#sam is in hysterics for three more days

[whyamisolatetotheparty]

deadass this is the only way i can imagine Bucky Barnes becoming a congressman because wtf

some nosy reporter bugging Bucky while he pumps gas or something: what are you gonna do now with your life post tfatws?

Bucky: *sarcastically and offhand* idk, havent decided, maybe politics

three days later

Bucky: Sam you dont understand the paper and the channel four guy said i was running and why would he lie?

Sam: be so for real- why would it be truthful? you're reading the local gossip column. and the channel four guy likes to promote conspiracies when he's reporting traffic slow downs.

Bucky: okay maybe you're onto something

three additional days later

sam: why is the channel four guy still going on about you becoming a congressman

bucky:

sam: why are you in a suit?

bucky:

sam: for fucks sake

[multiverse-sparkles]

Your kiss is burning to my skin — S. Rogers and B. Barnes.

summary: steve and bucky break up with you to focus on their relationship. at first, you took the breakup hard. then you took it worse.

pairings: steve x reader x bucky, stucky x reader.

warnings: angst, language, mentions of violence, poly.

chapter one

“it has nothing to do with you, doll.” bucky reiterates, tone mellowing into a small hesitant whisper as he sees you flinch at the endearment. “i mean you were wonderful and so lovely; always understanding us, being the pillar for support and providing us, always with positive reinforcements.” steve squeezes his hand as his form of support, as if willing bucky to take strenght from him to continue his words as he stutters.

the tender moment was not missed by your gaze that were intent on the supersoldiers who sat at the sofa infront of you. the parallels already evident; steve and bucky, leaning to eachother for comfort, sitting in one sofa. the only distance in the room were with you and them; sat in the lone one seater, listening with bated breath to their reasons on why they were breaking your heart.

you could guess several other scenarios happening when you returned from the three week mission requiring radio silence; a breakup was not one of them.

you were happy. the last time you saw either of them, you three went on a romantic date followed by a passionate night spent in eachother's loving arms. the next day was a tearful exchange of goodbye's and unwillingness to part; bucky had almost begged to be included, knowing what the mission entailed. steve inteded to be more diplomatic and barter with tony who refused to budge on his stance.

so with a heavy heart, you departed to cold and frigid terrorist base along with natasha and sam, throwing yourself into your duties in order to come home soonest. even with the support and extensive planning aswell as research, it still took a considerable amount of time.

but not enough for a drastic change of heart— or so you thought.

the steely and determined gaze to steve, the way bucky could look at you in the eyes despite shifting in his seat; they were fucking serious. and intent on expressing their disatisfaction with your current arrangement. one that was implicitly expressed as you trek to your floor, and sat you down after an almost hostile welcome.

“this hurts us more than you.” bucky exhales, looking at steve.

“i doubt it.” the first words you spoke amid all these crazy tirade sounded weak, from disuse and the emotions welling up in your throat. “but please, by all means, don't let me interrupt. why now?”

“we have been talking and spending time with eachother.. unconsciously, we thought about... how we missed it when it was just us.”

you flinch. again. in the field you were almost fearless, and not even a flying knife can make you swerve— you'd catch the weapon whizing to the air with precise movements. turns out, words indeed cut deeper.

but all the more of the implication that it had been them first; and the way it sounded, you were an unwelcomed participant into the special connection they shared.

“but this is not to say we don't value you.” steve intones. “we do. you have to know that. you're special in your own way, but bucky and i have something deeper than just flesh.”

you bite your tongue to refrain from lashing out. as a coping mechanism, you entertain the anger for his fucking audacity. letting the rage simmer under the blank farce you currently wear.

“we just hope, we can focus on eachother more.” steve elaborates, tensing the slightest at your emotionless response. to be frank, both men were ready for a fight, for you to scream and be hysterical. but you were surprisingly calm and collected. which made both uneasy.

“we just want to fall inlove again, without worrying about, others.” he refers you as others now. “could be permanent, could be a thought in passing.” bucky says. “the only thing we're certain about is a break.” he evasively looks away.

“i guess what bucky and i are trying to say is that, we want more from eachother, and there are certain deeper connections that we can't sustain in a three-way relationship.” steve informs you.

“i respect that.” you run your clammy hands on your tactical gear, they couldn't wait until you were dressed and atleast fed before shoving flowery words on your throat. “but if you're breaking up with me, say it bluntly; tell me honestly, tell it in words i understand- you were a good lay but it's actually eachother we love.” you enunciate the word slowly, “and don't delude me with kind words, when i know you're going to dangle the very statements you spewed over my head, most likely in days when you're fucked up or too lonely for eachother. i will not be tripped into your bed ever again.”

you despised the words as soon as they left your mouth; the statements only providing to fuel your deepest insecurity. and it was unfair to both of them, you knew it was.

steve and bucky looked visibly wretched by your words, yet you ignore it, telling yourself to get used to not caring about either of them.

“doll”

“darling”

“don't fucking call me that.” you hiss, both men still in their seat. “we're done.” gathering whatever was left of your dignity, you trudge to the doors and out of their lives.

the door closed behind you, your own apartment looking stale as opposed to the home you have built with steve and bucky; you barely stayed here anyways, but kept it for storage reasons. it still had stark's touch, feeling more like a hotel penthouse, appearing cold and detatched.

you slide down against the door weakly, losing the false bravado infront of your ex lovers. as if a child, you hug your knees to your chest, sobbing into it unbashedly.

three years all down the drain. and they talked about it as if it were a skin deep connection, downplaying every single moment; in tenderness, in affection, in tears and the joy.

you didn't lie down with them in their bed as an extension, as a woman that can be tossed in passing.

you didn't hold them gently in your arms, and provided the warmth the world has chosen to keep from them just to be a stranger.

you didn't whisper words of comfort in their ears, in the middle of the night when the nightmares became too much to handle, just to be someone shallow and unimportant in their lives.

most importantly, you didn't love them to be hurt like this.

the pain cuts deep in your heart, like a throbbing wound, one you feel physically; one that leaves you gasping for breath, a hand held above your heart, feeling as if you could die. your chest tight, your throat welling up, you struggle to remain above ground, eyes darting around the room to keep in the moment- fuck, you were having a panic attack.

you despised when that happens. hated the sheer fact that you would allow yourself to be vulnerable when there were things that needed to be done; people that need saving, reports to be made, meetings to attend. you led a remotely chaotic life and the only thing that truly anchored you in here, to the now, turned their backs to you.

they no longer want you.

you swallowed heavily, arms instinctively hugging yourself, eyes squinting in an an attempt at concentration; color, you looked at your surroundings, dizzily naming the grey of your couch, the ivory white lamp, the silver and gold of the chandelier. your forehead was beaded with perspiration, breath coming out in shorts despite your attempts at distracting yourself.

“agent y/n, your blood pressure is fluctuating; your heart rate is abnormal which can cause the brain and other ogans to become oxygen deprived. i concluded a physical scan and deduced your emotional distress," FRIDAY “i'm at liberty to ask if i should call captain rogers and sergeant barnes, as they are—”

“no!” you managed to shout between strangled breaths, patting your chest methodolically hoping whatever it was, seemingly dislodged into your airways be cleared.

“agent y/n, in accordance to the tower's protoccol, i am hardwired to inform your immediate contacts of your current state of distress.” her posh voice inserts. and despite yourself, you groan.

“i'm peachy, fri.” you lean your head back to the door, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing. slowly, you were able to calm down enough, “it's probably the best time to change those emergency contacts, aswell. while you're at it, remove the captain and sergeant's access to this floor; both physically and even in information.”

“ofcourse, agent y/n. please state your official badge number and code.” when you answer her, FRIDAY appears to repeat your command before doing what was asked.

“i also elected the sensible decision of reinstating agent romanov as your primary emergency contact. that being said, ms. romanov is on the way to your floor.” FRIDAY disappears before you can scold her, which made you truly contemplate wether she was conscious and, in all actuality sensitive to human emotions.

perhaps, she does have an inkling of human relationships and intense emotions, but that was no longer your concern; considering you have a black widow shaped problem coming your way. and natasha romanov was nothing, if not immensely stubborn and perpetually perceptive. you were several times screwed over.

however, as she appeared in your doorway, the waterworks resumed ten times over, and you were sobbing pathetically in the red head's arms, lamenting your broken heart.

you couldn't remember for how long you've stayed immobile in your room, but it had been several days; perhaps a week or two that you cried your heart out, barely consuming meals unless for sustenance. that in itself seemed like a chore for your aching muscle, your tired and weary bones protesting with every single movements.

this morning though... this morning, it was sunny and bright. you'd opened the curtains with much effort, peering into the bustling city; the skyline providing you with displaced warmth. a few years ago, you'd only ever dreamt about being in new york; and you've lived it. becoming an avenger was also a dream you've worked hard in achieving, and here you are, fighting alongside the heroic and brave on normal tuesdays.

should you allow yourself to wither away in a dark room, heart terribly battered and bruised when the world was set for conquering? well, perhaps it would be insensitive to use the c word; cringing to yourself upon the remembrance of several otherplanetary creatures wreaking havoc on your home planet, like it were a free for all.

you enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your skin for a few moments, allowing yourself to finally, breathe. you bask in the first time upon weeks that you thought positively for a change; so wreaked from questioning every single thing wrong about you.

for the first time in many days, you took the longest shower in history, setting the temperature just a touch scalding. you cleaned your room, changed the sheets, and donned yourself in a decent jeans and a t-shirt combo. grabbing your purse, and stuffing your phone, wallet and keys along with you, you departed from your room.

on the way to the garage, you texted both wanda and natasha; who have been at your side with the outmost vigor, crying and cursing both the supersoldiers as you wept from your broken heart.

you: mall and galiani's at the grove? :)

wands: yes!! meet you there <3

natty: otw in my sensible shoes.

you smiled softly, thankful for your friends. it may have spread like wildfire among your colleagues in the tower, and the magic six may have taken sides and pointed fingers; but amongst all the drama, you were glad that you had people to count on.

it may take a while for you to feel like yourself again... but you were willing to make it work.

[zombiigrll]

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INSECURITIES. ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1.1K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ hurt to comfort, use of y/n, spoilers for twd 6x9, carl and reader are already in a relationship .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ you help carl after he gets shot. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ ive been rewatching the early seasons of the walking dead and seeing everything carl went through again makes me SOB HYSTERICALLY. so ofc i needed to write this and make you guys feel my pain 😈 my creative juices have also been flowing a little bit more recently... but its also a little short too......... hope u dont mind 🙏

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he never showed any of his insecurities to you before. he always made sure that you felt comfortable telling him things, but he would never fully open up to you.

you were aware of his mother passing, that his dads friend died, and just how he's experienced so much death. but he never told you how anybody died. he wouldn't tell you no matter what.

that was until the walkers flooded the streets of alexandria.

as always, you were by carls side. you held his right hand in line as you two along with rick, michonne, jessie, ron, and sam walked through the herd in gut-stained ponchos, attempting to lead them to the quarry nearby.

but everything went downhill. fast.

sam saw something in the herd. no one was sure what, but he freaked out. his cries were loud, and gave away his position.

the walkers killed him, then they made their way to jessie, who had refused to let go of sams hand.

and if it wasn't for you using your machete to cut her arm off, carl would've died, too.

you thought that was it, that you would just have to slash through some more walkers to get somewhere safe, but not yet.

you looked to the side and noticed ron pointing his gun right to you.

but right as he shot, michonne stabbed him.

you were supposed to get shot. but due to the timing...

"dad..?" you heard carl from your left.

you turned to face him, and you immediately noticed his eye.

it was gone. a trail of dark crimson leaking from his socket. you caught him before he could fully fall.

"no.. no, no!" you cried trembling as you held him.

rick runs over and picks carl up. you and michonne pull out your weapons and begin clearing a path with adrenaline coursing through the three of you.

you guys eventually make it to the infirmary.

rick places carl onto the bed. the rest of that night, a loud ringing played in your ears.

your mind raced wildly. thinking of all the possible outcomes, but you were sure he was going to die. i mean, he was shot in the face.

after the nurse helped patch him up the best she could, you sat on the opposite side of rick. rick held one of his hands, you held the other. you rested your head on top of his shoulder, sobbing.

rick was crying, too. praying for carl to be okay.

that's when you felt his hand hold yours back, tightly.

you lifted your hand up to look at rick, and he had the same expression. he was holding both of your guys' hands.

your sobs turned hopeful as you began to smile.

...

a few days had passed. carl was awake, thankfully. he tried to get you to leave the room, but you refused.

"i don't want you to see me like this." carl strenly spoke, his voice cracking slightly as he attempted to hide his face.

you walked over to his side, putting your hand up to his face to carefully cup his now scarred cheek. you turned his face so he could look at you. "i'm not going anywhere."

he sighed and closed his eye, knowing he wouldn't be able to make you go away. "i don't understand you."

"what?"

"after everything i've done.. you're still here with me." he lightly chuckled. "i'm really not a good person, y/n. theres so much you don't know about me."

"nothing you could tell me would make me believe that." you shook your head, moving your hand down to his and holding it tightly.

"you say that now.." he turns his head away. "if i told you what i've done, you'd think i'm a monster. you'd hate me."

"you're not a monster, carl. what are you talking about?"

"i've killed people. a kid i didn't know the name of, my dads friend.. my mom." he kept his eyes shut as he spoke, his voice and body trembling.

you held his hand tighter, looking at him softly. "i'm sure there were reasons to all of that. i don't believe you're a monster."

carl stayed silent.

you brought your other hand up, moving his hair behind his ear before holding his face.

"i love you. no matter what." you smiled at him with your eyebrows furrowed. "no matter who many people you've killed or hurt, no matter if you've done shitty things in the past, no matter how many scars, i don't care. because i love you."

he opened his eye to look at you, he quickly sat up and put his arms around you, putting his head in the crook of your neck.

"hey.. be careful for your eye." you put your arms around him carefully, your hand on the back of his head.

"i love you, too." he silently mumbled. "i don't understand how i got so lucky with you."

you laughed, kissing the top of his head. "i've done bad things too, carl. it's just something we can't avoid now. it doesn't make us monsters." you pushed away from the hug, leaving your hands on his shoulders. "i got lucky with you, too. in my eyes, you're an angel."

his eye moves all over your features. you knew he had been adjusting and learning how to see without his other eye, but seeing it happen right in front of you was a bit difficult to witness.

"i should've been the one that got shot. you saw me kill jessie." you sighed, your gaze turning down to the floor. "he was aiming at me."

carl shakes his head. "it's not your fault. it's no ones fault. if he had shot you, i think he would've really killed you. but i got shot, and i'm alive." he smiles at you, tilting his head as he continues taking you in. "i'm glad it was me."

you tilted your head, pursing your lips slightly. "i guess either way, no matter who got shot, no one would be okay with it." you laughed, trying to make light of the situation. "...you should get some rest."

"i know." he moves away and lays back down, looking back up at the ceiling.

you stand up, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on his forehead before turning back away to the door. "goodnight, carl."

"wait."

you turned back around. "hm?"

"...could you stay?" carl asked, his voice softened.

your lips curved up into a smile, walking back over to him. "of course." you sat back down next to him, holding his hand again, similarly to when he was first shot. "get some sleep, okay?"

he nodded, closing his eye. "alright. i love you."

"i love you too, carl. always."

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[utilitycaster]

I wish I were willing to put my face on the internet bc this would play better as a tiktok of me laughing hysterically but. I saw someone call the Fellowship of the Ring found family. THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING. BABYGIRL the full fellowship was only together for, if you count the two months between the Council of Rivendell and them actually leaving, not quite three months. Council is on October 25th. They leave on December 25th (dusk). Gandalf falls less than a month later on January 15th. Boromir betrays the party and then gets heroically shot to death on February 26th. Party is split for the remaining month; ring goes into lava on March 25th.

the FUNNIER part of this is that. the post is complaining about various works in which a "found family" ends the story "split up" by which I PRESUME they mean "not living in the avengers mansion together and braiding each other's hair each night" and I happen to think that as a criticism of fiction is generally stupid - family does not mean being up in each others' business 24/7 until the end of time, it's about connection not physical proximity and in general a lot of fanficcy criticisms of this bent make me go boy you guys gotta see someone about some absolutely buckwild attachment issues - but LORD OF THE RINGS????????? GIRL THEY DIDN'T EVEN STAY TOGETHER DURING THE STORY. I mean I think some of the INDIVIDUALS within it are found family (or uh. literal family - all the hobbits except Sam are cousins of various distance) and Aragorn spends significantly more time with the hobbits and they all had a pre-existing friendship with Gandalf but BABYGIRL I'M SCREAMING not all groups of people who have to do something important are automatically found family and this might be the wildest example yet.

* I saw 9 guys leave Rivendell on Christmas Day, on Christmas day/ I saw 9 guys leave Rivendell on Christmas day in the evening

[phantomtwitch]

Masterpost

PhantomTwitch | 30-something | she/her

Hi! Welcome to my blog! It's only taken me over a decade to finally do this. I love cartoons and writing and all kinds of other things, and I have the kind of lame sense of humor that makes three year olds laugh hysterically and anyone older than ten roll their eyes most of the time.

This place is a disorganized disaster (kind of like my brain), with this post probably the closest thing to any sense of order I've tried to impose on it. Below are links to my various writings, as Tumblr's search bar sucks and most of you are probably members of the phandom that stumbled across one of my works somewhere and came looking for more.

(Though whether that's the case or not, you're welcome either way!)

I write a lot and genuinely love it. The only part of writing I actually hate is coming up with titles and summaries. Sometimes I get a decent flash of inspiration for a title, other times? Ehhhhh.

I'm happy to answer any asks and will, like many, happily ramble on endlessly about my fics.

I rarely post WIPs, so unless noted, all of the works below are completed as of this time and on AO3.

Danny Phantom Fanfics

Echoes

There was something wrong with Danny Fenton.

Nearly eighteen months after a lab accident left him hospitalized, his friends and family assumed he was still recovering from the side effects of his near-death experience. But after witnessing Danny do something ghostly, they begin to suspect something much more sinister is afoot and set out to save their friend from the clutches of the evil ghost possessing him.

As The Ice Begins to Crack

Little by little, as the public’s perception of him changed, Danny’s ghost form continued to reflect it. He looked more human every day, more confident, and more like the superheroes from the comics they used to read on the floor of Danny’s room as kids. As the months passed there was a moment when Tucker began to forget, to wonder if what he saw when Danny first stepped out of the portal that day was nothing more than a nightmare.

Inspired by this post on tumblr from paenling

Doubt Comes In

For InvisoBang 2023.

When Danny Fenton returns on the first day of spring after being kidnapped by the Fright Knight, something is off. His teeth are too sharp, his skin is too pale, and when he’s angry, the lights flicker as a harsh chill and the scent of ozone permeates the air as if heralding an approaching storm. There are moments when he is impossibly still, more statue than flesh, more ghost than human, and little by little everyone wonders if the child sitting in their midst is truly still Danny at all.

Scars He Hides

For Ecto-implosion 2023.

The portal accident left Danny with scars that glow whether he's Fenton or Phantom. He's done his best to hide them, but it's only a matter of time before someone finds out his secret.

Beyond the Grave

For Ecto-implosion 2023.

At the start of his freshman year, Danny Fenton disappeared. But much as Dash didn’t care and preferred to focus on football, it’s hard to avoid thinking about it after seeing Fenton dig himself out from an unmarked grave in the woods.

What We Have Been is What We Are

Based on this tumblr prompt from MadameTamma here

Maddie has a near death experience when an invention blows up on her in the lab. Her spirit is suddenly thrust from her body, and Clockwork appears to guide her down the Path, presenting her with a chance to learn from her past as her life flashes before her eyes. Little by little there are signs that she's missed something, that there's something off with Danny, and she finds herself risking her very existence to learn the truth.

So You Have Wished It

Something is wrong. Something has changed.

The signs start off so small, so easy to dismiss, but little by little it begins to spiral until Sam can't ignore it anymore and she's forced to face reality once again.

(This is a one-shot from part of a bigger AU I am working on currently)

My Body Is a Cage

For Angst Fest 2023

His friends aren't sure how much longer they can keep this a secret. Every time a ghost appears, Danny dies again. And every time Danny dies, they bring him back.

It doesn't help that no matter how much they try to explain to Danny what's happening, the truth never sticks.

Unnamed Electric Core OneShot

Currently on Tumblr only, now a bigger WIP, but this can still be read on its own. Another No One Knows AU with the ghosts being creepier than in canon.

Unnamed WIP

Currently on Tumblr only, this was inspired by yet another MadameTamma prompt where Danny does not remember being human. Body Horror fic and currently a WIP.

[stonecoldholly]

Worldwalker: Chapter 9

Summary - After witnessing a ritual at a pagan festival in her hometown, Sam suddenly finds herself in a world where magic exists and dangers far worse than everyday crime lurk around every corner. Accepting her unfortunate situation is one challenge; trusting these otherworldly beings to help her is another. As she uncovers the truth, she often finds that it leads to more trouble than it’s worth. Sam must navigate this new world, find her way back home, and restart her life.

Warnings - cursing, dark humor, and that's it right now

Word Count - 8.8k

A/N - I do apologize for the delay but life...yup. It's been busy. But, we make it to the House of Wind! Fuckin' finally.

AO3 Link

“I was caught in the middle of a railroad track. (Thunder!)

I looked 'round, and I knew there was no turning back. (Thunder!)

My mind raced and I thought 'what could I do?' (Thunder!)

And I knew there was no help, no help from you. (Thunder!)

Sound of the drums, beatin' in my heart.

The thunder of guns, yeah, tore me apart.

You've been thunderstruck!"

- Thunderstruck -AC/DC

Night Court, Prythian

“Wait, wait, wait, wait! Hold on!” Sam exclaimed quickly, nervously bouncing on her toes and clutching her arms close to her body. “Hold on, hold on, I’m not ready. Holy shit, I’m not ready!”

All her words were being strung together as one as she rushed them out as quickly as she could. Cassian watched her, amused and stifling a laugh as she pleaded her case to pause the travel to the House of Wind. Azriel waited patiently but still quietly; his face revealed nothing about what he thought of the situation. On the other hand, Sam was hyping herself up, full of anxiety over the thought of flying, of her feet leaving solid ground.

"It's not as bad as you think it will be, Sam, I promise," Rhys told her from where he leaned against a column of the back porch, picking an invisible piece of lint from his black suit jacket. His apparent calm demeanor to her steadily growing restlessness had missed its mark.

"I've been flyin'...in an airplane...with a seatbelt." Sam breathed out, her heart on the verge of bursting out of her chest. "I ain't never been free fallin’.”

"It's not free falling; you will be perfectly safe," Rhys replied as he looked up at the sky. "What's an airplane?"

“It’s...a big metal thing, and it flies through the air worldwide with hundreds of people on it. Happens all the time." Sam knew that her explanation of an airplane was subpar at best. She could draw a horrible rendering of it for him, but trying to explain an aircraft was beyond her capabilities in her nerve-wracking state.

“It's a beautiful day for flying, too. If you can open your eyes, Velaris will be a sight from up there." Cassian also remarked as he looked up at the sky, trying to picture an airplane.

Sam wasn't scared of flying, itself. She was afraid of falling and plummeting to her death; the fear of not being secured and not being in control of the situation was causing her to bounce and walk back and forth along the deck of the porch in near hysterics. She loved roller coasters, flying in planes, and riding her long-forgotten motorcycle at high speeds down the highway, but those were all examples of being either secure or in control. Sam would be neither this time, and the thought weighed her down.

Sam bunched up her skirt, swinging the tail she made around the tops of her legs in preparation, “I’m not even dressed properly…”

It was a lame excuse, and she knew it; by the expressions of the three males in front of her, they knew it was, too. Sam sighed heavily, her shoulders dropping in defeat, holding the front of her dress to her chest as she bounced nervously again. She knew this would happen either way; it needed to happen, and no amount of prolonging would negate that.

“Sweet baby Jesus, I’mma need you to make a way, lawd," Sam prayed out loud, walking back to Azriel, who hadn't moved an inch from where he stood. “Please don’t drop me, please.”

Azriel looked at her thoughtfully, despite the anger that continued to swirl in his eyes; Sam felt calmer standing before him, reassured. “I will never drop you, Sam.”

Sam swallowed down the saliva that had pooled in her mouth. “How am I supposed to hold on? Like...a monkey, a backpack, or a bride?”

Azriel's brows furrowed, his head tilting to the side, and he opened his mouth to speak. Cassian laughed loudly as Rhys snorted, interrupting Azriel: "He'll pick you up. Either wrap your legs and arms around him or hold on to his shoulders and neck, whichever is more comfortable for him to fly."

Sam ran her eyes down the length of Azriel’s body standing before her, appreciating the well-toned muscles and the confidence he exuded in his stance alone. She knew that, with the number of years of training in the Illyrian mountains and beyond, he would be able to carry her, but it still didn't make the situation any less daunting. She trusted him to help her, keep her secure, and save her if something went wrong; she just had to keep reminding herself of it. "Oh fuck me, man, I’m gonna die.”

The corner of Azriel’s lip quirked just slightly, “You’re not gonna die. I won’t drop you. Sam. I’ve been flying longer than you’ve been alive.”

Sam didn't have a chance to respond before Azriel swept an arm under the back of her thighs and around her back. Sam let out a squeak of surprise, automatically latching her arms around his shoulders, careful not to touch and disturb his wings, which were unraveling to their full width. Her whole body was tense as her head whipped to look at Azriel, glaring at him with fear more than anger.

“Breathe, Sam, you’re too tense to fly with right now.” Rhys said from his spot along the column.

“I might puke if I breathe any faster.”

“Don’t hyperventilate on us.”

“Too late.”

Azriel caught her attention when he looked at her. “Follow my breathing.”

From her position against his front, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest. Her eyes closed as she listened to him inhale and exhale, feeling his rib cage expand with every breath. She tried to match it and time it right so they breathed in sync.

"That's it, a few more," Azriel told her quietly in her ear. "Good."

A tingling sensation ran through her spine, and she felt warm as she focused on his breathing. She inhaled deeply, copying how he held his breath momentarily before exhaling. She opened her eyes when her heartbeat settled down, meeting Azriel's intense gaze. She nodded at him in thanks, not trusting to speak immediately. Rhys said something from behind them, and Azriel turned his head away from her to listen to their High Lord.

Sam studied Azriel’s profile while she was so close to his face. His eyes were more than just the amber color she had assumed; they had flecks of deep espresso brown, bright golden swirls, and a rich honey-colored hue as the light splayed across his face. His nose was straight, his jawline deadly sharp, tiny pores littered his skin, and a faint scar near his dark hairline peaked out from beneath the stray strands. His blush-colored lips concealed perfectly straight, white teeth, and Sam could make out a faint dimple on his cheek where the minuscule amount of stubble didn’t grow.

In no uncertain terms, Azriel was perfect.

Sam watched his nostrils flare, and she turned her head away quickly. Lucien's words rang in her head about a fae's heightened sense of smell; Sam knew precisely what Azriel had just scented from her. Between the fear of flying pumping through her and her body's reaction, Sam's hormones were on overdrive.

Actually, dying sounded okay.

“You got my gun?" Sam asked Cassian quickly before Azriel could react with either words or shooting into the air.

"I have everything that was in your room," Cassian replied, patting the bag hanging loosely from his other hand. "Anything you need, we can always get."

‘I think I need to deep-throat the barrel righ' about now.' Sam thought to herself as her cheeks stained themselves pink. Rhys choked on the air.

“On your mark!” Cassian exclaimed, utterly unaware of Sam's thoughts. His childlike energy contaminated everyone around him, and Sam's body couldn't distinguish between excitement and anxiety. Cassian secured Sam’s rut-sack tighter in his hand and attached it to his wrist. Rhys grinned as he crossed his arms, watching his brothers get ready to depart the River House with a fiddling human.

"I just have one thing to say," Sam mumbled, attempting to psych herself out of fear. This was actually about to happen; she was about to be flying!

“Get set!”

"God Bless our troops, God Bless America, and gentleman!" She adjusted herself in Azriel's arms, his hands tightening as she moved. “Start! Your! Engines!”

“Go!”

Azriel took off like a bullet towards the sky so fast that Sam didn’t even have a chance to scream. Their sudden departure caused her body to shift down Azriel’s front, her hair flat against her head and her eyes squeezing shut as tightly as her muscles could. Her fingers tightened on the back of Azriel's leathers as the wind continued to roar past, but his hands and arms only tightened around her, pulling her flush against his chest. She buried her face into the side of his neck, breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar wood. Above the sound of the wind rushing past her ears, she could hear his wings beating against the current, propelling them higher and faster into the sky.

She felt weightless, as if every fiber of her being had begun to float. Azriel leveled out smoothly and glided towards the mountain range quickly but leisurely. Her breathing was heavy in the crook of his neck, and she forced herself, despite her mind's best efforts, to open her eyes and stare at the junction of Azriel's neck and shoulders. His jaw, his shoulders, and her hair created a small nook where her peripheral vision was blinded, making her feel secure.

It took another moment for her to muster up the courage to pull away from his neck, enough that the wind took her hair and whipped it over her shoulder. She turned slightly to peek out from around the front of his neck and glimpse Velaris below.

A gasp left her as she pulled her head away from his neck, eyes wide as she looked down at the sea of twinkling lights. The height scared her immediately, her mind automatically drawing up false scenarios of her falling, Azriel letting go, or a random meteor strike that specifically targeted them, causing them to fall out of the sky. She had no desire to become a shooting star. However, what chased those intrusive thoughts away was the gorgeous scenery around her.

The Sidra was more beautiful from above than below; the entire city was stunning from the sky, and Sam was at a loss for words. The gigantic mountains grew closer, creating sharp shadows across the city as they soared through the air. The mountains were like giants rising from their slumber and stretching towards the heavens. Whitecaps dusted along the mountain tops as their range ran into the distance for as far as the eye could see.

Sam's hair whipped around her, and she bravely held onto Azriel's shoulders with one hand to capture her hair into a bunch, pulling it away from his face as he tilted them into a turn.

"You're not as nervous as you were before," Azriel said in her ear as she continued to overlook the world around her. This was what she needed to see. This initially excited her when she landed in Velaris before the townhouse. The nervousness was still there, but she could differentiate between it and the excitement now.

Sam turned her face to his, their noses inches apart. "This is unlike anything I have ever experienced…" She wanted to continue explaining her feelings but couldn't find the right words. Azriel continued to look ahead, only turning his head to spot Cassian flying near his left flank.

Azriel’s eyes fought to look at her as he effortlessly maneuvered them, “Flying is...freedom for us, for Illyrians.”

Sam peaked over Azriel’s shoulder to see Cassian gliding just below them and slightly behind in a formation where Azriel was leading. "Remind me to tell you about motorcycles, roller coasters, and bungee jumping during one of our sit-downs.”

The conversation hit a lull as they continued to make their journey towards the residence that seemed to be carved from the stunning mountain itself. Sam kept tightening her hold on Azriel whenever the wind felt like it caught her and would carry her off, but he only held her closer, securing her to his body.

When another minute of silence passed between them, Sam decided to speak up. She couldn't help it; it was eating away at her. “Why are you mad at me?”

Azriel blinked, caught off guard. His amber eyes locked onto her intense green eyes. He studied her before turning to look forward again, tilting to remain on course. "I'm not mad at you, Sam."

"Then what is it?" Sam asked, feeling relief wash over her. Only she would have this conversation while they were flying, thousands of feet above the ground, and him being her lifeline. Idiot or suicidal? Both are likely.

A deep sigh escaped him. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

"It matters to me, Azriel. You're my friend—one of the closest ones here." Sam replied, continuing to study his profile. She watched the inner turmoil in his eyes, which grew dark and narrowed as he cut through the air.

Azriel’s jaw clenched, shaking himself out of his thoughts, “It’s nothing.”

Sam wanted to push until he revealed what was bothering him. She didn't like knowing something was bothering him, especially if there was a way for her to fix it, and not knowing what it was. But Azriel was stubborn; Sam knew if the Spymaster didn't want to reveal something, he wouldn't. It was part of his job, after all, but she wanted to help him if she could.

Instead, Sam let it drop, which was a feat of its own. Usually, she would push and push until she was given an answer, consequences be damned. She closed her eyes, turning her face towards the wind to feel it soar past her, the cold biting her cheeks. Maybe, one day, Azriel would trust her enough to talk and open up to her.

The air was chillier in the clouds than on the ground, and Sam's green dress did nothing to protect her from it. Goosebumps erupted along her skin, and the feel of Azriel's leathers did her no favors in keeping her warm.

Azriel noticed her shivering and commented, "We're almost there. We'll begin descending shortly.”

She had gotten used to the feeling of flying, having noticed that she wasn't gripping the neck of his leathers as tightly as she had earlier. There wasn’t any turbulence like a person would have on a plane, and Sam didn’t know if Azriel was purposefully avoiding it or if this was what flying felt like in general.

But Sam didn’t like landing.

Being tilted forward, away from Azriel’s body, from security, as he made to land was the most terrifying part of the experience. Her hands had fisted the hair at the nape of his neck, and her breath caught in her throat, her eyes squeezed shut once more. The dive down caused her body to tense so tightly that she was trembling, burying her face back into the safe haven of his neck.

Sam jostled in his arms as he suddenly straightened out and landed on solid ground, hard. A squeak left her lips, and her grip increased when the impact pushed her body harder against Azriel. The muscles in her legs were so cramped that when Azriel loosened his grip, Sam could feel the blood flow rush back into them.

She pulled away from him a few moments after they landed, needing to take deep breaths to gain her barrings. Azriel pulled back to look at her as Sam's face appeared. A smile was fighting to form across his lips. Sam's hair was tousled and windswept, her eyes as wide as saucers, and her cheeks bruised red from the cold.

"Thank you for not dropping me," Sam told him quietly. After being in the air and hearing the wind rushing through her ears, her voice sounded unbearably loud.

“As I said,” Azriel began, his voice just as low as hers. “I will never drop you.”

Sam gave him a small thanks before turning to see where she was. The balcony they landed on was carved from the mountain's rock, as Sam had wondered, and littered with lights of golden lanterns. Towards the far end, two glass doors opened into what Sam could see was a large dining room; rich wood seemed to be the accent material alongside the red-colored stone.

She tilted her head back to look at all the private balconies that jutted out and framed the House. She arched up and turned to look behind them, at the city they had just left behind, to see the most incredible view she had ever been lucky enough to see.

"Wait until you see it at night," Azriel told her softly, turning around so Sam didn't break her neck to see. "You'll understand why Velaris is the City of Starlight, then. Our rooftop never did it justice.”

Sam didn't know what to say, so she didn't. She just smiled at him, quietly taking in the view. She wiggled in his arms, silently telling him she was ready to be set down. Gently, he bent forward, dropping her legs to the ground, keeping a hand on the bare skin of her back while her legs determined what they contributed to the body. She slowly slipped away from his touch to walk over to the stone railing of the balcony, watching Cassian make his own arrival. His red-tinged wings folded back as his feet connected with the ground.

“That went a lot smoother than I thought! Good job, Sammi!” Cassian praised her, clapping her on the shoulder with a huge smile.

Sam's body jolted from his strength and from her own weakness as the adrenaline began to wear off. "Thanks, Cassian. My legs feel like Jell-O now."

"What's Jell-O?"

"It's a food that...wiggles? It's good, it's gelatin. It has different flavors, but...it molds into..ya know what, never mind. I'm making it complicated." She waved off her piss-poor explanation and turned when she heard the glass doors she noted earlier open.

Sam immediately knew which of the two females was Nesta. Walking out from the glass doors with determination and a pinched expression was Nesta Archeron. Sam could feel the unsettling energy surrounding her, even with the distance between them. Nesta's presence demanded a healthy dose of respect, if not trepidation, and the beeline approach she was on made Sam unconsciously take a step back. The bottom of Nesta’s silver dress whipped along her ankles as she set her sights on her mate, who was waiting for her with a mixed look of relief and love.

With her delicate demeanor, Elain walked out behind her in a pale pink dress that flowed to the floor, looking for all the world as a curious, if not hesitant, observer. She gave off a soft type of energy, the kind that’s shy and quiet. She moved with elegant grace, slow steps as if every foot forward was carefully planned.

As Nesta and Cassian greeted each other as lovers do and Elain made her way toward her, Azriel simply nodded toward Sam before walking off in the opposite direction, his gaze lingering on Elain as he departed. Sam blinked, confused at his sudden leaving, the action giving her the feeling of being abandoned and left out for the wolves. Is that what she had done? Ventured into the wrong territory to be left to face the wolves alone?

Elain was the first to greet her out of the two sisters, a beautiful, genuine smile blooming across her face. “You must be Sam, I’m Elain.”

Sam held her hand out for Elain to shake, "Nice to meet you, Elain."

Elain's soft hand gently grasped Sam's in hold, shaking it in greeting. "This is my sister, Nesta."

Nesta turned around at the sound of her name, her dagger-sharp eyes piercing through Sam as she was given a once-over. "So, you're the human Cassian can’t shut up about.”

“Nesssss…” Cassian groaned, his wings shuffling behind him. She would have thought he was embarrassed if Sam hadn't known better.

"Unfortunately," Sam sighed as she thought about how similar her and Amren's greeting had been. She wasn't in the mood for a battle of wits; Eris had taken that from her already. Sam also wondered when Cassian had had time to see Nesta with everything going on in the Courts and the townhouse, but Sam figured that having wings made nearly anything possible.

Nesta crossed her arms, evaluating her like a prized mare on an auction block. Sam thought she felt vulnerable before, but it was nothing compared to being under the full attention of Nesta. The way she stood there and looked at her, her expression was void of emotion. It was similar to Azriel, where you couldn't get a decent read on her.

Sam stood tall against Nesta’s silent assessment, as with Amren. “I’m nothing to write home about but I do cook a mean biscuits and gravy.”

"Which you're making every day, you said," Cassian added, nodding to his statement.

"You said I was, but I never agreed; I said you haven't tried the French toast yet," Sam said, her eyes falling to Nesta and Elain. "I like to cook...and it's a way to say thank you." She felt pitiful. This whole conversation was awkward.

"Oh!" Elain exclaimed, clapping her hands. "I've just learned to bake some things from Nuala and Cerridwen; you'll meet them eventually, but-"

“I doubt Sam will have much time as she will be researching to find her way home, Elain.” Nesta cut in sharply.

Sam looked at Nesta, who was staring pointedly at her, and then she looked to Elain, who looked defeated momentarily. Sam raised an eyebrow at Nesta, staring at her but speaking to her sister. "If you want to learn how to cook or bake meals from my world, I will make time to teach you between researching…" She would regret this, but she had something to prove to Nesta. She didn't even have time to think about the words before they spilled out her mouth. “and training.”

Cassian's head whipped around to look at Sam so fast that she thought he had gotten whiplash. Elain's smile broke across her face again. Baking was clearly becoming a passion of hers, and Sam had already made one friend because of her love of cooking. Nesta held Sam's stare unwavering as she replied, "Training, huh? And who's going to oversee it?"

Cassian opened his mouth, likely to volunteer, but Sam beat him to it, “You. Or Cassian. Or Azriel. Whichever one wants to kick my ass that day.”

Nesta's face transformed into a grin. The sight of it was like a wolf welcoming its meal: "I believe it will be an easy feat to accomplish."

Sam shrugged, looking bored of her. "Probably. I'm human, you're High Fae. You're stronger and faster and have trained with weapons I have only read about in history books. I'll tell ya one thing, though: I'm a fast learner."

"Then I'll see you at five am, first thing in the morning." Nesta responded, "Do not be late; I have things to do rather than wait on you." She turned on her heel and walked back towards the House, disappearing from sight and leaving them outside on the balcony.

Only once she made it through the glass doors did Cassian finally turn to her. "Are you sure you want to train? You told me you were going to think about it.”

“I may have spoken without really thinking about it.” Sam shuffled her feet, kicking a tiny rock. “Damn pride got in the way.”

“Well, it’ll be fun to see why you got all those arrests.” Cassian winked at her. “Oh, you’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

Sam looked to the heavens, breathing in a slight daze, already regretting her words. "Yeah, probably. But I'mma goes down swingin'; you can bet on that, at least."

“Let me show you the House and explain how it all works," Elain offered as she gently touched Sam's arm to grab her attention and lead her on a tour.

As the sun descended below the horizon, Sam sat in the library, skimming through books on magical rituals and practices in Prythian. She had found books about gods and goddesses of different pantheons, even recognizing a few from Greek and Norse during her initial research. Sam wondered how these specific books had found their way through worlds only to end up here. She was all for conspiracy theories but didn't have the mental capacity to retain them tonight.

No, tonight she just wanted to know where to start and how far the Night Court's library could lead her.

Looking around the library at all the overfilled shelves built into the stone walls, Sam figured her initial research would take a few days. Had Amren come up with anything yet? Anything she could piggyback off of? Sam wasn’t going to specifically seek her out, preferring to keep to her own devices and far away from the angry female, though she knew she would have to see her again eventually. Rhys or Feyre would likely be their middleman, and Sam was more than okay with that.

It felt like she had spent hours walking along the bookshelves, selecting books and adding them to her mountainous hoard on the table. She had asked the House for water so often that it just materialized a pitcher and a glass, receiving a chuckle out of her and a thank you before she continued her journey through the library.

Strange, this House. The entire place gave her the feeling of finally getting to go to Hogwarts. Her inner child danced inside of her at the thought. She smiled; comparing the House of Wind to the Room of Requirement was the best she could do. The House was more sentient, though. She couldn't wait to discover what else the House could do.

When a shadow decided to loop around the book she was holding and travel up her arm, she knew she was no longer alone within the bookshelves. She turned to see Azriel standing near one of the wide plush armchairs circling around the coffee table, his shadows running along the book spines of her pile. Sam still felt like he left her to deal with the sisters by herself out of some misguided anger towards her that he didn't want to reveal. She still trusted him and liked him, but the wall she had perfectly built around herself had started to come down during their nightly chats, and slowly, one of those fallen bricks snapped right back into place.

Sam marked her page with a bookmark before closing the tome, approaching him and the seating area. "Fancy seeing you here," Sam told him, looking at the box in his hands. "Whatcha got?"

Azriel shuffled on his feet, a trait that seemed very unlike him, but Sam made no comment on it, preferring to play oblivious. “You weren’t on your balcony,” He started, looking down at the box as well. “They told me where you were.”

The shadows spun around him, encasing the box in his hands before flowing away towards the intricate rug of the library. “Oh," Sam replied, unsure what to say to him. He had been acting strange all day towards her. Well, since he got back from Autumn, at least. Maybe Autumn Court just did that to a person. Rubbed them the wrong way.

"I stopped at the market and thought you might like them; the vendor said you might."

“Her name wasn’t Carys by chance, was it?” Sam asked dismissively, setting her book down on the pile. She moved some of the notebooks and stray papers out from the center of the table, a big enough gap for the box.

Azriel nodded, “She was very insistent that I bring up these...orange cardamom cookies?”

Sam’s face lit up, clapping her hands together in excitement. “She took my advice? Oh! How awesome! Come on, we gotta try ‘em!”

Azriel set the box down gently just in time before Sam dove into it, pulling the lid back and staring down at the lightly dusted crumb cookies. Sam took a napkin from Azriel’s hand and scooped one up, handing it over to him. "You went through the trouble of getting 'em; you get the first one."

Azriel took the cookie from her, his scarred fingers sliding against her soft skin. He cursed silently, his face blank as he brought the cookie to his mouth. Sam grabbed her own from the box, inhaling the bright orange scent with a smile.

“I can already tell she did good," Sam said out loud, biting into the cookie. Citrus exploded over her tongue, the hint of cardamom expanding the flavor to its true potential over her taste buds. Sam hummed in appreciation of it, her eyes closing as she sat back on the couch. “Lord Jesus, she did a damn good job. I'm definitely gonna have to bake her something in return; I told her I would."

When Sam opened her eyes again, they locked on Azriel's, who was already watching her, the cookie in his hand half-eaten. They stared at each other, a whole conversation playing out before them silently. Sam felt comfortable and uncomfortable thinking about how she could have an entire conversation with someone she was just starting to know but not say a word. It wasn't like how she and Lucien would communicate; no, this was different.

There was a specific energy charge between them as if they were trying to break free and seek out each other. It was a warm, fluttery, intense connection; Sam had never felt a sensation like it before. His eyes, while guarded and complex, were apologizing to her. Sam could read it as if it was printed on the page of one of those books sitting on the table between them. He wasn't going to outright apologize to her, and this would be the closest she would get to one from him, but it was there. She could feel it, see it, plain as day.

“And what are those?” She asked quickly, attempting to stop the ringing in her ears.

Azriel broke their gaze and rubbed the back of his neck as if he, too, had felt what she had: "It's an autumn-time specialty; it's called a pumpkin twist. I'm not sure if you would call it something else. I thought you might like it."

“Pumpkin is actually one of my favorite flavors. I'm a sucker for all things pumpkin, really." Sam replied with a laugh, picking up the twist and ripping off a long piece, splitting it in two. "Here," She handed him one of the pieces. "Cheers."

“Cheers.” Azriel watched as she touched her piece to his piece before biting down on it.

“Oh my god," Sam covered her mouth as she spoke, still trying to savor the flavors and chew simultaneously. "You were goin’ to leave the box, righ’?”

A smile twitched on his lips, "I suppose I could."

“You may have to. I’d sell my righ’ kidney for an entire box of those.”

“Selling internal organs is frowned upon in the Night Court." Azriel pointed out as he tore another piece of pumpkin twist in half and gave her the larger piece.

She gratefully took the treat, “Frowned upon but not uncommon, huh?”

"You do not have to sell your kidney to get another box of pumpkin twists, Sam." Azriel shook his head, but she could see a smile on his face.

"But just in case! I'm willin'. Just so you know." She added, biting down on her piece and tasting the cinnamon sugar coat in her mouth.

They finished their sweets in comfortable silence. Sam still wanted to ask what had been bothering him, why he felt it was necessary to apologize to her with the box of baked goods. At the same time, she didn't want to press the issue either; she was enjoying her time with him. Sam didn't tend to make a habit of brushing things that bothered her under the rug. She liked to confront a problem head-on, whether awkward or embarrassing. She loved confrontation and thrived in it, so trying to hold back her instinct to run head-first into an argument or problem was disorienting for her.

"I heard you're going to be training," Azriel said, leaning back against the opposite couch. Every piece of furniture in this House was built with wings in mind, as Azriel's wings looked comfortable while resting against the back cushion.

Sam hummed, “I may have let my mouth write a check that my ass is...not lookin’ forward to cashing.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I’m not sure I follow...”

“Means, basically, that I was talkin’ shit and have to back it up...or get beat up, in my case.”

“Well, Cassian said he would not miss seeing you fight for the world, so he will be there too. Nesta won’t go so hard on you the first few times.”

"She has every right to," Sam said, dusting her fingers off on a napkin. "I've come into her world, into her home, got close with her mate and family, and now she has no choice but to be around me. I'd beat my ass too."

“I don’t think she will see it that way. Nesta is...complex. She is a lot smarter than she appears.”

"That I have no doubt." Sam agreed with him. She leaned against her couch, crossed her legs, and placed her hands in her lap. "I don't know how to spar or the proper way to fight. I only know how to defend myself when it comes down to it."

"That's more than what Nesta started with, and now she's training the Valkyries. You are in good hands," Azriel told her, and she believed him. "Cassian and I will be there to oversee and ensure you're not pushing yourself too hard."

“Thank you." The thought of exercising or training in front of others had already sent her nerves going, and embarrassment was already ready to show itself. Sam knew she was out of shape by medical standards; she didn't need to know how out of shape she was. “I’m sure it will be entertaining to watch.”

“It'll be good for you. This world is clearly much different from the one you are used to, and if we train you to fight against dangers or faes despite being human, you will stand a better chance of surviving here.”

It hadn’t hit Sam that training meant life or death. Well, it had, but not in the real sense. On her journey to find a way back home, she would likely encounter dangerous situations and faes; hell, she already had. She hadn't realized how close to danger she had been the entire time spent in the Autumn Court or just how lucky Lucien had appeared and helped her.

No, the training was necessary. Sam may not be good at it, but she can learn tips and tricks to increase her chances of survival. Who better to learn from than Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta? Those who served in countless wars and have over a millennium of combined knowledge? Only a fool would turn down the opportunity.

Sam could only nod at Azriel, her vision growing hazy as she stared at the pile of books while getting lost in thought. “You think it will come down to life or death?”

“No one really knows for sure, Sam. We can't control what the Mother has written for us," Azriel replied bitterly; the shadows surrounding his shoulders grew darker. "But what we can do is give you a fighting chance. It is better to be prepared than not."

Sam looked around the library, examining the stone walls and shelves. "So, will this be another one of our spots?" she asked, desperate to change the subject away from her possible death; she did not want to dwell on its reality.

"I believe you will spend much time here, so yes. I do think your balcony will be a second spot."

Sam lazily turned her head towards him, “Where’s your room at?”

"It's down the hall a bit more, on the right," Azriel told her. "It’s past the music room.”

“The music room?" Sam perked up at the mention of it. She hadn't touched an instrument in years, but she desperately missed music, her music. Some of the papers on the coffee table were lyrics to songs she didn't want to forget the words to.

Azriel held up his hand, standing. "I'll show you tomorrow if you're sore and tired. You have a busy day ahead of you, and it's already midnight."

"Ya'll got an alarm clock or somethin’ I could use?"

"No," Azriel said. "You can tell the House what time to wake you up."

Sam blinked away the dry eyes, "It won't be a rude wake-up call, will it?"

“No. Most likely the brightening of the faelights or a slight vibration of the bed.”

"Well, then, maybe I should go to bed." Sam stood up, looking at her books. "Can I just leave those books there?"

Azriel nodded to her, “No one will move them. Allow me to walk you to your bedroom.”

Sam nodded, mostly because she was sure to get lost in this massive House, but also because she wanted to spend a few more moments with him, even if it was in silence. Together they walked along the stone halls, dimmed faelights lining their path and the shadows in the corners growing darker. Sam risked a look at Azriel as they walked, at the shadows that seemed to try to pull him into the darkening walls. His midnight wings rustled gently in the darkness, the talons arched high above his head.

"You look terrifying in this lighting." Sam grinned as she watched the shadows swirl so densely around him that the golden skin of his face and hands seemed to glow. His eyes turned down to hers, dark and hauntingly sharp. "I'm feeling conflicted right now."

“About what?” He asked, his nostrils flaring as a familiar scent floated on the breeze.

“...Nothing." She replied quickly, her steps getting faster. However, he kept pace with her. "It's kinda hot. The whole...look." No alcohol to blame that comment on this time.

Azriel inhaled the scent, his fingers twitching in an effort to not curl his fists. “Blond wood and rose.”

“Huh?”

"Blond wood and rose, " he repeated, his voice deep as he spoke to her. "That's what you smell like."

“Annnnd, that’ll do it. Good night, Azriel; thank you for walkin’ me to my room.”

Sam opened the door, spinning around once she was inside to see him as she closed the door back shut. His eyes were dark, and he was fighting a smile, dipping his head in response. "Goodnight, Sam. See you in the morning."

She flashed him another smile and closed the door quickly, holding it shut as she felt embarrassment heat her cheeks. "I am such an idiot.”

-x-

Four in the morning came too soon for Sam's liking. As Azriel had said the night before, the faelights in the bedroom had grown brighter to pierce through the night's ever-growing darkness. A slight shaking of the bed had Sam reaching for her firearm left on the nightstand, instantly alert and ready to shoot. It took a few seconds of deep breathing and re-centering to remind herself where she was. With a deep sigh of relief, she put her weapon back on the nightstand, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to walk across the massive room to the bathroom.

Nesta had chosen a bedroom that was more spacious than her apartment in Savannah, and she wondered if all the bedrooms in the House looked like hers. Standing in the middle of the room made Sam feel small and obsolete as the gray stone walls towered over her. A large four-poster bed sat directly along the wall across from the open floor-to-ceiling windows; fabrics of blues, creams, and tans decorated every piece of beautifully designed furniture placed around the room, and the view of the night sky was breathtaking. Never has Sam seen the stars so bright, the night sky so intoxicating.

She could stay here forever in this room.

A shadow twirled around her ankles under her light-colored nightgown. She watched it swirl around her foot before fading into the darkness of the wall. Sam figured it was to alert Azriel that she was awake and hadn’t missed the House’s wake-up call. A moment later, a flicker of light caught her attention. She turned to see a cup of coffee sitting on the small round table in the seating area of her bedroom, just inside the invisible ward of her windows.

Smiling to herself, she picked up the cup, inhaling the scent. The strong smell sent shivers along her spine, waking her up slowly as she began her day. She would likely need more cups of coffee to get through the rest of the day if Rhys and Feyre were coming for dinner. She also needed to research, make something for Carys to send back with Azriel, try to get to know the two sisters she was living with, and still find time for herself. She had a full day ahead of her.

She quickly drank her coffee and went into the bathroom to start her morning routine: washing her face, brushing her teeth and hair, and using the facilities. She would take a shower after the training, knowing she would need it desperately by then.

Walking back into the bedroom, she saw a new pair of boots on the floor by the nightstand. She made a face at the leather suit at the foot of her bed, wondering if Azriel had dropped them off while she was in the bathroom. She trailed her hands along the arms, sides, and legs, picking out the holes, pockets, and loops where weapons could be stashed or held.

“Oh...so we’re training training," Sam mumbled, pulling off her nightgown and staring at the leathers. "This is where the cloth bra comes in handy."

Sam didn't have anyone to help her with cloth wrap, so she opted for her bra instead. Getting into the leathers was a feat in itself. Pulling one leg through, she hopped on one foot, trying to get the other in. She stumbled multiple times, nearly face-planting into the poster of her bed and tripping on the curling edge of the rug. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn the House was laughing at her by the way the lights kept dimming.

"Now I know you ain't laughin' at me." Sam breathed out, trying to catch her breath as she put her hands on her hips. She had gotten the suit up to her waist; her thighs were already burning at the squatting jumps she had to do to get that far. "Unbelievable."

Getting her arms into the suit was a pain but doable. Trying to situate her breasts in the leather to be able to turn and zip herself up on the side was making her frustrated, too. She grunted and groaned, trying to pull her chest far enough that she could pinch the sufficient fabric for the zipper to glide up. It took her far longer to accomplish it.

She pulled on her boots, tied them up, and repositioned the leather around her body. If a seam pressed in the wrong spot the entire time she was training, it would drive her crazy. While she wasn't a hundred percent comfortable in the leathers, she felt held together. They gave her back and core a lot of support, and despite the vigorous break dancing she had to do to get into them, the leathers looked good on her.

She turned in the mirror, admiring how she looked in the black suit. She tied her hair into a high ponytail and gave herself another once-over. "Yeah, I feel like Black Widow righ’ now, " she affirmed as she made her way towards her bedroom door.

Azriel was waiting on the other side when she opened the door. He blinked as she came to a stop in front of him. “So? How do I look?”

Azriel’s mouth went dry as he took her in, “Good.”

Sam mock bowed to him, “Why thank you. You here to escort me?”

He nodded, no words escaping him.

She motioned down the hall with her hands, “Lead the way.”

As Azriel led her up to the training rings on the roof, Sam observed every room she passed, making mental notes to explore later. The House seemed to go on forever, with rooms tucked away here and there, a hallway leading further into the side of the mountain, or a staircase that twisted and turned to, likely, another balcony. The floor plan was never-ending, and Sam knew she would get lost a few times.

“We'll begin with stretching first," Azriel told her, stepping aside to allow her to walk onto the balcony. "Then we'll see what you know."

“I can tell you that I don't know much; I know how to street fight," Sam replied, stepping outside and looking at the racks of weapons, training ring, punching bags, targets, and the water cooler area. "I also watched a lot of wrestling growing up...Cassian reminds me of a wrestler named Roman Reigns now that I think of it."

Azriel didn’t say anything to her rambling, only leading her closer to an open area. Cassian turned around at the sound of his name, “And is he as handsome as me?”

Sam laughed, “I mean, Roman Reigns is pretty fine, but he doesn’t have wings, so it’s an automatic no.”

Cassian winked at her, "See? I knew I liked you, Sammi."

“Don't feed his ego," Nesta said from the sidelines. She was observing Sam carefully as she interacted with Azriel and Cassian, quietly making her assumptions and judgments. Sam could only hope that they weren't too harsh.

“You should take out your earrings," Azriel quietly told her. The breeze was louder than his voice, and Sam leaned in to hear him.

Sam raised her hand to her silver studded earrings, fingering them in her lobe. "I'd rather not. My mom gave them to me when I was a kid...I don't wanna lose them."

“I don’t want you to rip your earlobe if something gets hooked on it.”

Sam waved off his concern with a smile. “They never came out in any other sketchy situations before, but thank you.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, stepping forward to take control of the situation. "We're loosening our muscles first; the last thing we need is for you to pull one because you didn't warm up."

Sam nodded and followed her lead, allowing her to walk her through the motions and poses that made her muscles pull and wake up. Sam groaned at some movements, using muscles she hadn't realized were dormant. She was stiff, but most of it could be attributed to her waking up and the sleepiness attempting to remain within her. She could start doing yoga in her bedroom before coming to training. Shaking off her sleepiness would make the warm-up go far easier.

Once Nesta was satisfied with the warm-up, she motioned to Cassian to step forward. "I want to see what skills you might have. Cassian will be your partner.”

“Hey sugarlips.” Cassian grinned at Sam, bracing his stance in a way that told Sam that she was about to fight for her life.

“Sup.” Sam nodded her head up at him, her gaze glossing over his body, trying to find any weakness or something to work with. For the Commander General of the Night Court Armies, she didn’t expect to find much to work with anyway. He kept himself very well guarded, likely reading every thought she was having before she had it. He had already seen every kind of fight, and nothing Sam could pull off would surprise him.

“So, are you going to do something or just stare at me?" He quipped, and Sam knew what he was doing. He was trying to egg her on, which she appreciated. It was hard to get into fight mode when she wasn't angry or didn't feel the intense emotions that helped her to fight.

Sam got in her stance, legs a little wider, bent at the knee, and her spine straight. She put most of her weight on her back leg, pulling her hands up in fists and blocking her face. She knew how to protect her sides and face, but that's about as far as she went.

“Not much to stare at, honestly," Sam replied. Build up his ego and then attempt to destroy it. "I believe watching paint dry would be more interesting."

The corner of Cassian’s mouth twitched up, “Ouch, Sammi, that hurt. I’m much better company than drying paint.”

“Not really, paint doesn't talk," Sam answered smoothly, watching how his body was starting to tense. He was getting ready to move, so Sam moved slowly first. She began her little circle around him, and he followed, echoing her steps.

Cassian moved quickly; he was on her before she realized he had moved forward. It wasn't until she saw his hand coming from her left that she jumped back out of the way. She could block the quick strike to her right side, but he tapped her on the side of the left shoulder almost immediately after. Cassian rushed her again, and she ducked, using her more diminutive stature to slip past him and around his wing. She also used her foot to kick the back of his knee once she was past.

He wobbled slightly, turning around with his eyes narrowed at him. “Oh, you’re a quick little mouse,”

“Not really, you’re just ridiculously fast. I don’t have your speed or strength.”

"We'll build on your swiftness," Nesta said. "You can't outmatch us in strength or speed, but we can build on it."

Cassian used Nesta's talking as a distraction, and Sam was able to turn her head towards him in time to see him a foot from her. She swung with a right hook, taking him by surprise when it connected to his jaw. She tried to bring her right knee up to get in his stomach, but he wrapped his hands around it, pulling it towards him and sending her off balance.

She fell to the ground on her back with a loud ‘oomph!’ and Cass went to take advantage of the situation, hovering above her. She kicked out violently, knocking his shin as hard as she could with her foot.

“Shit!” Cassian yelled out, “You little shit!”

He grabbed her foot and tugged towards him, sliding her across the ground. Even through the leather, she could feel the tiny rocks and sand trying to bite through her skin. Sam grabbed a poor handful of sandy stones and threw it at Cass's face.

Nesta laughed sharply, clapping as Cassian started coughing and rubbing his eyes. "That's it!"

"You play dirty," Cassian said to Sam, who had quickly gotten up and stepped far enough away from him in case he rushed her again. Azriel quietly handed Cassian a cup of water to wash the sand out of his eyes.

"I never said I fought fair," Sam said, squatting to get down on her knees to breathe. Even that tiny amount of fighting left her breathless. She would need to get a workout routine going immediately if she stood a chance at surviving their training, let alone living in this place.

Judging by Nesta's expression, she was already thinking the same: "As long as you take this seriously and truly listen to what we are going to teach you, this will work."

Sam rested her hands on her thighs, looking up at Nesta. “I’m not ready to die, not yet. I may be annoying and complain a lot, but...I said I was gonna do it...I’m gonna do it.”

Nesta stared her down as she said, “It’s going to be hard.”

Sam shrugged, taking another breath, "If I ain't pukin', it ain't workin'."

Sam regretted those words because of the look on Nesta's face, which told Sam she took that as a challenge.

Tag List: @smol-grandpa, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @plants-w0rld, @rcarbo1

[houdinicarpenter]

THE OTHER SIDE

When Tara's hysterical screaming interrupts her phone call, Sam goes to investigate and finds herself in for a challenge.

fandom: Scream characters: Tara Carpenter, Sam Carpenter, Chad Meeks-Martin, & Mindy Meeks-Martin content: sfw tickle fic, post Scream VI, siblings doing stupid shit a/n: i'm very nervous to post this. i originally wrote it as an experiment and had no intention of posting it, but i've been encouraged to do so by some dope-ass people (even if they have no idea what it is that i wrote). also... if this fic looks/reads familiar to you, no it doesn't 🤫

“NAAA-HA-HA-HA! STA-HA-HA-HAP I-HI-HIT!”

Around her little sister’s scream-laughing, Sam pressed the phone against her ear, closing the other with her ear to hear Danny’s voice on the other end.

“I’m good Wednesday or Friday. So, whichever day you’re free…”

“Uh…” She took a moment to think it over, before a loud squeal cut into her thoughts. She refocused. “Wednesday… I think?”

“Okay, I—” Before he could finish his reply, Tara’s hysterical vocals drowned him out again.

“AAHH-HA-HA-HA-HAAA! GUY-HY-HY-HYYYS! PLEEE-HE-HEASE!”

Sam sighed and brought a hand to her head. “Danny, can you just hold that thought for a minute? I’m gonna have to call you back. My sister’s screaming about something, and I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” She hung up and left her phone on the couch as she made way towards Tara’s room, where the noise was coming from. She busted open the door. “What is going on?!” 

Tara was lying halfway in Chad’s lap and halfway on the floor, her face bright red and chest heaving, while Chad held her against him and Mindy moved away from her. She looked between the three, expecting an answer.

“Tara was being a little turd, so we tickled the hell out of her,” Chad reported. Still in his hold, his girlfriend looked up desperately at her sister. 

“More like they tried to kill me!” Chad snaked a couple fingers into her underarm and gave it another scratch, to which silenced the younger Carpenter with a ticklish whine. “Stop it!”

The eldest just sighed and shook her head. As irritated as she’d seemed on the phone, now that she knew what the noise was all about, she couldn’t help but give a playful roll of her eyes. Even at 20 years old, her baby sister was still as ticklish as she’d been when they were kids. She’d always fallen victim to the quote-unquote, “Tickle Monster,” when she’d get on Sam’s bad side. Of course, she’d never hurt her, like other older siblings might. However, all the older Carpenter had to say when Tara was starting to get on her nerves was, “I’m gonna get you, Tara, if you don’t stop.” It was enough to warn the little girl off, unless she was feeling extra risky that day—which she did a lot. “Okay, well, keep it down,” she told them, “I was on the phone, all the way in the living room, and I couldn’t hear over the screaming.”

But Mindy just shrugged. “It’s not our fault she’s so ticklish,” she insisted, nodding towards the youngest.

Her brother kissed the top of his girlfriend’s head, before he let her go and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I did not expect that.”

While she watched Tara retreat onto her bed for safety, Sam crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Yep. She’s always been that way,” she confessed, making the other’s already-flushed face darken even more.

She glared at her. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not ticklish, Sam. I know you are.” If Sam was going to expose her, like it was nothing, then two could play it that game. “Mom and Dad got you good many times, and so did I.”

Before her big sister could say anything to defend herself, Chad challenged, “Okay, but is she as ticklish as you?”

Tara met his gaze confidently, even leaning forward a bit to show her sincerity, “Yes.”

“No,” Sam immediately objected, gaining all of their attention.

“Ooh…” Mindy glanced between the sisters. “Somebody’s lying…” She and Chad exchanged glances, before she put her hands up towards each sister. “Maybe we should test it?”

Tara shook her head, when the twins looked at her. “Don’t look at me, I just did my test. I’m still trying to recover.” She pointed at Sam, “That’s the liar, right there. Test her.”

But when she received all eyes again, Samantha shook her head with a disbelieving scoff. “This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.” Right as she turned around to walk out, her younger sister’s voice fought her to stay.

“Why?” she quizzed, leaping off the bed and slipping past the threshold to stop her from leaving. “Don’t think you can take it?” There was a sparkle in her eyes that mimicked her child years. After what just happened, she had nothing to hide, but Sam was another story.

“I can take it!” the older snapped, not realizing how defensive she sounded.

“Then, why not?”

“Because it’s stupid.”

“Then, prove me wrong,” Tara insisted, stepping forward to force her sibling to back up into her bedroom. Sam’s brow hardened a little, which made her go on to propose, “For a full minute, we get to tickle you and see if you’re as bad as me.”

The other was already rolling her eyes and sighing, indirectly saying everything she’d been insinuating about it. “Tara…”

“What?” she grinned. “If you think it’s so stupid and you insist that you’re not as ticklish as I remember, then one minute should be nothing, right?” She took another step forward, cornering her further. “If you win, you can choose to do or make me do anything you want. You can have revenge, make me do the dishes or make me cook dinner for a week, whatever you want,” she offered. “But if I win, I get bragging rights, and I get to tell Danny.”

“Ooooohhhh,” Chad teased the idea as he looked up at Sam, who was now almost standing in front of him. 

This made Tara’s smirk grow as she raised her eyebrows. But her big sister just blinked at her, unfazed.

“You’re serious?”

Instead of replying, the younger just took a step back and held her hand out for a deal-making handshake. Her smile dropped into a serious expression. “Deadly.”

On the inside, Samantha was groaning at how ridiculous this idea was, but she knew if she were to keep refusing, none of them would get off her back. It was a minute. 60 seconds. That was it. After, she’d be free to walk away without being hounded about irrelevant nonsense. She had to admit, she truly didn’t know how she’d take this ‘challenge,’ because Tara was right, it had literally been years since she’d been in a situation like that. And everybody and their dog knew just how much she’d changed from her younger self.

“Fine, I will do it, to make you get off my ass…” 

Tara’s head tilted in a form of a nod, “Fair enough.” She then made way to her bed and jumped up on it, spinning around to sit like a dog. She tapped the space next to her, “Take a seat, Sammy.”

While she looked calm on the outside, the older Carpenter’s heart started to pick up speed as she moved towards her assigned spot. She sat down with a sigh, to which invited her sister to move behind her, making a half-circle around her like a cat to its human’s leg.

“Just to let you know,” she warned, “if you start to get out of control, Chad’s gonna have to hold you.”

“What the—”

“You agreed to a minute, we shook on it!” she reminded, cutting her off. “You’re strong, so I can’t trust that you won’t fight for escape.”

Sam just wanted to get it over with, as much as she was quickly growing to hate it. She swallowed uneasily, but luckily Tara didn’t hear.

“Chad, Mindy, what are you still doing down there? I’m gonna need backup!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Chad leapt off the floor, while Mindy came around the opposite side of the bed and pulled her phone out.

“You better be timing this shit,” Sam growled.

“I got it right here,” Mindy flashed the screen in the others’ direction. “Tell me when, T.”

Tara sat down right at her sister’s back and rubbed her hands together like she usually did when she was about to kick someone’s ass in a game. “Go!”

Not even a second after the cue was given, Samantha felt her sibling’s fingertips skitter up her back and through her hair to get to her neck. Instinctively, she stiffened, but she stayed where she was. A swarm of chills flooded her, but it wasn’t the cold-type. It was the kind that told your brain that your skin was crawling, and it wasn’t sure how to respond.

Tara still maintained her confidence as she drug her perfectly filed nails around to the sides of her neck, threatening to further explore the soft underside of her throat. She got more of a reaction here, the older’s shoulders jerking up, while a small noise emitted from her larynx. Bingo. She then put her lips up to her ear, intentionally whispering, “Is Sammy afraid of the Tickle Monster?” Whispering into her ear had always been something Sam couldn’t stand, because it tickled.

And like she expected, her older sister twisted away, her face cringing as she closed one eye and hissed in irritation. Baby pink talons slithered beneath her chin, which made her try to back up, but she just ended up bracing against Tara.

The younger Carpenter giggled at this and slithered her fingers down her collarbone and into her underarms. The owner’s spine twisted, clenching her arms to her figure, but it just trapped her dangerous touch. 

Sam’s barrier broke, and she started to snicker as she tried to twist away. However, a different pair of hands crept onto her torso to keep her where she was, and just that contact made her snickers turn into giggles. She pulled her knees up and tried to push Chad off of her.

“I didn’t even start ticking her, and she’s already laughing.” Chad looked over at Tara, who encouraged him with a nod.

“Well, get on it! Time’s running out!” She relieved her sister from scratching at her underarms and went back up to her neck.

Her boyfriend shrugged and obeyed her order as he attacked the victim’s abdomen and ribs with menacing fingertips. 

A loud whine came from Samantha, before she erupted into full-on laughter. She kicked out in a struggle to gain a grip on the mattress to push herself out of her 2nd tormentor's reach.

Tara had to work around her writhing, making her think back on what she had claimed before she agreed to this. “You’re squirming a lot for someone who swore they could take it, Saaam,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

Beneath her dominance, the older Carpenter choked out, “Shu-hu-hut up, Ta-ha-hara!” She shook her head, shoving her hands against Chad’s.

From the head of the bed, Mindy shouted, “She’s tryin’ to get away! Chad, switch places with Tara!” She held her phone up, “She’s got 40 seconds!”

The pair did so, in a smooth transition, Tara not taking her hands away from her sibling as she tickled down her sides and in between her ribs.

Given his size, Chad was able to get a hold on Sam pretty quickly. He slipped his forearms beneath her arms and dragged her back until she was mostly on the bed, holding her upper body in his lap, like he had done with Tara only minutes ago. There, he was able to twist his wrists to occupy her collarbone, some of her neck, and her upper ribcage.

The underdog was in a constant cycle of guffaws and wheezing, her face bright red from the intensity, which mimicked her little sister’s patterns as well. She wasn’t even able to get words out before Tara took things to the next level. 

She slipped her hands beneath her big sister’s shirt and forced it up, before going after her bare stomach. “How about this, Sammy?” she taunted as she earned a squeal from her new tactic, “Does this tickle even more?”

Samantha gave a hard buck, her head throwing back into Chad, which she instantly regretted when his fingers danced on her exposed throat. She pulled her head down. “NAAH-HA-HA-HA! TA-HA-HARA-HA-HAAA!” Her knees yanked in, but to no avail, simply leaving them to kick out again in another buck.

Her sibling kept one hand on her fluttering belly, while the other controlled her legs by raking her nails into her inner thighs. “It’s not just me!”

“20 seconds!”

“Come on, Sam! Finish it out!” Chad cheered her on from above, even though he was busy scratching at her ribs. He retreated one arm enough to then tickle beneath her underarm again. “Find your inner Loomis! Prove Tara wrong!”

The older Carpenter nearly shrieked, when he did this, one hand weakly holding Tara’s wrist while she tried to bear the handle he had on her left ribcage to shrug out of his new point of captivation. “S-STAA-HA-HA-HAP! I C-CA-HAAA—” Her voice gave out in another violent wheeze.

With the grace of a cat, Tara eased up on her contribution to leap over her big sister and finish the rest of the time on the opposite side. Her back was turned to Mindy as she tore into Sam’s lower abdomen, slipping her nails beneath her beltline to assault the sensitive flesh between her hips that she knew would throw her overboard. “I almost forgot about this spot!” A squeal-entwined “no” answered her, and she trailed one hand away to skitter down her bent leg, catching the sole of her foot. “And here!”

Sam retreated her leg instantly. “NO, TA-HARA, DO-HO-HO-HON’T!” She braced her heel into the bed to try and push herself up out of her lying position. 

However, before her baby sister could do anymore damage, the timer went off and was followed by Mindy lunging forward.

The female twin broke the challenge to wrap her arms around Tara’s waist and pull her backwards. “Extra 15 seconds for Tara!” she announced, pinning her against her and digging her fingers into the younger’s stomach. “TICKLE ATTACK ON THE CARPENTER SISTERS!”

Tara exploded into shrill laughter, still too weak from earlier to push her off. “NO-HO-HO! STOP! THA-HA-HAT’S NOT FAI-HA-HA-HAIR!”

“Careful what you wish for, babe!” Chad teased and continued his playful torment on Sam, while his girlfriend’s familiar squeals and laughter filled his ears.

The younger Carpenter kicked and shook her head furiously as Mindy raised one hand to wave her fingers in front of her view. She was just as much a victim to air-tickles—when already under the ticklish spell—making her squeal when those dreadful words came from her attacker’s tongue.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” Meeks-Martin taunted, then unleashed merciless fingertips everywhere Tara couldn’t cover.

“AAHHH-HA-HA-HA-HAAAA! NAH-HA-HA-HAT THA-HAAT!” She bucked and thrashed, receiving karma for her cruel treatment on her older sister. “MI-HINDYYY-HE-HEEE!”

Chad was the one to call everything off after 15 seconds, which was more like 20 for Mindy and Tara. “Alright, Mindy! That’s a wrap, they look like they’re about to pass out,” he told her.

Luckily, his sister obeyed and let Tara lean against her as she recovered.

The football player sighed as Samantha covered her eyes with one hand and rested the other on her still-exposed stomach, panting almost in-sync with her sister. He glanced over to his sibling. “Aw, I kinda feel bad now…”

Before she could reply, Sam did, breathlessly. “Good… You should…”

“Hey,” Mindy piped up, “It was your sister’s idea!”

Tara pushed herself up from leaning against the twin, glaring over her shoulder. “Yeah. And you messed it up!” she hissed, shoving her away. “The point was to target Sam, not me!”

But her former attacker just chuckled, “I know. But I couldn’t resist.”

She rolled her eyes and looked over at Chad. “So, what’s the verdict? Did I win?” She then glanced at the others.

Chad shrugged, “I don’t know… Sam doesn’t break as easily or quickly as you do.”

“That’s because she was trying! You guys caught me off guard,” she countered, then pointed to Sam, “She was expecting it!”

Mindy gave the younger Carpenter the benefit of the doubt, “Sam is a lot more squirmy than Tara is, though. Tara just kinda gives up.”

This made the youngest frown, “Okay, that’s rude. But it’s a point…”

By now, Samantha had caught her breath enough to sit up on her own, even though her abs ached from the laughing onslaught. She cleared her throat and combed through her ruffled hair. “Just make a decision,” she ordered as she pulled her shirt down to its intended length, “I told Danny I’d call him back, because Tara was being too loud.”

Finally, Chad put his hands up in defeat. “Honestly, I think it’s a tie,” he decided.

His girlfriend rolled her eyes and slouched her shoulders, “Okay, fine, but I still get my share of winning, right?”

Behind her, Mindy nodded, “Sure, but because y’all tied, Sam gets her pick on what you have to do, too.” She glanced up to the eldest, who stood up and continued to adjust her shorts.

The other two looked in her direction too.

“What do you want, Sam?” Tara asked in partial disappointment.

Her sister rubbed her hand over her face, then glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll think about it,” she answered, the small smirk pulling at her lips promising something that Tara would dread. Rightfully so though, with how she handled the so-called challenge. Oh, she would make her decision wisely. 

Chad chuckled at that response, while the younger Carpenter groaned. Beside them, Mindy jumped up.

“Alright!” She clapped her hands and pointed to Sam, “Now that that’s over, Sam, go call Danny back and finish your conversation. After that, we’ll watch the movie.”

Her brother nodded. “Agreed. Can’t have a slumber party with the Core Four without a good movie.” He glanced over to Tara as she slid off her bed and started towards the bathroom.

“I’ve gotta pee now, thanks to you, Mindy!” her voice carried as she shut the door.

That’s when Sam decided to take her leave. “Okay, I’ll let you know when I’m done. Or if you guys wanna go ahead and set it up, you can do that, but our TV’s a little different than the one that y’all have, so you might wanna wait for Tara.”

From beyond the bathroom door, Tara hollered. “Tell Danny to expect some dirt on you, in the near future!”

She just rolled her eyes and shook her head as she walked out.

───────────────────────────

🫣 welp... there you go

p.s. i've already been requested a pt. 2 for this so i'll be working on that in the near future. i don't know if i will be posting that one, but if this one does ok or if someone mentions they want me to share the 2nd part, i will consider :)

yolo, right?

- parker (HOUDINICARPENTER / BWS) 🖤

[thevioletcaptain]

🙍🏽‍♀️🐷🪷 (i scrolled and picked three random emojis pls enjoy)

“You wanna run that by me one more time?”

On the other end of the line, Patience lets out a long-suffering sigh — as though Dean’s the one making unexpected phone calls at quarter past three in the morning — and says it again. The words don’t make any more sense than they did the first time.

“In fourteen hours and — now seventeen minutes — a pig in Lotus, Illinois is going to die, and unless you save her life, she’s taking everyone in a 50 mile radius with her. And yeah, before you ask me to say it a third time, I am acutely aware of how stupid this sounds.”

“And when you say pig, are we talkin’ Babe, or—?“

“My visions aren’t symbolic, Dean. It’s an actual pig. Her name is Princess.”

“Right. Just… wanted to be sure before we started trailing all the cops in uh, where’d you say? Lotus?”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t find one there anyway. Internet says it’s an unincorporated community — looks like there’s maybe three farms there, total.”

“Looks like?”

“Satellite images,” she says.

“Right. Hey, hold on a sec.”

“‘Kay.”

Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm, Dean pushes the rest of the way out of bed and throws on the same jeans he took off two hours ago. Switches out the ratty t-shirt he’d been almost-sleeping in for a fresh one, and yanks on his boots.

For once, he’d been planning on sleeping a solid seven hours. He was going to make maple bacon with blueberry waffles in the morning. Jack was going to help him mix the batter.

Depending on how things shake out with Patience’s vision, he might never be able to enjoy bacon again. Or for a few months, at least.

Fully dressed and heading out into the hall, he puts his phone back to his ear.

“I’m back,” he says, making his way toward the kitchen. He thumps twice on Sam’s door as he passes it, barking out a gruff hunt in response to Sam’s bleary huh? “Please tell me you’ve got some idea of how exactly Peppa’s gettin’ popped so we can try to do something about it.”

“I have no clue.”

“And you didn’t see anything else? Any details at all. A barn, a farmer, anything? Because this is…”

“Impossible. I know. But that’s all I’ve got. The pig just keels over, then bursts in a blinding flash of light, and ten seconds later Illinois has a brand new crater the size of New Jersey.”

“Okay, well — that’s something.”

“What?”

“The light. What color is it?”

“White, mostly,” Patience says, then hums a little to herself. “But… huh, actually, there is a bit of purple. Right in the center. Right before it goes supernova.”

“Purple light usually means witchcraft,” Dean says, approaching the kitchen. He can see the light on; can hear the telltale sound of Cas stirring sugar into coffee. “Maybe the pig is the final ingredient in some kind of magic bomb?”

“Could be,” Patience agrees. “But hey, listen, I gotta try and get a couple more hours sleep — huge test in the morning. But if anything else comes to me I’ll call you, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good. And uh— thanks. And good luck.”

“You too.”

The line goes dead just as Dean steps into the kitchen, and Cas looks up at him from the table, where he’s reading an article in one of the Men of Letters’ old issues of The Farmer’s Almanac. He frowns at the sight of the phone in Dean’s hand. Frowns harder still when Dean heads directly for the coffee machine with nothing but a brief brush of a hand over his shoulder.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s a day ending in Y,” Dean says with a sigh, pouring a cup from the thankfully still-hot jug. “You up for a road trip?”

“Of course. Where are we going?”

"Illinois," Dean tells him, leaning back against the counter as Sam arrives, his hair sticking so far out to one side that Dean suspects it’s generating its own electric charge.

He eyes it over his mug and has the grim thought that all that static electricity might be the thing to light Miss Piggy's fuse. Oblivious to Dean's train of thought, Sam lets out an explosive yawn. Dean bites back the kind of mildly-hysterical laugh that can only come when sleep-deprived and preparing to drive toward impending danger.

"What's in Illinois?" Cas prompts him, and Sam yawns again as he waves a hand for Dean to explain, and Dean takes a long sip of his coffee as he searches for a better way to put it than Patience had managed on her first try.

He's not sure that he succeeds where clarity of substance is concerned, but as far as style goes? He thinks he's nailed it.

“Short version? Royal rescue mission, but the Princess is a pig."

Cas squints at him.

“I think,” he says, looking over at Sam, who is blinking slowly as he tries to parse Dean’s words, “We’re going to need the long version.”

[written for this prompt game] [find me on ao3 as imogenbynight 💚]

[3rdeyeblaque]

Today marks the 192nd anniversary of the Southampton Insurrection of 1831. On THIS day we remember & honor those who fought in King Nat's rebellion, the deadliest in U.S. history. ✊🏾

At age 21, Nat Turner was a Seer, considered a prophet, & a runaway slave in Southampton Co., Virginia. He had a series of 3 visions that would set him on course to fulfilling his higher calling & forever impressing his name upon history as the spearhead of rebellion.

In his 1st vision, Spirit instructed him to return to his "master's" plantation. One year later, the devil died. Three years later In 1831, Spirit delivered his 2nd vision; lights in the sky. Nat prayed to learn their meaning. On May 12th, he received his 3rd and final vision - a solar eclipse. This, he believed to be the sign he had been promised. War had come. He confided this in his four most trusted allies - Brother Henry, Brother Hark, Brother Nelson, & Brother Sam.

On, August 13th, there was an atmospheric disturbance in the sky which caused the Sun to appear bluish-green in color. This affirmed the work that needed to be done. Thus, on August 21st, King Nat and six of his allies met in the woods to discuss their final plans over dinner.

At 2am on August 22nd, they struck - on foot and on horseback. They struck the Travis household first; killing the entire family as they lay asleep. They continued their crusade from house to house, killing every single devil in their path. King Nat's force grew to 40 warriors, most on horseback.

Come noon, they marched toward the neighboring town of Jerusalem. By then word of the rebellion had spread among to the Whites who confronted them as a militia, which drove King Nat's forces to scatter into division and confusion. At nightfall they hid near slave cabins. They attempted to strike yet another house, but were met with force. Several of Turner's allies were captured. The remainder would face-off against State and Federal troops in a final skirmish the next day. One rebel was killed, the rest - along with Nat - successfully escaped. Between August 22nd - 23rd, King Nat and his allies stabbed, shot, and beat the hell out of 55 white slavers, making it the deadliest slave rebellion in U.S. History.

Ultimately, the State of Virginia executed 55 rebels, banished many freefolk, and acquitted very few. The State reimbursed the slavers for their losses. Yet the most major impact of the rebellion was the hysterical climate that followed. Nearly 200 "Black" folk, both free and enslaved, were murdered by white mobs. Enslaved folk as far south as North Carolina were accused of having a connection with the insurrection, and were subsequently tried and executed. The State legislature of Virginia considered abolishing slavery, but in a very close vote decided to retain it and to support a repressive policy against the free & enslaved.

Let us remember that it was more than bravery, nerve, & standing ten toes down that drove King Nat's rebellion to success. It was, first and foremost, leading with Spirit & trusting in our intuitive/Ancestral gifts. It was UNITY, ORGANIZATION, & LOYALTY amongst ourselves. We put the FEAR of their god in them. We did not turn the other cheek and we damn sure did harm. We freed ourselves from their shackles; in body, in mind, and spirit. It was because of King Nat's visions that freedom & force was made manifest.

"... While laboring in the field, I discovered drops of blood on the corn, as though it were dew from heaven, and I communicated it to many, both white and black, in the neighborhood; and then I found on the leaves in the woods hieroglyphic characters and numbers, with the forms of men in different attitudes, portrayed in blood, and representing the figures I had seen before in the heavens." - King Nat; excerpt from, "Confessions of Nat Turner".

We pour libations of water, blow tobacco smoke, speak their names, & offer prayers toward the elevation of King Nat, all who fought alongside him, & all those who perished in the sea of White Fear in the aftermath.

[riveriafalll]

BEFORE THE BEGINNING for whatever project you're most excited about rn 👀

-🍁

(loved the new nttd chapter by the way, wolfstar officially canon)

(and a new spn watcher 👀👀 you enjoying it??)

🍁! It’s been a while! I’m so glad you liked the chapter, I was feeling weird about it, but wolfstar canon can’t go wrong I guess.

BEFORE THE BEGINNING: three sentences about something that happened before the plot of my current project.

I’m currently very excited about my supernatural fic, even though it will probably be a while before it sees the light of day hahaha (I’m loving the show so much, I’m starting season three this week and already so so attached to all the characters. Much to my partners dismay, I’m a Sam girlie)

I will come up with a title eventually, but for now it’s drafted as “Woah it’s Emmy”

Three things that happened before main plot:

Despite John's attempts to raise Emmy as Michael, whenever he was gone, she would deliberately rebel against it with the help of her brothers, painting her nails, learning how to do makeup and wearing dresses. On one occasion, after John was a particularly terrible father, Dean and Sam organised a 'girl's night' where they all painted each other's nails, Emmy did Dean's eyeliner, and they went out to a thrift shop to try on ridiculous outfits. Dean even modeled a mini-skirt, causing Sam and Emmy to have hysterics in the shop.

In one of the places they stayed long enough to go to school, someone shoved Sam into a locker in front of Emmy. Dean only managed to stop her from pulling one of the hunting knives she had on her through sheer luck, scruffing her like a puppy and throwing her over his shoulder. She was later thoroughly scolded about how they 'really didn't need to have armed assault on her record and she needs to be more careful and only threaten jackasses with knives when there aren't any witnesses'.

Right up until she was thirteen, whenever there were lightning storms, Emmy would crawl into Dean's bed to sleep. Sam never minded the lightning, but he hated sleeping alone and would always end up joining them. Even after she deemed herself 'too old' to crawl into her older brother's bed, Dean would always end up sitting with her by the window sill as she stared out with fear, and would stroke her hair until she fell asleep again so he could carry her back to bed.

So there we are!!! Woah its Emmy starts at the Pilot episode, and will go right through to S15, I have a fair chunk of plot so far planned out (and so much trauma) and I greatly look forward to giving her even more trauma!

[sleepy--anon]

Day 25: Gang Tickles

Reserved by anonymous friend of mine

Reblog first, like later please, reblogs do more

Reservations are full

Manhunt. The one activity that they all had fun doing but dreaded loosing. After the second manhunt, they had come to the agreement that the loser was to be wrecked by the winners. Dream was the one who suggested more hunters and yet he was the who complained about five against one was unfair when he lost.

"Dream, these were literally your ideas!" Sapnap groaned over Dream’s useless arguments that this 'wasn't fair' and 'they cheated'.

"Well yeah but... that doesn't make this fair!" George rolled his eyes so hard he hurt his head, watching Sapnap flick a look to the other four, seeing Sam slowly set up a trap behind Dream. The three crowded Dream so when Sapnap stepped towards him, he had no choice but to step back, right into Sam's trap. The rope wrapped tight around Dream’s wrists, hoisting him high in the air with a screach. The five built up to him, making a circle of sorts for their safety.

"Alright Dream, you have two minutes to prepare yourself, after that, I really don't care if you're ready~ You're lucky we let you keep your mask on" Sapnap informed the blonde, taking his time, cracking his knuckles, stretching his muscles, watching Dream attempt to find a way out of Sam's well thought out trap. Dream watched his hunters circle him, eyeing him like cheetahs looking at fresh meat.

"Alright times up!" George shouted impatiently, wanting to be the first to get his hands on Dream. He jumped forward, immediately latching onto his hips, squeezing quickly. Dream squealed loudly, kicking in a way that normally would've spun him if George wasn't holding him in place. Dream felt Sam's large hands on his ribs, Ant's claws on his tummy, Sapnap digging into his armpits, and Bad's claws on his neck and ears. He felt like he was being tickled from the inside out, made even worse by the fact that he couldn't cover himself.

"GUHUHUYS COHOHOHOME OHOHOHON!" Dream's laughter was a mix of loud hysterical cackles, squeaks, and snorts. The most he did was bring his knees up, shake his head, and wiggle his shoulders. The five opted for gentle coos, deciding that five against one was mean enough. Bad was the one who noticed the intense blush under his mask and the tears dripping from his chin, snapping his fingers with a loud click, signaling that it was time to stop. Sapnap wrapped his arms around Dream, pulling him onto the platform as Sam released his hands, he held him gently as he heaved and rubbed the abused spots.

"You ok Buddy?" Bad asked, patting his head, earning a slow tired nod.

"I'll carry him back"

[reigningqueenofwords]

The Bunker

Read on AO3

Finaly Part of Father Dearest

“I’m sorry, Crowley, but I’m staying here.” Your heart clenched in your chest.

He nodded, looking somber. “May I ask why?”

You gave him a sad smile. “This has been my home, my safe place.” You started. “There’s no telling how they’ll react to hell. What if something there triggers a power? Clark has his bursts now and then, and thankfully, they’re mild. There’s no way to know if being in hell would amplify that.” It scared you. “You’re welcome to come see them any time, of course. While they’re breastfeeding, it’ll be difficult for them to go to hell for long, unless I go. That will be something that we will need to think about.”

“It’s clear you’ve put a lot of thought into this. I guess this means that Squirrel will be helping raise my children, won’t it?” He asked, none to happy with that idea.

“Our children, Crowley.” You gently reminded him. “These two will be the safest twins to ever walk the face of the Earth. They are protected by heaven, hell, and mortals.” The boys looked like they hadn’t even thought of that. “And that’s not even telling how they may protect themselves.”

“Oh God.” Sam said, making the three of you look at him funny. “I’m not looking forward to prom night for Lana…. Her date will have the King of Hell, and Dean on his case.” You laughed, nodding. Just picturing that was hysterical.

-5 years old-

While Clark showed his powers early, getting him to try to control them was something else entirely. More than once he’d had to re-clean his room because he’d accidentally made something explode. Crowley had brought the twins a hellhound. It made the mistake of eating his favorite shoe. You were very thankful that you were unable to see the hellhound, or the mess it made. You’d told Crowley no more pets until he could control himself.

Lana’s didn’t start developing until she was a toddler, but she was quick to master them. Her favorite thing to do was move things on people, and then act innocent. Another thing she could do was read minds. She hadn’t even told you about that until she replied to something you thought.

“Mom!” You heard Lana yell from the living room. “Clark blew up my homework!” Moving to the living room, you raised an eyebrow.

“You’re in kindergarten. And you’re home schooled. I’m pretty sure Uncle Sammy will understand why you don’t have your homework.” You told you before turning to your son. “Clark? What have I told you?”

He sighed. “No blowing things up without permission.” He rolled his eyes.

-10 years old-

“Do I have to?” Clark whined. You were currently eight months pregnant, and had asked Crowley to take the twins until after the baby was born. He’d been busy lately, and hadn’t seen them much.

“Yes, you do. You like going to your father’s.” You pointed out. Clark enjoyed hell far more than Lana. Lana was more of an outdoors person.

Clark groaned. “Dad doesn’t have wifi.”

You took a second to compose yourself. “Clark, I’m sure you’ll be fine. If it gets too bad, just have him pop you in for a couple hours. Deal?” You hugged him, messing up his dark hair. He looked up at you and shrugged.

Moments later, there was Crowley. “There’s my minions.” He laughed, making you roll your eyes. He looked over at you and smiled. Despite what an odd start your little family had, Crowley was one of your best friends, and very supportive of everything. “I still find it ironic.”

“What?”

“That you’re a hunter, you’re married to a hunter, you’re having a baby Winchester….and you have half-demon children with the King of Hell.” He looked amused.

“That sounds like the plot to a bad sitcom.” You scrunched your nose. “But, go. Have fun.” You told them, smiling. With more hugs and kisses, you waved them off.

Dean and Sam was out on a hunt for the next couple days, so you had the bunker to yourself.

-15 years old-

You were currently chasing your youngest, Savannah, through the bunker. The twins were off with Crowley for their birthday, Sam was off on a hunt, and Dean was working on Baby.

Hearing the bunker’s front door, you furrowed your brow. “Savannah, go to the panic room.” You told her, and she took off skipping. You had seen Dean just five minutes before, there was no way he would be back in yet. Swallowing, you took your gun from one of the higher shelves.

As quietly as you could, you walked into the main hall. “Who are you?” You asked, holding the gun up.

“I’m here to deal with those two abominations.” He told you, a snarl on his lips. “Where are they?”

You shook your head, sending out a silent prayer to Cas. “I-I don’t know.” You lied.

He stepped closer to you, slowly. “I know you do. What mother doesn’t keep tabs on her children?” He asked. “I’ll ask again. Where are they?”

You opened your mouth just as Cas zapped in. Turning on your heels, you ran to the panic room. Cas was strong, and quick, but you needed to be with Savannah. When you got there, she looked up at you with her green eyes. “What’s going on?” She asked.

“Uh, someone mean came in. Uncle Cas is taking care of them. Don’t worry, baby.” You kissed the top of her forehead.

Minutes later, the door opened, revealing Cas. “He has been dealt with, and I’ve summoned Crowley. Him and the twins are in the living room.” Nodding, you got up, taking Savannah’s hand.

Stepping into the living room, you took them in your arms, shaking slightly. “I’m so glad that you weren’t here.” You told them. You looked to Cas. “Cas, can you take Savannah to watch Dean? He’s working on Baby.” He nodded and scooped her up, making her laugh. Once you knew that they were gone, you looked at Crowley, tears in your eyes. “An angel was here today.”

“What for?” He looked angry.

You took a deep breath. “He was here…for Clark and Lana.” You told him. “He said that he was here to ’deal’ with them.” Clark came over and hugged you. Although he’d grown into a quiet young man, he was still very protective of you. “It’s not safe for them here, Crowley.”

Lana looked at you with sad eyes. “Mom, we don’t want to leave you here.” She told you. “We want to be here for you, PD, and Vana.” You chuckled at the nicknames they had come up with over the years. They started to call Dean ‘PD’ for ‘Poppa Dean’ when they were six, and Lana came up with Vana because she liked it better, and looked more like her name. It just stuck.

“I don’t want you to, either, but I don’t want you in danger.”

Crowley smiled. “They won’t be.”

-18 years old-

Crowley had informed you that day that they wouldn’t be in danger. At the time, you had taken his word, not asking for more. Three years later, and you still weren’t entirely sure what he meant. All you knew was that they were safe, Savannah was safe, and life was going well. Clark moved to hell the summer after they turned eighteen, more comfortable there. Lana stayed at the bunker with the family, only leaving to help on hunts. Other than that, she stayed home to watch Savannah if you all needed to go.

You had just walked in the door from a hunt and froze. Savannah was dancing around…in midair. “Uh, Lana?” You called out. She came out from the living room. “What is Savannah doing in the air?”

“She started doing that a couple days ago.” She shrugged. “I tried calling Uncle Cas, but he didn’t come. So, I called Dad.”

“…And?”

“Apparently, when you were pregnant with us something changed? She’s not half-demon like us, but she got some traits.” She grinned. That wasn’t really a good thing, but you tried not to show it. “Oh, and Dad said that was part of the reason we were safe? He didn’t explain, just said it had something to do with that.” She pulled out her phone when it went off and walked away.

“Hey, honey?” You called to your daughter. Dean was unloading the car with Sam. You’d prefer to be able to warn him about this.

“This is fun, mommy!” She squealed.

“Can you get down? I’m sure Daddy would freak out about this.” You tried to get her down and sighed.

You heard the bunker door slam behind you. Turning, you sighed. “What the hell?” Dean asked, him and Sam staring.

“Turns out that Savannah has a small bit of demon blood in her.” You tried to lessen the blow. “And apparently, something changed with me when I was pregnant with them. Which is why the twins didn’t have to leave a few years ago. I don’t know what he meant…”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean groaned, knowing that meant he had to get to the bottom of yet another thing.

Crowley walked in, Clark not far behind him. “I meant, that you still have some of my demonic blood in you. Not enough to make you be able to do things like our brilliant children, but enough. See, when you were pregnant with them, you shared blood with them. Meaning….”

“Meaning that when it pumped back into me…it stayed.” You finished. “How would that make them safe, though?”

He sighed. “Because, darling. Enough stress can trigger anything. If they were truly in danger, something would have flared up. Like when Clark’s flared up when you were pregnant.” Crowley shrugged like it was no big deal.

“Well, isn’t that great? You muttered.

Clark grinned. “Want to see what you can do, mom?”

“How? He said I have to be stressed.”

“I have a girlfriend, and she’s a demon.” You stared at your son. “And Dad has been training me to rule hell.” He looked far too proud of that fact. “Lana has been dating some demon, too. But, I’m thinking that’s more casual right now. More of a hook up type thing.” Your eyes widened. That would do it. Now Crowley and Dean were both looking angry. Well, that was one way to stress you out.

[princessmisery666]

Made up title: Us vs. them

Bucky Barnes x Reader. Sam Wilson makes a guest appearance. Fluff.

“Are you ready?” Bucky asks, tucking a gun into his waistband.

“Ready,” you nod, checking your ammo level.

“This isn’t how I expected this day to go,” he sighs, regretful, “I’m sorry, doll.”

Despite the circumstances, the term of endearment never fails to send a rush of heat through your body and from his menacing smirk, he knows it. But now isn’t the time, there’s a mission to accomplish.

“It’s okay.” You shrug, “I’ve had worse days.”

“Any time spent with you is always a good day.” He smiles, sweet and light, dipping down to kiss you.

You pull back before it goes too far. “Focus,” you chastise, licking his taste from your lips.

“Sorry, you’re right,” he agrees, standing straight and looking very serious. “It’s just you and me, Sam’s down.” Sam’s gun jammed and he had to retreat, rather than be a defenceless target.

 You shake out the tension in your arms. “We got this.”

“Us versus them,” Bucky says, confidence making his smile grow wider, “I like those odds.”

“On three?”

Bucky grabs his pump action. “On three.”

Simultaneously you take a deep breath and exhale together, “Three.”

Bucky runs round the corner of the house, you follow and drop to a knee, laying down cover fire. He charges toward the target, but it’s suspiciously unguarded.

“It’s a trap!” You yell.

But it’s too late. AJ, Cass and their friends burst from behind trees and barrels, surrounding Bucky, relentlessly blasting him with streams of water.

“I’m out,” AJ calls, “cover me!” He darts away to the bucket to refill his super soaker, a friend following to watch his back. A smart tactic their Uncle must have taught them.

You have to do something. You have to help Bucky. But it’s too adorable watching him laugh and chase after the kids when they manage to get him in the face.

“Gonna save your boy?” Sam asks, coming up beside you.

“Nah,” you scoff, “he’s got them on the ropes. Just waiting to make his move.” He did not in fact have them on the ropes. He was on his knees, a tight circle of kids trapping him inside while they shot him with spurts of water, all laughing hysterically.

Sam chuckles. “It’s good to see him let loose. Y’know, in a healthy non murderer way.”

“Way to ruin the moment, Wilson,” you snicker, shaking your head.

“Y/N,” Bucky calls, “help me!”

You make a mad dash for the t-shirt flag, staked to the ground and completely unguarded, but at the last second you divert and rush to join the kids mission of drowning Bucky on land. 

“Argh!” Bucky bellows, as your line of water hits his chest dead centre. “A double cross.” The laughter drops from his face and everyone freezes. 

Menacingly Bucky looks at each person in turn, slowly turning his head and when his eyes finally land on yours his expression is dangerous. The smallest of smirks curls his lips, and shaking off the water, he rolls his vibranium arm, “Run!”

Send me a made up fic title and I will tell you what I’d write for it.

Find more drabbles like this here.

[sjsmith56]

Alone, Chapter 14 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: On the farm, Clint spirals after the disappearance of Laura and the kids. In his grief he leaves Lacey and Tommy, and she turns to her brother for protection.

Length: 3.9 K

Characters: Lacey, Clint, Tommy, Terry (older brother), Steve, Natasha, Rhodey.

Warnings: Abandonment, Clint completely loses it. Natasha being shaken by Clint’s despair.

Author notes: Lacey’s brother makes his permanent entry into the story as he does have an important role in coming chapters.

<<Chapter 13

🚜 🏃

Lacey looked at the time and wondered why Bucky hadn't called yet. It had been three days since they argued and two days since he apologized, explaining how he had been dealing with a growing sense of dread. She thought for sure he would call when word came of the spacecraft appearing over New York that left taking a sorcerer and Iron Man with it. When he didn't call she wondered if he even knew. She called but there was no answer and she assumed he was out in the fields working.

At the farm Clint and Laura had set up a picnic table and everyone was out there except for Lacey and Tommy. He had fallen, scraped his knee and Lacey was performing first aid on him, Mom style. As she kissed his knee and sent him outside the TV showed a breaking news alert. Standing up she watched as the announcer reported that a strange phenomena was being noted all over the planet. People were disappearing into dust. There was no rhyme or reason to it either. Sometimes whole families disappeared and other times just one or two members. Going to the door she went to call Clint and Laura in to watch it. In the distance she could hear Clint calling for his wife and kids, almost hysterically.

"Oh no," she said, then in desperation she called her son. "Tommy! Where are you?"

"Here, Mom," he said from the side of the porch. "What's wrong with Uncle Clint?"

"Something bad has happened, honey," she said, picking him up. "I think it's happened to him as well. Clint!"

She called him several times before he finally came over, his face tear stained. "Where are they?" he asked, his voice choking. "They were here, then they were gone."

"It's happening everywhere," she replied. "I don't know why but people are disappearing everywhere. It's on TV."

He pushed past her to the living room and stood in front of the TV, watching the news coverage. It was unbelievable then finally there was word from someone in government and the announcement was officially made as the TV screen showed the Oval Office and a shaken Vice-President.

"Today, the Earth was attacked by an extraterrestrial being," said the Vice-President. "This being, Thanos, was behind an attack on New York yesterday, and Scotland last night. Today, his forces attacked the country of Wakanda and Thanos did the unspeakable. In an act of genocide, he somehow caused the death of a significant portion of Earth's population. Our own President and the First Lady were among the casualties. We are still trying to get in contact with people who were involved in the battle of Wakanda to find out exactly how this heinous act was committed. Our thoughts and prayers are with everyone who has lost a family member today. We grieve with you."

The Vice-President began to cry and the broadcast from the White House was stopped, replaced by somber music playing over nature scenes. Clint stood there, unmoving then grabbed his phone and began calling. He called Nick Fury and it went straight to voice mail. Then he tried Maria Hill, and several others. It was only when he tried Natasha that he got an answer.

"Nat?" he cried. "They're gone ... Laura, and the kids...they're gone, disappeared. What the hell happened?"

As Natasha tried to explain Clint became more and more upset then slammed his phone down, damaging it. He looked at Lacey with agony on his face.

"Vision is dead, the Mind Stone taken from him by Thanos," he said. "Wanda is gone. So is Sam, T'Challa, Shuri, and ...."

"Bucky ...," whispered Lacey. "He's gone, isn't he?"

He nodded and as Lacey began to cry he opened his arms and they held each other, crying loudly. Tommy sat quietly watching what was happening. Finally, Lacey stopped crying and blew her nose. She sat on the couch and motioned to Tommy to sit with her.

"A terrible thing has happened," she said, holding his hands. "A very bad man found a way to kill a lot of people all at once. He's killed Aunty Laura, Lila, Cooper and Nathaniel. He also killed your Dad. They're all gone, honey. They won't be coming back."

"Where did they go?" he asked, confused.

"I don't know, but they aren't here any more," said Lacey. "They're just gone."

"So I don't have a dad anymore?" asked Tommy. "We won't talk on the tablet?"

"No honey," said Lacey. "I'm sorry."

She looked up at Clint and she noticed something had changed in him. His face had hardened and there was something in his eyes that wasn't there before. Without a word he left the house and went towards the big barn. Carrying Tommy she followed him out there and saw him walk into his workshop. He scanned the tools and found what he was looking for, industrial cutters.

"What are you doing?" asked Lacey. "Won't that send a signal to them that you've cut them off?"

"Yep," replied Clint. "That's why I'm going to the edge of my perimeter to do it. I'll leave you the truck. I have a motorcycle."

"Clint, they'll arrest you," said Lacey. "Laura wouldn't want you to do this."

He glared at her. "I wore this happily when she was alive," he said. "Now that she and the kids are gone there is nothing keeping me here."

"What are you going to do?" she asked. "What about the farm?"

"I'm not going to sit here and mourn my family," he stated, walking out of the barn with the cutters. "You can have the farm. It means nothing to me now."

"You'll be leaving us unprotected," cried Lacey, grabbing his arm.

He stopped, breathing heavily. "Steve will protect you," he replied. "Agent Jones, if he made it through this will protect you. I can't stay. I'm sorry."

He went up to his room and Lacey could hear him packing a bag. Then he came out with a back pack and put the cutters into it.

"Don't leave," pleaded Lacey. "Please."

He touched her arm and looked at Tommy then turned away and left the house. As she watched from the porch he went into the garage, then came out a few minutes later on his motorbike. He slowed down briefly to look at them then sped up and disappeared from the property. Lacey slumped into a chair on the porch and began to cry. Tommy patted her arm trying to comfort her. She held him closely, crying with him for some time.

"Well, kiddo," she finally spoke. "Looks like we're on our own. Do you think you can run the farm with me?"

"Yeah," he said. "We can do it, Mom."

Lacey hugged him then grabbed her cell phone. She thought for a moment then took a breath and dialled a number, thankful she had asked Nick Fury for it some time before when the one he gave her at the funeral didn't work.

"Terry?" she said. "You're alive! Thank God. Is Nancy alright? Tommy and I are okay but the family we live with disappeared, except for the husband. He's had a breakdown and left. Did you mean what you said about protecting us? Would you live with us?" He spoke for a bit then Lacey's face dropped. "Bucky disappeared, in Wakanda. He was part of the battle against Thanos." Terry said some more and Lacey began to smile. "Okay. You call me at this number. Thank you, Terry. I didn't know who else to call." She looked at Tommy. "Your Uncle Terry may come to live with us. He has some things to deal with first then he'll call."

She looked at the second number and debated about whether to call him but she dialled it and when it went to voice mail she hung up. Agent Jones wasn't answering his phone and had possibly been one of the disappeared. Then she dialled Steve and waited for some time before hanging up as he wasn't answering. She took a deep breath and tried one more number. Just like Agent Jones this one went to voicemail and she wondered if Phil Coulson had also succumbed to Thanos' snap. Taking Tommy by the hand she went back into the house and tried different channels on the TV to see if they had anything different to say but it was all the same. Billions of people had just turned to dust and disappeared. She and Tommy were likely on their own.

One year later

"There's an aircraft approaching!" yelled Lacey's brother Terry as he stopped the tractor and jumped off.

Lacey came out of the barn where she and Tommy had just finished transferring the straw bales from where they had been dropped off outside the doors. She knew the farmer who sold them to her was short on help but it would have been nice if he had put them in the barn. Still, Tommy was strong enough to drag them in almost by himself. She looked up at the sky and smiled.

"It's a quinjet," she said. "Probably Steve. About time he showed up."

The aircraft landed about 100 yards away and she strode towards it, removing her gloves in the process. The ramp came down and it wasn't just Steve but also Natasha and another man she had never seen before. He had some sort of external bracing on his lower legs and she wondered if he had suffered an injury at some point.

"It's about time you showed up," she repeated for Steve's sake. "For a year you've been saying you'll come. I'm not angry, just disappointed it's taken you this long."

"I'm sorry," Steve apologized as he hugged her. "There's only a few of us now and it's hard to keep things going when we're spread so thin. This is Colonel James Rhodes, War Machine. Lacey Williams also known as Lacey Chapman."

"Rhodey is fine," said Rhodes extending his hand. "I thought it was time I met you and this little guy."

"This is Tommy," said Lacey. "That big guy coming in from the field is my brother Terry Williams. He lives here now."

"The football player?" asked Rhodes. "I didn't know you were related. What's with the two names?"

"Chapman is my pen name," replied Lacey. "It seemed easier and more secure to keep it when I first went into hiding. At least Nick Fury thought so." She looked at Natasha who was hanging back. "Hey Nat. I've had no word from him. It's like he's dropped off the face of the Earth."

Natasha looked at Lacey then at Steve and Rhodes. "That's partly why we're here," she replied. "We kind of have a lead on him. He's gone rogue."

"What do you mean?" asked Lacey, as her brother joined them. "Terry, this is Steve, Natasha and Rhodey, who's apparently a fan. What do you mean gone rogue?"

"Let's go in the house," said Steve. "Hey Tommy. Ready for a workout?"

"Sure, Uncle Steve," replied the boy. "I'm a lot stronger now. Uncle Terry set up a gym in the barn and we lift weights together."

"I don't overdo it," said Terry. "But it won't be long before he can out lift me. If I didn't see him doing it I wouldn't believe an almost 4 year old can do the things he does."

Together they walked to the house and Lacey put the coffee on, bringing out enough cups for everyone. She gave Tommy a juice box and asked him to watch TV for a bit while the grown ups talked. No one said anything as Lacey poured coffee for everyone. Terry brought out sugar and milk.

Steve took a deep breath. "When Clint left what did he take with him?" he asked.

"Industrial cutters, a back pack of clothes and his motorcycle," said Lacey. "Why?"

"Did you notice if he had a sword with him, like a samurai sword, except shorter?" asked Natasha.

"No, but it's possible he kept it in the barn where the motorcycle was," replied Lacey. "He may have carried it in a travelling case attached to the motor bike."

"Do you mind if I look?" asked Natasha. "I know where he kept his weapons in the barn."

"Go ahead," said Lacey.

Natasha left and went to the barn. Her face was grim. "You're going to have excuse Natasha," said Steve. "She hasn't heard anything from Clint and she's worried."

"What do you mean about him going rogue?" asked Lacey again.

Rhodes cleared his throat. "There's reports of a ronin, fully disguised, who's going after criminals," he said. "Not the run of the mill ones either. He's going after heads of drug cartels, mafia, Yakuza, anyone of them that survived the Snap. He uses a katana, a shorter version of a samurai sword. Clint knows how to use one."

"You don't think he's doing it, do you?" asked Lacey incredulously. "He's a family man, kind and a gentleman."

"Without his family," said Rhodes. "Angry that his loved ones are gone and these criminals still live."

They saw Natasha returning to the house and she looked downcast. "It's not there," she said. "He must have taken it."

She took a deep breath and Lacey could see she was shaken. Grasping Natasha's hand she squeezed it and was rewarded with a sad smile. As Natasha picked up her coffee cup Lacey could see her hands were shaking slightly.

"Are you going to try to stop him?" asked Lacey.

"So far, he's eluded us," said Natasha. "I know him better than anyone and even I can't find him. I just worry that he'll reach a point where he can't come back. I owe him so much and I can't even ...."

She began to cry and Lacey pulled her up, hugging her. Looking back at the men she took Natasha upstairs. Steve sighed then he looked at Terry.

"Thank you for coming out to stay with Lacey," he said to Terry. "Like I said we're spread so thin that none of us really can spare the time to be here with her and Tommy. Have there been any incidents?"

"Nothing," replied Terry. "That FBI agent that was supposed to check on her and Clint hasn't shown up so we assume he disappeared. Apparently, he's the only one who knew about the farm. Phil Coulson dropped by a couple of times but like you he couldn't stay as SHIELD is short staffed as well. We've heard nothing from Tony Stark."

"You likely won't," said Steve. "He still blames me for not supporting him. As if that would have stopped Thanos. How's Lacey holding up?"

"Okay mostly," he said. "She's working on her third book. I do hear her crying sometimes so I know she still misses Bucky. Did you know after he finished his treatment he was going to turn himself in so he could come back to the States? I guess Thanos interrupted that plan as well."

"He never told me," replied Steve, upset at hearing it now. "I'm not surprised he wanted to be here. He wanted to come back as soon as he found out about Tommy when he was still a baby. He wanted to make it right."

Terry nodded. "At least Lacey and I are close now," he said. "When I was still playing I was quite the asshole and she didn't want much to do with me. After I found out the danger she was in I offered to help and she called me after the Snap to move here. Best decision of my life. Tommy is an awesome kid. Even as strong as he is he doesn't show off or get angry and abuse it. He loved Bucky and I think he misses the relationship, even though it was over the tablet. He doesn't want to disappoint Lacey."

Steve looked at Tommy sitting in the living room and watching TV. "I'm going to do an assessment of his physical skills while I'm here," he said. "Since you're already monitoring him lifting weights it's probably a good idea for you to encourage him to be as physically active as possible. Running, jumping, parkour type activities. He should be fully capable of all of it."

"What about self defence?" asked Terry. "Tommy said you were teaching him to box but I know nothing about any type of fighting."

"There's a possibility he has a genetic memory of how to fight," said Steve. "I was a 98 pound weakling who got beaten up a lot before I took the serum. Once my body changed it was like it knew what to do all by itself. Bucky's change was from a different serum but Bruce Banner, a scientist and doctor, thinks it's possible he passed on the memory of how to fight to Tommy." He drained his coffee and looked over at Tommy. "Hey buddy, want to show me what you can do?"

Tommy turned around with a big smile on his face. Together he and Steve went outside and Steve ran up to the top of the barn parkour style, using the smaller outbuildings beside it to jump up. Tommy looked up at him and ran towards the first outbuilding, easily jumping on top then he continued on and pulled himself up to the top of the barn. They high fived each other and Steve jumped straight off down to the ground. Tommy followed him. Steve picked up one of the straw bales and carried it into the barn then stood in the doorway and watched Tommy as he lifted the edge of one then tried to lift it onto his shoulder. It's bulk was too much for him and he dragged it in instead.

"It's too big," he said to Steve. "Maybe when I'm bigger."

"Maybe," agreed Steve. "You've seen martial arts on movies, right? Do you think you can do what those guys do?"

"I haven't tried," said Tommy. "It would hurt Uncle Terry if I did."

"That's why I'm here," smiled Steve. "Go ahead, show me what you can do."

Terry and Rhodes watched from the porch as Tommy suddenly adopted a martial arts fighting stance and began attacking Steve. He was just as fast as Steve and landed several blows and kicks, getting past the bigger man's defences more than once.

"It's like he knows instinctively what to do," said Terry in a low voice. "He's only ever seen it on TV."

"He's definitely a super soldier," said Rhodes, impressed. "No wonder HYDRA tried to breed Barnes. He could have fathered a whole army of them."

"They tried to breed him?" asked Terry. "Lacey said he thought he was sterile and didn't believe that Tommy was his at first."

"He was because of all the chemicals they were pumping into him," said Rhodey. "Our guess is once he got away his body was able to detoxify itself. By the time he and your sister got together he wasn't sterile anymore. Of course, he didn't know that at the time."

"Have there been any encounters with HYDRA since the Snap?" asked Terry.

"The odd sighting of a known operative," replied Rhodes, "but nothing organized. They were probably hit as hard by the Snap as all of us."

Steve called a halt to Tommy's fighting and kneeled down to talk at eye level with the boy. "You can fight without even thinking of it, can't you?" he asked.

"It's like my hands and feet know what to do," said Tommy. "Does that mean I am a super soldier?"

"Looks like it, buddy," said Steve. "I know it's hard but you have to make sure no one sees you doing that except your Mom and Uncle Terry."

Tommy nodded in understanding. "I know," he sighed. "Can I be an Avenger when I grow up?"

Steve smiled and ruffled Tommy's hair. "If that's what you want to do," he replied. "Let's go for a run."

They set off running at an easy pace for them. To the men on the porch it looked like they took off at top speed. They came back about ten minutes later and Tommy's face was glowing. As he stepped up to the porch he looked at his uncle.

"Did you see me?" he asked.

"I did," replied Terry. "You're fast, much faster than I ever was. It must have felt good to run like that. I watched you fight as well. You looked like you were pretty good at it."

Tommy beamed and hugged his uncle. "Thanks, I'm going to tell Mom what I did," he said, entering the house.

Rhodes looked seriously at Steve. "So, the kid has the abilities," he stated. "What now?"

"He stays here," said Steve. "Even though you're here Terry, Tommy has more than enough physical ability to protect you and Lacey than you do. He could disable a normal human. I'm going to see if we can get a satellite in position to monitor the comings and goings on the farm. If anyone does try anything we have access to the sorcerers now and can get a portal here within seconds. I'll talk to Wong and see if he can also put a protection spell on the farm. Not that I'm expecting trouble. The world is still reeling from the Snap, friendlies and non-friendlies alike."

The sound of Tommy's voice drew their attention to inside the house where Lacey and Natasha were coming down the stairs with the boy. Natasha had been crying but she was smiling kindly at Tommy as he continued to tell the women what he and Steve did. When they got down to the bottom of the stairs she kneeled down to him and touched his cheek.

"You look after your Mom and Uncle, okay?" she said. "You're strong enough to keep them safe. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't," said Tommy, and he hugged Natasha hard.

She returned it just as hard and stood up with a deep breath. "Are we ready to go?" she asked briskly, then turned to Lacey. "I'll try to come more often. Thanks for the shoulder. Good luck with the book."

Lacey rubbed Natasha's arm and smiled grimly at her. "You're welcome," she said. "Don't be a stranger." She looked at Steve and Rhodes. "Both of you as well. You're always welcome here."

She hugged Steve and Natasha hard then looked at Rhodes. He gave her a small hug. Terry shook their hands. Together they all walked out to the quinjet. The three Avengers walked up the ramp and Steve took the controls. He waved at the three still standing together on the ground. Tommy waved back while the other two just raised their hand in farewell. Terry went back to the tractor while Lacey and Tommy watched the quinjet lift off and fly away. Then she put her hand out to Tommy and they walked hand in hand back to the barn to finish taking the straw bales in.

Chapter 15>>

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[chamberedbeauty]

@lamentingwclf

It was the beeping that first began to pull the woman from her slumber. An obsessant and highly annoying sound that practically burst her eardrums and was at the brink of driving her mad. But it's the cold that hits next. A cold that was driven deep in her bones despite what felt like a woven blanket covering her body. From what she could tell she was in a thin type of dress and there were socks on her feet and that did nothing to help with the chill that hurts. She hurts.

More sensations come before her eyes finally open. Her joints scream at her yet her body is limp. Her mouth is dry and she's thirsty, but that's not as prevalent when she feels the pull of something in her arm, or the sticky squares and wires that are hooked to her chest, there's something cool on both wrists as well. But its the cold that she can't shake and finally what drives her to open her eyes with a sharp gasp. Immediately she regrets it, eyes squinting at the lights that so bright she may have well been staring at the sun. But slowly she adjusts and that is when the panic sets in.

It didn't matter how hard she pleaded or how loud she screamed for help- or for her father. She gave the names of everyone who could save her. George and Lynn Adler. Harry Madison. Arnim Zola. June and Rebecca Barnes. Some other senators names were thrown around as well- hell she even used Steve's name. But that mattered just as much as the way her wrists were black and blue from thrashing against the handcuffs- it didn't. What it seemed to do however was replace the so called "doctors" and "nurses" coming into the room to men and women in suits with briefcases. They demanded questions she didn't have answers to- questions that didn't make even the slightest bit of sense. Something about the Soviet Union. Something about a Winter Soldier. Something about HYDRA and all she could do was beg for her help, beg to let her out, and beg for more blankets

It was that evening and three sedatives later that Gwen finally met a man named Captain Wilson- he told her to call him Sam. His eyes were questioning, but they were one of the very few that were gentle. He was kind, even made a small joke. She didn't understand it, but had a friendly smile. It was his turn to ask about Arnim Zola...and he was the first to hear a response that wasn't in between pleading hysterics. "I did not know him...my father does. He had...he had information that he was willing to give to the United States in a deal for his pardon from working with the Nazis. That's...that's all I understood about their arrangement. There was this chamber that could preserve human life o-or something like that, I couldn't make sense of the specifics of it all....and to be frank it sounded absurd....b-but I'd seen crazier things happen to my friend Steve Rogers." She stops at the name, feeling her chest fill up with the grief she had been so desperate to escape. A single tears slips down her cheek, but as it been all day, there was nothing she could do to stop them. "My father....he-he was a general in the first war and he's starting his run for the White House to try and...and prevent another war like this from happening and he thinks that this program would be ...would be magnificent and since the world lost Ste- Captain Rogers....he wants to build off of his legacy. They just needed a volunteer and my father knew how important this could be for him, for me, so-so I said yes...a-and I fell asleep." More tears well up in her eyes as she looks at Captain Wilson, fingers fiddling with the metal bars on her bed. "Captain...I..I would really like to see my father now." There's a sorrow that flashes in his eyes that frightens her to her core, despite his assurance that they would work on it. But all she can manage is a small nod before finally asking about one of the things she'd been wondering all day. "......Is the war over?"

Days pass and there's still no sign of her family, fiancé, or Dr. Zola. Her days are filled with questions she doesn't have answers for, pokes from sharp needles, begging for more blankets, and dreadful pit in her stomach filled with fear and loneliness. Her own questions go unanswered. And as the days drag on and her observations of the room get stronger and stronger...and on the fourth day Gwen finally can look Sam in the eyes and ask. "How long have I been asleep?"

A while.

She's been told it's been a week since she woke up. One of the cuffs remain but the stickers on her chest come off completely. Doctors come in and ask her how she's feeling. She says she's cold and wants her father. Agents come in and ask the same goddamn questions and she tells them the same goddamn answers and that she wants her fiancé. Sam comes and asks her how she's "holding up" (which apparently means how is she doing) she says she's scared and wants to go home. But there's no more tears to cry. Half of them were disposed at Bucky's funeral, another large portion at Steve's, and she was surprised the first few day in this room weren't flooded with her tears.

The morning of the eighth day the door is opened and she's surprised to see Sam standing in the doorway. "You're early," Gwen manages to squeak out as she plays with the rim of her mug filled with tea. "I was actually wondering if you had-" She stops as a new set of feet step into the room and in walks a tall man with dark hair. He's dressed in black, but it's not an agent. His eyes were wide and his expression was filled with shock. And it's so familiar...until it's too familiar.

Fear is the first thing that comes to her features, the mug falling to the floor and shatters instantly. Olive skin is pale as she stares at the ghost in the room for just a few more millisecond before her body reacts, pushing herself to the other side of the bed in a flailing display of fear. "No! No!"

Her tears are suddenly back as she gasps for air, eyes frantically looking around the room, but it's the look on Sam's face that stops her and she can finally look at the ghost again. ".....James?"

In an instant she's now reaching for him, pulling as hard as she could against the handcuff as her free hand grasps for him. "Bucky?! Bucky?!"

[ao3feed-itafushi]

The Newlyweb Game

by Salome_Sinverguenza “Thirty-three is more times than are days in January!” Kenjaku points at the screen, nearly hysterical. “One-hundred and eight!” “Well, that was for Satoru’s birth –“ “Day!?” Yuji yells. Megumi looks a little sick. “Birthday month.” Suguru corrects with a chirp. “And we were on vacation!” Satoru holds up a finger. “How do you two have this much sex and not be sick of it?” Kenjaku asks, draping himself over his podium. “We keep it spicy.” Suguru laughs and winks at the camera. Words: 4703, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 3 of Game Changer Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Getou Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuuji, Haibara Yu (Jujutsu Kaisen), Nanami Kento, Kenjaku | Fake Getou Suguru Relationships: Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji, Haibara Yu/Nanami Kento Additional Tags: Kenjaku as Sam Reich, Dialogue Heavy, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Attempt at Humor from AO3 works tagged 'Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji' https://ift.tt/NcSp3FM