#while Sam is a tough nut to crack

[deanwinchesterswitch]

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas

Part Two: See What the Time's Done

Square: Heartbreak ~ @spnchristmasbingo

Song: Where Are You Christmas? ~ Faith Hill

Pairing: Dean x Nicole {Nico/Nic} OFC

Summary: Nicole formulates a plan to help Dean find joy in Christmas again.

Warnings: More angst than fluff, canon divergence

Word Count: 1,134

Beta: @princessmisery666

Credit: @talesmaniac89 made the gorgeous title card and divider

Series Master Post

Nic reaches the old storage room she had commandeered to turn into a studio and darkroom. Slamming the door, she locks it behind her. The brothers know she prefers to have some time to herself after they argue, but she’s not taking any chances on either of them walking in to try to appease her.

Pacing around the room, she rearranges supplies, shuffles through papers, and picks up small knick-knacks, only to immediately put them back in place. Grabbing a pillow from the overstuffed chair opposite her desk, she screams into it, trying to expel the frustration and sadness swirling inside her. It doesn’t help.

She plops into her desk chair, jabs the power button on her laptop, then scrolls through her playlists. Music has always helped to calm her, one of the things that she and Dean have in common. Hitting shuffle on her Christmas playlist, she leans back in the chair, clicking her tongue and irritatedly tapping her nails on the desk’s surface, waiting for the cheerful melodies to ease the tension as her thoughts settle back on Dean.

This is the first year they won’t spend the holiday hunting monsters or holed up in some crappy motel. The boys have never had what others considered a traditional Christmas. Still, she knows that beneath his battle-hardened shell, Dean sometimes dreams of having something more conventional and ordinary. A holiday spent listening to cheesy Christmas music, over-the-top decorations, exchanging gifts, more food than they can eat at one meal, and his family and friends nearby, sharing the warmth and love of the season—the ‘apple pie life’ as he likes to call it.

For Dean and her, the bunker is a home, a place that is safe and familiar. The closest they will probably ever get to that apple pie existence. So the prospect of decorating, baking, and enjoying what others considered normal Christmas activities for the first time with him had filled her with giddy excitement. 

She thought Sam would be the tough nut to crack and to get on board, but aside from the tree debate, he seemed to support her plans. Dean’s response to her initial foray is bewildering. He’d acted enthusiastic when she regaled the group that night with her vision, even offered suggestions. It breaks her heart to see his apparent disdain for it all now, and she regrets responding to his anger in kind. There’s something driving it; she just needs to figure out what it is. 

Nic closes her eyes, replaying their conversation in her head, focusing on his body language and facial expressions. Sorrow …his eyes had been mournful and dark before he blinked it away while she spoke about the beauty and spirit of the season.

The upbeat anthem shifts into a slow emotional ballad, and between breathy vibrato and belted lines, the artist sings about searching for a lost Christmas. The song is from one of her favorite movies. The one she’d been watching earlier and why it was in the forefront of her mind, prompting her to call Dean a bad banana. The image of his adorably confused face sparks a small giggle. 

Restarting the song, she pushes away from the desk, slowly swiveling in the seat, mulling over the possibilities of what triggered Dean’s sudden opposition and hidden grief.

My world is changing; I'm rearranging

Those two simple lines punch through her musings and tears well in her eyes. Dean’s life has changed drastically over the past months, and he’s probably feeling lost. Unsure of where he fits into the world now. Yes, there are still monsters and evil to fight in the world, but those cases have been few and far between and are cakewalks compared to fighting cosmic beings hellbent on the destruction of the world.

Obtaining something that he had only ever dreamed of, talked about as if it were a fairytale because he never believed that he would ever have it, is, in truth, probably terrifying. After spending the majority of his life in fight or flight mode, Dean now finds himself in transition. He’s probably wondering how long it will take before he screws it up, waiting for it to become tainted because he didn’t truly earn it, a constant fear running through his mind that he will wake up and it will all have vanished. She berates herself for not seeing his struggle sooner, especially since she’s been having similar feelings, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She’s been busy with her growing business, tucked away in her workroom for hours on end, completing orders so they can be shipped in time for the holiday—neglecting Dean. Thinking back over the past few weeks, she can envision the shift in his demeanor. Usually, Dean has a hard time hiding his feelings from her, but the change had been subtle, and her distracted mind had missed it while it was happening.

Swiping away the tears on her cheeks, she plants her feet, chair jerking to a stop mid-rotation as her eyes land on her old Polaroid camera. Photography is a secondary hobby, and the wooden shelving unit Dean built for her is home to several vintage cameras still in working order. To her, photography is a form of art that creatively captures the world around you, preserving those moments in time from a viewpoint others might not see.

With a gasp, she jumps from the seat. “That’s it!” Rummaging through the closet, she pulls out a box of old maps and travel journals, remnants from a life long ago. The items in the box document her grandfather’s travels around the world. She had barely managed to save them from being thrown out by one of her foster parents. They are the only items she has of her former life. 

She had spent hours of her childhood reading about his epic adventures and studying the maps, learning how to read them and navigate the world at large. That skill had served her well over the years. While quite familiar with the highways and byways of the country, having traversed them way more than most, the Winchesters had still come to rely heavily on her knowledge. Nicole’s unique skillset of rapidly calculating distances and recalling little-known routes had shaved off many miles and given them back precious time when it was needed most.

Laying out the maps on her large workspace, she grabs her tablet, phone, and a fresh notebook. Dean needs to see the world through a different lens, a view not mired in blood and heartache. She will plan an adventure for the two of them, a road trip that will remind him of the beauty and the good he sacrificed the last 40+ years of his life for—remake the holiday into a Winchester-style Christmas.

Next

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

@akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deanwanddamons // @flamencodiva // @idreamofplaid // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @michellethetvaddict // @mvdeanw // @shawnie74 // @siospins2 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix

[stillunusual]

Leeds United: Meslier, Bogle, Struijk, Rodon, James (Solomon 70), Rothwell, Piroe (Joseph 70), Aaronson, Tanaka, Byram, Gnonto (Bamford 87).

Subs not used: Darlow, Guilavogui, Gelhardt, Schmidt, Debayo, Crew. I had expected to miss this game, but the weather in Barcelona was so unusually bad that I cancelled my plans to go out and decided to watch Leeds on my laptop instead….

As Junior Firpo was suspended and Largie Ramazani will be out for 4-6 weeks, Sam Byram and Dan James returned to the starting line up. Leeds United signed experienced midfielder Josuha Guilavogui this week (on a short term contract until the end of the season), and he was on the bench….

Bristol City were unbeaten at home prior to this game and proved to be a tough nut to crack. They parked the bus, wasted as much time as they could right from the start and occasionally hit us on the break. Leeds took a while to get going - we dominated possession and ended up creating enough chances during the first half to win the game comfortably, but failed to put any of them away.

We faded in the second half and the game turned into a bore draw, but it was a decent point away from home….

[waynes-multiverse]

Dean was really amazingly supportive in this chapter.

Yup! 💚 Who would've thought after that rough beginning? lol

I really feel for her plight, even if she is the one who slept with a married man. He gets off virtually consequence free, while she's still paying for it even now. At least she has access to an abortion clinic -- something not all women even have nowadays. 😓

Definitely something I wanted to show in this story: women ALWAYS draw the short stick when it comes to these things. Sam's still roaming around while both Y/N and Jo are essentially fucked 😕

And hell yes to abortion clinics and the option to choose! Y/N's a prime example of that, even when she screwed up a little. But who doesn't make mistakes? There's no way she could afford a kid without moving back home to her parents and give up on her entire dreams...

And yes, Dean's a goner and clearly unexperienced when it comes to real intimacy lol

But! I'm actually really glad that Bella broke up with him for her own sake, despite the fact that she genuinely liked him. I guess she's a lot smarter than Dean initially gave her credit for! 😂

I loved giving her the reins for this! I figured she deserved some empowerment after being constantly pushed aside lol

Maybe if he provides her some much needed support going forward, she'll begin to see him in a different light other than friendship. 🤔

Oh well, she's a tough and very dense nut to crack, so we'll see 😆

Reader whenever Dean shows her affection:

Plastic Hearts – Part 11

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, angst, crack, implied smut, unwanted pregnancy & mentions of abortion, fluff, a break-up, one-sided pining by an idiot

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Here we go… 🤓🍿 By the way, for the assholes who are planning to send me some lecturing ask about this, here’s a lesson for you: I. NEVER. LEARN. Chances are you’re only gonna make it worse, so… Enjoy the drama, babes! 🖤

<< 10 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

11. Glory Days

Sometimes it only takes one little mistake, one drunken decision, to completely ruin your life.

Keep reading

[idontneedasymbol]

Emotions, Winchester style

This article about Dean’s angst in the recent ep had some interesting points -- I enjoyed the acknowledgment that SPN runs on pathos (they better keep that in mind as the season progresses) and Jensen is gifted at bringing the angst, both subtly and overtly.

There was one eyebrow-raising bit, though:

Sam and Dean Winchester are undoubtedly two of the most tortured heroes on TV, but while Sam (Jared Padalecki) proudly wears his emotions on his sleeve, older brother Dean (Jensen Ackles) is the embodiment of that ‘80s action hero archetype, oozing masculinity with his muscle car and shoot-first mentality, and stoically repressing his emotions until they inevitably explode in bursts of violence or self-destructiveness.

Which, okay, that’s how Dean works, except for all the times he doesn’t. But Sam? Wears his emotions on his sleeve? What sleeve? The one on a purple-dog t-shirt he’s buried under 10 feet of concrete and then sunk to the bottom of the sea?

Sam willingly shows very specific emotions, the ones he isn’t ashamed by. But anger, pain, hatred, hopelessness, he shoves down as deep as they go, until the pressure builds too high and bursts into things like “Sacrifice,” or all of season 4.

Both Sam and Dean try to suppress and hide what they think makes them look weak or vulnerable; they just have different ideas of what does that. So Dean often doesn’t bother to conceal his self-worth issues, making them part of his bravado, that he doesn’t care about his own life; while Sam is reluctant to let anyone notice how deep his self-doubt runs, for fear it will be confirmed. Then, Sam is generally unembarrassed  to admit he cares about someone, because that’s something positive, love being proof of his humanity; while Dean can be ashamed to admit that he’s craving affection, for fear he won’t get what he doesn’t deserve.

I think people might’ve been confused by all the times that Sam wanted Dean to talk – missing that Sam always wants Dean to talk about what’s going on with Dean. Sam is very interested in and unashamed about other people’s feelings. Not least of which because it means he can avoid discussing his own in any depth. Pretty much the only time he volunteers information on his own emotional state is when he’s trying to encourage Dean to share, or to show that he’s handling whatever he’s feeling – Sam is more likely to talk after he’s processed something internally. Or if he’s completely broken down, but that’s a rare thing. While as Dean is more likely to process by allowing himself to express what he’s feeling.

I also wonder if things were confused by the beginning of the show, which was more from Sam’s POV, so we got a lot about his internal mourning for Jess – seeing his nightmares and such – without him actually expressing most of that overtly; while our window into Dean’s inner workings was more limited. Over time the perspective has shifted back and forth, with Dean’s POV coming to dominate more in the later seasons (sometimes to the show’s  and characters’ detriment).

[dreamwraith]

I posted 1,027 times in 2021

50 posts created (5%)

977 posts reblogged (95%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 19.5 posts.

I added 438 tags in 2021

#danny phantom - 265 posts

#valerie gray - 36 posts

#sam manson - 25 posts

#gray ghost - 25 posts

#lmao - 23 posts

#tucker foley - 14 posts

#paulina sanchez - 13 posts

#pitch pearl - 13 posts

#ghost king danny - 13 posts

#vlad masters - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#(it was really only meant to catch their attention; the romance doesn’t actually catch on until ch6 or when fenton has enough of being used)

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Swagger Bishie idea of sorts where Dash and his friends accept him being gay, but he takes a bet and now he has to convince Danny, who recently also came out as bi, to go to the dance with him. Dash is like this is sooo humiliating, asking a loser out to the dance, especially this loser. A bet is a bet though, so he tells Danny they're going to the dance together and Danny flips him off and walks off. He tries doing the whole jock locker lean as he asks (so humiliating) Danny to go with him to the dance, and Danny laughs in his face.

Dash isn't about to lose a bet because some nerd thinks he's better than him, this is getting personal, so he tries to get closer to Danny--

And in the process finds out how strange, brave, mysterious, and savage Danny is on top of being an absolute dork about things like space, video games, and puns. Next thing he knows he actually wants to go to the dance with Danny.

As er fun and angsty "finding out your date asked you out as part of a bet" is, I think I'd like it more if Paulina noticed how deep Dash was getting and called off the bet. She goes full wingman on Dash's behalf and tries lifting Danny's low opinion of him by bragging about his good points, but Danny is a tough nut to crack after he spent years as Dash's favorite punching bag every time something went wrong.

Dash tries to argue it's not like he likes him that much, Danny is just a little, tiny bit cooler than he thought, but then he sees Danny sass a ghost the way he used to sass Dash, and fudge, he is in deep isn't he? He tries to show Danny how cool he can be by bench pressing or something, but Danny's a ghost who can lift a whole dang bus, he ain't impressed. So Dash mopes and kicks himself for being such an idiot all these years, so focused on his pride he couldn't see how awesome Danny was.

Cue Danny Phantom needing Dash's help after he gets injured or needs to hide from the Fentons/GiW, and Danny finally starts seeing another side of Dash. He is trying, he really does like Danny Fenton, he wants to make amends.

Danny can't forgive him right away... but he can let down his walls a little and let Dash come in a little at a time.

467 notes • Posted 2021-05-15 22:46:25 GMT

#4

Danny Phantom au where everything is the same except when Danny caused the portal accident, the whole of Amity Park got sucked into the ghost world

Jack and Maddie are absolutely ecstatic

While the other citizens plus mayor are like "Put our town back where you found it OR SO HELP ME, FENTONS"

Danny is crushed by guilt because whoops, but hey, maybe developing in the ghost zone helps his ghost form look more ghostly, and maybe it's easier to practice and master his powers but at what cost

He still has to protect his town from ghosts because accessing those tasty, terrified humans just became 95% easier

Danny's actually gotta make friends and be a go-between for the humans and ghosts because he can't just shove the inconvenient ghosties back through the portal, so, like, with the Lunch Lady they could probably get a deal going with her where she can help supply them with food so long as everyone maintains a balanced diet (and she's updated on how nutrition works so that those who don't want meat can get protein from other sources)

Vlad hears about a human town being displaced in the GZ, realizes its Maddie's home, and is like "Yes! An opportunity!" And offers his protection in exchange for idk becoming the mayor or something but Danny is like "I got it handled, thanks, but I could use your help" but Vlad doesn't yet know why he should care about this pipsqueak who just ruined his extortion plan. He'll just have to show everyone how unprepared Danny is to protect them, but he's not prepared for the town to come to their protector's aid because EXCUSE YOU MR. VAMPIRE GHOST THIS ONE IS OURS, and idk maybe they discover then that humans are untouchable because they've always run away from ghosts in the past instead of standing their ground. Point is Danny would meet Plasmius long before he meets Vlad or hears his story

I just want the towns people to become comfortable in their new ghost world and get a whole system set up with the future ghost king existing governments and gain a respect and understanding for species different from their own

Conspiracy theory: "The Fentons didn't pull us into another dimension-- they killed us! This is the ghost world! We're actually dead!" No one likes that theory

It probably only lasts for, like, six months or a year or whatever, but it leaves its mark on the humans, and with the town disappearing for a whole year/whatever before reappearing again, they're definitely going to get a reputation like the Bermuda Triangle lol

532 notes • Posted 2021-05-19 15:40:27 GMT

#3

I'm just gonna do ahead and headcanon the Fright Knight as trans

Not for any character reason, but just so I can picture him being born as a noble human woman like Dora, hiding his sex to become a knight of the realm, dying in battle, and rising as a ghost that is unmistakably a man and who will cut anyone who dishonors his new leige lord by using the wrong pronouns for Danny

737 notes • Posted 2021-06-04 00:23:42 GMT

#2

It’s about the angst👌

1096 notes • Posted 2021-05-09 16:09:20 GMT

#1

I've been thinking about the whole Ghost King Danny thing (as one does) specifically about combining it with a Danny on the run situation where he's running/ flying from city to city

He's not running away from his parents this time, though

I'm thinking 14-16 year old Danny is going to think being asked to be the king is actually really cool; give him that ego boost! King? Him? Really? Wow! He might point out he's just a kid tho, he still has to attend school and live with his parents and everything. Could they maybe ask him again when he's 18? But they insist he must become King NOW which is a bit too much pressure for a high school student. Not enough to make him run away from home tho. So final straw?

When they say they want him as Ghost King they mean GHOST King, none of this divided loyalty business.

I.e. murder time!

Still, Danny has fought off ghosts before. What makes this different is they're not fighting him as a ghost, they're targeting his human form, before he has a chance to shift. His ghost sense becomes his best defense. His classmates have no idea why ghosts are suddenly trying to kill Fenton, and it freaks them out, making Danny even more of an outcast because they're now afraid to be around him. His parents try to protect him, but their inventions do as much harm as good. He debates telling them the truth (partly so they can help protect him better, partly so that if he is killed, they'll know its him when they see Phantom) but then Jazz gets hurt protecting him from something that would have killed him, and he makes the hard decision to just go, go now

Sam and Tucker try to come with him, but afraid they'd get hurt just like Jazz, Danny points out they would just slow him down and leaves them behind. Jack and Maddie list him as a runaway before Sam and Tucker get a chance to stop them, so cops are also after him. Danny's friends are the only clue to what is happening, where Danny might have gone, ect., so Jack and Maddie set upon trying to pry all of Danny's secrets from his friends.

But Danny won't be entirely alone.

His ghostly enemies, Skulker, Ember, Johnny, Kitty, none of them want him to be King either. It becomes a twist where Danny's enemies become his allies as they protect him on his journey from the ghosts chasing after him. They work together to keep him alive, trying to remember what it means to be human and how to keep him fed and healthy (but don't get the wrong idea, Kid, this is just to keep you from ruling over us, this isn't because we care or anything). It's a weird situation for them that they're not entirely comfortable with it (Skulker for one would rather just kill and skin the whelp himself before the king makers get the chance, but then he might be King. Ew.) But they make do because the alternative is Danny gaining enough power and prestige make them full on regret ever giving him trouble

I do have a happy ending in mind, but there is of course a tragic possibility for anyone more inclined toward the angst :P

1938 notes • Posted 2021-06-11 18:13:17 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[quolant]

4, samjosh!

Josh, as Chief of Staff, had a lot of rules one would probably call "pointless" (Donna), "ridiculous" (Amy) and "arbitrary (Lou). Things like only using Post-It brand Post-Its, no comment boards (especially if they were politics related, press would kill them, Josh would know) and no surprise parties of any kind. But he stuck to them anyway.

"Not even fun ones?" Donna said, one day, when she'd made the trek from the East Wing to talk about a UN summit. "Not even birthday-related?"

"The last time that happened, I fucked up with Chris Carrick," Josh grumbled. "So, this year, in this administration, it's not happening. It's a rule. It hasn't happened yet, and it's not going to."

"Wait," Sam said, from his perch on Josh's couch. He spent way too much time there, considering his office was a lot bigger than the one he used to have, and he could probably get a couch if he really wanted. Josh didn’t mind, really; he'd never minded back then, when Sam had come over with a "Hey," with something in hand, and they'd end up in his office for hours talking about something. "Chris Carrick? That was you?"

Josh slanted a glance at him. "It's — it was a thing."

Sam considered him for a moment over his glasses. He looked good today, Josh thought absently, and then immediately shook it out of his head. Work. Yeah — he had a meeting with Vinick today. That was going to go great.

"I mean, your birthday is coming up," Sam noted, and exchanged a grin with Donna.

"No," Josh stated. "If you — I don't know, rope half of the West Wing and the goddamn social secretary into filling the Roosevelt Room with balloons and shit, I — I'll —" he paused.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You'll?"

Donna snorted. "It was the Mural Room, Josh. But, y'know, it's been a while, I'll let it slide."

"What —"

"It's the first year of our second term, Josh," Donna replied, grinning. "We have to set out and find our own traditions. We have to bond! We just got reelected!"

"Like our own Big Block of Cheese?" Sam asked, and Donna nodded.

"Well," Josh said, rolling his eyes, but feeling warm all over. "As long as we keep doing what we need to do." He winced. God, he did sound old. He sounded like Leo — and the thought of that made something ache, just a bit.

The next two weeks started when Amy came by and said, "So, you still hate red velvet, right?"

"I — yeah," Josh said, distracted, before looking at her. "Is this — relevant somehow?"

"It's relevant to things," she said easily, enigmatically, in that way where Josh had no clue what she meant.

He got up. "Amy—"

"I've got a meeting with the House Minority Whip. He's kind of a tough nut to crack," she broke in. "So I'll be out for a while."

Josh blinked. "Uh, ok."

Amy left, and Josh would swear that she was smirking.

Bram asked him, offhandedly, about the schedule. Edie mentioned something about mixology and cocktails and what drinks he liked. Annabeth popped in and asked something about pop music.

It all came to a head, one night, really, really late, when he and Sam were working on some legislation related to the education bill.

"Ok," Josh noted, tapping his pen. "I'll talk to Santos on Wednesday about some more people in Congress we can tap."

"Right, yeah," Sam said. And then: "Hey, uh, irrevelant, but do you know what time the First Lady's going to be meeting with UNICEF next week?"

"Sam, there are things called shared calendars now," Josh said, rubbing at his chin. God, he was tired. "They're on this other thing called the Internet. I know I'm not exactly thirty anymore, but the Admin Office would probably bother me if I didn't tell you."

"No, I —" Sam looked at him, with a kind of faint grin. "It's not really about — that. I just wanted to know when they were using the Blue Room that day."

Then something fell over his face, and Josh blinked. "Wait. Wait. Wait —"

Sam looked like he was going to panic, but a calm settled over his face almost instantly. "It's nothing."

"It's not — nothing!" Josh said. "Why would you need the Blue Room? Why would you need to know?"

"It's — well, actually, it's a very old and beautiful room, with a long and detailed history —"

"Like you would know the history of rooms in the White House—" Then all the pieces fit together in Josh's head. "It's my birthday next week, isn't it," he said, flat. "Are you guys throwing a party?"

Sam had the gall to look apologetic. "It — we could be? We could stall it if makes you feel better." He grinned, small and a little wicked, but still overwhelmingly sincere.

"Sam," Josh said, sighed. "I — It's fine. I mean now I'll guess I'll have to perfect my 'shocked' expression."

"You never did have a great poker face."

"So," Josh crossed his arms. "You're really throwing a surprise party. With all the works. That — explains a lot, actually about the past few weeks.

"I mean —" Sam leaned back. "We were trying to, you know, be secretive. I guess we'll have to brush up."

"Yeah, no kidding. Seriously, though," Josh met his eyes. "I asked if you were having a party. I didn’t tell you to have a party.”

Then Sam's face got a little sad, in the way that made Josh's chest hurt. "You know, Josh," he said. "You do have people here. I know it's not like — back then, but you do. And they care about you."

"I know that," Josh said, and it came out insistent. He thought of all the debates he'd had with Lou, all the whiskeys he'd shared with Amy, the time Bram had solved the problem with Social Security, the time Edie and Ainsley had found a loophole in some dense legislation that helped them with pushing healthcare legislation. Santos — with his unwavering belief and his sense of humor, more apparent than not. The First Lady, who apparently did have the best poker face. Donna — where could he even start? And Sam —

"So let us do this," Sam said, plantively, meaningfully. "You've had our backs. Eat some cake and pretend to be surprised and pop champagne."

"Champagne?"

Sam nodded. "You're kind of a big deal," he replied, teasing, but kind, and Josh —

Josh knew Sam was kind of amazing, even back when he'd been a dorky twenty-year old at Princeton, but even then, he never failed to take Josh's breath away. It'd been years, and he still could.

What the hell, Josh thought. It was 2011, not 1988 or 1998 or 2002, and he got up. Sam got up, too, probably to say something, but Josh leaned over the desk and kissed him.

Sam didn't kiss back, and Josh panicked for a bit before he did, skimming a thumb on Josh's jaw.

When they pulled apart, he was smiling, close mouthed, but his eyes were sparkling.

"So that happened," Josh said.

"It did."

"It — probably should've happened a while ago."

Sam cocked his head. "I was okay with the wait, Josh."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "It makes the present better."

Josh looked at him and then: "Sam, is that supposed to be a pun?'

When Sam's mouth ticked on one side, Josh groaned. "You're — you're so —"

"Yeah?"

Josh blinked at him, saw his grin get wider. Sam looked tired, but so was he. It was — probably morning now, god. And he couldn't bring himself to retort, not while Sam was grinning at him like that.

"Never mind," he muttered, but sat down. When Sam sat down with him, Josh leaned over to hold his hand.

(Everyone but Donna was convinced at Josh's face next week.

"Sam told you, didn't he?"

He shrugged. "Among other things."

Her eyes went wide, before her mouth split in a bright smile. "Other things?"

Josh looked over to where Sam was laughing with Ainsley and Lou with a flute of champagne. He tried not to grin but failed. "Yeah." )

[straightupsickfics]

A smol thing for/inspired by @softersteve​ who wanted 18 / squishing the other’s cheek from this prompt list, with some cute reluctant sick person Bucky 💖

This is from an au I started where Bucky lives in a small town in Indiana and is a carpenter/wood worker and Tony is a mechanic who owns an auto repair shop and they fall in love on Bucky’s porch 

***

“...He said that Maura appeared to be shaken up, but didn’t appear intoxicated…” The sound of a familiar voice greets Tony as he walks the length of the driveway and up the steps to where Bucky sits on his porch. 

At midday, the sun is high in the sky, and it’s clear from the look of him that Bucky’s been working since early that morning. His hands and jeans are covered in a thin coat of sawdust, and he just looks... worn out. Tony’s stomach still gives a little flip at the sight of him, though. It’s still new, being with him, but it’s been so easy, slotting their lives together and spending long stretches of the evenings together — sitting on Bucky’s porch and talking about their latest projects, eating dinner together and drinking a beer while the sun set — that it’s become something of a routine. Something to look forward to at the end of even the longest days. 

Today, Tony’s early. Work had been slow all day and he’d decided to close up early and come visit his grumpy, hard-working, true crime-obsessed boyfriend. 

“Working hard or hardly working?” Tony says in greeting, leaning down to brush a kiss over Bucky’s lips. He feels a smile unfurl beneath his lips and grins in response, pulling away. 

“Could say the same for you,” Bucky counters, voice just shy of raspy as he smiles shyly up at him. Bucky’s eyes look even more tired up close, and despite the bright sun, his face is more pale than usual, almost sallow. “Shouldn’t you be at the shop right now?”

“I wanted to see you,” Tony tells him, dropping himself into the Adirondack chair beside Bucky’s. They’re beautiful pieces, each made by hand with the kind of love and care Bucky puts into everything he cares about, Tony was coming to realize. He’s a tough nut to crack, but deep down, Bucky is just about as soft as they come. 

Tony sees it in the careful way Bucky pulls Tony to him at night, smiling softly at him while they eat and talk about nothing; he sees it when he catches him murmuring sweetly to Alpine, his little white rescue cat, and definitely when he Facetimes with his friends from New York, Steve and Sam. The three of them remind Tony of his own best friends, Pepper and Rhodey, also in New York, also keen to give him shit about his personal life at every turn. 

It’s adorable, really, these little glimpses into Bucky’s life, things and people Tony could only hope to one day meet. 

Beside him, Bucky coughs roughly into his elbow, then shoots Tony an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Driving me crazy…” 

Tony looks at him. “You sound a little rough, Buckybot,” he tells him. “Not that I don’t enjoy the whole sexy raspy thing you’ve got going on,” he adds. 

Bucky gives him another little smile, this one bordering on a smirk as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Not if it means you’re feeling bad, though,” Tony tells him. “And if you’re sitting here in the middle of the day, listening to your doom and gloom show—”

Bucky holds up a hand, stopping him. “It’s not a doom and gloom show.”

“I don’t know, listening to stories about murder for all these hours? Pretty dark, Buck,” Tony counters.

This gets him another eye roll. He’d probably get a lecture of the merits of Crime Junkie, too, but Bucky’s eyes get a kind of glazed look to them, bleary and unfocused as his breathing goes shallow. Tony watches as he shakes his head once, quickly, like he’s trying to clear it, before he gives up and brings a hand to his face, pinching off a rush of quick, itchy-sounding sneezes. 

“Hh’mpsh! Hdt’ish! Tshh! Snf!”

“Bless you! You shouldn’t do that you know. Your eyes might pop out of your skull. Or your brain might explode. And then I’ll have to be a guest on a podcast, talking about you to strangers. I’ll have no choice but to broadcast your stubbornness to the whole world.”

Bucky sniffles, then sighs. “You’re insane, you know that?” 

“So I’ve been told,” Tony says, smiling. He leans over, letting his hand rest on Bucky’s knee. “Are you okay? I’m no doctor but you look like you’re getting sick.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says, grimacing. He leans down and pulls a box of tissues from beneath his chair, snuffling into them before he replies again. “Might be coming down with something, but I feel okay. Mostly just s-sndeezing. The dust and the sun weren’t helping, so I came up here for a while.”

“Sweetheart,” Tony says, and his voice sounds too soft and sappy even to his own ears, but he can’t help it, not with the way Bucky’s sitting there with his watery eyes and pale face, telling him he feels just fine. He watches as Bucky tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear, sniffling a few more times. The rest of his hair is pulled up into a bun the way it always is when he’s been working, and Tony’s struck with the desire to pull it loose, release some of the tension that’s probably building in Bucky’s head and sinuses.

“W-what?” Bucky asks, his voice unsteady as his nostrils flare at the edges. He scrubs at it, but it apparently doesn’t do much because Bucky’s head bobs against an onslaught of another set of sneezes. 

“Hh’Ishhh! Ehtsh! Heh’ISHOO!” The last one slips out, unstifled, and Bucky brings the handful of tissues back up, burying his face into them. 

“God bless you,” Tony says. He gets up then, takes the box of tissues from Bucky’s lap and settles himself onto it, straddling himself over Bucky’s thighs and leaning into the warm weight of him. “You make a cute sick person, you know that?”

“I’m hardly sick, Tony, I might be getting a cold, but I’m not…” Bucky trails off as Tony reaches up and lets his hair down, slipping the hair tie onto his own wrist in the process. 

“Spoken like the stubborn sick person I know you to be, sweetheart,” Tony says, carding a hand into Bucky’s hair a few times and watching his face soften at the endearment. 

“Your face is pale,” Tony points out, cupping Bucky’s cheek in his palm and squeezing playfully. “But I’m afraid it’s true. You’re a cute sick person.” He drops a kiss to the apple of Bucky’s cheek to illustrate his point, smiling as Bucky tries his very best not to smile at the affection. 

“Keep it up, Stark,” Bucky warns, though the congestion and fondness all but negates whatever threat he had planned. He holds up a hand in warning, then leans back and away from Tony to sneeze again. “Hh’Eh...eeISHH’oo! Huh’TshhhIEW! Snf! Sorry,” Bucky murmurs. Tony just kisses his shoulder before continuing.

“...Or what? They’ll be talking about me on the podcast next? God I sure hope they don’t interview my father... the fans will get the entirely wrong idea about me.”

Bucky laughs at this, dropping his head onto Tony’s shoulder to muffle the sound. He rests there for a long minute, and Tony brings his hand back up into his hair, petting the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“Hmm...feels good,” Bucky mumbles eventually, leaning back up and looking at Tony. His gray-blue eyes are tired but fond, Tony can’t help but notice. 

“Good,” Tony tells him. “Why don’t you call it a day, hm? Let me take you inside and we can do sick person things. I’ll even listen to your murder show with you without complaint. It’s too hot to sit out here, and the sun has to be bothering your eyes.”

Bucky only hesitates for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay,” he says, clearing his throat a few times. “It’s the Maura Murray episode. Two parts! Even you had to have heard about that case.” 

“Can’t say I have, darling,” Tony says, kissing him once, quickly, before standing up and holding out a hand for Bucky to take. “Enlighten me.”

Bucky leads them inside, sniffling as he scoops up Alpine and tucks them both in beside Tony on the couch. The living room is still a work in progress, all mismatched furniture and throw blankets, but it’s cool and dim and when Bucky rests his head against Tony’s shoulder, relaxing against him, Tony can’t help but think it feels like home.

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Commitment issues [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Title: Commitment issues Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word count: 3.7k Published: 9 July, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: You broke up with Dean, in fear of losing him both as a friend and a lover, but Dean doesn’t like the options he has been given.

Supernatural Masterlist | Masterlists

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It was 8am on the morning, you were taking care of your morning routine in the bathroom. It was rather early and you very well knew that Sam was out to get something to eat as the fridge has been emptied out by his brother last night. Dean was still asleep in his room, so you didn't take any of your cloths with you. You wrapped yourself in your towel, knowing noone would interrupt you. Or so you thought.

As you walked out of the shared bathroom, closing the door behind you, you ran into something hard. You felt arms around your waist steading you. You looked up to meet two emerald green irises, realising Dean was holding onto you with a mischievous look on his face.

"Well, what a pleasant surprise. Is it my birthday?" He chuckled, but you just huffed in an annoyed tone.

"Shut up, Dean." You rolled your eyes, removing his hands from your waist, walking around him. You barely took a few steps before his arms wrapped around your torso once again, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

"Come on, love. Stop this already." He heaved a deep sigh, making your skin shiver.

"We have talked about this, Dean." You spoke, massaging your temple as you felt a slight headache thumping in the front of your skull.

"Yes, we have. And you are being completely unreasonable." He huffed, but didn't move away. He kept himself hidden in your neck, which made it very hard for you to think clearly.

"I am not being unreasonable. I told you, I need you to be my friend." You repeated yourself once again, just like the previous hundred times.

"I can be your friend and your lover. You know I love you and I know you love me. Stop this already and just let it happen." He tried to convince you, but it never worked for him. It just always ended up being a huge argument, causing you to not speak to each other for days.

You turned around in his arms, placing your hands on his hard chest, enjoying the feeling of his warmth against your palm. It was hard to stay away from him, of course you loved him, you didn't break up, because you didn't love each other, you broke up with him, because you never wanted to lose him.

You looked up into his eyes and placed a palm on his cheek, which he comfortably leaned into.

"I told you so many times, Dean. Why do I have to keep repeating myself? I would rather have you as a friend, close to me, by my side, than to lose you." You tried to make him understand in the softest tone you could manage.

"You will not lose me." He placed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, taking your scent in.

"But I will. You still don't understand. We broke up peacefully and this way we could stay friends. But if we start dating again, how do you know that there will not be problems, that we will not part in a nasty way. I can't handle losing you. I'd rather have you close as a friend, knowing that you will be by my side, than to lose both a friend and a lover at the same time." You were almost begging him to understand, but he was a hard nut to crack.

"So you expect me to act as if we were just friends? I can't just put my feelings aside and frankly, I don't understand, how can you." He raised his voice and leaned away from you, taking back a step, removing his hands from your waist.

"I'm sorry, but I can. You are too important to me to just give it up for a fling." You shook your head in disagreement.

"A fling? We love each other and you call that a fling?" He asked with furrowed brows.

"You know that's not what I meant. I am trying to tell you that if we stay friends, I can be next to you for years or even decades. But if we start it all over again, how do you know we will not break up in a year?" You wanted to make him see your side, but he just shook his head.

"We have been best friends for years, before we even got together. I know everything about you. I know that you like to tug the duvet between your legs, so your knees don't touch. I know that you always buy two burgers for yourself and hide one in the pocket of your jacket so noone knows that you have quite a big appetite." He smirked at the thought and it made you return his expression. He stepped closer, cupping your face as he continued. "I know that you scrunch up your nose when you are thinking very hard about something. I know that you have a hard exterior and always try to act though, but you hide the spiders you find in the bunker, in a little jar and free them later, because you can't get yourself to kill them. I know you and I know I love every little quirky part of your personality. Isn't that enough?" His tone was gentle, loving and you just wanted to hug him and pull him as close as you could to tell him that you were there for him and you believed him. But you couldn't.

"Honestly, I love that you know so much about me, but it's not enough. It doesn't prove that we are not going to have a huge fight that later which will break us up. What if I did something dumb? Like get jealous and go all possessive on your ass? You would be angry at me and I wouldn't be able to let it go and we would fight and it would get nasty." You attempted to convince him once again, but he just smiled.

"I would just think that you are adorable and I would prove you that I am all yours." He winked at you playfully, but you just heaved a deep sigh.

"You don't understand. What if we have a huge fight and we break up? I would lose you." You groaned in annoyance.

"No, you wouldn't. We would sit down and talk it through." He tried to reassure you.

"No, I don't want to risk it. I want you to be my friend, nothing more, nothing less." You spoke firmly and you could see his body become tense as he stood back.

"If you continue like this you will lose me as a friend as well." He said as he walked around you, heading towards his room.

"Come on, Dean!" You shouted after him, but he didn't listen. He loudly shut the door of his room, ignoring your desperate calls. You heaved a deep sigh and massaged the back of your neck to release the tension built up in your body out of frustration.

You walked back to your room to dress up in your usual black clothings, then headed to the kitchen, sitting down at the table, waiting for Sam and Dean to get ready. Sam has previously told Bobby that you would go over to him to see if he was okay. At first he was quite reluctant, trying to get rid of you all, but soon he changed his mind. You were glad. He was like a father figure to you since the moment your parents got murdered and he took you in. You looked up to him even when he was getting on your nerves with his wise-ass behaviour.

However your happiness quickly disappeared when you heard that Bobby invited both Jo and Ellen. You didn't have problem with the latter, but knowing and witnessing Jo's and Dean's relationship develop was hard enough to watch before, you definitely didn't want to see them cozying up to each other once again.

You heaved a deep sigh, hiding your face behind your palms, wanting to forget about everything and anything that recently happened between you and Dean. It was exhausting and complicated and you knew it was all your fault, but you just needed his friendship. Loving him was hard, but you dared to sacrifice that, so you could stay by each other's side.

"Ready?" Sam asked, standing in the doorway as Dean was already walking up to the entrance door. You nodded and followed the boys, closing the door harshly behind yourself. You took your seat behind Dean in the Impala, feeling a clear tension between the two of you. You knew he was pissed and that forced silence and ignorance he was giving you, confirmed your thoughts.

The ride was silent, even Sam didn't dare to interrupt, other than for a toilet and snack break. After about 6 hours of travelling, Dean finally pulled into Bobby's yard, parking the Impala in front of the porch. You all got out of the car, but by the time you closed the door behind you, you saw Jo embracing Dean in a big hug. You snorted in annoyance, causing Sam to chuckle.

"Shut up..." You told him, trying to act as if nothing happened, but Sam knew better. You walked up the old, creaking wooden stairs to the porch where you nodded towards Jo and Ellen, before walking around them to greet Bobby with a big hug. You didn't have a personal issue with Jo, you knew she was a tough girl who was also very smart and kind, but that just fuelled your jealousy even more.

"Good to see you, Little one." Bobby greeted you as you hugged his big bear-like frame.

"Good to see you too. You look awful, I hope you know that." You chuckled as you looked at the ever growing beard covering his jaw. "You need to shave, before this gets out of hand." You pulled on his beard, but he just pushed your hand away.

"I'm a man. Men are hairy." He stated with a grin across his face, which you simply nodded at.

You walked into the house watching as Bobby ushered both Dean and Sam after you. You sat down in the living room in an armchair by the side of the sofa, while Sam, Bobby and Ellen took a seat on the couch. Dean took his place on another armchair across form you with Jo sitting on the armrest.

"Would you like to drink a beer?" Ellen asked, but before any of you could have answered, she was already on her way to the kitchen.

Everyone was talking about little nothings, which honestly frustrated you. You were fighting monsters, you were not supposed to just sit around and do nothing. But of course, that wasn't the main source of your frustration. Seeing Dean and Jo being way too cozy with each other, giggling at one another and having fun, made you tense. Every time Jo held onto Dean' bicep, you wanted to walk over to tell her that he was your man. But he wasn't and you knew how dumb you were to be jealous.

After an hour of watching the lovely couple feeling more and more comfortable with each other, stealing little touches from one another, you got bored of watching it. You rolled your eyes and decided to go and release some tension. You stood up abruptly and placed your bottle of beer on the counter, before heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam called after you, but you just pulled your gun out of your belt and showed it to him from behind, not even wanting to turn around, fearing to catch a glimpse of the cozy little couple.

You walked to the back of Bobby's building, where a big green land was waiting for you, behind his junk yard. Bobby was keeping some vegetables and fruits in a basket that he used to practice shooting. You placed the rotten fruits on each wooden log, standing on the field, using them as targets. You stepped back, concentrated and started shooting. Using your gun always made you feel a bit lighter, a bit less stressed, a bit less confused. It didn't solve your problems, but it certainly helped your frustration to be kept in control. You have done 3-4 rounds, firing your bullets into each and every objects, not even missing one.

"Well done." You heard as you quickly turned around, your gun still raised in your hands. You heaved a deep sigh and lowered your weapon, loosening your grip on it.

"Sorry, didn't hear you coming." You said as you took another batch of apples and put them on the wooden logs.

"How long are you planning to dance around each other?" Bobby asked, making you turn abruptly, almost getting a whiplash.

"Really, Bobby? You want to talk about relationship issues?" You asked with a sceptical tone.

"Believe me, the last thing I want to know is what you and Dean are doing behind closed doors, but what you do to him and to yourself is affecting others too." You scoffed at his reply and started shooting again, ignoring his presence. "You know this is my house, right?" He asked, making you frown. "I have plenty of time. I am not going anywhere." He smirked, but you simply rolled your eyes, before you finished your round and gave your attention to him.

"I don't want to talk about this. This is between him and me." You shrugged, not wanting to say more, but Bobby thought otherwise.

"You know, Little one, I love you, but you are seriously acting dumb. Like a whole lot of dumb." He grimaced.

"Don't you start as well." You warned him with an expressionless face.

"I am not starting anything. I don't think I raised you to be scared." He scoffed.

"I am not scared." You raised your voice.

"Yes, you are. You are scared of commitment. But you forget that in our line of work, there might not even be a tomorrow." He attempted to convince you and for once you couldn't reply. "If I understand this whole situation well, you are trying to stay friends, so you don't have to part ways. But pushing your feelings aside, instead of enjoying the moment, when you could be murdered tomorrow, is plain dumb." You scoffed at his last sentence.

"Oh please. We have lived through years and we are still here." You turned away to put another batch of fruits on the wooden logs, but he got hold of your wrist and stopped you.

"No, you don't get it. Do you think I have ever thought that it would be my hands that'd kill Karen? Back then I didn't even know what this world was. I barely scratched the surface." He explained, but you cut him off.

"Bobby..." You tried to stop him, but to no avail.

"Don't Bobby me." He cut you off. "In one second I had a beautiful wife, who I loved dearly, the next I killed her with my own hands. You never know what will come to you the next day and you can't comprehend how guilty I feel not just for ending her life, but not giving her enough love, for not being by her side in her last days." He spoke in a harsh tone

"That's a different...."You attempted to cut in, but he didn't let you.

"It's not different. You don't want to lose him, but you don't want to be with him. You love each other, so you can't be friends again. If you decide not to be with him, then cut him off. You can't keep pretending that you can live next to each other, when you clearly can't. However if you want to stay by his side, then go to him, tell him you love him and be with him for God's sake, because you can lose him any time. Not by a break up. There are far worse ways to lose someone in this world." His words cut deep and you knew he was right, but you were way too stubborn to just agree with him. You didn't reply, nor did you look at him. You just stood there, replaying his words in your head. "I will leave you to yourself. It's a decision you have to make, but you have to deal with the consequences as well." He said as he went back into the house.

Bobby's words rang through your mind. You wanted to be with Dean, you loved him. You wanted to cuddle up to him while watching his favourite series on his laptop. You wanted to open your eyes on the morning, laying under his arms across your waist. You wanted to get his sweet temple and neck kisses like he has given you so many times before. But you didn't want to lose him and you were scared of breaking up.

"What you up to?" You heard his deep, husky voice. He was the last person you needed right now.

"Relaxing." You replied expressionless.

"You can relax in the house too." He said with a cheeky grin.

"Thanks, I'm good. You are the one who is expected inside." You spoke again.

"Expected?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Jo is probably missing your company already." You scoffed.

"Are you jealous?" He asked with a big, cheerful smile, but you just looked at him with a deadly expression across your face. Of course you were, you just didn't want him to know. It was meant to be just a snarky comment.

"You wish." You shook your head.

"Yeah, I do." He chuckled, playfully. "And I wish you would finally change your mind though." He spoke again in a more serious tone.

"Look Dean, you told me yourself. In our lives, we do not have the luxury to get attached." You argued.

"Yeah, we do not have the luxury to get attached to normal people, but we are not normal. We are hunters. You are by my side each and every time we go to hunt, you know how I feel, how I think, I don't have to keep secrets from you. I would want the apple pie, white fence, comfortable dream life with you, but we can't do that. At least I want to try being with you in this screwed up life, we have." He tried to convince you and you knew you were breaking. Both Bobby and Dean had very good points.

"So what if I lose you? What if we break up?" You asked.

"Again this? We have known each other for years. I think, I have proved you enough that I want to stay with you for as long as I can, you are just unable to get that into that stubborn little head of yours." He heaved a deep sigh, while massaging his temple. "Whatever." He whispered, as he turned away and started walking back to the house.

"Fuck this!" You told more to yourself, before you walked after Dean, got hold of his wrist and turned him back around. He had a rather surprised expression, but you didn't care. You chuckled at his face and grabbed the collar of his flannel shirt, pulling him closer to you, attaching your lips to his.

He didn't hesitate, a couple of seconds after his initial shock, he kissed you back, wanting to feel your lips against his once again. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you even closer to him, not wanting to leave any space between you. You ran your fingers across his neck, digging into his short hair at the back of his head, tugging on the ends, making him growl. You smiled into the kiss, but it quickly got swept off your face as his tongue licked across your lower lip, making you moan in pleasure, as he was asking for entrance.

The kiss was heated, but loving, making you want to stay in the moment, but air was much needed and Dean broke the kiss. He didn't leave your closeness though, he placed his forehead against yours with closed eyes.

"Why did you do that?" He asked, trying to organise his breathing.

"Because I love you. And because I think I realised that if I lost you, I would always feel guilty for not being with you, for not showing you how much I loved you." You replied in a soft tone as you hinted a sweet, little peck on his lips. You could hear the deep light sigh leaving his lungs. His grin was nowhere, a loving smile appeared on his face this time.

"Well, I'm not that easy to get rid off, so I guess you will have to be stuck with me for quite a long time." His smile grew bigger, along with yours.

"I don't think I mind." You chuckled and hugged him, placing your face into the crook of his neck.

"I love you." He kissed your temple in a sweet manner.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to like and/or reblog the fic. Thank you :) 

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[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-one: joey’s new song

“I need my art supplies—this is gonna drive me insane otherwise.”

“Sit tight, Sam—we're almost home.”

Even though it had only been a week since they had returned home from the tour, it felt as though Sam hadn't touched any of her good paper, pencils, or paints in what felt like a million years. She could smell the interior of her desk as they reached that brand new neighborhood. Even though she enjoyed going on tour with the boys, there always came a special feeling upon the return to Hell's Kitchen. It was almost one of triumph, especially with the trip over to England within a couple of weeks; given the lack of things to do and with Anthrax having to tend to more interviews in the wake of Scott's departure, Marla and Sam made the decision to head on back home for the last remaining dates.

“At least this time, school doesn't start for another month,” Marla pointed out.

“Yeah, we're actually gonna do something huge to go out on with this summer, too,” Sam added.

“Did you tell your parents that we're going overseas soon?”

“Last thing I did before we left the hotel was call up my dad and explain what you and I were going to do.” And yet Sam dared not tell them that the whole intention behind it was they tagged along with a band like a couple of groupies. She knew that she and Marla were anything but groupies, and yet Frank's words echoed through her mind upon the very thought of that word.

They turned the corner right before the apartment complex and, before either of them could mention anything further, Marla pulled up to the curb, and in one fell swoop, she took the key to the mailboxes inside of the building out of her jeans pocket and handed it to Sam.

“Your turn,” Marla said, complete with a peer over her sunglasses at her.

“You sure it's my turn?” Sam asked her.

“Wait. Who got it last time?”

“I think I did. I remember doing it.”

Marla frowned and she peered off to the side for a second. She then unbuckled her seat belt; she climbed out first, followed by Sam, and they stood in the late summer sun for a few seconds, before Marla returned to her with another glimpse over her sunglasses.

“I swore I got it last time,” she confessed to Sam over the noise of the street.

“I can't remember now,” Sam chuckled as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

“I can't, either.” Marla shrugged as she closed the door behind her; she held the door for Sam and then she headed over to the mailboxes on the far side of the front lobby there. Sam watched Marla unlock the narrow metal door, and then she took out the small stack of envelopes for them.

“Here, I'll get this—” Sam closed the door and took out the key for her.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Marla declared, “something special and sweet from our boys.” She showed Sam a familiar red envelope: by the mere sight of the parchment, she knew it was all about.

“Our boys,” Sam chuckled at that; she cradled the envelope in her hands, which felt rather heavy this time. Marla shuffled through the stack right there in front of her.

“Some of this is just complete trash—like I don't know if either of us will want any of this.”

“No way.”

“Got my grant, though!” Marla showed her an off white envelope.

“Already?”

“Yeah! Yours should be coming soon then. And—”

She showed Sam a pair of identical white envelopes.

“We can travel anywhere in the world now,” Sam remarked.

“We can! Come on—”

They made their way back upstairs to the apartment and Genie, who awaited them on the top of the couch with her golden eyes large and bright against her solid black fur.

“Hi, baby,” Marla greeted her, complete with a light kiss on the nose. “So glad the little old lady next door could take care of her for a bit until Belinda got here.”

“Right? Our Miss Genie out of the bottle,” Sam followed suit with a pet on top of the head, and Genie returned the favor with a soft purr. She took her seat on the couch and Genie stood there on the arm with her tail erect and the purr growing louder with every second. She took off her purse and set it on the cushion next to her, and then she lifted her arms out of the way.

“Wanna sit on my lap?” Sam offered her; her tail twitched a bit but she stayed still there on the arm of the couch.

“Come on—” she gently coaxed her. But Genie never made the leap: instead, she crouched down on the arm and Marla chuckled at that. Sam returned to the red envelope and, careful not to tear the parchment, she opened it there at the back.

“Wow, look at all the goodies Eric just sent me, Genie,” she remarked and she took out a dozen Polaroids, some notes, a beaded bracelet, a ticket stub, a white sheet of paper with song titles written on the front, and a letter folded into thirds.

“What's it say?” Marla asked her from the other side of the room; Genie jumped down from the arm of the couch and slunk over to her, and treated her to a rub on the ankles.

“Testament touring out to the Northwest and then back to California, and then they went home. Just a short little baby tour with them for the time being—they have almost a couple of months off and then they go to Europe again with—Anthrax! Anthrax and Armored Saint.”

“Cool!” Marla then hesitated. “But wait, we're gonna be in school then.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam gaped at her. She set down the letter and then she picked up the Polaroids: there was that one photograph she took of Joey while in Texas, and she wondered how it was even possible that Marla never asked about anything further than the cover on the camera or a possible negative within there. The little plastic bag of marijuana she understood how someone could ask her about it given that rank smell, but then again, it may have been nothing more than her imagination. That whole string of dates and no one asked about either one to her.

Indeed, once Marla headed into the kitchen for a few cat treats for Genie, Sam got up herself with her purse in hand and she headed into her room. How nice it felt to stand before her desk once again!

She opened that one drawer with her paints and pencils on the inside, and she spotted the rice paper on the very bottom there. She stopped right in her tracks at the sight of it underneath her colored pencils.

She moved them out of the way and she picked up the paper. A distant memory and yet she had crossed a single circle with Alex. Something about him simply did not add up, especially once she reunited with that piece of rice paper.

“He's sweet,” she whispered as her fingers caressed over that graphite, now faded from being in hiding for so long. But even as the words left her lips, she wondered if he really was all that he had said before. If there was something more to him, especially given the fact he admitted that he still had his doubts about her. But if anything, there was something there with him. She set the paper back down into the bottom of the drawer.

She knew that paper would last a long time, even being in there all by its lonesome with the colored pencils. The very feeling of it in between her fingers reminded her of Cliff.

The fact she never got to touch him again.

She then returned to the purse on her chair and she took out the Polaroid of Joey as well as the bag of marijuana: the latter would have to be hidden away in a special place lest anyone find it for themselves. But the Polaroid, she stuck in the same drawer as the rice paper.

Two spots for her dead boyfriend and her possible new boyfriend. She then slung her purse on the back of the door and returned to Marla and Genie, both of whom took their spots on the couch with the treats.

“So Aurora is pregnant,” she said aloud as she set down a little round treat on the cushion.

“Might be,” Sam corrected her. “It’s been a couple of months—she might not even be for all we know.”

“For all we know,” Marla pointed out, and then she hesitated. “But what if she is?”

“Then we can hope that Emile is the father come the springtime,” Sam replied.

“We can hope.”

“We can hope, right.”

Another couple of treats and Genie raised her head with her tongue along her chops. Marla petted her head and she purred once again. Sam ambled over to the couch for the Polaroids: two of Chuck when in action, two of Eric, two of Alex, two of Greg, and two of Louie. The final two photographs were of the five of them all together outside of the venue in Oakland and the venue in Portland. She thought about Zelda's testimony about Portland and the Northwest, how all the kids travelled together, and she wondered if any more crowds would come for them as well as Anthrax and the Cherry Suicides.

She gazed down at the Polaroids of Alex: the first one was just him with his guitar close to his body and a slight sneer upon his boyish face, where the second one had him with his face pointed up to the sky in a rouse of euphoria. He even told her that he was a tough nut to crack. If only there was something more to that sentiment. If only she could find herself a better nut cracker as well.

A knock on the door broke her concentration. And yet she was quick to head on over to the door before Marla could even so much as stand to her feet. Sam was met by Joey and that guitar still slung upon his back.

“Joey! What're you doing here?”

“Thought you guys were over in Jersey,” Marla added as she adjusted her spot there on the couch for Genie; but she seemed more intent on a squat position on the arm of the couch. “Nah, we had to cancel,” he said as he shrugged his shoulders. “Damn promoters tried to oversell the place and they couldn’t. But, I’m here now, and I wanna see how things are on your end as well before we head out to the United Kingdom together.”

Sam stepped back a bit so he could head on into the apartment.

“Marla and I got our passports, finally—just waiting to hear back from Bel now.”

She rounded him and back towards the couch; she scooped up the fan club material so he could have a seat there next to Marla and Genie. She held it all close to her chest as if it was about to get away from her. He took the guitar off of his shoulder before he took his seat there. Genie looked on at him with her eyes large and her tail twitched off to the side a bit.

“Hey, kitty cat,” he greeted her.

“This is Genie,” Marla told him.

“Jean Genie!” he proclaimed as he stuck out his fingers for her; Genie bowed her head for a little bump of the nose onto his skin. But then she moved her head away from him for a wash of the paw. Marla chuckled at that and then Joey returned to the guitar.

“You simply have not taken that thing off, have you?” Sam teased him.

“I just did, though,” he pointed out. “I dunno if you girls know this like if someone told you, but I've been kickin' around a new song for the past day or so.”

“Oh, yeah?” Marla raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yeah. I dunno if it'll be on Anthrax's new album or somewhere but it's definitely sump'n to consider, though.”

“Care to share?” Sam asked him.

“I don't have an amp on hand, though,” he pointed out.

“You can do what Stormtroopers did a couple of years ago, though,” she insisted.

“Play it through a Walkman?”

“Yeah. You do that and you can record it at the same time.”

“Okay, but if I fuck it up, I want you to slap me,” he said in a single breath.

“Why would you want me to slap you?”

“So I can focus on things better,” he teased her, and that brought a chuckle out of Marla. Sam held Testament's fan club materials before her as if it were her books; Joey looked on at it and showed her a small but unsure smile as a result. Without another word, Sam headed back into her room to stash it away in a safe place.

The piece of rice paper and the Polaroid of Joey himself would have their place in that one drawer, and thus she had to put the things from Testament in another safe place. Safe place for her safe place away from Joey's prying eyes. She crouched down for a look under her bed and there was a pair of small boxes that she still had yet to unpack and put away but hadn't been able to from the tour and from the upcoming trip to England. But there was something next to it, a small black box about the size of a bread box.

She set down the papers and slid it out from under there, and she lifted the lid. Something that she didn't remember from before and yet it appeared to belong to Marla: like an old jewelry box that she had stashed under her bed when they were moving things in and she merely forgot about it. The outside felt as smooth as glass, and it took her a second to realize it was comprised of onyx. Three empty drawers on the one side: perfect for photographs. She stuck the dozen Polaroids into the top drawer, and then the papers into the top part.

The first fan club letter with the photographs the size of postage stamps would do into the other drawers.

Marla's laughter caught her ear as she organized it all right there on the floor of her bedroom. Sam lifted her gaze to Genie who slunk into there right then.

“Hi, baby,” she greeted her in a soft voice, and Genie rose her tail to her, complete with a little hook on the end. Sam stroked her head and she pinched her eyes shut at the feeling; she rubbed against her hip as a quiet purr emerged from her throat.

Joey's gentle finger plucking floated into the bedroom. What followed was the soft croon of his singing voice.

Even as a quartet, Sam knew Anthrax would be ahead of the game: she hadn't heard a thing from Metallica or Megadeth, and she still had yet to hear about Slayer. Anthrax and Testament, both right there at the top together. Joey had that powerful voice and with these handful of days off, he could finally polish up on his guitar skills as well. She thought about all that Alex had said to her in that small room during auditions: he had been playing since he was a little boy and yet Joey had picked up the guitar as a twenty six year old man and he ran away with it as if he was made to play it.

Everyone in the crowds loved him. No surprise Alex felt a little outshone by it. Thus, as Sam looked on at that first Polaroid of Alex, the one with the sneer on his face, she wondered if he could take the reins more on Testament's next record, if and when it would come to fruition. He had it in those long lanky fingers, those same long lanky fingers that scrawled on that piece of rice paper for her. He had the look in those deep eyes as well.

Or maybe he was just too dark for the masses. But then again, Joey had that dark skin and those large brown eyes, much like his Indian brother Chuck. They were all too dark for the masses, but Joey had the voice plus the guitar now. The best of both worlds, and perhaps a way around that.

“Wow!” Marla declared with a clap of her hands; Genie continued to purr and rubber on Sam's hip.

“Let's go see, shall we?” she offered the cat, who glanced back at her with squinted eyes. Sam stroked her head and her back once more, and then she closed the drawers on the box, and then she stood to her feet once again.

Genie followed her out of the bedroom and into the den, where Joey had adjusted himself on the couch so the seat of his pants hung right off the edge. He gave his black curls a light toss back and showed Sam a big grin when she returned with the black cat down by her feet.

“Tell her, Joe,” Marla coaxed him.

“This song is called 'Two Faced,'” he declared with his fingers upon the fretboard. He strummed the bare strings with the edge of his pick: even without the guitar being plugged in, Sam could tell it was heavy. Heavier than Anthrax and Testament both put together.

“When I get back home, I'll try out the drum beat on my kit,” he vowed.

“And we still have yet to see you drum,” Sam pointed out.

“Hell yeah, you do!” Joey cleared his throat and he closed his eyes as if he prepared to sing before a large audience. But before he could, the heavier of the strings snapped right underneath his hand. Marla clasped her hands to her mouth even though she wasn't the one who got hit. Joey leapt to his feet and dropped the guitar on the floor all the while.

Genie darted back into Sam's bedroom, frightened.

“SHIT!”

He waved his hand about as if he had been burned.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—”

“Let me get something!” Sam headed back into the bathroom for a bandage and something else to help with the pain. She delved through the three drawers next to the sink. Nothing in the top one.

“Joey!” Marla shouted.

A hairbrush and a comb in the second.

“JOEY!” She cleared her throat. “Sam!”

But all Sam could do was focus on what was in front of her. Nothing in those drawers.

“Damn it!” she exclaimed as she opened the medicine cabinet.

Marla said something, and then Joey did, too. There was the sound of something falling onto the floor in the next room. Frustrated, Sam doubled back into the front room: she picked the guitar off of the carpet and leaned it against the arm of the couch. Meanwhile, Joey continued to mutter and groan from the pain in his hand.

“—shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—”

“Joey, hold still,” Marla begged him. “Hold still!”

Water ran in the kitchen. Sam examined the guitar's neck: pure white paint job and no sign of blood to be found. For all she knew, it hadn't even broken the skin on him. But it still hurt him nonetheless.

“—shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

“Joey, stop,” Marla begged him. “A little soap and water is all we need, Joey. Just hold still and let me see. Let me see!”

“—shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—”

“SHUT UP!”

Joey stopped right in his tracks with his hand outstretched before him.

“Shut up and let me focus on it,” Marla commanded, terse; from around the corner, Sam could see what they were doing, and Marla held onto his hand for a better look. “You're fine, big Chief.”

“Big Chief, is that what you called me?” he chuckled at that.

“Yeah. You got a little nick on your hand and that's all. Right there underneath your index and middle fingers. You'll live, I promise.”

“I've been hit in the face with a hockey puck before,” he pointed out.

“So this is like nothing to you. It should be nothing.”

“Still hurt like holy fuck, though.”

Marla then turned her head a bit for a calling over her shoulder.

“Sam, d'you find the disinfectant?”

“I couldn't, no.”

“Damn it. Soap and water'll have to do.”

Sam examined the broken string, the largest deepest one and the one closest to her. It broke right underneath Joey's hand, right as he hit that one chord there. Maybe he strummed a little too hard that one time, but then she thought about what Alex had said to her that evening in Miami. He held onto the guitar wrong, and as far as she knew, he had been holding it wrong this whole entire time they were on tour. As far as she knew, this was yet another thing for Joey to learn whilst on this tour.

But then it hit her right then.

Dave's guitar kept him away from the alcohol. It introduced him to a smoke of a plant, but it kept him away from the booze. Indeed, when she took another glance over at him and Marla by the kitchen sink, she noticed that his brown eyes looked a lot clearer than ever and his skin seemed softer in appearance. Even from a distance she could tell that it was doing him all justice, much to her relief. Granted, it came with the price of figuring out the guitar and the best way to hold it against his body, and she knew he would have to reconsider what Alex had said to him that night in Syracuse. At the same time, howewver, she couldn't but feel a strange comfort in that broken string on the guitar's neck.

“Better?” Marla asked him.

“Li'l bit,” he confessed.

“Well, just keep the paper towel there and it'll soothe over soon enoough,” she assured him. Joey then let out a low whistle and he returned to the couch, where Sam stayed put next to the guitar. Marla had put a piece of paper towel on where the string broke and he clutched at it as if he was in fact bleeding: Sam took a second look to see a piece of ice there nestled between the grains.

“You ought to show Marla that painting you made for me,” he begged her.

“Is it still in your car?” she asked him.

“Never left. The door's unlocked.”

“Brave man,” Marla remarked. “Whenever we go out upstate, even out in the country side, I always lock my car's doors.”

Sam headed out to the curb to Joey's car, which he had parked right behind Marla's car. Indeed, when she opened the back passenger door, there was that canvas painting that she had made for him, when he posed nude for her in the comfort of his own home. But once she saw him in all his glory, she also realized she was out in public. Indeed, she glanced around her before she picked it out from the seat and held it close to her body. She held it close even as she went back upstairs and in through the front door, even though no one else walked past her.

Such a vulnerable moment and yet Joey wanted it to be on display for Marla to see for herself. When she returned to the slightly ajar front door of the apartment, Marla had gone somewhere else in the apartment but Joey sat there on the couch, still with the paper towel on his hand, and his attention fixed on the guitar next to him. He showed Sam a grin as she showed him the canvas.

“Show it to Marla,” he insisted, with those brown eyes big and twinkling.

“Where'd she go?”

“Her room for some tape. But yeah, show it to her.”

Sam swallowed down the burgeoning nervous feeling in her throat as she padded down the hall to Marla's room, where she delved through the drawers in her desk for the tape in question.

“Marla?” she began in small voice.

“Hm?”

Joey sauntered up right behind Sam, still with the grin on his face.

“What're you doing?” she asked him in a hushed voice.

“Sam,” Marla breathed out; Joey reached down for Genie as she slunk in between his legs with her tail erect. Sam gaped at Marla, who raised her eyebrows at the sight before her. She took the canvas out from her hands for a better look at it.

“How is it?” she asked her, still with her voice small.

“This is absolutely gorgeous.” Marla lowered the canvas and showed Sam the twinkle in her eye. “Take this to England with you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes! The whole world at large needs to know about your prowess. You are the one with prowess!”

“I dunno, though, Mar.”

“I plan on taking a lot of my art with me over there,” she pointed. “It's only fair you do, too.”

“Well, then—think of the essay to write for your master’s, Marla!” she exclaimed, which brought a laugh out of Marla herself.

“My master’s? Who said anything about me getting a master’s degree?”

“You oughta,” Joey chimed in from behind them.

“It's gonna be a lot of work, though, Joey. I'd rather just live the artist's life without having to worry about school all the while.”

“Live the artist's life 'cause it's Genie's favorite,” Joey remarked.

“Yeah, Genie loves it,” Sam followed suit.

[impala-dreamer]

what kind of engagement ring would the boys get their gf?

a stolen one. 

lol just kidding... though, Dean’s thought about it. He’d really love to get you one of those giant, expensive diamond show-stoppers like in the movies. Something that will really knock your socks off when he gets down on one knee. OK, he’d really like to get down on one knee, but quite frankly, is it worth all the joint cracking when he gets back up? Not really. Anyway, he thought about it for a long time and it really drove him nuts. He went to the Lyle’s Jewelry store in town about six times before he gave up. There just wasn’t anything that a- he could afford, or b- felt like it was yours. And that’s the thing- he wanted it to be personal. Nothing in the store felt right. Nothing in any store felt right. And then it was the how and the where and the words, and finally, he’d all but given up. There was never the right time, place, ring, words to propose with, so Dean gave up and decided it was just never gonna happen. But, fate often smiles on the Winchesters, and Dean got lucky one night. Sure, it wasn’t the heart-stopping, monster of a diamond mess he wanted to get you, but when he pulled that stupid plastic ring out of the Cracker Jack box, he knew. It was perfect. Because you were there, he was there, you were in love- that’s all that mattered. There “ain’t no Coupe-deville hiding at the bottom of a cracker jack box”, but there was one special ring, on one special night, when everything seemed oddly perfect. 

~

Sam has never once looked in one of those big box jewelry places, he’s never lingered on an add online or walked a little slower past the windows in the mall. Those rings were beautiful, but they just weren’t right for you. You were special, unique, delicate but tough. And while he knew the first time you kissed that he never wanted to kiss another woman for the rest of his life, he waited. Sam waited almost two years before he found the perfect ring. Any time they went to a new town and he had time to slip away, Sam snooped around the antique shops with one goal on his mind: You. It had to be as perfect and unique as you were, as beautiful as your love. Once he found it, Sam snuck the ring home and spent an entire day blessing it and checking for enchantments, doing all sorts of anti-magic to it. Only when he was satisfied that no harm would come to you and that the ring wasn’t in any way part of some ancient ritual that would bring crazy to your front door, did he slip it into an old wooden box and leave it on your pillow. 

[gothpanda]

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch. 18: Purple Moon

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

A/N: I’m unintentionally making this a PLL/Motley/The Dirt fanfic and I ain’t sorry Enjoy and thank you!

WARNINGS: Drugs, Language

TAGS: @madamsixx​

READ ON AO3 

PREVIOUS/NEXT

July 1984

 "Number 325" someone announces from the inside of the advising office. Sammi rested her head against a bulletin board with inspiring quotes for students and reminders of the new semester. She looked down at her ticket, seeing 334 in bold black letters that made her groan in her seat. "Number 326 for Mrs. Stogger," the speaker said in the lobby of the academic building. Sammi looked around at the people waiting to speak to someone just like her, a mix of ages in the hall. People brought books to read or sketchbooks to draw, or had their friends pass the time. Sammi only carried her notebook that was filled with tasks to do at Elektra. In terms of school, she was officially alone. She read over what she needed to get done by the end of the week. She also flipped through to see what she needed to finally have a degree in her hands. She interrupted her train of thought when Sammi heard someone elegantly sit on the wooden chair next to her. Sammi glanced up from her notebook for a moment to find a familiar face. A tall slim girl with long brunette hair read through her journal, writing down at a fast pace. Sammi looked over at her scholarly sense of style, appreciating it from afar like always. Sammi went back to keeping her eyes to the front of her, trying to keep her mind occupied. 

 "Oh hey, you're Samantha. The new secretary, right?" the girl said, making Sammi's eyes grow to her. She had a friendly smile to her, with soft dark eyes. Sammi smiled shyly at the girl, picking at her nails, and nodded. 

 "Yeah, it's Sammi outside in normal life. And You're one of the interns at work?" said Sammi politely. 

 "Of course, and yes, I'm Sabrina," said Sabrina, extending out a hand to Sammi, which she gladly accepted. "I didn't know you studied here. I thought you would've already graduated by now," 

 "I almost was but decided to be adventurous and travel earlier in the year. I'm kinda surprised also to see you here. I've never seen you around on campus before," said Sammi. 

 "Well that's because I just transferred from Sacramento, I really needed a change of scenery. I'm happy I have another familiar face to talk to while on campus," Sabrina said, putting her notebook in her messenger bag. 

 "Honestly, me too. I would see you around the office but never got a chance to talk" said Sammi, soon seeing a long dark haired tan girl who looked as tall as Sabrina walk towards them. She threw her bag to the floor and dropped herself onto the chair next to Sabrina, gaining her attention. The girl looked like a full athlete, with toned arms and legs from whatever they did. She tossed her hair over to one side, fixing her grey tank top. 

 "Hey S. Do you gotta wait long?" the tan girl said, peeking over Sabrina to see the small Samantha, knees tucked under her. "Oh sorry, I didn't see you there! I'm Emma," the girl extended her hand to Sammi, gaining a smile. She tilted her head for a moment, trying to remember the small girl.

 "Sammi. Um, have I seen you before?" Sammi asked, raising an eyebrow to Emma. 

 "Yeah we went to the same high school. You were on the volleyball team, right?" Emma asked, tying her shoelaces together. 

Sammi nodded, "Yeah I was, were you a grade below me?" 

 "Correct on that, I was also on the swim team. You're one of Tommy Lee's sisters, right?" asked Emma

 "Yep I am, now I'm getting that question asked a lot," Sammi chuckled along with the girls. 

 "I'm sure you do. Since it looks like you know Sabrina, do you wanna go get a bite to eat after this? Unless you have other plans to do," Emma asked, Sabrina, smiling at Sammi to try and get her to say yes. 

 "Totally!" Sammi said, in perfect timing for her number to be announced. 

October 26, 1984

 Sammi and Sabrina walked down the halls of Elektra records, passing the records and plaques hung up on the walls. Sabrina held eight hot coffees while Sammi scanned at the multiple folders that were in her hands. Both of the young women entered an empty conference room, a long, mahogany table in the middle of the room. They placed each coffee with a folder on the office chairs, even matching the assigned names. 

 "You don't have to stay for this meeting, do you?" Sabrina asked, throwing out the cardboard coffee trays into the trash.

 "No, Mr. Harrison had let me go early. Em's heading to your place at 7, right?" Sammi asked, fixing her blouse a bit from any wrinkles and pushing up her glass from slipping off.

 Sabrina nodded, adjusting her ponytail. "I don't know why she wants to go to this club so bad. She would not stop blabbing about it in class," 

 "Because you've never had a night on the strip yet even though you've lived here long enough," Sammi muttered, peeking down the hallway. Soon a team of suited men appeared marched in unison towards the young women. Mr. Harrison, a man who was taller than everybody with every inch of hair white as snow stepped in first, seeing Sammi and Sabrina. He scanned the office, nodding in approval and patting them on the shoulders. 

 "Thank you, girls, for the setup," Mr. Harrison said, rubbing his hands together. 

 "You're welcome, Mr. Harrison," Both girls said in unison. 

 "I would say you're free from being my shadow, Samantha. Have a good weekend for both of you," said Mr. Harrison, walking away to sit at the table's head. All eyes immediately went straight to him. Sabrina and Sammi smiled professionally at everyone, closing the door behind them on their way out. 

 "Okay well, maybe I'm busy with stuff of my own? You haven't thought about that?" Sabrina asked Sammi, throwing her hands in the hair as the two walked to the rest of the office. They walked past all the cubicles of co-workers, some they've never even talked to since working at Elektra. Sammi passed Sabrina's desk, grabbing the water bottle she left there by accident.

 "Studying doesn't really count if you're a walking encyclopedia, S," Sammi said, walking into the empty breakroom. She sat down by a big circular table, taking a sip of her water. Sabrina sat right next to her, grabbing an apple in the middle fruit basket.

"And what's wrong with wanting to study more?" Sabrina asked, sticking her nose in the air with pursed lips making Sammi give a tight-lipped smile to hold a giggle.

 "Nothing, but it's healthy to breathe fresh air. Even if that fresh air just has a bit of tobacco smoke in the mix," said Sammi, checking her freshly done red manicure. "Plus, we deserve a little fun. Midterms ended, and I already know I did great so I'll just reward myself," 

Sabrina shrugged with a growing smirk on her face taking a bite of her apple. "Are we gonna meet up with your people?" 

Sammi looked up to think for a moment, "Athena said yes. Tommy is in love with Emma, so yes. Vince will go anywhere I'm at. If Nikki isn't in a mood, he'll come. And Mick isn't feeling so good. I dropped off some food at his place before work," said Sammi, holding five fingers to Sabrina. 

"Awe Tommy is so dumb to think Emma would love him back like that," said Sabrina, pouting out her lip like a sad child. 

"You don't mind that we're gonna be with them, right?" implored Sammi. 

Sabrina raised an eyebrow, "No? They're all pretty cool, crazy beyond belief, but I still like them. Nikki seems like a tough nut to crack, though. And Emma seems to love everyone," 

"Awesome. I'm glad you and Em like everyone. For once I don't have to worry," 

"And you shouldn't. If I didn't like them, I probably would have only hung out with you at school or here. Plus, I like to see people go batshit crazy sometimes. It's like free front entertainment," Sabrina said with a smile. Sammi felt at ease with Sabrina's words, not worrying about the happiness and comfort of others on the Crue. "Oh, by the way, you're doing Em's hair," 

Sammi rolled her eyes, "At this point, she's gonna need to pay me to be her hairstylist," said Sammi, making Sabrina laugh.

* 

 In the cozy warm apartment that was reasonably close to their college, the three girls looked in their bathroom mirror to get ready for their night. Sammi sprayed the last bit of hairspray into Emma's loose curled hair, running her fingers through it to make it perfect. Sabrina wiped any extra nude lipstick from the corner of her mouth, feeling happy with her look. Emma leaned closer to the mirror, smudging a bit of black eyeshadow on her waterline to make her bronze eyes pop. Sammi pulled down a bit of her low cut blue velvet dress, checking her rear in the mirror. Emma tied a thin white scarf around her flare blue jeans that matched her pink top perfectly. "Where'd you get the bell bottoms, Em?" asked Sabrina, adding a necklace that matched her white dress. 

 "Found them at a garage sale! Pretty groovy even a decade later, right?" said Emma, walking out to put on her silver chunky heels in Sabrina's bedroom. Sammi smiled at Emma, spritzing some of Sabrina's perfume on her that smelled of crisp lilies from her nightstand.

 "Okay, you ladies ready for the night?" asked Sabrina, clapping her hands together as she walked into her bedroom. 

 "Someone seems finally happy to be going out," said Emma, bumping her hip against Sabrina with a smile. 

 "I don't want to be a Debbie Downer for most of everything. Besides Sam was right, we should have fun," said Sabrina, grabbing her perfume from Sammi's hands to spray some for herself. "Do you when Athena was gonna start heading over to Purple Moon?" asked Emma. 

 "No idea, but let's just wait and see when we get there!" said Sammi, swinging her black purse over her shoulder. 

* 

For being open for only two months, Purple Moon was the craziest club in all of West Hollywood. Let's Go Crazy blared throughout the two-story club with laser color lights jumping off the walls in the darkness. The three brunettes danced in the sea of people, bodies of strangers pressed up against each other. Sammi swayed to the beat of the music, feeling happiness around her already feeling the buzz of her drinks. As Emma looked out from the sea of people, her eyes grew with excitement when seeing three cool people. Athena, Nikki, and Tommy pushed their way to meet the girls. Nikki had a growing discomfort with this crowd, unlike Tommy loving the music. Athena turned Sammi around, engulfing her in a big hug with a smile on both faces. 

"This place is so cool!" shouted Athena, giving hugs to Emma & Sabrina as she danced around the sea. Tommy hanged his arm around Emma's neck, kissing her on the cheek while Emma shifted her gaze to the girls. Sammi couldn't help but look past Nikki in hopes of finding a shaggy-haired blonde with them. She hugged Nikki, tip-toeing to his ear. "Where's Vince?" Sammi shouted, scrunching her eyebrows together. 

"Your boyfriend didn't like the idea. Wanted to hang out with our friend Razzle," Nikki shouted, shrugging his shoulders. He eyed Sammi up and down, wrapping his hands around her waist. "You look beautiful. Didn't think a girl your size could feel up a dress like that," Nikki smirked, pulling Sammi into him. Sammi dropped her shoulders, slightly pushing away from Nikki. Athena grabbed Sammi's hand, twirling her around as the music changed to another upbeat song. Sammi glanced over to Nikki's discomfort, seeing him find his way to the crowded bar with Tommy behind him. Sammi tried her best to dance with the girls around her, but she couldn't remove the disappointed look on her face. 

"You okay?" Sabrina asked, leaning down to Sammi. 

Sammi shrugged her shoulders, "Yeah… Just wish Vince would've come," 

"Ignore it. Go get a drink and relax," Sabrina said, turning Sammi on her heels to the direction of the bar. Sammi smiled as she walked away from the dancing girls and passed the sweaty bodies. She squeezed between Nikki and Tommy on the bar, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. 

"Here Sam, have my drink and smile!" Tommy shouted, hanging his arm around Sammi's shoulders and slid her a random cocktail. Sammi smiled, taking a sip of the drink and wrenched at the taste of the alcohol. It was more potent and something that could get anyone drunk fast. It was precisely what Sammi needed for this night. As Tommy disappeared into the sea to find his new favorite girls, Nikki sipped his drink, eyeing Sammi with the color lights bouncing off her. 

"Really didn't think you'd let a guy ruin your night," Nikki whispered loudly into Sammi's ear, making her turn to his direction. Sammi sipped the random drink, thinking about Vince. "Wanna head upstairs? Fewer people to be annoyed by," Sammi looked over her shoulder, seeing all their friends enjoy their time together. Sammi thought they wouldn't miss her if she went away with Nikki. She nodded to the bassist getting a smirk and a hand to hold as he led them through the crowd. The second floor was designed mostly to be a balcony with some space to dance for overpacked nights. Even with a 'do not cross' sign up, Nikki and Sammi sneaked up the dark brick stairway. Dropping herself onto a small leather loveseat, Sammi laid her legs in Nikki's lap as she downed the rest of the strong drink. From the second floor, the music wasn't loud in comparison, seeing no speakers around them. Nikki rested one arm on the loveseat's head and the other playing with Sammi's heel strap. The two stared silently at each other for a moment until Sammi felt Nikki's hand rise up her leg. She tossed her legs off him, sitting up straight while lowering her dress a bit. 

"You're good, Nikki?" Sammi asked, feeling the buzz of alcohol go to her head and batting her eyes. 

"I am now that I'm with my best friend," Nikki slurred, draping an arm around Sammi and pulling her to his side. Sammi chuckled and rolled her eyes, dropping her head back. "What? You don't believe me?" Nikki asked. 

"Do you make out with all your best friends?" Sammi smirked at Nikki. Nikki scuffed at Sammi, taking the rest of his drink. "If I am then thanks," 

"My ass wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, unlike some people," Nikki said, raising his eyebrows for a moment. Sammi's smile went away from her face, looking out at the balcony in front of them. 

"Fucker should've told me he didn't want to come," Sammi mumbled under her breath, picking out her cigarettes from her purse. "He really just said he didn't like coming to a fucking club?" Sammi asked, lighting the tobacco stick. Nikki nodded, making Sammi roll her eyes and checking around to see no one catch them up there. 

"Yeah I think he was gonna show Razzle the Tropicana on Hollywood Boulevard. Apparently, that ain't got that in England," 

"So he wanted to go see half-naked girls basically 10 minutes away from me? That's fucking nice," Sammi spit out with annoyance, blowing smoke into the atmosphere

"But hey you like that so you gotta deal with the rockstars. A nice boyfriend," said Nikki, pulling out his stash from his back pocket. He poured a short chunky line in the back of his hand, snorting it like a healthy routine. Sammi looked over to Nikki, biting her lip for a moment as her eyes shifted to the drugs. Nikki could see the curious little face Sammi had one, making him smile mischievously. Nikki poured a bit more on his hand, not even needing to say a word for Sammi to understand. She closed one nostril and snorted the chunky line, feeling the string hit her. She hadn't done drugs since the beginning of the year, and her body was already feeling it. Her eyes began to water, making Sammi pinch the bridge of her nose to stop any tears. Nikki snorted some more before finally moving back into the loveseat. 

"And then he fucking asks why I still keep a distance!" Sammi shouted, flicking her bud into the dark corner. "Next time you all are on tour, you better keep an eye out for me on him!" Nikki chuckled at Sammi, slowly getting closer to her.  All of a sudden, Sammi jumped up onto her feet, almost losing balance as she pulled Nikki up from the sofa. Nikki felt immediate dizziness from the sudden movement, ultimately colliding against Sammi. He hung onto her waist, seeing her face so close yet so far away. Sammi slightly moved away from Nikki, trying her best to maintain distance. 

"Come on, let's go back dancing!" Sammi shouted, pulling Nikki by the hand as they stumbled down the stairs. Nikki tried his best to feel comfortable, happy the coke was making a bit of an effort in doing so. The crowd felt bigger to Nikki now, unsure if it was always like this while pushing past everyone. Sammi was oblivious to her surroundings, just trying her best to find their friends. Nikki let go of Sammi's hand for a moment, holding a tight grip onto her waist, trying his best to not lose her. Sammi didn't react, she felt great and happy, and being with people she loved made her more comfortable. Sabrina could finally see Sammi and Nikki again, making their group yell with excitement. Alcohol filled in their systems with possibly a mix of drugs could help any situation for this night.

* 

 "Why is food so much better when you're buzzed?" asked Emma, tossing a tater tot into the air and catching perfectly into her mouth. Athena, Sammi, and Tommy clapped alongside Emma as the six of them all sat together in a dark red restaurant. The Rainbow Bar and Grill, where girls offered blow jobs right as they saw Nikki and Tommy. Of course, they wanted to be one ounce respectful and turned the offer down just to have a bit to eat.  Sabrina rolled her eyes with amusement, sipping on her orange soda while Nikki chugged a small whiskey bottle. 

 "Because carbs love alcohol. It's a science I can't explain," said Athena, chewing on a chicken tender. 

 "We probably burned all the food we ate today from dancing, so eat up," said Sammi, glancing at Nikki right beside her. "You're not hungry?" 

 Nikki draped his arm around the young girl's shoulders, stealing a french fry from her plate. "I might be hungry for something else," Nikki winked, making Sammi only chuckle and stuff another french fry into his mouth. Sammi squinted her eyes to Nikki's other arm, trying to see the red mark in the dark. 

 "Hey did you go to the doctor or something? What's with the marks?" asked Sammi, almost grazing her finger before Nikki winced away from her.

  "Don't worry about it, Princess," said Nikki. 

 "Be careful, Sixx. Remember Sammi has a boyfriend now," said Tommy, flicking Nikki's ear with a dumb giggle. 

 "Yeah, who would rather see a mud wrestler with his other friends than me," said Sammi, feeding another fry to Nikki. 

 The girls around them all raised their eyebrows to Sammi, confused, and surprised by the thought of Vince's decision. Tommy shot a dagger look at Nikki, hitting his leg under the table as a form of communication. Nikki only shrugged his shoulders and took a bit of what was left on Sammi's plate. 

 "You mean that mud strip club up on boulevard?" asked Sabrina, pointing out towards the window in the direction of it. Sammi nodded as she took a sip of her cocktail. "Okay now, your sour face makes sense," 

 "Damn didn't think Vince would piss you off that fast," said Athena, turning her head as she felt a hand on her shoulder. As if by magic, Vince and a long-haired British man wearing a top hat stand right in front of the group's booth, holding drunken smiles. They both had drinks in their hands, almost already finished. Sammi pursed her lips at Vince, looking away to see Tommy quiet and glancing at everyone. 

 "Oh Vince! Razzle! How were the mud wrestlers?" shouted Nikki with a smile on his face, not bothering to move away from Sammi. Vince's smile soon disappeared as he looked at Sammi's scowling at him with a glare. 

 "Oh it was great! I never knew America could be like this!" said Razzle, his thick accent, making it hard for some to understand in their intoxicated states. He hung onto Vince, happy as a child in a candy shop. "Hey youse are some gorgeous women. What are you all's names? Especially this dark-haired beauty," said Razzle, kissing Emma's hand only to make her cringe. Sabrina and Sammi covered their mouths to hold in their laughs to Emma's discomfort. 

 "I'm Emma. This is Sabrina and the girlies over there are Athena and Sammi, Tommy's sisters," said Emma, yanking back her hand from Razzle's grip. Razzle raised an eyebrow to Emma, smirking down at her. 

 "How do you do, I'm Razzle. A nice gentleman from England who would adore any woman like yourself," said Razzle. 

 "Yeah well… no thanks. So Vince, how was your night?" asked Emma, tilting her head. 

 "Um it was good. Listen, Babe, can we go for a smoke outside?" asked Vince, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket. Sammi shared knowing glances between Emma and Sabrina, motioning them to let her out of the booth. Sammi gave an icy look to Vince, heading straight for the door. Nikki kept a smirk as his eyes followed Sammi, shrugging to Vince. As the two walked out, Razzle sat next to Emma as he tried to put on the charm. Athena and Tommy eyed the couple walk away, slowly growing with worry. 

"You know if you didn't want to hang out with me, you should've said something when I called you," said Sammi, crossing her arms as she faced Vince outside the busy sunset strip. 

"It's not that I didn't wanna hang out, Razzle came by my place all of a sudden, and I couldn't say no. Come on, Sammi, don't be mad at me," said Vince, wrapping his arms around Sammi's waist and leaving soft pecks on her cheek and neck. Sammi only pushed him away from her, clenching her jaw at Vince. "I didn't fucking do anything! You're really gonna be pissed I saw chicks?" 

"Yeah because your dumbass didn't fucking tell me! Nikki said you didn't want to come! Besides, I never liked seeing other girls before I got with your ass!" shouted Sammi, about to walk away from Vince until he got a hold on her arm. 

"Oh really, Nikki told you that? And you also don't think I could be mad at you for having Nikki's arm around you? You really think I like seeing that? You're gonna believe him?" shouted Vince, looking right into Sammi's eyes. 

"Tommy fucking hit Nik when he ratted you out, just fucking admit it," slurred Sammi, looking past Vince instead of giving eye contact. Right away, Vince was able to see Sammi's pupils bigger than usual, making her eyes almost black. "Are you high?" asked Vince. Sammi yanked her arm out of Vince's grip, almost stumbling onto the concrete. 

"So what if I am? Are you going to be more 'pissed' at me now," said Sammi, scowling at Vince. Vince scuffed at Sammi, shaking his head as he looked away from her. 

"Why do you keep doing coke?! Why do you keep listening to Nikki?!" hissed Vince, stepping right into Sammi's face. 

"Oh shut the fuck up about Nikki giving me some coke, it's getting old. You can't say shit if I want to get high. Because I'm pretty sure if we went a fucking drug clinic, you'd be way worse than me," slurred Sammi, trying once again to move away from Vince. 

"Oh don't give them that, Sammi. We're both two completely different people when it comes to that shit," said Vince, wrinkling his eyebrows together in a frown.  

"Oh really? Because last time I checked, I'm a rockstar's girlfriend who works at a record company," said Sammi, returning to her icy stare. "Just admit you're wrong for leaving me hanging for some big tit bimbos, and we can go back inside," 

"No, I'm not gonna fucking apologize. From the looks for it, you and Nikki seem to have gotten close like always tonight. Pretty sure if I asked A, she'd tell me," said Vince, matching Sammi's face. 

"You've got to shut up about Nikki and me every single time I'm around him. If you didn't want us without you, you would've fucking come!" said Sammi. 

"Fuck this, I'm out of here. Tell Nik and Tom they can take care of Raz, and call me when you're done being fucking stubborn," said Vince, shaking his head and beginning to head down the strip. 

"In that case might as well find a new girlfriend!" yelled Sammi at Vince, glancing around at some of the people staring right at her. She combed her fingers through her hair, marching back inside as the heels of her shoes clunked on the wooden floor. Walking closer to her table, she could see Emma had already moved away from Razzle and closer to Athena. Everyone reacted like foxes, turning their heads as soon as they saw Sammi come over. 

"Where's Vince?" asked Athena, scrunching her eyebrows together. 

"Gone. Stubborn ass didn't wanna say sorry," said Sammi, holding out her hand to Nikki to retrieve her purse. "I'm sorry guys, but I'm gonna head home, it's getting late anyway," 

"Wait, do you want us to come with you? We could crash at my place if you want, Sam," said Sabrina, looking up at her as she glanced over to Emma. 

"Only if you two want to, I don't want to ruin your guys' fun," said Sammi. 

"Trust us, Sam, you aren't. Do you wanna head with us, Athi?" asked Emma, smiling playfully to the other girl beside her. 

"Athi?" asked Tommy, frowning at the two girls. 

"Totally if Sammi's in a mood. Later boys. It was nice to meet you, Razzle," said Athena, sliding out of the rounded booth and waving toward the English man. 

"You boys have fun tonight, don't get too crazy without us," said Sammi, passing air kisses to all the men. 

"Goodbye loves, hope to all your pretty faces very soon," said Razzle, smiling happily at everyone. Sabrina chuckled along with Razzle, hooking her arm around Sammi's.

"Get home safe, ladies. Take some Advil, Princess," said Nikki, finishing his drink and motioning for another to the waitress. 

"We will," announced Sammi as all the girls headed to the strip, feeling the California breeze hit them right away. The four girls trailed down the street, Athena trying her best to haul a cab for them. Sammi suddenly felt the lows of her high go away, developing a headache with all the noise around her. She leaned on Sabrina for support, trying her best not to look suspicious to Athena. 

"What's it gonna be, my place or yours?" asked Sabrina, glancing at Sammi. 

"Mine. I have PJs to spare for you all," said Sammi, crawling into the small backseat of the cab.

"What did you tell Vince while you were arguing?" asked Athena to Sammi, looking over the two girls. 

"To find a new girlfriend because I'm not gonna say sorry for being around Nikki," mumbled Sammi, leaning her head on the window and shutting her eyes. Athena, Emma, and Sabrina all exchanged looks almost trying to read each other's minds. 

"Well, in that case, tomorrow morning should be fun,' said Emma. 

"Yeah, I doubt I'll see his ass tomorrow," mumbled Sammi.

One week later 

A knock on the door surprises Sammi, looking up from her pile of books on the small dining table. She checks the watch on her wrist, wondering if it could be Athena fresh out of work. The knocks got a bit stronger, finally made Sammi walk over and look through the peephole. She immediately rolled her eyes, swinging the door open with a hand on her hip. In the hallway stood a sheepish Vince, holding a dozen red roses. He didn't look right into Sammi's eyes, only extending his arm to pass on the flowers. 

"That's it? You're not gonna say anything?" asked Sammi, crossing her arms and scowling at her boyfriend. 

Vince scuffed, scratching his head before straightening up. "I'm sorry for going out and not telling you. And I'm also sorry for being a jealous little bitch," 

Sammi unexpectedly chuckled at Vince, calling himself a bitch, taking the roses out of his hand. "I'm sorry for being stubborn and telling you to find a new girlfriend. I hope this isn't your way of telling me you did." said Sammi, smiling carefully at Vince. He walked into the apartment, engulfing Sammi in a tight hug, happy to feel her accept it. 

"I don't think I'd call anyone my girlfriend if I fucked this up," said Vince, kissing Sammi with such love. "I know I can't get mad at you wanting to have a little fun like me or be around my friends. I just like to see you still be the same Sammi as I met," 

"Vince, I'm gonna be okay, but I do love that you care. It really does mean a lot. Besides, that was my first high since the beginning of the year, I'm not gonna go crazy," 

"And you're right, you're a grown adult who is way more responsible than most of the people my age I know combined. Also, my house is getting a little lonely without you," said Vince with an adoring smile. 

"Well that's what happens when you buy a mansion for one person that's also drastically far away from me," 

"So we're good? We can go out tonight and head over to mine?" asked Vince, wrinkling his eyebrows together in worry. Instead of a verbal answer, Sammi kissed Vince deeply, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Yeah we're good, dumbass…" muttered Sammi. 

[luv4fandoms]

Laying Claim (Castiel x Witch!Reader)

@ladyofhellhounds

So with that in mind, this is what my brain came up with, idk why XD, I hope you like it 😊

(Also guys, my mom and I finally got to the Godstiel part of Spn I've heard so much about, and pretty much our reaction was the same, just "oh sweety, no, what are you doing?)

Word count: 2,476

Pairings: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: Cussing, Demons being asshole, unknown claiming? Fluffly Cas, Angry Cas

Today's the day! The anniversary of when you first joined the Winchesters and their guardian angel one year ago. You had met when a coven in your town had started killing people, you were going to find out for yourself but...Well after all, if they wanted to do the dirty work of searching, why not let them?

Though you still did some digging of your own after you found a hex bag in your gutter, silly little girls, just a bunch of soccer moms who thought Harry Potter was real. Needless to say the demon they had sold their souls to at their little slumber party wasn't the type to give them back, and with a little help from one of your spells, the pieces fell right into place for the Winchesters to slay the demon...

Only problem was the bitch knew about you, and used her last breath to spill the beans, so you really weren't surprised when the trio came barging up to your house. The two boys seemed to want nothing more than your head on a platter as well, thinking you were linked to the coven, but the third, the third simply stared at you, seemingly trying to decipher you as well as commit you to memory. It wasn't hard to know what he was, the gift of sight as your grandmother called it, allowed you to see the large black wigs that rose behind him.

'Interesting' you had thought, remembering everything you had ever read about angels.

"Tell you what" you spoke, stopping the argument the boys were having.

"Have your little friend here read my mind, or memories, which ever he prefers, and see that I have never harmed anyone" the boys looked to the angel who seemed to have broken out of the trance he was under at the sound of your voice.

"Cas?" The shorter man asked, to which 'Cas' simply nodded and made his way over to you, he lifted his fingers, placing two on your forehead while closing his eyes, a moment later he opened them and nodded at the boys.

"She's telling the truth, she hasn't hurt anyone, she actually helps people, and was a target of the coven herself" he told them.

"See? I told you, now, would you care to join me for some tea?" You asked, eyes never leaving his blue ones, oh you could get lost in those babies.

"I even have pie" you added with a smile as you finally turned to the other two.

 That had been the first time you had a civil conversation with the trio; Sam and Dean, two orphan hunters following in Daddy's footsteps. And Castiel, the angel who decided to fight his own kind to protect humanity, interesting. You offered your services should the boys ever need it, figuring they would never take you up on it, but hoping to be able to see the stoic angel once more, and low and behold...

They called. For almost a year now you had been helping them, being a researcher, going with them on cases, even using your magic to take down baddies. The work made your feel alive, but not as alive as when Cas would come around. Something about the angel's presence alone makes your body feel electrified, and when his piercing blue orbs met yours you swore your heart stopped. Lately though, he started treating you like a child who was incapable of keeping herself safe.

The first time was while you were helping the boys with some demons, a reason for Cas to be present, and you hadn't thought much past trying to slow down your heart rate when he grabbed you and pulled you to his chest, shielding your eyes as he let out a blinding light that killed them all.

The second time though, you had been against a neat of vamps, one which you and the boys were handling just find, but just as you were about to drop the vamp that was advancing towards you, a silver blade pierced it's neck, quickly taking it's head, and when it fell it revealed Cas standing behind it. He stated that he needed to speak with Dean and Sam about something, so that is why he located you all, but you began to wonder when you were the first one he healed, and he stood extra close to you as he spoke.

The third time you started to grow annoyed. You were just fine by yourself, could handle yourself against the werewolf, and in your opinion, kicking ass. Sure you had taken a few scratches, and your arm hurt like hell from the deep claw marks, but you held your ground...And then right as you were about to give the killing blow with your magic, that all too familiar angel blade made an appearance once more.

"What the hell Cas that was my kill!" You told him, less angry about the fact that he finished the fight and more about the fact that he had done it so often recently. 

"You're injured" he simply stated.

"So? I was still kicking its ass!" You defended as he walked over to you and healed you, causing you to groan and walk away from the confused angel.

The final straw had been tonight, the whole day throughout the hunt for a pack of demons who had intel on Lucifer, the boys and you had been in a somewhat good mood after you had bought them breakfast and explained the anniversary. The hunt had gone well, you found the demons, killed all but one and was grilling it for information. It was a tough nut to crack, even an exorcism didn't scare it. 

"We're not getting anywhere, let me try" you told them, causing Dean to immediately shake his head.

"Hell no, I'm not letting you near that thing alone"

"Funny, you say that like you can stop me" you stated while looking over at him, there was a silent stare before you sighed

"Just five minutes Dean, I promise you I'll be fine" before Dean could even open his mouth Sam spoke in your defence

"She's right Dean, and besides, he's in the trap, what can he do?" 

Dean was silent for a moment before his eyes met yours again.

"Fine, but five minutes is all you got" nodding, you made your way back into the room. 

"Ok buddy, here's how it's gonna go down" you started as you stood in front of him, but he only laughed while looking around.

"Boy toys now coming?" He asked

"Sorry pal, just you and me, now you're gonna-"

"You know I'm surprised your mate leaves you alone with them, he must trust you a lot, or he's an idiot"

"What the hell are you even talking about?" You asked, confused as to why he would state you have a "mate"

"Oh….Oh you don't know" he started laughing hysterically.

"Shut it!" You yelled watching as his laughter died down, but the smirk stayed.

"Sweety, you reek of him. His sent his all over you. Desperate protectiveness, longing, it's enough to make me gag, the best part is that he did this without you even knowing. A do not touch sign to anyone else, a claim on you, really that's horrible, and I'm a demon" he laughed again, while you digest the information, something had laid a claim on you? You felt like you needed a shower thinking that it could be any of the creatures you encountered in your year with the boys. 

"You know though, I'm not surprised you didn't know" it stated, causing you to look at it once more.

"You're such an idiot" and with that he lunged at you, knocking you back into the wall and knocking the air from your lungs. You were pretty sure you heard your shoulder pop while your vision blacked out for a moment. When you looked around you noticed the slow steady drip of water from a nearby pipe that had washed away part of the devil's trap, before your eyes were brought back to the demon's face as he straddled you, leaning in and taking a deep breath.

"I wonder how he would like it...If I laid my own claim to you" he smirked, and you tried to push him off as he leaned down, him somehow over powering your magic, but just as he was about to reach your neck, his weight disappeared from you and a crash was heard from the other side of the room. 

"W-wait I-I didn't know!" It started to plead as you watched Castiel slowly walk towards him.

"I didn't know she belonged to an angel I swear!" He pleaded again.

'Belonged to…' your mind started to remember little things that happened these past couple of months. Cas giving you his coat when you stood outside watching the boys do a salt and burn, Cas sitting next to your while you explained your favorite shows to him, by the end of the night you would be leaning against him and his arm would be on the back of the couch, fingers lightly resting on your shoulder. Cas listening to your music with you from your ipod in the back of the impala despite the fact he could easily poof to the location. And then there was Cas always swooping in when you were fighting things...did Cas...Lay claim to you?

You watched as he easily got the information and killed the demon, only then noticing that the boys had been pounding on the door trying to get in, upon the demon's death, it unlocked and they rushed into the room. 

"Y/N!" Dean started but Cas was quick to cut him off.

"Why were you not with her?" His voice rising slightly, the only indication besides the fire still burning in his eyes that he was pissed.

"We figured she" Sam started, but was also cut off by Cas.

"That she what? Was your bait to get information? You put her in danger!" A light blew out in the room.

"And we told her" Dean tried

"And you know she would not listen! You should have been in her presence at all times!" Another light, the bright flash momentarily illuminating the shadow of Cas's wings, oh, he was very pissed.

"Cas" you started

"This is exactly why I have to keep-"

"CAS!" You yelled, turning the room silent as you stood, grabbing your arm that you could clearly tell was broken.

"I came here alone of my own accord, they didn't want me to, but I did it anyways, it's not their fault"

"They should have protected you" he started, coming forward to heal your wounds, his eyes showed a different story, and in that moment you knew what he was really trying to say.

'I should have protected you'

"We need to talk by the way" you stated, looking at the boys then him.

"Alone" with a nod he grabbed your hand.

"I'll take her back to the hotel" he told the boys, and in a blink, you stood in your hotel room. You let go of his hand, making your way over to the bed and sat down, Cas didn't move as he stared at the carpet.

"Cas did you…."you started before realizing that this was going to be really embarrassing to ask.

"Did you ...Lay claim to me?" you asked, not meeting his gaze when you saw him look at you from the corner of your eye.

"...Not...Fully" he spoke after a moment, this caused you to look at him.

"What does that even mean?" You gave a short laughed and watched as he sighed before coming to sit next to you. 

"Y/N I...I have feeling for you...Ones that someone would only have in the presence of a potential mate" he states turning to look at you.

"Wow sweety we gotta get you into now days language" you said with a chuckle, before adding.

"So..You have feelings for me?"

"Yes, I thought it was wise to push them away at first, you would be in danger if anyone after me, found you. But as time went on I found them...Harder to repress, and I found myself claiming you before I even realized it" He states, looking down as if weighted by shame.

"We have different versions of claiming"you laugh, thinking back to what the demon had said

"He said I smelled like you" Cas nodded, still not meeting your eyes.

"It's the first stage of claiming someone, we cover them in our scent, it's not perceivable to your senses, but to other beings it lets them know that you belong to someone" he explained, "So every time you sat next to me or gave me your coat?" He nodded, before adding.

"My grace also leaves behind a scent" he added.

"Your grace? Do you...Use it often?" You asked.

"To protect you yes" He nodded

"So this was why you have been jumping in front of monsters for me?" You asked, again he nodded.

"You know I can take care of myself" you smiled

"But it's my job to protect you" he stated, finally meeting your gaze.

"Because you're my mate?" You asked with a laugh, but noticed his cheeks darken at your words.

"I'm not your mate…"

"Yet" You smirked when he looked at you with wide eyes.

"I have feelings for you that someone would only have in the presence of a potential mate" you smiled, watching as he scanned your eyes for any sign that you were untruthful.

"But I can still take care of myself" to laughed.

"But It's my-"

"Job to protect me, tell you what, if it's your job to protect me, than it's my job to protect you" you told him as you leaned in, watching his confused expression as you pressed your lips against his, they were just as soft as you always imagined they would be, and your hand came up to cup his face, his stubble lightly scratching your palm as you felt his hand rest against your hip. You pulled away and looked into his eyes, the striking blue swallowed by black pupils. 

"As your mate" you smiled, watching as a smile spread across his lips.

"So...if putting your scent on me is the first stage...what are the other stages of..Laying claim to a mate?" You asked with a smirk, watching as his smile turned playful.

"There are a lot of stages, it could take all night" he replied.

"Well, guess we better get started" you spoke before pulling him down for another kiss, you were in for a long, blissful night with your new mate. Happy anniversary to you.

Hope everyone enjoyed it! Let me know what you think.

[authoressskr]

Write Into My Arms [2]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), with mentions of Thor, Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Angst (mostly in last two chapters), Action (in last chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here)  ::  Word Count: 9491   ::  Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next parts will be posted by the end of this week. All three will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers.

*Note for this chapter: Endgame happened - kind of. Steve didn’t go back to the 40s. Tony didn’t die. Natasha got brought back with the Bruce Snap. Bruce is not the Hulk mashup they had going on. Everything else happened. This takes place 3 years after defeating Thanos.*

[PART 1]

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Natasha’s interview is probably the most paced, filled with shocking details about the Red Room, where she was trained to be the Black Widow and her various roles in SHIELD, Stark Industries, and the Avengers - all while she throws knives at a target in the gun range. Intimidating.

She then takes you up to the gym, showing you how to throw someone twice your size over your shoulder and then you retreat to her room where lets you try out her fancy electric bracelet/glove thingies. Natasha talks about her relationship with Clint as she settles against her forest green velvet headboard - how he was the one to pull her out of that life...to give her a new start to help clear “the red in her ledger”. 

“What changed? For you to take his help?”

“I was obedient. A perfect student. But I didn’t like what I did. I did it for the results they sought. I always accomplished my goal. I was broken. Broken and remade, broken and remade until I was what they desired.” She gives a harsh bark of laughter. “But Clint showed me there was another way. I have a skill set, he wasn’t asking me to live a lie - to go live a “normal” life. He was giving me a chance to save people instead of being a slave to ones who would never be concerned with me. The ones who had others to take my place should I ever fail.”

“So, you aren’t the only Black Widow Russia had?” You try to suppress a shudder at the horrible train of thought that brings forth merciless Black Widows and unstoppable Winter Soldiers.

“Oh no,” Natasha’s smile sends a chill down your spine and the terror, you realize, lies in the fact that everything she’s known before is death, pain, and the intricate ways in which to bring out about both. “I am the only Black Widow.” You nod jerkily before her smile softens and she reaches out to squeeze your hand reassuringly.

The sudden change in her demeanor is what causes your own to shift so rapidly. It sets forth a stunning revelation for you - she’s always wearing a mask. And that hurts.

It’s not like Tony, who has Pepper - who has known childhood and just feels things too deeply - so he wears a mask to protect himself...gives himself over to the persona he’s carefully crafted of lofty indifference.

It’s not Bucky, who had a regular childhood - as normal as one can have during the Depression, you suppose - who didn’t want to fight but went to war anyway. Who was torn and broken and wiped to be a weapon and now wears a mask to protect himself from everyone who sees him as the villain. But even he can always fall back on his normal upbringing for the first twenty-something years of his life.

Natasha had none of that. Absolutely none.

The sudden sadness comes from somewhere unknown but you feel it settle in your chest, a tightness that grabs hold of your lungs and heart, nearly stealing your breath away. What sort of people could do that to a child? Who could damage a person in so many ways for their own gain? Making them a weapon with the threat of always being offed if you failed. Everything feels heavy now and so you do the only thing you can; you turn your palm up and squeeze back in reassurance.

Natasha is amazingly open after that, suggesting a walk in the zen garden for you to finish up your fluff questions.

“I’m gonna take December. Santa Baby references all the way.”

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Depends on the day. Some days I need a venti caramel latte with three extra shots. Sometimes you just need a strong black coffee with a little room for some cream and sugar. Some days call for tea,” She shrugs as she finishes. “Just depends.”

Natasha is doing a rundown of the things in Russian she’d taught while you pack up your things from the cushioned bench, patience leaking from her very pores at your continued mix-ups. When she suggests testing them out on Bucky, you just shake your head - any nearly drop the recorder before shuffling your laptop from one arm to the other.

“I think Sergeant Barnes is a tough nut to crack. A solemn, mostly silent, tough nut.”

“Clint is a nut. Tony, an armor encrusted nut. Steve, a nut with the inability to long-term date. Bucky is not a nut. He is mostly silent, but that’s just part of who he is. A little solemn-seeming around new people. But Sam and him? Goofballs with a penchant for insulting and pranking each other. Give him some time.”

“That’s great, by the time I leave he’ll actually warm up to me.” A sigh escapes you, shifting your closed laptop from one arm to the other once again as Natasha and yourself make your way back to the living room from the very tranquil zen garden. You’ll need some more pictures of there for sure.

“Barnes is a softie at heart.”

“Is that so?” You jump at his voice, although Natasha doesn’t, which doesn’t surprise you with what you know about her. You’re sure little surprises her.

“Yep. See you later, Y/N.”

“Yes. Thank you, Natasha.” You stand awkwardly in front of Bucky, wondering why you get nervous every time he looks at you - not a bad nervous, but a strong tingle in your belly and chest that seemed to put you off-center.

“Ready?” You ask, plastering on a big smile.

“Come on,” He gestures with a tilt of his head, waiting for you to join him. You close the few feet and he begins down the hall.

“Where are we going?”

“The woods.” He pauses when he reaches the patio, “Will the woods have too much noise?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” You step off the patio and onto the grass. “You coming?” Bucky rewards you with a smile, a wide one that showed off his teeth with little lines crinkling by the corners of his storm blue eyes.

Once you reach the tree line, Bucky takes the lead, leading you to a little clearing and you smile when you see more sunflowers growing on the other side of the space. There is a couple of wrought iron chairs with plush black cushions and a little upside-down wooden milk crate sitting beside one of them. The chairs are set to the side in the shade and you take a moment to appreciate the serenity.

“It’s beautiful, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” He corrects, shuffling from one foot to the other before gesturing you forward. Settling down in the chair beside the milk crate you set your laptop flat on your thighs, sitting the recorder on top of it.

“So, just to go over how it’ll work - I’ll ask you questions, you answer however you like. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. If you don’t like something I’ve asked, please don’t hesitate to let me know you don’t like it. Is there anything you don’t want to talk about, Bucky?”

“You can ask me whatever you like.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

“Every other news agency, pretty much, has already written the ugliest and vile lies and truths about who I was, about what I’ve done...From what I read in your articles, from what I’ve seen from the others you’ve already talked to, I know you won’t do that. Ask me whatever you like.” After taking a deep breath, you give a reassuring smile and click the recorder on.

“Are you an animal lover?”

“Yeah. Steve and me keep trying to convince Tony to get a dog.”

“He won’t let you?”

“He just asked who was gonna take care of it when we’re on a mission for weeks on end, ya know? He had a point.”

“But you aren’t all on a mission at the same time, right? Someone here could take care of it.”

“Good counterpoint. We told him that too. He said he’d think about it. Still thinking apparently. Maybe just got lost in all those thoughts he has.” You hold out the recorder, wiggling it until he held out his flesh hand. You place it gently in his outstretched hand, reaching into your pocket for your little notebook and pen. You can feel his gaze as you scribble ‘Bucky/Steve need a dog. Mention to Stark. Repeatedly if necessary.’ A chuckle escapes his lips as he had leaned forward to see what you wrote, leaning back in the chair like before.

“Favorite guilty pleasure?” You set the notebook and pen on the milk crate as you smile brightly.

“Junk food. The serum speeds up metabolism, so we can’t get drunk unless we have some of that Asgardian stuff, so I can lay on the couch and eat all I want and then a couple of hours later do it all over again.”

“And that also bothers Sam, I venture to guess?”

“Yeah,” He’s smiling wide again, looking at the grass at his feet. “Mostly cause it’s his.”

“You steal his junk food?”

“He hides it bad!” Bucky defends with a laugh.

“Favorite weather?”

“Spring or Fall. I don’t care too much for the extra cold days we get in the winter here, but I like the familiarity of Brooklyn and New York, even if they aren’t my Brooklyn or New York. What about you?”

“I got heatstroke when I was in high school, so I’m wary of being in the sun for too long now. Otherwise, I’m good with just about anything. But I gotta admit I don’t care for the extra cold days either. And the ice! I hate ice.”

“Taken a fall, I gather?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely wasn’t pretty. Bruise all up my thigh and butt from how hard I fell and slipped a foot or so down the patch of ice. Limped back through the snow with my butt soaking wet and a nice wind blowing to add to the chill.” He’s trying hard not to laugh, flesh hand pressed hard against his knee while those little crinkles showed themselves again. “Go ahead and laugh. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Oh, I believe it.” Bucky laughs out finally, nodding in agreement while you admire the carefree laughter he’s engaging in.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“I usually just get it black after our morning runs...the menus just look so complicated now.”

“They really aren’t, you just gotta know your baseline.”

“Like?”

“Well, like lattes, iced coffee and most specialty drinks all start the same way - espresso. Espresso, plus whatever milk you want then you just add the flavorings you like. Experiment until you refine what you like and voila! Done.”

“And all that isn’t complicated?” Doubt is heavy in his voice, a smile still plastered on his too-handsome face.

“I’ve had years to perfect this narrowing down strategy, good sir. Coffee became a big thing right before I got into high school, so that’s the system I’ve been working with. When I was a barista in college, we would experiment with flavorings and shots and milk types, so that helped too. Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes,” It’s almost a groan like you’d just brought out a decadent looking dessert.

“Does Stark have an espresso machine here?”

“Yeah. Big shiny silver thing on a counter next to Clint’s giant ass coffee cup.”

“Okay, when we get done here, I’ll make you what I like and we’ll see how you like that.” That seems to get his attention, his large frame leaning forward, the silver recorder looking small balanced in his palm.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Humm, well if I want it hot, then I can go a couple of ways - white chocolate mocha with a pump of milk chocolate and a pump of caramel or I just get a mocha with hazelnut, vanilla, and caramel. Iced? It depends on the mood I’m in. Sometimes I just order tea. Sometimes I don’t want coffee, so I do a frappuccino or something like that with flavoring but no coffee. Depends on the day.”

“All of that sounded like a cavity.”

“Makes you want it all the more, huh?” You tease as he lets out a little groan.

“Yeah, it does.” You smirk, self-satisfaction written all over your face at his admission.

“Do you have a hobby?” He rubs his vibranium knuckles along his very sharp jawline before giving a little sigh.

“No. My therapist says I should get one but I haven’t found one I like yet.”

“Does it bother you when people call you the Winter Soldier?” It’s like he senses the change in questioning before you even open your mouth, his eyes falling back to the yellowing grass of the clearing.

“Sometimes. I know I was him. I know I was a tool. But now I know I’ll always be Bucky first, so it doesn’t bother me as much. The Winter Soldier is a part of me - a part resigned to the darkest shadows of my mind, locked away where he won’t see the light of day again - but he’s always there. I know they made me do all those things. And I remember doing them…” Your hand falls naturally over his, giving the metal hand a little squeeze and a soft smile. His eyes go from your face to where your hand rests on his vibranium one, a perplexed look before his shoulders drop a little and relax at the gesture.

“Anyone who knows what they did, can’t honestly blame you for what they made you do. And I’m sorry some people are uninformed assholes.” You take back your hand as he thanks you softly. “Do you think the Raft could hold him?”

“Maybe. Ross designed it to hold the Hulk but I’m sure given enough time he could.”

“This whole facility is full of geniuses,” You laugh out as he shakes his head.

“I’m not a genius.”

“Didn’t the Soldier shoot through a wall, several walls, to get to Nick Fury? That takes some serious calculations to be able to do that.”

“I was a sniper before…”

“Snipers have a clear line of sight. He didn’t have that. Now, that may have been him, but I don’t think so. You can’t brainwash someone over and over and over again and have them retain difficult mathematics in order to shoot through things with no clear sightlines. You’re a whole lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.” A pink creeps onto his cheeks before he looks across the clearing. After a few seconds, his intense blue gaze returns to you, nodding his head ever so slightly to the right. You follow where he’d tilted towards, taking in the sight of two big bucks easing into the clearing. You’re cursing the fact you’ve left your camera...wait, where did you leave it?

“There is a camera under the milk crate,” His voice is so soft you barely catch it, slowly nodding before sitting your laptop on the ground against your leg and drop the notebook and pen beside it, leaning over to lift the milk crate extra slowly. Withdrawing the bag, you ease the zipper open and withdraw a very expensive looking camera. You click it on and raise it, snapping a few shots of the deer eating before they both look up at the pair of you. Seemingly unafraid they come a little closer, Bucky rises, handing the recorder back to you before he takes slow and measured steps towards them. The bucks aren’t disturbed by him and allow him to come close, his flesh hand slipping into his pocket before offering whatever it was to the male with the darker coat, repeating the same thing with the lighter coat buck. You snap the pictures greedily, nearly laughing as you realize there are actually three bucks in the clearing. He must have heard you soft breathy laugh since he turns towards you and cocks an eyebrow. You point to the deer, then him and hold up three fingers.

The eye crinkles return as he shakes his head with a grin. The deer both decide he doesn’t have anything more to give and return to their grazing on the edge of the clearing, and you snap a picture of Bucky walking towards you and when he realizes it, he scowls at you which just makes you click the button yet again with a big grin on your face.

“What was in your pocket?”

“Sugar cubes.”

“Ahh, buttering them up for a while I see.”

“You know it, doll.”

“Wanna continue, Mr. Disney Princess?”

“I’m not singing if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Damn,” You sigh out the curse before pursing your lips. “Okay, fine. I guess we go back to questions.” Waiting for him to settle back in his seat, you carefully zip the camera back up and are about to tuck it back in under the milk crate when he speaks.

“I’ll take that.” You’re about to hand it over when you pull it back.

“Promise you won’t delete the pictures I took of you.” His storm blue eyes stare at you intently, looking for something before he gives a little huff.

“Fine.”

“Any of the pictures of you, Mr. Barnes.”

Another huff. “Fine.” Handing over the camera bag, you hold the recorder aloft as you try to remember the line of questioning you had planned for Bucky.

“Do you miss the 40s? Did you want a normal life after the war was over?”

Bucky shrugs, sitting the camera bag beside his leg. “I miss my family. I missed getting to come home to them. I...I don’t know what would’ve happened when I came home from the war. I know I was different from it - even before Zola’s experiments. I wasn’t the guy who had a different girl on my arm every week anymore...and honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that anymore either. I was different. Steve was different. The world was gonna be different when it all ended. I don’t know what would have happened...I guess I would have dated, found a woman I liked and had a kid or two...but I don’t know, maybe I would’ve decided to go off to be alone for a long while after the war.”

“Is Wakanda as beautiful as they say?”

“Even more. Maybe I’m just partial ‘cause I got left alone for big swaths of time, so I could sit by a little lake and just watch. Sunrise is beautiful, but the sunset...wow.”

“If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go - and you can’t say Wakanda.”

Bucky chuckles as you blurt out the Wakanda bit before running his flesh hand through his hair. “I guess I’d like to go to some little island with all the amenities but no one else.”

“No one? Not even Steve? What about Sam? How will you get your junk food if not from Sam?”

“Definitely not Sam, but I’ll be sure to make a list of the food I want beforehand. Maybe Steve, but he’ll have to sit downwind since he’ll have to be smothered with sunblock. I can think of a few people I might let on my private island, but they gotta bring something to offer me.”

“Like payment?” A good-natured smile is on your lips as you shake your head.

“Yes. Silence and beautiful scenery come at a cost.”

“And what exactly would one need to bring you to gain access to this island paradise?”

“What would you like to bring me?” There’s a glint in his eyes, something flirting on his lips as he waits for your reaction.

“Coffee. And you’d have to take it however I decided to make it that day.”

“Deal. You’ll be allowed on my island,” He gives a nod as he grants his permission, making you press a hand to your chest with a mildly shocked expression which doesn’t last long as you giggle.

“Soooo kind of you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?”

“Why would he do a calendar? Wear for it?” You withdraw your phone from your pocket and do the same thing you’d done for Steve; You show him the Australian firefighter calendar with each one holding or posing with baby animals for reference. “Oh.” Pink suddenly graces his cheeks and his throat as you smile at him, enjoying his obvious flustered state.

“As another example: Sam’s wearing the tightest red shirt he owns and jeans but could be ‘persuaded’ to dress in a nice suit and tie. He chose August. Steve chose -”

“Steve?” Bucky snorts out his best friend’s name. “Okay. Lemme hear it.”

“Steve chose May with a nice suit and tie with flowers in the pocket instead of a pocket square. But I convinced him to change it to him in just a tee-shirt and jeans, sitting sideways and painting a field of flowers in front of him. He liked that better.” Bucky’s shaking of his shaggy brown hair makes you think it wasn’t the oddest thing he’d heard about his friend.

“Always an artist, I guess.” Bucky bites his bottom lip, gazing off to where the deer had been. “October.” He says after a long pause. “What would you suggest I wear?”

You know it’s an innocent question, but your heart kicks up a little when he asks it. Especially after all the banter you’ve been through with him.

“What would you be comfortable in?”

“A hoodie and jeans probably.”

“I’d have you go out of your comfort zone then...maybe a gray velvet blazer with black jeans and a black shirt...maybe pull your hair back like when you were in the gym yesterday morning, maybe a blue silver shirt to bring out your eyes...no, the black. It’s October. Maybe tuck a Halloween handkerchief into your jacket pocket.” His gaze is intense and it’s your turn to look away. “Just a thought.”

“I like it. If you were to do the calendar thing, what month would you choose and what would you be wearing?”

“Oh, um...Probably October. I love the fall. I think I’d either want to wear a black skater skirt with black striped stockings and a mauve shirt with a cute Halloween saying on it while I’m surrounded by leaves and pumpkins or I’d dress like Velma from Scooby-Doo.”

“Scooby-Doo is the one with the great dane who talks, right? Velma is the one in the purple?”

“No! Velma is the one in the orange and burgundy with the glasses! Educate yourself, Bucky!” He holds his hands up at your hostile tone.

“Sorry. Sorry!”

“Now, back to the hard questions...what is some 40s slang you’d like to see come back into use?” He shakes his head again, flashing those pearly white teeth as those too cute crinkles show themselves again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You hadn’t realized you had spent so much time with Bucky...not until Clint had come to get the both of you for lunch.

Bucky had mumbled an apology to which you brush off.

“I enjoyed it! And it helps me to build the picture I wanna paint for you guys. No biggie at all! I’m pretty glad you felt comfortable enough with me to talk that long.” He had walked beside you the whole way back, listening to you rattle off about work and how you wanted to set up the release of each interview with patience and a very kind smile that showed in those handsome blue eyes.

After lunch, you were handed over to the Wakandans who take you to a formal room that looked like it was only used for taking pictures with expensive friends and foreign dignitaries.

Holy shit. Down the fancy rabbit hole again...

T’Challa begins the interview with the opening of Wakanda to the world.

“Wakandan technology is far above the rest of the world,” He nods seriously at your beginning statement. “And you’ve made examples of people who have tried to steal your vibranium in the past - does this mean that you won’t be integrating even the most basics of Wakandan tech to the outside world? Or do you think we’re still too greedy to be trusted with that?”

“It can be seen that way. Wakanda has thrived because even though our tribes are different, we work together. Vibranium is ours. We, however, would help anyone who requested it. Shuri and the technology department have already helped a great deal with Nakia acting as an ambassador. We will continue to do so.”

“The suit you currently wear as the Black Panther absorbs energy, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So could you absorb Thor’s lightning and redirect it? And the same with Carol Danver’s abilities?”

“Yes, theoretically.”

“So the shield that Cap has, could also - in theory, do the same?”

“No,” Shuri interrupts. “Because his shield was not made the same way as the Black Panther suit, thus could not hold the energy long enough to redistribute it in any way.”

“Howard didn’t have your imagination. Or the abilities Wakandans have to spin it into fabric. Does it take a long time?”

“No, we have refined the technique for so long it is very easy.” T’Challa takes back over, Shuri giving a little huff at her brother.

“I’ve heard that Wakandan sunsets are the most beautiful in the world. Mr. Barnes seems to agree. You three would be biased, but I’m going to ask anyway. Is it the most beautiful sunset in the world?”

“Yes,” All three say at the same time, each one has this shining look in their eyes, seeing it in their minds like it’s happening right before them.

“The way you all said it - the way you all look right now, it must be truly magical.” You wiggle a little in the chair as all three exchange glances, pen trailing down the notebook to see your next question.

“Sergeant Barnes was taken to Wakanda after the Sokovia Accords bullshit,” T’Challa’s eyebrow raises but he says nothing as you continue. “Why did you allow this? If anyone learned you were harboring the most wanted fugitive in the world at the time, there could have been serious repercussions for you all.”

“What could they do to a poor, third-world country that most people didn’t know even existed?” Okoye cross-questioned, her eyes so sharp you know why she was chosen to be a leader. She’s got a scary strength in her.

“Excellent observation. No one would look there. Is that why you let Steve in also?”

“I think by then we figured, we have one broken white boy, why not add another?” Shuri pipes up with a big smug grin. “But Steve didn’t get half the treatment that Bucky did. Bucky had to have family dinners with us. My mother insisted that if he was to remain safe once he got better, he would need some help.”

“What kind of help?”

“We, for all purposes, adopted him into the royal family,” T’Challa confirms and honestly, if you had a drink, you’re about 90% sure you would have spewed it all over your notebook and yourself.

“I’m sorry, wh-what??”

“He was given titles so that he has all the same immunities that we share as royalty and as the Dora Milaje receives as bodyguards to the royal family. That way General Ross could not have him arrested for any of his past crimes nor any new ones he could dream up to put on the White Wolf.” T’Challa smiles at you. “I guess he did not tell you that.”

“No. I honestly didn’t have a clue about that.”

“He probably wanted it that way. He said they are just words on his passport and papers. Bucky is very thankful for them and for all he has received, yet he has asked me to remove them when we feel that it’s safer to do so...He thinks he is undeserving. He has had to die many times for his country, for the world, so I feel the least I can do is give him those words.” Okoye nods at her king’s words as you try to fight back the watering your eyes seem to want to do.

“May I ask why do you call him that?”

“The children who lived nearby began calling him that - said his hair was shaggy like a wolf, eyes sharp like a wolf. Thus that was what they called him.” Okoye answers as Shuri taps at her phone while nodding absentmindedly along with Okoye’s words.

“So, I want to ask, should I break all these women’s hearts who are going to read this by telling them you’re off the market, T’Challa?” He chuckles, eyes downcast but mirth evident in them as he rubs a hand over his beard.

“I am. Nakia will be my queen one day.”

“Gonna woo her like a regular guy? Breakfast in bed? Flowers? Or do you have like Wakandan rituals you have to do before you can get engaged? Similar to the British? Like she’ll need to meet the Queen and get her approval and adhere to the royal duties and ceremonies...like that? Or does she already know about that since her father is the head of another tribe in Wakanda? Does she want to deal with Shuri all the time?”

“Oooh - fighting words!” Shuri grins out at you before sticking out her tongue, which you return with childish glee.

“He freezes half the time he sees her.”

“Aww, really Okoye? That’s adorable T’Challa! You must really adore her for your brain to sort of blank like that. I think that’s wonderful. Everybody deserves someone to sort of freeze up and just stare at them like they’re that important.”

“Thank you. I wish that for you as well, Y/N.” He must take in your startled expression since his smile kicks up a few notches before his phone rings. “Excuse me.”

“Of course, your highness.” T’Challa scowls at you before leaving to answer the call.

“I need to go,” Shuri whispers, eyes darting at the door her brother just exited through.

You can see the cogs turning in her mind. You honestly hope it doesn’t involve more deer. “Book it!” You whisper back, watching her dart out the door. You turn to Okoye. “So, how do those bead things work?”

Okoye begins going over the basics when Shuri walks back in, dragging her feet before looking at you with the biggest grin while T’Challa comes in right after her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Mother is not happy you managed to prank M’Baku from this distance.”

“She should be concerned, our future is in both of your hands,” Okoye sniffs before shooting you a smile, the smile disappearing into what you’ve been referring to in your head as her “business face”.

Shuri retakes her seat, before ignoring both of the adults and tapping on her bracelet. “You asked how these works?” An enthusiastic nod is all it takes for her to show you how their bracelets work before she overtakes the interview, showing you just as many memes as Peter did, and even leading the discussion on the school system differences between Wakanda and everywhere else. She talks about her lab, T’Challa putting on a show of yawning as she goes on, and you ask her about how she developed the Black Panther suit to store, and then use, the energy wielded against them.

“What about potentially dating? Would they need to be as smart as you? Would they need to be Wakandan?”

“If I had to wait for someone as smart as me, I would die of old age. That’s not important to me right now, nor, I think, anytime in the immediate future. T’Challa is King and when he gets married, he can make all the heirs and I can be in my lab showing them all the embarrassing photos and videos I have of him.” T’Challa and Okoye both look on with matching expressions of relief/humor. And honestly, you can’t blame them. If she’s pranking someone from halfway across the world is any indication, they all have every right to be worried.

Okoye has said little the whole interview, but each word is as measured and weighed as the words you submit for the blog. She knows her value and you have to sort of stare in awe of her for that. A fearsome general who would die to protect her king, her country and the world. She explains her tattoos, briefly, and what she doesn’t add - Shuri is more than happy to fill in while T’Challa corrects her.

“And that’s how her husband got imprisoned…” Shuri adds as if this is the least important bit about the closed-off Okoye.

“You’re married?”

“My husband asked me to choose between him and Wakanda. It was not a difficult choice.”

The epitome of He Wasn’t Man Enough for Me.

“You went straight up Olenna Tyrell on him, didn’t you?”

“If a man ever asks you a similar question, think of myself and Olenna.”

“That’s life advice if I’ve ever heard it, Okoye.” You agree immediately with the general. “We should have t-shirts made!”

Shuri is typing furiously on her phone. “They’ll be ready in two hours.” Your mouth is open. Wide. 

Again.

The power of a genius teenager with seemingly unlimited funds…

“You must be careful what you say to her…” T’Challa voices as he rises from his chair. “And for the record, I would not do Tony’s fake calendar.”

“He would. He would like to be February.”

“Shuri!”

“It makes it all the more real, you know - moments like this… What do you think he’ll wear?”

“Probably traditional Wakandan clothes. But if you had Nakia on your side, you could get him to wear just about anything…” Okoye shares a devious smile with you as she stands from her seat, brushing an invisible (to you) piece of lint from her skirt.

“Have a good rest of your evening. We will see you at dinner, Miss Y/N,” T’Challa gives you a brief hug, his spicy scent reassuring in a way you didn’t understand and didn’t care to think too much about since it was comforting. Okoye giving a bright smile before trailing after her king, heeled boots clicking from the room with authority.

It’s the most dynamic interview so far since there are three strong people who all love their country with very strong ideals.

“You and the White Wolf seem to be getting along better…” She has a sly smile painted on her lips, making you give her a little side-eye as you finish gathering your things, closing the door firmly behind you before heading with her down the hallway back to the hub of the house.

“I would assume so. Bucky is a lot…,” You search for the right word. “Softer than he lets on.”

“Oooh, its Bucky now, is it?” She gasps dramatically, a smile stretched like a Cheshire cat.

“Princess, I have something to tell you -” You turn toward her with the most serious expression you have mustered since you set foot in the compound. “I don’t think you are ready to do spy or fieldwork. Your subtlety needs some work. Like, a lot of work.” Okoye snorts ahead of you, standing by the entryway, making your own smile widen as Shuri scowls at you.

“Got time for me tonight?” Tony calls out from farther down the hall headed towards the kitchen.

“Sure do!”

“Perfect! Right after dinner, then?”

“Sounds good to me,” You shout back, watching him give a thumbs up before disappearing back down the hall.

“So, what did you and Bucky talk about? Did he tell you about his goats?”

“He did. Also mentioned a nosy princess who helped him too.” You walk past where they stop in the living room, headed to the patio where Sam, Steve, and Peter are all standing, T'Challa heading towards the men as they watch Shuri stick her tongue out at you as you go to your room to start downloading the interviews and adding to your notes.

“Just a few days and she already has your number, sister.” T’Challa chortles, Sam’s laughter echoing alongside.

“Shut up, brother.”

It’s the last thing you hear as you hurry to your room with a big smile stretched on your face.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx::

“Interviewing Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man and the face of Stark Industries. Now, Tony, would you like to start with the fluff questions or get straight down to it?”

“Let’s save the fluff for the end, huh?” You swallow hard at his words, a tight smile dancing across his lips before disappearing. Settling a bit more into the dark brown leather chair of his office, you nod before glancing down at your list of questions.

“What was your ultimate reason behind pushing for the Accords?”

“I know we needed to be checked...held accountable if things went bad. I felt we could always go in and amend it later, but I saw what Ultron did, first hand and without Fury and SHIELD...who was gonna be able to hold us accountable?”

“But what led to the Accords was Sokovia, but the catalyst was Zemo posing as Bucky for the bombing, correct?”

“Essentially, yes. But even SHIELD answered to a higher authority.”

“And look what happened to SHIELD,” You counter, eyes just as sharp as Tony’s in the well-lit office. He sighs and you can see him working out where this is going, what question is next. “I don’t think that people who hide their faces should be trusted with the security of the world’s fate. But I don’t think you were wrong when you said you see a shield of iron protecting the world, but I think you need to see that the Avengers, the Guardians of the Galaxy...these are that suit of armor you wanted. People who have power but have never had to work for it -- sacrifice for it -- see others die because of it -- they honestly have no right to tell you if you’re in the wrong. You guys are the only ones who can.” Tony drags his fingers along his desktop before reaching for his amber drink. “I’ve seen your building acquirement. I know you spearhead the cleanups. I know you have bought buildings that have been damaged by not just the Avengers, but by HYDRA, the mafia, insurgents in the Middle East, and Yakuza. I’ve read other interviews with you - before and after your kidnapping. What happened to you in that cave and what happened to you when you pushed that nuke through that hole in the sky, they changed you, Tony. For the better, I believe.”

“You sound so...convinced.”

“And you aren’t? I’m as convinced you are a truly wonderful person, superhero, husband and father as you are convinced that Spider-Man is going to be the very best version of the Avengers you know he can be.”

“That’s a lot,” You can hear the emotion in Tony’s voice and you give him a watery smile in return.

“Do you think people should know about the existence of the Raft?”

“Look, that-it-it all boils down to secrecy. It boils down to some Area 51-esque shit. Should the nice lady working the night shift at the diner know? What would it change for her? Not a lot. It would just give people another reason to argue - give politicians another crusade to go after that will never have to produce actual fucking results and keeps everyone from going after the real problems we’re facing.” The frown he’s sporting makes you think you should have skipped that question, but the quickness with which he’s answering makes you think he isn’t exactly the Raft’s biggest fan either. “So, I’ll have to simply say that: Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit. But right now, the chickenshit is needed. Especially after the Snap, the Blip, whatever the fuck they call it...normalcy is what everyone is craving and it’s what they should have right now.”

“What sort of jelly do you use on yours and Morgan’s pb and js?”

“Strawberry preserves usually.” The tenseness seems to seep away a little, but you see you need to coax his mind to slow down a little more.

“Bowling or mini-golf?”

“Mini-golf.”

“Bubble bath or shower?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a bubble bath to relax. Showers are for getting clean.”

“So what do you do to relax?”

“Not a whole damn lot to be honest. I-I can’t seem to shut it off most days.” His fingers dance around the rim of his almost empty tumbler. “Mostly I push things aside to deal with them later so I can be in the moment as much as possible with Morgan and Pepper.”

“Craziest thing she’d done so far?”

“Pep and I went out for a date night. Left her at the Tower with Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, Bucky, and Peter. Come home and a) she’s still awake and b) she’s hanging from the damn ceiling with Peter while Bucky shoots Nerf darts at the both of them while Steve cleans up all the scattered toys and was shouting that she needs to get to bed not be more riled up when we get home.” The softest smile is dancing on his lips, his eyes full of love and you know it’s not just for Morgan. “Morgan was squealing with joy, so I couldn’t really get angry. Especially when I saw Peter had layered his web fluid so if they fell or slipped, there was webbing about every two feet as a precaution. Plus they had the mats from the gym on the living room floor and Clint was sitting on the countertop, using those eagle-eyed peepers.”

“Craziest thing before that?”

“Last Christmas when Steve took her sledding down one of the hills in the compound, which turned into sled racing when Rocket and Thor got involved. Pep didn’t care for that. We built some bumps to be like a brake system the next morning. She still didn’t like it too much.”

You learn Morgan also likes it when Thor makes her hair stand on end and Groot gives her flowers.

“She’s with Pep’s mom and dad in California for a couple of weeks since they just got back from a cruise and haven’t seen her in a while. I miss her. Facetiming every day just doesn’t cut it.”

“Starting to get a little itchy - ready for her to get home. I get that. I adore my cousin’s children. Been around them nearly every day of their lives the first year. Then she moved to Idaho for a job and I didn’t get to see them again until they were almost two. She visits more often now, I’ve seen them every two weeks for the last four months. It’s hectic - but I love it when there are toys, crayons, and blankets scattered everywhere in my living room. When they leave, man, I swear I sleep for a whole day then just sort of sit around looking at the cleanliness with a little bit of disdain.”

“Luckily I have you lot to make a mess, so it doesn’t seem so bad right now.”

“Well,” you laugh, “That’s certainly one way to look at it. Okay, ready for more of the fluff?”

“Bring it.”

“How do you handle a bad hair day?”

“I’ve never had one in my life. Next question.”

“Okay, if you were to do a superhero calendar, which month would you be and what would you be wearing for it?” Tony shakes a finger at you, grinning.

“See, Rhodey told me about this question, so I’ve had some time to think about it...I’d say I would like to be June or July, what did Cap choose?”

“May.”

“July then. AC/DC shirt with a jacket and jeans, holding on of the older Iron Man masks under one arm. Fireworks in the background, maybe holding the shield. Really sell it, ya know.”

“If it was just you, no showing off...just something nice for Pepper.”

“September. It’s when we got married. What about you?”

“October.”

“Costume or regular clothes?”

“Depends on the photographer and how I’m feeling, I guess. Ideally, both. The favorite as the big picture and the other in the bottom corner or something.”

“You’ve had time to figure out your answer too, huh?”

“Sixteen interviews.”

“Sixteen? That doesn’t seem right.”

“Sam, Clint, Wanda, Bruce, Hope, Scott, Steve, Vision, Peter, and Rhodey. Natasha, Bucky, Shuri, T’Challa, Okoye, and you. Sixteen.”

“In four days. Like speed dating for a writer.”

“That’s what I told Sam!”

Tony walks you back to your room, discussing his favorite snacks, telling you what Monte Carlo is actually like before suggesting you go there on vacation with the dirtiest smirk you have ever witnessed first-hand. He then offers to let you try out a suit when Steve goes for his run tomorrow morning, which you feel a flutter of hope that you actually do get to do something like that.

He gives you a tender pat on your forearm when he says goodnight, leaving while whistling what you’re sure is ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ by Billie Holiday.

You stay up for a few hours over what you should, furiously typing up your interview with Tony when Amelina finally texts you the gif of Kermit on the typewriter with the words “GO TO SLEEP!” immediately under it. You sigh, rubbing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, but you do as she bids, texting her first that she needs to get her ass to bed too. You finish it up with “Stalker” with the eyeball emoji. Shuffling into your pajamas and letting the plush bedding swallow and comfort you, mind still thinking of all the things you need to add to the interview piece.

And that’s how you drift off, thinking of a shield of Iron Man armor drifting around the Earth.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Someone is in your room far too early for your liking, poking you awake then ordering you into the bathroom. You sleepily realize it’s Tony before stumbling to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and managing to hop/change into a pair of black leggings with constellations all over and a dark gray t-shirt before returning to the bedroom.

“Don’t give me the glare pout. I brought coffee.” Tony has socks and shoes laid out for you and when you raise an eyebrow at him, he just shrugs then taps his wrist where a watch would be. Slipping into the shoes and socks as quickly as possible, he hands you a tall ceramic mug, bidding you to follow him quickly and quietly down the hallway towards his workshop.

When you get in, you see one of the earlier suits standing in the middle of the room and the butterflies in your stomach turn to little stones that sink and pile up when realizing what you’re about to do. The sweet coffee doesn’t help now that reality settles in. Are you really gonna do this?!

“Scared?” You can’t even manage words right now, so you just nod. “Good. Healthy. Smart, even.” He touches it, the suit open beneath his fingertips like a mechanical flower. “Come on,” He eggs. “FRIDAY and I are here to keep you safe.” You nod again, nerves or not eating breakfast - you aren’t sure which it is - is making you feel the first tendrils of nausea. “You don’t have to.” Tony offers the out, studying you carefully.

“No, I want to.” He helps you into the suit and just as it closes you hear him ask if you’re claustrophobic. 

“Maybe you should have led with that Tony!” Thankfully, though, you aren’t - well not with this you don’t seem to be. It is close around your body, but it’s not a crushing, tight sort of feeling you would associate with claustrophobia.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes. Did you just hear me yell at you?”

“Yes, but I ignored it.” You can see him move to stand directly before you. “Perfect. Wanna try walking first. Careful steps first so you don’t damage my floors.”

“If I eat shit in this suit?”

“Just gently push yourself up and get up like normal.” You do pretty well and Tony is smiling, watching like a proud parent. “Okay, let’s try hovering.”

“Hovering?!”

“Yeah. FRIDAY give her a little lift.”

“Yes, Boss.” Sounds in your ears softly before you hear a soft hum and feel the suit lift you from the ground.

“Holy shit,” You murmur, leaning forward and then backward to test the feeling of floating.

And just about that time when Steve comes in with Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey all in tow.

“Tony, do you know where -” He pauses, seeing Tony on the ground and the suit hovering a handful of feet off the ground. “Tell me she isn’t in there.”

“Okay. She isn’t in there.”

“Tony!”

“Steve!”

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Do they always argue like an old married couple?”

“Yes, Miss, they do.”

“Get her out of that thing!”

“She’s hovering off the ground Steve! Not being sent out to tackle an arms dealer!”

“Can you set me down, FRIDAY? I can see the vein in Cap’s forehead throbbing.” The boosters die down, FRIDAY setting you down gently before the helmet flips up. “Let me out please, FRIDAY.” The rest of the suit opens and Tony offers an outstretched hand with his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Listen, I don’t want to be the person to give Captain America an aneurysm, so we’re all going to the kitchen to have breakfast.” You start past Tony and when you get to Steve you reach out, patting his chest twice. “And pull the stick out a little, Cap.” Bucky snorts before following, Sam shaking his head with a big smile before following.

“You know, every day I like her more.” Rhodey chuckles out. “Come on you two, you heard the lady. Breakfast. Bucky’s probably volunteering to cook as we speak.” Both Avengers give each other a look before mumbling out half-assed apologies and all three men then headed for the kitchen and the sound of multiple peels of laughter.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Bucky and Wanda make omelets as big as the freaking plates while Sam makes bacon and sausage, all of it is delicious - not to mention highly entertaining as Scott did a few magic tricks, making Dr. Strange arch an eyebrow when he pulled cards from his mouth. Dr. Strange and Wong lead you to the zen garden afterwards, Wong leading in a small meditation set before you begin the interview.

Wong is nearly as closed off as Okoye, giving you just shy of not much, so you chalk it up to the fact that secrets seem to go hand-in-hand with mysticism. He does tell you about Tibet and how Stephen got him to listen to Beyonce. He is also a devotee of Adele and Boston.

“Like to keep that one name thing alive, huh, Wong?” He just chortles, taking a sip of his strawberry hibiscus tea.

Dr. Strange goes over his life before the accident and about not returning to medicine.

“I thought that was important, being the asshole surgeon who was the best at everything, the smartest at everything. The accident took everything from me and I was willing to do whatever to get that back. To return to being me. The Ancient One showed me that there was so much more than me to see.”

Twenty minutes later and you and Wong are fighting back laughter. “He thought Dr. Strange was my ‘made-up name’ and not my actual given name.”

“To be fair, the doctor part was an add on. And he’s sort of fair in assuming that’s a made-up name...I mean he’s already met Captain America, Iron Man, War Machine, Falcon, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Black Panther, Scarlet Witch, and Ant-Man. Dr. Strange isn’t that much of a leap after that.” But honestly, you can see Peter doing that, and that’s why you’re still fighting back the giggles.

After a couple of hours with the magic-wielding pair, you have FRIDAY lead you to Pepper. She’s in her office, a white-walled space with homey pictures scattered on them while several vases of flowers adorn the top of a small antique-looking half-table painted in a dark blue. She’s in a soft pink button-up blouse with a pair of charcoal lounge pants, her hair up in a messy ponytail as she looks up from her laptop.

Pepper is the most comfortable with the questions by far, both serious and fluff, and navigates them both with wonderful tact and subtle humor. 

She talks about Stark Industries, about the Avengers, about her suit - Rescue. But you enjoy it most when she talks about Tony and Morgan. Her whole demeanor changes; her body seems to relax, her voice softens and her bright eyes get all the brighter.

“It seems like that’s the only time Tony is really, truly happy. And after I got him back...living our lives, being with each other and having a family - the simpler life...that’s all that mattered. I know Tony and I know he has a hard time shutting his brain off, but those five years while everyone else was struggling,” Pepper sighs, looking guilty. “I was having a life I dreamed about. It wasn’t complete - we had so many taken from us but we had each other. He was alive. That’s all I could have asked for. And then Morgan came along and I thought, maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe Tony won’t feel so guilty anymore. Maybe he’ll get some rest,” She smiles ruefully. “When people tell you about kids, they say you won’t be getting much sleep. But I was hoping she’d wear him out enough to sleep.”

She nearly brings you to tears when she talks about the fight with Thanos - how she almost lost Tony again - before she clutched onto his shoulder, Rhodey’s armored hand clinging to her’s, Clint’s hand gripping onto Rhodey’s shoulder and Carol holding onto his. Steve is on Tony’s other shoulder with Thor’s hand heavy on Steve’s shoulder while Sam and Bucky are holding onto each other’s hands while Peter grips Thor’s free shoulder hard and Natasha squeezes Peter’s hand reassuringly. All of the Avengers forming around Tony in the gauntlet, shouldering the sheer force of the stones so they all walk away together this time.

“And it worked,” Pepper’s voice breaks a little, the emotion, even three years later is high. “I got to keep Tony, Morgan got to keep her dad...the world got to keep it’s Iron Man. Natasha was brought back, everyone from the Snap was back - it was more than we could have hoped for. Tony, Bruce, and Shuri rebuilt Vision a little while after we rebuilt the compound. I - I just couldn’t have asked for more.”

The words seem to break you the second time around, sitting in your room, sobbing on the floor as the interview stops playing through your headphones.

You don’t hear the soft knock at the door. You don’t hear Bucky and Peter enter but you feel Peter pull you into a hug while Bucky strokes your hair, making you cry all the harder. When you’re all cried out, Peter lifts you from the plush carpet as Bucky saves and closes your laptop, setting it carefully on the desk as Peter tucks you into bed.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re all here. We’re all okay.” You’re nodding against your pillow, not knowing how he knew what you were sobbing over, these five days finally hitting you.

“I got her, kid. Go grab some water and some aspirin for her from the kitchen. Get an apple or banana too, she’ll need something on her stomach when she gets up.” Peter nods eagerly before squeezing your hand twice and disappearing from the room. “Want me to stay?” You manage a nod as he kicks off his boots and settles against the headboard. You turn to face him, reaching out for his metal hand, watching a sad smile flit across his face. “Get some rest, doll. I’m gonna stay right here.” He brings your hand to his lips, gentle and soft on the back of your hand. “Not going anywhere.”

An hour later, when Steve and Shuri are looking for Bucky, they find him sleeping slouched to one side but still mostly upright, with your hand wrapped firmly around his vibranium one.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

[PART 3]

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Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr @rowdyhooliganism @everythingisoverrated @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @puddinsqueen @emotionallysalty @maraudingmarauder

A/N: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.

[notthetoothfairy]

Alright with You

What is this... a fic?!?!?!?! Yes, you’re reading that right. I’m a bit late but it was @a-simple-rainbow‘s birthday yesterday so I had to honor tradition and do some writing! Happy birthday, my lovely fandom wife! <3 You deserve the world and more, so I apologize that this is just a silly fic and not the world and more. :P

(I’ll upload it on AO3 later, right now it’s late and I need my sleeeeeep)

Disclaimer: This is unbeta’ed and probably poorly written LOL

Inspired by this post

Kurt hates parties. If it weren’t for Quinn’s endless pestering, he probably wouldn’t have shown his face at all.

He wrinkles his nose as he watches a group of jocks start a burping competition.

Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t have come if Quinn hadn’t been so adamant – or rich, for that matter, considering that she promised to buy him lunch for the rest of the school year if he drove her to this one party. The party of the year, apparently. Kurt couldn’t care less about the ranking of this drunken slobberfest they call a party, but he’s not exactly loaded, so the prospect of free lunch was a damn good selling point. Which Quinn knew, obviously.

Also, quite obvious: She ditched him about two seconds into the party, probably to break up or create yet another Glee club love triangle… who even knows. Not Kurt, that’s for sure. But, hey, keeping him company wasn’t part of the deal. Quinn’s objective was to enjoy the party. Kurt is well aware that she won’t be able to do that when all he is likely to provide is snarky commentary.

Ugh, it’s almost like he cares, which is bizarre because this is McKinley’s resident ex-cheerleader barbie Quinn Fabray. If he continues at this rate, he’ll be befriending Rachel Berry next.

Shuddering at the thought, he turns to the drinks table, where he is immediately targeted by Santana Lopez and her signature sly grin.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” she asks, faking delight. “What’s your poison tonight, hm?”

With an eyeroll, Kurt makes to push past her. “Not my first rodeo, Satan, I know better than to drink one of your hellish creations.” She blocks his path. “Ugh, you have got to be kidding me. Just hand me one of those cups.”

“What’s the matter, did daddy not allow you to drink alcohol? Or did Quinn Fa-baby momma make you her designated driver?”

Kurt glares at her, and much to his chagrin, Santana’s face just lights up even more.

“Aww, she did! You skanks are just too precious. So… unskanky,” she coos.

Kurt’s growing more annoyed by the second. He hates that Santana is still as unimpressed by his act as ever. The rest of the school has learned to just leave him alone when he suddenly showed up with piercings, bright neon streaks in his hair and a new give-zero-fucks attitude. But Santana is a tougher nut to crack.

He narrows his eyes a bit more for good measure, but she waves him off and reaches behind her to retrieve a light blue solo cup. “There you go, sunshine. Pop or water?”

“Water,” Kurt gets out through gritted teeth. He hates the sugary sweetness of coke and the like, and with water he can at least pretend he’s drinking clear spirits. Or maybe he should do that and just forget about the driving, just like Quinn forgot about him.

But deep down he knows he’ll regret it if he’s not there to take her home, or if his dad figures out he was too drunk to drive. Getting upset with Kurt is way too unhealthy for his heart. Even rebellion has its limits, and Kurt will always choose his dad over his reputation.

He sips his water unenthusiastically, trying to avoid both the dancefloor and the beer pong corner, which results in him creepily staying in a corner near the drinks table, from where at least he can engage in his two favorite sports – people-watching, and, more importantly, people-judging.

He is so enthralled in watching Rachel stealing pathetic glances at Kurt’s step-brother Finn Hudson every two seconds while she’s fake-flirting with two older students that Kurt only notices after a few minutes that she is holding a cup with a very untypical color. He frowns. Bright green, really? Is she that tipsy?

The thing is, Kurt could swear he saw Mercedes Jones sport a pink cup earlier, and everyone knows that if something is available in pink, Rachel will make sure that she has it. Kurt is still traumatized from that one time he saw her bedroom.

He looks over to the drinks station and spots tags next to the towers of cups. The colors are labels. Pink apparently means “taken”, which definitely explains why this is the one time Rachel decided to forgo it. And green is – ah, yeah, “it’s complicated”. Kurt grins. Sure, Rachel. Should have gone with light blue. Single AF, the sign reads.

Kurt tenses uncomfortably as he looks down at his own cup.

Blue.

Santana, that cunning, manipulative devil. Of course she’d be the one who doesn’t buy the rumors Quinn spreads about Kurt’s conquests. She knows Kurt hasn’t so much as touched another guy. Great. He’s gonna have to do something about this. Change the cup to… purple maybe? DTF – down to fuck… ugh, not the best choice but probably what an actually skanky version of Kurt would go for. It’s not like McKinley has an overflow of gay guys who would take him up on the offer. And even if there were gay guys at this party, it’s not like he’s much of a hook-up prospect. His painfully pathetic attempts to get laid at Scandals taught him that. God, maybe he should just grab a full bottle of tequila and kiss this night goodbye.

“Ready to party?” someone shouts next to Kurt. He almost scoffs at them before he realizes it’s Blondie-in-a-Bottle Sam Evans, and he is not talking to Kurt, but to someone next to him, who can only be… ah, yes, Blaine.

Blaine Anderson, the transfer student, who is a bit of a nerd with his gelled hair, dorky colorful bowties and his Star Wars lunch box. Blaine, who may be the only person at the school who doesn’t treat Kurt differently, because – well, because he didn’t know Kurt pre-skank. But also because he just doesn’t seem to mind. Kurt has been paired with him on an assignment once or twice, and if Kurt is completely honest with himself, those were the only times it actively pained him to keep up his tough act. He might have even dialed it down just for Blaine.

As much as he wants to deny it, Kurt has a bit of a crush. Which is not cool. Not cool at all. Unskanky, Santana would say.

He watches Blaine shake and nod his head simultaneously at Sam’s question as they approach the drinks table. Kurt sighs and decides to wait until after they’re done there to change his cup color. He can totally wait for his turn. It’s not like anyone is going to talk to him if he puts his bitchy face on. Which, of course, he has practiced to perfection. So, Creepy Watching and Judging Round Number Two it is.

Getting back into it, Kurt watches Artie Abrams clumsily but somehow successfully butter up to Brittany Pierce, even though they are surrounded by a bunch of very interested, suddenly very pissed off football players.

He chuckles at the way Santana tries to not look affected at all but ends up glaring at everyone attempting to talk to Brittany. Santana thinks she has Kurt figured out? Ha. He’s one step ahead of her. At least she doesn’t know about his pathetic cru-

Damn. He was so lost in thought that he missed the perfect opportunity to slip past Sam and Blaine just as they turned away. Now there’s more people at the stand and as Sam and Blaine move away from the table, they come to a halt right next to Kurt. Shit. How is he supposed to act like he didn’t notice them now?

“Hey, can you hold this?” Sam asks Blaine. “I’ll just be a sec.” He hands Blaine his cup, and Kurt can’t help how his eyes widen when he sees the color. Pink?! Since when is Sam Evans dating someone? Kurt wonders if Quinn knows about it. She usually knows what everyone and their mother are up to.

Blaine stands there awkwardly, and since his blondie sidekick is gone, Kurt dares to give him a once-over. Damn, it should be illegal to look that cute in chinos. Kurt puts his cup to his lips to hide a smile behind the rim. It would have been a smart choice if he hadn’t simultaneously spotted the other cup Blaine is holding. The color makes Kurt almost choke on his water. Audibly.

Blaine turns to him, concerned. “Woah, Kurt, are you okay?”

Damn that purple cup.

“’m fine, thanks” Kurt manages, coughing awkwardly and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Water in the wrong pipe, I guess.” He pauses, grimacing. “Tequila, I mean.”

“Right. Tequila…” Blaine smiles. “I’ll just pretend I didn’t see your Navigator parked down the street.”

Kurt feels a shiver run down his spine at the thought that Blaine might have kept an eye out for his car outside. That’s just… pathetic, Kurt. Get a grip, he tells himself.

“Whatever.” He drawls the word for good measure, trying desperately to nail the tone somewhere between not caring and playful teasing. With a nod to Blaine’s purple cup, he says, “Interesting choice.”

“Rum and coke.” Blaine shrugs. “Pretty classic, I’d say?”

Kurt bites his lip, releasing it quickly. “The color, I mean.”

With a blush, Blaine glances down at his drink. “Oh, I actually would have preferred pink.” He clears his throat. “But Sam poured them wrong by accident, and he’s driving, so I ended up with this one instead.”

Kurt’s careful to not choke on his water this time. So Sam’s not the taken one, Blaine is… what?! Then again, figures. He’s a transfer student. A cute one, at that. Fresh meat and all… McKinley’s singles must go crazy over Blaine. Kurt wonders if maybe he’s misread Blaine’s sexuality.

“Right,” he mutters. Santana couldn’t have picked his cup color any better. Single AF indeed. Fuck this party. “Well, I- I should go see what Quinn’s up to.” He clears his throat. “I’m her DD.”

Blaine blinks, seeming surprised. “Oh… sure.” He shoots Kurt a small grin. “Enjoy the party.”

Kurt scoffs. “Doubt it.”

“Oh. Okay. Uhm… bye then.”

Blaine looks taken aback, and Kurt could smack himself. His stupid temper. He makes an abrupt turn, trying to push the thought of having offended Blaine out of his mind. He shouldn’t be caring about things like dating anyhow. His reputation is on the line. He breathes, one heavy breath in and one out, weaving his way through a sea of hammered people.

He finds Quinn eventually – making out with someone from the swim team in one of the house’s upstairs bedrooms. Of course. Kurt sighs, closing the door behind him when she tells him to “get the fuck out”. As he turns back to the hallway, he almost collides with Mercedes. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sneaking off to be alone?” she asks. Kurt can’t decipher whether she sounds snarky or hurt. Out of all the people he’s cut off these past few months, he definitely regrets Mercedes the most.

“Not exactly.” Kurt shrugs. “Just looking for Quinn.”

Mercedes hums in reply. They both do the awkward dance of looking down at their hands and then back up, only to look back down. Kurt’s eyes zero in on the cup in Mercedes’ hands.

He clears his throat. “You’re dating someone?”

For a split second, Mercedes’ face turns red. It’s a good look on her, Kurt thinks, but before he can say anything, her face hardens.

“None of your business,” she says sharply.

“No, no, I know,” Kurt says, holding up his hands. He can’t help but sigh a little. “It’s just…”

“I know.” Mercedes gulps. “I thought you’d be the first to know, too.”

“Mercedes…” Kurt reaches out a hand but pulls it back at the last second, hugging himself instead. Well, this party sucks already, maybe he should just roll with the punches. “I miss you, you know?”

He’s met with another raised eyebrow.

“I know, I don’t show it,” he says hastily. “I never wanted it to be this way, though.”

“I just don’t think any of this is really necessary,” Mercedes says. “We had your back.”

“Well, it wasn’t… there’s- there’s things you don’t know,” Kurt mutters. Karofsky bullying him was one thing. Karofsky threatening to kill him if he told anyone he was gay… very different. “I swear I’d tell you if I could.”

Mercedes bites her lip and smiles a little.

“It’s Sam,” she whispers, leaning closer.

Kurt frowns. “What?”

She holds up her cup. “Sam and I…”

“What?!”

“It’s not that unlikely,” she says, defensive.

Kurt shakes his head quickly. “Uh, no, it’s just – I thought he had a purple cup earlier.”

“Nope.” Mercedes grins. “Definitely pink. I saw him with it just a second ago.”

But it was an accident, Kurt thinks. Blaine said the pink was for him.

“Oh, well… I’m happy for you,” Kurt says, shooting Mercedes his most sincere smile. “Truly.”

“Thanks, Kurt,” she says. “We could hang out sometime maybe…?”

Kurt takes a step back. “I… maybe.”

There’s that sad look again. Kurt closes his eyes to drown it out. Once he feels marginally better, he opens them, bracing himself for more sadness, but – Mercedes is gone.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Maybe he can’t openly be Mercedes’ friend anymore – but the least he can do is make sure her boyfriend isn’t being a dick to her. He almost races down the stairs back into the living room.

Even more people dancing now. Kurt scans the room for any sign of Sam or Blaine. He growls when he spots them. Of course – they are dancing. He tries not to watch Blaine shimmy his hips to the music, and promptly fails. Damn that boy.

He stomps over, pushing himself between them and staring Sam down.

“You better not hurt her,” he hisses.

Sam’s eyes go huge. “What?”

“You heard me.” Kurt narrows his eyes. “I know your cup was supposed to be purple. Blaine told me. You’re more than lucky to get a chance with someone like Mercedes. If you-”

Sam’s eyes skirt around frantically as he steps closer and tries to shut Kurt up. “Ssssh, what the fuck, don’t tell-”

“Oh, don’t want her to find out you’re on the lookout? Is that why you so conveniently switched cup colors, huh?!”

Blaine dances around Kurt and comes up next to Sam, looking confused and a little dizzy. Kurt honestly almost forgot he was behind him the entire time.

“Sam, ‘s Kurt still angry at me?” he asks, his words slurred.

Sam rolls his eyes. “No, he’s angry at me.”

“What’d chu do?”

“Switch cup colors,” Sam mutters. He turns back to Kurt. “Kurt, man, I swear this is not what you think it is.” He inches closer, and if Kurt wasn’t so focused on defending Mercedes, he’d find it cute how Blaine instinctively does the same, almost touching Kurt’s shoulder. Voice lowered, Sam continues, “Mercedes and I are keeping it on the down low for a while.”

“Yeah, right.” Kurt laughs in disbelief. “Which is why you’re both sporting pink?”

“Well, we’re not telling anyone who exactly- that’s beside the point, though.” Sam sighs. “If I was going to cheat on her, why would my cup say that I’m taken, Sherlock?”

Kurt blinks. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Where does it say that?” Blaine asks, looking down at Sam’s cup.

Kurt replays what Blaine told him earlier in his head. He wanted pink, but Sam switched them. He didn’t say anything about the meaning…

“Blaine doesn’t know about the color codes,” Kurt concludes.

Sam shoots him a grin. “I was just messing with him a little. I knew you were going to-” He blinks quickly. “Uh, forget that part.”

Kurt tries to ignore the way his heartbeat speeds up a little at that. What is Sam’s plan? And does it mean Blaine is single after all? And why does he care oh-so-much?

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Blaine asks, alternating between staring at Kurt and staring at Sam.

Kurt gives Sam the sideeye before turning to Blaine. “Blaine, your cup color means you’re DTF.”

“What’s DTF?” Blaine asks immediately.

“How much has he had to drink?” Kurt asks at the same time as Sam says, “Down to fuck.”

Blaine whips around to face Sam. “You told him I’m down to fuck?!”

Sam breaks out into laughter. “I didn’t but you just did…” He turns to Kurt and winks. “I think I’ll leave you to it. I’m gonna go find Mercedes.”

“Sam, wait!” Kurt says, cursing his helpless voice. God, what is he going to with this info now? Sam doesn’t turn around.

Blaine stares after Sam before turning to Kurt. “Kurt, if Sam leaves me here alone, can you drive me home? I could break into a car and try it myself but… I think I’m too-” He sways a little on his feet. “Tipsy.”

“Ya think?” Kurt huffs out a laugh, reaching out his hand to steady Blaine. “Okay, first things first. Have some of my water. And, uh… let’s go somewhere outside to get you sobered up, okay?”

Blaine’s face lights up at that. He reaches for Kurt’s hand, but Kurt withdraws, looking around nervously. He tries to ignore Blaine’s furrowed eyebrows and his pout, instead pushing him through the crowd by the shoulders. When he’s finally got them outside in the miraculously empty backyard, he lets himself breathe. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Blaine watches him, surprisingly attentive in his drunken state.

“Do you hate me?” he asks timidly.

“Wh- what?” Kurt stutters.

Blaine looks down at his feet. “I never know what to think with you.”

“I don’t hate you, Blaine,” Kurt says, stepping closer. “Drink some more water.”

Kurt takes the pink cup from Blaine before he can raise it to his mouth.

“The other cup. That’s your rum and coke.”

“Oh.” Blaine nods, and gulps down the contents of Kurt’s cup, holding it with both hands like a child. Kurt bites back a smile. Why is he even cuter when he’s drunk? When he’s done, Blaine holds the cup up in Kurt’s face. “So, what does blue mean?”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Single as fuck.”

“Are you?” Blaine asks curiously, eyes flitting between Kurt’s face and the cup.

Kurt tries to hide his blush by pushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. “I guess I am.”

“Oh, alright.” Blaine gives a slight nod. “Cool.”

Kurt can’t help but laugh at the way he tries to act nonchalant. “Yeah? That alright with you?”, he asks.

“Yeah…” Blaine drops his eyes and then shoots them back up at Kurt with an intensity that makes Kurt’s knees go weak. “Very.”

“Blaine…” he breathes out, hyperaware of how close their faces are. He clears his throat, looking around for something to do. He decides on setting their cups down on a nearby windowsill. His eyes linger on the pink one.

“Why’d you want that color?” he asks Blaine, putting his hands in his pocket now that he has nothing to hold.

“Hm?” Blaine follows Kurt’s line of sight. “Oh. Uh.” His eyes find Kurt’s again, then flicker up to Kurt’s hair. “I just really like pink.”

Kurt can’t find it in himself to hide his blush this time. “Oh… alright.”

“Yeah?” Blaine smiles. “Alright with you?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kurt laughs. Throwing all caution in the wind, he adds, “I’m not the one who admitted he’s down to fuck.”

Blaine inhales sharply. “I can’t believe Sam told you that.”

“Actually, you did,” Kurt says, tilting his head.

“Oh god, I did, didn’t I?” Blaine asks, looking like he’s trying to read Kurt’s face. “And… is that alright with you?”

Kurt wants to say something witty, or just confirm, or something – but his brain short-circuits and what he ends up blurting is, “I’m a virgin!”

“Oh, well, I mean… me too… it’s not like I meant right now…” Blaine mutters, visibly flustered. His face goes all red. It’s so. Damn. Cute. “I just…”

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to focus his thoughts. “It’s alright with me,” he says. “Maybe not right now, but…”

“Gotcha.” Blaine exhales, and Kurt can feel his breath on his face. How did they get so close again? Blaine laughs nervously. “Wow, I’m feeling very sober all of a sudden.”

“Yeah?” Kurt feels a rush of heat streaming through his body. “Funny. I feel kinda drunk.”

They’re both silent for a beat, looking at each other, before they lean in at the same time. Kurt’s lips land on Blaine’s a little off-center but they adjust as Blaine pulls him in, threading his fingers through the hair at the back of Kurt’s head. Kurt makes a muffled noise, grabbing Blaine’s shirt on both sides and holding on for dear life, dragging Blaine closer, kissing him harder. He wasn’t prepared for how good this would feel. He wasn’t prepared for how much he would want to-

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kurt gasps out. “Fuck. I-”

“What’s wrong?” Blaine asks, concerned.

“I’m not… we’re not…” Kurt sighs. “This is gonna be a problem. We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“I’m… well… ugh. I have a lot to lose, let’s put it that way,” Kurt says grimly.

Blaine lets his hands fall to his sides, his body deflating.

“Don’t be mad,” Kurt pleads.

“I’m not,” Blaine says. “But I guess I kind of hoped I was a lot to gain.”

There it is again, the urge to smack his stupid head against the nearest wall. Why does he keep doing this to others? To himself? If he could just be himself…

Kurt takes in Blaine’s face, studying his eyes and those ridiculously long eyelashes and thick eyebrows that kept distracting him the first time they had to do an assignment together. He remembers how Blaine’s enthusiasm and his cute quirks pulled him in from the get-go, how he kept hoping they’d be paired together for more assignments… how kissing him just now felt like he could do anything and get away with it…

Oh, to hell with these charades.

Quinn’s eyebrows rise when she catches Sam and Mercedes kissing on the front porch, but they almost disappear beneath her hairline when she sees Kurt on the dance floor – goofing off with Blaine and smiling like an utter idiot. Of course. She should have known. He’d never tell her the truth, but it’s always been kind of obvious how soft he got around him.

“I take partial credit for that,” Santana drawls next to Quinn, leaning her elbow on Quinn’s shoulder. “He needed a bit of a push.”

“Who knew you had such match-making skills.” Quinn makes to turn towards Santana to grin at her but spots Karofsky and Azimio in the crowd, scowling. “Oh, fuck.”

“What?” Santana follows her gaze and balls her fists. “Don’t worry about them. They’re making those faces because I just twisted their nads and put them in their place. I have them under control.”

Quinn shakes her head fondly. “You’re actually a pretty good friend, Santana.”

Santana looks like she wants to disagree for a second but then she just shrugs.

“Yeah, yeah… just don’t tell Kurt.”

Kurt beams when Mercedes and Sam finally show up together, joining Blaine and him on the dance floor.

Blaine and Sam seem to be engaged in a secret conversation involving nods, winks and fist-bumping, so Kurt turns to Mercedes.

“Are we okay?” he asks her.

She smiles back at him. “We’re peachy. Or at least we’re gonna be.”

Relief floods his body. This party is turning out to be so much better than anticipated. And maybe, just maybe… everything will be alright.

[formerprincess]

Because I rewatched Fantastic Four yesterday (and I’m about to rewatch the second movie) and as a Steve Rogers fan I am now hooked on a Twins AU with Steve and Johnny. And because I need something to distract me from the chaos that’s currently my life, here is how I envision this AU (with Stucky because I ship them so hard). Under read more cause this turned hella long:

Johnny takes living in the future a little bit easier than Steve and manages to fit in a little bit better. He loves new technology and cars. He’s also the first one to have a smartphone. 

At first, everyone thinks their personalities are very clear. Steve is the responsible one, the patriotic one, who abides rules and is the general goody-two-shoes while Johnny is the wild one, reckless and irresponsible, who doesn’t care about rules and does how he pleases.

Steve lost count how often somebody - especially Tony - told him to be more like his brother and relax more. He never really comments on that one cause what’s the use? He knows his brother after all.

But after a while, Steve settles in his life with the Avengers and the group slowly starts to realize the twins are far more complex than it appears.

The most important realization is probably that Steve is just as much of a little shit as Johnny, especially when it comes to playing the identical twins card.

The first time the twins switch roles...The first time they actually admit to switching to the other Avengers, Tony stops speaking to them for two whole days. He refuses to believe Steve Rogers managed to trick him like that. Pepper has to interfere and state that “You would do the same if you had an identical twin. Stop sulking!” Tony makes his personal mission to always find a way to tell the brothers apart after that.

He fails miserably.

Although Johnny and Steve have very different personalities, once they switch they have each other’s character down to a T. It’s insane how good they are at it and almost impossible to tell who is who in those situations. 

Bruce freely admits that not even his brain or logical way of thinking can help him in telling who is who. Clint and Thor are always amused by this with Thor laughing loudly and trying to guess if he’s talking to Steve or Johnny and Clint just smirking in the background. Natasha never gives away if she can tell them apart because what would Natasha be without any secrets? 

While the twins work together perfectly when it comes to confusing people by switching roles, they often argue about their different point of views. They can often be seen bickering even on the battlefield. “Why on earth would you do that, Jonathan?” - “The real question is, why didn’t I do it sooner, Steven?” 

Their bickering only adds to the belief Steve embraces his role as older brother properly (”18 Minutes! He’s only 18 Minutes older!”) and always is the responsible one who has to keep his brother from putting his life in danger.

When Bucky joins the team, however, things get really interesting. Imagine the group discussing the twins once again and its mentioned how Steve is the responsible one and Bucky stops whatever he’s doing mid-action and gives the others a very strange look. “Steve’s the responsible one... Sure,” he drawls while he has like hundreds of examples in mind where he had to rescue both twins out of back alleys where they got beaten up by guys bigger their size and how Johnny wiped the blood from his nose while pointing at Steve and said: “He didn’t like the way the guys talked to the ladies.”

Bucky obviously can always tell the twins apart, even when they switch, he just never comments on it and entertains himself by watching them confusing everyone else. (The only other person who always managed to tell them apart without a doubt was Peggy). 

Buck is also the one watching over the twins and making sure they don’t get themselves killed or go overboard with their powers. When things get too heated (pun absolutely intended) it’s not uncommon for him to dose Johnny with a fire extinguisher just because he can. Steve gets a stern look when he chuckles in his seat and a gruff “Don’t even get me started with you!”

When once asked who the most responsible of the brothers is, Johnny and Steve look at each other for a long time before announcing “Bucky” in unison.

Another big thing Johnny loves about the future is how open-minded the world has become. Sure, some people still are disgusting by same-sex relationships but it’s not forbidden to be gay anymore. His own bisexuality is one of the very first things he announces publicly (the tabloids have a field day with that one) and it’s not unusual to see him with men and women in equal measure. 

He also expects Steve to finally get his head out of his ass and confess his undying love for their best friend but Steve always acts like he has no idea what Johnny is talking about. It frustrates the younger one to no end. Those two are so gone for each other, how can they not realize that?? It drives him nuts since he claims that their sexual tension makes him horny as well!

One day Steve and Bucky have a large fight after a mission. It starts with “How could you be so fucking stupid and jump off that building? Have you lost your mind, Steve??” and turns into a screaming match that has every other Avenger flee the scene. The mood is tense afterward and the two best friends are on no speaking terms. 

Johnny hates this. He always hated when Bucky and Steve fight. People might think he’s shallow and doesn’t do feelings but he knows how much both care about each other and he also cares deeply about them and wants them happy. He tries to dissolve the tension by cracking jokes. He mostly succeeded after a while and the friends laughed together but this time his jokes fall on death ears.

A few days after the fight, they are on a new mission. Steve and Bucky are trading passive-aggressive snaps at each other cause Steve is the king of passive-aggressive remarks but Bucky has a mouth on his own and snarls back. They fight together and he makes sure no bad guy gets too close to Steve but that doesn’t mean he can’t call Cap out on his bullshit. The fight ends with the Avengers winning (obviously, duh!) but it was a tough one and they find themselves sitting in the dirt, trying to catch their breath and letting their healing kick in. Johnny’s watching the two others and huffs: “You know, I would really appreciate if you two would cut the crap and either kiss or have makeup sex but please, for the love of god, be nice to each other again. This is getting exhausting.” When his brother sputters next to him, he rolls his eyes. “Oh please, Steven, if you don’t kiss him soon, I will!”

He leaves them behind and Bucky and Steve just stare at each other. Steve points in the direction Johnny went. “He’s an idiot.” Bucky shrugs. “True but he’s not wrong either. Though I’d prefer a date before the sex. But that’s up to you.”

Steve stares at him embarrassingly long and tries to get his brain working again before he finally manages a weak “Are you serious?”

Johnny shoots up in the sky behind them and yells: “YES, HE IS SERIOUS! NOW KISS OR I WILL MAKE YOU!!!!”

When they finally do kiss and get their act together and are back at the tower with the other Avengers, Steve spots Bruce and Sam handing money over to Johnny while claiming they were wrong in regards to Steve and Bucky. Steve narrows his eyes. “You bet on me?” He asks accusingly and furrows his brow. 

Johnny smirks. “Of course not.” And after a pause, he adds: “I bet on Bucky.”

[shipper-trash-bag]

Hospital AU

“Stop messing with your IV.” Sam turned his head to see the nurse walk in, chastising him. “You’re gonna bruise.”

Sam sighed, letting go of the aforementioned tube, laying his hands onto the bed underneath him. “Sorry, just bored.”

Nurse Shirley took pity on him, swiping the tv remote from inside the bedside table. He flicked the tv on and pressed the remote into his palm. “Here. Watch some tv. It’ll numb your mind, but that’s maybe just what you need right now.” He looked over Sam’s chart, adjusting the drip on the IV with a frown. “Did Greta adjust this? She’s slowed this down a lot.”

“Huh. Explains why my head feels like a cracked open walnut.”

“Oh, baby, I think it feels like a cracked open walnut cuz some jackass hit you with their car.”

Sixteen days. Sam had been in the hospital for sixteen days after being hit from the side by an oncoming car while out on one of his jogs. The driver still hadn’t been identified and as Sam clung for his life through three surgeries, Dean’s only solace through it all was to picture himself wringing the neck of the guy responsible until it turned all the way around. With four broken ribs, a small brain bleed, a broken femur and a crushed hand, they told him he was lucky to be alive. But being stuck in the ICU didn’t exactly feel lucky.

“The TV hurts my eyes,” he complained, covering his eyes as he shut the thing off. Letting out a blessed sigh of relief, he felt the other man’s hand on his shoulder.

Looking up, he saw the warm smile and felt calmer instantly. “It’s okay, it’ll take some time. How about some music? I can grab my MP3 player from my locker if you want.”

He shook his head, completely regretting it a second later. “No thanks, nurse Shirley, I think I’m gonna just stare at the tiles until the blur.”

“Oh, well then, since you have other plans.” He cleaned up Sam’s wounds, the incisions where they’d had to cut into him to set his bones was still tender. “And I told you, call my Gabriel.”

“Kay,” Sam slurred, feeling the morphine steadily pull into his bloodstream. “Oh, that’s the ticket. Oh, fuck yeah.”

Gabriel laughed at him, gently patting his pec as he covered it back up with the gown and the blankets. “Okay there big guy, just rest now.”

“Mmmm, m’kay. See ya.”

———————-/-

Every day was much the same. Greta has the night shift in watching over Sam, keeping him mostly comfortable as he slept, giving him sponge baths, much to his humiliation. She was a good nurse, but didn’t speak much and had unintentionally lowered his pain meds twice. At least, Sam hoped that was the case.

Gabriel had the day shift, and he brought with him sunshine and jokes. On the weekends, Sam and the other patients were stuck with Demon 1 and Demon 2, which, okay. They weren’t really that bad, but compared to Greta and Gabe, they might as well have been. It also helped him cope by knowing that the two nurses were sisters whose last name was literally Damen, which dean found very amusing. When changing his IV, Demon 2 missed three times, having to call the anesthesiologist to do it, only to be chastised for it cuz nurses aren’t supposed to put in IV lines! Great for Sam who now had more bruises than he needed.

Every Friday, Sam was disappointed to see Gabriel leave, and every Monday morning, when he’d wake up to Gabriel checking his blood pressure, he felt elated. It took him exactly three weeks before he realized why.

“So you have a crush on your nurse, big deal,” Charlie waved her hand around as she sat in the chair next to him. “It’s not the end of the world.”

Sam sighed. Here he was having some gay panic he hadn’t experienced since high school and Charlie was just sweeping it under the rug. “Charlie-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not me, but still. You gotta take it easy or you’re gonna hurt yourself. Just ask him out when you check out and if he says no, then what’s the big deal? You won’t have to see his face every day if he rejects you.”

“Charlie-“

“And how’s my favourite patient today?” Gabriel daunted in, ridiculous duckie scrubs on as he rolled the blood pressure machine in with him.

Sam smiled small and warm, the warmth blooming in his chest heavy. “Good. Head doesn’t feel like it’s exploding every ten seconds.”

“Hey, that’s great! Just gotta check your blood pressure and temperature and I’ll be out of you and your girlfriend’s hair.”

Charlie laughed, wiping fake tears away from her face where there weren’t any. “Oh, boy. Do you see any girlfriends in here Sam? Cuz I don’t.”

Sam frowned, his dimples of discontent more pronounced than normal. “Ha, ha. Think he was referring to you, jackass.”

“Pfft! Please, the day I date a guy is the day hell freezes over, which reminds me,” she leaned in on her chair closer, tilting her face up at Gabriel from across the bed. “That nurse with the dark brown hair and Cupid mouth... she single?”

Gabriel shook his head, a shit eating grin curling onto his own mouth. “Oh, Dorothy? Oh, yeah. But she’s a tough but to crack. Many have tried, and many have failed.”

“Charlie’s not the average person, though.” Sam chuckled, remembering her list of conquests in college. “Call her the nut cracker.”

“Ew,” Charlie scrunched up her face is disgust. “You made it sound gross.”

He rolled his eyes, lifting his arm to be wrapped in the blood pressure cuff. “Oh, uh, huh. Sure I did. You’re the one whose mind went into the gutter, but whatever.”

They jabbed at one another, Gabriel being dragged into the drama as he checked over Sam’s vitals for a few more minutes. When Gabriel left to check on another patient, Sam couldn’t stop staring at the guy’s ass, something that Charlie picked up on immediately.

“Oh Winchester,” she drawled, his eyes snapping to hers in embarrassment. “You’ve got it bad. Never mind what I said before, this isn’t run of the mill stuff. Whatever you need, I got you, Kay?”

He nodded, letting his head settle down into the pillow, wanting the bed to swallow him home.

—————————

Gabriel wasn’t at work the day Sam was checked out of the hospital, or the three days before, either. Sam hoped it was maybe a few vacation days, or maybe a family emergency that kept him away, and not Sam himself. No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t actually want the guy’s family to be in an emergent situation, he just... Sam wanted to ask the guy out. He wanted to take him to dinner and the movies and to hold his hand and kiss him good morning and, and - and he was being ridiculous. Gabriel was probably already in a relationship or wasn’t interested in him like that. Either way, Sam felt like he was being an idiot.

He stood at the nurses’ station leaning half on the counter, half on Dean has he signed his release forms when Demon 1 came up to him. “Sam?”

Sam nodded, turning to look at her. He prayed that she wasn’t going to ask him to fill out anymore damned forms cuz his hand freakin hurt, okay? “Uh, yes?”

“Nurse Gabriel would like to see you.”

He looked at her in confusion. If he wanted to see Sam, why didn’t he just come to see him? The man was being ridiculous, but whatever. If Gabriel wanted Sam to play along, Sam would play along - just this once. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be right back Dean.” And he followed the nurse while on his crutches to a patient room. There, laid up in bed with a litany of bruises and a broken arm was Gabriel. Sam felt his mouth drop open in shock, unaware of what the hell to do. “Ga-Gabriel? What the hell happened?”

Gabriel turned his head from where he’d been watching the news to look at Sam. Instantly, his face lightened up and looked ten years younger. “Sam! Heard you were being discharged today and it felt wrong not saying bye to you.”

Sam lowered himself into the chair next to the bed. “What happened to you?”

“Tell me: the car that hit you? Blue Toyota Corolla?”

Sam blinked back confusion, head reeling back a bit in shock. “Uh... Yeah, why?”

“Good news is, they caught the guy,” Gabriel scratched at his nose, the bruises leaving him recoiling his hand on pain. “Bad news is he was a drunk driver.”

“How do you know that?”

“He hit my car Monday night as I was driving home from the hospital.”

Sam thought back as realization settled deep in his gut. “Oh! That’s why you haven’t been he- Gabriel, you were in a car accident! What did the doctors say? Did you have surgery? How long are you going to be here? Do you need anything?” Sam knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t stop. “Want me to get some magazines for you? Do you need more pillows? How long do you need the cast? Can I sign it? Do you have a lawyer? Cuz the firm I work for has-“

“Woah, woah, woah, babe. Chill!” His hand landed on top of Sam’s, a little clammy but still warm and comforting, even through the plaster. “I didn’t ask nurse Damen to bring you here for all that. I just wanted you to know they caught the guy and the I haven’t been around to see you cuz I’ve been loopy on meds. But I’ll be fine. The doctors here are great.”

“So are the nurses,” he blurted out, face turning pink.

Gabriel’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile, fingers curling around Sam’s. “Oh really? My, my, you do flatter me, sir. And yes, you can sign my cast, so long as you leave your number so I can text you when I get bored,” he winked.

Sam’s responding smile blotted our the sun. “How about I come see you for lunch tomorrow instead?”

He never thought he’d render Gabriel speechless, but here he was, mouth gaping in the wind. “You- really? You’re not sick of me yet?”

Sam curled his fingers around so that he could intertwine his fingers with Gabe’s. “Nope. Been working up the courage to ask you out for a month, now.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, then. Um, you really want our first date to be with me littered in bruises?”

Sam pulled the hand closer to his mouth to kiss the back of it sweetly. “I’m still bruises from the IV incident, so we match, at least. How’s 12:30 sound?”

Gabriel hummed, a light blush filling his face. “Sounds perfect.”

And it was. Even when Gabriel sneezed while trying to kiss Sam goodbye on the cheek after.