#Replacement Cooking Grates For Sams

[seventh-district]

again and again i find myself lamenting that audio roleplay isn't taken more seriously by some people. like yeah, they often have a romantic element, and by nature they usually directly involve/address the listener- and i totally get that those things aren't to everyone's taste. no art or entertainment is universally appealing, and that's okay! but.. it still makes me a lil sad that the "cringe" reputation of asmr/audio rp precedes it. there's a whole lot of talent and creativity being poured into these audios by so many people that i feel goes unrecognized and/or disrespected simply due to the medium that the stories are being told through.

[jasmines-library]

‘Tis the Season

Summary: It’s Christmas time, and after a long time apart, you and your brothers are finally together to celebrate, even if it is inside a motel room.

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff.

Note: Merry Christmas!

⛤ SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST ⛤

The Winchesters have never been big with celebrations. Especially since Mary passed away and hunting became the only thing on John’s agenda.This meant that you had never really experienced a proper Christmas before and neither had either of your brothers. Sure they remember snippets of Christmas from when they were younger and your mum was still around but it was never the same after that. John was never there and the three of you were often left to mill around in a shitty motel. The three of you would celebrate in your own little way. You would exchange gifts which, in Dean’s case, were often stolen or given to you by Bobby, and despite their efforts to make Christmas as normal as possible for you it was never quite how you had pictured it. Never how Sam and Dean remembered it. It didn’t help that John had told you when you were heartbreakingly young that there was no Santa Claus.

But this year, something was different. The Winchesters were celebrating.

You strolled down the road, your arm hooked around Sam’s as you admired the lights that had been strung up like bunting between the rows of buildings and hung from lampposts in the street. You wore your thickest jacket: an old blue hand-me-down from Dean, that you were pretty sure Sam might have even owned at one point before he grew taller than your older brother, and hand bundled yourself up with a scarf to shelter yourself from the frosty air.

The streets were quiet besides a few odd couples that greeted you and Sammy with a warm smile or a gentle nod. Most people were at home, celebrating the Christmas holiday.

The frost that blanketed the ground crunched under your feet and made your feet feel like small ice cubes despite the fact that you were wearing two pairs of socks. You and your brother walked quickly back to the motel where Dean was hovering over the stove tucked away in the corner of the motel. The moment you opened the door and were greeted with the warmth of the room and the smell of the food, you couldn’t help but smile up at Sam, as well as chuckle at the sight of your eldest brother. He had donned a red Santa hat and was singing along to the song he had turned up too loud on the radio between taking swigs from beer. He wrapped you up between his arms when the two of you returned with the last of the ingredients he needed before you made your way into the room.

On the nightstand between the two beds, replacing the lamp that had been shoved aside, sat a tree. It was measly and far from extravagant, sure, but you thought it was a nice touch. Dean had spotted it on the way back from a hunt and had insisted on buying it for the motel room. You spent the rest of the day hanging old car air fresheners from the branches as if they were baubles. It was makeshift; but somehow that made it seem even more special and you beamed brightly. You placed the brown paper bag you had been clutching beneath it, making sure to roll over the top to make sure that the contents were hidden.

“Alrighty.” Dean announced “Grubs up.”

The three of you squeezed around the table and began to tuck into the food that Dean placed in front of you on the table. Dean was far from the best chef that much was true but at a time like this you were grateful that he had made such an effort to cook. As the three of you ate between bouts of conversation and fits of laughter, it made you realise how much you missed spending time with your brothers. This was the first time you had truly sat down together in…well forever. Times had been kind of hectic with Sam returning from Stanford and everything with Dad and Dean, you were glad that for a few sweet moments, the three of you could just be a family. For once there was no worrying about monsters. No worrying about who was going to vanish next. It was just the three of you enjoying the little things in life.

Dinner, by far the best one you have had in a while, was followed up with gift giving and the three of you bundled on to the beds, sipping glasses of cold eggnog.

“Okay Sammy,” Dean said as he produced his first gift from his duffel. It seemed the three of you all had the same idea because it too was wrapped in a brown paper bag. “This one is for you.”

Sam unwrapped it eagerly, producing a dark glass bottle of his favourite beer.

“Thank you.” He laughed, producing a bag of his own. “It seems great minds think alike.”

Dean chuckled and he tore open the paper to reveal his favourite drink secured inside a porno magazine by an elastic band.

“Ok. This is for De.” You pulled out a small bag and handed it to him. Inside lay a small keychain in the shape of a pie that you had spotted on a rotating rack inside the gas station which you couldn’t resist buying, alongside a couple of packets of beef jerky that Dean always seemed to keep stashed away in his glovebox.

“Thanks kiddo” He laughed as he hooked the keychain onto his keys.

“And this is for you, Sammy.” You produced another bag and handed it to him, watching keenly as he unwrapped it, pulling out the clear plastic and producing a pair of wired headphones.

“It’s to stop you complaining about Dean’s music in the car.” You prompted.

“Hey!” Dean said with mock hurt. “I think you’ll find I have great taste in music.”

You raised your hands nonchalantly “tell that to him not me.”

“I’m just saying Dean, there are things out there besides mullet rock. You should try updating your cassettes some time. Seriously, dude.”

“You know the rules, Sammy.” Dean shook his head. “Driver picks the music-“

“Shotgun shuts his cakehole. Yeah. I know.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Anyway, enough. This is for you, Y/N.”

Sam rummaged around in his bag for a small white box before handing it to you. You took it gently. It was light in your hand.

“It's from both of us.” Dean added.

You peeled open the box slowly to reveal the insides which almost made you tear up. Inside the box sat a dainty necklace in the shape of a heart. It seemed familiar somehow, but you couldn’t place where you had seen it before. When you picked it up and turned it over in your palm to admire the delicacy of it, you noticed the small hinges on the side so decided to open it.

Inside was a small cut out of an image. The three of you were much younger here. Sammy was still smaller than Dean and you barely reached his hip. The three of you were grinning from ear to ear as you gripped onto each of your brothers hands as they swung you through the air at the moment the image was captured.

“It’s beautiful.” You sighed, looking up at your two brothers. “Where did you-“

“It was moms.” Dean said. It then hit you that you had seen her wearing it in pictures.

“Bobby found it while sorting through some of Dads old stuff that was left around his. We thought you should have it.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” You smiled. “Help me put it on?”

“Of course.”

Dean moved closer to you, moving your hair aside so he could clasp the end of the good chain together.

“It looks like it’s always belonged there.” Sam told you when Dean let go of it so it could hang around your neck, settling on the centre of your chest.

“It’s perfect.” Dean told you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry, Christmas, Boys.”

Although being hauled up in a motel may not have seemed like the ideal way to celebrate Christmas for the average person, just being able to spend time with your brothers was enough for you. You cared not for an extravagant meal and bucket loads of expensive gifts. You were happy to settle with what you had and the fact that the three of you had celebrated like this meant so much to you as it did to them. The three of you may not have much, but you have each other, and that’s worth far more than anything else.

[whatilistenedtoatwork]

From October 7th to October 11th 2024

07-10-2024

CARTHY HARDY FARRELL YOUNG “Laylam”; THE JUNGLE BROTHERS “Straight Out The Jungle”; MOUNTAIN GOATS “Getting Into Knives”; EARL SWEATSHIRT “I Don't Like Shit, I Don't Go Outside”; JACQUES BREL “Ces Gens-La”; FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE “Utopia Parkway”; MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE “Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge”; FATS DOMINO “This Is Fats”; DEEP PURPLE “Deep Purple In Rock”; THE GOODIE MOB “Soul Food”; ED ALLEYNE JOHNSON “Purple Electric Violin Concerto”

08-10-2024

ALY BAIN “Five And Twenty”; RY COODER “Get Rhythm”; NINA SIMONE “The Amazing Nina Simone”; THE OFFSPRING “Ixnay On The Hombre”; GUNS N' ROSES “Appetite For Destruction”; DE DANANN “Song For Ireland”; JOAN JETT “Bad Reputation”; CAN “Tago Mago”; THE BREEDERS “Pod”; THE NATIONAL “Boxer”; SAM COOKE “Twistin' The Night Away”; THE METERS “Look-Ka Py Py”; NED'S ATOMIC DUSTBIN “God Fodder”

09-10-2024

ROY HARPER “Flat, Baroque And Berserk”; RICK JAMES “Street Songs”; LITTLE SIMZ “GREY Area”; MS. DYNAMITE “A Little Deeper”; DEAD CITY RUINS “Shockwave”; DOROTHY LOVE COATES AND THE ORIGINAL GOSPEL HARMONETTES “The Best Of Dorothy Love Coates And The Original Gospel Harmonettes, Volume 1”; THE LOUVIN BROTHERS “Tragic Songs Of Life”; THE XX “xx”; NIGHTMARES ON WAX “A Word Of Science: The First & Final Chapter”; MARTY ROBBINS “Gunfighter Ballads And Trail Songs”; MILEY CYRUS “Miley Cyrus And Her Dead Petz”; THE BONZO DOG DOO-DAH BAND “Gorilla”; PAUL & LINDA McCARTNEY “Ram”

10-10-2024

THE CHEMICAL BROTHERS “Dig Your Own Hole”; LE TIGRE “Le Tigre”; KODE9 & THE SPACEAPE “Memories Of The Future”; PINK FLOYD “The Dark Side Of The Moon”; GNARLS BARKLEY “St. Elsewhere”; APHEX TWIN “Classics”; GRANT GREEN “Street Of Dreams”; ENGLISH TEACHER “This Could Be Texas”; THE REPLACEMENTS “Let It Be”; GREGORY ISAACS “Night Nurse”; KYLIE MINOGUE “Light Years”; SCOTT BRADLEE'S POSTMODERN JUKEBOX “Sepia Is The New Orange”; KURTIS BLOW “Ego Trip”; JUDAS PRIEST “Stained Class”

11-10-2024

THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS “Why”; TOOTS & THE MAYTALS “Funky Kingston”; RUNNING WILD “Port Royal”; SAINT ETIENNE “So Tough”; LUCINDA WILLIAMS “Car Wheels On A Gravel Road”; GRATEFUL DEAD “American Beauty”; KATE & ANNA McGARRIGLE “Dancer With Bruised Knees”; RUN THE JEWELS “Run The Jewels 2”; THERAPY? “Troublegum”

[bowiebond]

I like to think Sam’s kitchen goes from being super decked out with appliances to super old school when he starts living with Bucky.

The reason? Modern day appliances that make everything easier? Super loud. Jarringly loud.

Sam remembers not liking them when he first got back from service, but he found them useful and it didn’t bother him too much. Not like the insistent beeping of a fire alarm or the sharp ringing of a timer.

But Bucky? The first time he tried to cook, he tries to use an electric grater for carrots and has a full blown panic attack.

Sam is slow with changing his kitchen, knows Bucky would feel like a burden if he knew Sam was replacing things — expensive things — just because he can’t use them.

So he makes excuses.

“Ester down the street — he’s old, arthritis in the fingers, we can just get a new one later, we’re still spry.”

“This old piece of junk? Might as well donate it to the high school — they need new ones every damn year cause the kids are butterfingers.”

“It’s… so ugly. I don’t know why I brought it. But it totally clashes, man.”

He replaces the machinery with simple tools — ones Bucky would be familiar with, and he notices how easily Bucky takes to cooking when he has them. Sam is perfectly happy to spend ten minutes grating cheese as Bucky putters around the kitchen. It isn’t until he contemplates getting rid of his blender, or storing it at Sarah’s instead, that Bucky speaks up.

“I’m not stupid, Sam. Keep the damn blender. Just… you get up earlier than me anyway. Just do it before I’m up.”

“Wait— you knew?”

“Of course I knew. You know those cooking lessons I was taking from Sarah?”

“You mean girls night where you two just gossip and drink wine?”

“Fuck you. But yeah. I was using a grater — and I saw the one you got rid of on the bench. Asked why she wasn’t using it and she spilled the beans.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“It was sweet though. All that effort just to avoid hurting my feelings. It was kind of funny to watch you make excuses.”

“A thank you wouldn’t hurt, douchebag.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

The kitchen stays the same, and it’s a little extra work, but Sam finds he’s much happier listening to Bucky hum as he cooks than any piece of blaring machinery

[booasaur]

Oh my god i LOVED 1666!! I think that might have been my favourite of the trilogy! Loved the ending too, made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Would have loved to see a little more of Sam and Deena (and Josh) just being happy though lol, would have loved to see a glimpse into their future. I can totally see Sam and Deena living together and going to college together and whatnot!

Yes, it was the perfect ending! I had been so nervous when I started it and then the fact that Sam and Deena survived allayed my fears so much, the actual movie could have been a whole lot worse and I'd still have been happy at the ending. But it was legit so good and moving and thrilling on its own!

Definitely would not have minded a bit more of the happy survivors but I guess that's par for the course for these movies, there's not really much more to show. This is where fic actually is so good, as a bonus, not a replacement. Canon has given us that happy ending, now we can expand it.

And I can totally see it all play out too, Sam and Deena finally breaking apart to eat their burgers and outrageously flirt some more, maybe Deena continuing to fill in Sam on what she saw in Sarah's memories, both a bit melancholy and still shocked at it all but ultimately grateful they're together here now. They'd go to pick up Josh who excitedly tells them about meeting his chat friend and when they get home, Deena's dad, who gets along with Sam, invites her for dinner that thankfully he's cooked in celebration of getting the job.

The days keep unfolding like that, each one better than the last, the larger the distance between them and the curse and Kate and Simon's deaths. Sometimes they'll go along with Ziggy to meet with Mrs. Lane and can barely handle her relief and gratitude at once again reassuring her they know Ruby was cursed and that it's been finally lifted.

They aren't even that focused on getting out of Shadyside now that there isn't this suffocating pall over it anymore, but eventually they go to college out of town. The same one and while they admit that might be a bit co-dependent, it's better than dealing with post-possession/post-historical-death-vision (and post-KILLING a man, albeit one who was responsible for tens of deaths) PTSD alone. It's not like they can process this with any therapists.

And then one day, hopefully many years in the future, a text from Josh: "IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN". Dun dun dunnnnn. :D

[nestable]

BRING IT ON HOME NESSIAN ONESHOT

Bring it on Home to me by Sam Cooke is on of my favorite songs in the word and I highly recommend you go have a listen if you havent heard it, I promise you wont regret it. I was listening to it the other day and instantly thought of how these lyrics resonated with nessian, cassian more especially and couldn't resist writing this fic. Just a little soft, SFW, domestic Nessian. 🥺😭

"Nes." Cassian groaned as he rolled closer to her side of the bed. "Nesta?"

After being met with stark silence, Cassian outstretched his hand only for it to collapse onto cold sheets.

No Nesta, he realized with a start.

Though he and his Nesta have been mated for some months now, all of which have been without an incident, he can't help but worry.

Each night he reassures himself with the knowledge of their bond, the heat of her body pressed against his own, the words of love and loyalty she ensures he hears everyday, that she is safe and finally happy.

Not miserable and balancing on the cusp of oblivion where he found her last year. Juggling between drowning her sorrows and indulging in sub-par sex just to feel something, just to deny the connection they share because she felt that she wasnt worthy of him. No, that was all over now, but he can't help when the memories resurface.

The memory of Nesta writhing and arched in her bed as silver flames wreathed her body like a shroud. The screams of pain and anguish that left her lips only to be swallowed by starless night and Deaths flames. How the very mountain trembled beneath their feet, bracing itself for the potential explotion that Cassian could sense building up. Somehow he knew that Velaris would've been crumpled to dust that night and become a fond memory. He felt it in his gut. Just the same way he felt her night terrors take hold of her for her powers to bask in centre stage. And in the same breath, he also felt that he could stop it. Whether that was pure male arrogance or the suspicion of the bond that lay between them, that was yet to be found. And it was...the moment her powers seized in intensity when he said her name. Once, twice, just enough for Rhys to gain control and save them all.

No, he would never forget that and he'd be damned if it were to happen again and catch him in a helpless position as the first time he witnessed the extent of her power. A power that mostly returned back to the Cauldron, only to be replaced by 3 Dread troves and the Mothers favour. A different sort of threat perhaps. One sweeter, kinder, even benign from what he's witnessed.

Nesta barely speaks about the power the same way she did with her Cauldron gifts. She reassures him that these were different, these she understands and smiled every time he enquired about her connection with the Mother. He wishes to know more, his body yearns for it, but his mate has always loved surprises.

Cassian threw on a pair of his undershorts before leaving his and Nestas new room. Though the House of Wind has become their shared abode, its ill advised to walk around naked with the possibility of Azriel becoming an unwilling spectator with his prowling around the halls in the dead of night like he's been doing for the past year.

Cassian loves his brother, sometimes more than kin normally do, he believes sometimes, but he'll never forgive him for that night he ruined his birthday night when he walked in on Nesta modelling her new negligee in the library. He's never jumped from one intense emotion to another so quickly. Blinded by the red lace of her silk garments only to see red of a different kind when the blue of Azriels siphon opened the door.

The territorial male part of him nearly took over that night and he was inclined to let it ride him had Nesta not winnowed them to their room and pushed him onto the bed. The anger, the curiosity he had as to how Nesta was able to winnow around the House when no one else could were obscured then turned insignificant by the view of Nesta sitting astride on his thighs.

Cassian followed the music swimming through the hall which brought him to a new lounge area that didn't present itself in the centuries that he's been living here until Nesta inherited the place.

Many new things have made their presence known and sprung to life since Nestas made the House her home. Hidden rooms have materialized, troves have opened and a gorgeous garden has flourished on the top of the mountain. As if in preparation of someone, or little someone's who might need it.

Cassian isn't blind to the fact that the House makes things available according to Nestas hopes, dreams and wishes. All of which make Cassian excited for the future and a forever with his mate even more.

Nesta was leaning against the cream white wall that she and Cassian painted just last night, holding an A2 canvas painting in both hands. He couldn't decipher her facial expression or read some of the wild thoughts that were evidently bouncing around her head as Nesta was inclined to raising her mental walls to him when she was stressed. He'd once asked why and she told him that she didnt want to plague him with her problems. Didnt want to bother him. Little did she know that Cassian was built for her, problems and all. Nothing about Nesta could bother him. Not even the parts that bothered her.

"Hi." He whispered which startled Nesta before she composed herself. For her to be so drawn into her thoughts that she didnt notice him approaching, instantly put him on edge him.

"Hi." She said, plastering a lazy smile onto her face.

Cassian took that as an invitation to enter. His eyes swept across the room, taking in the organized clutter. From the closed boxes filling the lounge, the half hung snow white gossamer curtains blowing in from the open balcony, to the slightly dusty white marble tiles that were installed just last week.

Cassian was a bit skeptical when Nesta told him of her plans to decorate this room in all white. White cushions, white couches, white walls, white flower arrangements, white chandeliers and white fur carpets felt like a fever dream to Cassian, but now that it's all coming to life, he can see the vision of beauty that Nesta had in mind. A vision not only limited to this lounge but the entire House of Wind that Nesta will decorate herself with the input of the House itself to revitalize the place. All of which will be paid for by Rhys.

How the Cauldron matched him to such a female, not mere female but god, he'll never know. All he can do is be grateful and work to be worthy and deserve the gift to draw breath in her presence.

Now that Nestas accepted her Human emissary role and is the courts newly appointed courtier, she's recieving the same fat salary like the rest of the IC, but Cassian doubts that Rhysand will ever let Nesta access her funds because he insists on paying for everything for her. Which goes to show that Rhys' gratitude for Nesta runs very far. Or guilt, or both.

What Nesta did for Feyre, Nyx and Rhys was something that couldnt be described with words. She saved their lives and in doing so the entire court. Rhys failed to tell his family about him and Feyres decision and never left a plan of action to follow after his death. Had he died, the role of High Lord could've fallen to anyone. Probably Keir or one of Mors detestable brothers because they are Rhys closest male blood relatives. What they would've done to Velaris, done to the entire court....Cassian seldom contemplates that. Nestas sacrifice and mercy saved them all and in doing so, opened herself to a higher form of being that is yet to be seen.

"What are you doing up so late?"

"I had a lot on my mind. I couldn't sleep so I decided to come and get this room in order." She explained, flipping her golden brown hair over her shoulder.

"What's been on your mind?" Cassian asked casually, taking a step closer.

He'd have embraced her and held her against his chest if it weren't for the massive painting in her hands. A painting that he can feel is the source of all her trepidation.

Nesta bit her lip before turning the canvas toward him and placing it in his hands. "Feyre finally finished that and it was delivered yesterday afternoon. I was too afraid to open it then- but I figured that I wouldn't be able to sleep until I saw it."

At first glance, anyone would assume that the muse was Nesta. From the steel eyes to the clear skin and poise in the pose. But upon further inspection, the age of the woman, the beauty spot beneath her right eye and slight darker tresses reveals the truth.

"This is your mother..." Cassian said lowly. The weight of the image, not the canvas itself but the obvious memories, pain and loss the painting held settled on him.

"Was." She uttered a bit sharply. Her throat bobbing up and down.

Cassians eyes darted between Nesta and the painting. Surprise and admiration pouring into him in droves. Her sisters did mention more than once that Nesta is their mothers spitting image, but this...it was as though the same person had been born twice.

"You stole her whole face." He chuckled, bringing a sweet curve to Nestas lip.

"I know...I know." She shrugged.

Cassian lay the painting carefully against the wall then wrapped his arms around his mates shoulders. Her own found their home around his waist as she rested her chin atop his chest so that their eyes could meet.

If it were a few months ago, a year, she would've furiously blinked away the tears that have settled in her eyes, or rejected their proximity entirely. Only to retain a semblance of control that shes strived so hard to maintain. But now shes opened herself to him entirely. Made him a part of both her happiness and pain, loss and gain, victories and failure. Just as their mating vows ordered.

"Talk to me." He whispered, dragging his fingers through her hair.

"I- I just...I know that my mother was not the best of mothers, nor did she love us in the ways that a mother should but....but that doesn't make me love her any less. She might've trained me instead of raised me, saw me as a ticket to wealth and leisure or lived vicariously through me but she was still my mother." Her tears fell down her cheeks as if a damn had been broken. "There were good moments as well as bad and I'm not going to pretend that she was never loving or good to me. Elain and Feyre might've forgotten her, but I can't... I wont."

Cassian lowered his head to press soft kisses to her cheeks where her tears left stains. "I know." He murmured. "You dont share the same memories as Elain and Feyre, it's only natural that you saw her much differently and remember her in a better light than they do." He rubbed feather light circles on the back of her neck in an attempt to assuage her from her pain.

"It broke my heart when I walked through Feyres house that day and didn't see a piece of myself or her. It felt like I was being erased, forgotten. Now I've found my place in that hall but she hasn't. I couldn't allow that to happen. I couldn't let her be erased just like that."

"And she wont be, not if you will it. I'll remember her with you." Cassians lips found Nestas and before they knew it, the couple found themselves descending into a deep kiss that only a mating bond could conjure.

"You know that's one of the reasons I love you?" He stated, to which Nesta replied with a raised brow. "Your compassion, your massive heart, your loyalty... these are all qualities that you motivate me to pursue everyday. You've kept your soft side hidden for a long time and now we're starting to see it." She smiled. By far the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. "That sweet love. Just bring it on home to me."

A giggle was shared between them as soon as the words left his mouth. The lyrics of a song, their song, that came on the day of their mating ceremony that they had on repeat for 2 hours straight. Cassian had never heard a song that spoke to him and his experience with love the way that one did. One that Nesta knew would speak to his very marrow and chose not to warn him in advance, only to see his reaction.

"You're insufferable." She said, only to hug him tighter and lay her head on his chest.

"Well then you're going to have to get used to it, Nes. We only have forever left together."

Just when Cassian expected Nesta to respond, the soft melody of a piano begun in the corner of the room from Nesta symphoniam, followed by the ever true lyrics that might've been written for them, that might as well have been their wedding and mating vows.

If you ever change your mind

About leaving, leaving me behind

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Nesta begun the dance. Cassian followed with no hesitation. Though it was a far cry from the pulsating waltz they'd done in Hewn city or other court events thereafter. It was far more intimate, passionate. Just a sway of the hips and foot movements that reforged and strengthened the golden bond that surged through them on Winter Solstice and polished it to a shimmer. Their bond was not a mere tether, not a chain. It was a rainbow. Shimmering through storms and sunny days. It didnt only make its presence known or surge when they were in the throes of passion, it became more sentient when they were upset with each other. It was the musical and colourful road that led mate back to mate. Self back to self.

I know I laughed when you left

But now I know I only hurt myself

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

His heart cracked at the words and the truth they carry. The memories when they were so at odds with each other that they could barely be in the same room longer than necessary. The nights when he thought the immense sadness and grief at the prospect of losing her entirely would drown him and suffocate him. When he wished that he could rip his heart out of his chest only to get a reprieve from his anguish. Anguish he attempted to expunge with throwing himself into work and training only to realize that the further they moved from one another, the further they moved from themselves.

As if Nesta could hear and feel those memories, she held onto him tighter. This female, his tether to reality, his anchor, the tree that was able to weather a thunderstorm that left the land decimated only to come back and continue to grow with fruits and flowers on display for all to see.

I'll give you jewellery and money, too

That ain't all, that ain't all I'll do for you

Oh, if you bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian knew that from the moment he met Nesta, there was nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for her. Nothing too out of reach that if she should request, he would give. He was already hers in mind, body and soul. Their bond might've snapped into being after she emerged from the cauldeon, but the draw he felt toward her was infinite. Like their souls were made from the same essence but placed on earth in different time periods so that they know life without the other, to appreciate being together more.

You know I'll always be your slave

'Til I'm buried, buried in my grave

Oh honey, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian held up Nestas hand so that he may look upon the wedding and mating band. She requested that she have both and went to the best jeweler in Velaris to fuse both choices so that they sit as one on her finger. Both were made of rose gold, the slimmer wedding ring was imbued with three tanzanite diamonds and the larger mating band sports just one giant diamond that would need it's own security team. Cassian knew his mate loved nice things and made him pay a pretty penny to get it. He'd do again if only to see the stars that twinkled in her eyes when they chose the bands at the jeweler.

He looked at his own jeweled finger. A simple silver band that stood out more than he expected it to. He wanted to get black carbon fiber but Nesta threatened not to speak to him again if he had. Now he can't stop looking at it. He loves how it makes an appearance even though he's bedecked in full illyrian armour. He'll never forget the swell of pride he felt when his soldiers eyes zoned in on the piece of metal that could've easily been obscured by the red siphon that rests atop his hand, but chose to stand out and make its presence known. A symbol of his immature bachelorhood dead and gone, giving life to a new stage in his life. A stage he's waited for longer than he cares to admit.

He remembers using the word 'shackled' when describing his mating bond with Nesta when he was upset with her, but now that word seems appropriate. If the pieces of metal sitting on their matching fingers are the shackles of which he spoke, then he'd wear his shackles with pride.

One more thing

I tried to treat you right

But you stayed out, stayed out at night

But I forgive you, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian rarely thinks about the time they spent apart. When resentment, self punishment and grief pulled them apart only because those memories are nothing in comparison to the centuries he spent without her.

Living life believing the words of the ignorant and seeing oneself as a inferior and undeserving of the love that he relishes in now. The love that has somehow wiped away centuries of self hate and lack of self awareness. He figures that the reason why he used to be the first to throw himself into deadly missions were all desperate plea to prove himself, to put it into stone that he isn't a mere worthless bastard but is someone worthy of respect. But now his outlook has completely shifted. He is no longer living only for himself, but for another. He remembers the blind terror he felt when he thought that Nesta was swallowed by the black water in the Bog, or how she screamed when she thought that she lost him on Mount Ramiel.

He doesnt want either of them to go through that again. To be without the other. To feel that their very heart was ripped out of their chest, when both had taken permanent residence in the other.

He saw how Feyre reacted when Rhys died, and heard when Rhys screamed when Feyre was on deaths doorstop. The mere thought of Nesta experiencing that pain or him has softened his daring heart.

He will live, he will love and he will do it with Nesta in his arms.

As the song drew to a close, Nesta shifted from her position on his chest, too look upon him again. She brought her slim fingers to his cheeks and smiled. "Forever."

He could offer nothing but the same. A truth that had been both a promise and a prayer from the moment they met, "Forever."

Tag: @bakingandbooks3 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @arinbelle @silvernesta @darklobe @haepaw @carlieg20 @illyrianshadowhunter

[amwritingmeta]

15x19: A First Ending

This was a good episode! Oh, I know, I know - we didn’t get Cas back. But oh, boy, that should mean that Misha shot for five of eight days for 15x20 and that makes me want to rub my hands together with the hope of what that might mean. All the good things!

Oh, don’t hang your hopes on mine btw. I had very high hopes that we’d get Cas back, or very strongly established as coming back (as per 13x04) with a final scene of him waking up in the Empty or something like it, and that didn’t happen, but omg I’m so glad they didn’t.

When Jack started praying and reaching out to Cas my heart almost stopped. 

If Dean doesn’t instigate Cas’ return, then oh it would take away too much!

But then Jack’s moment didn’t lead to anything, and now, the more I think about it, there more it feels like a plant. A reminder of how he prayed to Cas the last time, and woke him. We shall see, eh?

And then we got Dean telling Chuck to bring Cas back, which was a pivotal plant as well. I’d been worried if they hadn’t mentioned Cas more than once, with Dean telling Jack and Sam that Cas sacrificed himself to save him, yeah? 

If there had been no more Cas for the entire episode then, narratively speaking, I would have started wondering what role Cas might actually play in 15x20.

But Cas was mentioned more than once. We even got to hear his voice and have that fake return to stir our... I almost wrote loins, but that’s not appropriate so let’s change it to stir our... martinis. 

Ah yes. We could all use a drink, I’m sure.

The dog as well! Dean was so happy and he carried the dog and petted the dog and put it in Cas’ spot in the backseat and was all, yes, emotional substitute! And then... poof. Because it’s not going to be that easy to replace Cas. *fingers crossed*

Here’s mostly why I’m hopeful for something quite different as the actual finale of the show, the proper wrapping up of these character journeys:

This first ending is for those who have followed the show explicitly to watch these two brothers. (yes there’s a word for them but let’s not)

It ends exactly how these viewers -- and quite possibly the writers who wrote it -- always saw the show ending. It gives an emotionally satisfying wrapping up of all the thematic threads of the show and gives the brothers their hard-won freedom, and keeps the brothers riding in Baby, together, indefinitely. 

And these viewers and fans will always be able to stop watching the show there and keep that as their perfect ending.

Except it’s not the ending-ending. Is it?

This episode neatly and gorgeously wrapped up the Michael/Lucifer/Chuck storyline. It wiped the slate completely clean. Especially with Michael killing Lucifer and Chuck killing Michael. These characters just completely annihilating  each other because they’ve all served their purpose.

And Chuck being drained of his powers and ending up ignored, never to be worshipped again, or even remembered, is such a fitting ending for him! And with Dean refusing to kill him, leaving him to his fate, I’d call that Dean integrating his Shadow.

No more fearing it. It’s powerless. Thanks to Jack (Dean’s inner child) who now holds all the power in the universe.

I’d say Dean Winchester has reached a point of internal balance.

And for all of these good things: Chuck powerless, Jack the New God, surely helping to fix what Cas broke by restoring Heaven (I’m assuming Heaven will be repopulated or that God’s grace will level it out) and Jack stepping into shoes that Cas once tried to fill and failed to, to the detriment to so many of his kin, is simply stunning.

I cried, properly, at Jack’s speech. It was beautiful.

But for all these good things and wrappings up of stuff, didn’t the ending feel kind of superficial? Like stuff was missing in those final five minutes or so? Like... I don’t know... Sam mentioning Eileen maybe? Because surely she was brought back along with everyone else, and one episode ago he was losing his mind over the loss of her.

And they didn’t even mention Cas. Jack mentioned Castiel as a good influence, but Cas was just bunched in with “everyone we’ve lost along the way”.

Meh.

Hey, it’s fine if all you care about is Dean and Sam and you think that they’re at their happiest when they get to drive along a road in Baby, listening to tunes and play-fighting and reminiscing about all those people that have come and gone, while they know they’ll always remain the same.

I mean, if we hadn’t gotten that montage at the end of this episode (a fucking MONTAGE ppl) I would’ve started thinking that maybe Misha was coming back to shoot flashbacks for 15x20, as we got to see the brothers remembering Cas (like with Mary), taking a walk down memory lane and driving around to well-known locales for a final hurrah.

But we got that fucking montage, ppl.

Leaving me to feel that they probably won’t also spend forty minutes rememberembering those same people. You know?

Also, dull. And Dabb is anything but dull. And Dabb loves pulling on stuff he’s hinted at in the first ep of the season. 

And I remember reacting to Sam being the one to escort the kid and her mother into the, what was it? The high school, right? For safety.

While Dean and Cas had that tense exchange by Baby, where Dean couldn’t not ask if Cas was okay and Cas saying, hopefully, that he was, but Dean remaining stone faced and distant. “Awkward” is what Belphegor called it.

Oh. Please let there be awkwardness in 15x20. I beg on bent knees. Beg, I say!

Anyway.

What is 15x20 going to be about if it isn’t about finally answering the question of what will make the brothers happy?

A balanced universe, of course! But freedom without love... sounds kind of lonely to me. 

So, have they answered the question of What do I want? yet? Is this what they want for themselves? More of the same? This season has hinted that it isn’t. It’s hinted very strongly that it isn’t.

So, I’m holding my breath that Dean’s final confrontation is to do with happiness and daring to want it for himself. Daring to admit to wanting it for himself. Daring to go after it... 

Cas does not belong in the Empty.

And hope that it’s telling how Jack didn’t even think to get Cas out of there and bring him home. God got Lucifer out of the Empty so Jack definitely has the power. 

And Dean didn’t ask him to get Cas out of there, not because he doesn’t still want Cas out, but because it would ruin the first ending for the people who want Cas to stay dead. Yeah? 

It’s kind of beautifully done, to my mind, as a nod and a thank you to the people who have supported one reading of the show. It’ll be difficult for them to go apeshit when Dabb and the writers can simply tell them they don’t have to watch further than 15x19 and be content that they’ve got an ending that lets them cling to the brothers as the begin all, end all.

And yes, I remain believing we will get Dean and Cas together-together before the end of the show. I have no clue how much of a together-together we’ll get, but for the show not to give us a clear understanding of how Dean loves Cas back is unthinkable at this point, and will stay unthinkable until the show tells me otherwise, because nothing but those two together makes even a lick of sense to me.

Dean’s feelings were in the subtext this episode because that’s where they always have been and hopefully fingers crossed because this ending wasn’t for us, it was for other sides of fandom, giving them room for denial, if they simply don’t want to see that what Dean wants is Cas back.

Our ending isn’t happening until next week.

Dean: It’s a helluva time to bail. There’s a lot of people counting on you. People with questions—they’re gonna need answers. Jack: The answers will be in each of them. Maybe not today, but someday.

For me this may be setting up for 15x20.

Dean could be said to be accepting the reality of Cas being gone this episode. He starts off not telling the whole truth about what happened with Cas (of course), he’s drinking himself stupid, he tries to demand of Chuck to bring Cas back, he finds that emotional crutch in the doggo and he moves into acceptance because what else can he do?

Especially if he’s still reeling and is struggling with his fear of happiness, with not feeling deserving, with it being easier to simply let it all go.

But.

Letting go of the need is healthy, allowing it to make way for the real want that is about choosing Cas, not because he feels lost without him, but because Cas completes him...

That would be something. 

(oh shush let’s get with the romance) (Jerry always brings it)

The brothers love each other, but throughout this narrative there’s been hints that they both long for more. So much more. It would be so weird if it didn’t all wrap up with more being wanted and chosen and offered and had.

So if the answers are to be “in each of them -- someday”, then maybe Dean just needs to reach a moment where he’s ready to admit to himself that he can’t stand the fact that Cas died not knowing that Dean loves him back.

I wonder if Sam will push for this admittance... I’d like to witness that conversation, that’s for sure.

And Eileen. I hope she’s back sooner rather than later next episode!!

What’s next episode going to be about if it’s not about the breaking of old patterns to make way for new ones...? Are we going to follow the boys around as they do laundry and cook and make a few tentative plans for their unknown future? They won’t be hunting much in 15x20, at least if Dabb is anything to go by. I guess there might be something brief as a final The Boys With Their Weapons Doing Their Thing, but... it won’t be a case episode. And it would’ve been strange if it was, you know?

So then. Hope. One more week breathing eating sleeping on hopes and wishes and we shall simply have to wait and see what we get.

I have every faith it will blow us away, but I’m also sitting pretty. Reining in those horses lest they run away with me. And whatever comes our way, I’m so grateful for this show!

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: One

“Where’s she headed?” Bucky asked watching the woman loading the back of her small SUV with a duffle bag and assorted odds and ends.

She was a friend of Sam’s, one from his days at the VA, Bucky knew, but he couldn’t remember her name. Sam had got her the gig with SHEILD. I guess he figured they all needed counseling. Or a team mom. Or whatever it was she did. Outreach, Bucky figured. Generating good PR. 

“Looks like a mission of Mercy,” Sam said with a small, slightly sad smile. Bucky looked at him for explanation and Sam sighed, instantly looking sadder and a few years older. 

“She’s a third generation Army Brat,” Sam explained. “Dad never came home from Desert Storm and Brother didn’t come back from… whatever the fuck he was doing. Mom was a VA nurse before she retired… So Y/N knows a lot of grumpy old fucks that don’t like to leave their houses. She makes rounds a few times a week still, for the people she’s known since she was just a kid. Friends of her dad’s, some cousins twice removed.”

Bucky exhaled slowly and nodded. That he hadn’t known. He’d never really paid that much attention to you. But now he looked again. You were packing down styrofoam coolers with what looked like milk, eggs, cheese, and assorted lunch meat. And you had a few labeled boxes of cans. A couple cases of beer… That made Bucky smile a little. And he could respect what you were doing. 

“Y/N!” Sam called across the motor pool, “Who’s on your list?”

“Joe, Rocky, and Cooksy, at least for today,” you answer, “Mac and Wild man are still in the nursing home for rehab.”

“Joe, huh?” Sam said walking over, Bucky trailing after him looking confused.

“You wanting to go along?” you ask, smiling, tightening the ratchet straps that held the styrofoam coolers in place.

“That old man still owes me a rematch,” Sam said grinning. 

“Rematch in what?” Bucky asked, catching a case of beer that had started to slide of it’s perch and slotting it carefully into an open space for you. 

“Dice,” you snort, “Sam swears he cheats.” You give Bucky a smile of thanks and slot a small gift bag in next to the case and Bucky has to look away from you. His face feels hot and he feels like you’re looking through him. So he looks at your hands. Work roughened. Nails bitten to the quick. Useful hands. Not just ornaments at the ends of your wrists. Efficient. 

“He Does!” Sam’s voice breaks through Bucky’s distraction and jolts him back to the world. Back out of his head. And for that, Bucky is momentarily grateful. And a scolding gasp from you immediately makes him too aware. 

“Get off my bread you fucking heathen,” you grouse, only half playing as you give Sam a shove away from a bag.

“My bad,” Sam said, quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “You got a minute though?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “Go get your stuff. I don’t want to wake Joe up before he’s ready.”

Sam gives you a grin and trots off and Bucky sighs, mentally trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day. He didn’t want to assume he was going. 

“Joe did intelligence work during WWII,” you tell him, “You guys can always swap some bullshit stories… If you want to come.”

Bucky looked at you. You aren’t looking at him, instead you’re leaning on the bumper of your car and looking somewhere not quite the middle distance, but at something, anything else. And he can’t decide if you’re nervous or just awkward. And he can’t decide how he feels about making you nervous. He was nervous. His palms felt clammy and the rolling in his stomach couldn’t decide if it wanted to be butterflies or hornets. 

“Joe won’t mind?” Bucky asked. 

“A friend of mine is a friend of his,” you say, and Bucky can see that the corner of your mouth is upturned in a smile. “He’s a cousin… kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“He’s a cousin of a friend of my mom’s… He used to look after me sometimes when mom had to run a night shift.”

Bucky nodded, “That-” he couldn’t decide if that was “nice,” or “Cool,” or “weird.” 

“He taught me how to draw in three point perspective, gamble, and make a decent martini,” you say, and Bucky can hear the fondness in your voice. “Most importantly I guess, he never let me be a weirdo by myself.”

Bucky let himself chuckle. And when you chanced looking up at him, the rolling in his stomach decided it was butterflies. 

You were smiling. The kind of smile that would be seductive outlines in red. But right now? With no make up on and your hair falling out of a haphazard ponytail? You looked like a kid about to cause trouble. And he wanted to see what trouble that was going to be. 

Sam retuned before Bucky could formulate something flirty to say. Something that wouldn’t sound too dirty or too corny. Something that might make you swoon a little... though. As you swore at Sam across the motorpool telling him to hurry the fuck up, Bucky doubted very much that you had ever swooned in your life. But he could absolutely see that having a grumpy old man baby sit you had had some other amusing outcomes. 

Swear words didn’t look like they fit you. Your mouth was too sweet looking and the words were too blunt and ugly. It looked like they would fit wrong and come out worse. But. The way you said them was so casual. As if you had never not said them. And that… For some reason, tickled Bucky. He likes smart girls. He liked girls with a temper. And listening to you bicker with Sam just… It definitely burst some more butterflies out of their cocoons. It was nice, Sam having to put up with a smart mouth instead of being the one to dish it out. 

__________

The drive was fine. 

Sam didn’t even complain about the music you played. A blend that gave Bucky whiplash and something of a headache behind his eyes. But. That wasn’t your fault. A lot of the music past his own time did that. 

The Audio bombast of discordant sounds and coded meanings of the ever evolving slang was… a lot. So he mostly focused on the scenery. The cars. The people. The sky. The architecture. That helped. Some things about New York would probably never really change. There were more people now. Fewer dresses and more people in pants… And fewer roving packs of kids. But. It felt the same.

It wasn’t until he was standing on the doorstep. He and Sam looming over you like bodyguards that he noticed differences. The lack of washing hung out to dry. The consistent low hum of multiple air conditioners. The lack of kid noises. The lack of… community. The way everyone was together, and apart simultaneously. 

But when the door swung open slowly, and Bucky was greeted by a little old man. One with thick glasses, a bald head, and stooped shoulders. A neck that made him look like a turtle… A sudden warmth washed over him. 

“There’s my favorite ray of Sunshine,” he said, pulling you into an unembarrassed hug. The kind men in his time reserved for their mothers and beloved children. “And my second favorite pain in the ass!” he said, rasping a laugh as he clasped Sam’s hand in his. 

“I moved up a spot,” Sam chuckled.

 “Eh, the neighbor’s dog died last week,” Joe said, giving Bucky a steady, appraising look.

“Aww, Bear died?” you say sadly, “poor old man… How’s Irene doing with it?”

Joe turned back towards you and chucked you under the chin gently with a small smile. Bucky didn’t miss the tears that had welled up, and evidently, neither had the old man. “She’s heart broke,” he said, “But, she told me to tell you he loved the blanket and it made his last couple weeks more cozy.”

Joe stepped back and ushered you into the house, letting you pass him to go and quietly pull yourself back together, Bucky figured. The butterflies in his stomach catching a sudden chill. 

“Who’s he?” Joe asked, arms folding across his scrawny chest as he straightened himself to his full height… or as close to it as he could manage.

“Winter Soldier,” Sam said grinning, clapping him on the shoulder before going to get the stuff you had for him out of your trunk.

“No shit?” Joe said, adjusting his glasses.

“No shit,” Sam answered, calling over his shoulder. 

“Well Son,” he said to Bucky, “Come on in. I gotta add a bottle of Jack to my grocery list… it looks like I lost a bet.”

And Bucky can’t help it. He laughs.

In the Hall, just inside the door, Bucky  can hear you rattling around. It sounds like dishes being done. And maybe a broom being used and Joe shakes his head. “She’ll make someone a nice wife some day, but fuck if I know what kind of man could handle her.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if that was for him to hear or just Joe Musing to himself out loud, but he smiled anyway and followed him inside. On the walls, there were pictures. Covered bridges, flower gardens, portraits… Presumably of people that the old man knew. Or had known. And the smell of dust and old paper. Decades of smoke from meals cooked and packs of cigarettes. It smelled like age. A sepia tone that mellowed and dulled all the colors around him. But somehow there was nothing harsh. Or forbidding. 

“Will you sit down?” The old man groused, “I have a broad that comes in and does all that shit.”

“Then you’re paying her too much because she ain’t been doin’ it right, old man,” you tell him over your shoulder as you rinse a plate. 

“Bah,” Joe said, flapping his hands at you. Clearly realizing that this wasn’t a fight he could win as he lowered himself into his spot at the kitchen table. “Siddown, son,” he said to Bucky, “Take a load off and let these stupid kids do the grunt work.”

“Kids,” Sam scoffed, putting boxes on the counter with an eye roll as he nudged you.

“I hear him,” you snort. “Careful old man,” you tease, “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin and at your age, replacement parts are hard to come by.”

“Listen Heifer,” Joe said, eyes dancing behind his thick glasses, “If you wanna kick my old ass, you better pack a lunch.”

You shake your head, and pull the top off a styrofoam cooler, “I got your lunch meat and some eggs. That was it right?”

“Yup,” Joe said, “How much do I owe you?”

“A Dr. Pepper,” you answer over your shoulder, making Joe give you a stern look. 

“Young Lady-”

“You’re not giving me money, ya old coot,” you say, more fond than scolding as you kiss the top of his bald head.

“The hell I’m not-”

“I’ll tell momma and she’ll have both our asses. Me for taking the money and you for payin’ me.”

“She’s got you there Joe,” Sam said, grinning. 

“You shaddup,” Joe said grumpily, eyeing your back. And Bucky could see he was trying to gauge how likely it was that he could slip you some money without you knowing you’d been given any. Bucky grinned and Caught Sam’s eye before bumping the table with his knee to get the old man’s attention.

Once the Old man’s sharp eyes had fixed on him, Bucky glanced meaningfully towards the coat rack. Where your jacket hung so conveniently.And Joe followed his gaze, he grinned and touched his nose in acknowledgement. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ do it,” you say not turning around. 

And Joe made a silent “rats” gesture, before sticking his tongue out at your back

[felidaefighter]

What Fate Cannot Burn

[Written before Niki had the news broken to her by the Syndicate; starfate is a platonic soulmate/best friend relationship, coined from @ufuckingpastry and their amazing fics! My wonderful friend and beta-reader @voidofthestars​ also has amazing fics with the term!]

Niki and Fundy don’t want to call themselves starfated, thinking it too cruel with their pasts. But someone has to break the news about Wilbur’s revival to Niki. They have a chat.

     Fate, it seemed, had always been against Niki and Fundy. Perhaps that was why they had always danced around their courtship, never solidifying anything as pale, never calling themselves starfated. The two had grown up together, embraced by the blackstone walls of L’Manberg. They had fought for their freedom and pets together, they had survived famine together-- they had, despite all their hurt, forgiven the traitor who raised them together. They had campaigned together, side by side, sharing ideals and morals and an understanding that they refused to color. They had also watched everything they’d been raised as, the ideals they were taught, had believed with all their heart, crumble with the walls to reveal the harsh truth of what was buried underneath, deeper than the TNT that waited amongst its foundations.

    Manburg did horrible things to its people. One of the worst things it did was destroy the pale courtship of Niki and Fundy. Fundy, coddled yet abandoned, desperate for love with no cornerstones to ground him, stayed loyal to the place that had been promised him, rather than its ideals. Niki fell the opposite way, and had screamed to the sky as the trust for her moonstruck-companion evaporated into the sky with the smoke of the flag she had sewn with her own two hands, with the symbol of everything they had ever fought for. Even the steady, parental hand of Eret could not calm the pain she had felt as she lost the relationship she never dared to name to a tyrant’s command. Eret could never understand. Only those in L’Manberg knew true betrayal. As it had always been.

    After the war, L’Manberg just wasn’t the same. And neither were two of its youngest citizens. Not just for the way that Niki couldn’t so much as look at Fundy without seeing the burning flag, or the way that Fundy couldn’t look at Niki without knowing she truly thought he would be so willing to side with Schlatt. Because Wilbur was dead, and Wilbur had been everything. Wilbur had been the embodiment of L’Manberg, and he had killed it, just as he’d killed himself. Because he was Fundy’s dad and Niki’s friend and he would rather destroy himself and the nation he had built than let them have it. Neither of them really knew who to blame or where to turn. But they didn’t turn to eachother. No matter how much their hearts ached and how they could read one another in a single glance, even now, they turned away. Fate had never been kind to them. They refused to give it one more thing to tear away.

    Even amongst the crowd after Dream had promised annihilation on L’Manberg, they didn’t speak to one another, didn’t make eye contact. And as the next day they watched their home, the place that bore every footprint and memory from their childhood, turn to rubble beneath their feet, they exchanged not a word, but a silent understanding as the two stood together and Niki herself burned the last roots they had to the doomed nation that would never again fail them as it had so many times before. Together they mirrored one of the men who had raised them, and saluted in heavy silence as a final goodbye.

    And with no more roots to hold them to a place they could no longer call home, Niki and Fundy parted. Niki tried to tell herself she didn’t care where Fundy had gone, and in time her moonstruck feelings were buried under the mountains of rage and grief and resentment that had piled on over the years with no true outlet. To Niki’s surprise, she found a companion who shared not just her resentment, but her childhood home-- it seemed that she and Jack shared a quartz-colored heart, so they claimed themselves a duo and started working together. It was nice. It was almost starfated. They shared goals and even acknowledged it as courting.

    But as Niki started to find herself and move on from the endless pain, no longer focusing on the harm of others but on the healing of herself, she found what everyone who seeks a cornerstone relationship eventually finds to be true: When resentment for the same thing is the only thing shared, there can never be true peace or trust or understanding between them-- not when one moves on and the other sits in their pain and anger. After a heartbreaking discussion, Jack and Niki ended their courtship, all the more pained for having known it as such. Niki’s pale heart sang for the loss of Jack, and she found herself missing the quiet understanding that she and Fundy, even at their worst, even angered to the core at one another, had shared. It was a feeling that could not be replaced. She ached for all she had lost, but knew she could not sit in her pain. She moved forward. She found ideals that suited her and were not thrust upon her. She harvested wheat, made flour, made dough. She baked.

-----

    Niki had stopped work on the city for the night, closing the door to her own living space within the cavern walls and sighing. She put a kettle on the stovetop, preparing to relax. Most of her day had been spent acclimating new refugees from other areas of the land into the city, cataloguing how many of the pre-made apartments had been taken and attempting to calculate what would need to go into the expansion. The city and citizens were getting used to one another, so to speak, and Niki was rather proud of how beautiful it all was. The only thing they really needed more of was chunks of ice; caves were kept at such a consistent temperature that any baking or cooking needed an outside interference, since they couldn’t just open a window to cool off their apartment. Niki was so wrapped up in her thoughts about the day that she almost didn’t hear the short, timid knock on her door.

    “Coming! I’m coming!” She called, rushing up to the door. In her defense, she hadn’t exactly been expecting visitors-- she opened the door and stood in minor shock-- especially not this one. “Fundy…?” Niki asked softly, surprise coloring her words. Ears flattened back against his head and fidgeting with his own padded fingers, Fundy stared at the ground, hardly even glancing up at her. “Hey, Niki.” She… she didn’t know what to say. This was the first they’d spoken to one another in what seemed like years. She knew what to do, though. Niki opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Please, Fundy, come in!” Fundy hesitatingly stepped inside-- he finally looked at her, and it was with such a pure expression of feeling lost that it made her almost want to take him into her arms, run her hands through his fur and soothe his aches-- a feeling that startled her, that she hadn’t felt since she broke off her alliance with Jack.

    She couldn’t bring herself to do that, though. It had been too long and there was too much unspoken. Instead, she decided on practicality. “What brings you here, Fundy? Do you need a home? We still have a few apartments that aren’t taken,” Niki said, attempting to anticipate his needs. “Nooo, it’s not that…” Fundy replied, drawing out his words, and Niki gave the fox hybrid a patient smile. He’d always had trouble articulating bad news-- that was okay. She didn’t have anywhere she needed to be for the rest of the night. She gestured to the sofa, and Fundy took a seat, sitting on the edge as if he didn’t belong and might need to bolt at any second. Niki was grateful she’d started making tea; there wound up being just enough for one cup each. She handed one to Fundy and his ears flicked in silent thanks.

    Niki sipped her tea as Fundy stared straight into his. “I wanted to find you because, well, I think… I think you should know.” Niki gave a soft questioning hum, encouraging him to continue. “So… y’know Wil… my dad… your friend… he died…” Niki frowned a little. If it had to do with Wilbur-- her heart ached, and she felt a kinship with Fundy in that moment. She knew. She did. “Yes,” Niki answered quietly, “I know. It’s been-- it’s been a long time since his death. It’s been hard. What happened, Fundy? Has something new come up?” Fundy’s yellow eyes flicked up and met Niki’s own, filled with grief and confusion. His gaze softened, remembering that they had, in fact, been-- almost been. He relaxed a little more into his seat, but he kept his hesitant and uncomfortable expression.

    Foxes don’t like to go in straight lines when they travel, and neither did Fundy like to speak in one. “So… something happened, at the prison, with Wilbur’s ghost… he was there with Tommy… and Dream…” Niki stiffened a little bit at both the names, and decided to hold off on her confusion about a ghost. “Because Dream has this revive book, right? So Dream… he threatened to Tommy to bring Wil back… apparently Sam fucked up…” Niki furrowed her eyebrows, desperately attempting to not become aggravated. It was a lot of non-information. “Fundy, what are you saying right now? What happened?” She asked, needing clarity. Fundy sighed, straightened up, and looked at her with a sudden focus to his gaze. “Dream… Dream brought Wilbur back. Wilbur is alive again. Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo have all seen him-- I told Phil and I think he might be with him now.” He stared at Niki, tail twitching nervously.

    Niki was frozen. She held her teacup in a strange, mid-sip position, as if time for her had stopped before she took the action. “Wilbur is… back?” She asked, voice shaky in disbelief. “How?” Fundy shrugged helplessly. “I… the revive book, I guess. It’s real-- apparently Dream guinea pig-tested it on Tommy and it’s real. And now Wil is back. He’s alive again. Good ‘ole… Wilbur…” Fundy trailed off as it sank into both of them. Wilbur. God, what had he become? In Pogtopia? The dark ravine where the resistance gathered, the desolation that drove him to destroy his own home and force his father into an assisted suicide. Wilbur, when he had died, was not the man they knew and loved growing up in the safety of L’Manberg’s blackstone walls. Niki set her teacup down and watched it grow cold.

    Screwing together her eyes, Niki took a deep breath to steady herself and made a decision. She picked her teacup back up and took a sip-- it wasn’t yet lukewarm. Fundy, seeing her do so, did the same. “I don’t know how I feel about that,” Niki finally admitted. “Yeah,” Fundy agreed-- there in his voice was the telltale shake of an almost-laugh, done in nervousness, and it dawned on Niki that it was a family trait that he shared with Phil. “Phil will be happy, at least,” She posited, and Fundy agreed. “Yeah. He seemed hopeful. Wil-- he said Wil lied to him about the elections. I don’t really… know what that means.”

    Niki put a hand on Fundy’s shoulder. “Maybe… maybe you aren’t the only one who just wants his dad to be proud of him,” Niki offered with a small, empathetic smile. Fundy let out a very strange noise that was partly a sigh, partly a groan, and partly a sob. “I guess.” But she could tell he knew she was right. “Wilbur is…” Here, Niki tried to piece together her own thoughts. “Wilbur is a very complicated man with very complicated morals and relationships. He was our friend, and he hurt people-- but he was hurting too. I don’t know what death is like. I don’t know what being dead for so long would change him to be like.” Fundy, despite the somber mood, was relaxing a little-- and Niki, to her own surprise, found herself doing the same. He enthusiastically agreed with her description of complexity. It was definitely true.

    Niki took another big, courageous breath. One step at a time. She knew how to do this. “But if there’s anything I’ve learned lately, it’s that we cannot stop living our lives because of something like this. We can’t let ourselves become overwhelmed and paralyzed because of one big emotion. It isn’t good for us. It isn’t good for anyone.” Her grief, the loss of L’Manberg. The rage at Tommy and the feeling of entitlement, that if they just got an apology they could move on-- but not before that, never before that. The ache she felt, that shooting star that almost could have been before Jack sank himself so deep into rage it made him mad that she wasn’t drowning in it too. All of it came pouring out of her in that moment, like an overflowing cup that had finally finally been allowed to spill over. She might have been crying. Fundy’s eyes, too, shimmered with the same pain and understanding.

    “What do we… what do we do, then?” He asked, voice ragged as if he’d been holding back the tears that were now being blinked away for years (he had). “What do we even do? What can we do?” He nearly shouted it, desperation leaking from his voice. Niki sniffled, wiped away her eyes, picked up the empty teacups and brought them into the kitchen. Fundy followed, a familiar feeling to it all. “We can… well…” She set the cups down gently, turning to Fundy. He looked ready to listen to anything, about then. Gods above, the two of them had missed eachother more than they’d ever be able to put into words, huh.

    Suddenly, Niki smiled warmly, and Fundy picked up the nostalgia on her mind. “Do you remember, way back in the old days? When L’Manberg had its walls?” Fundy looked at her inquisitively, but his ears were perking slowly as realization started to find its way into his head. “I remember a lot of things from back then,” He said-- and it was true, they both did. The phrase pale danced around her head, the word starfate itched at her heart. “When I was stressed out,” She recalled, opening cabinets and drawers and handing things to Fundy-- who was arranging things in a specific way, but didn’t seem to realize he was operating on muscle memory or he would’ve known where she was going with it-- “Or when I wanted to create something. I would go down to the docks, because--”

    “Your bakery,” Fundy realized. “I do remember that.” Fundy looked down at his paws, realizing he was mid-measure and, subsequently, losing his place. “Oh god I think I fucked it up,” he muttered under his breath-- and Niki laughed, pleasant and happy. “You were doing fine, Fundy. It’s the last scoop of flour,” she reassured him. As Fundy muttered about the quality of the cake and Niki started measuring the other ingredients, she tried to clarify what she had initially been getting at. “For a long time, I was swallowed with anger,” she explained. “Anger about everything that had happened, because it was so unfair. But it wasn’t anyone’s fault. There was nobody to be angry at. The only person it was hurting was me.” And Jack. Jack’s own anger was hurting him, too. She swallowed down the broken shell of quartz that memory made her feel.

    “So you just… stopped being angry?” Fundy asked, genuinely trying to wrap his mind around it. Niki shook her head. “I don’t think it’s quite like that. I just needed to focus on myself, instead of what others had done. Do what I like and try to think for myself instead of just believing everything everyone else told me to.” What Wilbur had told her. What Wilbur had told them. She shook her head a little to clear her thoughts. L’Manberg had been good, but… it was never perfect. Not the way they were taught it was. “I guess I get what you mean,” Fundy said, and Niki felt enveloped by the sense of understanding that came with being with Fundy. He knew her just as she knew him, and even limited in their words they could communicate to one another what they meant. Even after all this time, it seemed they wouldn’t fall apart that easily, that they were two of the same according to fate.

    “It seems hard, though,” Fundy said, setting a glass bowl on the counter. Niki furrowed her eyebrows again thoughtfully. “It is hard. It’s better than being miserable all the time though.” Fundy jiggled the bowl as Niki poured the mixture, evening it out so it would cook properly. Fundy opened the oven door, and Niki slid the cake in. “I guess I am pretty tired of being miserable,” Fundy agreed with a hesitant chuckle. “That’s the spirit!” Niki exclaimed, grinning at him. Fundy laughed properly this time, three short bursts that sounded from his chest, and grinned back at her. “Hey, if you say so. It’s not much though. It’s really, really not.”

    “Nooo it’s good, it’s a good start! You have to start somewhere, Fundy,” Niki encouraged, and Fundy just shook his head, laughing ever so slightly. “I dunno, I mean… kinda hard to do when I don’t have a home and none of my friends talk to me anymore and Wilbur is suddenly alive again.” Niki looked at him sympathetically. “You could start by doing something that makes you happy. What do you like doing, Fundy?” Fundy stared awkwardly around the kitchen. “...Eating cake,” He offered with a hesitant giggle. Niki giggled in turn. “Well,” Niki said, “Lucky for you, if you stay here for a little bit you can do that pretty soon.”

    “I don’t know what I’m going to do after that,” Fundy said, turmoil in his heart too easily stirred, “But yeah. I’d like that.” He absently started wiping down the counter, old routine still embedded into them both, and Niki stared at him, gaze lingering for a moment. Looking at him now, she could see how his ginger fur didn’t shine the way it used to, how his ears were in a constant flicked-back state of distress. They’d both been uprooted when L’Manberg was destroyed, but it seemed he may have been left far more unmoored than she had. She wanted to groom his fur. She wanted to hold him until his tension was gone and his ears perked up bright and happy. She wanted to get rid of the ache in her chest and the ache in his. She wanted to get rid of the way her heart sang moonlit songs around him, despite it having been years. She wanted-- she wanted him to stay. Just for a little bit.

    Niki started to get out the frosting. “Stay here for a few nights,” she said unprompted, “In the city I mean. While you sort out your thoughts. I know I’ll need to sort out mine too. Maybe--” And here, she hesitated-- “Maybe we can try and sort them out together.” It was an invitation of vulnerability that neither of them had in a long, long time. Fundy stopped what he had been doing to stare at her; Niki vehemently ignored his gaze to continue focusing on the task at hand. He thought for a moment, and she hoped desperately he wasn’t thinking about the implications. “I’d like that,” he finally answered, quiet and truthful. “That would-- yeah. That would be nice.”

    “Well,” Niki said to fill the awkward silence that had sprouted after that, “One thing at a time. First you’re going to help me frost this cake when it’s ready.” Fundy laughed and agreed. And Niki thought about what she’d said to Jack, and what it had really meant. Baking again. Trying to heal despite it all. And she thought about the fox hybrid next to her, who, despite all his troubles, was baking too. L’Manberg was gone forever-- it was never coming back. Even if Wilbur did. And, well. Neither of those things had been quite what they had seemed. Places were gone and people had changed. Some for the better. Some for the worst. Some just… different, in inexplicable, unattainable ways. In ways that couldn’t be reached.

    But Niki was slowly realizing that not everything was gone. Fundy was still here, in her kitchen, baking with her. And in as many ways as she couldn’t figure out how to feel about Wilbur being alive again, she was grateful for one tiny thing about it. That it had brought Fundy to her doorstep. That she could share cake with someone who shared a quartz-colored heart with her. Maybe-- maybe it was fate.

    With the quiet hum of the oven being the only sound in the small apartment, Niki leaned against Fundy’s shoulder, feeling the soft fur of his neck against her cheek and hearing it squish against the fabric of his jacket. Fundy carefully put an arm around her and placed his chin on her head. “Yeah, I missed you too,” He murmured. Niki let out a heaving sigh and let herself sink into the warmth. And they still couldn’t call themselves starfated-- not after everything. Not yet. But for a moment, tucked away in a small apartment, hiding in the rising scent of cake and the warmth of an oven, they could feel it; they could know it. They understood one another. And, just like when they were kids-- for now, that was enough.

[pinknerdpanda]

The Diner

Word Count: 3,623 (decidedly NOT a drabble...it got out of control and I won’t apologize.) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Angst, Theft, Fluff Beta’d By: @princessmisery666​ - thank you my love

A/N: This was requested (kind of?) by my amazing and wonderful Name Twin @amanda-teaches. I hope you like this babe! (And I promise I’m working on the other still) I know these are called “Merry Manda’s Christmas Drabbles” and literally NONE of them are Drabbles...but I’m lazy and haven’t changed it in the 4 years I’ve been doing these. So...Sorry? (I’m not, actually. I’m not even sorry a little bit.)

The bitter chill of winter air cut through the leather of Bucky’s jacket as he stepped out of the car. He’d briefly considered taking his bike for the evening but had thought better of it. Though now, he was grateful he’d spared himself that torture. Shivering, he wondered if getting out on this frigid night was even worth it at all. 

“Fuckin’ hate the cold,” he muttered, the words crystallizing in the air as he shoved the keys into his pocket and began making his way to the door. 

After Steve went back in time to return the stones - and himself - to their proper place, Bucky felt lost. He’d known Steve’s intentions - even supported them. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.

He and Sam had gotten along better than Bucky would have guessed at the jump. They’d actually grown code enough, Bucky might even go as far as to call Sam a friend. Sure, they still had their moments of friction, but overall they worked well together. Sam was a damn hard worker and made him laugh, despite the obvious pain Bucky saw in his eyes. He missed Steve too. Whether they admitted it or not to themselves - certainly not out loud - they needed each other. 

But sometimes Bucky just needed some time to himself. 

That was how he’d wound up here the first time six months ago. It had been Steve’s birthday and even though Sam had invited him along to go see his old friend, he’d declined. He hadn’t been ready for the reminder of what kind of life he’d missed out on. So instead, he’d chosen to go for a drive with no real destination in mind. Not long into the trip however, he’d gotten hungry and stopped at the first place he saw. 

The diner was small; cramped and slightly dingy, with scuffed linoleum floors and cracked booth seats. The menus felt sticky and none of the dishes matched, but the coffee was perfect. Hot, dark and slightly burnt; just how he liked it.

If anyone had recognized him that first day, they didn’t say anything. He was used to his fair share of open stares and the odd murmuring of worried voices wherever he went. But not here. Here, he was just Bucky - cup of coffee, no cream.

Bucky fell in love with the place immediately and it soon became his little home away from home. A place of refuge he could escape to when things got too heavy or his thoughts got too loud. Or, like tonight, when he just really, really wanted some of that amazingly shitty diner coffee.

The cold air that enveloped Bucky sloughed off as the diner door shut behind him, quickly replaced by the warm scent of coffee and whatever Mel was frying in the kitchen. He’d been there less than a second and he could already feel himself begin to relax. 

A quick scan of the space showed no signs of anything out of the ordinary. Well - not really. A few weeks back, someone had decorated the counter top with a small, fiber-optic Christmas tree and a Santa figure that looked nearly as old as the place itself. Meager as it may be, it made the place feel festive. 

The old jukebox in the corner - usually churning out songs by Chuck Berry, Elvis and The Temptations - hummed holiday tunes and voices that made him remember Christmases long since past. Before the war, before HYDRA, before the snap...when he was just a charming blue eyed kid from Brooklyn, looking out for his sisters and his annoyingly stubborn best friend. Bing Crosby's soothing timbre always brought back fond memories of his ma's cooking and the squeals of delight from the girls when they woke Christmas morning.

His moment of reverie was broken, however, by the sound of another familiar voice. 

“Hey Bucky. Merry Christmas!” Y/n smiled and Bucky briefly thought of the prospect of making new Christmas memories to settle alongside those from so long ago.

Y/n followed him with a steaming pot of coffee as he took his seat at his usual booth. She filled the cup to the very brim before leaning against the back of the seat opposite of him.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” Bucky wrapped both hands around the chipped porcelain mug. “I figured you’d have the night off, bein’ the holidays and all.”

In all the months he’d been coming here, he’d only ever seen her face bright and full of joy. She was sweet and kind and always made a point to have a chat with him about anything and nothing when she had a moment to spare. If he was being honest, part of the pull he felt toward this place was because there was a good chance he’d get to bask in her glow, if only for an hour or two.

But now, the smile on her face drew tight and the light in her eyes dimmed. In an instant, Bucky was filled with a pang of regret. Before he could find the words to apologize, her features melted back into place. He wondered if the cheeriness she tended to exude was simply a mask that he’d failed to recognize. 

“Girl’s gotta make a buck somehow, right? Just the coffee tonight?”

Bucky paused, the cup halfway to his lips as he thought about it. 

“Actually, I think I’m craving pie.”

Y/n nodded approvingly. “Well lucky for you, we have lots to choose from. Pick your poison.” 

Savoring the delicious burn of the first sip of liquid gold, Bucky smacked his lips and tipped his head to one side. “How about you surprise me? Bring two slices of your favorite?”

“Coming right up!”

Bucky watched as y/n made her way behind the counter, setting the pot back on the warmer and moving to the fridge where they kept their pies. Propping a fist on one hip, y/n pursed her lips as she surveyed the options before her.

Bing's voice filled the comfortable silence as he crooned "White Christmas".

“Heya, Buck!” Mel’s voice drew his attention and he turned to find the greying head of the diner’s owner peeking out of the kitchen window. "Merry Christmas!"

“Merry Christmas yourself, Mel. Surprised you’re even open tonight.” 

“Everybody’s gotta eat, even on Christmas Eve.” Mel grinned. “Besides, who else is gonna let your ugly mug drink all their coffee for a buck and a half?”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head. “You oughta be grateful I even come in and pay for this sludge, Mel. I could just stay home and drink my own damn coffee.”

“And yet here you are,” Mel quipped back, his gaze flicking to y/n as she approached Bucky’s table with two slices of pie. Mel winked at Bucky before disappearing into the kitchen.

Bucky’s face flushed at the not so subtle implication. And yet, here I am, Bucky thought as y/n set the plate in front of him.

“Chocolate cream pie, huh?” Bucky quirked an eyebrow at her. “I woulda pegged you for a cherry kinda gal.” 

“Guess you woulda been wrong then, Sarge.” Y/n shrugged, a smug smile on her lips. “Enjoy!”

Y/n turned to head back to the counter, but Bucky caught her wrist gently. As she turned around, a spark of something between fear and confusion flashed across her face.

“Now where are you going?” Bucky let go of her wrist and motioned at the seat across from him as he continued. “Thought we were gonna have some pie?”

Confusion won over as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re gonna have some pie. I gotta get back to work.”

Bucky gestured around the nearly empty diner, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. Only one other table was occupied - a young couple, too giggly and twitterpated to notice anything other than each other. “I dunno. Looks to me like there’s not much work to be done at the moment. And besides, you really think I could eat all this by myself?”

Y/n planted her fist on her hip again and rolled her eyes. “Something tells me you definitely could.”

Gasping in mock offense, Bucky pressed his hand to his heart. “Even the notion! And on Christmas Eve, no less…”

Scoffing, y/n held up her hands in surrender. “Alright, fine. Let me go get a cup of coffee and I’ll join you. But only because it’s Christmas.” Y/n shook her head warily as she walked back behind the counter.

He didn't even try to fight the pleased smile from his lips as he tapped the side of the mug with a vibranium finger. “Maybe just bring the pot?” Bucky called before draining the last of his cup.

A dull thunk against the warped tabletop nearly startled him and he looked up to find y/n already settled across from him, the coffee pot between them.

“Already ahead of you, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned and nudged a napkin wrapped fork in her direction as y/n poured a cup of coffee for herself and refilled his. 

“So…” he began, unfurling his fork and immediately scooping up a large bite of pie and jamming it into his mouth.

Y/n’s eyebrow quirked and she paused, fork poised midair as she responded - “So?” - before copying his action, albeit with a slightly smaller bite. 

“That’s some damn fine pie.” Bucky licked his lips and hummed in delight as he took another bite. “So, what’s the story?”

Y/n set her fork down and wiped her napkin over her mouth. Bracing her elbows on the table and wrapping her hands around her coffee, she tipped her head to one side.

“What’s what story?”

Bucky at least had the manners to swallow before taking a drink and leveling a measured gaze at her.

“Earlier, your face dropped when I mentioned you working tonight. What’s that about?”

Perhaps at some point in Bucky’s long, long life he’d have danced around the question. But lately he found himself growing more and more blunt. Why not just cut right to the chase without all the benign pleasantries?

Y/n blinked and cleared her throat. “I...uh...I don’t know what you mean.” She smiled at him, though her lips seemed forcibly stretched around her teeth.

Leaning forward, Bucky shook a gunmetal grey finger at her. “Nope. Not gonna cut it. Something’s bothering you, and I wanna help. If you’ll let me.” He sat back, running a hand through his recently shortened locks. “God knows you’ve listened to enough of my bullshit to last a lifetime.”

Tentative fingers wrapped around her fork as she began swirling the tines through the whipped cream of her mostly-uneaten pie. Bucky watched as she distracted herself with the sugary concoction. 

“It’s,” she cleared her throat, gaze still trailing the swirls made with her fork. “It’s my brother. He got himself in trouble with some pretty brutal bookies. He came around last week asking for cash; I guess he’s in pretty deep. I gave him the little bit of savings I had, but I guess it wasn’t enough.” 

Bucky’s body went rigid and he felt the anger building in his veins. He was thankful her gaze was still downcast, because he imagined the look in his eyes was pretty dark. 

Y/n swallowed, setting her fork down with a soft ‘clink’ against the plate. “I came home from work a few days ago and he’d come in and stolen anything he thought he could get some money out of. I dunno; guess he pawned it or something.”

Small whirs and barely audible clicks of metal on metal filled the silence between them as Bucky’s fist clenched nearly as tight as his jaw. He knew she probably didn’t hear it, but to his heightened senses, it sounded like a blaring siren. Schooling his features and relaxing as best he could, he took an extra moment to level the tone of his voice.

“Your brother robbed you to pay off some bookies?” 

Y/n eyes shot up, meeting his and widening suddenly as realization struck her. “Shit, I didn’t...please don’t…” She sucked in a shaky breath.

Bucky placed a hand over hers, surprising himself for a second before shaking his head. “Hey, hey. It’s ok.”

Hanging her head, she sighed. “Sometimes I forget who you are. You’re just Bucky, to me. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to put you in any kind of awkward situation being an Avenger and all…”

Her rambling died as Bucky’s hand tightened around hers reassuringly. 

“I think knowing I’m ‘just Bucky’ here is one of my favorite things about coming here,” he offered her a lopsided grin as she met his gaze through watery lashes. “I’m just worried about you. You didn’t do anything wrong, darlin’.”

Releasing his hand, she sunk back into the faded pleather booth and wrapped her cardigan around herself.

“I know. I’m fine. Really.” She picked at an invisible thread on her sleeve. “I mean I can do without a TV or a computer, but he took all the presents I bought for the kids down at the rec center. I’d been saving all year to be able to do something nice for them.”

Bucky’s face flushed with renewed anger. How in the hell did someone so kind and generous and wonderful as y/n wind up with such an asshole for a brother?

“Excuse me, miss?”

Y/n looked as caught off guard as Bucky felt when the young couple from the other table called for her. They seemed hesitant to even disrupt the obviously tense situation. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but we’re gonna miss our train if we don’t leave soon.” 

“Oh no, no, no. You’re no bother.” Y/n sniffed and pasted on a smile as she slid out of the booth and met them at the counter. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you sooner.”

Their conversation faded into the background as Bucky’s head buzzed with all the ways he wanted to make y/n’s brother pay for hurting her so badly. A voice in the back of his head - one that sounded entirely too much like Steve’s star-spangled-ass for his liking - told him to calm down. It was obvious y/n loved her brother, and anything Bucky’s scrambled mind could come up with to deal with him would definitely end up hurting her more. 

So, rather than plotting revenge, Bucky pulled out his phone instead. He began clicking away furiously and got so lost in his mission, he missed the sound of y/n’s footsteps as she neared. The feeling of a warm hand against his shoulder made him jump, the device thumping to the table, narrowly missing his now-cooled cup of coffee.

“At ease, Sarge. It’s just me.” Y/n chuckled and patted his shoulder. “I didn’t think it was even possible to scare you.”

Bucky’s face twisted in smug defiance. “It’s not. I was just distracted, that’s all.” He snorted in derision. 

“Uh-huh.” Y/n’s lips pursed, clearly trying to fight a smile. Bucky wished she wouldn’t; he’d give just about anything to see her face light up again. “Well, I’ve gotta go clear their table and start getting things shut down for the night. I just wanted to thank you for listening to me and for always being so...well...you.”

The sound of Bucky’s heartbeat roared in his ears as she leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

----

A loud, almost violent-sounding banging on the front door woke Bucky up with a jerk. He scowled, eyes squinted against the faint golden rays of morning sun peeking through his curtains. The clock on his nightstand seemed to mock him with bright, bold, red numbers declaring the time to be 6:48 am.

The banging started again, somehow more violently. Muttering curses under his breath - mostly aimed at Sam for deciding to spend the holiday with his family down south, thereby leaving him to deal with whoever was currently trying to break down the front door - Bucky stumbled out of bed.

Another rapid series of knocks came to an abrupt stop as Bucky swung the door open. The venomous glare melted from his face as soon as his eyes met y/n’s.

“Y/n? What are you…”

His confused mumbling was cut off as y/n pushed inside and began pacing the length of the living room. She looked upset; angry even. Which Bucky could understand, at some level, as he, too, was none too pleased with being conscious at this god-forsaken hour. He watched her silent pacing with a sleepy sort of curiosity, expecting her to either start yelling or crying at any second. When a minute or so passed and she’d done neither, he tried again.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

The pacing stopped suddenly as she whirled to face him. The fire burning in her eyes was slightly off putting and not something he was used to seeing from her.

“What’s wrong?!” She stalked towards him. “What’s wrong is that I was woken this morning by a burly man named Carl - who smelled of cheese and tequila and told me he had a load of packages waiting for me in his truck. I was seconds away from calling the cops when he told me that it had all been paid for by someone named J. Barnes.”

Bucky’s head fell forward, a funny heat creeping up his face. A particular plank of flooring had suddenly become incredibly interesting.

Y/n scoffed. “I was confused at first, because I don’t know any J. Barnes, right? Except I do, don’t I James.” 

The sound of his given name fell from her lips in a sort of disdainful disbelief that made Bucky’s head snap up. 

“Y/n listen…”

“How did you even know where I lived? Are you some type of creepy stalker customer? I never asked for...I didn’t…” y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t tell you that story so I could be seen as some charity case!”

Bucky held his hands up and took a slow step towards her. When she didn’t step back, he continued to approach her cautiously.

“First off, I know you didn’t. I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I was only trying to help.” He now stood only a foot away, and made no move to come closer as he continued. “I’m not a stalker, either. I only had EDITH look you up and send the address straight to the delivery company. I specifically told her not to give it to me.”

“Who the hell is Edith?”

Bucky sighed, “It’s not a who, it’s a what. It’s Stark’s AI. The narcissistic bastard called it EDITH - ‘Even Dead, I’m The Hero’.” Bucky rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help the twinge of pain at the thought of Tony. One of Bucky’s biggest regrets was not being able to make peace with the man before he sacrificed himself against Thanos.

Y/n frowned, opening and closing her mouth a few times. Bucky took a chance and stepped forward, placing his hands gently on her elbows.

“I’m sorry, I swear I was just trying to help. When you said your brother stole all the gifts you’d bought for the kids at the rec center, it made me think of my sisters. There were a few Christmases when my ma couldn’t afford presents and it broke my heart for them. I was just a kid back then and I couldn’t do anything to help, but now I have the means and I just...I just want to help.” 

Without warning, Bucky found himself engulfed in y/n’s arms. Her face was warm against his bare chest and he blushed, just now realizing he hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on. He pushed aside his own discomfort and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tighter when he felt her body begin to convulse with silent sobs.

They stayed that way for...well, Bucky wasn’t sure. It could have been a minute; it could have been an hour. But eventually, her tears subsided and she pulled back, wiping her face and not meeting his gaze.

“Thank you, Bucky” Her voice was so quiet when she spoke, Bucky wondered if he’d only been able to hear it because of his enhanced hearing. “But I can’t accept it. It’s too much, I can’t ask you…”

“You didn’t. I wanted to. For you and for those kids. Every kid deserves a present at Christmas.”

Y/n shook her head, eyes still glossy, though her lips curved in a sweet smile. 

“You’re too precious for this world, you know that Sarge?” She sucked in a deep breath. “Ok, fine, but on one condition.”

Bucky frowned. “Condition?”

“Yes. You have to help me deliver them.” Y/n crossed her arms again, a challenging glint in her gaze. “But you should probably put a shirt on first.”

Bucky cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Y/n’s eyes widened as though she hadn’t meant to speak the words out loud. 

Bucky fought the urge to make a smug remark and chose instead to ignore it and save her from any further embarrassment. Though he did catalogue that to contemplate later.

“Alright. Let me get changed and then we can get going.”

Bucky smiled and started toward his room, but stopped to face y/n again.

“Oh and y/n?”

Y/n looked at him and Bucky pretended not to notice the way her eyes trailed over his bare torso before she met his eyes.

“Hm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

A/N 2: I am using my new and improved taglist. If you want to be added, Send me an ask with the list you’d like to be on. Weirdos are for everything, Heroes is MCU and Hunters is for SPN.

Weirdos: 

@hannahindie​ @amanda-teaches​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @masksandtruths​ @princessmisery666​  @jamielea81​ @foxyjwls007​ @becs-bunker​ @super100012​ @shy-violet-soul​ @emoryhemsworth​ @impandagrl​ @donnaintx​

Heroes:

@arrowsandmixtapes​ @bethbabybaby​

[samanthadalton]

Can you do a Sam Dalton x MC fic, please? 🙏🥺I miss Sam

hiiiii I’m so sorry it took long I’m trying to work through a few of my requests but I hope you like it 💖

pairing: f!Sam x mc (I named my mc Josie so I’m sticking with that)

Takes place after chapter 6 the engagement party

word count: 3.1k (it’s a long one but Sam deserves) 

taglist: @kamilah-sayeeds-habibti (i hope you enjoy it) @cloud9in @alleycat97 (if anyone wants to be added on for this pairing let me know 😊)

Drunk words, sober thoughts 

You’re preparing breakfast for Mason and Mickey until a sudden flurry of texts interrupt your cooking, the pings going off every second. Sam stalks into the kitchen, already dressed for work as she reaches for the mug of coffee you prepared for her not a minute before as you’ve become accustomed to your usual morning ritual. 

“You’re popular this morning,” she jokes as her eyes flicker over to yours, and you see a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. 

“Heh. It’s my friend Jenny, she and some of my college friends are going out tomorrow and she keeps begging me to go.” Sam raises an eyebrow at you, the glimmer of amusement dissipating from her eyes and replaced with something you can’t really put a finger on. 

“Where do they wanna go?” her tone nonchalant, but her eyes tell a different story. Since the engagement party and your heavy makeout on the rooftop, things have been incredibly awkward with Sam. You’ve barely had a chance to talk with the CEO and she’s been doing a damn good job of avoiding you over the last couple of weeks every time you’ve found yourself in the same room alone after hours. 

“Just to the club.” 

“Ah. So why don’t you wanna go?” 

You shrug your shoulders as you contemplate your answer, “I don’t know, just with settling in the new job and stuff I don’t think going to the club is suitable.” 

“Seriously Josie?” Sam raises an eyebrow at you, “tomorrow is your day off and like you said before,” Sam takes a steady gulp, her eyes never leaving yours, “you’re a young single woman, you should have some fun. One of us should at least.” Sam mutters the last part, and you wonder if you were meant to hear that bit until your eyes meet and something in Sam’s eyes flashes, and suddenly you find yourself falling back into the memory of you and Sam on the rooftop. The rooftop where you were screaming at Sam for being jealous of you and Robin, where you found yourself chastising Sam for her overly zealous behaviour, moments before you found yourself attached at the lips, passion infiltrating your senses as you kissed her recklessly. You come out of your reverie, your face flushed as you look away from Sam, unable to meet her eyes. 

“You’re right.” You nod slowly and you mull over Sam’s words, hesitantly you pick up the phone to text Jenny that you’ll be there tomorrow and as you set your phone down, Sam opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by the sudden stomping of Mason and Mickey who race into the kitchen at the smell of your cooking. 

“Morning Josie!” the twins say as they settle in their seats, you ruffle their hair and place a plate of waffles in front of the boys as they hungrily scoff the food down. 

“Slow down boys you might get a stomach ache.” Sam places a chaste kiss on each of the twin’s forehead before giving you a swift nod and heading out to work. 

…. 

The next night you’re getting ready to go out as you stand in front of your closet with Jenny lounging on your bed inattentively scrolling through her phone. You turn and snap your fingers at her, “Jenny! Pay attention. What do I wear?” 

Jenny groans before getting up and standing beside you, “I usually love giving you fashion advice but you’ve literally turned down every dress I’ve picked out.” 

“Because it has to be perfect.” 

“Why?” 

“Because. I-” you stammer, not able to come up with a valid reason, but the voice in the back of your mind has been pestering you for the last hour, and all you know is that tonight you have to look flawless.

Jenny side eyes you, carefully considering, “Okay say no more.” You’re grateful at how well Jenny knows you in knowing when to not pressure you into speaking. She briskly claps her hands together, her usual peppy self sprouting up again as she assesses your closet. “Mmmmmm, this one.” She holds out a short red dress with thin straps and holds out the dress to you, “if you’re looking to make an impression tonight I advise you to wear this tonight.” 

You stare at the dress, the redness of it radiates at you, and you fully know that you’ll definitely be the centre of attention if you wear the dress tonight. In your heart however, you realize you only want the attention of one person, Sam. 

“Come oooon. We’re gonna be late. Try it on and trust my expertise please.” Jenny pleads, flashing her puppy dog eyes and you can’t bring yourself to say no. 

“Fine, give it here.” After trying on the dress, and pairing it with red stiletto heels, you’re interrupted by a brisk knock on the door as you‘re looking into the mirror, putting on your lipstick while Jenny straightens your hair. “Come in!” 

Sam gingerly opens the door, as her eyes scan the room until they find you, and she visibly can’t tear her eyes from you.  Her eyes meticulously roam your outfit, flashing with undisguised desire. “Josie..” Sam’s at a loss for words as her mouth hangs open, until Jenny’s shrill voice breaks her out of her trance and Sam looks over at the peppy brunette as if she’s only noticing her presence for the first time. 

“Doesn’t she look hot?” 

Heat rises to your cheeks as you avert your eyes from Sam’s, looking embarrassed as you reply, “Jenny!” Your voice comes out more snappier than you intended but your best friend gets the hint and clasps her mouth shut, focusing on her task of straightening your hair. You clear your throat before looking back up at the CEO and you see a similar blush on her face, as she conspicuously tries not to let her eyes drift to your body. “Sorry about her Sam. Did you need something?” 

Sam clenches her jaw slightly, before inhaling slightly, her demeanor becoming more relaxed by the second, “no, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and wanted to ask if you needed a ride to the club.”

Before you can open your mouth, Jenny chimes in, “of course! That would save us money on using an Uber.” You plaster a small smile on your face, trying to camouflage your uneasiness. 

“Yeah, thanks Sam.” 

“Well just let me know when you’re ready to head out.” 

“Wait, you’re driving us? I thought that maybe Carter-” 

“No, Carter has retired for the night. I wouldn’t want to bother him.” 

“What about the boys, they shouldn’t be left alone.” 

Sam eyes glistens with humour as she realises that you keep coming up with excuses to not be in a car with her, “Robin’s here. We have some paperwork to go over so she can watch the boys while we’re gone.” You try to come up with another excuse, your mind blanking as Sam smirks at you, and you begrudgingly accept her ride. 

As you step out of the room and walk into the office to call Sam, Robin sits at the front of the desk, her eyes drifting to your body, appraising every inch of you as she lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Josie. You look hot.” Before you can respond, Sam appears at the door, her eyes dark blazing into Robin’s, as a scowl outlines her face. 

“Josie. Are you ready to go?” Her eyes snap back to you, and the grimace from her expression shifts into a more softer look. 

You nod and leave the room with Sam in tow, behind you Robin calls out, “go get some!” You laugh shaking your head as you meet Jenny who’s waiting by the lift and make your way down. 

…..

As Sam pulls up the car, she steps out and opens the door for you and Jenny, and you slide into the backseat on the car as Jenny sits next to you and Sam moves to the driver’s seat, your eyes meeting in the rear-view mirror. You pointedly glance away, tapping away on your phone as Jenny gives Sam the directions to the club. Suddenly, your phone rings and you see your friend, Eva’s name flashing on your screen. You accept the call and her voice blares out on the other end as loud bass music and her voice crackles out, her words slightly slurring, “heeey, where are you guys?” 

“Yeah sounds like you guys started without us,” you put the phone on speaker holding it between you and Jenny. 

“You guys were taking forever!” Another voice rings out on the other end, most likely your friend Reina judging by her shrieking voice, she’s also wasted. 

“Blame Josie, she took forever picking a dress,” Jenny teases and you facetiously roll your eyes. You maintain a conversation for the rest of the drive as Sam sits in the front in silence, occasionally smiling to herself when she hears your friends voices ring out as they sing along to the music or just scream on the phone. Eventually you turn off your phone promising your friends you’re close and you’re soon pulling up to the club. 

“We’re here.” Sam smiles as she turns to face you and Jenny, her gaze warm. 

“Thank you so much for the ride Ms Dalton,” Jenny replies as she opens the door and starts to slide out of her seat, careful not to crease her dress as she does. 

“I told you to call me Sam, Ms Dalton makes me sound too old,” Sam jests and Jenny gleams at the CEO as she thanks her once again, this time fully enunciating Sam’s name. As Jenny leaves the car you’re about to slide out after her until Sam’s soft hands lightly touch your arm and you suddenly feel anchored in your seat. “Josie I-” her eyes flashes with the same expression yesterday morning when you mentioned the club and your brows furrow as you take in the pointed look on her face. 

“Is something wrong?” 

You watch as the unfamiliar expression shifts into an abashed grin as she languidly moves her hand from your arms, her fingers ghosting down your arms eliciting goosebumps as it moves. 

“No.” She plasters a pageant smile on her face, and somehow you just know she’s putting up a front, “hope you have a good night and Robin and I will most likely be up late so don’t hesitate to call if you need a ride home.” Sam looks like she wants to say more but she presses her lips together in a thin line, just before you can ask, Jenny’s shrill voice cuts through the air tearing you out of the moment. 

“I should go.” You carefully slide out of your seat and then shut the car door, linking your arm with Jenny’s as she ushers you into the club. Before you enter you look over your shoulder to see Sam’s car driving off in the distance, and you feel a tiny pang in your heart. Once you enter the club, the music blares, momentarily overtaking your senses until you stalk over to the bar and order 3 shots, downing them all one after another. 

“Damnnnnnnn,” Jenny says, gazing at you with astonishment. 

“Well everyone else is already drunk so we have to catch up,” you raise your third shot in the air as a toast and then throw back the drink, the burn of the tequila sliding down your throat and settling into your stomach and you feel already more at ease. 

“True dat.” Jenny responds as you order more drinks before meeting up with your friends who are in the middle of burning up the dance floor. 

“Josie!” They cheer as you arrive and you sandwich yourself between your friend Eva and another girl named Flora as you begin dancing with them. 

…..

You’re unsure about how much time has passed but after a few more drinks, you feel the alcohol running through you and your thoughts begin running wild. Your mind flashes back to Sam and anger begins filling up your senses. Though a small part of your brain says you’re thinking irrationally, the rest of your brain is fueled with both frustration and alcohol and before you know it, you’re standing in the corner of the club with your phone in your hand.  

…. 

Sam and Robin sit in Sam’s office working through some documents until Sam’s phone begins vibrating and her screen flashes with messages. 

“Jesus, it’s almost 1am, who the hell in texting you now?” Robin raises an eyebrow at her sister while Sam continues examining the papers in front of her, her eyes never tearing away as she retorts, “not important. Focus.” Her tone reprimanding as the two women fall back into silence until Sam’s phone buzzes again breaking the silence in the room. 

“For god sakes check your phone it might be important.” 

Sam sighs, and slams her papers onto the desk before picking up her phone and she sees your name on her screen and sees she has left several voice messages. All the anger dispels from her face as she unlocks her phone and brings it up to her ear after pressing play. 

“Heeeeeey Saaaaam.’ 

Sam chuckles, at the sound of your voice, your words are slightly slurred and your voice is quite low as the message plays. 

“I juss wanna say that I was thinking, aaand it occurred to me, why are you getting so mad at me when you kissed me?” Your tone at this point in the message is filled with anger and as you keep rambling on Sam’s eyes hastily snaps to Robin, who’s preoccupied with her document she hasn’t heard your voice over Sam’s phone. 

“And you know what? Screw you! If I wanna have fun then I’ll have fun, I don’t need you controlling me.” Sam clenches her jaw, anger swelling up inside of her as she abruptly stands from her chair, grabbing her keys while Robin shouts out after her sister, “where the hell are you going?” 

…..

After slipping a hundred dollar bill to the bouncer so she can skip the line, Sam observes the club’s surroundings, until her gaze catches sight of you on the dance floor dancing with a random club goer. She internally debates whether she should interrupt you but when the stranger places her hand on your waist Sam pushes all thoughts aside and begins charging onto the dancefloor. You’re so engrossed in your dancing that you don’t realise Sam’s presence until you hear her soft voice in your ear and you jerk your head back to make sure you’re not dreaming. 

“Sam! What are you doing here?” 

Something flashes in Sam’s eyes, and this time you know what it is, jealousy and it is a green eyed monster alright. Her darkened eyes bore into yours as your arms are still wrapped around the stranger’s who’s too drunk to notice Sam. 

“Let’s go.” Sam reaches out to take your arm before you jolt back, placing a distance between you and the CEO. 

“No I wanna stay.” Like a child you stomp and cross your arms, pouting at the CEO. 

“Where are you friends? Where’s Jenny?” 

You nonchalantly shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m dancing with…” your mind struggles to remember the name of the person whom you were just dancing with so you sloppily wave your hand over at the girl, which just seems to frustrate Sam more. 

“You’re drunk Josie, let’s get you home.” She takes a step forward until the stranger takes a step towards Sam placing her hand on the CEO’s chest. 

“Do you know her?” the stranger speaks over her shoulder, as her hand remains firmly on Sam’s chest. 

“Take your hand off me right now before we have a problem,” though she keeps a cool stoic expression, the tone in Sam’s voice sparks with threat and the stranger removes her hand retreating from the encounter. “Alright let’s go.” Sam takes out her hand and you bitterly accept it, letting the CEO maneuver you out of the club and ushering you into the front seat of her car. “Are you gonna be okay? Do you feel like throwing up?” 

“Just take me home,” slightly mortified by your childish behaviour at the club you turn away from Sam and lean your head against the window and soon your eyelids start feeling heavy and you let the sleep consume you. 

You’re woken up by a gentle shake by Sam, a worried expression etched on her face as her hand rubs comforting circles on your shoulder. “Where are we?” 

“Home. Here let me help you out.” Sam exits the car and comes around the other side opening the door and wrapping an arm around your waist. She easily hoists you up and you lean on her, steadying your weight as you place an arm around her shoulder. “Okay we’re gonna start walking now.” She carefully takes you into the building and you make your way into the elevator and soon you’re back at home. Sam carefully sets you on your bed and moves towards your feet, delicately removing your heels before tucking you into the duvet. 

“Thank you Sam,” your voice a whisper as you feel yourself slipping back into a sleep, Sam smiles and gently kisses your forehead and soon you’re passed out again. Sam moves into the hallway taking out her phone bringing it to her ear. She replays the last voice message you sent her, her eyes glimmering with bliss as she listens to your words. 

“You have some nerve telling me to have fun tonight. I mean how can I have fun when I keep thinking of you? That kiss on the rooftop.” You let out a humourless laugh, “that freaking kiss. I can’t stop thinking about it and I hate you for it. I hate that you’re on my mind all the time and how badly I want you. I hate that you make me so vulnerable. I may not be some fancy business woman like Sofia but at least I’m someone who genuinely cares about you. And I know you care about me too, so I don’t care that you’re engaged to some freaking robot. Because I know what we have is real and I-.” In the background you hear Jenny’s voice cut through and the voice message hastily ends but Sam looks down at her phone, eyes filled with hope because she knows she feels exactly the same. 

[deans-baby-momma]

Past Haunts- A Revisit

A/N: Let’s take a look inside the Winchester/Quentin household and see how everyone is getting along. Also look for the 2nd author’s note after this story. 

It's been six months today. Six months since my daughter and I were getting ready for work and school when a simple knock on the front door changed everything. Changed it all, for the better.

To be able to watch from the sidelines as Whitney got to finally know the man who was her father; to finally experience having a male figure in her life was indescribable. 

Those two were like two peas in a pod, though. Similar likes, the same dislikes, an identical warped sense of humor. Once Dean had gotten over- no, that isn't the right wording-since Dean had come to terms with Sam being locked in a cage in Hell, he had jumped right into being a parent, a daddy. And he was killing it!

I hadn't expected to find him in the kitchen every morning, cooking breakfast for us before sending us both off with a kiss and I definitely never dreamed of coming home to a clean house, mowed lawn and that pesky back porch light repaired but during the first whole week of loving with us,  Dean had picked up the slack. I was amazed and very grateful.

Dean and I have slept in the same bed every night since his return but have yet to put a label on what we are. Although, Whitney happily tells anyone and everyone that her parents are together, I'm just unsure. And yes, we've had sex but then again what woman in her right mind could look at him, cuddle up to him and NOT want to have sex with him?

He had gotten a job at a local garage after the first month of being 'home' and had quickly impressed the boss with his knowledge of older vehicles. It seemed as though the mechanics nowadays depended on the little computers installed in the newer models to alert them to whatever was wrong, so when older vehicles came across their rack, these young boys were stumped.

During the week after Thanksgiving, the city of Fairfax Indiana got its first snowfall. Everything looked so clean and fresh with the white blanket covering all the blemishes and eyesores around town. And that's the day we found out Dean Winchester doesn't like the cold.

"It's just-" Dean grumbled as he drank his coffee at the head of the table. "-so ridiculous. You have to wear extra layers, watch out for other idiots on the road. Watch where you step. And it's just so cold." He finishes his groaning with a full body shiver.

"Dad you sound like a whiny brat," Whitney banters as she eats her eggs and bacon. "It's wonderful! Everything looks so bright and shiny."

"I need sun and warmth, missy," Dean shoots back with a wink. He suddenly sits up straight and looks at me. "Babe, how many days of school until our little girl is on holiday?"

Whitney hmphs at being called a little girl, even though she knows Dean only does it to get a rise out of her. The smirk on his face tells me that is exactly the response he expected.

"Uh, nine. I think."

"Eight and a half," Whitney corrects me, standing up to take her plate to the sink. "And the half day is going to be mostly watching movies and not much else."

I look at Dean to see his mind whirling. I could tell he was trying to work something out in his head. I raise an eyebrow in question but only get a smile in response. I shake my head at his antics and stand up to go finish getting ready for work.

Christmas in Florida is distinctly opposite of Christmas in the North. For one, there is no snow for the lights to mirror. The lights are pretty but seem so dull without the reflection. And instead of coats and gloves and hats, people are in swimsuits and shorts, tank tops and flip-flops. A total 180 from what I'm used to in mid-December. I ponder the difference between the two as I lounge on the long beach chair beside Dean's as we watch Whitney frolic in the cool water.

Dean hasn't fully embraced the warmer temperatures as he is still in jeans and his usually two-shirt ensemble.  The only thing missing is the heavy work boots he usually dons; his feet are bare. The sunglasses on his face does little to hide the freckles that have made an appearance the darker his skin tans. I've laid in bed recently, counting the cute little misshapen dots. He is all smiles and happy. I love him so much!

When Dean had first suggested taking a trip down south for Christmas break I was astonished, Whitney was ecstatic. In her 13 year existence, this is the first full-fledged vacation we have ever taken so she was excited and enthusiastic about the chance to take a trip. And when she found out the destination, I didn't think she would survive the 17-hour trip without spending the whole time exploding with glee. Whitney and I spent my whole payday on a new wardrobe for the both of us, getting weird and bizarre looks from other shoppers as we tried to find t-shirts and shorts, bathing suits and sunscreen; during December in Indiana those items were few and far between. I also took a secret trip to the courthouse, getting the paperwork to officially make Whitney a Winchester. All it needs is information and signatures from both parents. I plan to surprise Dean with them Christmas morning.

So far, this vacation has been fantastic. We have spent time as a family doing little things, like walking along the beach at sunset searching for seashells, playing mini-golf, spending the day in our hotel room watching old movies and cartoons when the weather took a turn for the worse. It has been a dream come true, something I had never in a million years thought would ever happen. 

Spending time with him and our daughter in what I dubbed as the most magical place on Earth. So what if we're not at Disney World, to me this is the most fascinating time and place; a week spent with my daughter and her father, the love of my life. Life couldn't get any better than this.

I am shaken from my daydreams as I hear Dean growl and begin throwing fictitious daggers with his eyes in the direction of the pool. I turn my head to see a group of teenage boys all surrounding Whitney, who is all smiles at the attention. 

"Calm down honey," I cajole. "We knew this would eventually happen. We can't expect her to be a nun."

"Those boys are too old for her," he defends. "They see an innocent, young girl like her and there's only one thing on their mind." He goes to get up and I reach over to place my hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Give it a minute," I tell him. "I've taught Whitney to take care of herself."

As Dean and I sit there I keep our daughter in my peripheral, just in case one of us needs to step in. Suddenly, Whitney yells out "Jerk!" and slaps the boy who looks to be the protagonist of the crew. I smile as I watch her climb out of the pool and walk toward us. She sits at my feet and wraps her towel around her shoulders.

"You okay darlin'?" her dad asks, his eyes still trained on the gang of boys. They just don't know how many different ways Dean Winchester could murder them and make them all disappear.

"Y-yea," she answers but I can tell she's lying. "They just said some things that weren't nice."

Dean finally turned his eyes toward his daughter, the dangerous glint replaced by concern.  "Baby girl, I can go have a talk with them, if you-"

"No Dean!" she says, standing up. "I don't need my father taking up for me. I'm not a baby!" As Whitney storms out of the pool area, Dean looks at me, at a loss.

"What did I do?"

I stand up and wrap the sarong around my bikini-clad body. "Just let me go talk to her, okay?" I have an idea what is going on and I know having her dad there I'd never get Whitney to open up. I lean down and kiss him and head in the direction our daughter had stomped off.

In the room, Whitney has thrown herself across her bed and is crying into the pillow.

"Honey, what's wrong?" I ask gently because if my suspicions were true, anything could cause her to fly off the handle.

"I don't know," she whines. "I was feeling okay and then all of a sudden, it's like my energy zapped. So I was just floating in the pool, hoping the ache would go away and then those boys came up and started talking to me. And I liked it," she explains as she sits up on the bed. "But then Kyle said something about me being pure and innocent when I told them how old I was and I just lost it. And then I jumped down Dad's throat and he probably hates me now!" She begins crying again and I join her on the bed, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and she places her head on my shoulder.

 "Oh baby," I console. "I think it's becoming that time. You're getting ready to start your first period."

She jerks her head up and looks at me. "Really?"

"Yea, we need to go get you some pads and Midol. You're going to start bleeding anytime."

"God, did I just ruin our first vacation?"

"No!" I claim. "You didn't ruin vacation at all, baby. Now, let's get cleaned up and run down the street to the store."

"Moooom! I can't leave the room! What if it starts before we get back?" I chuckle at her wide-eyed expression.

"Okay, okay." I reach over and grab my phone texting Dean to come up to the room. I roll my eyes as I remember the discussion he and I had almost 2 years ago. Never in a million years did I think I would actually be asking this of him but I can't leave my baby.

The look on his face was comical as I whispered my request. He looked terrified and afflicted at the thought of having to buy feminine products. I take screenshots of exactly what he needs to buy and send him on his way, but not before he insists that I remember promising him he would never have to do this particular task.

The rest of the vacation goes off without a hitch. Whitney does begin her first period and requests to spend the rest of our time in Florida in the hotel room, only going out to eat. Dean and I trust her enough to leave her in the room while we go out, exploring not only the beach but the little town we are in. 

Christmas morning comes and Whitney wakes us up with squeals of delight at the massive amount of presents placed under the decorated fake palm tree in our room.

Dean and I sit on the sofa, drinking coffee and enjoying the look of awe on our daughter's face as she opens her presents. Once finished, she winks at her dad and goes to her bag where she pulls a box from inside. Handing it to him, Whitney steps back as Dean slides off to the floor, getting on one knee.

My hand slaps over my mouth as he clears his throat. I have no idea what he says because my inner voice is chanting 'Oh my god! This can't be happening!' Finally my ears take over and I hear him ask, "Becks, will you marry me?" I nod through the tears and watch as he slips the ring onto my finger. He climbs back onto the couch and wraps his arms around me, only moving one around Whitney when she dog-piles on top of us in excitement.

None of us know though, that when we return to Indiana  the past is going to come back to haunt us, in the form of Sam Winchester back from Hell.

A/N2: Another announcement! Another story! Remember how I promised a sequel to this story? A look into the years these two spent apart? Well I began it and then life happened (along with a stroke) so I just now am finishing it up. Look for Wounded Hearts to begin in March!!! I’m excited to share it with you. I will keep those of you that were on the PH taglist unless you tell me different. Love to you all. 

@vickiq9761 @81mysteriouslyme @travelingriversideblues-x @akshi8278 @keymology @hoboal87 @squirrelnotsam @spnbaby-67 @sandlee44 @natura1phenomenon @drakelover78 @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @larajadeschmidt13 @tftumblin @blacktithe7 @lilulo-12 @adoptdontshoppets @cpag7 @markofdean79 @supraveng @deanwanddamons @mogaruke @death-unbecomes-you @vicariouslythruspn @atc74 @delightfullykrispypeach​ @sea040561​

[uncomfortable-writers]

-𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲����𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?- (𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) 𝟐

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Dean Winchester

Persona: Female

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 1,424

A/N - Thank you all for your lovely responses <3

Read Part 1 Here!

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A particularly loud snore caught in the back of Dean’s throat while he lay face down spread eagle across his bed still wearing the clothes he’d stormed out in last night. He jolted awake trying to force his green eyes to focus. Letting out a groan which was muffled slightly by his pillow he touched his forehead gently, careful not to agitate his headache more.

How did he even get home last night? Dean tentatively sat up swinging his legs over the side of the bed he rested his head in his hands to try and remember the shenanigans of the evening.

A few doors down you also began to rouse from your dreamless sleep. The thought of being back, combined with having to see and at some point interact with the older Winchester filled you with enough anxiety that rest didn’t come easy that night. Rising from the bed the room became filled with the noise of your back cracking, soon to be replaced by your stomach growling angrily. “Shit”, you mumbled to the air. You flopped down on the bed to think about your options, you could either; venture out to the kitchen to grab a snack but that came with the risk of bumping into you know who or you could just wait it out. As much as the hunger gnawed at your stomach, the fear was too much so you once again opened up your laptop to try and distract yourself. There was a soft tap on your door, followed by Sam gently calling your name, “Hey (Y/N), I made some breakfast if you want any”, almost like he could sense your dilemma. You smiled, practically bouncing over to the door you opened it, “That would be great Sam”. “I can bring--”, Sam started but stopped once you began to step outside of your room, “Let’s go eat”.

Fate was cruel that much Dean couldn’t deny, it always had a nasty way of coming back around to bite him in the ass in someway or another. The smell of pancakes and bacon drifted under the door into Dean’s nose. A disgustingly greasy breakfast was just what he needed. Reluctantly he rose from his bed certain that somewhere Chuck was mocking him. He resented everything about his current situation and resented you even more. Not only did he have to worry about Micheal now but you as well. Dean stumbled over his own feet as he made his way to the kitchen.

“I forgot how good you are at making these”, you garbled through a mouthful of pancake, “But Dean’s were always better”, you were unable to stop the sentence from spilling out from your mouth, Sam didn’t miss the way your face fell. “Yeah well he still won’t share his secret recipe with me...How have you been anyway?”. You were grateful for the swift topic change, it was almost like nothing had changed between the two of you. Dean was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t hear the sound of Sam talking to you. He froze up, his blood turning to ice in his veins. He lent against the wall, only a few metres kept him from you. Your voice was still the same but as he listened he noticed you sounded tired in a way that he couldn’t place even though it sounded familiar. The more he listened to your soft spoken words to Sam, the more it provoked feelings of nostalgia as his mind fleeted away to a better moment in time:

“Good morning sleepyhead”, you cooed to Dean who walked into the kitchen wearing nothing more than his bathrobe, you were stationed over the hob watching the bacon and eggs cook. Dean placed his head onto your shoulder, engulfing your waist with his big arms he asked, “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”. You giggled, “Your favourite”. Dean tightened the grip momentarily with a hum of approval, then he pulled on your hips to make you face him, “You’re too good to me princess”, his accent heavy with sleep. He pressed his lips to yours as you let your arms wrap around his neck. “Gross you guys, I’m trying to eat”, Sam piped up from the table, a look of mocking disgust across his face. You pulled away from Dean with a smile.

Dean couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten by scoring you: his perfect dream girl. He let you turn back around, “Way to ruin the moment Sammy”, he took a seat across from his brother who laughed at his quip. He watched as you hummed to yourself flipping the eggs, taking a swig from his coffee he was content with the picturesque scene before him.

‘Yeah’, Dean thought, ‘I could get used to this’.

“--and that’s how I took out a whole nest of vamps”, you grinned proudly, watching the visible surprise grow on Sam’s face, “No way, not even me or Dean could’ve done that!”. Upon hearing his name, Dean was thrust back into the real world. He snorted out a puff of air in irritation, breakfast would have to wait. Spinning on his heel he made no effort to conceal the sound of his movement, pissed off that he couldn’t even go anywhere in his own house, couldn’t eat and that he felt like he’d been ran over by a truck.

The noise caught both yours and Sam’s attention. It felt like you’d been punched in your gut, like there was no air getting to your lungs. You waited for what felt like an eternity for Dean to walk into the room but he never appeared. “So where were we anyway?”, Sam questioned, drawing your attention back to him.

“Like I was saying--”.

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Sam later found his brother in the library, glued to his laptop screen with a sour look twisting his features into a permanent scowl. His hand was gripping a beer bottle, (like usual), while the other hand scrolled endlessly through useless articles.

Sam cleared his throat, “Any luck?”. Without looking away Dean answered dully,  “I thought I told you to tell her to go”. Sam pursed his lips. When a reply never came Dean glanced up at his brother, raising a brow in an almost antagonising manner. Sam shifted his weight knowing that anything he said wouldn’t sate his brother, “We need her Dean”. His older brother shut his laptop lid with more force than he meant, he stood up, “How is (Y/N) gonna help huh? What’s she going to do that we can’t? Does she know something we don’t?”, Dean paused to let Sam interject but the look on the younger man’s face said it all, “That’s what I thought. We don’t need her, I mean just look at all the other hunters we got runnin’ around here, we don’t need another taking up space”.

Sam softly said, “Dean (Y/N) can help you just need to give her time--”. 

“Time!?!”, Dean scoffed in disbelief, “We don’t have time! She either helps now or I’ll pack her bags myself”. He snatched his beer from the table to storm off to his room. As he booked it around the corner he almost bumped into you, you didn’t need to have heard the conversation he’d just had with Sam, (even though you just did), to tell from his body language that he was livid. Dean’s green eyes widened in shock for a split second before the mix of previous feelings misted over his eyes; hurt, anger and confusion. He quickly pushed past you, your shoulders bumping as he hurried back to his room, “Watch where you’re going”, his voice low like a growl. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone just as fast, low key wishing he’d lingered for just a few moments longer to take in your relatively unchanged appearance.

Watching his shadow disappear around the corner, you couldn’t stop the tears that began to well in the back of your eyes. Timidly shuffling into the library you found it to be occupied by only Sam. Dean’s words stung as you repeated the sentences in your head. Sam looked up and met your eyes, his demeanour swiftly eased into a much more inviting one, his arms almost twitch up to offer you a hug.

Even though your voice was low as you spoke there was clear determination laced in your tone, “I’ll show him Sam”. With a plan already beginning to formulate, you planned on how to soothe your wounded pride.

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Tag List: @annestine​

[scornedlove]

Chapter Twenty-Nine

ROBYN

I called Mel to blow off some steam, but her phone was going straight to voicemail. To say I was boiling was an understatement. Half an hour later, I found myself asking for a shot of whiskey at the nearest bar. Some place that probably hadn’t had a new customer in weeks. 

“I’ll take a water with lemon” John stated, his eyes roaming the dark room. The place was small, yet cold and unfamiliar. There wasn’t many people here, but you could tell the few present were regulars.  

“Thanks for coming in with me, I know this ain’t in ya job description” I sighed, trying my hardest not to dump all my problems on him.

“I’m just glad you got up out the house. I was beginning to think you replaced me” 

“You know better than that! You ain’t getting rid of me that easy” I chuckled in surprise. I tossed back my shot and motioned for the bartender to refill me, wasting no time to toss that one back too.

“This whiskey’s not gonna have you trying to throw bottles upside my head again is it?”

“I promise I’ll behave myself” I crossed my heart with my right hand. “Sometimes, I get so worked up and I just need to take the edge off. Whiskey helps.”

“Don’t let this shit be your go to” he advised, glancing over his shoulder to see who walked in when the door opened.

“Shopping is my go to, Mary Jane is definitely the runner up, but this shit easily takes third place.” I admitted, nonchalantly. “Everybody needs an outlet”  

“You gonna have to find some better outlets. I know it’s hard, but I’ve been where you are before and it ain’t a pretty place. I’m not going to sit back and watch you spiral downhill.”

“Eh, to each their own. I’m sure you got your outlets.” I shrugged, before requesting another refill and quickly gulping it down. John just shook his head and looked back at the door as a couple of people walked out. I loved how alert he always was, it made me feel safe. Safe enough, to order another shot.

“Can you at least slow down?” he demanded rather than asked. “Ain’t no way yo tolerance that high.”

“Boy please! I am Bajan, we can hold our liquor.” I teased, starting to feel myself. The whiskey had my temperature rising, so I slid my jacket down on to the stool. The bartender placed my refill in front of me, this time flashing his dingy smile while his eyes burned a hole in my chest. 

“Thanks, we’ll let you know if we need anything else” John practically yelled to snap him from his daze.

“Sorry man. We don’t get models in here often” he apologized before tending to the other couple at the bar.

“Bullshit” I blurted before falling into giggles. “I know I look like shit today, but that was a good save”

“You ready? Cause I’m ready to get up outta here.” John stood, with his mind made up. He’s never bossed me around before and oddly enough, it was turning me on.

“Wait, just let me get-”

“You’ve had enough, let’s go.” he ordered, looking down at me. I was beginning to imagine his dark skin on mine and realized he was right. It had to be the liquor taking over, so I shook the thought away and stood like he requested. 

 "Yeah, you’re right, I uh, need to do some shopping anyway.” I stammered, leaving a few twenty's on the counter before leading the way out. 

The ride to the mall was awkward. I rolled and smoked an entire blunt to myself on the way. I could tell John was pissed, but I didn’t understand why or even cared to ask. I’m sick of people trying to give me advice I didn’t ask for. I’m grown as hell and if I want to get fucked up in the middle of the day on a Monday, then that’s what I’ll do. 

“I know how long these trips can be and I don’t want you to feel rushed, just give me a call when you’re ready” he stated, once we reached the mall entrance.

“Don’t even worry about it. Thanks for the ride, enjoy the rest of your day” I added, jumping out the back seat before he’d even come to a complete stop. I didn’t want to be around his bad energy, that shit was contagious. I’ll just have to take a cab home. I’d much rather ride with a stranger than be judged.

Turns out John was right. I spent much more time shopping than I expected. There wasn’t much traffic and I enjoyed not having to wait in lines.  I treated myself to new clothes, shoes, earrings, and a new purse. Everything I wanted was in stock and I had many of the stores to myself. Apparently I picked a good day to splurge because I spent well over forty grand.

After shopping, I ordered some Chinese food and found a little corner to myself in the food court. I was so happy about the leopard print Louboutin booties I found, I had to put them on before I even touched my food. Something about leopard print made me feel sexy and I needed that feeling now.

I slipped my flats off and smiled as the softness of the booties welcomed my feet. They made me feel so good, I forgot about my bad day. I started to devour my food as if all the appetite I was missing all week suddenly appeared from nowhere. When I was done, I wasted no time getting in line at the ice cream shoppe. 

I sat down again, taking my time and enjoying my chocolate chip, double dip cone a little too much. I was in heaven, oblivious to my surroundings. A weird feeling crept over me and I felt like I was being watched. My eyes shot up for a quick scan and immediately locked on the culprit. Christopher fucking Brown.

I stared back for what seemed like forever, but he wasn’t letting up so I decided to show out. If he thought he couldn’t stop looking before, he wouldn’t know what to do when I made him wish he were the ice cream. 

“I knew my eyes weren’t deceiving me” a smooth baritone caught me off guard in the middle of my act. I sighed deeply before locking eyes with the one night stand I was supposed to never see again. 

“Today has got to be my lucky day” he grinned.

“Hey Stranger” I smirked, swallowing the big ass frog in my throat. I should’ve put my ice cream down, but I couldn’t. I just took bites instead of licks while he eyeballed my lips.

“Nah, call me Rocky” he pleaded, his eyes roaming with no shame. Fuck I thought to myself, realizing I left my favorite black leather jacket at the bar. My nipples were at full attention and an apparent distraction, so I crossed my arms. 

“I thought we agree-”

“You really want me to treat you like a stranger after the way I had your body feeling the last time you saw me?” he asked, inviting himself to sit in front of me. 

“We agreed to no names”

“Who are you shopping with, if you don’t mind me asking?” he quizzed, checking out my table full of bags.

“Damn you nosy” I frowned, shaking my head. “Who you here with?”

“Shit, I’m here with you. I just wanna know who about to be pissed when your plans change up.”

“How my plans change up?” I giggled, loving his persistence.

“I got somewhere I wanna take you”

“Boy you don’t even know me”

“I know what you taste like. You gonna let me taste you again?” he asked wetting his lips before biting the bottom one and slowly letting it out. Flashbacks of his lips on my body sent shivers down my spine. Before I could even respond, I could see Chris approaching at record speed with Nicki on his tail. 

CHRIS

“Thank you for getting me out the house today” Nicki smiled, taking a bite from her huge, soft pretzel. “This is exactly what I needed!”

“Me too” I mumbled between bites of my pretzel dog. I was glad I was feeling better than I had the day before, but I still felt crappy. Yesterday I laid around with a hang over from hell, but when Nicki called today I had to pull my shit together. 

“I’m so glad Sam will be home for good today. All I can ever think about is what if he misses our baby’s birth”

“Aren’t you due next month?”

“Yeah, but look how fat I am! There’s no way I can hold this baby for another month!” she stood up and turned sideways for me to see her silhouette. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be back to yourself in no time. You’re having a healthy baby. That’s the important part.” I stressed and her face immediately dropped in shame.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Sorry for what?”

“Complaining. I’m grateful for this entire experience. I just wish Sam could’ve found a closer job sooner, but it’s done now and I’m soooo grateful” she beamed as her phone vibrated on the table. “Speak of the devil.”

“Tell him I said what up” I laughed at her girlish demeanor while she spoke with her husband. Somehow they pulled through their long distance relationship, even with the hormone roller coaster. I was happy for them.

“So are you spending Thanksgiving in Texas with Tae now that Mama got her own thing going on?” Nicki quizzed after hanging up with Sam. I hadn’t told her it was over with me and Tae yet, I was hoping to avoid this conversation altogether.

“Nah. You know me, I like to make my rounds. Are you cooking? I’m tryna come get one of your plates!”

“Noooo Chris! Holidays show a girl how serious you are about her. You gotta at least try to go see her, it’s important!”

“Well, sh-”

“Robyn”

“No, it’s not about Rob-”

“No, I was saying, is that Robyn?” she nodded across the food court towards the ice cream shoppe. Sure enough, Robyn was standing in line with three bags on one arm and her wallet in hand as she waited to order.

“Damn, she looks good” I blurted under my breath. I didn’t know where we stood since the last time we spoke, so I definitely wasn’t going over there.

“That hair looks so good on her. When’s the last time ya’ll talked?” 

“Not long ago, and it wasn’t pleasant” I answered honestly, unable to take my eyes from her as she paid and grabbed her ice cream from the cashier. She quickly found an empty table, set her things down, and began to devour her ice cream in the most seductive way. On top of that, the dress she wore revealed every curve and way too much skin. 

When she sat down, her eyes met mine. She refused to break eye contact and began to lick her ice cream with a flat tongue, curving it around the top. She winked at me, then opened her mouth wide before sucking her ice cream from the top, clearly giving me a show.

“So ya’ll cool or not?” Nicki’s voice snatched me back to attention. My head snapped in her direction to see if she was seeing what I was but she was preoccupied with her phone. When I looked back at Robyn, there was someone else sitting in front of her, blocking my view. 

This guy must’ve been enjoying the same show I was, too bad he didn’t stand a chance. Rob’s the kind of girl that doesn’t even give a guy two seconds if he’s not worth it, which made me wonder why this guy was still sitting there. 

“I don’t know. Let’s go say wassup” I suggested as Nicki tossed the last of her food in her mouth, then followed me towards Robyn.

As we approached her, a huge smile spread across her face and she waved in our direction. I wasn’t sure what to expect but my nerves relaxed a bit. 

“Oh my God! Look at you!” Robyn shrieked, jumping up to hug Nicki.

“No bitch, look at you! I was just telling Chris how bomb this haircut is on you!” Nicki returned the love. I tried to get a word in, but Robyn turned her back to me and proceeded to talk to Nic like I wasn’t even there.

“I can’t believe you almost done cooking the munchkin already!” She squealed, rubbing Nicki’s belly. 

“Yes girl, exactly 28 more days!”

“Boy or girl?”

“We don’t know yet, we wanted a surprise”. They went back and forth for what seemed like forever, paying me no mind. I waited patiently until Robyn attempted to leave with the random guy without speaking to me. She tried to walk by me so I grabbed her hand and pulled her towards me, catching her off guard.

“So you just gonna ignore me?” I asked, glaring into her shocked expression. It took a second of thought but to my surprise, she shook her head no, so I wasted no time leading the way to an empty table for a little privacy.

“How you been?” I began, instantly pissing her off.

“What you mean How I been?” she mimicked rolling her eyes. “What do you want Christopher?”

“I ran into Rayven last night..you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

"Wow, you pulled me to the side to ask about Rayven?” she asked, with slanted eyes. 

“No, that’s not wh-”

“Fuck you Christopher. I should beat your ass like I did her” she frowned, attempting to walk off. I grabbed her hand and pulled her back to me again, with a little more force this time.

“Have you been drinking?” I asked, trying to smell it on her breath but only smelling the ice cream. “Who’s this guy your with? Do you know him?”

“Mind the business you chose over me. I ain’t yo woman.” she spat, before returning to the lucky punk waiting for her. Those words hurt like daggers but I was more embarrassed than anything.  

“I guess it’s safe to say ya’ll not cool” Nicki spoke, breaking the silence on the ride home.

“I don’t know Nic, I think I really messed up this time”

“Ah hell, what you do now?” she shook her head in frustration as I caught her up on my cursed love life. 

“Can I be brutally honest with you?” she asked, raising her brow as she stared me in the face.

“That’s all I’m asking”

“You sound confused as fuck! At the end of the day, who do you love?

“I can’t even lie. I love them both”

“Who do you want to be with....like forever”

“I don’t know”

“Well that’s your problem. You gotta figure out what you want” she shook her head in disbelief.

“It’s not that easy. See with Tae I have this clean slate, well almost clean. Distance is the only problem. “

“Which is a pretty big problem” she pointed out. 

“But with Rob there’s so much chemistry, history, love... it would be hard to come back from what we been through”

“Well if you put it like that, do you want hard as shit or hard as fuck?” she teased, cracking herself up. 

“Thanks for the lovely advice”

“I can’t help you bro, you on your own!”

“I can see that!”

“Nah, but for real, every time I’ve seen you and Tae together you seem happy as hell. I mean head over heels, you stay cheesing like a damn girl, and treating her like a princess. But when you talk about Robyn you seem unsure and even kind of depressed. I’m sure it’s because of the accident, and everything else that happened but aren’t you ready to put all of that behind you?”

“Put Robyn behind me? “I sighed, giving it deep thought. It wasn’t like she was fucking with me anyhow. After seeing her today I was even more confused than before. 

“That situation is out of your hands at this point. I’m sorry, but it’s clear to me that Rob ain’t fucking with you bro. I can tell you’re not really taking Tae serious because you’re hoping Rob comes around. That’s bullshit and you definitely owe Tae an apology. Start there and just see where everything else goes.” she suggested, as she kicked her shoes off and kicked her feet up on the dash.

“That girl don’t want to talk to me”

“Of course not, you gotta go bigger than a phone call”

“Like what?”

“Like go see her. Go spend Thanksgiving with her! Have you ever been to her place? She’s been to your crib, your galleries, and met all your people. Ya’ll been together long enough, it’s time for you to meet the family. Matter of fact, you should pop up on her!”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” I grinned, realizing how right she was. It was obvious I hadn’t been putting in much effort and that’s probably why she keeps one foot in the door and the other out. She just needs a grand gesture to know how important she is to me.

With Nic’s help, I came up with the perfect plan to get us back on track. Thanksgiving was less than a week away, so I wasted no time booking my flight and a room near her salon. All I had to do was show up and speak my peace. How hard could that be?

[languesbians]

How I’d have liked Supernatural to end

This is intended as an extension to 15x19, set after Jack’s speech about being present in all things etc. Also I wrote it as a story outline rather than a prose fanfic, hence the shifts in framing.

Two weeks later

Dean is alone in the bunker's kitchen, peeling potatoes. He looks pensive. Sam walks in.

Sam: "Hey man, you okay?"

Dean: "Yeah, I just... I wish Cas was here, you know? I don't know if I can do this on my own."

Sam moves in to reassure him, patting him on the shoulder. "It'll be okay. I know it will.”

Half an hour or so passes. We're still with Dean in the kitchen, but he now has a large bowl of mashed potatoes and a pile of peelings, which he sweeps into a bin. Close-up on his hands as he carries the bowl towards the kitchen door. The other side of the bowl is suddenly grabbed by a pair of hands.

"These potatoes look great, Dean." It's the guy they were just talking out, alive and well. We zoom out to see that he's wearing his trademark trenchcoat.

"Yeah, I just wish you'd been there earlier. I had to peel like, a hundred potatoes on my own."

Cas looks into the bowl with a 'himbo angel who doesn't understand exaggeration' expression. "This doesn't look like a hundred potatoes." He holds that face for a couple of second before his lips curl up slightly at the corners; he's just teasing Dean.

"Dumbass" Dean says, smiling affectionately. "What's with the beige, anyway?" he asks, gesturing at the trenchcoat. "You gonna start wearing that old thing again?"

"Only on special occasions. [beat] It reminds me of when we first met, remember?" He leans forward into Dean's personal space, imitating that 'mean angel' we remember from the barn all those years ago.

Dean's face is torn between his affection for Cas’ sappiness and his amusement at the S4!Cas impression. "Alright feathers, no chick flick moments." He pecks Cas on the lips and grabs a bowl of vegetables from the counter before they both walk out of the kitchen.

Up until now there’s been no ambient noise, but it turns out the sound guy has been deceiving us - the bunker's main room/foyer/whatever is actually full of noise and people. They're all sitting around a big table laden with food, chatting and laughing. At the centre of the table is a roast turkey: it's Thanksgiving.

There’s a lot going on - Charlie is showing off some cool computer shit to Claire, Kaia and Patience while her girlfriend watches; Eileen is pointing at different food items and teaching Bobby and Donna how to sign them; Sam and Jody are opening cards from friends - we see the names ‘Fitzgerald’ and ‘Rosen’, among others.

Dean and Cas sit down next to each other in the middle of the table, Sam and Eileen on the other side. Dean dings a glass for attention and stands up. He's about to speak when a thunderous crash erupts from the direction of the sky. Immediately the whole table switches to Hunter Mode - they jump up, take out concealed weapons and go on full alert, although those nearest to Bobby are slightly distracted at the sight of him pulling an angel blade from the turkey.

"Sorry, I still haven't worked out how to stop that happening” says a voice. It turns out the noise was merely heralding a rare event - Jack is walking the Earth again, for the first time since defeating Chuck. The youngest Winchester is on the balcony by the bunker’s front door, looking slightly sheepish. Everyone stands at ease again, looking slightly annoyed and putting their weapons back away. (The camera shows the whole table at once, so unless you're paying attention you won't notice Donna preventing Bobby from angel-blading the turkey again.)

"Oh by the way - I've brought a guest, if that's okay. All the way from the depths of Hell."

"Happy Thanksgiving, boys" says Rowena, stepping out from behind him. The two of them head down the stairs: Sam, Dean and Cas take turns embracing Jack while Rowena greets everyone else. For the next minute or two everyone hugs the newcomers and Rowena is introduced to those who haven’t met her yet - Claire in particular is fascinated and asks Rowena to sit next to her, eager to badger her with questions about what it’s like being the bisexual Queen of Hell.

Eventually they're all sat back down except Dean, who's holding a wine glass ready to make a toast. The glass, of course, is filled with beer.

"You all know I'm not a fan of long speeches, so this isn't gonna be one of those. [beat] I just wanted to say that I am so, so grateful for all of you guys. For my brother and his fiancée. For my angel and our son.” He gently tousles Cas’ hair. “For my grumpy adoptive dad and my lesbian friend - both versions of them." Charlie and Bobby nod their heads in recognition of their absent other selves. "For Jody, Donna and the kids; for Rowena; and for everyone we lost along the way. Without you guys I wouldn't be here - hell, this whole universe wouldn't be here. So I'd lke to raise a toast."

He's gradually getting more and more choked up. "To Bobby, Charlie, Adam, Kelly, Jessica, Benny, Jo, Ellen, Rufus, Pamela, Meg, Kevin, Gabriel, Crowley, Ketch, Jimmy... and to Mom." He takes a second to steady himself, then raises his head and his glass. "To family."

Everyone repeats back, "To family" as they all drink. Cas looks lovingly up at his boyfriend and gently touches his arm as Dean starts to carve the turkey. Everyone else gets back to chatting and laughing. Vegetables and sauces are handed round while Cas proudly serves Charlie and her girlfriend slices of a vegetarian pastry dish as his voice cuts through the babble: "I made this specially for you guys." It’s kind of a mess because he hasn’t learnt how to cook yet, but they’re grateful nonetheless.

All the while the camera is slowly zooming out and eventually the conversation starts to grow quieter, replaced by a solo piano version of the opening "Wayward Son" chorus.

Cut to black as the final note plays.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

At first I thought it was infatuation

A/N: So here’s part 2 to Leave me reckless, off the map! I didn’t actually think I would be writing a part 2, I didn’t think anyone would want it but you do! So that’s great! I hope you all like it. Please listen to the song You Send Me by Sam Cooke, I feel it sums up Sirius’ feelings through this. Also, I firmly reject the fact that Sirius died in Order of The Phoenix - for creative license but also my own heart bc no thank you.

Title: Sam Cooke - You Send Me

Summary: The time away brings confessions from Sirius.

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: angst? Swearing.

Word count: 1777

Ravenscar is located on the East Coast. Your family had had a country house there for as long as you can remember. Your fondest memories before you arrived at Hogwarts and met the Marauders was spending your summers with your great aunt there; taking trips into Scarborough, walking up and down the coast.

Breathing in the sea air, you feel more yourself than you have in weeks. The long walk to the beach below Ravenscar helps to clear your head. It had been a few days since you left Grimmauld Place – you felt guilt for simply just walking out, but you couldn’t stay there. It was not the environment that you could live in; you simply couldn’t take watching him be so happy with a woman that wasn’t you. Your head was clear though; you were coming to realisations.

Sirius turns up on your third day there. You open the door to him, and your heart drops to the floor.

“What’s happened?” You ask, letting him enter the house.

“What makes you think something’s happened?”

“You’ve casually shown up on my door without warning. I can’t help but be worried, we’re in the middle of a war, Sirius.”

“You’re right, we are. But you’re taking some time out. Nothing’s happened, everyone’s fine. Harry was a bit put out when I told him he couldn’t come with me but other than that, everyone is okay.”

“I’m glad. I feel so guilty for taking some time, but I need to get my head sorted. I can’t go on a mission for Dumbledore in the place I am mentally, it would get me and whoever I’m with hurt.”

“I love you; you know.”

The confession blindsides you. He’s sitting on your couch, picking at one of the ancient cushions you never replaced after your aunt had passed away. He told himself he wasn’t going to immediately drop it on you – that he loves you. He has since Fifth Year; you were smart, so smart, and principled. You stood up for what you believed in. You gelled instantly with the Marauders and Lily and to be frank, he fell arse over tea kettle in love with you. He kept his sanity in Azkaban because of two things: his innocence, and you. He knew of your feelings for Remus, so he kept silent. Even after he escaped, but once Remus told him he was getting married, Sirius saw no reason to keep quiet anymore.

“You love me?” You ask, breathlessly.

He nods, “I have since Fifth Year.”

You sit down, “Since Fifth Year?”

He nods again.

“Why didn’t you ever say something Sirius?”

“You were in love with Remus. It broke my heart nearly every day I saw you look at him, I prayed that you would look at me like that,” He chuckles, “I’m turning more sentimental the older I get. I love you though, wholly and completely. I never wavered. There were only two things that got me through Azkaban – my innocence and you.”

“Oh Sirius, I never knew.”

Sirius walks over to you, kneels in front of you, takes your hand in his as he did not even a week ago when he was patching you up. “How were you to know? I was pretty good at covering my emotions back then.”

You clasp his hand tightly, running your thumb over the many tattoos that grace his fingers, “I wish you had told me.”

“Would it have made any difference if I had?”

Your silent at that, you aren’t entirely sure. “No,” You say slowly, “I don’t think it would have back then. I was pretty blind. I’ve had time to think now though, time to clear my head.”

He stands up, he makes to walk away while saying, “Don’t play with me now, (Y/N). That isn’t fair.”

You stand too, grabbing his hand again to pull him back to you. Your face to face now, “I’m not playing with you, Sirius. It’s only been a few days, but you’ll be amazed at what the Yorkshire air can do. It can make you see sense. My love for Remus would have always remained one-sided and I would have remained miserable for the rest of my life. I deserve better than that.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying kiss me, Sirius”

He hesitates for a single moment; unsure as to whether you’re kidding. He places his hands on your hips and pulls you closer to him. He dips his head, ready to kiss you, but he stops at the last minute. “You’re sure?”

You nod, your arms wrapping around his neck, “I’m sure, Sirius. Kiss me, please”

So he does. He has been in love with you since he was sixteen years old and planning for his future. He’s loved you when you told him you were in love with his best friend. He was in love with you through his entire incarceration. And he’s in love with you now, as you melt into his kiss and mould yourself to his body. You fit together seamlessly. He has dreamed of this day since he was sixteen. If this was to be his last day on earth, he would thank every god and every deity for letting him have this moment before he was taken.

In the end, it is you who pulls away. But it is only to whisper, “Stay the night, Sirius.”

You’re in his arms, breathless. The only thing you want in this entire world, is for him to stay the night, to stay with you for the rest of eternity if possible.

He presses a scorching kiss to your lips. Thrilled at the fact that he can do that now, freely. “Of course, I’d like nothing better.”

Morning comes, and you’re wrapped tightly in Sirius’ arms. The night previous seems like a fever dream: his hands, his mouth. He stirs next you, pulls you even closer, presses a kiss to your exposed neck.

“Good morning,” He whispers, somewhat scared to break the moment. As if you’ll come to your senses and regret your decision.

You turn in his arms, drawing him into a long kiss. You both melt into each other, you only realising now how well you fit together.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur.

���Whatever for?” He shifts so he’s above you now, his arms on either side of your head.

“For taking so long. For not seeing your feelings, for not taking them into account. For being so blind.”

He kisses you silent, presses you further into the mattress. “Don’t be. We have now. We have all the time in the world for a whole life.”

You hum, “I really like the sound of that.”

“It’s my turn to apologise now though, love”

“What for?”

“I have to leave later today.”

You sit up, “Why? How come?”

Sirius places kisses along your bare shoulder, “Dumbledore has a mission for me. This isn’t a one-night stand. No, we are going to have a life together. I’ve waited this long; I won’t wait any longer. I have the girl of my dreams, as cheesy as it is to say.”

“Okay,” You nod, “You set off today, I’ll follow on behind. I’m ready to start this life you talk about, Black, so please be safe whatever you are doing.”

He laughs as he pulls you back into the duvet cover. A life together sounds like pure heaven, you think, as Sirius’ lips start to trail down your stomach.

Returning to London, to Grimmauld Place, you’re pulled into an empty room by Remus. You barely have time to greet Sirius, you could hear him in the kitchen – recounting tales of the Marauders to Harry and Ron.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice the gold ring on Remus’ left hand.

“Where were you?” Remus asks.

“I’m sure Sirius told you, Remus.”

“He didn’t actually.”

“I went home.”

“Why?”

“I needed to rest. The knife wound affected me more than I thought.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You reel back, looking at him in shock. “I’m sorry?!”

“I don’t believe you.” He states bluntly.

“You don’t have to. That’s what happened though.”

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t stay here anymore; I just needed some time away.”

“But why?” He pleads, “Why couldn’t you stay here? What changed… oh”

“What? What have you figured out Remus?”

“The night you left, I told you about my getting married.”

“It was. I don’t think you understood how hard it was for me to hear that.”

“It was hard for you to hear I was getting married?”

“Remus! You aren’t usually so obtuse! Of course it was. I have been in love with you since our Third Year of Hogwarts. It was in Sixth Year when I realised it wasn’t some passing fancy. It was when James and Lily died that I realised you were never going to love me back. But for all these years, I have stood by your side, hoping and waiting. I have sat through full moon after full moon, and I kept hoping that one day you’ll see me in that light. But it never happened. It turned into self-hatred after a while because I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been.

The thing is, you came in and you told you had found someone you love that much; you would marry her. And you were so happy. Why should I be the one to stand in the way of that? Should I have declared my undying love then? Absolutely not, it would have made me even more the fool. I would have destroyed any semblance of a relationship we have ever had.

Don’t get me wrong. I am so happy for you, Remus. If there is anyone who deserves a happy life, it is you. But you do not, for one second, get to make me feel shitty for having to step away for a while.”

“You love me?”

“Not anymore. I love you as a friend, of course I do. But romantically? Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?”

“Nope. I was away for a few days, but it cleared my mind.”

“You’re truly happy for me?”

You walk over to Remus, place a hand on his cheek and brush your thumb across the scar there. “I truly am. I don’t want anything else for you but happiness and love.”

He nods, placing his hand over yours. “I wish the same for you too, you know.”

“I know.” You leave Remus behind. Your friendship would remain, and for that you were grateful. But you had someone else now. And he was waiting for you in the kitchen.