#sam!girls rejoice

[celiastjamesoscar]

Would That I

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You accidentally ran into someone at a frat party, and she quickly became your best friend. But you fell for her sister, who wouldn’t even give you the time of the day (this is a shitty description)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of weed, alcohol consumption, small joke of role playing sex, jokes about getting salmonella and dying, slight angst. Let me know if I missed any!

My Masterlist

AN: Came from this request here!

Word Count: 6.8K

You could smell the alcohol and weed in the air before approaching the house. It was Halloween night, and you were going to a frat party with your friends, even though you had zero intention of staying longer than ten minutes. You were just here to ‘shake babies and kiss hands,’ as your friend Miles would say.

He was the one hosting this frat party, so of course, you had to show your support for your friend, even though you hated parties and drinking. He was one of the biggest recruiters for his frat house and very well known across the campus for his promiscuous activities, but he wasn’t your typical frat guy. Yes, he loved to drink, party, and sleep around, but he was a nerd. He had been his high school’s team captain of Scholar Bowl his junior and senior year, and led them to a state championship win. And he was also extremely socially awkward; it pained you to watch him interact with people.

“What the actual fuck are you wearing?” Anika questioned as you walked up the stairs to the house. She and Mindy were patiently waiting outside for you, and they both laughed at your outfit. “What? This is a vintage Gucci,” you stated as you did a twirl for the girls.

You were dressed up as Alan Garner from the hangout, and Anika hated to admit it, but you pulled off the cheap fake beard and wig. You also had a fake baby strapped to your chest with cheap sunglasses covering your eyes.

“You are really asking me that, Mr. Worldwide?” You jabbed as you eyed Anika up and down. The girl wore a god-awful bald cap, a black suit, and a white shirt with a shitty penciled-on goatee. “Haters gonna hate,” Anika replied as she pulled a pair of sunglasses out from her jacket pocket and put them on.

You scoffed at the girl before looking at Mindy, “I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“I’m going to have a BF if you insult me,” Mindy scolded as she stared you down. She wore a jean skirt with white pantyhose topped off with a jean jacket and a pink shirt that said ‘Dude, where’s my couture’ in red letters.

“Was this your idea?” You asked with an eyebrow raised.

Mindy scoffed at your words, “Of course not! I wanted to go as Vector but Chad wanted to match,” she said as she rolled her eyes, “So now, I’m from White Chicks instead of Despicable Me.”

“I think you would have made a very sexy Vector,” you admitted with a smile.

“Thank you. At least someone,” Mindy sent Anika a glare, “thinks it would have been sexy.”

Anika rolled her eyes at Mindy, “I told you I’m not having sex with you while you are dressed up like Vector!”

“Okayyyy, this just got weird,” you interrupted as you walked past the fighting couple but stopped just before the door, “you two coming?”

The two quickly stood up and followed you into the house. The smell of alcohol and weed was enough to turn your stomach as you opened the door. You saw partygoers dressed in all different kinds of costumes as you pushed through the crowd and made your way into the kitchen. “I shall have a bottle of Smirnoff, and what will my lady have?” Mindy asked as she dug around the cooler full of alcohol. “I shall have the same, my lord,” Anika replied, and you almost gagged at their conversation.

You politely pushed past Mindy and fished around for a bottle of water, and you quietly rejoiced when you pulled up the last bottle. “Seriously? Water?” Mindy questioned as she glared at you. “Yes, seriously. This is a frat party, and I only know three people here!” You exclaimed while holding your water.

Mindy muttered a quiet ‘whatever,’ and you were going to retort when you felt someone throw their arm around you and pull you into a hug. “How’s my favorite homo doing?” Miles questioned while ruffling your hair. “I’m fine, Miles. Thanks for asking,” Mindy butted in with a slight smile.

Miles let out a small laugh as he left your hair alone and gave Mindy a fist-bump, “I’ve missed you too, Mindy, and you as well, Anika.” Anika smiled at the man as she also fist-bumped him. “Well, me and Y/N here are going to go hunt for some Latinas to hit on, you two gay-bo’s have fun,” Miles said while pulling you off into another room.

“Really? We are going to ‘hunt for some Latinas?’” You questioned as you followed Miles into the living room. People were elbow to elbow, and you had to shout over the loud music to converse with the man. “Obviously! I know your three main things you look for in women, and I bet we can find someone here who is all three,” Miles replied as she slung his arm over your shoulder while scanning the room for a potential hookup for you.

You scoffed at your best friend’s words, “I do not have three things I look for in a woman. I only care about her personality and her thoughts on Dr. Pepper.”

A sound of fake gagging caused you to send a death glare at Miles. “I forgot you're a Dr. Pepper whore,” your friend joked as he started listing your three interests on his fingers. “Number one: you love Latinas, same here. Number two: you love emo chicks; same here again. And finally, number three, you love a woman older than you, and guess what? Same here too!”

“I hate that we are basically the same person in different fonts,” you mumbled under your breath as you shoved yourself off Miles, causing you to bump into a stranger accidentally.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you quickly apologized as you faced the woman. She was close to a foot shorter than you, but had a beautiful smile and seemed like she had a charming personality. “No, it’s okay,” the girl replied slurredly. You could tell this girl was hammered out of her mind, and you had seen the eyes of preying men on her.

Not knowing what to do, you asked her, “Hey, I know we just met, but would you want to go outside with me?” The question was an innocent one; you didn’t want to leave an intoxicated girl who was pushing five feet nothing to fend off men like Frankie. “Sure,” the girl replied with a smile as she grabbed your hand and pulled you outside. You sent Miles a scared smile as the man responded with a comical smile and a thumbs up.

You followed the girl out to a small wooden swing and sat down next to her. “So, what’s your name?” You quietly asked. You had no intentions on hitting on this girl even though she was your type; you were just in need of some new friends, and you thought she could be a good addition.

Not that Anika and Miles were bad friends, you just needed someone else to hang out occasionally.

The girl reached her hand over to you while saying, “I’m Tara; it’s nice to meet you.” You gently shook her hand and sent her a grin, “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The further the night went along, the more you talked with Tara. You two quickly discovered that you both shared a love for art and elevated horror, and you even exchanged numbers with the girl.

“Oh shit,” Tara quietly mumbled as she stood up from the bench. You gave her a puzzled look before standing up as well, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just my sister is freaking out about me right now,” Tara replied as she texted someone back, presumably the sister in question. “You aren’t in any trouble, are you? Because I can try and help to get you out,” you offered, causing Tara to chuckle at your words.

“Thank you, Y/N, but I think Sam would kill you if she ever met you,” Tara joked while looking up at you before returning to typing.

A minute passed before Tara sighed and closed her phone. “Well, I better get back home,” Tara said as she moved in to hug you, but your fake baby got in the way.

You gave Tara an awkward smile as you pulled the girl into a side hug and whispered in her ear, “Babies, am I right?”

“Why do you even have that thing?” Tara asked while flicking its head.

You quickly wrapped your arms around the baby’s head and shielded it from Tara. “Hey! Do not hurt my baby Carlos!” You exclaimed.

“Carlos? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am serious. Do not hate on his name.”

“Why did you pick such an outlandish name?” Tara asked with a smile as she crossed her arms.

You scoffed at the girl’s words, “‘Carlos’ is not an outlandish name, Tara. And besides, it’s from the movie The Hangover.”

Tara chuckled at your words, “Oh my god, my sister loves that movie; she watches it all the time.”

“Is your sister single?” You asked with a playful smirk.

“Ha! Yeah, right. Good luck with that. Sam is pretty reserved,” Tara stated as she slowly started to walk toward the road.

“How come? If you don’t mind me asking,” you asked while following Tara and stopping on the sidewalk beside her.

The girl shrugged while pulling out her phone and texting someone. “Her last relationship ended badly. And ever since then, she’s just been closed off to everyone except me and always stalking me,” Tara admitted while putting her phone away, “but you’ll get a chance to meet her; she’s on her way to pick us up.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, only if you want to come over. I know we just met, but I feel like we could be friends,” Tara admitted with a smile as a black car pulled, parked, and the driver got out.

Tara continued talking to you, but as soon as you saw the driver, you couldn’t hear anything else. She was, to put it lightly, the most attractive woman you have ever seen. She had dark eyes that captivated you and a stern look as she approached you and Tara.

“Who’s this?” The alluring woman asked, and you could only think, ‘You’re future girlfriend’ with a giant smile.

The younger sister beamed at her sister’s question and placed a hand on your back, gently pushing you toward the woman. “Sam, this is Y/N. She’s my friend,” Tara stated.

“Hi,” you breathlessly replied with an awkward smile as you stuck out your hand toward Sam. The woman looked you up and down before scoffing and slapping your hand away. “How come you’ve never mentioned her before?” Sam questioned while crossing her arms.

“Because, Sam, we just met tonight.”

At that, Sam’s eyes instantly widened as she stared at her sister. “Are you serious?! You don’t even know this stranger, yet you came outside to be alone with her?” Sam exclaimed as she checked her sister over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Sam. And besides, Y/N isn’t that bad,” Tara laughed as she felt Sam’s hands check out of her body.

Sam stopped her movements and looked Tara in the eyes, “And how do you know that?”

Tara huffed at Sam’s question and turned to face you, “You aren’t going to murder me, Y/N, are you?”

“Yes, I am,” you joked with a playful smile, but Sam didn’t find it funny.

“Well, at least I get a heads up this time,” Tara chuckled, completely ignoring Sam’s bewildering expression.

Sam took in her sister’s words before shaking her head, shocked, “No, absolutely not. Come on, Tara, we are leaving,” Sam said as she walked to the driver’s side.

“Can Y/N come over at least?” Tara asked with puppy dog eyes and a small frown. Sam hated it when Tara did this, and her younger sister knew it always worked. Of course, Sam knew that Tara was only doing this to get her way, and Sam never denied her sister.

With a quiet ‘goddamnit,’ Sam allowed you to come with them.

“Thank you,” you said once you got into the back of the car and buckled up. You only got a small grunt in response, but you took it as a win.

The car ride was filled with low music and the occasional conversation between the sisters as you admired Sam. You were sitting behind the passenger seat, allowing you the perfect side view to look at Sam. Unbeknownst to you, Sam had caught you staring at her in the rearview mirror but made no verbal comment. ‘Fucking weirdo,’ she thought to herself as she quickly glanced at your love-sick eyes in the mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the Carpenters' apartment, Tara gave you a quick tour of the place and introduced you to their roommate Quinn, who naturally took a liking to you.

While you were on the couch talking with Tara, Quinn walked into the kitchen and found Sam glaring at you.

“She’s certainly something, isn’t she?” Quinn questioned while twirling her hair around her finger. You had taken off the fake beard, wig, and sunglasses and left your baby and baby carrier next to the door, and Sam had to admit, now that she saw your entire face, you were undeniably attractive.

Sam side-eyes Quinn before looking back at you and then back to the redhead. “I thought you were strictly men?”

Quinn chuckled at Sam’s response, “How can I thoroughly enjoy sex if I’ve never been with a woman? They know the female body better than anyone else.”

Not being able to form an argument against Quinn’s words, Sam nodded her head in agreement.

“Wish me luck,” Quinn said as she gently slapped Sam’s back before entering the living room, sitting right next to you.

And for some unknown reason, Sam felt a tinge of jealousy shoot throughout her body, making her hate you all the more.

You and Tara stayed up watching movies while Quinn occasionally hit on you. And when it came time for people to start turning in, Quinn gave it one last shot.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Quinn said as she rubbed her hands on her thighs before standing up, “you can always come sleep with me, Y/N,” she finished with a wink before walking into her room.

Once she was gone, Tara apologized, “I’m sorry about her. She’s like that with everyone.”

“Eh, I don’t mind the boost of confidence,” you replied with a smirk. Tara laughed at your words, and her eyes darted to Sam’s door as it opened.

Sam walked into the living room and glared at you before looking at Tara. “Alright, Tara, I think it’s time for Y/N to go home,” Sam stated as she crossed her arms.

Tara let out a small groan as she threw her head back before standing up. “Alright, Alan, let’s go,” Tara replied as she pulled you off the couch and walked toward the door with you.

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned while watching you, and Tara put on your shoes. “I’m taking Y/N home?” Tara replied with a puzzled look.

“Nuh-uh, nope,” Sam responded as she walked over to the door and stood before it, “you are not leaving here this late at night with her.”

With a scoff, Tara looked between you and her sister, “Well, what do you want her to do then? Walk home?”

“Yes,” Sam immediately replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So it’s not safe enough for me to walk with her, but she can go alone?”

Sam took a few seconds to think about it before responding, “That is correct.”

Tara sighed; she knew there was no point in arguing with Sam, but she got a bright idea. “Well, since you won’t let me take her home, you can,” Tara suggested as she removed her shoes.

“No!” You and Sam exclaimed at the same time but for different reasons. Sam didn’t want to take you home because she did not like you at all. While you, on the other hand, didn’t want to be left alone with the woman because you knew for a fact you would be a blushing mess and wouldn’t be able to form a sentence.

“I’ll take her home,” a voice called from behind you, and you turned to see Quinn leaning against her door frame. The redhead wore a sheer white blouse, and you could see her red lingerie bra.

“I’m fine with that,” you replied too quickly with a smile on your face.

But Sam scoffed at your words before moving to grab her keys. “Absolutely not. Come on, Y/N. I’ll take you,” Sam stated as she pushed past you to open the door. You gave Quinn a small wave and told Tara you would text her as you gathered up Carlos, your fake beard and wig, along with your sunglasses, before following Sam out to her car.

“Thank you for taking me home. I appreciate it, Sam,” you commented as you buckled up. Sam huffed in response as she started her car.

“How do I get to your house?” Sam asked after a few moments of driving down a random street. You told the woman your address, and Sam wanted to scream when she realized it would take almost thirty minutes to get to your house due to traffic.

The car was filled with the heavenly voice of Lana Del Rey as you leaned your head back against the headrest and looked over at Sam. You couldn’t explain it, but Sam was exactly what you would imagine a Lana Del Rey song would look like.

“Stop staring at me; you’re creepy as shit,” Sam said once she felt your eyes on her.

You awkwardly cleared your throat as you uncomfortably shifted in your seat while staring at the floor. “So, Tara told me your favorite movie is The Hangover?” You questioned while fidgeting with your fingers.

A few seconds passed before dryly said, “Yes.” And even more, seconds passed before she added, “I hope Carlos had a fun night.”

You lightly chuckled at the woman’s words as you messed with Carlos’ plastic hands, “Yeah, he had a blast tonight.”

Sam responded with a small ‘mhm’ as she continued driving, enjoying the awkward silence that filled the air.

When Sam arrived at your apartment, she realized that you lived in the nicer part of New York, and she loathed you for it. Not only were you a nuisance, you were more than likely a spoiled rich brat, and Sam could not wait to get rid of you.

“This is me,” you quietly mumbled while getting out of the vehicle with your items in hand as Sam rolled down the window to talk to you, “Thank you for the ride, Sam. I appreciate it,” you said as you pulled out your wallet and handed the woman a ten dollar through the window.

She looked between you and the money before staring into your eyes, “I’m not having sex with you for money.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head. “What? No. No! That’s not what I was implying,” you quickly defended before looking at Sam, “Why would you think?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders before speaking, “Because all you’ve done tonight is stare at me, so you either want sex or want to kill me,” Sam suggested.

“Why would I want to kill you?”

“Because you’re being creepy as shit! And you told Tara you were going to murder her.”

“Okay, fair enough. But I was completely joking about the whole murder thing,” you replied with a small laugh that Sam clearly didn’t find funny. You didn’t know about the past traumas the sisters have gone through together, and Sam knew that you didn’t know, but it didn’t make her feel any better toward you.

“Whatever,” Sam replied as she took your money before driving off.

“Goodnight, Sam!” You exclaimed while the car pulled away, and you sighed before heading to your apartment. Sam might not be the biggest fan of you right now, but you vowed you would win over the woman’s heart, no matter what it took.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winning over Sam was much more challenging than you initially thought it would be. Every time you visited Tara at her place, Sam wouldn’t even acknowledge you, and anytime you would try to talk to her, she would quickly dismiss you. But you were ever the persistent type, and you knew you would eventually wiggle your way into her heart.

It had been exactly four months since you met Tara, and the girl was planning a memorable evening for you two to celebrate the milestone in your friendship.

You approached her apartment door and knocked thrice. Within a few seconds, the door slowly opened and revealed a grumpy Sam. “What do you want?” The woman questioned while looking up and down, her eyes moving to your right hand, “Why do you have flowers?”

“These are for you, actually,” you replied with a smile as you handed Sam her flowers. Sam studied you before reaching out and accepting the flowers, “Thanks, I guess.”

Now, Sam would never admit this even if someone held a gun to her head, but the way she felt knowing that you had gotten her real flowers and not some cheap fake ones from the Dollar Store, it was different. No one had ever brought her flowers before, and especially not in a romantic way, if that’s the game you were playing at.

The Latina studied the flowers and couldn’t help but chuckle at them: lavenders and violets; how subtle you were.

“So,” you said with a cheesy smile, “I’m here to hang out with Tara.”

“Tara! Your weird friend is here!” Sam shouted into the apartment before walking into the living room, with you a few steps behind her.

‘Sweet, that’s exactly how I like to be announced,’ you thought while moving to sit on the couch. You silently watched as Sam walked into the kitchen and threw away the flowers, and it pained you to see the beautiful blooms go to waste.

A few seconds passed when an overly excited Tara came into the living room and jumped onto the couch right next to you.

“Alright, here’s the plan: we order pizza, watch a movie and make some cookies, and then drink wine and paint. Deal?” Tara asked with eagerness and a giant smile on her face. “Sounds like a deal,” you replied while matching her grin. “Good,” Tara exclaimed while jumping off the couch and hunting for her phone to call in the pizza.

When the pizza arrived, you and Tara ate at the kitchen table along with Sam and Quinn. Naturally, the dinner was a bit awkward, as Quinn kept on hitting on you, and Sam would glare at you. You weren’t going to lie; you enjoyed the redhead's attention and were more than eager to answer her questions about your hometown and what you were majoring in.

Once you four had finished the pizza off, Tara set up a movie in the living room while Quinn left to go meet up with one of her many gentlemen callers, leaving just you and Sam in the kitchen.

The Latina watched as you pulled out some cookie dough and began preparing. “You know, you could always help,” you said while turning on the oven and pulling out a baking pan, and cleaning it off.

“I’m good,” Sam dryly replied as she crossed her arms and continued watching you work. You felt uncomfortable with her eyes burning into the back of your skull, “Stop staring; you’re creepy as shit.”

Sam huffed at your words before letting out a sound that sounded like a slight chuckle. “You’re one to talk,” the woman retorted while watching you eat a raw cookie dough bite, “you know you can get salmonella and die from that, right?”

You lightly chuckled at Sam’s as you finished eating the cookie dough, “Then I will be the first person in the history of the world to die from salmonella.”

You ignored the quiet ‘thank god,’ Sam muttered under her breath as Tara entered the room. “How are the cookies coming?” The girl questioned while eating a raw piece of cookie dough as well. “There wouldn't be any if you two keep on eating them,” Sam stated as she pushed you away from the pan and set the pieces of cookie dough on it.

“Why did you do that? I am perfectly capable of setting them out myself,” you said while watching Sam finish placing the cookie dough on the pan. “Because you and Tara would just eat it all,” the older woman replied as she put the pan in the oven and closed the door.

“If you say so,” you retorted as you entered the living room with Tara. You sat on the couch first and allowed Tara to cuddle up next to you as she pressed play on the movie.

You two enjoyed the peaceful comfort that had fallen over you when Sam called out, “Cookies are done,” while walking into the living room. “Seriously, you two? Shrek?” Sam asked while she watched the screen. “Yes, Sam. Shrek is amazing,” Tara retorted as she pushed off you and practically flew into the kitchen.

You gave Sam a tight-lipped smile as you walked past her and ate some cookies with Tara. And soon enough, Sam joined you two in the kitchen.

The woman stared at you as you finished your cookie and walked toward you. “You have something on your lip,” Sam said as she reached out and gently wiped away a piece of chocolate from the corner of your lips. You felt your heart explode at the contact and your knees weaken; you thought you would surely die if Sam kept this up.

She let her thumb linger on your lips before gently swiping it across your bottom lip with a smirk on her own lips before walking off to her room. She didn’t know why she did it, but it stirred something in her as she watched your shocked expression and lustful eyes dance across her face.

“What the fuck was that?” Tara asked as she shoved you once Sam was out of earshot.

“Huh uh,” you replied with a love sock grin as you stared at the hallway Sam disappeared into. The more petite girl gave you a look of disgust before pulling you into the living room to drink and paint, but your mind kept on drifting back to the beautiful woman who hated you as you worked. And before you knew it, you had accidentally painted a picture of Sam. In the painting, she was leaning against a doorframe wearing a skin-tight gray long-sleeve shirt that highlighted her muscles with jeans. A casual outfit you had seen Sam wear numerous times, but she still looked breathtaking.

Her eyes amused you the most in the picture; even though it wasn’t a close-up painting, her dark eyes still seemed to pull you in, and you could faintly see the monster she hid behind them.

You fell head over heels for Sam Carpenter that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once every month, you would go over to Tara’s apartment for wine and painting, and it was probably the one night you looked forward to every month.

Not because you got an excuse to drink and stare lustfully at Tara’s controversial hot sister, but because you enjoyed creating the most horrific art pieces with the girl that no one should ever see.

“What the hell is that?” Tara drunkenly laughed one night after a few too many glasses of wine.

“I don’t know!” You said while watching Tara’s tone. You had created what was supposed to be your version of Sully from Monsters Inc but had made a giant blurb of blue and purple with the slightest resemblance to Ed Sheeran.

“Will you two keep it down?” Sam asked as she walked into the living room, wearing nothing but a bra and shorts.

You choked on your spit when you saw the woman and nearly fainted when a single drop of water ran down her defined abs.

“Sorry about that, Sam,” Tara replied with a drunken smile before returning to her painting, entirely ignorant of your lustful state.

One moment you were sitting next to Tara, and the next, you were in the kitchen next to Sam.

“Hey,” you husked out with a flirtatious smile and a nod as you leaned against the doorframe, trying your best to act sober and calm simultaneously.

“Hi,” Sam suspiciously replied as her eyes racked over your body and took in your drunken state.

“How you doin’?” You asked, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh at your shitty attempt to flirt with her.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Sam asked while getting out a bottle of water and facing you. You shrugged your shoulders as you pushed off the doorframe, “Would you like to come paint with us?”

At the mention of her sister joining in on the activity, Tara yelled from the living room, “Sam! Sammy! You have to come and paint with us!”

Sam sighed at her sister’s words before walking into her room, throwing on a random shirt and grudgingly sauntering into the living room and picking up a blank canvas as she sat beside you.

You three worked in silence as the soft sounds of Hozier filled the air. Sam would occasionally sneak a peek at your work, but you would always hide it. And when she finally got a good look at it, she wished she hadn’t seen it.

“Y/N. Why the fuck did you paint a naked lady?” Sam demanded as she stared at your artwork.

It was a sloppy picture of a woman wearing a white dress with one boob hanging out, and Sam had to admit, those had to be the biggest boobs she’s ever seen. The lady in the painting wore a faint black hat, and somehow, she looked familiar to Sam.

“Do not hate on my lovely wife, Samantha Carpenter. I shall have you know that Lady Dimitrescu is one of the finest women I have ever seen!” You defended while looking over at Sam’s artwork, “And what did you come up with?”

When you leaned over and saw what Sam had made, you couldn’t hide your disappointment. A frown pulled at your lips as you looked at a shitty painting of Sam stabbing you with a knife.

“It was a joke,” Sam whispered as her heart broke at your saddened expression. When she first started it, she felt good about it, and it made her happy. But now that she looked at your hallowed eyes and frowning lips, she wished she hadn't made it.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied as you cleared your throat and stood up, “Well, this has been fun, but I’m going to bed,” you finished as you walked off to Tara’s room and shut the door. You ignored the feeling of Sam’s eyes burning into your back.

“Way to go, Sam,” Tara scoffed as she stood up from the couch and went to her room to check on you. She knew of your feelings for Sam, and Tara tried her best to get her sister to warm up to you, but no matter how hard she worked, Sam refused to bridge.

But Tara didn’t know that Sam went to bed that night with regret plaguing her heart and mind as she went to sleep with the thought of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that awkward night, you stopped coming to the Carpenter’s apartment as much. At first, you would say that you would have homework to catch up on, which was true, but then after a while, you completely stopped coming over at all.

Of course, you would talk to Tara every day, but when she invited you over, you would miraculously have something else to do that prevented you from coming.

“It’s because of Sam, isn’t it?” Tara asked you. The two of you were back at another frat party for Miles, and you were enjoying a peaceful conversation outside when Tara finally asked the question that had been plaguing her mind for weeks. “Pshh, no,” you replied with a shrug.

“Y/N, stop lying to me; I know it’s because of that picture she made,” Tara stated as she stared up at you, “Sam didn’t mean it.”

You scoffed at your best friend’s words while rolling your eyes. “The fuck do you mean she didn’t mean it, Tara!” You exclaimed.

“I mean, she felt bad afterward.”

“Yeah, right. You’re just lying because you want me to come back over.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tara replied with a smile.

You two continued your conversation while occasionally people-watching until it was time to leave. Sam had slowly started to loosen up with Tara, so she was letting her sister go out more as long as she was there to pick up the girl. “Alright, Sam is on her way,” Tara commented when she read a text. You nodded at the girl’s words and tried to hide that you didn’t want to see Sam.

You hadn’t talked to the woman since that night, and you didn’t want to. Even though you were hopelessly devoted to Sam, you were hurt by how she treated you. You had been nice to her, and she would reject all of it, and weirdly, it hurt you to see Sam push you away.

Tara picked up on your pondering thoughts and reached a hand out, and rubbed it up and down your bicep. “Y/N, Sam is a grumpy asshole who is overprotective; don’t take it personally,” Tara said while reaching up to pinch your cheek with a smile.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Sam said as she approached you two. You quickly slapped Tara’s hand away from your face before looking at Sam. You had missed the dark-eyed woman and were glad to see her again, but you were still upset with the woman.

“No, you’re good,” Tara replied as she started following Sam to her car with you beside her.

The walk back to the vehicle was peaceful and filled with small banter between you and Tara, while Sam kept quiet until you ran into a group of drunken girls.

You could tell that they meant trouble before you were anywhere near them. The group was small, only consisting of three girls, but you could tell they were trouble as they stared down Sam when they walked past.

Sam pulled Tara into her side as the group walked by, and the woman said nothing when one of the girls shoulder-checked her.

“Come on,” Sam whispered while pulling Tara closer to her. You sent the group of girls a glance while walking, and you noticed how they stopped and turned around, and began walking behind you and the sisters.

“Hey!” One of the girls called, and Sam didn’t have time to react when she turned to face the girl and had a red slushie thrown on her.

The girls called Sam anything from a murderer to a liar, even to a whore, but Sam continued walking with tears in her eyes. She could handle all of the conspiracy theorist nuts, but she couldn’t handle having Tara see how she was treated.

So, when one girl called Sam a murderer again, you turned around and threw a punch. The sound of bone crunching rang throughout the air when your fist made contact with the girl's nose and was followed up by the girl's cries.

“You need to get your psycho girlfriend in check, you fucking murderer,” another girl cried out as she checked on her friend. You chuckled at the girl’s words and were getting ready to retort when you received a punch from the third girl.

You stumbled backward into Sam, and to your surprise, she caught you and whispered a quiet “I got you,” while you steadied your feet. “Come on,” Tara said as she dragged you and Sam away from the group.

The three of you walked briskly to Sam’s car as blood poured from your nose. When you reached the car, Sam opened her glove box and handed you some tissues, which you graciously accepted. You sat in the back seat while Sam drove, and Tara tried to talk to you.

“Tara, I love you so much, but I am in so much pain right now,” you choked out as you pressed the tissues to your bloody nose. Tara didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but your nose was definitely broken, and she was not going to be the one to put it back in place.

“How are you doing back there?” Sam asked while quickly glancing back at you. “My nose is in my brain!” You exaggerated while holding your nose, and Sam chuckled at your response as she continued driving.

When you got to the Carpenter apartment, the blood had stopped pouring out, and you were thanking the gods as it had completely covered the tissues in crimson blood along with your chin. “Sit on the couch; I’ll be right back,” Tara said as she pushed you and Sam onto the couch.

Tara disappeared into the bathroom and grabbed a first-aid kit before returning to the living room, and she laughed at the sight of you and her sister. The slushie on Sam’s shirt matched the blood that had dried on the tissues and stained your chin, and you both looked like you had gone through hell.

Tara moved the coffee table closer to you and started to work on cleaning it up when Sam stopped her. “I got her, Tara. Go to bed,” Sam softly spoke as she moved the first-aid kit closer to her. Tara gave her sister a questionable look before muttering, “Okay,” and walking off to her room.

You watched as Sam pulled out some alcohol wipes and gently cleaned up your nose, and you let out a slight hiss as the alcohol seeped into a cut on the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” Sam apologized as she finished cleaning your nose, “It’s broken.”

“I know,” you groaned, and Sam lightly laughed at your response. “I can pop it back into place for you,” Sam offered.

“Hell no,” you replied, laughing, “I would need lidocaine with epinephrine injected into my nose and then lidocaine sprayed into my nose! Then you would need a device to basically reach my brain and put a shit ton of pressure on my nose with it and your fingers to fix it!”

“Well, I’ll take you to the ER tomorrow so we can get it fixed,” Sam asked as she got up from the couch and saw the backpack you had left over before you went to the frat party with Tara.

“Y/N, what’s this?” Sam asked as she moved your bag and pulled out a painting. You whipped your head around at the woman’s words and instantly stood up from the couch and moved to her side. “That’s nothing,” you quickly said as you tried to prevent Sam from looking at it, but it was too late.

When Sam picked up the painting, she felt her stomach do involuntary flips, and her breath hitched in her throat; it was a painting of her and not just a normal one. She noticed imperfections about her that you saw as perfect through the gentle brush strokes, and she felt herself fall for you.

“I’m not one of your French girls,” Sam joked as she set the painting back down, but you noticed the smile that threatened to appear and how her eyes bravely traveled to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam added as she gently placed a small kiss on your cheek before going to her room.

You had no idea how you did it, but you somehow managed to make Sam Carpenter fall for you and you could not wait to see where it would take you.

[maryrouille]

It's Amy Winehouse, but with female rage. About Back to Black (dir. Sam Taylor-Johnson) 2024

Recently, a film telling the life story of the British singer Amy Winehouse was released. I came here to talk a little about the aesthetics of this film, which, by the way, cannot be accused of poor music (Marisa Abela sings Amy's songs in her own voice and she does it brilliantly!) or ugly shots.

In the film we see the transformation from a rebellious teenager with a guitar into an emotionally and behaviorally unstable woman (without a guitar). Of course, this turn of events could have been reflected in Amy's real life, but one gets the impression that the film is set in a different time. It feels like the 2000s have been filtered, sugar-coated, and embedded somewhere in the 2024 aesthetic of angry girlbloggers on Tumblr.

Romanticizing drinking alcohol and mental instability

You probably know the tendencies related to #just girly things and the explanation of all depressive states and tantrums by just being a girl. It is a kind of expression of the life and consciousness of today's young girls living in the rather unoptimistic times of social media and consumerism. But is this aesthetic good for Amy's story? It seems to me that romanticizing alcohol, drugs and blind love leading to complete self-loss and ultimately death is a poor approach.

And while watching the film you definitely feel that something is wrong, but at the same time you fall into this beautified world. Amy's life was darker and more brutal, and her problems were not only limited to matters of the heart, glass and flashbulbs of cameras. Unfortunately, living with addictions is dirty and disgusting. And you can't put a bow on it. But it seems to be a sign of our times.

You Know I'm No Good (song)

Adding the ending to this song title: but I'm not going to rehab. And here we should ask the question about the level of public awareness in 2008 (the year when Amy received five Grammy Awards) and today. In 2024, acceptance and knowledge about all behavioral therapies, addiction treatment and toxic relationships is much greater. And Back to Black, under the guise of nice outfits, make-up and a few minor falls, gives the impression of being up-to-date.

Will someone watch this movie and say they want to live like Amy (just like it was with Coppola's Priscilla)? This is quite possible, because in the end we get the image of a slightly rebellious femme fatale and a slightly weak girl who is harmed by others. And many of us would fit this description.

Live fast, die young, be wild and have fun (song)

Finally, I have to quote Lana del Rey, because today's girl blogging draws from her in handfuls. Is joining the 27 Club really that romantic? The departure of such young people from the world is primarily a tragedy, which later becomes a beautiful myth. That's why it's worth mentioning Lana's example here. She uses aesthetics very well and, above all, separates moving around motifs and drawing visual inspiration from them from real life.

To sum up, movie Back to Black is really worth seeing. However, it is also worth being aware that this is a colorful fiction for 2024 built around the true story of Amy Winehouse.

Edit 24/04/24: I have to mention the update here. I just came across an article from British Vogue that confirms my thesis about drawing inspiration from image of Amy (also Kate Moss, so heroin chic is back in fashion?) Quoting a fragment of the article:

The legacy of Winehouse also lives on in Back to Black, due for release on 12 April. (...) While we’re in no way condoning or glorifying the hobbies of Winehouse and her erstwhile friend Doherty, there was a scene during that time and a smudgy, smeary aesthetic that somehow worked.

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch12: Dear Dad

Summary: A new enemy makes herself known... Referenced Episodes: S1 E16 "Shadow" CW: Gore. John Winchester should be his own warning. Word Count: 5399 Recommended Song: Cold as Ice -- Foreigner Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

The boys were rejoicing over the return of their father. I watched with bated breath, worried that something would go wrong. I still had that unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach and something told me not to let my guard down. I brought the neck of my t-shirt to my split lip and dabbed at the slow trickle of blood.

"Dad, it was a trap," Dean said quietly as he separated himself from his father's warm embrace, almost sounding embarrassed. "I didn't know. I'm sorry." The way he talked made my skin prickle, as if this was the only person who could command Dean's respect. I had never seen him, or Sam for that matter, bow to anyone like this. It made my skin crawl that Dean fell into a kind of obedience that he had with no one else.

"It's alright. I figured it might have been," John replied. He sounded so sure of himself.

"Then why are you here?" I demanded. The words came out much more spiteful than I had intended, earning me a harsh glare from Dean. I shrugged it off and held John's cold gaze. Neither my wolf nor I liked the commanding presence he held. He stood as if he owned the room and dominated the space, an admiral trait amongst humans. But to me… it felt like a threat.

John's gaze was harsh and cold, like a bitter winter. It felt like he was analyzing every inch of me and judging me based on what he saw. I didn't like the calculating look he was giving me.

"I came to help my sons," he said icily, and his no-nonsense tone caused me to narrow my eyes at him. "Mind telling me who the hell you are?"

Dean jumped into action without a second thought. "She's a hunter. A friend of ours." John didn't even look his way and instead held my firm gaze. He didn’t buy it – the brothers knew better than to hunt with people that weren’t part of the family.

I uttered my name coldly and extended my hand to John. "I'm new to the business."

John's brown eyes narrowed in thought, pondering what I had said. "You got any family in the business?" My skin itched. He really put it together that quickly?

I nodded. "Yeah. My uncle. I saw his phone number in our journal, you know. He never told me about you." I crossed my arms and did my best to look intimidating. It was harder than I anticipated, knowing that I was inadvertently defying a well-known hunter, a man that his sons, my friends, looked up to with a great deal of respect.

Dean’s head snapped in my direction the moment I mentioned the phone number. My gaze slipped to his for just a second, shooting him a cold look. Now he understood. He looked sheepish, realizing he had blown off such an important conversation.

I nearly had a heart attack when John cracked a subtle grin. "Funny," he said slowly. "I remember him. Good man, better hunter. He never mentioned you either." He grasped my hand tightly and shook it. "Thank you for looking out for my boys. I know they can be a handful."

I flashed my own grin and nodded. "You wouldn't believe the shit they've gotten into while you were gone."

He chuckled and clapped Dean on the shoulder. Dean smiled a genuine smile, one of the few I had ever seen him show. "I bet I could tell you stories about these two you that would have your head spinning," John laughed again, a well-worn sound, as though he used to laugh a lot. "You boys remember that hunt outside of San Antonio? With the rugaru? You boys just about-"

"Dad," Sam interjected with an almost warning note. John looked towards his youngest son, a flash of pain dancing over his eyes. "When did you get here?"

John swallowed before speaking again. "About the same time as your friend, I assume. Burst in right before the girl took a swan dive," he paused and looked towards the now broken window. "She was the bad guy, right?"

"Yes, sir," the boys said in sync. John nodded slowly, pondering as he took a few long strides towards the window.

"Good. That doesn't surprise me," he sighed and locked his hands behind his back, surveying his limited view of the city block. "It's tried to stop me before."

"The demon has?" questioned Sam, walking up behind his father. John nodded solemnly.

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcize it or send it back to hell- actually kill it." My eyes widened. Demons can't be killed, at least not to my limited knowledge they can't. And how did John expect to kill a demon of this caliber? From the stories I had heard, this thing was no joke.

"How?" Dean asked, voicing the very question I was asking myself.

"I'm working on that," his father responded. I frowned at the vague answer. Was he really not going to involve his boys in this? They had just as much of a right to know as anyone. I opened my mouth to retort but was cut off by Sam.

"Let us come with you," the youngest Winchester said. It was more of a command than a question. "We'll help."

Dean flashed a warning glare toward Sam and turned away from his family, reaching for his bag of weapons. My eyes followed Dean's reserved and surprisingly defeated-looking form. It was like he already knew this was going to go nowhere.

"No, Sam, not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in a crossfire. I don't want you hurt," John stated with a note of finality in his voice.

Sam clenched his jaw and balled his fists. His teeth ground together, as though he was trying to hold himself back from arguing. "Dad, you don't need to worry about us-"

"Of course, I do," John argued. "I'm your father." He sighed and ran a hand through his mussed hair, a bit of it sticking up with dried blood from where I had hit him. I felt a mix of pride and shame; pride, for landing a blow like that to one of the most famous hunters in America, and shame, for having fought him at all. "Listen, we can talk about this more when we get back to your hotel room."

Dean perked up at this, eyes wide with relief as he spun to face John. "You're coming with us?"

"For now," he answered. "I'll meet you there." He paced towards his fallen weapons bag and slung it over his shoulder, then stopped to think for a moment. He turned to me, emotions masked under his heavy gaze. "How about you ride with me. You can help give me directions to the hotel."

My heart thumped in my chest with worry. Was he already on to me?

Dean spoke up before I could answer. "Dad, you can just follow us-"

"It's alright, Dean," I said, holding up a hand. His jaw snapped shut, eyes filled with worry. It struck me just how much he almost looked like a puppy when John was around. He lost his bruising confidence and command as soon as John and I fell through the door. "I can handle myself." Dean's gaze hardened at my words. He knew what I really meant.

If John was going to find out who I really was, it would be on my terms. He wasn't going to find out what I was that easy.

The eldest Winchester nodded and motioned for me to follow him down the many stairs I had climbed up not that long ago. I sidestepped over the fallen door on the ground floor and followed him out of the building.

I realized that the pickup I had seen park a few alleys down was in fact his. I couldn't help but beat myself up over not putting two and two together – I couldn't have known, but I should have known.

To my surprise, the cab of the pickup smelled a lot like the boys – or rather, the boys smelled a lot like their father. The seats were worn and stained, and the scent of cheap beer hung in the air. It was the same beer scent that hung off Dean. Apparently, he and his father had similar tastes. John had an interesting smell, one of motor oil and beer, like when he wasn't hunting he was under his vehicle doing something. I remember the brothers mentioning that he was a mechanic before all this happened. Old habits die hard, I guess.

"You know, I've heard of you before. I dropped by Missouri Moseley's place not long after you three visited her."

My brows rose and I cocked my head to look at him. He stopped by Missouri’s, but didn’t bother to find his sons? And now he was just conveniently close enough to Chicago to be here for this hunt. Was he… following us? "Yeah? That was my first case with your boys," I answered coolly, fighting to keep the suspicion out of my tone.

John hummed thoughtfully, his eyes fixated on the dark road ahead. His brows knit together for a moment and he turned his face away from me, shrouded in shadow. "Where'd you say they picked you up?"

"Alabama. Few months back."

"Right. Alabama."

We drove along for only a few minutes, the Impala steadily distancing itself from us. As the boys turned a corner and disappeared from sight, John jerked the wheel in the opposite direction and turned sharply. I extended my hands to hold onto the dash, for fear of being knocked over. He guided the raised truck to a parking spot and halted.

The moment was tense with the two of us sitting in complete silence. I picked at the hem of my coat, borrowed from Dean, and waited for him to speak.

John inhaled deeply and clenched his hands on the steering wheel, holding it with a white knuckle grip. "You know," he started, his voice rough, "I hunted with your… uncle a few times. Got to know him pretty well. He never once mentioned anything about having a niece." His brown eyes latched onto my own, surveying me with deep suspicion and distrust. "The only family he ever mentioned was his sister, and I was told she died on a werewolf hunt years ago."

I swallowed dryly, lifting my chin in defiance. "So what? You trying to say you don't think I am who I say I am?"

"I think something is off about you," he grumbled. "You're hiding something."

"I can assure you, I'm not," I growled. "He was my uncle, and his sister was my mother."

"That would make you as old as Dean, for that to be plausible." Yeah, just about. Only a couple years younger. He leaned back in his seat and placed one hand on his hip to where I was sure he concealed some sort of weapon. "Something about your story doesn't check out, and I'll be damned if I let someone I don't trust around my boys."

I bit back a warning growl. "With all due respect, John, while your boys have been gallivanting around the country searching for you, I was the one helping them." I scowled at him, grimacing with distaste at his words. "If I wanted to hurt them, I've already had ample opportunities."

His fist clenched over his hip and a worn scowl rested on his face. I maintained the heated stare-down for what felt like years before he finally dropped his and looked out the front window.

"So what's the story?" he inquired. "What happened to your mom?"

I huffed and leaned back in my seat with my arms crossed. "She, uh, died on a hunt not long after I was born. I lived with my father. He left when I was seventeen... I moved in with my uncle after that."

It wasn't completely a lie. No, my mother hadn't died, but John didn't need to know that. That would have just raised even more questions that I either couldn't or didn't want to answer. And yeah, I had lived with my dad after she 'died,' but I had also lived with my mom.

"Why'd your dad leave?" he pressed, pulling a toothpick from the glove compartment and sliding it between his teeth.

I shrugged. "Hell if I know. Guess he just finally got fed up with me." No, he got fed up with living without her, I thought to myself. Despite their volatile and frequent fights they loved each other. “I look like her. That’s what my uncle said,” I tacked on hurriedly, building the story. Again, only a half lie.

John hummed in response and rolled his tongue over his teeth. I lifted a brow at the motion. Sam had the same habit when he was lost in thought. "Where is your uncle? Haven't heard from him in a while."

I stiffened, eyes glazing over as I stared out the window in front of me. John really didn't know? "He's dead," I mumbled. "Almost two years ago. Wraith hunt." I rubbed my eye, fighting back the occasional tear that wanted to slip through. Thinking about his death was one thing, but telling someone else about it made it feel so much more real...

"Shit," John whispered. "He was a good hunter."

No 'I'm sorry'? Seriously?

"Yeah," I mumbled back. "Yeah, he was. The best, I think."

"Did he ever get the wolf that got your mom?" John asked. I scoffed. Right back to hunting, like I wasn't suppressing the urge to cry. "He'd mentioned wanting to a few times."

"No," I sighed. "And, uh… he didn’t think it was a werewolf that killed her."

That caught John's attention. His head slowly turned to face mine, eyebrow raised and eyes holding a question in them. "If it wasn't a werewolf, then what was it?" Fuck… I should’ve kept my damn mouth shut.

"Um… you know about skinwalkers, right? Dean mentioned you went on a hunt when the boys were little."

“Yeah, I know of ‘em. They're just myths. If they did exist, they're all dead now."

I felt my hackles rise and fought the urge to growl at him. "Then what about your hunt?"

He shrugged. "I got a tip-off that there was some activity in the mountains of New Mexico. Small city nearby, people disappearing and then their bodies turning up with almost no distinguishable marks – all of them had their hearts missing. Wasn’t a full moon, so couldn’t have been a werewolf." My skin prickled as I felt him turn his heated stare toward me with that cold, calculating feeling that made my skin crawl. “I’ve seen a few similar cases since then. Nothing fruitful, though.” 

“Makes sense if they’re extinct,” I grumbled.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "There was a local legend, probably spread by the Navajo – they're native to that area, you know, and the deserts around it like Arizona. Anyway, a bunch of locals were talking about seeing wild wolves with red eyes. Massive wolves apparently, bigger than any dog. When I went out there and looked around, there was nothing. No wolves, no bodies, no trace of nothing. Even the witnesses had either moved away or refused to talk and acted like they hadn't seen anything. I tried to work the case, but there was nothing to go on."

I shifted in my seat and turned my upper body to face him. "The lack of a case doesn't negate their existence."

John chuckled again, an airy, disbelieving sound. "No, but it doesn't prove their existence either. I haven't heard about a fresh skinwalker case in years. Last person I met who actually saw one is probably in her late eighties now. Hell, even then she wasn't sure what she saw. Said it was just as likely to have been a Chupacabra," he hummed and turned his dark, almost black eyes on me. "What makes him so sure it was a skinwalker that did her in?"

I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, searching for a feasible answer and finding none. "Dunno. He never… found any real facts. Just a feeling, I guess," I finally said, my voice lacking the confidence I felt.

John laughed once before putting the truck back into drive and pulling away from the curb. "On a hunt, the only thing that a feeling will get you is dead."

I narrowed my eyes at him and leaned forward slightly as he accelerated the heavy truck, the engine roaring to life. "I think feelings are important on a hunt. Without them, it becomes more about the thrill of the kill and less about saving a life."

He mulled this over for a few seconds before speaking. "Feelings save people, yeah. But the lack of it wipes out monsters. There's a reason why we don't have skinwalkers or vampires anymore - someone lacked those feelings. And now, those monsters can't hurt anyone again."

I straightened in my seat, utterly surprised by his coldness. I had never met anyone with such a dark philosophy. Even my uncle, an incredibly skilled and well-known hunter, valued compassion for the victims over the death of the monster. I sat back against my seat, staring out the window with wide eyes.

I blinked twice, realizing that I could never alert John to what I really was. If I did, he'd certainly kill me. God, to even bring skinwalkers up was so fucking stupid. What the hell was I thinking?

"You know," he started. I refused to turn my eyes toward him. "I'm glad someone like you is with the boys. You don't seem like the type to put up with their shit."

"No," I stated. "No, I try not to put up with anyone's shit."

"Good. The boys need that, for when I'm not around."

I bristled, my shoulders tensing. I’m nothing like you. The remainder of the trip back to the hotel was silent, aside from the occasional direction on how to get there. I was thankful when he parked and I was out the door before he had even unbuckled his seat belt.

I threw my backpack on, slinging it over my shoulders, and rushed to our hotel room. I tossed the door open and leaned against the wall, catching my breath. God, that was nerve-wracking.

The brothers poked their heads out from the kitchen where they were organizing weapons on the kitchen table. Dean's eyes widened and then quickly narrowed, a million thoughts rushing through his head.

"I told you not to come!" he shouted just as John pushed the door open. "I told you to stay put! What if you had gotten hurt!?"

"Lay off, Dean," John said, dropping his own pack on the bed nearest the door. "She was just looking out for you, just as you would have done for her."

Dean was fuming and he raked his fingers through his hair angrily, giving it a slight tug. "She defied a direct order, dad!" I scoffed and pushed past him, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. Sam gave me a pitying glance as I threw my bag on the second bed and flopped into the other unoccupied kitchen chair.

"Sounds familiar," John retorted. "She must’ve gotten it from you."

I suppressed a chuckle, catching Sam's hazel eyes as he fought the urge as well. Dean sputtered and from this angle, I could see his ears flush a deep red. John's eyes flitted around the shabby room, taking the place in before landing on Sam. His eyes warmed and then clouded over with deep sadness and longing. I recognized that look. It was a regret.

"Sammy," he sighed and crossed the room to his youngest son, who stood from his chair to meet him. "Last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes, sir," Sam said, his eyes tearing up a bit. It surprised me to see Sam on the verge of tears. I knew they fought before Sam left for college, but I never knew what about or how bad. I felt it wasn't really my business, nor did Sam want to discuss it.

"It's good to see you again," John said, his own eyes moist. "It's been a long time."

"Too long," Sam added, gripping his shorter father in a tight hug like this was their last chance at rekindling their relationship.

In all honesty, it might have been. Not even a beat after the two separated, John was suddenly thrown across the room, his back hitting the cabinets roughly.

"No!" Dean screamed, rushing towards him before being tossed in the opposite direction like a limp rag.

"Dean!" I screamed. Sam rushed towards his father, who screamed as something tore into his chest.

I felt an icy sensation as something sunk into my back and shoulder and slid down my back. My back burned and I screamed, spinning and ripping the flesh more as whatever it was unhooked its claws from me. I could see the red seeping into my vision once more, but I shoved it back when I heard Dean scream my name and point toward his bag.

I lunged towards it and dragged it off the table, pulling it onto the floor and rifled through its contents. There had to be something in here that would produce enough light to ward these shadow demon things off.

I screamed again as I felt icy talons dig into the back of my thigh and suddenly I was being dragged backward on my stomach, pulling the bag with me. The thing tore into my leg, shredding whatever muscles and tendons it could reach while I tossed contents out of the bag.

Finally, my hand clenched around the familiar shape of a flare and I held the object high above my head as the Daeva ripped through my leg like a piece of paper. I screamed through clenched teeth as I uncapped the flare and tossed it on the ground.

The room filled with blistering white heat and the icy feeling in my leg was replaced with burning pain. My eyes swam with unshed tears. I wasn't sure if the blinding light or the pain was making me cry. My head lolled forward and I vaguely heard the brothers screaming around me.

My eyes struggled to focus on a bulky shape as it slipped toward the door. I blinked and grimaced in pain as I lay backward. My mangled shoulder hit the floor and I hollered in pain, lifting a hand to my mouth to suppress it.

Suddenly I was rising, a weight gently pushing into the undamaged areas of my back and another hooking under my knees. I curled into a ball against the chest of whoever had lifted me. Blood dripped onto my face and I had half a mind to look at where it was coming from – or rather, who it belonged to.

My rescuer coughed from the smoke of the brilliantly white flare. I clenched my eyes shut from the pain and the searing light. Suddenly, the cold air hit my exposed back and I whimpered, clutching tighter onto the swath of fabric under my palm.

"Dean!" I heard Sam shout and pound toward us. "Is she alright?"

"Fuck no, I'm not alright!" I shouted into Dean's shirt. "My leg looks like fucking spaghetti!"

Dean chuckled morbidly and set me down on the hood of the Impala on my stomach, keeping my mangled back and leg clear of the still warm metal. I pressed my elbows to the hood and attempted to prop myself up. He brushed my hair out of my face to get a good look at my feverish eyes and red complexion.

"At least you're alive," he offered weakly and rid himself of his jacket, exposing the brown flannel underneath and pressing it to my leg. I howled and gripped his arm, digging my nails into the soft flesh. "Keep pressure on that," he said before limping towards his brother and father.

"Come on, we don't have much time!" Sam shouted, wrenching one of the back doors of the Impala open and ushering his father inside. John didn't move. "As soon as that flare goes out, they'll be back!"

"Wait, wait. wait! Sam, hold on a second!" Dean shouted, gripping his father's arm to keep him steady. He looked forlornly towards John, a look of regret on his handsome, but bloody, features. "Dad can't come with us..."

"What!?" I screeched from the hood of the car, doing my best to turn and face the boys without causing any more damage. "You've spent months looking for this motherfucker, and now you're telling him to leave!?"

"Dean, what are you talking about!?" Sam demanded, tossing his arms in the air in frustration.

John sighed and pulled his arms from Dean's grasp. He shuffled away from the side of the Impala and walked along its edge to where I sat. "You all are beat to hell," he mumbled out, exhaustion written on his leathery features. He ran a calloused hand through his hair, matted with blood.

"We'll be alright," Dean stated reassuringly.

"Like hell, we are, Dean!" Sam shouted, floundering and dripping blood onto the roof of the car. "We need to stick together! We'll go after those demons-"

"Sam, listen to me!" Dean snapped, cutting his brother off. "We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop. They're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He- he's stronger without us around."

I flinched at the brutality of his words. My head swam with thoughts and profuse pain - wouldn't he be in just as much danger on his own?

 I blinked and my head swam. When my eyes opened again, the edges of my vision were dark and out of focus. I blinked a few more times to refocus on the situation at hand. Focus on the pain after the job. My uncle used to say that a lot, especially when he came home from a rough hunt.

I remembered my first hunt with him – nothing special, just a wendigo that was rampaging through campsites in the Rockies. My hips had gotten cut up pretty bad – I had wanted to call it quits. I felt like I couldn't run, let alone shift and hunt the bastard down.

Focus on the pain later.

Do the job now.

Focus on the pain later.

When I opened my eyes, John was pressing a firm hand to my temple, stemming a flow of blood that I hadn't even realized was escaping. I blinked to clear my eyes and focus on his scruffy visage. His eyes held a certain earnesty and sadness in them. My ears were ringing as he spoke to me.

"Take care of my boys," he said, fear leaking into his voice. "They're all I've got left." I winced at the pounding in my skull and nodded. He smiled softly. "Your uncle would be proud of you."

And with that, he was gone, the only reminder of him being a warm feeling left on my cheek, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

—

"I can walk just fine on my own, asshat," I grumbled to a frustrated Sam. I gripped my crutches tightly as I made my way out the hospital door.

"Yeah right," Sam retorted, placing a large hand on my lower back to help guide me towards the car. "The doctors wanted you to stay overnight-"

"Yeah, and what are the doctors going to say when in two days they can't see their patient's bone anymore?" I glowered at Sam. The damage was bad, but not bad enough for me to stay around humans for this long. "I'll be going now, and I'm taking my exposed bone with me, thank you," I snapped as I did my best to shrug on Dean's now shredded coat. This had quickly become my favorite article of clothing, despite it being covered in blood and vomit, and now having deep slash marks down the back. I thought it gave it character.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it. "Dean's not going to be happy when he sees what happened to his coat."

"Dean can suck my metaphorical dick," I hissed. "You said he doesn't wear it anymore anyway - why did he even have it?"

"He uses it for a pillow when we're driving."

"Guess he'll have to get a new pillow then," I said as I used my crutches to propel me forward and towards the Impala. "When is he getting out?"

"He said he'll be discharged in a few minutes," Sam replied as we stopped beside the car. He unlocked the Impala and opened the door for me. "He just has to pay the bill and then we're done."

"You mean some poor sap whose credit card you stole has to pay the bill?" I teased as I attempted to slide my crutches into the car and then sneak in beside them. I hissed as my ankle caught on the edge of the car and I fought to lift my leg without any more pain.

"You alright?" Sam asked from his place by the door.

"Yep, I'm fine," I hummed. "But are you OK? I mean... you didn't seem too happy about... everything..."

Sam laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. I get it, why dad had to leave again. I'm not happy about it, but I'm fine."

I opened my mouth to speak again but was interrupted by Dean limping towards us. "Oh, look who finally decided to show up!" I said, tossing my hands in the air. "And how come they didn't give you crutches!?"

"Because my leg doesn't look like it went through a blender," he sassed. "Listen, we need to get out of here before those Daevas come back. I want to be long gone before they show up here again."

Sam nodded and shut the door on me before sliding into the passenger's seat. I leaned forward and peaked over Sam's shoulder as Dean got into the car. "So where to?"

Dean spun in his seat and propped his elbow up on the back of his chair. He glared pointedly at me. "You are going home. Sam and I will probably rest up for a few days and then go back to hunting."

I frowned. "What, so I get shredded by shadow demons and you guys just toss me?"

Dean laughed. "I don't know what the hell they gave you for the pain, but I'm pretty sure it removed your filter."

"Shut it," I pouted, dropping back into my seat and crossing my arms over my chest. "In my defense, I feel like I just went through a blender. I think I'm allowed some sass, thank you."

"Save it for your family, Clifford," he said, earning a robust laugh from Sam. "You'll be home in..." he checked his watch, "I'd say thirteen or fourteen hours. You can gripe and complain all you want then."

"Or," I said, drawing out the word as I leaned forward, "I could harass you boys the whole way there. Maybe jump out of the car. After all, you guys put me in this situation."

"Woah, wait a minute!" said Dean, holding up a hand as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. "Last I checked, I told you to stay put."

"Should have barricaded the door, Dean. You should know as well as anyone that I don't listen to anyone but myself."

Dean grumbled as Sam and I laughed, profusely teasing Dean until he finally hushed us by playing some music. Despite the pain in my leg and back, I couldn't help but be filled with joy. Again, I had succeeded in, to put it plainly, not dying while with the boys.

And better yet, I finally felt ready to see my pack again.

[arceespinkgun]

🔊🎶TF JAZZ PLAYLIST🪩✨

Listen to this playlist on YouTube! I've been working on this for a while now and I'm finally ready to share it with everybody—it's the playlist I listen to when I draw or write about Jazz! Since Jazz is very musical, this is also the longest character playlist I've made so far.

“Everybody Dance” Chic // "Dance Electric" The Pointer Sisters // “He's the Greatest Dancer” Sister Sledge // “Material Girl" Madonna // “Music Box” Evelyn "Champagne" King // “I Could” Kimberley Locke // “(Somebody) Ease my Toublin' Mind” Sam Cooke // “Lonely Girl in a Cold Cold World” Jean Carn // “This Time of Year” June Christy  // “Sometimes Like Butterflies” Donna Summer // “What's On Your Mind” George Benson // “Yesterday Once More” The Carpenters // “Secret Tears” Lou Rawls // "Somewhere (Alternate Version)" Aretha Franklin // "Come in from the Rain" Cheryl Lynn // "Hero (Wind Beneath My Winds)" Gladys Knight & the Pips // "That's What Friends are For" Dionne Warwick // "Take It to the Top" Kool & the Gang // "Walking in the Sunshine" Ella Fitzgerald // "Rejoice" The Emotions

[artyandink]

we can be more | dean winchester | 9

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

CROSSROAD BLUES

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :  CROSSROAD BLUES - ROBERT JOHNSON

“Hey, jellybean.” Dad smiled into the camera, sharpening his knife. “This hunt is pretty dangerous, I’ll have to admit. These vamps are beating the hell out of me.” 

“Hey, Mick!” A hunter yelled. “Are you talkin’ to your daughter again?” 

“Oh, come on, Ed, you’d do the same if you had one.” Dad retorted. “It’s a shame that no girl’s ever looked your way, huh?” He turned back toward the camera. “Y’know, I’d give anything to be home with you. I’ve been such a bad father these past few years. I missed your graduation. Your orientation day in Princeton too. You didn’t even go to prom because you wanted to see me come back from a hunt but I didn’t until a few weeks later. I think…” His voice broke off. 

There were happy shouts in the background, but Dad didn’t seem so happy. 

“I think that the last time I’ll ever see you is this picture I keep in my pocket.” He pulled it out, taking a look. “I keep you with me every day. I love you so much, jellybean, but I don’t think I’m comin’ back. I know I promised, I know, but I don’t think I am. I trained you to keep yourself safe. Keep your mother safe. And Lils, and Carter too, because if I don’t come back then I don’t know what sorta things will come after your blood and I know they will, so please, be safe. You’re a Rainer, Ivonne, don’t ever forget that. I love you more than life itself, sweetheart. Don’t come looking for me. I’m sorry.” 

I gasped once I saw the video message, immediately searching for my phone. I dialled my mom frantically, holding the phone to my ear. 

“Please, please…” I muttered, pacing and trying to keep tears from falling. 

‘Honey?’ My mum answered. ‘What’s wrong?’ 

“Mom, Dad’s in trouble. He sent me a message saying that this could be the last he sees me, but I…“

‘Did he tell you where he was?’ 

“No, he just told me not to look-“ 

‘Then don’t. He’s said it for a reason. The term’s almost over, wait for another message and if not, come straight home, ok?’ She cut the call, and I collapsed on my bed, hyperventilating. 

What if I never see him again? 

I can’t do any of this without him.

“So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database.” Sam sighed, checking the police database and showing us the mugshots of Dean. 

“Dude. It’s like I’m Dillinger or somethin’.” Dean grinned excitedly. 

“Mhmm.” I nodded. “You’re a wanted criminal in the FBI’s database, which is a huge drawback cause we travel everywhere, and you’re rejoicing. But hey, at least they got your good angles.” 

“Well, what do they got on you two?” 

“Nothing on me, cause James managed to clear me of all charges.” 

“You’re lucky your police boy could help out.” 

“Well, I caused no evident law breaking, so they can’t press.” 

“What about Sammy?” 

“I’m sure they haven’t posted it yet.” Sam muttered. 

“What? No accessory, no nothing?” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re jealous.” Dean laughed. 

“No, I’m not!” Sam protested, giving Dean a look. 

“As if someone would be jealous of being wanted for murder, breaking and entering, escape and grave desecration.” I scoffed. 

“What do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young woman, you?” Dean grinned, so I looked at the case file. 

“Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed.” 

“Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?” 

“Two days before.”

”And did he actually say ‘black dog’?” 

“Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog.” Sam nodded. “The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive.” 

“Do you think we’re dealing with an actual black dog?” 

“Maybe.” 

“What’s the lore on it?” 

“It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but... some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty.” 

“Well, it could be a death omen.” I suggested. “Spectral black dogs never attack without reason. We could be dealing with a Grim sort of thing. Like, you know, Harry Potter.” 

“You have… the Grim.” Dean mimicked, making us all laugh. 

“So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?” Sam asked. We were interviewing his business partner. 

“That's right. Now one more time, this is for...?” 

“A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest.” The man laughed, drawing a weird look from us. “This funny to you?” 

“No, it... it's just, a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind... well, he gets another tribute.” 

“Right.” Sam nodded. “Any reason why he would do such a thing?” 

“I, I have no clue, I mean he lived a charmed life.” 

“How so?” 

“He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I... and it wasn't always that way, either.” 

“No?” I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms. 

“You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive.”

”What changed?”

”You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing... he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart...” He trailed off. 

“What?” 

“It's funny. True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why... why just throw it away?”

“So…” Sam drummed on the glove box. “Dean.”

”What about Dean?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

”You two care for each other a lot.”

“That’s natural.” 

“A lot.” 

“What are you implying?”

”That you and my brother could be a… a thing… someday.” 

“Keep dreaming.” I laughed. “Dean and I have a good thing goin’. Plus, he flirts with every girl his age he sets his eyes on.” 

“If you say so.” Sam grinned, nudging me. “In the meantime, you can flirt with James Rhodes. Keep your options open-“ 

“Shut up.” We started giggling, but then Dean came back.

”So?” 

“Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real.” Dean grinned. 

“Spare the details of your latest hookup, Dean.” I sighed. “What did you get on the black dogs?” 

“Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all. And, uh,” He pulled off a post-it note from his clipboard, “I don't know what this thing is.” I took it and raised an eyebrow, handing it to Sam. 

“I have no idea what this is.”

“You mean Carly’s MySpace address?” Sam chuckled. 

“Yeah, MySpace, what the hell is that?” Dean frowned. “Is that some dating site or somethin’?” 

We had been round most houses, but they were just cases of barking Pomeranians. Naturally, Deans as starting to get mad. 

“I swear, if this is another freakin' Pomeranian barking in the neighbour’s yard...” He knocked on the next door, and a lady opened it, looking nervous.

”Afternoon, ma’am.” I flashed my badge. “Animal control.” 

“Oh, someone already came yesterday.” She blinked, and we shared a look. 

“Oh, we're just following up.” Sam excused. “We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?” 

“The Doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago.” 

“Ok. And you are..?” 

“Ms Pearlman’s maid.” She stammered. 

“So where did the Doctor go?” 

“I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?” 

“Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?” I asked, feigning concern.

“Well, no. I never even heard it.” Dean looked at a photo, analysing it. The maid continued nervously, “I was almost starting to think the Doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so...” 

“Hey, you know I read she was, uh chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty two, forty three? That's pretty young for that job.” Dean  probed casually. 

“Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?” 

“Ten years?” I raised an eyebrow. “An overnight success, too.”

“Yeah, we know a guy like that.” Dean nodded, gesturing to the painting. “And, look, Lloyd’s bar.” 

We pulled up at Lloyd’s bar, and outside there were yellow flowers growing around the door. I pulled out my pocket botany guide, flicking through it. 

“Yellow flowers?” Dean scoffed. “Wanna pick ‘em, Beanie?” 

“Not just any yellow flowers.” I replied, reading the page I’d found. “Yarrow flowers. They’re used in summoning rituals. Someone planted them here.” 

“So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's.” 

“Where there just happens to be a crossroads.” Sam frowned. “You think?” 

“Let’s find out.” We went to the crossroads, taking a shovel and digging in the dead centre. We eventually hit something solid, and we shared a look. “Yahtzee.” I pulled out a box, opening it and checking the contents. 

“Graveyard dirt, black cat bone, all hardcore and unmistakeable methods to summon a demon.” I informed, tapping the side of the vial of graveyard dirt. 

“That’s serious hoodoo.” 

“No, not just to summon one.” I shook my head. “Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good. These people aren’t seeing just spectral black dogs. These are hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls that guard hell’s gates and drag anyone who belongs there in if they’ve sold their soul or belong there.” You can bring people back by summoning demons. Bring anyone back.

‘Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting.”  Sam sighed. 

“And that doctor lady?” Dean grimaced. “Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough.” 

“So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?” 

“Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music. You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's, there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail?” Dean rolled his eyes when Sam didn’t follow. “The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs.” 

“And now it’s happening all over again.” 

“We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here.” I resolved, dusting off my hands. 

“Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal.” Dean frowned. 

“They’re human. We can’t leave them to die.” 

“Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?” 

“Dean.” 

“Fine.” He conceded. “Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing, let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive.” 

I was preparing for a big gymnastics tournament, stretching and testing my flexibility for the big moment. This could be my one chance to get to the Olympics. 

“Why so nervous, jellybean?” Dad was at the door, holding my bottle of water. 

“If I don’t get this, I don’t get the Olympics.” I sighed, taking the bottle. “Thanks.” 

“No problem, sweetheart.” He patted my shoulder with a smile. “You’re gonna be fine.” 

“How are you so sure?” 

“Because you’re Ivonne Rainer.” He smiled, bending to my height. “You’re the toughest girl I know. You take after your mother. She used to hunt, but after she had you she stopped. But I’ve never seen a lady like her until you grew up. You can load and shoot a gun faster than I can, so flying across that room should be child’s play to you.” He kissed my forehead, clasping our hands together. “So, who are you?” 

“I’m a Rainer.” 

“Who are you?!” 

“I’m a Rainer!” 

“I can’t hear you, solider! WHO ARE YOU?!” 

“I’M A RAINER!” He hugged me tight, patting my back. 

“Knock ‘em dead, tiger.”

We walked up the stairs in an apartment building, looking at a picture. 

“What's this guy's name again?” Sam asked. 

“George Darrow.” Dean informed. “Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. Though this house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?” 

“Yeah.” I nodded. “So whatever kind of deal he made-“

”Wasn't for cash. Oh, who knows. Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis.” We gave him a look, “No, I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun.” 

“Look at that.” Sam pointed at a black powder outside Darrow’s door, and I recognised it from somewhere. I touched it, staring at it. 

“Is that pepper?” Dean scoffed. 

“I… don’t know.” I frowned. 

“Who the hell are you?” Darrow grumbled, the door swinging open. 

“George Darrow?” Dean asked. 

“I’m not buyin’ anything.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker there. Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt.” 

“I don't know what you talkin' about.” 

“I’m talkin’ about this.” Dean held up a picture of a hellhound. “You seen this yet?” 

“Look. We want to help. Please. Just five minutes.” Sam begged. He let us in wordlessly, and we stepped in, cautious not to disturb the black line. “So what is that stuff out front?” I blew on the black dust, and then I got it.

“Goofer dust.” Darrow and I said at the same time, but Sam and Dean stared at us.

“What, you boys think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust? Girl gets it.” Darrow lectured gruffly, tossing Dean a brown sack.

“Well, we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous.” Dean replied casually. 

“What is it?” Sam asked. 

“Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons.“ He waddled over to a chair. “Four minutes left.” 

“Mr. Darrow. We know you're in trouble.” 

“Trouble that you got yourself into.” Dean sniffed. 

“But there’s still hope, alright? There's gotta be something we can do.” 

“Listen. I get that you boys want to help.” Darrow sighed. “But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one called that demon in the first place.” 

“What d’you do it for?” I asked, gaining a stunned look. “You heard me. Why did you do it?”

“I was weak. I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just... I just never thought about the price.” 

“Was it worth it?” 

“Hell no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame. I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst.” 

“Go on.” 

“Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?” 

“George, how many other people are there? Like you?”

“Uh, the architect, that doctor lady — I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous.” 

“Think, George.” 

“One more. Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for.” 

“No.” Sam refused, “No, there’s gotta be a way.” 

“You don't get it! I don't want a way!” 

“Look-“

”I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time. Okay, boys. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help.” 

“We can’t just-“ 

“Get out! I have work to do.” 

“You don't really want to die.” 

“I don’t?” He scoffed. “I’m… I’m tired.” 

“C’mon, Sam.” I gently took Sam away. “Thank you for your time, sir. It was good meeting you.”

“You too, girlie.”

We knocked on Evan Hudson’s door, and he opened it a small bit. 

“Yes?” He whispered. 

“Evan Hudson?” Sam asked. 

“You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago.” Dean added, but then Evan slammed the door. “Come on, we're not demons!” I focused, forgetting about the rune etched into my arm, and my eyes momentarily glowed blue, but then I felt a searing pain in my arm and stopped, falling back against the wall. “Beanie! What happened?” 

“I’m fine, I just tried to use my…” I gestured to my forearm and he understood. “Got any bright ideas?” Dean reared up, then went to kick the door open, but I opened it just by pushing the handle down. Dean collapsed in a crumpled heap, and Sam helped him up with a smirk. “Evan?” 

“Don’t hurt me!” Evan whimpered, jumping out from behind a bookshelf. 

“You know, if we were demons, that’s a terrible thing to do.” I sighed. “We’re here to help, not hurt you. We know about that deal with the demon 10 years ago.” 

“What? How?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Sam said. “All that matters is how we stop it.” 

“How do I know you're not lying?” 

Dean shrugged. “Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy.” 

Evan started pacing. “Can you stop it?” 

“Don’t know.” Sam frowned. “But we’ll try.” 

“I don't want to die.” 

“Of course you don’t, not now.” Dean smirked. 

“Dean, stop.” Sam hissed. 

“What did you ask for, Evan?” I asked intently, stepping forward. 

“My wife.” Evan gulped. 

Dean scoffed. “Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for.” 

Sam glared at Dean, who, I’ll admit, was getting out of hand. “Stop, Dean.”

”No. He's right, I made the deal.” Evan nodded. “Nobody twisted my arm, that... woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but... I don't know how to— I was desperate.” 

“Desperate?” 

“Julie was dying.” 

“You did it to save her?” Dean frowned. 

“She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying... a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot.” 

“Did you ever think about her?” 

“I did this for her.” 

“You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel-“ 

“Will all of you just shut up already?!” I burst out, silencing everyone. “We’ll figure something out. Evan, keep a close watch, grab anything pure iron in your house and have it as a weapon. Boys, we need to figure this out.” Evan rushed to find something iron, while Sam, Dean and I talked. “Dean, are you ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” Dean shrugged. “Hey, I got an idea.”

”What is it?” 

“You throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon.” 

“Summon-“ Sam scoffed, “are you nuts?!” 

“Maybe a little. But Beanie and I can trap it. We can exorcise it, and can buy us time to figure out something more permanent.” 

“But how much time are we talkin’?” I asked, folding my arms. 

“I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine.” 

“No. No way.” Sam refused. 

“You’re not allowed to say no, Sammy, unless you’ve got a better plan.” 

“Dean, you can forget it, all right? I'm not letting you summon that demon.” 

“Why?” Dean challenged. “Why not?” 

“Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why.” 

“We don’t have time for this-“ 

“Dad. You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it too.” 

“It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul-”

“That’s enough.” I interrupted through gritted teeth. “Neither of your heads are in the right place at the right time and it’s frustrating because you’re meant to be here and now, not stuck in a decision that John made. Dean, you feel guilty about it and I get that feeling more than anything, and Sam, you want to keep everyone as safe as possible, but, right now, we need both of these things,” I tapped my head, “to be clear so we can actually pull off a plan. Sam, take the goofer dust and make a circle around you and Evan. Once it breaks, book it. Dean, you and I are going to summon the demon. Once we get it in the Solomon trap, I’ll exorcise it. We good with that?” 

“Yeah.” They nodded meekly. 

“I think I hear it! It's outside!” Evan called from inside. 

I turned to them both, taking out my book of exorcisms. “Keep Evan alive, Sam.” 

Sam frowned. “Ivy-“ 

“Just do it!” 

Dean placed his ID in George’s hoodoo box, burying it in the centre of the crossroad. I was in hiding, having already painted the Solomon trap. 

“So. What brings a guy like you to a place like this?” The crossroads demon was behind Dean as he stood up. He looked her up and down, and I studied the Latin I needed to read. “You called me?”

”I’m just glad it worked.” Dean smirked. 

“First time?” 

“You could say that.” 

“Oh, come on now. Don't sell yourself short. I know all about you, Dean Winchester.” She started circling him, almost like a panther prowling around its prey. The irony was satisfying, really. 

“So, you know about me.” 

“I get the newsletter.” 

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What have you heard?” I know you’re stalling, but, really, Dean?

”Well, I heard you were handsome, but ... you're just edible.” I gagged from where I was hiding. Who says that? “What can I do for you, Dean?” 

“Maybe we should do this in my car. Nice and private.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

“So I was hoping we could strike a deal.” Dean offered as they strolled to his car,

“That’s what I do.” The demon smirked. 

“I want Evan Hudson released from his contract.” 

“Oh, sorry, darling. That’s non-negotiable.” 

“I'll make it worth your while.” 

“Really? What are you offering?” 

“Me.” WHAT THE HELL-

“I see. Sacrificing your life for someone else’s. Like father, like son, I guess. “You did know about your dad's deal, right?” She chuckled darkly, giving him innocent eyes, but I knew they weren’t as advertised. “His life for yours? Oh, I didn't make the deal myself, but... boy, I wish I had.” 

Dean opened the car door, teeth gritted. “After you.” 

“Such a gentleman.” She was about to get in, but stopped upon seeing an inscription poke out from under the car. “A Devil's Trap? You've got to be kidding me. You stupid, stupid... I should rip you limb from limb.“ 

“Take your best shot.” Dean retorted almost pleadingly, backing towards the actual trap. 

“No. I don't think so. I'm not going to put you out of your misery.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because your misery's the whole point. It's too much fun to watch. Knowing how your daddy died for you, how he sold his soul. I mean, that's gotta hurt. It's all you ever think about. You wake up and your first thought is, ‘I can't do this anymore.’” Keep with it, Dean. “You're all lit up with pain. I mean, you loved him so much. And it's all your fault. You blew it, Dean! I could have given you what you need.” 

“What-“ 

“You’re not the only one who feels this way. Imagine Ivy Rainer, forced to live the life her dear brother was meant to. You can make a deal on behalf of her, not Evan Hudson. Now those are terms I can negotiate. Your Beanie can be happy, Dean. Have her family back, and she can be whole.” I gasped silently, glancing towards where the box was buried.

“What do I need?” 

“Your father. I could have brought him back. Your loss. Seeya, Dean. I wish you a nice long life.” She started to walk away-

“Hold on.” She stopped, smiling. 

“You're lucky I've got a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces. I just can't leave you like this. Besides. You didn't call me here to bargain for Evan. Not really.” 

“Can you bring him back? My dad?” He asked. 

“Of course I can. Just as he was. Your dad would live a long and natural life, like he was meant to. That's a promise.” 

“What about me?” 

“I could give you ten years. Ten long good years with him. That's a lifetime. The family can be together again. John, Dean, Sammy. The Winchester boys all reunited.“ She walked towards him. “Look. Your dad's supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead. So we'll just set things straight, put things back in their natural order. And you get ten extra years on top. That's a bonus.” 

Dean turned and walked further away. “You think you could...” He turned to face her, “throw in a set of steak knives?”

She advanced towards him, ”You know, this smart-ass self-defense mechanism of yours...” She stopped, noticing that she was in a Solomon trap. “Dean!” 

“Now you’re trapped.” Dean grinned. “That’s gotta hurt. Beanie, you can come out now.” I emerged, holding my book. 

“Let me out. Now.” She hissed.

“In a bit. Thanks for the consideration, but if I wanted to make the deal, I’d have done it.” I smirk. “Alright, here’s our terms, because before you walk free, we need to make a deal. Evan walks free, and you call off your hellhounds. Do that, and you walk too.” 

“I can't break a binding contract.” 

“There’s a difference between ‘can’t’ and ‘don’t want to’; it’ll do you a favour to learn it.” I retorted. “Last chance. Evan and his wife get to live to a ripe old age. Going, going...” 

“Let’s talk about this-“ 

“Ok, gone.” I pulled out a rosary, and she glanced at it. 

“What-what are you doing?” 

“You’re just going on a trip.” Dean grinned. “Way down south.” 

“Forget Evan. Think of your dad. Both of your dads-“ 

“Regna terrae,” I read, pacing around her. “cantate deo…” I continued reading, watching her shiver and cry out in pain. “in potentis magnife!” 

“Release!” She cried, and Dean and I shared a triumphant look. But then she cupped the nape of Dean’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. I looked away, shutting my book with a snap as he pulled away. 

“What was that for?” Dean spat. 

“Sealing the deal.” 

“I usually like to be warned before I’m violated with demon lips.” 

“Evan Hudson is free. He and his wife will live long lives.” 

“How do we know you’re not lying?” 

“My word is my bond.” 

“Oh, really?” I handed Dean the Latin book and the rosary.

“It is when I make a deal. It's the rules. You got what you wanted. Now let me go.” Dean fiddled with the rosary, contemplating it. “You're gonna double-cross me? Funny how I'm the trustworthy one.” She scoffed. “You know, you renege? Send me to hell? Sooner or later I'm gonna climb out, and skinning Evan Hudson will be the first thing that I do.” Dean stashed the rosary, breaking the circle. She stepped out, giving us a look. “I gotta tell you. You would have never pulled that stunt if you knew.” 

“Knew what?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“About your dads. You should have made that deal. See, people talk about hell, but it's just a word. It doesn't even come close to describing the real thing-“

“Shut your mouth.” 

“If you could see your poor daddy? Hear the sounds he makes 'cause he can't even scream?” She sneered to Dean. 

He advanced on her. “How about I send you back there?” He growled. She screamed, ichor pouring out of her mouth and flying into the distance. The lady fell, and we caught her, but she looked terrified. 

“What... how did I get here?” 

“You take care of her.” I sighed. “I’ll bury the box where no one will find it.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” He nodded, and started to help the girl away. I looked at the box, digging it up and pocketing Dean’s ID. Then I took out my own, putting it in the box and burying it in the centre of the crossroads. 

“You called?” I turned, seeing a male crossroads demon this time, wearing a suit. He had brown hair and clever blue eyes, and he walked up to me. “Oh, I know you. Ivonne Rainer. You’re a celebrity back where I come from.” 

“Glad to know.” I retorted. “I want to get back to Sam and Dean before they get suspicious, so let’s get this over with.” 

“Damn, you’re more of a sexy woman than you were put out to be.” He smirked, looking me up and down. “If I was human, well, I’d have asked you out. Anyway, what can I do for you?” 

“Bring my father back to life. Bottom line. No reviving his corpse, actual, healed, human.” 

“I can do that.” He nodded. “Really simple.” 

“Good. How many years do you want from me, then?” 

“No years.” He glanced down at my neck. “I want that necklace.” 

“Why?” 

“You don’t need the burden of how many years you have left, you have enough of a weight on your back already.” I thought about it. “Necklace or no necklace?” 

I took it off and gave it to him, sighing. “Ok, now kiss me, but make it short and sweet.” 

“That takes the fun out of it, but ok.” He kissed me for a millisecond, then winked. “It was fun doing business with you.” He then disappeared, and I walked away, confused. 

My necklace?

I had made dinner for the boys, who were eagerly eating it with cups of cocoa by their plates. I sipped one myself, munching on the food. 

“This is the best pasta I’ve ever had, Beanie, dear God.” Dean praised through a mouthful of food. “This is heavenly.” 

“This is amazing, Ivy.” Sam grinned, sipping his cocoa. Then the doorbell rang, and I stood up, going over to the door while preparing to reach my gun from behind my back, tucked in a holster above the waistband of my shorts. I opened the door, and my heart almost dropped out of my chest. 

“Jellybean?” My dad stood there, ruffled hair and all, looking just like the last video he sent me eight years ago. He cupped my cheeks, looking at me with tears in his eyes. His index touched the gap between my eyebrow, complete with a scar in it. “That’s your scar. And your freckles. Yeah, it’s you. It’s really you. But you’re all grown up…” He laughed, wiping a tear off my cheek. 

“Dad…” I whispered, throwing my arms around his torso. “You’re here, you’re really here.” He hugged me tightly, smoothing down my hair. Sam and Dean came into the hallway, staring at Dad like they’d seen a ghost. I detached myself, hurriedly drying my tears.

”Who’re these two, jellybean?” Dad asked, looking confused. 

“O-Oh, uh… Mr R-Rainer.” Dean stammered. “We didn’t expect to see you here. At all.” 

“Come in, sir, make yourself at home.” Sam gulped, giving me a look. “Ivy, we need to talk.”

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[couldntbedamned]

Back to Where You've Never Been - Chapter 14

Summary: In an alternate reality, Peter Parker is living out his dream of being Spider-Man and working as an intern for Stark Industries (and the Avengers!) under his hero, Tony Stark, before heading off to college. For the most part, it's incredible. Okay, the Avengers treat him like he's still a child, and Mr. Stark's not exactly the friendliest mentor. But still, it's good.

Except that recently, Mr. Stark's been in the worst mood and Peter finds himself the unwitting focus of the man's ire. He tries to keep his spirits up and tell himself that it's not personal, that anyone in the lab would be a target, but when Mr. Stark kicks him out, Peter knows he's done.

Then he finds himself falling for what feels like an eternity before returning to New York. Only it's not his New York City and the Iron Man he ends up fighting alongside is definitely not his Iron Man. Anthony Stark is kind of perfect. The Other Avengers are kind of perfect. Everyone here seems to love him. And when he and Anthony are tapped by Dr. Strange to help seal the rift between realities, Peter finds himself wondering if he was supposed to be in the reality with Anthony all along.

Warnings (or AO3 tags):  Peter Parker needs a Hug, Tony Stark has Issues, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark is a Dick, Alternate Tony Stark is Perfect, Alternate Avengers are Perfect, Peter Parker is of Legal Age, Pain. Lots of Pain.

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Chapter 14 - 6:02 AM EST

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New York City rejoices when they realize that their hero - Spider-Man - has returned.

A few news sources question the change in his suit - apparently the red and blue is missed. But the silver, blue - Anthony's blue - and black aren't going anywhere. This suit is his last tie to the life - and man - he'd loved.

He doesn't patrol nearly as often as he used to before that fateful day in Mr. Stark's lab. It's an ordeal again, getting to a secure place, suiting up, and then slinging up and away. It's a pain in the ass to make his web-fluid in the kitchen he shares with May. And most of all, he resents the need for secrecy.

He remembers how wonderful it had been to just be Peter Starr, aka Spider-Man and not have to worry about the people he loved being in danger. He remembers what Steve said with such conviction.

"We don't hide behind masks."

He'd been free, in a way.

He thinks about actually doing it, about revealing his identity to the world and taking his chances. Then guilt roils in him until he's sick in the stomach. He can't risk his Aunt May like that, or MJ or Ned. It's so selfish to even think about it!

It was simpler, Over There, he thinks.

Life was better Over There.

He finds that he's resenting being stuck Over Here. Everything he's once loved now feels tainted somehow. He doesn't like it at all and he especially doesn't like how he's starting to feel apathetic.

"We need a plan."

If it was like before, when Peter was still with them - with him - where he belongs, Anthony would tease Steve for how serious he's being.

But this is no time to tease. The stakes are far too high.

"Agreed," he says. He looks at America. "How does this magical girl star power thing of yours work?"

America considers. "I concentrate really heard about where I want to go. Then I just sort of, you know, punch a hole in reality and step through. Once I'm through it closes."

"And you haven't noticed any deterioration of the realities?" Strange asks.

"No," she says emphatically. "No, and I spent a lot of time studying up on it during all of my travels."

"How do we make sure we're hitting the right reality?" Hope asks. "I don't want to risk inter-dimensional war."

"I think if I had something of Peter's, from before, it would help me focus." America looks at Anthony. "Did he have anything on him when he fell through?"

"Just his suit and web shooters."

"Do you still have them? The web shooters?"

Anthony nods in answer to Sam's question. "Yeah. I couldn't bring myself to throw them out." The web shooters and suit are in a little box in the back of his closet. They were his last tie to the man he'd loved.

"Okay. We make it Over There. What then?" Steve asks.

"We need to make sure we're not risking civilians," Sharon says. "And we need to be careful. They're still Avengers and from everything Peter said, they're considered heroes there like we are here. The public probably won't take a group attacking them too well."

Anthony scowls. He doesn't like the idea of those people being considered heroes. Not when they were so terrible to Peter.

They talk through the plan, poking holes in it where they can and refining until they have something solid.

Then Bucky speaks for the first time.

"We can't just steal him back."

"I'm sorry, what?" Anthony bites out. "You've been in on this planning session with the rest of us and you're just now offering your thoughts?"

"Look, we know he didn't want to go back, but if we just show up and forcibly take him, are we any better than they are?"

"He's happy here," Wanda argues.

"I know that!" Bucky exclaims. "And I want him back just as much as you all do. I'm just saying that he deserves to be able to choose to come back." He looks at them all. "You know I'm right."

Anthony runs a hand over his face. "Yeah, we know." Then he sighs. "He'll probably say no."

"You don't know that," Bruce says.

"It's who he is," Anthony argues. "His whole thing is ignoring anything he wants if he thinks it will make others happy, because... because..."

"Because he doesn't think he deserves to be happy," Nat finishes.

"We can least offer him the choice," Pietro says. "We can give him that, which is more than they ever have."

"And we can kick their asses," Ava adds fiercely. "They have it coming."

"They certainly do," Steve agrees, shocking them all. "What?" He adds defensively at the incredulous looks. "I never said they don't suck!"

"I need you to know that I'm so proud of you, Spangles. So proud," Anthony tells him. "One day you'll learn to swear properly."

Bucky snorts. "Remind me to share some stories from the Commando days."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Steve says with a sheepish look.

"We should all get some rest," Strange advises. "This trip is going to take a lot out of us."

"Do you know how this turns out?" Anthony asks him after the others have filtered out and it's just the two of them.

Strange's face is blank. "I can't answer that," he says. "I know it's not what you want to hear but it's all I can say."

"Your job sucks," Anthony says after a few moments.

"It's not without its difficulties and frustrations," Strange admits.

"Any sightings?" Tony asks.

There have been no sightings of Spider-Man since last week, Sir.

Tony sighs and rubs his face. It used to be that the kid couldn't get enough of his patrolling. He was always chomping at the bit to be free of his classes so he could suit up and sling around the city helping anyone he could. Peter isn't even coming to the Tower so he can make his web fluid. For all that Tony had wanted Peter out of the line of heavy fire, he almost wishes the kid was fighting bad guys on the regular like he'd been so determined to do.

"Keep your eyes open, J."

Of course, Sir.

"Tony?"

He turns to see Pepper leaning against the doorway to his lab. He searches his mind and frowns when it comes up blank. "Did I forget a board meeting or otherwise important shindig?"

"No," she says softly. "But you have been forgetting to sleep."

"I'm not sure I know how," he says. "Pep, I messed up, so much worse than I could have imagined and I don't know how to fix it. He won't talk to any of us and he's hardly going out as Spider-Man, either."

"He's not the boy you knew," she says, moving over to him and cupping his face while he looks up at her with saddened eyes. "He did an awful lot of growing up while he was gone and he's never going to be the Peter he was before."

"I was just trying to keep him safe and away from all of this, you know, before. I know I'm an unbearable ass when you go on vacation and I'm left in charge of everything but knowing that I hurt him the way I did kills me. And realizing just how unfair we've been to him? We were terrible and I was the worst of us. And it doesn't even matter how much I apologize, because he's not going to accept. I can't even blame him for that, either."

"All you can do is give him time. And maybe give him that data stick that he had on him when you all pulled him back."

He rolls his chair back and stands up. "I never have been the patient type," he admits. "But since I can't just build him a new suit, I suppose I should make sure he gets this data stick. I'm not sure I see the point; if he's homesick for that place, it might just make it worse."

"Tony."

He sighs. "Yeah, you're right as usual, Ms. Potts."

He calls for one of the Iron Legion and sends the Mark 47 to the kid's apartment, data stick in hand with a message: You had this on you when you came over, must have fallen out of your pocket during all of the hustle and bustle.

Pepper leaves after securing his promise that he'll catch a few hours on the lab futon. He actually means it, too.

He looks around, wishing he'd been in a state to properly appreciate the last time Peter came bouncing through the doors to the lab, cheerful and ready to work.

He'll probably never get that again.

'You really are the worst, Tony," he mutters to himself.

Peter looks at the data stick the Mark 47 had given him.

He's so glad to have it back; he'd promised Anthony he'd take care of it and he'd lost it! Hell, he'd forgotten all about it!

"Hey Gwen, can you interface with this?"

The nanites in one of Peter's web shooters reform to accept the data stick and plugging it in, he pulls on his mask and lays down on his bed.

“Hey, Pete. If you’re viewing this, then I guess you made your choice, and it was to go back.”

"I didn't!" he wants to scream at Holo-Anthony. "I didn't chose to come back here! I wasn't going to leave!"

But Holo-Anthony can't hear him, of course.

His heart breaks over and over again as he watches the message Anthony had prepared for him, just in case.

“Maybe this whole recording thing is a no-starter - miracles happen - and you’ve chosen to stay. But either way, Peter, there’s two things I need you to know. One is that I love you, more than I thought I’d ever be able to love anyone. And the second is that you, Peter Starr, are the very best of any of us. Okay.” Holo-Anthony nods with tears brimming in his eyes. “I’m done.”

Before he can scream or cry, video starts playing.

“J, give Peter here the same access and rights as me, outside of the Core files."

Very well. Mr. Parker, I am at your disposal.

“Say something to him,” Anthony prompts. “Ask him anything.”

“What do you like to do for fun, JARVIS?” Peter asks.

There are several hackers within SHIELD that I enjoy shutting down on an almost-daily basis. I also spend time interfacing with my brothers.

“The bots Anthony built?”

Yes.

“That’s really nice,” Peter tells JARVIS. He looks at Anthony, delighted.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you Peter Parker?” Anthony grins. “I don’t think anyone living here has ever asked J that before, have they, J?”

They have not, Sir. Including yourself.

Anthony rolls his eyes. “Oh please, J, you know I love you.”

Peter tells Gwen to pause the video and clenches his eyes shut. That had been his first night Over There and officially one of the best nights of his entire life. He'd been warm and safe and without the consistent pangs of hunger that had plagued him for years. He'd met Anthony. Seeing it again just makes the pain of being trapped Over Here worse.

He lays in bed, miserable. He half wishes that Mr. Stark had just kept the damned data stick.

Hopefully Mr. Stark hadn't seen anything on it; that would be too humiliating. What would Mr. Stark even think of him, falling in love with Anthony the way he did? And the dietary needs? Mr. Stark and the others would probably just think he's some helpless little charity case.

Maybe he should look for a real job. He can make money that way and since he's not patrolling and has no interest in attending NYU, he'll have plenty of free time. He hasn't really had so much free time since he started working on the...

He sits up suddenly.

“...First and foremost is your whole healing the reality barriers deal, since one, it’s brilliant and two, I can’t imagine you not carrying on back Over There."

The barriers! How could he have forgotten?

"Way to get self-absorbed, Peter," he mutters to himself. "You really are the worst." He suits up and climbs out the window. He has a sorcerer to see.

They're quiet as they congregate in the lab where Peter had been taken. Hank and Janet are present, both eager to observe America's powers at work.

"We shouldn't be too long," Anthony assures them.

He's waved off. "We were in the superhero game before you were even in school," Janet tells him. "We still have some tricks up our sleeve if anyone decides to cause trouble while you're gone."

Hank nods. "Don't underestimate the ants."

Well, that is a terrifying thought, Anthony thinks, looking around. There's a restlessness in the air despite the early hour.

Sharon checks her powered garrotes and Natasha fiddles with her Widow's Bites. Clint is rearranging the arrows in his quiver while Bucky flips one of his knives. The others are similarly nervous.

Anthony is regretting the third cup of coffee he drank after waking up; he has visions of vibrating out of the suit mid-reality jump and somehow dying. He shakes his head. America has assured them it's safe and she's the expert.

"Is this everyone?" Strange asks as he portals in.

"We're just waiting on our friendly ghost," Anthony says. "JARVIS said she's on a slight delay.. She'll be here in a few minutes."

"Is she up for this?" Steve asks Sam. "I know she's been struggling."

"Oh, she's more than ready," Sam insists. "She's probably just drinking that stabilizing tonic Janet created for her to make sure there are no mishaps."

Ava enters the lab suited up and ready to go.

"We good?" Anthony asks.

She nods, a hard glint in her eyes. "We're good."

"Remember the plan," Steve says as they gather in a circle. "We've probably only got one shot at this, so let's stay focused and show them just how hard we're willing to fight for Peter." He looks at America. "Whenever you're ready."

America pulls the web shooter out of her pocket. She holds it tightly, closes her eyes, and takes several deep breaths. When her eyes open, they're glowing white. She steps out of the circle, turns, and with the hand holding the web shooter punches forward into the empty air.

The air splits into the shape of a giant star and through it they can see the different reality's Central Park. She steps through the star and pauses. She looks at the web shooter and then out at the park, searching for something only she can see. Then she turns around to face them.

"This is it. Come on through."

They jump through in two's and three's until the last one through is Strange, who does one of his sparkling circle things and makes the star disappear.

"It's in the mirror dimension. That way no one can accidentally wander through."

"Smart," Nat says.

"Alright. Let's do this," Anthony says.

Tony startles awake when the alarms go off in the Tower. He glances over at the clock.

6:02 AM EST.

"J, give me the scoop," he mumbles.

There appears to be a temporal distortion near Central Park. I've attempted to surveil the area but all camera feeds are currently non-functional.

Tony groans. "Well, better go see what AIM is up to this time. I assume the others are on their way to the location?"

They are indeed.

"I'll be there in a few," he said, calling his suit up and flying through one of the access hatches.

There's nothing there, when they all arrive. Sure, it feels weird, the place, but it's as empty as Central Park can be just after six in the morning.

"There's nothing here," Nat says. "Something is off, but nothing's here."

"Let's fan out," Steve suggests. "Stay on the comms, though."

The energy signatures have them moving around through the park, not nearly as spread out as Steve was hoping for. But the way they moved here, then there, then forward, to the side...

They were being herded.

Doctor Strange isn't at the Sanctum.

At least, that's what Wong tells him.

"When will he be back?" Peter asks.

Wong looks torn.

"Oh, just let him in!" come the good doctor's voice.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Wong scolds, turning back to where Strange is coming down the stairs in a robe that's far shorter than Peter ever wanted to see the man wear.

"Please. I'm used to thirty hour days," Strange says. "I'm good for another ten hours at least." He motions for Peter to come inside. "How can the Sorcerer Supreme be of assistance?"

"When I was Over There, I was helping Anth- I was helping Mr. Stark and the others with stabilizing the barriers between reality so that that Dr. Strange and other Dr. Stranges could work on fixing them. And I know I've been selfish and having the world's biggest pity party since this Mr. Stark and these Avengers pulled me back here, but I was hoping I might be able to help you with it, too. I'm just sorry it's taken so long to reach out."

"Taking time to grieve isn't selfish, Mr. Parker," Strange says. "And if you want to share your strategy for stabilizing the barriers, I'd be happy to hear it." He pauses. "But it's not your job, just so you know."

Peter frowns. "But it was, Over There. Why would Over Here be any different?"

"I can't answer that," Strange says cryptically. "Just know that the situation will be handled."

He doesn't understand, not at all. Why was the other Doctor Strange so insistent while this one is so unconcerned?

"Can I offer you some tea?" Strange asks.

It's early in the morning, just after six.

"Actually, that would be nice. Over There spoiled me for coffee so hot tea is about all I can stand, caffeine-wise."

"You speak of that reality fondly," Strange says once they're seated, each with a cup of tea and saucer.

"I was going to stay," Peter admits. "I didn't choose to come back."

"I'm sorry for how things worked out," Strange tells him. "And for my part in assisting them in their endeavor."

Peter shrugs. "I could have been stuck in a hell dimension for all you guys knew."

"I was fairly certain that wasn't the case," Strange says. "They were very insistent that they needed to save you and make things right."

That has Peter rolling his eyes. "They can't make it right," he says. "I didn't deserve to be treated the way they treated me and I don't think I can forgive them for any of it."

"I was so happy," Peter says after a few minutes. "I was in love. For the first time in my life I felt like I belonged and coming back here has been a nightmare. One they caused."

"You don't have to justify your feelings to me." Strange refills Peter's cup with more of the steaming tea. "And you're well within your rights to forgive or not forgive any of us."

Peter thinks about that. "I'll probably forgive everyone eventually," he admits. "I'm not built for grudges. I always feel bad for keeping them, even if letting them go feels like losing."

Strange chuckles. "You have such a kind heart, Mr. Parker. That's something to cherish."

The area they all end up in is deserted at the early hour, even though New York City almost never slept.

"I don't like this," Sam says. "Something ain't right."

"Agreed, but this is where the energy signatures stopped and we ne-"

There's the sound of a repulsor and Tony goes flying back into the side of one of the brick buildings.

A blue suit appears - an Iron Man! - and the face plate lifts to show another Tony Stark - Peter's Anthony. The Other Avengers plus a teenage girl and another Doctor Strange surround them, crackling into the reality from that damned mirror dimension that apparently all Doctor Stranges love so much.

"What the hell was that for?" Tony asks, pulling himself up to face his hovering counterpart.

"You took something that doesn't belong to you," Anthony says with narrowed eyes. "We've come to bring him back."

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[theguardiansseries]

From the Beginning - Chapter 3: Danny Is Just Trying Really Hard To Survive His First Day At School (Dani Is Just Swearing At All The Static)

A/N: Sorry this is a little late (but still uploaded when I said I would! Rejoice!), I got caught up re-reading the chapter because I was enjoying reading it that much. (That's gotta be good, right?) So hopefully you all enjoy it just as much!

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Rating: Teen Audiences

Summary:

Dani Fenton (who is sometimes starting to go by Danny Fenton) is a fifteen-year-old almost sophmore who was just going about her normal life when she figured out she sort of liked being seen as a boy. Oh, then he (he had definitely been a he at the time) got shocked by a machine his parents built to view into another world that they believed contained a world of ‘ecotplasmic entities.’

Danny really isn’t sure how to tell them that they were right and that he was in the machine when it turned on and that maybe he isn’t so human anymore. (He might also not be a girl anymore, but that one was a little more difficult to explain than the fact that he ((she?)) might be half-ghost.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54944266/chapters/139747483

Chapters: <<First>> <Prev || Next>

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Chapter Three: Danny Is Just Trying Really Hard To Survive His First Day At School (Dani Is Just Swearing At All The Static)

Danny Fenton nervously rubbed sweaty palms against her (his!) new favorite pair of jeans while inside his chest his heart was playing double dutch with how much jumping and stuttering it was doing. It would have been easy to blame it on first day back jitters and even easier to say his skipping heart was due to some lingering effects from the Portal, but, no. No, his panicked heart was all due to one person and one person alone. 

“-can’t believe you talked me into letting you return to school. You still had a fever! Granted it was a low one, but 99.2 is still a fever!” Jazz, being annoyingly cautious of stop signs as always as she drove the two of them to Danny’s high school, hadn’t yet said a word about Danny’s new look. 

Oh, sure, there had been a conversation or two sort of close to the topic a few weeks back, but that had been when he (she?) was wearing a dress and still looked like just Danielle. But now, altogether with his hair fully tucked up under his hat and the layered very obvious guy clothes and the fact he was trying something new and trying to lower his voice even though it was way harder than it should be- Well.

It wasn’t like Danny was expecting Jazz to lose it and go all Karen on him, but he had at least expected a comment about the fact that he was wearing the outfit Sam had first picked out for him back when he decided to try being Danny instead of Dani. With the way it all turned out he definitely looked more like he than anything else — and Jazz hadn’t said a word-! Well, no, she had said way too much in such a short time, but it had just been about… stuff.

“-know that you’re looking forward to finally being out of the house after everything, but school can wait! Teachers can be pretty understanding when it comes to things like this- Don’t give me that look. I had all the same teachers you did-”

“Petricoff,” Danny cut in, viciously pleased to both be distracted from his worries and see Jazz pause, close her mouth, and then gain a look. It was the same look she usually had when she wanted to say something bad about their parents but then remembered it was about their parents.

“Alright,” Jazz said after a minute. “Maybe not all of your teachers are understanding, but Petricoff doesn’t count and you know it. She’s some evil, demonic creature from the pits of hell.”

Not bothering to fight back a laugh, Danny couldn’t help but push it with a smug, “Never gonna forgive her for that C, huh?”

Danny half-expected some lecture about forgiveness and not holding things against people, but instead he was blessed with a wonderful, “Never. She’ll be in her grave and I’ll be sure to graffiti her tombstone every halloween. Now, did you get everything for your first day back? Backpack?”

Looking down at his backpack, which was on the floorboard, Danny looked back to Jazz, who was glaring at some old guy without a helmet passing them on a motorcycle. At least she was consistent in her hatred of motorcycles. “No. I threw it out my window to try and attract the attention of some aliens.” 

“Notebooks and pencils?” After the first day of freshman year? Danny was pretty sure he had a notebook and pencil for each class — including lunch. 

“Nope. I used them all to build a boat. I plan to use it to escape down the river tonight and sail all the way to Atlantis.” It was disappointing that Jazz no longer even looked at him. 

“Lunch money?” 

“Donated it to an organization that has a goal to punch every first grader in the face.” 

“Phone and phone charger?”

“Gave ‘em to Tucker so he could make a supercomputer out of them. I’m pretty sure he’s just a few pieces away from taking over the White House.” 

“Tell him the real power is through the Senate and to strike there first. Pain medication?”

“Took it all this morning at the same time so I can finally enter into a coma like I always dreamed of.” 

“And should I be calling you Dani or another name now?” 

Words dying in the back of his throat, Danny felt like his heart, which had traitorously calmed down in the familiar back-and-forth between him and Jazz, was going to explode. He was pretty sure it was beating faster than possible, Danny barely able to suck in a breath because how was he supposed to respond to that? 

He had no response. He had nothing planned, his mind had gone absolutely blank, and there was no Sam or Tucker around to distract Jazz or defend him and he had no idea what he should be doing. They were pulling up towards the school so Danny could always bail and jump out of the car and run. That seemed like a good, solid option. 

He was just about to try when he felt the car roll to a stop behind a few others, Jazz’s hand settling on his shoulder and it was fifty-fifty whether she would freak out or start being over accepting and- “I see you’re trying out a new outfit today.”

“Wait, what?” Was she being subtle? Jazz wasn’t subtle. She was as subtle as a brick wall. Was it a trick? It was probably a trick. “I mean, uh, yeah- No? Um… Sam helped me pick it out.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Jazz laughed, a hand resting on his shoulder and giving a light squeeze and okay, that was… a good sign? “You look good…?” The last word trailed off and sounded like she was trying to ask a question- Oh. Oh! 

“Danny.” She wasn’t freaking out. “Still Danny, just with a y, now. And another n.” She wasn’t going off into some spiel about accepting every part of himself like she would have even a couple years ago, either. “At least it, uh, sometimes is. I think.” She was just… smiling at him. 

“Well, Danny.” And there was emphasis there. There was emphasis to show that it was more than just… her. (It showed it was him, too.) “I think you look very nice for your first day back at school.” 

Letting the silence stretch and half-aware that they were probably going to get honked at soon because they were just sitting there, Danny finally bit his lip and risked a quiet, “Really?”

“The only thing I ask is to keep me updated so I know whether I should be gushing about my smart baby sister or my smart baby brother.”

“You’re the worst,” Danny managed, refusing to admit he was choked up and absolutely ruined by such simple acceptance. Danny had been expecting some dramatic scene or a fight or to try and find the words to explain what the whole thing was about and instead it was just… It was Jazz smiling and accepting him. Just like that.

He really shouldn’t have expected anything else considering this was the sister who, after being told that Danny planned to become an astronaut, went out and bought a couple hundred dollars worth of instruction booklets and flight simulators. Still, it took way more than it should have to resist the urge to start crying and school hadn’t even started yet. 

“The absolute worst,” Danny repeated, grabbing his bag and tumbling out of the car as he tried to steady himself because he had been ready for some kind of fight and instead he got that. Jesus, it was like the universe knew it gave him pretty useless parents so it made it up to him with Jazz. “Why can’t you insult me like a normal older sister!”

“Have a great day at school, sweetie!” Jazz called out to him through the open passenger window, grin smug and ugh. He loved her. “Be sure to make new friends!” 

“Hey, now, what’s wrong with his old friends!” Ah, and here came Tucker to make the situation even worse. Danny didn’t even flinch at the familiar arm over his shoulders, Tucker beaming at Jazz and breaking up whatever had been left of The Moment. 

“Like I said, make some new friends!” Jazz called as she started to pull out from the lineup of cars dropping off kids, Danny just barely biting down a laugh at Tucker’s over-the-top offense.

“See if I get her any obligatory Christmas gift,” Tucker huffed, squeezing Danny’s shoulder and giving him one of those quick, questioning looks even as he grinned. “Ready for our first day of sophomore year?”

“As long as we make sure to find Sam so she can scare off the jocks for us.” Right. Right! His first official day as Danny Fenton. What could go wrong? 

⁂

“You know, when you think about it, there’s probably enough jaded students to start an all out war against her.” Sam’s bracing, amused tone was the only thing keeping Danny from shoving himself face-first into a locker out of a mix of rage and shame. “Like- Here. Hey! Mikey! What do you think about Petricoff!”

Mikey, one of the self-proclaimed ‘nerds’ in their year, startled from where he was walking next to them in the hallway on his own way to lunch like the rest of them. Danny, somehow, managed to feel even more shame and embarrassment, “Sam. Don’t just-”

“She’s a total asshole,” Mikey answered, which, okay, he hadn’t expected that. “See you guys at lunch.” With that he was speed walking away, which, fair. Sam had just shouted him down in the middle of the hallway and Sam could be… Sam. 

“See? Total asshole and all the students hate her,” Sam beamed, linking her arm with Danny’s before her grin fell into something a bit more serious. “I promise, no one else in class looked like they agreed with her.” Well. At least there was that. Danny had been too busy trying not to look at anything or anyone when Petricoff had started frowning when he corrected his name on the call-sheet from Danielle to Danny (or Dani, depending on the day).

“Pretty sure some of them were glaring at her,” Tucker chimed in, bumping his and Danny’s shoulders together. “Plus, hey, she was the only teacher who had a problem with the whole name thing, right? We can deal with one homophobic teacher!”

“It’d be transphobic since this is a gender issue,” Sam cut in, frowning and slowing down in the hallway. “At least I think. Technically it’s about gender fluidity, but still…”

“Guys, it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, my name still is Danielle, and she’s a teacher. Pretty sure she gets final say.” While Danny hadn’t expected to have to go through his first day telling most of his teachers that he would prefer to go by Danny (Dani, technically), it hadn’t been that awful. Most of them just nodded, made a note of it, and then had kept going with roll. Petricoff, though… 

Danielle, apparently, was what was on the attendance sheet and so in her class her name would be Danielle. After all, Dani sounded like such a boy’s name, and she didn’t want that, right? 

God, the only thing that had kept Danny from sinking through the floor was Sam’s hand snapping out to hold onto his tight enough to hurt and Tucker’s chair squeaking like he had actually been about to get up and start a fight. 

“Not every adult can be as cool as Jazz about the matter and, besides, there’s more important things to worry about, like the fact I’m starving.” Which wasn’t a lie. Danny was pretty sure he could eat at least three servings of a Thanksgiving dinner he was so hungry. 

“That is the fifth time you’ve complained about being hungry and lunch has only just started.” Sam shook her head as she steered them along towards the cafeteria lunch line, other kids already sitting down and digging in. “Did you even eat this morning?” 

“Bold of you to assume Jazz would let me leave the house without eating as long as she’s still at the house and not the dorms,” Danny snorted, digging out his lunch money, and, yeah. Jazz had been paranoid so he could probably double up on some things. “Think there’s a limit on how much cafeteria food I can- Shit!”

“Got it!” Tucker caught the dropped tray — and the food already on it — before it could hit the floor, handing it back to Danny with a frown, “You okay? That’s like the sixth or seventh time you’ve dropped something today.” 

“I…” As much as Danny wanted to snap and say he was fine, that… had definitely happened more than it should have. 

It was Sam to set a hand on his shoulder, giving a light squeeze, “Hey, it’s okay. Just let us know when you need help or if you need to go home early.”

“Yeah, man, I know you wanted to see the first day through, but you’re still recovering,” Tucker said, Danny pretending not to see the look of fear in his eyes. “It was… It was pretty bad, Danny. When you came out of there-” 

painpainpainpain it hurt it hurt why did it hurt so fucking badly 

cant breathe cant breathe cant breath make it stop make it stop makeitstop

why does it hurt so much-

“I’m fine.” Absolutely refusing to look down at his hands which he knew were shaking, Danny grit his teeth and kept moving down the line, shoving his stupid memories down as far as they could go. “I’m just a little shaky. It’s nothing some food won’t fix.” 

Even as he said it he knew it was a lie. He hadn’t felt his hands shaking constantly like the doctors feared they would, but he knew what side-effects could be caused by getting electrocuted. He was lucky he could walk without his body suddenly going limp and numb from all that energy rushing through him-

“Oh, look, hey,” Sam’s voice, louder than it should be, had both him and Tucker following the direction she was pointing. “I told you guys the school board approved my petition to add vegetarian options to the menu!” It was an olive branch and distraction in one and Danny happily took it for what it was. 

“Oh, yeah, you were saying something about that a few days ago.” Danny shoved a few fries in his mouth as Sam loaded up on her salads and fruit cups, Tucker making a face at it. “Is it here for a trial period or…?”

“Nope! Year-round,” Sam grinned, her happiness making Danny feel a little less raw around the edges as they finally got up to the cashier. “Hey, I got it,” Sam said, digging for her wallet before Danny could pay. “And it’s important to make sure kids have the choice to eat healthy and follow their beliefs.” 

Glancing at Tucker and half-expecting the blood feud of carnivore versus herbivore like in middle school, and most of their freshman year, Danny was pleasantly surprised Tucker did nothing more than roll his eyes. “What? No fight about meat being better?” 

“She’s got a point about the whole belief thing,” Tucker sighed, dramatically. “And the health thing. Just because my body can handle five double cheeseburgers in a row doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone. Plus, Sam’s paying. I’m not gonna start shit until after I’ve eaten.” Ah, there was the jerk best friend he knew and loved. 

Focused on completely decimating his fries, Danny absently listened to his friends talk until they were settled in their own little corner at a table. It was while Danny’s mouth was full that his friends looked at him and ah… The battle was about to start. 

“Focus up, Danny, it’s time to go to war.” Sam was looking way too serious as she pulled out a notebook and pen that Danny had no doubt was for nothing except dramatic effect. “We need a battle plan if we’re going to survive the year.” 

“I thought our battle plan was to just keep to ourselves and avoid pissing anyone off,” Tucker countered, shaking out some of his fries onto Danny’s own tray. Danny made a note to let him win the next game they played because his best friends were literally angels — fallen angels, yeah, but still angels. “Unless you changed that plan and we’re going to war against the A Listers, now.”

“Oh, god, tell me that stupid name didn’t stick.” Sam looked horrified while Danny smothered his laughter into his food. While ‘A Listers’ was a little on the nose when it came to identifying all of the ‘popular’ kids, it was great to use just to hear Sam complain about what an awful name it was. “Okay, Tucker, you’re literally wired into the internet. Have the generals remained the same?”

Tucker took a moment to just stare at Sam, finally shaking his head, “Okay, you know I love you, but you’re getting into the war strategy way too much. How late were you up playing last night?” The guilty look was answer enough and made it even more hilarious considering Sam had been looking ‘menacing’ while talking about ‘battle plans.’ 

Swallowing the last of his burger in a few quick bites, Danny gave Sam a light nudge against her foot with his own under the table, “No worries, Sammy, we all get caught up in all-night gaming marathons, sometimes. Seriously, though, come back down to high school. We need you to survive.” 

“And to answer your question, yeah, everyone came back for the year as far as social media has told me,” Tucker chimed in, counting off on his fingers. “Paulina, Dash, Kawn, Star, and Valerie all accounted for.” 

“Good, we should tell Paulina about the name thing, Danny. Gossip monger that she is, she'll have it out to the rest of the school before- Holy shit, are you already done?” Jumping at Sam’s words, Danny glanced down to his empty tray, which, yeah, okay, so he had been a bit hungry. “Your tray was filled.”

“Guess I was just hungry.” He still was, honestly, but like hell was he going to say it when Tucker and Sam were already giving him those looks again. The looks that showed they were worried and ready to call Jazz to take him home early because now he was fragile and hurt and-  “Okay, what’s our ‘battle plan’ for the rest of the day, then?”

He was maybe a little out of sorts, but he was fine, or at least, he was recovering. Besides, being a little hungrier than normal and a little more clumsy didn’t mean anything bad. It just meant he was a little off his game, so, really.

He was fine. 

Even if, after all she ate, she was still hungry- He. She. Ugh, Dani didn’t even care anymore whether it was he or she or even it because she just wanted to go home and get something to eat before crashing in bed. God, she’d never even be able to admit it but coming back for the first day had been a horrible choice. 

She was starving, she was clumsy to where everything she held kept dropping it felt like, and now her skin was all tight. Her skin felt like it did after a bad sunburn or a too hot shower, all tight and overheated and like it was all just about to crack. 

It was her last class of the day which was of course her stupid English class which meant of course she had Lancer and, of course, he was the one teacher who cared. That meant he kept looking at her as if checking to see if she had finally kicked the bucket or not.

She was honestly ready to either jump out of the window or stand up and scream if it would make the stupid day end early. Maybe she could distract herself by eating the notebook paper in front of her. It probably wouldn’t taste good, but- 

Static. Static electricity. 

Static electricity felt like it punched her in the chest before spreading out to every inch of her, skin tingling like her entire body had fallen asleep and was now just waking up. The only reason she didn’t call it burning or lightning was because it didn’t technically hurt but also what the hell. 

It was like the feeling of when she had been really little and had been watching an old VHS tape before the movie had ended. She had been left with a static filled television and the feeling of dragging her fingers through the static that prickled up from the television in the remaining quiet. It was like that except everywhere. 

It reminded her of the Portal way too much. All the static spreading across her skin and making it feel like a storm was about to break reminded her of the Portal way too much. The only thing that kept her from going into a full-on breakdown was the feeling of her pencil bumping into her fingers and almost rolling off her desk, sending her scrambling to catch it and right, right. 

Right. She was fine. She wasn’t in the Portal. She was in her English class and she was supposed to be taking notes about what books they were going to read that year and she was okay. She was… Actually. She was okay — or better, at least. 

Apparently a flashback to the worst moment in her life was enough to distract her because she no longer felt starving or even hungry, just bored as was usual in Lancer’s classes. She… He. That was right. 

He still had to finish his first day of school.

⁂

Holding her breath as she sat down carefully on the middle step, Dani didn’t let herself breathe until she heard the soft, frustrated voices of her parents from where they were sitting at the kitchen table. While Dani couldn’t see into the kitchen from where she had sat herself, she could hear them well enough, and even see the harsh kitchen light that filled the hallway and ruined the soft darkness that had been there. “-just don’t understand. None of these readings make sense. We shouldn’t be seeing such a sharp increase so soon.”

Her mom definitely sounded frustrated. It was a tone Dani was used to overhearing when it came to discussing whatever they were working on in the lab, but it had been a while since Dani had heard the tone sound angry, too. Her dad didn’t sound much better, mumbling something that was just too soft for Dani to catch.

“-checked them against the previous readings. I even made sure to check them against our projected readings. The numbers aren’t lying, Jack, it’s just… far more powerful than we planned for.” The two were definitely trying to keep their voices down, but they weren’t trying to be quiet. 

“You think we should try shutting it down? It’s been running since Danielle’s accident.” It was nice to hear the concern in her dad’s voice, but Dani was more focused on how the accident had happened just a little under a month ago. That meant the Portal had been active for almost four full weeks. That was… a long time to have something so dangerous and experimental up and running. Even Dani knew that. “The numbers have only been climbing.”

It was quiet except for the sound of rustling papers before his mom gave a sharp, frustrated sigh, “No, I don’t think we should try shutting it down, it just- There’s so much we don’t understand, yet. It’s making me as angry as it is excited.” 

And that was definitely her dad laughing, the sound nervous and excited both, “Hey, we always planned on it being powerful. We just didn’t plan on it becoming self-sustaining.” Okay, whoa, hang on, the Portal had become what? “Mads, this could change a lot.” 

“It could, but please remember, dear, that we’re not scientists looking for a cure to the world’s energy problems,” her mom said, anger and frustration seemingly gone as her laughter filled up the hallway. It made everything in the hallway seem less empty for a few moments. “We have all of this set up for a reason.” 

“Hey, nothin’ wrong with dreaming about winning the Nobel Peace Prize here and there, right?” Her dad may have been joking but, well… Self-sustaining energy. That was a pretty big deal. If it was running off of nothing but itself and ‘ectoplasm’ instead of the generators and power though, then that was a huge deal. “I know, I know, we’ve barely even scratched the surface. It’s… All our old research is holding up though, Mads.”

“I know.” Voice soft and excited, she reminded Dani of Jazz in a way she couldn’t quite name before she focused on the quiet words. “Jack… Isn’t this exciting? Our life’s work — we’ve almost done it.” 

There was another laugh before their voices dropped off, the sound of rustling pages and long strings of words and numbers filling up the space instead. Dani took the opportunity for what it was, careful and quiet as she snuck her way back upstairs and into her room. 

Moving to collapse on her bed, Dani stared up at her glow-in-the-dark stars once again. This time she made sure to stick her tongue out, “Judge me all you want, but I’d like to see you try to get information out of them.” 

Her parents had always been strict about their lab work and keeping them out of it so they didn’t get hurt, but after the Accident? Dani was lucky if she could even mention the lab without her parents sharing looks and Jazz swooping in to usher her back to her room and seriously. There was an entire world — or at least close enough to an entire world — in their basement. How was anyone not supposed to get excited over that! Even her parents were crazy excited! Granted it was for different reasons, but still! 

The Portal was up and running. The Portal was working. Just down a few flights of stairs was a portal into what was an entire new world and-

“Jesus-!” Body flinching and arching away from what once again felt like so much static shock tearing through the air, Dani swore even louder as she slipped off her bed and landed on her hardwood floor in just the right way to hit both her elbows. 

It was a tense moment of mentally screaming every swear she knew as Dani waited for either Jazz or her parents to start yelling at her or panic-worrying. When neither happened, Dani eased herself off the floor with a soft grunt, wincing and rubbing at her elbows.

“Jesus, universe, if you wanted to teach me a lesson about eavesdropping then there are easier ways to do it without triggering me,” Dani muttered more to herself than the universe at large, tugging herself up and back into the bed cautiously. There were no more shocks from the blankets or anything else, but jeez. 

It had felt almost like it had in her English class earlier, a sensation of static jolting through her heart and then spreading out through the rest of her body. If the Portal really was still active and self-sustaining and putting off a ton of crazy energy, it might at least explain the crazy static shock everywhere. 

Right. She had school tomorrow and her parents kept the lab locked up tight. There was no time or way to do anything about the super-secret-awesome portal that led into another world. 

Then again… no one ever said she couldn’t daydream about it just a little.

—

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[melissamasakari]

Confessions you didn't notice.

Well. I`ve been playing My time at Portia for a long time now. And one specific character has blown my mind. I also caught SO much bugs in his quests and dates that i decided to write a story about him and my completelly self-incerted builder. Here's the first chapter.

Fandom: My time at Portia. Pairing: Arlo x female Builder.

Summary: Name’s Melissa. Almost half a year have passed since I moved to Portia. I really like it here, though I used to doubt my decision earlier. But now I love my job and I have a lot of cool friends. But to be honest there is someone, someone special. And today I’m gonna finally confess my feelings to him! Word count: 33994 in total.

I concider this story as romantic comedy and hope someone will enjoy it. Mature tag for some obscene words and also minor sexual harassment was mentioned once. Some non-graphic injuries, blood and little violence against monsters. Completelly builder's POV. Chapter one. First confession.

Name’s Melissa. Almost half a year have passed since I moved to Portia. I really like it here, though I used to doubt my decision earlier. But now I love my job and I have a lot of cool friends. But to be honest there is someone, someone special. And today I’m gonna finally confess my feelings to him!

Collecting my thoughts I preened in front of the mirror, encouraging myself. Today I wanted to look chic, so I chose a little black dress. I'm not used to wear such things, so I just fidgeted this way and that, straightening my short red hair and deciding whether to take with me a jacket or not. Finally satisfied with my look I blew a kiss to the mirror and ran out of the house. Searching for that one person I had to wander around the city quite a bit, go around the Central Plaza several times, and walk along a couple of well-known patrol routes. I met Remington and we exchanged news. After that I walked around the park again. No progress. Having almost believed that I'm out of luck today, I was about to give up and go home. But then I heard a familiar voice.

“Melissa! I'm looking for you everywhere, please wait!” Arlo waved from the top of the steep stairs and quickened his pace. Almost in a couple of leaps, having passed two flights of steps, he caught up with me near Sam’s house, grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me down somewhere.

“What's the matter?” I squeaked trying not to trip. And here I thought that it was me who looked for him!

“This is very personal,” he said, and smiled dazzlingly looking at me. Really? Is it time for me to rejoice that I spent so much time with my makeup and dressing up not in vain? “Don’t rush around like that, please!”

“Sorry. Let's go for a walk to the Central Square if you promise not to tell anyone.”

Why go for a walk there, if you already dragged me all the way down here...?

He sat me down on a bench near the research center. Well, as far as I can tell it's not a proper place for secret meetings.

“Those lips are sealed,” I pretended to close my mouth with a zipper, trying to somehow catch my breath and focus on his words.

“You see,” he drawled hesitantly and moved closer, “one girl,” at that moment my heart seemed to skip a couple of beats, “confessed her feelings to me, and I still haven’t given her a response.”

My world instantly collapsed in front of me. In order not to reveal my emotions, I nodded and stared at my lap. And why is he SO close?

“What kind of girl?” Still trying to buy myself a little time to think, I muttered in a colorless voice.

“Nora. That pretty missionary from the church. I'm completely confused and don't know what to do. Well, I don’t want to say that she doesn’t attract me at all. But I got used to treating her like a little sister. That’s like, you know, cool older brother who comes home from work and tells interesting stories. And she confessed her love to me,” Wow, such a speech! It turns out he also knows how to be nervous.

“Little sister, you say? What would you like? And why did you decide to ask me?”

“I thought that you are also a girl, so it will be easier for you to understand such things. And you will probably have more experience in relationships than I do.”

So, okay, at least I’m ‘also a girl’, but what can I do... Think, Melissa, just DO THINK. I slapped my hand on my knee, trying to calm down.

“How should I put this? It's very difficult for me to give you proper advice. I rarely cross paths with Nora and I didn’t have enough time to get to know her,” that sounded almost confident.“And you greatly overestimate my experience in relationships,” and now I was nearly muttering under my breath.

“What did you said?”

“Forget it. Explain me why this bothers you so much?”

“Well... right now my whole life is about my job. I never even thought about this kind of relationship.”

“I agree, serving in the Civil Corps is quite dangerous. Being its leader doubles the dangerous part as well. I think you’re swamped with duties. But you don’t seem to be running away from responsibility. You’re the most reliable person I ever knew.”

”You’re right. But if I accept her feelings, it will change a lot. I will have to greatly reconsider my priorities.”

“Looks so.”

While I was thinking about what to do next, he stood up abruptly, patted me on the top of my head with his palm (and I’m also a little sister now, right?), then squatted down before me and said looking into my eyes.

“I understand, thank you for the conversation, I just wanted to get a friendly opinion from the outside,” he straightened up. “Now I know exactly what I should do!” He hit himself with his fist in his open palm and prepared to leave.

Holding back my tears I almost turned away, but then he harshly approached me again and took a closer look at me.

“You look somewhat different today! Is it new hairstyle? It suits you very well!”

“Thank you,” I breathed and watched him disappear into the city buzz.

What a blockhead! Because of you I didn’t go to the second round of the Land Run today!

Drowning the approaching hysteria with the cheer force of will I sadly rambled home. I miraculously avoided Sonya. With great difficulty I got rid of Antoine and his endless stream of compliments to everything and everyone but especially to me and his demands for me to always look like I do now, and after that I somehow finally crawled through the gate. There Emily called out to me.

“Melissa, hello, I brought you some fresh eggs!” She began cheerfully. “What happened to you? You have a face like a wet weekend! Did someone miff you?

“It’s okay, its just a commission that went wrong, don’t you worry.”

Emily clearly didn't believe it, but she handed over the basket shrugging her shoulders and finally left. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening assembling and setting up several training dummies and punching sacks. That was very productive: helped to clear the thoughts out of the head and also was good as a workout. And as such no one will guess that this is how I take out my grievances without breaking dishes and causing insipid drama. So that’s convenient. It’s good that I’m supposed to be sturdy and athletic.

But what should I do with Arlo now? He said he hadn’t yet thought about relationships at all, and that’s very strange. Here in Portia every other girl tells how cool, reliable and wonderful he is. Boys on the streets are running around with sticks and even wooden swords imitating him. It turns out he's a popular guy. So it's a shame, maybe he doesn't even like me. I’m Just a companion on adventures and nothing more.

Long after midnight I fell asleep feeling completely out of sorts.

About a week went by as usual. Orders, ruins, hoarding, looming Autumn Festival. Maybe I shouldn't go? All this time I was tormented by a nagging uncertainty. What did he decide for himself that time? He was nowhere to find since then, so I didn't have a chance to talk this out. However he continued to send the materials I ordered regularly probably meaning that he’s just busy. Well, nothing new here.

To my great surprise it was Django who dragged me to the Autumn Festival. My mood was sour, but his arguments in favor of participating in the Cook off were very convincing. It was indeed very interesting for me to compete with him. I still have to place to brag about the harvest, but I became very good at cooking. Of course, I didn’t take the first prize, but I received a lot of cheer and applause and compliments on my skills. That’s nice. Only that redhead was still not in sight. And here I thought I was distracted enough not to think of him. In the evening, when the townspeople had already had a fair amount of fun, I decided to go home and finish the next huge project for the development of the city. Completely lost in thoughts, I didn’t notice how I ended up alone at the fork in the road above the school. Someone slapped me sharply and painfully on the shoulder. I nearly screamed and stroke back but managed to restrain myself.

“Where are you! I thought you wouldn't come. Shall we go, kid?”

“Phew, Sam, you be careful! I'll jump off the stairs like that. No doctor will be able to put me back together! And in general, what kind of kid am I to you, we seem to be of the same age.”

“What a kid,” she became dignified. “I’m two whole days older than you! Why do you look so sour, it’s a holiday?!” She pulled me upstairs.

“Thank you for reminding me! I just have a cool gift in store for you for your birthday. I won't say anything more! I hope I can do it as planned.”

“If you don’t have time, I won’t get upset, we’ll just go to the Round Table in the evening and hang out as usual. We'll play darts and collect an armful of souvenirs at the shooting range.”

“Sounds great. Let's meet at your place in the evening, then?"

“Sure thing. And what do you want as a gift from me?” Her question completely unsettled me, especially since we got to the Flying pigs statue and were no longer alone.

The guys made funny faces at the camera, pretending to be cool, and while I was wondering what to answer Sam and how much of our conversation could be overheard I was drawn into another rollick. Arlo looked at me carefully, made a strange face and looked himself from top to bottom. Then he beamed and dragged me to take pictures and make faces with them. Only later while looking at the photos I realized why he was so suddenly self-conscious. It turned out that I was on a roll today: the captain decided to dress up and his outfit looked just the same as mine, the one that I preferred to wear on public events. (There could have been a description of the “Leisure Breeze” outfit, but the advertisement for the studio was not paid for by the owner). And why not? It's quite practical. Nothing gets in the way anywhere, it’s warm and there are no surprises with skirts in this wild wind. Later, Sam brought her best friend Phyllis to join us in the same way. With a syringe in her hands and a stethoscope around her neck she looked in the pictures more threatening than the rest of us despite us being so combat-ready. Later we said our emotional goodbyes and I ran home to check how things were going with my “surprise.” That day I went to bed very happy.

[tenebraevesper]

Five Nights at Freddy's: Obsolete, Night 11: Stay The Course

''Father of children without a home. Creator of vessels without a soul. Just stay the course, focus on my voice. I'll show you the way then you'll rejoice.''

 – Stay The Course by NateWantsToBattle ft. CG5 (Five Nights at Freddy's VR: Help Wanted)

xXxXxXx

What should I do?

Sam's eyes narrowed as she stared at the menu screen. The Blacklight Level Pizza Party had been set up for her, waiting to be opened. She knew that if she continued with the video game, she'd be able to find the last two Tapes and finally piece together Tape Girl's message. However, considering what she had just learned, she'd be also piecing together Glitchtrap, who had been broken apart via the Tapes and was slowly gaining control over the entirety of Help Wanted.

Sam knew that she had to choose now – either she could learn the truth and make Glitchtrap more powerful, or she could leave and hope that, whatever she had done wouldn't affect her.

''Fine,'' Sam muttered, sighing. She knew that she was too deep in this to turn her back. ''Let's go!''

As she entered the level, she found herself in the Five Nights at Freddy's 4 Bedroom. It was quite dark, with a purple curtain with white stars covering the back half o the room. Plush toys resembling animatronics were scattered all around the room, including a Spring Bonnie plushie. There were two doors in front of her. Sam nodded, staring at both silently.

''I see… I need to find a way out of this place by choosing the right door.''

She wasn't sure whether she was on a time limit or could just casually stroll through the place, but she decided that she didn't want to know. She gazed at the left door, then at the right door, wondering if she should throw a coin, before turning her gaze at the writing on the floor and wall.

FIND ME. THIS WAY.

''What if I choose the wrong way?'' Sam asked, looking back at the doors. ''What is going to happen then?''

''Follow me…''

Sam's eyes widened in surprise as she heard a voice coming from the left. It sounded like a deep whisper, sending chills down her spine. Her eyes narrowed, her mind blanking out for a moment. However, instead of going through the left door, she chose the right one. The room went dark for a moment, then she found herself at a hallway in Fazbear's Fright.

Frankly, Sam had no idea why she took the right door. She was aware that it was the wrong way the moment she entered it, but after hearing that whisper, she felt as if she needed to defy the order. She was convinced that Glitchtrap was telling her to follow him considering his earlier behavior and the fact that the whisper sounded incredibly similar to his own voice.

''Let's try to find a way out without…'' Sam gasped when the hallway she was in started to glitch suddenly. She lashed the flashlight around, trying to figure out what was going on. Everything around her was falling apart, with a purple glow and static overwhelming her. She felt a pounding headache, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she found herself back at the Bedroom.

''Oh, com'n!'' she cried out in annoyance.

''Follow me…''

Sam gritted her teeth as she stared at the right door and the Spring Bonnie plushie next to it. Even though she hadn't collected the last two Tapes, it was clear that she had gathered enough for Glitchtrap to manipulate the whole video game the way he wanted. If she'd go off path, he'd just bring her back.

''Fine! Then I'll quit,'' Sam said, grabbing the VR headset. However, the moment she did that, she was overwhelmed by static, followed by a pounding headache, causing her to cry out in pain and fall on her knees. When she lifted her hands away, the static faded, leaving her breathing heavily with a migraine. She bit her lip, sighing. ''Okay, I understand. I can't take it off until I finish the game.'' She gritted her teeth. ''Damn it.''

''Follow me…''

Sam got up again, choosing the left door, leading her to the West Hall of the original Five Nights at Freddy's game. As she explored it, she glanced into the office, then glanced down further, noticing the doors.

''Follow me…''

The whisper came from the left door once again. Sam lingered a while, only to see the left security door closing by itself. She turned around, realizing that Bonnie was slowly marching towards her. Eyes wide, she picked the left door, entering a new room.

''Well, at least I was right about my assumption that I'd be on a timer- oh, no…'' Sam stared at Mangle hanging in the Five Nights at Freddy's 2 office, who appeared the moment her flashlight turned on. The light suddenly flickered, with Mangle vanishing. Sam, however, had a feeling that it would return.

''Follow me…''

Sam was confused when the voice echoed from both sides. It appeared that she was supposed to pick her favorite flavour of cake, either chocolate or vanilla and go through the door at either Party Room 2 or Party Room 1. She went for vanilla, finding herself at the outside of the office from Five Nights at Freddy's 3.

''So, there is a pattern or something?'' Sam muttered as she observed the five doors in the Hallway. Before she could take her time to examine the hallway, she saw Plushtrap making his way towards her. She pointed the flashlight at him, noticing an X mark on the floor. However, she didn't want to know whether she'd be able to win this game by letting Plushtrap stand on the X mark. She looked back at the five doors, wondering which one to take. ''Uh, a little help?''

''Follow me…''

Sam's eyes narrowed as the whisper became louder, sounding quite amused. It came from the door on the farthest right, leading her to the Funtime Auditorium. There, she saw three doors at the end of it. She turned back and saw Funtime Foxy slowly making his way towards her. ''Now where?''

''Follow me…''

''The far right…'' Sam muttered, rushing towards it in order to escape Funtime Foxy. She frowned when she found herself in the Elevator room. As she came across four doors, she had to wonder whether she'd be able to replay the game and actually read all of the instructions strewn across it.

''Follow me…''

As Sam took the farthest right door, leading her to the kitchen. To her surprise, she found a pizza on the floor and Chica lurking in the back. She surprised Sam by walking over to the pizza and grabbing a slice, then disappearing.

''So, this is another timer?'' Sam muttered, observing the ''cheese'' and pepperoni'' doors. She went with cheese, finding herself at the Game Area. ''Oh, no…''

While there were only two doors, now she had to deal with Balloon Boy and the Puppet. Fortunately, the Puppet was currently inside the gift box, with Pop Goes The Weasel playing. She knew that she needed to get out of this room as soon as possible.

''Follow me…''

Sam felt chills when she heard the voice once again, this time louder, colder, laughing at her misery. She took the right door, her heart racing. To her surprise, she was back at the FNaF 3 office. She was confused for a moment, only to see the door to her left glitch out, covered in a purple hue, and open. She went inside, finding and opening the ventilation shaft and climbed in.

''How much further?'' she asked, turning the flashlight on and finding the Spring Bonnie plushie with the words WHAT GOES UP? next to it. She looked up, with a metalic hatch opening above her.

Once she exited it, she turned the flashlight back on and found herself in a small room, with children cheering her on and balloons and confetti flying around as if she had just won something. In front of her was a curtain, with a HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner hanging above it. To her left was a cake with seven candles and to her right was a bunch of gifts and a pizza on the top of a desk, with a Tape next to it. At the other end of the room were Bonnie and Chica. Relieved, Sam grabbed the Tape, figuring that she was at the end of the game.

''Now, how do I leave?'' she muttered, as nothing happened. She interacted with the cake and the pizza, eating a piece of each, only to notice something moving in front of her. Her blood ran cold when she saw Glitchtrap, now fully formed, drawing the curtain to the side, waving at her and gesturing to her to follow him.

Sam was hesitant. Should I really do that? It is my only way out, but…

She looked around, staring at the set up. While she rushed through the other rooms, mainly due to Glichtrap's insistence, she now had a bit of time to take in where exactly she was. Admittedly, the room looked fairly innocent and simple, resembling some kind of Party Room, obviously set up for celebrating a child's birthday party.

A child's birthday party… and a man in a bunny mascot suit…

Sam shuddered, shaking as she processed the thought. An icy chill ran down her spine and her heart started pounding. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears, wanting to turn around and return back to the other animatronics, not caring anymore about any of the jumpscares.

So, this is what happened… Sam frowned, feeling sick. Is… Is this something Fazbear Entertainment put into the game… Or is this Glitchtrap's doing?

''Follow me…''

The whisper was faint, calling out to her, having a friendly undertone to it. However, Sam knew that the one who talked to her had sinister intentions. She glanced back at Bonnie and Chica, noting that Freddy was missing, then followed Glitchtrap.

The screen turned black and the music faded, causing Sam to gasp. She winced when she heard HandUnit speaking.

''Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, Fazbear Entertainment would like you to put your hands together for the one, the only, the only, only, only-''

She clenched her fist when HandUnit suddenly started to glitch out and the curtains opened. Looking up, she realized that she was staring at a microphone and that in front of her was the dining area.

Now I know where Freddy was.

As the music started playing, she credits slowly passing by. She tried to move, but could only look around, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw a figure dancing at the other side of the room.

Glitchtrap…

Frankly, Sam had no idea whether to feel terrified or weirded out to see the mascot dancing lightly in the room, obviously happy that he had managed to stuff her into a Freddy Fazbear suit… just like his other victims. Sam lowered her head, feeling a chill spreading through her chest.

''Congratulations on completing the Freddy Fazbear Virtual Experience. You did an amazing job! you might be wondering if you missed anything or if there's anything left to see, so just take my word for it, you didn't miss anything, and there's nothing left to see. We're looking forward to a fresh start with you now that we've all had a good laugh at these tall tales, and now that you realize that Fazbear Entertainment is a safe family friendly brand with no skeletons in our closets. So goodbye for now and we'll see you on the toy aisle, bye bye, bye bye, bye bye, bye bye, take care now-''

Once the credits were gone, HandUnit started to speak again and while what he said gave Sam more insight into this part of the game, it still didn't help against the knot that was forming in her chest. It appeared that they were the ones who created this stage of the game, but she still felt sick that they made fun of the horrors that had happened. She had witnessed what those events did to one of the children and the company just didn't care. Sure, she made fun of Fazbear Entertainment's laziness and their main action being covering everything up, but making it part of a video game for the wider public – it was really messed up.

Finding herself at the dining area, Sam looked once again at the menu screen, noticing a new button next to it. She pressed it, being transported to The Gallery, and area with screens on the left and right, featuring the animatronics. There was also a stage with a red curtain in front of her. She had figured that this was just an extra option for those who'd finish the game, showing the animatronic models. She then looked down, noticing a Tape in the cabinet below the screen on her right.

''I guess those are all of the Tapes,'' Sam muttered, returning back to the main area before entering the glitchy Tape Room. She turned her head, surprised to see that Glichtrap was nowhere in sight. She frowned. ''One would think you'd also want to listen to those Tapes.''

She turned back to the Tapes, her hands shaking as she stared at the complete set. She knew that she now got what she wanted, but she took a huge risk. Whether it would pay off, she had no idea. Sam then placed Tape 15 into the tape player, listening intently.

''Hello. You don't know me. I'd created a series of logs for you documenting the troubled development of this VR game that you're now testing in hopes that you, whoever you are, and whatever team you are with, will abandon development. Now I fear that those logs are being used as a Trojan horse. If you're unable to abandon development, hide all traces of these logs that I've created. I fear that finding them and reassembling them will also reassemble the very thing I've tried so desperately to destroy.''

''Unfortunately, that's just what I did…'' Sam muttered coldly. She felt chills on the back of her neck, feeling as if someone was observing her. She turned around, but no one was there. However, when she turned back, that unnerving feeling of being observed had returned. She then attempted to switch to Tape 16, but it fell out of her hands. Cursing, she attempted to grab it again, but it glitched out, the Tape appearing suddenly in the tape player.

Sam was stunned for a moment, with the tape player glitching again and starting to play.

''There is a way to kill it. It wants to escape. To escape through someone. Someone plugged into this game. That's... you now... You have to let it begin the process of leaving through you, then use the disconnect switch that I've embedded by the main stage. Let it approach you. Let it begin to merge with you. Play the music and flip the switch. That will cause a hard restart of the game and flush the memory, effectively killing it, I hope. I don't know when it will come for you.''

''What?!''

Sam was stunned. She had to wonder whether she actually understood what exactly Tape Girl's plan was. So, you want me to allow Glitchtrap to possess me, and then hard reset the game? Is that how this game ends?

Admittedly, Sam was all for finally getting rid off Glitchtrap, but there was a problem. It was one thing assembling all of the Tapes, but it was another thing allowing Glitchtrap to possess her. Not to mention, she also had no idea if it would work. After all, if she was the one who had come up with the solution, why didn't Tape Girl try it out? Maybe she failed. Then, there was Vanessa, the one who had sent her the game. Had she managed to get here and delete Glitchtrap? Had she failed as well? Maybe she never found all of the Tapes?

''I can't do this,'' Sam said quietly. She took a deep breath, her voice now steady. ''I don't know everything yet, so how can I trust this to work? I can't just take the risk, not now.''

xXx

''Tsk, tsk, tsk,… Sam should've stayed the course,'' Glitchtrap said, standing on the stage and being illuminated by stage lights, glancing at the audience of one in front of him. The room around him, aside from the immediate area, was completely black. ''She wouldn't have been harmed at all if she had followed the instructions.'' He crossed his arms, grinning as he gazed at the only other person in the room. ''It might not matter anymore though.''

He snapped his fingers, with the stage and the room vanishing, leaving him standing in the void, seemingly alone. His grin was wide as ever as he stared at the darkness.

''There is one more thing left to do,'' he said. ''After all, the process had already been completed once before.''

xXx

''Stay the course.''

Sam just shook her head in response. ''I'm not going to do that until I'm sure that it would work.'' She paused for a moment, then furrowed a brow. ''Wait, why are you telling me this?''

Before she could get an answer, the room had glitched out and she found herself standing at the main area, with the screen in front of her. Her surroundings started to darken, taking a shade of purple, and she froze when she saw Glitchtrap suddenly appear right in front of her. What is going on?!

Glitchtrap's eyes were glowing purple as he reached out for her. Sam panicked, looking at the screen in front of her and trying to recall Tape Girl's instructions, but before she could make her move, her vision started glitching out and went black. She looked around, trying to figure out what to do, only to realize that she found herself in a dark room. In front of her was a steel door with handprints and scratches all over it.

There is no way that this is part of Help Wanted's video game part.

Sam interacted with the sliding hole in the door, only to wince when Glitchtrap suddenly appeared on the other side. She frowned as he shushed her and waved at her, backing into the darkness behind him. The room then glitched out and Sam found herself holding a green Spring Bonnie plushie. The plushie then glitched out and broke apart into data particles.

To Sam's surprise, she found herself back at the main area. She looked around for any sign of Glitchtrap, but he was nowhere to be found. She then removed the VR headset, still baffled by what had happened. She rubbed her temple, trying to comprehend what Glitchtrap just did.

He took complete control over the game. Or maybe, he had control over it all along? Sam shook her head, feeling an oncoming headache. Glitchtrap didn't even give me the time to decide whether I would follow Tape Girl's instructions. Instead, he just forced the decision on me and then… What did he do? Locked me up in that room? Turned into a plushie? She felt her something inside her squirming as she remembered Tape Girl's message. Did… Did he win? Am I possessed?

Sam certainly didn't feel as if something was wrong with her. As a matter of fact, she felt nothing but exhaustion.

I think… I think I need to go to sleep.

xXx

Sam sighed, leaning her head against the table. It was Halloween evening and she had been scheduled to work at Freddy's. She didn't really have any problems with that, as she needed to get her mind off what had happened in Help Wanted. She still had no idea what Glitchtrap had done and when she went back to the game to get another clue, she only found a green plush toy of Spring Bonnie. It seemed as if Glitchtrap had vanished. She had no idea how to feel about that.

''Sam… Sam?''

Sam looked up at Matt, who was dressed in his casual clothes, even though she had told him that he might get a discount if he came in with a costume. He refused, noting that the pizza was on him after commenting on Sam's sour mood. Admittedly, Sam hadn't told him what happened either, so he could only speculate.

''You look like you really had a rough day,'' Matt added.

''You have no idea,'' Sam replied, leaning against her hands and propping her elbows on the table. ''Do you ever have those dreams where you're just paralyzed and you cannot move at all, even if you are in grave danger?''

''I did have a couple of those,'' Matt noted, giving her a curious look. ''Did you also have that kind of dream or is this something that actually happened? Because, if it's the latter, that's a huge problem.''

''Well, it was less about me getting paralyzed and more something else making decisions for me,'' Sam replied, staring at the table. ''Remember Help Wanted? I completed it, but then it completely glitched out. Then, a character in the video game took control over it.''

''No offense, but that sounds like the start of every cliché video game creepypasta,'' Matt noted, giving her a look of concern. ''Although, this is real life.''

''Yeah, and from what I've learned, that video game character wasn't even supposed to be part of the video game,'' Sam replied.

''So, something like a virus? Or hacked content?'' Matt asked.

''Honestly, I don't know,'' Sam told him.

She wanted to tell him about what she believed was going on. However, she herself wasn't sure either what Glitchtrap truly was. She associated him with William Afton, but he was gone and there was no way for him to return. Glitchtrap had to be something else, an entity that just took on the mannerism of William. Honestly, she didn't want to discuss any of this with Matt, not wanting him to have to deal with the fears and nightmares she had. She was confused, unsure what to make of the information she had.

''Stay the course.''

Sam felt chills going down her spine as she remembered those words. It was just a video game, but at the same time, she had to wonder what would happen if she applied it to real life. However, one thing she was certain about was that she wouldn't be following any of Glitchtrap's demands. She noticed Matt staring intently at her and gave him a questioning look.

''What's wrong?'' Sam asked.

''It's a bit hard to explain,'' Matt said, observing her carefully. ''It's like you have some kind of negative energy around you, but it's flickering in and out of existence.''

''Really?'' Sam gave him a curious look.

''Yeah,'' Matt replied. ''It would explain why you feel so awful. Besides, it's Halloween or Samhain, depending on how you want to call it, and the next day is All Saints' Day, followed by All Souls' Day. This is the time where the barrier between the physical and spiritual realm is the weakest, allowing ghosts to interact with people.''

''It is also the time when a deranged serial killer terrorizes babysitters,'' Sam added in a deadpan tone, both her and Matt bursting out laughing. For a moment, Sam felt quite light, having no worries. Still, it was only a moment.

As they calmed down, Matt added, ''Nevertheless, if you are very sensitive to spiritual activity, you will feel like carrying some kind of weight, even more if you have an attachment.''

''Honestly, I don't… feel like I have one,'' Sam paused for a moment, a bit hesitant. Only because she couldn't feel or see an attachment, it didn't mean that she didn't have one. She knew that spirits could linger without making their presence known. Still, it was really weird. ''I don't think I'm dealing with a spirit either. I can't explain it right now, but I'm sure that I would've known if that was the case.''

''Sam? Is your break over? We need help over here,'' Just as Matt wanted to respond, one of Sam's co-workers walked over. Sam glanced at her smartphone, sighing when she realized that she needed to get back to work.

''I guess we'll talk later,'' she told Matt, who nodded. She then joined her co-worker, with Matt leaning back, staring at Sam until she went to the back of the building, vanishing from his sight. He crossed his arms, glancing at the animatronics on the stage.

Should I have told her? We both have our secrets, don't we? But, she already has a lot on her mind and this might only burden her. Still, this is a little disturbing. Matt furrowed a brow as he saw a strange dark aura lingering behind every animatronic, flickering in and out. However, unlike in Sam's case, this one was much stronger. It seemed as if a shadow-like figure was standing behind them. When Matt stared directly at the figure, to the point where their eyes would lock, if the figure had any, it didn't acknowledge him. He had to wonder whether it was aware of his knowledge or whether it just didn't care. He felt that he needed to remain cautious in the presence of the animatronics, not because of the mascots themselves, but because of the figure hovering behind them. It was quite unnerving.

I really hope you know what you're doing, Sam.

xXx

''Sam, are you okay?'' Showtime Freddy asked Sam as she grabbed more packets of candy for the animatronic to distribute among the children. He and the other animatronics had seen her tired expression and at some points, she acted as if she was more on an autopilot, not responding until a person tapped her on the shoulder.

''No, I'm not,'' Sam replied. While she couldn't talk to Matt about what was bothering her in depth, she could at least tell the animatronics what was going on in her mind. ''I feel like there is a huge pressure against my head and I feel really tired.''

''I see…'' Freddy muttered. ''Did something happen?''

''Yeah, I played Help Wanted again and I was given the instructions to delete Glitchtrap, but I didn't want to do that before thinking things through. I had actually hoped that I could talk to you guys about this, but before I could make my decision, Glitchtrap suddenly took control of the video game, did something and then he just disappeared,'' Sam explained.

''Did he hurt you in any way?'' Freddy asked in a concerned tone.

''No, he didn't, which is really weird,'' Sam replied. ''The Tape I had listened to told me that I would have to get possessed by Glitchtrap in order to perform a hard reset, and I think Glitchtrap tried to do that to me, but I don't think he really succeeded… I mean, I didn't do anything to stop him, and I feel like there should be something wrong with me, but there isn't anything. No black-outs, no nightmares, no hallucinations. I'm just tired and worried, but that's it.'' Sam rubbed her temple. ''Maybe I'm just being paranoid.''

''I don't think you are being paranoid,'' Freddy told her in a heavy tone. ''You know, even if you don't feel like anything is wrong with you, stuff that you just cannot explain might happen. You might do things or events that are completely out of your control might occur.''

Sam fell silent for a moment. ''You know, I've been wondering just how much of the gameplay had been under my control and just how much was Glitchtrap's doing. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I won the mini-games on my own, but the issue I have is that the video game went through several hands before it landed with me and seemingly no one noticed Glitchtrap?''

''I guess they must've thought he was just part of the video game,'' Freddy noted.

''Yeah, probably,'' Sam responded. ''Although, I feel that I had just scratched the surface of what is going on and my gut feeling tells me that I should remain careful.''

''I agree that you should listen to your instincts,'' Freddy told her. The two then heard a knock on the door, with Bonnie peering inside.

''Hey, guys, could you hurry up? The crowd is getting wild here and, while I feel sorry for the parents, the kids need their sugar rush.''

''We're on our way,'' Freddy replied, glancing at Sam. She smiled back, but when he looked away, a shadow fell over her face.

xXx

''It's finally time to wake up.''

Glitchtrap grinned widely, staring into the void. Despite being completely alone, he knew that there was another presence there, a man who desired to return. His own will was Glitchtrap's will and all that was necessary was to convince him to return to the realm of the living. Glitchtrap had already managed to create several strong attachments, which should make the return easier.

Sam was, basically, his ticket out of the void.

Glitchtrap crossed his arms as he heard steps, approached by a man with dark hair and grey eyes. His body was scarred and his gaze was empty, but he was determined. It took Glitchtrap a while to convince himself, or rather, his other self, that he needed to return. After all, he still had more work to do. His spirit was still restless and until he was done with what he had started, he wouldn't be able to move on.

''Sometimes, it amazes me how the human soul works. There is so much that can be done with it, so much that still needs to be explored,'' Glitchtrap noted, with the man just staring back at him silently, hands in his pockets. ''You want to see her again. You still have regrets, don't you?''

The man lowered his gaze, then looked back at Glitchtrap, his expression cold, with a purple glow in his eyes, matching Glichtrap's.

''I always come back, don't I?''

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#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

[byneddiedingo]

Sam Bottoms, Eileen Brennan, and Timothy Bottoms in The Last Picture Show (Peter Bogdanovich, 1971) Cast: Timothy Bottoms, Jeff Bridges, Cybill Shepherd, Ben Johnson, Cloris Leachman, Ellen Burstyn, Eileen Brennan, Clu Gulager, Sam Bottoms, Sharon Ullrick, Randy Quaid, Joe Heathcock, Bill Thurman, Barc Doyle. Screenplay: Larry McMurtry, Peter Bogdanovich, based on a novel by McMurtry. Cinematography: Robert Surtees. Production design: Polly Platt. Film editing: Donn Cambern Ben Johnson and Cloris Leachman won Oscars for The Last Picture Show, Jeff Bridges and Ellen Burstyn were nominees, and Cybill Shepherd and even Randy Quaid went on to more prominent careers, but the protagonist of the film is Sonny Crawford, played by Timothy Bottoms. His quiet, shyly withdrawn character is the one that carries the movie from beginning to end. The role could have been played by Bridges, but I think director Peter Bogdanovich made the right decision: Bridges is too up-front an actor for the role of Sonny. Bottoms's ability to fade handsomely into the background makes him a perfect actor for a character who needs to be quietly passive. He shouldn't outshine the rest of the ensemble, but instead bring home the film's message about the damage that can be done in a dying community like Anarene, Texas -- an antithesis to the sentimentalized small towns that for so long dominated American movies. What emerges from the starved lives of the citizens of Anarene is not a sense of community, a willingness to love and help one's neighbor, but a kind of deep meanness, a self-righteous self-centeredness. For me, the scene that best captures this emotional and moral stuntedness is the one in which the town goes out in hysterical pursuit of Joe Bob Blanton (Barc Doyle), the preacher's son whom we see being bullied and mocked throughout the movie. In our times, I suspect, Joe Bob's revenge would have involved shooting up the local high school, but instead he picks up a little girl and drives off into the country with her, setting off a frenzy. But when he's found and carted off to jail, everyone seems to forget about the little girl: We see her tagging along, virtually unnoticed, after the mob that's rejoicing in its victory. We remember how surprised and disgusted people were when Sam the Lion (Ben Johnson) left Joe Bob a thousand dollars in his will -- probably to tell the boy to get the hell out of Anarene before it's too late. Unfortunately, it seems to be too late for everyone else. Duane goes off to Korea, but he promises to return if he doesn't get shot. Jacy, we hear, is in Dallas, but she'll maintain the carapace of vanity and manipulativeness she evolved in Anarene wherever she goes. At the end, we're left with Sonny and Ruth (Leachman), reunited in lonely hopelessness.

[crossoverglobaloutreach]

OUR BETTER PROCESSION

Let’s consider how blessed we are in the better covenant of Jesus Christ by comparing and contrasting two remarkably similar passages of scripture, one from the Old Testament, the other from the New.

2nd Samuel 6 opens with King David bringing the Ark of God's Presence back to Jerusalem. He gathers not just any crowd, but "all the chosen men of Israel" (verse 1). He leads the illustrious procession as they set out with the ark, rejoicing and celebrating as they go (verses 2 through 5). But disaster strikes suddenly in verses 6 and 7, bringing the procession to a crashing halt:

"Then they came to the threshing floor of Nacon. And Uzzah reached out toward the ark of God and took hold of it, because the oxen nearly upset it. And the anger of Yahweh burned against Uzzah, and God struck him down there for his irreverence; and he died there by the ark of God."

Someone dared to touch the ark and a surge like lightning struck him dead. That thunderclap of power shattered the happy mood and ended the procession. We're told David was angered by the intrusion of tragedy into his joyous plans (verse 8), but also frightened that the Intruder was God Himself (verse 9). The parade melted away in sorrow and confusion, stranding the Ark far from its intended destination.

Now, consider another procession, one found in the gospel of Mark. In chapter 5, we see the Living Ark of God's Presence, Jesus Christ, surrounded by a large crowd, as they escorted Him to His intended destination - the home of a synagogue ruler. That ruler's daughter was deathly ill and he had begged Jesus to come and heal her. Jesus had graciously consented. We're told a large crowd - more likely a "rabble" than "the leading men of Jerusalem" - pressed in on Him as He walked with Jairus (verse 24).

The Uzzah of this procession was a woman with an issue of blood. That made her ceremonially unclean, but she was still determined to dart in among the crowd and touch Jesus. And when she did, "power flowed out from Him" (verse 30).

The stories follow the same arc right up through the unplanned touch. In each case, a surge of power struck the toucher. But the stories diverge sharply there: The woman didn't die; she was miraculously healed! Jesus' procession wasn't broken up, it continued, after pausing to bless her. She probably joined the crowd as they moved on. Nor was Jesus kept from His intended destination. He arrived at Jairus' home and healed his daughter, raising her from the dead.

The crowd in Mark 5 wasn't better than the one in 2nd Samuel, it was likely rougher and coarser. The "toucher" wasn't better - the bleeding woman was "unclean," while Uzzah was a man of standing. So, what accounts for the drastically different outcomes? What was better in Mark 5 vs. 2 Samuel 6? The Ark at the heart of the procession was better, as was the crowd's access to that Ark.

The ark Moses built was not to be touched (Num 4:15), nor even looked into (Num 4:20, 1 Sam 16:19). But the Apostle John opened his first letter with these words, "That which was from the beginning... what we beheld and touched with our hands" (1 Jn 1:1). Perhaps that's why God declared through the prophet Jeremiah the first ark would no longer come to mind nor be sought after (Jer 3:16). Why should it, when it was merely a type and shadow of the better Ark, Jesus Christ?

Moses' ark passed away with his covenant. Both have been replaced, supplanted, by something, Someone, superior. Our Ark can be touched. Life giving power flows from ours, not death dealing. In Mark 5, not only was Christ touched, He also touched the dead little girl. We have come to One who touches and is touched, with blessing flowing out from Him either way.

Now we have joined the greater procession of the Present One. It stretches back to Jesus Christ walking among us twenty centuries ago and reaches beyond today to His glorious return. Like the procession to Jairus' house, this one also ends in resurrection - ours! Let's not shy away from touching Him along the way and letting Him touch us. As Hebrews 10:22 exhorts us, "Let us draw near to Him with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith".

"And a highway is there, and a way. The 'Way of Holiness' it is called. The unclean do not pass over it. And He Himself is by them, those going in the way, so that even fools shall not err therein" (Is 35:8).

  - Matt Schilling

[lilyevanstan1325]

❤️ Still Falling For You ❤️

Chapter 3

Nora POV

"So...you and Barnes, huh?" Wanda asks after a few minutes of silence.

We skipped class and are now sitting on a stone bench in the schoolyard.

I look down at the cup of hot chocolate that I hold in my hands and even though I can't see her I know for sure that my friend is staring at me.

I can feel her gaze burning on my skin.

I nod, risking a glance in her direction.

Her beautiful blue eyes are full of mischief.

"And?" she urges me on and I shrug.

"Oh, c'mon Nora!Do I have to take the words out of your mouth?" Wanda snorts theatrically while sipping her chocolate.

“Ok!Ok!" I sigh resigned.

Now it's time spill the tea.

Wanda next to me rejoices settling better on the bench, I watch her carefully as she finishes her drink and straightening her back prepares for the string of questions that her brain has been processing in the last ten minutes.

"So...how long has this been going on?" she asks with her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

A light gust of wind overwhelms us making us tighten in our coats, her red hair sways in front of her face giving it the appearance of flames.

"We meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the library to study" I murmured embarrassed.

I don't know exactly what it is to embarrass me, after all Wanda is my best friend.

She knows everything about me.

"Study" she mocks me raising an eyebrow.

I push her with my shoulder, rolling my eyes.

“Yes Wanda, study.I swear we started seeing each other for that reason..."

"But?" interrupts the redhead in front of me.

"But immediately there was something that struck me in him.I don't know how to explain it to you”

I find myself smiling like a little girl with her first crush.

And basically that's what I am.

I have never felt interest or attraction for anyone, not until today at least.

So, torturing the hem of my coat, I tell her about the first we meet.

How I felt that urgent need not to let him slip away.

How in these fifteen days I have learned to know him and how day after day I could no longer do without his presence.

About the way we stole fleeting glances in the corridors or during our lunch break.

The days of the week seemed to expand dramatically in the absence of him and even if we only saw each other a handful of times I already feel something growing inside me that I can't give a name to.

“So today you gave your first kiss.How do you feel?" Wanda asks curiously.

I smile as I remember when she ran to me all red and out of breath to tell me that Sam had kissed her, I remember her enthusiasm and the light that shone in her eyes as she told me how magical her first kiss was.

“It was…I don't know…like a million butterflies had taken off in my stomach.It was nice.Sweet.Romantic" I reply quickly gesturing frantically with my hands, as if by drawing abstract shapes in the air with my fingers I could convey the idea of the chaos of emotions I felt when my lips touched James's.

The heart in my chest picks up its pace at the memory of his soft, delicate lips.

If I think back to the feeling of his hands on my burning skin, a flash of heat overwhelms me.

We both find ourselves sighing dreamily.

"You like it a lot, right?" my best friend asks me.

I sigh sadly.

"Too much" I reply scared by this new emotion.

It's all too much and far too fast.

We remain silent for a few minutes, each one lost in our thoughts.

Wanda plays with a lock of her hair by rolling and unrolling it around her finger.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks me almost in a whisper.

Her usually high and joyful voice rings in my ears drenched with a sad note.

I look for her eyes but she denies them to me.

“I didn't want to cut you off Wanda, I could never do that.I just felt scared of my own emotions” I admit.

Wanda lifts her gaze to mine.

"I've never felt anything for anyone and then...then it took just one look with him and everything inside me changed" I add.

I feel changed.

Now I'm avoiding eye contact.

“I'm sorry…and I understand if you're mad at me, Wanda.I just hope you can forgive me”

My words are followed by only a chilling silence.

And if before my heart was beating furiously at the memory of the sweet sensations I had with James now it beats madly with fear.

How am I going to do without my sweet and chaotic Wanda in my life?

A vise grips my bowels as my vision blurs, a tear slips down my face when I close my eyes.

“Why are you crying, Nora?I am not mad at you.I could never be"

Her crystalline laugh envelops me like a warm blanket.

A shy smile spreads slowly on my face and our eyes meet again, chaining each other.

"Best friends forever, remember?" she whispers to me, spreading her arms in my direction.

"Best friends forever" I reply literally throwing myself into her arms.

I dip my face into the crease of her neck, deeply breathing in the sweet fragrance of her hair.

Her hands move in slow gestures along my back, gently cuddling me.

We remain embraced until the shrill and annoying sound of the school bell interrupts us.

We part, continuing to smile and holding hand we enter the large building of John Adams High.

As soon as we cross the threshold of the door, the heat immediately overwhelms us, relaxing our muscles numb from the cold.

"Will you call me tonight?" Wanda asks as she absent-mindedly rummages through her locker in search of her art book.

"Of course.I'll call you after I have talked to James"

Wanda pulls her head out of the locker and smiles at me slyly.

"Is Barnes ousting me already?"

I laugh heartily.

"We just have to agree on our date" I tell her feeling strangely nervous.

Wanda closes the locker and leans on it.

“The first date is essential.What do you think you will do?"

"Honestly?I don't know” I replied agitatedly.

I've never had a date.

And usually, the expectations surrounding a first date are high.

I really hope not to be disappointed and above all not to disappoint him.

Wanda seems to perceive my growing state of anxiety.

“You're overthinking, Nora.You just tries to relax.I'm sure it'll do great” my friend tries to encourage me by placing a hand on my shoulder.

We say goodbye by heading each one in our class.

As I enter the classroom and prepare to occupy my usual place, I can't help but think about what will happen tomorrow.

Where are we going to go?

And what will we do?

Will we kiss again?

God I really hope so.

I feel my cheeks turn red and trying to compose myself I am going to carefully follow the last hour of class even if I admit that Mr. Harris' time is often boring.

In fact, I feel so excited and anxious about tomorrow night's date, that I can't follow anything the professor is saying.

When I get home it is almost 4pm.

I take the phone out of my coat pocket for the umpteenth time and even before checking the display I already know that I will not find anything.

That I will not find what I am looking for.

In fact, I just need a quick glance...still no calls or messages from him.

I sigh full of frustration.

I don't want to look like a pathetic girl but to be honest I feel the anxiety slowly devour me.

What if he repented?

That is, I kissed him, I invited him out, I left him my number...he could at least try to be the one to call me, right?

Trying to chase away all negative thoughts, I go straight to my room.

I cross the large atrium of the house which at the moment is immersed in a surreal silence.

Peter will be back from school shortly and Mama Lupe will definitely be out running some errands.

I don't even care about my parents.

My father, like every night, won't be back until 10pm and my mother will be in some boutique squandering her husband's money in some dress she'll wear only once.

Arrived in the room I throw the backpack aside and slinging into the bathroom I head for the tub.

A hot bath is just what I need.

I slowly undress, dropping my clothes onto the polished marble floor as a smile of satisfaction comes to my lips.

Today I really made the right choice by choosing this outfit.

As soon as I got to the library James's eyes went wide, I don't know if it was amazement or wonder, the fact is that for the first time I saw desire in his eyes.

A burning passion ready to consume it.

Ready to consume me.

I pull my hair up in a high bun while I wait for the tub to finish filling.

The fragrant notes of jasmine and orange blossom begin to spread in the air.

I light a few candles and turn off the light, letting the faint light of them illuminate the room.

When the water level is high enough, I immerse myself in it, letting the foam cover my whole body.

I relax by resting my head on a soft towel while the hot water begins to loosen my tense muscles.

And so closing my eyes I let myself go to the still vivid and burning memories of a few hours ago.

I think back to James' sweet gesture of making me a little tart.

It's such a romantic and intimate gesture that I can't help but smile.

And this memory is immediately followed by another much more captivating one.

Despite the hot water covering my body, a shiver runs down my spine as soon as I think back to James's fiery gaze when his finger caressed my lips.

To the poignant look he gave me a moment before pulling back.

Another shiver shakes me.

His eyes that he could not detach from the neckline of my dress.

And then the best moment.

When I kissed him I didn't know exactly what I was doing, I just felt the poignant need to let him know how much I wanted that contact which I don't know why he kept denying me.

At first I believed that from one moment to the next he refused me, that his rigidity was due to the fact that he did not want me...and then he gave in and when I heard him respond to the kiss I lost my mind.

In my mind there is only a whirlwind of overwhelming images and sensations.

Always with my eyes closed I relive every moment of that fantastic kiss.

James's warm tongue that sweet and delicate caresses mine.

His hands that uncertain and unsure have crept between the slits of the dress to caress my warm skin.

A trembling sigh leaves my lips as my clit begins to throb between my thighs, I rub my legs between them in search of a little relief but without results...so dipping my hand under the water I caress the skin covered with shivers up to reach the center of my pleasure.

I lean my head back while the tips of my fingers touch my hot femininity.

The suffocating desire to relive those emotions pushes me further, in search of an unknown pleasure.

It makes me wish for the first time for male hands to touch me.

His hands.

His hands to give me pleasure.

I bite my lower lip as my fingers sink into the warm folds of my body.

My chest begins to rises and falls at a furious pace as my hand continues in that sweet torture.

The lips are no longer able to keep imprisoned the moans of pleasure that inexorably try to find the way to soar in the air.

I bring my free hand to my lips thus stifling the gasps of pleasure that crash against it.

When I reach pleasure and orgasm overwhelms me in front of my eyes I have only the image of James's eyes.

For a moment I remain dazed and trembling with pleasure and when my heart begins to slow down, I completely immerse myself in the water, only when my lungs burn from lack of oxygen I rise to the surface, breathing deeply.

What the hell is going on with me?

I feel disoriented by the intensity of this desire, I don't understand how it is possible to feel so overwhelmed by someone you hardly know.

I don't understand how a person like me can have such feelings.

I've always maintained that I'm fine alone, that I don't need a boyfriend.

Around me I have only ever seen girls ready to throw themselves from one date to the next, eager, almost obsessed, to find the right man.

And I, on the other hand, stood still and looked at myself, wondering why at just 18 years this need was already felt...and now I find myself in the same situation that I made fun of.

I stay immersed in the water until it gets too cold so I quickly finish washing and wear my most comfortable pajamas.

When I go back to my room, my little brother is waiting for me sitting on my bed with legs crossed, watching TV.

"Pete, what are you doing here?"

He looks away from the television and shrugs then quickly lowers his gaze.

Something wrong.

Peter is always a cheerful and sunny child, he never lets himself be knocked down by anything.

With my heart pounding I approach the bed sitting next to him.

I caress his soft perfumed hair and wrap his slender shoulders with my arm.

Instinctively his little hands cling to my shirt and sinking his face into my chest he lets himself go in a desperate cry.

My heart literally splashes in my throat.

What happened to him?

I hold him even more in my arms.

“Pete, honey, please don't do that.What happens?Did you have squabble with someone at school?"

Peter continues to cry, shaking his head vigorously.

"Did Mama Lupe scold you?"

Peter shakes his head again.

“Has anyone hurt you?Has anyone tried to do it?"

My mind forms one horrible thought after another.

He shakes his head again and his denial brings some relief even if it is heartbreaking to see such a small and defenseless being cry such bitter tears.

So I just keep cuddling him waiting patiently for him to make up his mind to speak.

After a few more minutes his sobs become more and more faint until the tears stop pouring copiously from his eyes, his shoulders are shaken by some sporadic spasm as he continues to sniff.

I reach out to my nightstand and grab a handkerchief and lifting his face with my free hand I help him blow his nose.

His bright red eyes follow my every move.

I leave another caress on his head.

"Now would you like to talk to me about what happened to you?"

He tries to look down but I stop him.

"Peter?"

His eyes fill with tears again.

“Dad promised me that he would pick me up from school today.But he didn't.A driver came in place of him" he murmurs in a broken voice.

In a moment a blind rage takes possession of me.

What a great son of a bitch you are, Tony.

I can overlook the fact that you don't love me but with Peter...with Peter you can't.

I try to dominate my wild instincts and trying to soften my gaze as much as possible I bring it back to this wonderful little human being who looks at me as if I were his only lifeline in this sea of disinterest and loneliness.

"Dad is very busy" I murmur.

I have to swallow the bitter pill.

Yet another bullshit.

"But he promised me" he insists as his chin quivers.

He is on the verge of tears again.

“Listen to me Pete.Adults often do things we don't understand.I can't understand mom and dad either.But I want you to keep one thing in your mind.I'm here, Peter.I will be here forever.And if you feel sad or lonely, just come to me"

His sad little eyes tear my soul apart.

My eyes are also shiny now.

“I know it's not the same.I too often find myself wanting mom and dad.But I have a secret to not get sad, do you know what it is?"

Peter shakes his head again.

“I immediately think of you.When I feel sad or lonely, I just need to think of you to feel good again” I whisper stroking his cheek.

He bends his head lulling himself into my touch.

"I love you too, Nora" Peter whispers looking me in the eye intensely.

His eyes as dark as our father's hide a pain too great for such a small child to bear.

"I love you more" I laugh, tickling him.

Peter throws himself on the bed starting to laugh and kick.

The storm has passed.

It has passed but as he passed it left only destruction and some damage can never be repaired.

After a short tickle battle we lie on the bed in silence.

"Nora?"

“Tell me”

“When I grow up we will go away from here.We will go to live alone, you and I, and we will be happy"

The innocence with which he expresses such a gloomy thought makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

A child his age shouldn't want to leave his home.

I turn my head towards him.

Peter continues to look at the ceiling, his gaze always lost somewhere.

"How about we go downstairs and get Mama Lupe to have us dinner with bread, jam and peanut butter?"

Peter snaps immediately sitting up, his eyes sparkle.

"We can?Really?" he asks hopefully, kneeling down and pulling me by the arm.

I laugh as I sit up.

“Sure we can!Let's go”

I get up and offer him my hand inviting him to get out of bed.

We go down the stairs holding hand and arrived in the kitchen we already find Mama Lupe in front of the fridge.

"Here you are.What do you want for dinner?"

Peter jumps happily in his chair, encouraging me with his eyes to be the one who has to ask.

"Can we have jam and peanut butter?" I ask.

Mama Lupe turns to us, crossing her arms across her chest.

"It doesn't seem like food for dinner" she mutters, turning her back to us again.

Peter's smile falters as his shoulders hunch.

I can't allow him to get sad again, I won't be the umpteenth person to disappoint him today so I get up and join our nanny.

“Por favor mama Lupe.Es culpa de papi.De nuevo” I say lowering my voice and indicating Peter with a nod.

Mama Lupe brings her dark gaze back to me and then moves it to Peter's distraught face.

We look at each other again and without further words she understands.

She knows perfectly well that her Tony has failed as a father for the umpteenth time.

"Peter, would you like strawberry or cherry jam?" Mama Lupe asks with a smile.

Peter lifts his face lit with joy, his smile goes from ear to ear.

"Strawberry" he exclaims, clapping his hands happily.

I thank mama Lupe with a smile and before going to sit at the table next to my little brother I lean over her kissing her cheek.

"Gracias" I whisper to her.

She smiles at me stroking my cheek.

“You are a good girl, Nora.I am proud of you mi querida”

I smile at her and with a lump in my throat I go back to my seat.

Her love for me is a balm for my soul but...but a small part of me will always suffer because these words will never come out of my parents' mouth.

After dinner, Mama Lupe puts Peter to bed and I go back to my room.

I reach the desk and grab the phone, when I check the display my heart skips a beat.

There is a call from a unknown number.

Damn!

In the rush to help Peter, I forgot my phone altogether.

With a trembling hand I call the unknown number.

After just one ring, a deep, sweet voice answers me.

"Hey"

James's voice rings sweet in my ears.

"Hey" I reply a moment later and then nothing.

"Do I disturb you?" I ask agitated by this heavy silence.

"No.No, don't disturb”

Silence again.

“I thought you weren't calling me anymore” I admit, feeling my heart pounding in my ears.

"And why on earth?" he chuckles with his sweet voice.

“It's 8pm”

“Yeah…yeah, I…I work after school”

For a moment I'm stunned.

"Do you work?"

James clears his throat.

"Yes, I...I didn't tell you because I was ashamed" he admits timidly.

I sit on the bed in disbelief.

I'm sorry that he thinks certain things.

"James you must never be ashamed of what you do or who you are"

He doesn't answer so I decide to speak again first.

“And anyway, sorry if I didn't answer you earlier.I had a little problem”

“I hope nothing serious”

“Don't worry.It's just that my little brother needed me” I reply, thinking for a moment of his warm tears that wet my chest.

"Eleanor?"

"Tell me"

But James doesn't answer.

I leave him a few moments but from him I receive nothing but silence.

So taking a deep breath I expose my fears to him.

“Listen James you don't have to.If you don't want to go out with me, that's fine.If you don't like me that's fine” I whisper.

It's not true, I'm not okay with this but if that's what he feels I'm ready to back off and respect his feelings.

“I was the one who kissed you.Me who asking you for a date.I didn't give you time to think about it.If you're not interested that's okay”

And while I wait for his no I'm shocked when I hear him laugh.

"What the hell..." I murmur unable to explain his reaction.

"Are you kidding me, Nora?"

My eyes dilate in amazement.

This is the first time he has called me Nora.

And I like.

So much.

"No, I'm serious" I reply flat.

“Nora I have a crush on you since we started high school.How can you think I don't like you?"

Now it's my turn to be speechless.

Has he really had a crush on me for four years?

Why didn't he ever tell me?

Why did he never try to know me?

"Nora?Nora are you still there?Eleanor?"

James's voice wakes me from my thoughts.

“Yep.Why have you never tell me?" I say giving voice to my thoughts.

"But did you see me?I'm certainly not the super handsome fit and rich.I'm just the silent boy from school.The outcast"

His voice becomes more and more a whisper as he speaks.

I'm shocked by this guy's perception of himself.

I have to say something.

I have to let him know that he's okay with me.

“James…”

“Listen Nora I'm nobody.I have nothing to give you.I don't have the money to take you to a nice restaurant.I don't even have a car to be able to pick you up.It's humiliating” he interrupts me.

I think back to the words he just said to me for a moment and I feel like I'm going to get angry.

“If I looked for this in a boy, I would have accepted Walker's advances for a long time.Do you really think I'm so material?"

“Nora…”

“Do you really think that because I'm Eleanor Stark I'm just looking for money and expensive cars?I thought you understood that I'm not like that.I'm not like that” I find myself saying raising my voice.

I will never allow anyone to make me appear for who I am not.

“Forgive me Nora, I didn't mean to offend you.I'm sorry” James says hastily.

"That's not what I meant.Trust me.I'm just afraid of not being enough for you”

And at his words all my anger vanishes.

I'm just afraid of not being enough.

It's the saddest thing a wonderful guy like him can think of.

I try to remedy by easing the situation.

“This is really fun, you know?I think the same thing"

"What do you mean?"

“I mean I thought you weren't phoning me because you didn't think me good enough.I was afraid you didn't like me”

James laughs again.

His laugh resembles a choir of angels.

"This is already the second stupid thing you say"

"You Barnes said more than me, trust me" I repeat in response, giggling.

"So...where do you want to go?"

James stammers something incomprehensible then clears his throat and tries again.

“I know a nice place.Small, cozy.They make great sandwiches”

He looks really embarrassed.

"I love sandwiches" I exclaim, getting another laugh from him.

"If you want, I'll give you the address and I'll see you there"

"Oh no Barnes.Give me your home address.I'll come by at 6:30 pm, okay?"

"Nora..."

He seems hesitant but I have to insist.

I want to insist.

"C'mon James!I swear I'm good at driving.Never an accident.I swear”

I hear him sigh.

“Ok, ok!You have won"

Finally he gives me his address and after having exchanged a little more chatting happily, we wish goodnight.

I hung up and clutch the phone to my chest with a radiant smile on my face.

I can't wait for it.

I can't wait to spend more time with James.

And above all, I can't wait to kiss him again.

Bucky POV

Fuck!

Fuck!

I'm so fucking nervous.

I have been motionless in front of my closet for almost half an hour.

I'm in a panic.

What the hell should I wear on a first date?

I don't have a great wardrobe.

Mostly I own jeans and sweatshirts, all strictly black.

I take a deep breath and check the phone display.

Fuck!

In 10 minutes Eleanor will be here and I'm still in my underwear.

Great.

I grab a jeans and a simple t-shirt, maybe for today I will avoid wearing the usual oversized sweatshirt, and I start to get dressed.

Nora is different.

She doesn't judge me for what I wear, I'm sure she never would so I have to stop getting all these paranoia.

I quickly put on my shoes and go back to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I think this is already the third time I do it, or the fourth?

I do not know.

I want my breath to be flawless when I kiss her or at least hope to kiss her again.

After all, we've already kissed, it shouldn't be too embarrassing to do it again, right?

I run my hands nervously through my hair.

I'm doing it again.

I overthinking.

I try to be cool and take the whole thing lightly but damn it's Eleanor Stark we're talking about.

I mean she's everything I've ever wanted and now that she wants me I can't get over it.

I still don't believe it.

I am always afraid that at any moment I may wake up, as if all this were just a wonderful dream.

I go back to my room and grabbing the phone and my faithful leather jacket I am about to go downstairs.

Once downstairs I make as little noise as possible trying to figure out where my father is right now.

The kitchen is dark and there is no noise from the living room, a sign that the TV is off.

Surely it will be in the garage crying Bourbon's tears over my mom's photos.

Excited for the evening waiting for me I wear the jacket and go out on the porch of the house.

The neighborhood is quite at the moment, at this time most people are having dinner and it is too late for children to play in the courtyards of their homes.

I go down the first two steps waiting for Eleanor to arrive.

"Where do you think you're going?"

His deep, dark voice makes me jump like an idiot.

"I have a date, sir" I reply turning to him.

One thing I've learned over time, and with the beatings, is that when he's drunk I always have to look him in the eye when I answer a question from him.

Colonel Barnes is sitting on the old swing on the corner of the porch of the house.

That was my mother's favorite place.

In the afternoon she would sit there and she would look at me with a sweet smile on her lips while I enjoyed kneading mud pies.

And now that place has been desecrated by this being full of hatred and alcohol.

His red eyes, a sign that he has already drunk a lot, are focused on me.

On his face he has an incredulous expression.

"Do you have a date?" he asks as if it were impossible.

On the other hand, I too am surprised.

"Yes, sir"

"With a girl?"

I stiffen my jaw.

Here comes the umpteenth disparaging insult of him.

"Yes, sir"

He remains silent for a few moments continuing to study me carefully.

I hope Eleanor arrives soon and saves me from this moment.

"Who is she?" he asks as with a gentle push he stands up and staggers as he takes a few steps closer.

I try to maintain apparent calm even though my hands are sweating profusely as my heart begins to beat at a particularly fast pace.

"A schoolmate" I reply hoping to be able to appease his curiosity.

"What's her name"

But obviously he doesn't give up.

I close my eyes for a moment.

I don't want to tell him who she is.

I don't want to dirty something as beautiful as her.

Because I know that as soon as I say her name he will understand who she is.

He takes another step closer with a threatening gaze so I take courage and answer him.

"Eleanor Stark"

My father confused stops his advance by raising an eyebrow.

"Stark.Stark like that rich billionaire?"

I just nod.

And suddenly he bursts out laughing.

I am absolutely shocked by his reaction.

"And I thought you were good for nothing" he giggles as he pats me on the shoulder.

Gesture that leaves me even more thrilled.

“So you fuck with the little girl full of money, huh?Great shot”

His alcohol-soaked breath smashes on my face, which writhes in a little grimace of disgust.

But what disgusts me much more are his words.

I automatically clench my fists in anger.

I feel like if he says another half word about Eleanor I might lose my temper.

And as soon as my brain registers this instinct of mine, I totally immobilize myself.

It is the first time that I have thought that I could physically react against my father.

It doesn't matter if he's bigger and stronger than me but the very idea that he can offend her makes me angry.

I don't know what to answer him and so I just do what he hates the most.

I stare at him in silence.

And when his gaze tapers in anger the roar of an engine catches our attention.

A majestic midnight blue Audi R8 Coupé turns around the corner.

The car slows down near our house until it stops right in front of our driveway.

A whistle distracts my attention from the car.

"Holy shit!That little gem will cost four times our house” my father murmurs admiringly.

Then his gaze rests on me again.

We look at each other for a few seconds then turn my back on him and walk over to the car.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and with a shaking sigh I open the car door which reveals a vision a thousand times better than the car was.

Because I will never see her money, however different my father may think, I will always have eyes only for her.

Eleanor wears a long-sleeved satin dress in a gorgeous teal blue color.

Her beautiful toned legs are in plain sight.

And if that weren't enough to make me lose my mind, her deep V-neck just makes me gasp like an idiot.

Her hair is loose and falls over her shoulders in soft caramel waves.

Her face is as always without makeup, only her lips are covered with a light glossy gloss that makes them look even more plump and inviting.

"What are you doing?" Eleanor asks with an amused smile.

"Yeah, I...yeah" I stammer getting into the car.

Jeez I had never gotten into such an expensive car.

As my body sinks into the soft, snug leather seat, Eleanor's amused laugh resounds in my ears.

I quickly turn to her with a questioning look.

She shakes her head smiling until her attention is captured by something or rather someone.

"Is that your father?" she asks me, bringing her nutty gaze back to me.

"Let's go away" I tell her without even turning around.

Eleanor continues to stare at me and after a few moments she starts the engine again and we leave, remaining silent.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to mind your business” she murmurs as she drives, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel as she keeps her gaze focused on the road.

I sigh deeply shaking my head.

"It's not your fault.Sorry if I was rude” I reply without being able to take my gaze away from her beautiful profile.

Her lips curl in a shy smile.

God how much I would like to kiss her.

“Don't worry, it is nothing.So...where are we going?"

Her gaze touches me for a moment and then returns to the road.

“Little Italy”

Tonight I'll take her to a really important place for me, I just hope she won't be disappointed.

I see her as she raises an eyebrow.

"Have you ever been to Little Italy?"

Eleanor shakes her head.

"My friends and I go to other places" she replies.

I smile.

"I forgot...only Upper East Side for Nora" I giggle, realizing that maybe Eleanor might be offended.

In the meantime, we slow down near a traffic light.

I see Eleanor roll her eyes and smile.

"Witty Barnes" she murmurs.

When the light turns green we get back on the road.

Damn, what if she was offended?

"Nora?"

"Yeah?"

"I was kidding, you know that right?"

She bursts out laughing.

“Oh James!Look, I too was born with a sense of humor, you know?"

And then she smiles, she smiles at me so sincerely that I can't help but believe her.

As I observe her succulent lips my gaze slides over her neckline.

Blushing like a little girl I immediately bring my attention back to her face but alas she has not escaped my gaze.

She quickly looks away from mine, bringing her lower lip between her teeth.

The delicate skin on her neck turns purple.

We both remain silent, enveloped in embarrassment.

In the meantime we arrive in Little Italy, wonderful colorful buildings overlook on both sides of the street.

Eleanor is focused on guiding and her eyes wander in wonder, carefully scanning everything around her.

"We are almost there.You can park there in front” I tell her, pointing to a spot about ten meters from us.

Eleanor parks carefully as many passers-by stop to admire her car.

It's not an everyday thing to see a nearly two hundred thousand dollar car wandering around here.

As soon as we stop I hurry to get out quickly reaching the door where Eleanor is.

I offer her hand helping her to get out and once out of her car I pull her coat from her hands helping her to put it on.

She smiles at me sweetly and my heart is somersaults.

Now that we find ourselves a few inches away from each other, the desire to kiss her returns overwhelming.

I place my hands on the sides of her neck and slowly I lift them up to wrap her face in my fingers.

Eleanor gasps under my touch biting her bottom lip.

God this gesture of her knocks me out of my mind every time.

I stroke her cheeks with my thumbs as I look at her lips like a hungry one.

"Damn Barnes, do you want to kiss me?" Eleanor stammers, tearing me a smile.

And so without making me repeat it a second time, I drop on her lips, giving vent to all my passion.

My tongue immediately caresses her lips inviting her to open hers.

A faint moan echoes from her throat as she thrusts my tongue in search of her.

I kiss her with so much ardor that I force her to tilt her head back.

She surrenders to my sweet aggression, her hands caress my arms and then forcefully claw my t-shirt.

We only separate when the need to breathe becomes more urgent than our desire to explore.

I close my eyes by placing my forehead against hers.

We both have faster breathing.

"James?"

My name on her lips becomes music.

"Tell me" I whisper on her lips, staying with my eyes closed.

Everything is so perfect that I want to assimilate every moment of this magical moment.

"I'm hungry"

And in response her stomach growls.

I burst out laughing and kissing her one last time, this time a sweet kiss, I intertwine our fingers and drag her towards the restaurant entrance.

Just before reaching the entrance, Eleanor just pulls me and makes me stop.

My questioning look prompts her to explain her gesture.

Her gaze glistens with mischief as she approaches until our chest touch, she stands on tiptoe and her delicate breath smashes against my ear.

"We will resume the conversation after dinner Barnes, rest assured" she whispers sensually making cover my body with shivers.

I swallow empty and she, regardless of my face that is literally on fire, kisses the profile of my jaw.

I smile, shaking my head and opening the door for her, I let her enter first.

I want to try and act like a true gentleman tonight.

As soon as I enter I am overwhelmed by old memories.

This place has always been one of my favorite places.

I approach the counter always remaining hand in hand with Eleanor.

The place is not very big, it will have about twelve tables.

Some of them are already occupied and an inviting scent permeates the air.

The walls are white and there are tons of celebrity photos on them.

The tables are set up with elegant tablecloths in soft colors and on each of them stands a wonderful bouquet of colorful flowers.

From the large kitchen doors a thin woman with short blond hair and icy eyes makes an appearance.

As soon as she sees me on her face she paints a radiant, loving smile.

"Ciao James.My God, how much have you grown” she exclaims, reaching up to me and squeezing me in her arms.

"Ciao Aunt Maria" I whisper, returning her hug.

She moves away from me and grabbing my face in her hands continues to overwhelm me with comments, all strictly in Italian.

Eleanor watches us amused.

“Oh Dio, how beautiful you are.You are beautiful as your mother”

Our clear and moved gazes meet.

Before I can melt into tears and look like an imbecile, I turn my gaze to Eleanor and Aunt Maria imitates me.

Her hands pull away from my face only to go and shake Eleanor's hands.

"Hi darling, you must be Eleanor, right?"

Eleanor smiles at her.

"Yes.Nice to meet you.And please call me Nora” she replies politely.

“The pleasure is mine Nora, I'm Maria.Come, follow me.I have reserved the best table for you” she proudly announces, preceding us a few steps.

I motion to Eleanor to walk while I follow her placing a hand right on the curve of her ass.

I guess I'll never get used to touching her.

Arriving at the table I help her to take off her coat and move her chair aside to accommodate her.

Aunt Maria looks at the scene with an almost moved gaze.

She knows how difficult it was for me after my mom died.

She knows how lonely I am.

And I'm sure that seeing me with Eleanor, seeing that maybe I could open my heart to another person, brings her a sense of relief.

"Our James is always a real gentleman" my aunt whispers, making me blush.

Eleanor smiles in amusement.

“Choose calmly.I'll be back in a few minutes”

And so she says she leaves.

Eleanor looks around while I only have eyes for her.

“She seems to love you very much” Eleanor whispers, pointing behind her where Aunt Maria left.

The table where we are seated is located in the corner of the room right in front of a large window.

I take off my jacket and take a seat to her left.

“Yep!She is technically not my aunt but I have always called her that since I was a child.She was…she was my mom's best friend.They met as little girls, Aunt Maria had just arrived from Italy and since then they have always been very good friends" I tell her smiling, staring at a point in front of me.

Eleanor follows my gaze.

"Was that your mom?" she asks softly, almost as if she is afraid to ask me this question.

There is a picture hanging on the wall in front of me.

Two young girls are immortalized in it, hugging and smiling.

In their eyes the joy of a bright future ahead of them.

I nod, looking back at Eleanor.

“It was taken the day Aunt Maria and her husband Kevin opened this restaurant” I explain.

We remain silent for a few moments.

For me it is never easy to talk about my mother indeed I almost never do it but with her I feel that the memories become less painful.

While I am lost in my thoughts Eleanor grabs my hand which lies on the table.

"You miss her so much"

Her is not a question.

I nod, feeling a lump in my throat.

Eleanor seems to feel my pain and her hand grips mine even more tightly.

She moves a few inches until her head rests on my shoulder.

Her lips touch my neck with a sweet kiss.

“I'm sorry” she whispers.

I shake my head and kiss her hair.

We stay like this until Aunt Maria makes her return.

"You decided?" she asks, looking first at Eleanor and then at me.

“I actually told her about your famous sandwiches” I tell her knowing how proud she is of all of her recipes.

"Ok.If you trust me, I'll take care of you.Ok?" she asks with a smile.

I speak directly to Eleanor.

"What do you say?Choose what you want” I assure her.

Eleanor gives me one of her best smiles and then she turns to my aunt.

“It's okay with me”

Aunt Maria walks away smiling.

Eleanor rests her elbows on the table putting her hands under her chin and bowing her head to the side observes me carefully.

"What's up?" I ask her as a waiter approaches our table to bring us a jug full of water.

"Tell me something I don't know about you"

I think about it for a moment and then smile.

"My full name is James Buchanan Barnes"

"Like the president?"

“Like the president”

She smiles.

"Now it's your turn" I tell her.

She thinks about it for a moment and then gets serious, quickly looking away.

What happened?

"Eleanor?" I call her softly but she doesn't turn around.

"Nora?"

Her eyes finally return to mine.

“It's okay Nora.If you don't want to answer me that's okay” I tell smiling trying to reassure her.

She shakes her head smiling but her eyes are still filled with an emotion I can't understand.

"I just don't want you to think I'm a spoiled little girl"

"Why on earth should I think that?"

Eleanor looks down at her hands again nervously rubbing the napkin in front of her.

"Hey!" I call her lifting her chin with two fingers.

“I could never think that.And do you know why?"

She shakes her head.

"Because from what I have been able to know, I know that you are a sweet, generous and intelligent girl"

Finally when she smiles at me so do her eyes.

"And going back to the previous question, you don't have to answer me" I reassure her, kissing her forehead.

Aunt Maria arrives with some dishes in her hands followed by another waiter with as many dishes in his hands.

In front of us there are dozens of Italian delights and without hesitating for a moment we begin to eat.

“I hate being that rich” Eleanor mutters suddenly after a few minutes.

"What?" I ask with the fork in midair.

“One thing that no one knows about me.I hate having all this money.Everyone thinks I live a dreamlife but I don't.I am not my money.For me it is painful not to be able to understand if people are interested in me or my last name”

I look at her in shock, letting my fork fall into my plate.

I grab the napkin and slowly wipe my lips thinking carefully about the words to say.

I honestly often thought that I would like to be rich and hassle free.

But have a lot of money obviously has both sides of the coin.

There is always a dark side in everything.

I pull my chair close to her so that there is no distance between us.

I grab both of her hands and kiss her palms.

Then her wrists.

“You are only Nora to me.I don't care about your money.I care about you.Only you”

Eleanor leans forward and kisses me.

Slowly.

Gently.

She puts her soft lips on mine over and over again.

"I know.Do you think I've waited almost eighteen years to give my first kiss if I didn't really trust you?" she smiles at me embarrassed.

Her words impress me.

Everything I could have thought except that her first kiss had been the one exchanged with me.

I smile at her, kissing her hands again.

"Why are you smiling like that?" she asks me approaching and resting her head on my chest.

I let go of her hands to wrap my arms around her shoulders.

"Because I too am happy to have waited for you for my first kiss" I whisper in her ear.

Eleanor jerks her head up looking for my eyes.

"Really?"

"Really what?"

"Was it your first kiss for you too?"

What a question.

I laugh again.

“Nora until a few weeks ago I had never talked to anyone.How can you think I could ever have a girlfriend?”

She chuckles rolling her eyes.

She pulls away from me and punches me playfully on my chest.

"I don't know...you are so beautiful that I thought you had already had some relationship" she replies with a shrugs.

Does she think I am beautiful?

Really?

I blush embarrassed.

She notices it and takes advantage of it to make fun of me.

“And you look so much cuter when you blush” she whispers as she bites her lip.

I shake my head and let's go back to eating.

Dinner goes on happily, between one delicious food and another we continue to talk, discovering new things about each other.

Eleanor talks to me about her passion for photography and when she does it her eyes shine with joy and wonder, her way of seeing the world through art only confirms what an exceptional person she is.

But despite her sweet company and the pleasant evening, I can't seem to be quite as loose as she is.

While Eleanor manages to talk freely to me about her love for photography, I can't tell her about my true dreams.

Talking to her about cooking would mean bringing up my mother and as much as I like Eleanor, I don't feel ready yet.

I think she understood this and instead of insisting she simply changed the subject with elegance and ease.

"Everything went fine?" Aunt Maria asks as she approaches.

Her hand rests on my shoulder and squeezes it gently.

“It was all great, really” Eleanor replies, giving her a smile.

"Can I bring you something else?"

"No aunty, thank you.We're going now” I tell her, getting up and holding out my hand to Eleanor.

She gets up and I help her and put on her coat.

All three of us approach the cash desk together.

Eleanor begins rummaging through her purse and pulling out her wallet after a moment.

"What are you doing?" I ask looking at her confused.

Her eyes when they land on me are equally confused.

"I pay my share" she simply replies.

Suddenly different emotions stir inside me and a thousand questions assail me.

Does she do it because she feels sorry for me?

Does she do it because she thinks I can't afford it?

Does she do this because it is normal for her to pay her share?

I shake my head trying to banish these thoughts.

“You don't need Nora.You're my guest.I'll take care of it”

Eleanor seems hesitant and promptly replies.

“Thanks but I prefer if we did it halfway”

“Oh no!I repeat I brought you here.I'll take care of it”

“I wouldn't want to interrupt your exchange of views” Aunt Maria interrupts us with a smile “but dinner is offered by the house.And no, no complaints are accepted” she immediately adds as soon as she realizes I'm ready to reply.

I am speechless like an imbecile.

“But aunt…”

“Nothing but!You will pay the next time you bring this beautiful girl here again.Perhaps with this excuse you will show up a little more often" she immediately silences me.

The two women in front of me hug and Eleanor thanks her for her beautiful gesture.

When they part from the embrace, Aunt Maria opens her arms towards me and I dive into them as I always did as a kid.

Her thin arms hold me tightly and I feel at home.

Maria Bruno is the only person, after my mother, who knows who James Barnes really is.

Her hands warm and marked by years of hard work envelop my face with sweetness.

“It's good to see you smile again.Mom would be so proud of you” she sniffs.

I understand her emotion, she and Winifred have been like sisters.

They were present in each other's life.

My mother's death also affected her life.

We say goodbye one last time and holding hand with Eleanor we leave the restaurant immersing ourselves in the pungent evening air.

I look around for a moment and an idea overwhelms me.

"Wait here" I tell her letting go of her hand and crossing the street quickly.

"James!" Eleanor calls me but I don't turn around.

I want to do something for her tonight and since I couldn't pay for her dinner I want to give her a present.

I enter the small shop and quickly buy what I need.

I salute and hiding my hand behind my back across the street again reaching Eleanor.

She awaits me with a curious frown.

"These are for you" I exclaim handing her a small bouquet of flowers.

They are simple white daisies but as soon as I saw them I thought of her.

Eleanor reaches out her hands, visibly trembling, and grabs the flowers bringing them close to her face.

She plunges her nose into it and closing her eyes she breathes in the perfume deeply.

Her eyes slowly open and turn to mine.

She seems to be on the verge of tears.

“No one has ever given me flowers” she says, smiling shyly.

“They are beautiful, thank you” she adds as she approaches and stands up on her tiptoe she kisses me.

I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her against my body deepening the kiss.

"Shall we leave?" she whispers on my lips.

I nod still stunned by the kiss and getting into the car we leave Little Italy behind us.

The road ahead of us is getting darker and darker and between a chat and another I don't even notice where we are heading.

I become aware of the place where we are only when Eleanor turns off the car engine.

"Where we are?" I ask looking out the window.

We returned to Manhattan and we are in a kind of open space, behind us there is a small park and in front of us the Hudson bank extends black and shiny.

The place is deserted and only the light of a few scattered street lamps illuminates us.

"I thought you didn't want to go home yet...but if you want we can go away" Eleanor murmurs, embarrassed, gesticulating frantically as she tries to start the car.

I grab her wrist.

Our eyes are chained.

I approach her, drawing her into my arms.

"You're right.I don't want to go home yet” I tell her before gluing my lips to hers.

The kiss becomes intense immediately.

Eleanor's tongue pushes hard into my mouth ripping out a growl that resonates in my chest.

I wrap my arms around her and with my hands I gently caress her back with gentle and delicate movements.

But she seems to be on another wavelength.

Her small hands push my shoulders against the seat and with a quick movement she sits astride me.

Her fingers tickle the back of my neck and then get lost in my hair.

The kiss becomes overwhelming.

The cockpit is narrow and our bodies are practically pressed against each other, the sound of our panting hovering in the confined space.

Hesitant and uncertain my fingers caress her wonderful ass and Eleanor shivers.

I move my lips down her neck until I reach her collarbone.

I retrace the same path of my lips backwards but this time I do it by passing my tongue.

Savoring every inch of hers soft, fragrant skin.

Eleanor moans in response unleashing my erection throbbing violently in my jeans.

She rubs against it and literally freaks me out.

Her hands creep under my t-shirt and I start stroking her thighs left uncovered by her dress, still trying not to go too far.

I absolutely don't want to disrespect her.

I don't want her to think that I did all of this just to get to her body and take advantage of it.

Eleanor touches my hot skin, making me moan.

I seeks her lips again and once I find them I devour them mercilessly.

Her breaths become more and more accelerated and our bodies rub themselves frantically in search of that sublime pleasure.

Everything is perfect but then a gesture is enough to make me stiffen.

Eleanor has slipped both hands under my shirt and grabbing the hem of it tugs it as if she wants to take it off.

I feel a drop of sweat slide down my back, and no, it's not from pleasure.

It is panic.

As much as I want to be physically with her, I don't feel ready to show her my body.

My arms and chest are devastated by my father's fury.

For the past seven years, I have allowed that man to use me to give vent to all his anger.

My scars are the sign of my failure.

Breathing becomes difficult, I feel the fire of his cigarette on my chest.

On my arms.

I feel them burning.

My head is spinning.

Eleanor realizes that something is wrong and she immediately freezes.

"James?James what's going on?"

I would like to answer but what could I tell her?

If I told her the truth I don't know if I would be able to bear her look of pity.

I just take my hands off her body and put them in my hair trying to breathe normally again.

Eleanor moves uncomfortably trying to get off my lap but I stop her.

The closeness of her helps me calm down.

So I grab her by her hips and block her.

"Give me...just give me a moment" I whisper out of breath.

"Of course.As long as you want” she replies, looking at me softly.

I sink my face into her chest looking for comfort and without saying a word she wraps her arms around me gently stroking my hair.

Her heartbeat resounds in my ear and slowly, following its rhythm, I manage to calm down.

Breathing no longer hurts.

I think I had an anxiety attack.

"It's okay" she reassures me kissing my head.

For a few minutes in the car, silence reigns.

“It's not your fault, Eleanor” I whisper against her chest, holding her in my arms.

“You are perfect and I want you but…but there are things about me that… I am damaged Nora.I don't know if I'll ever be what you deserve”

How the fuck am I pathetic?

Right now I just want to cry and scream but I am a man and my father has always told me that a man cannot be weak.

A man absolutely cannot cry.

But I don't want to be just a man, I just want to be a human being.

I just want to let off steam.

I wish I could live my feelings.

I would just like to stop suffering.

"James look at me" she whispers stroking my face and inviting me to look into her eyes, I do and even if it's dark I can see them shine.

"It's ok.I'm sorry if I went further.I didn't even realize it.I like you James, I like you a lot and I'm ready to wait your time”

I shake my head.

It is obvious that she does not understand my fears.

She doesn't know them.

"It's not this...I...God Nora if I were different I would have had sex with you now but..."

"James.James" she calls me back, covering my mouth with her hand.

"I'm not stupid.I know there is something troubling you and I think it concerns your father.When you are ready you will tell me about it, ok?"

I nod unable to add anything else.

What am I amazed at?

After all, it is more than evident that I am a boy with problems, I am not surprised that she has intuited about the nature of this problems.

"Thanks Nora"

She laughs shaking her head.

“Thanks to you”

“For what?I didn't do anything” I reply, shrugging.

She smiles at me shyly approaching my lips, her eyes are asking permission.

I lift myself to meet her lips halfway.

Her hands massage the back of my neck.

“You have done more than you can believe.You helped me with that damn math”

I burst into a loud laugh.

“You kissed me.You took me to dinner.You gave me flowers.You gave me new and wonderful sensations” she continues, pausing from time to time to kiss me.

I smile against her lips.

"You instead" I tell her, moving a lock of hair behind her ear "you have brought some hope back into my life"

"I could say the same thing Barnes"

We smile and exchange a few more sweet kisses we decide it's time to go back at home.

Arriving in front of my house I notice that all the lights are off.

Even that of the garage.

Maybe today luck is on my side and the Colonel will have already collapsed drunk on the sofa.

I turn to Eleanor and suddenly I don't feel ready to let her go.

I'm not ready to face the days to follow.

What if during the weekend she comes to her senses and decides to stop our dating?

What if she realizes she's not ready to embark on the mess that is my life?

"So...see you at school?"

"Yeah...sure" I reply.

A strange awkward silence hangs over our heads.

"Ok, I'm going" I murmur but before my hand can reach the door Eleanor leans towards me blocking my hand.

“Every Saturday night the twins and I go bowling.Would you like to join us?"

Eleanor speaks quickly while looking down.

“Nora it's ok.You and your friends have your habits, you don't have to invite me” I answer her smiling sincerely.

I certainly don't pretend to be part of her life so quickly.

And above all, I don't want her to feel obligated to spend time with me.

Eleanor bursts out laughing.

“What part of I like you so much are you missing?Look James I want to be with you, I would like to be your girlfriend.And I'd like to spend time with both you and the twins.They also like you so much, you know?"

I can't follow anything she says because my brain got stuck on her statement.

"You wanna be my girlfriend, really?"

"Why that surprised tone, Barnes?"

I begin to stammer nonsense, triggering another laugh from her.

"James breathe" she interrupts me, grabbing my face in her warm hands.

"I like you.Do you like me?"

I nod with conviction.

“I want to be with you and no one else.Is it the same for you?"

I nod again.

"I know there is still a lot we need to know about each other but what I want right now is to be with you" Eleanor smiles sweetly at me.

"Do you think this is crazy?"

“Maybe” she replies, laughing heartily.

"But honestly I don't care.I'm fine with you, you make me feel good.And this is the only thing that matters to me" she adds.

I wrap her hands, which are still on my face, in mine.

"In this case, if the invitation is still valid I would like to come with you tomorrow evening" I whispered.

And without giving her time to answer I kiss her again.

She laughs walking away from my lips.

"I'll pick you up at 6 pm, okay?"

"I look forward"

Eleanor kisses me again and so with a light head and a heart swollen with new hope, I return home.

A faint light comes from the living room, I look out the door and asleep on the sofa is Colonel Barnes.

The TV lights up his broken figure as he still holds a bottle of beer in his fingers.

Shaking my head disconsolately, I quickly go up to my room.

Obviously my life cannot change from one moment to the next and perhaps it will never change, but knowing that out of here a special girl like Nora is waiting for me will make my days a little easier.

I throw myself on the bed with all my clothes still on and carrying my arms behind my head I observe the peeling plaster of the ceiling, losing myself in the memory of the evening just passed.

Lulled by the still alive sensation of our bodies touching each other, of our glued lips, I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.

I'm sure I won't have nightmares tonight.

Please comment, share and rate ❤️

Taglist

🔥 Masterlist 🔥

@deansapplepie

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

OT 2023 - GALA 3

Here's last gala!

This gala was so good omg?????? I am super impressed by all of them, I can't wait to see what they can do in like Gala 11. ALSO IMPORTANT UPDATE!!!! I figured out how to record my screen so I have done that with all the performances I will talk about below and I have put them on a google drive file, I will do this with all galas from now on in case you wanna check the full performances <3

Speaking of, here's the link to the gala 3 google drive folder with the performances !!!

Update 28/01. I've updated all links to the full performances in the gala.

Now let's go with the honorable mentions :)

I Kissed a Girl - Violeta and Chiara: Now this... this is yuri. I do not ship them but I'm happy for the girlies who do, the program knew what they were doing with this performance. I love the scenography and the choreography being extremely glee coded, and also THE LOCKERS PART ????? OH MY GOD???? Also also, i find it so funny how people got scandalized at the kiss at the end cause Violeta has a girlfriend... bestie the song is called I kissed a girl what did you think was gonna happen

Dime - OT 2023: First of all THEY UPLOADED THE FULL PERFORMANCE TO YOUTUBE LET'S REJOICE. And second of all... nothing but respect for my national anthem !!!!!! Dime is such a bop and they were so good... I'm so happy that they're slaying group songs it's what they deserve. ALSO THE BEGINNING WITH RUSLANA OMG

La canción más hermosa del mundo - Omar: I might have chose this song exclusively because I freaking love it... he did good as well honestly. He will be missed. Anyways, please listen to it, I actually prefer Manuel Carrasco's version (the one Omar covered! The original is by Joaquín Sabina btw). And it's super long so I'm glad they kept my favourite line for this version, '¿Qué harías tú si Adelita se fuera con un comisario?' ('What would you do if Adelita eloped with a policeman?') which is a reference to a very famous Lorca play and <333333

Top 3 below!

3. TÓMAME O DÉJAME - NAIARA

Here is the original song, by Mocedades <3

Just... wow. She has the first solo of the edition, and I predict that, just with the previous first solos (Aitana, Julia and Flavio) she will be a finalist. For sure. Honestly she could even win. Naiara has the best voice of the edition, and she shined more than ever with this song. Absolutely incredible. Also, speaking of the song !!! The lyrics are absolutely brutal, I would say this is one of the most heart-wrenching songs ever written in Spanish. It is about a woman that knows her husband has a lover and she's trying to keep it together. It's incredible, really, 10/10 no notes.

2. INMORTAL - MARTIN & RUSLANA:

Here is the original song by La Oreja de Van Gogh !!!!!!

If you have followed me for a while you KNOW how I feel about La Oreja de Van Gogh so you can imagine how happy I was they were doing Inmortal !!! And they were so good !!!! Martin and Ruslana are the youngest of the bunch and they have an adorable friendship, you can see the chemistry! Also they're both incredible actors, I am obsessed with the acting in the final performance, just *chef's kiss*

1. UNHOLY - BEA, JUANJO & ÁLVARO:

Here is the original song, by Sam Smith and Kim Petras :)

This is the reason I learned to screen record on my computer YOU NEED TO WATCH THE GALA PERFORMANCE. Easily the best and most iconic performance of the edition for now. I was speechless all the performance, the three of them were perfect and everything was just... insane. Álvaro was in his comfort zone and he looked so happy, Juanjo demonstrated his INSANE VERSATILITY like no one is doing it like him. And Bea... deserved favorite. Absolutely the best in the gala. She HAS to be a finalist. Honestly the three of them should.

And that's everything!!! I'm posting this the day after Gala 4 so I already know how everything goes lol. I'll post the gala 4 top 3 tomorrow :)

[leclerc-s]

the blue - part seven

masterlist previous next

ameliaholland took a page out of taylor swift's book. love is embarrassing's little sister, lovesick, is out now. thanks to oscaroo for being the inspiration for this one.

view all comments

username HARD LAUNCH! I REPEAT HARD LAUNCH!

username ORANGE BECAUSE HE DRIVES FOR MCLAREN!!

username oh she's down bad for him

username THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE TWO!

username FUCKING LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME SLUT! WASN'T WRITTEN AFTER THEIR FIRST DATE!!

tomholland2013 i diagnose you with down bad.

landonorris we get it you're in love, write a song about me! i'm your best friend!

tuwaine WE WILL BE STREAMING!

samholland1999 apple just let out an unholy screech. i repeat apple let out an unholy screech.

↳ ameliaholland HOES MAD!

↳ username not them referring to harrison as apple

hazosterfied great ep!

↳ username you wish that was you huh?

oscarpiastri i absolutely adore you 🧡

↳ ameliaholland and i adore you 🧡

↳ username WHEN IS IT MY TURN??

oscarpiastri "you came along and you changed everything"

view all comments

username OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!

username HE'S WEARING BLUE! AND SHE NAMED A SONG THE BLUE!

ameliaholland DO NOT USE MY OWN SONG AGAINST ME OSCAR!

↳ oscarpiastri watch me

↳ username oh, so they're both down bad.

zendaya okay, this is cute.

↳ oscarpiastri thank you, i tried.

username HARRISON IS CURRENTLY SCREAMING AND CRYING BECAUSE HE FUMBLED THE CUTEST GIRL EVER

comment liked by oscarpiastri

↳ username OSCAR!

↳ oscarpiastri she is the cutest girl ever.

samholland1999 fine. you can date my sister. but you break her heart i break your face. understood?

↳ oscarpiastri yes sir.

↳ samholland1999 and don't call me sir, it makes me feel old.

logansargeant forever stuck as the third wheel

↳ ameliaholland and how is it our fault that you can pull?

↳ oscarpiastri maybe actually go out on a date for once?

↳ username I LOVE THIS COUPLE ALREADY

QATAR 2023

ameliaholland posted a new story

seen by hazosterfield, landonorris, charles_leclerc and others

his bored stare and cringe-fail personality have bewitched me, i can’t lie about it anymore. p.s. it's sprint day, let's manifest a top 3 for oscaroo

ameliaholland look at him! sprint race winner, podium placer, and rookie of the year. (p.s. i congratulated lando in person, i also paid for his dinner)

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tomholland2013 congrats to oscar and lando on their podium and sprint top 3's!

↳ username lando is the honorary holland at this point

zendaya congrats to both boys

↳ ameliaholland lando just let out the most unholy screech. i don't think he's used to you congratulating him.

landonorris you're the best but i don't want to see oscar's face more than i have to.

↳ ameliaholland deal with it, i happen to like your teammate very much

↳ oscarpiastri and i happen to like her very much

harryholland64 congrats to mclaren! and congrats to max on his third wdc!

username at this point the holland boys have resigned to the fact that their little sister is in love and isn't letting go of oscar anytime soon.

↳ tomholland2013 after all the effort we put in on helping them get together. we sure hope so

↳ samholland1999 speak for yourself, i wasn't aware we were supposed to be helping amelia get the boy

↳ harryholland64 get with the program sam.

username amelia, be honest, did you cry again?

↳ ameliaholland no. yes. maybe.

↳ oscarpastri once again, i was worried she was going to dehydrate herself

↳ username i've peaked in life.

username this couple is so fucking cute?? i love them so fucking much.

username oscar looks so good on the podium?? mclaren keep him there every week??

liked by ameliaholland

↳ username girl we can see you lurking

↳ ameliaholland my boyfriend is pretty...we should appreciate art

↳ landonorris HE JUST FUCKING GIGGLED. THIS MAN JUST GIGGLED. I'VE NEVER HEARD HIM GIGGLE.

username rejoice no apple in the comments!!

username oh this is so fucking cute

taglist: @six-call @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @skynel09 @arieltwvdtohamflash @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! oh i disappeared from this story since vegas. sorry about that but we're back baby! (i hope)

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[wkemeup]

Graveyard

summary: As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too.  pairing: bucky x healer!reader word count: 10k warnings: canon level violence

As a child, you were told it was a gift; placed upon a pedestal above the quaint suffering of a rural town and removed of your innocence for the good of strangers. You’d been made to be revered – honored – for the touch that could mend the broken.  

It began with a cut upon your father’s finger – a slip of a kitchen knife that had left a small bead of blood in its wake. Curious eyes glanced up at your father as he hissed at the sting of it and you’d reach forward to place your infant hand upon the cut, a grip so mall it barely wrapped around his finger. He stilled as a soft glow began to emit from your palm. When you removed your hand and began to cry, your father was stunned to find his skin perfectly intact – no trace of a scar in its place.  

They told you it was a gift, celebrated you as if you were a blessing from Heaven itself. But they were cruel in their rejoice, selfish in their praise. They had not considered your gift was not a gift at all – but a sacrifice.  

Like energy, pain could not be destroyed— but it could be absorbed. It could be transferred. Your father’s cut had not simply disappeared, but instead manifested on the finger of an infant for a few short moments before it faded into your skin; laid to rest amongst a sea of foreign injuries that did not belong to you.  

“Look sharp, kid! We’ve got incoming,” Banner’s voice startled you from your thoughts as he stood at the doorway to your lab. Arms folded over his chest, an amused smirk upon his face, he must have caught sight of the quinjet landing in the hanger from the windows overlooking the loading dock.  

You nodded, setting down the drill beside the stun absorption pad you were engineering for Stark’s newest suit. You didn't have to wonder long who was on the latest mission and currently on their way to your office, because a familiar bickering began to carry down the hall and into the lab, forcing a smile onto your face.  

For a mechanical engineer, you saw more of the Avengers post-mission than the med wing did these days. You’d been hired for your multiple PhDs and borderline genius IQ, but once you’d rushed across the room to spare Stark from a rather unpleasant laceration on his palm from an experiment gone haywire, your lab had quickly become a rotating door of injured Avengers.  

Sure enough, Barnes and Wilson stumbled their way into the lab, Sam draped over Bucky’s shoulder, barely able to put any pressure on his left leg. While Sam tossed you his charismatic grin and those big, round, puppy dog eyes, Bucky favored to dispose of his partner on the lab table with an aggravated grunt.  

“What do we have today?” you smirked, rolling up the sleeves of your coat as Bruce shook his head in amusement.  

“Broken ankle, I think,” Sam replied, gesturing to the mess of bandages and improvised splint.  

You nodded as you stepped closer, examining the injury before you brushed a hand over the swollen joint. Sam whined at the contact, the pain clearly breaking through the lighthearted grin upon his face though he tried to suppress it. His hand curled into a fist.  

“You know I’m not a medical doctor, but I’d have to agree,” you nodded, planting your hands on your hips.  

“You could just get the x-rays and go through PT like a normal person,” Bucky grumbled off in his corner of the room, narrowing his eyes in warning upon his partner. “She’s not here as your personal healer, Wilson.”  

Bucky was always hesitant of your powers. He never said why, but you wondered most days if he was still seeking penance for the evils he’d committed under Hydra, if maybe he felt as though giving you his pain absolved him in a way he was not worthy of.  

Or perhaps it was a degradation of his pride. Men often found strength in their ability to withstand pain. Though, it seemed to bother him when the others would come to you for injuries like this, too, almost as if he worried they were taking advantage of you.  

He was a good man; certainly, more concerned with your consent in healing his friends than your parents and the town who spent your childhood exploiting you ever were.  

“I don’t mind, Bucky,” you told him, smiling encouragingly back at him until he started to relax his shoulders and uncrossed his arms, softening under your gaze. “If it means less time on the bench and more time out there saving lives and having your back, I don’t mind at all.”

“Yeah, Barnes, who’s going to watch your back if I’m held up in a cast?” Sam teased, chuckling under his breath until Bucky stepped forward and not so subtly bumped his hip to the side of the lab table. The sudden disruption of the table moved his ankle just enough to instantly wipe the grin from Sam’s face.  

“Try to relax for me, Sam,” you eased, stepping forward as you started to remove your gloves. You leaned over the edge of the table, slowly removing the splint and the bandage surrounding the swollen muscle. You handed it off to Bucky as you examined the dark purple and blue discoloration on his ankle.  

He hissed as you laid your palms on his leg, clenching down on his jaw.  

You closed your eyes, concentrating as you felt for the break beneath the surface. A crack splintered through the bone, the surrounding tissue swollen and aching.  

A gentle glow began to emit from your palms, a warmth that spread from your hands and directly onto Sam’s skin, through the muscle, and deep into the bone. You could feel the subtle fragments as they began to mend, the swell in his joint as it shrank, the slight movements as he regained feeling.  

Exhaling a tense breath, you shifted your stance onto your right leg as the pressure started to build in your ankle. It wouldn’t last long, just a few minutes in comparison to the weeks of treatment and months of physical therapy Sam would have endured – an easy trade for a man who spend his days so selflessly on the line in the service of strangers.  

You could sense Bucky watching you and you were careful not to let the pain show on your face. There was a privilege in healing the Avengers like this. It gave your life meaning beyond the injuries of your hometown; of careless teenagers falling off skateboards or angry men in bars who took an argument a drink too far. You’d happily take on a few moments of pain in service of heroes.  

Not that you’d let them know.  

“You should be good now.” You held your hands up, the soft glow fading away from your palms as you tucked your hands into your pockets. Careful of the momentary break in your ankle, you took a cautious step away from the table to lean on the chair at your desk. No one noticed the wince in your expression as you put the slightest pressure on the fresh injury.  

“I will never get tired of that.” Sam looked down at the foot in awe, rolling at the ankle and amazed to find the swelling and bruising disappeared completely. He jumped down from the table, bounding on his feet just to test out the freedom in his mobility.  

“Alright, Wilson. Enough,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re going to hurt yourself again and Y/n’s not going to be so generous next time.”

Sam smirked, pausing for a moment as he contemplated. “Nah, my girl will always take care of me. Won’t ya, sugar?”  

It didn’t slip your notice when Bucky tensed up at the pet name. You started to laugh, the teasing smile dropping from his face as his hands curled into fists. Sam really knew how to press his buttons and it seemed, surprisingly enough, you were one of them.  

“Bucky’s got a point, you know. Fancy healing powers are reserved for field injuries these days.” You were only teasing, both of them knowing you’d have healed a papercut if they’d ask. Still, Bucky smirked, taunting Sam over your shoulder as if he’d won.  

You eased yourself off the chair as you started to regain feeling in your ankle, giving more pressure to the heel to find it barely noticeable. You rubbed at the joint with your right shoe to find the swelling had disappeared as well.  

A few moments to spare him weeks of pain. Easy trade.

“What about you, Sergeant?”  

Bucky paused, raising an eyebrow at you.  

You took a step forward, glancing over him in search of injuries. Nothing more than a few cuts that his own advanced healing would take care of overnight. Still, there was one injury you’d been trying to convince him to allow you to heal in the year since you’ve known him.  

“You going to let me work on your shoulder yet or are you still being a masochist?”  

Sam snickered under his breath as he crossed the room to watch what Banner was doing over his shoulder. Bucky gave you that knowing smile of his, the one that pushed up into his eyes and left behind beautiful creases and lines on his face; an exhale of a laugh on his breath.  

“It’s not necessary, doll. I’m fine.”

A frown tugged at your lips. “You always say that, and yet...”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Bucky shrugged. He was watching you with those sweet eyes of his, creating a warmth that spread in your chest entirely independent of the powers in your hands.  

“You shouldn’t have to handle it in the first place,” you pressed, a pain in your voice as he placed a hand on your shoulder, letting it slide down your arm. It was an intimate gesture, more contact that he had with most people, and he offered it willingly. You tried not to let the shivers show in your spine as he pulled away.  

It looked as though he wanted to say more, but Steve suddenly appeared in the doorway, causing Bucky to take an abrupt step away from you. You hadn’t realized how close you’d been standing to one another.  

“Debrief in five,” Steve ordered, eyeing Sam and Bucky, though paused as he saw you, offering a short smile in acknowledgement before disappearing down the hall.  

“I’m not letting this go, just so you’re aware,” you teased, pointing at Bucky’s shoulder as he started to wave Sam towards the door. He smiled, keeping his back to you until Sam was clear of the room and he leaned into the open frame, one quick glance back at you.  

“Wouldn’t expect anything less, doll.”

***

The next month saw another broken leg, a fractured clavicle, two minor lacerations, a sprained wrist, and a number of superficial cuts – all from various members of the team. Though there was always the one exception who wouldn’t accept your offer no matter how badly he was favoring his right arm.  

The clavicle was certainly a challenge to get through, but the world needed Natasha Romanoff in the field, not strung up on a gurney and a brace for a handful of months. It took longer than some of the other injuries to heal, but you’d managed, even if you had to excuse yourself to the restroom as soon as you’d finished, even if you had to shove a towel into your mouth to keep from screaming as it mended itself together under your skin.  

The truth was you liked being useful. You liked the stunned smiles on their faces and the appreciation in their eyes. You liked seeing them run a hand over perfectly smooth skin where an open wound had just been. It gave you a purpose.  

And sure – your work on SHIELD tech was important and perhaps not all of the injuries in your hometown had been a waste of your abilities, but there was something exceptionally gratifying in mending someone who was untouchable, in healing the people who saved the world.

You’d take a dozen broken clavicles for them.  

It was late after your evening shift and you’d taken to running a few laps on the indoor track around the gym. Blow off some steam, use the state-of-the-art equipment Stark spent thousands of dollars on, give your mind something to think about beside how you were going to rewire Sam’s wings to expand in a more fluid motion.  

You’d just started to break into a sweat when you noticed Bucky setting up at the row of punching bags. The gym was otherwise empty as the sky favored the stars over the sun, and you started to smile as you watched Bucky shrug off his jacket and drop the bag at his feet. He rolled back his shoulders, concentrating on the bag as he readied his fists. But as the first punch hit the bag, the smile quickly fell from your face.  

It echoed up into the rafters, startling you enough to still your sprint abruptly. He let out a grunt as he pummeled at the bag; left jab, right hook, kick, until it broke at the seams and split open to spill sand in heaps upon the ground. He moved on to the next one.  

You clasped a hand to your mouth, looking around the gym to confirm you were in fact alone with him. He’d been on a mission as far as you were aware for the last week. You’d missed him hanging around the lab, asking questions as you worked on new advancements on the stun guns for field agents. He must have gotten back a few hours ago and something clearly went wrong.  

“Bucky?” you called, voice far too soft to be heard across the gym and above the thunderous clash of his knuckles to leather. You jogged a few paces closer, wincing as he threw the entirely of his momentum into a hit that would have broken an ordinary man’s hand. “Bucky? Are you alright?”

But he didn’t hear you. You took a cautious look back at the doors, wondering if you should go find Steve, or maybe even Sam – someone who might know what happened, someone who might be able to talk him down. But you were the only one around. You cleared your throat, stepping up just behind him. ��

“Bucky?”

You hit the ground before you knew what had happened.  

A blinding pulsing in the back of your head, the wind momentarily knocked from your lungs, you opened your eyes to find Bucky hovering over you. He held a closed fist in the air, the other digging sharply into your shoulder between his grip, pupils blown wide and dark. It took a moment before he seemed to realize who was laying under him.

“Y/n?” He blinked, confused. His stare flickered to the fist held above your head, knuckles dripping red and bloody, and he pulled away instantly, a flash of horror written over his features. “Shit-- I didn’t... What are you doing here?”

You rubbed at the back of your head, brushing over a slight bump that would certainly mend itself within a few minutes. Slowly, you sat up, careful of the sudden darkness that swept over your eyes, though something cool grabbed onto you before you could fall back against the floor.  

“Hey, come lean against the wall, okay?” Bucky urged, carefully guiding you to adjust your position until you could press your back to the chill of the plastered walls. You sighed in contentment, the pain in your pain already dissipating. Bucky swallowed nervously. “Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t stay hurt for long, Buck,” you told him with a teasing smile, though he did not return it. You set a hand on his forearm, squeezing it lightly before returning it to your lap. “I’m alright. I promise. Are you?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“You were beating that punching bag within an inch of its life,” you clarified, chuckling as you gestured to the exploded bag on the floor, and then to the one still hanging with sand streaming down the seams.  

“Rough mission,” was all he said, his eyes downcast.  

You nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, listening to the soft buzz of the air conditioner and the faint chirp of crickets outside the windows. You didn’t expect him to say anything. Bucky was a man of few words, but you hoped the company was enough. He didn’t make an effort to move away, not even when your thigh brushed against his.  

He was trying to close his fist when you heard him hiss in pain. His right hand was coated in dried blood and fresh, open wounds on his knuckles. They’d barely started to crust over and with every attempt to close his fist, they cracked open, drawing a painful sting in their place.  

“Will you let me heal your hand?”

Bucky paused, setting his hand down on his leg. “Y/n, it’s not necessary. I won’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” you countered. “Besides, it is necessary, actually. How are you going to punch the bad guys if you can’t close your fist?”

“I’ve got another,” Bucky argued back, though a smile had etched its way onto his face. He raised his left hand, making a show of it as he curled his fingers into a fist one by one. “This one’s pretty indestructible so...”

“Please, Bucky.” You turned towards him, folding your legs as you held out your left hand for him to take. “Just this once. Let me do this.”

A stormy array of ocean blue and thunderous skies stared back at you, unsure. His eyes flickered down to your hand. Always so hesitant to ask for help, always so reluctant to accept the good things when they were offered. But as he watched you, searching for signs to run, to back out, something softened.  

He swallowed and slowly, placed his right hand into yours.  

You smiled, adjusting your grip gently on his hand. You placed it to lay on you knee as you hovered your left hand over his knuckles. The warm glow illuminated from your palm and Bucky’s breath hitched as he must have felt the sudden rush of energy it produced.  

The scars began to mend before his eyes and just as you felt the stinging prick on your own knuckles, you quickly pushed your right hand into the pocket of your jacket to hide the scars as they formed.  

“That’s incredible,” Bucky exhaled, withdrawing his hand as soon as you were finished. He held it out in front of him, examining the dried blood coated around perfectly intact skin. He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re incredible.”  

A rush of heat burned in your cheeks as you looked away, a smile breaking onto your lips. It was enough to distract you from the stinging in your hand tucked away in your pocket.  

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” you asked, biting on your lip nervously. “Think you could do with the company and I’d like to keep you from breaking more of these expensive punching bags.”

Bucky laughed at that, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He stood and offered you his hand, thinking out loud about which one of the movies on his list he wanted to try out next. You pulled your hand from your pocket and took his as he offered it to you; the knuckles already clean and healed.  

***

“You should see it, Fitz! It’s a goddamn stroke of genius.” You held up the ventilator no bigger than the pad of your thumb up to the light, admiring your work.  

“I’m sure Stark will be thrilled,” a thick Scottish accent crackled through the speaker on the com beside you. “Send me the schematics, will you?”

You pursed your lips, a smile etching through. “Think you can one-up me?”

“No never,” Fitz laughed. You could hear him tinkering in his own lab on the quinjet, the small clicks of metal and the buzz of a drill humming over the speaker. “Just want to see if I’m still head of our class or not.”

“Pretty sure we both know that title belongs to Simmons.”

There was a slight pause, then, a dreamy, “yeah, you’re right.”

A sudden knocking at the edge of the lab startled you as you spun around in your chair, nearly dropping the ventilator for Stark’s suit. Bucky stood in the doorway, clutching at his left shoulder as fingers dug into the muscle. He wore a sort of guilty look upon his face though he pushed out a smile and waved.  

“Hey, Fitz, I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?” you said over your shoulder to the speaker, waited a moment for his response and ended the call. You turned back to Bucky as a smile grew upon your face. “What can I do for you, Sergeant? I didn’t miss movie night, did I?”

“No, you’re in the clear,” Bucky chuckled, though it was tense. He stepped further into the lab, relaxing a little as he noticed no one else was around. It was pretty late for you to be working, but you were so close to finishing the ventilator, and well, time easily got away from you with Fitz on the other end of the phone.  

“Coming to keep me company then?” you teased. “I’m actually about done anyway, so we could set up the next movie on your—”

“No, I— um...” Bucky started, losing his nerve rather quickly. He exhaled a tense breath, eyes casting down to the floor. “I was, um, wondering if you could work on my shoulder?”

You raised an eyebrow. Even after that night in the gym, Bucky was still hesitant to your offers to heal his various injuries from the field. He’d give you that sweet smile of his, a soft pink in his cheeks, and tell you that he’d be fine on his own. You never doubted that, but it didn’t mean you couldn't spare him just a few hours of that pain.  

“The, um,” Bucky winced, gritting his teeth as he pushed his hand deeper against the tissue, “the nerve endings are acting up. Shuri said it’s to be, uh, expected given how Hydra butchered my arm all those years ago, but...”

“Come here.” You were already removing the files and paperwork from the table, gesturing for him to take a seat.  

His whole left arm was slack at his side as if he could barely tolerate to move it. Shallow breaths hitched in his lungs as he leaned against the table, settling against the hard, metal surface.

“Can you take this off?” you asked, nodding to his shirt. Bucky’s cheeks flushed and you cleared your throat nervously, playing with the ends of your hair. “It’ll be more effective if I can touch the area directly.”

He removed his right hand from the muscle at his shoulder and gripped at the hem of his shirt. Slowly, he started to pull it over his head, though you could tell from the harsh exhale in his breath that it was causing him considerable pain.  

“Here, let me help you.” You stepped forward and helped ease the fabric up his torso and gently guided it off his right arm, over his head, and eased it down his left. He seemed more at ease with the shirt removed, but a chill swept up his spine in the cool air of the lab.  

You kept your eyes on his, determined not to let your gaze fall to the hardened muscles on his chest and stomach.  

“I won’t be able to heal the scars,” you told him as you moved around to stand behind the table. “Just try to relax for me, okay? I’ll do what I can for the pain.”

Bucky nodded, his hands clenched into the lip of the table, enough to warp the surface. He could barely muster out a response.  

“My hands are a little cold, so...” you muttered out nervously, rubbing your palms together in an effort to warm them.  

Then, you set your hands against the mess of scar tissue surrounding his shoulder, starting at his shoulder blades as the glow illuminated bright enough to light up the corner of your lab. Bucky gasped, the first breath in a long time completely filling his lungs as he felt the relief within your touch. You could practically feel the tension melting off his shoulders.  

It didn’t take long before the pain made its way to your body. Starting out slow, in numbing aches, until it was so sharp, it felt like a dozen edges of sharp blades puncturing into your shoulder. You clenched your jaw, held your breath, thankful that Bucky couldn’t see your face when you bit down on the inside of your cheek and tears sprung into your eyes.  

“God, that... shit...” Bucky sighed, his grip releasing on the table. You could hear the smile in his voice, the relief, and it helped to push aside the pain as it manifested in your body.  

You moved your hand up his back, sliding along the scars where his skin met metal, taking as much of his pain as you could. Bucky was exceptionally strong, able to withstand far more than you could without passing out completely. You couldn’t take it all, especially if you wanted to keep him from knowing how your gift truly worked, but you took enough.  

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, preparing yourself as you moved around to face him. There was more on his chest, by his clavicle, you couldn’t reach from behind him. You'd had years of practice, learning how to keep the pain from displaying on your face. You could get through this for him.  

As you stepped in front of him, keeping a steady hold on his shoulder, you could feel his eyes watching you. The glow under your palms was bright enough to illuminate the lab, but it was a gentle light, as soft as the burn of a candle or the golden rays of a sunset. Bucky watched you with a kind of awe that made your stomach twist into knots.  

You guided your hand along the scar tissue on his chest, doing your best to ignore the goosebumps as they rose in your wake. Your heart was stammering, louder than the pain radiating in your shoulder, though it lessened the more you worked. The pain had nearly left him entirely as he started to take in more even breaths, relaxing his muscles as you felt them soften under your touch.  

You exhaled a tense breath through your nose, concentrating on gathering as much of the pain as you could, on mending the broken nerve endings as they misfired and frayed under the torn appendage. You barely noticed as Bucky crossed his right hand over his chest and laid his hand palm against your hands.  

“Thank you,” he whispered, his fingers curling around the undersides of your hands until he gently tugged them away. The glow faded until the lab was only lit by the soft light of the lamp at your desk and the reflection of the moon peering in through the window.  

You met his eye, the pain still prominent in your shoulder though you forcibly softened the clench in your jaw as he looked over you. His eyes flickered down to your lips for only a second, but it was enough. Your heart skipped.  

Bucky slowly released your hands, letting them fall gently against his thighs, as he leaned forward to cup the sides of your face. Fingers tangling into your hair, you stepped closer, pressed against the table between the parting of his legs.  

You wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was racing, or if he could hear it, because you were certain it was going to beat straight out of your chest. The fading pain in your shoulder you’d taken for him was nothing but a forgotten memory as he pressed his forehead to yours, just waiting.  

The moment his lips touched yours, you lost your breath; fireworks and butterflies, twists in your stomach and clamoring in your heart. You could feel his smile as it spread into his cheeks, your hands seeking more of him as you slid them up the sides of his bare chest. He was beautiful and perfect and so incredibly wonderful, you’d take hours of his pain, years even, if you could keep kissing him like this.  

“Hey, Y/n, I thought you were already done for the—oh, sorry!”

You jolted away from Bucky, restless and a little disheveled, Bucky’s cheeks flamed red, as you turned to find Banner standing awkwardly in the doorway. His hand was shielded over his eyes, his back quickly turned to you as papers littered the floor at his feet. You started to laugh, hand clamping over your swollen lips as you looked over at Bucky.  

“It’s no worry, Bruce,” you giggled, quickly skating over to the door to help him pick up the files. Bucky meanwhile shrugged his shirt back on, fixing the flyaways in his hair.  

“So sorry,” he mumbled again, clearly embarrassed by his intrusion as he glanced over at Bucky apologetically. He gathered the papers into his arms. “I’ll be going now and, um, I won’t come back, okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky’s eyes blew wide in Banner’s quick escape.  

“Still want that company?” you offered with a smile, extending your hand to him. The pain was long gone from your shoulder as he shook himself from the flush in his cheeks and nodded. He took your hand and led you down the hall to the living room. There was another movie on the list to get through.  

***

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. Your cheeks began to hurt from how often you were smiling, as if it were a permanent fixture on your features. You’d even caught yourself humming along to the radio as you dusted the surfaces in your lab the morning after Bucky had kissed you goodbye on the landing dock in front of at least a dozen agents.  

He’d been away on a mission for the last few days, but he called when he could. You’d spend whatever spare minutes he could get on the satellite phone with him, distracting him from whatever was going on in his end of the world with talk about your latest project with Stark or old stories from the academy with Fitz or what the next movie on the list was going to be.  

He wasn’t a man of many words, but you liked knowing he was on the other end of the line. You could picture his smile perfectly in your mind, the way he chewed on his lower lip, how his eyes fell downcast to the floor by your shoes, the flush of pink in his cheeks. It was enough.  

“So, things are really heating up with you and Barnes,” Natasha commented as she sipped the top of her steaming coffee before it could spill over the edge. You shrugged, though it was hard to contain your smile. Natasha grinned. “I think it’s good for him. You, too. Don’t know the last time I’ve seen him this happy. He seems more relaxed. Like maybe he’s not carrying the whole world on his shoulders anymore.”

“Helps when he’s not in excruciating pain on a daily basis,” you added, tapping at your left shoulder. He’d let you work on it a few times since that first night. It always took some convincing, but the pain was never as bad as it was that evening. You could take it. You’d do it a thousand times for him without question.  

Natasha nodded, a pleased look upon her face. She parted her lips to say more, but a sudden commotion at the end of the hall stole the words from her tongue. You set your coffee down on the counter, peering out around the tables to find agents jumping out of the way of an oncoming train.  

“Y/n!” Bucky shouted, voice breaking in the effort as he sprinted down the hall and slammed into an unsuspecting agent. Papers flew into the air as he sprinted towards your room. “Y/n!”

“Bucky?” you called stepping out into the hallway where he could see you.  

He skidded to an abrupt stop, his hair flying over his shoulder as he turned in your direction.  

“Y/n! Thank God.”  

It wasn't until Bucky stood in front of you that you realized he was covered in blood; soaking into his hair, caked under his finger nails, drenched into his suit, and stained to his skin. Your eyes widened, breath all but leaving your lungs, as your hands clutched against his jacket. He tried to pull you back towards the stairs, but you couldn’t budge, not with that much blood all over him.  

“What-- What happened? Are you hurt?” You started seeking out exposed skin an effort to draw away any pain you could, even if you couldn’t see any exposed wounds.  

Bucky's hand slid over yours, pulling it away. He softened, though you could still see the frantic rise and fall of his chest.  

“It’s not my blood. It’s Steve’s.”

Your stomach sank; relief mixed into an ugly shade of guilt and grief. Natasha was already sprinting down to the med bay, coffee mug cracked and spilled upon the tile floors. Her footsteps echoed through the hallway, the sudden clanging of the double doors startling you from your daze.  

“Please, I—I need you,” Bucky begged, his voice shaking. Tears were burning in his eyes. You’d never seen him this afraid; this shaken and helpless. “It’s not good, Y/n. He’s-- He’s--”

“Okay.” You pressed a hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb sweetly across his face and smeared the tears as they cleaned the dried blood away. You didn’t need to hear anymore. All you wanted was to take his pain, even if your gift couldn’t touch it as it nestled deep into his heart.  

By the time you reached the med bay, a storm of chaos had already barreled through. Lab equipment was knocked over on its side. Dozens of agents frantically running around, shouting orders at one other. Papers and schematics lined the floor with imprinted of boots damaging the print. But it was the trail of blood that drew your attention.  

Droplets trailing from the loading bay of the jet to down the med wing to the surgical room. Dark red and oozing. Taunting. Far too much for any ordinary man to have lost. You tried to stifle the gasp as it hitched in your breath the moment you saw him.  

Steve was strung up on a gurney, suit cut down the middle and flayed open, exposing his chest and the three bullet holes expelling pints of blood. The hands of several agents were pressing down onto him, trying to keep pressure on the wounds, deep red slipping out from between their fingers. The look on their faces said enough – he wasn’t going to make it.  

“Where’s Helen?” you gaped, staring at Steve.  

“Ten minutes out.” Tony stumbled into the room as he rounded the corner, holding a stat phone in his hand. “She’s in the chopper.”

“He can’t wait ten minutes.” Bucky gripped tight to you hand and you could feel the tension radiating in his muscles. You wanted to take it for him but he pulled his hand before you could, turning to face you. “You’re all we have. Y/n, please. I can’t lose him.”

Bucky had never once asked you to heal someone like this. He could barely muster the will to ask you to heal his own wounds, to ease the constant stream of pain in his shoulder, and the open wounds on his hand. But with Steve’s life in the balance, he didn’t have room to be hesitant anymore. He couldn’t risk his best friend’s life.

But he didn’t know it would risk yours in the process.  

You swallowed, glancing back nervously at Steve. “I’ve never healed anything this bad before, Buck. I don’t know if I can--” survive this.  

Could your body heal fast enough to take on his injuries? Could you do them one by one? Would he live long enough to even try? Would either of you?  

“Y/n, please. He’ll die without you,” Bucky begged, his voice wavering. Tears reflected in his eyes; gentle pale blue obstructed by a swarm of fear and guilt and desperation, a redness straining into the surrounding white until his cheeks were wet. The dried blood cleared in streaks as they traveled down to his jawline.  

You watched him as he bit down onto his lip, shielding his face from the others as he waited. The frantic beeping of the monitor strapped to Steve’s chest was growing frantic, irregular, and you knew there wasn’t much time left.  

The worst you’d ever attempted to heal before had been the stabbing of a stranger. You’d found her clutching stomach in an abandoned alleyway in Queens, contents of her purse spilled to the pavement, jewelry torn from her neck. You'd knelt down beside her and took her pain without so much as a second thought.  

As her wound began to close, your skin split open, blood soaked into your shirt, your vision grew dark and hazy, until it was nothing at all.  

The last thing you remembered of that night was the horror in the woman’s eye as she scrambled away from you and ran back to the safety of the open streets. You woke in a pool of your own blood hours later – longer than it had ever taken to heal before.  

A scar remained on your stomach from that night. The only one on your body. A warning.  

Test the limits of your gift again and learn why it’s called a sacrifice.

But as you looked back at Bucky, at a man who never dared to ask you for anything until it was unbearable, who wore his own scars and healed his own injuries in fear of exploiting your gift, who was impossibly gentle for the evil he was surrounded in for decades – you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no. You didn’t want to.

Bucky must have noticed the change in your expression because his shoulders softened immediately, a heavy sigh sinking through his body. He pushed forward and pressed a quick kiss to your lips; short, chaste, and still—filled with a world of emotion, of gratitude, of relief. It gave you the courage to do what needed to be done.  

Tony began to shout for the room to clear the moment you approached the table. You stared down at Steve, whose skin had grown nearly translucent, the monitor above displaying his heart beat as it evened out to a nearly thin line. He was fading fast. You wouldn’t have much time.  

Everything around you became muted, distorted, as you channeled your focus; the huddled whispers of the agents hovering over Steve with their hands pressed to open wounds sounded as if they were miles away.  

Bucky stood at your side, watching anxiously though he tried his best to remain stoic and unaffected, though you knew he was splintering apart at the seams. Natasha and Sam were huddled in the far corner, talking quietly amongst themselves as they tried to put the pieces together as to what happened out in the field. Tony was shooing away stay agents with the threat of force, while Banner did his best to remotely disengage the power on Tony’s glove.  

None of it registered. Not beyond the flow of blood coating Steve’s chest and dripping onto the floor, your shoes stepping into the pool below. It was a miracle he was still alive at all. The serum was the only thing tying him to this Earth.  

You stretched out your hands, hovering over his chest and the agents quickly dispersed. You didn’t dare steal a glance in Bucky’s direction as the glow began to emit under your palms, afraid he might see the goodbye in your eyes or the apology for what he was about to witness. There wasn’t time.  

The pain was sudden. Sharp. Like you’d felt the bullets rip straight through you as if you stood on the battlefield in Steve’s place. You cried out at the impact of it, nearly thrown from your stance as you clutched into Steve’s body.  

Bucky jolted beside you, startled as you cried out again, desperate to choke down the screams before they passed your lips. He stared at you, wide eyed, as you clenched your jaw.  

“Y/n? Are you—”

Another scream tore through you and Bucky visibly flinched. You didn’t have the energy to hide the pain from him, not with three bullets tearing through you. You had to save Steve; put the full force of your power into healing his wounds before they consumed him whole. Damn the consequences. Damn the sacrifice of your gift.  

Your body was always meant to be the host of broken bones and bullet wounds and bruises. Made to be broken and mended. A host to others. A graveyard of injuries that did not belong to you.  

It was what your parents had told you from the time you were a child; that you were a gift to others, that you were a vessel to better the world. But it came at a price; one, it seemed, you’d soon enough pay.  

Your legs began to shake as a wave of darkness cast over your vision, tunneling, consuming the space around you. You could only vaguely make out Bucky’s voice calling your name, his tone laced confusion and concern, but you blocked it out. Daring to look in his direction now would only hinder your resolve and you needed to save Steve’s life.  

Concentrating your power, a scream ripped through your lungs as the glow illuminated the entire room, enough that Bucky was forced to shield his eyes.  

The wounds were taking hold on your body. One at your stomach. Another along your ribs. The third, just above your chest. Exit wounds opening on your back. You could feel the drip of blood as it slid down your skin; thick and unrelenting.  

You were growing light headed as the pain started to dissipate. But the wounds were still fresh on your body, still open and bleeding; the pain shouldn’t have faded so quickly.  

The steady beep of the monitor indicated that Steve was stabilizing, the flesh had nearly closed, and you barely registered Helen’s voice as she rushed into the room, ordering her team to take over.  

“Hey, hey, you did it, sweetheart. You did good,” Bucky exhaled. He had the most beautiful smile on his face; filled with a sense of pride an awe, stunning and handsome beyond belief, even with traces of concern still evident in his eyes.  

But you were stone. A statue. You couldn’t move without fear of collapsing completely.  

“He’s stable now, Y/n,” Bucky eased, trying to pull you gently away from the table. “Come here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Bucky hand set against your stomach when you didn’t follow and he froze; the sticky wet residue of fresh blood on his hand. He stared down at his palm in horror as the blood began to seep through your shirt in three distinct spots, all perfectly aligning with the ones on Steve’s chest.  

Bucky darted forward, pushing up your shirt to find the wounds he’d seen healed on his best friend moments ago littered over your stomach. His mouth went dry, throat lined with sandpaper, rocks shoved down into his lungs. His hand trembled as it reached out and touched the bullet wound on your ribs. His breath hitched as he felt the warmth of blood and the tear of flesh in your skin.  

He couldn’t breathe.  

“Is Steve alive?” Your voice was barely a whisper and you wondered if Bucky could even hear you at all. His eyes were glossed over in fresh tears, lips parted in shock as he stared back at you. You could hardly keep your eyes open.

Before he could respond, your legs gave way and you stumbled back out of Bucky’s hold. Your vision was closing in, a dark cloud of black swarming around you as your foot caught on the edge of toppled lab equipment. You were in Bucky’s arms again before you made it to the floor.  

You didn’t hear him screaming for help, didn’t hear the shattering crack in his voice, or the crash of equipment behind you as Simmons raced into the room. You didn’t feel his hands as they desperately pressed onto the open wounds, or the heat of his breath as he begged you to ‘stay with me, sweetheart’. But you felt the warmth of his embrace.

It was comforting as the darkness pulled you under.  

***

A heaviness draped over you. Soothing. Pressing you into the soft cushion below. A repetitive chime rang above; even in tone, consistent. It drew you back from the kind embrace of shadows, calling you toward a flicker of light.  

Pressure squeezed at your hand. Cold and warm at once. Solid and soft.  

You listened for the chime; allowed it to guide you as the rest of your senses awakened.

The chatter of voices in the distant too muffled to distinguish. The distinct smell sterilizing alcohol that burned in your nose. The heat of a thick blanket tucked around your legs. The chill of a breeze streaming from the humming vent above. Scratchy bed sheets and laundry fresh clothes a few sizes too big for your frame.  

You groaned, trying to adjust to the influx of light as you opened your eyes. It was a room you recognized. White. Clean. Far too bright. You’d been within the walls dozens of times before, but never laid upon the bed. It was a strange view.  

Glancing down, you found yourself dressed in a dark grey t-shirt that didn’t belong to you. The logo was faded on the chest but it was still recognizable. Vintage. An eagle at the center of a circle, it’s wings remarkably similar to the symbol of the Howling Commandos. Around the edge: Strategic Scientific Reserve. You’d seen Bucky wear it until the hem frayed. Sure enough, as you reached for the bottom of the shirt, you found the split seams.  

A slight squeeze on your hand again drew your attention to your right. There, you found Bucky hunched over the side of the bed; both hands encasing yours, his forehead rested on the very edge of the mattress.  

A smile tugged at your lips until it started to ache. Unused muscles, must be. You wondered how long you’d been out this time. Must have been longer than a few hours. Bucky’s back would need your attention after the way he’s been sleeping.  

“Bucky,” you tried to call, but found your voice was nothing more than a breath of air. You winced, testing it again. “Bucky?”  

He only hummed in response. The sweet vibrations nestled against your arm. It took him a minute as he lifted his head, stretched out his upper back, matted hair fallen down into his face, before he caught your eye; glancing around the room, checking the door, the heart monitor above, like it had become routine, until he realized you were watching him.  

He froze, eyes wide. “Y/n?”

You nodded sleepily, pushing out a smile. “What’d I miss?”

Bucky didn’t laugh. His hands were still gripped tight to yours, squeezing at them as if he were checking to make sure you were real.  

Your smile began to fall the longer he stared at you. “How long was I out? Is Steve okay?”

Bucky cleared his throat, nodding, though it seemed strained. “Y-yeah, Steve’s fine. Doc said he’d make a full recovery thanks to you.”

“That’s good,” you replied, but Bucky couldn’t so much as force a smile. He couldn’t seem to look at you, his hands playing with the lines in your palms. It was then you started to notice the dark circles under his eyes, the wrinkles in days old clothing, the hallowed look upon his face. Your stomach sank. “How long was I out?”

Bucky’s paused for a moment, his movements stilling as he traced your lifeline. He sighed, resuming again. “Six days.”

“Oh.”

A silence swept over the room. You’d never been under that long before. Frankly, you were a little surprised you woke up at all given the extent of Steve’s injuries. Your fingers dipped under the hem of Bucky’s old t-shirt and grazed over the bullet wound on your ribs, feeling for the raised edges of a fresh scar. It didn’t heal, as you suspected the others hadn’t; laid to rest next to the knife wound from the woman in the alley. Injuries you were never meant to survive.  

“Were you ever going to tell us?”  

You looked up, startled by Bucky’s voice as it wavered. He brushed at his eyes; red and glossy.  

“Were you ever going to tell me?”  

“No,” you admitted and Bucky’s shoulders slumped. He sank back further into his chair and you could read the disappointment on his face. You gritted your teeth, preparing to deliver the same speech you’d been telling yourself for years. “My body could handle it, Buck. It was only a few minutes of pain to trade for weeks or months of your own. It kept you in the field and off the bench. The world needs you guys. It was worth it for me. I could handle it.”

“Until you couldn’t!” Bucky snapped, startling you as he tugged his hand from your grasp and began to pace around the room. His fingers raked into his hair, gripping at unwashed strands. “You almost died, Y/n! You almost died because I fucking begged you to use your powers to save Steve and I—Jesus, Y/n — if I had known what it does to you, I never would have asked you to do that!”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” you replied gently, wanting nothing more than to ease him. Bucky shook his head, unwilling to accept your answer. “Bucky, if you knew that healing a papercut hurt me, you wouldn’t let me do that either.”

He paused; arms folded over his chest though he wouldn’t look at you. “No, I wouldn’t.”

You softened, sitting up in the bed, though a dull pain rushed made it rather difficult, leaving you to clutch at your stomach. It ached as you moved, an unfamiliar feeling, and the tension quickly faded from Bucky’s shoulders when he heard you whine.

You pushed through the pain in your stomach, holding up a hand as Bucky started to step forward to help you. It would fade. It always does. You’d heal and move on, until the next injury came through. It was routine. It was your life.  

So, you told him as much.  

“I’d do it again.”

Bucky frowned. He looked like he wanted to just lay on the bed beside you, curl up against your chest and sleep. He was exhausted. And still—he couldn’t let it go.  

“You almost died—”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“A sacrifice?” Bucky’s face contorting in horror. “Are you insane? You're not a sacrifice, Y/n!”

You nodded, determined; the words of your parents, the village elders, ringing in your ears. “That what this gift is, Bucky! I can’t actually heal anyone other than myself, but I can transfer the injuries and the pain to my body. That I can heal. It’s what I was born for! It’s my purpose. I was made to be a sacrifice.”

“Not for me!” Bucky held his ground, voice firmer than you’d ever heard it. “Nothing is worth that to me! Do you understand that? I won’t trade your life for anyone’s, not even Steve’s, and I sure as hell don’t care how many bones I break or how bad the nerves in my shoulder misfire. I won’t put that on you again. The team won’t either.”

You clenched your jaw, heart starting race. No one had ever challenged you on this before. No one had ever questioned whether your gift should be used at all. No one ever seemed to care of the effect it had on your body, never thinking to look past the extraordinary abilities to the mutilation under the surface.  

No one until Bucky.  

You curled your hands into the thin sheets at your waist. “Bucky, don’t be ridiculous. I’m saving you all from weeks of unnecessary healing. I can handle the pain. It’s an easy trade for—”

Bucky’s fist met the wall. “You’re worth more than just a vessel for our pain, Y/n!”  

“What the hell is going on in here!?” Helen Cho rushed into the room, eyes darting between Bucky standing by the corner of the room, shaking out his hand, and you as you laid in the bed at the center, the heart monitor above pulsing far too quickly.  

Bucky seemed to notice the frantic beeping of the monitor and the anger quickly drained from his face.  

Helen glared at him as she stepped closer to you, beginning to check your vitals. “You should leave,” she shot over her shoulder. Your stomach twisted to knots as Bucky nodded defeatedly and walked to the door.  

“No, don’t--” you called, voice small, nervous. He paused in the frame, glancing back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Please, Bucky. Stay.”

Helen set a hand on your shoulder as if to ask if you were sure. You nodded.

“You may be able to heal yourself, but you’re still recovering,” Helen advised, tapping on the IV drip. “Take it easy, alright?”

Bucky remained stoic by the door after Helen left. He didn’t say anything for a while, his eyes focused on the tile floors at his feet, waiting until the heart monitor chimed in even, steady counts.  

“Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. It got him to look at you, at least. While he couldn’t muster a smile, it was clear he was drained of the anger that had quickly taken hold of his body; anger that was never once reserved for you, but for the voices in your head that deemed you unworthy of more than a body to be used by others.  

Bucky sank into the chair at your bedside.  

“When’s the last time you slept, Buck?”  

He stayed silent. It was enough of an answer. You didn’t dare ask the last time he left this room, not with the shiny reflection at his roots and the red strained in his eyes. Six days at your bedside, hunched over on a cold, unforgiving chair, clutching your hand. It ached deep into your bones.  

“I mean what I said,” Bucky mumbled, slowly brining himself to meet your eye. He reached out for your hand, letting the comforting chill of solid metal lay below as the warmth of flesh and muscle laid on top. He brought your fingertips to his lips and gently kissed at your knuckles.  

You sighed at the feeling. “Bucky, I...”

“You’re more important to us than your abilities,” he pressed, a sincerity behind his words and laced delicately into sweet shades of blue. “You do a lot of good to keep us safe with the tech you’ve been building and the adjustments to the suits. You’re incredible at what you do, Y/n. Your worth isn’t based on how many injuries you can heal or how much pain you can handle. We care about you. I care about you. Isn't that enough?”

You didn’t know.

You’d never known anyone to prioritize you over your gift. You parents had exploited it from the moment it was discovered your ability; showing you off, treating you as an idol to be worships and adorned. They put their child through broken bones and lacerations and asthma attacks. They sat back and watched as you healed strangers of arthritis and sprained ankles and migraines. Their child cried as they collected their winnings.  

Were you afraid it would happen again? Is that why you kept it from the team? From Bucky? You’d convinced yourself it was noble to silently suffer in their place, but you started to wonder if it amounted to little more than your parent's words whispered into your ear: your ability is a gift to the world, a sacrifice unto yourself.

“Would you ask any of us to suffer in your place?” Bucky questioned, drawing you from the mess inside your head with the gentle vibration in his voice.  

“I just want to help you...” you murmured, tears slipping past your cheeks.  

Bucky reached forward and brushed the tears as they fell, sliding his hand against your cheek and nestling against your hair. You leaned into the touch.

“So, we find a middle ground, okay?” Bucky offered, smiling enough to push into his cheeks, though his eyes were still heavy. “No trivial injuries. No life-threatening injuries. We take the stuff in-between case by case.”  

“Your shoulder,” you added, determined. Buck started to shake his head but you pressed harder. “Five minutes of pain to spare months of yours, Bucky. No lasting damage. Don’t argue with me on this one.”

It brought the smile back to Bucky’s eyes as he eventually nodded. You knew he had no real authority to decide what injuries you could and couldn’t heal, but you’d never had anyone who dared to put you first. You trusted him to do that; you trusted him more than yourself, anyway.

“We decide the rest together,” you told him. “I get the final say but... I need you to tell me if I’m pushing it too much, but I won’t be too cautious, either. No discriminating against Sam.”

“No promises,” Bucky chuckled, playing with the ends of your hair dreamily. “The other stuff I can deal with.”

“Okay,” you exhaled, relief sweeping through your body.  

“Okay.”

“Think I’ll be lucky if anyone on the team even lets me touch them for a few months after this ordeal, though, huh?” You laughed and though it ached in your stomach, it was considerably less than it was moments earlier. You didn’t mind the dull pain. It was familiar, almost a comfort. Steve was alive because of it.  

“Yeah, can’t say anyone was thrilled to find out how your powers actually worked,” Bucky chuckled. “But they’re happy you’re alright. I’m sure Steve will be, too. He was pissed when he woke up and learned what you did.”

You clenched your jaw. “Never good to be on Cap’s bad side...”

“No, it’s not,” Bucky agreed, wide smile pressed to the back of your hand, his lips touching over exposed skin. “He doesn’t like when anyone else pulls a self-sacrificial move. It’s kinda his thing. Diving into the Atlantic and all. We don’t really need two of you running around...”

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, swatting Bucky away. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, the pain in your stomach long forgotten, or maybe it had finally healed. You supposed it didn’t matter.  

They were scars that would never heal. Like the knife wound. Like mesh of hardened tissue around Bucky’s shoulder, stretching out onto his chest and back. Reminders of when you were too both close to the edge, to the brink of darkness. Reasons to push back towards the light.  

read the sequel here!

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[gretavanfleetposts]

Persuasion: Pt. 4 || An Indecent Proposal AU

Author's Note: The final part! I'm sorry this took so long but thank you all for your patience and support. I love you all so much! I'll be gone for a while but my inbox and messages are always open. Thank you all for everything 🖤

Content Warnings: smoking, mentions of sex, some steamy situations (18+ minors do not interact)

Word Count: 3.6k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Every time you found yourself standing around Sam's kitchen island, you found yourself thinking back on the night that had sent you down this path, starting here and leading you back to here.

"We can't keep doing this. You're all so fucking competitive, someone is always going to be asking for a redo." The boys all watched you intently, listening for once as you addressed them as if you were scolding them. And in some ways, you were. "And if I let you all tie, there will be riots in the streets. So once I declare the winner, that's it. No take backs and no retries, got it?"

There were nods from each of the boys, although you knew it was unlikely this would be the last you'd hear of it. Even so, they were listening and agreeing. At least for the time being.

"Only one category this time. Best overall."

More nodding ensued, silently, making you hopeful for the acceptance of whatever outcome you delivered as you carefully avoided Jake's eyes.

"Sam and Jake are tied."

Those were the words that quickly put an end to the silence that had surrounded you just seconds before as Josh launched into a woe-is-me monologue and Jake and Danny each questioned your decision making skills. None of the words registered though, only Sam's quietness and the half smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, paired surprisingly with no loud rejoicing or bragging of any sort, just a glance down at the floor, a shaking of his head, and a light chuckle, before he silently toasted to himself.

It was an hour later that you slipped out of Jake's tight grip around your waist as Danny strummed a guitar along to Josh's singing to follow Sam onto his front porch where he pulled out a crisp, thin cigarette and lit it carefully between his lips.

"You did that because of what I said the other night."

He said it matter-of-factly just before taking a long drag from the cigarette resting between his fingers, all without ever once looking over at you as you followed his steps across the porch to the railing.

"I didn't; you earned it," you replied, looking at him earnestly despite the fact that he was studying the rail in front of him.

You thought back to his words about not wanting to be your last place. And sure, maybe part of you had been persuaded by those words. But the truth of the matter was that he had earned it. He had finally been vulnerable with you and he had touched you. Really touched you.

But he simply shook his head, pushing you into a state of confusion as he continued, seemingly in disapproval of what he figured you were thinking back on from that night.

"No, that's not what I'm talking about."

Only, you weren't sure what exactly he was talking about. And he chuckled lightly at your confusion, finally turning his head and lifting his eyes to meet your confused stare.

"I should have taken you home after that stupid wedding. Then maybe I'd be in Jake's shoes. Or Danny's.” He smiled lightly as his eyes fell to the ground, just before he raised them to yours again. “But Jake just wouldn't shut up about you; I knew you'd always be his."

You were silent, speechless. Sam rarely voiced his feelings that way. So…honestly. So plainly. And you had no idea how to respond.

He turned his gaze back to the railing in front of him, his focus back to the cigarette he still held. 

"It's fine, I know you don't want me the way you want them. I'll take my win. But just for the record, I never would have admitted that I didn’t sleep with that girl if I had known you’d go and put an end to the fun we were all having because of it. An end to the only way I’ll ever have you."

"Sam…" you began quietly but he quickly cut you off.

"It never would've worked anyway. You're too much of a princess."

You laughed lightly then, letting his humor dampen the guilt you felt rising in your chest and the tears you felt threatening at the corners of your eyes. Damn him for turning a stupid little challenge into the first ever admission of his real feelings for you. For pushing the line of friendship as far as it could go just before snapping. What a Sam thing to do. You had always known that he fell hard. You had never been the object of the falling.

So as the silence weighed on, it hurt to imagine how things might have ended up differently had he taken you home from the wedding. Or even, had he admitted any of this sooner. But more than anything, you wanted to ease his pain. You longed to reach out and soothe him, to wipe away the sad demeanor that hardly suited him and replace it with his usual smugness that you both knew and loved, hidden, surely, beneath a sigh before brushing it off the way he always did.

But he wasn’t the one to break the silence.

"Ya know, you could never be my last place, Sam. None of you could. You're all just so good in bed-"

Your words were met with an eye roll but he laughed nonetheless, a welcome sound against the piercing silence that had been growing cold between the two of you.

"No but really. I love all of you. It was never a very fair competition. I think for that you'd have to find some stranger who didn't already love each of you for what you already give them."

His smile grew then, his typical Sam smile, ever himself. "Now there's an idea."

It brought a smile to your own face. "Yeah yeah, so just take the win and gloat, okay? You earned it."

He was silent again before straightening and handing you his glowing cigarette. "And what is it that I give you, hmm?"

You took a long drag, tasting the smoke as it laid thick on your tongue and sent a buzz through your head, all the while you thought about your last year of interactions with Sam, how you had been paying much more attention to Danny all that time and even more attention to Jake. You thought about how quickly Sam had clocked you and Danny and wondered if he had been studying you that whole time, waiting for glances in his direction, hoping for them. You thought about the night in the hot tub and the night much more recently that had felt so different. And then you thought about how he had dressed you, so carefully, so delicately. 

“You give me more than I deserve,” you whispered, handing the cigarette back to him.

He only nodded, silently taking the cigarette back and placing it between his lips, turning his attention back to the railing before him.

He looked almost sad as he stood there, but still somehow no less smug than he usually was. And for a moment you wondered if he had said what he'd said when he was inside of you just to get the outcome he wanted or if he had truly meant it. Something in the way he held the cigarette up to his lips told you it was perhaps a bit of both. But with Sam, you'd probably never know for certain, cryptic as he was.

Still, sadness wasn't an expression he often wore and even though it only so much as tinged his features, never fully overtaking his face, you couldn't help but reach for him, taking the cigarette from between his lips and dropping it onto the concrete below your feet to stamp it out. And before he could protest, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to his, his own hands taking no time to find your waist and pull you flush against him and his own lips taking no time to move against yours, all the while his words from two days prior echoed in your mind.

"I hate being your last place."

His lips moved against yours with more force as he searched for you, one hand still holding your waist and the other tangling in your hair to hold your face against his. It wasn’t quick but even so, it was over far too soon as you breathlessly pulled away, swallowing down any guilt you felt over the earnesty behind the kiss.

And then you imagined it.

Sam had flour on his nose and cheeks and you definitely had a floury handprint on the back of your jeans, a product of Sam’s flirtations. The Hozier album playing in the background and the cocktail you were sipping on, Sam’s own creation, made the night go down smoother. You couldn’t rule out Sam’s coquettish advances either. He had a habit of being flirty, among other things, but in a way that put you at ease.

“Here’s a question for you," you said, dipping a finger into your bowl to taste your batter. "How exactly are we going to determine whose dessert is the best? We both know we’ll each just pick our own."

“Well, I was kinda thinking mine would just be so much better that you’d have no choice but to vote for me?”

You couldn’t help but hear the double meaning in what he was saying and you wondered to yourself for a moment if he had heard it too. Of course he had heard it; he had to have. Sam may have been the goofiest of the group but he wasn’t stupid. So you decided to play along.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming it’ll be the best?” It was more of a statement than a question.

He set his whisk down and turned to look you in the eye when he responded, and his reply all but confirmed your suspicions of the double meaning behind the conversation. “Y/n, I intend for this to be the best dessert you’ve ever had.”

You paused your whisking for a moment to meet his eyes before feeling your nerves begin to bubble up inside of you again. As you felt the butterflies rise in your chest, your eyes fell back to the bowl in your hands and you grabbed a cake pan to begin pouring batter, desperately clinging to the distraction instead of Sam’s eyes.

“Well, you might have some stiff competition,” you said as you spooned the last of the mixture into the pan and hoisted yourself up onto the counter to sit and wait for the oven to inform you it was finished preheating.

He laughed at your choice of phrasing with a light “Yeah, I bet,” but went back to his own whisking.

When the oven finally beeped, he poured his own batter into a tin and placed both his and yours in the oven, setting the timer, downing the rest of his drink, and turning around to face you from where you sat on the counter opposite him.

“We have an hour,” he said as he leaned back against the opposite counter. The look on his face was almost too mischievous, even for him.

You were unable to meet his gaze, not out of fear of what you would see but out of fear of what he would because beneath the nerves and the anticipation was his best friend, possibly way too into the idea of having sex with him and each of his bandmates, two of which were his brothers no less. How could he look you in the eyes and be okay seeing that? Especially after what he had seen you and Jake doing.

His response drifted to you from across the space separating you and it was as if he had been reading your thoughts. “Ya know, it’s okay if you don’t want to do this.” He paused for a brief second before adding, “And it’s also okay if you do.”

You watched your heels as they absentmindedly kicked against the cupboards behind them. “Do you want to do this?” you asked, trying to gauge his level of enthusiasm against your own.

He took a step forward, seemingly hesitant to reach out and touch you the way he so desperately wanted to. 

“Yes, y/n, I want to do this.” He took another step forward before asking, “Do you?”

When you finally met his eyes, they were overflowing with that look you had been both nervously avoiding and yet eagerly awaiting all night. And you were instantly immersed in it, in him. Again you thought about the kiss at the wedding, the kiss you had initiated, the kiss that, despite the tingling it disturbed in your stomach, did nothing to disrupt the normalcy between you and Sam. The thought of it helped you make your mind up. And so you nodded.

Slowly he closed the distance between you and settled between your legs dangling off the edge of the counter. His eyes were trying desperately to read your face as his hands traveled with hesitance to your thighs. You could feel the heat from his palms through your jeans. You knew he was testing the waters, trying to avoid scaring you off by going too fast, and slowly he moved his body closer to yours.

In spite of the tingling you now felt in your fingers and hands, you reached up to lightly grip his shirt and pulled him into you as his hold on your thighs edged upward and tightened ever so slightly. The closer his mouth got to yours, the more his breathing picked up. And you were right there with him, losing your breath at the thought of his lips touching yours.

His gaze dipped to your lips then flickered back up to your eyes as if he was making sure you were still within his reach. And when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

“Just say stop if you want me to stop.”

You didn’t want him to stop. No part of you did. So you stayed silent and instead, pulled him harder into you by your grip on his shirt. And finally his lips met yours in a slow and careful kiss.

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you off the counter and into his body. His left hand stayed in its place there as his right traveled up your back, between your shoulder blades, and finally found the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss.

His mouth was hungry against yours and it left you wanting more. You wanted to taste him, to feel every inch of him against you. You didn’t care that you were waltzing across a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. The only thing you were focused on was the way his body felt against yours.

You felt him pulling you away from the countertop as his mouth still worked against yours. Blindly he led you backwards, using one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you pressed firmly against him and the other to feel for the familiar walls that lead to his bedroom, before you finally made it to your destination.

Once inside, his fingers found the hem of your sweater and seemingly found your nerves at the same time because your hand reached for his wrist to stop him, somewhat involuntarily.

“I’m sorry, did I go too far?” he asked, voice laced with concern.

You stared up at him for a moment, breathing still heavy, and did your best to steady yourself before taking a step back to gather yourself and giving him a very matter-of-fact look as you began to strip in front of him.

You pulled your sweater over your head first then worked on your jeans, Sam’s eyes never once leaving your body. And when you were left in just your bra and panties, he approached you again, letting his eyes roam over your exposed skin instead of his hands.

It made you smile, the thought of him not wanting to be the one to push too hard, like he was waiting for you to initiate the touch. So you reached for his hand and placed it on your lace-covered breast, encouraging him to move closer and do the same with his other hand.

“You dressed up for me,” he breathed.

“Well, I wanted to make a good first impression," you said, hoping you weren't making too big a deal of it.

“You’re driving me crazy, pretty girl. I’d say that’s a good first impression.”

He let his fingers admire the lace, slipping two under the strap of your bra and following the elastic from your shoulder down to where it met the cup. He was enthralled.

Your hands began tugging at his shirt while his head was still spinning at the image of you wearing nothing but lingerie and standing in his bedroom, signaling for him to match your level of nakedness. And he obliged, grabbing his shirt from between his shoulder blades and pulling it up over his head, tossing it somewhere on his bedroom floor where it would be forgotten. At the same time, your fingers were working on the button and zipper of his jeans and once he had discarded his shirt, he helped you work them down to his ankles and off his legs, leaving him in a similar state of undress as you, the only article of clothing left on his body being a pair of tight boxer briefs with sharks all over them. Your giggle was stifled by his mouth once again fitting against yours.

Holding you closer to him, he turned so he was walking backward this time, until his thighs hit the foot of the bed and he sat down. His grip on your waist pulled you into his lap and you straddled him, entangling your hands in his hair and using his moan as an opportunity to push your tongue past his lips. The feeling of him growing hard beneath you, the way he tasted of tequila and lime, the way his hands worked over your skin, fingers digging in to get a better grip so as not to lose you, it all spurred you on.

His lips moved across your cheek and he began peppering your jawline and neck with open-mouthed kisses while his fingers reached down into the space between you to gently rub the pad of his thumb over the lace between your legs. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling and without even realizing it, your hips had begun to lift into his touch, desperate for more.

He paused his kissing but kept his finger moving as he spoke, his voice coming out breathlessly.

“Just for the record, I never slept with that girl after the wedding. I knew after you kissed me that I couldn’t. I went home alone.”

It was a conscious effort to push past the sensations of his breath hot against your neck and the light teasing of his thumb to reply.

“What exactly are you admitting to, Sam?”

He halted his movements to hover over you and stare at you in the eyes as he suddenly struggled to admit his own feelings.

“I…I made a mistake. It should have been you.”

You were breathless, partially from his actions but mostly from his words. It was the first time he had ever been so vulnerable with you, so honest, no hint of a joke anywhere in sight. And it absolutely captured the breath from your lungs as you stared up at him.

“It’s me now. Just do me a favor. Don’t let me slip through your fingers this time. Don’t let me go home alone.”

“I’m never letting you go home alone again.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, that’s a promise.” He dipped his head to capture your lips again, pulling your thighs up around his hips just to be closer to you, just to feel the heat off your skin burn him in the best way. But his lips soon abandoned yours as he looked down at you breathlessly again. “Just…just please don’t fuck my brothers after this.”

You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh as you lifted your head to his, nodding against his lips as the challenge died on your tongue as the taste of him became the only thing you knew.

“Yeah, yeah, just hurry up and fuck me before my cake burns, pretty boy.”

You could practically taste the smile on his face as his lips found yours again.

And then you took a step back, and then another, and another, until you were walking back through his front door, seeking out Jake’s arms once again, leaving Sam standing all alone on the porch.

He welcomed you again with open arms, watching as you quickly swiped moisture away from your eyes.

"Everything okay?" he asked with his lips pressed against your hair as you took your place on his lap, the place you belonged at the end of each day.

You gave him a soft smile and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, trying not to linger under the eyes of his bandmates as you felt that familiar melting feeling rush through you under his touch, dampening the sadness you still carried.

"Always.”

“Good. Because you know I’m just going to have to fix that whole tie situation later tonight, right?”

You smiled and laughed, your forehead moving to rest against his cheek as you collapsed into him, the pieces of your prior decisions and the decisions of those around you falling into place as you pushed the thoughts of Sam and Danny and Josh to the back of your mind, questions to be answered another day as you made your home in Jake’s arms.

Taglist: @hyperfixated-gvf @stardust-and-shadows @s-u-t @obiwanwhore @myownparadise96 @fatefellshortthistime @joshkiszkaenthusiast @theweightofstardust @age-of-nyahh @jake-kiszkas-smirk @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasleftnutsack