#ten bucks says someone had all their decorations up the second midnight hit and it was no longer October

[gods-favorite-autistic]

It’s November y’all get ready to see Christmas stuff

[captainmarvels]

bittersweet {1}

Summary: Steve lost you once, and he doesn’t want to risk it again. Too bad he only has three months. | modern AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This is part 1 of my entry for my lovely Sofi’s [ @nataliarxmanxva ] writing challenge! My prompt is Summertime Sadness, by Lana Del Rey, which appears in the second part. This is also my first actual Steve fic, so I hope you all enjoy! | masterlist

A midnight summer’s dream.

Something that sounds… unattainable.

Unrealistic.

Too good to be true.

Coming home to Brooklyn after years abroad, you never thought you’d stick out more. You were the talk of the town; well in this case, the neighborhood. You couldn’t stand on your front porch without hearing hushed whispering somewhere on the street.

As much as you loved and missed Brooklyn, it just wasn’t for you.

You only returned at your mother’s request; it had been 5 years since you had last stepped foot in your childhood home, and she wanted to see you one last time before you settled in Europe.

You accepted, knowing full well it would be the last time you’d ever come back. One summer. Three months. No problem.

Or so you thought.

You had one condition for your return home; no men. Your time and work abroad had left zero time for dating, which you were more than okay with. You had sat through more than enough breakups with your best friends to know just how terrible and cruel love - and men - could be.

You refused to let a man ruin your last summer at home. If you were going to come back, it was going to be hassle-free.

You returned earlier than planned, as a surprise. You asked your childhood best friend and neighbor, James, to pick you up from the airport. He had grown up to be a proud, fine man. You were glad the two of you had kept in touch after high school; being best friends with an Army man was difficult enough as it is. You practically jumped into his arms once you stepped outside, your bags dropping to the ground as he lifted you up, laughing.

“Long time no see, munchkin.” You smacked the back of his head, prompting a roll of his eyes as he set you down. “What? I thought you loved that nickname, Y/N.”

“You are still the worst person alive, Barnes. How’ve you been?” You grabbed your backpack, graciously letting James take your two suitcases as you headed for his car.

“Pretty good, actually. I’m on leave for the summer, so you’re stuck with me for the next few months, kid.”

“I am no kid! Just because you’re 4 months older than me does not make me the kid, James.” He chuckles, nodding as he stops in front of his truck.

“Alright, alright. Your mom invited me over for dinner tonight, said there was something she wanted to talk to me about before you show up. You okay with being alone for a bit?” You nodded, sighing as you imagined just what your mother wanted to discuss with him.

“As long as you promise to tell me what she tells you, Bucky.”

“There it is. I was wondering how long it would take for you to slip back into your old ways, doll.” You punched him in the arm, giggling as he tried to hit you back, to no avail.

“It’s good to be home!”

You found yourself staring a little too intently at Bucky’s decor as you took a quick stroll through his house. You knew the man had no taste, but clearly someone living in his place did.

“You got a secret girlfriend or something? There is no way in hell you designed this place. Not by yourself, at least.” You turn to face him, rolling your eyes as he places his hand over his heart, stepping back against the wall.

“Your words hurt, munchkin. They hurt. Your mom and Steve helped, actually.” There it is.

“Oh?” You tried to hide the excitement in your voice, but Bucky knew you too well.

“Yes, Y/N. Steve is still here, unfortunately.”

“Don’t talk like that, Buck. It’s been years. Actually, like a freaking decade.” He rolls his eyes, prompting you to do the same. “You’re so stubborn, you know?”

“When it comes to him, yeah. Also, you have no right to pull the ‘it’s been years’ card, missy.”

You drop down onto his couch, sighing peacefully as you sink into the plush cushions.

“Oh, please. I’m over it, unlike someone.” Bucky sits down across from you, resting his feet atop his coffee table.

“Yeah, the way you perked up at the sound of his name definitely means you’re over it.”

“Shut up, jerk.”

“Punk.”

He’s not wrong, you know.

“Shut up,” You mutter to yourself, grabbing your glass of wine off the counter. You make yourself comfortable on Bucky’s massive couch, throwing your favorite blanket on top.

You manage to make it through a few episodes of 30 Rock before hearing the front door open, the lock clicking soon after. Bucky strolls into the main room, shrugging his peacoat off while slipping out of his dress shoes.

“Wow, very fancy, Mr. Barnes. Didn’t know my mom was some celebrity.” You chuckle as he rolls his eyes, bunching up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows.

“Funny. We need to talk.” He sits down next to you, moving your legs onto his lap. You sit up, setting your glass on the table next to you.

“About what?” You ask.

“Steve.”

“What is there to talk about? I told you, I’m over it.”

“Yeah, well we both know that’s a flat out lie, so,” You throw a cushion at him, which he gracefully catches, throwing you a side eye as he sets it down. “Seriously, Y/N. It’s been ten years - don’t tell me you’re still in love with him.”

“I was never in love with him, James!” You say, smacking him in the arm as you bring your knees into your chest.

“He forgets we exist for the past ten years, and you talked about him every day like he was still our best friend, Y/N. If that’s not love, then clearly-”

“I hate you. And he didn’t forget we existed. Just because he was off doing his own thing in Belgium-”

“For almost ten years, Y/N! He said it was going to be one year, and he’d be back with us at NYU in no time. All he ever cared about was himself, and you know it.” Bucky shakes his head, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he turns to face you.

“I told you I was over it. Don’t bring this all back again.”

Fresh out of high school, the golden trio - Bucky, you, and Steve - were ready to take on the world. The three of you were set to attend NYU together; Bucky enrolled in the ROTC program part-time, Steve on a fast-track science program, and your five-year master's program. Everything was like a dream; living with your best friends in the heart of New York city, doing what you loved best.

Unfortunately, that dream came apart as quickly as it had come together.

Steve was offered the chance to take a gap year and do research with NYU scientists in Europe; he was the science genius in the group, so it was no wonder he was chosen for the competitive program. The opportunity was once in a lifetime; he would be able to take classes abroad, and his full ride scholarship would cover all the costs.

He felt horrible that he was ruining the plan the three of you had spent months putting together, but you and Bucky knew this was a big deal, and it was more important that Steve live up to the potential he had.

His last night in the city, the three of you spent in your new apartment, plates full of pizza and wings sitting in your laps as you finished the fifth Harry Potter film.

“How long’s the flight again, champ?” Bucky asks from the kitchen, his eyes focused on the pizza in front of him.

“A little under 9 hours; I have a layover in London.”

“Wow, enthralling. Don’t die!” You whisper, not looking away from the screen.

“Not nice! I hate flying, but this is worth it.” You laugh, nodding as you pat Steve on the shoulder.

“Just promise you won’t forget about us when you become famous, big shot.” Bucky says, sitting down on the couch behind you. You look over at Steve, pointing at Bucky and nodding.

“What he said, Rogers. I didn’t waste the last 16 years of my life being friends with you for nothin’!” The boys roar out in laughter, Steve throwing a napkin at you as you double over, nearly dropping your plate onto the floor.

“I hate and love you guys. Don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Ew, don’t get sappy on us now, Stevie. Otherwise I’ll have to punch you before you get on the plane.” You laugh, high fiving Bucky as Steve just rolls his eyes.

“Remember to send us postcards; I doubt we’ll be leaving this place anytime soon.” You all laugh again, tears welling up in your eyes from all the joy. Steve wraps his arm around your shoulders, his other hand hitting Bucky in the knee.

“I promise I won’t forget you, as long as you promise to hold these movie nights forever.” You lock eyes with him, nodding before turning to Bucky.

“Always; it’s a lifelong tradition!”

It was only a short time after Steve had left, and the new chapter of your lives began, when Bucky confessed something.

You were at a frat party; having lost a bet to Bucky, you were his designated driver for the night. You were sitting on the back porch of the apartment, secluded from the rest of the drunk students, Bucky’s head was resting on your shoulder, his breath heavy with the smell of beer and vodka.

“Y’know, there’s something I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya for some time now, Y/N.” Bucky’s words were somewhat coherent, considering you took away his last beer nearly an hour ago.

“What’s that, Bucky?” You glanced over at him, seeing his eyes shut.

“Remember Stevie’s last night with us? When I sent you downstairs to see if our neighbor had plates we could use so we didn’t have to… have to wash our own?” He giggles, burping while trying to focus on his train of thought.

“Yes, I remember. What about it?”

“Stevie made me do it so he could... so he could tell me he liked you.” Bucky’s head drops, and you carefully guide him to rest on your lap.

“You sure this isn’t something your drunk self is making up, Barnes?” You play with his hair, trying your best not to let his words get to you.

“No, no, I swear. Stevie didn’t wanna tell ya because… uh, because he said he didn’t wanna ruin his chances with you. Said somethin’ like he didn’t think you should have to deal with inconsistency on his part because of uh, distance. Yeah.” His soft snores follow soon after, and you shake your head, covering him with his jacket. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

Except Bucky does.

The next morning, he brings you breakfast in bed, a pair of sunglasses perched on his face.

“Good morning, hangover.”

“Shut up and eat, loser. Remember what I said last night?” Your eyes widen, nodding as he sits down on your bed.

“You remember, too? I thought you were still drunk.”

“Drunk me has a very great memory, apparently. It’s weird. Anyways - wanna talk about it?” You shake your head no, your mouth full of pancakes. “You sure? I know you have the biggest crush on him so-”

“Had, Barnes. I’ve been getting over it since he told us he was leaving. I’m okay; promise. Besides, Steve did the best thing for us both; I don’t think I would’ve been okay with him dropping something like that on me when he was going to be gone for so long.” Bucky nods, reassuringly squeezing your knee as you took a bite of your toast.

“What do you say to some Dexter later?”

“Oh hell yes.”

Steve’s gap year eventually turned into years; his time abroad pushing him towards brighter and better opportunities. Sadly, that meant leaving a few things behind. Including you and Bucky.

“First he said one year. One. Now it’s four years later, I’m about to graduate, and he can’t fly in for one lousy weekend? Who the hell does he think he is?” Bucky was shouting at no one in particular, his hands running through his hair as he paced back and forth in front of you.

“He’s speaking at a symposium in Poland that weekend, Buck. There’s not much he can do.”

“He knew about it since October, Y/N. He definitely could’ve at least tried to figure something out. Steve doesn’t care anymore.”

“Don’t say that, James; we don’t know what-”

“Exactly! We don’t know what’s been happening with him because he’s forgotten about us, Y/N. Take the fucking hint; he doesn’t care.”

“I know you don’t want to remember, but it’s kind of hard not to. He’s a shitty friend, Y/N.” Bucky’s head rests in his hands, your own heart sinking at the thought of his words. At the thought of your best friend.

“What were you going to tell me? Why are we even talking about Steve?” You whisper, wrapping the blanket closer to your body.

“Your mom asked me if I thought it was a good idea for him to stop by the house and see you. He’s been back for a month, and she let slip you were coming home. He really wants to see you, but I don’t want to see you getting hurt. Especially by him.” You roll your eyes, gently shoving Bucky with the heel of your foot. “What?” He asks, glancing at you.

“I can take care of myself. I’m not the same girl Rogers left behind ten years ago. I want to see him, James.” He sighs, reluctantly nodding his head as he moves to stand up. You grab him by the arm, locking eyes with him as he raises an eyebrow.

“Tomorrow. I want to see Steve tomorrow.”

[crispychrissy]

Shrink - Chapter 7

Summary: When patients of a psychiatrist that caters exclusively to hunters start going crazy and dying, Sam and Dean Winchester investigate what might be causing these bizarre episodes. Pairing: None yet Word Count: 2366 (whoops) Warnings: None A/N: My first fanfic! This is going to be a series, probably over 30 chapters total. Any feedback is appreciated, I am a newbie!

“Thanks Bill. I’ll let you know what we turn up.” Sam said, holding his cellphone to his ear with his left shoulder while writing in the note pad he had balancing on his knee. He slid the phone down his chest and caught it, hitting the end call button. “What did he say?” Dean asked, still looking at the map on his phone to navigate. “He said that they caught Adrian’s plate on a traffic cam right outside Tulsa, so that’s probably where he was coming from.” Sam said, capping his pen and flipping his notebook closed. “Makes sense, he was heading south toward his motel.” Dean said, as his phone told him he was arriving at his destination. Pulling into the parking lot, both brothers looked out their windows to study the motel that Adrian had called home for the past three weeks. The Pilot Motel followed the industry standard design for a usual run-down decrepit motel. There was peeling paint, faded colors, and a few suspicious looking women in short dresses and stilettos sitting on the steps leading to the second floor. Sam and Dean have called so many motel rooms home throughout their entire lives, this was business as usual for them. Dean pulled into an empty spot under the rusted metal sign for the motel. The sign, once blue and red in color, had a large picture of an airplane with a man standing on top of it. The sign creaked back and forth with the wind as Dean opened his door and stepped outside, followed shortly after by Sam opening his door and stepping outside, too. Dean walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He grabbed Sam’s bag and tossed it to him before grabbing his own bag and shutting the trunk.

“Ten bucks says Adrian was taking advantage of the local wildlife,” Dean said, motioning to the two ladies sitting on the steps.

“I don’t know, man.” Sam said. “It seems like Marah and Adrian really loved each other, despite their problems.” “Well, I always say…distance does not make the heart grow fonder. Distance makes the heart want to fondle other people.” Dean said as he opened the door to the office at the motel. Sam slid through the door and into the room before him causing Dean to let out a sigh as his brother cut in front of him. Sam reached the counter first, looking around to see if there was someone working the desk. Not seeing anyone, he gently tapped the bell sitting on the side of the counter and waited. After a few seconds, a young man appeared in the doorway behind the counter; covered in piercings and tattoos, he couldn’t have been over twenty years old. He stepped out from the darkness of the doorway and put his hands on the counter. “Yeah?” he said, studying Sam and Dean as he scratched at the tangled mess of brown hair on his head. “We need a room for the next few nights, possibly longer...” Dean said, reading the name tag on the man’s shirt, “…Eric.” Dean smiled and pushed his credit card across the counter toward Eric. “Alright, it’s $65 a night. You guys want the honeymoon room or something?” Eric said as he swiped the card. “Uhh…no. No…we’re not…” Sam stammered. “We need a room with two twins.” “Whatever. We don’t offer hookers, and I don’t think we have any twins living in the neighborhood.” Eric said, putting Dean’s card back on the counter. “Beds. Twin b- never mind.” Sam cut himself off as he shook his head and gave a half smile at Eric. Eric raised an eyebrow at Sam before he turned around and grabbed a key off the top row of hooks behind him. “You’re in room four. Enjoy your stay, I guess.” “Thanks.” Dean said. “Oh, by the way. A friend of ours was staying here. He’s middle aged, black hair, and probably been here around 3 weeks. Sound like anyone you know?” “Sounds like the guy in two. Kinda frumpy looking old dude checked in about a month ago.” Eric said. “Came in and out at all hours. Really shady dude...didn’t want the maid in there. I don’t wanna know the stuff he was getting into.” “Thanks, man.” Dean said as he started to turn around. “Also, we don’t want maid service either.” He said with a smile and a wink. Eric looked up at Dean with a disgusted look on his face. “Ugh…whatever man.” He said as he turned around and disappeared back into the dark doorway. Dean and Sam both exited through the front of the office and started walking toward their room. The doors were bright pink, bleached from red by constant sunlight. The walls were light blue with white cloud designs, broken up sporadically by large chunks of paint that were missing the entire length of the building. “So Adrian was in room two.” Sam said as they passed room two on their way to room four. “Settle in and let’s head over there around midnight. Sound like a plan?” “You got your pick on you?” Dean asked as he slid the key into the lock on room four and opened the door. “Always.” Sam said, patting the right side of his suit jacket. Greeted by the familiar smell of cleaning products and stale food, both brothers walked into the motel room and tossed their respective bags on each bed; Dean on the right, closest to the door, Sam on the left, closest to the bathroom. Deep crimson sheets covered in bleach stains under white blankets, each bed looked like it’s seen its fair share of use. The room itself was a tad bigger than either brother had expected; but coming from spacious size of the bunker, it was nice to get some extra room. The usual motel decor cluttered the room…a table with a lamp on it right inside the front door, an old TV on a much older wooden dresser, and a bathroom with tile from the sixties. Sam smiled to himself as he felt the familiar motel comfort he used to know back before they moved into the bunker. “This really brings back the memories, doesn’t it?” Sam said, looking around the room at the decor. “Oh yeah, hooker sheets and weird stains. How could you not miss this?” Dean said sarcastically. “Not that, Dean. I mean you and me, hunting stuff…being on the road all the time…jumping from motel to motel.” Sam replied. “Back in the good old days when we played Motel Roulette.” “Yeah, I guess. It does make me a little nostalgic. I think the bunker has ruined our appreciation of motels.” Dean said, smiling. Sam sat down at the table in the front of the room and opened his laptop. “I’m going to look over Adrian’s case file again. Do you want to run out for food?” Dean, who was already laying down on his bed watching TV, glanced over at Sam. “I thought it was your turn.” “No, I have gas this week…you’re on food.” Sam said, typing away on his laptop. Dean groaned, rolled on his side, and stood up next to his bed. “Whatever. You want your usual salad, brontosaurus?” Dean said, putting his jacket back on. “Yeah, thanks.” Sam said, letting out a light chuckle. Dean grabbed the room key off the table and quickly exited out the door to the parking lot. Sam continued to click around and type on his laptop, deaf to the world around him. He had hacked into the local PD’s database and was cross referencing details about Adrian’s case with other cases for the last year. So far, nothing. Still vigilant as always, he expanded the search to include all nationwide databases for cases that were similar to Adrian’s - a regular person who snapped and killed or seriously injured a stranger. The search was taking longer than expected, so Sam got up and walked over to the bathroom to get a drink of water. As he was filling one of the individually wrapped plastic cups, his laptop emitted three dings. “Never get tired of hearing that sound.” Sam said with a smile as he set the cup down on the sink and returned to his spot at the table. He clicked on the box that had appeared on his screen. “32 possible matches. This is going to take a while.” He said, running his fingers through his hair and exhaling sharply. Not deterred by the task, Sam dove right in, opening each case file and reviewing the details of each attack. Almost twenty minutes later, Sam was reading a case file from Memphis PD from about three months ago about a woman who had drove up on a sidewalk and hit several pedestrians, killing two. He kept reading the woman’s name over and over again, feeling a familiar tingle in his brain. Ignoring the sensation, he kept reading the file. The woman claimed to have heard her daughter’s voice coming from the stereo in her car, filling her with rage. So much rage that she was compelled to kill as many people around her as possible. The cops that investigated the case thought she was nuts, as they usually do, and locked her in a psych ward. Finding his eyes drifting back onto the woman’s name, Sam started muttering it out loud to himself. “Alicia Branch….Alicia…Branch…” Sam closed his eyes, trying to figure out where he had heard that name before. Before Sam had a chance to think any harder, he was startled by Dean slamming the motel room door closed. “Jesus, Dean. You scared the crap out of me. I didn’t even hear you open the door.” Sam said, heart still beating rapidly. “Why you all jumpy, Sammy? You looking at porn?” Dean said, looking over Sam’s shoulder at his laptop. “Ah, nevermind. Nerd porn. Those case files?” he said as he set a white paper bag on the table next to Sam and started digging through it. “Yeah. I did a nationwide search to see if there were any other cases of people going crazy and killing strangers. Found over thirty, been going through them.” Sam said as he reached into the paper bag, pulling out the container with his salad in it. Dean nodded and put a french fry in his mouth. “So? Anything interesting yet?” He said as he began to unwrap the aluminum foil surrounding his burger. “Maybe.” Sam said, clicking back over to the Alicia Branch case file. “Get this…a woman drove her car up on the sidewalk and ran a bunch of people over…killed two…because she heard her daughter’s voice coming through her stereo. Apparently it made her so angry, she had to kill.” “Someone’s been playing too much Grand Theft Auto.” Dean mumbled through his full mouth. “That’s not the weird part…do you recognize the name Alicia Branch? She was the driver of the car.” Sam asked as he poured dressing on his salad. Dean narrowed his eyes before closing them completely. “Alicia…Branch…yeah. That does sound familiar.” Dean opened his eyes and wiped his hands on his napkin before getting up and walking over to his bag laying on his bed. After digging around for a few moments, Dean pulled out his father’s hunting journal. John Winchester, Sam and Dean’s father, raised them in the hunter lifestyle and kept detailed notes on all monsters and cases he worked, including those cases that involved other hunters. Dean walked back over to the table and sat down. Moving his burger off to the side, he opened up the journal and began flipping the pages. Still flipping, Dean reached over, grabbed a handful of fries, and shoved them into his mouth. “Don’t get grease all over dad’s journal, dude.” Sam said, trying to pull the journal away from Dean. “Shhh.” Dean said as he swatted Sam’s hand away. He flipped once more and then rested his finger on the page about halfway down. “Jackpot.” “Eagle River, Wisconsin. Worked Wendigo case with Alicia Branch. She broke her leg, needed stitches.” Dean read, his finger following each word he was reading off the page. “Another hunter?” Sam said in disbelief, putting down his fork and clicking on his laptop again. “If it’s the same Alicia Branch, looks like it.” Dean said, sliding the journal off to the side and pulling his burger close to him again before taking a huge bite of it. “Two hunters go crazy and kill people within a three month period? I’m not sure that can be a coincidence. I’m gonna keep going through these cases.” Sam said, sliding his salad to the side and pulling his laptop close to him. “Don’t forget, we have to sneak over to Adrian’s room after midnight. Might be able to shed some light on what’s going on, too.” Dean said, his mouth full again. Sam checked the time on his laptop, 10:42pm. “I’ll keep at this until then. I hope they weren’t hunting something that got them first.” “Me, too.” Dean said, taking another bite of his burger, closing his eyes and letting out a soft moan of pleasure while he chewed. Sam looked up, noticing a large gob of ketchup on Dean’s chin, mixed in with the beard that was now forming and growing on his face. “Dean.” Sam said, motioning to his chin. “You got…uhh…” Dean opened his eyes, confused. “Huh?” “Wipe your chin.” Sam sighed and handed him a napkin. “And shave it, too! You look ridiculous. Are you going for a record or something?” “Maybe...” Dean said as he snatched the napkin and began rubbing his chin. “Get back to work. Faster you get through those, sooner we can go to Adrian’s room.” He said, motioning to Sam’s laptop. “It would go faster if you helped me.” Sam said, starting to get annoyed. “Nah, you got this. I’m in burger town and not leaving anytime soon.” Dean said as he took a giant bite out of his burger and smiled at Sam. Giving Dean a stern look, Sam returned his attention back to his laptop.