class Woman (”Your Biggest Fan,” ”Work It,” ”The Psychologist,” “Day Dreaming,” “So Right” [although the extended version is even better since the opening lines are brought back in the last thirty seconds, making the song’s ending even more effective], “Burn Me”)

HONORABLE MENTIONS #2: EPs (alphabetical)

Ellis, The Fuzz (”The Drain,” “Frostbite,” ”What a Mess”)

Hatchie, Sugar & Spice (”Sleep,” ”Try,” “Bad Guy”)

King Princess, Make My Bed (”Talia,” “Upper West Side,” “Holy”)

Margaret Glaspy, Born Yesterday (”Before We Were Together,” ”One Heart and Two Arms,” “I Love You, Goodnight”)

Sevdaliza, The Calling (”Soul Syncable,” “Energ1,” “Human Nature”)

[thaisibir]

Be Kind To Yourself (5) - Wanda-centric Infinity War alt ending

Chapter 5/6: Truth Fandom: Avengers Characters: mainly [Wanda, Vision], T’Challa, Shuri, IW cast Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Wanda’s remarkable feat against Thanos leaves her with crushed arms and stroke-like symptoms. She feels unworthy of the gratitude and medical care from Wakanda, because what hurts her the most, still, was guilt. Always the guilt.

You can also find & read it here.

Ch. 5 below, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4

Be Kind To Yourself (5) Truth

Slowly and carefully, Wanda drew her knees up to her chest, folded her arms, and rested her chin on them. The breeze, cool and soft, tugged at the ends of her hair. It turned her necklaces into pendulums as they swung back and forth between her thighs and belly. Dwarfed under the vast canopy of stars that blazed above her, wrapped up in her solitude, and far away from the hubbub still going on inside, she felt very small and lonely.

"Miss Maximoff."

Wanda flinched, despite the gentle utterance of her name. She whirled around to find T'Challa standing just behind her.

"I'm sorry for startling you," he said. "This suit is designed to make me almost unseen and unheard. Sometimes I forget that."

Wanda's hand flitted up to her chest in an effort to catch her breath and collect herself. She could barely tell his frame and figure apart from the shadows, the night sky. Only the glint of claws around his neck, and the silver seams of vibranium along the armor, gave him away. His feet made no sound against the stone as he drew closer and settled down next to her with lithe, fluid motion. Truly a black panther, not just in name. She should have expected him to find her out here, after she tried to detach herself from the rest of her team and took no part in the celebration.

Wanda heard the clinks of armor and a spear; Okoye had followed closely behind T'Challa.

Still seated, he twisted around to acknowledge the general with a small wave of his hand. "There's no need for you to accompany me out here, Okoye. I would just like to speak with Miss Maximoff alone. Please attend to my sister."

"As you wish, my king." Okoye stepped away, giving the two one last sweeping glance before leaving them on the balcony.

Wanda ventured a request: "Please, just call me by my first name, Your Majesty." Being called Miss made her feel both very old and very young. She had grown up poor, and quickly without her parents, in the slums of Sokovia. She could never get used to formalities.

"Wanda, it is." Without the cat-like helmet masking his face, the king smiled at her. "She's very impressed with you. Okoye."

Wanda straightened up and blinked in surprise. "I...I wouldn't think so."

"It's true. I'll have you know that she is very difficult to impress, but your show of power on the battlefield saved her twice, and now you wear panther claws. She will not forget that in a hurry." T'Challa craned his neck back. "So, what do you think of Wakanda at night?"

"Beautiful," Wanda replied. "I had never seen so many bright stars in my life. Where I grew up, pollution always fogged up the sky. You'd be lucky to get a glimpse of just one star at Sokovia." What she couldn't tell him was that this was the very same sky in her nightmares, the last thing she saw before everything around her went up in flames. Wanda couldn't hold her gaze to the stars for long, and returned it to her feet.

"My sister told me that your symptoms have practically resolved, but to me you still look unwell."

Though he said this out of concern, to her the remark seemed laced with accusation, as if he was saying "Come on, Wanda, why the hell can't you get your shit together?" At least, that was the nasty little voice hissed in her head. She tensed, trying hard not to meet his eyes.

"Your body has been healing well enough. The doctors, nurses, and Shuri did a wonderful job seeing to that. But I sense that we still haven't done everything we could for you. There is something about you that our technology cannot detect and our medicine cannot treat. Something that you're keeping tucked away from everyone around you. We are made up of more than just bodies. We have our souls, as well. Your soul does not know peace. It's filled with unrest."

Wanda bit down on her bottom lip, trembling in her tight, balled up position.

"My sister tells me that you don't sleep well at night. You have said that it's from the pain. But I don't think it's pain from your fight against Thanos. It goes back further than him. It's something older, and deeper."

She squeezed her eyes shut. With the king's arrival, it seemed as if he had her cornered in the balcony. Like a cat with prey. Though she was in no shape to do so, she wanted to run away so she wouldn't have to hear him go on.

"I have seen grief, in all of its terrible glory, from this costly war. But there's something else in you that I have not seen in Thor, or in Peter Quill." T'Challa's voice dipped, as if he was talking more to himself now. "I think I have seen it before...yes, in Zuri, and in my father, for the wrongs they've done when they tried to do right."

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and a lump swelled in her throat. The king was terribly perceptive, wise beyond his years. He had her figured out, even when she hadn't had the courage to tell him for the longest time.

"Guilt. It's eating you alive. Be honest with me, Wanda. Is that it?"

At this, she burst into quiet sobs, ones that barely slipped through her lips but made her shoulders quiver uncontrollably and her chest ache. Wanda buried her face into her hands, feeling the warmth and wetness of tears on both of them.

To her surprise, he chuckled. When she looked up, the lift of his cheeks made his eyes crinkle merrily. "You know, I forgive you for tossing me into the jet bridge in Germany."

She didn't laugh, and slowly he reassumed a serious air. T'Challa had opened up the floodgates from within her, and the deluge swept her away in its release. In the midst of that tumult, she could almost hear Vision gently prompting her, "Tell him how you feel. Let it all out."

Wanda dashed at the tears with the back of her sleeve. Meanwhile T'Challa said nothing and waited as she struggled to compose herself, face him, and find the words. "The eleven Wakandans who were killed in Lagos...I am responsible for their deaths. Their blood is on my hands. Their voices follow me in my dreams. You are right, King T'Challa. I am guilty."

She did not expect forgiveness, and certainly didn't have the nerve to plead for it. No, just opening up in front of the king was enough of an obstacle for her to overcome.

"Wanda, look at me."

At his firm command, she complied. In his eyes, there was no trace of accusation she thought she had heard in his voice. Only sympathy, and compassion. "Being guilty is not the same as feeling guilty. Hard as it was for me to watch the deaths of my people, I came to believe that you and them were victims of being at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm no victim," Wanda murmured. "I'm the one to blame. My lack of control had killed them."

T'Challa said nothing to that. How could he deny it? Finally, he said, "I could go back and forth with you all night arguing the contrary, but that wouldn't do much for either of us, I suspect. Whatever we may think of what had happened, the past is the past. That would never change. What we can do is what we say and think here and now." He paused, almost in contemplation, then went on, "My father had never given the Avengers an official pardon for the incident in Nigeria, did he?"

Wanda cringed as she remembered the former king's words, ringing with disappointment and condemnation through the TV: "Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil. Not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all."

Up until that moment when the vest went off, she had been working seamlessly with Steve, Natasha, and Sam, executing maneuvers and neutralizing the threats as she had practiced so many times. Her team seemed well on their way to call it a victory. But in the end, everything fell apart. The last thing she heard that day had been the bomb, the inferno, the screams. All because of her. It had been so hard for Wanda to watch that, as well...not just the first time, but as her mind went against her will to play it over and over in her head ever since.

"Frankly, if King T'Chaka was here now, I'm not sure if he would give that pardon," T'Challa said. "But he is gone, and I am not my father." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Let the claws be a sign of forgiveness, then, from me to you."

Mingled shock and horror jolted through her. "No, I can't accept it." Wanda's reply came swiftly, and her response took him aback. "I...I couldn't refuse it at the ceremony, with so many watching. I didn't want to insult anyone, not after your people had done so much for me. But now you invite me to be honest..." She sucked in and let out a shaky breath. "Well, this is my honest answer. I'm not worthy to wear this gift." She forced herself to go on, to finally share with him the nightmares that kept her from getting any real rest. Even now, though she sat up wide awake to confide in T'Challa, the claws draped around her felt too much like the claws of dead Wakandans that squeezed at her neck and haunted her dreams. She had trouble distinguishing one from the other. They felt the same. They were tearing her apart. Eating her alive, as the king had put it.

As he was taking all of this in, T'Challa looked dismayed. "You have been through so much. You lost your mother and father...your brother and home...and the man you loved. I can't bring back what you had lost, but I wanted to recognize your strength with the highest honor a king could give." He tipped his chin to the ground, his brow furrowed. "How foolish of me. Instead I've caused you greater pain."

"You weren't being foolish," she insisted. "You don't have to be sorry for anything, King T'Challa. The medical care and attention I've had here is more than enough for me. That I can take." With heavy, trembling hands, Wanda lifted the necklace over her head. "But I...I can't take this. I'm so sorry."

"Wanda..."

"Please." Her plea ended with a waver. She could not bear the weight anymore, and wanted so badly for him to relieve her of the burden. But T'Challa did not reach out to take it. She let the claws rest on her lap, and let the tears fall.

The king said nothing for some time, perhaps at a loss for words, then he replied softly, "I bear you no ill will, hatred, or blame for the eleven who had died that day. Neither do their families, when I last spoke with them to offer condolences. I want you to know that. It's a comfort to them, at least, that their loved ones could be brought home to rest. We have a saying here in Wakanda: 'Let the dead remain buried.' Do you know why we are so adamant about needing a body to bury?"

She had heard about it, but she shook her head.

"When the body cannot rest, the soul will not be able to rest, either. It will wander forever, restless and without peace, in perpetual torment. My father went to his grave carrying the guilt from his brother's death. I do not want you to end up like him. Lay your guilt to rest, while you can. " His gaze lowered to the necklace on her lap. "No one before had ever declined wearing the claws, but if that's what will help give you peace of mind..."

Nearby, unbeknown to Wanda and T'Challa, Shuri and Okoye had been listening in on the entire conversation. The general was keeping the princess company, and the king had never ordered his sister to stay away. Shuri and Okoye remained still and quiet as statues in the hallway for some time. Then they seemed to jerk to life as they heard Wanda murmur a farewell, their only hint of T'Challa stepping back from the balcony in his soundless suit.

Heavy-hearted and unsmiling, Shuri and Okoye needed no explanation as they watched the king return. Clutched in his fist, the necklace of panther claws swayed with every step.

[authoressskr]

What Happens When You Don’t Listen

Characters: Gabriel, Sister!Winchester Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jack Kline, Balthazar, Gadreel   ::   Word Count: 1396   ::   Warnings: Language, Nudity (Not Described), Not Listening To The Woman In Their Lives, Subpar Writing and No Beta - The Usual

@sdavid09‘s Daily Writing Challenge - Prompt #11: “I’m sorry,” They snickered, “You got attacked by what?” (Prompt is Bolded and Italicized) 

Note: Do NOT repost, copy and paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION. -+- REBLOGGING is fine! -+-

When Dean, Gabriel and Sam went in before the rest of you to investigate what you thought was a succubus, you’d told them it was a bad idea.

Nearly a whole day had gone by without hearing from them, prompting you and the angels that were babysitting you to head down to Texas to see what the damn hold up was.

After flirting with the front desk clerk for the key and as much information as he could give you, which wasn’t a whole lot, you strut across the parking lot with a trail of angels flanking you.

“He said he saw them head out last night, around ten, just the three of them. But they came back almost two in the morning with several women.”

Balthazar and Cas exchanged a look over your head as you slide the key into Room 31.

Nothing prepared you for the sight inside though.

Sam’s long, lanky naked body was sprawled out on the closest bed to the door, with one foot brushing the floor.

Gabriel was lying stark naked and spread eagle on the floor, his left arm thrown over his eyes.

You could only see Dean from the nipple up, but he was grinning in his sleep.

You sucked your teeth as Jack stood at your right, face wrinkled in concentration.

“Why’re they naked?” He whispers, stepping a little further into the room.

“Probably because the succubus got to them. And from all the hickies and blood red lipstick covering all three of them, I guess they had a very good time. Lucky they didn’t get eaten.” You nudge Sam’s foot and when he doesn’t respond you make your way over to the kitchen sink. “Pitcher.”

“I don’t think that is the appropriate way to -” Cas begins, looking at his family spread around the room.

“Pitcher.” You repeat, Gadreel snapping to make one appear. You turn on the tap, thrumming your fingers against the cheap countertop as it fills. And once it’s full you head back to the door, standing over Big Brother #2 before thinking a second and setting the pitcher down and withdrawing your phone. After making your way around the room, making sure to get compromising pictures of all three, you return to your pitcher of water. You dump half onto Sam, watching him shoot up sputtering and reaching for a gun you knew wasn’t anywhere near before covering himself with his hands.

You carefully pick your way around Gabriel, heading for Dean who receives the other half of the pitcher of water.

“Sonofabitch!” Dean sputters, looking around wide-eyed until his green eyes fall on you. “Shit.”

“Uh-huh.” You reply before returning to stand in front of the door, arms crossed over your chest.  “GABRIEL!” You shout the archangel’s name before tossing the empty pitcher at his feet. He pops up with a deep groan, holding his head.

“Well, now that everyone is awake and, ya know - alive, I think we should discuss the case.” A look at Sam has him easing across the room towards Dean and their duffles, as Gabriel snaps, but only manages to dress the top half of his body.

“Fuck!” He mutters loudly, snapping again which only added a Sheriff’s Deputy badge and a military style cap with the same type of badge. You sit on the end of the bed Sam had been sprawled across as your brothers tug on boxers and flannels, raising an eyebrow at his additions to his outfit. “Listen, gumdrop…”

“Nah. I want to talk about the case. How’d it go?”

“We, uh, we went to the bar where we knew most of the victims had been taken from.” Sam begins, looking to Dean. “And then we started trying to figure out who it was.” He shuffles from one foot to another, wrinkling his forehead after he finishes.

“And then you don’t remember?” You guessed as Cas rolled his eyes.

“You should have waited for our assistance.”

“Yeah, they should have, Cas. But, hey, if we did anything like that...we’d be idiots and subjected to mountains of strained silence and disappointed looks.” You’re more than a little perturbed and you don’t attempt to hide it like you usually would.

“Look, you’re pissed - we get that…” Dean starts, gesturing with his hand towards you.

“I passed pissed around the eighth phone call to Sam.” You lean forward, putting your elbows on your knees. “Now, back to the case.” Gabriel keeps attempting to snap himself something to cover himself before looking exasperatedly at Cas, who ignores his pissy older brother’s looks.

“Once we got to the bar and narrowed it down, it’s honestly kind of a blur.” Dean sits on his bed with a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead.

“Wait - wait I, uh, remember there was more than one?” Sam offers and even Jack is perplexed.

“But, Sam, all of the lipstick on your various bodies are the same shade.”

“Kid has a point.” You agree with a click of your tongue.

You think she’ll forgive me if I get her a puppy? Gabriel sends to all his brothers in the room.

Oh buddy, you are so, utterly, stupendously fucked. Balthazar answers with a chuckle.

I second that sentiment. Gadreel agrees, raising a doubtful eyebrow at Gabriel.

You’re an idiot, Gabriel.

“We were attacked!” Gabriel explained, covering his manhood once again with his hands.

“I’m sorry,” They snickered, “You got attacked by what?”

“Succubus triples.” Gabriel answers as Sam and Dean nod eagerly in agreement with him.

“Succubus. Triplets.” Gadreel repeats, looking over at Castiel doubtfully.

“Yes, Gadreel of the forever having a stick up your ass tribe, succubus triplets.” Gabe snaps out as you stand, holding your hand out to Cas who snaps a pair of boxers into your outstretched hand. You toss them at Gabriel, part of you gleeful you hit him in the face. He pulls them on quickly, since he can’t trust his grace fully before attempting his own puppy eyes.

“Seems like once you found that out, you should have called. Text. Angel radioed it in.” You pause, pursing your lips to think. “Emailed.”

“Smoke signals!” Jack adds as you nod approvingly.

“Jack.” Dean warns.

“I’m worried and I’m worrying them and you three are here getting laid!” Tears come to your eyes, out of anger rather than sadness. “Well,” You stand up, clenching your jaw to try to will away the tears. “I mostly just came to make sure you weren’t dead. And now you know what your up against, it should be easier to find them and deal with them.” Pulling three little hex bags out of your jacket pocket, you toss them onto the bed you’d just been sitting on. “I was up late after you left, digging up a spell with Balthazar’s help to keep you from suffering any effects of the succubus...But that was the call you ignored before you discovered the succubi, wasn’t it Dean? Oh well. I’m going home with Jack now, so be safe.” You slip your hand carefully into Jack’s and nod, disappearing from the room.

Gabriel groans, sliding his hand down his face.

“And I was so close to getting her to say yes to a date.” He slumps down into one of the rickety dinette table chairs, groaning again.

“Mmhmm. I would kiss that endeavor goodbye.” Cas observes before he bent down to pick up Sam’s cell. Eleven missed calls and twenty-eight texts. He tosses the cell to the younger Winchester, who looks down at it with a short huff.

“Dean.” Sam gives him the puppy eyes, Dean grabbing and tossing the cell into Sam’s duffle.

“We’ll apologize after we get the damn succubuses - succubi? - those three soul-sucking bitches.”

“You should apologize before.” Balthazar points out, picking up the badge Gabriel had snapped up and examining it. “Or don’t.” Gabriel glares at his little brother. “Since we’re all attempting to make our move -”

“Wait - all of you?”

“Your sister is very attractive, caring and seems to have gotten the better Winchester traits.” Gadreel answers, staring at Dean who is glaring back.

“That’s it.” Gabriel stands up with a shake of his head, “I’m getting her a puppy.”

“You’re still an idiot.” Cas mutters, Dean shouting “Oh hell no - there will be no puppy in the Bunker!” at Gabriel, before disappearing along with Balthazar and Gadreel.

“Corgi or Labrador?”

Yes, he got her a puppy...

Her name is Valkyrie, Val for short.

No, they’ve not been totally forgiven yet...

The Sequel: Clumsy

Tagging: @sdavid09 @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @sumara62 @clockworkmorningglory @lucis-unicorn @galaxiesinmymind @sakurablossom4 @chelsea072498 @keepingcalmisoverratedgoddamnit @ourloveisforthelovely

[sterekloveaffairs]

Heaven-sent - Castiel

Author: sterekloveaffairs

Characters: Castiel x reader (platonic), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Warnings: fluff, period talk (if that is a warning), sister!reader

Word Count: 2.211

It was one of those days. I believe many women know what I am talking about. And no, this isn’t going to be a whiny girl stuff rant, us ladies can actually handle most of the unfairness that is thrown into our faces every day, but sometimes it is just a little bit too much. I mean, I’m pretty content being a woman, even when mother nature so kindly delivers her monthly gift. It’s a bit annoying sometimes, but usually I can just do whatever I had planned, at least if I accept the nagging ache in my lower stomach. But today… no, today I couldn’t. Every once in a while, mother nature would give me an extra special heavy-duty delivery, one with immense backpain, very sensitive boobs and a face that suddenly breaks out in acne Pompeii style. One where I will not just eat food but literally inhale every edible thing that fits into my mouth, where Sam and Dean can do nothing right and where I will start crying hysterically right after cursing them to hell. And aaaaaall of this is continuously accompanied by Cramps™. Yes, with a capital C and their own freaking trademark. Because they are vicious, every woman knows them and nothing can quite compare to them. They are the Cramps among cramps, the ones that can’t be helped with a hot water bottle and that have you curled up on your bed, dizzy and nauseous with pain.

And I was having one of those days. I felt bloated and sick, and I didn’t help myself by shoving all the chocolate in my proximity in my mouth. I knew it when I woke up in the middle of the night, curled into a ball and gasping for air as the muscles in my stomach contracted. I glanced at the clock and I nearly burst into tears when I saw it was only twenty past four. For a few seconds, I was very confused by both the pain and my very emotional reaction, but then it hit me. Oh… I tried going back to sleep, but I gave up on that plan around six, knowing I’d only piss myself off even more. I went to the kitchen, the smell of coffee telling me that Sam had already returned from his morning run. I grunted when I saw that the pot was nearly empty, and I resisted the strong urge to throw the machine on the floor. My brother looked up at me, smiling like he always did.

“Good morning Y/N,” he said. I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him.

“It would be if someone had left just one cup of coffee for the other people that live here.” Yes, very unfair, I know, no need to tell me that.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked and even without looking I knew he had a frown on his face.

“Just leave me alone,” I grumbled. I crossed my arms and dug my fingers into my sides, hoping I could will away the cramps by hurting them even more than they were hurting me. It didn’t work.

“Jeez, I know you’re not a morning person, but this is bad even for you. You’re worse than Dean right now.”

“Put that on a certificate for me and give me a ribbon or something,” I snapped. I decided I didn’t want coffee anymore and I turned back towards the door when I froze in my steps, seeing Dean look at me from the hallway. He was radiating that older brother authority he only used with me when he felt that I was crossing the line.

“Sis, if you’re not ready to be up, just stay in bed,” he said.

“You think I wouldn’t have done that if I could actually sleep?”

“Careful, Dean, the claws are out,” Sam said with a huff. I couldn’t deal with it. Seriously, why were they both being so damn annoying? I stomped past Dean, bumped my shoulder into his and immediately regretted it when I only hurt myself. I was so goddamn weak right now, how was it that even the slightest touch had me nearly doubling over in pain? It sucks being a woman!

“Leave me alone!” I shouted before slamming the door of my room shut behind me.

 It was only a few minutes later that there was a knock on the door. I knew it was Sam. Dean wouldn’t be as forgiving, he’d wait for me to come out and tell him what’s wrong. And Sam’s knocks were different from Dean’s.

“No!” I yelled, curled up under my blankets, my arms wrapped around my stomach and my pillow over my head. I could hear the door open, and the smell of coffee accompanied my brother’s footsteps.

“I said no,” I said softly, without moving a muscle. The pain was only barely manageable, I was afraid to move and send myself into another pain wave. I could feel Sam sit down on my bed behind me and heard him put down a cup on the night stand. He lifted the pillow and showed me the hot water bottle in his hand.

“You think I don’t know why you’re cranky? Or even up at this time for that matter.” He put the pillow aside and leaned over me to place the hot water bottle under my hands. He knew me so well. He was being so nice. And by Chuck I had been yelling at him over something stupid only minutes ago.

“I’m so sorry, Sam.” My lower lip trembled, and I felt miserable. This wasn’t me. I was never the irrational, emotional breakdown type, so I tried my best to hold in the tears that had absolutely no fucking reason to be there! I lost my composure when Sam started rubbing my back, and I turned around to my other side to burry my face in his thigh, my hands still clutching the warmth to my stomach.

“They must be really bad this time.”

“I don’t know what’s happening, Sam, they’ve never been this bad,” I sobbed. He kept on rubbing my back, and I just kept crying. The only thing I accomplished getting with that, was a headache. So yeah, great.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard the fluttering of wings in the room, and I tried to stop crying. I don’t think Castiel has ever seen so much as a tear roll down my face, so this must be quite unusual for him.

“Dean told me you were here,” I heard him say, the tremble of his gruff voice sounding delightfully familiar and safe.

“Hi Cas,” Sam said while still rubbing my back, his second hand now resting on my head and petting my hair.

“Why are you upset, Y/N? Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Cas, don’t worry about it.” Sam chuckled when he heard my muffled voice.

“But-“

“I’ll explain later, Cas,” Sam interrupted him before gently pushing my head off his lap.

“I’ve got stuff to do, little one, try to sleep a bit.” He pulled my blanket a bit higher and gently escorted (read: pushed) Castiel, who was still muttering expressions of confusion, out through the door. Believe it or not, but the heat actually helped a bit, and so did the smell of the coffee. It felt cosy and familiar, and eventually I dosed off.

 It was a few hours later when I woke up to Castiel sitting on my bed.

“Jesus f- Cas!” I sat up in the bed, or at least I tried to, because when I was halfway there, I gave up thanks to a new wave of nausea flooding my body. I fell onto my side again, grabbing the hot water bottle and feeling just the tiniest bit of disappointment when I felt that it was cold.

“Hello, Y/N, I’m sorry to startle you.” He then turned towards me, gave me a curious look.

“Sam told me what’s wrong with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me!”

“He also said you might still be cranky.”

“I’m not-“ I took a deep breath, and I was really trying to not eat him alive. Yes, I was still cranky, I was still in pain and now I was hungry too! “Why are you here, Cas?”

“I was fascinated. I can sense your physical pain, it’s kind of radiating throughout your soul, it feels… intense.”

“Well, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Like what?”

“It’s a figure of speech, Cas.”

“Oh.” Cas looked at his hands, then back at me and back at his hands. He was thinking. And with Castiel, that could be something really good or something really bad.

“Where does it hurt the most?” He then asked, very seriously, and I smiled when he gave me a worried look.

“Doesn’t matter, Cas, nothing you can do about it.”

“Nothing at all?” I picked up the hot water bottle and gave it to him.

“Well, if you could fill that with hot water, it should help me for about 15 minutes, 20 if I’m lucky. It won’t do much, but it’s something.” Cas took the rubber container from my hand and looked at it as if it was a hand of god.

“So heat helps?”

“It sooths muscles, so yeah, it does a little, until it cools down.” I closed my eyes in an attempt to stop my dizziness and nausea, but I opened them again when I heard Cas drop the hot water bottle on the floor. I raised my eyebrows at him.

“I thought it would be louder. And bouncier,” he then said. Right. His insatiable need to experiment and test things and see for himself. Although I admired that in him and it was usually much appreciated and refreshing, it annoyed the hell out of me right now.

“Sure, go on ahead and don’t fill it up then, I’ll just suffer here like I usually do,” I snapped. I immediately regretted it, especially when I saw the sad twinkle in his eyes. I felt as if I had kicked a golden retriever puppy…

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked sincerely.

“No, Cas, of course not,” I said, “I’m just being a complete bitch and you don’t deserve that and neither do Sam and Dean and I know that no one is doing anything but I can’t stop it I just feel like such a horrible person!” I wiped my tears away and moaned when I felt a few bumps on my cheeks. “And now I’m getting zits like a freaking thirteen-year-old and I’m dizzy and hungry and nauseous at the same time and it’s so unfair!!” Cas was obviously a bit overwhelmed with my little fit, but eventually he put his hand on my shoulder, stroking gently but his eyes still wide in shock.

“Can I try to heal you?” He then said.

“I’m not hurt, Cas, this is normal,” I scowled, “but thanks anyway. Sorry for being such a bitch to you.”

“That’s alright. A lot of animals get restless and aggressive when they’re in pain, humans are no different. I just wish I could help you.” He then looked down at the hot water bottle on the floor and seemed to remember my earlier request, “I’ll fill that up for you, the heat will help.” I curled myself up onto my side again, turning my back to Castiel.

“Don’t bother, it won’t help for long, you’ll spend more time getting it ready,” I said, completely exhausted and still more emotional than I had ever seen myself.

“But… I want to help.” I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder, but another sting of pain stopped me halfway there. I clutched my stomach, and Cas reached out his hands. They were warm, and when I looked down, I saw the faint glow that had become so familiar.

“Cas, what are you doing?”

“I’m using my grace to heat up my hands. Does it work?” Weirdly enough, it did. It was soothing, comforting, and it definitely eased the pain.

“Yeah… yeah, it does.”

“Good.” Cas leaned down on the bed, replacing his hand on my stomach and the other on my lower back. The warmth was unbelievable, and I smiled softly.

“I will stay here with you as long as you need me. I don’t want you to suffer.” With that, he put his head down behind my shoulder and whispered to me to try and sleep. He didn’t hesitate, when he sensed the cramps got worse, he increased the heat with his grace, and he kept on spooning me. I nearly started crying again, because really, how nice of a thing is that to do? Castiel may not have been human, but at the same time he was more human than anyone I had ever known. He was kind and caring, and possibly the best friend I had ever had. And he was right, when he was taking care of the pain, it wasn’t all that hard for me to doze off again. I leaned back in his embrace, the warm glow soothing my body, and right before I closed my eyes, I murmured:

“Castiel, you truly are heaven-sent.”