#I think it’s entirely likely Sam walked into that room already being able to recite pi to the 20th decimal place

[unquietspiritao3]

On the Taskmaster Podcast, Alex said they pick the order the tiebreakers are shown before studio week based on which one they like most, and, uh, no offense to Susan and Sue, but that was an extremely boring tiebreaker task. Which makes me wonder what crazy thing one of the other contestants did to memorize pi and if we will ever find out??

[thegirlwhowritesawksh-t]

la douleur de l'amour - georgenotfound x f!reader

author: @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t​ me!

word count: 4.7k +

warnings: hella angst, mentions of blood/scabs/injuries. if there’s any you think that you see, please let me know!

a/n: hi y’all :)) first off, to whoever’s reading this: stay hydrated, smile and laugh! and second: this is my submission for @bozowrites​ writing event! <33 congrats!!

**this is my second fic, and i’m hoping to push more out as i get more comfortable with writing! i’m thinking to maybe make a part two to this but i don't know yet. please let me know what you think! *sending besitos to y’all :))*

Prompt: Why are you crying?

1:15 p.m.

In the corner of a dimly lit studio in front of the barre, (y/n) leans over to her left, counting four beats before resetting and proceeding to stretch over her right side. After months spent choreographing, picking costumes, and endless bandages wrapped around her feet, it has led to the final product: her first piece in her dance company’s annual recital premiering tonight.

All (y/n) could feel was pure energy and pride at what she has created. It’s her baby after all and nothing could ruin the day for her.

Feeling her joints start to loosen up, she runs through a mental list in her head making sure each dancer had their costumes, knew where all the dancers would start and end on stage, as well as remembering her own choreography, seeing as she had an important section to end her piece. After double-checking, (y/n) then begins to travel to the center of the studio, and begins to run over the piece.

Remember the triple pirouette here, before you end with a leap to fourth position. Finishing in the fourth position, she lets out a curse as she accidently stubs her right thumb toe, a small scab already tearing at the edge. Shaking out her pain, she reattempts the move, succeeding with an effortless bow.

“You know, your piece is going to be excellent. Why are you so worried?”, a voice calls out in the quiet studio, with (y/n) yelping and trying to find where the voice came from. Standing against the edge of the doorway stood Liam, her dance partner and best friend. (y/n) begins to chuckle and runs the piece over again.

“Can’t help but make sure it’s perfect. I have drenched all my blood, sweat and tears creating this dance, this- this masterpiece. It is my first, and most certainly not my last choreographing piece at this company. There’s too much riding on this for me.”, she replies.

“Even if so, I’d like to think you’ll be fine. Don’t stress, it’s amazing. Otherwise, how are you feeling?”

“Kind of excited, kind of feeling like I should run away.”, (y/n) replies. Avoiding to answering the question entirely, she begins to run the piece over again. She continues,

“I think regardless, it should be a great night. George is coming to the recital tonight and it’ll be the first time he’ll be seeing this dance.” With George editing and recording videos for the Dream Team, his Twitch channel, and YouTube channels, (y/n)’s barely seen him since the start of the dance season. The only time she’s been able to spend time with him has been going to bed with him - even if it’s been a bit more rare lately - and sometimes, a free day on a weekend with no dance practice or no recording for George.

“So that’s why you are nervous, how cute.”, Liam laughs, with (y/n) leaping over to Liam and swatting their arm lightly.

“He swore that he’d come tonight, and he knows how much time I’ve spent perfecting this. I just can’t imagine tonight going any other way. I made sure to get him a seat right in the front, so he’ll be able to see the whole performance, and me.”, (y/n) smirks. As soon as (y/n) found out she would be choreographing one of the pieces in the recital, she immediately told George her good news. George had told her she deserved it for working her butt off since the start of her being at the dance academy. Making him pinky swear, George swore that he would be there for her first performance with her also starring as a choreographer.

“So focus on that instead of thinking your piece is going to crash and burn! Relax a bit. We only have a bit of time before we start getting ready, so let’s run it over a few more times. And don’t even think about slacking off now, missy, we’ll stretch and go get ready after.” Liam decides, and she nods, thinking it’s probably for the best. Running to her bag, (y/n) sends a quick message to George.

George J: hey, can’t wait to see you tonight! i left your ticket on your nightstand, and remember to dress up slightly, it’s a dance recital after all ;) lub you xo - sent at 1:34 p.m.

Content with her message, she tosses her phone back into her bag, and heads back to run over the piece with Liam once more.

>>>

6:47 p.m.

Sticking the last bobby-pin to her bun, (y/n) glances in the mirror to make sure no mistake is in place. Eyeing her look, she can’t help but smile looking at her dance attire, admiring how her purple leotard and dress matches her eyeshadow. Paired with a dark nude lip, she smirks and turns to check her phone for any messages, hoping that one could be from George.

Out of the nine messages she received, most were from friends and family, wishing her luck on her performance tonight. She replied with a thanks and a heart emoji before finally reading the last message coming from George about two hours ago.

George J: hi darling, i saw the ticket, i am so excited for you! can’t wait for you to take my breath away, as you always do. love you more xo  - sent at 4:48 p.m.

Smiling even wider, (y/n) puts her phone on silent, before walking towards the backstage area, passing dancers along the way. Grabbing their hands and wishing them good luck, she arrives at the destination, nerves buzzing as members of the audience start gathering at their seats. Deciding to take a peek, (y/n) rushes to the curtains, peeking her eyes out towards the front rows, trying to spot the pale boy who danced into her heart. First row, seat G for George, she giggles to herself.

“Trying to find your lover? I’m right here!” Liam asks, with (y/n) turning around.

“As much as I’d love that, I’m no Harry Styles, so I don’t think I’m your type…” (y/n) smirks.

“Hm. Where’s George, I want to see him!”

“I’m looking for him right now, Liam. Give me a second.”, (y/n) laughs as she turns back to the audience. Finding his seat, she subtly frowns seeing as he’s not in his seat yet. He’s probably in the bathroom, or still in line to get to his seat, (y/n) tries to explain to herself.

“He’s not here yet, I think he’s in the bathroom or something. But give him time, he’ll be here.” (y/n) mutters as Liam frowns at her.

“He better show up, it’s your night, (y/n).”, they grumble. They start to say more however-

“Places, everyone! Take your places! We’re starting at seven sharp!” the stage manager yells out. He continues,

“We start in five minutes!” Rushing to get off the stage, she sees dancers brush past another wishing them luck. As the ballet dancers start to move into their places for the intro piece, she then walks over to Liam, helping them set up the microphone as they begin to breathe slowly.

“Hey, you got this. It’s just reading off of cue cards and announcing pieces. And then you’ll be set for my piece. You’re going to do great, Liam.”, (y/n) tries to motivate, with Liam smiling shyly at her.

“And your piece is going to kick ass, (y/n). It’s perfection. Just wait until George sees you dance. I’m a hundred percent sure he’s going to fall for you even more.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see…” (y/n) laughs. Liam clears their throat a bit before raising the microphone to their lips. (y/n) proceeds to head to the viewing room, where a broadcast of the show would play for other dancers to watch and support their fellow castmates.

Taking a deep breath, Liam starts to speak as (y/n)’s nerves start to palpitate.

“Hello, how are you this evening? And welcome to the 67th Annual Recital for the London Dance Academy! I am your emcee, Liam Barrings, and let me introduce you to the first dance of the night created by Sam Hastings. Here is Invictus!”

>>>

8:51 p.m.

An hour later, seven dances, and many whispered good jobs, it is finally time for (y/n) to step on stage and premiere her masterpiece. Slowly tip-toeing to her first position on stage, she glances at her castmates, thanking them silently in her mind for them to trust her to bring her visions to life. Before the curtains open, she turns to Liam on her right, kneeling down and grabbing her thighs, and they smile back at her.

“Ready for it?”, they smirk. Thinking to herself, she nods and turns back to the front of the curtains waiting for the music to begin. Remember the triple pirouette after Liam grabs you. And try to look like you’re in pain from loving him. It is exquisite pain, right (y/n)? Liam is toxic, yet you still love them. Make it believable. And finally, breathe.

Another emcee, Josh begins to speak.

“And now, I present to you (y/n - y/ln)’s dance. This is her first piece with her own choreography with the London Dance Academy, and tonight, we are the very first group of people to watch her story come to life. Please let me introduce you to (y/n) and her piece, La Douleur Exquise!” the audience claps softly, before the curtains open its wings to reveal the creation.

The background, a stark white, yet the lights casts hues of soft lilacs, with streaks of dark reds splattering across the dancers’ bodies. With a small pause, music begins to sing out of the speakers. Liam and (y/n) begin the piece with a small duet. Following closely behind, a quad of dancers mimicking their moves with childlike innocence.

Liam turns to (y/n), conveying an I love you through their linked hands and they abruptly pull her to their arms, as she looks at them with confusion in her eyes and pulling away. Gliding towards the middle, the quad walks slowly to (y/n), enveloping her with open arms, before having a dance section with (y/n) in the middle as Liam looks on, hellbent on grasping (y/n) once more. Every other beat, (y/n) turns to Liam, feeling lost as if they were missing from her.

As the quad looks away, having their own small solos, (y/n) slips away from the group only to leap back into Liam’s arms with her hands grasping their face as Liam slowly grips her waist. Looking at her with renewed interest, his face morphs into fury as one of the dancers pass by her, softly guiding his fingers from her shoulder down to her inner wrist. An angry duet starts, with Liam and (y/n) clashing against each other, as if saying they hate but love each other at the same time.

(y/n) leaps into Liam’s arms, before slowly sliding herself off him as the quad of dancers, follow closely behind, lifting (y/n) to her feet. Everyone proceeds to move as one, with the quad dancing in the center, whereas Liam paces their way to (y/n), lifting her into the air once again, before they land in a small leap. Conversing with their bodies, Liam guides (y/n)’s hands to their heart, slightly pulling her along. Finally coming to the end of the dance, (y/n) runs to the center of the stage, facing the audience.

Grabbing her left arm is Liam, pulling her to their side, and the quad of dancers are pulling her on her right. The war between the two goes back and forth in a tug-of-war before (y/n) seemingly gives up and slams herself to the ground, as the music fades into silence. The audience erupts into booming claps and cheers, and (y/n) feels herself being pulled up from the ground by Liam as a light blush covers her skin. Glancing up at the audience, she tries to smile despite the stage lights burning into her. I did it, I managed to make a story, my story come to life. Hearing the audience continuing to clap, realization sets in and she finds her eyes wandering over to the front row, seat G for George. Seat empty, her smile falters and her eyes become glassy. Some would think because of her success with her piece. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad, maybe it was a little bit of both.

>>>

9:23 p.m.

He’s here, he has to be. He’s probably peeing or waiting for me in the front with flowers, or in the dressing room. He has to be here, I know it, (y/n) mutters to herself, hellbent on her beliefs that George is here. Yet the bitter taste of rejection starts to seep into her bones. Shaking her head a bit and attempting to put on the brightest smile, she starts to rush back to the dressing room, a sinking feeling residing in her stomach with each looming step.

Facing the dressing room door, (y/n) can’t help but hope that maybe George is standing there with a bouquet of flowers and kisses reserved for her. Slowly opening the door, her hopes slip through with her mouth curling as she stares at only her reflection in the mirror. He swore that he’d be here. He swore that he would be here for my first performance, (y/n) softly whispers to herself, tears threatening to fall. Gasping, she finally lets herself breathe as she repeats to herself again and again that he wasn’t here.

A soft knock on the door interrupts her thoughts, causing (y/n) to quickly wipe her tears before foolishly yelling out,

“George?”, as the door opens to reveal Liam and the Director himself, Nicholas Anderson.

“(y/n)? It’s us. Where’s George?” Liam asks, a frown settling into his brows.

“Oh, he’s just in the bathroom, he hasn’t been feeling good.” She lies, feeling bile itch her throat. A little white lie shouldn’t hurt anyone, (y/n) thought.

“Hello, (y/n). You looked wonderful out there! Your dance was easily one of the highlights of the night, I couldn’t stop replaying the duet between you and Liam in my head. Your dance truly captured the aspects of a toxic relationship not from one side but from both of point of views. It truly showed exquisite pain, knowing that you would always go back to Liam, but would Liam be there for you?” Nicholas explains, his words smacking (y/n) at full force. Is- is George there for me?, (y/n) thinks to herself. Nicholas continues on,

“I think you are a great addition to our Academy, and tonight truly proved how ready you are to become a full-time member. So how about it? Next season, we’ll be adding you to the roster of choreographers.” Eyes wide, (y/n) nods furiously with a yes and hugs Liam. Nicholas smiles and exits the room, leaving behind two excited dancers jumping around.

“You did it! Now we have to celebrate! Club night, I don’t care. We are going to get plastered! Bring George!” Liam laughs. At the mention of George, her stomach turns as she then realizes George wasn’t here. What sounded like good news turns to rot as she starts thinking of George.

“Let me check my phone, it has been a while in the bathroom, huh?” (y/n) tries to joke, trying hard to not let her voice waver and letting her brain scramble to come up with another small lie. Reaching through her phone, she reads over the texts once again sent from family and friends, finding the conversation between her and George. No new messages, her heart sinks as she slowly starts to open up the rest of her notifications, scrolling to most likely find the purple box that would always stay permanently stuck on her home screen. With bright white letters glaring at her, her heart begins to ebb away feeling a familiar sense of loneliness.

1h, 53 min ago: MINECRAFT MANHUNT W/ THE DREAM TEAM

Relying on her emotions, she turns to face Liam, hoping that her excitement of her promotion would overcome the feeling of abandonment of the man she loved. Plastering a sad smile through watery eyes, she forces out,

“George isn’t feeling well, he’s got an upset stomach. I think it’s the stomach flu going around.” If you can convey pain through dance, you can lie through this as well, (y/n) thought. She continues,

“I don’t know if I should be going out since he’s sick.” (y/n) mutters.

“So we go without him! It’s your celebration, his loss.” Liam rolls their eyes. His loss, my loss - seems like the same.

“I- I don’t know, Liam… I’d want to celebrate with him as well.”

“And I get that, but at least go out with us. You always have tomorrow with him, or later tonight. Do it for tonight, do it because you’re going to be a choreographer next season! At least do it for me and the group. We’ve worked our ass all season and we made your vision come true.” Liam explains. Contemplating with herself, (y/n) resolves with a soft smile and mutters an okay. Pumping their fist in the air, Liam excuses themselves to notify the others of the good news and plans.

Once again facing the mirror, (y/n) repeats with determination to celebrate her night. It’s her night to celebrate with loved ones, even if the one she loved the most isn’t there beside her. So much trying to take your breath away when you weren’t even here, George. Taking a breath, she forces out a shaky laugh and tries to smile. Let’s go celebrate, (y/n).

>>>

1:39 a.m.

Slightly stumbling out of the taxi, (y/n) manages to slowly walk her way up to his doorsteps, phone still showing that George was still streaming. Pausing her hand on the doorknob, she resolves to try to wait until morning to confront him, not trusting herself completely to be okay in front of him. Opening the door softly, she walk in, attempting to not make a sound. With small steps, she closes and locks the door before setting her bags down. That can be cleaned tomorrow, (y/n) thought. Rubbing her eyes, she decides to make herself tea before she goes to bed, most likely not with George until he finishes his stream.

While making her tea, (y/n) thinks of everything that she has worked for in the last few months. Endless changes to her dance, countless small injuries, whether it be a jammed toe/finger, scrapes of blood scattered around her feet from dragging her feet too hard across the floor, everything. Why is it that with her triumph, she is beyond proud yet the idea of George not being there to witness her moment shatters that accomplishment? Mulling it over, she doesn’t notice George bustling down the stairs, finished with his successful 5 hour stream with Dream and Sapnap. Spotting (y/n) making her tea, he slowly approaches her and wraps his arms around her waist, landing a soft kiss to her shoulders.

“Why are you home late, Darling? It’s nearly almost two in the morning.”, George chuckles, as (y/n) freezes in his arms. Softly shaking her head, she tries to side-step out of his arms and brings her tea to the opposite side of the room, wrapping an arm around herself. Clearly, he didn’t remember, (y/n) slowly starts to think and repeat to herself.

“Why do you think I was out, George?” she softly asks, taking a sip of tea to calm her nerves. I guess we’re just going to have to hash it out now.

“I don’t know, but did you see the stream? I beat Dream at the last second and he was this close to defeating the Ender Dragon!”, George starts to explain while laughing, with (y/n) taking a harsh breath in. Pinching in-between her brows, she snaps,

“No, George, I didn’t see the stream because I went out to celebrate.”, she mutters, tears slowly starting to escape.

“(y/n)? Is there something wrong? Why are you crying?“ Turning around, (y/n) tries to look anywhere but him. She settles on looking at the clock, watching as time went by, and her nerves increasing with each second. George starts to say more-

“I needed you tonight. Do you remember what tonight was? To my career? To me?”, (y/n) cuts him off. Standing there without a thought, dread slowly seeps in as George realizes that he missed her performance. He starts to stutter,

“Darling, I- “

“No! No. You do not get to apologize. I needed you and where were you? Sitting on your ass playing Minecraft with Dream and Sapnap! I get that your career is very reliant on you being consistent with your uploads, but you couldn’t have taken a night off? For me? I- ”

“(y/n), it’s not like that at- “

“Don’t- just don’t try to explain or come up with excuses. I just don’t want to hear it George. I spent months working on this, exhausted yet still pushing myself for the damn Academy. You swore that you would be there. I left you the ticket on your nightstand, you even texted me saying that you were excited to come! So imagine me standing on stage, looking at the front row, seat G, and where the hell were you? Not there, George. You were not there. I looked like a fool waiting for you to see me perform and dance. Do you remember Nicholas Anderson?”, (y/n) tries to ask calmly. George only stare at her with defeated eyes as he shakes his head no. Cursing, she heaves out a breath before continuing,

“He’s the director of the Academy, George. He’s offered me a position to be a permanent member and choreographer for the London Dance Academy. So please, let me ask again: where were you? I had to lie to Liam and say that you had an upset stomach and that you couldn’t come out! So, Liam invited me to celebrate with the dancers, to celebrate tonight’s success.”

“(y/n)- (y/n), we can celebrate now. I know- I truly know I messed up, but I can fix it, we can celebrate right now!” George stumbles out, walking towards her to grab her hands. Stepping back, she glares at George, appalled that he truly thinks he could resolve this. Shaking her head harshly, she bites out,

“I don’t want to celebrate with you. I’ve already celebrated with loved ones.” Rolling his eyes, George tries to reason with (y/n).

“Okay, I get it. I’m the bad guy in this scenario. But I’m trying to make this right. I am so sorry, darling, but I want to make it up to you, you know I am sorry.”

“You know, I never ask you to cancel a stream or get off of the stream. I always try to understand for the life of me why the streams have to be long, but I try. I always watch your streams and interact with your fans for your sake. I’ve had to explain countless reasons as to why you never show up to my performances, or why you can’t go out with me with the other dancers. And I am okay with it, don’t get me wrong. I know how much Twitch and YouTube and the Dream Team means to you. But you mean everything to me as well. So forgive me if I wanted to be a little selfish and ask you to support me in one of the biggest performances of my life.”

“I can go to the next one, (y/n). It’s not like it’s the last performance.” George snaps.

“You don’t get it, do you?”, she asks, wiping furiously at her tears, trying to not stutter through her words.

“What is there to get? Clearly I’m trying my hardest to make it up to you.”, he replies.

“I love you. I’m so much in love with you, it hurts. But you don’t get it. I have been there for everything in your career. Your first hundred subscribers, your first million subscribers, when you won the MCC back to back, everything. This was- is the important night of my life, and you didn’t show up. You stuck with Dream and Sapnap and decided to stream instead. This night was important for my career, and you knew! I told you months and weeks in advance. I wanted you to take charge and clear your schedule for today and- and sit in the damn seat that I chose because G stood for George. It was for you.” She sobs out, chest shaking as she tries to collect the words tumbling out of her mouth. With eyes flashing in annoyance, George tries to speak over her tears,

“(y/n)- “

“I created this dance for you! For me and- and for us. Because we believed in each other and had the support for each other. Clearly, it was one-sided and tonight proved that.”

“(y/n), listen to me- ”, George stops himself. Watching (y/n) fall apart, he takes a shaky breath and tries to walk closer to (y/n). However, (y/n) takes more steps back, leaving a distance of hostility and guilt between the two lovers.

“I love you. I love you with all of my heart. And… and I know you love me. But I needed you. Do you even need me?” she asks, the thick silence covering the air.

“Yes! How- how could you even say that, (y/n)?“ George replies just as quick as she finished asking. Looking at him for the first time tonight, she lets out a sob. With cheeks red, hands tugging at his hair, and George frantically looking at her, (y/n) can’t help but cry a little more.

“Because tonight proved otherwise. I wanted a night of you to myself to watch me be pretty and dance, and you didn’t even give up one night for me.”, she says, tugging at her sweater. Looking up, she further goes on to say,

“How stupid would it be if I were to ask to choose between me or the Dream Team? Or- Or your career?”, barking out a bitter laugh as George stares with guilt. As silence meets her ears, (y/n) slowly starts to sober up, eyes slightly widening with shock.

“George…”

“I’d find a way to make it work, I’ve been making it work for us since the beginning!” George snaps.

“George, you know I would never ask that, because I personally think it’s a selfish question. But if I decided to ask seriously, right now. What’s your answer?”

“And I’m telling you, I am making both work. Please believe me, (y/n).”, George says quietly, grasping at whatever opportunities there are left to resolve this potentially fatal matter.

“I can’t tell anymore.”, her voice cracking as fresh tears pool down her cheeks.

“I don’t think I can stay here for a while. At least until I’ve had some time to think.”, she manages to force out.

“(y/n), you can’t be serious. No, we are fixing this now!” George tries to say with an unwavering voice, eyes slowly becoming glassy.

“I can’t look at you George without wanting to cry, and- and scream- yet tell you I love you, even if you don’t deserve my love, especially right now. I need to go- I’m going to go. I’ll be back in a while.”, (y/n) says, choking on her words. Walking backwards, she turns to the door, with George following her and watching her pick up her dance bags. Lying on the ground was a bouquet of flowers, crumpled amongst her heart. Choosing not to pick up the bouquet, she mumbles out,

“I’ll call you when I’m ready.” Pausing, (y/n) looks up at George for the final time tonight, willing herself to not run back to him, despite how much the desire is growing to do so.

“I love you, George.”, opening the door, George yells out,

“I love- “, the door cutting through his confession, acting as a wall between the two. George tries to reach the door knob, ready to run after the love of his life. Yet… he’s frozen on the spot, with tears finally trickling down his cheeks, and pushing deep breaths out to steady his shaking heart.

Why are you crying, George?

[jhoudiey]

The beans day fic is here! Lots of Yoru Jade banter, yay friendship! 3130 words, no warnings!

“What do you want, Jade?” Yoru grumbled. Jade had knocked and let himself into her room, she was huddled in front of her desk finishing her history essay when he interrupted her.

“Oya? How did you know it was me?” He smirked, hand to his chin.

“You’re the only person that ever knocks” She shrugged, not bothering to look in his direction. Unlike her regular guests, Jade wouldn’t visit without reason, she waited for him to tell her what he was after.

“Ahhh Yoru-san, so studious, working on your homework on the eve of beans day, I would have thought you’d be plotting something with Azul or Idia-san...” She twirled hand in the air, gesturing to him to get on with it. “I’m here to ask a favour- I’d like your assistance with beans day tomorrow, assuming you haven’t already made plans, Floyd said he said he was here earlier”

“You really want to waste one of your favours for help tomorrow? Works for me” she shrugged

“About that, I was quite hoping to keep my remaining two favours available and you would help me out of the kindness of your heart” He smirked as she barked out a laugh, still not bothering to spare him a glance.

“Ha! No. Nice try though”

“Oh? That’s too bad, you see, I’m on the opposite team as Azul this year and I was quite hoping to completely humiliate him” Yoru stopped writing, slowly turning to face Jade.

“I’m listening”

“Shrewd as ever I see, Yoru-san. I do already have a plan, of course, though the added certainty you could provide would be most appreciated”

“What do you have in mind? And what’s in it for me if you lose?”

“Fufufufu how hurtful, to have so little faith in me”

“That doesn’t answer my question” she smirked, leaning back against her desk “If I help you and you still lose, what’s in it for me?”

“Perhaps we can discuss repayment afterwards, you see, I do not plan to lose, so I do not know what to offer you at the moment”.

She chewed on her tongue, trying to decide what she would accept as payment. Jade didn’t break his stare, observing her with a light smile on his lips.

“If I help you and you lose, you have no more favours from me”

“Hmmmm, I’m not sure that is a fair trade, Yoru-san”

“It’s my price. Besides, if you’re so confident you’ll win you’ll still come out with two, so what do you have to lose?”

Jade chuckled, the smirk on his face growing to show his pointed teeth.

“You make a sound argument, Yoru-san. Meet me at Sam-sans shop shortly after noon. There we will meet with Idia-san, Ahhh I mean Mister Smith-san to be outfitted appropriately. I will see you tomorrow morning, Goodnight.”

**

“Hey Sam. Where’s Idia or Jade, I’m supposed to meet them here”

“Ahhh my favourite little demon-chan! Unfortunately what your friends were searching for was OUT OF STOCK so they have since gone on their way” Yoru rolled her eyes, she was hoping she wouldn’t have to do any of the lame code word stuff Idia had told her about.

“Out of stock?” She sighed, reciting the words Idia had told her the week before. “That’s too bad, for what I seek is always in stock, at Mr Smiths Mystery shop” Sam finished the phrase with her, beaming.

“Over here, demon chan! Mr Smith awaits” Sam led her to a back room where Idia was waiting

“Hehehe you actually remembered” Yoru rolled her eyes again and sighed, regretting her decision to help.

“Where’s Jade?”

“Not here yet, but here’s your outfit” He handed yoru a series of straps attached to pouches and a headset. She hesitated to grab them, Jade hadn’t mentioned anything about having to wear a costume.

“Uhhh… do I have to? What am I supposed to do with any of this?” Idia shook his head at her, sighing dramatically.

“Yoru, you can’t play co-op without looking the part, so I got you a cool looking skin” She shook the pouches in her hand, wondering what Idia meant by skin - There were a lot of black and orange straps...nothing that looked anything like skin.

“Idia...what…?” She stared at him, “And what do I do with this?” She wiggled the bright orange earpiece at him. “How does it work?”

“Uggggghhhhhh can’t you be cool for even a minute? And give me that so you don’t break it. Get dressed and I’ll help you with this, then you need to leave. I don’t want you to blow my cover” She handed over the earpiece and secured the straps around herself, surprised that he’d considered her wings when putting the “skin” together for her. After tightening all the straps around her arms and legs she popped the pouches open, they were full to the brim with beans.

“Extra ammo for my masterpieces ehehehe” Idia secured the headpiece on her ear, adjusting the microphone in front of her mouth. “Don’t touch this part - you just need to talk and Jade will be able to hear you”

“He’ll be able to hear me? How? How will he talk back?” She reached toward the mic - Idia slapped her hand away.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll probably break it somehow. It’ll work, just leave it alone. Now go away, I think I can hear someone else coming.”

Yoru nodded, crawling out a back window to not alert anyone in the store to her presence. She sighed, hoping she’d be able to get the hang of this “spy” thing. Her job was just to watch, she hadn’t expected the extra technology. She took to the skies, hoping to settle herself in a tree far enough away from wherever Floyd planned to nap. She knew if he found her he’d decide bothering her was more interesting than napping and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on helping Jade.

“Yoru-san, are you in place?” She nearly fell out of her tree when his voice came over her earpiece half hour later.

“I’m ready, if that’s what you mean. What do you need me to do?”

“Do you have my location?” She shuffled around on the branch she’d taken up residence on, leaning against the trunk of the tree, wings comfortably fitted to either side. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, using her unique magic to search for Jade amongst all the students would be dizzying and she didn’t want to fall.

“Found you, what do you need?”

“Where’s Azul?”

“He’s with Jack at the coliseum”

“Keep an eye on me, let me know if I’m about to walk into an ambush. I don’t believe the monster team would be able to surprise me, but with Azul leading I don’t want to be too over confident”

“Probably a good idea, you never did ask me if Azul had approached me for help”

“Did he?” She saw Jade shake his head and look around to try and place where she was hiding

“I wonder. Have fun Jade” She chuckled and leaned back in her tree, watching as the chaos unfolded on campus. True to her word, she’d advise Jade when he was about to walk into a group of the monster team, but he was no slouch. She was surprised at how well he was doing, she’d known he was sneaky, but had expected him to have more trouble than he was having.

Her attention was pulled from Malleus and Lilias' fight with an urgent request for beans. It seemed Jade had finally gotten himself into trouble. She sighed, watching the two fae fight was the most interesting thing that had happened the entire event so far.

“Hmmm kinda busy right now, how desperate are you?” She heard him sigh and adjusted her focus to be back on him. There were students creeping up behind him. “You’ve got three monsters coming up on your six”

Pew Pew Pew

“Awe man! How did he know we were here! We didn’t make a sound!”

“Leech- senpai is too good!”

“Eugh! Lets just go get lunch, I heard Scarabias dorm leader is cooking in the botanical gardens!’

“Okay!”

“Ahhh Yoru-san, were you perhaps hoping I would be completely out of beans and you wanted to see me get captured? Fufufufu, how shrewd.”

“Is it wrong to want to see you lose?”

“I suppose I should have expected as much when I asked for your help”

“Another monster to your left.”

Pew

“Still have beans?”

“Of course, though a refill would be most appreciated”

“See that huge apple tree about 200 meters to your right?”

“Indeed”

She took off from her perch, clearing the space between her hiding place and the tree mentioned before Jade made it to their rendezvous point. She waited in the branches for Jade to arrive, looking down on him as he took cover from more approaching monster team members.

“Two at your four, three at your six, another two at your nine. Good luck” she smirked and dropped one of her pouches, making sure to not give him enough time to reload in any meaningful way.

Pew pew pew pew pew pew pew

“You didn’t really need a refill did you?”

“I did not, I expected you’d be difficult and planned accordingly”

She laughed knowing she’d been outplayed and settled herself in the new tree. Maybe helping Jade would end up being more fun than she expected. He took off running towards the coliseum, the farmer team was nowhere near getting the lyre - she supposed Jade was off to enact the next part of whatever his plan was. She stretched and lounged across the tree branch, watching chaos unfold all over campus. She found Floyd, surprised he’d decided to participate and watched their team for a while - Jade was doing just fine on his own.

“Yoru-san, I’m in need of a few more beans if you would be so kind” She searched for him, finding him near the main entryway of the school, not a lot of places she could move around without being spotted by any of the other players.

“I’m going to have to meet you somewhere with more cover, it’s too exposed and I’ll be seen” She heard him huff

“There’s no monsters near here, you can meet me-”

“Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there”

“...Where are they and how many?”

“How many beans do you have left?” she heard the faint sound of him checking his beans shooter over the headpiece

“Six”

“You’ll be fine…. Just don’t miss”

“Yoru-san” she could hear the frustration in his voice as she vacated her hiding spot.

“I’ll leave you a couple beans two turrets up, make sure to keep the monsters distracted so they don’t see me”

“Yoru this is most unpleasant of you”

“Ahahaha, it’s actually the opposite Jade, this is quite pleasant”

“As I should have expected”

Pew pew

“Do hurry, I have found myself in a sorry state”

“Well that sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it”

She smirked and took to the skies, flying as fast as she was able to minimize the chance that someone would spot her mid-flight. She landed on the roof, hiding herself as best as she could as she deposited some beans in the rain gutter for Jade to retrieve.

“Check the gutter. Azul’s nearby so this looks like your last stand”

“Thank you, Yoru-san” She bit back a laugh as she flew back towards the woods, she saw that Floyd had run out of beans and had planned to offer him a few of her extras when Jade's voice cut across the headset once again.

“Four beans, Yoru-san? Have you decided to change sides after all?”

“You said you needed a few beans, so I left you a few beans. How was I to know you had actually run out when you so easily tricked me before? I didn’t want to over burden you” She had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter as a group of students ran underneath her new perch. “If you’d care for me to blow your cover I could come back” She heard him sigh.

“I will make due.”

“You’re going to have to, I’ve been spotted”

“Yoru-san! Are you playing too? Are you using your magic?! Your eyes look so cool!” Epel whispered excitedly when he spotted her in the tree.

“Eeeehh? Fugu-chan? You told me you weren’t playing!” She shrugged, helping Epel up into the tree, he was too short to reach the branches on his own.

“Jade asked for help after you left and made me a pretty good offer”

“Eugh you sound like Azul”

“Yoru-san! I thought we weren’t allowed to use magic, does yours not count?” Epel asked curiously, trying not to stare at her black glazed over eyes.

“Hmmm? I’m not a student so technically me playing at all isn’t allowed, not that I’d need my magic to beat anyone here” She grinned at Epel who nodded.

“Ehh? Fugu-chan, you couldn’t beat me” Floyd complained as she laughed

“Maybe not in the sea, but on land I could take you without breaking a sweat”

“Haaaah?! I’ll squeeze you either way, even on land” Floyd threatened, leaning in towards her cracking his knuckles. Yoru sighed,

“Yoru-san trains with Vargas-sensei!” Epel chirped, matter of factly “She’s super tough, probably even more than Vil-senpai and Floyd-senpai! I wanna get strong like her too, can I come with ya again next time!?” There were sparkles in his eyes as he beamed at her, his fired up attitude was so endearing she never minded him joining in on her training.

“Ha! Floyd, why don’t you join us? You can go all out and still lose. It’ll be fun” She grinned at him as the stars in Epels eyes grew. Floyd grinned at the offer to let him go wild - everyone always told him to hold back, Yoru clearly didn’t know what she was offering. She rubbed her neck, tapping one of her pouches “Do you two need beans? I’ve got a bunch left over”

“Ahhh so you hadn’t misplaced your beans, Yoru-san, you chose to not share them with me. How cruel of you.” Jade sighed over the radio. She had forgotten he could hear her, Yoru laughed and pushed the microphone away from her face.

“Yes please, Yoru-san! Thank you!”

“I thought you were just going to nap?”

“Hmmmm~ Betta-chan senpai convinced me, and look at this cool jacket! It’s fun chasing all the monsters too, even though I’m stuck with weak little Guppy-chan”

Epel started to protest before Yoru shushed them, pointing to the North.

“Here’s your beans, go get em” She smiled and waved them off, the boys soundlessly dropping from the tree to sneak up behind the monsters who foolishly had only been searching at ground level rather than amongst the branches. She smiled, Floyd and Epel were an unlikely pair, but an entertaining one at the very least.

She split her vision to focus between the odd duo and Jade, who had finally squared off with Azul. There weren’t any crows near enough to see what they were talking about, but it was sure to be infuriatingly intellectual. She considered revealing herself to watch their battle in person, but it was too late. Jade had lost. She pulled her microphone back to her mouth, hoping she hadn’t damaged it by moving it.

“Boooooo you suck” No response. Either Jade had turned off the receiver or he chose not to answer, she couldn’t be sure which. Whichever it was, she was still free of his grasp, the favours she owed him evaporating as he was captured. She sat back in her tree to watch the remaining students battle, Floyd had somehow run out of beans again even though they’d just reloaded and was using his bean shooters like batons. She almost felt bad for Scarabias vice prefect as Floyd chased him despite him already having been eliminated. Leave it to Floyd to disregard the game entirely and do whatever was the most fun, not that she could blame him- she’d done the same in a way. A net shot from the shadows, finally capturing Floyd, he whined wriggling on the ground trying to tear it away with his teeth

“Floyd, stop struggling, you can’t bite through this net. It'll damaging your teeth”

What? What kind of net was it that could damage teeth? Yoru sat up, curious. Would her fingers be able to rip through it? Her feet? She landed next to Azul seconds later, Floyd still entangled.

“Hey what is this made of?” She asked, trying to cut through it with her nails. The material resisted, stretching along the length of her fingernail instead of tearing as most other fabrics would. “I’m keeping this.” She turned to look at Azul, hands full of net.

“Fugu-chan I can’t get out of you keep pulling it, it’s really annoying” Floyd pouted, trapped completely.

“Oh.” She helped him untangle himself and stand, gathering the net in her hands stretching the fibers between her fingers. It really was amazing what could be done when magic was involved. They trudged their way to the main street, Yoru cradling the net to her chest hoping Crowley wouldn’t show up and take it away.

“Ahhh Yoru-san. It seems despite your help, I still failed to secure a win for the farmers team” Jade lamented, having finally joined them. The smirk Azul wore was so smug Yoru was tempted to wrap him in his own capture net and throw him in the lake.

“Were your 4 beans not sufficient?” She asked with a grin, Jade chuckled, flashing his pointed teeth

“They were not.” He looked over to his twin with a smile on his face. “Did you have fun today, Floyd?”

“Mhmm~ Did you, Jade?”

“Very much so, though if I’d picked a less difficult partner I wonder if we could have won” Yoru giggled and shrugged her shoulders. He knew what he was getting into when he made her the offer in the first place.

“Eeeehhhh~ who cares anyway. I’m starving”

“I missed lunch as well, today was quite busy, hmmm”

“So lets go back to the Lounge and make something to eat”

“I don’t wanna eat in the lounge” Yoru complained “What about-”

“I have to agree with Yoru-san, there is something else I’m craving right now…”

“The meat Rakko-chan was cooking earlier!”

“Indeed”

“So what are we waiting for then?” Yoru asked, leading the way to the botanical gardens with the twins following behind, telling each other about their day, all three of their hearts set on kebabs.

[asgardianthot]

Flesh And Bones – Part 8

Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist

A/N: been a while :l sorry for not updating for a while!! As usual I’m back with a lot written down!! Part 9 will be up soon (and also the last part of Funeral Chuckle, if you’re reading that one). Here, have some domesticity and some kisses and a lil angst :)

Words: 3187

*This work is also on AO3

"You're doing great, Barnes." Sam congratulated the man, encouraging him to keep going.

Bucky breathed hard through his nose, controlling his breath as he punched the bag down in the training area. While he worked on his punches, Sam monitored his improvements in the caution department.

The whole idea was for Bucky to be able to control his own strength when using his hands, so that he learned not to get himself hurt. Ergo, so that Sam wouldn't get hurt. Hydra had taught him to hit targets, not to care for himself while doing so. Whereas any trained soldier would land on their feet neatly and placing their weight on their toes, Bucky was told to land. At all costs. No matter if he wrecked his bones in the process. Thus, whereas Sam punched his targets in a way that wouldn't break his knuckles, balancing his strength, Bucky wasn't as preoccupied. He didn't mind the occasional sting, and if he got himself hurt, he healed pretty fast. Of course, that was before the bond.

Suddenly, Bucky began punching a bit rougher and Sam felt the familiar tingling on his knuckles, numbing his articulations a little.

"Easy." He warned Bucky.

The latter stopped with a grunt and dropped both arms to his sides.

"Sorry." He panted slightly.

"No, that was good." Sam made sure not to forget focusing on the positive advances, "You're getting a hold of this."

Barnes didn't nod, but he didn't seem to be negating the stated fact, either. Instead, he looked like he was considering it while he fetched his water bottle. He gulped down a quarter of it in one go, never losing eye contact with Sam, and panted out in exhaustion when he got rid of the bottle.

"You're not saying it out of pity?" he verified, tentatively.

Sam merely rolled his eyes.

"I don't pity you." He reminded Bucky, "And you really are learning this pretty fast."

The appellee reflected on the partial compliment for a second, and then his face grew a small smile.

"Great." He finally agreed, still working on steadying his breaths, "That means you're not getting hurt."

While Bucky didn't have anything meaningful to say or add, he couldn't look away from the man that had been couching him the past hour. He thought about how hard the adapting process would be and for how long, but having him right there and being able to appreciate the goodness that Sam irradiated, he thought about how much harder it would be not being Sam's partner.

"What?" Wilson eventually felt too observed.

Bucky wanted to say something cheesy. Desperately wanted to pamper Sam somehow, but he opted for closing the gap between them. He took one step closer until their bodies pressed slightly, and put a hand on Sam's waist.

"This okay?" he checked.

The smile that Sam bore was almost unnoticeable, but Bucky did catch it.

"Yeah." Sam breathed out.

As Bucky planted his own lips on his and pushed a wet kiss into them, Sam's insides swelled and churned in the best possible way. Be it through the excessive effort Barnes was putting into controlling the bond, or through that tiny kind gesture, Bucky conveyed how much he cared. And Sam had never felt so cared for before, or at least, not like that. Bucky was different. He was the kind of man who would swear to you his undying loyalty by getting back on his own two feet for you.

When their lips parted, Sam took a hold of the metal hand in his.

"Told you we could do this." He said with pride.

His words alluded the arm control and the strength balance, but he also meant the bond. And somehow, he was referring to the love part, also.

"Sorry I ever doubted it." Bucky smirked up at him.

-

The common room seemed to have come back to normality, finally. Seeing how nobody was avoiding anyone anymore, the heroes managed to eat breakfast while sharing the same space, and coexist like they used to.

In fact, the couple looked more comfortable than ever, plopped on the couch and watching TV. Bucky rested his body against Sam’s, while the latter wrapped one arm around him, occasionally running his fingers through his hair. Behind them and having their breakfast on the table, were Wanda and Steve.

“You guys are disgusting.” Wanda joked, disapproving the entire couch scene with her expression.

“You’re so jealous.” Bucky replied, not even dignifying her with a look, “Pass the remote?”

“Come get it.” The young woman scoffed.

Bucky twisted his neck as much as he could in his current position, only to give her an offended grimace.

“Come on!”

“You can’t get away from Sam for half a second? Is that it?” she teased.

“I don’t wanna get up.”

“Neither do I. Come get your remote.”

Finally, Sam interjected with annoyance. “I’ll get the remote.”

As he stood up and abandoned the embrace, Bucky groaned at the lack of support and dramatically let his body fall lopsided on the cushions.

“That’s exactly what I was avoiding.” He complained.

“Admitting that you were too comfortable?” Wanda narrowed her eyes in a mocking manner, “Just say it, lover boy.”

During the whole interaction, Steve had been hiding behind his morning paper– some habits die hard. Eventually, he had to at least acknowledge the childish playfulness filling the room. It was so refreshing, yet so different, coming from Bucky and Sam as a couple. The idea was still settling in the back of Steve’s mind, but he couldn’t deny it somehow felt right. Too right, like they were a couple the entire time and he just hadn’t noticed, with all the bickering and taunting.

Nevertheless, Steve laughed, “This will be easy getting used to.” He admitted, still focused on his paper.

“What’s gotten into you?” Bucky accused Wanda, even though he knew she was just messing with him.

“I’ve never seen you like this, it’s weird.” She explained, a disgusted look on her face, “I’m starting to think I want you to go back to your glum and glimmy self.”

“Not if I’m here.” Sam negated the possibility, sitting back on the couch, but not half as snugged and sunk as before.

The young woman cringed even harder at the sound of that, “Ew.”

Steve rose his sight to give Wanda an amused look, only for his eyes to be hyper-aware of the person walking in. Natasha stepped through the doors with a work tablet in hand and a preoccupied, vague expression.

Steve was the first to notice, “What is it?” he asked her in that very leader-ish tone that characterized him.

The redhead breathed, almost pacing, “I got a tip for a next mission. Looks pretty clean.”

Sam knew when Natasha was worried. It wasn’t hard to miss, but it also seemed like it wasn’t an urgent, life or death matter, thus he simply gave her a push so that she could explain the matter as quick as possible.

“And?”

The woman directed her eyes to Bucky, then at Sam, and she talked to the latter, exclusively. In fact, as she spoke, not even once did she take her eyes an inch away from Sam’s.

“It’s a Hydra base.” She set the information loose, ripped the Band-Aid off, “One of the last ones.”

Sam tensed up immediately, whereas, as attentive as he was to the smallest shift in Bucky’s breathing, he didn’t feel him tense up.

“Let me go see it.” Wilson stood up, meaning they should talk about it far away from the common room.

“Yeah, that’s probably better.” Nat agreed.

Ten seconds went by after the pair left the room, and the room was still immersed in sepulchral silence. When the sound of their heels died down in the distance, Steve stood up, not saying a word, and followed behind.

Bucky raised his eyebrows to himself, sourly, “That was smooth.” He said sarcastically.

Wanda felt sorry for his friend, seeing the way the other three had handled the situation.

“They just don’t wanna… trigger you, or whatever.” She tried to ease the awkwardness while standing up from her seat.

She plopped down on the couch next to him, rested her head on his shoulder and hugged her legs to her body. She was snugging close to him, almost like trying to fill the void Sam had just left, since she noticed how Bucky had grown accustomed to physical comfort.

“Well, I’m fine.” Bucky replied dryly and with a clear hint of annoyance, “I can deal with it.”

“I know that.” At the lack of reaction, Maximoff lifted her head and frowned up at the man, “Hey. I know that. And I’m sure they… sort of know that, too.”

That uncertainty caused Bucky to snort, for not even the person supposed to be comforting him believed that to be true.

“Yeah, well. They already think I’m a ticking time bomb, right?”

As much as Wanda wished to speak the truth, she also didn’t know the answer for sure. Maybe they did expect Bucky to crumble at any moment. Maybe Rhodey or Steve or Tony or even Natasha didn’t see how resilient the man had been, and therefore, were just waiting for him to crack under pressure. She couldn’t know.

“I don’t think Sam believes that.” She said honestly, for that’s really all she had, “I think he trusts your mind as much as I do, which is a lot.”

But Bucky didn’t seem convinced. Can’t convince someone of something you’re not sure about yourself. So she offered everything she could and held his hand in hers.

“What do we say?” she asked for him to recite the comfort words they had set themselves.

Bucky nodded, agreeing to recite them, because agreeing to verse it meant he believed the words at that exact moment.

“We are not their weapon.” He spoke in that tone which one uses when narrating a memorized passage, “They did not create us.”

“That’s right.”

While Bucky digested the saying, assuredly trusting the meaning of it, Wanda took a big breath. It was never a good time when they had to resort to the mantra, and remembering their gloomy past never brought a smile to their faces. They continued watching TV, pretending to not be thinking about whatever the other heroes were discussing.

-

A full day passed, and Sam still hadn’t received a single opinion nor approach from his soulmate. He assumed he had to ask about the tense subject himself, but the timing was never right, because for the past twenty-four hours, Bucky hadn’t spent more than five minutes with him. Deep in the most concealed parts of his mind, where he was sometimes selfish, Sam felt a little offended. He understood, however, the logical reason behind Bucky’s reservations.

That didn’t mean he didn’t think he should end the secrecy. So Wilson walked inside Bucky’s room, seeing the door wide open, and heard the noise of a human coming from the bathroom. He found Bucky brushing his teeth, and he leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey.” He spoke rather gently, “Are you avoiding me?"

"I'm brushing my teeth.” Barnes answered like it was nothing, although it was muffled by the toothpaste; he spat the foamy liquid on the sink before talking again, “Didn't think you'd be so clingy."

"I'm serious." Sam lowered his tone.

That caused Bucky to turn serious as well. He rinsed his mouth with water, then cleaned his face with the questionably fresh towel that was laying around.

"Of course I'm not.” He was genuine this time, but he still walked to his room, which made Sam think that he definitely was being avoided before, “What's wrong?"

"They moved the operation.” Sam followed behind, “We gotta head down tomorrow."

"Okay."

"You got nothing to say?” Wilson insisted, earning a simple shrug from his partner, “Buck, come on. I'm just worried, 's all. I don't think you should come."

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I?” Bucky sat on an armchair to put on his shoes.

For all Sam knew, he had caught Bucky during his morning routine, but through his currently paranoid brain, it seemed like the soldier had chosen to do all that stuff to keep himself busy and not having to engage in a heavy heart-to-heart. And Sam simply wished to look Bucky in the eye and get the truth out of him, but he realized that was a little egoist.

By the time Wilson was done with his careful thinking, Bucky had both shoes on and was standing to fulfill another task.

"Because." Sam started while Bucky walked past him; he sighed, "Just be honest. If you don't wanna join, no one will blame you."

"Yeah, you will."

The easiness which Bucky spat that out with made Sam frown. Although Bucky looked for something inside his closet, Sam walked closer and held his arm tenderly as a way of asking him to turn around.

"No, we won't." Sam lowered his head, believing the accusation to be as far off as possible.

"You said it yourself, Sam.” Bucky tilted his head, “You think I'm a lazy-ass for not doing shit all day and never showing up to meetings."

The words were harsh. But they weren’t one hundred percent false. Sam took a step back, his head falling down as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He remembered all the times he’d call Bucky those exact things as a joke, before they knew about the bond. Back when their way of interacting consisted of mean teasing and fake disqualifications.

"I'm sorry.” He let out along with a big puff of air, “I never said that for real, though-"

"But you did.” Barnes interrupted him, “ ’Cause it's true."

"No, it's not.” Sam rushed to put both hands on Bucky’s arms, the softest way possible, yet in a desperate attempt to get through Bucky’s thick skull, “You can take all the time you need to get back into superhero gig."

"Back?”

There was a moment of silence, of absolute uncertainty from Sam’s part, before he decided to let go of Bucky’s hold. Clearly, there were many things on his soulmate’s mind that he didn’t know about. And sadly enough, there was no one to blame. It was just how things rolled out to be. Which was why Sam simply waited for Bucky to speak up.

Which he did, in an upset tone, “No, Sam, I… I've never been much of a hero to begin with. That’s you, you were one before the Avengers, saving lives in goddamn Afghanistan. Hell, saving depressed veteran's lives-"

"Watch it." Wilson had to remind him to still be respectful, even if Bucky’s frustration was being directed towards him.

Bucky came to his senses and stopped before taking a breath.

"My point is, I'm not you. I was a dumb kid enlisting to shoot some Nazis. Then I was some dumb kid following m'boy Steve to shoot some Nazis. Then I was whatever they made of me."

Wilson shook his head, "You're more than that. You're more than them."

"Maybe.” Bucky found himself saying something that contradicted his and Wanda’s mantra, and it shattered his own heart for a second, “Won't find that out unless I start facing them, instead of lying here watching TV all day."

Sam, once again, reached for his partner physically by placing his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, this time his grasp a little more invasive.

"So you wanna prove yourself, okay. Do it for you. Not for the team, not for Hydra. Not even for me."

"I have to.” Bucky insisted, raising his voice and drawing disappointed eyebrows on Wilson, “Sam, you're the good guy. I've never been that guy, if I could just...”

When he noticed how hyperventilated he had turned, Bucky cut himself off. Sam waited patiently as the man looked down and shut his eyes.

Bucky started whispering to himself, “We’re not their weapon. They did not create us.”

Sam couldn’t miss it.

“What’s that?” He asked cautiously.

When Bucky looked up at him, there was the tiniest bit of fear in his pupils. Now that he thought about it, the action of mumbling to himself, he thought, must have made Sam think he’s crazy. Plus, in Bucky’s mind, Sam already believed him to be a tad unstable, so he began regretting doing it in the first place.

But he kept it together and replied as nonchalant as he could, given the circumstances.

“Just something Wanda and I say. To, you know… remember.” He brushed it off.

Sam wasn’t having none of that minimizing crap. Inside that previously mentioned, recondite place in his brain where he sometimes was selfish, he desired to know Bucky’s every thought. Outside that brain section, he understood why that was not only impossible but also a foul wish, which is why he kept it locked there, in his selfish box; it still didn’t negate the fact that he hoped to understand Bucky as much as Bucky could make himself understood. Balancing all that, Sam didn’t push too far, but kept his tone flat and familiar.

“Remember what?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek for a second before loosening his tense shoulders and responding truthfully, “That we were people before they experimented on us.”

It made sense to Sam in a way that it didn’t; he got the message, but he couldn’t possibly understand how it felt to be neither Wanda nor Bucky. Sam had never been transformed and made into a weapon. His issues with the Army would never compare to being Hydra’s pet, or Strucker’s pet, and it made sense that they would bond over that simple, and at the same time very complex premise: No matter what they did to them or made them do, they were someone to begin with. They changed them, but they do not control this version of them. They are their own people.

Sam couldn’t conceal his sad grin, as he thought that the saying, the mutuality of it and the shared experience, was the nicest thing he’d heard, however it was also unbelievably sad that they needed one.

Bucky didn’t appreciate the pitiful look.

“This is what I mean, you… you think I’m so goddamn breakable.”

“I think you’re exactly the opposite.” Sam corrected him, “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. But you can also give yourself a break, you know that? Taking down a Hydra base might be too much.”

Barnes accepted the words, although he didn’t give up his initiative.

“I’ll never know if I don’t push myself.” He suddenly turned to Sam’s eyes as if they were some sort of haven, which, in some level they were, “ ‘sides, you’ll be there with me, right?”

“Yes.” Sam pushed the affirmation almost aggressively, not even waiting for Bucky to finish his thought, “Yes, of course.” He forced Bucky into a hug.

Being the tough love kind of guy, Bucky surrendered to the physical gesture and let his head fall on Sam’s shoulder.

[thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters]

True or False

Summary: Dean’s inability to talk feelings and emotions with you forces you to try a different strategy in hopes of getting him to finally open up.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff

Word count: 2.3K

Inspired: By this post from @spn-imagines-nation

A/N: A HUGE special thanks to @pink1031. Not just for beta’ing this oneshot but also for encouraging me to actually post it and let other people read it as well. This is my first time posting something of my own on here but worry not, I will continue reblogging my favorites from you guys as I always do!

|| JJ’s Masterlist || Tip me <3

Dean descended the stairs to the war room two steps at a time, the wall slightly trembling from how hard he had slammed the bunker door shut behind himself. Within seconds, Sam was in front of his brother to hold him back. “Where is she?” he said through gritted teeth. “I know she’s back, Sammy. I saw her car parked in the garage as if she never left.”

But you did leave, didn’t Dean know it. He had been out looking for you the second he found your room empty the morning before. Not even a note left behind. Even he had had better manners when he was a demon for crying out loud.

“I really think you should calm down first, before you go talk to her,” Sam advised, but the dead-stare he received from his brother right after made him back up a little.

That’s when your light footsteps sounded from the hallway. As soon as your eyes met Dean’s, the man’s entire attitude changed. You had seen it before, more times than you could count. It was the sight of his walls being pulled right back up to lock you out of whatever he was thinking and feeling.

Your face fell, but only for a moment. Within seconds you had mirrored his indifferent expression. “Dean,” you spoke awkwardly, clearing your throat.

“Y/N.”

The silence that followed weighed heavy on your shoulders. You wondered if it was why Sam left the room, or if he just wanted to give you and Dean a moment to talk in private. Either way, there wasn’t any talking for minutes, though they felt like hours. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and spoke up.

“Where were you?” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you could take them back. After what you did, leaving like that, you didn’t have the right to ask such a question.

It seemed that Dean agreed. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, but he only let himself show emotion for a split second. “Where were you?” he then recited.

Drawing your eyebrows up high you said, “I’m surprised you care, seeing as y-“

“I don’t,” Dean interrupted you mid-sentence. The coldness of his voice made your stomach ache. “Forget I asked.” He turned on his heels and was out of the room in only a few quick strides.

A voice in your head tried telling you it had been a mistake coming back so soon, or coming back at all for that matter. That you should have just stayed away. You were still wondering this an hour later, standing in the middle of your room, staring at the bag on your bed. Maybe it should stay packed, ready for another solo-trip. The thought was appealing for only a second before you told yourself you were done running. That was already Dean’s MO, you were better than that. Only seconds later it turned out, so was Dean.

His knock was harsh but after a quick pause, his voice calling your name sounded the complete opposite.

You cleared your throat and quickly shoved the bag off the mattress, kicking it underneath the bed. “Come in,” you said, a hand dragging through your hair as you turned to watch the door open and a defeated looking Dean walk in.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stepped inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him. You noticed he kept his head down, not looking you in the eye until he finally found three simple but heavily weighing words to say.

“We should talk.”

Your mouth was dry, your hands clammy. This was it; the moment you were finally going to have the conversation you had been so anxiously trying to prepare for in your head since you drove off the day before. You wondered if Dean came to talk to you about this of his own accord or if maybe Sam talked to him. Either way, you decided it best not to ask. “We should,” you replied instead. A brave little step toward Dean followed.

Dean followed the movement of your feet with his eyes before focusing back on your face. “Look,” he started after taking a breath, “I’m not a complete idiot, all right? I’m not entirely clueless. I know the fight we had was bad, but I never expected you to… to just…” He made some wild gestures with his arms instead of finishing his sentence and it was enough.

You knew he was pissed at you for disappearing without a word. Even a little text letting him know you were okay would have been better than the complete silence you left him with. But you couldn’t do that because it wouldn’t have been true. You wouldn’t be okay until both of you finally said what you had to say.

Your eyes stood sad as you stared into his. “You can only push me away and expect me to be waiting till you pull me back in so many times, Dean.”

“Sweetheart, I-“ His hand went up to drag over his face and he scratched the scruff on his chin that was longer than normal. You knew why he hadn’t shaved; he had been too busy looking for you. If only he could admit to doing so. But he couldn’t, because it would mean he was admitting to needing you as much as you needed him.

“I just want to hear you say it,” you said, taking another step closer. “Even if it’s only once, I need to know that you can admit it to yourself.”

Dean’s lips parted as if he was going to say something and your heart skipped a beat thinking he really would this time. Then they closed and all you got was a pained expression and a shake of his head.

“Right.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding and pursed your lips into a tight line. “That’s okay. That’s fine, really. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“Y/N, please, I-“

“I said that it’s fine,” you interrupted him, “not that it’s finished. We just need a different approach.” An idea had popped into your head that gave you a new sense of hope and courage. “How about we play a game?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and his mood changed in immediate response to yours doing the same. He watched as you reached for his hand and his large fingers gladly closed around your smaller ones. After letting you pull him towards the bed, he sat down next to you on the edge of the mattress. Before he could even ask what kind of game you were talking about, you had already started rambling away with that little sparkle of determination in your eyes he adored so much.

“We’re having some clear issues in communication here,” you stated the obvious. “I might say too much at times and you tend to hold back when perhaps you shouldn’t. Actually, when you really obviously shouldn’t.” You just couldn’t help yourself. “But let’s not get into that right away. Let’s keep it short and simple instead. I think we can both handle that and, who knows, it might actually help us both say and hear the things we need to.”

Dean’s tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips before pulling them up into a soft smile. “Sure,” he said, even though he had no idea where you were going with this. “Why not?” He might not know what game you were planning on introducing to him but he did know he’d try anything that could result in things being well between the two of you again.

“Okay, good,” you said, clearly relieved he had agreed to this newly improvised plan. You let go of Dean’s hand to use both of your own to gesture while you spoke. “Here’s what’s going to happen; I give you a simple short statement. Just one at a time. And all you have to do is say if it’s true or false. You got it? Two possible answers, true or false. It’s that easy. Think you’ll be able to manage?”

Dean wasn’t sure how you’d react if he let out a laugh so he suppressed the chuckle and put on his most serious face. “Absolutely,” he said. “True or false, I can do that.” He pushed up his bottom lip and nodded in agreement.

You clasped your hands together and started chewing on your bottom lip, a giveaway sign for Dean that you were deep in thought. When you figured out what you thought to be the best way to start you said, “It was a dick move of me to disappear without leaving any kind of note. True or false?”

Dean scoffed. “Easy,” he said. “True.”

The way he answered earned him a nasty look from you. With narrowed eyes you kindly reminded him, “Just the one word. No personal commentary, thanks.” You allowed yourself to relax before continuing this new way of conversation.

“You went looking for me.”

Dean was quiet for just a moment. “True,” he then admitted.

You knew it was big for Dean to admit this and not just go back to denying he cared at all. Still, you wanted more and you knew this was the closest you had ever gotten to making him give it to you.

“You went looking for me,” you said again, only this time you added, “because you’re afraid to lose me.”

“True.” The answer came quicker this time. It seemed Dean was opening up to you, like you had been wanting him to since things started between the two of you. Again, you needed more.

You didn’t just need Dean to make sure you wouldn’t leave again. You needed him to know why you left the first time. Even though you had promised short simple statements beforehand you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “You understand that you are the one who drove me to pack up and leave because you kept pushing me away.”

“What?” came Dean’s immediate response. His eyes went wide and you could see your words had hurt him. “Y/N, that’s not fair! I d-”

“Dean.”

His sudden burst of dander disappeared as quickly as it had come up. However, an answer did not follow.

“You know the rules,” you reminded him, “only two possible answers. True or false?”

Still, it stayed quiet for a long moment. You studied Dean’s face but he was no longer giving anything away, not even in those eyes you liked to tell yourself you could read so well.

Then, finally, that same word rolled off his tongue again. “True.”

You pushed a sigh past your lips and felt yourself move closer to the man next to you. In the past couple minutes you had gotten Dean to admit more to you than you ever thought he would. Maybe it hadn’t been entirely in his own words, but it was enough for you. It gave you the confidence to keep going and reach for the connection you feared to have lost only hours ago.

“You need me in your life, by your side, as much as I long to be right there.” As you spoke you kept inching closer to him. Eventually your knees were touching, then the outer sides of your thighs. When Dean answered, he made your heart grow ten sizes.

“I need you in my life, just as much as you need me.” He shook his head before correcting himself quickly. “No, screw that. I need you way more than you need me. You had the courage to walk away from this but, hell, I would be nothing without you. I am nothing without you.”

He had managed to completely throw you off balance with his words. His words. He had said it this time, out loud, to you. All you could think of for a reply was, “You’re only supposed to use…” You didn’t even bother finishing your sentence, too distracted by the warmth you were suddenly feeling through your entire body.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “The one word?” he finished for you. “You’re right, I’m sorry. True. It’s all true. All the things you said, they’re true. But you already knew that, didn’t you, sweetheart?” He raised an eyebrow suspiciously but there was a fond smile on his face as he awaited your response.

You were still speechless, getting lost in the intense look his gorgeous green eyes were giving you. All you could do was bob your head up and down in a slow nod.

“Well then,” Dean continued, clearly amused by the change in conversation moderator. “I have a statement for you.”

Again, all you could do was nod and stare. There was nothing but adoration in your eyes.

Dean dipped his head down so your faces were barely inches apart. You could feel his hot breath on your skin and leaned in a little closer. But Dean stopped you by gently cupping your cheek and pulling back slightly to really look at you. He said, “If I kissed you right now, you would pull away.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes darting to his plump lips and back up to his eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You answered in a soft whisper.

“False.”

You had barely gotten the word out before Dean’s lips crashed to yours in a passionate kiss. With that, he gave you, and had given you, everything you needed. And more.

[lovemesomerafael]

Others Like Me                                Chapter 6:  The Compound

Chapters 1-5   Read it on AO3

Bucky has a hard time adjusting to calling Marya by her name, but he’s determined never to call her “Eight” again.  That was never a name.  It was a dehumanizing designation and he’s not going to use it even one more time, if he can stop himself.  Everyone else seems to make the transition easily, and Bucky thinks that’s a combination of not having known her as long as he has, and not wanting to call her “Eight” any more than he does.

Steve’s being careful.  He’s entirely confident now that Marya is who she says she is, because Natasha is satisfied of that, and that’s good enough for Steve.  But in the Compound, he’s not letting Marya have any weapons, or access to anything sensitive, until further notice.  She’s unhappy about being unarmed, given her discomfort with being in a new and potentially extremely hostile environment, but she’s also been a soldier from childhood, with obedience literally beaten into her.  

Bucky’s trying to keep Steve at arm’s length after what’s happened between them, which is insanely difficult for about a million reasons.  No one else probably notices anything out of the ordinary – they’ve been struggling for a long time – but Steve’s longing stares have a renewed intensity matched only by Bucky’s determination to return to the easy brotherhood they once had, before they admitted their love for one another.

Bruce wants Marya to be wheeled into the Compound on the gurney but, when she complains, she gets support from everyone else on the plane.

“Quit bein’ such a mother hen,” Sam tells Bruce affectionately.  

“Even mother hens let their chicks walk by themselves,” Natasha adds, then says in an aside to Marya in Russian, “He’s a man.  He thinks we’d need as much time to recover as these boys would.”

“Isn’t he a doctor?”  Marya asks her.  “Doesn’t he know how much tougher women are than men?”

“Some of us speak Russian, you know,” Bucky mutters, trying to seem offended.  

It’s the last light moment for a while, because Marya’s back to being afraid. Bucky expected that, and plans to stick close to her until she feels comfortable.  He knows how terrifying new places and situations are for people like them when they’re unprepared, and he remembers his own introduction to the Compound. He finds himself charmed and gratified at the way Marya glues herself to his side, walking and standing just behind him but so close that he can feel her.  

As soon as they arrive, everyone scatters to their own areas of the Compound. Steve tells Bucky to put Marya in rooms near his, which Bucky knows will sound to Marya as though he’s trying to make her comfortable by letting her be near Bucky.  But Bucky knows better.  The truth is, Steve’s own rooms are adjacent to Bucky’s, which means Steve will be in a good position to keep a close eye on Marya himself.  

Bucky points out features of the place on their way: the kitchen, the common areas, the training building.  Marya’s on extreme alert, but she unconsciously shows her trust in him by holding his hand, which he finds he really likes, in a protective if slightly egotistical way.  When they reach the area where his and Steve’s rooms are, Bucky shows her which doors are theirs, before opening the door to the rooms where she’ll be staying.  She’s interested in everything, and her expression says she likes the rooms, but the first thing she says is, “I’ll be so far away from you.  From everyone.”  

“I know, and I know you won’t like that at first.  But maybe you’ll find that you like privacy.”

“Maybe.  I’ll try.”

There’s a commotion in the hallway outside.  He turns toward the sound and hears, “Barnes, I’m gonna kill you for-“

There’s a flash of movement past him and a thud in the hallway.  Bucky sighs, knowing what he’s going to find as he takes the several steps to the door and looks out.

Marya’s straddling Tony Stark, her forearm hard across his throat and a knife held in her hand with the point about two inches from his left eye. Tony, being Tony, has an eyebrow raised and an otherwise bland expression on his face.  

“Nice to meet you, Marya.”

“Let him up,” Bucky says sharply.

She keeps her eyes bored into Tony’s, and doesn’t move except to tilt her head slightly toward Bucky.  “Why?”

“Because that’s Tony Stark.”

She still doesn’t move.  “He said he was going to kill you.”

“He says that a lot.”

“He’s got weapons on him.  They’re… weird, but they’re weapons.”

Bucky can see that Tony’s good humor is quickly evaporating, which he kind of can’t blame him for, knifepoint at his eye and all.  He doesn’t want things to get any worse.  If she’s going to work with The Avengers, she’s going to need to be on good terms with Tony.

“Soblyuday, Soldat,” he growls.  He feels a little guilty about using such a loaded command, but he’s relieved to see it has the intended effect.  

She immediately flicks the knife back into the sheath in her sleeve where it had been hidden and stands, gracefully using her momentum to pull Tony up with her. But she’s not happy about it.  She keeps Tony fully in her sight as she turns a glare on Bucky.

“You’re not supposed to have a knife,” Bucky says to her with disapproval.

“THAT’S the problem you see here?”  Tony shrieks.

“Relax, Tony.  She’s just nervous.”

“Then let her fidget or talk nonsense, like the rest of us.”

There’s a tense silence as Tony glowers at Bucky and Bucky tries to think of something to say to defuse the situation.  To both of their surprise, Marya gets there first.  

“I owe you an apology, Mr. Stark,” she says, in an oddly stilted way as if she’s reciting lines.  “I overreacted, and I’m sorry.  I hope I haven’t hurt you.  It won’t happen again.”

Tony looks from Marya to Bucky.  

“In her defense,” Bucky tells him, “She only tackles people when she first meets them. Once she knows you, she’s very polite.”

“I often regret not killing you,” Tony says to Bucky in an offhand tone that’s almost fond.  He then turns to Marya.

“Apology accepted.  I like a girl with spirit.  I am going to have to ask you for that knife, though.”

She quickly, though reluctantly, takes it out and hands it to him, handle first.

“A few house rules,” Tony says, in his usual rapid-fire style.  “First, no attacking the host.  That’d be me.  Defend me, by all means.  And you’re welcome to attack this one at will.”  He motions toward Bucky.  “Second, if Cap gives you an order, you follow it.  He says no weapons, that means no weapons.  You with me so far?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Tony looks toward Bucky.  “You hear that?  ’Yes, Sir’. I already like her better than you.”

Bucky smirks.

“Third, if anyone catches you anywhere you’re not supposed to be, they have orders to kill you on sight.  That might strike you as a little rude, and I suppose it is, but no one’s ever accused me of being socially acceptable, and you did just knock me down and stick a knife in my face, so I think we’re even.  Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, I could so get used to that,” Tony gushes to Bucky, then turns around and begins to walk away.  “One more thing,” he says, holding up a finger and turning back toward Marya.  “I understand you have a couple of Hydra’s toys, and that you understand how they work.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll talk.”  With that, Tony spins back around and strides rapidly back down the hallway.

 The next week is hard on both Bucky and Marya.  One of the reasons is their rapidly escalating impatience.  Nothing seems to be happening.  Marya thinks constantly of her ‘brothers and sisters’ in the bunker, and can’t stand the idea that they might think she isn’t coming back for them.  Bucky, too, is thinking of them.  He doesn’t know them, so he can’t care about them personally the way that she does. But he knows enough.  He knows what he endured.  He knows that he cannot and will not leave them there.  

Bucky’s also having nightmares like he hasn’t had since he first escaped Hydra and went to ground in Bucharest.  He’s hollow-eyed and haggard, and he dreads the nights.  Sometimes he wakes up soaked in cold sweat, tangled in his sheets.  Those are the good nights.  It’s the nights he wakes up screaming, stabbing at nothing and terrified almost to madness, that have him wondering whether it’s all worth it.  

Sam tells him it’s a good thing.  Miserable, agonizing, but a sign of progress.  A sign that meeting Marya has helped him to be able to approach a well of memories and emotions he wasn’t ready to even acknowledge before.  Bucky hopes so, because he feels like he’s drowning.

One night, he dreams he’s back in captivity, looking at a circle of flunkies aiming weapons at him while shithead Pierce spews megalomaniacal vitriole disguised as patriotism at him.  He sees Rumlow, drooling and sprouting wood at the idea of what’s about to happen to him. Bucky’s aching for Pierce to shut up, but at the same time desperate for him to continue so that what’s coming next won’t happen.  But it does. He feels the clamps, then the unbearable torment, like every nerve in his brain is being torn out separately and at the same time, and he wakes up, screaming and clawing at his head, bolt upright in his bed dripping with sweat.  

He sees his shadowy room, and knows he’s safe in the Compound.  He knows he’s going to blow that fucking bunker to kingdom come if it’s the last thing he does.  He’s with The Avengers now.  He’s not alone.  He’s Bucky again.  He’s not The Asset or whatever the fuck he was back then.  But he also knows that he was that person.  He did those things.  That was real, and it happened, and it’s never going away.  For the first time in a very long time, Bucky covers his face with his hands and cries.  

That’s when he hears the soft rustle of fabric, and a whisper from the corner of his bedroom.  

“Sergeant?”

He startles, but recognizes her voice.  “Marya?  What the hell?”

She steps away from the wall where she’s been standing and crosses silently to sit next to him.  

“I’m here.  Can I touch you?”

“Why are you… I…”  

His surprise quickly drains away and, as it does, his despair returns.  He hiccups and she reaches out, tentatively, to touch his metal shoulder.  Bucky realizes that he wants nothing more than to let go.  To give way, just this once, to the wretched tide of pain and grief and guilt and shame that will engulf him if he lets it.  He knows how strong Marya is.  As she turns to put a knee on the bed and shift herself so she’s kneeling next to him, he knows that the arms she wraps him with are sculpted with well-defined, hard muscle, and that she’s pulling him to her because she can take his weight, and the weight of his anguish.  So he leans into her and lets his arms fall weakly to her waist.  He lets her pull his head to her shoulder and starts to sob as she strokes his hair.

Once he starts, he can’t stop.  He’s afraid sometimes that he’ll never catch his breath as he’s overtaken with wracking, shuddering cries that tear themselves from his throat.  But he doesn’t fight it.  He lets it have him.  He leans on her with his whole weight, letting her keep him upright.  He soaks the soft cotton nightshirt she’s wearing with his tears and probably snot and spit, too.  He doesn’t care and she doesn’t even appear to notice.  She just holds him, rocking him sometimes, stroking his back and arms and hair, kissing his head, his forehead, his cheeks and lips, murmuring soft endearments and comforting words in Russian and English.

It’s got to be an hour before his wails and sobs even begin to slow down into weeping.  And he weeps for at least another hour.  She’s crying, too, sometimes as hard as he is, but the whole time, she’s supporting and sustaining him, keeping him safe as he falls entirely apart and stays that way for hours.  

Finally, Bucky’s completely worn out, drained of every bit of energy and strength he had.  All of the filth and suffering inside him has, for the moment, been exorcised.  She lays him down, covering him with the sheet and cradling his head to her chest.  She wraps both arms and legs around him and he falls asleep clinging to her.

 In the morning, he wakes up alone.  He knows it happened, because his eyes are swollen and sore, and he can catch the faintest scent of her hair on his pillows.  He doesn’t know quite how to feel about that.  He’s grateful to her for allowing him the privacy to figure it out, before he sees her.  

But it doesn’t take long.  In the shower, he thinks through his dream, and the fact that she was there in his room, and her unflinching acceptance in the presence of his staggering, overpowering grief and rage, and he knows exactly how he feels.  He feels grateful.  He feels honored.  He feels loved.  And he feels love.

He’s disappointed when he finds that she’s not in her rooms.  He was hoping to have the opportunity to see her alone, to talk about what happened.  He needs to try to thank her, although he knows he’ll never be able to find the words to tell her how grateful he is.  

He thinks about Steve, and Bucky’s already-raw emotions register instantly a sense of guilt that he’s shared with Marya, a woman he barely knows, all the things that he hasn’t been able to let his lifelong best friend see.  The things that Steve’s been begging Bucky to trust him with.  Bucky knows why it happened that way: Marya is who Bucky is.  If Steve lives for another hundred years, he still won’t be able to understand what’s been inside of Bucky the way that she can.  But Bucky also knows that he will have to take that knowledge to his grave.  Steve would be destroyed to know that Marya could give Bucky something he couldn’t, and Bucky’s not going to do that to him.

 In the large kitchen, everyone’s just finishing breakfast, sipping coffee and enjoying some camaraderie before going on to whatever they have planned for their days.  Bucky sees Marya, sitting at a table with Clint and listening to him explain something about his bow.  He grins, because he knows Clint must be ecstatic.  No one else wants to hear him go on and on about what it can do, but Marya seems enthralled.  She looks up at Bucky, and they share a small smile and a nod.

Steve’s sitting with Tony, just watching Bucky like a lion watching a particularly tasty-looking gazelle, when Tony sees him.

“Good morning.  Catching up on our beauty sleep, are we?”

Bucky grunts a greeting and pours a cup of coffee.

“Bad news, Barnes,” Natasha says from the other side of the table where she’s reading some sort of printouts.  “Not only didn’t it work, but we ate all the bacon.”

“Assholes,” Bucky mutters, and begins to take inventory of his breakfast options. It’s not long before Marya crosses the room to do something at the oven behind Bucky, then steps up beside him.  She holds out a plate heaped with food, including a respectable amount of bacon.  Bucky takes the plate automatically, and feels that it’s warm. He smiles wide, not only because of the gesture, but also because she looks adorably pleased with herself.

Clint’s offended shout cuts through the moment.  “Hey!  You said there was no more bacon!”

“I’m sorry,” Marya says apologetically to him as she returns to join him at the table.  “I guess I don’t know the rules about bacon.”

When Clint looks away, Marya gives Bucky a secret wink.  He’s delighted.  

“Unpredictable and overly violent, but loyal,” Tony mutters to Natasha. “Shit.  Now there are two of them.”  Natasha smirks at her papers.

Steve crushes the coffee cup he’s holding in his hand, and there’s minor commotion as people scramble out of the way of the spill and try to outdo each other making fun of him.

After a while, people start to excuse themselves to start their days.  Clint’s gone to the training building, leaving Bucky and Marya sitting together, a bit apart from the others.  On the way out of the room, Tony says to Marya, “Come to my lab later.”

She goes instantly from relaxed and cheerful to rigid and bristling with fear.

“Gizmos,” Bucky says quickly, putting a hand on her arm.  “Remember?  It’s not that kind of lab.  He makes electronic gadgets.”  

Bucky looks daggers at Tony, who shrugs and says nonchalantly, “Yeah.  I only experiment on myself.  We’re just gonna take a look at that Hydra technology.” He looks at Bucky then.  “You come, too, to make sure she doesn’t do anything.”

“Jeez, Tony, she’s sitting right here.”

“You know I have no manners, right, Marya?”

“Yes, Sir,” she says in a small voice, not looking at him.

It takes a while for Marya’s terror to bleed off, and Bucky’s aggravation with Tony lasts even longer.  

Steve leaves the kitchen then, not having said a word to Bucky, and he and Marya find themselves alone in the room.

“Thank you,” Bucky says, hoping she can hear the weight he’s putting into the words.

“You’re welcome.  I don’t know whether you’re talking about last night or this morning, but the answer’s the same.”

“I was talking about last night, but I gotta say, saving me some breakfast is pretty great, too.”

He likes her pleased smile.  

“I don’t really want to make a joke about it, though.  You bein’ there, letting me… vent, I guess, that was…” He’s been practicing how to say it, and still he gets tangled up in the words.  “It helped me so much, and I just want you to know how much it means to me.”

“I’m glad if I could help.  I’ve hated seeing you in such pain.”

“It’s been that obvious, huh?”

It’s been a while since Bucky’s seen Marya’s perplexed look, but she’s wearing it now.  “Yes. You’ve been thrashing, and shouting, and…”

“What are you…  When?”

“Every night since we’ve been here.”

“Are you telling me you’ve been in my room every night?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you sleep?”

“Not very well.  It’s too quiet, and-“

Bucky grins a little.  “You’re cold.”

“Yes. The first night, I thought I heard you, and it didn’t sound good, so I went to make sure you were all right.  When I saw that you were having bad dreams, I worried about you.  So I started coming in, so I’d be there if you needed me.”

“Wasn’t my door locked?”

“Yes.”

Bucky would laugh at that if he wasn’t such a wreck.  “So you just watched me sleep?”

“No. I slept, too.”

“Standing in the corner of my room?”

“Sitting.”

Bucky realizes he isn’t really very surprised by this.   He takes Marya’s hand and kisses it.  “That isn’t necessary.  But thank you.”

“It feels necessary,” she says.  “I love you.”

It’s a straight, simple declaration, just like the time she told him in Lucerne that she wanted to have sex with him, and Bucky’s thunderstruck.  Not knowing what to say or do, he squeezes her hand and kisses it again, longer this time.  

“We should go to Mr. Stark’s lab,” Marya says softly.

 The seeming chaos in Tony’s lab has always been incomprehensible and vaguely threatening to Bucky.  Marya, on the other hand, is wearing an impossibly wide grin, and takes it all in with hungry, enchanted eyes.  Tony’s asked them to give him a second, he’s having trouble with something and he thinks he’s just about there.  Apparently, he’s not, because he keeps swearing.  

After five minutes of slowly circling the huge room, eyes wide with wonder and interest, Marya steps behind Tony to see what he’s looking at through the powerful magnifier.  It’s some kind of microcircuitry in a machine whose purpose Bucky can’t even guess at, but she’s intrigued.

Tony swears again and Bucky sees a tiny puff of smoke stream lazily out from where Tony’s working.  

“That connector’s backward,” Marya murmurs.

Tony turns on her angrily.  “What?”

She steps quickly away, reflexively taking a defensive stance and looking afraid. She doesn’t repeat what she’s said, just watches every movement Tony makes as he scowls at her and shoos her away. She hastens to Bucky’s side, standing just behind him and leaning just the tiniest bit into him.  

Tony works for a while longer while they just watchfully wait for him to acknowledge them again.  He pulls the tools he’s using away from the machine and it starts to do… something. He swears again and gives Marya another dirty look.  

“Connector was backward.”  

Bucky’s relieved to note that Marya wisely doesn’t respond.  

The conversation that follows is wide-ranging and mostly incomprehensible to Bucky, but he’s always liked futuristic gadgets and gizmos, and it’s entertaining.  The part that really catches his attention, though, is when they begin to talk about Bucky’s arm, and the fact that it was Marya who disabled it on the plane when they’d first abducted him.

“How did you know how to do that?”  Tony asks, half fascinated and half seriously annoyed.  

“I didn’t.  But I looked, and it seemed like if I disconnected those two components, it wouldn’t work anymore.”

“Hmm. And how’d you fix it?”

“I didn’t fix it.  I made a patch that would stick on the outside to draw the components back together again.  It was the best I could do, and I guess I forgot to go back and repair it.”

“Well, let’s do that now, shall we?”

It doesn’t escape Bucky’s attention that Marya was terrified to come into this lab for fear she’d be experimented on, and he’d reassured her that wouldn’t happen.  Now he’s the one sitting obediently while they mess around with his arm and talk in one of the few languages Bucky doesn’t speak.  It’s a long morning.

That night, Bucky again finds himself dreading the prospect of going to sleep. He finds things to do, including having a fairly heated discussion with Steve about why they’re still not planning a raid on the Hydra bunker in Siberia.  Eventually, though, he’s the only one still up, and he decides it’s time to quit procrastinating.

In the hallway outside his door, he makes a decision.  He goes to Marya’s door, instead, and knocks.  She’s wearing soft, grey leggings and a tank top made of the same material, which do nothing but accentuate the shape of her strong, graceful body and the obvious fact that she’s not wearing a bra.

“Are you all right, Sergeant?”  She waves him in, but he stays where he is.

“I just wanted to tell you to stay here.  Get some real sleep.  I appreciate everything you’ve been doing, but you don’t need to.  I’ll feel better knowing you’re here, comfortable, and not just hanging out in the corner waiting for me to have a nightmare.”

Marya looks hurt and a little confused.  “I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing.  You said people like privacy, so I shouldn’t have-“

“No. It’s not that at all.  I understand what you did, and I appreciate it. More than you know.  The thing is, I want you to be comfortable.  You can’t just be watching over me all the time.”

“I understand.”

The look on her face is tearing at Bucky.  “No, you don’t.  I’m not mad…” He can’t not take her into his arms when she’s looking down with her shoulders slumped like that.  

She hugs him back, but he can feel her uncertainty.  After what she did for him, after all she’s done for him, and what they’ve been through together…  “Marya, I’m sorry.  I’m a chump when it comes to words.  I’m trying to be nice to you.  Maybe we could…”

Suddenly, the way forward is clear and easy.  “What if you sleep with me?  That way you can be comfortable, and you’ll probably sleep better than in here, anyway. And if – when – I have a nightmare, you’ll be there.”

She looks a little happier, but still uncertain.  “But Natasha said it’s too intimate.”

Bucky kisses her.  Intimately. “She was right.  I know you don’t really associate sex and sleeping with eachother, but…  we could do both.  If you want.”

That gets the look Bucky was aiming for.  He takes his arms from around her but keeps hold of her hand as he leads her out of her door and to his.  

When they’re lying together on his bed, mouths tasting and exploring, this seems to Bucky like the best idea he’s had in a long time.  The almost-shy, vaguely hesitant way she’s touching him, though, raises a question that he’s been wanting to ask since he first noticed how beautiful she is.  

Bucky lifts up from Marya’s lips and slides a hand down to cover her breast as he looks into her eyes.  “Do you… know what comes next?”

She arches up when he begins to tease her nipple with the tips of his fingers, but doesn’t break eye contact.  “I think so.”

Bucky tilts his head in inquiry.

“We were children.  No one told us anything.  But then we got older and we… figured things out.  I don’t know whether we guessed right, though.”

Bucky chuckles at that.  “I’d bet a lot of money that you got it right.  It’s pretty instinctive.”

“Show me,” she breathes.  “I’ll tell you if we got it right.”

Bucky smiles and goes back to kissing her, enjoying the way she seems to respond to his tongue, and then try to repeat what he does.  It’s bliss to finally get his hands on her bare breasts, and he yanks her tank top over her head at the first opportunity.  The moan she makes at that goes straight to his cock, which she’s fondling gently.  Too gently. He takes her hand and presses it into him, thrusting against it.  He feels her smile.

She makes a tiny, frustrated noise when he pulls out of her reach to scoot down further in the bed, but she seems to feel better about things when he takes one of her breasts into his mouth.  Bucky’s a sucker for sounds of pleasure, and Marya doesn’t hold back. He’s very surprised that, rather than find it funny when she calls him “Sergeant” as she’s exclaiming at how much she likes what he’s doing, he finds it ridiculously erotic.  Just another of the endless variety of ways he’s fucked up, Bucky guesses.  This one doesn’t bother him too much.

She cooperates enthusiastically as he pulls her leggings and panties from her, and gasps – actually gasps – when he touches her.  “You all right?”  He asks around a mouthful of her nipple.

“Yes, that’s just…  feels so good…”  

Bucky gets a little worried when he slides a finger inside her and she stops breathing.  He lifts his head.  “Marya?”

“Yes?”

“Everything OK?”

“Oh, yes!”  She’s breathing now.  Panting actually.

“You just… I thought you were holding your breath there for a second.”

“I was concentrating.”

Bucky laughs.  He really likes that answer.  

“But…”

He doesn’t like the “but”.  

“What’s wrong?”

“You have all your clothes on.  I want to take them off.”

Whew. Bucky crawls back up so they’re lying face to face again.  “Be my guest.”

With a happy sigh, Marya takes hold of Bucky’s layered shirts and pulls. When the shirts are lying on the floor, she spends a long moment just breathing hard and marveling at his chest. “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she whispers, touching him in reverent strokes with the tips of her fingers, as though not sure she’s allowed to.  It’s mesmerizing.  Bucky just lets her admire him, watching her face and doing his own appreciative gazing at her chest.  

Eventually, one of her awed caresses ends at the button of his jeans.  She looks at his face.  “Can I…?”

“Yes. I want you to.”

Once she gets his jeans off, Marya spends another mini-eternity admiring Bucky’s lower half.  He has to grit his teeth to maintain control as she touches his cock like it’s a religious artifact.  In the part of his mind that’s still thinking, Bucky realizes how conceited it is that he’s getting off so much on her naked appreciation of his body, and knows that Steve would be howling with sardonic mirth.  

Nope, Bucky thinks, shutting that down in a hurry.  Not gonna think of Steve right now.

Bucky surrenders himself to Marya, letting her touch him everywhere and plant open-mouthed kisses wherever she wants, which is pretty much everywhere, too. He’s too aroused to endure the way she starts to use her tongue on his dick, though.  When he comes, he wants it to be inside of her.  

“Marya, come here…”  He groans.

“Am I doing that wrong?”

“Fuck, no.  You’re doing it too right.  I want you. I want my cock in you.”

Apparently, Marya’s very on board with that plan, and she moves with him when he turns them over so that he’s lying on top of her.  “I want to make you come first, though.”

“’Come?’  Is that when that… explosion happens?”

“That’s what it is, all right.”  Bucky rubs his cock against her, feeling her lips slide to accommodate him, and she uses her feet against the mattress to rock her pelvis against him.  She reaches down to take his cock in her hand, using the head to rub exactly where she needs it, and it’s mere moments before she’s coming with a spectacular series of shudders and inarticulate cries.  One might’ve been “Sergeant,” and Bucky kind of hopes it was.

He plans to wait, rubbing against her until she’s completely finished, but she moves her hips until the head of his cock is against her entrance, then wraps her legs around him.  He doesn’t need any encouragement.  He thrusts into her, both of them gasping with the sensation, and immediately begins to fuck her with a determined rhythm.  When he feels her start to buck against him with her second orgasm, he feels the rush of pleasure roar through him and they’re both shouting as they come.

They both sleep soundly through the rest of the night, once they’ve agreed that Marya and the rest of the Hydra captives did, indeed, get it right.

[peterstanslizzie]

Re-watching Lizzie Mcguire: Episode 1.23 (Last Year’s Model)

“You like me, you really like me”. She didn’t say this but I feel this is the perfect description for this picture lol

- The Mcguire family’s got mail! Besides the generic ones like bills, Matt receives a letter that contains a $50 gift certificate from his grandma, Gammy Mcguire for his birthday. 

- But she seemed to forget when Matt’s birthday is because she had already gifted him his present 7 months ago. I still would like to see Gammy actually appear on-screen and interact with her family. But we are never going to get that I’m afraid. 

- As for Lizzie, she asks her mom if she could participate in a fashion show organised by ‘Teen Attitude’ magazine. If she’s chosen by them, she will receive $500 worth of merchandise. I would definitely want to do that fashion show just for the perks. Her mom seems to be on board as long as she does her homework and stops picking on Matt.

Lizzie says sure but we all know that she’s not going to do one of the two promises lol

Lizzie The Runway Model

Remember when fashion shows back then were all fun and joyful and the models always used to spin around? Nowadays, most models just look so miserable.

- Gordo seems to be on-board with the whole modeling thing for Lizzie, mostly because of the $500. Isn’t he the type of person who views modeling as superficial? I also wonder why Miranda wasn’t interested in trying out for the fashion show?

- Mr. Dig, their substitute teacher suddenly interrupts their conversation and went off on a tangent by talking about the time he gave advice to a model by the name of Colette Romana, whose face was broken when an elephant sat on her face in Nairobi.....okayyy

Mr. Dig is really odd but I do appreciate his honesty with the kids when it comes to life lessons 

- Next, we move on to the ‘Styling’ and Sassy’ fashion show! Lizzie’s parents, her friends and even Kate Sanders plus Ethan Craft are in the audience. Can I just say that Lizzie totally rocked the runway!? She really fits the typical girl-next-door look the fashion show was trying to showcase and not to mention, I love the fact that an S Club 7 song (Everybody Wants Ya) is playing in the background too!

Work that twirl girlfriend!

- Kate is clearly jealous that she couldn’t do the fashion show because she had to go to a funeral. Wow Kate, way to hit a new low this time. But I must say; Kate would’ve have been great for this because she certainly has the height for the runway. 

Everybody Is Acting Weird Around Lizzie

- After the fashion show, Lizzie tells her friends that she was asked to do another fashion show due to her amazing performance. Gordo then makes a joke with her, reminding her to not forget about them when she becomes famous and all of a sudden, Lizzie forgets his name when addressing him...umm what? Hope she wasn’t kidding when she did that.

- After that, we see this girl who sat with Kate and Ethan in the fashion show approach Lizzie and invites her to her dad’s clubhouse to hang out in the hot tub and watch the new Backstreet Boys DVD. This show is definitely old lmao!

Okay, this girl’s name is Jessica. I had to fast forward to figure that out.

- Lizzie hesitates to say yes because she already made plans with Gordo and Miranda to watch a movie but turns out, both her friends are very eager to join Lizzie at the country club and hang out with the popular kids. Even Gordo!

- We are then taken to the clubhouse and our trio is seen chilling in the hot tub. Gordo is mostly enjoying the free food being served. I can definitely relate to him. What’s surprising me right now is how Kate’s acting all cool and friendly in front of Lizzie.

What a sudden change in attitude! She’s now acting as if Lizzie is a legit celebrity, which she isn’t. I don’t get it.

- It’s not just with Kate; Miranda is also acting different around Lizzie. She offers to bring a drink over to Lizzie and basically recites the entire drinks menu. She’s acting like Lizzie’s personal assistant. But wow, Miranda actually seems to have a great memory when it comes to listing things out. 

- Back at the hot tub, Gordo is talking to Jessica and tells her he has videos of Lizzie that he has shot for his short films/documentaries. He offers to come over to her house to show her some of them to which she says yes, as long as he brings Lizzie along. 

Why is Gordo the only one wearing shades? It’s either he has sensitive eyes or he just wants to look cool, which isn’t something Gordo would do

- And just like that, Lizzie is going to watch videos at Jessica’s on Sunday night without agreeing to it. On top of that, she’s apparently going dancing at the ‘Shango Tango’ on Saturday night with them as well. Basically, they want to use Lizzie’s status as a model to grant them access to these places. She did one fashion show and they’re acting like she’s Gigi Hadid or whatever lol

Lizzie’s Famous Now

- At school, everyone is just staring at Lizzie everywhere she goes. Even Kate goes up to her and compliments her outfit and accessories. 

“My earrings match my eyes?”. This line is definitely memorable to me. 

- Plus, it seems like the tables have turned because Lizzie and Ethan have literally switched characters. When Lizzie is talking to him about an English test they just took, he’s acting like the old Lizzie when she’s around him; all awkward and fidgety. 

- Lizzie notices all of this and tells her friends how everyone is acting so different around her. Miranda and Gordo doesn’t view this as a negative; They like the fact that people are noticing them now and inviting them to all sorts of special events/parties. 

- After running away from the other students who were all just staring at her still, Lizzie hides in a room where Mr. Dig is and he then takes a picture of Lizzie to have it signed so he can sell it to his nephew...and niece. Well, putting that aside, Lizzie rants to her teacher how everyone and even her best friends are treating her differently nowadays since the fashion show. 

- Mr. Dig suggests to Lizzie that she should treat them like how a celeb diva would and treat them like dirt. This is to remind them that they are her friends and not her posse. 

Lizzie Brings Out Her Inner Diva

- Gordo and Miranda arrive at Lizzie’s house and Lizzie commences “Operating Superstar Brat” by acting like a total diva towards her friends. She’s even dressed up like one from head to toe. 

Even worse, Gordo and Miranda follow her orders and starts to bark like dogs, albeit their execution was a little sloppy lol.

- Soon after, Lizzie drops her act and tells her friends that they have changed. They clearly realise this and promise to Lizzie that things will go back to normal and they won’t act like her posse anymore. But the problem is, everyone else is still treating her differently. And this is the solution she came up with:

To act like a complete and utter fool on the runway. 

- I have to give props to Lizzie for having the courage to dress up like this and act this way in front of an audience. But if I were her, I wouldn’t want to give up a modeling contract with a popular magazine just because people are acting differently around me. I mean, I would at least give it more time to see if the situation would improve. Most of all, I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself publicly like how Lizzie did here. 

- Also, she didn’t have to include this dumb confrontation between her and Miranda. It just wasn’t necessary.

Y’all didn’t need to fight. The fashion show was already ruined when Lizzie started scratching her butt lol

B-Plot: Matt Goes Shopping

- Sam and Jo brings Matt and Lanny to the hardware/electronics store to shop for things he can get with the $50 gift certificate. Lanny gravitates towards the massage chair but it’s way too expensive. We then get a montage of the boys and Matt’s parents trying out different products at the store to the song, ‘Shopping’ by the Pet Shop Boys. It’s a pretty catchy song if you ask me. 

My favorite part of the montage is when they reference back to the Austin Powers’ villains, Dr. Evil and Mini-Me 

- Matt spots a hammock priced at $75 and he thinks it’s perfect for him. Even though it costs $25 more, Lanny is able to cover the rest because he’s earning money from his website. My question is, what kind of content is in Lanny’s website anyways?

- Back in the Mcguires’ backyard, Matt and Lanny are busy assembling the hammock they just bought but unfortunately for them, they got less than stellar results:

Exhibit A

- They are back at the store again and they want to return the hammock and get a refund. However, the store clerk, who is being a total prick tells them that they can’t get a refund on sale items. Okay fine but he needs to watch his tone when talking to customers. And he even called Sam an ‘old timer’. The disrespect! Sheeesh!

And the award for worst customer service goes to...

- Sam leaves behind Matt and Lanny to talk to the manager and afterwards, we see the two boys doing the absolute right thing by playing a prank on the useless employee who is walking on the treadmill. They proceed to tape his hands onto both handles and increase the speed on the treadmill. I’m not the one to agree with pranking others but this guy really deserved it.

Overall Thoughts

- This is yet again, a very entertaining episode. I love how the story was very Lizzie-centric this time and it did not disappoint. I mean, it was a little outrageous how EVERYONE was acting and treating Lizzie like a total A-lister after appearing in one fashion show. It’s like they assumed that everybody reads ‘Teen Attitude’ magazine.

- It kinda got me to think that maybe after the events of The Lizzie Mcguire Movie, I would assume that everyone at school would treat her similarly because she did perform a hit song in front of millions of people in Italy, which I’m sure it caught the attention of US mainstream media.

- Besides that, the soundtrack of this episode was incredible! I had to look up the songs on YouTube because they were so catchy. Lastly, Matt’s storyline was pretty insignificant in this episode and it didn’t really provide me with anything besides some physical comedy.

[deanswinchcster]

She had a sister.

// While investigating an unusual murder the boys find out Charlie has a younger sister which just so happens to be the reader.

This will be a series so be prepared for more parts.

Paring: Eventual Jack x Reader.

Warnings: Mild swearing, some blood. Nothing unusual for supernatural.

Credit: to the creators of the gifs I've used. You guys are amazing.

(I know I’ve been gone a while, somethings have happened in my life but everything has been sorted and I’m back to write more stories for you guys. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing)

College was rough. At only 19, you were on your last year. Apparently the Middleton family had brains. From what you knew, your sister had a high IQ as well. You would have finished university a few years ago had you not taken some time off to 'find yourself.' Whatever that means.

Being dumped in the foster system as a baby meant that you sometimes struggles making any connections with people. You had always closed yourself off and stayed quiet as some form of protection. Everyone you loved either died or left. You had never been in a home with a real family for longer than a month. They told you that your intelligence frightened them but you had started to doubt that a long time ago.

When you finished high school at 12, you were set to go to college and for a month, you did. You tried to block out your emotions but loneliness always crept in so you stopped your education for a while. At 14, you tried again but there was no point. You didn't feel connected to anything you were doing.

At 18 once you had left the foster system, you had managed to afford an apartment with the money your family had left you but you weren't rich by any means so you had a room mate.

Nina Kelly was a sweet, kind girl and she had managed to form a friendship with you when you thought you were incapable for being liked. She was the one that convinced you to go back to college and this time it stuck. She was the same age as you and you had been studying law together, but you had managed to surpass her by a few years. Unlike most, she wasn't jealous. Only ever supportive.

So imagine your shock at finding her cold, dead body on the floor of your apartment after coming back from classes last night. You were devastated.

Maybe it was you. Perhaps you were cursed.

It sure felt that way.

Since your apartment was an active crime scene and you had already been questioned by officers, you were staying in a run down hotel room. And the last thing you had been expecting was a knock on your door so early in the morning. Not that it woke you up. You hadn't even bothered to change out of your bloodstained sundress dress, let alone think about sleeping.

With a heavy sigh, you heaved your body from the floor by the side of your bed and walked over to the door, pulling the handle down and opened it slightly to reveal two men you had never seen before. One extremely tall and the other a good amount shorter but still taller than you.

When the figured you weren't planning on speaking, they looked at you through the small crack and the shorter one began to talk. “Y/N Middleton?”

“Depends on whose asking.” Your phone had been blowing up all day with news outlets wanting a story on the mystery murder of your best friend. The last thing you wanted was to be questioned by someone wanting to make a entertainment out of your misery.

“FBI. I'm detective Mercury and this is my partner detective May.”

They both pulled two badges out of their pockets and flashed them in your direction. Maybe not the best idea. You were smart, from a mile away you could see how ridiculously wrong they had gotten certain aspects of the badge. Granted most people could probably be fooled by it but not you.

“Okay, first of all, Mercury and May? As in Freddie Mercury and Brian May from Queen?” Their jaws dropped and you couldn't help but question why. Did they think you wouldn't be able to crack their code? Or hadn't they expected someone so young to know classic rock bands? Either way you weren't in the mood for their bullshit. You were already having a rough day. “And secondly, those are so fake. Go away.”

Just as you were about to slam the door in their faces, a foot came between the crack and forced it open. Both men's eyes widening when they caught sight of your tired eyes and the dry blood on your skin and dress. You were a mess and you knew it but you didn't count on company so soon.

“Okay Carrie...” How original. “we're just here to help, that's all.”

“Oh please, if you wanted to help you would leave me alone.” Gathering they weren't leaving, you took a step back as they walked in and you sat on the edge of your bed.

“Excuse my brother, he seems to have forgotten his manners but I'm Sam and this is Dean...” Why did those names seem so familiar to you? “we're just trying to help, we know all about Nina but we want to hear from you what happened. We're not trying to cause any trouble for you or anyone in this town, we're trying to prevent it.”

Though your mind was telling you to stay away from these people, you felt as though you could trust them. The sincerity in the taller one's eyes filled you with the comfort that you had been missing for as long as you could remember so reluctantly you looked in their direction and nodded your head along.

“Okay... what do you want to know?”

After a few questions about what was happening that night, any strange behaviour, any one who would want to harm Nina and the rest of the random bullshit you had already answered to the real cops, a question came up that immediately grabbed your attention. “Did you smell sulphur at all?”

“How did you know that?” For the first time that morning, genuine curiosity flickered across your face. “I tried to tell the cops but they said it was nothing.” By the looks on their faces, it most definitely was not nothing. They looked at each other and sighed, turning towards the door.

“Hey! I was talking to you, I have a right to know what's going on.”

Just when you thought they were going to leave, the two brothers stopped abruptly and turned in your direction. The taller one, who seemed to be the sweeter out of the two, looked at you with sad eyes. Great. You had been given that luck your entire life and just when you had gotten rid of it, someone else in your life had to die to return it to everyone's face. This isn't what you wanted. “Look, it's complicated. We'll be back to talk to you soon. Why don't you take a shower and change your clothes?”

That would have been a great idea, but you get what you pay for unfortunately.

“I would, but this place doesn't have a shower... just the basics. This disgusting bed, with sheets that look like they haven't been changed since 1942 and a toilet and sink in the bathroom.” It wasn't like you would be staying long anyway. Once your apartment was no longer an active crime scene, you would move back in.

In the mean time you would shower at the gym or something. You would figure it out.

“Jeez kid. Don't you have any family to stay with?” It shocked you when the one Sam referred to as Dean looked at you with concern.

You shrugged your shoulders and began to talk. Telling the same story you had recited a hundred times over. “No. My parents died in a car crash when I was a baby and I haven't seen my sister in years. God knows where she is know.”

The boys looked at one another and you observed them, almost instantly noticing when their eyes grew larger. It felt like they knew something you didn't. They were keeping something from you and you were determined to find out what. However before you could so much as utter a word, the kind one started to speak again.

“You can stay with us until you can get back to your own apartment.” Sensing your apprehension, he continued his talk, trying to sell you on his idea. “Come on, we have spare bedrooms and a shower that you can use. It's better then this dump and we're only trying to help.”

On paper this was by bar, the worst idea in the entire world. Leaving with two strangers after your best friend had been murdered. For all you knew, they could be the two responsible for her death. They were certainly mysterious enough for that. After weighing in your options, you nodded your head and agreed. It wasn't like you had anything to lose. If they were to kill you, maybe that would be more of a blessing then a curse.

“Great.” He smiled, although it was somewhat reluctant. “You change out of that..” He signalled to your blood stained outfit and you couldn't blame him for wanting you out of it. You probably looked like a deranged killer yourself. “and we'll wait for you outside.”

Just like he promised, the boys left the room as you pulled some clean clothes from the duffel bag you were able to fill before you left your apartment.

“Seriously dude.” Dean hit his younger brother's shoulder and looked over at him with narrow eyes.

“I know you're thinking what I'm thinking to Dean.”

The Winchester's looked at one another, having a silent conversation with their eyes. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Surly they would have already known who you were if it were. Shaking his head, Dean sighed and ran his hand over his tired face. He didn't want to believe it.

“Y/N  Middleton? Her parents were killed in a car crash when she was a baby and she hadn't seen her sister in years. The red hair... come on Dean” It all added up. Seeing his brothers apprehension, Sam asked a question he knew Dean would answer. “What was Charlie's real name again?”

“Celeste Middleton.” He gruffly replied, narrowing his eyes at his brother. “Damn it, fine! I just hope she hurries up. You stay here and I'll phone Jack and Cas... warn them about this whole situation  and see if Castiel can figure out who this demon is.”

The drive to the brothers home was longer than you would have likee, but Dean's constant need to play his classic rock made the situation bearable. You hadn't wanted to talk to either of them though so if they ever turned back to check on you or attempted to ask you questions, you pretended to be asleep to avoid it. Though it was the furthest thing from your mind, your body was tired and you weren't sure how long you could stay awake now.

It had been at least two and a half hours until Dean pulled up to the side walk. Looking out the window towards the creepy looking building caued your eyebrows to furrow in confusion at the strange sight. It looked as though no one had lived here for years.

Perhaps you were going to get murdered after all.

“This is where you live?” You questioned, stepping out of the car as the same time as the brothers. The spoke up in confirmation and you went back to being quiet, reflecting over the last twelve hours of your life.

You were still so confused, so heart broken and angry but you never let anyone see how you truly felt. There was no point. Emotions were personal and you didn't trust yourself to be vulnerable around anyone else. Being close to someone just opened opportunities to break you once more and you weren't sure how much more you could be broken down until you gave up. Instead, you kept a smile on your face, a cold exterior and hoped that everyone would leave you alone.

Dragging your body from leaning against the car, you reluctantly followed the men to the door and though you were shocked by the size of their home, you hadn't allowed it to show on your face while trailing a few feet behind them.

While you remained quiet, you heard voices down the halls and then Sam and Dean joined in the conversation as you entered what looked like a kitchen. Instead of getting involved and speaking to the two strange men you had yet to be introduced you, you leant against the wall and watched from a distance.

The youngest out of the bunch seemed to stare at you and you couldn't help but feel paranoid as to why but like always, you didn't let it get the best of you and kept silent. He was probably weirded out by the blood covering your skin which had you thinking, you really wanted to wash it off.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, you hadn't realised the person that was staring at you before had stepped closer in your direction. “Hi, I'm Jack and that's Castiel.”

It wasn't hard to see that he was harmless, a small smile played on his features and even if you knew deep down he was just trying to be nice, you wouldn't allow him to get close. You couldn't handle it again.

So you did what you had to do and ignored the boy, trying hard to ignore the way your stomach flipped at you doing such a thing. “Sam, can I have a shower now?”

Since he was the one you trusted the most, you knew it was better to ask him. He had a kind aura and caring eyes. He made you feel safe and although Dean didn't really scare you, you felt as though you were more a bother to him then you wanted to be so Sam was the way to go.

Ignoring Jack's wondering eyes, you followed the younger Winchester down the hallway until you came across the bathroom.

“Towels are in cupboard below the sink, you can use my shampoo and stuff.” Giving him a grateful smile your gaze wondered with his movement as he walked towards the door. “Oh and before I forget, your room is directly opposite, you won't have to go far.”

“Thank you.” He silently left and you locked the door behind him, letting your bag fall from your shoulder to the floor. Your entire body still in a state of shock, you had yet to cry but maybe you never would. Maybe you had cut yourself off from your emotions so much that your body just couldn't produce tears any more.

You wished that was the case but you could feel them fighting their way to the surface. You were stronger though and wouldn't let them win.

After stripping of your items of clothing, you had the longest shower in history, scrubbing away at your skin until it turned red to ensure that you had every inch of blood removed from you. Even then you still didn't feel clean. You could still feel the blood tainting you. Just like Sam had suggested, you helped yourself to his shampoo, and though it wasn't the usual floral scent that you were use to, it still smelt incredible. The shower gel wasn't sweet smelling either but it was comforting to say the least. You weren't about to complain.

Once you had finished, you stepped out, dried yourself off and wrapped a fluffy towel around your naked form before grabbing your bag, opening up the bathroom door and heading straight towards the room Sam had told you would be yours for the next few days.

Being sad was one thing, showing it was another. You wouldn't allow yourself to be vulnerable. So to deceive the boys you dressed like always. Some skinny fit black jeans, matched with a crop top swearer and a leather jacket carelessly thrown over the top. You didn't take long on your make up but you still made yourself look presentable and quickly curled your signature red locks with the curling wand you had managed to take from your apartment while packing your clothes and make up. One look the mirror and you decided that you looked fine, hopefully now no one would ask you how you were. If you looked fine, they would think you were fine.

The hardest thing to do was pull yourself together when you felt like falling apart but you didn't need sympathetic smiles and sad eyes looking in your direction every ten seconds. Over the years you had become an expert and even though you had allowed yourself to function normally for the past year, you hadn't forgotten how to do it.

Brushing the curls behind your ear, you walked from your room down the hallway and followed the sound of familiar voice to what looked like a library. “Hey.”

The men turned in your direction and you could see their shock at how well you had managed to pull yourself together. Hell, if they had walked past you in the street they never would have known you had faced a tragedy not even a day ago.

“Are you alright?” The one you knew to be Castiel asked causing you to inwardly roll your eyes.

You probably seemed like the biggest bitch in the entire world but it's what you need to do to keep people away. These weren't just people though, they wanted to help you. Well, Sam and Dean did and you supposed that this trench coat wearing man only wanted to do the same. Guilt would eat you alive if you just ignored him, he seemed genuinely curious as to how you were. So after giving him a reassuring smile you spoke up. “Yeah, I'm fine, thank you.”

Dean and Castiel went back to reading a giant book on the table, Sam looking at his laptop while Jack sat in the corner of the room looking up at you. They all had things they seemed to be doing and you knew that involved finding the person that killed Nina. How they were going to do that you had no idea, they were regular humans with no power over peoples actions, and even if you knew your intelligence could be used to their advantage, your mind was completely jumbled at the moment so you decided to leave them to it.

“Do you have a TV I could watch?” A distraction more like it.

Sam looked up from the screen and nodded his head, pointing in the direction of another room. This place was huge. If you were alone, you were sure you'd get lost in it.

After shuffling into the room, you flung yourself down on the couch and instead of watching the TV like you had planned, you looked around. Only you weren't alone for long. Pretty soon the youngest of the men had entered the room and taken a seat beside you.

There was something about Jack. You couldn't exactly put your finger on it but just by looking at the goofy smile on his face you could tell how innocent he seemed, how pure he looked. Maybe he didn't get out much. You envied that.

Once he realised neither of you had spoken, he looked into your eyes and spoke with such sincerity you could have broke. “I'm really sorry about your friend.”

Instead of allowing your emotions to get the best of you, you decided to pretend not to care. Leaning your elbow on your knees, you leant your head against the palm of your hand and looked over at him. Though you tried your hardest, your eyes showed your pain but you hoped he wouldn't notice. “Why? It's not your fault.”

“I know.” Good. Maybe now he would leave you alone. Only he didn't, he continued to speak to you, like you had known him for years. “You seem sad, almost like there was a spark surrounding you before but it's fizzled out. You're not happy I don't like when people aren't happy so I'm sorry.”

Your eyes softened. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offered but that was the last thing you wanted to do.

“No.”

“That's okay.” God, why did he have to be so understanding? “You wanted to watch the TV, right?” You nodded your head. Quite frankly a distraction would be much appreciated. Even if it didn't become a distraction, background noise was better than silence. “I usually watch Scooby Doo but you can put on whatever you want.”

A soft laugh came from you. Jack looked close to your age and you were shocked he watched it so regularly. Not that you could blame him, it was an awesome show. You watched it as a child constantly. “Scooby Doo? I haven't watched that in so long.”

“It's my favourite.” He exclaimed, his eyes bright and happy as he spoke. “Should I put it on?”

For some reason, you couldn't say no. He seemed so excited about the cartoon, there was a light in his eyes that you wished you had and never wanted him to lose so you found yourself nodding in his direction and gave a sad smile as his grin widened. “You have a nice smile.” You complimented, finding it almost cute as a soft blush came over his cheeks.

Once the show was clicked on, Jack became engrossed in the storyline and laughed occasionally at something stupid Shaggy or Scooby were doing. You however had completely tuned out. Your wondering eyes caught sight of a few photo frames sitting across the room with the faces of the boys you had recently met. Some smiling, others not but all showed love.

This was family, this was friendship. Something you no longer had, something you craved but something you knew could destroy you in a minute. Without realising you had allowed it to happen, tears began to back their away down your cheeks.

You didn't know when it happened or why but pretty quickly Jack had wrapped you up in his arms, your head resting against your chest as silent sobs came from your body. His hand soothingly rubbed up and down your back in attempt to calm you down. He was so sweet and somehow it just felt right. You didn't wanted to be anywhere else. “Don't be sad, you have us now.” He was trying to calm you but it was doing the opposite.

You couldn't get close to another person. You couldn't! You wouldn't! Even if you desperately craved to have someone you wouldn't have to worry about losing you knew it wasn't possible. You were better off staying away from people. And sadly that included Jack.

“No, don't... I'm sorry.” You pulled back from his comforting embrace and looked up at his concerned eyes. They looked so worried but you could also see the sadness that you had caused by pulling away. You were an awful person. “I'm going to bed.”

Quickly standing on your feet, you hurried across the room only to come to a complete stop when your eyes caught sight of a picture frame of Dean and a familiar red head. Without hesitation, you picked it up and stared for a few seconds. “Celeste?”

[altean-plance-au]

What was the moment Lance realized he had feelings for Pidge ?

Sorry for the very delayed answer. I figured it would be better if I wrote the thing. The previous chapters to the New Assignment arc and others can be found here.

~~~~~~

The situation was lose - win - win.

Lance wasn’t going to get to go to the Groggerian Gala. It was an opportunity missed to soak in the elegant party atmospheric and expand his ever growing social network. He would also miss seeing Allura, who would be looking even more radiant than usual. (Difficult because she was always beautiful.) He saw her most every day now thanks to being attached at the hip to Pidge, but still mentally slapped himself for thinking it wasn’t that big of a loss.

A win, in that he had the night off, as much as a personal bodyguard to a princess a guy could have. Pidge had been fighting a twenty varga bug and was in no shape to be attending social functions, even an important annual one.

Pidge was spending the night in her room under the careful watch of her mother, who had insisted on some treasured mother - daughter bonding. Colleen was a skilled medic, so Lance had no problem being outranked for that decision. If it had been just him, he probably would have been able to keep her fever down with his magic. Pidge likely would have insisted on it so he could keep practicing. Pidge was in better hands this way though, so he didn’t mind spending the evening in his own room. (Adjacent to Pidge’s as he was always on call.) This would be an evening of self care.

He also suspected Colleen hated fancy parties about as much as Pidge did. It wasn’t so much the dressing up that annoyed Pidge, but rather the socialization. There were a select few nobles who didn’t care for how close Sam and his family were to the Crown, and they were not above making Pidge’s life miserable in whatever petty way they could. Lance ran interference - distracting Pidge by engaging in whatever conversation he could think of. She seemed to brighten up usually at that, and her genuine smile was much prettier than her fake one.

Lance froze mid step, his brows furrowed at the use of the particular adjective. Yes, pretty was the right word. Pidge was objectively very pretty. Smiles were always pretty.

He felt his cheeks flush. It wasn’t from the long, hot bath he’d just emerged from. He shouldn’t be thinking such things. Pidge was his charge. His job was to protect her, that was it.

It was too late for that though, they were already friends. Had they met under non-professional circumstances, it was likely they would still be near inseparable.

Pidge was endlessly fascinated with his magic, a trait that allowed him to experiment with it more than he ever would have by himself. He in turn loved watching the beautiful displays she put on with her plants, making maneuvers and feats seem effortless while she insisted on still being a novice. Lance felt like he knew her immediate family near as well as his own, and even the uneventful days passed quickly with her company as they puzzled over the drone.

Reminded of his reason for getting out of his bath, Lance pushed the thoughts of Pidge to the back of his mind and snatched a tablet he had left on the end of his bed. He plopped down into the mass of pillows and blankets. Adjusting his gold trimmed blue nightgown, he opened a video call, a wide smile on his own face.

He would never give up a free opportunity to call home.

His mother picked up shortly, the tips of her own mouth growing outward upon seeing her son’s face. “Lance, what a wonderful surprise! I thought you would be working tonight.”

As one of many grocers to the Castle, she was home on the family farm to oversee the planting and harvest of the crops. Even though he would be able to see her regularly during the winter months, the summer still felt too long.

“Hi Mom, love you too,” he chuckled. One side of his mouth curled up, half happy to see his mother and half sad at the reason why. “Pidge is sick, so I’m free tonight.”

She frowned, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Is it the twenty varga bug? We took Veronica in to see the doctor yesterday. It’s been going around in town, and now it’s going around the house.”

Lance grimaced. “Is she okay?”

“Nearly back to full strength now,” his mother assured him. “Fluids and rest did wonders. I’m sure Pidge will be fine too by morning. You tell her hello for me.”

“I will Mom,” Lance recited lovingly. “She says ‘hi’ back from the last time we talked.”

“When are you bringing her to the house?”

Lance laughed. “Mom, I’m her bodyguard, not her date.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Could have fooled me. She is all you ever talk about when you call.”

“Because that’s my job,” he explained, exasperated by the direction of the conversation.

“It is not part of your job to talk about the way she uses her magic, the morning skin routine you made for her - you talk about her more than yourself. She may as well be part of the family with how much I know about her.”

Lance felt the blush come back as his back slowly slid down from the headrest to the mattress. Quiznak what was he doing?

“Okay, I think I get the point. Pidge is a good friend, and I’m not ready for any serious romance.”

His mother regarded him with a pitying expression, though for what he didn’t dare ask her to clarify. “All the more reason to bring her out to the farm. She would have so much joy seeing everything we grow here.”

Lance smiled again. She was right. Pidge would have a field day with all the different fruits, vegetables, and grains his family grew. He wondered what her magic would make of them. “I’ll ask. No promises though. We’re both really busy.”

She gave him a kind and cherishing smile. “Of course.”

They proceeded in idle chat for the better part of the evening. How was the rest of the family? (All his siblings stopped to say hello.) His young niece and nephew both were up past their bedtime, and would not go back to bed until they had heard a story from life at the Castle. Lance told them how Pidge was going to control a whole forest one day, and that their dear uncle was well on his way to becoming the most famous knight on Altea.

Once bidding his family good night, he switched off his tablet and set it on the nightstand. He got up and arched his back with a grimace, he’d not been sitting well during the long call.

Lance knocked on the door between his room and Pidge’s. Colleen answered, and neither of them needed anything. Pidge was on the recovery. She might be a bit groggier than usual in the morning, but would likely be herself by the afternoon.

Lance nodded, told her good night and the obligatory ‘wake me if you need anything’. He left the door closed, but unlocked, and tucked himself into bed.

He dreamt of Pidge. And himself. Together. Romantically.

Lance awoke hours before sunrise, his mother’s words echoing in his mind as he lay under the covers. That pretty smile. Pidge’s was infectious. Just thinking about it filled his chest with a warmth normally reserved for the fondest of memories. He thought to all the times thrived on making her happy, to see that smile. He wondered if she would be happy sharing a kiss with him. He envisioned her confident smirk softening as they embraced, soft lips on his own -  

This was bad. Friendship was one thing, but romantic feelings was an entire can of miniature weblums Lance did not want to open. He hadn’t lied to his mother but… what if this was it? His soulmate? What if Pidge didn’t feel the same way? What if he was wrong? That would make their professional relationship more than awkward.

He had until the afternoon to figure out what to do about it.

~~~~

“I quit.” A tablet containing the necessary transfer request form fell onto the desk with a thud.

Shiro’s jaw dropped, which would have been the most amusing thing if Lance hadn’t been so serious.

“Denied,” the Captain said seriously once he’d gathered his wits. He placed the tablet off to the side and cupped his hands on the desk in front of him. “Why?”

Lance sputtered, the response not what he had expected. “You can’t refuse me when I quit.”

“I can if it’s out of nowhere for no reason. You’re still under my command. Why?” he repeated.

A fake answer wouldn’t work. Shiro would know. Lance sighed with a frown, but then straightened up at attention. “I think I have romantic feelings for the Princess, Sir.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “I think the whole Castle knows about your crush on Allura.”

Lance’s straight face faltered. “Pidge.”

“…Pidge,” Shiro repeated slowly, face showing slow comprehension. “You think you have romantic feelings for Pidge.”

“Yes,” Lance agreed earnestly. “I’d like to stay at the Castle, I just want a reassignment. I can’t be Pidge’s bodyguard like this.”

He was already breaking social etiquette by hiding his powers, he couldn’t break another taboo.

Shiro sat back in his chair and considered, his sharp eyes burrowing as far as they could into Lance’s soul.

“The answer is still no,” Shiro finally told him, turning his attention back to his desk work. He grabbed the tablet with the transfer request and officially signed off to reject it. “I’ll do you a favor and not tell anyone you tried to quit.”

Lance’s eyes bulged. “You can’t!” He begged passionately. “I can’t be objective. It will drive me insane if I can’t say anything.”

“Talk to Pidge about it.”

“Talk to - Shiro do you know what you’re saying? If I do say something, what - what if she doesn’t feel the same?” Lance asked incredulously. “That would make things really awkward.”

“Look, Lance,” Shiro sighed and once again lay the tablet aside. He stood up and walked over to face his subordinate. “You’ve made a friend in the guardian of the lake, I trust your judgement,” he said compassionately. “That’s part of why I gave you this assignment in the first place. Your heart often works over your brain,” he placed his prosthetic hand over his own heart and then pointed to his head, “and that’s something that Pidge needs. Someone who is flexible and lets her breathe by not always following code to the letter. I really hate to transfer you when things are going so well.”

Lance shifted nervously, not this uncomfortable since his first day at training. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Shiro. I’ve never felt this way before. This isn’t something bodyguards are supposed to do.”

Shiro gave him a wry grin. “There are no rules against bonds of this kind between nobles - yes I’ve read your file and I know - so just do what comes naturally. If it becomes awkward, well, then we can talk. Until then though, I’m not letting you quit ”

Lance dropped his unvoiced protest and slumped his shoulders. “It’s really okay?”

Shiro gave him an encouraging smile. “I knew there was a slight chance something like this might happen. I wouldn’t have paired the two of you if I didn’t think you wouldn’t at least become close friends.”

Receiving the blessing, Lance finally smiled. “Didn’t you go through a full regiment before putting me on the job?”

He was given a glare for his troubles. “Back to work, Lieutenant.”

~~~~~

“Urgh, this place is a mess! I can’t believe I did all this while I was sick!”

Lance sat with an amused grin, chin propped up by the palm of his hand as he watched Pidge magically move overgrown plants back to their respective homes within her room.

She focused her magic on a juniberry flower the size of a pillow, trying to revert it back to a normal size. Even as the volume of plants decreased in the room, leaves and petals fell off and remained scattered across the floor. “It looks like the forest itself is in here,” Pidge moaned.

She was even more cute when flustered, Lance regretted thinking. Pidge had no idea of his internal dilemma and Lance intended to keep it that way at least for now.

This was different from his previous infatuations. Pidge had been a friend first and foremost after being his boss. Before telling her anything he wanted to be absolutely certain his feelings were genuine. If he was not sincere, his job and friendship would be ruined simultaneously. Shiro thought he was doing a good job, he didn’t want to betray that trust out of a false alarm.

“They wouldn’t have grown if you didn’t want them to,” he told her with a smirk. “Your mother was not happy that you were practicing magic while sick.”

Pidge glared at him. She collected the now much smaller flower and replanted it in it’s previously tipped over pot. “What about you? Did you do your exercises last night like I told you to?”

“I had other things on my mind,” he said neutrally. “Mom says hi by the way.”

“Oh,” Pidge said, anger quickly deflating. “Next time I promise to say hi to her myself.”

“The offer to visit the farm is still on the table,” he said.

“Not without knowing who is behind the drone,” she said resolutely. “I don’t want to get your family involved in this.”

Lance let the statement hang and Pidge went back to work. She cared so much, so passionately, and always finished what she set her mind to. It was inspiring, even if he couldn’t follow her talk on a tech level. Thanks to her tutelage, he was beginning to on a magical level.

He had a feeling this was a bond that was going to be near impossible to break. The only way to know was to ask. He just needed to find the perfect moment.

“Hey, let me try and help,” he said as he stood. “I can put my magic prowess to the test.”

Pidge put her hands on her hips, intrigued but not convinced. “What are you going to do to clean this up with water and ice?”

Lance grinned and summoned his magical energy to the surface. He reached out to a teapot full of water, slightly more volume than what he had been used to working with. Thanks to the more consistent practice, he found it easier to connect with than a small amount in a glass cup.

He bade the water to spread across the surface of the floor, picking up stray leaves as it moved the length of the room. Reaching the end, Lance stuck his tongue out in concentration and mimicked some hand movements he’d watched Pidge perform hundreds of times now. He rolled his wrists counterclockwise to the pale blue ball of light centered between his palms and the water filled with leaves and stems responded in kind. It swirled up into a ball and he moved it closer to Pidge so she could see the feat in its fully glory.

Lance turned to Pidge with a smirk. “They are all yours, Princess. Where would you like them?”

Pidge blinked rapidly at his words, as if she had been in a trance. Lance swelled with pride that he had done something impressive. Perhaps this would be a good time to approach her regarding his newfound feelings for her, at least she would look on him more favorably than normal, hopefully leading to a more positive result.

He soon mirrored her sudden frown as Pidge summoned her magic in equal measure.

“I’ll take them from here,” she said, gaining a smirk, that confident smirk that made Lance’s heart skip a beat. A light green energy outlined each plant part and one by one they floated magically into a giant bag, ready to be taken out for decomposition.

Lance found it was his turn to gape. “How did you do that? Those are dead parts! I thought you had to ask plants for permission?”

Finished, Pidge regarded him with a smirk. “It takes more energy and concentration. You’ve seen me play with leaves before.”

“Yes, but - “

Lance didn’t get a chance to finish as he lost his own concentration, sending his sphere of warm water all over Pidge.

Pidge stood in astonishment, raising her arms stiffly in disbelief as the fabric of her dress clung closer to her and water dripped from her sleeves. She glared at him. “I hope you have the energy to pick all of that up.”

Lance bit his lip. The outward manifestation of his magic flickered to nothingness and he grinned at her sheepishly, twiddling his thumbs.

Perhaps this was not the right time to have a conversation about their relationship.

[crownoyami]

Writing the Stars - Chapter 2

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationship: Gabriel/Sam Winchester

Characters: Gabriel (Supernatural) Sam Winchester Chuck Shurley Ellen Harvelle Jessica Moore

Additional Tags: Public Display of Affection Anal Sex Anal Fingering Angst with a Happy Ending Switch Sam Winchester Switch Gabriel (Supernatural) Rimming (mentions) Fluff and Angst Famous Sam Winchester Famous Gabriel (Supernatural) Author Gabriel Actor Sam Winchester Actor Jessica Moore Author Chuck

Summary:

Gabriel is a famous author who has been known for his multiple blockbuster hits. He never misses his mark and keeps out f the spotlight but for one interview given per movie/book. Until his newest novel adaptation has him spending time on set, and with the leading male actor Sam Winchester a newly discovered star. Gabriel may have tried to avoid the spotlight, but he’s thrown into the media whether he likes it or not.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15813849/chapters/36992631

***This has been beta’d by JDL71

Chapter 2

Sam was a wreck. While he had known when his agent had him audition that it could happen, he hadn’t really thought he would be able to interact with Gabriel Novak. During the audition, he had been told one of the authors would be there to make sure they cast someone who was right for the role but had never actually met the author. Since he hadn’t met the author that day, Sam didn’t think he would get the chance to. Having read the books, having read anything with Gabriel’s name on it, Sam was familiar with the character he was trying out for. He might be able to land a role later if the rumors were correct about the series maybe being picked up for a television show. But Jared was portrayed as smaller than his brother and which had pretty much ruled him out for the part.

Sam very much doubted they would be able to find someone taller than him. Thus, it was a genuine surprise when his agent called to let him know he got the role. A surprise, and a chance for his anxiety to come up. If there was one thing Sam was seriously struggling with since he came on the scene was meeting people he idolized. Most were friendly enough that Sam didn’t feel too embarrassed. He was able to laugh it off as he stumbled over his words or when his palms began to sweat when shaking hands with someone he knew.

Gabriel Novak wasn’t just some celebrity though; he was someone who Sam had spent hours upon hours becoming immersed in the worlds that Gabriel had created. Sam had always been a fan of dystopian novels, and the second he stumbled upon Gabriel’s work he was hooked. It was still a bit different each time, but the thing which made Gabriel special was that he was never out for a series contract. His books always had a definite start, middle, and end, every single one. Up until the Supernatural series. With Gabriel holding his own with his novels it was a surprise when Sam found Gabriel’s name alongside someone else’s. For a second, when he came across the book, he thought it was a mistake until he picked it up.

Supernatural was different than anything Sam had read before. It was easy to understand from one book to the other, but while it had some parts that were very clearly written by Gabriel, it was easy to tell that this series belonged to a co-author, Chuck Shurley. Still, Sam enjoyed the series, though he read for the sections he could point out as Gabriel’s own, ones that tended to circle Jared often. Knowing it was Gabriel’s character he was playing made Sam re-read the entire series from cover to cover before he had even received his script.

Even the script was different than what Sam was expecting, having half-expected to start filming the first book in the series, Sam was pleasantly surprised to find out they were doing Jared’s backstory. If they got the contract Sam knew Gabriel was aiming for; it would help explain a few things both for their future television audience as well as for the those who already loved the books. But by the time it was his first day of filming Sam was a nervous wreck. He could recite his lines correctly; he knew he had the character down and had gotten to know his co-worker Jessica who was a perfect fit for Adrianne.

Right before Sam was about to step onto the set, Jessica placed her hand on his arm to get his attention. They had been about to enter in to let the director know they were in position when she moved; Sam turned to look down at the woman who was looking at him with a slight frown.

 “Are you okay?” asked Jessica, keeping her voice low as not to alert anyone in the area that something could be wrong.

 Sam sighed before nodding his head. “Yeah, it’s just… he could be out there, you know?”

Seeing Jessica scrunch her nose slightly Sam continued. “Gabriel, I mean, Gabriel Novak… he’s known to have his hand in the filming itself, and I mean if I were him I would want to be there for the first scene in case something went wrong, you know? Get a feel for the cast? I mean what if he’s out there and doesn’t like that I was cast for Jared? He wasn’t there for my audition… and I know he can’t do much with my contract being signed and all but… oh Jessica, what if he doesn’t think I’m good enough to play Jared?”

“Sam, Sam you need to calm down.”

 Realizing that she was right, and he had started to work himself into a mess, Sam tried to calm down. Jessica thankfully held his arm which was about to reach up and undo his stylists work on his hair. Breathing in deeply a few times, Sam tried to calm himself down while closing his eyes. Once he felt he was calm enough, Sam opened his eyes to look at Jessica who stood before him, still with her hand on his arm while he tried to calm himself.

 “There you are, now you need to relax. I know it’s easier said than done, but I can promise you that Gabriel isn’t going to fire you or whatever you have rolling around in your head. He may not have been the one casting us, but he must not have a problem with you being picked if he didn’t say anything, right?”

Sam nodded his head while trying to calm his breathing. It had been a long time since he was that close to a panic attack. Seeing Jessica smile at him, helped. Sam didn’t have any attraction to her, not with them working together and him having a strict policy never to date fellow actors. “Thanks,” murmured Sam. “I think I’m okay now it’s just… he’s like one of my idols you know? I’m a huge fan of his work, even the older stuff and I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of him.”

Jessica laughed softly, waving at someone behind Sam, probably to let them know they would need another moment before they started. “It’s alright Sam; you’re allowed to be a fan, just... Breathe okay? I’m sure by the end of the movie you’ll be able to talk to him and geek out all you want, while I haven’t worked with him before I have a friend who was in his last film. She told me he always makes time for people who want to talk between sets. If you play your cards right, you might even get an autograph.”

Tugging on his hand, Jessica guided Sam toward the set they would be using today. It was a relaxed scene, one he shouldn’t have any problems to fall into the mindset of Jared. Walking to his spot, Sam avoided looking beyond the director, although he could see Gabriel sitting just off to the side. Taking a breath; Sam breathed in, and Jared breathed out. It was a smooth transition, and while he recited his lines for the cameras, Sam couldn’t help but be thankful he didn’t seem to mess anything up. By the time the first take was done, Sam knew he was in the clear, at least for today.

Wrapping up the last take, Sam couldn’t help the grin that nearly split his face when the director called out that was it for today. Sighing, Sam let loose his Jared-mask and turned to Jessica who walked with him back to the green room. There were a few chairs in the small area where they would be able to relax if needed, but Sam was full of energy.

 “Well that went well, if we keep it up for the rest of it, we might even be able to finish this thing early.”

 Jessica laughed slightly at Sam’s optimism. “Yeah, when Hell freezes over, there’s going to be something to set us back, there always is.” Nodding, Sam still couldn’t fight off his grin. “What has you so happy anyway? Before we went out there you were just shy of rocking in a corner, and now you’re practically bouncing off the walls,” asked Jessica while grabbing one of the bottles of water on the table and taking a drink.

 “I didn’t mess up! I mean sure take four and five weren’t perfect, but I didn’t do anything major that would ruin the scene for him to complain about. I guess I was worried over nothing.” It was a relief to know that he hadn’t messed up in front of the man, while it could still happen it wouldn’t be on the first day which had been Sam’s primary concern, starting things off on a sour note.

“Well don’t look now but I have a feeling your day is about to get better,” said Jessica before nodding her head to the open doorway of the room.

 Standing there was Gabriel Novack, the same man Sam had been trying to avoid looking at only a few minutes before. Sam didn’t register as Jessica left the room, all he could see was Gabriel making his way inside and leaning up against the wall. The man was beautiful. Sam had known, he had been pictures and even a few videos of Gabriel, but it was something else being only a few feet away from him. There was something about him, something almost enthralling that dragged Sam in.

“I gotta say I’m impressed, kid. Typically, it takes a few takes before the actor grasps the character, but you did it in one.” Gabriel’s voice broke Sam out of the trance he had been lost in, trying to drink in the sight of the man.

 He could feel his cheeks start to flush slightly, and mentally cursed his complexion, while he typically would have more of a darker tone as he enjoyed the sun, Jared was pale, and thus Sam knew his blush was visible. “I uh…” Sam tried to speak but his mouth ran dry, taking a second, he swallowed trying to fight back his nerves and tried again. “Jared is an easy character for me to work with. It helps that you wrote the books first since we’re doing a preview of the series, it wasn’t that hard to get into his headspace.”

Seeing Gabriel nod, Sam shifted slightly; the silence was making him uncomfortable while Gabriel thought over his words. Biting the inside of his cheek, Sam glanced around the room, not wanting to see if Gabriel was disappointed. He had thought he was in the clear after the scene was done, but maybe he had ruined what Gabriel thought Jared should be like, or perhaps the author had changed his mind on taking a shot with Sam at all.

 “So, you’ve read the series?” asked Gabriel with a slight smirk on his lips, Sam was nearly petrified to see that.

“Yeah, I mean I figured I would give it a shot even if it’s not your typical work.” Knowing that he was caught now, Sam internally winced, could he sound any more insulting? “Not that I don’t enjoy your other work, this series has a different edge that your earlier work hadn’t before. Maybe it had to do with you having a co-author, but there seemed to be more focus on the actual character development than the independent worlds.”

It seemed the longer Gabriel went without speaking, the less control Sam had of his mouth. As he finally managed to stop talking, needing to breathe, Sam couldn’t help but worry Gabriel would take offense. Gabriel seemed like a nice guy, everyone had said so who had worked with him before, and here was Sam running his mouth when the guy had only stopped in to say hi.  

 “You’re cute when you’re all flustered; you know that?

 Blinking, Sam lifted his eyes up from where they had been staring at the floor and caught Gabriel’s smile.

“As much as it does my ego good to see someone like you, a rising star with a body crafted by the gods themselves, obviously being a fan of my work… would you like to talk about it over drinks?”

 Speechless, Sam didn’t know how to respond. Unable to comprehend that not only was Gabriel not angry but was offering to take him out for drinks. Sam had to fight back a squeak from escaping his throat when the man came closer to him.

 “I mean if you have other plans… but I would like to take you out if you’re not busy since you’re done for the day? My treat?”

Finally, able to move Sam felt almost giddy at being able to spend time with Gabriel, that Gabriel wanted to spend time with him. Relaxing just a bit, Sam nodded while he answered.  “Yeah, I would like that… I need to wash up in my trailer before we head out… do you want to meet up in about half an hour? There’s a place about ten minutes from here.” Watching as Gabriel’s smirk widened slightly, Sam tried to fight the flop in his stomach at the look.  

 “Yeah, I think I know the place, small little bar that’s just enough out of the way we shouldn’t get mobbed? Roadhouse I think it’s called?”

Nodding Sam watched while Gabriel turned, his eyes automatically checking the other man’s ass out.

 “Half hour Samsquatch, I expect to see you there,” Gabriel called out, who was making his way out of the room.

 Sam was unable to keep his eyes from the other’s ass, uncertain if Gabriel was swaying his hips on purpose or if that was merely how the man walked. While he hated the thought of Gabriel leaving, Sam had to admit that he loved watching him go. Cursing once Gabriel was out of sight, Sam quickly made his way to his trailer. It took him no time to strip down and grab a shower, the water pressure wasn’t the best in the world, but it would at least wash off his makeup and stress-sweat.

Drying off once he was clean, Sam was near frantic while searching through his things. He only had a few things in the trailer, most of his clothes were on the other side of town in his hotel room. The set had been kind enough to provide him with somewhere he could store a few things and shower when he got off work, but the trailer wasn’t designed for him to stay in long-term. Sadly, Sam didn’t have time to make it back to his hotel room and arrive at The Roadhouse if he didn’t want Gabriel to think he was standing him up.

Throwing on a button-up shirt and jeans, Sam sighed before pulling on his jacket and boots. It wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable and something that wouldn’t seem out of place for where they were going. Locking up once he was done, Sam made his way off the property and toward the bar. It wasn’t a long walk, and sooner than Sam had been expecting he was outside the door. Taking a deep breath, Sam wiped his palms on his jeans before opening the door and walking inside.

It took all of a second for Sam to spot Gabriel. There is something special about the man, while Gabriel wasn’t doing anything more than sitting at a booth with a drink in his hand Sam could feel his eyes drawn to him, taking the golden form in. Stepping into the bar, Sam didn’t even notice as the bartender pushed her chest practically on the table to give him a better look. Thankfully Sam didn’t have to say anything as Gabriel spotted him and called out his name. The sound of the author merely mentioning his name shouldn’t cause Sam’s heart to skip a beat.

“Hey Gabriel, am I late?” He noticed Gabriel’s smile brightened when Sam sat down, and while he knew it was going to get him in trouble, Sam couldn’t help but wonder what he would have to do to make sure Gabriel was always smiling. More importantly, Sam wanted to make sure Gabriel was always smiling for him.

  P.S. If you want to keep up to date on my writing add me to Facebook, Tumbler, Twitter or Instagram as CrowNoYami ;-) Also, if you want to see what I’m reading (I always review so you know what you’re getting into) I’m on Goodreads as well, the same name as always.

[fandomsissues]

Discovery Trip - Chapter 2/3

Masterlist of Discovery Trip HERE

Fandom : Supernatural

Relationships : Sabriel, Destiel

Words : 4336

Summary : After Sam broke up with his girlfriend, Dean and Castiel decided to bring him with them to France, at Cas’ brother house.

Warning : smut

Link AO3

Chapter two : No clue how to deal with it

"Whoa."

Gabriel had told Sam that his house near Brest was smaller than the villa, but it was still pretty impressive.

"So that’s what you call ‘small’. Ok," laughed Sam as he followed Gabriel inside.

The house was on the edge of a cliff. The living room had huge windows, offering the best possible view on the beautiful sea.

"Come with me, I’ll show you your room," said gently Gabriel, leading Sam into a corridor on the left. "Your room’s on the right, mine’s on the left. Each one has its own bathroom. If you’re thirsty or anything the kitchen’s full and there’s a covered patio with a bar on the roof. In the living room you got books, movies, and video games, so you won’t have time to get bored ’til I come back from work."

Sam knew that he wouldn’t see Gabriel a lot for a few days, but it didn’t bother him at all. In fact he was restless knowing that they’ll be visiting the city in the evening, just the two of them.

"You know that waiting for you isn’t a problem at all…" said Sam gently, his hand on Gabe’s arm. He didn’t truly know how but they became very close on the flight to Brest. Not that it didn’t please him. He just wasn’t used to it and didn’t really know how to feel about it. Jess’s betrayal was still on his mind and he had issues considering a new relationship. If whatever there was between Gabe and him was leading them to a relationship. If there was something between him and Gabe at all. Anyway, he had no clue how to deal with it.

They spent the night eating hot dogs and french fries. By 2 a.m. Sam dragged Gabriel to the Novak’s room, saying that he needed to rest if he wanted to be fully awake at work and then go on a walk with Sam in the evening. The ‘walk with Sam’ part of the speech seemed to convinced Gabriel, who let the giant take him to his bed, laughing at how childish he behaved.

"Please Gabe, go the fuck to sleep," said Sam once more, throwing the human package on the bed. Unfortunately -or not- Gabriel grabbed Sam’s shoulder harder, making Sam fall with him on the confortable mattress. They both laughed, but then they became quiet, staring at the other. Sam finally got up. He passed his hand in Gabriel’s hair. "‘Night Gabe". Sam’s touch made Gabriel lean his head towards him and, finally -unfortunately-, Sam left the room with one last smile. Once the door shut, Gabe realized how much this being close to Sam had turned him on. He got up, heading to the bathroom, his mind out of control.

Sam had locked himself in his room immediately after leaving Gabriel’s. He wasn’t able to go back to the other room to… Well… He didn’t have a clue. He wanted something. He wanted it badly.

"It's all the same, only the names will change

Everyday, it seems we're wastin' away

Another place where the faces are so cold

I drive all night just to get back home"

Sam picked up his phone, cutting Bon Jovi off.

"Hey Sam ! How’re you doing ?" Dean said happily.

"Dean, it’s 2 a.m."

"I perfectly know that, dude. So why are you up this late ?" Dean’s tone was all mysterious and Sam new what it meant : danger.

"What are you doing up at this hour, Dean ? You should rest if you want to survive to one more day visiting Paris." Yes, Sam knew he was avoiding his brother’s obvious question.

"Cas and I had spent a… good night," said Dean, grinning. "He went to order some food. I decided to call you meanwhile. "

"You mean that in this kind of hotel they can’t afford a phone so you don’t have to leave your room ?" asked Sam suspiciously.

"He’s right Dean," heard Sam, recognizing Cas’ voice.

"Ssshhhh, he’ll hear you !" said Dean in the most not-discreet-but-at-least-he-tried way.

"Good night Dean," managed Sam to say as he still wasn’t laughing too hard, doing his best so Gabriel wouldn’t hear him, and then threw his phone away.

Why on earth would his brother call him at 2 a.m. to know how he was doing…

"God dammit," breathed out Sam, letting himself fall on the bed.

***

Day one in the sea house. When Sam woke up it was already noon. Of course, Gabriel wasn’t home to bring him some coffee - why would he do that anyway ? Instead he left Sam a note on the kitchen counter.

Didn’t want to wake you up, you were too cute snoring,

I’ll be back by 5,

Gabe xxx

Sam felt his heart burning as he realized that Gabriel went to his room, looked at him sleeping, and found him cute.

"I don’t snore," mumbled Sam to refrain the outburst of joy he just felt.

He managed to find some food and went straight to the couch. Turning the TV on, he discovered that, yes, in France, all the shows were in French. What a discovery. He ended up on a show for children to learn English, and found it surprisingly entertaining. He finally spent the entire day watching it and unhooked his eyes from the screen only when he felt someone falling on the couch next to him.

"Don’t tell me you watched it all day long," said Gabriel with an genuinely concerned tone. Sam didn’t have to answer, Gabe having seen his face. "God damn it you did."

"In fact I woke up by noon so it’s been only half the day," laughed Sam, leaning against Gabriel’s shoulder thoughtlessly. They stared at the TV, hypnotized by the bright colors and the high voices.

"Fuck, we really gotta move our asses outta here or we’ll frigging die here," mumbled Gabriel as he ripped himself off the couch, taking Sam with him. "Go get dressed Sammy, I’m taking you to the best burger restaurant ever."

Ten minutes later they were both heading to the garage, where a Mini Cooper was waiting for them. The ride from the house to the restaurant took about fifteen minutes. They remained quiet all the way, not feeling the need to speak as their own presence was reassuring.

They spent the meal speaking, laughing, and feeding each other. They staid there until the waitress threw them outside and then they started to wonder around. Gabriel showed Sam all his favorite spots, and they ended up walking on the quay. Gabriel started to shiver and Sam rubbed his back to warm him. He finally let his arm fall down until their hands touched. They kept walking and soon they were holding hands. None of them made a comment.

These ‘late night walks’ became a habit. Gabriel was taking Sam to a different place every night, doing his best to come back early and buy more candy than they could possibly eat -but ate anyway- when he got in the house passed eight. They used to stay late and later in the couch every night, Sam having never seen Doctor Who.

"You’ve never watched Doctor Who ? Never ever ?" said Gabriel, incensed.

"Well… I never really had the occasion. It seems to be quite a big deal," answered Sam. "But I’m a student. I ain’t got time for that."

"Don’t you ever dare say something like that again. There’s always enough time for the Time Lord," recited Gabriel, a hand on the heart. "And as a student you need take some time to rest."

That’s how they started to watch the most what-the-hell-is-going-on-this-is-awesome-show that Sam had ever seen. They quickly made it to the 9th season. Once the last episode ended, Sam didn’t get why Gabriel wasn’t putting on the 10th season.

"It’s because they just started shooting it," answered Gabriel. "But don’t you think you’re done with BBC’s shows. There’s one more you really need to watch."

And that’s how Sam discovered what became his favorite show ever : Sherlock.

***

"Honey, I’m home !" said proudly Gabriel as he opened wide the door, smiling at Sam who was laying on the couch. Some might thought it was a corpse laying there before Gabriel’s entrance, but the soft voice had pulled Sam out his thoughts and he smiled at he Novak widely.

"Maple syrup’s better," mumbled Sam, laughing at the bitch face Gabriel made. He then gave him a soothing hug, seeing how tired Gabe looked.

"Let me be honest with you fellow, you look like shit," declared Sam with all the seriousness he managed to gather. The single sigh Gabriel made proved him right. "What about we just stay here tonight ? I don’t want you to actually die of tiredness because of me. It would be a mess to explain that to Cas."

"Thanks…" whispered Gabriel at Sam’s ear, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, causing Sam to furiously blush. "But I don’t want you to starve. I’ll make pizzas," said Gabriel as he got up and headed to the kitchen.

"Need any help ?" asked Sam even though he new the answer, having seen Gabriel cooking a few time already.

"No way you’re touching anything while I am cooking. Just sit on a stool and look pretty," answered Gabriel, already getting ustensiles out of the cupboards.

Sam put on some music and did as he was told, laughing at the face Gabriel made seeing his beautiful duck-face. Gabe finally tried to teach Sam how to make pizzas, but quickly they got covered with flour so that not even five minutes later he put him back on his seat. Once the pizzas were in the oven, they waited playing cat and mouse.

"Beep, beeep, beeeeeep !"

"Pizzas’re ready !" sang Gabriel, running back to the kitchen, leaving Sam out of breath laying in the corridor.

"How can you still be running, pal… I feel like I’m about to die," said Sam as he dragged himself to the kitchen counter where the most beautiful pizzas he had ever seen waited for him - yes, he was objective.

"One each. Bon appétit !" said Gabriel, already mouthful of food.

"Damn that’s good…" moaned Sam, amazed.

"It’d better be !" laughed Gabriel, giving a thankful look at Sam.

They ate dancing, singing, playing and feeding one another. Once they had finished Gabriel decided to make a dessert, starting a choux à la crèmerecipe. Once dessert was ready they headed to the couch, starting Sherlock’s second season. Quickly Gabriel was laying on Sam, his head resting on the tall man’s chest. Ninety minutes later, once the end title over, they remained in this position, Sam rubbing softly Gabe’s back and Gabriel drawing small circles on Sam’s arm.

Gabriel was the first one to move, willing to get up but paralyzed as his eyes got captured by Sam’s. Slowly they got closer and closer until their lips were sealed. The kiss was at first soft, gentle, slow, but the growing longing of both men turned it into something more passionate. They opened their mouths with hunger as they made their tongues dance together. Sam gently made Gabriel move to have him straggling his lap, causing their hips to press against one another’s, letting them feel how aroused they both were. Gabriel locked his arms around Sam’s neck and his legs around his waist as Sam got up the couch, heading to a bedroom - his or Gabe’s, it didn’t matter. He put Gabriel softly on the bed, himself still standing before him, studying him. Gabriel moaned seeing his gaze, spreading his legs on the bed so Sam had no choice but to fall between them, throwing away Gabe’s shirt to explore his chest, kissing and bitting every inches of skin, leaded by Gabriel’s whimpers.

It was the best torture Gabriel had ever have to endure. He pulled Sam to him to kiss him once again, taking advantage of the situation to remove his shirt so he could be able to caress this soft skin he had been dreaming of since he met the guy. He wasn’t expecting Sam to firmly roll his hips against his and groaned loudly at the delicious friction. He flipped his legs to be on top of Sam, moving back and forth against him.

"Gabe you gotta stop or I’m gonna come," whimpered Sam, breathless.

Gabriel leaned to bit Sam’s neck, then softly kissed him as he kept doing. "Oh, really Sammy-boy ? You really think I will let you come with your clothes still on ?"

Sam groaned as Gabriel started to go down, leaving small kisses all along his muscles. His mind definitely turned off when Gabriel unzipped his pants with his teeth, teasing him through the fabric of his underwear. He ripped the pants off and threw it away. His eyes opened wide with hunger seeing Sam’s arousal and he couldn’t help but lean over to press some gentle kisses all over it.

Gabriel’s mind got dizzy with Sam’s whimpers. He started to pull off the last piece of fabric, looking at Sam right in the eyes as he revealed his fully naked body. Sam was paralyzed under the lusty gaze. Gabriel got back to Sam’s lips, kissing him with passion as he started to stroke him slowly, squeezing the tip, grinning at the small noises Sam made, doing his best not to cry out of his pleasure.

Gabriel suddenly felt a hand unzipping his pants and making his way to his underwear, stroking him on the same pace.

"God damn it, Sam…" mumbled Gabriel, bitting is lower lip but still keeping the same rhythm, driving Sam crazy.

"More, Gabe," begged Sam, moving faster against Gabriel’s hand.

Sam groaned as Gabriel took away from him.

"What’s wrong ?" asked Sam, leaning to touch Gabriel’s body again. Seeing the lust in his eyes he felt his cock twisting. He kissed his jaw and continued to his ear, bitting his lobe. "‘Want to feel you in me, Gabe…"

In less than a second Gabriel was back on top of Sam, licking is cock and starting to tease his entrance with his fingers. Sam didn’t have time to see him taking some lube, and he moaned loudly feeling the wetted finger making his way inside of him.

"More," he begged, already rolling his hips, lost in the mixed sensations of the mouth of Gabriel around his cock and the finger pressing against his prostate. Soon it was two fingers scissoring him, then three.

"Gabe…" But Sam didn’t have the time to finish his sentence that Gabe’s lips were on his, swallowing his moans as he heard Gabriel opening a wrapping.

Gabriel pulled back a second, looking at Sam in the eyes to be sure they both wanted the same thing. He figured out that Sam was as eager as him to go further when he took him in his hand to press Gabe’s tip against his entrance, causing both of them to moan, Gabriel burying his head in Sam’s shoulder, bitting it gently.

He pushed slowly against Sam’s entrance, gathering all is self-control to not thrust fast and hard into Sam. He then felt Sam’s hips rolling against his and he started to pull in and out, going faster and harder, rubbing Sam’s prostate every single time, causing him to cry out under him.

The sounds Sam made mixed with his tightness brought quickly Gabriel to the edge. He took Sam’s cock in his hand, stocking him at the same pace he was thrusting in. He felt Sam becoming tighter as his orgasm reached over him. Gabriel didn’t resist any longer, thrusting harder a few more times before he sunk into the ultimate wave of pleasure.

He let himself fall next to Sam, shivering because of the orgasm. He felt Sam’s arms surrounding him as their legs got mixed up. It didn’t take long for them to fall asleep.

***

The bed was cold when Sam woke up. He knew thanks to the sunlight that he wasn't in his room. The memory of Gabriel moving in him made him shiver as he got up. Once dressed he realized that Gabriel’s belongings were no more there. He headed to the kitchen, his stomach empty and his head full of questions.

"Finally !" said Gabriel as he put down a bag of clothes.

Sam frowned. "What’s going on, Gabe ? I thought we were suppose to leave in three days ?"

"Well, plan changed. Work’s calling me to Paris. Big contract," answered Gabriel in a hurry. "I took the liberty to pack your stuff. You’ll have time to eat in the plane."

Sam was speechless. He didn’t have time to argue that Antony, the driver, came in and started to carry the bags to the car.

Once in the plane Sam tried to speak to Gabriel, with no result. He always answered quickly, not willing to continue the conversation, always on his phone or reading what seemed to be serious papers.

Gabriel had noticed that Sam was trying to get his attention, but he did his best to bury himself in what was in fact a simple water bill. Last night was one of his best ever. Yet, he wasn’t able to handle it. This affection he felt for Sam had disturbed him in the most serious way. But he couldn't afford loosing himself in a new relationship. He simply couldn’t. He tried to seem as indifferent as he could and his heart hurt more than he expected when he saw Sam withdrawing.

***

"Oh… Hello guys. We weren’t expecting you," said Dean, laid on Cas on the kitchen counter, a Nutella pot next to them.

Without a comment Gabriel headed to his office, not paying attention to what was about to happen in his kitchen - and not thinking about what might have happened before. Dean and Cas’s minds got straight clear as they felt the palpable tension between their little brothers. With a simple gaze they decided to split, Dean going to talk to Sam and Cas going to talk to Gabriel.

"What happened ?" asked Dean softly.

"Why do you mind ?" answered Sam angrily.

"Because I’m your big bro and I see you’re not alright. So tell me. What happened ?"

"You perfectly know what happened, Dean," said Sam, getting up to look at the window.

"And ?" Sam remained silent. Dean started to be really worried. "Did he hurt you ? Did he make you do things you didn’t want ? Fuck it Sam, tell me if I gotta destroy his jackass face," said Dean with despair, knowing at the gaze Sam gave him that he wouldn’t have any answer.

"If you hurt him Cas will leave you. It’s not worth it. I just didn’t expected that… Well. That it would end up like that. But I’m ok. Just tired because of the flight."

Dean was suspicious, but he finally let his brother alone. Going downstairs he heard voices coming from Gabriel’s office.

"Why did you have to mess it up, Gabe ? Are you this stupid ? You may have a lot of success in your work life but you can’t act the same way in relationships with human beings. You can’t leave someone and hope that you will find another after. Sam isn’t a fucking start-up !" shouted Cas, and Dean grinned at the comparison.

"Fuck you, Cas. That’s my damn life. You have no fucking idea what I’ve been through," answered Gabriel with a bitter tone. "Now leave my damn office and go back to your perfect love life. I got work to do."

Dean shared a concerned look with Cas when he came out of the office.

"We will leave you earlier Gabriel," started Cas in the evening when they were all gathered around the table, "Dean has an interview on Monday." Gabriel just nodded as an answer. "Have you seen that Micheal is getting married earlier ?" Another nod for an answer. "You could come at our flat if you don’t want to deal with the family for one more night," said Cas, trying one more time to get his attention.

"I got two months and a half to think about it. I might as well rent one for myself," answered Gabriel, getting back to his food.

After two days of cold war Cas and the two Winchesters left France, leaving Gabriel alone in his too big house.

***

"C’mon Sam, leave this damn room and come with us," raged out Dean as he tried to pull is little bro out of his flat. Sam had moved to a new one. He couldn’t handle the view of the happy couple Dean and Cas made. He had made the terrible mistake of giving a key of the apartment to his brother. Now he definitely had to change the lock.

"Leave me alone, jerk," said Sam, not removing his eyes of his screen. He had to memorize every words for the year to come class. He had to be top of the class if he wanted to get a good job instead of working in a shitty office.

"Bitch," replied Dean, smiling but still worried. "Come on, Sam, since when didn’t you get your ass out of here ?"

Sam didn’t answer, the truth being : he didn’t even remember. As soon as him and the happiest couple of the year got back from France he wanted to leave the guys alone. Two weeks later he moved to his new flat and he left it only to buy some edible stuff. It’s been two months now.

"Don’t make me do this, pal," asked Dean seriously.

"Don’t make you do what ?"

Sam’s eyes opened wide as his big brother pulled on the fire alarm.

"What’s wrong with you, guy ?" said Sam, putting his hands on his ears in the hope of not turning deaf before his seventies.

Sam finally agreed to go out with his brother. Slowly he started to be more and more sociable, and Dean claimed victory when Sam agreed to be part of their Friday’s beers/shots tradition again.

"I really don’t wanna go to your brother’s wedding. I go only because I love you," declared seriously Dean to Cas one day, a little to much of alcohol in his blood.

"You know what, Dean ?" answered Cas on the same serious tone, leaning like he was about the say the code of the atomic bomb, "I don’t wanna go either. But if we don’t, you gotta be suuuure they will destroy our life because their’s so shitty they don’t get anything else to do." Drunk Cas was a bless to humanity.

Sam was pretty happy he wasn’t invited. He couldn’t even imagine him among all those people, this world he wasn’t a part of. And first thing to be glad of : he didn’t have to buy a fancy suit that would cost the price of a house only to wear it once since he didn’t have a so-called Cas to buy it for him.

"Knock Knock Knock"

Sam got up from his couch, passing in front of the big windows revealing the sleepy city. Of course it has to be when he was re-rewatching the last episode of Sherlock that someone had to interrupt him.

If it’s Dean I kill him.

It was Gabriel waiting behind the door.

"Hello Sam," started Gabriel with an uncertain tone he tried to hide, "would you mind if we both go to the cafe downstair and talk for a while ?"

Sam didn’t have a clue how to react, all the memories coming back in his head seeing the familiar face. However, he took a jacket and followed the Novak.

"So… What have you done since you got back home ?" asked Gabriel taking a sip of his coffee.

"Well… I moved in my new flat. I study. That’s pretty much everything." Sam felt like he was dreaming, head dizzy and heart beating hard. "What about you ? You were heading to Paris for a new contract lost time I saw you."

Gabriel swallowed hard. "Yes… A big contract. Lots of work. The company’s on his own now. I’ve sold my stocks. I figured out I had to manage some time out to have a life beside work."

"Nice."

They remained quiet as they finished their cups of coffee.

"I saw you kept on watching Sherlock," said Gabriel with a smirk. "You’ve seen the last episode ?"

"Hell yeah I saw it !" replied Sam. "I still can’t live with it, by the way," he laughed, and the mood went from freaking weird to warm.

"Actually I’ve started to play the violin since I’ve seen it," confessed Gabriel.

"I tried to. But me with an instrument is the promise of a huge mess," said Sam, commanding two more coffees.

They talked about the show for hours. When the waitress told them that the cafe was closing, Gabriel took Sam back to his flat.

"By the way…" Sam frowned, "where do you sleep ?"

"Dean and Cas have gently accepted me on their couch."

"You’re lucky," said Sam, "their couch’s freaking confortable. Way more than my actual bed to be honest," he laughed, and Gabriel laughed with him.

"Tomorrow afternoon we’ll leave to the hotel. They want everyone to sleep there so they’ll be sure no-one will flee without them knowing it," spit out Gabriel.

"You aren’t happy going there either, aren’t you ?" asked Sam with pity.

"You can’t even imagine," breathed Gabriel out with despair.

They both stood there, one on each side of the door, the weird vibe was back again.

Gabriel took a deep breath. "In fact I was thinking… Would you go there with me so we’ll endure this together ?" asked him, not knowing if he actually asked it out loud as if his brain was messing with him once again.

"Yes," answered Sam, surprising both of them.

Chapter Three : Let there be love

Tag list : @aisari

[thewinsister]

Silence Pt. 5

Warnings: mentions of blood, being homeless? ANGST and FLUFF.

Request/Summary: The reader must unveil her secret in order to save herself.

Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Sister!Reader.

Word Count: 1,672

Y/N: your name

Y/N/N: your nickname

Age: 12-16

Silence Pt.1 Silence Pt.2 Silence Pt.3 Silence Pt.4

“I-I what?” You asked as your heart sank, anxiety already bubbling up inside of you.

“You have to tell us what happened that night Y/N/N.” Dean said shortly raising an eyebrow at you.

“Oh I heard you.. I just - “You sighed thinking of what to say next, “I just need a minute okay?” You said as you stood up and walked out of the small motel room. You promised yourself to never speak about that night again. It had started to rain, the sound of the  small droplets of water falling to the ground made you zone out and begin to remember the terrible hunt you wanted to forget so bad.

*Flash Back*

“Okay, you know the plan?” Your older brother Dean asked for the tenth time that day, you rolled your eyes. He was always so worried whenever you went hunting with them, you appreciated it but it could get really annoying.

“Yes Dean.” You sighed as you began packing your weapons, “We wait ‘till their asleep, you and Sam go in from the front and kill the son’s of bitches while  I go from the back to get the hostages.” You recited the plan using the exact words he used in the beginning with a monotone voice as if you were a robot.

“Great, you ready?” He asked you with his big brother voice activated.

“Always.” You answered turning around to look at him to see him biting his nails something he only did when he was very anxious, he had been worried recently much more than he usually was. You slowly walked towards him “Dean, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing I’m just…” He hesitated before continuing a sign to you that he was afraid of something. “You sure you’re going to be okay? I’m just so afraid you’ll get hurt. I don’t wanna lose you.” He said softly, the only reason they had let you come to the hunt was because they needed some extra help.

“I’ll be fine Dean, you know I will. Besides I’ll have my two big brothers there with me.” You told him hoping he wouldn’t change his mind about you going. He hugged you tightly before Sam walked in cueing for all of you to leave.

You all arrived a quarter past eleven, Dean parked the car a little further away from where the werewolves were at so they wouldn’t see them coming. It was all going to plan until you went in, the entire pack of wolves were awake waiting for you. Immediately they grabbed you and you saw your brothers being taken to where the hostages were, the werewolf holding you pressing one of its long sharp nails against your neck so you wouldn’t move.

“Well hello little Winchester!” One of the werewolves said excitedly, “We’ve been waiting so long for you.” he said caressing your cheek with one of his sharp nails.

“Well you weren’t expecting me to leave without kicking your asses did you?” You asked sassily just wanting all of this to be over.

“Oh. Do you hear that guys? The baby winchester is gonna kick our asses!” It said mocking you, the entire pack began laughing until it lifted its hand, all of them stopping immediately. “Now, bring the hostages.” you watched as they brought in two women in their twenties and a bearded man all beaten up quite badly. “Now this is what we’re gonna do, you have two choices. them or your wonderful big brothers of your.”

“W-what? What do you mean?” You asked nervously moving forward but the sharp nail on your throat pierced it slightly making you move backwards again.

“I mean, you have to choose between their lives or your brothers.” It repeated to you once again. You couldn’t kill those innocent people, or your brothers they were all you had. Slowly you looked at the three people in front of you, all teary eyed and beat up their faces with a pleading look. How could you kill them? “Time is ticking sweetheart. You have to choose.”

“I refuse to choose! I won’t kill anyone, I’ll kill myself if I have to!” you yelled as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You were willing to give up your own life for these people and you didn’t even know them, but this is what you do. You save people not kill them.

“Well that’s not the right answer. Seen you don’t want to choose guess we’ll have to choose for you.” The monster said, he singled for one of the others to bring something. It came back with a small bowl with small bones and leafs. They’re witches too? “Now this will just hurt one second.” It said grabbing a knife and slicing a gash through your hand, the blood began to drip slowly and heavily into the bowl. Once there was enough the werewolf slashed it’s own hand and poured its blood and mixed it together with the knife.

“What’re you doing?” You asked afraid of the answer. The werewolf finished stirring it and dabbed a bit onto your forehead and on to his own.

“This will make you do everything I say. Now, kill those hostages.” He said giving you the bloodied knife. Suddenly an immense force on you began to make you start walking towards the innocent people, you saw their faces become terrified of you, they screamed and yelled but you couldn’t do anything. You got closer to them and began slashing and stabbing them blood everywhere screams were the only thing you heard.

“I’M SORRY! I’M SO SORRY!” You yelled trying to contain the immense force in you, but you couldn’t stop, you weren’t strong enough. At this moment you wished you were one of your brothers, you knew they would’ve probably found a way to let everyone live. But you weren’t them, now you were a killer. The bodies littered the ground, blood everywhere. Somehow the spell had been broken but it was too late. With the little energy you had left you turned around and managed to kill the werewolves, something they were not expecting. You threw the knife seconds before your brothers barged in to see you collapse on the floor. What happened?

*END OF FLASHBACK*

You were snapped out of your trance when Sam came out and sat next to you. “Y/N/N, you okay  baby?” He spoke softly to you in case you’d flip out.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” You said looking towards him and felt your face was wet and your eyes were stinging, realizing you’d been crying he pulled you into a tight hug, and stroked your hair.

“Y/N/N, I know you don’t want to tell us and I understand if you’re still mad. But please tell us what happened baby. Time is passing by and if we wait longer you’ll die. Please bubba, we miss you. We can’t lose you, not again.” He whispered to you, his voice cracking slightly at the end of his sentence. He felt you nod against his chest and let go of you, “Okay, let’s go inside it’s cold out here” He said wiping your tears before he wiped his own.

You walked in to see Dean sitting on the bed facing the window. His head hanging, you knew he was crying too. Sam cleared his throat loudly so Dean knew you were in. Slowly he turned around, you saw each others puffy eyes and sighed. “You ready?” He said sweetly not really expecting an answer.

“Always.”

So you told them, you told them everything. You woke up in the same old motel room you were in before, laying on the bed. Sam was by your feet and Dean on the floor, they two were still dazed and weary from waking up so suddenly. As soon as they saw you awake they basically threw themselves on you. You were squished under Sam giant body mass hugging you and kissing your forehead and cheek.

“um.. Sammy.” You managed to say with now air in your lungs from his weight on you.

“Yeah?

“I-uh can’t breathe.” you said choking.

“Oh right, sorry.” He said moving away, you looked over at Dean expecting him to be disgusted by you. To hate you for not being able to save the people, but instead he was crying. He crawled to you and ran his calloused fingers through your hair.

“I’m so so sorry Y/N/N. I’ve been a dick, I didn’t help you or listened to you. I just drank and yelled. You don’t have to forgive me, I’ll understand if you don’t.” He breathed out trying to be strong. You immediately threw yourself on the floor, hugging him just like Sam had hugged you. You had missed them so much, and now you were all together, and they understood what had happened.

“Of course I forgive you De, you just didn’t know what to do. I love you- the both of you- I don’t know how I lived without you guys.” You said beginning to cry as well.

“Y/N…” Sam called out softly, “Do you forgive me too?” he asked shyly as if he was afraid you’d say no.

“Yes Sammy, I forgive you too. Now come here I wanna hug you.” You said sweetly, and he eagerly did as he was told sitting on the floor with you and Dean and hugged you.

“I love you guys so much, thank you for saving me.” you said after a while, you had all just stayed there in silence appreciating each others company.

“Y/N/N, you saved yourself. We just helped you realize what you needed to do.” Dean said looking at you. “And we love you too.” He hugged you again, then looked at Sam with a mischievous grin before they both tackled you and started tickling you. You know are that there are still stuff to be solved but you are going to solve them together, cause that’s what Winchesters do.

.................................................................................................................

So that was the fifth and last part to Silence! I absolutely loved writing this series and I hope you guys loved reading it too!  

Tags: 

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@whatdoesthisbuttondo

@mousehybrid

@girl-with-a-fandom-fettish

@edenwinchester

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@spazztiel

@beccasnowflake

@imprettycool-i-guess

@sammysgirl1997

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@steam-queen98

@brookenoone

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@hey-um-misha

@sushisecor

@eileenlikesyou-maybe

@evyiione

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@mogaruke

@sesshumaru-lover

[listentome-ok]

An Evening with Karla Voss

That evening, we met at six. I had been awake for all of the night before. I had finished my book, started another, watched a film, and then gone to Rich’s flat at seven thirty to watch the sunrise. Those times, I couldn’t tell if he was coming on to me. I glinted in the morning light and watched the birds beat while he talked about his GCSE’s. He showed me a picture of his parents and I secretly found them quite bug-like. Before I left, he took me into his room and presented to me a pack of cards that he kept on his bedside table. They were motivational cards of some ilk, the purpose being to pick out one each morning and follow it’s teaching throughout the day. I picked one out - the picture on the back was a globe. ‘That’s a good one’ said Rich. I turned it over. Try and see things from another perspective. 
 ‘Huh. Cool,’ I said, digging my thumbnail into the side of my index finger to suppress a yawn. 
 ‘These are from the think tank that my dad’s friend started up, over in Leith.’ In the five weeks I’d known Rich, I had heard this story three times. ‘Yes, and you translated them into Spanish for him!’ I realised too late that my interruption could betray my boredom, so attempted to pique my sentence up at its end. 
‘Yes, that’s right,’ he didn’t notice, and carried on to the next well-trodden clause, ‘I was embarrassed because one of the people in the office was already fluent in Spanish! A bilingual! And I was just studying it!’ 
‘It must have been quite difficult to translate such open phrases.’ His card has read look for the centre, not for the edge. He knew all of the cards back and front, and while we flicked through them he pulled out this one and that, cockily reciting their statements before turning them over to see that he was right. I experienced that calm disappointment of noticing that something doesn’t surprise you, though it could, except that you had gotten yourself too tangled to expect any better. My fatigue felt like acid dripping through my legs. Rich slipped his think tank cards back into their box and led me to the door. We hugged. He smelt like my first boyfriend: dirty woollen jumpers. I knew that I would catch his cold. I ran down the three flights of stairs to the door and felt giddy when the cool air hit my skin. The giant basilica beamed its power and clout down at me, and I decided that, in these trying times, it was only right to go to church on a Sunday morning.

I walked slowly, too slowly, and stopped on the way to the cathedral at a cafe. I slouched in my booth and doodled idly on my napkin with my nail. A memory from the year before was nagging me. I rolled my eyes at myself. Really, it was nothing. 
I had been standing in the door of my boyfriend’s kitchen, talking to his flatmate, Josh. Things had often been awkward between us, young people can have such strong emotions. The year before that, I thought we had been close, but I guess you can never know. We nearly all lived together. Mutual friends would tell me Josh liked me. Then I had started dating a closer friend, Michael, who always had more of a suggestion, and Josh stopped talking to me so much. Then his friends stopped being my friends so much, and when I smiled at them in the streets they started to just walk on by. Eventually, Michael clocked on too and whenever Josh was with us he wouldn’t talk to me so animatedly, and eventually he stopped being able to talk to me at all and then to even look me in the eye. I didn’t know or want to admit how much of this was my fault. I didn’t know how I could have prevented it. I often felt as though I was bearing the cross of other people’s social blunders. But, I suppose, in a way, that’s all we do. 
 This day was unlike many others. I had gone into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and had unwittingly caught Josh alone. This, of course, must be the secret to all social successes. I saw his panic and threw in a spanner. I asked about his weekend. Gradually, I began to feel in control again as I coaxed conversation out of him. I felt as though the atmosphere in the room was like dough that I was warming and shaping in my hands. We talked about physics, the news, the corner shop on their road. He was getting the hoover out of the closet, but he stayed and carried on talking, rather than taking it straight back to his room. Inside, I was elated: I hadn’t lost my touch yet. Then Michael came out of his room to join us. 
 ‘Oh,’ Josh said, lighting up, and dimming my spirits in turn. ‘Are you free on Monday, Michael? Sam and everyone are going to Carlton Bay to do mushrooms, they’re celebrating the end of exams and all.’  The spell was broken. I sunk onto my heels, not realising I had been on tiptoes the entire time. Of course. Of course, he was just talking to me to be polite. Of course, he would never have invited me too. Of course, he didn’t care if I heard, he wouldn’t bother waiting to catch Michael alone to be diplomatic. Of course, he never even clocked that I was there at all. Josh, after all, was selfish and unsocialised. Diplomacy didn’t even occur to him. Why should it bother me? 
Michael shot me a panicked look. He knew I was at the end of my tether. I knew that I was in a tunnel. I was overreacting. I spent an inordinate amount of time wondering why people didn’t like me, and an even more inordinate amount asking Michael why. But they didn’t, and it confused me. All of a sudden, I wasn’t o-k to have around anymore. Michael went out without me, then invited me over to his flat afterwards so that we could fuck while he was drunk. Sometimes, he would ask me to something if he and everybody else was already there, if he had scoped the scene and deemed it inoffensive enough for me to join. He professed I was always working in the evenings, I didn’t get along with anyone, he didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. Social isolation consumed me, and that made me feel so…stupid. I wanted to think about the Yemen crisis and The Pickwick Papers. All I could think about were awkward twenty-year-olds. I was an idiot and I knew it. 
‘Do you want to come with us, Liz?’ 
His voice was laced thick with discomfort. I felt awful. I ducked back into the hallway and watched the two of them standing in the kitchen. I fumbled against the doorframe. Why couldn’t Josh have included me? Or just waited? What was wrong with me? Why did Michael have to speak with such weighted carefulness? What was wrong with me? Why did I scare him so much? When did we all stop being friends? Were we ever friends? 
‘Yeah, sure, I’ll just have to see if I’m free.’ I shifted on my feet. 
 ‘Sam does a lot of drugs’ Josh said to me with a smile. I looked at him, exasperated. I couldn’t believe him. This was the second wave. I knew Sam. I had met Sam multiple times. Besides that, everybody knew how many drugs he did. I had seen him high and low, whiteyed and wasted. I had hundreds of pictures of the two of us on my phone. And I did mushrooms too. I didn’t have to be told about Sam or about drugs. And if Josh thought that I did, then that must mean I really had become a freak in his eyes. And that made me livid. Just because he had stopped talking to me didn’t mean I had ceased to exist. I didn’t need to be coaxed into adult society because everyone had forgotten I was always in it. They had all spoken to me normally once, and what had changed? It is an injustice that your personhood is so often formed of how people view you, especially because people are so fickle. And I stared at this short, spotty, selfish boy, who never went anywhere that was more than a ten minute walk from his flat and who had never had a girlfriend, who openly smiled back, having regained the upper ground, having given me a nugget of valuable wisdom, who Michael visibly valued the opinion of above me, and I just couldn’t believe it. 
 ‘Great’ I said. Then Josh took the hoover into his room, and I took the tea into Michael’s, and we watched a movie and went to bed.

-


Something else struck me in the cafe, another memory that always accompanied the first. I really grimaced then. How was this still bothering me? How had this ever bothered me? Couldn’t life get a little more interesting than this? 
 I had been sitting at Michael’s small dining table with him playing cards, and Josh had been sitting on the sofa scrolling through his phone. 
‘Sam’s sober now. We gave him an intervention,’ he said, glancing up at Michael. 
‘Oh right,’ Michael said, flipping a card, ‘I never thought we’d see the day,’ he scoffed, ‘why’s that then?’ 
‘His girlfriend doesn’t know he does drugs, and when he got his stomach pumped last week it was just too close a call. We all had to keep it a secret. Now, he’s really on the wagon, because she can’t find out.’ 
‘Huh,’ Michael replied, ‘good on him.’ 
I wasn’t included in this conversation. They would feel awkward and embarrassed if I made my presence clear - this was confidential after all - but I was shocked. Everybody knew that Sam had done practically every drug. It was all anybody knew about him. It seemed, until that moment, to be his entire life. It was the only thing I’d ever heard him speak about, and the only thing anybody ever mentioned when they spoke about him. I hadn’t known he had a girlfriend. Where was she coming from? She couldn’t go to uni with us and not know. Had she ever met any of his friends? Didn’t he ever see her after 8PM? 
I wondered if we were in a similar situation. I didn’t know what Michael did away from me. I hadn’t been with him among a group of friends in months. He went out and had the fun that I had used to have without me, because now he didn’t need me there to look at, if he could just fuck me when he got home. Or, more often, he didn’t go out at all, because there was no reason to, if there were so many other cheaper and less taxing ways to spend time with me. And he didn’t need to embarrass himself talking to me in front of Josh if he could just take me into his room. 
But then, I wasn’t like this girl at all. This poor girl. That’s what you always think, poor girl, to know so little about her boyfriend. Sam’s life was hard and he had to have his stomach pumped and he had to hide things from his girlfriend and his friends had to step in to help him out of trouble. I just existed, in a cushy, uninterrupted world. I didn’t matter. Michael and I cooked for each other and watched movies. We stayed out of trouble. I didn’t have any reason to feel so bad. I was picking apart the tiniest details because I was only spoken to a few times a week. I didn’t deserve to feel so hurt because I had a boring and unremarkable life, I didn’t have anybody around because I didn’t deserve to, and I had no idea of how hard life really was for the people who actually lived. 
But then, a counter thought, Josh and Michael’s friends weren’t any more important than me, no matter how hard they tried to be. Almost nobody knew that me and Michael were dating. In our early months, it made him sick with dread to think of telling Josh. Almost a year later, when asked, he said he didn’t have a girlfriend, later still said he had never even been on a date. Maybe this was why everybody stopped talking to me. Maybe people did know, and as soon as I became someone’s girlfriend I stopped being everyone else’s friend. Maybe people could sense Michael’s discomfort and decided to save him the embarrassment of having to be with me in public. Or maybe they had never seen me as a friend at all. Maybe I had been kidding myself the whole time, I had just scraped the surface, I was just a passing acquaintance. I wondered if Michael had ever had his stomach pumped. I wondered if any of them would ever get married.

-

And then there was that party that took place on the Monday when Sam was supposed to be doing mushrooms, two days before Michael and I left on a holiday together. Why were we going on holiday together? Wouldn’t he prefer to just stay here with Josh? 
 Josh and Michael threw the party to celebrate the end of exams. Josh invited friends from his course and Michael invited friends from home, who promptly hopped on a cross-country train to come over and live it up. I texted Michael about an hour after it started, asking what his plans were for the evening, and then I found out about it, and then I was awkwardly, almost painfully awkwardly, invited to join in too. 
 Of course, we all know boys who don’t invite their girlfriends to their parties. Sam was one of them and I suppose Michael was another. What chauvinists, we all think, to think that you can’t be friends with your girlfriend. To think that they’re incapable of talking to your friends. To never understand or appreciate their charm and wit, to never even give them a chance to show you. Michael had some flimsy reason or another for not asking me when he asked everyone else - maybe he was worried I wouldn't get along with anyone, maybe he didn’t realise it would be such a big deal, maybe he was just about to invite me when I texted him - it kept changing. But still I went, and I entertained his travelling friends, and endured Christine’s insensitive rant about homelessness, and stood in line for a club with them all and smiled. And Michael didn’t talk to me until he got drunk and pissed on a bollard and started to worry about the criminality of it all. And Sarah, who I had held the hair of when she threw up in a bathroom sink less than a year before, asked my name. And Josh acted indifferent when a girl spotted him and started to shout at him about never texting her flatmate back. And I knew, I knew that these people were a waste of time, but because they had decided that I was a waste of time first, I was obsessed with them.

-

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. I was angry with myself to still be troubled by it all, to have ever been troubled by it at all, to have spent so much time with him. I got up, and went to church. 
I watched the priest hold the holy book high above his head as everyone chanted in a language that I did not understand. There was a man standing behind his elderly mother’s pew, holding her steady by her elbow every time we stood for prayer. There was a man with a cardboard box, who gingerly ducked out when his phone rang. There was also a woman cooing to her crying baby daughter, dipping her up and down in her arms. I felt envy and pity towards them all. I wanted so badly to be a part of something, but it is still so painful no matter what you do. My throat hurt and then I noticed I was crying, and I thought how ironic, that these people would now pity me, and that I would never look at myself with that same air of sympathy. I left the church. It wasn’t yet noon, and we were meeting at six.

-



Of course, I was deeply angry with Karla. We moved here at the same time and became pretty close. We saw each other a couple of times a week, we’d go to parties, watch movies, go to the beach, or just chat. It was nice. But then one day we just stopped talking. And, being that I had organised the last evening we saw each other, I felt that I had done something to aggravate her. And that made me angry. I had thought we were closer than that. 
I walked to a bar and ordered a beer, pulled out my sketchpad and began to write some notes. I wanted to talk to her about what had happened. I wanted to ask her what was wrong with me. She would be moving away in a few months, and we didn’t really have any mutual friends, so I felt I had nothing to lose. I listed everything that had happened. The time we had both kissed the same guy at a club. The time she had left as soon as the movie was over, instead of staying to Discuss. The time, a few weeks before, when I had texted her, breaking our silence, and she hadn’t replied. The time I had wanted to leave a party she had invited me to too early. 
I felt so entirely forgettable, and I couldn’t understand why everyone always dropped me. I looked at the reflective window of the bar I was in. My face was so distinct, my temperament so measured, I made sure to be so well-read, I had honed anecdotes, I listened to what people had to say and I coaxed them with questions, I tried always to act in kindness, and I couldn’t understand why I had never made the cut. Not for anybody. Not even here. I had to get an honest answer out of somebody. 
 Finally, we met, outside of the same cathedral. She was a little bit late. I jumped to the worst and expected a stand-up. When I saw her in the crowd, I wondered if I should pretend I hadn’t, wait for her to come to me, act a little nonchalant for once, but I didn’t. We met, we hugged, we bulged our eyes at how long it had been. It felt incredibly awkward. 
 We walked around the Christmas market that we had intended to meet at, alternating between not talking at all in the crowds and small-talking about what we had been up to. She hadn’t been doing much, she had changed her medication, which had affected her hormones, so she had been quite bedridden. I couldn’t remember anything remarkable about what I had been doing that I could tell her. I cursed myself for not having spoken up, but she sensed my tension. 
‘Wait…are you mad?’ she asked, pausing us as we were on our third lap of the market.
 ‘Kind of, yeah.’ I replied, emphasising, thinking, wasn’t it obvious that I was and that I clearly should be? 
We went to get a drink and talk about it. The bar we entered was large and full of mirrors, with a sweet British bartender in a pinafore dress. Karla ordered a water, stating she was on a cleanse, so I got a Coke. 
I had trouble finding my words. I wished I could be more articulate. I tried to remember the notes I had written. 
 ‘I just don’t understand,’ I finally sighed out, ‘why we stopped talking.’ 
‘Yeah,’ Karla was calm, ‘me either. But I’m not mad about it. I didn’t think it was something you had done - I didn’t make the decision not to talk to you, I thought we just kind of drifted apart.’ 
‘Does that happen with you a lot? That you and your friends ‘drift apart’ so suddenly?’ Karla paused, taken aback, so I carried on, ‘because honestly, it happens to me a lot. People stop talking to me all the time. I don’t know why. I try everything. I wonder if I’m not fun enough, not funny enough, not pretty enough, not nice enough, or what? People just stop talking to me every singe time and I have no idea what it is that I’m doing wrong.’ 
Karla tilted her head up slowly, leaning back in her armchair seat, with her arms resting on either side. ‘I didn’t expect you to be this angry. I’ve never had anyone confront me like this before… and I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.’ 
‘Well sometimes I think people are quite hard. Like, what happened with us? I thought we were closer friends than that, we hung out a lot, I thought we had passed through the awkward stages of not wanting to say anything. Why did you act like you were mad at me?’ I paused when she stared at me, ‘I know you must think it’s childish that I’m so annoyed by this, but I am. This kind of thing has happened so many times, normally I wouldn’t say anything but now I really don’t care.’ I didn’t look into her eyes, but kept my gaze fixed on the fairy lights next to her. ‘With timing, with Christmas around the corner and then long breaks and then you moving away, we probably won’t see each other again. So I thought, neither of us has anything to lose.’ 
 ‘No, I’m glad you’re saying this,’ she said, though I wasn’t sure. It was certainly awkward, but I was glad about it too. It was like we were each talking to close friends about the encounter, laying our cards on the table, not bitching, but each telling our side of the story and inviting the other to share their opinion. It seemed mature. ‘But I thought you were mad at ME! That’s why I wasn’t talking!’ 
I let out a slow, punctured breath, searching the room. I saw my reflection in one of the mirrors above the bar. I had tied my hair, which I had recently bleached blonde, into space buns. I looked at my long legs in 40 denier tights and a new denim skirt, folded in a prim lean towards Karla. I thought that with my clothes and my posture and my hair choice and my dower expression I looked just like a little rich girl. My eyes swivelled back to Karla. ‘For realsies? How could I be mad at you? I didn’t even have the opportunity!’
 ‘I thought you were angry when I left the movie early. So I gave you some time alone and then I thought it was fine but I didn’t hear from you for a few more weeks, and I thought that we officially weren’t talking anymore after that’ she stated. 
 Often in the evening we slipped into silences, where we couldn’t quite bring ourselves out of the discussion, but couldn’t quite put ourselves in to the awkward nature of it either. She was confusing me, and I knew that I was confusing her too. Though we didn’t really reach a conclusion, eventually enough time passed in comfort for us to return to other topics of conversation. It felt too awkward to carry on, when neither of us wanted to hurt the other. We began to talk about what we had been reading, where we had been eating, where we had been dancing. We chatted about Christmas plans and our families and our opinions on politics and school. Somehow, impossible to explain, it just got easier, and we left as friends. 


-


 On my walk home I thought about Michael and Josh. Big surprise. I thought that maybe if I had just asked what the fuck was bothering them so much, they would have balked and returned to normal. But still, whenever I thought of them, I was reminded of how little I must have meant to them, how little that allowed me to mean to myself. And when I remembered how rude they were, how little they tried to include people or make people comfortable, I felt so angry with them. But the problem was that they weren’t actually that rude. Just rude enough to make me aware that they didn’t consider me a friend. I thought about how I was so different now to how I had been before I’d met them: so empty, so full of self-doubt, so caged in the past. And it didn’t even matter. Neither of them would ever remember any of those conversations. I was overreacting, I was an idiot, devoid of any social life. But, at least I didn’t feel bad about Karla anymore. At least the two of us were friends. Our opinions of each other were equal. I thought, I thought, so many things that I couldn't put my finger on.

-

The next morning, I got a text from Karla, Hey :) On Thursday there’s an Indie Folk concert at ‘La Rogue Bar’, I found it on Couchsurfing, do you feel like going? 
I Immediately replied with Yes!!!! :D :D :D. At least this one was salvageable.