#( SAM E... BRING IT ON )

[the-faketiccit0by]

....

W h y d o e s t h e n e w s a m s v i l l a i n s o u n d l i k e K C

[innalheid]

I s2g ever since that game changer episode kiss from a rose just magically appears in my head. constantly. I WOULD LIKE ANY OTHER SONG PLEASE

[possumsarenice]

SAMS SPOILERS (below cut and in the tags)

BABY GIRL NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[theinfinitedivides]

Zee Music doing some weird ass sh*t on Spotify........... literally every Bollywood album i have in my playlist that's licensed to them is still gone (handful of tracks have popped back up under Various Artists. including Kala Chashma i feel like i should mention that). Sam Bahadur, having been released yesterday, is somehow available for streaming. how does this work

[chussyracing]

which livery are you most excited for?

ferrari since it's my one true love and always has been (also because last year's launch was the best ever launch i have ever seen from any team ever, so the expectations are set high). other than that i'm curious about williams, because i love the blue color and i'm a SUCKER for the duracell sponsorship part of ther livery (they better keep it)

[fushitoru]

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The one weird monopoly trick that gave us Walmart and Amazon and killed Main Street

I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

Walmart didn't just happen. The rise of Walmart – and Amazon, its online successor – was the result of a specific policy choice, the decision by the Reagan administration not to enforce a key antitrust law. Walmart may have been founded by Sam Walton, but its success (and the demise of the American Main Street) are down to Reaganomics.

The law that Reagan neutered? The Robinson-Patman Act, a very boring-sounding law that makes it illegal for powerful companies (like Walmart) to demand preferential pricing from their suppliers (farmers, packaged goods makers, meat producers, etc). The idea here is straightforward. A company like Walmart is a powerful buyer (a "monopsonist" – compare with "monopolist," a powerful seller). That means that they can demand deep discounts from suppliers. Smaller stores – the mom and pop store on your Main Street – don't have the clout to demand those discounts. Worse, because those buyers are weak, the sellers – packaged goods companies, agribusiness cartels, Big Meat – can actually charge them more to make up for the losses they're taking in selling below cost to Walmart.

Reagan ordered his antitrust cops to stop enforcing Robinson-Patman, which was a huge giveaway to big business. Of course, that's not how Reagan framed it: He called Robinson-Patman a declaration of "war on low prices," because it prevented big companies from using their buying power to squeeze huge discounts. Reagan's court sorcerers/economists asserted that if Walmart could get goods at lower prices, they would sell goods at lower prices.

Which was true…up to a point. Because preferential discounting (offering better discounts to bigger customers) creates a structural advantage over smaller businesses, it meant that big box stores would eventually eliminate virtually all of their smaller competitors. That's exactly what happened: downtowns withered, suburban big boxes grew. Spending that would have formerly stayed in the community was whisked away to corporate headquarters. These corporate HQs were inevitably located in "onshore-offshore" tax haven states, meaning they were barely taxed at the state level. That left plenty of money in these big companies' coffers to spend on funny accountants who'd help them avoid federal taxes, too. That's another structural advantage the big box stores had over the mom-and-pops: not only did they get their inventory at below-cost discounts, they didn't have to pay tax on the profits, either.

MBA programs actually teach this as a strategy to pursue: they usually refer to Amazon's "flywheel" where lower prices bring in more customers which allows them to demand even lower prices:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaSwWYemLek

You might have heard about rural and inner-city "food deserts," where all the independent grocery stores have shuttered, leaving behind nothing but dollar stores? These are the direct product of the decision not to enforce Robinson-Patman. Dollar stores target working class neighborhoods with functional, beloved local grocers. They open multiple dollar stores nearby (nearly all the dollar stores you see are owned by one of two conglomerates, no matter what the sign over the door says). They price goods below cost and pay for high levels of staffing, draining business off the community grocery store until it collapses. Then, all the dollar stores except one close and the remaining store fires most of its staff (working at a dollar store is incredibly dangerous, thanks to low staffing levels that make them easy targets for armed robbers). Then, they jack up prices, selling goods in "cheater" sizes that are smaller than the normal retail packaging, and which are only made available to large dollar store conglomerates:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/27/walmarts-jackals/#cheater-sizes

Writing in The American Prospect, Max M Miller and Bryce Tuttle1 – a current and a former staffer for FTC Commissioner Alvaro Bedoya – write about the long shadow cast by Reagan's decision to put Robinson-Patman in mothballs:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-08-13-stopping-excessive-market-power-monopoly/

They tell the story of Robinson-Patman's origins in 1936, when A&P was using preferential discounts to destroy the independent grocery sector and endanger the American food system. A&P didn't just demand preferential discounts from its suppliers; it also charged them a fortune to be displayed on its shelves, an early version of Amazon's $38b/year payola system:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

They point out that Robinson-Patman didn't really need to be enacted; America already had an antitrust law that banned this conduct: section 2 of the the Clayton Act, which was passed in 1914. But for decades, the US courts refused to interpret the Clayton Act according to its plain meaning, with judges tying themselves in knots to insist that the law couldn't possibly mean what it said. Robinson-Patman was one of a series of antitrust laws that Congress passed in a bid to explain in words so small even federal judges could understand them that the purpose of American antitrust law was to keep corporations weak:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

Both the Clayton Act and Robinson-Patman reject the argument that it's OK to let monopolies form and come to dominate critical sectors of the American economy based on the theoretical possibility that this will lead to lower prices. They reject this idea first as a legal matter. We don't let giant corporations victimize small businesses and their suppliers just because that might help someone else.

Beyond this, there's the realpolitik of monopoly. Yes, companies could pass lower costs on to customers, but will they? Look at Amazon: the company takes $0.45-$0.51 out of every dollar that its sellers earn, and requires them to offer their lowest price on Amazon. No one has a 45-51% margin, so every seller jacks up their prices on Amazon, but you don't notice it, because Amazon forces them to jack up prices everywhere else:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees

The Robinson-Patman Act did important work, and its absence led to many of the horribles we're living through today. This week on his Peoples & Things podcast, Lee Vinsel talked with Benjamin Waterhouse about his new book, One Day I’ll Work for Myself: The Dream and Delusion That Conquered America:

https://athenaeum.vt.domains/peoplesandthings/2024/08/12/78-benjamin-c-waterhouse-on-one-day-ill-work-for-myself-the-dream-and-delusion-that-conquered-america/

Towards the end of the discussion, Vinsel and Waterhouse turn to Robinson-Patman, its author, Wright Patman, and the politics of small business in America. They point out – correctly – that Wright Patman was something of a creep, a "Dixiecrat" (southern Democrat) who was either an ideological segregationist or someone who didn't mind supporting segregation irrespective of his beliefs.

That's a valid critique of Wright Patman, but it's got little bearing on the substance and history of the law that bears his name, the Robinson-Patman Act. Vinsel and Waterhouse get into that as well, and while they made some good points that I wholeheartedly agreed with, I fiercely disagree with the conclusion they drew from these points.

Vinsel and Waterhouse point out (again, correctly) that small businesses have a long history of supporting reactionary causes and attacking workers' rights – associations of small businesses, small women-owned business, and small minority-owned businesses were all in on opposition to minimum wages and other key labor causes.

But while this is all true, that doesn't make Robinson-Patman a reactionary law, or bad for workers. The point of protecting small businesses from the predatory practices of large firms is to maintain an American economy where business can't trump workers or government. Large companies are literally ungovernable: they have gigantic war-chests they can spend lobbying governments and corrupting the political process, and concentrated sectors find it comparatively easy to come together to decide on a single lobbying position and then make it reality.

As Vinsel and Waterhouse discuss, US big business has traditionally hated small business. They recount a notorious and telling anaecdote about the editor of the Chamber of Commerce magazine asking his boss if he could include coverage of small businesses, given the many small business owners who belonged to the Chamber, only to be told, "Over my dead body." Why did – why does – big business hate small business so much? Because small businesses wreck the game. If they are included in hearings, notices of inquiry, or just given a vote on what the Chamber of Commerce will lobby for with their membership dollars, they will ask for things that break with the big business lobbying consensus.

That's why we should like small business. Not because small business owners are incapable of being petty tyrants, but because whatever else, they will be petty. They won't be able to hire million-dollar-a-month union-busting law-firms, they won't be able to bribe Congress to pass favorable laws, they can't capture their regulators with juicy offers of sweet jobs after their government service ends.

Vinsel and Waterhouse point out that many large firms emerged during the era in which Robinson-Patman was in force, but that misunderstands the purpose of Robinson-Patman: it wasn't designed to prevent any large businesses from emerging. There are some capital-intensive sectors (say, chip fabrication) where the minimum size for doing anything is pretty damned big.

As Miller and Tuttle write:

The goal of RPA was not to create a permanent Jeffersonian agrarian republic of exclusively small businesses. It was to preserve a diverse economy of big and small businesses. Congress recognized that the needs of communities and people—whether in their role as consumers, business owners, or workers—are varied and diverse. A handful of large chains would never be able to meet all those needs in every community, especially if they are granted pricing power.

The fight against monopoly is only secondarily a fight between small businesses and giant ones. It's foundationally a fight about whether corporations should have so much power that they are too big to fail, too big to jail, and too big to care.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/14/the-price-is-wright/#enforcement-priorities

[getaapologist]

Flow Backwards to Me.

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know. Some people are gonna hate this. But there are some of us out there that can't handle this look. And Sam isn't the real name for the person the character is based on in the movie, so I'm using 'Sam' as just a made up person. I have seen the movie and this contains no spoilers. Timeline-wise, if I had to place it, it's before the movie.

Pairing: Sam [Warfare] x reader

Summary: Sam has orders. You two are a bit melancholy about it.

Warnings: 18+ only. Goodbye sex. That's all. A slight smattering of plot.

“Hey, eyes on me.” A strained whisper.

Rough fingers pressing at your cheek. 

A fever. Sweat, damp sheets below proof of the exertion. The effort spent to get here, right here.

Your eyes meet his and you’re plunged into their dark depths, his face, his torso lit by the muted tv, some show long abandoned. 

The harsh light flickers over his features, like he’s submerged beneath the surface, hints of light reaching these depths. Casting over the focused expression he wears, the cut of his musculature. The light similarly bathes you in blue, and he commits it to memory.

A technicolor sea.

You see a flicker of relief in him at the eye contact. His grip on your hip tightens. 

His discipline doesn’t leave him, even here. Lips parted. Steady, measured thrusts. Driving deep, almost too deep.

It’s normally quite subtle, but not now. Because things are bubbling just beneath the surface.

He leaves in the morning. Doesn’t know when he’ll be back. Doesn’t know where he’s going. 

Well, he probably does, but he’s not going to tell you. 

He knows you. He knows everything you’re thinking. He doesn’t want you to worry. Doesn’t want you to flinch if the city gets named on the nightly news.

You would spiral.

It’s what he signed up for. What he’s trained for. And by extension, it’s what you signed up for too.

It doesn’t make it any less terrifying to give him up.

“I need you here with me, please,” Sam begged, covering your body with his, his nose pressing against your cheek. “For now.”

He’s trying to survive the weight of the reality that awaited. Pretending things are normal. 

Pretend with me, he wants to ask. But how could he? It’s too much.

Your hands find the soft velvet of his freshly buzzed hair and hold him close. “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, his lips finding yours in the process. 

There’s a level of detail in his every movement. Things that might normally get glossed over in the rush of chasing down that delicious morsel of pleasure are studied, taken apart.

It’s almost clinical.

He’s made it his job to map your features, to view you like this, to memorise the sounds his fingers elicit. Selfishly, he would draw on it later. But above all else, he needs to impart upon you just how much he cares. 

Just in case. 

So he takes his time. Well-versed in you, like it’s a vocation. His lips find your neck. His fingers dive low, drawing desperate, keening moans from your throat that he feels the vibrations of in his lips.

Your body chases his touch.

The tide pulls back. Threatens to wash you away. 

And right when things are too much, there he is.

“Breathe,” he urges, lips ghosting over your cheek as he lifts his face, watching you come undone.

Tense muscles, strangled cries, grip burning as the tide rushes back in all at once. 

Your legs clamp his hips in place against yours, keeping him trapped, your tremors bringing him close, too close, and he’s panicking. On the verge of relief, but he needs more friction.

Whines leave his throat, his fingers wrapping around one of your ankles, freeing his hips from your vice. And he moves.

Just a few seconds more, that’s all it takes. He’s buried deep, as deep as he can be, feet pushing off against the mattress, desperate to meld with you permanently.

The recovery is slow. It needs to be, this time.

For now.

The crush of him on top of you is welcome. Your eyes draw lines between the freckles on his shoulder as you both just breathe.

It’s easier now, after. Easier to forget about tomorrow.

“Sam,” you whisper. 

“Hmm?” he hums, his head turning so his lips brush over your cheekbone.

“It’s not forever.”

He allows himself a smile. “Right.”

The current changes. It reverses. Passing over the threshold. To acceptance.

He rolls off of you, staying on his side, his eyes still focused on you, but there’s a comfort in them now. A weariness, too.

“You’ll be fine without me,” he mutters, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

You force yourself to smile. You can be sad later, after he’s gone. “I don’t know, who else will remind me to get up on time after I’ve snoozed all my alarms?”

He laughs. “Sounds like it’s time to sink or swim, baby.”

He grins at your show of frustration, his heart a fraction less heavy. He needs the levity, craves it. 

He reaches out, pulling you into his chest as you pretend to push him away. But once his lips find your skin, the jig is up, and you’re melting again.

“Hey,” he says, cutting through the noise, the thoughts. As you focus on him, he smiles, big and bright. It’s meaningful. Something worth searing into memory. “I’m gonna miss the fuck out of you, you know that?”

It could’ve been sad. Depressing, even, to acknowledge. But oddly it doesn’t feel that way right now. 

You’re just grateful. Grateful to have him so close, to get to watch him smile, to get to hear his laugh. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Sam.” It was a guarantee.

Distracting him with little touches, talking through the next few months you’ll spend without him, it all gets a fraction of a percent easier. 

Waking up will be hell, but it’s all temporary. Eventually, he will be returned to you, and you’ll be waiting to help him get back to this.

A/N: Hope this was okay. I had something more lighthearted in mind when I first started trying to write anything for Sam, but tonight his just kind of fell out. Hope you find something to like about it, and if not, that's fine. If it's terrible, please tell me. Thank you!

[mkarchin713]

Danny just goes with the whole thing and does a “how long will it take Bruce Wayne to realize I’m not his kid” challenge for his blog.

The Wayne kids are all process this turn of evens differently

Steph is enabling the shit out of Danny for the chaos.

Cass is chanting “new brother” under her breath when ever she sees Danny.

Damian is still pissed his father left him at the crime scene and is taking it out on Danny. (“Give my back my knife” “you stabbed me, it’s mine now”)

Tim is just happy Damian has a new toy to chew on that’s not him.

Duke is doing his best to stay out of the line of fire, that you Ghost Vision.

Dick is torn between supporting Damian and mothering the shit out of Danny.

Jason just wants to know why the pits act weird around Danny.

Barbara is filming all of this for black mail posterity

And now #Danny Wayne is trending.

Prompt: on a dare Danny dresses up as a Robin (OC style and it’s a different variation costume every time) and randomly join the bats on their missions or patrols.

The goal is to time it and see how long it takes before the random bat figures him out. After a while he decided to just start getting costumes that are cheap nock offs of the actual heros instead of his mix and match robin set. Sam 100% funs this and Tucker is feeding Danny info to help him blend In

Imagine if Dani joins in so they can be a duo of Robin and Batman. Sometimes Dani gets to be Batman.

[runawrites-blog]

In Tune (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: During a few chance situations, everyone in your and Bucky's social circle gets to notice how in tune you two are with each other. (Female Reader) Word Count: 3,958 Warnings: Non-Graphic Violence/ Referenced Fighting. Non-Graphic Injuries. Non-Graphic Panic Attacks/ Aftermath of Panic Attacks. No Y/N. Petnames (Love, Sweetheart) A/N: Bucky has a panic attack in the VII part but it's not graphic and Steve basically stumbles in on the scene when he has already managed to calm down again. Also, the injury is that the reader got stabbed and Bucky is worried for her. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58773439

---

I.

The way back from your mission left you all freezing in the back of the SHIELD van you’d escaped in. With two windows busted in and a huge hole shot into the side, the wind was now blowing through the vehicle as you descended the snowy mountain and made your way toward a SHIELD safe house.

Natasha’s eyes drifted across everyone on board, watching how Steve kept taking one hand off the steering wheel whenever possible to try and warm it up, how Sam was shivering in the seat next to her, how Clint had his arms tightly wrapped around himself and you pulling your jacket around your body as shivers wracked your form. She looked at Bucky and watched how he kept flexing his flesh hand, likely trying to keep the blood circulating and thereby keep it warm. What set him apart from everyone else was that, while the rest of the team looked miserable, Bucky looked more anxious than anything.

But before she could ask him if he was alright, Natasha noticed how you were also looking at Bucky. Your eyes flicked from his hand to his deep frown and back, a concerned expression on your face. It didn’t take you long to move, taking Bucky’s flesh hand into both of yours before bringing it up to your face to blow on it in the hopes of warming it up. To Natasha’s surprise Bucky almost instantly relaxed as you began to blow warm air onto his hand, turning to look at you with a thankful smile.

“Better?”

“Warmer.” He answered, balling his hand into a fist as you once again blew warm air onto his skin. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“I know how much you hate being cold.” You murmured, wrapping both your hands around his as you gave him a comforting smile. “If this is what I can do to help, then I’ll do it. No need to thank me, Love.”

Natasha watched you two with a fond expression, realising how in tune you were with each other, how you’d realised what had made Bucky so anxious in a matter of seconds and how you’d immediately known how to help him. It was understandable that after everything he’d been through he hated being cold but Natasha also knew as well as anyone on the team that Bucky would have suffered through his discomfort in silence had it not been for your quick reaction. And she was thankful that her friend had someone who loved and supported him.

---

II.

“Uno.”

Clint watched as Bucky, Natasha and you all stared at him putting down his second to last card, warning everyone that he had almost won. And he knew that if no one put down a draw two or a draw four card or changed the colour he was bound to win this game.

“Seriously?” Natasha said in faked exasperation, laughing as she leaned back in the seat of the SHIELD plane you were all taking on your way to another mission. “You’ve won how many times now? Four?”

“Five.”

“I still think you shouldn’t have won that last one.”

“We agreed that you were allowed to stack draw four cards onto other draw four cards or onto draw two cards, so I took advantage of that.”

Clint grinned at Natasha’s expression before turning back to you and Bucky, sitting opposite him at the table. But you two weren’t looking at him, at least not fully. While your eyes still kept flicking back to Clint, you were much more focused on Bucky next to you, raising your eyebrows as if asking him an unsaid question. Bucky was fully looking at you and when he saw your expression he closed is eyes, his head moving just the smallest fraction to give you a nod. Before Cint could even think about what you two were possibly planning Natasha put down her card, a simple blue seven.

Then it was Bucky’s turn and he placed his card down with the faintest smirk on his lips. “Draw two.”

For a second Clint wondered why Bucky was smirking like that because it was you that would have to draw two more cards and with the colour still being blue he would still get to place his last one. Then he saw the grin spreading on your face as you put your card onto the pile in the middle of the table. “Draw four. Now you have to draw six cards, Clint.”

“Doll, you also get to choose a colour.”

Clint watched your smirk grow at the chuckle in Bucky’s voice. “You’re right, Sweetheart. Well then, I choose green.”

“You have to be kidding me, you two! Did you seriously team up with each other, just so I wouldn’t win?”

Bucky chuckled at that, shrugging his shoulders at Clint. “And we did that without even having to exchange a word.”

“That was very creepy, yes.”

“I thought it was kind of sweet.”

“Nat, you only think so because it means I’m not winning the game.”

“I really do think it’s sweet how in synch they are.”

---

III.

“You can relax, I won’t hurt you and I will fix up that malfunction in your arm.”

But it was obvious to Tony that Bucky could not simply relax, not when he was sitting in a sterile-looking room, in a cold metal chair as the other man got ready to dig into the wires of his arm. He was sure the only reason Bucky had even agreed to let Tony take a look at his arm was that you had come along with the promise of making sure no one did anything he didn’t want. But Bucky still looked terribly tense despite your presence in the room. You stood by the side, obviously worried about getting in the way as Tony started to set everything up.

“Seriously, Bucky, you’re in good hands. I know I joke around all the time but right now I’m one hundred per cent serious and completely focused. You will be just fine.”

Bucky simply nodded, remaining quiet as he focused on his breathing. Tony watched your eyes flicking to Bucky once more, giving the man a comforting smile and immediately the grip he had on the armrest with his right hand loosened a little. Tony watched you trying to comfort Bucky while still trying to stay out of the way for a few seconds more before he spoke up.

“If you want to sit down by his side, that’s fine. You won’t get in the way.”

You perked up at that and quickly thanked him, grabbing a nearby stool and pulling it to the right side of the chair. There you sat down and placed a hand over Bucky’s right one. He immediately turned it around to grab onto your hand, holding on tight and taking a deep breath. Concern painted your features as you leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to his bare right shoulder.

“I can talk you through everything Tony does.”

“Thank you.”

That was the first time Tony had heard Bucky speak since coming into the lab over two hours earlier for a first assessment of the arm’s malfunction. It was not a surprise to him that you were the one who helped him relax enough to speak, though. Tony knew that you were by far one of the biggest sources of comfort to Bucky and that a few soothing words from you or some gentle touches could always calm the man down. Still, it was fascinating to Tony how quickly your words had done the trick. That was until you spoke up again.

“I know you hate having medical or maintenance procedures performed on you and not knowing exactly what’s going on, so if you want me to talk you through every little detail, I totally will.”

Bucky thanked you again, the tension in his muscles leaving, as understanding dawned on Tony. It made sense that after decades of having procedures performed on him without knowing what would happen next, much less having anyone ask his consent, not being filled in on the details would make Bucky anxious. Tony cursed himself for not having realised this sooner and it amazed him how quickly you had figured out what was making Bucky so anxious without the man even having to say a word. He turned to you with an amused smile.

“You’re really a mind reader, knowing what’s wrong without him even having to say a word.”

“I’m not a mind reader. Bucky and I just know what the other needs.”

“And I’m really thankful for that, Doll.”

---

IV.

The mission had been nothing short of demanding, both physically and mentally, and everyone who had been on it was drained by the end of it. A mission involving a hostage situation was always hard on everyone. However, due to an impending storm, the director had decided that everyone would be booked into a hotel to await being able to head back home. And since the hotels were overbooked due to the storm it left you in a room with two beds for three people. It only made sense that you shared one of the beds with Bucky, leaving Wanda with the other one, so you all silently went to get ready to turn in for the night.

Wanda found the quiet strangely unnerving since you were usually a talkative person and she always enjoyed talking to you. But now you were quietly changing into comfortable clothes, having just gotten out of the shower, before sitting down on the foot of your bed. It worried her, to say the least, but it wasn’t surprising. You’d had a pretty rough run-in with one of the hostage takers, so it was understandable that you were this quiet.

It seemed that Bucky had also noticed because he sat down right next to you and took your hand off your lap to hold it in both of his. Wanda sat on her bed and watched his actions, observing how he leaned forward to examine your face to which you simply turned your head away.

“This mission has been hard for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I know this sounds like empty words right now but you did all you could and you did well, Sweetheart.” Bucky said gently, making you turn back to look at him. “These people are still alive because of your help.”

“That man who attacked me, he came out of nowhere.”

“But you managed to fight him off because you’re strong and capable, Doll.”

“I was so scared.”

“How can I help you?” Bucky asked and Wanda watched you remain quiet, prompting him to lean closer again so he could press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Would you like to be my little spoon tonight? I can hold you all night long.”

“Please.”

With that, he began to gently move you and Wanda watched as he manoeuvred you into lying on your side, all soft touch and gentle guidance. When you were finally lying down, facing Wanda’s bed, Bucky lay down behind you and drew you into his arms, holding your hands with one of his and pressing a kiss to your cheek from behind. The two of you didn’t speak much after that, save for Bucky telling you how much he loved you when he realised you were about to drift off. When he was sure you were asleep he looked at Wanda who had lied down on her bed somewhere along the way as she’d been watching you two.

“Thank you, James.”

“For what?”

“Taking care of my friend. She means a lot to me but I wasn’t sure how to help. You immediately knew what she needed and how to take care of her.”

“I will always take care of her.”

---

V.

“This movie is kind of boring, I don’t understand why it made the list.”

Steve just shushed Sam’s complaint, eyes still glued to the screen. Resigning himself to the fate of having to sit through this movie Sam let his eyes wander across the living room and it became apparent to him that no one but Steve and perhaps Thor seemed really invested in the movie. Natasha was quietly talking to Clint next to her, Wanda had taken up doing her nails instead of watching the movie, Bruce was halfway to falling asleep, Tony was on his cellphone and you were reading a book with Bucky’s head on your chest, his eyes closed as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Sam couldn’t help smiling at the display because no matter how much he teased you or bickered with Bucky, he had always been genuinly happy for the two of you. Your fingers worked through Bucky’s hair, scratching his head as your free hand held the book you were currently reading. The only thing that clued Sam into the fact that Bucky was still awake was how he’d sometimes blink his eyes open to look at the television when there was a loud scene in the movie.

Then you took your hand out of Bucky’s hair to flip the page, making him look up at you with a deep frown on his features and Sam had to bite his lip to keep himself from chuckling at how grumpy his friend looked at this short lack of affection. You just gave Bucky an amused smile before going back to petting his hair, making him smile contently and close his eyes again.

This process repeated a few times until about the twelfth time you took your hand from his hair to flip the page which elicited what Sam could only describe as a whine from Bucky. Sam had to bring a hand in front of his mouth to stifle his laughter at the sound and he quickly decided to tease Bucky about this the next day.

But his quiet laughter turned into a smile when he watched your reaction. With an affectionate eye roll, you put your book down to wrap both your arms around Bucky. Your left hand took up running up and down his back while your right one resumed the previous task of petting Bucky’s hair, to which the man relaxed again, closing his eyes with a content smile on his face. And Sam couldn’t help thinking about how amazing it was that you always understood what Bucky needed or wanted, just from the looks he gave you or the sounds he made.

---

VI.

“We need a medic here! She was stabbed!”

Yelena watched as medics rushed over at your words, gathering around Natasha to help her. She gave you a thankful smile and you responded with a curt nod before turning to Bucky, asking him if he was alright. Yelena’s smile didn’t fade as she watched him press a lingering kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead against yours. From the moment she’d first seen you two she’d seen what a perfect match you two were.

“Thanks for having my back in there, Doll.”

“Always.”

“I mean it. That one guy surprised me and I’m glad you were there to take him down.” Bucky said with a soft smile before pulling back and giving you a once-over. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I will be fine, don’t you worry, Love.”

While Yelena felt relief wash over her at your words Bucky stilled, frowning in concern as he looked you over more thoroughly. His hand came up to cup your left shoulder, intending to turn your body to get a look at your back to check it for injuries, and you winced ever so slightly. Had it not been for Bucky immediately pulling his hand away Yelena was sure she would have missed it.

“What was that?”

“Love, listen--”

“You winced when I touched your shoulder.” He stated matter of factly, eyes going wide in fear. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

“Bucky, I will be fine.”

“There it is again.” Bucky shook his head and brought his hand up to once more reach for your arm, this time not touching you but hovering mere centimetres from your body. “You will be fine? That means you’re not fine now.”

“James, you don’t need to be so worried about me.”

But Bucky just shook his head and gently moved the strap of the harness that secured your weapon to your back, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw blood soaking your suit underneath. Before you could even say anything else, he was calling out to the paramedics who had taken care of Natasha, looking over his shoulder at them.

“We need help over here!”

Then he turned back to you and shook his head, bringing up both of his hands and interlacing his fingers before pressing the heel of his right one down on the wound to stop the bleeding, using the other one to apply pressure. You hissed in pain and Yelena was about to come over to ask if she could help when Bucky spoke up again. He sounded almost mad at you but Yelena could hear the obvious concern seeping into his voice.

“Why would you not tell me you were injured? What happened?”

“The guy who attacked you, he-- he stabbed me in the chest just below the shoulder. But-- But the strap of my holster kept the bleeding at bay and Natasha was worse off than me, so-- so I wanted them to look at her first.”

“We have dozens of paramedics on sight. One of them could have helped you.” Bucky chastised you as he kept up the pressure on your wound, making you groan in pain. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I need to stop the bleeding.”

Yelena watched as you opened your mouth to speak but you were interrupted when paramedics rushed over, med kits in hand, taking over for Bucky and treating your injury. She came over, seeing how worried Bucky looked, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She’s lucky she has you. I wouldn’t have been able to tell that she was injured.”

“I knew something was wrong the second we came out of the building.”

“Then she is really lucky you know her so well.”

---

VII.

When Steve returned with your drinks he found the table empty and when he looked around the cafe you three had stopped at after a day out, neither you nor Bucky were anywhere in sight. At first, he was confused but when he found Bucky’s phone still on the table and your jacket still hanging over the back of the chair his confusion was replaced with worry because you two had clearly left in a hurry.

Quickly, he put the beverages down and went for the door to go find you two but that was easier than he would have thought because he only had to take a few steps until he spotted you in the alleyway next to the cafe. At first, this only added to his confusion but when he got close enough to get a good look at you two, at Bucky standing hunched over with his hands clasping his bent knees and your fingers stroking his flesh shoulder while you talked to him in a hushed voice, everything became clear.

Bucky was having a panic attack.

Wanting nothing more than to help his friend Steve hurried over but the second he came into earshot he saw that you had already managed to calm Bucky down, to help him back to the present and control his breathing. He heard your whispered instructions to focus on five things he could hear, four things he could see, three things he could feel, two things he could smell and one thing he could taste. He watched as Bucky took shuddering breath after shuddering breath, as you rubbed his back soothingly and as his friend slowly straightened up again.

“Bucky, are you alright?”

Both you and Bucky turned to look at Steve, the latter giving his friend a shaky nod while your hand tightened on his shoulder. Steve watched as you leaned forward to get a good look at Bucky’s face, gently reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“It’s alright if you’re not.”

“No, I’m alright now.” Bucky said, swallowing thickly and taking another deep breath as his eyes flickered to your face. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t thank me, Love. I’m just glad that I could help you.”

“What happened, Buck?”

Bucky turned back to Steve, shaking his head dismissively but quickly stopping when his friend gave him a stern look, making him sigh in defeat. “This song came on and it-- it just triggered a memory from-- from this mission back in the eighties and it made me panic, made me think of how I made a mistake on that mission, how I was punished, how I hurt that man.”

Steve felt his heart ache at those words and he quickly moved closer to place a comforting hand on his friend’s back, strong and steady. “Bucky, are you sure you’re alright now?”

“Yes, I’m good.” He whispered out and nodded his head toward you. “She helped me calm down and did some grounding exercises with me. I just feel so ridiculous for getting triggered by a fucking song playing in a cafe.”

“Don’t say that, James.”

Steve knew that you only called Bucky by his first name when the situation was serious or when you needed to give him a stern talk and he watched as understanding dawned on his friend’s face that he would now get a lecture from you.

“Remember what your therapist said? Remember how she said that triggers can be anything and that is why you needed grounding exercises to bring you back to the moment, because anything can be triggering?” You said sternly though your thumb kept gently stroking over Bucky’s cheekbone. “This is not ridiculous, James.”

“I still ruined the day.”

“Steve, is your day ruined?”

“Nope, how about yours?”

“Mine, neither.” You said, raising an eyebrow at Bucky. “See? No one’s day is ruined. But the most important thing now is that you feel better. Do you really feel better or are you just trying to calm us down?”

Bucky sighed softly and nodded. “I do feel better, thanks to you. I’m so glad you caught onto the fact that I was going to a bad mental place and got me out of there. Thank you.”

“I know you, Bucky. The moment I saw your fingers clench around your phone, your pupils dilating and your breathing quicken I knew something was up.”

Steve looked back at you in surprise. He knew you and Bucky were very in tune with each other, that you two knew the other in and out, but it still surprised him how you could even recognise the smallest change in body language. And he decided to tell you as much.

“I’m really glad Bucky has a partner like you, that knows him so well. I feel terrible that I wasn’t there to help but I’m glad that you were with him.”

“Don’t martyr yourself now. You can’t be around all the time.” Bucky said before giving you and Steve a small smile. “Should we head back inside? We left all our stuff at the table.”

Steve nodded quickly, taking in how soaked you’d gotten from the rain. But before he could even comment on it or make a joke about how you’d left your jacket at the table Bucky was already shrugging his leather jacket off to drape it over your shoulder, making you smile back at him.

“Thanks, Love. You always know what I need.”

“Right back at you, Sweetheart.”

[soelstress]

The Strength Of His Touch

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female!reader

Summary: Steve hesitates to touch you after seeing bruises he unknowingly caused.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , slight alcohol consumption , sex/smut, p in v sex , unprotected sex , Sam being a good friend , Steve being a stubborn sweetheart , slight bruising from gripping a little too hard (he’s a Super Solider, he can’t help it)

Word count: 3.3k

A/N - Hello Lovelies! I seem to be on a Captain craze at the moment. Found myself wondering if either of the boys would worry about their strength… and this is what happens, especially since they can both be so stubborn.

The gif is sourced from Google

Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work

Sunlight danced beyond your eyelids as it both warmed you and teased you with the thought of waking properly. A cool breeze tickled your skin while also refreshing some very familiar scents. The masculine scene of cologne, clean sweat and the faint musk of sex. Blood rushed to your face at the latter. The intoxicating mixture was something that you could barely believe you’d help to make. At your sleepy hum of contentment the arms that were wrapped around you began to drift along your body and traced patterns on your sun warmed skin. Hearing the gentle lub dub of a heart you nuzzled into a solidly heated chest which produced a smooth rumble.

You cracked one eye open to see a familiar pair of blue eyes blinking at you sleepily. His face still held the traces of slumber while sporting a mussed bed head hairstyle. “Good morning, beautiful.” The husky tone sent delicious shivers rolling through your body which replied before you could with a very distinct yowl. There was silence for a moment before his stomach then chipped in which caused him to start chuckling quietly. “Guess that’s the cue for some breakfast huh?” His attempt to move was hindered by you wrapping tightly around him.

“No.” The soft pleading whines only made him chuckle louder. “Wanna cuddle.”

“We can cuddle after breakfast.”

With a grumpy huff you quickly rolled away from him and tugged the sheet over your head. “Don’t wanna.” Your sleepiness was fading much to your annoyance. Was it so wrong to want to stay in that wonderful place between sleep and waking?

The bed dipped as he shifted onto his side towards you. “As much as Tony or Sam might argue, I don’t think Dum-E or Redwing are able to bring us breakfast so for now the task falls to us.” When the sheet was tugged away you squeaked in annoyance. “Now, let's-” A choked gasp ended his sentence.

The lingering haze of slumber quickly dissipated when you heard the sound. Confused, you rolled over to face him and opened your eyes. Gone was the languorous ease and sleepy expression. Now his eyes burned with something you didn’t recognise and his jaw was taut while his brows dipped with little ridges between. His silent behaviour sent you bouncing between worry and fear.

“What’s wrong baby?” Somehow the whisper forced itself past the lump that had formed in your throat.

“Can’t you tell?” The words were steeped in disbelief.

It took everything in you not to flinch at Steve’s tone. One that your boyfriend had never aimed at you and that had not been directed at you by anyone else for some time. Before you could spiral into worry you forced yourself to think over the events of the previous night when you had sex for the first time as a couple. Over and over you replayed every moment but could think of nothing obvious that might cause this kind of reaction. Anxiety bloomed through your body as you worried your lip.

His thumb smoothed over the agitated flesh and directed your attention to his eyes which you now recognised were angry and scared. “Talk to me sweetheart.”

“I can’t-”

“I just want to help. I swear I’m not mad.” When you blinked at him but didn’t say anything he moaned in worry. “Please, tell me where it hurts.”

Now you were beyond confused. Under his panicked gaze you stretched carefully and rotated your neck and shoulders before each tensing muscle area. A delicious ache in your core had you squirming slightly but other than that you felt fine. Heck better than fine. Your last full recollection of last night was melting into a boneless heap under Steve as he held you close. To go from that boneless heap to a sleepy daze and then receive this odd behaviour from the man who caused it all… your head hurt from the confusion which irritated you.

“What are you talking about? I’m fi-”

“Fine? How can you be fine?! Look at yourself!” He gestured towards the tops of your shoulders which you hadn’t actually looked at while stretching.

Oh.

Faint purple marks were dusted along the flesh and trailed down your arms slightly. Your head tilted in confusion as you prodded at one. It barely throbbed. Honestly you’d had worse bruises that appeared and disappeared just as quickly without knowing what caused them.

As your boyfriend briefly lined up his fingers to each bruise in a decidedly exaggerated manner to demonstrate that his grip had been the cause your mind once again raced through the prior night. When you were both about to reach your peaks you had requested he hold you and he had eagerly obliged by encasing you in his arms. At no point could you remember any discomfort or pain.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I am so, so sorry.” The whisper was anguished. Your boyfriend had moved to the edge of the bed. His elbows rested on his knees as he hid his face in his hands. Restlessness rippled through his taut body.

As you felt him pull away both emotionally and physically you struggled with how to resolve this. Now that he had shown you the reason for his panic it was a little bit easier to understand where his mind was. But could he not remember the bliss of how you’d woken up or the pleasure you’d shared last night? Your mind ground to a halt by a horrible realisation. Maybe it hadn’t been shared. There was every chance that it had not been as pleasurable for him but he had carried on anyway. If that was the case it would absolutely explain his thought processes.

Quietly, you climbed off the bed and sank to your knees in front of him but he did not shift or give any indication that he’d noticed your movements. “Baby?” It came out as a rasp so you cleared your throat. “Baby, please.” Still no response. Well you were still going to talk. “Look, I know that you’d never mean to hurt me. It was an accident. But it’s fine. I’m fine. I thought you might have guessed that from how we woke up… and how things ended last night.” You bit your lip. “Or not. I know how it was for me but-”

Blue eyes met yours so suddenly you almost reared back in shock. But what made you hold your position was the fact his lashes were slightly darker and his eyes glistened. “Please tell me you’re not seriously suggesting that I didn’t enjoy last night?” When you avoided his eyes and instead locked your fingers together nervously he sighed and took each of your hands in one of his. “Sweetheart, look at me.” After he gently stroked his thumb along the back of your hand you met his warm gaze. “Last night was amazing. You were amazing. But it doesn’t change this” he murmured as he gestured towards the marks. “How can you say you’re fine?”

“You know what? You’re right, I’m not fine.” He ducked his head in shame. “I’m pissed that you’re killing the glow. Why can’t you believe me when I say I tell you how I’m feeling? You ask me to believe you that I’m not delicate in battle situations, how is this any different? It feels like you’re asking me to believe you but you don’t believe me.”

“It’s different when I’m the one who’s hurting you!” Steve’s fingers tugged through his hair in frustration. “I can’t- I won’t hurt you.” He stood and stalked out of the room leaving you feeling annoyed and hurt.

—————————————-

For the next few days, things changed drastically. Affection was limited. Before Steve constantly but absentmindedly touched you in some way almost instinctively. But now he froze when he reached out before adjusting his grip or hand placement.

“Still no change huh?” Sam eyed you over the cocktail pitcher that you were sipping from. He’d invited you out for a few drinks to catch up from the events you’d told him about.

You sighed and stabbed at the ice in the drink with your straw. “Nothing. Believe me it’s not for lack of trying. But I’ve noticed if he thinks I’ll spend the night at his he tries to tire me out by sparring or something so I just fall asleep.” You looked up at him feeling your lip wobble slightly as tears threatened your eye line. “Sam… I’ve even tried wearing things to bed. Sleep shifts, lace and silk and all of that. And he does nothing but smile and just cuddle.” You sighed heavily. “Maybe he’s just trying to find a way to break this off.”

Sam’s hand clasped yours and his brown eyes were lit with concern. “Don’t believe that for a second. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’d do anything for you. But he worries and gets in his own head. Man’s more stubborn than a mule.”

Rolling your eyes, you nodded in agreement. “I’ve gotten worse bruises.” At that, Akons ‘Smack That’ started playing over the speakers. You and Sam locked gazes before cackling with laughter. “Case in point.”

“Yeah yeah. Just remember we agreed to never speak of that.” Sam glared at you with mock anger. “I don’t need your Super Soldier boyfriend chasing me down because you made me spank you every time Akon said ‘smack that’.”

Giggling, you shoved him playfully. “I was drunk! Besides you said that no one could ‘smack that’ like you!”

“I was also drunk!” Both of you then eyed the remaining drinks and decided not to order anymore. “How did you explain that you couldn’t sit the next day anyway?”

“Said I fell.”

Sam nodded. “Just make sure you stick to that. Let’s finish this pitcher and call it a night.”

—————————————-

Slightly buzzed and happy, you entered your apartment to find Steve laying on the couch watching a new movie from his list. He looked up at your entry and paused the movie. “Hi honey.”

“Hi Stevie.” You hesitated before walking over to him. He sat up as you approached and smiled as you stroked his golden locks. He carefully wrapped his arms around you and took a moment to press his head to your tummy before pulling back.

“Did you have a nice time with Sam?”

You made a noise of agreement before placing a soft kiss to his forehead and stepped out of his embrace. “I’m gonna get ready for bed.” When you turned you missed the soft frown on Steve’s face. After wiping off your makeup and a quick shower you decided against the suggestive sleepwear. There were really only so many times you could offer with each little rejection having chipped away at you. Plus you didn’t want to douse the warmth of the buzz that Sam helped create. Instead you slipped on one of Steve’s t-shirts and crawled into bed.

Steve walked in shortly after having finished his movie. His heart melted at the sight of you cuddled up to his pillow. Quickly he stripped down to his boxers and joined you, pride swelling when he saw you were wearing his shirt. He was a little surprised, a little relieved and a little disappointed that you weren’t in one of those cute but tempting sleep sets. Though there was something about you wearing his clothes that tugged at his heartstrings. As he gently curved around your body you grumbled quietly before relaxing into his hold.

“Let me help you”

“Feels so good”

“Give it to me baby”

The sudden darkness and change in situation was jarring when you opened your eyes. Mere moments ago you had been hurtling towards the highest high under his burning gaze.

An incoherent mumble came from behind you.

Just a dream. You had imagined it. At the realisation you sniffled in disappointment.

“S’wrong baby?” When you didn’t answer Steve rolled over and reached to turn on his lamp before turning back to you where you were hiding your face in a pillow. “What is it?”

Your heart trembled at the concern in his voice. “Just a dream Steve. It’s fine.”

Steve huffed while arching a brow. “A dream that’s left you upset? Honey, that's not fine.” His warm hand brushed along your cheek as he encouraged you to roll onto your back. “Let me help you.”

His touch mixed with the words from your dream only brought back the ache that was plaguing your core with a vengeance. Leaning up you caught his mouth in a desperate kiss and your hands wrapped around his neck to keep him close to you. Steve’s brain froze for a second but you felt his resistance and tried to hold on even as he gently extracted himself despite your efforts. “Baby… no.”

Everything inside you screamed to move, to run away from the burning pain that came from his denial. It had been bad enough that the outfits hadn’t interested him but this was total rejection. You tried to squirm away from him but he pulled you against him, cradling your face as his blue eyes shone with pleas.

“I don’t want to hurt you baby.”

You already are. Steve’s sharp inhale and flinch of pain made you realise the words must have been said aloud. But you weren’t going to apologise. “You don’t touch me anymore Steve and if you do you’re adjusting your grip or where you put your hands. Is this all there is? You being scared to touch me and me wanting more?” A dam within you broke and tears began to spill.

Steve’s handsome face was torn with anguish as he watched. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he shook his head slowly.

“Steve.”

It might have been the tears that steadily trailed down your face or that he had never heard you say his name with such pain and need. But whatever it was had his resolve crumbling. His thumbs tenderly traced the tracks and swiped under your eyes before ghosting his lips against yours. At first you could not respond properly in fear that he would suddenly change his mind and you could not bear the pain of further rejection. Soft sounds of apology poured from Steve’s mouth as he lightly pressed kisses along your jaw and down your neck before returning to your mouth. One hand left your face and trailed down your side to your thigh before he hitched your leg over his hip. When your mouth parted in surprise he took advantage and with careful tenderness teased you with his tongue. He sighed happily when your tongue tentatively met his as you shifted slightly towards him. So caught up with Steve’s kisses and touches you suddenly weren’t sure how or where to touch him but before you could decide Steve lifted his hand that had been stroking your thigh and guided one of your hands to his hip before returning his back to your thigh. For a few moments you just let your hand drift up and down his side before cautiously squeezing the flesh and froze when a groan passed from his mouth to yours. Steve rolled so you straddled him. You broke the kiss in a bid for oxygen but Steve sat up and renewed his attention to your jaw and neck with kisses and soft sucks. As he reached that one spot below your ear you wriggled against him and felt his cock twitching through his boxers which were slowly dampening with your combined arousal. Reaching between your bodies you eagerly palmed his hard flesh which caused Steve to thrust up with a harsh grunt.

Something inside you snapped. No more games. You needed Steve. NOW. As you tugged the shirt over your head Steve raised his hips to shift his underwear far enough down to kick them off before you gripped his cock firmly and positioned him at your entrance. Steve’s head tipped back with a loud groan but his ocean eyes never left your face as you easily sank onto him thanks to gravity and how slick you’d become. He had felt big that first night but this position stretched you as he bottomed out deep with a pleasant burn. As you rolled your hips your clit brushed against the trimmed hair at the base of his cock and you whined at that first spark that soon turned into more as your movements quickened.

“That’s it baby” he murmured against the skin of your chest as his hands captured your face so he could watch you fall apart from just riding him. With a final roll you shattered into a trembling mess against him. For a few moments Steve watched your eyes become clouded with peace before they focused back on him. Your hands found his chest and pushed him back onto the mattress with a soft thump. Bracing your arms on him you leaned forward slightly and began to rise off him before sliding back down. Steve groaned at the wet heat sucking him in and he couldn’t help reacting when your breasts were so close to his face. He eagerly brushed his thumb over one while lapping and suckling at the other. A whine escaped him when you clenched from his actions. His hips flexed in retaliation and the tip of his cock nudged your g-spot. Both of you moaned at the sensation and he began to move in tandem with you as his hands moved to hold the bedsheets. The coil from before built faster and higher as you moved but wouldn’t snap even as your thighs began to burn from exertion.

You glanced down to see Steve’s face and chest flushed with pleasure as the sheets twisted in his white knuckled grip. “Stevie… please. Touch me.” The final thread of his restraint snapped as his hands found your hips and guided you as his thrusts quickened. “Oh my- Don’t stop Steve!”

Steve grunted as your walls pulsed around his throbbing cock in his determination to reach your release first. “No way sweetheart, not till you cum for me.” He planted his feet on the mattress and bucked up forcefully as you moaned loudly. “C’mon baby, cum on this cock. Cum for me now.”

Your cry of pleasure burst past your lips as your core spasmed around Steve’s cock but he kept moving and prolonging the pleasure. As you started to descend from your high he brought you down against him and held you tightly with one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other continued to squeeze your hip. He thrusted twice more before letting out a soft groan. You hummed contentedly feeling your core heat with his cum though his cock barely softened.

Soft kisses were dotted all over your face as Steve held you within the cage of his embrace. His soft blue eyes burned with devotion for you. “I’m sorry honey. Those bruises scared the hell out of me. I forget how strong I am and I feel like I can’t forget with you.”

You caught his face between your hands. “Steve, you’d never hurt me out of spite or carelessness. I’d tell you if you were hurting me. But I’d like to see how rough you can get. I kinda like it.” You blushed lightly.

“So I’ve heard.” You glanced up at him to see a grin tugging at his lips. “Do you care to tell me why you couldn’t bear to sit down on the same day Sam couldn’t touch anything with his right hand?”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Chances

Sam and Dean & nephilim!reader, Cas & nephilim!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Gabriel messes around and ends up creating a nephilim, and Cas is tasked with keeping the kid safe.

A/N: guys I finally finished a request! Hopefully the next one won’t take me so long, you guys have been so patient as I start up college again.

“I need you to do something for me.”

Gabriel’s appearance at the bunker a month after Angel radio went nuts over a nephilim’s creation was unexpected and unwanted, to say the least.

“From us?” Dean narrowed his eyes at the archangel. “Don’t tell me you’re the one who—“

“Not you, Winchesters. I’m talking to Castiel.”

Castiel looked up in surprise at this declaration.

“My help? And why would I—“

“The nephilim is mine. And she’s growing fast.”

“She?” Sam asked. Gabe offered him a half glance.

“Yes, she. I can feel it. And she’s going to be born any day now.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Castiel demanded.

“I can’t keep her safe,” Gabriel admitted after a moment’s hesitation, his features tightened. “If I get anywhere near her, there’s a line of enemies that will follow. I need her somewhere safe, and I can’t take her there.” Gabriel swallowed, glancing at the brothers before looking back at Castiel. “This is the safest place I could think of.” Before Dean could interrupt, Gabriel raised his voice and continued. “The warding will keep out most enemies, and it’s nearly undetectable to angels.”

“We can’t just house a nephilim!” Dean exclaimed. “Not happening. No way.”

“I have no other options, no one else to go to,” Gabriel pleaded. “She’s just a baby—“

“A baby with power,” Sam added. “And we don’t know how much power.”

“She’s innocent,” Gabriel added. “She’s just a baby, and she doesn’t deserve to get hunted down like this. There’s nowhere else she can go—it’s either the bunker, or she’s dead.”

This time, Gabriel’s argument was met with silence. Castiel was the first to break it.

“You want me to retrieve her, and bring her here.”

“It’s her only chance.” None of the boys had ever seen Gabriel look so humble—so vulnerable.

“I’ll do it.”

“Cas—“

“No, Dean,” Cas interrupted him. “I have to do this.”

“Let us come with you,” Sam spoke up.

“Sam!” Dean turned to his brother, thunderstruck.

“No,” Cas said. “I should go alone, it’s safer.”

“You shouldn’t be going at all!” Dean insisted. “We don’t know what—“

“This being deserves a chance,” Cas interrupted. “And I’m going to give it to her.”

…

Gabriel left quickly to go into hiding, and Cas left soon after. The address Gabriel gave him was only a few hours away, but when Cas got there he arrived to a surprise.

The mother—Cas had no idea who she was—was already dead. Cas was just beginning to panic when he heard crying, and he rounded the bed to see you—a little toddler, crying on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Hey, hey it’s alright,” Cas soothed as he wrapped a nearby blanket around your shivering, unclothed body. “Hey, you’re safe now.” He had no idea how or why you were already a toddler, but he figured it didn’t matter—as long as he could get you safe.

You stopped crying as soon as you were in Cas’s arms, your big Y/E/C eyes blinking up at the angel.

“You’re going to be alright little one,” Cas said. “I promise.”

Considering the dead woman on the bed not three feet away, Cas felt that his promise was less than convincing, but you relaxed completely into him, your little arms wrapping around his neck and holding on tight.

Cas carried you out to his car—he wasn’t so sure about angel transportation with a newborn nephilim, so human transportation was his choice—while keeping his eyes peeled for any interference, of which there was, thankfully, none.

“I suppose I should get you some food and some clothing,” Castiel said, mostly to himself, although if you spoke up he’d be grateful. You didn’t, though; you just blinked up at him with those big eyes, and Cas felt more lost than ever.

He knew enough about humans—and you were at least half human—to know that babies only drank milk, and as they got older they gained an affinity for solid foods. But you were somewhere between a newborn and a toddler. Would milk be enough to sustain you? Would you even understand how to eat solid foods? It was all confusing for an angel who already felt out of his depth.

Castiel stopped at the first store he came across, and he carried you with him—you were still wrapped in that blanket he had grabbed from your mother’s house—as he started to grab anything he thought he’d need to take care of you, including a lot he probably didn’t need. As soon as he’d paid for everything, he carried you into the family restroom so he could get you into the clothes he’d picked up, as you still seemed too young to be capable of dressing yourself.

“Alright,” Castiel said after you were dressed, looking at you long and hard for a moment before sighing in near-defeat. “I don’t know why your father picked me for this mission, Sam or Dean would be much better at—“ a crash from somewhere outside the restroom had Castiel whipping around, prepared for a threat. But the door remain closed, and whatever had made noise was now silent.

Castiel turned back around only when he felt a tug on his arm. He looked down to see you—but he didn’t have to look as far down as he expected. Cas blinked in surprise, taking in the sight of you, now maybe six inches taller and a few years older, the clothes on you stretched and far too small.

“What…” Cas breathed, unsure what to even ask.

You just tugged at his hand again, gripping it firmly in your shaking hands.

“I’m scared.” It was the first words Cas had heard you speak, and they snapped him back into focus.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Now how did you get so big?”

You just blinked up at Cas, apparently unwilling to speak again.

“It’s ok,” Cas sighed. “It doesn’t matter, I just…let’s get you some bigger clothes and get you out of here.”

Cas led you out towards the clothing section, turning his back on you for just a second to find the right size. But once he turned around again, you were gone.

“Hey!” Cas realized just then that he didn’t know your name. He whirled around frantically, trying to catch sight of you between the racks of clothing. He rushed down aisle after aisle, freezing when he got to the third one and saw a girl that looked suspiciously like you, but was now three inches taller, being cornered by a large man whose eyes flashed black.

Cas didn’t speak, he just took four large strides, and as soon as the demon turned to look at him, he stretched out his hand and placed it against the demon’s forehead. There was a flash of light behind the demon’s eyes, and he dropped to the floor after only a second. You looked from the dead demon to Castiel in awe.

“Why do you keep getting bigger?” Castiel sighed, bending down slightly to look you in the eye.

“I wasn’t big enough to stop him.” Your voice came out in a quiet whimper—you were shaking in fear. “It was scary, so I wanted to get bigger, and…and then I just did.” Your big eyes were gonna be the death of Cas, he just knew it; especially when they were filled with tears like now. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Hey, no, it’s ok, it’s just…not many people can do that. Most people have to say the size they are until they grow.” You still looked concerned, so Cas waved it off. “It doesn’t matter, you didn’t do anything wrong. Now let’s get you into some bigger clothes and get you safe.”

At this point, you looked like a young teenager, so Castiel went to a different clothes section to find you something. You held his hand the whole way, which Cas was grateful for—he didn’t want to lose you again.

Cas picked up a size for you and sent you off to put it on, making sure he could see you entering and leaving the bathroom. While you were gone, he grabbed about three more sizes in case you spontaneously grew again.

“I’m ready,” you said as you returned to Castiel.

“Ok…” Cas stared at you for a moment. “Do…do you know your name?”

“My name…” you pondered the question for a long moment. “Yes, I…Y/N. I remember my mother calling me that…before I was born. She named me Y/N.”

Cas smiled.

“Ok then. Y/N it is.”

…

Once you were ready, Cas led you out to his car and the two of you were finally on your way again. The car went along in silence for several miles, but Cas could tell you were contemplating something, and after a while you finally got up the courage to speak.

“Are you my father?”

The question shouldn’t have surprised Cas, but he froze up the moment it left your mouth.

“I…no, I’m not,” he said finally. “Your father’s name is Gabriel. He wanted to be here, really, but it was too dangerous. He…let’s just say he has a lot of enemies.”

“Is that why my mother is dead?” Your voice was more subdued this time, and the question again froze Castiel.

“No, little one,” Cas began hesitantly. How could he tell you that your mother died giving birth to you? “Your mother, she…she chose to save you, rather than herself.”

“Save me?” You prodded. “Is it because I…I can do things, like grow?”

“Kind of.” Castiel ran a hand over his face, willing the car ride to end. “Your father is an archangel, and that makes you a nephilim. But your mother, she was just a human. She…she couldn’t bring you into this world and survive, her body wasn’t strong enough.”

Your silence was starting to scare Cas more than your questions.

“So…so I killed my mom?” It was with tears in your eyes that you finally spoke again.

“No,” Castiel insisted. “No, you did not choose any of this, this isn’t your fault. Your mother and father made their choices, you’re just the result of them. But your mother’s death is not on you.”

“It still feels like it is,” you mumbled. “How…how do I miss someone I’ve never met?” You blinked up at Cas, and he swore he’d never felt more out of his depth.

“Look, I…I know that you don’t have your parents here right now, but I’m going to look after you. I’m going to take you to a safe place, and I promise that you’re going to be alright.”

“Why are you helping me?” You asked. Cas barely had to think about the answer to this.

“Because I believe that you deserve a chance, the same as anyone else. You’ve got powers, little one. Powers that might scare some people. But I think that you’re good, and I’m not scared of you just because of your strength.”

“What if I’m not good?” Your gaze faltered, falling away from Cas’s. “What if you should be scared of me?”

“Good isn’t something that you’re born as,” Cas said. “It’s something you choose. You can choose good, if you want to.”

“I do,” you insisted. “I just…I don’t think I know how.”

A hint of a smile crossed Cas’s lips.

“Well I can try to teach you. And my friends, they will too.”

…

The rest of the ride to the bunker passed uneventfully, but Cas began to get nervous the closer he got to the bunker. He was all but forcing this nephilim onto Sam and Dean, so how would they react when he arrived? Would they be scared of you, or force Cas to leave? Would they not want to put themselves in danger to help some non-human?

It didn’t seem like the Sam and Dean that Cas knew, but then again they’d never been presented with a nephilim before.

“Your friends.” Your words startled Cas out of his thoughts. “Are they…like you?”

“You mean angels?” Cas had explained who he was to you. “No, no they’re human. But they like to help people. I believe they’ll help you.” Cas had to believe it—he had to.

…

“You’re back.” Dean’s greeting seemed less then happy as he stared Cas down. “Where’s the—“

“Hello.”

Dean‘s gaze whipped around from Cas to you as you stepped up beside Cas.

“What the—I thought she was just born.” Dean looked back at Cas, questions swimming behind his eyes.

“She was, she uh…she grew up fast,” Cas offered lamely.

“Why?” Sam spoke up for the first time, eying you nervously, but he didn’t look as threatening as Dean.

“I got scared,” you said. “So I had to grow up fast.”

“What’s your name?” Sam asked before Dean could say anything else.

“I’m Y/N.” Sam noticed the way you were almost hiding behind Cas. He couldn’t tell if you were scared of him, or just shy, but either way he tried to make himself look as non threatening as possible.

“Well, I’m Sam and this is my brother, Dean. C’mon down here and we can show you where to sleep.” Sam pointedly ignored Dean’s glare. “Do you need anything to eat?”

“No, I’m not hungry,” you decided after a moment of pondering.

“Good, now you can explain to us what kind of powers you have and how you plan to use them,” Dean cut in, ignoring the glares from Sam and Cas.

“I…” the question froze you, and Cas jumped in.

“Dean, it’s been a long day. Just let her get some sleep.”

“Oh, sure, and while she’s sleeping, every demon and angel on earth is pulling out all the stops to get to her! I mean she could be working with any of them!”

“Why would she work with them?” Sam demanded. “They want her dead.”

“Yeah, or they want to use her powers! She could’ve cut a deal with them.”

“Dean, she’s just a kid,” Cas interjected.

“Yeah, a kid who was a baby a couple hours ago. She’s not normal, she’s a freak! Who knows what else she’ll do?”

“Dean, calm down—“ Sam’s attempt at keeping the peace just made Dean angrier.

“Calm down?! We have a nephilim in our house, and we don’t know what it can do!”

“She’s not an i-“ Cas’s interruption went completely unnoticed by Dean.

“And we don’t know what side it’s on! Gabriel was always switching sides, what makes you think this kid is gonna be any different?”

“Dean, she doesn’t even know Gabriel,” Cas argued.

“But he’s still the father. She could still—“

“Stop it!” Your outburst froze all three men, and it took you a prolonged minute to realize why; they couldn’t move. By just your word, you’d rendered them incapable of doing anything but stare at you—Sam and Cas in amazement, Dean in anger. “I didn’t…” your gaze focused on Cas, almost pleading with him to help you. “I-I didn’t mean to. I didn’t—I don’t know how to stop it.” You stared down at your hands, and then back up. “I didn’t mean it! Let them go!”

The three men moved simultaneously as their joints relaxed and their legs moved. Dean took a half step back from you, Sam stayed where he was, and Cas came up to stand in front of you.

“It’s ok,” he whispered as you started to shake. “I know you didn’t mean to, it’s ok.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I don’t think I can control this.”

Cas knelt down, his blue eyes locking onto yours.

“I know you can. I’m going to help you.”

“Me too.” You hadn’t noticed Sam approaching you until his hand was on your shoulder. “I know a little bit about self control.”

Dean lingered in the corner, wariness etched onto his features, but the anger was somewhat dissipated.

“Come with me,” Sam continued—he was still ignoring Dean’s glares. “I’ll get you settled in.”

You let Sam lead you down a hallway. You could hear Dean start to yell at Castiel the moment you left the room, and Cas was yelling right back.

“Uh, this room is empty,” Sam said, stopping in front of a door. “So you can use it.”

“Ok,” you mumbled, standing in front of the door and rocking back and forth on your heels. “I’m sorry for being so much trouble,” you added, your head ducked low.

“Your dad has helped us out before,” Sam said. “So I’m glad you’re here—I want to help you.”

“Dean said my dad did bad stuff, too,” you said.

“Yeah, he…is a complicated man.” Sam shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “Well, anyway…” Sam opened up the door to your room, stepping back so you could go inside. You took a hesitant step inside before turning around and looking up at Sam, as if worried he was going to leave.

“What should I do if the demons or angels come inside?” You asked, your voice tight and high pitched.

“Hey.” Sam put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that, trust me. They don’t know where this place is, and it’s warded. They can’t get to you, we won’t let them.”

Your features visibly relaxed.

“Ok.” You found yourself wrapping your arms around the kind man before you’d really made the decision to do it. “Thank you.”

He was stiff for a moment, but quickly he reciprocate the hug.

“You’re gonna be ok,” he promised.

…

The next week passed about as Cas had expected, although even he was surprised at how eager Sam was to help you. Sam hung around the bunker the entire week, getting you used to life on earth and everything you didn’t know.

Dean however, remained fairly hostile. But things weren’t as bad as they’d been the first day, and Cas was even starting to notice Dean warm up to you in little ways; making a little extra food at breakfast, letting you join him in the Dean cave when he was watching something—things like that.

You might have gotten too comfortable around Dean based on his attitude, because when Dean announced to the general area that he had found a hunt you spoke up—

“I’ll help!”

The trio of men looked over at you with varying degrees of surprise.

“Are you sure?” Cas asked.

“No!” Dean insisted. “You’re staying here, I’m not babysitting some kid on the hunt.”

“I don’t want you to babysit me,” you argued. “I want to help.”

“Sam, help me out here,” Dean demanded. When Sam seemed reluctant, Dean groaned, “oh come on!”

“Well, maybe she can help!” Sam offered. “Give her a chance.”

Dean glanced from Sam to Cas, hoping one of them would break. When they didn’t, he huffed in annoyance, but his shoulders slumped.

“Fine.”

…

The long car ride was going surprisingly well. Dean’s music was your first introduction to the art, and your enthusiastic response instantly gained you brownie points with Dean.

Each and every song that came on elicited the same response from you—

“Is this the best one?”

And every time the brothers would respond at the same time, Dean with a “yes!” And Sam with a “no!” All in all, Cas couldn’t have asked for a better bonding experience.

“Alright,” Dean said after a while, turning the music down. “We’ll be there soon, so we need to talk this out. From all appearances, it’s a vampire—a nest, actually. Now as soon as we locate it, I want Sam and Cas to be ready with the dead man’s blood, and…” Dean seemed to be rethinking his plan for a moment, before he made up his mind… “and I want the kid with me.” Dean’s eyes met yours in the rearview mirror, and his voice was suddenly more firm. “You need to be careful, and you need to not be in the way. Do you understand me?”

You were trying to hide your excited smile as you replied.

“Yes sir.”

…

You didn’t help. Or stay out of the way. In fact, barring lost limbs or lives, the hunt couldn’t have gone much worse, and you knew it was your fault.

Your first sight of a vampire scared you so much, that some of your nephilim energy came from you without you planning on it, blasting several vamps—and unfortunately Dean—away from you. Unfortunately, that blast of power had you thinking that maybe you could take on the vamps magically. This tactic just meant that you got in Dean’s way, and your magic didn’t respond the way you wanted it to—it didn’t respond at all.

Because of this, nearly half the vampires got away, and the ones that didn’t went straight for the easy target; you.

You were on the floor with a vampire drinking from your neck before Dean was even able to start swinging. He took out the two vampires that went for him before he able to get to you. He pried the vampire away from your neck before taking care of it with a single swing.

“Are you crazy?!” You were gasping for breath, blood mingling with sweat and tears as you tried to calm down while Dean yelled at you. “I told you to be careful! I told you not to get in the way! You could’ve—“ Dean cut himself off with a huff, turning to look for any remaining vampires. “I’ve gotta go find the nest before they get to Cas and Sam. You stay here.” The look Dean gave you before he left ensured your complete obedience to his order.

You slumped down onto the floor, drained and desperate to calm down. How could you have screwed up so badly, and right when Dean was finally starting to trust you?

You were finally able to breathe normally again by the time Dean returned with Sam and Cas in tow.

“A few of them got away,” Dean grumbled. “But they’re long gone now, and without their nest I don’t think they’re coming back.

“Dean, I didn’t—“ you barely got a couple of words out before Dean cut you off.

“Don’t! No, I don’t want to hear it. You could’ve gotten killed, you could’ve gotten one of us killed!”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted. “Dean, we should go. She’s hurt, and so is Cas—he’s too weak to heal, we gotta regroup.”

Dean led the dejected group to the Impala, but as soon as the car was on the road the yelling started up again. Sam and Cas were too tired to stop Dean, so you curled up in your corner of the Impala and listened to Dean’s criticisms of all you had done wrong. Within minutes, the words seemed to blend into each other and all you could hear was the anger in his tone and the harsh beating of your heart. You could feel the adrenaline still pumping in your veins, but it only seemed to highlight your fear and the pain in your neck and the tears that were building behind your eyes. The toxic combination seemed to build up until it was all you could feel, and it felt like anything more would make you snap—

“I mean how could you be so stupid?!”

That was it.

“Stop it!” Dean looked taken aback at your outburst. “I know that I screwed it all up, and I’m sorry! I’m sorry that Cas got hurt, and I’m sorry that the vampires got away. But I can’t fix that now, and I’m freaking out and I’m bleeding and I don’t want to listen to you yell anymore! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll say it as much as you want to hear it, just stop yelling at me!”

It was a good thing that the Impala was nearing the bunker, otherwise the four of you would’ve suffocated on the silence in the car.

“Come with me,” Dean told you as you all stepped out of the car. Cas started forwards, but Dean waved him off. “Go fix that—“ he gestured at the wound on Cas’s side—it wasn’t deep, but it was long. “I’ve got her.”

Neither Cas nor Sam argued; they just went off to their own rooms to get cleaned off. You trailed behind Dean as if you were marching to your death sentence. He noticed this about halfway down the hallway.

“I’m not going to yell at you again,” he insisted. “So relax.”

The tension in your shoulders eased, but you still didn’t speak as Dean led you to his room and instructed you to sit on his bed while he disappeared into the bathroom. He returned a moment later with a first aid kit in hand, the anger on his face all but gone.

“Let me see it.”

You pulled your hair to the side so Dean could get at the bite marks on your neck. You weren’t sure why you couldn’t heal yourself the way Cas sometimes could—maybe you were just too scared to figure out your powers now—but Dean didn’t question it; he just got to fixing the problem.

“This is gonna sting,” he warned you as he soaked a cotton ball with alcohol before pressing it to your neck. You forced yourself not to hiss in pain, but you couldn’t hold back the way your face twitched and your shoulder flinched. Dean didn’t comment, though.

“I am sorry,” you mumbled as Dean quietly continued to clean your wound.

“I know,” he replied simply. “I don’t think I can trust you on hunts anymore, but I do get that you’re sorry. And maybe I went a little too hard on you, ok? So how ‘bout we just forgive each other and move on. Maybe…maybe start over.”

“Ok,” you said, your lips twitching into a smile. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Despite himself, Dean chuckled.

“Don’t be a dork,” he insisted. But after a moment’s pause he continued— “I’m Dean. It’s nice to meet you too.”

And the two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence as Dean finished patching up your neck. His concerned features each time you hissed in pain, and his gentle touch so as not to hurt you, had you thinking one thing;

This is one heck of a second chance.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[nenlio]

Against All Odds BoyFail Danny Scores a Dilf

> DP x DC #0.2 - Copper Ice <

one again shout out to @chekhovs-slinky for the og prompt

As Danny and Sam entered their shared home the sounds of a action movie reached them signaling the location of their housemate.

"Were home!!!" Sam yelled into the house.

"In the cinema room!!"

They strolled further in until they reached their friend, Tucker was sat on the sofa leaving a gap that Danny flopped himself on to, groaning in embarrassment at his actions from earlier. Patting his back Tucker winced at Dannys behavior "Woah whats up with you dude? Did you mess up or something? I thought you left the shy guy act in your twenties?"

Sams laugh caught Tuckers attention " Oh he did something alright. Get this, I come up to Danny to ask him for my keys and hes totally zoned out! I finally get his attention and he tells me he thinks he has a chance to get a date with the guy hes looking at. Now, who do you think he was talking about?"

"Based on Dannys reaction I'd say Bruce Wayne?" At Tuckers reply Sam makes an X motion over her chest "EH wrong, Danny-boy over here went after Alfred Pennyworth, As in the guy that raised Bruce Wayne, As in the guy Bruces children consider their grandfather, As in the guy who is 35 years older than Danny!!"

"NO WAY WHAT" Tucker looked down at Danny on his lap and started shaking him "DANNY STOP BEING PATHETIC AND TELL ME EVERYTHING"

"Danny cant answer the phone hes dead" came Dannys muffled reply. Tucker rolled his eyes and turned back to Sam, "so what did Alfred say?"

Sitting down Sam started to, dramatically in Dannys humble opinion, regale Tucker with their evening story," im not even joking Tuck he looked like Alfred was the Cinderella to his Prince Charming with the way he ran after him. Me and Brucie looked so lost and we had to have awkward small talk about the charity until Danny came back."

At this point the force of Tuckers laughter was making him a very uncomfortable pillow so Danny rolled over to glare at him. "Danny, dude, you gotta admit its hilarious how desperate you must have looked in front of Wayne. You probably don't even know where your taking Alfred on a date do you." Dannys groan of embarrassment was answer enough for Tucker to lose it once more.

"Don't worry Danny well come up with a plan for you to woo your beau" Sam soothed as she patted his back, Danny simply groaned out of embarrassment. He had the worst friends.

The batcave was a flurry of voices all asking Alfred questions, the man in question simply arching a brow at their unruly behavior.

"Alfred are you really going on a date with that guy?! We don't even know anything about him!!" Dick was seemingly the most distraught at the news, his grandfather?? Dating?

Oracles voice crackled as she spoke through the caves speakers " His name is Danyal Danny Nightingale, 36 years old, he is the co-owner and eventual heir to DalvCo. He has a relatively clean record aside from some speeding and arrests for unruly protests."

Alfred simply sighed in response, "Master Dick, Ms. Barbara, while I understand your worry that is no reason to invade our guests privacy. And yes Master Dick I will be going on a date with Mr. Nightingale, his efforts to pursue me are commendable, and I will be giving him a chance even if it isn't earnest on my behalf."

"So youre just going along with his whims? 'tt' I expected more from you Pennyworth" Damian didn't show it outwardly but he was excited for Alfreds date. He had immediately recognized Nightingale during the gala, not because of his business, but because he was the person to bring back the purple backed gorillas from extinction. Damian had been 6 years old when he first saw a magazine featuring Daniel Nightingale. He had devoured the every word written about Daniel and it sparked the beginning of Damians infatuation with animal conservation beyond that of his families ideas.

Now seeing the opportunity to meet his role model face to face, and possibly even being related to him (if Alfred's account of Nightingale wanting to court with the intent of marriage was correct.) Damian knew what had to be done.

Damian was going to become Gothams cupid and make sure his Grandfather and role model got together.

Laying back on Tuckers legs, Danny tensed as he felt another sneeze attack coming on, halting all conversation.

ACHOO "Bless you" " Bless you" "Thanks, ugh who decided that speaking my name would cause me to sneeze"

Sam rolled her eyes at Dannys whining. "At least you dont get the calling to be summoned like with your royal title" Danny glared at Sam "gee thanks for being so compassionate, Ill be sure to sneeze on you next time"

"I wonder who's talking about me though"

[lostintransist]

The Boys' Home | Part 7

Part 1 | AO3

“Fucking ninjas make more noise, Simon!” It was a screechy sort of volume that escaped you.

Sweeping your gaze over the windows you find him, eyes and up peering in the window above the sink.

“Must not be good ninja’s then.” He lifted a nonchalant brow.

Your eyes drift shut as your lips purse and hands settle on your hips. One deep, slow breath, and you are ready to try again. Simon does not deserve your anger fueled by your children. Opening your eyes you find his already on you.

“What can I do for you?”

The tips of his ears draw your attention with their chameleon-like change. His fair skin shows off embarrassment exceptionally well.

His words were swallowed by the siding. Blinking a few times at him you made a choice.

“I didn’t understand a damn word of that, come in through the back door. I’m putting groceries away.” Turning back to doing that you let him decide how important whatever drew him to you is.

The backdoor creaks as it opens. Glancing over you see Simon shifting it back and forth, assessing. Opening the cabinet you pull everything off the bottom shelf to put your new cans of beans at the back. Now empty you grab the new cans. Simon speaks as your back is to him.

“Why do you have five jars of peanut butter?”

God setting your bed on fire would not have got you moving so fast. Spinning away from the table you cross the space in two steps.

“Don’t touch those!” You grab his hand in both of yours before it touches the jar labeled SETH in your neatest handwriting.

Simon’s eyes narrow and while you feel the barest prickles of unease you squeeze his hand the tiniest bit harder.

“Can I ask you to trust me on this?” You straighten up, pulling your lips between your teeth.

“No.”

With a sigh, you lean back against the counter. Noticing you still have his hand in yours you release him. Folding your arms, to keep them from touching him again, to give them something to do you explain.

“I don’t know which one of them started it and which ones of them have done it but it is possible that the boys all stuck their dicks in their jars of peanut butter.”

Simon sent you the most concerned/confused look you had ever seen on a grown man’s face.

“I don’t understand it, but something about growing up in a healthy and not abusive environment means kids, boys, do weird things.”

The look you share speaks to a level of understanding that you hate that you have. As nice as it is to connect with other children that made it made it to adulthood, it hurts to know that pain built them like it did you.

Unfolding your arms you brush them down your overalls and stand upright. Looking up at him you catch the movement of the hand you had grabbed being shoved in his pocket.

“You didn’t come by to discuss my boys’ odd habits. Did you need something or did you come by for a chat?”

“Uh..no.”

Eyebrows lifting you slid your hands into your back pockets. Simon seemed like one to wait out if you wanted answers. The slamming of a door upstairs and feet tromping down the steps set a rigid shape across his shoulders.

“It’s Seth.” When Simon glanced at you, face emotionless you continued, “My oldest. He’s eleven and loud.”

“Mom! I’m going to the Fishers!”

“Dinner is at six!” You cup your hands and shout back knowing he is likely to slam the door before you finish.

“You let them out alone?” Simon doesn’t sound like he is judging but you give a bit more of an explanation than he was owed.

“My boys know the rules of safety, and everyone around here knows they are mine. As much as I would love to sock some of the old biddies square in the nose I know they would go toe to toe with a bear for my kids. Sam and Darren are wandering the woods currently probably bringing me back a collection of rocks. Reggie is playing video games with a friend of his who moved a few months back, they have a regularly scheduled video call.” You spin around and angrily start stacking everything back in the cabinet. “I know my boys. Every one of them has experienced awful things and knows the rules we set out together are to keep them safe. They don’t stray from those, just the common sense ones like sticking their dicks in peanut butter.”

Simon shifts behind you, his hand appearing with a can. Looking from his peace offering of peas to his face you can’t glean much. He keeps his silence until the only thing left from your grocery trip is a pile of plastic bags on the table. Scooping them up in your arms you head to the door for the basement that sat opposite the back door. A five-gallon bucket with a large hole cut in the center of the lid sat on the top step. You shove the bags in with their brethren and leave them for the demons that haunt the darkness beyond. Basements were scary.

Shutting the door firmly, because if you didn’t it would spring open at the worst times, you turn back to Simon.

He is standing in the middle of your kitchen, boots spread wide nearly touching the fridge, and the toe kick at the same time. Shoulders and curled forward, fists shoved in his pockets.

“I didn’t mean to offend with my question. I know that the world isn’t as safe as when I was a kid.” He glances up at you and then back to the peeling linoleum.

Pushing a breath out through your nose you rub the back of your neck. Seems you might have overreacted. That tends to happen about your boys.

“Apology accepted. You’re new here and I shouldn’t have assumed anything by the question.”

He let out a near-silent breath as his shoulders descended from his ears. Where others would have fidgeted Simon stilled.

“I came by to ask for more of that sweet tea you gave us last time we were over.”

The smile that blooms over your cheeks sends color straight back to the tips of his ears.

“Happy to help. I’m out currently, so why don’t I teach you how to make it and we can sit on the porch while it cools?”

Simon’s single nod carries a lot of weight. Pulling out a saucepan you start explaining every step of making a simple syrup and how long the tea bags would need to steep.

“Now understand if you tell any of the ladies in town how long I steep my bags I will feed you to the basement demons. Steeping time is highly contentious around these parts and I will not be defending my timing choices.” You point at him sternly as you stir the sugar water.

Since he could reach you set him in charge of opening the tea bags and pulling your pitcher down from the highest shelf. Simon’s lips twitched as if he fought a smile. Then nodded all the same.

When all the sugar has completely dissolved you transfer it to the pitcher and add water from the tap until you are pleased with the height. Simon then adds what he deems to be a ‘ridiculous amount of bags’.

“You wanted to know,” you shrugged one shoulder as you settled the tea in the fridge. “Can’t be upset at the knowledge you asked for.”

Once the door sealed shut you paused, handle still in your hand, “Well I guess you can be but that would make you ungrateful.”

Turning with a smile you invite Simon to follow you to the porch. Despite the seating options, you find yourself tucked in close to him on the porch swing. This time you don’t need to ask him before the gentle movement starts.

“You got any family, Simon?” The bunch of his muscles under his jeans is what you watch as you wait for an answer.

It’s a long time coming. The swing never changes tempo.

“Not…anymore.”

A glance at his face, the tears simmering at the corners of his eyes tells you everything you need to know about the answer as a stranger.

“Losing people is hard. The time doesn’t make the hurt less, only that we think of it less.” Patting his leg twice you search for a happier topic and find one that Reggie had stumped you with. “If you could go to any planet and explore which would you choose?”

The time it takes him to answer has you glancing at him.

“It’s Uranus, isn’t it? You an ass man, Simon?”

Creaky laughter bubbles out of him like he hadn’t laughed that hard in too many years to count.

“While I might be an ass man,” he wiped his face, chuckles of laughter still burbling out of him, “I would have to say Saturn. Those rings must be a sight.”

“Interesting. I want to visit Jupiter.”

He glances down at you.

“Well I would have said Pluto but my kids like to remind me that it isn’t a planet anymore.”

There went the unused laughter again, music to your ears. He stayed chatting with you until the tea was ready. Simon didn’t object when you used his knee to stand. The almost smile you got when you presented him with the largest glass you could tell you so much about this man.

Settling back into the swing, that Simon paused for you to sit, you enjoy the silence with him.

“Feel free to come use the porch swing any time you need. Alright?”

He grunts once in reply. The quiet lasts until it’s time to start dinner and you leave him to enjoy the serenity you fought so hard to build.

Boys Masterlist | Masterlist

@leahnicole1219 @harperstyles @sigynxlokiwifelover @fluffysmiko @lily-bug3 @demothers-empty-blog @literallegendicon @littlelovebug98

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; “but it’s weird that it happened twice”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“The lab dangerous to use right now?” Tucker asks, because he seriously never knows when the Fentons have put in some new security systems or booby traps, though usually the answer is “always”. Which, welllll . . . 

“The lab is literally always dangerous, man,” Danny says, so yeah, that’s still a thing. “Probably won’t kill us right now, though, so it’s our best option. C’mon, let’s get going, just in case Mom and Dad actually do find something. Like, it’s Amity, I’m not gonna assume they aren’t gonna actually find a ghost out there.” 

“Yeah, point,” Tucker agrees with a grimace, tucking his PDA away again and pushing his glasses up his nose. Badly-timed ghosts are very much a recurring theme in their lives. Actually they’re a major recurring theme in their lives, even these days. Heck, for a while in there, they just were their lives. 

Tucker is so, so glad they’re gotten genre-savvy in their own lives, but man was it a process. 

Jazz leads the way down to the lab while Danny texts Sam and Val, and Tucker brings up the rear just in case Dani stumbles on the steps or anything. Superboy falls in step beside her, his posture lazy and his walk more a saunter than anything else, and Tucker suffers about it. It does not make it easy to concentrate on Dani, is all he’s gonna say. Like, he’s doing it, but it is frankly painful. 

God, why is this dude so pretty. Why is that a thing? Tucker really did not realize he was into dudes, much less this into dudes. 

Okay, well, technically so far it’s just been this one specific dude, and to be fair Superboy is a pretty impressive one specific dude, but seriously, he is this into the guy? Just–seriously? 

Tucker is going to have to reexamine so many things about himself after this bullshit gets fixed. Like, just so, so many. 

“So like what kinda lab we talkin’ here, am I gonna feel right at home or am I gonna feel like I’m there to punch a bad guy?” Superboy asks Dani, cocking an eyebrow curiously. “Which admittedly those lines are a little blurred for me personally, but just like the general vibes.” 

“I dunno, it’s a lab?” Dani wrinkles her nose, then just shrugs. “Lotta chrome, never heard of OSHA, better-lit than Vlad’s.” 

“Who’s Vlad?” Superboy asks. 

“A very punchable dude,” Dani snorts, rolling her eyes, and Superboy laughs. 

“Oh, you the punchin’ type, boo?” he asks, draping an arm across her shoulders and tugging down his glasses to shoot her a flirty leer over the top of them. “‘Cuz I could get behind that, personally, that’s right up my alley.” 

Dani looks briefly bemused, then incredibly delighted, and cackles gleefully. Possibly over the promise of future punching or possibly over getting called “boo”; situation unclear there. Tucker has some maybe-weird feelings about the flirting thing despite being perfectly aware of both who Superboy very unsubtly is as a person and of Dani’s total disinterest in ever developing impulse control and both of their very loud and enthusiastic attention-seeking tendencies.

Maybe it’s just that it might be weird to solve a problem for Danny via bringing over a dude who’s gonna hit on his clone/daughter/sister/cousin while they’re trying to save her life? Because that would maybe be weird, Tucker can admit how that would maybe be weird. 

Though he hasn’t really heard Dani laugh in a while, so . . . yeah, that could be worse, for sure. 

“Like I’m gonna share the punching, please,” Dani scoffs, flipping her mussed ponytail over her shoulder. “Punching’s all mine, Superfly, I got dibs.” 

“I dunno, how fast you get, boo?” Superboy teases, and she laughs again. “We can work it out the old-fashioned way if you wanna just race it.” 

“You can try, if you think you can keep up,” Dani replies smugly, making a show of examining her nails. Superboy laughs too, and she grins up at him, and Tucker maybe feels like–

Then Dani’s mouth tightens, and her eyes flare, and she–flickers. 

Crap, Tucker thinks, and Superboy’s arm sinks a few inches into Dani’s shoulders as her tangibility stutters, and he yanks it back, and her face goes dead-white and her eyes glow, and Tucker curses and Danny whips around and Jazz whips around a beat slower than him as her hand snaps reflexively to the pocket she’s been keeping the Ecto-Dejecto in and–

Dani makes a choking sound, and it’s probably just as reflexive when she reaches out with a fumbling, halfway phased-out hand, and she’s probably meaning to reach for Danny, but her legs and feet go just intangible enough to drop her into the stairs and she goes straight down. Danny lunges down for her, not even taking the instant it’d take him to transform but already phasing to try and match her tangibility. 

And Superboy snaps out his own hand and catches hers, and it–doesn’t slip. 

Tucker–blinks. 

Wait. What–? 

Then Dani’s intangibility phases Superboy, and they both fall straight down. Dani shrieks and Superboy yells, and they both disappear through the steps as Danny throws himself after them. Jazz is already whipping back around to barrel down the stairs, the epi-pen full of Ecto-Dejecto already clutched in her fist. Tucker runs after her so fast he nearly ends up falling down them face-first, his heart in his throat as he thinks–is Dani destabilizing again or was that just a flicker, is she already melting, is she already melted, is she– 

And he thinks, in a more pragmatic and matter-of-fact and genre-savvy part of his brain: how the frick did Superboy catch Dani’s hand? 

He also has some really complicated and unnecessary feelings about how Superboy didn’t let go of Dani’s hand when she phased him out and dragged him down with her. Like–that is standard superhero shit, Tucker reminds himself. Like–yeah. That’s standard. Fully normal and typical. 

But he’s definitely still having some weird feelings about watching the guy go right through the stairs with Dani without knowing jack shit about what was happening and not even hesitating. 

Okay, well . . . at least he picked a real ride-or-die type for this, Tucker guesses.

[twopplinatrenchcoat]

Sum thunderbolts* headcanons

spoilers under the cut

• They all live in the tower (obvs), but Bucky also has his NY flat

• Last one to move in was John (- I have mortgage guys)

• Bob is learning how to cook from the internet (before that he only knew how to make instant noodles)

• But they all take turns cooking

•Even though Alexeis attempts at russian cuisine tend to taste like hes trying to poison them

•There have been many contests (pushups, pullups, whatever exersise they can think of) between John, Alexei and (quite reluctant) Bucky, to determine "the best" supersolider (- how long has it.. - three hours. -and they are still... -yea)

• Ava starts the prank wars because "John is getting on my nerves since we met" so she pours a bunch of glitter in his cap (- WE HAVE A PHOTOSHOOT TOMORROW! And my hair is Still full of glitter!)

• Alexei has all the merch. E likes the cereal figurines the best

• He shows their action figures to everyone (- look Lena, your figurine lights up! Come on, its great!)

• Yelena brings her dog and it imidiatelly befriends Bob (- traitor dog)

• He likes taking it for walks

• They like to joke about Sams team (and his team jokes back)

• It ends with the teams playing jeopardy against each other

Thank you for reading these, i will soon post another about christmas in the tower! I absolutely loved this movie!