#sams eyebrows are impossible to see otherwise also

[bomedew]

this felt like the busiest week of my life thank god its almost the weekend!!! sam and dean to celebrate

[elizabethemerald]

Barbara Gordon had been enjoying Gotham City Comic Con so far. She had gone to a few signings and a few panels, and even did some signing of her own for those who recognized her as Babs-on-wheels. Dick was just enjoying being her handler for the Con. He had a cloth mask on and was ignored by most of the con goers, just like he liked it. 

She loved conventions so much, even though they sucked in a lot of ways. They were hard on her body, she needed to take time away from being Oracle, and she somehow always ended up catching something no matter how much she masked or washed her hands. Even with all that, they were still fun, having a convention in Gotham just made things so much easier. 

Of course GC3 still wasn't a popular Con. The risk of rogue attacks was too high for the Gotham locals and the non locals were too afraid of getting mugged or murdered on the way. GC3 struggled to get any real stars to show up for panels or signings and the artist alley was always distressingly empty compared to the size of the space. 

At least this year the con was slightly bigger than usual. Bruce had used WE funds to sponsor personal security for any actor who showed up and Jason was personally paying for a bunch of Crime Alley artists to attend with their goods, including a lady who was selling extremely cute duck shaped candles. Babs was hopeful that if the others could keep the rogues at bay that this year might actually see the con's growth become the norm. 

The best part of attending cons and especially of going in her costumes with her wheelchair was meeting all the people who had some disability coming up to her and showing off what she had inspired them to do. So many different amazing costumes for people in wheelchairs, with canes, or otherwise showing off their aids. 

Like these three out of towners who had excitedly approached her. 

The leader, who eventually was introduced as Tucker was excitedly stimming, his hands flapping and his words slurring together in his excitement. Every few seconds he would rock up on his toes like he was about to take off into the air. Barbara felt a small, fond smile creep up her face, Dick actually did the same thing though for a different reason. 

Sam, the only girl of the group, also was the one who translated Tucker’s excitement into understandable words. She leaned heavily on a cane with a shoot of some vine growing up it. 

The last of the group, Danny, introduced by both of the others as their boyfriend, was just as excited as Tucker. His wheelchair was beautifully disguised as the Curiosity Rover. The accuracy on the rover was truly stunning. 

Tucker and his partners were all dressed up as Martian Warriors. 5th Dynasty if Bab’s recollections of J’onn’s lectures were correct. Actually some of the details were more accurate than the publicly available information. It made her raise her eyebrows a little, she didn’t think they were actually Martians, but it wasn’t impossible. More likely, however, they had some computer skills and were able to get access to some of NASA’s private files. 

Barbara enjoyed the conversation with the trio, and Dick volunteered to take pictures of the four of them together. He had to take a couple of pictures before he could get one where nobody was blurry from stimming right as the flash went off. Finally he was able to get a good picture of all of them, including her pretending to be making first contact with them in character. 

Their photo op was interrupted by the screens throughout the convention center that usually displayed maps or room numbers all went dark at the same time. Even the jumbotron that had been showing clips of happy con attendees in between advertisements for the corporate sponsors went black. 

Babs felt Dick tense next to her, and surprisingly so did Danny in his chair. Their tension was immediately rewarded as all the screens came back on with Edward Nigma’s smarmy face. Babs had felt that Riddler had a very punchable face ever since she first started as Batgirl, and her opinion hasn’t changed since then. He looked even more punchable with his face that large on the jumbotron. 

“Hello attendees of Gotham City Comic Con!” Riddler shouted out, deafening many. 

Sam flinched violently from his voice and pressed her hands to her ears. She immediately wobbled like she was going to fall, but Tucker stepped up to her side and pressed her towards Danny’s wheelchair so she could steady herself. 

“Sorry babe. They’re going to need me.” Dick whispered in Babara’s ear. She nodded and pressed a kiss to his cheek, both of them ignoring Riddler’s self-aggrandizing. “Stay safe, I love you.” 

He stood up and hurried away. Riddler was an all hands on deck rogue, his preference for vastly complex plans featuring multiple threats across a wide area meant the Bats needed as much help as they could get to prevent any casualties. Sam had recovered enough to steady herself and glared after Dick. 

“Where is he going?” She snarled. 

Babs grimaced, she could see how it looked from an outside perspective. It looked like Dick had abandoned her as soon as a threat occurred. The way the trio grouped together to watch each other’s backs showed clearly how inappropriate they found his supposed actions. 

“Dick is a police officer, I assume the GCPD will need his help.” Babs could almost laugh at the way the trio reacted as if she had said he wanted to go sniff toilet seats. They would probably prefer he was just a coward rather than a cop. Even with her father being the Commissioner, she couldn’t quite bring herself to disagree. There was a reason she had become a vigilante rather than help her father directly. 

“Maybe we should get off the expo floor.” Danny interrupted what would probably have been a breathtaking rant from Sam. “Two people in wheelchairs might look like attractive hostages if it comes to that.” 

“Good thinking.” Tucker was tapping away at his phone for a second before he looked up and pointed at a set of double doors nearby. “There should be a storage closet there, it usually holds all the tables and stuff for the artist alley, so it should be empty now.” 

Barbara followed, wheeling after them as the trio made for the storage closet. She wondered if she could get away with calling one of the Birds to pick the lock, or maybe it wouldn’t be too suspicious for her to pick it herself. 

“May I touch your wheelchair?” Babs was knocked out of her thoughts by Sam’s words. Tucker had taken over pushing Danny’s chair, in fact he had turned them both around so they were both going backwards. Then Sam was holding one of Danny’s hands and holding out her other. Barbara nodded her consent, confused and curious as to what they were planning. 

They were almost to the double doors and Sam laid her hand on the back of Babs’ wheelchair. Barbara could feel a tingling sensation pass over her body from her contact with Sam. Then to her surprise, Tucker looked around to see if anyone was watching them then passed effortlessly through the door. He pulled Danny’s chair through and Sam guided Babs as all four of them walked through the door as if it wasn’t there. 

She wasn’t entirely certain that the trio weren’t actually Martian warriors despite the fact that they were supposedly extinct. Either way she was certain that J’onn J’onzz would want to have a word with these three. Tucker had passed his phone to Sam, who was using it to watch Riddler’s broadcast while he knelt down and pulled out his laptop. He nudged Danny as he did so. 

“I’m going to try and back trace the broadcast, see if I can find Riddler’s location. Are you going to go deal with him?” Tucker asked. 

Barbara watched Danny consider his partner’s words. It was almost like the trio had forgotten she was there as Tucker very clearly started to hack on his laptop, with the computer resting on Danny’s head. 

“No. Gotham has her own heroes.” Danny said, shaking his head and almost dislodging Tucker’s computer. “If they need help I’ll jump in, but I don’t want to step on any toes.” 

“In that case, I’ll take this seat.” Tucker said before plopping himself down on Danny’s lap. He continued typing away even as Danny wrapped his arms around him to keep him stable. Sam leaned over their shoulders to look at what Tucker was typing. “Ok, I think I’ve found the source, he’s bounced the signal around a couple of times but the Mark of Horus was able to track him down.” 

Barbara felt her brows climb toward her hairline. The Mark of Horus was an infamous tracking software created by the hacker Duat_Pharoh, one of the best hackers on the planet. Duat_Pharoh could even challenge Oracle in a few fields, which was no small feat if Barbara said so. The Mark of Horus could track an IP against just about any defenses, like the mythological hunter it was named after. And worse the code had only been approximated a few times (once by Barbara herself) and required a supercomputer to run successfully. Tucker just whipped that out in a few minutes on a laptop in a supply closet. Either he was lying or he was secretly a major player in the hacker world. 

“Do you mind if I help you?” Barbara asked, as she pulled her laptop from its hidden compartment in her chair and set it on her lap. 

“Hmm? Oh sure.” Unlike other hackers Barbara had encountered, he didn’t seem to be talking down to her when he accepted her offer for help. She slipped her earpiece into place and dialed her number at the Clocktower. A few key presses and she had forwarded her call to the comms of the Bats. 

“Nightwing, this is Barbara Gordon.” Barbara said as she connected, subtly showing the Bats that she was in her civilian guise. She ignored the whispered, “She has Nightwing’s number? That’s so cool!” 

“Go ahead Mrs. Gordon, this Nightwing.” 

“Some civilian hackers from the convention and I were able to backtrace the Riddler’s signal.” She got a notification that Tucker was attempting to airdrop the data he had to her computer. Technically it shouldn’t have been possible for him to find her computer, but she guessed she shouldn’t be worried about what was supposed to be possible right then. 

Barbara accessed the information and forwarded it to her husband. 

“Riddler has several bombs hidden throughout the convention center, each clue will direct you to the next, eventually culminating in a showdown between himself and the Bats with several hostages as the stakes.” Barbara said, giving her directions to the family. “He does not currently have any hostages, but will be acquiring them from the convention, using the bombs as a distraction.” 

“I haven’t found the location of the bombs yet, but I’ve got access to his computer, and it looks like he has his speech notes prepared on it.” Tucker said, still typing away at his computer. He paused, then looked at something closely. “Ugh. Riddles. I hate riddles. I have the full list of riddles which should give Batman a headstart on disarming the bombs.” 

“Send them to me. I’m great at riddles.” Sam said from where she was leaning on Tucker’s shoulder. A ping on her phone and she leaned away to look closer at the riddles. 

Barbara was impressed. Between herself and the trio the Bats were well on their way to clearing Riddler’s entire plot. She had managed to narrow down her search using the information Sam and Spoiler were coming up from the riddles to find several of the bombs around the center, directing the Bats to intervene and disarm them. 

Tucker was able to create a virus that would isolate the bombs from exterior signals preventing a detonator from being used. Again, Barbara was fairly certain that Riddler usually was better about isolating his explosives than that, but she was certain now that Tucker was doing the impossible. 

“Now for your next clue!” Riddler said loudly from where he was recording. “I am tall- what the fuck!”

His broadcast was interrupted by several members of the Batfamily crashing into his location. He lunged for the detonator on the table and managed to press the button but there was no explosion, he looked at it in disgust before throwing it at Batman. 

“Someone skipped ahead on the show! Haven’t you ever heard of spoilers!” He shouted as he dodged a batarang. 

“Spoiler? I hardly know ‘er!” Spoiler said as she swung in and knocked the Riddler flat. “Next time, keep my name outta your mouth!” 

 Barbara smiled and watched as the trio laughed and high fived, congratulating her and Tucker on their hacking job. 

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind,” Barbara said, hating to kill the mood. “But maybe we can talk about what just happened? Because you all were very impressive.” 

They looked at each other for a moment before nodding. 

“Sure, but do you mind if we go somewhere with some fresh air, I can’t breathe in this closet.” Sam said. 

DP x DC Prompt #83

Tucker loved going to conventions. He loved sharing the love of his favorite characters with other people who loved the same characters. Mostly, he looks forward to seeing the cosplayers who show up. And this convention is extra special. 

A cosplayer he follows online is going to this one! She calls herself Babs, and Tucker hopes he’ll run into her. Her cosplays are always insane and detailed! Maybe she’ll even be willing to sign some fan art he made of her cosplays if he asks nicely enough.

[theyoutubedork]

NEW SERIES:

𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖆 - 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

Bucky Barnes x Hydra!enhanced!reader

Part i | part ii | Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Requests are open

Warnings: mentions of violence, trauma, kidnapping, all that Hydra stuff, there will be future smut, 18+

AN: Reader’s powers inspired by Poison Ivy from the DC comics, because I’m unoriginal. Has not been proofread , had to change Erskine to Helmer (random last name) for the evil hydra scientist.

Let me know if you like this idea and would like to see more!

“So what exactly am I looking at here?” Sam pondered aloud, staring at the slightly blurry figure on the projection at the end of the table. Bucky was wondering the same thing. All he saw was a regular looking woman, but the blank stare she held towards the security camera said otherwise. Her eyes were glowing a slight violet, almost impossible to detect from the quality of the image. Steve stood at the end of the table, holding a tablet in the crook of his elbow. He takes his calloused fingers, slightly struggling to zoom into the picture like he always did when giving mission briefings.

“You are looking at Y/N L/N, the new fist of Hydra. Sources say that she was captured back in the 60’s, and they pumped her full of this plant-based super soldier serum, and now she’s basically half plant, half-human. She is known as Belladonna, or Deadly Nightshade.” He announced. Bucky eyebrow twitched, he always was unnerved by Hydra missions, no mater how long ago he had escaped from their strong grip. He was no longer the Winter Soldier, according to Shuri and everyone else, but going back to the hell he used to call home never fails to make a slight shiver go up his spine.

The room fell silent for a moment when the next slide appeared. It seemed to be the same security footage, yet no longer a still image of her face. She had vine appendages, whipping around as she mowed down several Shield agents, even using them to block bullets. She yelled as she kneeled onto the ground, sending her vine appendages towards her attackers. The vines break from underneath the concrete like glass, skyrocketing to each of the agents’ throats, choking them out in mere seconds. Once all the attackers were lifeless, the girl retracted her vine limbs, yet she pauses when she makes eye contact with the camera. She seems to growl at it, her eyes glowing that signature deep violet from the picture. Her vine appendage surge towards the lens, and that’s where the footage cuts out.

“Known powers are plant conjuration and manipulation, mainly vines, super strength, increased healing factor, super agility, the basic super soldier skill set. However, she also has increased immunity to poisons, telepathy through plants, and the most interesting of all, she can use certain pheromones to compel victims, mostly through seduction or interrogation.” Bucky’s eyebrows raised at this, yet that surprise is replaced with a deep worry. He wondered what type of missions Hydra made you do with that particular skill. He shuddered at the mere thought of the vile people you might have seduced for the sake of a mission.

“Jesus Christ, anything else?” Sam groaned, and Steve let a small smile fall on his face before answering.

“Nope, that pretty much covers what we know of. We were able to capture Dr. Helmer back in November, and he was very willing to share the extent of her powers.” Steve recapped, and Sam nods along with his words at the reminder.

“So why haven’t we heard anything about her until now?” Bucky asked. He was curious why he couldn’t remember your face from his Hydra days. He surely would have, if you were as powerful as you appeared to be.

“All Helmer said was that she went through almost a cocoon-like metamorphosis, and only recently has been used to her “full potential”, his words, not mine,” Steve answered.

“So does that mean we have a chance to break her from any mind control that Hydra has her under?” Wanda pressed, concern washing over her features.

“Not sure, all we can be sure of is that she’s incredibly dangerous, so we need to make sure this plan is airtight before we engage. We will have another mission briefing tomorrow morning before we head out.” Steve stressed, and the three other avengers nodded in agreement.

“Those who are going on this mission are: Wanda, myself, Sam, and Bucky, given we are the only people on the conference room right now.”

“Are you sure about this Steve?” Bucky murmured, a question he always asked before being sent on a Hydra mission. He didn’t want to go unless it was absolutely necessary. Steve sighed, sensing more apprehension from Bucky that usual.

“You know as well as I do that you might be the only one to actually talk her down from a fight. You have a very clear idea what she might be going through.”

“Isn’t Wanda a better option?” Bucky deflected, still wary of going into the same compound he used to reside in.

“I might be able to twist her mind a bit if she gets out of control, but if she’s as dangerous as Steve says she is, were gonna need more than one ex-Hydra team member,” Wanda assured him, trying to give him a comforting smile. Bucky shifted in his seat uncomfortably,

“Fine, but don’t color me stoked,”

[ray-ray-writings]

Family Fatality-Awesamdude

Gn!reader x Sam x Son!Tommyinnit …. It be angsty and sad with a happy ending. Also, does not follow what actually happened in the lore!

Small note: I think this is the last fic I’m going to write in first person. I think a lot of people enjoy the use of second person more and it’s also a bit easier for me to write in second person. The only reason that this fic is written in first is because it’s a part two and I want to keep it consistent. If you have thoughts about this, feel free to message me!!

Part One: Family Matters.

Check out my masterlist here

Y/N believed it was a bad idea from the beginning. Call it parental instincts. But unfortunately no one believed them… until it was too late. 

Y/N’s POV

I knew it was a bad idea. 

I should have listened to my gut. 

Tommy should have listened.

Sam should have listened. 

We should have known better. 

When Tommy told Sam and me that he wanted to visit Dream in prison, I instantly said no. That boy had been through so much trauma and manipulation because of that green wearing bastard, I didn’t want Dream to ever be able to see Tommy again. 

Sam was more into it. It was less of wanting Tommy to be able to see Dream and more he wanted an opportunity to show Tommy the prison. But he was for it. Sure he knew what Dream did to Tommy and hated the blond for it, but he also understood Tommy’s desire to see him. 

We told Tommy we would talk it over and let him know our decision.

I really didn’t want him to go. 

Sam talked me into it. 

That night after we put Tommy and Stella to sleep and crawled into our own bed, Sam began to explain his side further. He told me about how it might be nice for Tommy to get some closure. To be able to see Dream completely trapped in prison with no way out. It may help stop the nightmares.

That’s what convinced me in the end. 

As much as Tommy would try to tell us he was fine, his dreams told us otherwise. More often than not, we’d wake in the morning to find Tommy had crawled in bed between us or that he would be sitting in the rocking chair in Stella’s room. He never told us exactly what would happen, but we could tell. 

I just wanted them to stop. I wanted my boy to be able to feel safe in this house. And if that was the only way to have it happen… I had to let it happen. 

Tommy was thrilled with our verdict. Threw his arms around us in a huge hug and kissed our cheeks. I did my best to put on a happy front, but it was difficult. Sam could tell. Tommy could tell. Heck, I’m sure that even baby Stella could tell. 

I was wrapped in another hug by Tommy and was pulled close to his chest while he buried his face in my hair. 

“I’ll be alright baba… I promise.” 

Liar. 

My stomach was in knots the day he went to the prison. I woke up with enough time to see them off. I gave both of them extremely tight hugs, forcing them to promise me they would be safe before sending them off, telling them to be back in time for dinner. 

I watched the two walk toward the horizon and stood there watching long after they disappeared from view. The thing that snapped me from my swell of anxiety and nerves was the sound of Stella crying. 

I immediately jumped into action, closing the door and rushing toward her room. I carefully got her out of her crib and began our usual morning routine. “They’re going to be fine baby,” I cooed as I changed her, “They’re going to be just fine.” 

I knew she couldn’t understand me. I knew I was saying that more to try and convince myself of that. Thinking if I said it out loud it would make it true… it wasn’t true. 

The whole day I could help but worry. I tried to focus on Stella, on taking care of her, playing with her, making sure she was okay, but I found my thoughts drifting back to Tommy and Sam and the visit. I couldn’t help but wonder how it was going, if the two were safe. 

The pit in my stomach deepened when our usual dinner time rolled around and there was no sign of the boys. I tried to contact one of them via communicator, but no response. I wasn’t surprised. The prison was so heavy laced with obsidian it was nearly impossible to get a signal in there. I watched with a heavy heart and a knotted stomach as the sun sunk lower and lower into the sky and still, no boys. Stella’s bedtime came and I was forced to put her down alone, Sam and Tommy still nowhere to be found. 

I tried to remain calm. I sat on the couch and stared at the TV as a movie played. After a while, I realized my knee was bouncing like crazy and that I was halfway through the film but I had no idea what the hell was happening. I reached over and quickly shut off the TV. The black screen reflected the scene behind me, letting me see what was behind me.

I immediately jumped at the sight of my husband standing in the doorway behind me. My hand flew to my chest as my head whipped around to look at him. “Sam!” I exclaimed a bit breathless, using my free hand to push myself up from the couch to completely turn to him. “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in!” 

Sam didn’t say anything. He only stared at me. That confused me. He usually rushes right for me, shouting hello, and wraps me in a hug and kisses me sweetly… Why is he just staring at me blankly? “Sam?” I questioned, taking a few steps forward toward him. He still didn’t move. Sam just stared. As I grew closer, I could see that his eyes were rimmed red and the usual light that filled his eyes was completely gone. It was really freaking me out. “What’s wrong?”

It was then I noticed that he had entered alone. Tommy hadn’t come in with him. That sent a fury of butterflies to stir in my stomach. “Sam? Where’s Tommy?” 

That was the question that broke the dam. 

I watched as Sam’s bottom lip began to quiver and a hushed sobbed echoed throughout the room. “I’m sorry,” Sam whimpered out, another sob escaping him. “I’m so sorry.” 

Sam’s legs seemed to give out from under him, causing me to rush forward as my husband fell to his knees. I sunk down to my knees and quickly cupped his face, gently tilting his head to look at me. 

Sobs were still falling from his lips as his eyes met mine. I rose my eyebrows at him, not wanting to rush him but still wanting to know what the hell was going on. I didn’t have to wait long for his gut wrenching words. 

“You were right.” 

It instantly clicked. I was right. That’s why Tommy wasn’t here. I was right. I was right to not want him to go. To not want him to see Dream. Something happened. Something bad happened. I was right. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop him. I was too far. I failed him. I failed to protect him. I failed our son. He’s dead and it’s all my fault.” 

Time seemed to stop at Sam’s words. Sam kept babbling words out through his sobs, but I became unable to hear him any longer. A loud ringing filled my ears and I watched as my own vision blurred. 

He’s….

He’s dead….

Tommy…

Tommy is dead. 

Dream… Dream killed him. 

A gut wrenching sob ripped itself from your throat as you fully registered what your husband was telling you. Sam’s arms instantly reach out and wrap around you tightly, bringing you into his chest. Your hands fall from his cheeks onto his chest as you clutch his shirt, burying your face in him as you sob. 

You’re not sure how long you’re there, kneeling on the floor sobbing. Slowly, and I mean slowly, but surely, your sobs die down until the only noise filling the room are soft sniffles. 

“I was right,” you manage to croak out, pulling yourself away from your creeper hybrid husband to look up at him. 

“You were right,” Sam echos, moving one of his hands to cup your cheek and tilting his head down to rest his forehead on yours. 

You let out a watery laugh as you close your eyes tightly and relish in the gentle contact. 

“God. I have never wanted to be wrong more in my entire life… I wish I wasn’t right.” 

The next few days passed slowly. The sky seemed to be constantly dark and everything seemed gloomy. Even Stella was more somber, as if she could tell something was wrong. And she probably could. She had gone from spending almost every second with her older brother to not seeing him for days on end in the blink of an eye. 

Sam still had to work. He had to force himself to go back to that damned prison with that bastard and listen to his taunting laughter through the cameras as he mocks the Warden’s pain. It takes everything in Sam to hold back and not barge into the cell and kill Dream himself. He knew that wouldn’t bring back Tommy and wouldn’t make him feel better, but even still. 

The house seemed so quiet. Even with Stella babbling and cooing, the rooms had never felt more quiet and empty. I found myself searching for Tommy’s voice, his laughter, his whole presence everyday only to be disappointed when my search came up empty. I tried to play some of his favorite music discs, but tears would fill my eyes as I realized I would never hear him sing along to them and the silence that would have usually been filled by him babbling about the disc was too deafening for me to want to listen to them again. 

The worst part, I found, was when Sam would get home. I was always happy to have my husband back. Always more than willing to hug and kiss him in a greeting. A welcome home. But everyday, I’d try to turn to greet Tommy two. I would be waiting for two blonds to appear in my home, even though I knew only one would be home. My heart would break over and over as I searched for the boy that I knew wouldn’t be there. 

I let out a sigh as I finished up the last dish I had prepared for dinner. Sam should be home from work any minute now. I set the table, thr-- two places and the food in the middle, Stella in her high chair. Now all there was to do was wait for Sam. 

As I finished up, I heard the front door open. “Honey! I’m home!” Sam’s voice called out. A soft smile placed itself on my lips as I turned around and made my way to the front door. 

“Hey honey welcome--” The sentence died on my lips as my eyes met what was at my front door. My husband had not come home alone. Instead of the one blond that I had seen come home day after day, had been joined by another blond. 

A familiar blond. 

The blond I had spent the last several days missing and mourning. 

Tommy. 

“Tommy?” My voice croaked as my eyes met his icy blue ones. 

Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as he gave me a soft smile, “Hi baba.” 

A sob let my lips as I raced forward and wrapped my arms around the middle of the boy I call my son. His arms immediately wrapped around me as he pulled me tightly to him. His face turned down and buried in my hair as I nuzzled into his chest. My fingers clutched at his shirt that rested on his back, trying to prove to myself that he was here. That Tommy was back and actually here. Here in the flesh. 

“How--How did you? Why are you? What the?” I babbled out, tilting my head up to try and look at him. 

“We can talk about it later… For now I’d just like my parents to hold me.” 

Another sob escaped my lips as I moved my head back to its original position. Sam’s strong arms wrapped around the two of us, pulling us close to him. Our little family was back together again. How? I don’t know. But I didn’t care. Tommy was back. 

The sound of Tommy’s stomach rumbling broke up from the sweet moment. I let out a small laugh as I carefully pulled away from the hug. I let my hand come up and cup the boy’s cheek. “How about you go sit at the table? I’ll get another plate.” 

He gave me a quick nod, leaning down and kissing my cheek before making his way to the table.

 “STELLA!! I MISSED YOU!”

I laughed again and turned to my husband, giving him a smile. “He’s back?” I whispered the question, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“He’s back.” Sam confirmed, placing his hands on my hips, pulling me close to him. He then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, one I instantly returned. The kiss said it all. Tommy was back. Our family was back. We were whole once again. And I’m going to make sure that it stays that way. 

That sucked. I’m sorry. But if you did enjoy, be sure to leave a like and maybe a reblog and comment telling me what you liked about it. Until next time!

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [4]

(GIF credit: @teamfreewill-imagine)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 6,107

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you. (Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.)

Chapter Summary: You offer yourself as bait for a shapeshifter hunt. Things do not go as planned.

Warnings: canon level violence, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, huffy!sam, protective!sam, slight angst?, slow burn, fluff

A/N: i am SO sorry for the wait (story of my life) but to make up for it, look, 6k words! (yeah i’m sorry about that too, i don’t know what happened there.) written for @tvdspngirl314‘s birthday writing event with the prompt “You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone?” which is bolded in the fic. this also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo​!

Square Filled: Rescue Mission

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The fourth time was all you. Dean barely had to lift a finger. The result, however, was far more traumatic than he had planned and rather emphatically revealed the magnitude of his brother’s feelings toward you.

Much like the previous attempts, there was a case: a shapeshifter going after women who conveniently happened to fit your description. The strategy was obvious, and you’d leaped at the opportunity to both make yourself useful and hopefully take the place of what would have otherwise been the next innocent civilian victim. But of course, Sam resisted at first.

“No. Absolutely not! We don’t know enough about this guy for you to just jump into his waiting arms, Y/N!” The fervent indignation in his tone and body language was palpable. Sam was rarely one to raise his voice or sport much of a temper at all really, but lately these heated outbursts seemed to be occurring more frequently, and frankly you were getting sick of it. The false hope they momentarily granted you through the notion that perhaps he cared about you as more than a friend was one thing. What’s more, the way his voice lowered half an octave combined with the sight of his flared nostrils, puffed chest, and straining jaw always seemed to have a sideways effect on you, in that it was impossible to keep your attention on his words alone. But boy did you try.

“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.  

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn’t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?” 

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!

STTC TAG TEAM: @matchesarelit​ @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ @gia-25​ @laurakirsten0502​ @ruined-by-destiel​ @sunflowersandotherthings​ @acertainhero @440mxs-wife​ @thatdisasteromni @spnjediavenger​ @justagirlinafandomworld​ @moostress19​ @sweetjedi​​ @stunudo​​

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog @moosewinchester @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​​ @jotink78 @winifrede @writingforthelonelysoul @turtletaylor98 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons​ @peridottea91​ @tvdspngirl314​ @idreamofplaid​​ @samsgirl2020​​ @katwed​​

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

[harrysweasleys]

in this house, you are safe // s.w

summary: seeing sam for the first time after the events of the tfatws finale

warnings: obviously, tfatws spoilers!! mentions of food, alcohol, language, death

word count: 3k

a/n: i wrote this because i love sam wilson with my whole dang heart and i will forever. also yes i am sorry i’m so late on making my mcu taglist but i will make the form this weekend! :) x

After a few days, you had begun to feel at ease in Louisiana. The small town by the water had become a second home, and the people were some of the kindest you had ever met. Sam really hadn’t been joking when he said they’d welcome you with open arms.

Before he left for Latvia to hunt down Karli and the rest of the Flagsmashers, he had told you to go stay with his sister and nephews. So, unwilling to argue with him while he was already stressed, you agreed, and were now occupying the spare room in Sarah’s home. She had been impossibly sweet since your arrival — helping you settle down, driving you if you needed to go anywhere since you didn’t have your own vehicle with you — and you had repaid her by doing the chores. The cooking, the cleaning, the dishes, the groceries, things of that sort.

As a single mother with two boys and a family business to run, you wanted to bring her as little hassle as possible. The last thing you wanted was to make things harder for her.

Plus, all of these things served as a good distraction while Sam was away. Though you trusted him and knew what he was capable of, the constant nagging worry in your mind never seemed to ease. That’s what it was like to be engaged to a superhero, right? Never knowing when they were going to come back — if they were going to come back.

The last you had seen him, he had been fixing the boat with Bucky who had handed him a ‘gift’ from Wakanda. Sam didn’t show you what was inside it, but from the smirk that was on his face when he left with it, you had a feeling that you might know what was up.

So, you had been rather glad that there were so many things to keep you occupied around town and in the house, as you would most likely be losing your mind otherwise. You barely slept full nights, and every time you heard from Sam, whether it be by text or phone call, you always wondered if it would be the last. And that very thought prevented you from getting a good night’s sleep.

As another afternoon rolled around, your hands covered in dish soap as you scrubbed the plates from this morning’s breakfast, you couldn’t help but wonder when he’d be back. He had left earlier yesterday after realizing Karli might be planning an attack in New York, but you weren’t sure how long that was going to last. You hadn’t heard from him since him and Bucky had walked out the front door.

You were cut short of your panicked thoughts when quiet footsteps from behind alerted you that Sarah had entered the kitchen. You knew it had to be her as the boys had already left that morning for school.

“How are you holding up?”

You turned to face her, furrowing your eyebrows at her question, “I’m alright, why?”

She sat slowly onto a kitchen chair and patted the one next to her, “With Sam being away. I know it’s been tough on you. Now with the boys being out of the house I figured we’d have some time to ourselves to talk. You know, as future sisters-in-law.”

You dropped the towel you were using onto the counter and walked over with a small smile on your face, drying your hands on your pants before taking a seat, “Oh, that. I’ve been alright. I mean, it can’t be worse than him being gone for five years, you know?” A humourless laugh escaped your lips and Sarah gave a small chuckle.

“I get that,” she nodded, “I’m just letting you know that I’m here if ever you need anything.”

“I don’t want to burden you with all of my thoughts,” you grinned, leaning over the table, “You’ve got more than enough on your plate, super mom.”

She beamed at the nickname, shaking her head as she let out a small laugh, “You two are lucky to have each other. And I swear that boy will get an ass-whoppin’ if he ever makes you feel like you’re not a part of this family.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” you grinned, “He’s always made sure that I feel welcome. You really have an amazing brother, you know?” you could feel your cheeks beginning to get sore as you kept talking, “He’s never once made me feel like I didn’t belong. And it’s one of the reasons I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him,” you began to toy with the ring on your left hand, “Because I know that no matter where we end up, it’ll feel like home.”

The kitchen was silent for a moment and you felt a bit of embarrassment at the fact that you just blabbed all of your lovey-dovey nonsense to your fiancé’s sister.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to rant,” you apologized, tilting your head so that you were looking down at the ring. In the shimmering light of the diamond, you could see your entire life with Sam. From the moment you first met him, to the day he got down on one knee, to the distant future where you two would be struggling to help each other off of the couch after watching game shows all day.

She placed her hand on top of yours, “You're part of the family now, and I think the boys really like you too. Yesterday they asked why you weren’t the one who was picking them up from school.”

Warmth spread through you at her words and you felt your throat being to sting as a wave of graduate flooded over you. You were a little overwhelmed, but in a good way. Sam’s family has been nothing but open and accepting since the moment you met them, and you couldn’t help but wonder what you had done to get so lucky.

You let out a small chuckle, “I can pick them up today, if you want. Saves you the drive.”

She raised her hands in the air, not arguing with you one bit, “Oh, you know I won’t be saying no to that. They finish at three and the keys are by the front door. Thanks, Y/N.”

You shot her a thumbs up, “Don’t thank me, super mom.”

As she stood and walked out of the kitchen, you could hear her laughter echoing down the hall, bringing a smile to your face as you made your way back to the sink.

——

The sun had set on the gorgeous town by the docks, and that meant that it was another evening where you found yourself wondering what Sam was up to. You hadn’t heard from him in over a day and your mind was running alight with possible scenarios as to what could have happened to him. This felt like a regular occurrence nowadays. It was as if the only thing that was written in your daily calendar was “8 o’clock: worry. 10 o’clock: worry.”

Luckily for you, though, tonight you had a distraction. As Sarah was tucking the boys into bed, you made your way over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. She had bought one today in hopes of sharing it with you as the two of you watched crappy television after an exhausting day of cleaning up around the house. You two deserved it, as she kindly put it.

You grabbed the bottle, along with two glasses, and made your way to the living room. They were quietly placed onto the coffee table as you flopped down onto the couch, grabbing the remote and flicking it on.

The first channel that was on was the news. Usually you wouldn’t care and would just flip it to another channel, but your attention was caught rather quickly and you nearly dropped the damned remote to the floor.

On your screen, donned in a white suit with red and blue Stars and Stripes, stood Sam. His previously-destroyed wings appeared to be fixed, sticking out of the pack on his back as he lowered to the ground, holding the body of a young girl in his arms. You looked at what he was wearing and immediately you knew that your intuition was right; Bucky had given him a new suit.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, mouth hanging slack, “Sarah!”

She entered the living room nearly immediately as you called her name, shushing you by bringing a finger to her lips. However, she dropped it as soon as her eyes caught sight of the television screen.

“Is that…?”

“Yep,” you nodded, standing up and stepping closer to the screen. Sam was surrounded by cop cars and ambulances, but he wasn’t the one in danger. If anything, it seemed like his instinct was right about the attack in New York.

He lowered the body onto a stretcher and right away, you could tell it was Karli. Her face has been plastered nearly everywhere so it wasn’t difficult to identify her.

Both you and Sarah were silent as the stretcher was pulled away, the cameraman following Sam as he walked up to a couple of Senators — who you figured were probably the ones in danger.

You felt as if you were about to collapse as you watched him in the Captain America suit, both concern and pride bubbling in your chest. Your entire body was numb and tingly and your heart was damn near about to burst out of your chest.

It was hard to tell if Sam felt successful or not — a frown was etched onto his face and his eyes held a level of intensity that you rarely saw in him. You knew the whole John Walker situation had been difficult for him to deal with, but that really only made this moment that much sweeter.

He spoke to them for a couple of moments, asking a few questions about their future plans, before you could tell that he was about to snap. You couldn’t know what he had just been through, but you knew that he didn’t classify Karli as a villain. That she was just someone who got the shit end of the stick in a world that was struggling to reform. He didn’t want to kill her, he wanted to save her.

“You have to stop calling them terrorists,” Sam finally said, shaking his head a bit before facing the man across from him.

“Well, what else would we call them?” he asked, clearly unimpressed at the fact that he was currently being told off on camera. He started defending himself, but Sam quipped back. He had always been so well-spoken and intelligent, and that clearly wasn’t changing now that he was Captain America.

You slowly sat back down as you listened to Sam speak. You had always known him to be inspiring, caring, loyal, and strong. But now the world was going to see that too, and you couldn’t be more proud. Once again, you began to absentmindedly play with the ring upon your finger, twirling it and fighting a massive grin as you watched your future husband stand up for what he knew was right.

Sarah sat next to you, and neither of you could take your eyes off of the screen. You couldn’t even bring yourself to blink, too worried you might miss something.

“A few people have just as much power as an insane God, or a misguided teenager. The question you have to ask yourself is how you’re going to use it,” Sam’s voice was lower than usual, and there was no hint of amusement on any of his features. It wasn’t often that he was like this, but now that he was representing something bigger, something more, you could already sense the change.

You could feel the corners of your lips curve up into a small smile as you watched him walk away and join another familiar face; Bucky, who nearly looked as proud as you felt. The two of them walked away and the cameras panned back to a building, cutting off the conversation that the Senators were now having. You wished you could hear it so you could recount it to Sam, but at the moment, you were too filled with adrenaline and pride to even remotely focus on anything anyone was saying.

Sam was now officially Cap.

Your Sam Wilson was Captain America.

——

Somehow, Sarah had managed to make her way up to bed and sleep. After seeing what you two had just seen, you weren’t sure how she could even bring herself to relax. Because you on the other hand were extremely worked up — pacing around the living room, sending Sam a text every now and then, munching on any snacks you could find, and waiting anxiously to see if he’d be coming home tonight. Your mind was struggling to come to terms with the events of the last few hours and you weren’t sure what you wanted to do right now.

“Come on, pick up,” you mumbled, holding your phone to your ear as the dial continued to ring, signalling that he hadn’t answered your call. You knew he was probably insanely busy after what he just went through, but you were desperate to just take a minute and talk to him.

You let out a groan when his voicemail message popped up for the seventeenth time that night. He’d probably pick up his phone in about an hour and freak out at the amount of texts and missed calls, but who cares? You just found out your fiancé had become Captain America — you had the right to reach out. And you almost felt bad in advance for the amount of questions you were going to ask when you finally got the chance to speak to him.

The cushion of the couch felt soft as you sat back down, pursing your lips and glancing down at your phone screen on the off chance that Sam had sent a text within the last few seconds. Of course, there was nothing there, as expected.

“Sorry I couldn’t answer sooner.”

You jumped off the couch as a quiet voice spoke up behind you. Instinctively, you grabbed one of the unused wine glasses and launched it in the direction of the voice, but a hand came and snatched it out of the air.

“Sam?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice down and hoping to god that you weren’t about to get attacked, “Is that you?”

He stepped out of the kitchen and into the open room, goggles off and a bright smile on his face. He was still wearing the suit, having probably flown over not that long ago, but he looked a lot more at ease than he had on the television a few hours prior.

“Holy crap,” you exhaled, rushing over to wrap your arms around him. The suit felt unfamiliar under your embrace, but he smelled the same, and his skin was still warm under yours. You had a feeling you might be squeezing a little hard, but he didn’t seem to mind. His own arms wrapped around you, his head resting against yours.

“I saw you on TV and…,” you pulled away and placed your hand against his cheek, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you win? What happened? And is this what Bucky gave you? It looks really good.”

He chuckled at your rambling, “You think the suit looks good, huh?”

You nearly scoffed at the way he wiggled his eyebrows.

“All of those questions and you choose to respond to just the compliment,” you laughed, bringing your lips to his cheek and placing a quick kiss, refusing to let go of him. A small part of you was worried that if you did end up letting go, he’d have to leave again.

“I’m kidding,” he let out a small chuckle and brought one of his hands up to caress the back of your head, gazing into your eyes, “We can talk about all that tomorrow, I can’t do this tonight. But I do have to say this: I honestly couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows, “That’s not true. You’re an incredible man, Sam. You deserve all of this.”

He nodded, “That’s not what I meant. You know that expression; behind every successful man is a successful woman, or something along those lines? Well, that’s you. You’re the one who has always pushed me to be better. You’re the one who has been there when I’ve failed. The one who was there to help me back onto my feet and keep pushing, keep believing in myself. I may be the one in the suit, but I think you’re the real superhero here.”

You felt a warmth creep up through your body at his words and you had to bite your lower lip to hide the smirk that was threatening to take over.

“I guess that’s why I’m wearing this, huh?” you raised your left hand, twiddling your fingers to show off the ring that sat there.

He leaned forwards, pressing a kiss upon the diamond, and grinned, “That’s exactly why you’re wearing that.”

You were certain that your cheeks would hurt tomorrow due to how much you were smiling, but that was just the effect that Sam had on you. He was alive, he was safe, and he was in your arms. And honestly, you couldn’t ask for much more than that.

“Now, I’m exhausted from kicking ass all night,” he let out an exaggerated sigh, “What do you say we head off to bed? I’m pretty damn happy that I got to come home to you, and all I want to do is go get comfortable with my princess by my side.”

Leaning forward on your tiptoes and pressing a light kiss against his lips, you mumbled, “I strongly support that.”

He removed the wing pack from his shoulders as quietly as possible and sat it on the kitchen table, following you upstairs with his hand linked in yours. His fingers held you tightly and you knew that he was more relieved than ever to be home.

Finally, you’d be able to sleep well, knowing Sam was safe and sound by your side.

[rebeccccccaaa]

ᑌᑎᗪEᖇ TᕼE ᗷᒪEᗩᑕᕼEᖇᔕ

_______________________

ᗷᑌᑕKY ᗷᗩᖇᑎEᔕ ᙭ ᖇEᗩᗪEᖇ; ᔕTEᐯE ᖇOGEᖇᔕ ᙭ ᗷEᑕᑕᗩ ᗷᗩᖇᑎEᔕ ᕼIGᕼ ᔕᑕᕼOOᒪ ᗩᑌ

ᖇEᑫᑌEᔕT: Hiiiiiii 👋🏻👋🏻👋🏻💕💕loveeee your writing, big fan, can u pls write something like bucky x reader where they are dating try to find out that are becca barnes and steve rogers are dating but (they hide their relationship from everyone) and bucky and reader figures out ???Highschool AU plss??🥺🥺

ᗯᗩᖇᑎIᑎGᔕ: none just fluff ;)

ᗩᑌTᕼOᖇ’ᔕ ᑎOTEᔕ: i’ve never written a highschool au but this was so much fun! I personally imagine like highschool in the eighties or nineties cuz i think that was peak high school drama for film and television (i.e. breakfast club, heathers, empire records, etc) but i don’t explicitly say otherwise, also bucky is lowkey a himbo in this… Thanks for the request bug!

________________________

 “Hey Bucky bear,” you cooed walking up to Bucky’s lockers.

“Hey, doll,” he flashed you a smile. 

“Can I talk to you?” you whispered.

“Yeah what’s going?” Bucky closed his locker and held your hand.

“How have you and Beck been?”

“Good I guess? A little distant but mom said she might be you know... on her...” Bucky hinted, and you nodded after understanding.

“You and Steve?” he asked you.

“He’s been super jumpy like everytime I knock on his door he scatters and makes a whole big mess just trying to get to the door,” you huffed.

“Hmph, what's going on with him?” Bucky thought out loud. 

“I know Becca is good friends with him and maybe she’d know what’s going on with him but I can’t seem to catch her in a good time. That’s why I ask you if she was alright but now I’m starting to wonder what’s going with the both of them?” you said, shaking your head. 

“Yeah weird,” Bucky said monotonously. 

“Ugh, Buck; you’re no help!” you said walking to class, leaving Bucky slightly confused but running after you since you two shared schedules.

You two sat in class together listening to the science lecture that was boring more than half the class. Bucky was playing with your hair sitting impossibly close to you, ignoring the lecture. You were watching Becca and Steve who were lab partners.

You were suspicious as to what was going on between them because they were suddenly so secretive towards you and Buck and you were Steve’s sister and Bucky was Becca’s brother; why would they be so distant now?

You suddenly noticed Steve slipping a small note to Becca in which she turned to him and nodded shyly. You quirked an eyebrow before budging Bucky’s arm.

“Did you see that?” you whispered. 

“See what?” he responded.

“Ugh, Steve and Becca,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh no, I was playing with your hair. Are you using a new shampoo?”

“Oh my gosh, yes I am. Bucky I love you,” you scrunched your nose.

“Would you like to share with the rest of class, L/n?” the professor called out in front of the whole class. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. My lovely boyfriend noticed I’m using a new shampoo,” you said proudly; Bucky grinning like a little boy next to you.

“Really? Which one? My wife is looking for a new brand-” he started enthusiastically. 

“Can we please move on with the lesson, Mr. Johnson?” Sharon, ugh. Steve’s ex-girlfriend. Bitch is crazy. Mean girl, too. 

“Yes, right? My apologies, class,” the teacher pressed play on the video lecture once again while you and Sharon had a stare down. 

Class continued anyhow and soon enough the bell rang through the whole building. You gethered your things and books ready to walk with Bucky to your next class. Becca grabbed the small note Steve passed to her but unfortunately for her and fortunately for you the note happened to so sadly slip past the zipper onto the floor of the science lab.

“Becca, you dr-” you stop when you read the note.

“Huh?” she responded.

“Oh sorry my bad,” you tucked the note in your pocket quickly, “hey I feel we haven’t talked in a while.” 

“Yeah, just been kinda busy you know? Clubs and all,” she responded.

“Yeah, we should hang out again soon. Give the boys some time to themselves too right?” you laughed.

“Yeah we should,” she grabbed your hand and squeezed it lightly.

“Cool! Ok i’ll see you for lunch?” you asked.

“Actually, I’m doing something,” she said.

“Oh, Steve is too,” that made her nervous. She just shrugged however.

“Ok well, see ya,” you waved grabbing Bucky’s hand to drag him away.

“Buck, look,” you said when you two were alone.

You gave Bucky the note and on it, it said ‘Meet under the bleachers at lunch?’. You remembered Becca nodded to Steve and she said she couldn’t meet you and Bucky for lunch. It was obvious they were hiding so you and Bucky sat in the back of the class right before lunch and ate so you so could run around during lunch and see what’s going on with your brother and his sister.

When the time came you two ran hand in hand to the bleachers unfortunately before Steve and Becca. There wasn’t anyone under the bleachers since the stoner got caught a couple weeks ago; so you two waited until Steve walked up alone with his hands in his pockets. He looked nervous, constantly looking around. 

Becca not long came after and practically ran into Steve’s arms. He lifted her and spun her around before the unbelievable happened. He kissed her! You and Bucky with open mouths turn to each other in shock and turn back to them and back to each other again. 

You turn your body leaning on the large pole holding the bleachers and huffed. How could you not realize this? Bucky obviously was clueless but you couldn’t believe that you put the pieces together. 

“They’re dating?” Bucky asked.

“I guess so. It makes sense now,” you said looking at the ground.

“What do we do?” he asked.

You stood up and turned to walk towards, Bucky calling after you trying to pull you away but you were persistent. It’s not like you were mad, you were just upset that they didn’t tell you guys. You were their siblings; you guys told each other everything. 

“What is going on!” you squealed, making Steve and Becca pull away from each other; putting tons of space between them. Their cheeks were pink and they were clearly embarrassed.

“When did this start?” you asked.

“A couple of weeks ago” Steve mumbled.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We tell each other everything,” you said sadly to Steve.

“We didn’t say anything because of Sharon,” Becca said, looking down at her hands timidly.

“Sharon Carter?” Bucky asked. She was, again, the mean girl of the school; also Steve’s psycho ex.

“Yeah if she found out about us she’s gonna go bonkers,” Steve explained.

“She’s already bonkers!” you flailed your hands. 

“Why doesn’t she date someone else? Like Tony?” Bucky asked.

“He’s with Pepper Potts,” you grinned; you were kind of a matchmaker and those two were dancing around each other for way too long.

“Oh, what about Clint?”

“He’s with Nat,” Steve said.

“Sam?” 

“Sam’s not stupid,” you said.

“Hm, what about Vis? They’re both blonde,” he asked.

“He’s with Wanda. They went to formal together,” Becca said.

“Awe, man. Bruce?” 

You three looked to each other with grins on your faces trying not to laugh. 

“Bruce and Thor are kind of a thing?” you smiled.

“Really? That’s awesome!” Bucky said.

“Oh! What about Loki,” Bucky said. You all paused before bursting into a fit of giggles. Loki and Sharon were kinda the mean people of the school but Loki had a soft side, misunderstood per say, and people still liked him, Sharon was just unlikeable in general.

“Hm, well, we won’t say anything but it would’ve been nice for you to tell us. You’re my brother,” you looked to Steve.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he gave you a hug.

“It’s ok. If you hurt her, I rip you a new one,” you said. 

“Well congrats you guys,” you hugged Becca as did Bucky.

“Ooh, maybe we can go double dates!” you squealed.

“Let’s take it slow for now,” Steve said, grabbing Becca’s hand. 

Taglist:

@mathletemadison

[the-rad-pineapple]

substance abuse

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Supernatural fanfiction: Set in season 8, Sam and Dean get into a big fight, so Dean turns to alcohol to solve his problems.

Words: first 2k words are here, the rest of the 13k word story can be found on

ao3

fanfiction

wattpad

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A/N: I had a crazy depressive episode in January this year, and the only thing that brought me serotonin was Destiel. So the result was me not leaving my room for three days and writing the majority of this story on the notes app on my phone. I have some ideas on how to finish this, but I haven't had inspiration to continue since March. Maybe I'll finish it someday, but I hope you enjoy what's there. Thanks for reading!

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Dean was finally in a good mood. The bar near their motel was surprisingly decent. It had good music, but it also helped that Dean had one too many drinks. So that meant everything was just a little funnier. He was well past the stage of being buzzed and dangerously tipsy. He and Sam had gotten into a little fight earlier, so he was solving it the only way he knew. Alcohol. He took another couple shots against his better judgment. Hey, the more alcohol he was drinking, the better his mood was getting, so why not?

He just finished setting his last shot glass down when someone sat down beside him. It was a guy around Dean's age with dark stubble and bleached blond hair beginning to darken at the roots. He had colorful tattoos swirling up his arms. They were pretty. The man turned to look at Dean, and the way he had to brush his hair from his eyes made Dean feel...something. He smiled playfully at Dean, and Dean felt his heart flutter.

You know what? Fuck it. He was having a good time, and this guy was hot. It had been a while since Dean had been with anyone, let alone another guy... Dean shoved that thought away and winked at the man sitting next to him.

The man raised a playful eyebrow as he took a sip of his drink, his eyes wandered down Dean's body. Dean felt his cheeks heat up, but he had enough alcohol in his system for the shyness to pass quickly in place of confidence.

"I'm Marco," the guy—Marco—introduced.

"I'm Dean."

"What are you doing here, Dean?" The way he drew out Dean's name made Dean shiver.

Dean shrugged casually. "Nothing much." He looked pointedly at Marco. "Looking for something fun to do."

Marco smirked. "Like what?"

Dean slowly looked down Marco's body. He was wearing a printed button-up shirt, with too many buttons undone, so Dean got a decent peek at his chest hair. He wanted to see more. Dean trailed his eyes back up to Marco's. "I'm looking at it."

Marco grinned. "Wanna drive back to my place for a bit?"

Oh fuck, was this really happening? He didn't picture his next time being with a stranger. With a guy, yes, but a guy with blue eyes and a trench coat.

"Yeah," Dean heard himself answer before he realized he had spoken. It was all happening so fast, and he could tell his grip on time wasn't exactly right. Maybe he was a bit drunk. But, did it matter? He was having fun and felt better than he had in a long time.

"I'll pay for your drink and we can go." Marco winked before grabbing the bar tender's attention and paying.

They were soon walking out the door. Dean didn't remember standing up, but they were suddenly halfway across the room. Dean also felt himself starting to stumble and grabbed onto Marco's arm without a second thought. Marco put his hand over Dean's as they stepped outside.

The cold air managed to make everything just a bit more clear. Dean's surroundings sharpened a little. Everything outside his direct line of sight wasn't just a haze now. It was just slightly out of focus instead. They stopped at an old truck. Dean tried to place the make and model, but the information was barely out of reach. It was fuzzy, and retrieving anything other than immediate thoughts felt like sifting through mud. But who cared anyway? He was about to get laid by some hot guy.

"Nice truck," Dean complemented. He did like it even if it was a bit plain.

"Oh, yeah?" Marco replied.

And before Dean really knew what was happening, his back was against the truck, Marco's hands on his hips. Hot breath hit his face before Marco's mouth was on his. Dean closed his eyes and let himself get carried away. The kiss was all tongue and desire. Dean grabbed Marco's hair, and he imagined he was kissing someone else. Someone with dark hair instead of blond.

Dean's head was spinning as someone's tongue was shoved down his throat and hands were underneath his shirt, touching every inch of his torso. He already had too much to drink, and now he was kissing some stranger outside. Or was it a stranger? He had envisioned kissing Cas, but that couldn't be right. Shit, shit, shit. Those last two shots were catching up. But now there was a leg between his thighs rubbing on him in all the right ways that took priority over everything else he was feeling.

"Dean."

It was Cas. And it was close. But it did not come from whoever he was kissing. He felt cold as he and—Dean glanced at who he was making out with, but the name escaped him—some guy broke away from each other. Dean looked in the direction of Cas' voice. The angel stood uncomfortably a few feet away. He glanced between Dean and whoever the other guy was. Dean was suddenly warmer as his embarrassment finally set in. He wished Cas hadn't caught him like this. With someone else when the only person Dean had been thinking about lately was Cas.

"I need your help," Cas said gruffly.

"Right now?" Dean asked, suddenly very aware that this guy's leg was still in between his, and his hands were under Dean's shirt.

"Yes, Dean," Cas answered, the annoyance in his voice was strong. "I wouldn't bother you otherwise."

Dean cleared his throat. Obviously. "Right." He glanced at the guy. "Sorry," he said sheepishly and pushed him away.

They disentangled themselves, and Dean made his way to Cas, trying to avoid eye contact from everyone. It wasn't too hard to stay embarrassed when Dean had to concentrate on walking in a straight line.

"What's up?" Dean asked Cas once he managed to find his footing. He ignored the sound of the truck's door closing, and its ignition. He was still disappointed even if it had been completely spontaneous.

"It's Sam."

Shit. Was Sam hurt somehow while Dean was out getting drunk? That was completely his fault. Dammit. "What's wrong? Is he ok?"

"Yes, he's fine," Cas said. "He just wanted me to tell you he left the motel."

Dean crossed his arms. Was that it? Seriously?

Cas went on, "He said you weren't answering your phone and asked me to see if you were ok. I called him when I found you."

"So, you're Sam's mediator now?"

"We were worried, Dean. You weren't answering Sam's calls." Cas' eyes bore into Dean's. There was a lot more anger in them than there should've been. Did something else happen? Did Dean do something? "I'm glad to see you're fine." Cas turned and took a couple steps away.

"Wait!" It was louder than Dean meant. He just had to get Cas' attention before it was too late, and time was moving fast while he was like this, so he wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed since Cas spoke.

Dean wanted to tell Cas that he and Sam had had a fight. And that was the reason why Dean had been so irresponsible. So stupid. So inconsiderate. But they were all excuses in the end, and trying to make thoughts into words seemed impossible at the moment.

Cas turned back. "Yes, Dean?" Cas tilted his head. Fuck. That was cute. "Cute?"

"Huh?"

"You said, 'that was cute'."

Oh my god, Dean had said that out loud. "Uh, yeah, I don't know." Dean laughed nervously.

He couldn't let Cas know he had...feelings...or whatever for him. That was something he buried deep down, but it was all threatening to come out. Shit. What was happening? Everything was still spinning, and things kept happening that took Dean too long to register.

"Are you okay?" Cas asked. The anger was gone, now replaced with concern.

"I'm fine," Dean quickly answered.

Cas' eyes narrowed in suspicion. That was also cute. Everything Cas did was kinda cute anyway, if Dean was being honest with himself.

"Walk over to me," Cas commanded.

Weird request, but ok. Dean frowned but walked in Cas' direction anyway. But walking was hard. Placing one foot in a steady position shouldn't be this much work. It felt more like tumbling from one step to the next, but Dean eventually made it to Cas. But he had struggled. A lot. Maybe Cas didn't notice.

"I noticed, Dean," Cas said.

Oh. He heard that, too. How much was Dean saying aloud? "I'm a little drunk," Dean admitted. Maybe this would absolve his behavior tonight, and they can go on like it never happened.

"You're more than a little drunk," Cas replied harshly.

"Are you mad?" The question was out of Dean's mouth before it was fully formed in his head.

Cas sighed heavily, but didn't look at Dean. "No, Dean, I'm not mad."

"Yeah! You are!" Oh, Dean totally had this. One of Cas' tells was avoiding eye contact. "You don't look at me when you're upset."

Cas looked at Dean wearily. "Let's go."

Cas started walking away. Quickly. Cas was somehow already by the sidewalk. Dean tried to catch up, but one moment he was following Cas, and the next he was on the ground. He didn't even remember falling. All he knew was he was now laying on the street looking up at the night sky.

"Dean!" Cas rushed to his side. Dean reached his arms up for Cas to help him up. Cas grabbed him.

"Sorry," Dean said and laughed. That probably looked funny.

"Are you hurt?" Cas frowned in worry.

Dean didn't feel anything, but he couldn't really tell. All he could focus on was Cas holding his arms. Cas was strong. "Oh, baby, don't worry. I feel great!" Dean said and grinned in reassurance. Wait... did he call Cas "baby"?

"Let's get back to the motel."

And then they were suddenly there. Dean laughed again and said, "I forgot you can fly."

Cas really was incredible. He was such a beautiful, strong angel. But also so cute at the same time. Dean saw his bed and tried to step towards it, but almost fell again. Cas' arm was around his waist. It felt really nice. Dean put both his arms around Cas. He was warm and smelled like rain. He was like a strong fortress. He was home. Dean wanted to stay like this forever.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked but didn't take his arm off Dean.

"Hugging you."

"You need to sleep."

"No!" Dean didn't want the hug to end, so he held on tighter. "You're warm." It was true. Cas was like the perfect bed. Soft and warm.

"I can hug you while you try to sleep."

Wait, really? "For real?" Dean made the mistake of looking at Cas while he still hugged him. They were close. Super, super close. Dean loved those blue eyes. "You're pretty." He didn't mean to say it. He thought it, then his mouth moved, and then he realized what happened.

Cas just moved him to one of the beds without saying anything. Dean tumbled onto it and stared at the ceiling. It looked like every other motel ceiling. He was sick of motels. Something tugged on his foot. He couldn't be bothered to look what it was. Cas was there after all, so everything was fine.

"Something is pulling me," Dean said.

"I'm taking your shoes off," Cas explained.

It was a simple gesture, but one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for Dean. Or one of the best that Dean could think of right now. Who else would do this? Cas always went out of his way for Dean.

"I love you," Dean said.

Cas finally pulled Dean's shoe off then started tugging on the other one.

"I love you, too." It was soft and so...genuine. Was this actually happening? And did Cas mean it? Or was he saying it to please the drunk?

But it didn't matter. Dean was in a good mood. He'd believe it for now. Everything else was tomorrow's problem—if he could even remember any of this. If any of this was real. His second shoe was taken off, and Dean held his arms up again for Cas. He felt the bed next to him dip before Cas put an arm around Dean. Dean held onto it like a lifeline.

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

[steves-on-a-plane]

Public Relations

Written for: @star-spangled-bingo​ 2021!  (& All Caps Flash Bingo!)     Words: 1563 All Caps Flash Square Filled: “That’s America’s Ass.” Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader   Warnings: none Summary: Reader and Sam assigned to film some videos for the Avenger’s various social media accounts. This happens often and with the two friends spending so much time together, will thier friendship turn into something more?

Most of the Avengers treated PR and press events like a chore. It was just something you all had to do, but very rarely wanted to do. You understood why someone like Tony who’d practically grown up under the media’s microscope would feel that way, but you didn’t. Of course, you also didn’t consider yourself the “A Team.” What had started as a joke between you and Sam Wilson had begun to feel less so over the years. The A Team consisted of the six founding Avengers, everyone who came after that was the B Team.

While the A team was out saving the world, press junkets and creating an online presence often fell into the purview of the B Team. The media team did most of the heavy lifting. They managed everyone’s twitter, instagram and other social media accounts. You were still expected to contribute here and there but the major responsibly was in appearances.  They could be in person or otherwise.

“You know, with Spider kid and the wizard we’ve got almost enough people to start a C team.” Sam Wilson commented as he parked his car in the lot where you’d be filming for the day. You and Sam had been tasked with filming a few segments for the Avenger’s Youtube channel.

“Wilson, I think we’re the C team.” You sighed, getting out of the car.

“Why? Just because they’ve got the two of us coming down here to spend our whole Saturday filming videos like ‘What Type of Cat is Your Favorite Avenger’?” Sam laughed. “You’re looking at it all wrong, [Y/N]. People like us. That’s why we get pulled to do these things so often. They think we have real chemistry.”

“Well, we should. We’re good friends.” You said, heading into the studio.

“Right, friends.” He mumbled before following after you.

As the day went on you and Sam filmed several videos, some together and some separate. A few of the others drop by for an hour or so each just to add a bit of variety. You and Scott Lang filmed a cooking video together where the entire recipe was in French, a language neither of you spoke. The PR team assured you it would get laughs from the audience while showing that Avengers can do anything even if they’d never done it before. On one of your breaks, you watch Bucky and Sam film some type of trivia video that involved knife throwing.

At long last, the day was coming to an end you and Sam had just one video left to film together. It had been nice seeing some other faces around the studio, but you knew what Sam had said earlier was true. When looking at the numbers, videos with you or Sam typically performed better than videos with any other B Team Avengers. Videos with the two of you? They rivaled those of Steve or Tony.

“You doing okay, [Y/N]? That last video looked rough.” Sam asked when you slipped into the stool next to him.

“It’s a miracle nothing caught on fire.” You confessed. “I’m glad Bucky was there because I may have burned the whole studio to the ground on my own. You?”

“I’m ready to get this over with and get some dinner.” He told you.

“Always thinking about food, Wilson.” You smiled. Someone gave you and Sam the signal so that you knew the cameras were going to start rolling. Once filming began, the producer re-explained the concept of the video. You and Sam were going to be show photos of fellow Avengers and had to guess who was in the photo. It was a nice lighthearted video to go out on.

“So it’s like a weirdly specific game a Guess Who.” Sam summarized. “Okay let’s do this. The first photo was of an elbow. Immediately Sam started to laugh. “Now c’mon y’all! How am I supposed to know who that is?”

“It’s Clint.” You answered without hesitation.

“That’s correct. This elbow belongs to Clint Barton.” The producer agreed.

“How the heck?” Sam looked over to you with surprise.

“You can see bruises on his forearm from his recurve bow.” You pointed to the area of the photo where the bruise was barely visible.

“Okay, well I’m gonna need to step it up then. Next Picture.” He rubbed his hands together eagerly. The next photo was a zoomed in image of what looked like brunette hair.

“That’s Bucky!” You exclaimed. “I’d know those chestnut locks anywhere.”

“Do you have an answer sheet over there or something?” Sam questioned. He looked around the set, pretending to search for an answer sheet written somewhere.

“No, but we did just have lunch today so maybe he’s fresh on my mind. Tell you what I’ll let you get a head start on the next one.” You offered. The photo changed to someone’s backside. Almost immediately you recognized a pair of what could only be described as “dad khakis.” You knew that derriere could only belong to one Avenger. Sam took a few minutes to scrutinize the photo before looking to you.

“Go ahead.” He said impatiently. “I can see you biting your lip over there trying to hold back.”

“I-ah…” You realized he was right, you’d been biting your lip since the producer changed the image. “C’mon Sam, it’s an obvious one!” You gestured towards the photo trying to help him out.

“Obviously not!” Sam quipped.

“That is America’s Ass!” You said, leaping up of your stool. Sam began to laugh again. “Can’t you tell that’s Steve?”

“Well excuse me for not knowing what all of my co-workers butts look like!” He chuckled. The producer changed the photo again and announced it would be the last one. This time the photo was a close up of an eye. It was a beautiful eye with slight flecks of gold towards the edges. It was gorgeous, but it was ruining your perfect streak because you couldn’t identify who the eye belonged to.

“Cmon!” Sam was grinning widely now. “You don’t know whose eye that is?”

“Oh, and you do?” You raised an eyebrow at him and laughed. “You haven’t gotten one of these right yet!”

“As a matter of fact, I know exactly who those eyes belong to. Those stunning eyes belong to the equally as stunning [Y/N].” Sam answered confidently.

“Correct. [Y/N], those are your eyes.” The producer agreed. You and Sam wrapped up the video, by filming a quick outro. After getting all clear from producers, you and Sam were done for the day. You left the studio and walked back towards his car.

“You know it’s crazy how observant you are.” Sam commented. “I mean that thing about Clint, that wasn’t scripted right? Or did you actually notice that?”

“No of course it wasn’t scripted.” You answered. You’d reached his car by now. The two of you were talking to each other over the hood of his car. “But I mean I obviously wasn’t that observant. I didn’t recognize my own eyes. What an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, you’re just not used to looking at your own eyes. Who is?” Sam shrugged from the other side of the vehicle.

“Are you saying that you knew those were my eyes because you’re used to staring at them?” You teased him.

“I been lost in them a time or two.” He confessed casually. You felt your cheeks flush at the compliment.

“I’m glad we got to spend the day together, Sam. Believe it or not, I look forward to our Saturday Studio dates.” You said before getting into the passenger’s seat of Sam’s car.

“You know,” Sam opened his driver’s side door and leaned into the car. “We could make it an official date. I’m thinking dinner and a movie?”

“A date with the oh so charming Sam Wilson?” You questioned in an old timey Southern Belle voice. “If I should be so lucky!”

“Alright, alright, it was just a suggestion.” He shook his head and climbed behind the steering wheel. “You don’t have to mock me.”

“Sam, I wasn’t trying to mock you.” You promised very seriously. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“You don’t have to pity me.” Sam said, a smirk already working its way onto his face as he back out of his parking spot. You reached over and put your left hand on his right knee.

“I’m not pitying you, but I am a little exhausted, so you’ll have to forgive me if this comes off as less than authentic. I’ve been hoping that you’d ask me on a date since Steve first introduced us. I even though about asking you out a few times, but then we started working together more and I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship or make it awkward…”

“Awkward?” Sam repeated. “Impossible, we go together like Peanut butter and jelly!”

“I don’t like jelly.” You told him wrinkling up your face in disgust.

“What about Nutella? You like Nutella? Of course, you do, everybody does. We’ll be peanut butter and Nutella then.” He amended his statement.

“Mmm now I kind of want peanut butter and Nutella crepes.” You hummed, imagining the sweet flavorful pastry.

“Well, lucky for you, I know an amazing creperie on the other side of town. It’s a perfect place for our first date.” He decided.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch32: The Impossible Choice. Part 1: So Was I

Summary: Tony catches up with Steve, Katie and Bucky in Siberia and as the events unfold he learns the truth about how his parents were killed.

Warnings: Bad language, angst!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr​

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 31

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The jet wasn’t fully fuelled so they couldn’t fly at full speed, meaning it took them a few hours to reach the wide, flat, snow-covered landscape of Siberia. Once they touched down, Steve cut the power and Katie stood up and moved to the back of the jet, opening the closet that held the Avenger’s weapons. Bucky stepped over and started examining the rack of guns labelled ‘Romanoff’ before he selected a light machine gun.

Katie reached over to grab two 9mms and twirled them in her hands before she slotted them into the holders on her thighs. Bucky watched her through the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow as she reached over to select another larger rifle.

“Sure you can handle that thing, Sweetheart?” He asked, his tone was gently teasing and Katie snorted, whilst behind her Steve gave a chuckle.

“Stop flirting with my wife, Buck, and I’ll have you know she’s a trained sniper, give you a run for your money.” He spoke, almost proudly, as he slung his shield onto his back.

“That so?” Bucky’s mouth twisting into a grin. Katie simply smiled in response and cocked the larger gun, looking down the sight to check it was all clear.

The three of them stood together, Katie in the middle of the two super soldiers, waiting for the exit ramp to descend as Steve tossed his helmet in his hand. 

“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asked suddenly, looking over at Bucky as the cold air hit them. 

“Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?”  Bucky frowned

“You blew three bucks trying to win a stuffed bear for a redhead” Steve smirked.

“Right, what was her name again?” Bucky asked, a tone of amusement on his voice

“Dolores.” Steve answered instantly, smirk still on his face “You called her Dot.” 

“She’s gotta be a hundred years old right now.” Bucky said.

“So are we pal” Steve said, clamping his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. The ramp was now almost completely down. Steve placed his helmet on, fastened the strap under his chin and the three of them descended.

“Well it aint quite a freezer truck.” Katie mused. 

“I hate the cold.” Bucky sighed as they trudged through the snow.

“Yeah Stevie isn’t exactly a fan either. Although he still runs the Air Con at like minus twenty.”

“No, I don’t.” Steve sighed, and Bucky gave a bark of a laugh as the two of them began to playfully bicker.

“Our bedroom is freezing.”

“Look, I run at a higher temperature than you.” “Yeah yeah.” Katie rolled her eyes, gun still raised as she looked around.

“Our place was always cold in the winter.” Bucky mused, and then he laughed again “Hey Katie, once when we were kids, we built a fire using all this spare and wood we found in the outhouse.” “Yeah, your dad gave us a whack each round the back of the head as he’d been saving it to build a table.” Steve grinned again. “My ears were ringing for days.”

Katie smiled as the two men shared a laugh, it was nice to see them caught up in memories. But their reminiscing was short lived as they had reached the entrance to the bunker. Bucky turned round, just to make sure no one was behind them as Katie looked at the large, steel door set into the rock. It was open.

Bucky and Katie both raised their guns towards the gap.

“He can’t have been here more than a few hours” Steve shook his head as they stopped just outside, 

“Long enough to wake them up.” Bucky sighed. 

Steve looked at him, before his attention went back to the door and he stepped forward, into the cast iron bunker. Katie followed him in, Bucky taking up the rear and a couple of meters in front of them was a caged elevator. The three of them climbed in, Steve pressing the button hanging from the top and they descended into the depths of the bunker in silence until it reached its destination with a soft thud. 

Steve nodded to Bucky and then heaved up the cage door, Bucky readying his gun as they walked slowly down a corridor, keeping close to the wall. This time Bucky went first, Katie second, Steve following. Katie kept her gun raised, eyes sharp as she looked round into an alcove full of junk, the place seemed to be nothing but a dumping ground. They continued to move down the corridor before a loud thud rang around, causing them to spin around. Bucky aimed his gun back down the corridor, as did Katie, whilst Steve pulled his shield in front of him.

“You ready?” Steve asked, looking at Katie, then over at his friend as he took a slight step forward so he was almost shielding them both taking a step down the flight of stairs in front of them.

Katie nodded as Bucky replied “Yeah.”  

The double doors at the bottom began to open, but it wasn’t another super soldier that greeted the trio. It was Tony in his full Iron Man suit.

Katie stared in surprise as her brother retracted his helmet. 

“You seem a little defensive.” Tony quipped as Steve strode down the steps towards him, shield covering his body. Katie followed a yard or so behind, her gun now by her side. 

“Well, it’s been a long day.”  Steve replied, shield still raised, not quite sure what Stark was doing there. Bucky shifted slightly and Tony turned his head to look at him.

“At ease, Soldier. I’m not currently after you.”

“Then why are you here?” Katie asked. 

“Could be your story aint so crazy.” Tony shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. 

“Sorry, is that you admitting you’re wrong?” She raised her eyebrow slightly at her brother.

“Maybe.”

“Ross?” Steve looked at him.

“Ross has no idea I’m here. I’d like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself” 

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork” Steve quipped as he lowered his shield “It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“You too Cap.” his brother-in-law smiled softly before he looked over at Bucky who still had the gun raised “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you’re killing me. There’s a truce here. You can drop…”

Steve motioned at Bucky to lower the gun and he did. 

“So how did you find us?” Katie asked.

“I went to the prison. Spoke to Sam.”

“How are they?” Steve asked.

Tony hesitated “Angry, mostly at me. Clint especially but, they’re, ok.” 

Katie looked at him, she had the feeling he was holding something back but now wasn’t the time.

“What made you change your mind?” Bucky asked Tony. He may have lowered his gun but because his Captain had asked him to, but he was still unsure. 

“I got an update from the Berlin police.” Tony turned to face the man. “The Task Force called for a psychiatrist as soon as you were captured. They dispatched a Dr Broussard from Geneva but he was intercepted by the man who questioned you.”

“You got a name?” Katie asked her brother. 

“Yeah, Colonel Helmut Zemo, Sokovian Intelligence. He ran Echo Skorpion, a Sokovian covert kill squad”

“Sokovia.” Katie sighed as Steve groaned. “Is that place set to follow us around for the rest of our days?” 

“You think that’s what he wants with these Super Soldiers?” Steve asked. “Some form of army to get revenge?”

Tony made a face, shrugging. “Your guess is as good as mine Cap, but I reckon so, yeah.”

Tony re-engaged his helmet and the four of them set off to continue the search. Katie felt bolstered by her brother’s appearance, and Steve also felt hopeful that they could sort this out then go home, together, and work through the whole unholy mess that had been left in the wake of the Accords.

They moved cautiously and silently through the bunker until Tony, who was at the front, turned right into a smaller corridor at the end of which was a vast chamber.  

“I got heat signatures.” He said gently.

“How many?” Steve asked.

“Uh…one.”

“One?” Katie frowned. She looked at Steve and then the two of them turned to Bucky who shrugged, equally as puzzled.

As they all walked up the three small steps into the chamber, Katie could just about make out several huge pillars when the lights in each of them snapped on. It was then that the all saw they weren’t pillars, they were capsules. Each containing an enhanced soldier surrounded by some form of hazy, yellow mist. 

The four of them looked around, bewildered when the PA system crackled into life, causing Katie to jump.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep”. The voice spoke as Bucky looked up at the solider in the capsule nearest to him whilst Katie continued to the next, her gun still raised. It was then that she noticed there was a bullet hole in the glass and a shot buried right between the female soldiers eyes. 

He’d killed them. 

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” 

There was another pause as Katie turned to look at Steve and Tony who were walking slowly through the middle of the chamber to her right, towards the machine that was used to wipe the soldiers’ minds. Bucky and Katie exchanged a puzzled glance. None of this added up. Why had he killed them? What had he come all this way for if he didn’t want to activate them? 

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here” the voice said, and then a window lit up to their right. Zemo was in there. Steve hurled his shield at the window but it simply bounced off the glass and returned to him where he was stood by Katie’s side. 

“Please, Captain.” Zumo spoke with amusement. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets” 

“I’m betting I could beat that.” Tony shot,  as he and Steve rounded the chair to the right, Bucky and Katie to the left.  

“Oh, I’m sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you’d never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve stepped forward so there was just the glass separating his face from Zemo’s as he glared at him. 

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here, I just realized, there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw.”

Steve drew back slightly, frowning as Katie reached his side.

“You’re Sokovian.” She stated, watching the man, his brown eyes flickering to hers. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell.” Zemo shook his head. “No. I’m here because I made a promise.” 

Steve studied Zemo as he asked “You lost someone?”

Zemo bowed his head and clicked his tongue. “I lost everyone. And so will you.”

Steve watched as Zemo pressed something and then a screen just behind them, to the right clicked on. He shot another look at Zemo before he made my way over to it, Katie following.

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again, but one which crumples from within?” Zemo spoke and Katie glanced back at him, Steve doing the same “That’s dead forever.”

Katie looked at the screen, the still image that was portrayed was somewhere very familiar. Her eyes flicked to the date on the freeze frame. December 16 1991. And in that split second she understood.

One which crumbles from within…

This was about splitting the Avengers up, pitting them against one another.

“I know that road.” Tony jerked her out of her thoughts from where he stood to her right, “What is this?” he spoke louder, aimed at Zemo who didn’t answer.

Tony glanced back at the screen and Katie felt herself grow cold as the footage began to play. The Stark siblings watched as their parent’s car entered the frame and crashed into a tree.  And then the Winter Soldier rode up and got of his motorbike. 

“Shit.” Katie mumbled, as besides her Steve shifted a little and she glanced at Tony, who’s unease was increasing, his brow furrowing as he watched the driver of the car, their dad, laying on the ground. Tony inhaled deeply as the footage progressed and the Winter Soldier walked over to their dad who had struggled out of the car and hoisted him up by his hair and stared down at him.

Tony wasn’t watching the screen anymore. He was stood, eyes fixed on Bucky who had his head bowed. The soldier took a deep breath and glanced at Tony, his eyes locking with the man’s. Tony looked away and back to the screen as the tears began to freely fall from Katie’s eyes. On the footage the Winter Soldier reined blow upon blow upon her father before dragging him by his collar and shoving him back into the driver’s seat. She felt Tony take her hand, his Iron Man Gauntlet tightening painfully around her fingers as The Winter Soldier rounded the car and reached in through the window.

At that point she couldn’t take it anymore and she turned away, supressing the sob that was rising in her throat and pressed her face into Steve’s chest were he stood beside her side on, watching Tony carefully. He gently placed a hand at the back of his wife’s head before he glanced back at the screen to see the Winter Solder aiming a gun at the surveillance camera, shooting it. 

There was a moment’s pause and Katie moved and looked over to where Bucky was stood a few paces behind them, his head bowed, shoulders slumped in disgrace. He looked up, his own tears clouding his eyes and then Tony lunged, and Bucky’s face contorted into panic, his rifle flying up as Steve hastily moving to stop Tony grabbing his arm.

“Tony, Tony.” he conciliated.

Tony looked down at the screen again, before he looked up at Steve, the tears glistening in his eyes as Katie wiped away her own with the back of her hands.

“Did you know?” Tony asked his voice barely audible.

“I didn’t know it was him.”  Steve began, his voice pleading as he looked at Tony. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!” Tony cut him off before Steve could continue, his voice full of fury. “Did you know?” 

There was a pause, before Steve sighed and dropped his head slightly. “Yes”.

Tony pushed Steve away before he glanced back at the screen. 

“Tony.”  Katie pleaded as he turned to look at her. “He didn’t know for sure, not until we-”

“You knew as well?” Tony asked, his voice cracking as he looked at his sister and her face crumpled.

“I knew they’d been murdered, but not by him. Not until yesterday, I swear.”

At that Tony’s chest tightened with betrayal and heartbreak and he stepped back, his chin jutting upwards twitchily before he re-engaged the Iron man helmet. He pushed Katie out of the way and as she tumbled left, he punched Steve hard, sending him to the floor. Bucky started to fire, bullets easily deflecting off Tony’s Iron Man suit and Tony shot a beam at Bucky, disarming him and then flew across the chamber, slamming him into the floor. “Tony, please!” Katie shouted, as Tony jumped on Bucky’s chest. Steve stood up, threw his shield which hit Tony, distracting him momentarily before he tackled him from the front, barging him backwards. Then Steve was on the floor, then Bucky was there, it was getting really out of hand and Katie was powerless to stop any of it.

“You need to go.” Steve instructed as he cut the restraints that Tony had fired at him off his legs.

“I can’t! He’s my brother, Steve!”

“That wasn’t a request.” Steve repeated firmly “Go, get Zumo. If we don’t apprehend him, then all this is for nothing.”

She hesitated for a second. 

“Katie!” He yelled, as he jumped up, shield raised, his voice full of authority. “Just do as I fucking tell you!”

With a shuddering breath, she looked at him.

“Steve, please…”

“GO, NOW!”

With a final, shuddering breath, she turned and ran. Back the way they had come, the sounds of blasts and yells and metal on metal growing fainter and fainter as she sprinted down the corridors, the tears in her eyes hindering her view and sense of direction.

Every so often snippets of the footage flashed across her mind. Her mom and dad, pleading for their lives before Bucky, no, the Winter Soldier coldly executed them. This entire situation was a mess, and she had no idea how any of them were going to come back from this.

Whether they could ever come back from this. 

Eventually she made it outside. The snow had been falling, almost completely eradicating any sign of the three sets of footprints that were hers, Steve and Bucky’s, leading into the bunker, but there was one set leading away. 

She took out one of her pistols, having lost her rifle in the chamber somewhere, and began to follow them, eventually coming to a thicket of trees. As she approached she could hear the sounds of voices, it sounded like one of them was talking via a phone. 

“You should’ve seen his little face. Just try, okay? I’m going to bed. I love you.” 

It was a woman’s voice and then Katie spotted Zumo, he was sat by a rock, looking at the phone in his hand. As she approached someone else emerged from the corner of her eyesight and she spun, raising her gun. It was T’Challa, Black Panther suit fully engaged.  He gestured at her, palms up, before he retracted his helmet and spoke to Zumo.

“I almost killed the wrong man.” 

“Hardly an innocent one.” Zumo shot back, no sign of surprise in his voice at them two of them being there.

“This is all you wanted.” Katie shook her head sadly, the cold snowy wind whipped her hair about her face and it stung her cheeks which were wet with tears. He looked up at her, eyeing the gun which she still had trained on him. “To see us rip each other apart?”

“My father lived outside the city.” Zemo began to explain “I thought we would be safe there. My son was excited. He could see the Iron Man from the car window. I told my wife, “Don’t worry. They are fighting in the city. We’re miles from harm.” When the dust cleared and the screaming stopped. It took me two days until I found their bodies. My father, still holding my wife and son in his arms. And the Avengers?” He looked up at Katie and she saw the hatred in his eyes as he glared back. “You went home”

“None of us wanted any of it.” Katie shook her head, eyes welling up again “There isn’t a day goes by where I don’t wish things could have turned out differently. We tried, but we couldn’t save everybody.”

“I knew I couldn’t kill you.” Zumo ignored her. “More powerful men than me have tried. But, if I could get you to kill each other…”

Kill each other. 

Katie swallowed, her thoughts returning to Steve and Tony back in the bunker. 

“I’m sorry about your father. He seemed a good man. With a dutiful son” Zumo looked up at T’Challa.

“Vengeance has consumed you. It’s consuming them.” T’Challa blinked ruefully and retracted the claws in his gloves. “I am done letting it consume me. Justice will come soon enough”

Zumo smiled thinly, and for the first time Katie saw that he had a gun in his hand. “Tell that to the dead” 

As he raised the gun to shoot himself, T’Challa grabbed the shaft of it, absorbing the bullet and shot in his hand before he rolled round behind Zumo, getting him into a headlock.

“The living are not done with you yet.”

All three of them fell silent and Katie slumped onto a rock, her head in her hands. Whatever happened now, it didn’t matter. Zumo had gotten what he wanted. The Avengers were split, right down the middle, Tony and Steve were pitted against each other. Her brother and Husband. 

And she had no idea what she was going to do.

*******

The fight went too far. Tony blasted Bucky’s metal arm off of his body which sent Steve off into a frenzy but he lost his shield in the fracas that had ensued. And now, he stood in between Tony and that final blast that the billionaire knew would end his parents’ killer once and for all. And Tony was going through him if he had to.

“He’s my friend.” Steve pleaded breathing heavily and he looked at Tony hoping to get through to him. Surely he understood it wasn’t Bucky that had done it, it was HYRDA, it was always fucking HYDRA!

“So was I.” Tony answered flatly before punching Steve in the face once, twice then throwing him into the opposite wall. Steve coughed, spitting out blood, then began to unsteadily work his way back up to his feet. “Stay down,” Tony warned aiming his repulsor beam at him “Final warning.”

Steve lifted both his hands in a fighting stance shrugging slightly as he said, “I can do this all day.”

I can do this all day… those words roused Bucky and, for a moment he was in an alley, bailing the little blonde punk out of a fight. Well, why break the habit of a lifetime? He grabbed Tony’s ankle with his remaining hand, distracting him and Tony turned kicking him in the face rendering him unconscious again. Seizing his chance, Steve leapt up and grabbed Tony from behind and, with a monumental heave he lifted him over his head, Tony tried to fly away but with his failing jets it was no use and he landed hard when Steve threw him down onto the concrete.

And then Steve was on top of him throwing punch after punch, grabbing his previously discarded shield bringing that down onto the mask until it broke and fell apart revealing Tony’s frighten gaze to Steve.

Steve raised his shield one more time and Tony brought his hands up to cover his face but that wasn’t Steve’s intention, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever hurt him like that. Instead, he brought it down hard onto the arc reactor. Tony lowered his arms and stared up at Steve with a mixture of surprise, betrayal and resentment and the soldier looked back at him, his own face contorted with remorse as he rolled off to the side of the now useless suit.

Both men took a moment to catch their breath as fatigue and exhaustion begin to set in, Steve was the first to move as he pulled the shield from the chest of the suit and hooked it back onto his arm. He glanced back at Tony one last before time, wishing it could be different before making his way over to his best friend and pulling the barely conscious man to his feet.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you,” Tony spat turning over on his side. “You don’t deserve it. My father made that shield!” he shouted angrily.

Steve paused. Howard had made that shield, yes. And he had betrayed the man’s memory by keeping the true nature of his death a secret. Taking a deep breath, he realised Tony was right, he didn’t deserve it after all. Captain America was a righteous man, fighting the good fight, a moral man…and Steve Rogers had been selfish and arrogant thinking he could act as he had without consequence. With an immense air of sadness he shrugged the shield from his arm and let it clang to the floor. Then he proceeded to carry Bucky up the exit and out into the snow.

The sound his shield made as it hit the concrete was a noise that Steve knew would be forever ingrained in his mind.

The sound of him leaving Captain America in a bunker in Siberia.

**** Chapter 32 Part 2

[ecto-american]

If Found Please Return to Danny Phantom

Phic Phight Oneshot for @imperfection-at-itsfinest: When Jack manages to get his hands on Danny Phantom's ghost hunting logbook, an investigation reveals some information about ghosts and the infamous specter himself that a scientific study would never cover.

Read on FFN and AO3

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It would be wrong of him to read it. 

Jack kept staring at the book in his hands. It resembled a diary, the front design being colorless but a pressed design. The moon with stars, with no words, and the diary itself felt unusually thin. There was no lock, as if it was almost inviting him to just read it. Jack had, in fact, already opened to the first page, and the first words greeted him. In a standard font read: If Found, Please Return to: and the name scrawled, in surprisingly tidy handwriting, was the name Danny Phantom.

What an absolute find. It was pure dumb luck. He had seen Phantom drop it, but Jack had went looking for it in hopes that the ghost teen had dropped one of the stolen Fenton gadgets. Only to recover...this book that he had taken home and into the privacy of his lab for study.

The idea of Phantom keeping a diary was kinda funny. He never struck Jack as the type to write down his deepest darkest secrets or teenage embarrassments in a book. That would imply that the ghost had some kind of emotions. They didn’t. They were blobs of ectoplasmic energy.

So it should be okay for him to read, right? Why was he so hesitant? Well...it was an invasion of privacy. But it was fine. Phantom dropped it in the park. Phantom was a menace to society. There was likely evidence in this journal that could explain all of the ghost boy’s terrible deeds, that could prove that he truly was evil. This diary could change everything.

...Jack had children though, and he knew both were avidly creative. Scrapbooking, drawing, painting, writing. They were stress outlets for his girls, and he wouldn’t ever dare dream of invading their privacy like that. So he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Phantom deserved privacy, right?

“Jack? Are you coming to dinner?” Maddie’s voice snapped him from his thought process. She hadn’t made a noise as she came down the stairs. But Maddie was a much better stealth hunter than him.

“Yes, yes! Sorry, I was distracted,” Jack apologized. He set the book down on the table. Maddie rose an eyebrow at him.

“Did you get a new ectobiology book?” she asked. His eyes glanced to the book, and he shook his head no. Maddie came over to him, studying the book cover. Of course, it didn’t resemble any of the scientific texts that they owned. 

“I don’t know how to explain it…” Jack said slowly. He held it out to her. Maddie accepted it.

“This looks like it belongs to the kids,” she stated. She opened the first page, and Jack saw her eyes widen. Her breath hitched, and she looked up to him “Jack...where did you...get this?”

“He dropped it during a fight,” he replied. “I thought it was Fenton tech, but…”

Her eyes sparkled, and she shut the book. A wide grin had appeared, and she threw her arms around her husband.

“Oh Jack! This could teach us so much! If this really is a journal or some kind of diary, then he may have recorded motivations! Thoughts! We can really get into how Phantom thinks and a raw, honest, firsthand account from Phantom himself! This changes everything!”

She was right. She was absolutely right, and he hugged her back. They were scientists first and foremost, and this journal could fill in so many missing blanks about ghosts. It was a starting off point. Jack’s mind raced with all the things they could possibly learn. Just from a simple peek of the book. That was worth more than the invasion of privacy of a ghost that caused so much havoc, destruction and pain. 

“We should look at it right now!” he exclaimed. Maddie pulled away with a small frown.

“After dinner,” she reminded him. “I finally got everybody corralled upstairs for a family dinner. It’s nearly impossible to get either of the girls at the same time.”

“Oh, right!” Jack nearly slapped his forehead. Yes, they were scientists first and foremost, but before even that, they were Mom and Dad. “First thing after dinner.”

“First thing after dinner,” she agreed with a smile. 

Upstairs, he saw that Jazz was already serving herself. Chicken, mashed potatoes and peas. His youngest was pouring iced tea into glasses for everybody. 

“Hey Ghost-kateers!” Jack greeted cheerfully with a grin. Both kids groaned in embarrassment. Perfect. 

“Daaad!” his youngest complained, a whine hitching as she put the pitcher of ice tea back. “I told you, if I’m going to be some kind of ye olde soldier type, I wanna be a knight, like at the renaissance fair.” 

“Ah, but if you’re a ghost-kateer, you can get an anti-ghost musket!” Jack teased. As he walked past her to get his own food, he playfully ruffled her pixie-cut hair. She waved his hand away. 

“But as a ghost knight, I can get a cool sword!” she protested. Jack shook his head in fake disappointment. 

“Never bring to a ghost sword to a ghost musket fight, baby boo,” her dad replied.

“Can’t shoot what you can���t see!” she shot back with a grin. Jack had to hand it to her, and he just chuckled. 

“Can we please have a ghost free dinner?” Jazz scowled. 

“Yes, yes, let’s save ghosts for after dinner,” Maddie agreed. Jazz shot her a grateful look, and Jack focused on getting his serving of dinner from the stove. His youngest pushed her sleeves up, exhaling. Jack stole a look at her and frowned. She had some sweat collected on her forehead.

“Honey if you're hot, you can just take your sweatshirt off,” he told her. She shook her head no.

“No, I'm fine,” she insisted. Jack was skeptical.

“You sure?” he asked. 

“Mhm!” 

Jack shrugged a bit. She was always insisting on wearing a hoodie, no matter the weather. If she got hot enough, she’d take it off. No need to force it. He got his food and took his seat.

“How's school going?” Maddie questioned. Jazz lit up a bit, and her sister flinched. She raised a suspicious eyebrow at her youngest.

“I managed to get a B on my chemistry test,” the youngest spoke up with a forced smile.

“That’s excellent!” Maddie’s demeanor shifted as she smiled warmly. “Keep it up!” 

“Yeah!” The youngest seemed to visibly relax. “Sam’s been helping me study.”

“That’s good, I always studied better when V-man or your mom helped me,” Jack nodded at her as he cut up his chicken. 

“Oh it’s true, I used to help your father study for all of our shared classes,” Maddie confirmed. “Otherwise he’d get so distracted.”

“Yeah, Sam just explains it super well,” their daughter agreed. “Tucker’s been going over math with me a bit, which helps some.”

“Well if you need a tutor, just let us know, and we’ll help you arrange one,” Maddie smiled. “What about you, Jazz?”

“Pretty good,” she replied. “Mr. Lancer asked if I wanted to be his TA this summer, which I really do. It’ll look good on a college application, and I might even get paid!”

“Have you been narrowing down where you might wanna go?” Jack asked. Jazz eagerly nodded.

“Yeah! Oxford is my number one choice, but I also would love to go to Yale or Stanford. I’ve been talking with the college counselor about what else might look good on an application for them that I can do over the summer. I wrote them down in my planner notebook earlier-”

“Hey, that kinda reminds me,” her sister interrupted. “Have you guys seen one of my notebooks? I think I lost it,” she asked them. Jack stared at her. The reminder of the notebook he actually had found. Maddie seemed unbothered by the question. This wasn’t unusual, for the parents to have to play “where’s my stuff?” with the kids. 

“What notebook?” Jazz asked hesitantly. 

“My important one,” came the reply. Jazz frowned lightly. 

“Sorry, princess, haven’t seen any notebooks laying around,” Jack replied. He saw the briefest of a cringe cross his youngest’s features. “Did you leave it at school?” Her shoulders slumped.

“I don’t think so?” she said hesitantly. “I’ll have to check tomorrow. I was so sure I had it earlier…” Her voice trailed off before she forced a smile. “If you see it, let me know!” She picked up a forkful of chicken, only to freeze. The clattering made Jack glance up curiously as she was turning her attention to Maddie. “Can I be excused? I have some homework to get done.” 

Maddie let out a soft sigh. So much for family dinner.

“Of course, just make sure you come back down before you go to bed to get your chores done,” Maddie nodded at her. The young Fenton snapped to her feet with a thanks, fully abandoning her dinner as she went to the stairs. Jazz stared after her sister, craning her neck to track her movements before hurriedly shoveling more mashed potatoes in her mouth.

“Uh, I’m not that hungry, and I totally forgot to do this online assignment,” Jazz spoke, standing up, taking hers and her sister’s plate. She was already walking away before either parent could truly give permission. “I’ll put our plates up and clean up in a bit!”

“A-alright?” Jack hesitated, watching his other child put the plates on the counter before rushing up as well. Another child down. They seemed to grow up so fast. 

“Least they’re doing homework,” Maddie sighed lightly, shaking her head before taking a drink of her tea. “Oh well. Might as well take their lead and eat in the lab?” 

“Please,” Jack agreed. He stood up, taking his plate. “I’m dying to see what Phantom has to say.”

January 10

Skulker: 1; captured

Ectopuss: 1; captured

Box Ghost: 8; captured

Ember: Fought; got away

Fenton Thermos: half-full

Fenton Fisher: untangled

January 11

Vultures: 1; got away

Cujo: 1; played fetch and he went back to the GZ

Fenton Thermos: Full

Ghost Bazooka: overheated and doesn’t shoot anymore, take apart and fix it

January 12

Skulker: 2; got away

Box Ghost: 3; captured

Sidney: 2; got away

Fenton Fisher: tangled, untangle asap

January 13

Skulker: 1; captured

Box Ghost: 4; got away

Fenton Thermos: damaged, won’t suck up ghosts

I met a new ghost today named Desiree. She got away, but it allowed me to discover a new ghost power. Ghost ray.

Maddie furrowed her brow as she studied the words. She stood at the table, her dinner half-forgotten as she thought on the words.

“It sounds like a record,” Jack mused, and he ate another spoonful of peas. Maddie nodded in agreement.

“I think we found Phantom’s logbook,” she agreed. “I’m assuming these are the ghosts he’s fought. And he seems to be recording his powers too. This is huge, we can match up what we know about his powers and what he’s claiming.”

“And he’s recording the status of our equipment.” Jack frowned. “Why would he care?”

“Yeah, he made note that he was going to fix the Fenton Bazooka too,” Maddie pointed out. The scientist flipped through the pages, only to stop at a page, staring curiously. Maddie laid the journal on the table, pressing the spine so that the pages stayed open. She read the page aloud to Jack.

December 19

I hate my life. I hate this existence. I look in the mirror and wonder why it has to be this way. Why am I the one cursed to be this freak? Why is everything about me and my body wrong? For once, I wish something about me was normal, that somebody about me could be right. If Desiree wasn’t such an unreliable asshole with wishes, I’d give everything I have to wish that life could, for once, allow me to be a normal teenage boy. 

Jack listened to her in a stumped silence. This couldn’t have been a pre-death thought process of a moody teenager. It was written too recently, and the words hit a sorrowful chord to him. He didn’t intend to, but he quickly began to feel sorry for Phantom. He was very young. It couldn’t have been easy to lose everything at that age. His daughter was his age. Jack cleared his throat.

“It’s not just a log then?” Jack questioned. Maddie shook her head, flipping the pages back.

“No, I think it’s a mix. There’s still records of ghosts and FentonWorks equipment,” she replied. Using a leg, she pulled a wheeled chair to her to sit in. She leaned back, and she pulled the journal to her. After a moment of flipping through and scanning pages, she settled on a page about a third of the way through. “It seems like this is when he began to record things other than just ghosts.”

“What’s it say?” Jack wondered. Maddie read aloud the next few entries as Jack silently continued to eat. 

April 4

I only fought this shitty panther today, and he still got away. I’m such a fucking idiot. I can’t believe he got away. I was too slow. All I do is fuck up. There’s ghostly activity happening around the school, and I just can’t figure it out. I feel like I can’t stop them anymore. I don’t know what’s going on, why I suddenly suck so much. I honestly probably just always sucked, and now it’s starting to hit me. [scribbles] and [scribbles] were trying to make me feel better, but I fucked up. It was only one ghost today, and I couldn’t catch them. It destroyed an entire store, and it’s my fault.

April 8

No ghosts today, surprisingly. But [scribbles] has been acting weird lately. The other day she poked and prodded me at dinner. No clue what that’s about. She also tried to give me this speech that I can talk to her about anything, and that she’d love me no matter what. That makes me think she found my binder. I’m honestly kinda freaking out. I knew I shouldn’t have left it out like that. She’s such a nosy know it all.

“Phantom must keep more records than just this,” Maddie lightly mused. “He has an entire binder full of information that somebody discovered.”

“Maybe on other ghosts?” Jack theorized. “He’s recording his fights, he must be also recording information about them.” Maddie’s eyes lit up.

“That makes so much sense,” she agreed. “He probably keeps so many kinds of things written down and logged. I wonder where he’s keeping it? Obviously paper, which is a bit odd. I figured a teenager would move to the digital age…” Maddie paused.

“Maybe he’s older than we think he is?” Jack suggested. “He could have died fifty years ago, and just be more comfortable with writing things down.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Maddie mused. She put down the notebook to take a long sip of her drink. Jack picked it up to observe the page she read.

“Phantom has neat handwriting,” he noted. “He’s not fighting ghosts when he writes these.” Jack’s eyes scanned the words. “...I wonder who he’s scribbled out.”

“Allies?” Maddie shrugged. “He probably went back and blacked out some of the names. Privacy. Especially if this isn’t the first time he’s lost this.”

It made the most logical sense. Jack skipped the purely log entries to one that had more written, and he read it aloud to his wife.

April 10

She was feeding on us. Spectra, the Casper High “psychologist” was feeding on emotions, like some kind of emotional vampire but she’s a ghost. It’s so scary. I saw her do it. She asked [scribbles] and [scribbles] about their lives. What made them unhappy, and why. And when they left, I saw her absorb? I guess how I’d describe it? She absorbed the energy into her skin and it just seemed to instantly revive her, and it made her happy. When she did it to me, I could just look in her eyes and know that she enjoyed every minute of my misery. I managed to stop her, with [scribbles] helping me. It was weird. She didn’t seem afraid of me. I don’t know why. 

Spectra: 2; captured

“Ghosts can feed off of energy!” Maddie exclaimed. “Human energy! We always suspected it, but this is confirming something!” Jack glanced up at her excitedly. It was the first real, true ghostly discovery that Phantom was revealing to them. 

April 13

All I do is fuck up lately. Because of me, this ghost dog just absolutely has been causing havoc on this girl’s life. She blames me. And I don’t blame her. I ruined her entire life. She lost her house because of me. I didn’t mean to. I tried to stop the dog, but he just won’t respond to anything I say. I can’t capture him. I’ve been trying. I’ve been just calling the dog Cujo. After the Stephen King book, because damn is this dog giving me one fucking nightmare of a time.

Cujo: 3, got away

April 16

[scribbles] kissed me. It was to force me to change back, and it worked, but she kissed me. It was great. She smelled like lavender. I don’t think my heart’s ever beaten so fast. Afterwards she clarified to me that it was just a fake-out make-out. It didn’t feel like it. I don’t want it to be. But she’s my best friend, and I can’t lose her. So I agreed, and when I came home I cried. My dad caught me, and I pretended it was just girl problems, even though that excuse made me feel even worse. He got me some ice cream, and we watched Star Trek together. It didn’t really help that much, if I’m being honest. 

Anyway, apparently Cujo’s trained. He knows his commands. [scribbles] thinks it’s because he was a guard dog when he was alive for Axion Labs. For a guard dog, he’s such a playful puppy though, he loves his squeaky toy. And [scribbles] became a hunter specifically to kick my ass. It’s my lucky month. But I deserve it. Will there ever be a day where I actually can do more good than bad?

Skulker: 1; captured

[Scribbles]: 1 Red Huntress

Cujo: 1, got away

“Phantom has a family?” Maddie wondered. She chewed on her food as she thought. Jack shrugged, an odd, unsettled feeling hitting him as he put the book down for a moment. He used his spoon to push around his peas.

“I mean, we all do,” Jack reminded her. “Just...I didn’t think Phantom still talked to his family. After his death. Or did such...non-ghost things with them.” Watching Star Trek with his dad? Jack did that with his own kids all the time. It was his and his youngest daughter’s favorite show to watch together. Jazz typically preferred documentary series, and Maddie was too bothered by scientific inaccuracies to really enjoy science fiction. So it was always “their thing” and knowing that Phantom did it too was...too human. 

“Yeah, I didn’t...really expect him to still be haunting them,” Maddie said. Jack could tell that this was disturbing her a little. 

“But ghosts can retain their memories from life it seems,” Jack spoke up. Maddie stared at him. “The dog remembers commands from his life as a guard dog. What extent, I’m not sure.” Maddie hummed curiously.

Jack picked the book up again, skipping through more boring logs to other words. 

April 29

Ember: 2; captured

Fenton Thermos: full, empty

The past few weeks have been terrible. I have definitely come to the conclusion that I really am developing a crush on [scribbles]. Or maybe I always had one, I dunno. Is this really just an effect from Ember’s supposed spell? Does ghostly mind control really last? I think I always knew that I liked her though. I mean, ever since I told her that [scribbles], she’s been so supportive. She even cut my hair for me, which really pissed my parents off, but they ended up admitting that I looked better with my hair short anyway. Almost like it’s meant to be, huh? Ha. [scribbles] is also one of the only two people who know my deeper secret. She’s been so supportive through that too. She calls me Danny, and every time she refers to me as that, it makes my heart go crazy.

But would she even like me? Would she even wanna be with somebody like me? I don’t think I’d be her type. Some other friends I met at this local support group have complained about the struggles of dating. The stories are depressing, and it makes me worried that while [scribbles] will always love and accept me as a friend, that she’d never be able to love me as a boyfriend. I hate my life.

“Aw, Phantom has a little girlfriend,” Jack half-joked, only for goosebumps to raise and an odd chill run down his spine. He looked to Maddie for her opinion, and her face was scrunched up.

“That’s a bit creepy,” she commented. “He’s pretending to be human.”

“I dunno, Mads,” Jack shrugged. He re-read the ghostly teen’s internal conflicts. “Why would he pretend to be human in a journal that nobody’s meant to read?”

“He has to be sharing it with his allies,” she argued. “Those people he’s been scribbling out. Phantom has to be pretending for them. To keep them around. He even mentioned ghostly mind control.” 

She pushed her mostly-finished plate from herself, motioning for Jack to hand over the journal. He complied, and Maddie flipped through it. She stopped, and she set the journal down on the table once more. Leaning over, she studied the spine. A finger ran along the inner spine, and she frowned.

“Pages are missing,” she noticed. Jack pushed his plate out of the way to lean over as well.

Indeed, the top of the diary revealed that it was meant to be a normal, full diary. Now that Maddie pointed it out, it looked like well over a fourth of the diary had missing pages. Jack squinted, pulling his hood over his eyes. He used his googles to better examine.

“They weren’t ripped out, like in a ghost fight,” Jack told her. He pointed to what remained of a page, a barely noticeable strip. “It was carefully cut out.” Maddie narrowed her eyes to get a better look.

“You’re right,” she mused. “Phantom did this purposefully. Probably to hide stuff from his allies.”

“But why hide some stuff and not others?” Jack wondered aloud. “Clearly this girlfriend figure is an ally, but he can’t be...sharing this with her, right?” Maddie pulled back from the notebook to lean in her chair with a heavy sigh.

“...I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think he would. But he’s also a ghost, they do weird things.” Jack didn’t know how to reply, and so he continued to read.

May 16

The past few days have been so full of drama. Walker ruined my life. He absolutely ruined it. He set out to make me the most hated person in Amity Park out of pure spite, and he succeeded. I’m public enemy number one. I can never win. For a while now, I had debated telling my parents, because I so desperately want their support, but they were part of the news coverage calling me a disgusting, evil ghost. I ended up crying yesterday. I don’t think they’ll ever truly love me if they knew. I also failed Wulf. Another failure on my plate. I’m just waiting for it to all crash down on me.

Walker: 1; sent to the GZ

Wulf: 1; sent to the GZ

Walker’s goons: at least 14, all captured

Fenton Thermos: overflowingly full

“Oh this is just becoming nonsense,” Maddie complained. “He’s lying. We were there, Jack! We saw him attack us.”

“I know, I know, he did, yeah, he did,” Jack tried to gather his thoughts. “But why would he lie in this? I don’t think anybody was meant to read this?” Jack flipped through the pages. The further he flipped through in, the more he could tell that some sections had more carefully cut out papers than others. Why was Phantom cutting out? What was he hiding? Why was he hiding it?

“He meant for somebody to read this,” Maddie lightly argued. 

“Yeah, it seems like it, but…,” Jack trailed off. He shook his head a bit, flipping back to where they had left off. “I dunno.”

“Hold on a second,” Maddie urged him, standing up. “Let me get something to write with, we should take some notes.”

“We can just use the scanner to make a copy of the journal afterwards, and we can further analyze it afterwards,” Jack suggested. Maddie thought on this, and she nodded, but she still reached for some scrap paper and a pen.

“Good idea, we should probably read through it fully first anyway,” she agreed. “But I still want to jot down some thoughts.”

“Of course, of course,” Jack replied. He knew that’s how she thought and processed information best, and it was always from her notes that he could visualize his own theories properly. He took a drink of tea before he continued reading the next true entry.

May 24

My entire relationship with my other crush (not [scribbles]) was a lie. She was being overshadowed by Kitty the entire time. This was my first real girlfriend, and it was all fake. I had assumed I was so lucky. I found a girl who knew and was okay with both of my biggest secrets. When I got home I ended up just going straight to my room. [scribbles] brought me dinner, but I didn’t feel like eating. Is this what life is going to be for me? I don’t want it to be like this. The only good thing is that [scribbles] doesn’t know either secret alongside our brief relationship.

Least Kitty and Johnny seem happy again. For now at least. I swear, they’re always breaking up and getting back together. 

Kitty: 1; sent back to the GZ

Johnny 13: 1; sent back to the GZ

Shadow: 1; sent back to the GZ

Jack could lightly hear Maddie taking notes on her scrap paper, the pen scratching at the surface. He didn’t comment on it, silently flipping to the next page, and he continued to read. 

August 19

I was forced to really face the reality of how much I fucked up [scribbles] life. I hate it. I’d do anything to take it back. It makes me wonder if I should just retire. Am I even really doing anything to help? Am I just a nuisance? Everybody thinks that. 

Rationally I know I can’t. I’m the only one who can properly deal with the ghosts, who has the power and abilities to fight back without getting killed. I have to do what I can, but I just wish I could do it without making so many mistakes. [scribbles] said that it’ll be okay, and that it gets better, but it sure doesn’t fucking feel like it.

Skulker: 3; finished

Red Huntress: 2; temporary truce?

“He’s so full of...emotion for a ghost,” Maddie finally spoke up. 

Jack glanced at the paper she had in front of her. There was some notes of what they had been learning so far, and there were emotions written in all caps with a line under, and a list of various emotions. Emotions Phantom seemed to be displaying. Guilty, despair, loneliness, self-hatred, self-doubt. Despite the few entries, it was already quite a list.

“It’s not just him either,” Maddie continued. Jack rose an eyebrow at her. She didn’t immediately reply, fingers on her lips as she stared down at the journal. “He’s giving emotions to other ghosts too.”

Jack stared down blankly at the journal in his hands. 

“Where?”

Maddie began to write, and as she wrote, it clicked. Spectra’s joy in hurting others. Kitty and Johnny’s relationship. Walker’s spite. Cujo being a playful puppy. According to Phantom, and against what they knew as scientists, ghosts were experiencing a wide variety of emotions and for different reasons. It was weird. 

Jack continued to read.

October 17

I don’t know what happened the past few days. It’s this weird blur. According to [scribbles] and [scribbles] I did a lot of bad things under Freakshow’s control. [scribbles] hugged me and told me that it was nothing that we couldn’t fix, but I doubt that. Why does this keep happening to me? I don’t want to hurt people. I want to be a good person, and I want to help Amity Park, but I don’t know what keeps happening. Everything’s a fog, and I’m exhausted. 

Freakshow: 1; arrested by APPD

Circus ghosts: freed from Freakshow’s control, went back to the GZ

Replace Fenton Anti-Creep Stick, print out another sticker to put on it

“Freakshow...that was the weird circus guy,” Jack interrupted himself. Maddie nodded.

“Yeah, and if Phantom’s right...he could control the ghosts,” she mused. “So there’s a way for humans to take control of ghosts...That’s something to look into. If we can control the ghosts into staying away, it’d be such a massive scientific breakthrough.”

“We should look into Freakshow more, and see if we can talk to him!” Jack agreed. “Maybe he’ll share something with us.” Maddie smiled softly.

“I doubt that,” she replied gently. “But there’s no harm in trying. What else does it say?”

November 8

I have to fight Pariah Dark. I’m terrified. I don’t think I’ll live through it. How can I live through fighting the actual ghost king? I may never see my family again, and I can’t even tell them what happened to me if I die. I’ve been debating telling [scribbles] that I like her, but I don’t think I could bring myself to do it. 

What happens if I die? I have no clue. I’m scared to find out. I can’t die now. I have to make it back. I’ll go missing, and I won’t even be declared dead as my parents’ son. Nobody will know who to really look for. I have to come back. Maybe if I succeed, and people like me again after this, I can tell my family everything.

November 10

I couldn’t tell them. My parents still despise part of me, despite what I’ve done. I know they love me, cause my mom’s already been fussing over me like crazy because of my injuries. [scribbles] said she cried when they couldn’t find me, and that my dad had gone out looking for me all over the city, even in the dangerous parts. They of course love me, but do they really love me unconditionally?

Jack felt his voice trailing off as he hit the end. He coughed lightly, and he took a long drink. Maddie stared off into nothing. The only thing he could think of was his own search for his baby girl. He wasn’t alone, bumping into several other parents desperately looking for their missing children, and several children who got separated from their parents. The entire day was somber and frightening, and Maddie had spent the entire day glued to the phone. In case she called them. 

It was all...too real, and Jack flipped past more logs. He couldn’t help but begin to take note of how every single day had a log of ghost fighting activities, even if Phantom didn’t write down his feelings every day. This was so much more than the ghost hunting duo ever expected, more attacks than they were recording.

His eyes rested only for a moment on December 19, and he decided to just skip it. They had already read it earlier. No need to refresh those memories. More logs, and more missing pages, and he came upon another one. 

March 26

I ripped out a lot of pages, more than I intended. I can’t risk anybody finding out what happened, but also other pages revealed too much, so I kept them tucked away where nobody could ever find them. I’d burn them, but I don’t want to lose the ghost hunting data. It’s okay now. I fixed the problem and assured that everything’s going to be fine. Possibly better. I made the right choice this time, and now I know that one day, I will grow a sick beard. 

I know somebody knows my secrets now. All of them. She had known for months but wanted me to tell her. She asked me if I had a name, and ever since I told her that it was Danny, she’s been calling me that whenever she can. It made me cry the first time. It’s so great to have her know everything now. She loves me no matter what. I couldn’t ask for a better person. Even though she found out because I’m an idiot. This entire thing also made me realize how important it is to keep those secrets, and how poorly I’ve been keeping them. 

I didn’t ever mean for this to turn into a diary. I wanted to keep track of ghost fights. But it honestly helps with both the dysphoria and the stresses of being a ghost. I just went back and scribbled out names. Just in case. In the future I need to be more vague. 

But this is also the end for one secret. If things go wrong then well. I don’t know. I’ll make it up as I go along. But I know that this is who I am, and that I’m hitting a point where I need help to just be me. 

Him: 1; captured for good

Skulker: 2; captured

Desiree: 1; captured

Ectopusses: 1; captured

Cujo: 1, sent back to the GZ

Fenton Thermos: full

Fenton Anti-Creep Stick: destroyed, get new bat and sticker to put on it

Also learned a new ghost power: Ghostly wail. A scream that can just absolutely fuck somebody’s day up. I have to use it sparingly though.

Jack closed the journal, and he set it flat on the table. His mind was blank, and he couldn’t read Maddie. She continued to stare at the closed book, hand in pen but almost unsure as to what to even jot down as a note. He leaned in his seat, finishing his drink. Maddie exhaled deeply, dropping her pen in favor of stretching.

Neither said a word. Jack knew that this journal was not any kind of trick. It was too raw and emotional to be anything more than the thoughts of a teenage ghost. He regretted reading it. It held some interesting information, and he was sure if he dug deeper, that he would find more. But as it stood, his own intense guilt was settling as he knew that he just took too personal a look into the private emotional afterlife of Phantom.

“This is a lot to take in,” Maddie finally spoke. Jack only nodded.

The basement door opened, and they heard dual pairs of footsteps hop downstairs. Jack instantly brightened, and he turned in his chair to smile as his kids soon came into view.

“Hey, is this a bad time?” Jazz asked. She glanced between them, and Jack immediately shook his head no. 

“No, no,” Maddie replied quickly. Jack saw her push the journal and her notes, along with her pen and a few spare lab tools, carelessly into a drawer to help assure the Fenton kids that they weren’t interrupting anything. “What’s up, sweetie?” 

“Well, I have something that I wanna talk about,” their youngest spoke slowly. Jack noticed that she had finally taken off her hoodie, and that while she wore her normal tomboy attire, that something was a bit off about her. He couldn’t place it. Jazz stood close to her, an arm full of books clutched to her chest, though he couldn’t make out any titles. “It’s something important, and I don’t really want to put it off any longer.”

“Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?” Jack asked. His daughter shook her head no. 

“Oh, no!” she said. “It’s just…” 

She took a deep breath, and soon, their son began to explain.

[angelkurenai]

Imagine Sam finding out you and Dean are dating, even though you thought Dean had already told him.

“Seriously, Dean, if you keep singing in the shower at that bloody hour again, I'm going to have to join you.” there was no mistaking your voice, especially as he pushed the door open and entered the room.

“Oh hey Sam!” you greeted with a smile as soon as you saw him, soon adding with a frown “Weren't you supposed to come by two days ago, what happened?”

But his brother's voice, with a smirk that he felt like he could see crystal clear even behind the bathroom's door, beat him at it “In the shower, the singing or both?”

“In the shower.” your voice sounded far too sweet “To drown you!” ah there it was.

“Ouch! That hurts alright?” his brother voice was full of fake hurt but Sam only noticed you rolling your eyes as you helped him with his duffel bag “If anything, you should be happy you get to spend your time with me, even more so these past couple days. People tell me I have a unique way of lighting up a room!”

“Hm is it maybe called arson and all those people witnesses?” you raised an eyebrow and Sam would have laughed if it wasn't for the way everything was happening and, even more, if it wasn't for what he had just noticed. His lips parted and his brows furrowed deeply. He almost narrowed his eyes at the image but he didn't get to say a thing as he glanced back at you and Dean having a conversation, even through the closed bathroom door.

“Now that was just mean. Do you have no heart at all?” he could even hear the pout in his voice and he nearly rolled his eyes.

“When your signing wakes me up before ten am? No, none at all.” you replied casually, taking a seat in front of your now open computer “Maybe we should make a rule about that one too hm? Not a single sound before ten am, much less singing, otherwise... well, I can think of a punishment or two.”

Sam tried not to dwell on that “too” part but it was impossible when it kept ringing in his ears. Just when had the two of you set up any other rules before? And what kind of rules were those? Even more, did Sam want to know those rules? Did he want to know the reason behind those?

“You're truly ruthless sometimes.” Dean's voice brought him back to reality and he didn't know if he should be thankful or not. Between his own thoughts and reality, he didn't know what was worse.

“And here I thought you liked that.” the smirk on your face was a mix of playful and serious and Sam didn't know what to be scared of more. If anything he always knew to trust that you were the most logical one out of the two of you, if not everyone he knew to begin with, so he shouldn't pay that much attention to it. However, he was starting to doubt your own sanity as his eyes jumped once more on one of the two beds in the room. In fact on the only bed that was perfectly made, to the point that he didn't question if someone had been there, he was almost entirely sure that nobody had slept there. He let a single hint of doubt slip in his brain though for his own sanity's sake this time.

Maybe you had actually slept there and had done a perfect job of tidying up the bed. Yes, that seemed possible enough. He tried to make himself believe it too.Third-wheeling wasn't his problem, not really. It was everything else that could come from a relationship between the two of you that he didn't know if he could take. More than anything, it felt too weird to him to think about how the man who was his brother was sleeping with the girl he saw as a sister and tried to protect for so long. Besides, Dean didn't have the best of reputation when it came to relationships and Sam didn't want you to end up heartbroken if it didn't go well, let alone things to become far too awkward afterwards. Having to part ways with you because you couldn't stand to be around his brother was something that scared him to no end.

And so he tried to convince himself it was all only in his mind.

“Come on (Y/n)!” being brought back to reality he realized he had missed a great part of the conversation “This is serious. It's like- You know what it's like? I need attention or I'll die! That's what it's like.”

“Honey, if you're hoping of an 'I love you, is that better?' then too bad. After everything you've put me through this morning? Die.”

“Oh my poor heart. That hurts!”

“And I can find ways to hurt you more, Winchester. Not in a good way mind you.” you said with a smirk and Sam for a split second contemplated what hurting him in a good way could really mean but pushed away the thought as soon as it came.

“Alright, alright I get it. No morning singing after an entire night of-” and then the bathroom's door finally opened and Sam almost sighed in relief because it meant he didn't get to complete the sentence “Oh hey Sam, didn't hear you coming in?”

“Yeah” Sam huffed, pursing his lips for a moment “Of course you didn't. See you were really busy talking about-” he shook his head with a sigh “I don't even get what, really.” he rubbed his eyes “But I'm going to ask because I think I'm going to lose my mind otherwise.”

“Are you ok? You look a little... pale?” you asked softly, frowning in worry at your best friend “Do you maybe wanna lay down? There's a spare bed if you-”

And that was all he needed “Spare. Sp- Wait, are you two sleeping together?”

You kept the frown for a second, glancing at Dean, before blinking at him “Only when we're done having sex.” you joked a bit, as if to tease him when you didn't understand why he'd ask such a question, but he knew that it was also 100% serious as true.

“You- You-” Sam stuttered, unable to really form a proper sentence in his head let alone say it out loud “Wh-what?” he blinked what felt like a thousand times.

“Come again?” you frowned, tilting your head “Sammy is everything ok?”

“Oh I don't know, is it?” he asked back “You two are- you're- What is it that you are exactly? Because I- I can think of many things but I don't even want to believe that you're- you're having- Oh please tell me you're joking.” he said almost shakily.

“Wait-” you raised a hand to stop him “You didn't know?” he was about to say that he was entirely in the dark about when you turned with a hard glare at Dean “You didn't tell him?”

“I uh...” Dean started but he was more at a loss for words than Sam.

“Tell me what? When?” Sam asked softly but didn't press because a) what was the point when he already knew the answer to it anyway? And even more importantly b) Dean seemed to be in worse trouble than when he initially was when Sam walked inside the room.

“That we are dat- That we are dating of course!” you told Sam anyway before your head shot in Dean's direction “Dean? Please tell me that you did tell him?... Dean?!”

“I uhm I may-” he rubbed the back of his neck “I may or may have not... forgotten about it?”

“Seriously?! Three months! We agreed you'd tell him three months ago, Dean, and you forgot?! All this time I thought he knew and you just-”

“Alright, I- I think that's my que. We- we need beer don't we?”Sam talked mostly to himself because you were too focused on Dean and what he'd done or not done anyway “Ι'll need the alcohol and you... well, you'll need the bottle to threaten him.”

[heli0s-writes]

DEADCRUSH

Summary: Deadcrush, a game played based on the question “what historical figure would I want to take on a date if they were alive today?”

A/N: 4k word count because I can’t be brief about anything. Also mentions age difference, and questionable internet humor. Also now with Part 2! Oh my god and Part 3!

Bag of Tricks One-Shots Masterlist

It’s in the middle of receiving a blow to his jaw when Bucky hears your voice whistle through the air above him.

“No way!” You’re yelling, “That’s sick, Peter!”

He glances up for half a second to see you swinging against the New York backdrop, left hand raised and entombed by a thick knot of webbing from Parker who’s launching you and himself across the skyline. Bucky dodges another fist and by the time he’s knocked out the thug trying to get fresh with him, you’ve already finished your trajectory and bowled over a cluster of bodies. The ground’s cracked where you made your descent in the distance, and Parker lands softly next to you.

“Come on!” He cries, pitch rising, “You picked Rasputin!”

You respond with a maniacal giggle. “He’s Russia’s greatest love machine!” With a flick of your wrist, you condescendingly scoff. “Dude, Anne Frank? She was twelve.”

“Rasputin was like a million! And insane! Anne Frank is close to my age, at least. And this is entirely hypothetical—I'm imagining a future with her where she’s older than me. I think we’d totally get along, I read her diary and everything- I mean, we’re so close! Fine--” Parker crosses his arms.

“Marie Curie.”

Your eyes catch Bucky looking and you give him a wide smile and a small wave before you pivot back to Peter. Bucky’s brow furrows even deeper before he turns and heads towards Steve who’s winding down at the end of his own fight. Kids are fucking weird, he thinks a little bitterly, as you and Parker squabble on in the distance.

-

In the middle of dinner, as he’s twisting a ream of spaghetti onto his fork, you and Parker stand on the balcony eating what looks like a whole baguette smeared with jelly. Through the glass door, Parker crunches into it before handing the baguette off to you. He’s gesturing wildly and brushing crumbs off his suit.

You take a bite too large for your mouth and the crust crumbles down your chin, chased by a dribble of jelly. You level your palm and start measuring Peter’s height much to his indignance, and Bucky has to turn around before he loses his appetite completely. He hears your laughter muffled through the door. Your hand is clasped on Parker’s shoulder in an attempt to hold yourself up.

You’re a funny one. Always joking and cheerful. You’ve been a part of the team for the past six months and you’re closest to Parker both in demeanor and in age, but sometimes Bucky finds you up late at night and the two of you sit at the table over a cup of tea.

You show him inexplicable and strange images from your phone and try your best to explain to him why the frog is on the unicycle and what the hell “yeet” actually means. Once, you showed him a video about twerking but when you jokingly proposed that you might teach him instead, he nearly knocked the table over by jerking up, ready to take off.

It always ends with joyful tears in the corners of your eyes.

It makes him a little bit angry with himself because he really has no right to even be talking to you. Cryrosleep aside, he’s almost old enough to be your father. But when your laughter lights up the room, it burns those harsh thoughts from his brain.

He’d never admit it, but when he’s awake after tossing for hours, he hopes you’re in the kitchen.

The door swings open and in-between mouthfuls, Parker is baffled, “Who is that?”

“Ancient poet.” You answer, popping a finger in your mouth, “My girl! Island of Lesbos. She definitely knew how to...” You waggle your eyebrows, make a V-shape with your fingers, and lewdly run your tongue up and down between them. Bucky thinks he sees you looking at him, but he feels himself flushing at your comment and pretends like he’s enthralled with spaghetti.

“Dude. Stop it.” Peter moans.

-

In the middle of movie night, another showing of Mary Poppins, you and Parker once again tuck away into the corner of the Stark auditorium with a shared blanket and chatter vehemently. Bucky doesn’t know which is more irritating—Van Dyke’s terrible accent, or the fact that the two of you are attached by the hip today.

“Marilyn Monroe!” Parker whispers.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky watches you contemplate your reply before leaning in impossibly close to Peter. The young man’s jaw clenches as his eyes widen like saucers. He shoots Bucky a look, as if catching him eavesdropping.

“What!?” Peter shrieks.

The entire room turns to look at the two of you. You clamp your hand over Peter’s mouth, bury your face into the side of his head.

“That’s the safest one!” You say.

“No! No, it’s definitely not safe!” He responds back, voice cracking slightly and pushing your face away when your hair tickles him. “Gettoffa— God! Are you serious!?”

“Okay, what the hell is this conversation?” Natasha pauses the movie and leans over the back of the recliner.

Peter pulls the cover over his face and you start giggling again.

“We’re talking about our DC’s.” You finally admit, pausing enough to calm yourself.

“DC’s?” Steve questions.

“Dead crushes.” There it is again- that little look you send his way. He thinks three times is at least one too many to be just a dream.

“Dead-what-now?” Sam is incredulous.

“You guys have never played this game before? You know, pick one person from history who you’d take out to dinner if circumstances made it possible.”

Peter pokes his head out, “And look, please tell her that all of my choices are perfectly reasonable! Anne Frank? Marilyn Monroe? Marie Curie? She picked Rasputin! And not because of that weird old song.”

You scoff because Boney M is a fine example of industry-bottled pop music and beat Milli Vanilli as the façade of genuine artistry by miles.

“Rasputin’s a bit dark, isn’t he?” Steve shakes his head.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you land your gaze on Natasha with a sly smirk.

“Who would you pick, sexy international Russian spy? Let’s get a peek into that gorgeous red head of yours.” She licks her lips at your overt flirtation and flips her hair over her shoulder.

Bucky folds his arms over his chest and leans back into the chair he’s on. This was your game—saddling up to people with effortless compliments and humor, reading a personality so well and maneuvering yourself to fit just right into their expectations. Who else could be so forward with Natasha, joking or otherwise? Who else would suggest teaching him how to twerk? Fuck.

Natasha mulls the question over for a second, “Stalin. I’d take him to dinner. And then to his grave.”

There’s an exasperated sound that escapes your lips. “Okay, that’s not really how the game works. This is not supposed to be a political commentary- it's a genuine display of … attraction!”

“To corpses.” Bucky mutters.

“Okay, that’s dark.” You and Peter exhale in unison. The giggles that escape both of you as you start calling “jinx” on each other before wrestling on that tiny fucking sofa chair makes him bite back a growl. From the couch to his left, Steve notices.

-

In the middle of pouring scalding water into a plain white mug, Bucky feels a tap on his shoulder.

“No.” He greets the finger. “Nope. Steve. Goodnight, jerk.”

“You’re actin’ like a kid, Buck.”

Bucky huffs as he sets the kettle back down with a clatter on the stovetop.

“No.” The problem is that I’m not the kid, Bucky scolds himself for even having the thought surface.

Steve half-heartedly sighs because Bucky is so smitten it’s almost painful to watch. It’s obvious to him and the rest of the team that the two of you dance around each other under the pretense of professionalism, but he knows that the laughter coming from down the hallway late at night is more meaningful than a work relationship.

The first time Steve had seen Bucky lean into a friendly touch was when you had placed your hand on his back, steadying yourself as you fixed your shoe. It was such an offhanded gesture, and Bucky tensed briefly before holding out his arm for you. You didn’t realize his intention and took his entire vibranium hand with a firm squeeze before waltzing off, leaving him to gaze after your disappearing trail. That was three weeks into Bucky’s time at the compound, and your fourth month. It opened Steve’s eyes to a possibility he hadn’t yet entertained.

Steve thinks part of how easily you had infiltrated Bucky’s stonewall demeanor is, in fact, your age. You were right on the cusp of balancing maturity and immaturity, often teetering into the immature waters out of habit. You stayed up late for no reason, played video games for hours, ate all sorts of odd meals with no care for your health, and always gladly shared anything that made you smile. It was infectious. You lacked the exact type of self-awareness everyone else had that made them so careful with Buck— and he let you slip through the cracks effortlessly.

It’s your childlike happiness that’s done it for Bucky. Even though it’s now become a point of uneasiness for his friend, Steve is thankful that you’re exactly how old you are. It’s helped him more than harmed him so far.

Bucky takes a sip of his peppermint and lemon tea and leans against the counter. Steve watches with amusement as his shoulders tense when your chortle bounces into the room. You’re telling Peter goodnight as he heads back home to Queens.

“Hey!” You call, “Sunrise tomorrow?”

A faint affirmation is heard before Parker’s whooping whips faintly in the distance, swinging away. The front door closes and you pop into the kitchen wearing nothing but a swimsuit cover-up, full of diamond-shaped holes. A tiny pink bikini peeks out from underneath the pattern. Bucky averts his gaze because the women of his time did not dress like that and he’s not even sure looking in your direction is legal.

“Night swimming?” Steve asks with a smirk at his friend, who turns around to hide the red creeping up his cheeks like vines.

You nod eagerly before opening the pantry and grabbing a box of Oreos from the top shelf. Tucking one into your mouth, you crunch through it and swallow before closing the pantry door and placing the container under your arm. Crumbs fall down your chest and you curse under your breath as you swipe bits of cookie from your top, oblivious to why Steve suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting.

“Hey me and Double-P are gonna watch the sunrise on top of the Chrysler building tomorrow- you two wanna come? He’ll swing you right up! It’s fun! I’m gonna make breakfast!”

They both shake their head and you mutter something about their loss for a free roller coaster and good view. Bucky and Steve follow your path out the door and hear the patter of your feet before you crash into the deep midnight water with a tremendous cannonball. They watch as your head breaks the surface of ripples before you lean back and squirt water from your mouth like a fountain. Music surges from the outdoor speakers— a seductive Latin Pop tune with hints of reggaeton. You float over to the pool’s edge and throw another cookie in your mouth, bopping along to the groove enthusiastically, shoulders winding to the ebb and flow of water.

“C’mon, Buck.” Steve urges, motioning his head to where you float lazily, watching the moon, nodding to synth beats and timbales drumming. “Forget age… she woulda been your kinda girl back in the day.”

Bucky swallows and turns to his steaming mug, “There were no girls like her back in the day.”

-

It’s in the middle of his nightmare when Bucky jerks awake and smells buttered toast and coffee. It’s still dark out, only four-something, but he stumbles to the restroom and brushes his teeth anyway. When he arrives at the kitchen, you’re standing at the stovetop wearing athletic shorts and bunny slippers. There’s a frilly orange apron tied neatly to your waist, covering a shredded crop-top, and you’re flipping a hearty slice of bread with an egg in the center.

“Hey Sarge.” You smile, “Help yourself to an eggy. Yolk’s runny and dippable, just like God intended.”

He shakes his head no because he knows you’re preparing it for Peter, but sits down on a stool anyway, leaning over the counter to watch you with interest. When one piece of toast cooks, you move to crack fresh pepper and sea salt over another. You also slice tomatoes and rinse fresh basil leaves, tunelessly humming the whole time. When you stifle a yawn with your shoulder, Bucky squints at the tell-tale blue bags under your eyes.

“Again?”

You rub your neck with a guilty smile and take a sip of water, “Got stuck on the internet… reading about… I can’t even... I know I started with Kennedy… but the last browser is bee swarming and royal jelly...”

He laughs when you go off on a rant about how bees communicate with each other, even demonstrating for him something you called a “waggle dance”, and he’s not sure if you’re just making shit up or not but it’s cute as hell when you bend your elbows and shuffle in figure eights on the tile.

“So then, me— a bee— would show you— another bee— this dance… and then you would go find the yummy flower! And did you know bees would dance with excitement depending on how convinced they are about the quality of the flower!? They get excited!” You repeat the same figure eight this time accompanied by elbow flapping and happy buzzing. The sound vibrates between your teeth and sizzles over your lips.

Bucky’s laughing so hard he has to put his face in his hand. Finally, you settle down.

“Now your turn.” You tease. He shakes his head defiantly, eyes still brimming with amusement.

You pour him a steaming mug of coffee and slide it next to his hand with a small smile. There’s a strange light in your bleary eyes as you bite your bottom lip.

A flush suddenly sweeps across your cheeks.

“What?” Bucky asks, taking a slow sip, savoring the bitter taste as it rolls down his throat.

“It’s stupid...it’s nothing.” The awkward laugh coming from your throat makes Bucky shuffle in the stool, wary and slightly concerned. Before you can continue, Steve pokes his head in and announces he’s going for a run and asks you to save him some breakfast when he gets back. Bucky checks the time on the microwave. Almost five.

Something dings on the bar counter and you move to grab your phone, frowning and placing your hands on the ruffles against your hip. A disappointed noise sputters from your mouth before you tear off the apron and turn off the stovetop with a quiet fury. “He cancelled!” You cry, disappointment darkening your features. “I made all this crap!”

Bucky looks over the countertop arrangement of perfectly crispy thick multigrain toast, shiny fried eggs, tupperware containers of tomato and shredded basil, and two thermoses of coffee and juice. Your shoulders slump as you place your hands on your hips and lean back to pop your neck and crack your knuckles. You pick up the trash can and kick off its lid, placing the edge of the gaping dark maw against the counter, holding your arm out to sweep the food in. Your generally pleasant features are stained by a scowl.

He forgets how impulsive you can be.

“Wait!” Bucky yells, reaching across the counter. “I’ll go. I’ll watch the sunrise with you.” When you stare at him in surprise, he quickly glances around the countertops, “Let’s not waste all this. You worked really hard on it.”

A squeal escapes as you drop the trash can and clasp your two hands together in a cheer. “Bucky. You are…” you suck in a deep breath and hold your hands over your heart, “just the best. My number one… Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the one-oh-seventh.”

His heart leaps just a tad as his former title rolls off your tongue almost wistfully. Bucky opens his mouth to ask you what you mean but you’re balancing two containers of foil-wrapped toast, another one of tomato slices and the thermoses are hanging precariously on your middle fingers. Bucky leaps from his seat and takes the food from you, leaving the thermoses in your hand.

“To the roof, Sarge!” You smile, leading the way. He follows closely behind and raises his eyebrow curiously when you keep looking back at him every few steps.

It’s in the middle of biting into the most heavenly piece of toast he’s ever had that Bucky hears you giggle shyly. You’re rarely bashful— usually too sharp-tongued and unfiltered is how most people would describe you. It’s why your best friend is Peter Parker: boy genius, mile-a-minute-mouth.

“What is it?” Bucky’s teeth crunch against the crisp brown edge, the bite of egg sliding over his tongue.

You’re leaned back on your palm, brushing a crumb from the corner of your mouth as you chew pensively on a slice of tomato. The sky is a blackened bruise behind you, disappearing into the balm of a soft, glowing orange.

“You were my deadcrush back in the day.” You mutter, hiding your lips with the tomato. Bucky stops mid-chew and freezes completely, unsure if the confession is just another trick his mind is playing on him. Maybe a breeze in the wind just sounds like your voice. “Not to make this weird…” you supply almost fearfully.

“Oh…”

“I mean— you know, it was totally normal. All the girls either liked Captain America or Sergeant Barnes.” You stuff the tomato in your mouth and reach for another just to busy your hands. Bucky’s face heats up like the morning, and he takes a sip of orange juice to calm it down.

“Sure,” you ramble onward, tomato flinging around between your fingers as you gesture back and forth, “I mean, most of them liked Cap— golden lion boy and all—hero’s journey kind of thing… I guess I felt, closer to you.”

You exhale deeply, “When you first came to the tower, I thought I was dreaming. Can you imagine? I felt like I was in the sixth grade.”

His brow furrows as he ponders your question. “Is that why you’re so nice to me?” It slips out before he can catch it, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

“Probably at first,” You admit with a little shrug, “But eventually the schoolgirl crush thing went away, and I started liking you way more. Genuinely, y’know? Not under the thumb of a paltry, fleeting thing.”

He forgets how unexpectedly introspective you can be.

The tomato in your hand is only a shimmer of juice on your fingers now and you reach for something else to occupy yourself lest you become reduced to just weighing your hands together out of nervousness. You pause when Bucky asks, shocked, “You l-like me?”

Then, a smile, against the warming backdrop, he thinks you look like something out of a painter’s imagination—a delicate page from Steve’s notepad. A gentle breeze picks up your lashes, makes you squint a little.

“Yeah. I like you a lot.”

How does someone say such a heavy thing so easily? Bucky turns hot all over, heart beating too fast from your statement and the coffee made too strongly. “Thank you.”

You laugh and throw your head back for a second before shaking your hair wildly and sitting up, as if you’re discarding something. Light bounces off your cheeks as you catch your breath and take the coffee thermos from him. “You’re welcome, Bucky.” Then, softer, “Look.”

A streak of yellow opens up the sky in the east, melting away the ink around it into flames of blood orange and cerise. Still twinkling are the stars entrenched in deep blue further away.

“I’m not dead anymore.” He states plainly. “I can’t be your deadcrush if I’m not dead anymore.”

A chortle escapes- snorts and scoffs and not at all what he expects when you push your hand to your face and laugh in such a way that he might for a split second find it unattractive. But he doesn’t. He finds it so truly endearing that his heart swells like clouds over the morning sky.

A part of him quiets with the settling feeling of disappointment. Your silence gets swirled around in the next bitter mouthful of coffee and Bucky kicks his heel aimlessly against the concrete rooftop. To his left, you scoot a little closer, reach over and take the thermos from his hand. Your fingers linger, and then you put the container down.

“Bucky,” You say. His name so sweetly rolls off your tongue he can taste it—spun sugar and molasses in his mouth. It’s orange and yellow and blue behind you. Your eyes glisten with promise, as sure as the sunrise.

“You can want things, like love.”

It’s so forthright it punches the air right out of him. Before he knows it, you are leaning forward with a smile, planting a tender kiss on his cheek as he stares on open-mouthed and in awe.

And then, you break the moment with a yawn covered by your hand and groan as fatigue slips over like a blanket. “Oh fuck, I am beat, Sarge. Why’d you let me stay up so late?”

He only smiles before he puts his hand over yours for just a moment. “Come on,” He says, “I’ll help you clean up.” But the moment changes again, and he finds himself crawling past the containers of egg and toast, nearly knocking over the juice to hover over your mouth.

Coffee and cream linger between hesitant lips. Then there is a feverish clash-- you, clambering to sit up, to match him in enthusiasm-- him, bold enough to meet your surge with two large hands. He snakes them around your waist, crushing your torso to his.

Your fingers create a separation between your stomachs as you ruck his shirt up, gripping his chest and back and digging into his shoulder. A sharp breath escapes before he comes to snuff it out, licking your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

“Jesus.” You mutter when you break away for air, eyes still closed, “God. Okay. This is happening.”

Bucky laughs and sits back, places his hand on your bare thigh, shaking his head. “I—yeah, well maybe not here.”

“Yeah- yeah, of course… I .. get so caught up.”

He laughs again, because he knows. It’s why you haven’t slept all night, why you made a feast for just two people watching a sunrise, why you ramble on about the most mundane things but somehow still enrapture him, and it’s why he likes you. Your cheeks burn when the first ray of sunshine shoots over the tree scape.

A ding next to your hand catches his attention—a text from Steve.

You peer at it curiously before opening the message. Bucky looks too, and sees the image of the same sunrise he’s witnessed, but over the familiarity of the East Side sprawl.

A second message appears, Steve grinning, Peter winking.

A third one with a single, cheeky question: You and Buck doin’ good?

Bucky slips his shirt back down his golden torso while you tap out a furious response, groaning at the way you’ve been set up by your friends. Before you can send it, he takes the device from you and places it face-down on the roof with a smile. “Are we?” He asks, suddenly shy. “Doin’ good?”

Quietly, you nod.

In the middle of a second kiss, Bucky knows he’s done for. He’s falling hard and fast and can’t stop.

In the middle of a third kiss, you’re there next to him, all smiles and wonder as the two of you plunge together.

Part 2

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (17)

Thor woke up to the sound of people laughing in the kitchen. It smelled like coffee and bacon and something sweet and cinnamony. He loved this house. It was perfectly warm here like you might need a sweater but otherwise comfortable.

How stupidly romantic of his brother, he thought. Building this house without you knowing was very Loki but only if he also intended on keeping you as his prisoner. This was not his intention though. This was a home Loki built for the two of you. He made a space big enough for his big brother to feel comfortable when he visited. Rooms that would be perfect nurseries. He never envisioned his brother wanting children.

At the center of it all was you. He watched you holding court in the kitchen like a proper queen. Loki and Steve mooning over you hanging on your every word. You weren’t a mortal. You were a siren calling men to their deaths. Before his eyes he watched his brother and good friend happily following your song crashing their ships on jagged rocks.

You noticed him staring and smiled at him. “Thor, do you want pancakes or eggs or both?” He smiled back.

“Pancakes please. Everyone seems to be in a good mood this morning.”

“Come relax, brother. Coffee?” Loki was light. Not at all brooding line his usual self. When you delivered Thor’s stack of pancakes he grabbed your arm and pulled you close so that he could talk in your ear.

“Are you doing this?”

“No. I’m just as freaked out. Everyone woke up in such a good mood. Maybe a spell?” You said gritting your teeth.

Loki leaned over to whisper to you both, “It’s not a spell. Steve and I spoke last night. Everything is fine. Enjoy breakfast.” Thor shrugged and shoved some pancakes in his mouth. He’s Steve now? Ok. That’s not strange at all.

“Thor, Loki just got finished telling us that he went grocery shopping and to a farmers market.” Thor choked on his pancakes. “That’s exactly what I said” you laughed.

“Why is it impossible for you people to imagine me buying food? Am I so incapable of caring for myself?” He was beyond offended. You patted him on the head. “Don’t patronize me, girl. I am nothing if not a survivor. I needed sustenance.”

“Don’t listen to them, Loki. It’s funny because you are a prince. I’m sure on Asgard you sit at a table and food is set in front of you. Even royals on Earth don’t grocery shop.” Wanda said to sooth him.

When Steve cleared his throat the mood became more serious. “Ok. We need to get a move on. Buck and Sam you’re with me. Loki and Wanda you stay with Y/N. Thor you get to Stephen Strange. Hopefully we can get answers without bloodshed.”

Everyone got up from the table. You followed Steve to the bedroom. “What are you going to do? I don’t like any of this.”

“Please don’t worry. I’m just going to talk to Tony. He’s a good man. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”

“And if it’s not? What then?” He rubbed your shoulders trying to calm you down.

“Then we’ll get out of there and come back to you. Please don’t worry. You’re safe here. Loki and Wanda are here. I’m totally confident in all of your abilities.” You stood on your tip toes to kiss him.

“I’m worried about you. You were ready to tear the world apart last night.”

“When your life is in question nothing will stop me from protecting you. Nothing. I will be safe.” He bent to kiss you again. “I’ll call you when we’re on the way back. I love you.”

“Mmmm. Say that again.” Another kiss.

“I love you.” He smiled down at you gazing at you through his lashes. He ran a finger down your cheek and hooked it under your chin to lift your face towards his.

“I love you too.” He held your face and kissed you again. It was hard for him to pull away but he did. He took your hand and lead you down the hall to do final checks with everyone. You hugged Bucky and Sam and told Sam not to wreck your car. You hugged Thor although you were going to see him soon. You kissed Steve again by the car so Loki didn’t have to watch.

He and Wanda were sitting on the porch when you walked back into the gate. You looked a little sad with a wistful smile on your face. You sat on the step below them so you could rest your head on Loki’s lap. With your free hand you grabbed Wanda’s. You sat in silence for a while watching the car disappear into the woods. Once they were gone you sat up and patted them both, “Dishes.”

After you finished in the kitchen Wanda went out to the garden to meditate and wait for Thor. At least that’s what she said she was doing. She was really giving you and Loki some time to catch up.

He walked you around the house really letting you look at everything. You let your emotions loose and openly cried at his kindness. “I think you and Steve will be very happy here.” When he said those words the breath left your body.

“You gave up that easy?” He stepped forward to wipe your face. You wanted to hold him but he kept you at an arms length.

“No, pet, you gave up. You said as much when you essentially severed any link I had to you. Am I right to assume you’ve made your choice? I heard the two of you last night. At least I heard you. You so casually fucked him in the home I made for us! That pretty much put the final nail in the coffin that was us.”

“I don’t know what to say. I love you both. Can’t I have you both?” you sobbed.

He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t work that way. You said to me, the day I left, you said you loved me more than Andrew. That what you felt for me was beyond what you’ve ever felt. Where does Steve fall? Has he surpassed me?”

“No...”

“Don’t lie! Don’t tell me what I want to hear because I swear...I swear I cannot take it.”

“Then what do you want?”

“The truth! Do you want me? Today everyday for the rest of our lives?” You were silent. “Right. I’ll be outside.” He turned away from you but you grabbed his wrist.

“Stop! Look at me...” you touched his face. He leaned into you. “I want you forever. What I said was true. You more than anyone. Give me more time.”

“I don’t want to have to be the one to point out the obvious but he lied to you. He allowed for you to be poisoned and put you in unimaginable danger. Doesn’t sound like love to me, Darling. But take all the time you need.”

You could make up excuses to try to justify what happened but you couldn’t. The fact was he lied to you. And you let it go without another thought. He has you going to Alaska and you don’t know why. He always says he’s trying to protect you but he never gives you the chance to make your own decisions. He treats you like a fragile child when you know good and well you can take him out with the flick of your wrist. Loki embraces who you are and what you can do. On your new list that’s a big ole strike one for Steve.

Hours later Strange and Wong are with you waiting for Steve to call. I told you so were the first words Strange said when he walked through the portal.

“Well you didn’t exactly tell me why they wanted you to bind me.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “But I did warn you to walk away. I don’t trust any of them. Not even your boyfriend. He was with Tony the day they first asked.” That was a gut punch. You guessed only Tony made the request. Loki wanted to echo the I told you so sentiment but kept it to himself when he saw how crushed you were.

“He thought he was protecting me. He knew I’d never agree.”

“Of course not,” he scoffed “binding you would leave you defenseless. With the Kale’s still looming somewhere there was no way you could agree. There is a power they want in Alaska and you’re how they get it. It’s something big that your body would otherwise reject. Either you sit this one out or we all go.”

Everything Loki and Strange said made you feel sick. You were anxious. It was taking so long for Steve to call. You were slowly seeing this life wasn’t meant for you.

You sat in the big tufted chair and conjured yourself some tea. Wong smiled and handed you a cookie to go with it. He was the only one who noticed your success.

Finally the guys pulled up to your house. Strange and Wong stood protectively at your side. Frazzled you did not look up from your tea.

They came in quietly with no excitement. Steve spotted you in the chair and didn’t come over at first. “You ok, Princess?”

“Fine. A little nervous that’s all. What did Tony say?” Your voice was steady but you were trembling. He knelt in front of you and took your tea cup and set it down on the table.

“Honey, they are sticking with their story. We are leaving tonight. They sent us back to bring you to the compound.” He held your hands and kissed your knuckles. You kept your eyes fixed on the floor. “Y/N, will you look at me?”

“Why do they want me, Steve?” Your voice was soft but strong.

He lowered his eyes. “I don’t know for sure. We think to absorb an ability but beyond that is anyone’s guess. What are you thinking?” You thought for a moment then stood up. Steve stood up too. Everyone in the room looked at you expectantly.

“I think I need to get on the plane. Give me five minutes. I just need to change.” They thought you’d fight back. They thought you would refuse. They thought you’d be afraid. They continue to underestimate you and it started to piss you off.

“No. No. Absolutely not. No. You can’t go.” Loki was like a coiled spring. He was bounding across the room to do what he didn’t exactly know. To stop you? To shake you until you came to your senses? He wasn’t sure but he had to act fast. “I’ll go. I am a shapeshifter. I can shift into you easily. See?” You were staring at a perfect clone of yourself. “And I can hold it for months if I have to.”

You patted him on the head and smiled. “I’m going. Please just this once trust me. I’m not as stupid as I act sometimes.” He shifted back and stormed out of the door. “I’ll be out in a few.” You went back to the bedroom to change and wash your face. As you pinned up your hair you stared at your reflection in the mirror. The person you saw looking back was unrecognizable. You had gone so far into cover that you didn’t know yourself anymore. Best to focus on the task and hand and finish this so you could resume your boring life.

Everyone was waiting for you. Strange and Wong said very little except they would be waiting for your call. Everyone jumped in your car. Bucky took the bike ahead of you all to be on the look out for any trouble along the way. Loki stood pouting in the doorway watching you.

“Hey can you give me a second with Lok?” Steve’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t keen on the idea but let it go.

“This is insane. I don’t trust any of them.” Loki started to spin out. You grabbed his arms and forced him to see you. You pushed him inside to avoid prying eyes and ears.

“I need you to do something for me.” You pressed a piece of paper into his hand. “Call the number on this card and ask for Logan. Let him know where we’re headed. If they aren’t in Alaska already they can be on the X-jet and to the site faster than we can. Please just trust me.”

“Who is Logan?” he said confused.

“Back up. Lok, you know I can take care of myself. You know how strong I am. I know you can feel it.” You took his hand and placed it over your heart, “King of my life, this is yours. I promise I will come home to you safe and sound. I love you.”

“I’m begging you.” He searched your face and found that he was fighting a losing battle. “Fine. As the rightful king of your heart, I command you to keep it beating.”

“I swear I will be safe.” You kissed him hard. So hard your lips swell a little and turn a fresh shade of pink. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Y/ N.” He didn’t notice the tiny screwdriver on the leather cord in your hand. You slipped it around his neck and he felt that it was warm again. When he closed his eyes your pulse beat steady in his ears. You flashed your wrist and showed him the bracelet back in its place.

[kyber-kisses]

In The Wind

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: pretty angsty but that’s about it.

Summary: based on the lyrics In the Wind by Lord Huron. (It’s a song fic folks!)

A/n: Lord Hurons music is some of my all time favorite shit to listen to, and the lyrics always get my creative juices flowing, so this is probably the first out of multiple song fics I write for his music. I literally listened to this song on repeat while writing this, so Please enjoy!

Link to song here: https://open.spotify.com/track/6gTglnHm9CIGGRox5TtMd9?si=iZ8Tc3fuQ3mfgAqYKztsqA

“You’re thinking about her again, aren't you?”

Sam's voice pulled Dean from his haze, eyes slowly looking up from his glass of whiskey to land on his brother and Jack.

Not this again.

Dean did everything he could to try and ignore Jacks confused expression, the nephilim having no idea as to who they were talking about.

“Thinking about who?” Jack questioned, eyes ever so slightly lighting up.

You've been gone for a long long time

You've been in the wind, you've been on my mind

You are the purest soul I've ever known in my life

Damn it. He was letting his emotions peek through again.

“Okay, you know what- I’m not talking about this. Not now. Not ever.” Dean sighed, quickly pushing up from his spot at the table, downing the rest of his whiskey and slamming the glass back down, exiting the room with a huff.

Sam mentally slapped himself. He shouldn’t have brought it up. It always put Dean in a mood. There was a good chance his brother was going to lock himself away in his room for the weekend because of it.

“Did- did I do something?” Jack questioned, eyes darting from the doorway to Sam, hoping for an explanation.

“Uh- no, no you didn’t. It’s mainly my fault.” Sam sighed.

Pushing up from his own seat, Sam crossed the kitchen, not sure whether what he was about to do was a good idea or not.

Digging behind the shelf of coffee mugs, he produced the artifact that Dean had tried so hard to keep hidden. With slow steps he moved back to Jack, handing over the worn picture frame, the glass in one corner slightly cracked, but otherwise spotless.

Take your time, let the rivers guide you in

You know where you can find me again

I'll be waiting here 'til the stars fall out of the sky

“Her name was Y/n.”

Jack tilted his head, looking at both the familiar face and new one in the photograph. The whole thing almost seemed foreign though. Dean was smiling- well he wasn’t just smiling, he was laughing, leaning back against the impala, arm sling over the shoulders of a young woman. Her head tilted back in laughter,  y/h/c hair blowing slighting across her features.

“She was— she was Deans best friend. Ever since we were kids. Though he never has said it out loud, everyone knew he was in love with her. There was no doubt about that.He always denied it though when people brought it up.” Sam continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips as memories flooded through him.

“What happened?”

Sam took a breath, knowing full well Dean was probably gonna kick his ass later. “When Dean was first pulled from hell, one of the demons in charge of him, Alastair, was really angry, and I mean really angry, He tracked us down.” The younger Winchester sucked in another breath, fiddling with his thumbs, “he- he practically butchered her right in front us. Dean fought so hard, but it was too late. He never forgave himself for that.”

“. . .Oh.”

When you left I was far too young

To know you're worth more than the moon and the sun

You are still alive when I look to the sky in the night

Dean always told people that he didn’t do the whole “love thing.”

That was a lie.

Because even if he never said it out loud, Dean Winchester had been completely and utterly in love with you. Hell, a massive part of him still was, even if almost a decade had passed.

There was no one like you. There never would be. You were just a feisty eight year old when you and Dean had met. He was seven.

Your meeting was anything but romantic. Uncle Bobby always warned you about strangers, so when when you bumped into Dean in his study- things didn’t go smoothly.

You kneed him in the groin and took his pocket knife.

Dean thought you were the coolest girl he had ever met.

I would wait for a thousand years

I would sit right here by the lake, my dear

You just let me know that you're coming home

And I'll wait for you

Walking down the empty hallways of the bunker , Dean found himself pausing in front of one of the many vacant bedrooms. He didn’t really know why he stopped in his tracks, but he did.

You would have loved this place. You would have read every book to be found and undoubtedly decorated your room in some odd fashion that would actually, somehow come together. You would have tinkered with every vintage car that sat in the garage and found the hallways perfect for rollerblading through.

You would have made this place so much better. So much brighter.

But you weren’t here.

Dean eventually slunk back to his room, blocking out his surroundings with a pair of headphones as he scrolled through his phone, looking for something in particular. And then he found it: Y/ns favorites.

The playlist was jammed pack full of your favorite oldies, going from Sam Cooke to The Beatles. You always did have good taste. You would definitely find today’s music downright terrible.

Years have gone but the pain is the same

I have passed my days by the sound of your name

Well they say that you're gone and that I should move on

I wonder: how do they know, baby?

Even if he had lost you all those years ago, his mind always found time to wander back to you. He saw pieces of you in almost everything. Every once in a while, during a case or just a supply run, he would hear someone call out to a person with the same name, and he would whip around, ever so slightly hoping he would see you.

He never did.

He would see an album cover for a record, or even take a bite of food, and think: “oh y/n would love this.”

No matter how far he ran or how fast he moved, he could never escape you, but then again, he didn’t want to. You were a part of him, ever since the two of you locked eyes in Bobby’s study.

Death is a wall but it can't be the end

You are my protector and my best friend

Well they say that you're gone and that I should move on

I wonder: how do they know, baby?

How do they know? Well, they don't

“What was she like?” Jack questioned, lowering the frame to the table as he looked up at Sam, eyebrows drawn together in interest. He wanted to know more about you.

You had been Deans best friend after all.

Sam let out a light chuckle, sliding the frame back towards himself so he could look at it again, “Y/n, I think, never knew the effect she had on others, the intensity or presence she brought to the room,” he paused, moving to wipe some of the dust from the frame, “She was feisty. . . And troubled, like the rest of us, but she was also impossible to ignore or forget.” Sam had to stop, giving himself a moment to compose himself so he didn’t start crying in front of the kid.

“Then I understand why Dean would have loved her. She sounds amazing.” Jack smiled, earning a grin Sam as well.

“Oh trust me, she was. I think she would have really liked you.” Pushing away from the kitchen table, Sam patted him on the back, undoubtedly retreating to his own room for the night.

That’s when the nephilim had a sudden thought: if he could bring back Castiel from the Great beyond, why couldn’t he do the same with you?

The End?

SPN taglist: @familybusinesswritingbro​@a--1--1--3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​ @callmekda​ @jordangdelacruz​ @orphiceseum​ @andthatsmyworld​ @marvelfangirllll​ @fandomnerdespressourself​ @gladiosamicitias​ @castielsangelsx​ @lxstgxrl-ck​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit​ @amendoise​ @phoenixuprisingsstuff​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​ @neerness​ @totallyluciferr​ @supernaturalenchanted​​ @dolanfivsosxox @horrorstreet​​

[marril96]

Where You Belong

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: You’re bored. Rowena doesn’t care.

A/N: Based on this prompt by @drink-it-write-it​.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

As soon as you stepped foot in the living room, Rowena, sparing you a brief glance before lowering her eyes back to the thick grimoire in her hands, said, "No."

"You don't even know what I was gonna say!" you protested.

"I don't have to — I can see it on your face," she said nonchalantly, as if he were talking about the weather. Which was horribly sunny, given your predicament. "And the answer is no."

"You're no fun," you whined, pouting. She paid you no mind, uninterested in your antics, only letting out a small scoff to let you know she'd heard you and she was not going to play along.

She could be so mean sometimes. Jokingly, you wished you'd never fallen in love with her, though you knew it was impossible not to. As flawed as she was, the woman was so damn lovable! Even if she put on an act to convince people otherwise. You'd seen right through her, and still could. Once you'd seen Rowena's sweet, gentle side, you couldn't forget it. In your eyes, it would always be her. The true her. The cold, bitter walls she'd built to protect herself nothing but a see-through shell, hiding the gem that laid within.

You sat down next to her on the couch. "I'm bored."

With the coronavirus going around and quarantine encouraged, almost imposed, there was nothing to do. Nowhere to go. You and Rowena, powerful witches each in your own right, weren't at risk. Even if you were to get infected, magic would take care of it. Still, better safe than sorry.

The two of you had stocked up on food and other necessities weeks ago. Not in fear of the virus (Rowena did not appreciate your jokes that, being almost four hundred years old, she was at the highest risk of complications), but rather because people were buying like crazy and stores were quickly running out of the most important stuff. Now, you were packed for weeks. No need to leave the house.

Even the Winchesters had taken a break from hunting. The brothers had generously offered you and Rowena shelter in the Bunker. The two of you had declined, your house quite safe thanks to the protective spells you'd cast, but you appreciated the gesture. If it came to the worst (you doubted it but, but just in case), you were always welcome in their home.

"That sounds like a you problem," Rowena said dryly, not taking her eyes off her grimoire.

You pouted, feigning offense. "I wanna hang out with you."

"I don't."

"Meanie."

"I would like to read my grimoire in peace." She paused. Took a breath, two, three. "Please."

Like that was going to work. If anything, it made you more persistent. "You've read it like a hundred times already!"

"This one is new," Rowena said. "I traded a dried heart of mandragora for it."

Of course she did.

"You can read it later."

"I want to read it now."

There was no bargaining with her. Didn't mean you wouldn't try. "Please, sweetie? I've got nothing to do."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Read a book."

"I'm not in the mood." You thought you would be, that being quarantined would be a perfect opportunity to read some of the books you'd accumulated, but you couldn't get yourself to do it. You couldn't get yourself to do pretty much anything. "I wanna be with you."

She scoffed. "And I want fillet mignon from my favourite restaurant, but I can't get that, can I?"

"Not my fault it's closed," you said with a shrug.

"Not the point, dear."

You groaned. "Pleeeeease." It was the whine of a wounded dog and a spoiled child. Usually a perfect weapon; Rowena was quite susceptible to it. When she wanted to be. Which she didn't seem to at the moment. "Wena." Cutesy nickname; weapon number two. Then, puppy eyes, and, "I need you."

She groaned, exasperated. On the verge of defeat.

You leaned your head on her shoulder. "I love you," you said softly. Exactly the way it warmed her heart to hear. "Baby girl.".

Rowena sighed. Beaten. Defeated. She slammed the grimoire shut and shot you a look that had killed before, the kind that was worse than a glare and froze the blood in the veins of anyone who dared slight her. You'd stopped fearing her ages ago; you doubted you ever truly did. Even back when she was a wicked witch, you knew there was more to her than met the eye. She couldn't scare you, no matter how hard she tried.

By now, it had become a game of sorts. She would glare. You would act nonchalant. It felt good to be the only one who wasn't afraid of her, the only one she trusted enough to let them not be afraid. You were certain she liked it, as well. Not many people dared challenge her, push her buttons for the mere sake of pushing them. You stood up to her, and she seemed to enjoy it.

Since day one, you treated her like a person. She held grudges, but she also remembered the good things. The positive things. Gratitude, though not expressed in words, was something she held on to.

"You're a menace, you know that?" she said in a tone that was too exaggerated to be true irritation.

You grinned. "But I'm your menace."

She sighed dramatically. "I have made a horrible mistake."

"Aw," you groaned with a pout, "you know you love me."

She eyed you for a moment. Forced her lips into a straight line to hide the smile threatening to spill over. "Maybe."

Her arm slid around you, hand gently rubbing your forearm. You snuggled closer, enjoying the sensation. Nerves calming under the soft, gentle caress of her skin across yours. This was the Rowena you loved. Sweet. Tender. Warm underneath the ice.

"I'm glad we're together," you said. "I wouldn't wanna be quarantined with anyone else."

"Me as well, dear," Rowena said after a few moments of silence. "Even if you sometimes make me want to set myself on fire again. Willingly."

"That's dark."

She chuckled. "My annoying wee girl."

"My wicked witch-bitch," you teased. She lightly smacked your arm. "Ow! No violence!"

"You deserved it." Her head leaned on top of yours. "What is it you would like to do?"

"I don't know," you admitted. You wanted to be with her. Or rather, wanted her to entertain you for you couldn't do it yourself. "Cuddle, I guess?"

She put her other arm around you. "Sounds good to me."

"And after, do you think we could—"

"No."

"But—"

"I have made myself clear, Y/N."

Damn it! There was no changing her mind, it seemed.

Oh, well.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, and then you laid down. Her arms never left you. You nestled in her embrace, in her warmth, and soon your eyes fell closed and a nap took you over.

When you woke up an hour later, Rowena was still there, still holding you with love in her eyes.

Being with her was right. True. Exactly where you belonged.

You wouldn't change it for the world.

*****

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