#sam on the other hand I think might go to therapy because it fits his mental image of himself. but I don’t think he’d get much out of it

[kinky-cas]

dean winchester would NOT go to therapy and frankly he shouldn’t. it wouldn’t be helpful for him! he’s already emotionally aware and he wouldn’t feel safe being that vulnerable with a stranger he’s paying. if you want him to know therapy skills and concepts just have him learn them from gentle parenting tiktok.

[golden-barnes]

Plum tarts and red carnations

Pairing: Florist! Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

Summary: Bucky is enamored with one of the employees of the bakery in front of his store.

Category: Fluff

Warning:s some self-doubting thoughts and cursing .

Word count: 2.5k

Author’s note: I have been thinking about this since that one anon and thank you @buckycuddlebuddy because you helped to inspire me further with this. Also think of Bucky as Beefy because I'm a softy for a gentle giant. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

“Damn Jerry. You’ve been growing nicely. A little bit more, and you will be ready to find a new home, bud.” Bucky whispered to the little sprout he was watering. Bucky loved his morning routine.

Before opening up his shop, he would check on his nursery. Water the plants in his greenhouse, checking them to see how they have grown. He liked talking to them; they never judged him or ignored him. He even named them. Sam would help, too, though he treated it more as a joke.

After checking on the nursery, he would focus on making bouquets and arrangements for the store. Nobody knew he was the one who made those beautiful arrangements, and he liked it.

It was like therapy for him. Matching the flowers and creating bouquets with meaning was a talent Bucky didn’t know he had. By this point, the shop was opened and ready for business.

While preparing a rose bouquet, he saw a woman in an apron running out of the new coffee shop from the table next to the cash register. Oh shit, she’s pretty. He thought. He kept staring at her and forgot the fresh roses next to him, grabbed one carelessly.

“Fuck.” He accidentally pricked his finger with a thorn. He applied pressure to his wounded finger.

“Oh, are you okay, sir?” The pretty woman from the bakery asked. Bucky didn’t notice her entering the shop, and now she was here. Looking disheveled but incredibly beautiful.

“Yeah, happens all the time. What can I help you with?” He said, trying to sound as composed as possible. He could hear Sam’s voice in his head. “Play it cool, Buck.”The woman let out a sigh.

“I’m co-owner of the coffee shop, and it’s our opening day. I was encharged of the decorations, and I ordered some flowers from this other place, but when they got here, they were horrible. Like really bad. And oh god, I’m rambling, but I need a brand new arrangement.” She said all in one breath. Bucky had to fight a smile from appearing. Adorable.

“It’s okay. What colors did you want?” Bucky asked. The woman smiled at him.

“We wanted white and purples. Something simple. But honestly, I know nothing of flowers. I don’t understand why Wanda put me up with this? Now we are late, and I still have to finish decorating the cupcakes.” She explained while Bucky started to search for the flowers in his shop.

“Lilacs, with white peonies and lavender roses, would make a nice bouquet. How does that sound?” Bucky showed her the flowers he was referring to. The woman gasped.

“Oh, they are so pretty! You, sir, are a genius.” She gushed, still looking at the flowers. Bucky felt his cheeks getting red from receiving praise.

“I can bring it to you,” Buckywhispered, afraid that she might not like that idea. “You know, because you still have some stuff to finish, so you can do it, and I’ll bring it to you in less than 10 minutes.” She looked at him and went to hug him. Bucky tensed, not expecting the hug, but soon relaxed.

“You are literally my hero. Just ask for Y/N,” She said, walking towards the exit. “Wait, what’s your name?” She added, opening the door to leave.

“Bucky.” Y/N smiled at him. “See you later, Bucky.”

Bucky has never worked on an arrangement as hard as this one. He was already meticulous, but he really wanted to impress Y/N. Can you blame him? The pretty girl needed his help, and he wanted her to be happy. He even added some baby’s breath and this new white ribbon that had come in for weddings. He was very proud of it but also very nervous.

With a deep breath, Bucky entered the coffee shop. A brunette was at the door, cleaning the tables.

“Sorry, Sir. We are still aren’t open.” She said. Bucky gulped.

“Uhm. I’m looking for Y/N.” He told her; she looked at the flowers in his hands and understood. She yelled for Y/N, who came out of the kitchen with icing on her check, giving him the brightest smile.

“Hey, Bucky! That’s beautiful! How did you make such a pretty arrangement in less than 20 minutes?” She grabbed the vase out of his hands and set it on the counter. Bucky blushed and scratched his neck, shying away.

“It’s nothing.. I’m just happy you liked it.”

“How much do I owe you?” She asked. Bucky put his hands up.

“Oh, it’s on the house. Don’t worry. Call it a welcome gift.” He explained; Y/N jumped and gave him another hug. This time Bucky wrapped his arms around her.

“You are the nicest person on this fucking planet. I have to make it up to you. What’s your favorite fruit?” She pulled away from him and looked at Bucky in the eye. Bucky felt his breath hitch, and his palms get sweaty.

“I-I like plums.” He stuttered. She gave him a big smile and handed him a cookie.

“Hmm, I can make something with that.” She winked at him.

-

“I still haven’t named you, but honestly, I don’t know. You look like a Janelle, but also, I feel like that doesn’t fit.” Bucky said to the new cactus that arrived yesterday, in the afternoon.

“I think she looks like a Lucille.” Bucky turned around and saw Y/N with a box in hand.

“Oh, hi.” He felt embarrassed. She had heard him talk to his plants. Not even Steve had seen that. It was his private thing.

“She’s cute. What type of cactus is it?” She looked at it, not looking weirded out or anything.

“It’s called a Bishop’s cap. They grow to be very pretty and sprout a yellow flower. Not very popular in the shop, but there’s this new cactus crazy going on, and I thought to stock up.” Bucky explained, putting the cactus down next to the others.

“Do you name all your plants?” Bucky gulped and turned around to face her.

“Yeah, and talk to them too.” Bucky fought the urge to punch himself. Why would he say that? Fuck, now she is gonna think he is a fucking weirdo.

Much to his surprise, she smiled at him. She suddenly remembered the box she brought and opened it.

“For saving me yesterday, I made you a plum tart.” She opened it and pulled out the tart. Bucky felt his heart beating faster, and his hands get clammy.

“You didn’t have to.” “Ah! I beg to differ. Everyone that walked into our shop loved the flowers. They were really something. Like I couldn’t stop looking at them. So I had to show you my gratitude the only way I know how. With treats.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat that all alone. Want to share?” Bucky asked, giving her puppy eyes so she wouldn’t say no.

“You drive a hard bargain, Bucky. Has anyone ever told you can get away with murder with those eyes?” Y/N joked.

“I think my grandma’ probably said it. I have some silverware in the shop’s kitchen. When you have to be at your shop?” Bucky said, signaling her to follow him.

“I’m on break—perks of being the boss.” She explained while Bucky grabbed a few paper plates, forks, and a knife. She grabbed the knife and cut a big piece, and gave it to Bucky. Then she cut a piece for herself.

Bucky took a bite and accidentally let out a moan.

“I take it; you like it.” She winked at Bucky. He diverted his gaze from her. Why the fuck did I do that? Bucky screamed internally.

“It’s delicious. I can see why your shop has been packed since yesterday. Reminds me of my ma’s.” Bucky admitted.

“I’m glad, but I can’t take all the credit. You should see the coffee mixes Wanda came up with. They are the real star.” Bucky smiled at her. Nice and pretty… She let out a cough.

“How did you get really good with plants? Like sorry for the personal question, but you have a talent.” She inquired.

“Well, uhm. After getting discharged, my friend Sam suggested that I take classes to handle stress and PTSD. One of the classes was gardening, and I just found it so calming. So I started taking more courses and learning ‘till I decided to start my own business. I don’t think I could ever work anywhere else.” Bucky noticed her staring at him. “What?” He said, smiling awkwardly at her.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how you are the nicest man I’ve ever meet.” She said nonchalantly. Bucky chuckled.

“It’s nothing major. I just found my calling.” Bucky stated.

“I feel the same. I baked a lot in college, and then suddenly I was like fuck, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.” She recalled. Her eyes glowed under the light of the kitchen.

“I felt the same way when I started this shop.” Bucky admitted, she bit back a smile.

“By the way, I like the name—Howling’s flowers. Oh, and how pretty this store is, it looks like I walked in a magical forest.” She complimented.

“I- thanks. I named my store after my squad and the decor well; that’s kind of an embarrassing story.” Bucky chuckled nervously. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. I own a coffee shop named Magic café, and all of our items are named after magical things. I am the last person to judge.” Bucky bit his lip nervously while listening to her.

“I based it on The Hobbit. It was my favorite book when I was younger, and I just couldn’t imagine decoring this store anyway else.” Y/N looked at him with an open mouth.

“Okay, are you government android? Because you are friendly, great with plants and well-read. You are too good to be true.” She laughed. Bucky needs to find a way to blush less in her presence because this is like the fourth or fifth time it has happened.

They finished eating their pieces of tart and talking for a while. Y/N decided to go back to the shop, not realizing how much time she spent there. Before leaving, Bucky gave her some more lavender roses.

“Oh, Bucky, you don’t have to.” She protested.

“It’s just to add to the arrangement. I feel like it was missing a few more roses. You’ll be doing me a favor.” He assured. She grabbed the flowers and smelt them before smiling and giving him a small thanks.

Little did she know that lavender Roses mean love at first sight.

They played that little game for weeks, almost 2 months. Y/N would take her lunch break at Bucky’s shop. Feed him some food and pastries that she was experimenting with, and he would give her flowers.

“To put on the counter. Your store deserves fresh flowers every day.” Bucky claimed. But in actuality, all the flowers meant something. The white camellias? He was telling her that he admired her. The amaryllis? That he found you beautiful. The white and purple stocks? A silent plea for bonds of affection from your part. But he couldn’t bring himself to say these things out loud.

Speaking to Y/N in flowers was much easier. Maybe because she didn’t know and couldn’t reject him.

“Bucky, you gotta tell her, man.” Steve would try to reason with him. “She likes you; you like her. Just tell her that you like her or ask her out on a date.”

“You don’t get it, Steve.” Bucky would argue, which led to an entire discussion on how Bucky is being a coward that ended with him telling Steve and Sam to fuck off.

But they were right; it was simple. She has been an absolute doll with him. She doesn’t mind hearing his rants about the new book he read and helped him water his plants. She even bought waterproof labels to put their names on their planters. She even asked (more like demanded) Bucky to send her the pictures of every bouquet and arrangement he made. She loved seen his creations.

And he loved being her test subject. She would bring him new pastries to try. He was her official taste tester. Anything new in the store, Bucky had already tried it in every one of its variations. Y/N would speak to him of all of her special interests and all of her new hobbies. He had even met all her friends, and they loved him.

So why was this so difficult? Bucky groaned while arranging the flowers at the front of the shop.

“What’s got you all groaning and gloomy, Bucky-bear?” Y/N asked him. She looked radiant in her work clothes. Ugh, Bucky had it bad.

“Nothing, j-just thinking.” He nervously replied.

“Don’t overthink. You might over-heat your brain, bubs.” She joked, entering Bucky’s shop. And like the hopeless romantic he is, he followed.

“Soooooooo I have been trying out this new pasta recipe, and you are the only one I trust to give me the truth.” She said, opening the Tupperware she brought. Bucky’s heart fluttered at her words. He felt light-headed; maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth.

“I like you.” He blurted out. He slapped his hand over his mouth. Y/N turned to him, widen eyes, and mouth gaped.

“Bucky, do you mean that? Because if you are playing with me, I will fight you with this.” She warned Bucky, threatening with a spoon.

“I like you a lot. Actually love you. I- that’s what those flowers meant.” Bucky explained. Y/N put down the spoon.

“What flowers?” She asked, in the softest tone he has ever heard her speak in. Bucky turned his gaze to the floor, embarrassed that this was his confession.

“All of them. They all meant love in one form or the other.” He admitted. Y/N stood in front of him and put her hand on his cheek. He felt his heart do backflips.

“What flower means I’m in love with you, Bucky?” She asked, caressing his cheek.

“Maybe red carnations.” He joked, leaning into her touch.

“I’ll ask this handsome florist with a heart of gold to make me a bouquet to give you.” Bucky chuckled while she let out a little giggle.

“I would love a bouquet, but I would much rather have a plum tart from the sexy baker on the store out front.” Y/N hummed.

“I think I can make that happen.” She said, pulling him closer. “Can I kiss you, Bucky?” She asked; Bucky could only nod.

She grabbed his face and pressed her lips against his. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, molding her body against him. Their lips gliding over each other smoothly, as if they were made for each other.

They pulled away to take a breath, and they both had the same dopey smile. Tarts and carnations. Who knew they mixed so well?

[thekillingjoke-haha]

We’re Batshit Crazy

@spnquotebingo​ Word count:1,609

Summary: Love isn't all that perfect sometimes love is crazy especially when the Hero is in love with said crazy.

Gotham AU

Jason Todd(Jensen Ackles) x Villan!Reader

Enemies and Lovers (none of that "to" bs)

Gotham Recasting: Batman=John, Dick Grayson(second Robin not first) =Sam ,Tim Drake=Adam, Joker(ledger style)=Lucifer, Harley Quinn=Lilith,ect.

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, guns, and violence

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The mad laughter rung out into the night sky as the purple Lamborghini hit corners with violently sharp turns. "Oh puddin I just love family night!~" The pale platinum blonde giggled as the man with green dyed hair licked his smiling lips. A bubble of laughter came from the back seat he turned around to see his princess looking out the small back window. "Batsy batsy batsy" Her low/high pitched giggle caused a crazy chain reaction as the bat mobile hurried to catch up. "Always ruining our fun,huh,princess?" The clown king shifted his gray-ish blue order into the mirror grinning making the scars on his face raise into a sinister smile at the look of pure chaos in his daughter's e/c eyes. "Not tonight! Not on my birthday!!" She said as she smiled reaching under the seat to pull out a Tommy gun. Climbing to the front seat sitting on her mothers lap she leaned out the passenger window. "Go back to the Rat cave your not gonna put a downer on my weekend!" Y/n yelled shooting off round towards the tires,windshield,and headlights.

The mobile didn't seem to have a scratch as as a motorcycle pulled up beside it. Slipping back in the car the younger women pouted looking at get parents. "He called his little birdie no doubt the replacements in the car." Y/n huffed as she dug around for more fire power. "Puddin we have a visitor.~" The red mask gazed at us as he lifted a forearm pistol. Shots were fired and Joker took a hard right almost like tron the motorcycle quickly turned into a ally to avoid being hit. "Sorry Princess might have to cut tonight shot." He said licking his lips as a thump came from the roof making the youngest clown snarl her eye crazed as she shot above her as the purple car swerved wildly. "YOU'RE RUINING MY BIRTHDAY,BATS!!!" Y/n cackled madly a mixture of her parents laughed till the magazine ran out.

They got to one of their warehouses where Jokers men were armed to the teeth. The clown mask had black soulless eyes and immediately fired the moment the batmobile entered. Y/n skipped out of the purple Lamborghini she got on her tippy toes and kissed her dad on the cheek. "I got the hooded punk. Can you clip the bats wings for me...a little present?!" He laughed as he armed himself with a shotgun. "Anything for my princess." The f/c sf/c female clown skipped away knowing that the motorcycle riding vigilante was hot on her tail. That's how she found herself on the roof tops jumping the gaps as heavy footfalls followed. Her loud laugh echoed as she leaped to a smaller building hiding behind a vent the moment the brown leather jacket came into view she tackled the tall man. They were both panting as a grin pulled on the clowns lips.

Y/n POV

"Caught ya,Jay bird." I giggled pulling of the helmet his apple green eyes covered by a second mask stared at me he chuckled as his hand slipped above his head in mock surrender. "Yeah you caught me,beautiful." Leaning down I kiss him my hands pushed into his cheeks my thumb running over the scarred J. We've been dating for awhile now ever since dad kidnapped the second Robin at seventeen. I was fifteen at the time and dad had me at his side as he tortured him.I was always there to stitched him up and put burn cream after shock therapy I didn't know how we got attached maybe because he wanted to rebel a little by talking to me or someone around his age saw the same if not worse shit.

Six years ago(Y/n 15 Jason 17)

"Why are you helping me?" Looking up his head was strapped down along with his arms and legs. I shrugged my shoulders I knew who he was if I wiped off the make up and temp dyed my hair I was the honor student in the same class as him. Jason Todd anyone with eyes had a thing for him,but after removing his mask it wasn't hard to piece together who the bat fam is. "I know what my dad has planned for you Jay. This is just a band-aid on a gunshot wound and might I say that's very unhelpful." This was the first I spoke to him and it wasn't long before Dad beat him to death.

Two years later.

I sat in the back of the car as Frost drove. We just left the cemetery. "Why are we doing this,n/n." He asked looking in the rear view mirror at me. I'm seventeen now my thoughts screamed at me. Why was I trying to bring him back? "Because I crazy that why!" I giggled as we grew closer to the lazapit. He was dressed in a black suit with red tie his body sunk into the water as I waited. A loud gasp drew my attention as he shot up a white streak in his hair. "Heya sleeping beauty." Looking over in shock he lowly made his way looking like a baby deer. "I'm alive,but h-how?" His green eyes looked at me. "A Ghoul owed me a few favors I just asked to use his fountain of youth." Handing him a towel and some clothes. "Sorry about the outfit,but Arkham does have one size fits all." Jason chuckled as he started to dry off.I realized why I brought him back. I was crazy about him.

Two more years later(two years ago)

Jason wanted to stay dead he didn't go back to His dad and brother after he realized that neither of them tried and save him. It was sad to see,but it brought Jason closer to me and he started to trust me and I gave trust in return. Blood coated my hands while some was on my face. Looking at Jay some was speckled on his cheeks taking the pockets square out of the mobsters coat I wiped it off he looked down at me his arm slipped around my waist pulling me closer my breath hicked. "Will you be my girlfriend,my little jester?" A large smile grew on my face as my arms went around his neck pulling him down further. "Gladly,Jay bird." I kissed him not caring if my lipstick stained his lips and he didn't seem to care either as the kiss grew more intense. We shared our first kiss at nineteen surrounded by dead bodies as sirens and the unmistakable sound of the armed batmobile. At least he's as crazy about me as I am about him.

One year ago. (Jason POV for a sec)

I came to Bruce I hate to admit it but I needed advice about the one think he knew best. Women. It was just a couple of months ago he found out I was alive and shocker he managed to drive Dicky boy to Blüdhaven to get away from him to get his own image and not just Robin. Oh and surprise surprise when out of robins he had a spare like a tire and it's name was Tim. Nevermind that I stood across from Bruce in his home main office he had a frown on his face. "You're dating someone and its serious and I didn't know about it?" He asked trying to deduct everything. "I've been dating her ever since I came back. As strange as it might sound,but I want us to be something more." That's when the billionaire playboy stood up standing just a inch shorter then myself.

"Life is short Jason and you've experienced that first hand if you feel that both of you are perfect enough to be more then go for it." Perfect wasn't realistic nothing was ever perfect my life isn't perfect her life sure as hell isn't she's the clown princess I'm a bat son. Maybe that what makes us so good together the fact that it would have never really happened any other way life is just crazy like that.

Present

Staring into those vexing green eyes always brought me back. We're both twenty-one him being older only by a couple of months. "Happy birthday,gorgeous." His voice brought me back as my smile grew. We were standing up now he held a box wrapped in my two favorite colors. "Awe you shouldn't have." I grab it and opened it a gun was inside it was red and gold revolver it looked like my moms love/hate gun,but it said King/Queen. Looking at Jay I reached to hug him when suddenly he dropped to one knee pulling out a box with a beautiful f/c ring and ruby gem. "This feels over due. You took care of me when I was considered enemy number one. You brought me back from the grave when my own family didn't try. And this might sound stupid,but I had a crush on you in middle school you were one of the only people that didn't give me pity after Bruce adopted a street kid." He licked his lips as he gave of a small smile. "Together we are far from perfect, but we are good. You complete me...Y/n M/n Napier become my queen?" My eyes glossed over with tears my make up running down the pale foundation. "Oh my god of course!!!" I jumped into his arms hugging him tightly before letting him slip on the ring. "I love you." "I love you more crazy." I chuckle it sounded watery in my throat. "If I'm crazy then that makes two of us. You wanted to marry me." Yep we're both batshit crazy.

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A/n: Quote= We are far from perfect, but we are good. ~Supernatural

Is it just me or does Jensen look fucking hot as Red Hood?! I'm mean he's definitely a reason to move to Gotham

Well first crossover AU in my bingo card

[cayofdreams]

A Succubus’ Dilemma

Summary: Succubus!Reader is struggling with her identity as she gets closer to Kirishima. She wants to continue being the diligent, strong-willed hero that he praises her for being but the presence of Eijirou Kirishima is making that unbearably difficult. She just can't pretend to be quirkless anymore…

Words: 4.5k

Rating: 🌊 Explicit, Smut 

Warnings: cursing, virginity (but there’s no explicit mention of it), oral (receiving), aphrodisiac, heavy overstimulation, a bit of corruption, kinda dark ending? 

Notes: ~Welcome to another steamy piece from your favorite island resort~ 

This one is pretty straight-forward. I feel like I kicked up the smut on this one. Also, I based the ending off one of the endings of one of my favorite yaoi visual novels :-)              

You were lying down on Kirishima’s bed, deeply engrossed in the romantic scene transpiring on your phone’s screen. You had decided to entertain yourself with an episode from your favorite show while your best friend was in the shower.

‘I love you, Jake. But…I just want to wait before we get intimate. I’m just not ready, right now’

‘Of course, Kathrine! I’ll wait however long it takes! You’re so much more to me than a warm body!’

‘You say that…but what if I choose to stay celibate forever?’

‘Then you can live with the confidence that I, Jake Petersmith, have wholeheartedly loved you for the wonderful human that you are!  

‘Oh, Jake! 

‘Kathrine!’

You were tearing up at the cheesy displays of affection since you were a sucker for all things romantic. You loved how characters seemed to have an undying love for one another. Often, you fantasized about sharing that kind of ethereal love with someone yourself. How it would be to run together through a field of sunflowers, or skip hand-in-hand on the sandy surfaces of the beach, or even make couple pranksters YouTube videos that were so obviously not faked.

But that kind of future won’t happen for you. It can’t. Not in the gross body you were in. Surely you were easy on the eyes, but what lurked inside was a demon that constantly bewitched your thoughts. Making you see people around you as simply meat sticks and sticky caverns to be engorged in.

Simply put, you were a succubus. Or at least had a succubus-like quirk. You never told anyone though, only being known to your parents. You tried so hard to reign in these feelings on a daily basis while pretending to be quirkless. But it was becoming increasingly difficult as you got older and as you hung around the likes of…Kirishima.

Oh Kirishima. He was such a beautiful human on the inside and out. Always praising and encouraging you. Being there for you when it seemed you were at your worst low points, and then being there to pick you up and trophy you around when you succeeded at doing even just the bare minimum. You wished you could return even half the happiness to him that he gave you throughout your days at U.A. You wanted to do all the romantic things you saw in movies and books with him. Kirishima was just such a sunshine in your life and you wanted him to continue warming you for the rest of it.

There was a time where 90% of your thoughts toward him were like this…and then as time went on, they became more savagely. Where all you wanted was for him to sink those sharp teeth in your flesh, ravaging your body with a cock that could probably barely even fit inside you, holding you within those arms- those beautifully muscular arms that glistened provocatively with sweat when he trained. You wanted him. Needed him. Please desire me, Eijirou.

You were about to slip your hands down your underwear when you heard the creak of the door open.

“L/N!! Did you miss me?! I’m back!” Kirishima bursted through the door with that wide grin you loved so much.

Of course, I freaking missed you, Eijirou. You were only gone for 11 minutes, 35 seconds, and 23 milliseconds. But I missed every moment.

You covered up your lust with a chuckle. “You weren’t even gone that long.”

“Aww don’t say that!! I missed you, you know.” He teased at you.

Don’t tempt me, baby

“Haha, whatever, Kiri…” You sat up as Kirishima slumped down on the floor next to his coffee table and pulled out his laptop. “So what are we watching, tonight?”

“Hmm…not sure! What do you wanna watch, L/N?” He turned his head to smile back at you. He was so cute. So gorgeous. And your erotic thoughts seemed to be running rampant right now. Especially at the fact that the two of you would be huddled up alone together for who knows however long a movie marathon is. You had to find a way to quickly rid yourself of these thoughts.

“Mmm, let me look up some! Hold on.” A blatant lie. You were going to google get-dry-quick schemes so you could enjoy the rest of the night safely with Kirishima. It was the least he deserved after training so hard today.

HOW TO NOT BE HORNY??!!1!

You analyzed your search results before clicking on a forum where someone seemed to be going through the same dilemma as you.

‘Hello, my name is [redacted] and I’m horny all the time ☹. I’ve lost so many boyfriends because of it and I truly want to find a husband, but it would be silly of me to expect them to drop everything to please me. How can I stop these feelings?’

Someone just like you! You weren’t alone in this cruel abyss. Perhaps she also had a succubus quirk!

Looking through the answers wasn’t much help for the most part. Most of the replies being trolls who asked where she was so they could “help” her. Even worse were the ones that chastised her for her feelings. Saying she was impure and needed to change her ways.

But your eyes were intrigued at the first comment that seemed to provide some kind of helpful information.

‘You might be a nymphomaniac. Have you tried talking with a professional?’

A nym- what? What was that? You opened another tab.

What is a nympomiac?

Too concerned with research to get the correct spelling, you saw articles for definitions of the auto-corrected word.

Nym∙pho∙ma∙ni∙ac

               Noun: a woman with uncontrollable or excessive sexual desire

Gasping at the accuracy you divulged further.

How to not be a nymphomiakc?

A lot of the results for this returned with solutions that were too time-consuming. Prescribed medication, cognitive therapy, and even some evil medieval treatments that involved leeches.

But you needed something now. Why were all these long-winded answers so abundant?! Couldn’t they just give you something to do now? What the fuck would you have to do?? Shove an iceblock your pussy?? Should you go ask Todoroki for a favor??

You were in the middle of texting Todoroki when Kirishima pulled you out of your frenzy.

“You find anything, L/N?”

“Gyahh! What?!” You dropped your phone and looked at Kirishima like you were a deer caught in his headlights.

“Woah, you okay there?! Did I scare you? Maybe horror isn’t a good idea, then.” His worried face could send you to the grave. How could you let him worry about you like this?

“Ohh..no Kiri. I’m fine. We can just watch whatever you want.” You eased your breaths, desperately trying to sound normal.

“You sure?! Awesome! There’s this zombie flick I’ve been meaning to watch but I get kinda scared watching stuff like that alone.” He clicked around happily through some tabs on his browser. “I think if its with someone as courageous as you, I’ll be less scared.”

Was he trying to make you cry? Saying something so beautiful like that with a face like his. Shame on him, honestly.

“I’m gonna play it now, you ready?”

“Mmhm”

--------------------------------------------------

The movie so far was just as you hoped: grotesque, gory, horrifying, and most importantly, non-arousing. It helped that you stayed on the bed while Kirishima sat on the floor, so I guess that was cheating, but nonetheless necessary.  

“You doin’ okay up there, L/N?” Kirishima checked up on you. You had probably been suspiciously quiet due to concentrating on waving away any little lewd thoughts.

“Oh yeah, what about you, Kiri?”

“W-Well! I was kinda thinking! That maybe uhh…I could possibly join you up there?” He scratched his head in nervousness at his slighty flirty suggestion.

Oh no

“Up where?”

“On the bed. Y-you know…with you?”

At this point you didn’t really know whether to praise or curse the gods above you. If there was one thing you could be sure to thank them for, it was the dark room that hid the flustering of your facial expression.

“I-Its your bed after all…”

“I know! I guess its just- heheh..nevermind! I’m hopping up!” Kirishima rugged his massive body on the bed next to you. Even taking some of the blanket you had so you’d be forced to share with him, he just softly smiled as he did so.

This was way too much for the hellion within you to handle. You could smell his strong scent from beside you. His breathing more pronounced in your ear drums. And its like you could feel his heartbeat within you. Pulsating inside you…

Things would take a turn for the worse when it seemed like a sweet romantic scene was about to show up. The two main leads were alone in a bunker and one of them had just revealed they were bitten.

“Samuel, Nooo!”

“Lilia! Listen to me! I need you to hear what I have to say.”

“We don’t have time, Samuel! We- We need to get you medicine. We have to! We have-“

“Stop, Lilia! There’s nothing that can save me now! You and I both know what happens from here.”

“Samuel…”

“Lilia… I want you to be the one who does it.”

“I can’t…Samuel..I can’t”

“You have to, Lilia. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

“Don’t do this, Sam…”

“I love you, Lilia.”

“Oh Samuel! I’ll never be with anyone else! Ever!”

“Lilia…”

The words lingered in your head as the movie continued on.

‘I’ll never be with anyone else’

Was such an option available to you? Even if you did take away the innocence of your love, Kirishima Eijirou, who’s to know how your body would react? The best result would be that your body would finally be satisfied and you’d no longer have these perverse thoughts.

On the other hand, maybe you’d just sink further and further down. Drowning in the suffocating waters of lust. And then what? Kirishima can’t just drop everything to cater to your needs. No. He was going to be hero. An amazing one at that.

But Kirishima wasn’t just a hero, he was your best friend. You felt awful every time he would praise your strong-willed persona. Saying how amazing you were despite being quirkless. He’d even say you were more manly than him at times. It was like you were betraying him. You were betraying that innocent smile he wore for you everyday…you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Kirishima.”

He looked back at you, surprised at your rare use of his name. Sensing something was wrong he paused the movie and turned his entire body to face yours.

“L/N, what’s wrong”

You were doing it again. Making him worry over you. But you couldn’t keep holding in this secret. You needed to tell him.

“I have to ask you something…”

“Please ask! I’m listening with all ears, L/N” He perked up at you. He looked just like a puppy, waiting for your every move like that.

“What do you think about…impulsive people?”

“Huh? Impulsive people?” He scratched his head at the question. “Well…I guess they’re entertaining to watch? Kind of like Bakugou. But I suppose being too impulsive is bad. You could get yourself or others in danger.”

Your head lowered at his statement, eyes closing shut. Of course he would say something like that. It’s only natural for humans to be mindful of their indulgences. They had to. It’s a part of social conformity after all.

Yet still, it hurt.

He noticed your displeasure in his answer.

“What’s wrong, L/N? Why did you ask that? You’re not impulsive at all!” He was trying to cheer you up, but it only dug the knife further into your chest. “You’re one of the most dignified, tough, and resilient people I know!”

Tears were starting to form in your eyes and before you could object him he continued.

“A-and that’s why…That’s why I love you, F/N. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

As much as you wanted to pull him close to you and pamper him with kisses, you needed to come clean. You shot up from the bed, your back faced towards him and your handing closing into a clenched fist.

“That can’t happen, Kirishima! It won’t work!”

Kirishima followed you by jumping up from the bed, grabbing you by the arms to get you to face him. “Why, F/N?! Why can’t it happen? Is there something wrong with me?! Please just tell me!”

“Nooo…nooo there’s nothing wrong with you, Kiri..” The waterworks flowed from your eyes and violent sobs escaped from you. You slumped down on your knees in sorrow. Kirishima joined you on the floor and tried to pull you into him, but you’d jerk your body away. “You know nothing about me, Kirishima…I’ve- I’ve lied to you.”

“What do you mean, F/N? What did you lie about? I’m sure its not that bad!”

“I’m not quirkless, Kiri…” A couple more sobs came out of you. “I-I’m a demon…a succubus. A filthy succubus! Just a filthy disgusting succubus!!”

Not being able to stand your self-hatred, he grabbed you by the jaw to force you to look at him. His blazingly crimson eyes met your beautifully wet e/c ones. “Stop that, F/N! You’re not disgusting! Or filthy! You could never be those things!”.

You gripped his wrist and pulled it harshly away from you. “What would you know?! You don’t know the things I deal with inside this wicked head of mine! I encompass the most obscene thoughts about people! About you! Every morning I think about how I’m going to seduce you and get you to desire me just as much as I do! Every training session I look at that beautifully sculpted body of yours and I mentally defile it! Thinking of you as nothing more than a walking, breathing dildo! I see you when you’re smiling with your friends and all I want to do is just steal you away make you mine forever! And every night, I cry at the lack of pleasure I’m getting. The lack of warmth that I only want YOU to give to me. The lack of feeling your hot, meaty cock inside me! It drives me insane, Eijirou! I hate having these thoughts! I hate them! I hate them! I ha-hmmph!”

Kirishima had suddenly kissed you, and you had returned it by ravaging your tongue around his. You didn’t care about the cuts you might receive from his teeth grazing against your delicate flesh. You could only be swallowed by the pleasures overtaking your mouth. You drowned in each other, but only briefly before you had placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away from you.

“What are you doing?! Didn’t you just hear what I said?” You struggled to catch your breath as you wiped away the remnants of his saliva from your face.

“Why didn’t you tell me this, F/N? Did you…did you not trust me? Did you not think of me as manly enough to handle this?” His hands gripped tightly at your shoulders, craving a reply from you.

“You know that’s not true, Kiri. You’re the best person to ever come into my life, and that’s why I had to withhold this secret from you. I didn’t want you to abandon me.”

“I could never aban-“

“But I also didn’t want you to get wrapped up in me. I want you to continue your goals of becoming a hero, Eijirou. Who knows what sanity you’ll be sacrificing by being with me. It’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

“That isn’t your call to make.” Kirishima’s uncharacteristically cold reply created an atmosphere that overwhelmed you.

“What do you mean? Hiding my quirk was the best decision.”

“Did you really think about me?” Kirishima’s hands glided from your shoulders to your upper arms, still holding a tight grip. “Did you think about how I’d feel if I knew you were holding yourself back like that? What if you’re killing yourself and you don’t know it? I’m supposed to be a hero, F/N. Your hero.”

Before you could reply he had stood up and lifted you back on the bed. He layed you down and positioned himself between your legs, squeezing at your thighs. They were so soft, so delicate. All of you was soft and delicate. And nothing you had told him tonight would change the way he felt about you. There was nothing you could say or do to change his feelings for you. Nothing.

You tried to pry his hands away from the meat of your thighs, but you were admittedly weak from his confession and the thick, encompassing atmosphere that was Kirishima’s presence around you. “Kiri-“

“Eijirou. Call me Eijiirou.”

“…Eijirou. We can’t do this. It’s dangerous…”

“It’s dangerous if I do, its dangerous if you don’t. But I’m telling you right now, F/N, I’m not letting you continue to do this to yourself. Knowing that you’re hurting like this and not being able to do anything? Not doing anything to help the one I love? What kind of hero would I be?...What kind of man would I be?”

Kirishima then leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss. You tried to move your head away but he took one of his hands against your jaw to hold you in place. It felt so good. So fucking good. His lips, his tongue, his rough hands. You teared up just at the pleasure of it all.

He then took his other hand to lift up your shirt, revealing your bra that contained the softest bust that any man could ever lay his hand upon. And right now that man was him. And he’d make sure it’d always be him.

Letting go of your lips, he roughly caressed your breasts before completely pulling your shirt over your head. Faint thoughts of resistance would slip away as you lost yourself in the pleasure you’d been craving for so long.

Struggling to get your bra off, Kirishima impatiently ripped it himself, using a bit of his quirk in the process.

“Eiji…”

“Sshh, baby. I’m gonna take care of you so well.” He slipped off your shorts along with your underwear and threw them unmindfully on the floor. Gripping the flesh below your inner knee, he spread your legs wide enough to slightly sting.

Your pussy was overflowing with juices for him and he barely even touched you yet. He took a moment to relish in the view, taking in deep breaths to smell your intoxicating aroma. He was inexperienced at sex but he knew this erotic perfume you were exuding could only have been the work of your succubus traits.  He leaned down to give an experimental lick, his tongue curling to make sure he could gather as much of your juices as he could. He let your flavor sit in his mouth as if trying to enjoy the last sip of water on a mission in the desert.

His lewd behaviors made an unbearable heat rise to your face and you cowered behind your hands. Irritated, Kirishima jerked your hands away and looked at you as if you just insulted his entire lineage.

“Don’t you dare cover up that beautiful face of yours.” He leaned his head back down, this time capturing all the folds of your pussy in his mouth. “I want to see every expression you make. Hear every seductive sound that leaves that your throat.” The vibrations of his voice on your pussy drove you crazy. The rapid moving of his tongue against your clit was immediately sending you to a heavenly dimension.

“Ohh Eiji…Eiji I’m gonna cum…”

“Cum for me, baby. I want it.”

Your orgasm was so intense you could’ve passed out, but you couldn’t. Not with Eijirou still licking all over your clit like that.

“Oh my god, Eiji! Eijiii” Your hands gripped at his spiky hair, tugging tightly trying to get him to have mercy on your sensitive bud. “F-ffuckk! I can’t, Eiji, I can’t!”

Still not letting up, he continued to overstimulate you with his relentless tongue. “I’m sorry, F/N.” He slurped up your juices before working his tongue again. “You taste so fucking good. Like the freshest fruit from a garden.” He rotated between drinking up your fluids and licking vigorously at your clit. “I can’t stop, baby. I need more. Just cum again, okay?”

And cum, you would. A second orgasm was on the horizon and the overstimulation of it was making you shed tears. “Eiji…I’m gonna cum again. Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna cum againnn- Hnngh!!“. Intense waves of pleasure rode over you. However, Kirishima was still lapping up at your folds. “Eijirouuuu!!!”. Your moans became more high-pitched and erratic as you were overstimulated now for the second time.

“Just one more time, baby. I promise”. “I swear I just-“ Slurp. “Never tasted-“ Slurrp. “Anything so fucking good before.”

You were left with no choice but to cave into your third orgasm and Kirishima seemed to show no mercy for you. “Fucckkk.” You sniffled through your sobs as your next high came quicker than the previous ones. Finally Kirishima had lifted his head from between your lips. He had the most animalistic and erotic face you could have ever dreamed of seeing.

“Damn, that was so good. You did so well for me, baby.” Kirishima gleamed with the shine that was your juices. He leaned down to entwine his tongue with yours. You could taste yourself on him and it made you delirious. You had just cum three times, but you wanted more. You needed more.

Kirishima felt the same way as you as he backed up to give himself space to take his shorts off. Cock now springing free, you could see the beast of a rod he had and it made your mouth water. You whined at just the thought of the pleasure you were about to become entranced by. He lined himself up at your sopping entrance, but before he could slip in, you lightly pressed on his chest to get his attention.

“Are you sure, Eijirou? You can stop right now if want. I won’t be mad at you at all. You’ve already done so much for me, tonight.”

His cheeks faded into a deep pink as he moved your hands to be at his shoulders.

“I want you, F/N”. He stuck the tip of his cock in you, grunting at the tightness of your entrance. “I fucking want you.”

You let out a guttural moan as he slowly stretched your pussy to fit his cock. You finally felt it. The warmth you’d been craving deep inside. The stingingly sweet pain of his cock stretching out your drenched pussy. You could die right now. Right here in the arms of the man you loved. And your ghost would be perfectly okay with it. But your flesh craved even more. You needed him to reach the deepest parts of you. You needed him to destroy your greedy pussy.

“Fuck me, Eijirou. I want you to fuck me like the greedy slut that I am!” You looked directly into his dazed eyes, whining at him to give you what you wanted. “Please, I want you so bad. Mark this pussy with that cock of yours. Make me unable to think about anyone else like this. C’mon, give it to me! ”

Too aroused by your begging, he silently obliged. Sinking the entirety of his cock inside you, he twitched at your pulsating walls. It was like your pussy was a  breathing organ, sucking him in and tightening around him so he could never leave. And he wasn’t going to. He’d stay like this forever with you.

Not giving you time to get used to his size, Kirishima started thrusting brutally against your hips. You let out the sweetest moans as you littered his back with scratches. His thrusts becoming smoother and smoother as your pussy got used to him. His cock ferociously grazed against your g-spot as the tip teasingly nibbed at your cervix. The perfect mix of pleasure and pain, you felt your now fourth orgasm approaching. You let go of his shoulders to lay your head back deep in the cushions of his pillows.

“Eijirou, you’re gonna make me cum again! You’re gonna make me cum all over your cock-!”

“Oh fuck- me too, F/N”. The rhythm of his thrusts became more faltered as your walls inhumanely squeezed the life out of him. He looked at your cock-drunk face, pleased with his performance. “Where do you want it, baby?”

You raised your head to reestablish eye contact with him. “I want it inside! Cum inside me! I need your cum so bad, need to feel it in my-Hmmnghh!!” Your orgasm overtook your speaking as you groaned hysterically.

Kirishima not far behind you, quickened his pace to chase his own high. “Shit, F/N! I’m gonna cum inside you! Fucking take all of it, baby! Don’t let any seep out, okay?”

You moaned at the hotness of his seed spurting inside. It was so deep inside you and you wondered if it was either easier or more difficult to get pregnant as a succubus. Either way you wanted more and your walls clenched once again against Kirishima’s cock.

He grunted before leaning down to bury his face in your neck, once again starting to thrust inside you. He was overstimulated but your pussy was driving him crazy. Perhaps your juices were an aphrodisiac, making anyone a slave to the area between your thighs. He kissed along your jaw and brought his hand up against your throat. He didn’t squeeze tight, just enough to get your attention.

He rose his head up to get a good look at your face. You looked liked a corrupted angel beneath him. He couldn’t believe you withholded him from these pleasures for so long. Were you just gonna go fuck other guys? You were going to let other men taste what has been his all along? He needed to hear you say you belonged to him. He’d give up anything to hear your sweet voice tell him everything from your insides and out belonged to him.

“Tell me who you belong to, baby?”

You replied with no hesitation, willing to say and do anything to milk more of his cum inside you.

“You, Eijirou! I belong to you! My flesh, my womb, my guts! Everything belongs to you Eijirou!” You felt another orgasm filling up in your stomach. “Please don’t ever leave me, Eiji. I want you with me forever. “

Of course, this was something he had no qualms about doing. He was ready. He’d give up school, his goals, his life to please you at every waking moment. He’d keep you pumped full of his cum so you’d never think about anyone else. You wouldn’t even remember what it was like to live like you weren’t a succubus. You’d be happy like this. With him.

Because he was your hero.

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [3]

(not my gif)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 3,695

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.

Chapter Summary: Dean suggests the two of you pose as a couple for a case. Sam objects wholeheartedly. (aka Sam and Y/N go to therapy.)

Warnings: jealous!sam, jealous!reader, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, fake marriage, kind of a case!fic, slow burn, fluff, basically all the tropes

A/N: hi loves, sorry this took so long! had some trouble with this one and i’m still not completely happy with it but hopefully you guys enjoy anyway. and i’m sorry the chapters keep getting longer, haha this whole series was only supposed to be a one-shot. oops.

written for @spnfluffbingo and @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo!

Square Filled: Fake Marriage for @spnfluffbingo and Mutual Pining for @girl-next-door-writes​

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The third time was honestly quite fun for Dean. It started with a rare night of relaxation. The three of you were hanging out around a table in the bunker library, steadily working your way through a six-pack Sam had brought back from a supply run earlier. Dean had his legs crossed and feet propped up casually before him, while you and Sam were scrolling leisurely through the internet on your respective laptops.

“I think I just found us a case,” Sam had started with furrowed brows, as he sat up to get a closer look at his screen. “So get this, two married couples in Wisconsin were found dead after visiting the same couples therapist.”

“Does it say how?” you asked, fidgeting with the label on your beer bottle.

“Yeah, they all fell from windows in upper stories.”

Your brows flew up and you huffed in disbelief, “You’re right, seems like a rather unlikely coincidence, probably something up our alley.”

At this point, Dean was ready to burst with glee. God himself could not have presented a better opportunity. If things worked out, he could finally put an end to Sam’s petulant spasms and eradicate the sexual tension that hung so potently (and disturbingly) throughout the air whenever you and Sam were in the same room.

“Well, I guess we know what we gotta do…” Dean tried to fight the grin on his lips as he turned to you, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

With a perfectly straight face, he managed to ask, “Will you marry me?”

The mouthful of beer that Sam was about to swallow erupted forth in a cascade of tiny droplets, spritzing through the air as he began to cough and choke on what little alcohol had somehow made it down the wrong pipe.

You immediately looked over to see if he was alright, not expecting to find the usually adroit and graceful man a sputtering, red-faced mess, “Geez, Sam. Are you okay?” Rising from your seat to move towards him, you stopped when he held out a large palm and waved it at you as a form of both reassurance and interception.

“Yea- yeah, I’m fine,” Sam wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, taking a moment to recompose himself before sending you an awkward little smile of gratitude.

Dean cleared his throat, “So whaddya say, Y/N/N?”

“Huh?”

“About my proposal, before Sammy so rudely interrupted.” Sam was glaring holes through his brother now, but Dean paid him no attention.

“Oh, right,” you chose your next words carefully, “Umm, you mean you wanna go undercover?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side as he raised his eyebrows in a suggestive smirk, “If the shoe fits…”

“Well aren’t you romantic?” you quipped sarcastically.

“Oh sweetheart, just you wait and see,” Dean sent you a wink that you were sure had dropped many a panty in his time yet held little to no effect over you because… well because you were busy being a little too enraptured by his baby brother. That didn’t seem to stop Dean though, “Trust me, as your loving husband-” It was Sam’s turn to clear his throat, but again Dean ignored him, “I'm gonna romance the shit outta you.”

You scoffed at him in amusement, “Right, you mean when we go to couples therapy?”

“Baby girl, you’d be surprised-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam couldn’t hold it in any longer, throwing both hands up in objection, “Can we just back up for a minute? Why does anyone have to get married?”

Dean shot him an incredulous look, “Come on, Sam, we've worked enough of these cases to know this is always the easiest and fastest way.”

Through stiff jaws Sam released a harsh, conceding sigh, “OK... then... why does it have to be you and Y/N?”

“Cause we’re best friends; it'll be more believable,” Dean answered easily with a grin.

A disbelieving stare crossed Sam’s indignant features before he looked down to suppress his emotions with a sardonic nod and pursed lips. It was one thing for Dean to suggest playing your husband but to claim that you're his best friend instead of Sam's... That was too far.

“Plus, you've always been better at playing FBI,” his brother continued with that irritating smile.

Sam gave himself a moment before stating adamantly, “I don't think it should be you.”

“What, why? You don't think we can get the job done?” Dean’s tone was accusing, and you knew he was trying to provoke Sam, but ever since the notion that two out of the three of you needed to play a married couple had been introduced, you found yourself at an inevitable impasse.

“No, I-“ Sam could barely get any words out before Dean circled back to you instead.

“Y/N?” The look Dean sent you forced you to face your inner dilemma head on. On the one hand, you wanted nothing more than an excuse to get close to Sam, to hold his hand and gaze at him adoringly without worrying about anyone seeing, and so much more… but on the other hand, you feared that a glimpse of the ‘real deal’, however contrived, might just push you over the decisive edge. What if you couldn’t go back to your platonic guise after? What if you broke your own heart?

“What? Um, yeah, I think it could work,” you rubbed the back of your neck nervously, keeping your eyes on Dean’s to avoid meeting Sam’s.

Your response elicited a smug expression on the older Winchester’s face however, as he returned to questioning his brother, “So what is it, Sam? You don't think I can pretend to be in love with Y/N? Cause trust me, that'll be easy.” There was that wink again, prompting a roll of your eyes.

“No, I just-“ You were worried Sam’s jaw might fall off if he clenched it any tighter. Why did he seem to care so much anyway? Was he jealous? The thought popped into your head almost as quickly as you dismissed it.

“Then what, Sam?” Dean plucked at that final straw and an explosion of the type that had seemed to become increasingly common from the ordinarily calm and gentle giant followed.

“IT SHOULD BE ME, OK?” Sam roared in frustration, his expansive chest was heaving and his hazel irises had darkened immeasurably. “It should be me,” he repeated more quietly.

Dean smirked; this was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he expected. “Well geez, Sammy. If you wanted to get with Y/N so bad, you could’ve just said so.”

“Wha- that’s not- I don't,” Sam looked extremely distressed and you couldn’t blame him. Whatever Dean was playing at had led him to essentially force Sam to reject you out right, and being the compassionate soul that he was, you knew Sam never wanted to hurt you that way, even if it was indirectly. “I just- I think it would work better this way. You're not exactly the marriage or therapy type and you're just not-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna shack up with Y/N and who could blame you? There’s no need to throw a hissy fit, baby brother. She’s all yours.” Dean chuckled at the sight of your averted eyes and Sam’s burning cheeks, thinking his work was just about done, “Alright, I’m gonna go get Baby ready. You kids have fun.”

When the echo of a closing door filled the room, Sam turned back to you, “Y/N, look I-“

“Don’t worry about it, Sam, I know what you meant,” you brushed him off hastily, “And you’re right, Dean would probably have a hard time keeping up the act. He’d end up flirting with the therapist or something.” Laughing always did help you conceal the pain in your chest.

As it turned out, it was a flirtatious therapist you should have been more concerned about. The woman had eyes for Sam only as soon as the two of you walked into her office and sat down on the tiny loveseat before her.

“Welcome, I’m Dr. Ryan, but you can call me Marlena,” she paused to perform a not-so-subtle scan along the length of Sam’s body before smiling at him seductively, “Why don’t we start by introducing yourselves?”

You kept your expression neutral though there was an urge to glare at her. After all, didn’t she think Sam was a married man? Perhaps this was part of the scam that got the couples before you killed, your rational side countered.

“Uh, OK…” Sam appeared rather uncomfortable beside you, pressing his lips into a tight semblance of a smile, “Umm, I'm Sam and this is my wife Y-Y/N.”

The damn Winchester was always so adorably flustered every time someone hit on him, something you never failed to find incredibly endearing, especially considering he was a 6'4” hunk of a man who could surely get inside the pants of any woman he wanted. You assumed, being that good looking, he’d be used to the attention by now, but the fact that he still reacted this way was a true testament to his humility.

“And how did you two meet?”

“Through work,” Sam answered shortly. A resounding pang had shot through his chest when he introduced you as his wife and he was still trying to recoup. If only this wasn't all make-believe, if only he could sit close to you and hold your hand in his whenever he wanted and not just for the sake of a ridiculous pretence. The Mr. and Mrs. titles and matching rings weren't even necessary. He just wanted to make you his as much as he was already yours.

Fuck, Dean was right; Sam was in deep. Just the thought of Dean acting as your husband had his heart racing and every muscle in his body tense with envy. There was no way he could have handled seeing his brother all over you, even if it was pretend. And if the fact that he had to make Dean go get the rings for your current ruse, because he had a strong suspicion the act of buying you a ring yet knowing it wasn’t real might just annihilate the final pieces of his fragile heart, wasn’t telling enough... Sam was finally beginning to realize that he could no longer deny his feelings for you.

“Tell me about that. What is it you two do?”

Although the questions were directed at both of you, Marlena’s gaze remained resolutely transfixed upon Sam, but the man was much too busy thinking about you to notice.

“Uh, well it was about 3 years ago. We’re firefighters and Y/N had been sent from another division to help out with a particularly bad… fire. But she somehow got there before we did, and when I arrived on the scene, I saw her walk out of the burning building in a blaze of smoke and dust. She was carrying a little boy, who she had just saved, covered in ash and soot, a-and there was scrape above her left brow that had left a trail of darkened blood down the side of her face,” Sam smiled to himself at the memory, “But I couldn’t move. It was just all so surreal because it was the last thing I expected to find, and I thought she was the most beautiful soul I had ever set my eyes on. I knew right then that I would gladly devote the rest of my life to getting to know her better, to becoming worthy of her, but when she came up to us, I could barely speak in full sentences and I made a fool of myself by stumbling over my own feet. My brother, who’s uh- also a firefighter, later told me he thought I was having a stroke.” Sam chuckled softly. His eyes were downcast, and he seemed to be a little lost in his own world.

By contrast, you were staring at him in shock. You remembered the day quite clearly, although in reality it was a wendigo that you were forced to kill by starting a fire since your flare gun wouldn’t work, but Sam got the rest of the details spot on. The lilt of his voice as he spoke had made it all sound so real, for a moment, you nearly tricked yourself. Who knew he had such incredible acting chops on top of all those other skills?

“Well, that sounds like a beautiful start. I’m assuming you work together now?” Taking note of the new edge in her voice, you gave her a nod and Dr. Ryan continued, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a pen, “It must be terribly hard to maintain a work-life balance and keep the romance alive. I’m sure there are issues from work that you’ll often bring home, conflicts that can never be resolved considering the lack of alone time? Maybe something you found annoying about the other that seemed bearable in the beginning but has now festered to become an unmendable chasm between the two of you?”

Your eyes narrowed of their own accord. Between the obvious flirting to the now obvious attempt to instigate discord between you and Sam, you were starting to think Marlena was undoubtedly the monster (that or she was an awful couples therapist). Her motive remained unclear though, so you played along.

“Uh, well Sam can be a bit… overprotective, at times, when we’re working, and sometimes it can get in the way of the job.”

“Ok but that’s only because Y/N can be ludicrously stubborn, at times, and she has a habit of running headfirst into danger." Sam was surprisingly quick to retort.

"It's literally our job to run into danger, Sam.” Your body was now twisted to face his, “And if I recall correctly, my ‘ludicrous stubbornness’ has led to the saving of multiple lives, yours included."

Sam lowered his head and scoffed lightly before he too turned to face you completely, golden eyes boring into yours with an intensity you were not prepared for, "I know it has but sometimes you act like other people's lives are worth more than yours and that's not true. Besides, it's my job to care about you, to protect you… I-I mean as your husband."

For a second, things got a little too real there, but you took a deep breath to remind yourself this was all just an act, "And I appreciate that Sam, but sometimes it can be a bit overbearing-"

"Well if I'm overbearing it's only because I'm terrified every time we go out there,” Sam began to enunciate every word stiffly, speaking almost entirely through gritted teeth, “Because I can't bear the thought of losing you, because I can't fathom living a life without you!"

And once again, you were left staring at him with your mouth agape. He sure was laying it on thick, or perhaps he just wanted to win the fight, because you had no idea how to argue against that.

“Alright, I think that’s enough on that topic. Maybe we should try something else,” Dr. Ryan interjected, “Oh look at that, time’s almost up! I always end my sessions with a fun little exercise. I want you to look each other in the eyes and take turns coming up with one positive word to describe the other, something you love about your partner, but it must be genuine.”

Quirking your brow, you struggled to restrain the smile on your face as you turned back to Sam. Well this’ll be easy.

“Intelligent,” you stated matter-of-factly, figuring you’d start with something relatively un-incriminating.

“Strong,” Sam came back at you immediately. There was a fierceness in his eyes, almost as if he was daring you to bring it on.

“Kind,” came your simple response.

“Discerning.” His voice seemed lower for some reason.

“Capable,” you kept your eyes locked on Sam’s as you lifted your chin.

“Tough.” There was an undeniable fondness that accompanied the word when it left his lips.

“Sassy,” you replied, unable to stop the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Tenacious,” Sam narrowed his eyes at you.

“Selfless.” Why did you sound so out of breath?

“Complex.” He was smiling at you now.  

“Protective,” you finally admitted despite your earlier complaints.

“Beguiling,” Why were you both whispering?

“Tall.” Was that lust you could hear in your own voice?

“Badass,” Was that lust you could hear in his voice?

“Gorgeous… or handsome if you prefer.” When did your faces get so close?

“So fucking beautif-”

“Woah! OK, I think we’re done here.” Shit, you had almost forgotten about the therapist. “That was… excessive. I don’t think I’ll be needing to see you again,” she declared as she stood up rather suddenly, prompting you and Sam to do the same though you were both still a little caught up in your game.

“Wow, you really are tall,” Marlena breathed out as she smoothed a hand down her pencil skirt. The provocative tone of her voice had you back down to earth in no time. "And those years of firefighting have definitely paid off, what with all those big muscles.”

Sam gave an awkward half laugh as he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you tight against his side. You weren’t sure what compelled you to but as if on instinct, you raised your outer hand and placed it lightly on Sam’s stomach, feeling his abs contracting even through the soft flannel beneath your fingers as you replied, “Yeah, that’s just another one of the many things I love about Sam.”

The laugh that escaped Sam this time was much more sincere, “Thank you for your time, Dr. Ryan.” He kept his hand on your waist as he led the two of you out the door, trying his damnedest to ignore the enticing sensation your touch had evoked throughout his body, as well as the subsequent questions of what your little hand might feel like on other parts of him if a simple graze of his abdomen could produce such a dramatic effect.

“Did it seem like she was rushing us to you?” you questioned Sam pensively when you were back at the motel half an hour later.

“Yeah, like the more we spoke, the more she lost interest in us,” he agreed.

Your next words tumbled out without permission and you could only cringe at the bitter inflection of your voice, “Well, she didn’t seem to lose any interest in you.”

Sam felt himself smile at your adorableness; he couldn’t help it when your bottom lip jutted out like that. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were jealous.

“Are you two outta your damn minds?” Dean looked from his brother’s face to yours. “Did you even check the time? She only gave you about half of what we paid for!”

“What, really?” you and Sam responded in chorus.

“Yeah, but luckily I’m a genius and I got everything we needed within the first few minutes.” Grinning in that cocky way of his, Dean explained, “Your EMF sensors were off the charts as soon as you walked into her office, and I found ectoplasm in the bathroom.”

“She’s a ghost?” Sam did that adorable scrunchy thing with his face and you had to physically stop yourself from staring.

“Possessed by one, yeah. And I checked the records. She spent at least an hour overtime with both of the dead couples.”

“So, what, are we not good enough to be her next victims?” you wondered.

“Maybe she saw through the act?” Sam suggested.

Dean was fumbling through a stack of papers until he found something, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s it. Here, check this out.”

Sam started to read out loud, “’Grave of local girl found desecrated by joggers passing through the cemetery early Sunday morning…’”

“Turns out the kid got pushed out a window accidentally when her parents were fighting... Splat.” Dean elaborated, ever so tactfully.

You were starting to piece it together though, “So now she’s seeking out dysfunctional couples to kill them the way she died… for what, revenge? Or to stop them from accidentally murdering their own kids?”

“That’s my best guess,” Dean confirmed.

“Huh… nice work on research, buddy. I’m impressed,” the playful grin you sent Dean’s way was not lost on Sam.

“Yeah, well your husband’s not the only one who can look stuff up around here. Besides, someone had to do the work while you two were off playing Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Sam and I have never tried to kill each other,” you argued.

Dean snorted while grabbing his jacket, “And that’s about the only way your relationship differs.”

When he saw your brows pull together in confusion, Sam quickly cut in to change the subject, “So uh- what’s the plan?”

His brother was nearly out the door when he responded, “Nice and easy. I’ll go burn the bones while you guys go back and distract her with your little love fest, capiche?”

The ghost was surprisingly open this time around, admitting freely to her past crimes and even explaining her methods. Apparently, flirting with the husbands was a routine and easy test to spot any cracks in the relationships, one that she claimed Sam had passed with flying colors. But you knew better than to assume his achievement had anything to do with you. After all, you’d seen the man hold fast against the fervent advances of a high-end stripper before, while he was drunk. This was nothing.

“But why kill them?” Sam questioned, with the kind of genuine curiosity that only he could exhibit towards a murderous monster.

“Because it’s better to die than stay in a loveless marriage… But of course you two wouldn’t underst-“ Dean must have completed his task because the therapist was interrupted by a shapeless black plume bursting through her mouth.

‘Oh Shit,’ you thought relentingly as you watched the spirit eject itself and disappear into a fiery cloud of dark fumes, a forlorn expression upon your face, ‘I’m in love with Sam Winchester.’

→ CARRY ON

thank you for reading! feedback super appreciated!!

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[mcmoth]

Things that stood out to me this stream:

Tommy being furious at Sam and saying he's not fit to run the prison and be in the powerful position he is in. He has every right to be angry, and I think the fact that Tommy emphasized that Sam is the most powerful person on the server now technically is important. This was yet another authority figure who failed him, and he's not afraid to criticize those. It's also important to remember that Sam and Sam Nook are 2 different characters, so while he obviously trusted and liked sam a lot, the person who helped him build the hotel for weeks was not Sam. So all those softer feelings are reserved for Sam Nook.

His reaction to Jack Manifold. He just got out of a traumatic situation and Jack is here, yelling at him, about how he deserved to die and how he had been trying to kill him, so of course he's not gonna respond well back. I think part of his dismissal throughout the exchange was just him refusing to believe that one of his friends would try to kill him, understandably. Neither of them handled that well.

Tommy saying that he's always followed someone else's lead, but now he's going to have to follow his own. This is a very big part of his character that I feel is understated in the fandom. He's always followed someone else, whether that be Wilbur, Techno, Dream or Sam Nook. The only times he takes big initiative of his own is to fight against Dream, because he knows how much of a danger he is, and he feels responsible. All he knows for sure is how to fight for his life. "What am I without you?" He asks. "Yourself" Tubbo responds. But Tommy doesn't know who he himself is, not really. He's a jumbled mess of trauma reactions and skewed desires, and he's never really had been allowed the space and time to sort that out and find himself again.

Him saying that Dream will, undoubtedly, escape, and that he needs to kill him and possibly also Techno. I feel this is his fear talking. He's so afraid of the man, and he's so tired of feeling that way, and he can't fathom another reality where things don't point to Dream getting the upper hand and him needing to take him down, because that's been his whole time here. He has conviction that Dream will escape, and he's already preparing.

Him saying the server was supposed to be just him, Tubbo, versus Dream. This might seem narrow minded to some, but really, he just wants to return to what makes sense. None of this makes sense to him, it's a reality so far from what he's used to, and he doesn't even have anyone to guide him anymore. And with even Tubbo having found Ranboo, a new best friend, husband, he feels more alone and lost than ever. He misses when things were simple.

Him saying that others see him as a 'science experiment'. Obviously, that's not true, but I think... that's quite understandable to think from his perspective. He's been stuck with Dream for weeks, and with him, any time he was asked about death, it was for no other reason than sick curiosity, sick enjoyment. His world view has become very skewed by all the trauma, and now he can't even really recognize what genuine care looks like. How to separate it from manipulation and exploitation.

Lastly, him putting in the request for therapy very quickly, saying to chat to ignore that. He's tired of pretending he's fine and is finally actively seeking help. The way he did it so hurriedly felt very realistic. Reminded me of how I, too, panicked when I admitted I wanted therapy, and quickly exited my inbox, feeling very embarrassed at the prospect of others perceiving me in that vulnerability. It's very stressful. And I am so pumped to see how this turns out. Finally, we get the long awaited therapy arc, whoooo :D

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 3 Word Count: 3k

A/N: Can you tell I don't really have a posting schedule? lol. I also introduced links to the specific pieces I had in mind. I'm using soundcloud because I don't think everyone has access to spotify. Trying to be reader friendly! This can be read with or without the audio, as I do my best to still convey the thought in the fic. Though if you can, I highly recommend :)

Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Read Part 1; Masterlist

---

A few days had passed since the night that Bucky had overheard your troubles. It had been quiet since, and you hadn’t left the house. The curtains were opened during the day and closed at night, the only telltale signs that you existed.

Doesn’t she have to work? Bucky thought to himself. He speculated all the different possibilities as he used the riding mower around the property. Maybe you were an heiress? You seemed pretty down to earth though. Or maybe you sold a patented idea for a ton of money. All this land had to have been expensive. And to not request actual money from him?

He eyed up the width of the gate for your fence. The riding mower couldn’t fit so he would have to use a push mower for your fenced off yard. He hadn’t seen one in the garage. Maybe the old shed at the back of your yard had one? Bucky parked the mower in the garage, taking a moment to make a mental list of everything. Depending on if he found anything in the shed, he might need to buy a few basic tools and a chainsaw for that fallen tree.

He walked out of the garage and over to the shed. The leaves were changing color and it brought a whole new atmosphere to the secluded forest area. Opening the gate of the weathered white fence, he looked around to see if you were out. No signs of life. Entering the yard and closing the gate behind him, he started walking to the back. Halfway through, he stopped at the fire pit. The grey stone blocks were starting to crumble, with a few of the bricks having fallen off. It would probably be really nice if he got a little bit of cement mix and filled in the gaps. Bucky made another mental note.

The shed had no padlock so he was able to open it with no problem. Amongst the cobwebs and bags of soil, was an older green push mower that looked like it might work. He gave the gas a pull and got no response back. Looking underneath, Bucky saw what might be the problem. He’d have to take a closer look later. Putting the lawn mower back onto its wheels, he pushed it across the yard, pausing when he saw movement though the glass doors of the back patio.

Craning his neck to avoid the glare, he saw you sitting at your fancy full keyboard. The way the piano was against the opposite wall, your back was to him. You had big over-ear headphones plugged into it, so he couldn’t hear the sound but he saw the flurry of keys being pressed down. Whatever you were playing, you played passionately. Hands and arms gracefully moved despite the speed at which they were moving. Enhanced hearing coming into play, he heard the muffled clicks of the fluttering keys. Suddenly, you pressed down forcefully, holding whatever chord you had struck as your shoulders gently relaxed. A deep breath. Arm creating a graceful arc as if you had studied ballet, you pressed gently on another chord. And another. Bucky counted three more times you did this before you let your hands gently fall from the keys to your lap. Several moments passed before slid the headphones off of your ears to sit wrapped around your neck. Another deep breath. This time as the breath escaped you, you stayed slouched, head tilting up to stare at nothing on the wall.

A buzz broke Bucky from his trance.

“Call me, new mission” The text from Sam on his home screen said.

He pocketed his phone, glancing through the glass one more time. There you still sat.

Unmoving.

---

The roar of the plane’s engine was just loud enough to drown out Bucky’s thoughts without being annoying. If it weren’t for the adrenaline of the recovery mission under the cover of nightfall, he probably would’ve been lulled to sleep. Beside him sat Sam, looking on his phone for the exact coordinates of the politician they had been sent to rescue.

“Here it is. I’m assuming there’s some sort of underground base since there are no heat signatures anywhere within the radius where he was taken. It should take us about ten more minutes before we’re directly over it.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Bucky.”

“What does your friend do?” Bucky asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning towards him.

“… What?”

“What does she do? I’ve never seen her leave the house. Is she okay?”

“If you’re asking why she doesn’t leave the house, it’s because her contract doesn’t start for a while. She’s technically still supposed to be in physical therapy but she hasn’t found a place yet. You know, your whole routine gets messed up when you move.”

“For her shoulder?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look at Bucky, trying to decipher the motive behind these questions. Bucky shifted his weight in the chair, antsy under the scrutiny.

“Never mind, I-”

“Yes, for her shoulder.” Sam said, cutting him off. He stopped himself from asking why Bucky wanted to know. There was an awkward pause before Bucky explained himself.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not used to seeing people so…”

“Similar to yourself?”

“I was gonna say isolated but fair point.” Bucky admitted. Sam leaned back in his chair, looking straight forward.

“She’s been through a lot… I know you heard some of it.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

“I realized the window was open when I could hear you drive off.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it’s good that you know.” Sam said as he held up his hand to cut Bucky off.

“She’s just trying to get a fresh start. She’s in a raw emotional space and in the meantime is a little skittish. Just like someone else I know.” Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s side as he enunciated the last sentence.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m trying!” He shouted as he held one hand up defensively and using the other to block the second jab Sam was trying to get in. Sam chuckled and then stood up, grabbing a parachute pack and tossing it at Bucky, who caught it without even looking.

“Figured you might wanna try an actual chute this time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and mouthed Sam’s words mockingly with a grimace as he put the backpack on. Clipping it into place, he joined Sam at the side door of the plane.

“She used to play in an orchestra you know.” Sam said wistfully. “The piano. That’s actually how we met. She had volunteered to play a small concert before the dinner. It really helped raise a lot of money for the VA.”

Bucky stayed silent, prompting him to continue.

“Then that bastard she was engaged to beat her and then shoved her down a set of concrete steps when she tried to leave him. It was like a month after we all came back. She was in the hospital for a while. Broken ribs, broken shoulder, and a nasty concussion to boot. Neighbor saw the whole thing and called the cops but the courts were so backed up and the case fell through the cracks. Wouldn’t leave her alone after he got out. So, I pulled some strings and helped her move down here on the fly.”

“… That’s terrible.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to react. They stood in silence, taking a moment to pay a respect of sorts to the trials you have been through. Then Sam broke the silence.

“She just needs time to heal in more ways than one. But she’s strong. Resilient.”

Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he squeezed it lightly with reassurance.

“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Sam said, finishing the conversation and pulling his goggles over his eyes, giving Bucky the opportunity to take the compliment without feeling too on the spot.

Pulling the door open, Sam shouted over the wind.

“Ready?”

Bucky nodded. Sam jumped from the plane and deployed the wings, the shield shining in the moonlight. Bucky jumped right behind him, using the glint of the silver star to guide his descent as he followed the man that gave the shield its meaning.

---

You laid with your head down on the kitchen table, letting the last golden rays of sun warm the side of your face. You were exhausted from going to physical therapy, especially since today had been the first appointment. All the measurements, all the exercises, all the stretching.

All the questions.

“So, how did you break your shoulder?” the young blonde physical therapist asked.

“Ah, I… fell down some stairs.” You said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

She didn’t look up from the papers, instead just raising an eyebrow.

“You also cracked some ribs and had a concussion?”

“… They were concrete.”

She looked up from the papers at you, analyzing. Her gaze softened and she asked no further questions on how these serious injuries had been obtained.

“Let’s look at your range of motion.”

You had practically stumbled into the house, kicking off your sneakers and plopping down at the kitchen table. Minutes passed by as you regained your breath, heartbeat steadying. The house was slightly cold since you had turned the heat down this morning. As your sweat cooled, you wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep you warm without getting up.

The sun feels so warm… You thought to yourself drowsily, feeling slightly less lonely. The sun was a cheap substitute for the warmth of a partner…

---

You jolted upright, the kitchen dark and cold. Neck and shoulder stiff from the awkward position you had dozed off in. Feeling the dryness of your mouth, you got up, stretching your neck gently while you walked to the fridge to get water. Chugging about half the bottle, you squinted at the clock. You had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Groaning, you put the bottle down on the counter and walked into the living room to close the curtains. Grabbing one in each hand, you went to pull them together when you hesitated, noticing that Bucky’s apartment was dark for the third day in a row. The sleek motorbike that was usually parked under the slight overhang of the garage was missing as well.

He was probably on a mission, right? Not that it was any of your business. You shut the curtains and turned off the lights before lightly padded down the hall, stopping to adjust the thermostat. The heat kicked on, sending a puff of cold air your way. You shivered as you walked with a quickened pace to your room, shutting the door and heading into the master bathroom, turning the hot water on with just a tad of cold.

Waiting for the shower to warm up, you leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes. Small scar on the bridge of your nose. Running your hand through the roots of your hair, you felt for the scar where the stitches had been. When was the last time you had a haircut? Or put on some makeup?

Some higher being must’ve felt pity for you since the steam from the shower fogged the glass, preventing you from tearing yourself apart any further. Stepping underneath the warm stream, you let the warmth seep into your muscles, then bones, filling every fracture and break with a temporary sense of wholeness until the emptiness of your heart and home caused it slowly to drip out until it, along with you, was gone.

---

The next morning, you weren’t motivated to do anything. You lounged around the house, sipping on coffee and browsing on your phone for furniture, clothes, even sneaking a peak at some pianos. Wanting to invest in one you’d use for the next several decades, you had put off buying one until the money from your contract with the orchestra started in a month. You were still well off, nowhere near struggling and probably wouldn’t ever be unless you decided to buy a mansion (which was a no). You just wanted to be careful.

In the afternoon, you popped a pain killer and muscle relaxer in preparation for the few hours you wanted to practice. Thirty minutes went by and the ever-present ache in your shoulder calmed enough to let you practice with relative peace. Sitting on the bench in front of the keyboard, you pondered what you might play to warm up.

Hmm, maybe a Chopin prelude? Short, emotional, familiar.

Your left hand held the soft deep chords as your right hand softly flitted around the higher notes. Breathing in and out with the music, you tried to ignore the ache that start to surround your shoulder.

Playing the last few notes, you paused before reaching over to the bottle of painkillers.

---

Shortly after finishing up, you dragged a small table outside next to the wooden bench swing that was hanging on the porch. Bundled up in a soft sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, wool lined leggings, fuzzy socks and slippers, you brought out your hot tea, several blankets, a pillow, and a book you had been meaning to read for months. You were determined to do something besides practice, watch TV, and scroll on your phone.

You settled onto the bench, wrapping the blanket around you, nice and toasty from the layers trapping in the heat of a thorough practice session. The extra medication had really helped keep the pain at bay. Tentatively sipping the steaming cup, you closed your eyes to further appreciate the sweet tones of peach and honey. Setting the cup in your lap with one hand, you used your other hand to flip open to the first page.

---

Bucky hadn’t expected the mission to get so complicated. Finding the base was one thing, navigating in and out of the expansive maze was another. It took a few days to successfully get the target out and back to the embassy. He hadn’t properly slept during that time due to taking shifts with Sam. Not that it was any different from how he slept at home.

The sun was letting its last few rays bless the earth when he turned onto the driveway. Taking it easy on the gravel, he eased his posture and slowed the bike. He put pressure on the brakes as he made it past the final wall of trees that hid the water that was reflecting the last bit of color left in the sky. Rolling casually into a stop, he parked and let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking.

A stray bird calling out turned his attention in the direction of your house. The porch light was on. That’s new, he thought. Squinting his eyes, he saw a bundle on the porch swing. Was that you? Quietly walking over while taking his leather gloves off, he confirmed his suspicions. There you were, lying on your side propped up by a large fuzzy pillow. Eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. Scanning the scene, he noticed the mug on the side table, empty except for the used teabag. Your book was closed, the page you were on marked by one of your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading.

“Hey…” Bucky said gently. No response besides a small nose scrunch.

He repeated himself a little louder, squatting to be at eye level while gently setting his hand on your arm and shaking you lightly. You groaned this time, eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to focus. You squinted and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, losing your place in the book and attempting to blink the heavy drowsiness from your eyes.

“Bucky?” You questioned hoarsely as you met his eyes. He was still crouching so you were looking slightly down at him. Brow furrowed, you searched the blue of his eyes before looking around to see how dark it had gotten. As you turned your head back to him, he stood back up, scratching the back of his neck just to occupy his hands.

“It’s starting to get cold. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night out here.” He explained, choosing to look out at the water, now dark. When he turned his head back, you had also turned your head to look at the water, exposing the side of your neck, the tendons and clavicle accentuated by the strain. Bucky swallowed and your eyes met his, oblivious.

“Ah, thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep reading. I just started going back to physical therapy so I’ve just been so wiped… Anyway,” you said, dismissing yourself mid-thought. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “…did you just come back from a mission?” You eyed the diagonal cuts of leather on his jacket, noting the missing sleeve that exposed the glint of the metal.

“Yeah. I was gone for a few days.”

“Okay. I’m glad you’re home safe.” You mindlessly said, picking up the book and other various items strewn about.

Home safe. What an unfamiliar phrase.

As the words echoed in his mind, you had opened the door and stepped in, turning your head slightly to look back at him.

“Thanks again… Good night.”

“Good night.” Bucky replied, watching as you shut the door softly behind you.

Slowly walking down the porch steps, he crossed the driveway to the garage. Turning his head just in time to see the last light turn off in your house, he stood with his hand on the knob, meditating on the effect that one short sentence had on him.

Glad you’re home safe. Was this what it was like when you had someone waiting on you at home? The tired eyes and gentle smile. Would that be what it was like when he came home in the middle of a night from a mission when he had someone to share a bed with? Gently shaking them to let them know he was home? Or would he try to sneak into bed without waking them? He tried to imagine what that sort of intimacy would be like as he entered his apartment and then his room. Unzipping his jacket and tossing it over a chair, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed, wondering what it would be like if it was already warm.

[stellocchia]

Here’s an analysis of the “Tommy’s Plan To Kill Dream” stream (part 2)

Continuation of this here (though it really isn’t needed to read that one to read this as I will be recapping a bit as I go): https://stellocchia.tumblr.com/post/645995202162671616/heres-an-analysis-of-the-tommys-plan-to-kill

This is the less intense part of the stream. They already talked about their plans to kill Dream (well, Tommy’s plan that Tubbo is VERY reluctant about and Ranboo agrees with). We’re moving into the gathering resources for the surveilance post part now. 

As always moving forward I’ll be soley talking about the characters and, for the dialogue, this are the respective colors: Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, Ghostbur.

Analysis under the cut as always

So let’s start off with the obvious: I absolutely love how protective Tubbo and Ranboo are of Tommy, I’m glad he has people who actually care in his life right now. We have various examples of this throughout the stream, but the first one is Tommy seeing a creeper, backing off immediatly (because of his hightened fear of pain, aslo known as algophobia apparently) and them immediately destroying the threat. Of course this is also because they don’t want Snowchester blown up, but it’s still sweet nonetheless. 

He also opens up about his algophobia right after to them and asks for some armour, which Tubbo actually provides.

“You’re wearing Dream’s armour, aren’t you Tubbo?” “Yeah” “Okay, I wouldn’t- I genuinely would advice not. Anything that that man’s fucking been too near you don’t wanna be using” Tommy’s fear of Dream by now is just all encompassing. It is also quite peculiar that he would say this while still using Dream’s trident (right? It’s still his right?), though that could simply be because he puts himself in the category of “things that have been too near Dream” by now and really can’t be affected more then he already has been, though this is just a theory. 

Same thing as with the creeper happens with a skeleton a couple minutes later.

“What happened? Holy crap” “Tubbo he beat me to death, he punched me to death” Bee duo starting to realize how serious Tommy’s situation is right after the scheleton encounter because Tommy was just genuinely panicking. 

“Pain it feels so much more real now, ‘cause I know what’s on the other side” “Surely doesn’t that give closure?” “No... no it gives quite the opposite Tubbo” And what a good choice that was narratively speaking! If death did give closure as us and the characters in the story themselves expected, with resurrection it would be meaningless. This way though, death has just as much narrative weight as if resurrection wasn’t there, which is what you want in a story. 

“On a side note for you two: Sam Nook great guy! Really lovely guy! Awesamdude is a bastard and does not deserve to be running that prison. If he let me die he failed his job” We can see that Tommy’s perception of the warden’s duty is strickingly different from Sam’s. To Tommy the top priority should be protecting others from Dream (even if it means compromising the security of the prison), while to Sam the top priority is keeping Dream locked up.

“My therapy update!” We all knew I had to include this one. It’s actually really great because: 

1) Him actually reacheing out to Puffy to get therapy means that he actually recognises that he needs help and is willing to ask for it, which is the first step towards healing

2) Him acting so happy about it is actually such a good message for the younger viewers to see that therapy is nothing to be afraid of and it’s not taboo

One more thing we had him wanting to remove his own statues as they’re a grim reminder of his death in a scene that is very similar to Tubbo on the 16th asking to remove the decorations of the day of his execution. 

“I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to... try and kill Dream. I don’t know how canon lives work for you anymore, but I only got one left” As I pointed out in the other post the 2 main reasons why Tubbo is reluctant about the plan are that he’s on his last life and that he managed to build a life for himself with Snowchester and Ranboo that he doesn’t wanna loose. 

“Listen guys, I’ve experienced death now, it doesn’t matter how many lives I have left now, I’m NOT willing to go through that again” “Yeah that makes sense actually, that makes sense” This is an interesting question though of how many lives he re-acquired. We know Jack came back with 3 when he did it, but then again, normal rules don’t seem to apply to Jack Manifold. Also I wanted to include Ranboo’s quote there just because he’s literally been nothing but supportive and I love him for it. 

Also all 3 teens decide at once that ignoring the Egg will most definitely make the problem go away, because that has always worked in the past of course! (Also, honestly, good for them. Let the adults take care of something for once!)

“I’m not very god at smal- that’s not true” “Mhmm” “So eh... you guys heard The News?” “The news about what?” “The news about...?” “You know... what-what’s been happening...” “What’s been happening?” “About- about umm... George”  “About George? What happened with the Gogmeinster?” “Oh yeah, he got banned! Twice” “No no, he... he grew a third ear” “Really? Oh man!” “Oh yeah! I’ve seen a photo of that on instagram!” So, aside from this being so funny, the reason I’m highlighting it is because if there is one thing Tommy never struggled with in the past it was small talk. He could literally start blabbering with anyone about anything, no matter how dumb, with absolute confidence. Now he’s struggling with everything (both here and later in the Nether we have similar scenes for it). He is insecure about everything he says and socializing seems much harder for him. Regardless both Tubbo and Ranboo still go along with everything he says with absolute confidence, which seems to help him quite a bit. Considering that his biggest desire seems to be to be treated the same as he was before having them not pointing out his obvious insecurity (while still very obviously noticing it) is probably quite a big thing for him. 

“Why are Punz’s eyes red?” “Why? Oh- Where is Punz?” “Oh, that might mean we have to kill him, he might kill us on sight” “Yeah, he might try to kill you. Where are you Tommy by any me- where are you?” “Yeah, stay away from him” “No I can fucking take him man!” “No because you get scared of damage...” “Tommy... yeah” “I don’t get scared of damage!” “That’s not true” “Tommy where are you?” I loved this scene so much! Tommy didn’t actually even see Punz here, he only saw his face on the players tab, but the other two were immediately on the defensive. Also this is what I mean when I say that it’s not that they don’t acknowledge Tommy’s situation, they’re just trying to give him some normalcy, because, as soon as he is in any actual or perceived danger they’re immediately in high alert. 

“You’re like a living ghost” “I think that’s just called a human Tubbo” “You’re like a human” “That’s just called someone who is alive” “You’re treating me differently” So two things here: 

1) Tubbo still has a lot of confusion towards the whole revival process an that’s what he was trying to express. Ranboo was not particularly happy with his choice of words though and kinda got the defensive tone again

2) Tommy shuts down very fast any time any kind of change is mentioned. In this case the change being Tubbo’s perception of him.

That said they manage to recover the situation really fast with Ranboo making a comparison between Tommy and Jesus (they’re teenagers, what can I say?)

“Tubbo I feel like we’ve grown less close while I’ve been in prison and dead” “That’s ‘cause you’ve been gone for such a long time...” “Do you like me less?” “Nope!” “Well it feels like you do” “Well, that’s all in your head then!” “No” “Maybe you superpower is immagination” “Maybe my superpower is anxiety” Well Tommy, do my job for me, will you? But yes, these kind of thoughts (fretting about what others, especially your friends or family think of you) is extremely common for individuals suffering from anxiety disorders. Also what Tubbo did here was really important, even if it is the bare minimum, he still provided the ressurance his friend needed and that’s good of him. Also, while Tommy’s dependence on Tubbo does shine through quite a bit during this stream Tubbo does continuosly set up healthy boundaries for them (introducing and keeping firm on his relationship with Ranboo and admitting that they did grow apart a bit and he is still confused about Tommy for example), which is extremely good. Ranboo is also presenting himself as a viable option for emotional support, which will actually be good for Tommy in the future as this would mean breaking out of the habit that was ingrained in him of relying on one single person every time. 

“I’m not afraid of anything! The only thing I’m afraid of is, you know, waking up in the morning and...” “The- the thing your afraid of is waking up in the- are you alright? Are you- are you alright man? Are you good?” That’s concerning! But, again, very fitting with his newfound extreme anxiety he seems to be experiencing. Also ConcernedBoo, he just care about his friends and is worried. Pretty sure Tommy fits together with Michael and Tubbo in the circle of people he’s willing to protect.

Also, in case people were wondering, Ghostbur wasn’t handing out sugar because he was a fake Ghostbur, but just because Ranboo gave it to him and it was the only thing he had. Same goes for Tommy calling Ghostbur “Wilbur” and acting as if he was Alivebur and Ghostbur only correcting him after quite a while: it’s not because he’s fake, it’s because he gave permission to Tommy specifically to do so before. As I mentioned in the other post their relationship is complicated, but Ghostbur very much cares for Tommy a whole lot and he came back specifically because he heard Tommy needed help again, it’s not so weird he’d allow him to do stuff he doesn’t allow for others.

“Last time I spoke to you was like a few days ago...” Now, as some people pointed out this could simply be Ghostbur memory being sort of foggy and him not realizing how much time passed. But the OTHER theory is that he remembers talking to Phantommy (which we know happened thanks to Quackity’s lore, as they visited Glatt’s gym together). Honestly both are plausible (if the first one was true then meeting Phantommy may have simply made him upset and he could have forgotten about it, or perhaps he could have just forgotten that Tommy was dead). 

“Ghostbur do you want him (Wilbur) to come back? Because I- I don’t. I don’t think that I do ever” “It’s... I... umm, hm. The-the world needs structure and order and he- he was good at that. He did that-” “No. The world needs less villains and he was a villain if I’ve ever seen one” “But a- a villain is just- is- sometimes the line’s a little blurry. You could say a little blurry, a tiny bit, it’s like a- a villain it’s just a hero you haven’t convinced yet” Now, as much as I love Ghostbur he’s half wrong here. Let me explain: 

Simply put not all bad people can be redeemed for one thing (for example someone like Dream could never be redeemed because he hurt so many people in such horrible ways without ever regretting it), and secondly describing a villain as a “hero YOU HAVEN’T CONVINCED yet” puts the responsability of that persnon’s actions on their victims. As a matter of fact it’s most definitely NOT up to the ones who’ve been hurt to reabilitate the ones who hurt them (which is why Sam managing the prison now is considerable a conflict of interests). They shouldn’t even be forced to forgive that person if the person DOES change for the better. And here’s the crux of the issue: Wilbur hurt a LOT of people. He hurt Tubbo, he hurt Niki, he hurt Fundy, he hurt everyone who joined Pogtopia. And more then anything else he hurt Tommy. He was abusive and manipulative towards him and Tommy has every right to never forgive him. He has every right to be scared of him and regard him purely as a villain, because that’s what he was for him towards the end of his life. 

Ghostbur bringing him back in the hopes that he’s changed at all just means that, once again, the responsability of his possible reabilitation will be left entirely on the shoulders of the teens of the server and the same goes for if there is NO reabilitation. The destruction will, once more, be left for them to deal with. Tommy specifically will have one more person who abused him to deal with. Wether Wilbur will or will not ally himself with Dream doesn’t matter, because he was still a destructive individual on his own (despite of course being that way because of his own mental spiral, but that just makes him more sympathetic, it doesn’t justify his actions nor make them any less hurtful for those around him). 

Also Wilbur’s been dead for 10-12 years in Limbo time, I can’t imagine that doing wonders for his mental state...

There is a scene after that conversation where Tommy was talking about how being dead was, Tubbo asked a question about it and Tommy got upset. Of course the others got confused about his reactions since ha was already talking about, so, to clarify: the probable reason why anyone (aside from Ghostbur apparently) asking him questions about it upsets him is probably because of Dream. He mentioned multiple times now that Dream treating his death as a science experiment when he revived him was extremely traumatic for him. He hates the idea of being “just science” to the people around him. Ghostbur seem to be an exception to this, but that may be because Tommy seems predisposed to just trust Ghostbur more from an emotonal stand-point (perhaps because he reminds him of how Wilbur used to be before he spiraled). 

“I love monster energy” “Monster energy is kind of scary...” “Mhm, it’s for monsters...” Man the very low-key constant self-deprecation sure it’s kinda worrying... I really do hope that someone will help him with his very obvious sef-esteem issues at some point.

“He (Wilbur) spent a lot of time around a bad guy. He spent around a decade, you said, around Schlatt and Schlatt- Schlatt’s the bed guy, Right?” “I don’t think Schlatt’s the only bad guy” “Him and Eret are the bad guys, right?” Once again Ghostbur’s view of things is very naive and still very much stuck in the past. It’s been so long now since Eret betrayal, and they tried to redeem themselves since. Meanwhile it’s also been months since Schlatt died, and, even back when he was alive, he was far from being the only arguably bad person, Wilbur being right there along with him if we consider what his actions caused. And now we have Dream and the Egg, we have Quackity indulging in torture, we have the syndacate having a gestapo arc, we have Jack back on his goal of killing a teen. We can be sympathetic toward many of this people, but this doesn’t change the fact that they hurt others a lot or that their objectives or actions are objectively morally wrong in some cases. By now it’s honestly pretty hard to draw the line of who IS and ISN’T a bad guy.

“Cobble is GOOD, people don’t like it when I use cobble though...” Again, the usual self confidence is completely lacking. This is worse then post exile: back then he still had the full confidence to build an ugly cbblestone tower on Techno’s front lawn, now even using a bit of cobblestone makes him self-concious. 

Also apparently Sam instructed Sam Nook to keep Tommy specifically away from the prison for his own safety. Man’s still looking after him even if he probably won’t manage to do it directly for a while (at least until Tommy forgives him, if he does).

That’s pretty much it! It’s everything I’d consider important that I could find in the stream!

@mysweatymakerstudentworld

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom episode 4-7 Thoughts: (under a readmore because, these got kinda long!)

-the outfit danny had to buy for dash's party. CLASSIC 2000S i cannot stop laughing. And also showing up to the party and everyone is dressed like the trio is hilarious. and further proof that everyone looks good dressed goth.

-dash has a closet full of cute lil bear plushies?? LOVE that. adorable. also his response to danny trashing his room fighting a ghost was SO valid if somone BROKE MY BED IN HALF ID BE PISSED TOO.

-technus being like 'oh smart, u should be a tutor!' then later being like 'forget tutor, be a teacher!' :) supportive king <3 I also really like his upgraded suit/design. AND SPOCK CAMEO??? HELLO??

-the music in this show is super. its so funky. I looked it up and the guy who does it, guy moon (awesome name) also did music for other cartoons like fairly odd parents, barnyard, chalkzone, billy & mandy, AND some actual movies like FIGHT CLUB??? the whiplash I got from reading that)

-sam being rich explains a lot about her, actually.

-I know the moral of the episode was supposed to be 'dont ditch your friends for popular people/spend a lot of money on clothes that arent You to Fit In'. but tbh. it wouldve been easy for danny to have been like 'well, okay, ill come but only if my friends can!' but I get. that hes 14. so. not a lot to say there.

-BOX GHOST IS BACK!!!!! also, danny sitting up and wearing the dress/wig/makeup. umm thats how I dress everyday LMFAO. unironically me. (hate the jokes that boil down to 'haha funney man in dress' tho. but this is a look)

-jazz being protective of her brother once again being like NOOO YOU GUYS BETTER NOT STAKE OUT HIS (actually haunted) LOCKER!! shes aware of how people perceive him and she wants to help :( which is also probably why she told dash to invite him to that party even tho she had no interest in going!! she wants to help him out :(

-gotta say im with tucker on the whole 'should danny use his powers to get back at bullies' debate. 100% yes. let him teach kids to fight back. making dash throw his food at paulina out of the blue? no. but when hes actually about to pick on someone? yeah! for self defense? YEAH! if dash and his friends just threw food at him, I think rather than. idk doing sneaky shit with frogs he couldve just threw it back and not pulled punches if they tried to fight. I kNOOWWW its a kids show so they are like 'if u fight back ur just as bad!! violence bad!!' but. theyre HIS POWERS. WHO CARES.

-like my only gripe is that dash really isnt LEARNING ANYTHING WHEN DANNY GETS BACK AT HIM IN THE MOST PETTY INDIRECT WAYS. whatever they had to add a bully psa episode I guess. I hate it and I hate the way cartoons usually handle it because these methods simply Do Not Work. 'aND YouRE USinG YOur poWErs FOR EVill???!' this is Not Evil. even when poindexter takes dannys body, theyre only being 'nice' bc hes stealing soda for them!! bitches deserve what they get (nothing too brutal bc theyre high schoolers but damn, if they pick on danny he doesnt need to be the 'bigger person' he needs to start biting people)

-SAM TRYING TO SMUGGLE FROGS OUT OF THE BIO LAB?? girl in middle school when we had to dissect frogs we could opt out, also, they came to us already dead and preserved...

-sidney's lingo and the fact hes in black and white is sending me. also, danny is a ghost celebrity apparently for being a halfa?? ok. thats interesting to know

-the DENTIST BEING EXCITED ABOUT THE COTTON CANDY FLOOD IS THE FUNNIEST THING SO FAR.

-I LOOOVE the trope of 'wishes gone wrong'. not crazy about the stereotypical genie, or the use of the dreamcatcher looking design. (also, I KNOW theyre scientists but the way theyre handling a cold...are the fentons ANTIVAX)

-the genie. she. whitewished paulina. JKASDFHKJ. (the ghost literally just being hello kitty???? im dying) 'why do i feel that im special and wonderful? because I AM! <3' paulina ilu self worth queen. felt bad for her also getting possessed by (2) boys later who were arguing INSIDE HER. WTF.

-imagine being the guy trapped in his now flying car. he thought danny and tucker were HALUCINATIONS. imagine being trapped in a flying car with two, what you think are imaginary arguing 14 year olds convinced ur gonna die. i WOULD say this dude is gonna need so much therapy, but he seemed totally fine and excited when they landed (I would be happy too if a chicken was on my head. chickens rule) stoner rights

-sam's bat slippers??? iconic. SO cute.

-I think desiree's backstory is so :( do all ghosts have messed up sad backstories?? poindexter's was sad too...cannot imagine box ghost has any kind of fucked up backstory. but what if. his mom got pushed off cliffs by boxes...........a la cruella... anyway her 'no man may lay a hand on me' iconic. ilu

-I know danny has no concept of how much bras cost but my god dont attack tucker with some girls bra. those are so expensive.

-its really. well its not a GOOD THING he went into the portal and got fucked up, but its good danny was the one to do it rather than sam or tucker. because even tho he was being influenced by desiree and kept getting more malicious and it prob wasnt 100% him...he sucked as a ghost like most the people he 'pranked' were innocent ppl just Chillin and he didnt want to help anyone at all. I think danny is the most responsible out of them but also, hes 14 and shouldnt HAVE to feel obligated to fight every ghost. hes a good kid and wants to, but I also feel like he feels like...responsible for the portal turning on?? because his parents did give it up,, but it was an accident and not his fault (if anything, why was the on switch on the inside. why was it that easy. why was there no safety measures. that seems like smth OSHA needs to hear about). like thats my son. hes a good boy. and hes never done anything wrong in his life, ever. if anyone hurts him im killing everyone in this room and then myself. etc.

-danny's curfew is 10PM????? DUDE. when I was 14...shit I couldn't be out that late, I had to be back at like, 8 at the latest, and my parents had to know exactly where and who I was going with, AND i had to call/text them regularly...is this a case of my parents being overbearing, or the fentons sucking??? the only time i could EVER be out that late was if I was at an overnight sleepover or smth...

-the vultures have lil fezes. why do they have fezes...theyre so fuckin funny 'ask him for directions' 'I KNOW WHERE IM GOING' these ghost vultures are my new grandpas. pick them up, put them in the adopt box.

-'I wonder why those guys were trying to waste dad!' THEYRE GHOSTS. YOUR DAD HUNTS GHOSTS. why is that not a conclusion you'd immediately jump to??

-*jazz voice, clearly disgusted* WISCONSIN???

-mrs fenton with the lab coat and leg warmers and PERM. YESSS STYLISH.

-was going to say 'ew billionaire' @vlad but. super valid he used his powers to assumedly steal and cheat to get that money, thats how all billionaires do it! but ew hes a SIMP. and spending your billions on FOOTBALL STUFF?? you are Not Valid overall. I DO respect the fact you have a castle instead of a mansion. in wisconsin. if youre going to be stupidly rich might as well go all out, torches on the wall and all. I DO like his ghost form's little kitty ears. catman. and his cape! every design can benefit from a cape. and how different his forms look, like danny looks the EXACT SAME IN BOTH FORMS ASIDE FROM COLOR CHANGES. vlad's is like,, I could believe they were different people!! also I love the drama. but dude you are fighting a 14 year old. lame. also he was like, telling danny he wanted his mom and him and like, wanted him to renounce his dad?? WHAT ABOUT JAZZ?? bitch. those r MY kids and they are both important and special. I do agree they need better parents but thats not u sir <3

-I thought vlad's 'little badger' nickname for danny came from the football mascot of the packers, but google says they have NO MASCOT?? so now I'm like?? is it because his hair is sometimes black and sometimes white?? I hate to give him props but thats a PERFECT NICKNAME. theyre also tiny and vicious!

-why did I get so excited that Skulker is back!! its been like. 2-3 eps LMAO. AND THE DAIRY KING. ICONIC I LOVE HIM. hes the nicest guy ever :) more nice ghosts please. danny cannot be fighting alone everytime with no ghost buds like every ghost being hostile sucks :(

-mr. fenton knew vlad was controlling him, but a few episodes ago he had no clue danny was doing the same thing...is it something about how malicious the ghost is?? he just seemed to think his memory had gaps the first time, this time he was INSTANTLY LIKE 'GHOST'. then again in this ep when danny did it again he was just slightly confused but not immediately freaking out like he did with vlad possessing him!!

-'my parents will accept ME NO MATTER WHAT' so. so why haven't you come out to them yet, danny?? if you really think that?? if theres no harm, and you're sure??? if vlad is a real problem, wouldnt that make dealing with him easier, to expose him???? SO WHY HAVENT YOU COME OUT YET?? COULD IT BE,, MAYBE YOU HAVE DOUBTS ABOUT WHETHER YOUR PARENTS ACTUALLY WILL ACCEPT YOU??? 🤔 ... ��‍🌈 I get why people say He Is Trans. I totally totally get u danny.

-sorta unrelated, but it just occurred to me in one of these eps they go to casper HIGH not casper middle school??? theyre 14?? dont highschools usually do ages 15-18? (I didnt go to hs so I might be wrong, if I am ignore this...) freshmen are usually 14-15, could just be a case of them not turning 15 yet but they will sometime in the school year (I say they because tucker said he was 14 too)? I know the show has 3 seasons, so by the end of it will they be older? thatd be neat but usually cartoon characters stay the same age...I love shows where you can see the characters age and grow up, though...three seasons seems like a long time to spend on like, 1 year...

[katsidhe]

15.20 Final Thoughts

Supernatural is over, and somehow, despite itself, it did the very best it could to please me. That was always going to be an impossible task. But truly, sincerely, that finale was as close to my desires as the show could ever bring itself to come, and so, so much closer than I ever dreamed it would dare.

I am so, so glad that no other regular characters were involved (Bobby aside, but he was brief). How better to encapsulate their own emptiness? How fundamentally fitting, than in the epilogue to their final battle, wherein the entire world beyond them was erased, the wider universe is merely set dressing for them to move through. And it was so quiet this way. This finale wasn’t overcrowded or rushed. It kept its own peace. And it preserved the tangible claustrophobia that 15.19 invoked: that tangled, lovely, solipsistic, toxic conviction that these are the only two people on earth that matter.

It’s unclear exactly how much time passed between 15.19 and 15.20. I like to think it’s been at least a year, given that they’ve settled into routine and that their grief seems less fresh. (Although yes, the concept of Dean dying on his very first hunt without a resurrection available is hilarious, I must confess.) Their calm domesticity, their peace, was lovely to watch (Sam kicking the laundry machine! Sam with wet hair! Sam running! Sam cooking, Sam looking a little less bulky than usual, and happy!) But man, it really is Dean’s world, isn’t it? Even the DOG, which really, really, really could reasonably have been primarily Sam’s, was Dean’s dog first and foremost. Then on Dean’s say-so, they get in Dean’s car to drive to a pie festival for Dean. Sam is perfectly content to go along with all of it.

As if we hadn’t gotten enough delightful fanservice, we also got one last scene of Sam threatening to torture someone to death. :) what a king.

I love that Dean died to an OSHA violation while fighting a random loose end from season 1 (which, by the way, I CALLED IT, I am so proud of myself). It’s perfectly mundane. I truly and deeply do not understand anyone complaining that Dean should have gone out in a way that’s more epic. He’s been there, done that, guys, and remember how miserable it was? Now there’s no cosmic safety net. Dean died in a broken down old barn, saving some kids. Moments like these are when Dean is at his best, at his most fundamentally sympathetic: when he’s not trying to control the shape of the universe or dictate righteousness or let his anger drive himself down into a destructive spiral. He’s just putting his money where his mouth is. He’s not making a broad moral statement. He’s simply putting his life on the line to defend someone who needs defending. It is not an unworthy end. It’s so much better than going out to, god forbid, God.

Did Dean earn a lifetime of peace? The concept of just desserts is fraught. But I also don’t think it’s something Dean wanted. He wanted to keep killing things in tetanus-infested barns until he died. He got what he wanted. And while the arc of his wants has adapted over the years, MOTW hunting is fulfilling for him.

Dean’s deathbed speech was, oh man. It got me good. Like many of the things I loved in this episode, it was quiet. No desperation, no revising history (or not too much, anyway). Just, “stay with me, please. I love you. Tell me it’s okay.”

The quiet of Sam’s grief, alone in the bunker. How still his face is, until for a little bit it crumples again, and then it comes back and goes still. He’s not trying to control his reactions or press back against his sorrow. There is no work to do, nothing to avenge, no one to find, nothing to defeat. He is alone, and the washes of visible grief simply come and go in waves that he doesn’t try to fight or force.

I need the gif of him flinching at the toaster. His startle reactions are my favorite thing. He’s alone underground, there is not a living soul for miles and miles, he’s just buried his brother, not for the first time, but this time, he knows, for the last. And the goddamn toaster goes off and he cannot control the way his heart leaps up into his throat and the way every one of his muscles tightens.

Sam grows old. Sam. Grows old. Sam grows old! SAM GROWS OLD.

Ohhh my God, Sam grows old. Without Dean! Without hunting! Without Cas! With people outside that claustrophobic world, beyond the four tight walls of SPN, beyond the people approved by Dean and by Fandom, who give him peace and love and fulfillment! SAM GOT OUT. Even with the truly terrible wig the image brings me to actual tears. I cannot believe SPN would allow him to have this. I cannot believe that the show let him be happy without Dean. I want to read the set of novelizations about Sam’s recovery.

Of course this was the only way for Sam to get unwound, and of course it had to happen offscreen in flashes. Thank god for the ambiguity. There’s so much potential there, years and years, we were simply told: and at some point Sam’s life gets better, at some point his mental health improves and he feels safe enough to start a family, with someone, and at some point he has a child, and he dies peacefully, he dies loved and with people who love him, and dammit I’m getting weepy again.

Sam quit hunting. Not in a sudden jolt. We see him leaving the bunker on another job. But when he leaves the bunker, he leaves for good. He has so much knowledge, but he does not preserve the Men of Letters. He does not honor their legacy of extermination and experimentation. Maybe he gives someone else the keys, for the books. Or maybe he’s digitized it all, and maybe it’s done.

Maybe his wife is Eileen, or maybe it’s Amelia, or maybe it’s Piper or Cara or maybe it’s someone new. Maybe it’s not even a woman. And maybe she’s a hunter, but I hope she isn’t, and when Sam tells her, haltingly, in fits and starts, the bare outline of the truth, she looks at him and she believes him. And she understands the shape of the trauma he carries, even if Sam can’t quite speak the details, and maybe Sam goes to therapy. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wakes in pain and fear for many years, but over time, it dulls.

Sam’s son is still a young man when Sam is on his deathbed, probably in at least his eighties. Think about the mountain Sam had to climb to reach that point. How many years and years of work did it take before Sam felt safe enough to want a child? How long for him to gently conquer his terror at the legacy his blood might carry: Lucifer and Azazel are dead, he knows this, but how long before he lets himself believe it enough to permit the risk? And then he raises his child, not in fear and loneliness, but with love and support and care. And he makes sure his son is protected, that he knows to salt his thresholds and ward against demons, but his son will not suffer the way he suffered.

Maybe he untangles his thoughts about Dean, maybe he learns that to feel angry with his brother is not to betray him or to dishonor his memory, maybe he comes to a more complex understanding of their relationship. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he simply enshrines Dean, and Dean’s memory becomes ever more golden and untarnished, and the Impala becomes truly an altar. The details of how Sam carries Dean with him—the watch, the car, the absurdly large photos, his son’s name—perhaps these are played straight, and perhaps Sam never finds a more nuanced love. In the meta sense I think we are certainly meant to think this. We are meant to see Dean deified here, canonized into a saint. We are meant to view Sam’s fifty more years of life as worship, as a dedication and an offering.

This is the long shadow of the finale. These are the things untouched by necessity and by design: this is Dean’s apology in 15.18, this is Sam not wanting an apology, and not wanting to hear Dean offer one. This difficult work was always and inevitably going to be elided. But there is so much time, decades and decades, offscreen, for Sam to come to a quieter peace.

I think he can do it.

I think Sam can do anything.

I’m crying again.

I really didn’t think I would cry much about the finale. I thought I would cry at the concept of the show ending, but not at what the ending was. I didn’t think any details would actually affect me. But then Sam got old. I am truly and genuinely hung up on the canonical image of Sam finding peace. Good god. He had GLASSES. Help.

My chief complaint (aside from that absolutely awful Carry On cover, why oh why, they should have just played the original again), if I felt at all like complaining at the moment, would be how happy this ending is. But I can’t begrudge Sam that. I can’t even get too mad at the scene that I was SO SURE I would despise: that of Sam and Dean content in a Heaven that is now apparently Great, Actually (even though a prison dimension with an open floor plan is still a prison dimension, but hey, I guess we humans can’t leave earth either). Supernatural clearly wanted Sam and Dean to not be facing down an abyssally bleak afterlife, and I think I’d be complaining about the lack of bleakness a whole lot more if it didn’t have the (perhaps unintended??) side effect of giving Sam even more freedom from Dean than SPN already deigned to give him. Sam isn’t in a shared cell with Dean. He can be with his friends and his wife and his son.

One of the fundamental questions of SPN is, would Dean ever let Sam go? And it’s a question that the bulk of s13-15 has rendered moot with Sam’s growing passivity, and one that 15.20 neatly dodged. And I’m glad it did, because I wouldn’t have liked whatever 15.20 had to say on the matter. This deflection feels true to the spirit of what the show has become.

It was impossible for Sam to find peace while Dean was still alive. And on its own that kind of says everything, doesn’t it? And Sam is still forever denied the peace he truly longed for. Sam didn’t want death to force Dean’s hand. Sam wanted Dean to want to let him go. But the only way Sam and Dean could heal is apart. The potential of their relationship on earth becoming untangled is forever precluded, explictly. And yet Sam’s freedom is validated, Sam is allowed what he sought in season 1 and season 8, Sam is something beyond a hunter and Dean’s brother, and the show let him be, the show let him grow.

Supernatural said Sam Rights, and the world shook.

[wolfs-hunt1]

Love in the form of four paws

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 1551

Warnings: fluff, angst?, mentions of depression and some past traumas. sorry for any typo

A/N: Drunk drabbles for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ After so long of not writing anything (uni is chaotic at the moment) here’s something that starts out sad but will hopefully warm up your heart.

--- --- --- --- --- 

After everything that has happened, Bucky felt lonely despite being surrounded by his teammates. He was never the same after Hydra, and no amount of therapy was helping him feel like he fit in.

He could feel Steve was trying his best to bring his best friend back, but that Bucky was gone, killed during the war, all that was left was the shadow of the man he was. And that scared him more than he would like to admit it. He started skipping morning practices with Sam and Steve and before he knew it, he wasn't even showing up for sparing with Natash anymore.

Slowly he isolated more and more from the others and eventually even moved out of the compound, getting a small apartment in Brooklyn to try and reconnect to his long lost self. He started putting up a bit of weight, but admittedly, it made him feel like he was finally moving on, like he didn't have to be constantly fit and ready for a fight. He liked this new him.

But his apartment still felt too big and lonely. He wanted company, despite having run away from it, he wanted comfort only another soul could give him. So he made up his mind and search for a shelter around his area that he could go to. He found one only half an hour drive away, so without thinking more of it, he picked up his keys and made his way to the elevator descending the five floors to the underground parking lot and getting into his car.

The drive was mostly spent thinking about what type of dog he thought would be best for him. A bigger dog would be preferable because he was too scared that if he was too small he would step on him, and the less fur he had the better, because he wanted to be able to pet him, and whit his metal hand his fur could get stuck in it.

Once he parked outside of the animal shelter he had a pretty nice idea of what type of dog he wanted, and so he walked inside with confidence and waited at the front desk for someone to show up. The shelter had a pet store in the front, and the animals for adoption in the back, so it was easier to pick out all the items the dog would need after he found the perfect dog.

He could hear sound approaching from behind the door, and he saw a little girl leaving with a small dog followed by her mother and a girl with a grey shirt with the shelter logo embroidered on it. She looked at Bucky and smiled, telling him she would be right with him in a moment. He only nodded and waited patiently for her to return.

"Hi! My name is (Y/N), how can I help you today?" she says cheerily once she returns to the desk, shuffling around some papers and storing them inside a folder.

"I'm looking to get a dog, if it was a larger breed and with no fur, it would be…." Bucky gets interrupted by her light giggle, and suddenly feels himself relax his tense shoulders and smiling softly at her. He took her in, her bright eyes and soft-looking hair up in a messy bun, paired with her rosy cheeks and a bright smile.

"Everyone usually walks in with the same idea. They want a specific pet, but what they don't know is that that's not how it works. The animals here choose their owners. Not the other way around." She grabs some keys on her desk and walks closer to the door she had come from before. "Come along, I'll show you our beauties. And then we can select some for you to spend some time with to bond and see how they react around you."

Bucky nods and follows suit. "Sounds good." he says. The first room she unlocks leads to a big room filled with cages with cats of all breeds. They all started mewing and preening up at Bucky, wanting to catch his attention.

"The dog's pen is right ahead…" she stops talking when she sees Bucky looking at some of the smaller kittens, that are playing around with their brothers. There's a smaller cat with them, that was just to the side of the cage, not movie too much.

"What's wrong with the little guy?" he asks, getting closer to the cage and slowly raising his palm to the door.

"He was the only survivor of his litter, even him mom passed away, and so he wasn't alone we put him with the others kittens, he's having a hard time adjusting though, so he's always alone in that corner." She puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles up at him once more while looking at the small kitten. "I can take him out for you, if you want? To see how he reacts to being picked up."

Bucky's forlorn look vanishes and he looks at her expectantly while nodding, stepping away from the cage while she unlocks it so that Bucky could have access to all the small kittens. She stays silent for a while, just looking at the way he's being gentle with them all and pats his arm to catch his attention.

"You seem quite smitten with these kittens, and I might have someone that will be happy to see you and have some company for his final moments. Why don't you stay here while I go pick him up?" Bucky nods and turns his attention back to the small balls of fur currently climbing his henley shirt and nestling up to his arms and neck.

She returns with a bigger cat, fur white with small grey patches. Once they're both close enough Bucky can take a better look at the cat in her arms, and notice the missing leg and left ear.

"This is Pirate. He came to the shelter really beaten up, lost his ear and his leg, and because of that, no one wants him. This is his last week here, and I want him to be happy. He's a big cuddle bug and loves to be petted, but I can't give him attention all day, unfortunately." (Y/N) moves closer to Bucky and gently motions for him to pick up the white cat, which he does gladly, while the furry thing starts to lick up his palm and purring low on his belly.

"He's so calm and friendly, why wouldn't anyone take him home?" Bucky's frown fades once the white cat lays on his arms, and the kitten snuggles with them, their size contrast warming up Bucky's heart.

"Some people prefer the cute pups or kittens, and end up leaving the older animals here to be forgotten. But all they want is just to be loved, and a few treats." she says with a giggle.

Bucky is silent for a few moments looking at the two so different cats on his arms, but yet so equal. All they want is a loving home and a place to belong. Just like him. They were all looking for the same thing, and together they could have it.

"I never thought myself to be a cat guy, but they are quickly warming up to me." The small kitten started mewling and trying to climb higher, reaching up to Buckys stubbled cheek and scratching it's tinny head on him, all while he tried to stay still so as not to make the little one fall from his shoulder. "And I guess I'm also warming up to these guys."

"I'll make all the arrangements then!"

Half an hour later, with a lot of cat items in the trunk of his car and the two furry creatures nestled together in a carrier Bucky was ready to sign the adoption papers and get home with his new companions.

"This is all the papers you will need, along with the notes for the checkups and any medical need they might have, you can directly come to us and we'll help."

Bucky looks fondly back at his car, seeing the two cats curled up together, the two cats that I heartbeat took over his own heart and made him want to take them home without a second guess.

"I'm going to be honest, I'm gonna miss Pirate a lot. But I'm extremely grateful that he's going home with such a nice person. Thank you for saving him. Both of them."

"You know, you can still see him... we could go for a coffee one of these days?" Bucky's voice is low, almost as if he was too shy to even ask her out, but the slow smile spreading on her face let him know that she had heard it.

"I would like that a lot." she scribbles something on a post-it and hands it to him, her phone number. "Give me a call?" He nods enthusiastically and the rest of his ride home he can't help but smile at the decision he had made that morning of driving to the animal shelter. Not only he got two new adorable cats, he had also met someone that made him want to get back out and give love another chance.

[denimbex1986]

“Hi!”

Sebastian: “Hello.”

PA/Press rep: “Hi Fabio, I’ll just leave you with these guys and message you in the chat function when the time’s up, okay?”

“Perfect, perfect. Hi guys. I just watched the pilot and it’s really cool; it looks like a movie, not a TV show so congratulations.”

Anthony: “Thank you.”

Sebastian: “Thanks.”

“Really, really cool. Um, so, um I just find this shield from the dark web and I think it’s the original one, so since I know that you’re looking for it, I can send it back to you with some of my friends.”

Sebastian: “Oh, good.”

Anthony: “Who are your friends? Who - ”

“Ah, I have big friends.” (laughs aloud, Anthony laughs silently) So, in the show we see Bucky trying to hook up with girls and we see Sam trying to ask him money at the bank, so we see your human side, not just your superhero one that you show in the MCU. Um, so I always get to know a little bit better your characters.”

Sebastian: “I think it was good. I, I, I don’t know, I - I think I - I think we both uh, you know felt like, like we were getting to do scenes that we didn’t get to do before and you know, to some regard, um, sometimes in the movies when you’ve got only two hours and the stakes are so high, you - you end up with scenes that have to be very quick and immediate and everything is always intense and dramatic, so just to have some time - some room - to breathe you know, in it with these characters in their various environments, you know it, it makes everybody want to relate to them more.”

“And for you Anthony, was was, uh, a funny trip to know your, your, your past of your character?”

Anthony: “Um, no, it was amazing, you know, and that’s the luxury of doing six hours. You know in two hours, you can’t give everybody um, a look - with six hours you can give everybody a little meat on the bone; you can show exactly who the characters are and how they fit into this world. So it was, uh, it was great to be able to, uh, experience Sam from a personal side and not just him as a - a helper or a sidekick.”

“Great. So with the Blip, half of the population of the universe disappeared and also uh, after Endgame, we didn’t have any more Tony, Steve and Natasha, so now you have to carry the legacy of the entire MCU. So, what’s up guys - do you feel the pressure?” (interviewer and Anthony laugh)

Sebastian: “Yeah, that’s - that’s exactly the phone-calls that we get; it’s somebody just going ‘What’s up guys?’ (Anthony laughs) Um, I don’t know man, I mean, I think we’re okay, you know, uh, it’s just - it’s just sort of following the path and, and you know, it’s sort of that’s just where we’re at right now you know? I, I feel like you never know what the next thing’s gonna be, we just kind of go with it, I think.”

“Yeah.”

Anthony: “Yeah. And, you know, a big thing that I feel comfortable with now, um, is, you know, our, our whole goal was to keep that, that cycle alive, you know? Marvel hasn’t had a movie that sucked yet and we didn’t wanna be the first one to suck so, so it’s - it’s on Loki now to keep it going.”

“Yeah, I’m waiting for that. And Sebastian, when Bucky is in therapy, he wants to find who he really is - this is a serious; a very serious question. And this made me think that during the lockdown, many people were alone, but some of them said they have found more themselves, so are they lying or they telling the truth? Sebastian also I - you’ve shown on Instagram, um, about how you spent time during the quarantine; it was really funny to watch.”

Sebastian: “Hey, you know, listen I - I mean that’s - that’s a big question. I, I, I should hope that, that everybody’s found more of themselves in the quarantine, right, because that might be the biggest lesson for all of us is, you know just to, to sort of get this time out and, and kind of be able to, uh, recognize the things we’re grateful for, the things that we’ve maybe taken for granted; other people in our lives, family, right? Um, you know, the way that we can interact and, and how nice that was, and so I hope, I hope it was more of that rather than us all getting, you know, stuck on your phones - ”

“Yeah.”

Sebastian: “ - uh, all the time, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Also, also Anthony if you want to, to, to answer this question, because it’s not only for the Sebastian character.”

Anthony: “I really hope Sebastian used quarantine to find more of himself.” (Sebastian and interviewer laugh)

“I know, I know. But he posts a video about that, and you don’t because you don’t use a lot of Instagram.”

Anthony: “I know, Sebastian’s been teaching me.”

Sebastian: “Clearly - he’s clearly warming up, don’t worry - it’s just getting, getting started - (Anthony laughs) one black and white photo at a time.” (he and Anthony laugh)

“In the show, in the show bad guys use social media to plan their strategy. Anthony, maybe you have Instagram but you don’t use it because you, you think it’s a bad thing?”

Anthony: “Well it is. I think uh, I think it’s a - a very bad thing. (interviewer laughs) One, Instagram talking makes me nervous and two, you know I feel like it makes you socially distant. Um, I’m, I’m kind of old-fashioned, I like to, you know, sit and talk to people face-to-face; if I meet a girl, I - I’m cool with rejection. Uh, I just, I - I’m just more about the person-to-person contact instead of uh, social media, sliding in a DM situation.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Also in Italy - ”

Anthony: “...people always sliding in my DM.”

“ - Italian people want to, to, to take hands, you know, stuff like that - we are very physical so we - we feel bad about that. We feel really bad.” 

Anthony: “Okay.”

“So, uh, speaking about social, Anthony have you seen this meme? You know this meme?” (Anthony Mackie always looks like he knows something about you meme appears on screen)

Anthony: “Yeah, it seems to be quite popular.” 

“My question is - ”

Sebastian: (peers closer to his screen to look and laughs) “That’s amazing.”

“ - um, what do you know about us that you, you know, you don’t want to say?”

Anthony: “Well, I’m, I’m very good at reading people when I see them so usually when I’m making that face it’s because I know something about you you don’t want to tell.”

“Ah okay, I am hoping for a - a big thing - (Anthony laughs), okay, okay, okay, okay, okay - that’s fine, that’s fine. So - ”

Anthony: “I’ve been walking around with this Marvel secret for the past ten years - that’s what I’m thinking about.”

“The last time I saw you, you were on the, on the stage with Will Smith for his birthday in Budapest - ” 

Anthony: “Okay. In Budapest, yeah.”

“I was there too for shooting a video with him. It’s funny to watch you with outside the MCU world; the sensation is like the same (Sebastian laughs) I, I had with the series because Falcon, here, what?” (laughs)

Anthony: “...Will Smith - I was there celebrating - I ate Will Smith’s birthday cake.” (laughs)

Sebastian: “I have the same question - ”

“(laughs) Only for the cake.”

Sebastian: “ - How does he function out there in that outside world? (Anthony laughs silently) It’s something I wonder about all the time.”

“Now the most important questions. I know that you have signed a huge NDA for read all the scripts, so you know a lot of things that we don’t know about the MCU, like, will Iron Man come back to life? This is the first question. Will Captain America be back?”

Sebastian: “These truly are terrible questions.” (laughs)

“Yeah, or maybe Steve Rogers - I don’t know.”

Sebastian: “I - I honestly don’t feel, I - I, do you know?  I, I don’t know anything about that. Like, I honestly - that’s not something that they would certainly tell me.”

“Yeah, but I - I want to know that stuff, so -”

Sebastian: “I know you do, I can see it and, you know, it’s gonna be a journey for you to find these answers, I guess.”

“So you - ”

Sebastian: ”It’s like, how are you going to do it? How are you going to get through it?”

“Yeah, but it’s not live; it’s like more private, so you can answer to me these questions.” 

Sebastian: “Right.”

“Will Iron Man come back to life? (Anthony cuts his link, Sebastian then does the same) No, okay. Thank you guys. It was a pleasure to meet you. Bye.”

[arrow-guy]

Talk to Me

Original request from @scrawlingwithstyle: Here's a request I've been sitting on for a bit. ClintxReader; Clint is deaf and most people rely on his lipreading skills, but Reader knows some ASL from when her family thought her autistic younger sibling would never speak (they became vocal close to seven years old). They have secret conversations across the room, thinking no one else on the team understands. . . . They're wrong. Adjust however you like!

A/N: Okay, it’s taken probably close to a year to actually get around to this, but i kind of breezed through writing it? And it was a whole bunch of fun to finally put down in a document. I didn’t change much about your request, but I definitely added to it, and made it a little romantic? Idk if it’ll come off as romance, it’s kind of goofy (it’s Clint, there needs to be a goof somewhere.) I really hope you like it, though!!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: ClintxReader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: None

“Are you sure about this, Bruce?” I ask. “Ross let me go as soon as you went AWOL. I haven’t worked with people like this in years.”

“Of course I’m sure! You were the best back in the day.”

“Back in the day,” I laugh. “You make it sound like we’re ancient.”

“We’re not as young as we used to be,” he says. “But that’s the point. You’ll bring some much needed experience to the table.”

“But I’m not a spy and I definitely don’t have any powers.”

“Trust me, (Y/N), superpowers are not all they’re cracked up to be, and both spies have long since ceased their spying activities.” I cock one eyebrow and he laughs. “For the most part.”

“Saying a spy stopped being a spy is like saying you misplaced the hulk.”

“Ah, very true.”

“I’ll do it, though.”

“You will?”

“Well I can’t very well leave you to fend for yourself, now can I? As it stands, I’m already a shitty friend, working together can’t hurt things.”

Bruce grins and grips my shoulder. “I’ll see you Monday, then.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t fight back my smile. “Do I need to pack a bag, or will I be allowed to go home at the end of the day?”

“Not sure yet. Might as well bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush just in case.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you Monday.”

“I can’t believe you actually pulled it off, Banner,” Stark says. “You wrangled a counselor for the team?”

“What,” I say. “Like it was supposed to be hard?”

Bruce laughs and reaches out to place his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve known (Y/N) for just about as long as I can remember. I’m sure she’ll be a good fit.”

“As long as you can remember, huh?” I look past Captain Rogers and find a sandy haired man. He grins when I meet his eyes. “Just how long?”

I bob my head from side to side. “Somewhere between twenty years and most of our lives.”

He whistles. “Pretty long time, then.”

“Mhm.”

Bruce clears his throat. “I’m sure (Y/N) wants to see where she’ll be working, so I’ll just show her to her office.”

Everyone in the boardroom waves and Bruce leads me out of the room. As soon as we’re out in the hall I sigh and bow my head, finally able to let my shoulders relax.

“That was a lot.”

Bruce chuckles. “Trust me, it’ll either get worse or stay exactly the same as time goes on, depending on who you’re talking to.”

“The blond guy who spoke up, that’s Hawkeye, right?”

“Clint Barton, yeah.”

“Will I be seeing much of him?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t really know much about the guy. He seems pretty happy-go-lucky and stable most of the time, though.”

“Huh.” I shrug and hitch my bag a little higher on my shoulder. “You never know with some people.”

“True. I’m sure you’ll deal with him at least once more after this. He’s the curious type.”

“I guess I’ll have to look forward to that, then.”

Bruce hummed in agreement and leads me to the elevator bank and takes me down to what will eventually be my office. He gives me a basic rundown of the facilities and shows me which restroom is closest to my office. I ask for a baseline reading on everyone on the team and Bruce rattles off what he’s noticed about the main five.

“Steve will most likely drop by to make small talk, but it may take some time for him to open up in any way that counts. Tony will joke about therapy, but once he warms up to you it’ll be impossible to get him to leave.”

“Oof, that bad?”

“He’s long-winded.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to enforce appointments with him when he starts to take interest.”

“Probably wise.”

“And Natasha?”

“I doubt you’ll see much of her. She has her ways of working through her issues on her own.”

“Do they involve murder?”

“Don’t know, and I don’t care to.”

“Got it. None of our business. I’ll let her come to me if she needs anything.” I plop down behind my new desk. “What about Thor?”

“Who knows. He shows up when he wants and tends to be a pretty jovial guy.”

“Ah. Is there anyone else outside of the tower I can expect?”

“Wanda, Sam, and Rhodey will be around from time to time. If Steve has his way, Bucky will move in at some point, and Wanda is currently in the process of moving into the tower, so you may see her more after that. I’m not sure how often she’ll drop by. She’s fairly private due to her powers.”

“Energy manipulation, right?”

He nods. “That, and other mind tricks.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But that just leaves Clint, and we’ve already gone over what you can expect from him.”

“It doesn’t just leave Clint, Bruce.” I fold my hands on the desktop. “I expect to see you in here at least once a week. Ideally twice.”

Bruce scowls. “(Y/N), you know how I feel about that.”

“Yeah, well, I listen to your opinions on that stuff when I’m just your friend. Now I’m your therapist, and you’re going to listen to me because I know what works for you. So I expect you to get your pasty ass in here when you’re scheduled.”

“You’re making appointments for me now?”

“Until I’m sure you’ll come to me on your own, yes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Send me the schedule. I’ll see you at my appointed time.”

“Wonderful.” I relax my shoulders, letting my professional mask slip. “Thanks for this, Bruce. I mean it.”

“I know you do.” He cracks a smile. “You’re the only person I trust to get to the root of our issues.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll try not to let you down.”

“Believe me, (Y/N), if anyone’s gonna let me down, it’ll be the team.” I laugh and he heads for the door. “I’ll see you later. Good luck with your first day.”

“Thanks, Bruce. I’ll see you later!”

“So, (Y/N),” Tony says, spreading out on the couch across from my chair. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah, what makes you tick? What motivates you to try and heal the fragile minds of the Avengers?”

“I’d say a decent paycheck is a pretty good motivator, Mr. Stark.”

He seems disappointed with my answer. “Is that it?”

“Well, that, and I want to make sure Bruce is doing alright. He’s struggled with therapy in the past, and I want to make sure he’s getting the kind of help that he needs.”

“I see.” He presses his lips together and folds his arms. “You’re not even curious about the rest of the team?”

“Of course I’m curious, but nothing discussed in this tower will be shared with anyone outside. I take my patients privacy very seriously.”

“You sure you don’t just fear for your life?”

“Living in New York, I fear for my life constantly. That doesn’t mean that I’m worried about getting merced if I get a little loose lipped outside of work.” I sigh and lean back in my chair. “That being said, I won’t be sharing your confidential information with anyone you haven’t specifically given authorized access to your records.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. It’s almost like I’m a professional, right?”

He smiles. “I’m really starting to like you, (Y/N).”

“Then I guess I have a lot more of this to look forward to, then, don’t I?”

I laughs and hauls himself up from the couch. “We’ll see.”

I make a note of his response in my open document. “Sounds like a tentative yes to me, Mr. Stark, and I’ll be here so long as you deem my services necessary.”

He nods and exits my office. He leaves the door open.

“How are you liking it here so far, (Y/N)?”

“It’s been quiet, Captain Rogers. It’s a bit like pulling teeth trying to get anyone to make use of their resources.”

“I guess it would be. We’re a relatively private bunch.” He pauses a moment. “And, please, call me Steve.”

“Right, Steve. Is there anything that I can do for you today?” I ask. “It’s entirely alright if you just want to make small talk.”

“Oh, well, uh…” He awkwardly clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “I guess I just wanted to get a lay of the land.”

“I understand.” I glance around my office. “I should probably bring in some art and plants. Make it a little less sterile in here.”

Steve laughs. “That might help.”

I smile. “Maybe an area rug?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you think would be best.”

“I appreciate the creative freedom.” I close my laptop, set it to the side, and settle back in my chair. “Is there something on your mind, Steve?”

“No,” he says quickly. He immediately looks conflicted. “I… well, kind of.”

“Feel free to speak. Nothing you say will leave this office.”

“You hardly know me.”

I shrug. “I know how stressful this environment can be. And, while your team is very good at what they do, they’re also the ones who are causing your stress.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I watch him chew the inside of his cheek. “I guess I’m just concerned that things might not get better, even when Bucky’s moved in.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I’m worried that it might not be a good fit for him, or that the team won’t accept him, or that he might not even want to be around me.”

“Those are all valid concerns. Have you mentioned any of this to him?”

“God no. I don’t want to stress him out more than I already have with all of this moving business.”

“I might suggest bringing it up. He might be having similar worries himself, and, as helpful as it is to work towards what’s troubling you with me, I won’t be able to settle your nerves.”

“Maybe you’re right…”

“If nothing else, it might open up a new line of communication between the two of you, which couldn’t hurt.”

Steve stays for another hour, just talking. When he leaves, he asks if I want the door open or closed. I don’t give him a definite answer and he leaves it open, just a crack. I laugh and start on his profile.

Someone knocks on my door and I glance up from my paperwork to see Clint standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Barton,” I say. “I was wondering when I might see you.”

He shrugs. “Here I am.”

“After two weeks, I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

“If I was?”

“Then it’s none of my business.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “I like that answer.”

I rise from my desk and gesture to the couch. He raises his eyebrows, but takes a seat anyway. I sit across from him and watch as he tries to decide just how he should sit. In the end, he leans heavily on his knees. Nothing about him is relaxed.

“I’m starting to think Bruce was wrong about you.”

“What’d the green bean tell you about me?”

“Nothing concrete,” I answer. “He just mentioned that you seem to have a positive outlook on things most of the time.”

He snorts. “Great.”

“Mmm, I see. It’s a facade, then?”

He frowns and presses a finger to his right ear. “Could you say that again?”

“I said, it’s a facade, then?”

“Sometimes.”

I nod. “Interesting.”

He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, interesting.”

I watch him look around the room, examining the art on the walls and the stacks of paper on my desk. When he turns his head to the left, I notice his purple earpiece and something suddenly clicks. He tilts his head to the side when he sees me staring.

“What?”

“Would it be easier if we signed?” I ask, signing along as I speak.

He looks surprised. “You sign?”

I laugh. “Yes. My little brother is on the Autism spectrum. When he was a kid, he was almost entirely nonverbal. Mom taught him sign, and the rest of the family learned along with him.”

“That must’ve been really nice for him.”

“It was nice to be able to communicate with him when he couldn’t vocalize what he wanted to say. He eventually started speaking when he was about seven, though.”

“And you still held onto the signing skills?”

“Of course! It’s not like he just, bam, started talking. It was a long process, and he still has nonverbal days sometimes.” Clint starts to actually smile and it warms my heart. “It’s come in handy in my particular line of work too. Deaf and hard of hearing folks need counsellors and therapists too.”

“Which brings the topic of conversation back to me.” He shakes his head and leans back against the couch and signs, ���You’re a tricky one, (Y/N).”

“I’m not tricky!”

“Then what?”

“I’m accommodating.” I speak again, but continue to sign along. “You don’t have to tell me everything, or anything, really. But I’m here to help, if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Clint. Any time.”

“Seems like you and Clint are getting close,” Bruce says.

“I don’t know what you mean, man.”

“He’s in here all the time, (Y/N). There’s no way Barton needs therapy five times a week.”

“It’s not always about therapy, Bruce. I strive to make my office a safe space where everyone knows that they can speak freely. He knows that he can come here and chill out without worrying about the rest of the team.”

“Barton doesn’t really worry about anything, though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Bruce stares at me, eyes narrowed, and snaps his fingers. "You like him."

I roll my eyes. "I do not like him, Bruce. And you're not even here to talk about Clint, you're here to work on yourself and managing your stress levels."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm sure there's something we could talk about aside from me."

I sigh and hold my head in my hands. "I've been here for two months. I haven't been around long enough to form anything more than tentative relationships with the rest of the team. I'm more concerned about whether or not they can open up to me than I am with my love life."

“Right,” Bruce clears his throat.

“Thank you.” He looks thoroughly ashamed and I have to laugh. “I appreciate the interest, but it’s just not something that you need to worry about.”

“No, I understand.” He smiles and shrugs. “I guess I just miss having that easy rapport with you.”

“I mean, we still have that, Bruce. It’s just not something that I want to talk about in the workplace. It’s one thing to shoot the shit over lunch on a Saturday, it’s another to discuss my patients with another patient, all of whom are my coworkers.”

“I didn’t think about it like that.”

I smile. “It’s fine. Did you want to pick up where we left off on Tuesday?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“(Y/N)?”

I’m startled by the woman in the doorway. “Ms. Romanoff?”

She shakes her head and steps into my office. “As long as you’re not a government official, it’s just Natasha.”

“Ah, right.” I sit a little straighter in my chair. “What can I do for you, Natasha?”

“Clint’s said you’ve helped him a lot.”

“I don’t know about that. We just talk. He does all the helping.”

“I figured you’d say that.” She moves quickly across the room and takes a seat on the couch. “I’d like to talk to you, if you have the time.”

“Oh.” I scramble up from my desk to sit across from her. “What about?”

“I need help working through a recent case.”

“Are you sure I’m qualified for that?”

“Well, you said Clint does all the helping. Maybe what I need is a sounding board.”

“Fair enough. Where are you caught up?”

Natasha rattles off the details of a recent mission. I do my best to follow her, but she loses me when she starts explaining the intricacies of a piece of Hydra technology they discovered. Eventually, she perks up, almost looking like she wants to jump up from her seat and run from the room.

“I think I’ve got it.”

“That’s great!”

She calmly gets to her feet and walks to the door. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

I shake my head. “It was my pleasure.”

“Even so, you helped me.” She flashes me an unexpected smile. “I appreciate that.”

“It’s not a problem, Natasha. I hope that we can speak again at some point.”

She nods and heads for the door. “I’ll see you around.”

In the hall I hear, “Oh, hey, Nat.” and Clint pokes his head in soon after.

I smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He leans in the doorway and folds his arms. “What’d Nat dump on you?”

“Doctor patient confidentiality, Barton,” I say. “I can’t tell you.”

His arms fall to his side and he dramatically slumps into the room. “I thought you trusted me!”

I laugh. “I do trust you, Clint. But it’s not my information to give.” He drapes himself across the couch and grins at the sight of me fighting back my smile. “If it were, Bruce would have full access to what we talk about in our sessions.”

“That’s private information, (Y/N)!” He laughs. “I see your point.”

“Good.”

“Did you want to grab lunch later? That weird little cafe down the street started serving some kind of coffee burger.”

“Ugh, and you want to eat that?”

“(Y/N), it’s a coffee burger.”

“With all the heinous shit you put in your body, it’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

“If you think I’m bad, you should meet my dog.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s been four months, Clint. If I haven’t run for the hills yet, I’m pretty sure it’s not gonna happen for a while yet.”

Something twinkles in his eyes. “That’s good to hear. I was worried I might scare you off.”

“If anyone were to scare me off, it’d be Tony.” I shake my head. “That man is a handful.”

“What happened to patient confidentiality?”

“Since when is Tony being a handful a secret?” He laughs and I relax in my seat. “But, yeah, I’ll get lunch with you.”

“Really?”

“Someone has to make sure you don’t keel over from physically eating coffee.”

“Oh come on! It’s not like they solidified the coffee and stuck it on a bun!”

“How do you know they didn’t? Maybe they turned the coffee into jello, passed it through a meat grinder, and threw it on a griddle.”

His face scrunches up in disgust. “Ugh, that’d just be burnt coffee.”

“I’ve watched you drink an entire pot of burnt coffee.”

“Desperate times, (Y/N). They call for desperate measures.”

I sigh and shake my head. ”I guess it’s fine, so long as you’re not addicted to caffeine pills.”

“Those don’t do anything for me.”

“That’s terrifying.”

He laughs, hauls himself up from the couch, and offers me a hand. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

“Head out for lunch.”

“Now? I thought you said later.”

“It’s been like five minutes. It’s later now.”

I laugh. “I can’t just go now. I have an appointment with Steve in twenty minutes. We can leave after that.”

He pouts. “Fine.”

“Don’t give me that look, Clint!”

He sighs and trudges towards the door. “I guess I’ll just have to make a reservation for one thirty.”

“That’d be great.”

He flashes a brilliant smile before disappearing out into the hall. I shake my head and move back to my desk.

“That man is gonna get me in trouble.”

“I thought you said you weren’t involved with Clint?”

“I’m not, Bruce.”

“Then what’s this?” He places his phone on my keyboard.

I pick up the phone and find an article titled “Hawkeye’s New Flame, or Just a Fling?” pulled up. A picture of Clint and I at lunch the other day sits just below a paragraph speculating who I could be. I snort and hand him his phone.

“Clint and I went to lunch. That’s all.” I sit back and fold my arms. “What’s the problem, Bruce?”

“I don’t want you getting dragged into some kind of media storm because you work with us.”

“It’s one article!”

“There’s at least four more like it that I’ve seen.”

“I’m not worried about it, Bruce. Clint just went out for lunch and some pap caught us talking. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it, but I can’t stop people from talking.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“No one should have to deal with anyone plastering their personal life all over the internet, but you know what? I’d rather get caught out in public with Clint than Tony.” I laugh. “Can you imagine the shitstorm that’d kick up if that happened?”

Bruce tries not to laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

“It was bound to get out that the Avengers brought in a counsellor at some point. It’s better that it’s like this instead of some media outlet picking up a rumor and deciding that you’re all unstable.”

“Well…”

“I’m not saying you’re the most sane bunch, but that’s no one’s business but yours. Regardless, don’t worry about this. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” He pockets his phone. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Of course I would, Bruce. If something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

I sit on the floor of the gym and lift the collar of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face.

Clint plops down on the floor beside me and tips his head to the side.

“Definitely didn’t expect to find you in here,” he says.

“What, I can’t work out?” I groan and lay back. “Ugh.”

“You okay?”

“No. I knew I should’ve just stuck to the treadmill.”

“What’d you do to yourself?”

“Weights.”

He laughs. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know. Is wanting to be able to lift a very large dog a good reason?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a bad reason.” He lays beside me and props himself up on his elbow. “I could help you, if you want.”

“I don’t know how I feel about being all sweaty gross around you.”

He pokes my stomach and I laugh and shift away. “I don’t know, (Y/N), sweaty’s the new sexy.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” I laugh and scrunch my nose. “Also kind of gross.”

“Sweet and kind of gross, I think you’ve pretty much summed me up perfectly.” I laugh so hard that I snort and he grins. “So, do you want help working out?”

I press my fist to my mouth to quiet my giggling. “If you’re willing to, I really would appreciate it.”

“Then it’s a done deal.” I thank him and his smile softens. “Sorry about those articles last week, by the way.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I should’ve warned you, at least. I’m used to it, but you didn’t sign up for pap shots and gossip columns when you took this job.”

I scowl. “Honestly, Clint. If you’re not gonna read my lips, read my hands. It’s totally fine. I don’t care. I had a nice time at lunch. A few dumb articles won’t change that.”

“You mean that?”

“Well, yeah. I like spending time with you outside of all of this,” I say, gesturing to the tower in general. “With, y’know, no expectations of maintaining all of the professional bullshit.”

“Pretty sure you’re the most professional one here.”

“Thanks, I’m glad that comes across in the day to day, but do you understand what I’m saying? Like I genuinely do not care about what a shitty news outlet says. At the end of the day, the only opinions that matter are ours.” I sigh and settle on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Sounds like we’re not the only ones who need therapy.”

I hum. “Maybe I do.”

“No shame in it.”

I smile at him. “I know.” I sit up and get to my feet. “It’s getting late, I should head out.”

“You’re in tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around till noon. I’ve got a wedding later in the day.”

“Not yours, right?”

I laugh. “No, definitely not mine.”

“Cool,” He smiles up at me. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Since when do we have staff meetings?” Clint asks.

“Since we brought on a counselor,” Tony says.

I frown. “I’ve been here six months and I’ve never been to any kind of meeting.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you brought that up and just keep moving with the meeting.”

I snort and shoot Clint a look. He laughs and signs for me to stop. I wave him off and turn my attention back to the head of the table.

Tony rambles on for about half an hour before Steve cuts in and the two of them start going back and forth. They bicker for twenty minutes before Thor swans in, greeting everyone with his bright, booming voice. I was stuck in my office the last time he was on Earth, so our paths never had a chance to cross. Steve takes a moment to introduce the two of us and Thor vigorously shakes my hand, unintentionally jostling me around the whole time. He takes his seat on the other side of Bruce and the conversation picks up again.

I catch Clint’s eye twitching in my peripheral when Thor speaks a little too loudly. I gesture to get his attention and he raises his eyebrows when he meets my eyes.

“You good?” I sign.

He nods. “Can’t pay attention to save my life in these meetings.”

“I’ve never known anyone to compliment your attention span.”

He mouths, “Oh, ha ha,” and I laugh.

“You’re mean, (Y/N).”

“And here I thought you liked me.”

“Never said I didn’t.” He grins. “The way things are going, I’d say you’re probably just my type.”

I shake my head and hide my smile behind my hand. “Stop.”

“Aw, you're cute when you're embarrassed." I flip him off and he laughs. “That's a compliment!"

I snort. “Pay attention, Clint.”

We manage to make it through another hour and, by that time, someone has turned off the lights and started giving a presentation. I fold my arms on the table and rest my chin on top and beg myself to stay awake through this meeting. I’m sure it’ll only be a little while longer.

Clint’s hand creeps into my line of sight and he taps the table to get my attention. I shoot him a quizzical look and he lifts his eyebrows.

“You still with us?” he signs.

“No.”

“It’s going longer than I thought it would.”

“I’m honestly about to fall asleep.”

“Aw, (Y/N), no.”

“This is how I go out. Avenge me, Clint.”

“No!”

“It’s your job. You have to.”

“But who will help me through the trauma?”

I cover my mouth to muffle my laughter. “I’d be dead, that’s none of my concern.”

He shakes his head. “And you call yourself my friend.”

Natasha clears her throat, startling me away from the conversation. I try to pay attention to the presentation, but I just can't wrap my head around what they're talking about and Clint easily distracts me again.

"Quick question."

Surprised, I sign, "Shoot."

"Would you want to go out with me?"

My brain stops working for a second. "Wait, what?"

"I said, will you go out with me?"

My heart hammers in my chest. "Like as friends, or on a date?"

He sighs. "We've been hanging out as friends for months now. I'm asking you on a date, stupid."

My face heats and I sit back in my seat. “Oh.”

He laughs. “Did I break you?”

“A little.” I frown.

“Just say yes!”

Startled, I glance up the table, only to find Natasha glaring at Clint and I. Everyone is looking at us and I suddenly want to disappear.

“What’s the problem?” Steve asks.

“I’m sick of watching the two of them flirt with each other,” Natasha says. “You’ve been mooning over each other for months. Just say yes and be done with it.”

“Nat, they haven’t said a single thing since the beginning of the meeting.”

“They’ve been signing at each other the entire meeting.” She looks directly at me and signs, “I see everything.”

“Sorry.”

“Just say yes.” She looks very pointedly between Clint and I. “You’d be good together.”

“I thought you said you didn’t like him!” Bruce says.

“That was months ago, Bruce. Things change.”

“Don’t be hard on her,” Natasha says. “Clint’s an acquired taste.”

“I’m just gonna, um…” I gesture to the door. “I’m just gonna go.”

I see Tony and Steve nod and I shove my chair back from the table and make my escape. The door shuts behind me, and I’m free. I sigh, relieved to be free of the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, only for the embarrassment of having my crush exposed to my coworkers to settle deep in my stomach.

I press my fingertips to my temples and walk down the hallway. “I knew he was gonna get me in trouble.”

I make the decision to just go back to my office. Maybe I can at least get some work done or, at the very least calm down. I turn as the elevator doors close and catch a glimpse of the conference door opening at the end of the hall. I shift slightly so that it’s not in my line of sight.

The elevator ride feels like it’s too long and I immediately flop down on my couch as soon as I’m in my office. I can't get comfortable and shift around until I'm upside down with my legs over the back of the conch, staring at the ceiling. I press the heels of my hands over my eyes and groan out of frustration.

“I left without even answering him,” I mutter.

The door suddenly opens and I freeze, pulling my hands away from my face, waiting for whoever it is to announce themselves.

"(Y/N)?"

"Clint?" I try to sit up and smack my head on the edge of the coffee table. "Shit."

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I rub my forehead and sit up a little more carefully. "I'll live."

He takes a seat on the coffee table and watches intently as I sit upright on the couch and face him. He reaches out and gently touches my forehead, only to jerk his hand back when I wince.

"Sorry."

"Don't, it's fine."

"Okay." He sighs softly and shuffles awkwardly on the table. He stills when I touch his knee and takes my hand in his. "I'm sorry about the meeting. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"Honestly, Clint, you don't need to apologize," I murmur. "I got flustered and then embarrassed when everyone else got involved."

"I know. I probably like pushing your buttons a little too much."

"That's not it."

"But I do push your buttons."

"Yeah, but only 'cause I let you." He smiles and I squeeze his hand. "But I'm a deeply private person. To have Natasha butt in like that, no matter the good she meant by it, really set me on edge."

"I had no idea."

"I don't feel like I have to keep everything close to my chest when I’m with you. You tease me, but it’s never from a place of malice and you know me well enough that you never take it too far.”

“I mean, you give as good as you get.” He doesn’t meet my eyes as he runs his thumb over my knuckles. “But still. I should’ve just asked in private, but you know me.”

“Yeah. You’re sweet, but kind of stupid sometimes. More than a little impulsive. And way too fond of coffee.”

“Aw, I thought that was endearing!” He smiles when I laugh. “The invitation still stands, but you don’t have to say yes.”

“What’re you talking about?” He meets my eyes and I shake my head. “I’m not about to turn you down. You haven’t introduced me to your dog yet.”

“Oh, I get it, you only want me for Lucky.”

“Mhm.”

He shakes his head and kneels on the floor in front of me. “Shoulda known.”

“I know, I’m pure evil.” He grins and takes my face in his hands. “I should be fired, right?”

“Without a doubt.”

I hum softly and lean forward to bump my nose against his. After a moment’s hesitation, Clint closes the distance between us and gently kisses me. I place one hand on his forearm and tilt my head to the side to kiss him back. He smiles against my lips and pulls away, his eyes flitting over my face.

“So… about that dog.”

I have no idea what would happen to them after that, but I’d like to think they’re having a great time, petting dogs and continuing to mess with each other, all whilst falling in love.

I’d love to know what you guys thought of this little one shot. Did you love it, did you hate it? Did you breathe out through your nose a little bc you kind of laughed but also didn’t? Be sure to like, reblog, comment, or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

If you’d like to be tagged in future fics, please let me know!

Tag list:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101, @buckysendoftheline, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @breezy1415, @feelmyroarrrr, @darling-loki​, @lemonadeorange73​, @princess-unicorn124​, @hermionie-is-my-queen​, @tofeartheunknown​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @avengerscompound​

[writtenonreceipts]

A Throne of Glass Fanfiction. Rowaelin.

8k words later and everything hurts.  I just kept writing and writing because I couldn’t make up my mind on what I wanted to happen or how to end it so here we are...part four? i seriously don’t know if i can or should fix it at this point, hahaha...ha. ha?

Warnings: angst. it hurts.

Based on a prompt I received here and you can find part two is here

PART 3

#

December 18th

“How are you today, Aelin?”

The was, without a doubt, her least favorite question.

Picking at her nails, Aelin shook her head.  There was so much to say and most of it wasn’t significant.  Did she talk about how she hasn’t had a decent night's sleep in over a month?  Or how she couldn’t concentrate at work for more than ten minutes?  Or maybe she could talk about the fact that her best friend and cousin were getting married and she was asked to play the piano as Lysandra walked down the aisle.

“I’m fine,” she said as she looked up.

Across the room Yrene didn’t look convinced.  Her curly brown hair framed her lovely features and accented the golden-brown light of her eyes.  She was a beautiful woman and Aelin had to wonder why she didn’t have a ring on her finger.  She was obviously successful, kind, attractive, and when Aelin wasn’t being stubborn—easy to talk to.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you may as well leave now,” Yrene said.  She leaned back in her seat and clicked her pen as she watched Aelin.

Sighing, Aelin ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how I am.”

“You don’t want to be here, we can start with that,” Yrene suggested.  She smiled knowingly and Aelin rolled her eyes.

“I don’t want to be here because I know it’s a waste of time,” Aeline said.

“But you came anyways.  Why?” 

“It’s what everyone expects of me,” Aelin said with a shrug. “So, I may as well get it over with.”

“So, you don’t think anything is wrong?” Yrene pressed. “There’s nothing keeping you up at night?  Your tapping foot is just a random occurrence?”

Aelin’s foot stopped.  She pursed her lips and glared at Yrene who smiled serenly.

“When we are in uncomfortable situations we have tells, unconscious ticks,” Yrene explained.  “I’m not trying to intimidate you; I hope you know you can be honest with me.”

Intimidate.  Yrene was not intimidating.  Not really.  Aelin just didn’t want to spill her problems out like this.  Not now.

“Why, despite everything, did you come today?” Yrene asked.

There’s no point lying.  Not when Yrene can point it out so easily.  Not when she doesn’t get much satisfaction out of it anyways.

“If I didn’t come, I would have had to go into a work meeting,” Aelin said, “and Sam would have been there.  And after that stupid party—I just can’t be around him right now.”

“Why do you think that is?” Yrene prods. “Are you embarrassed by what he may have seen with you and your friends?  That was the first time he really met any of them, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I mean, we only got together a few months ago after I left,” Aelin replied, her foot began tapping again and she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist. “But why should I be embarrassed by him?  He treats me well; he cares about me.  But it was my first time seeing everyone in so long and I didn’t think he would have come.”

“You didn’t want him to meet everyone.”  Yrene’s words were innocent as they tried to make sense of Aelin’s rambling.  For which Aelin was grateful, at least one of them knew what was going on.  And yet...and yet they sent a chill through Aelin’s body.

“I didn’t want him to meet everyone,” Aelin agreed.  She met Yrene’s eyes. “Because as soon as he did everyone would try and assume that I was fine.  And dammit, fine is the farthest from what I am feeling.”

#

When she started therapy, Aelin had been back in Terrasen for all of twenty-four hours.  November twentieth was her first session with a woman who had a private practice and a website that declared her specialties lied in healing from trauma and working through anxiety and depression.  It was a simple profile.  One that Aelin wasn’t sure why she went for it, but in a spurt of desperation she’d made an appointment.

Almost a month later and at times, bi-weekly appointments, Aelin didn’t know if she were any better off than when she first stepped off the plane from Paris.

Sitting in her office near the end of the workday, Aelin scrolled through social media on her phone.  She really had to stop doing so, but staring at a computer screen full of fashion sketches or marketing reports was not appealing.  She unfortunately stumbled across a post Fenrys made not twenty minutes ago.

It was a simple picture of him, Lorcan, Conall, and Rowan.  Each dressed in a suit and tie.  Each handsome in his own right.  Of course, Aelin’s eyes lingered on Rowan.  Of course, she couldn’t help but imagine what he had done with himself over the past year.  Of course, she knew it was stupid of her to do so.

Landed an epic deal in Wendlyn! Got the best team around.

Aelin was surprised to see Fenrys had managed not to cure on the page, even if it was a work-related post.  Just as she was surprised that he had kept his innocuous verbage kept simple using only one “epic” and not a single “dude” or “rad.”  

The knock on Aelin’s door had her looking up and she found Sam staring in at her.  He had a handsome smile and his bright eyes watched her with interest.

“Hey,” he said, “you almost done here?”

Aelin glanced at her screen where numbers and approvals still needed to be inputted.  She was a terrible person.  How the hell had she been selected to go to Italy, let alone Paris, for those work assignments?

“Chock it up to the Monday brain, but I’m going to need to make it a late day,” she said regretfully.

Sam frowned and Aelin knew he could see right through her.  At least mostly.  He might not have seen everything going on in her mind, but he knew her enough to take an educated guess.

“Let me order take out and I can stay and help you,” he offered.

An unexplainable stab of emotion filled Aelin as she looked up at him.  He was too good to her.  Too good for her.

“I thought you had plans,” she said after she was able to school herself.

Sam smiled sheepishly.  “Just with your cousin and Dorian.  They invited me out for drinks.”

I didn’t want for him to meet everyone.

Just as soon as she’d swallowed down her emotions, the panic began to rise again.  Hell.

“Go.” She said.  The response surprised her.  It was the absolute last thing she wanted to say but the simple word slipped her lips before she could stop it.  “Go.  I’ll be fine.  It’s not much anyways.”

“You’re sure?” 

“Absolutely,” she lied.  

And because Sam was too good, he couldn’t hear it.  He couldn’t see the subtle shake of her foot or the way she adjusted the bracelets on her wrist.

Instead he crossed her office and leaned over the desk to kiss her.  Slow and languid.  He pulled back much too soon.

“I’ll call you later, yeah?” he said with a heart wrenching smile on his face.

“Yeah,” she replied and watched him go.  

It wasn’t long before five o’clock rolled around and he stopped by again to make sure she was fine working late by herself.  After she convinced him to leave, she waited.  She waited until the last of the interns and admins left before she pulled out her phone and made a call.

They picked up on the second ring.

“I’m going to send you an address,” Aelin said, “can you bring a few things and meet me there in an hour?”

#

“I thought I was mortal enemy number one on your hit list.”

Chaol Westfold.  Tall, muscular, handsome, and an ass.  

“Did you bring the cake?” Aelin asked.

He hefted a plastic bag up. “And the beer.”

“Then congratulations,” Aelin replied, “you are now welcomed back into the fold of friendship.”

Chaol looked as though that were the last thing he wanted, but he entered her office and shut the door behind.  He muttered under his breath about this not ever happening again as he unloaded the cake and beer.

Aelin immediately went for the cake.  Chocolate hazelnut with a creamy frosting.  It was the first thing she ate after getting back from Paris.  It had to be the best creation in the world.  She grabbed a plastic fork from one of the drawers in her desk and immediately dug in.

“Are we going to talk or am I just your cake supplier now?” Chaol asked.

Reluctantly, Aelin dug another fork out of her desk and tossed it to him.  He accepted, but he didn’t eat.

Aelin licked a blob or frosting from her fork. “Do you know why we broke up?”

“We lied to each other about everything,” Chaol answered.  Slowly, he scrapped a bit of frosting on his fork.  He contemplated his next words before continuing. “And we never talked about it either.”

“Right,” Aelin said, nodding. “Do you ever regret breaking up?”

That was the question that drove Chaol to a real bite of the cake and Aelin had to smother a laugh watching the sight.  Chaol never ate cake or chocolate or anything that wasn’t specifically for keeping in excellent shape.  So the sight of him actually enjoying eating the cake was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

“Of course I do,” Chaol said.  “At least, I regret how we broke up.  You’re the first woman I ever loved, Aelin.  The first one who really...I don’t know taught me how to live.”

She shook her head. “Nah.  I dragged you around into trouble.”

They sat in silence as they ate the cake.  Aelin ate far more than her share.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Chaol asked.  “Or tell me how the hell you still have my number?”

She grinned viciously.  “I had to keep you in my contacts in case I needed someone to frame for murder.  And you were just the asshat to fit the bill.  Until you brought me cake.”

He rolled his eyes at her and cracked open a beer. “Why am I not surprised?”

Cackling, Aelin stuffed her face with more cake.  She knew that she couldn’t ignore his original question for long.  There was a reason she had called him and only him.  Maybe this was something she should have talked to Lysandra about.  Or even Yrene.  But there was something about her friendship with Chaol that no one else could fill.

“Rowan cheated on me,” Aelin finally said.  Chaol nearly choked on his beer.  She grabbed a few spare napkins to toss at him before continuing. “That’s why I went to Europe.  I had to get away.

Chaol sat quietly as she continued. She told him everything about the fight she had with Rowan, returning to his apartment, hearing what he did.  She told him about leaving.  About Sam.  About the party.

“He said he still loves me,” Aelin finished. “But if he does, if he ever did then why did he do what he did?”

It was a lot to put on Chaol.  He’d never cheated on her.  But he’d lied about various things.  She’d lied too of course, but they’d been fresh out of high school trying to live their lives.  She’d certainly loved him enough to have sex with him for her first time.  

And then they’d drifted further and further apart.  To the point that Aelin never knew who she was when she was with him.  It was unfortunate really because his friendship had helped her through the hellish years of high school and on into that first year of college.  And then it was gone.

“Have you talked to him?” Chaol asked. It was an innocent enough question, but Aelin could see the rise of his brow and knowing glint in his eyes.

Aelin sighed dramatically. "You should meet my therapist. All the two of you want me to do is talk."

"Aelin," Chaol said, his voice growing just a tick more serious.

"What is there to talk to him about?" Aelin stabbed at the cake, suddenly feeling ill which was far too disconcerting. "I know how I feel on the matter. So does he."

Chaol grunted unconvinced. "I doubt that."

She stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed the second beer he brought and settled in to mock him endlessly.

#

December 19th

"It's seven in the morning." Yrene frowned as Aelin pushed herself into the office.

"And yet you're already here," Aelin said.

She hadn't slept the night before. Not really even after talking to Sam who's had a riotous night with Aedion and Dorian. And all she could about was her conversation with Chaol. 

"To get ready for the rest of my appointments," Yrene said slowly, still watching Aelin with obvious confusion.

Settling down on the couch, Aelin looked up at Yrene. "Why do I still love him?"

Yrene pursed her lips and shut the office door before crossing to her own chair. She said nothing and simply waited for Aelin to continue.

"I mean, he hurt me, betrayed what I thought we had together, what we could have had together...and all he can say is I don't know what happened. Am I that replaceable to him?"

Yrene continued looking at her, quiet. But she had opened up her notebook and began taking notes on what Aelin was saying.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Aelin added, “and I have not talked to him yet.  I don’t think I can.”

Silence stretched through the room and Yrene clicked her pen as she stared at Aelin.  The latter woman staunchly avoided looking up from her nails.  It wasn’t until Aelin’s phone buzzed with an incoming text that she sighed heavily.

“Where do you feel safe, Aelin?” Yrene asked suddenly.  She leaned forward in her chair and fixed Aelin with a long look. “Where do you feel like you are in control and confident?”

Aelin made a face and shrugged. She’d never really thought about that before. “Serious answer?  There’s this dumpy little apartment that the company rents out for storage.  I go there when I need to get away.  Or the coffee shop down on Fifth.  A friend I met in Paris has family that owns it.”

“Okay,” Yrene said with a slow nod. “If, and only if, you feel comfortable I think you need to talk to Rowan.  You deserve closure on what happened.”

“You really don’t like me, do you?” Aelin asked.

Yrene smiled. “I really think you deserve more than what you are allowing yourself to have.”

Glancing at her phone Aelin sighed. “I need to get to work.  Let me know how much I owe you for this.”

Yrene assured her that she would and Aelin slipped out of the office.  

By the time she made it outside, a light snow began to fall.  The thick white flakes assaulted her and clung to her hair and coat.  Aelin muttered a curse.  She really did not miss the snow.  Nothing about it.  Not the cold, the ice, the distinct scent of pine that always seemed to come when the chill did.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Aelin hurried down the walk towards her work building.  Thankfully Yrene’s office was close to her own so Aelin was usually never late for work or gone long when she had her appointments during lunch.

She texted Sam and he met her in the lobby of their work building, coffee in hand.

“Hey babe,” he greeted with a kiss to her cheek.

Aelin smiled warmly and accepted her coffee, grateful to the immediate warmth that spread through her fingers.

“Thanks,” she said.  She leaned into his side as they made their way to the elevators. “You have fun with the guys last night?”

“They’re great,” Sam agreed.  When he glanced down at her a strange expression flashed on his face.

“What?” Aelin asked. “Dorian didn’t shove you into a rose bush, did he?”

Frowning, Sam shook his head. “No?”

“Never mind,” Aelin said quickly.  “He just does that sometimes.”

Sam still looked utterly confused and it was such an endearing look that Aelin rose on her toes to press a quick kiss to his jaw.

“They just mentioned something,” Sam began slowly, “it’s just, ah, they mentioned Rowan.”

Aelin nearly choked on her coffee.  Sputtering, she covered her mouth. “Rowan?  Why the hell would they?”

“It’s nothing,” Sam said quickly, “he was at the bar and they—I don’t even know what it was about.  It’s not a big deal.”

Aelin didn’t have a chance to say anything as the elevator opened on their floor and a group of interns was already waiting for Sam to sign off on orders and marketing issues.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Sam called over his shoulder as he hurried off towards his office.

Aelin could only wave weakly as he disappeared.  Sometimes she wished she’d thought through starting a relationship with him a little better.  But after everything that happened with Rowan...Sam had been something new.  And she’d believed that something knew was just what she needed.

It didn’t help that sometimes Aelin could still feel Rowan’s hands on her, his lips ghosting hers.  She could still feel the rumble of his laugh when they spent late nights together and woke up early.  

Her stomach churned with acid.  The coffee was not sitting well in her empty belly.  At least she still had chocolate cake hidden in her office from her chat with Chaol.

But Aelin certainly didn’t want to feel this way.  Not anymore, not when she had been trying so hard to move on with her life.

So as soon as she got into her office, she pulled out her phone and sent a text.

#

Rowan without a doubt hated himself.

He had for a long time and without a doubt fully deserved it. So when he got a text from Aelin he promptly threw up in the nearest trash can of the office break room.

Fenrys laughed at him, absolutely pleased with how the morning was going.  Over the passed year they’d been working together, diving into a business management system to help companies and the likes from going bankrupt.  The only reason it was going so well was because Rowan did nothing else but work.  

"Dude, did you get wasted on a weekday again?" 

Rowan flipped him off and grabbed a cup to fill with water. He took a long drink before he glares at his friend.

"Aelin texted me," he said, "she wants to meet for coffee later. To talk."

"And your first response was to vomit?" Fenrys asked, brow quirked.

"Yes," Rowan affirmed.

"If you're looking for sympathy, you're not finding it from me," Fenrys said. He pulled a soda from the fridge and cracked it open, "I'm a sucker for Aelin and would choose her over you any day."

Rowan scowled. "Thanks man,"

"Anytime," Fenrys said. He ripped an invisible hat as he left the break room.

Rowan scrubbed a hand over his face. He knew that Fenrys was right. It was a miracle he'd even managed to hold onto any of his friends.  For some reason, they’d all stayed with him.  For the most part.  Elide and Lysandra were the exceptions.  Neither of them, no matter the situation, even bothered to look at him.

One year.

He didn’t blame them.

So now Rowan had the chance to meet with Aelin and, hopefully, talk to her.  If she yelled that was fine.  If she threw things at him that was fine too.  As long as he got the chance to be around her at least once more.

Oh hell he actually had to talk to her didn’t he?

It was going to be an impossibly long day full of Rowan hating himself and coming to terms with the fat that Aelin was going to kill him.  

And despite the fact that he’d had a year to prepare for this, Rowan couldn’t have been further from being ready.  In all honesty all the scenarios he’d come up with in the last year had not prepared him for this in the slightest.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Rowan barely got anything done throughout the day.  Every time he would start on something his mind would begin to wander and he’d find himself on Aelin’s social media pages.  Which consequently would make things worse. 

Photo after photo were of her and Sam.  Italy, Paris, white beaches, and blue waters.  She was a goddess in each and every picture.  And the smile in each picture, Rowan had to remind himself, weren’t meant for him but for another man.  A man who knew how not to screw up the greatest thing in his life.

As he left his office, Rowan took care to avoid running into Fenrys, Lorcan, or any of the others.  He knew full well that Fenrys wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut and Rowan wasn’t in the mood for dealing with anyone else telling him he was an idiot.  Even Lorcan had avoided talking to him for several months after the incident.  Lorcan whose least favorite person was Aelin.

Granted Lorcan was a better man than he was on so many levels.

Brown shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he headed down the street towards the coffee shop Aelin had indicated.  It was a small place Rowan had passed by several times but had never bothered to go in.  The shop was small and had such a niche ambiance that Rowan never felt like he could go in.

Now as he entered the small space with its rich scents of chai and chocolate, Rowan’s concerns were confirmed.

A woman with chin length black hair and warm, bronze skin greeted him from behind the counter.  As Rowan glanced over the menu, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Aelin chose this place.  Half the menu was devoted to pastries.

“He wants a black coffee, Nesryn,” a soft voice said from behind him.  

Rowan winced and turned to where Aelin sat at a small table tucked into a corner.  She already had a large slice of cake in front of her.

Nesryn fixed Rowan with a glare and nodded while muttering under her breath in French.  He had no doubts that she knew exactly who he was.  Death was most certainly in his future.

Rowan waited until his coffee was finished and paid for--a generous tip added to the jar on the counter—before he joined Aelin.  

He didn’t know what to do other than pull the other chair out from the table and take a seat across from her.  They sat in silence like that for a long time.  Aelin slowly ate her slice of cake and sipped on her own drink.  Rowan was startled to see that it was a cup of tea instead of her standard double shot of espresso with hemp milk and cinnamon.

“You wanted to talk before,” Aelin said slowly.  It had barely been three days since that party and she couldn’t believe that she had actually let herself meet with him so soon after being staunchly against it.  She kind of hated herself for it, but she would deal with that later. “So let’s talk.”

She still didn’t look him directly in the eye.  Rowan could see creases in her makeup lining on her eyelids.  Her lipstick had long since worn off and he could tell she’d been chewing on her lips like always.  A habit that even a year hadn’t taken away.  She was still beautiful of course.

“I’m sorry, Rowan said immediately.  

Aelin flinched at his words and dragged her teeth over her fork as she scraped as much frosting off the tines as possible.

“And,” Rowan continued, “I can’t...I’ve never forgiven myself for what I put you through.”

Soft classical music played overhead.  It reminded Rowan so much of what Aelin liked playing--the gentle folds of notes blending together until they reached a crescendo of sound, of feeling.  And then slowly fading bad into those gentle folds.  

It wasn’t until a new track started that Rowan continued.  There was so much he wanted to say to her, but given with what he did he wasn’t entirely sure what good any of his words would do.  Perhaps they would at least help him move on.  Maybe.

“I never wanted any of this to happen.  I never wanted to hurt you.” Rowan stared at his coffee.  His words sounded hollow to his own ears and he couldn’t imagine how Aelin was handling his ramblings. “It just seemed for the longest time we were never on the same page.  Nothing was changing and we...we were barely treading water together.”

Aelin pushed the plate of cake away and crossed her arms over her chest.  Rowan could feel her eyes digging into him but he was too much a coward to look up and meet that gaze.

“So you left,” Aelin said.  “Instead of waiting and trying to make our relationship work, you ran.”

“I’ve regretted it every day,” Rowan whispered.

Music continued to play overhead and a few people trickled in to order drinks or dessert.  No one lingered long however, despite the empty tables, the warmth as compared to the outside.  In and out.  In and out, the customers drifted.

Aelin’s phone buzzed on the table.  She glanced at the message and sighed.  Barely sparing him a look, she stood grabbing her coat and pulled it on.

“I need to go,” she murmured.  

Finally, Rowan glanced up at her.  Her eyes were rimmed red, yet she hadn’t shed any tears.  Instead the sorrow on her face turned fierce.

“Aelin,” Rowan began, he started to rise, but Aelin held a hand up.

“My boyfriend needs me,” she said.  And then she spun on her heel and left the little shop.

Rowan stood next to that little table in the back corner of that shop and watched her go.  He watched through the front window until she crossed the street and disappeared around the corner.

He would never get over the idea of her walking away.

#

Sam was waiting for her in the kitchen of her apartment. He smiled brightly as he looked up from the stove. He was making something that smelled like spices, and warmth, and home.

"Alright, so this is something my mom used to make around Christmas," Sam said. He had a twinkle in his eyes and a dopey sort of grin on his face. "And I know you've had a long week."

Aelin can't help but smile gratefully. She hangs her coat up on the hook beside the door and drops her purse on the small side table there too.

"It smells wonderful," she said. Coming into the kitchen she took a seat at the counter so she could watch Sam as he chopped vegetables and slowly stirred the pot.  From what she could tell is was a stew of some sort.

"How was your day?" He asked. As if he didn't know. She'd told him that she was going to meet with Rowan, and while he might not have known what had transpired in that relationship, he'd known something. And especially after the conversation she’d had with Chaol, Aelin knew she had to open the doors of communication and honesty.

And it sucked.

“It’s better now,” she said.

He smiled softly and poured her a glass of wine.  It was different from what she usually drank but she was just grateful he was even here that he’d stayed.

When they first got together almost six months ago it had been something haphazard.  Slow but quick.  Random but natural.  And after everything with Rowan...Sam had helped her pull herself together. 

It had been something she’d never thought possible.  She’d thought that Rowan was her soulmate.  That he would always and forever be her person.  

As she sipped her drink, Aelin watched Sam work.  He talked endlessly about winter nights where he’d helped his mother with cooking dinner for the family.  The stew had been his favorite comfort food and thus figured it would be something she might enjoy.

And then he told horrible stories of other occasions where he’d burned dinner too.

Aelin cackled at the idea of him setting off the smoke alarm and having to wave a towel around like a madman.  

“I swear I was banned from the kitchen for a full month after that,” Sam laughed.  He set the table, simple settings of Aelin’s mismatched bowls and cutlery.  

“Well you can’t do anything worse than what I could do,” Aelin said.

Grinning, Sam pressed kiss to her forehead and took a seat next to her.

Through the meal, Aelin was able to press everything else about her day away.  She could forget Rowan.  She could forget the past year.  She could see herself changing.

Maybe it was that notion that caused her to lose her appetite.

“So, what prompted you to make me dinner,” she asked, pushing her half-eaten bowl away.  “Your text sounded off.”

Sam shrugged halfheartedly.  He’d removed his tie long ago and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone.  He looked so relaxed and at ease that the slight pang of panic Aelin had felt just moments ago returned full force.

“I’ve just been thinking about you,” he said honestly.  He smiled again in that same delightfully silly way that he had.

Aelin knew that wasn’t all that was on his mind.  She rolled her eyes and kicked him beneath the table. “And?”

He opened and closed his mouth before taking a large bite of stew to get out of answering.

Aelin stuck her tongue out at him and rose to get a start of dishes.

“Nope,” Sam said, he snatched a hand out and grabbed her wrist.  He swallowed his bite of food and shook his head. “You have no responsibilities tonight.”

“Oh?” Aelin arched a brow.  “None at all?”

Sam shook his head.

“Then why the hell am I not in my pajamas yet?”

Aelin ran her fingers through his hair and hurried off to her room, more than ready to be out of her work clothes.  And, in all honesty, needing to get away for a breath.

There was something about the way that Sam looked at her just now.  Something about how he’d been acting recently.  It wasn’t anything bad, but it was enough to make Aelin’s breath catch, her pulse race.  There was something about him.  The man.  

She’d never really noticed it before.  Not in all the time that she’d been dating Rowan.  But when she and Sam had been in in Paris working on the extended project together.  She’d seen in then.  There was compassion and honor written all along the threads that made Sam who he was.  And now...now those threads were becoming more and more noticeable.

By the time Aelin had changed, Sam was already started on the dishes.  He topped her wine off and allowed her to help him dry what wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.

“Aelin,” Sam said after they’d started the dishwasher and left the last few items out to dry.

“Hm?” Aelin hummed taking a long sip of wine.

Sam stepped closer, placing his hands on her waist.  He was trim, lean, and obviously in good shape, but not bulky or broad like other men.  It didn’t deter Aelin’s attraction to him though.

She leaned into him, willing herself to play on those subtle emotions building in her body.

Sam pressed a kiss to each corner of her mouth before hovering just before her--waiting to give her a longer more meaningful kiss.

He’d been patient with her the last six months. Never pressuring her into sex or anything more intimate than she was ready for.  And Aelin would be forever grateful to him for it.  But she also couldn’t help but wonder how long that patience would last.

As Rowan had shown, men had their limits.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut.  She would not focus on him.  Not now.  So she closed the distance between her and Sam and kissed him.  It was somewhat sloppy as he’d not been expecting her to move so suddenly, but Sam was quick to recover.

She could most certainly get used to him.  Every little thing about him.

“I love you,” Sam said.  So carefully his lips moved against hers as they sounded out the words.

I love you. 

I love you.

Aelin’s hands froze at the lower buttons of his shirt.  She’d gotten a little out of hand, not that she was too sorry.  But his words just reminded her what was really happening.

She opened her eyes and stared into his golden gaze.  Her throat constricted as she found herself pulling him closer, closer.

“You love me?” she whispered.

Sam nodded once, firm and definite.

Aelin felt her breath slip out too quickly from her lungs as she kissed Sam again.

December 20th

It was ten o’clock the next evening when Aelin was knocking at the door. Someone swore behind it and Yrene answered. She was still dressing for the day, still wearing makeup. Still holding her case notes in one hand.

"I'm going have to start charging you extra if you keep showing up like this," the woman said. But she let Aelin into the office all the same.

"Fine by me," Aelin replied. 

The office was dimly lit by a single lamp and a pile of take out containers from an Indian restaurant took over the table.

"So do you live here or what?" Aelin asked. She turned a lifted a brow at Yrene.

Snorting, Yrene ignored Aelin and crossed to the chair she usually took over and sat down.

"What are we talking about tonight, Aelin?" Yrene asked.

Why was she here? Aelin had no idea. She just knew she didn't want to go home. If she went home, she knew Sam would be there because he was too good for her. He was planning on a late night of hot chocolate and cheesy Christmas movies. And Aelin should want to be there. But she was the idiot who went out for coffee with her ass of an ex. An even bigger ass than Chaol had been.

"I talked to him," Aelin said. "At least I listened to him."

"And? Do you feel better?"

"No." Aelin answered immediately.  “Because my current boyfriend who is the best man I could ask for after the hellhole that is Rowan Whitethorn.  My current boyfriend told me he loves me.  And what do I do but give him a kiss and tell him thanks.  He barely left my place half an hour ago before I came here.”

Yrene gave her a bland look. “Don’t you have friends for this?  This is girl talk Aelin.”

Aelin cursed and pushed herself off the couch.  She stood there for several long moments. “Why can’t I love him?  I want to.  Dammit, I want to.  But, I just…”

“What?” Yrene prompted softly when Aelin didn’t continue.  “But what, Aelin?”

“But what if it happens again?” Aelin asked.  She looked at Yrene and shook her head. “I thought I could trust Rowan and then he cheated on me.  I think I can trust Sam.  But I just can’t go through it all again.”

Neither of them spoke as Yrene makes a note in her little booklet.  She lets Aelin stand there breathing heavily and collect her thoughts.

But Aelin isn’t thinking much aside from being angry.  Angry at Rowan especially.

“He had no right to tell me he still loves me,” Aelin said suddenly.  “If he’d really wanted to talk why would he do that to me?  Why would he put me in that position?”

“Would you have listened any other way?” Yrene asked.  Aelin shot her an angry look and Yrene held up a finger. “All I’m saying is that he might not even know how to deal with it all either.  Have either of you moved on?”

“I’m trying,” Aelin whispered.

“And I am so proud of you for that,” Yrene said with so much conviction that Aelin felt tears prick her eyes. “But I also want you to consider what else might be holding you back.  You talked to Rowan; you made that step.  What else can you do?  Do you think you could—”

Yrene cut herself off and frowned.  Aelin watched her have an internal battle.  

Finally, Yrene shook her head. “Do you think you could forgive him?”

Aelin cursed and stalked to the office door, closing it with a loud snap.

#

December 23rd

Rowan decided that he hated the holidays.

And he did not have to explain himself for it.

Besides, everyone basically already knew why he did.  And that it was his own fault for being in such a miserable state of existence.

Because of course he’d tried.  He’d tried to reach out to Aelin in the past year, just for some sort of reconciliation.  He’d never gotten anything in response.  Connall told him to try therapy.  Lorcan told him to try drinking himself to oblivion.  Fenrys had ignored him for the better part of the year.

And now they were in the holidays and Rowan had to at least try and not be a “broody old buzzard.”

As Aelin would have said.

He was a fool.  An utter waste of a fool.

“Remind me again why you’re having another holiday party?” Rowan asked Dorian that night.

Unlike the last party, this one was far more casual with far more alcohol and far less dress code.

“Because this one will actually be fun,” Dorian told him lightly.  

The man still didn’t like Rowan, of course, but he had been gracious enough to allow Rowan to join his other friends to the invite.

“Especially when Aelin gets here and skins you alive,” Doran added.  With a feral grin that he’d likely learned from Manon Blackbeak, Dorian slapped Rowan on the back with far too much force and left him alone.

He needed a whisky.

As Rowan went to get a drink, he heard more guests arrive.  He glanced up to see Elide Lochan give a squealing hug to Lysandra.

Elide, he knew, was a longtime friend of Manon’s as well as a somewhat potential girlfriend of sorts to Lorcan.  Rowan wasn’t sure and didn’t really want to ask knowing Lorcan would likely punch him.  Elide was also a friend of Aelin’s so he would also be avoiding her.

“Oh look, it’s the ass,” Elide said as she calmly slipped past Rowan to grab a beer for her and her friend.

“Lochan,” he said looking down at her.

She fixed him with a sharp smile that was mostly teeth and derision.  Lorcan better pray he never get on the woman’s bad side.

The night was progressing far too slowly for Rowan’s tastes and he debated to simply walk out.  No one really wanted him there anyways.  He had to squash that plan when Aelin entered, her new boyfriend at her side.

As always, Aelin looked phenomenal.  

Her hair was straightened and pulled into a low ponytail so it hung down her back.  Her makeup was simple with only bright red lipstick as the biggest accent.  If Rowan hadn’t already been screwed over by the sight, the tight black dress she wore did the trick.

Hell she was glorious.

But he shouldn’t look at her like that.  He had no right to.  Not anymore.

Rowan knocked back his whiskey and refilled his drink.  What was he even doing here?

Aelin was laughing too loudly at something Manon said.  The two it seemed had the potential of becoming friends which in and of itself should terrify everyone.

He knew he must have been staring too long and too intently because Aelin chose that moment to look at him.  The light that burned in her eyes snuffed out almost immediately and Rowan felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

He was a damned fool.

#

Like everything else in her life, tonight wanted to screw her over.

Aelin found Rowan staring at her.  Blatantly.  A slight haze of panic wrapped around her, until her felt Sam’s hand cup her elbow and pull her into his side.  For that she was grateful.  Grateful for that small ounce of support.  Even though she couldn’t quite focus on anything, she could focus on Sam and the fact that he was there.

“Oh, we’re so excited,” Lysandra said, pulling Aelin from her tunnel vision of self-doubt. “It’s a miracle there was even an opening at the venue, but it’s going to be perfect.”

“That vineyard is so beautiful,” Elide agreed.  She wore her hair long with her straight-line bangs finally growing out to the point that she could part her hair properly and style her hair the way she wanted to.  Aelin had tried to convince Elide that getting bangs was not a good idea.  But Elide had been drunk and on a mission.

“You’re going to make me play the piano outside?” Aelin complained. At least she could somehow contribute to the conversation even though she was lightyears away from the party.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” Lysandra insisted.  She sent a wink Aelin’s direction as if to prove the worries were unfounded.

Aelin rolled her eyes.

This was normal.  She could do normal.  She could do easy and relaxed.  All of her friends were here.  All of the people she knew and loved.  With of course the one exception.

“I just can’t believe you guys were able to squeeze your way onto the top of the list,” Manon said.  She not so subtly thrust a drink into Aelin’s hand.  Something that would most definitely get her drunk, no doubt.

There was the briefest of pauses where Lysandra and Aedion exchanged a look that was so quick and practiced that Aelin first thought how wonderful it was that they knew each other so well to communicate the way that they did and then a terrible sense of foreboding.

It was seconds.  Seconds spanning years.

“Rowan helped,” Lysandra finally admitted.  The guilt on her face was evident.

Aelin immediately took a sip of the drink Manon had made her.  Oh yes, it was certainly going to make her forget about the night.

“He knows someone who knows someone,” Lysandra added.  She glanced over her shoulder to where Rowan was still hiding near the kitchen.

His feature’s in their perpetual scowled lightened only for an instant. “My friend, Ren owed me a favor.”

“Ren?” Aelin couldn’t help but burst out.  Ren was the last person she would have expected Rowan to interact with.  Even though she was part of the reason the two even knew each other. “He hates you.”

“I became one of his managers in his company,” Rowan said softly.  He met Aelin’s eyes. “Helped him from going bankrupt.”

Her mouth went dry and she had to fight against her automatic instinct to drown the rest of the hellish drink in her hand.  Instead she nodded once.  Stiffly.

Well here’s to doing something right, she wanted to say.  She wanted to scream.  She wanted to do anything but stand there and tell Lysandra and Aedion how excited she was.

But what else was there?  She would not make a scene.  Not so close to the holiday.  Not when somehow everyone had moved on with their lives.

And then as a saving grace, her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Deliberately, she leaned up to kiss Sam on the cheek before excusing herself.

By the time she made it to the hall outside the apartment, she’d missed the call entirely.  Aelin scowled to herself and headed downstairs.  As long as she had escaped, she would make the most of it.  

Outside, the wind had settled.  At least she had a coat this time.  Her coat with the long sleeves and deep pockets.  

The missed call was from Yrene which made Aelin roll her eyes.  Now who was bothering who?  But she called back all the same.

“Hello Aelin,” Yrene’s calm voice came on.

“Are you upset that I made it one day without bothering you?” Aelin asked with a low chuckle.  

She walked a few steps down the block, careful to avoid chunks of ice from a brief dusting snow last night combined with the sudden chill of last week.

“I just like checking in on my people,” Yrene said.  The line went silent for a minute. “Are you okay?”

Aelin let out a long breath, glad Yrene couldn’t see her.  But it seemed that the therapist could read people well enough without actually seeing their face.

“I’m fine,” Aelin said.  She tilted her head up to the dark sky and watched as the first few flakes of snow began to descend.

Yrene made a disbelieving grunt on the other end, but remained silent.

“I am,” Aelin insisted.  “I’m surrounded by my people.”

“Alright,” Yrene said, “let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Aelin promised.

As she hung up, she took a long breath and told herself it was fine for not going into everything with Yrene.  Because she was fine.  Really.

She turned to head back inside and came face to face with Rowan.  He remained a few feet off, just descending the steps from the apartment building.  At first, it seemed he didn’t even see her.  Until he turned.

They stood there, feet apart.  Worlds apart.  So far from where they had been.

“I was just leaving,” Rowan said.

Aelin stared.

“I didn’t even want to be there anyways,” Rowan continued.

Snow continued to fall.  The large flakes weren’t that imposing.  It would end quickly, at least that’s what Aelin had always heard.  A large snow would come and go, but the small one always lingered.

“Why would you even be there?” Aelin asked.  She shook her head, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “You don’t even like Dorian.  And Lys and Aedion will tie you to a spit and burn you alive.  Why—”

She cut herself off before saying something truly unnecessary.  Collecting her thoughts, Aelin breathed in the bone chilling air. 

“Don’t you realize how hard this is for me?  I’m done trying Rowan.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “Try?  Did you try Aelin?  Or are you just like me, running away.  It’s what you did back then too.”

“Don’t you dare put this on me,” she hissed.

Aelin drew herself up so close to him.  Close enough to smell his cologne.  It hadn’t changed in all this time.  Close enough to see the dark flecks of his green eyes.  They were just as bold as before.  Close enough to remember.  

Tears sprung to her eyes as she stumbled back.  Too close.  Too close.

Rowan cursed and ran both hands through his hair.  The longer bits fell into his face, cutting across his features.

She wanted to tell him good-bye.  Wanted to say that this was it.  She was done.  Because she was, wasn’t she?

“I’m sorry,” he said.  So soft that the words were almost swept away on the snowflakes curling past. “I didn’t mean that.  I just...Dammit Aelin, I don’t know how to do this.  I don’t know how to erase myself from your life.  From my life.  When even after all this time it’s always been you.  It’s only been you.”

The snow fell around them.  The thick tufts turned into tiny specks.  There was so much that Aelin almost lost sight of Rowan, even though she stood mere feet from her.

Bastard.  Bastard for doing this to her again.  

Because all she could see was that woman, Lyria, leaving the apartment building.  A smug, secret sort of smile on her face.  And the woman couldn’t have been more different from Aelin.  Dark hair, tanned skin.  Small and petite.  And all Aelin could see was Rowan’s hands roving another woman.  His lips…

Aelin shuddered.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life regretting what happened,” Rowan continued.  He was the one coming closer now.  He reached out to catch her when she turned away, his grip soft enough that she could have left if she’d tried.  “I’ll spend the rest of my life hating me for what I did to you.  To us.”

His words were too soft, too gentle.  Aelin found herself staring up at him with the tears in her eyes that she would not let fall.

She would not break.  Not now.  Here she was falling into the sense of love and life he always provided.  Hell.  What couldn’t she just let him go?

Aelin pressed a hand against Rowan’s chest.  The sweater he wore was thick but she could still feel the steady thrum of his heart beating an uneven rhythm.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life hating you for that too,” she said.

And then she pulled away.

#

Seriously though, idk what happened here. Oh boy, ooooohhhh boy.  thanks for reading my dears.  love y’all!

AND I promise that I do have stuff in the mix that’s not so angst ridden.

tags, if i missed/you don’t want to be tagged-- let me know, I’m trying and failing at getting my life in order.

@ladywitchling  @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx  @bamchickawowow​ @sjmships  @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

[enkelimagnus]

Delacroix

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2565 words, rated T

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 5 Truth

Bucky spends a few days in Delacroix with Sam and his family. On one evening, as they both have a beer before dinner, watching the sun set, they have a conversation about life, about therapy, about work.

TW: US healthcare system and the military industrial complex, mental health

Read on AO3

Part 33 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

--------------

Sam’s family house is more of a home than anything Bucky’s lived in since he was deployed.

It’s warm and luminous, with big windows and light paint on the wood and the walls. There’s a poarch where they all end up sitting at the end of the day, when the sun sets over the bayou. The walls outside are blue and the roof is red. There are crayon drawings stuck with magnets to the fridge and mismatched furniture and containers. It’s been lived in, loved in.

A few days after his surprise arrival, Bucky stops feeling like a blood stain on the tapestry of life of the Wilson home.

Sarah’s nice and warm. He immediately takes a liking to her, and her to him, and he can see how much that infuriates Sam. What can he say? She’s a gorgeous woman, funny and bright and caring and her smile is honestly the kind that probably stopped a few hearts in her lifetime. Yes, she’s his sister, but he still has eyes, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least show appreciation. Besides, she seems to enjoy it. He’d stop the second he’d sense uncomfort.

He hasn't gotten to flirt and be comfortable with flirting in a really long time. It seems to be the same for her. What if they’re just… enjoying the flirtation? And enjoying infuriating Sam? Bucky considers it his duty as Sam’s friend.

Delacroix is unlike anywhere he’s ever been. It’s half an island and half a town. It’s relaxing. And the food… Bucky doesn’t think he’s eaten as much seafood in his life as he had in the past week.

It’s a slow end of day in Louisiana when Bucky and Sam find themselves sitting on the plastic chairs out back, with beers, watching the surface of the water. There’s music playing in the house, the kids are doing their homework.

It’s simple. Bucky breathes in and out, unobstructed.

He hears Sam’s intake of breath and knows a hard conversation is coming from that alone. No, that’s a lie. Sam’s shifted, ten seconds ago. He’s looked between his beer and the water four times in the past minute.

“We haven’t had time to talk about Madripoor,” Sam starts and Bucky immediately tenses.

He’d almost forgotten he’d told Sam they’d talk about that later. Because still, he’s not ready to talk about it. He’s not ready to talk about that part of his past. It’s still an infected wound in him. It’s still hurting. He can’t do it. He’s about to say that when Sam holds up his hand.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, surprisingly. “I don’t need to know shit if you’re not ready to tell.”

Bucky goes back to breathing. It’s a reprieve. Even if one day, Sam might expect him to be ready… it’s extra time. He’s so thankful for it.

“I’ll tell you though,” Sam keeps going. “You need a new therapist. Because if I know one thing, after everything, and what I saw in that precinct? it’s that Raynor’s not working for you. You need better. You deserve better.”

Bucky looks up at him then. Sam is looking at the water, but there is that look on his face. The look of determination, of drive, the look that Bucky knows… there’s no use in trying to go against what he is saying now.

No one has ever told him he deserved better.

He’s told himself that a few times, in the few moments where the clouds parted and he didn’t feel like the worst person in the world.

But he doesn’t think anyone has ever told him that. Even Steve. There was a couple ‘you deserved better’, but they were all in the past tense, all regarding Hydra, not Bucky’s current situation. Because his current situation is good. It’s great, compared to the past seventy years. Maybe even compared to what was there before. Because he doesn’t break his back in the factory during the day and in the docks at night anymore.

He’s so silent and shocked Sam just keeps going.

“And don’t give me bullshit about not needing help or whatever. I know your generation didn’t do therapy but that ain’t gonna fly with me. You deserve a therapist suited to your needs, and I know that’s gonna be hard to find, with your trunkload of decades of trauma, but we’ll find them.”

He says it with such determination, like it’s his new personal mission. He has much better to do than try to help Bucky more than he already has, and yet… Sam looks at him finally, for a long moment.

“Raynor’s not a bad doctor,” he says. “She’s just not the right fit. And that’s not uncommon. We just need to find you someone that’s better. And someone that’s not me. Because I can’t be your friend and your therapist, man. And out of the two, I’d much rather be your friend.”

Bucky’s still staring. He doesn’t know how to handle this. Nowhere in his databank of social interactions is there something that prepares him for this. He’s had long talks with people before, hell, even with fucking Zemo, but this is entirely different and he has no idea how to handle it.

“I’m sure you’re a great therapist,” Bucky says quietly after a moment, before he takes a big swig of a beer.

Sam chuckles, shaking his head. “You do realize I ain’t a therapist right? I’m a counselor.”

“You’ll have to give me the difference on that because we were still using alienist the last time I heard about psychoanalysis,” Bucky points out.

“There isn’t much of one. I guess I’m more about… finding practical solutions for people to deal with their trauma than really knowing the root cause of it. Probably because, since I worked with the VA, I knew what the root was.”

Bucky hums, nodding. That makes sense to him. More than the ‘how does that make you feel’s. “Either way, I’m still sure you’re a great counselor.”

“It ain’t difficult, with your experience,” Sam shrugs, watching him. “You don’t know better, old man.”

Bucky snorts at that, watching the water again. Sometimes, his eyes catch motion, but he’s never sure if it’s wildlife under the surface or just a trick of the light.

AJ and Cass seem to be debating with their mother whether they can finish their homework later, after dinner. Bucky barely knows them, but he already knows it won’t actually get done if they follow their plan. Kids are kids. Bucky’s sisters could never finish their homework after the radio show either. Too distracted, too tired.

He turns his attention back on Sam after a moment.

“Walker is in a bad shape,” Bucky says quietly. “Now, and before Hoskins died too. The second we saw him in Germany, I felt it. That guy didn’t get help.”

Sam sighs heavily. “Yeah. Not enough of them do, when they come back. You wouldn’t, if you weren’t forced to.”

Bucky can’t deny it. “Yeah, but I’m 107.”

If Sam noticed the year added to his age, he doesn’t mention it. At least for now.

“Some of it hasn’t changed that much,” Sam explains. “The army… You know that culture of toughness, right? Gotta be strong, gotta be a man. Can’t cry, can’t show you’re struggling. I’m sure they had that shit too, in your day, probably even worse.”

He’s not wrong. There were a lot of issues in his day but that was part of things. Emotional outbursts that weren’t from anger were frowned upon. Once they got to the war, it was even worse at first, until it started really getting hard. And then there were two options. Either you fucking cry with your buddies, or you end badly. Bucky had Steve, and the Howlies.

“Men like Walker… Because they’re these tough white guys, they’re encouraged to be like that. Aggressive, emotionally-closed off, fight-hungry. They’re the ones that shove you and call you a pussy for not laughing at their frankly horrible offensive jokes. It’s like they think the trauma we all face just won’t touch them. Or that they can’t show anyone it touched them. So they keep it all in. And the only way they get to be… emotional is in combat.”

Bucky nods quietly. They’re worse off than he thought.

It wasn’t good in his day either, but it just feels worse now. It churned and churned and got bigger with every spin, and now it’s all a giant fucked up stick of trauma cotton candy, all twisted in itself and sticking to itself.

“When I work for the SRT… Sometimes I see these kids,” Bucky mumbles. “They’re what? 22? And I ask them why they’re here, you know, try to pass time. And they tell me they enlisted for college. Or healthcare. And it’s…” He closes his eyes. “It’s been eighty fucking years…”

He takes a swig of the beer again, shaking his head. “When the crash hit, in the 30s, things were bad. No one could afford shit, there was polio, there was syphilis… It was really bad. And they made plans. They tried to get healthcare on the way, and they half succeeded. And more than like… two thirds of the population was for it too. And we had basically none of the resources we have now.”

He looks up at Sam for a moment. “It hurts to see… that it’s still… We’re still here. At least on that issue. On other stuff… Rights and all, that’s getting better.” He finishes. “But healthcare… and college…” He shakes his head. “It’s criminal. That’s what it is. It feels criminal.”

Sam bumps his shoulder with his fist, chuckling. “Don’t say shit like that next to journalists, they’ll say the Soviets put communism in your brain along with the murdering.”

Bucky chuckles at that. “Nah. That was all America. Living in it. Dying for it.”

Behind them, AJ and Cass have lost their battle of wits with their mother.

“You happy with what you’re doing?” Sam asks after a moment.

Bucky takes a deep breath. The answer is easy. “No,” he mutters. “But I don’t have a say in the matter. Until they decide I’ve done enough to undo the damage I perpetrated as the Soldier… I’m gonna be clearing Hydra safehouses. And after the shit I pulled with Zemo, I’m gonna be at it for a while longer, I think. But… I was expecting that.”

He can feel Sam’s eyes on him. “You knew what would happen.”

“Yep. On all accounts. With the Dora Milaje, with you, with Walker, with the U.S. government, and the GRC, and everything… Still did it.”

Sam huffs loudly. “Stubborn ass.” He shakes his head. He’s smiling, beautifully, brightly.

Bucky smiles at that. “You know it. Wouldn’t be alive without it.”

The sun is starting to set over the bayou. Every evening, Bucky finds himself thinking he’s never seen anything quite like it before.

“Whatever happens,” Sam points out after a moment, looking down at his empty beer bottle. “You got a couch here. Somewhere to crash. Somewhere to rest. I don’t know what your situation is, up north.”

Bucky sighs a little. “I got a house,” he answers, looking back at him. “A townhouse, in Brooklyn.”

Sam’s eyebrows rise up to meet the descending sun. “Well excuse us, mister.” He teases.

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s not like that,” he starts. Sam looks even less like he takes him seriously. “It’s a former Hydra safehouse,” he adds, and now his friend’s eyes get a little sadder, a little darker. “The army got tired of me taking space in their housing, so the second we raided a place within proper commute distance, they handed it over to me.”

Said like that, it sounds even worse than it actually was.

“It wasn’t like.. Full of Nazi or Hydra shit, or anything. It was just a house. They got rid of the bodies.”

The emotional journey on Sam’s face as he talks is worth a good dozen of sunrises.

“And you live there?” Sam asks. He’s struggling not to let his bewilderment and horror show, but he’s failing.

It makes sense. It sounds like an absolutely terrible situation to be in. It is an absolutely terrible situation to be in. As much as owning a townhouse in Brooklyn can be terrible.

It’s been about four months now since he signed those papers and moved his bag of things into that pretty house with the marks in the doorways and the basement he still hasn’t stepped foot in. And now that he’s been away long enough…

He guesses he kinda misses it.

He doesn’t miss the house in itself, much. He does miss… everything else though. Charlie, Miriam, the neighbor whose name he still doesn’t know, the familiar commute, the Chinese place he gets a lot of very late night food at, the proximity to his childhood streets, the way life feels there. He misses his night jogs in the relative quiet. He misses the weather, and the oven he baked kugel in for the first time.

Brooklyn has become familiar again, in all of its differences with his memories.

And he didn’t even realize it was happening.

“You should come, one of these days,” Bucky shrugs. “I have a couple guest bedrooms.”

Sam punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Fancy ass ‘couple of guest bedrooms’.” He teases and Bucky smiles. “So I’m guessing I should try and find some good therapists for you in New York then,” he adds.

Bucky shrugs lightly. “I feel like… I have some stuff tethering me there.”

Sam’s expression shifts for an instant. “Like the SRT?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah. Like my childhood congregation, that somehow still exists, and has a shul not too far from where I live.” He points out.

“Shul?” Sam asks.

Bucky smiles lightly when he looks up at him. A few days ago, Sam spoke of his teetee and Bucky probably made the same face Sam’s making now.

“Synagogue,” Bucky explains. “Jewish temples. Shul’s yiddish.”

Sam makes a small ‘ah’ sound and nods. For a moment, they’re silent again. The noises of the world around them aren’t threatening to overwhelm them though, they’re… comforting. A warm tapestry in the background.  

“You’re Jewish, I take it?”

“No, I’m Mormon,” Bucky replies with the straightest face he can muster before chuckling.

Sam punches him again, a little harder this time. “Come on, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m Jewish.”

That’s the first time he says that out loud in… He’s never said it like that ever. This is the first time in his life that he says it that way. The first time he’s not afraid of the outcome of such an admission.

It’s a heady, wonderful feeling. He never thought he’d ever be comfortable enough to do that. Somehow, he might have Zemo to thank for that. Zemo and his fucking questioning. Not that he’s going to be asking much more questions from the Raft.

He’s Jewish. That’s a truth that doesn’t deserve to be hidden right now. Not when he can carry it. Not when he is strong enough to bear it proudly. He feels like his heart is going to burst with something he cannot name.

“Did Steve know?”

Bucky bursts out laughing.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

I liked your ava post, do you have more aboout usm. The WHOle usm team?

I can’t say I have many many hcs but I’ll give you where I think they might end up after SHIELD, and two songs that fit them if that works. 

Peter: I don't know why but I feel like Peter would want to look for his parents once he leaves SHIELD and while doing so, he ends up in a lot of team ups and building up more of his rogues gallery. Basically I imagine stuff from the comic with spider clones, dating MJ, briefly rejoins the Avengers then leaves. Yeah I don't have much for him since comic history leaves people to choose what they want. Imagine Dragon's Beliver because he does have such a heavy pain inside, but that's the thing, he keeps it inside until he snaps them into his fight for justice. "First things first, I'ma say all the words inside my head. I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, The way that things have been.Second thing second, Don't you tell me what you think that I could be. I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea...Taking my message from the veins. Speaking my lesson from the brain. Seeing the beauty through the pain!"

Danny: I'd like to think that he stays in NY to start Heroes for Hire with Luke as soon as they leave SHIELD. They're bros, and he justifies the absence that New York needs Iron Fist more than K'Lun for the moment. He also tries his hand at getting Rand Industries back on track. I also think he does return to K'Lun eventually as King and mystical head. After his work at Rand Industries, he feels more confident as a leader and is willing to stand up to the monks when it comes with changing some of the old ways. Allowing him to travel back to NY to see his friends while keeping the mystical origins of K'Lun sacred. I think Nature Boy rather fits him, soft and melodious and Danny learning he is not alone sort of. "There was a boy. A very strange enchanted boyThey say he wandered very far..Very far over land and sea. A little shy and sad of eye. But very wise, was he."  Les Miserables’ Who am I mainly because I imagine Danny has some identity issues between feeling worthy of the Iron Fist, feeling torn between the US and K'Lun. Ideally, he would end up learning being one does not give up the other part of himself. As one would say they can coexist in a balance. "Who am I? Can I conceal myself forever more.. Pretend I’m not the man I was before?....How can I ever face my fellow men? How can I ever face myself again?"

Luke: As said above, with Danny, when they leave SHIELD, they create Heroes for Hire, they ride or die forever.  Together they clean up their part of New York and Luke comes to terms with some of his past and the people he dealt with in jail. He also meets Jessica Jones during this time and she becomes his new partner (in more ways than one) when Danny leaves for K'Lun. He sometimes does freelance work for SHIELD, mainly at the behest of his parents, sometimes as a favor to Fury. He also sometimes comes by the Helicarrier to be a surprise mentor to whatever new hero they pick up. He is the main instigator of team reunions.

Adam Levine’s If I got locked away totally fits him after the time he spent in jail and scared of being seen as weak, it really fits him and his insecurities. "If I got locked away And we lost it all today. Tell me honestly, would you still love me the same? If I showed you my flaws. If I couldn't be strong. Tell me honestly, would you still love me the same?" One call away also fits him simply for his caring nature and how he'll do anything for his friends, "I'm only one call away. I'll be there to save the daySuperman got nothing on me. I'm only one call away/ Call me, baby, if you need a friend. I just wanna give you love...No matter where you go, know you're not alone. I'm only one call away."

Ava: I think once Ava leaves SHIElD, she has some trouble with the amulet whether form being on her own, knowing SHIELD isn't there watching her every move or just cockiness that she can handle it now. Either way, I see her as  taking a break from the amulet. Reasoning her father wanted her to keep it safe, it didn't mean she had to put it on and be a hero. Ideally, she goes to therapy to work through all these issues before ever putting it on again. I imagine she goes home to PR too. I think she could go into bounty hunting, it's more freelance, she helps put baddies away and she can put her investigative skills to good use. Eventually she'd be White Tiger again but for more superpowered threats than every day patrolling. Just breathe from In the Heights not only for the spanish influences but also the utter fear of returning a failure, "Straighten the spine. Smile for the neighbors. Everything's fine, everything's cool. The standard reply: Lots of tests, lots of papers. Smile, wave goodbye and pray to the sky, "Oh God!" And what will my parents say? Can I go in there and say, "I know I'm letting you down..."  Alyssa Greene from The Prom. The lyrics speak for themselves of the utter perfectionism and drive, "The hair has to be perfect. The As have to be straight...Trophies have to be first place. Ribbons have to be blue. There's always some competition or hoops for jumping through. Just have everything perfected by the time you reach eighteen" 

Sam: Admittedly I don't know much about Nova lore or backstory as the others but I think he'll go back to space. Not necessarily as part of the Guardians because honestly I think they had enough members without him. Maybe as a solo act before he finds the other Nova Corps. I definitely see him as becoming a trainer there, finally being the leader he always wanted to be. I also want him to reconnect with his family so he does travel back to Earth to visit them and then swoops by NY for some reunion with his old team before heading back to space. 

Bieber’s Lonely fits Sam because at the heart of it all, I think that's what he is. Lonely, he's still young and trying to navigate these powers and his place in the world and space and what his identity is. And no one else can quite get that. "Everybody knows my name now. But somethin' 'bout it still feels strangeLike lookin' in a mirror, tryna steady yourself and seein' somebody else. And everything is not the same now. It feels like all our lives have changed Maybe when I'm older, it'll all calm down. But it's killin' me now. What if you had it all, nut nobody to call? Maybe then you'd know me 'cause I've had everything. But no one's listening and that's just f- lonely." Shawn Mendes' Wonder works for similar reasons. Mainly I imagine him singing it to his missing father who inherited so much but knows nothing personally about him, "I wonder why I'm so afraid of saying something wrong, I never said I was a saint. I wonder, when I cry into my hands. I'm conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man and I wonder if someday you'll be by my side and tell me that the world will end up alright. I wonder..I wonder."  And then a party song for each 

Sam: All I do is win by DJ Khaled "All I do is win, win, win no matter what. Got money on my mind, I can never get enough ('Nough) And every time I step up in the building Everybody hands go up And they stay there And they stay there, up, down, up, down, up, down 'Cause all I do is win (Win), win (Win), win And if you going in put your hands in the air, make 'em stay there" 

Luke: Finesse by Bruno Mars, "We out here drippin' in finesseIt don't make no sense Out here drippin' in finesse You know it, you know it We out here drippin' in finesse It don't make no sense Out here drippin' in finesse You know it, you know it" 

Peter: Another one bites the dust by Queen "nother one bites the dustAnother one bites the dust And another one gone and another one gone Another one bites the dust Hey I'm gonna get you too Another one bites the dust"

Danny: Normally, I don't think Danny would be into party music, too much cursing, too much noise to distort the mind, that stuff. But Rihanna is catchy. "I wanna take you away, let's escape into the music, DJ, let it playI just can't refuse it, like the way you do this Keep on rockin' to it Please don't stop the, please don't stop the music I wanna take you away, let's escape into the music, DJ, let it play I just can't refuse it, like the way you do this Keep on rockin' to it Please don't stop the, please don't stop the, please don't stop the music" 

Ava: Woman by Ke$ha "I'm a motherfucking woman, baby, alright I don't need a man to be holding me too tight I'm a motherfucking woman, baby, that's right I'm just having fun with my ladies here tonight I'm a motherfucker"  This other cool blog is much more into USM and has tons of hcs if you want more of this stuff, @im-rewriting-ultimate-spider-man