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#as if it's still okay that they reduced sam to nothing
lukevangelista · 8 months
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and for a moment, my nightmare came true | these michigan summers
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a/n: did y'all really think we were gonna go an entire season without some angst? except this one's probably the heaviest angst i've written for this series so far, so if this content is upsetting to you, please, please, please do not read this. your comfort is way more important than these silly little characters - libby and quinn will be waiting for you in the next part <3
if you decide to skip this part but still want to know what happened, shoot me a message and i’ll give you a summary :)
cw: blood, somewhat reckless driving, hospitals, libby being mean :(, relatively graphic depiction of domestic violence, nudity (not sexual in nature), like one mention of suicide in passing, basically a dive into libby's trauma
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FALL '18
Libby had been so invested in the game that she hadn't realized her phone was ringing until Steph poked her arm. She tore her attention from the rink as the puck came into Michigan's possession, her eyebrows raised.
"Your phone's been ringing for the past two minutes," said Steph.
Libby glanced at her screen as her grandmother's contact faded, another call going unanswered, joining the plethora of missed calls sitting in her notification center. Her heart sank as her breathing picked up, feeding off the electric atmosphere with everything but excitement. Her gaze slid to the Michigan bench, where Quinn had just returned from a shift before an excuse slipped past her mouth.
And just like that, Libby was running up the stairs to get somewhere quieter. The concourse wasn't much better, crowds lingering by the concession stand as the TV stream announced every play over the speakers, but it lacked the passionate screaming of fans that had prevented her from hearing her phone ring in the first place.
Libby put her phone against her ear, listening to each ring that added to her mounting anxiety atop her shoulders. She tugged at the collar of her sweater, hoping it would allow her to find her breath until her grandmother picked up.
"Grandm—"
"I'm sorry," Dorothea immediately said, voice trembling and tired. "I know you're at Quinn's game, and I didn't want to cal—"
"No, Grandma, what's goin' on?"
Dorothea sniffled, trying not to splutter over her words like a little kid. It was jarring—to see such a wise woman be reduced to nothing more than a blubbering girl.
"Grandma," Libby piped up over the feeling of her throat closing up. "I need you to breathe for me, okay?"
"I just—" Dorothea inhaled. "I'm sorry. It's just—Grandpa's in the hospital, Libby. He's okay, but they're keeping him here overnight, and I just—I don't wanna be alone, Olivia-Reese."
Something cracked in Libby's heart at the defeated tone of her grandmother's voice, something she'd never heard while growing up. Dorothea had always been strong—a warrior whose armor never saw a single dent under the pervasive swinging of her sword and shield that kept her tall and mighty even through the death of her daughter.
Blinking away the tears in her eyes, Libby tried to ease the heavy feeling weighing her chest down because as much as she would like to panic, her grandmother needed her. She spared the corridor leading to the seats a final glance. "Stay on the phone with me, and give me forty minutes."
Dorothea nodded. "Thank you, sweetheart. Please drive safe."
Libby hurried out of Yost, texting her friends that she was leaving and Quinn about Sam. The biting chill of the air seemed harmless against her body as she weaved through the streets to get to her car parked in front of Quinn's house, warmed by the adrenaline pumping through her veins.
She could admit her driving had been a little reckless: Her foot was pressed against the gas pedal a little too hard, and her turns were more like swerves better suited for NASCAR as she tried threading her way out of Ann Arbor. Libby hadn't even bothered turning up the radio, letting the car steep in her clipped breath and the rumbling of the engine.
"I don't need the two of you at the hospital, sweetheart," Dorothea said, slicing through the cloudiness of Libby's mind.
Libby cursed, slamming her palm against the steering wheel as her car came to a screeching halt. It seemed like she kept getting stuck behind red lights, one after the other, and she was tempted to keep cruising past the light, but her grandmother's words had sent her body flying forward. Her chest heaved, similar to how her stepfather's did before he'd explode in anger.
It was just her luck.
"Sorry," Libby apologized, running her hand over her face.
"Need you to calm down, sweetheart."
"Can't fucking calm down!" Libby hit the steering wheel again before another apology spewed past her lips. She hated feeling like this, hated the immeasurable amount of rage consuming her.
Why did she have to be in Ann Arbor when Sam went to the hospital? Why did she have to get stuck behind every red light imaginable? Why did she have to feel so angry? Why did she have to curse at her grandmother when all Dorothea wanted was for her to drive safely? Why wasn't she comforting her grandmother?
Libby finally made it out of the city and sped toward Canton, making a pitstop at the house to gather some things for her grandmother to put into an overnight bag. She felt bile rising up her throat at the sight of blood pooling on the family room floor—a little too reminiscent of that day in Memphis.
But not a moment later, Libby was back in her car, pulling out of the driveway to head to the hospital.
"I'll meet you out front," said Dorothea when Libby said she was finally on her way.
True to her word, Dorothea was standing in the lobby when Libby came tumbling through the hospital doors. They walked through the corridors until they reached Sam's room.
"He's just sleeping," Dorothea murmured, opening the door to reveal Sam hooked up to a few machines in a room void of intercoms calling out codes and shouts of rushing healthcare workers. "He's okay, but they wanna keep him here overnight for observation after he hit his head when he fell."
"'S that why there was blood?" Libby asked hesitantly.
Dorothea audibly gulped, the gleam in her eyes dimming as she nodded.
"What happened?"
Dorothea recounted the chain of events leading up to the hospital with shaky hands and quivering lips. Libby's heart fractured when she heard her grandmother blaming herself for it all—how her mind blanked when she found Sam on the ground, how she should've been with him in the family room instead of cleaning the dishes in the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water.
Libby hugged Dorothea, trying her best to hide that she wanted nothing more than to cry, to brood in the grief of what could happen, a future that seemed to be clawing its way toward them with each passing second. She was going to be strong for her grandmother the way Dorothea was for her when Diane passed away.
"I packed an overnight bag for you," said Libby when they pulled away, gesturing to the bag hanging from her shoulder. "Figured you'd wanna stay here."
"Thank you, Libby." Dorothea wiped her hands against her mottled cheeks, taking the bag. "You didn't have to."
Libby waved her off.
Dorothea sniffled. "You don't have to clean up the house either. I'll get someone to come in tomorrow."
"No, Grandma, I'll deal with it. It's okay." Libby guided her grandmother toward the plush chair in the corner of the room. "I know a thing or two about cleanin' blood."
Dorothea's face twisted at the reminder as she sat down. She patted her thighs, and Libby climbed onto the seat, curling up in her grandmother's lap like a little kid. Something about the whole situation made her feel like a little kid again.
Maybe it was the uncontrolled emotions: the explosive anger, the shiny tears, the crushing fear of losing something—someone. Maybe it was the way she was sitting or the way life made its large presence known as a reminder that they were nothing more than tiny humans not meant for a life of immortality.
Life made her feel like a little kid looking up at the adults amidst a crowd. And no matter how old she got, life would continue to remind her of just how small she was in the grand scheme of things.
For the longest time, Libby never wanted to grow up, but this belittling, crushing feeling of helplessness made her wish she was bigger than life.
Dorothea cradled Libby close, wrinkled hands caressing her side over the material of her sweater.
"It's gonna be okay, Grandma," Libby mumbled, leaning her head on her grandmother's shoulder.
"Thank you for coming," said Dorothea, one hand threading through the blonde hair of her granddaughter. "I know how much you love going to Quinn's games."
Libby shook her head. "You know I'll always be there for you."
"I know." Dorothea kissed Libby's forehead. "Couldn't have asked for a better, more thoughtful granddaughter."
"Not like you have another granddaughter to compare me to," Libby reminded.
Dorothea chuckled, and the sound eased Libby's mind a little.
"Do you ever wish you had more grandkids?"
"Sometimes," Dorothea admitted. "But you're more than enough, sweetheart. I mean it when I say I couldn't have asked for a better granddaughter."
Libby's lips curved up, though her eyes stung with tears she desperately fought off with every fiber in her body.
"You don't have to choose between me or your mamaw for who's the better grandma," Dorothea jested. "I'd say we've both done our part in raising you."
Libby laughed, lifting her head from her grandmother's shoulder. She wiped her hand under her nose. "Daddy used to always say it took a village to raise me."
"He's always been one for dramatics." Dorothea scoffed, readjusting the way Libby sat on her thighs so she wouldn't slide off. "You're a little too much like him in that sense."
Libby rolled her eyes before the question that had plagued her mind since her mother died resurfaced. She never thought she'd ask it, never knew if a situation would arise, and the potential answer was enough to ward off any urge to do so. But Dorothea's words had given her that split-second gap to ask it.
"Grandma," she started, "you know how people always say I look like Momma?" She waited for Dorothea's hum before continuing. "Do you wish that I didn't? Do you wish that I looked a little more like my daddy?"
Dorothea's eyebrows wrinkled together. "Where's this coming from, sweetheart?"
Libby drew in a shaky breath, failing to find the courage to meet her grandmother's gaze. "Well, you just said I'm a little too much like my daddy, and I just—Do you wish I was a lot more like him? Because sometimes, I can't look in the mirror 'cause all I see is my momma, and it's a constant reminder that I got out, but she didn't. And I can't help but wonder if it hurts you and Grandpa as much as it hurts me that I look so much like her."
Dorothea's lips quivered, yet she immediately shook her head, wiping away the tears clinging to her lashline like they were dangling over a cliff. "No. No, it hurts that she's not here, but it doesn't hurt to look at you, sweetheart. I don't want you to think that. My daughter continues to live through you in more ways than one." Dorothea pointed at Libby's heart. "And I want you to look in a mirror; I want you to know that she's staring back at you, proud of everything you've ever done, everything you'll ever do, okay?"
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Libby nodded before snuggling further into her grandmother's grasp. "Thank you for everything, Grandma."
Libby wasn't sure how much time passed before a knock echoed softly into the room. She lifted her head from Dorothea's shoulder, glancing across the room to see Quinn's body slipping past the door, thanking the nurse who'd directed him there.
"Squish?" she croaked, rubbing her eyes. "What're you doin' here?"
"Hi," he whispered as if he was afraid to speak any louder. His gaze slid to Sam's resting figure, and his heart dropped to his stomach. In the time he'd known his neighbor, Sam had never looked as weak as he did with wires connecting him to machines and shallow breaths beating through his chest like the soft flapping of a butterfly's wings.
"Quinn." Libby's voice broke through his trance as she clambered off her grandmother's lap.
"Sorry." He sucked in a breath and looked away. "How is he?"
Dorothea's smile was slight at the boy's concerned expression—his wrinkled forehead and soft eyes. "He's gonna be just fine, Quinn. They're keeping him overnight, though."
"How'd you get here?" Libby asked. Her expression faltered when he rubbed the back of his neck. "Please don't tell me you Ubered. I'll pay you—"
"Borrowed one of the guys' cars," he answered before she could finish her sentence.
Libby engulfed him in a suffocating embrace, arms winding around his neck like he'd slip away if she didn't. "You didn't have to."
Quinn's large hands sprawled across her back, feeling every contraction and expansion of her diaphragm as he kissed her cheek. "It's Sammy," he mumbled, "and I want to be there for you."
Another wave of tears crept out of Libby's eyes as her fingers clenched the material of his game-day suit he hadn't bothered changing out of; once he'd seen her text, he was rushing to get out of Yost. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me for doing the bare minimum, baby," he said, never relenting his hold. His gaze trailed to Dorothea, nodding at her like he understood that her gentle smile was a sign of gratitude for being there for not just Libby but her and Sam as well.
"Take her home, Quinn," Dorothea told him, glancing at her watch. "Visiting hours are almost over anyway."
Libby was about to object, wanting to stay there until the very last minute, until the nurses came charging in to kick them out, but her grandmother's stern expression forced her to back down. She bit her lip in contemplation. "Do you want my car keys? I can leave my car here, and I can go with Quinn."
Dorothea paused for a moment before nodding, and Libby patted around in her pockets for her keys.
Eventually, Dorothea successfully sent the two teenagers home, and she was left to sit alone in silence beside her slumbering husband. She reached for Sam's hand, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand with a sigh, careful to avoid the IV.
How had things changed so quickly?
Quinn opened the door to the passenger side of his teammate's car for Libby, buckling her in when it was obvious she was overwhelmed by everything. He intertwined their fingers and gently squeezed her palm before bringing her hand to his lips. "I'm sorry I wasn't th—"
Libby cut him off with a kiss. "You're here now. That's more than I could ask for."
Quinn let his eyes trace her expression—the slight smile, downturned yet appreciative, and the glossy eyes that exposed just how exhausted she was. He patted her thigh, pulling away from her. "Let's get you home, yeah?"
They drove in silence, a mutual understanding that music or talking wasn't needed. It didn't feel right to be enjoying something so lively when her grandfather was currently everything but.
As Quinn pulled into her driveway, the headlights shone on Jack, Alex, and Luke sitting on the porch with Charlie stretched out beside them. The moment they got out of the car, the three boys were on their feet.
"Is he okay?" Luke asked, knuckles white around Charlie's leash. It hadn't even occurred to Libby that Charlie wasn't in the house when she was there earlier, and she guessed, even in her panicked state, Dorothea had made sure Charlie would be in good hands.
Libby felt her throat close up at the concern in Luke's voice. She nodded, bringing him into her arms, gently cradling his head. "Yeah, he's okay, Lu."
The two other boys came up to the pair, curling their arms around them, and Libby's heart swelled under the comfort and love that reminded her of a thick blanket in the wintertime—warm, fuzzy, and everything she needed when the world looked bleak.
"Are you okay?" asked Alex.
Libby reassured them that she was before Quinn guided them inside, away from the frosty autumnal air. She froze, however, once her feet crossed the threshold of her house, and Alex came crashing into her from behind. He grabbed onto her shoulders to steady himself before checking up on her.
She didn't think she was all too convincing this time, her mind marred by the reminder of the state of the house—the broken glass by the rug stained in her grandfather's blood. But she braved the murky waters of her memories and hoped no one could see her trembling hands as she searched for the cleaning supplies in the room lit only by lamps.
"Y'all should go home," Libby told them quietly, keeping her gaze locked on the floor.
"No, we're helping you clean up," Jack asserted.
"Don't fight me on this, Jack."
"Siss—"
"I said, don't fucking fight me on this!" Libby snapped, her head whipping in Jack's direction with eyes that burned a fire strong enough to decimate an entire forest. Her vicious tone slashed through the previously sullen air like some monster's teeth, clawing, ripping through layers of skin and muscle until they were spat out as nothing but a pile of bones.
Regret instantly flooded through Libby's body when she saw the flinched shoulders and the fear flickering through their eyes—the same fear she recognized when her stepfather first lashed out at her.
They were scared of her.
That was the last thing she ever wanted them to be, yet all it took was one second to shatter the image they'd held of her since they'd known her.
And the silence that followed—God, the intensity of it made her want to crawl into a hole and never show her face until she was nothing more than a speck of dust.
Her hand came to her mouth as tears clouded her vision. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," Jack blurted, failing at hiding the panic he felt at the sight of how close she was to crying. "Just let us help you, Sissy."
Quinn came up to her, pulling her into his arms. His hand rubbed gently along her spine as he mimed at his brothers and Alex to not push their luck. He heard her shaky inhale, a desperate attempt at calming herself down before she said anything.
Libby wanted to tell them to go home, to let her handle everything. She'd done this before: She'd seen the puddles of blood splotched across the floor; she'd seen the broken glass shattered in a million different directions; she'd seen the house once full of good memories tarnished by a lurid destiny the universe had weaved into time.
She'd seen it all before.
She didn't want them to see it either.
She couldn't escape her fate, but she could help them escape this.
"It's okay to let others help every once in a while, baby," Quinn mumbled for only her to listen, but with the silence that surrounded them, the others had easily picked up on his words.
Libby gulped. Every hint of belligerence had left her body the moment she saw what her outburst had inflicted, and she found herself caving. She wasn't going to object and risk losing her reins on her emotions, risk seeing fear etched on their faces in great detail like they were an artistic piece of hyperrealism hung in a museum.
And despite everyone's desire to force her upstairs, away from the family room after a night that had sucked the life out of her, the thick silence snuffed out their voices long before the words could be uttered. Even the air seemed to know not to test Libby's patience.
They gathered the cleaning supplies, and Libby pushed through the familiar feelings of suffocation as she wrung the mop. She threw her punches at the flashing images as she stood by the puddle of blood that carried the faint outline of her grandfather's body—how she could still see the ghost of her mother's body lying there like she was still in Memphis.
She could still hear her raw cries, the useless pleading that asked her stepfather to stop as the knife ripped Diane apart like a feral beast who'd been starved of flesh and blood. Her mother had stopped screaming for mercy halfway through.
She could still feel the excruciating pain that engulfed her leg as the flying barstool collided with her frame, could still see her measly attempts at dragging herself across the kitchen floor toward her mother, could still envision the gleam in her mother's eyes wash away like a drawing in the sand, pulled out into the dark and expansive sea to roam for the rest of eternity on her lonesome.
She could still remember her stepfather launching her body against the wall—the Libby-sized dent in the crumbling drywall that marked the house with the evidence of his violence. She could still feel the moment her body crashed into the ground with defeat, wondering what she'd done to deserve this fate, wondering what her mother had done to see her life siphoned away by a man who'd been so kind to them, wondering if she would make it out alive.
Worst of all, she could still recall never feeling angry at her stepfather. She'd watched the moment it all sunk into his bones of what he'd done, the sudden shift from his crazed fury to the panicked regret that had reduced the man to tears. And despite the pain clawing at every nerve in her body, she sat with him as he cradled Diane's lifeless body.
And no matter how much Libby clenched her jaw, mashed her eyes shut, and dug her nails into her palms in an attempt to forget the past, the eerie resemblance of the scene she'd watched a little over a year ago had her sinking to her knees with heaving sobs racking her body.
Quinn quickly dropped the broom to come to her aid, bringing her onto his lap. He held her as she wept, stuffing her face into the hollow of his neck to shield her from seeing the family room. His gaze slid to his brothers and Alex, mouthing at them to fetch their parents to help clean up. The three boys quietly snuck away, taking a barking Charlie with them.
"I can't—" Libby choked on a sob, pulling at the collar of her sweater. "I can't be here."
"Let's get you out of here," Quinn mumbled. He wasted no time getting her up the stairs and into the bathroom, placing her on the counter. He grasped her wrists as she wiped her tears away. "Hey, hey, hey," he muttered. "Need you to breathe. Can you do that?"
Libby shook her head as she was continually dragged into the endless cycle of flashbacks haunting her mind. She wrenched her sweater off her body, then her shirt, leaving her in her bra as she tried to rid herself of the asphyxiating feeling of her clothes clinging to her skin.
She pushed past Quinn, leaping off the counter and heading straight to the toilet as bile crawled up her throat like it would expel every memory of that night from her soul. He was beside her in no time, gathering her hair into his hand while the other rubbed comforting circles along her back.
They remained sitting on the ground even after Libby finished emptying the contents of her stomach. She climbed onto Quinn's lap, tucking her head under his and curling into herself like she'd shrink away. It didn't phase her that the buttons of his dress shirt were digging into her ribs.
Quinn placed a soft kiss on the side of her head. "You're okay," he said quietly, brushing his hand over her matted hair.
Libby slipped her hand between his suit jacket and dress shirt, fingers fisting the soft, white material until it was partially untucked from his pants. "I'm sorry" fell from her lips like a broken hymn.
"You don't have to apologize for everything, you know?" Quinn caressed her side.
"I do have to apologize for this," she mumbled.
"No, you don't."
More tears clouded Libby's vision as she audibly gulped. "They were scared of me, Quinn," she rasped, the conversation she’d had with Jack when she moved to Michigan ringing in her head: Her fears of becoming just like her stepfather seemed one hair closer to reality. "For that, I have to say sorry."
Quinn paused.
"Did I scare you?"
"No," he immediately answered, but a second later, he carefully added, "Kind of. It scared me to see you so broken down, but I wasn't scared of you. And my brothers weren’t scared of you."
Libby's shoulders stiffened. "I'm sor—"
"Don't."
The silence dragged on.
"I'm scared of me," she confessed, wishing the autumnal breeze was there to carry her voice away until it was like she hadn't said a word.
Quinn swore his heart broke a little at how small she sounded, nothing like the big, bright presence she usually was. He gently grasped her chin so she would face him. "Hey." His thumb brushed her cheek, and she finally willed herself to meet his gaze. He couldn't help but frown at the sheer vulnerability that darkened her eyes. "You're not him."
"I could end up like him, though."
"You won't," he assured. "You're the furthest thing from Rhett."
Libby closed her eyes and pressed her quivering lips together. She sucked in a deep breath before leaning her forehead on his shoulder. Her body seemed to relax against Quinn's when he rubbed her side, his warm skin against the sickly cold of hers, but she was tense once again when she distantly heard Jim and Ellen's voices downstairs.
How did she get stuck with the most considerate neighbors?
"I should be down there with them."
Quinn sighed. "Sunshine, I love you, but you'll kill yourself if you go down there."
"That was graphic," Libby mumbled.
"They'll take care of it."
"They shouldn't have to."
"I'm not saying this just because you're my girlfriend, but you're family." Quinn lifted her chin again, staring into her eyes with certainty. "You're my best friend; Mom thinks of you as the daughter she never had; my brothers see you as a sister they always dreamed of having; and Dad says you're the son he always wanted." The corner of his lips twitched when he heard the slightest hint of a chuckle. "You're family, Libby, and we always help family. No matter what."
She sniffled as her eyes stung with more tears. "I love you, Quintin Jerome, and I'm sorry for draggin' you into this."
He smiled softly, shaking his head and tucking her hair behind her ear. "You didn't drag me into anything, baby. Now, c'mon, I'm gonna draw you a bath."
Libby clambered off his lap, allowing him to slip away toward the bathtub. He sat on the edge, and as she scooted toward him, steaming water gushed out of the faucet. She clung to his hand, resting her head on his thigh, and her eyes fluttered close when he threaded his fingers through her hair.
Quinn's words may have snuffed out the fight in her mouth, but her mind still waged a war that made her want to flee the confines of the bathroom. She didn't like knowing that she was up there while everyone else was downstairs doing work, cleaning up the mess belonging to her family.
It wasn't their responsibility to bear; it was hers.
"I can tell you're arguing with yourself," said Quinn.
Libby opened her eyes and looked up to see that he was already staring at her intently. Her gaze lowered for a moment until his thumb swept across the space between her tense eyebrows.
"You don't have to carry the weight of the world all the time, Libby."
Her chest rose with the deep breath she'd taken. "I just—I didn't think it'd affect me as much as it did, seeing all of that."
All Quinn did was squeeze her hand, at a loss of how else he could comfort her because no word of his could possibly soothe the woman who'd seen the things she had. He was just him, and she was a soldier returning from war, decorated in wounds far beyond the gashes and bruises on her skin.
But the slight smile on her lips told him she didn't mind his lack of words.
"I'm gonna brush my teeth," Libby mumbled before pushing herself off the floor, limbs stiff and sore from sitting on the hard surface for too long. Quinn's reluctance to let her go was like a flashing neon sign, so she pulled him with her, and he trailed behind her like a lost puppy after turning off the water.
Libby stopped at the sink and began brushing her teeth, ridding herself of the smelly aftermath of throwing up. Quinn snaked his arms around her waist, warm hands splayed across her bare skin. Shivers ran up and down her spine when he pressed another kiss to the slope of her shoulder—a place once dark with the violence of her stepfather, now light with the love of her boyfriend.
When Libby went to spit out the toothpaste, a choked sound left her throat. Quinn had stumbled into her from behind, and as she rinsed her mouth, she looked up into the mirror, ignoring her reflection and watching Quinn laugh as he untangled the loose thread on the button of his shirt from the hook on her bra.
"You may as well take my bra off while you're at it," she said, hiding her amusement when his face flushed with color. Her puffy eyes followed him as his arm strained for the door, turning the lock. Not a moment later, her bra was loose around her ribs. "Join me? I don't wanna be alone right now."
Quinn's smile was as soft as his nod. His arms curled around her body again, deft fingers reaching for the button of her jeans.
"I can take my own jeans off, Squish." Libby covered his hands with hers.
He shook his head, shushing her. He met her gaze through the mirror as his lips grazed her neck again. "Family," he reminded. "Always helping."
Libby rolled her eyes, though he let her peel the denim material down her legs. She tried not to lose her balance as she struggled to kick the last of her jeans off her feet, and her stomach fluttered at the sound of his laughs. She was in the middle of turning around, the beginnings of a snarky remark already at the tip of her tongue, when her gaze landed on his slender fingers unbuttoning his shirt.
"Water's gonna get cold, Sunshine," Quinn said with the slightest uptick of his lips, shrugging his shirt off.
Her eyes nictated quickly as she straightened her tilting head. A dark dusting of pink colored her cheeks as she cleared her throat. She ran her hand up and over his chest, feeling the fast hammering of his heart that accompanied his clipped breath. Her arms came around his neck as his hands settled on her hips, eyes tracking her face intently.
Libby kissed him deeply, yet she pulled away when Quinn’s tongue brushed against her lip. She smiled when his mouth chased hers. "Better hurry up then."
Quinn pouted when she stepped away. "Just want a kiss."
Libby chuckled, watching the way his gaze moved to the ceiling when she slid her panties off and climbed into the bathtub, providing her a split moment of privacy as though it was the first time they’d seen each other naked.
As she waited for him in the warm water, her fingers dragged through the water, her gaze focused on the swirls and waves that moved the layers of bubbles sitting atop the surface while clothes rustled to the side of her. She only glanced up when Quinn stepped into the tub, and she moved forward to give him space to sit behind her.
Quinn scooped some water onto her freckled back, large hands kneading away the tension in her muscles. The sound of her sighs relieved the stiffness of his own.
"If I lean back, am I gonna feel a stiffy?" she asked.
"Oh, my God." Quinn rolled his eyes, looping his arms around her shoulders and tugging her flush against his chest. Her hands grasped his thighs on either side of her to readjust her position. "Buddy has a mind of his own. Personally, I'm not particularly turned on at the sight of my girlfriend having a panic attack."
Libby pouted teasingly as his thumbs gently brushed her mottled cheeks, washing away the dried tear stains. "You don't find the uncontrollable crying sexy?"
Quinn pinched her side, grinning as she writhed, a yelp amalgamating her unbridled giggles. The sound eased his mind slightly, if anything, glad that she could at least find some sort of joy after the night she'd had. He didn't care that some of the water splashed over the edge of the tub: Water would dry eventually, and as long as she was laughing, that was all that mattered.
"That wasn't a no," Libby teased, spinning around until she could stare up at him. Her face warmed when his eyes shamelessly lowered to her boobs. She pushed his face away. "Pervert."
Quinn chuckled as his fingers trailed down her spine to grab her ass, pulling her further up his chest so his smirking lips could skim the shell of her ear. "It's only sexy when it's 'cause I'm fucking you du—"
"And we’re done." She clamped her hand over his mouth, muffling his laughs. Their eyes connected, and her heart hammered against her ribcage under his softened stare like she was nothing more than a giddy mess of a woman with a schoolgirl crush.
He gently removed her hand from his face, his thumb drawing small circles against her palm. "You're staring."
A slow smile curved at her lips as she lowered her gaze shyly, her finger tracing random shapes along his chest, the muscles twitching under the ticklish feeling of her nail barely scratching his skin. "I know. Can't help it."
"Yeah?"
Libby hummed her assent, pausing her mindless doodling to look up again. "You're beautiful; you know that?"
Blood rushed to Quinn's face, and his gaze flickered away for a moment, unable to stand its ground under the eyes of his lover. His arms tightened around her frame before he placed kisses all across her face, staving off his smile at the sound of her giggles. "You're beautiful," he said between kisses. "So, so beautiful."
Libby grasped his jaw, guiding his lips to hers. When they pulled away, she rubbed her thumb against his cheek, feeling the prickly stubble he was supposed to shave that morning, not that she minded. "Thank you for keeping my mind off..."
Quinn shook her head as if to let her know she didn't need to finish her sentence. "Thought I'd be able to distract you for a little longer."
"Clearly, the guy down there thought so, too," Libby teased, pushing herself away from Quinn to reach for some soap.
He rolled his eyes. "Ignore him."
A laugh rippled from her throat as she grabbed his hand, forcing him to sit up straight. "C'mon now, the water's gettin' cold, darlin'."
They spent a surprisingly short amount of time in the bath before the water swirled down the drain like a spout. They wrapped themselves in fresh towels, dumping their clothes into the hamper. Libby promised to bring his suit back to his place on Monday, but he brushed it off because his suit was the last thing on his mind.
Quinn unlocked the bathroom door, ushering Libby out in hopes no one else was upstairs during the short trek to her room. As their luck had it, however, Jack, Luke, and Alex were chasing Charlie up the stairs after the dog heard the click of the door.
"Oh, my God!" Jack swiveled around, slapping his hands over his face. "My eyes!"
"Please don't tell me you guys had sex," Alex practically begged, shielding Luke's vision with his hands.
"No!" Libby hissed, hugging her towel tighter around her chest with a look of disbelief marring her face. "Are you kidding me? And keep your voices down. Why would we have sex when y'all are downstairs cleaning my grandpa's blood off the floors?"
"Oh." Jack lowered his hands, turning around. "Well, when you put it that wa— Oh, God, you've totally banged before." He retched. "Gross."
Quinn sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Seriously, guys?"
Libby went to pet Charlie's head, trying to hide the burning feeling on her cheeks that was seared with embarrassment. It was one thing when she returned home with hickeys covering her neck before she dated Quinn because they were just names without faces to them. The mere thought of having this sort of conversation with Jack and Luke, who she'd known since before they were teenagers, about their older brother made her want a black hole to swallow her up, however.
"Anyway," Luke dragged out the last letter, "Dad just power-washed the rug, and Mom mopped the floors. We picked up the glass, and I think that's everything."
Libby looked at the three boys and thanked them.
Alex grinned, his dimples carving into his cheeks as he nudged her arm. "Anything for you, Libby. You know that."
"Oh, and Sissy, if you're up for it, we could do a movie night," Jack suggested.
Libby smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."
"I'd hug you if you weren't just in a to—"
"Don't." She lifted her hand. "Don't make it weird."
Jack's nod was nothing short of stiff, lips crimped in a thin line. "We'll be back."
The boys went downstairs, and Libby turned to Quinn. "We're never livin' that down, are we?"
He adjusted his hold on the towel around his waist. "Nope."
"Wonderful." Libby nodded before they made it to her room, Charlie trotting beside them.
"I told you they weren't scared of you," Quinn muttered.
Libby stopped what she was doing. As she replayed the interaction that had just occurred in the corridor, it hit her that the boys had acted how they usually did: without an ounce of fear toward her. She was caught between smiling and frowning at the realization as she reached into her wardrobe, where a collection of Quinn's clothes had slowly accumulated.
"I was wondering where this went." Quinn lifted an old shirt of his.
"Want it back?"
He shook his head. "'M sure it looks better on you anyway."
Libby grinned. "Good. You weren't gettin' it back anyway."
"Didn't think I was."
She slipped into a fresh pair of pajamas before going up to him and connecting their lips. "I'll be right back."
She was out the bedroom door before he could say anything.
Libby sucked in a shaky breath as she stood at the top of the stairs, trembling hands clutching the banister. She could do it. Luke said they'd cleaned everything up. It was just the family room, the same one she'd been in since she was a baby, the same one Dorothea saw her husband's life flash before their very eyes just a few hours ago.
When she finally made it downstairs, her shoulders jumped at the sight of Ellen talking to Jim in the kitchen while wiping down the counter. If her footsteps hadn't caught their attention, then her gasp certainly did.
"Sorry, didn't know y'all were still here," she said.
Ellen let go of the rag. "Hey, sweet girl."
"Grandma told us Grandpa's doing okay," Jim said, opening his arms and allowing Libby to fall into them. He held her, gentle yet supportive, uncaring that her wet hair was darkening the soft material of his sleeves. She needed someone, and Jim was willing to be her stand-in father when Nash couldn't be there. "How're you feeling?"
"Better," Libby mumbled with a slight sniffle. "Thank you for helping out. You didn't have to."
Ellen shook her head, almost reprimanding. "Hey, we're always here to help. You're family. Always have been, always will be."
Libby thought she'd just about cried all her tears earlier, but the familiar burning sensation reemerged behind her eyes. She wiggled out of Jim's grasp to hug Ellen. "I love y'all. So much."
Ellen's hand soothingly brushed over Libby's hair. "Love you too, sweet girl."
Quinn's footsteps came padding into the room with Charlie's, and Libby's gaze trailed to where he stood at the bottom of the stairs with a soft smile on his lips. His insides turned to mush at the sight of Libby with his family, how seamlessly she fit in with them, how much she belonged with them.
Charlie prodded at Libby's leg, and she let go of Ellen. With the broadest grin she'd procured all night, she crouched to scoop Charlie into her arms, carrying him like a toddler on her hip. His tail whipped back and forth against her thigh as she gently swayed as though she was trying to get him to sleep, whispering sweet nothings in that baby talk of hers. Charlie plopped his snout against her shoulder, panting into her ear.
Quinn wanted to take a picture, though he stuck to stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he walked up to them. He was so enchanted by his girlfriend that he hadn't noticed the looks his parents exchanged—awestruck and telling.
"The boys were plannin' on stayin' over," Libby told Jim and Ellen. "Don't know if they told y'all that."
"Oh, was that what Jack was saying on his way out?" Jim asked his wife. "Sounded a lot like gibberish."
Ellen laughed before facing Libby. "Are you up for that? Because you can tell us, and we'll make some excuse for them to stay home."
Quinn gently placed his hand against the small of Libby's back as she responded with assurance that she didn't mind them staying over. She was tired, but the last thing she wanted was to be alone. She wanted that presence, no matter how boisterous, and she wanted that distraction from whatever that night had spiraled into.
Libby subconsciously leaned into Quinn's side as she continued talking to his parents, and he tilted his chin to look at the dog staring up at him with bright doe eyes. Charlie lifted his head, trying to nuzzle closer to Quinn, who smiled and patted his head. Libby spared her side a cursory glance, never falling out of her conversation, and shifted closer to Quinn so he could entertain Charlie.
The back door opened, and the three boys returned. Charlie squirmed in Libby's arms, and she promptly lowered him, watching as he went straight for Luke. She couldn't help but smile.
"Well, we'll leave you guys alone," said Ellen, squeezing Libby's arm. "Text or call us if you need anything, okay?"
Libby nodded before they said their goodbyes and the five teenagers retreated to Libby's room with Charlie in tow.
"I'm losing my cuddling privileges tonight, aren't I?" Quinn sighed, sliding into the spot beside Libby, though he was quickly forced to move to the edge when Luke squeezed himself between them with Charlie in his arms.
"Yup!" Jack flopped onto Libby, hugging her tightly.
"We're gonna need to find a new way of doing this," she said, wrapping her arms around Jack. "Y'all are gettin' bigger."
"We'll keep doing this for the rest of our lives," he assertively mumbled into the bulky material of her hoodie.
"No, we aren't," Quinn grumbled, readjusting himself so he wouldn't fall off the edge of the mattress.
Luke pouted at his brother's words.
Alex leaned his head against Libby's shoulder, clinging to her arm in hopes of staying on the bed. He was sure the moment he fell asleep, muscles relaxed and grip loosened, he would have a one-way ticket to the hard ground. "I hate to break it to you, buddy, but I think they're right."
"We'll just get you a bigger bed," said Jack.
"With what money, J?" Libby looked at him strangely.
"NHL money."
Libby swapped a glance with Quinn, and a second later, they both nodded in acceptance: They were doing this for the rest of their lives.
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heli0s-writes · 2 months
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Sweet
A/n: You know how sometimes when you’re having a breakdown and nothing is helping but then something completely unrelated and stupid just does it for no reason. This is that. With pot brownies and kissing. Bucky is recovering and reader is an moron with a heart of gold. Angst, hurt/comfort, humor. Reader/Bucky. 3k words Warnings: Marijuana use; conversations about trauma, particularly food-related; language.
-
The path leading away from the cabin is littered with wet patches of morning. Rime colors of miserable winter in sludge grey are starting to be overtaken by sprouts of green, yellow, and brisk dew, springtime optimism come to life.
Pepper’s got the front of her house looking like a farmer’s market flower stand. Pots of tulips and daffodils explode up the steps and tri-color ribbons connecting porch-light to porch-light. The magnolia tree is soon to bud, and she’s hung hummingbird feeders and birdhouses all around.
When the cars start rolling in for the quarter-yearly potluck, you hang out near the garden, rocking back and forth on your feet. You'd shown up early but didn’t know what to do around a toddler, so outside it was.
The familiar Range Rover halts to a stop, Sam’s door opening as he makes his way out, holding ceramic handles of an enormous crockpot.
You call, “Bring your famous chili?”
“Damn right, I did,” he beams, “you bring your appetite?”
You waggle your eyebrows before looking to the SUV he hopped out of, Steve lingering by the back door with a brown paper box tucked beneath his arm, knocking on the heavily tinted windows with a long-suffering sigh. “C’mon, Buck. Up and at ‘em.”
A loud, decisive knock thumps back at him and Steve rolls his big, pitiful, puppy dog eyes in your direction. Beneath the blue of his left orbital is what looks suspiciously like the fading ochre stain of either an almost healed bruise or a newly forming one, which only makes Steve’s silent call for aid more pathetic and urgent.
Damn, okay. Since you’re kind of on thin ice already, this could go one of two ways.
Sliding up, you crack your knuckles.
“Barnes,” you call, “I got something illegal for you. Wanna see?”
“Dead body.” He responds from behind the still shut door, and you’re not sure if that’s a question. Steve glares at you accusatory, as if you’d actually bring a dead body to a potluck, good grief.
“Uh, no.”
“Knife.”
Steve shoots you another look—which is just ridiculous at this point, the both of them.
“Knives aren’t illegal.”
“Depends.”
Steve shifts the box of what looks to be cherry turnovers and mouths phrase day, which means that Barnes decided to stop talking in complete sentences sometime between when he woke up and probably when Steve over-crowded him and is now reducing all communication to two or three words as both a method of punishment for Steve and self-preservation for Barnes.
“It’ll make you feel better,” you urge, “Loads better.”
“Sex.” He rolls down the window just enough for you to get a glimpse of his eyes, narrowed and steely. “Drugs?”
You mouth bingo, outrightly ignoring the fact that it feels like Bucky Barnes nearly solicited you for sex, and Steve puts his hand over his own face, about to quip until he realizes that he’s probably said too much already—which is what got him in this predicament to begin with—and simply drags himself toward the house.
Barnes watches him go wordlessly before he opens the door and steps out, looking down at you, lightly shivering in the cold, and says, still one-worded, “Okay.”
-
He pops three brownies into his mouth and chews, opening just enough to get out a muffled, “too sweet” before returning to grinding down like he’s cracking pecan shells in there.
“I know you have like,” you make panicked motions with your fingers, snapping the red Tupperware lid back down frantically, “hella metabolism, but pump the brakes or you’re going to flip.”
“Flip,” he concludes, determined. He squirrels about two more in before you can do anything about it.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I was going to let you take those home later—oh my god, I’m going to get into so much trouble.”
The two of you are stopped at one of those cutesy stone birdbaths around the perimeter, leaning on the lip as Barnes licks remaining chocolate off his fingers, looking as pleased as punch. As much as he can look, anyway, you think, since you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him smile at anything other than the time Steve stubbed his toe bad enough on Tony’s kitchen island that he doubled over. 
“Did you say sex earlier?” You suddenly remember the flash of silver from the darkness of the SUV. “Wait, actually, I wanna go back even before that—did you really think I’d have a dead body?”
He shrugs.
“Cool,” you reply, “cool, cool, cool, cool. I think I should be more concerned, but you know what, I like it. Feels like a vote of confidence.”
A wide grin stretches across your face and you temporarily forget that Bucky fucking Barnes has eaten about half a pan of brownies with 25 grams of pot baked into them, that in about 15 minutes you’re both expected to sit down like normal people and have a nice dinner without anyone doing… whatever it is that he might do when he’s blazed to high heaven.
You shake the thought of Steve’s disappointment out of your head. Maybe it’d be best to keep acting natural, get him into some kind of headspace.
“So,” you whistle, “what’d you bring to the potluck?”
He gives you a sidelong stare and if there were Olympics for how someone can convey eat shit and die without moving anything but their eyes, he’d win every 8 years for the rest of his unnaturally long life.
“Well, I brought myself,” you curtsy, starting back down the trail again, figuring that you’ve got five minutes walking forward before it’d be time to turn back to the house, “and your present,” to which he gives you a short nod, “and an empty stomach. You excited for Sam’s chili?”
“Spicy.”
“Spicy?” you recoil, suddenly finding the prospect of a man who gave Captain America a black eye last week or possibly this morning—the monster who ate half of your most lethal bake—panting and sweating over a bowl of chili astoundingly inconceivable.
“Oh wait, you live with Rogers. What’s he feeding you at home? Steamed chicken?”
“Baked.”
You sigh, “God, you’re fucked. Nat brought something with Carolina Reaper infused honey glaze. Barnes... we’ll have to do a prayer circle for your ass.”
His face twists into a look of disgust before he starts to notice his lips, pressing them together, pulling them apart. After a few more motions like he’s discovering his body, bit by bit, he turns to you, and announces, “Feeling it.”
You laugh, jealous, because although you had a bite about 30 minutes before he even arrived, the brownie hasn’t hit you yet. “Good,” you say anyway, “that’s good, right?”
He only apathetically regards a sparrow flying past. You suppress a chortle when Barnes repeatedly licks his lips and rubs at the sleeves of his sweater.
“Have you ever been high before?” You correct, “In the fun, recreational, consensual way?”
Another listless shrug before he turns his head. You push yourself off a nearby log and make a show of stomping through haphazard piles of sticks and dead leaves, curling your fingers in a come along motion.
He follows, boots crunching, steps short and patternless, making a racket behind your back. He looks like a kid, fingers tucked up into his long sleeves, bouncy knees as he attempts to splash into every puddle as he possibly can before catching up. He’s almost got a grin when he looks at you, remembering where he is again, and there’s a light brush of color along the tops of his cheeks from the chill.
Around a small bend in the path, you duck under a branch, hop over a stone, and when you land back on both feet, the ground wobbles just enough to notice.
The air smells nice. Your eyelids feel heavy in a good way.
“Steve really piss you off this morning, didn’t he?”
Barnes lands a couple of feet away, his face dropping into an exhausted expression at the question, which you can’t fault him for because Steve’s a lot of things. Simple things, on the surface, but Barnes has known him longer than most anyone else and you imagine all of his noble qualities—his longstanding patience and willpower and belief in the goodness in everything and everyone—you imagine that shit gets old.
Hell, it gets at you on occasion, and you’re not even the brainwashed best friend who’s probably hearing a hundred voices in his head and is too tired to hear one more no matter how well-intentioned it might be.
Sometimes, being inundated by language just breaks it all back into foreign, incomprehensible script. And sometimes, being exceedingly plied with something you can’t make any sense of makes you turn inward, makes you bare your teeth in self-defense.
Which makes you realize you probably should ease up, too, talk less, but then he takes a long step with his ridiculous legs and is by your side, walking as if you two do this all the time.
“He’s a fixer.” Bucky’s brows are scrunched together, hands buried in his pockets. You nod quickly, not wanting him to go into any more detail than that because it’s not news that the entire population is still wary of Bucky Barnes’ re-emergence as a United States citizen when he was, up until very recently, a—uh, Russian one.
This, obviously, puts many things at odds with each other, including Steve, who is Mr. United States himself. The Avengers, too, who are mostly Team United States, considering the location and overwhelming population. But most of all, Bucky, who is still cobbling together bits and pieces of his life each day, is faced with the knowledge that everyone in the world knows more about him than he does.
You rub the back of your neck sympathetically because that shit would kill your heart so fast.
“You know what.” You shake the Tupperware at him, “Have the rest of these. You deserve it. And like, a million hugs.”
He barks a laugh, gladly gulps down the rest, and there’s a dapple of fudge on his chin looking so silly and sweet as he chews.
Ah, shoot. You avert your gaze, feeling very bad ideas break out up your arms and neck, and the shudder that is about to overtake you seems less about Barnes’ sweet face and more about Steve’s disappointed one. Like, he’s going to read your mind and know you’re having ideas about his best friend. And he’s going to do that thing where his eyebrows drop and his lips press together as he attempts to hold back a few choice words. Until later, probably, when he corners you somewhere and unleashes them anyway.
What were you thinking?, he’ll hiss. Are you capable of thinking rationally?
“What?” Barnes prods. “What is it?”
“Nothin’” you take a leap forward, herding the both of you back. The closer you are to the cabin the more you’ll remember that you’re at a family event, with friends, who should all stay in the friend territory.
But you blurt anyway, “You said sex earlier!” Because you’re a whole ass idiot.
He makes a small noise, says, “Yeah,” like that’s any help.
“Are you…” what the fuck, your head is spinning, “like, in… need of some?” Your face feels hot.
“Maybe. My body is…” he frowns, so weirdly open right now, and then he looks at you with half is face in a weary grin, the other half lost and confused. “Responding to stimuli in ways I haven’t— responded to in... Trying to fix it. Steve wants me to be fixed.”
He tilts his face to the sky, glaring at it. “Can’t get it out.”
You’re trying to force your rabbiting heart down to a manageable pace. You’ve never had any in-depth discussions with him about anything, much less his sex drive. The most interaction the two of you get is the occasional mission or get-together where you crack jokes and get shitfaced when the job’s done. You’ve been told you’re sort of a pain and haven’t given a fuck too much to change that.
You’re sort of in trouble right now, having been “irrational” during the last mission, running across the iced lake instead of taking the planned route and falling in. It ended up working out, since you got to the enemy helicopter before the enemies, but then there was the stabbing because you were sort of outnumbered and the pneumonia afterwards because you fell into the fucking lake…
There was a massive chewing out. Steve and his many, disappointed words.
Something about motor-mouths and low-object permanence but sure, good on the inside when it counts.
You hope this is one of those times where it counts.
“Listen,” you start. “Take as long as you need, there’s no rush on recovery and pushing yourself too hard is detrimental to your health. It’s not a straight line.”
“I hit him.”
Your wheeling brain is making a sharp left, trying to figure out where Barnes is driving toward. Oh. The black eye.
“Aw, Steve?” You wave your hand, swatting nothing. “He’s a big boy.”
“I’m hungry. Then I’m not.”
“I mean, that sounds normal—“
“No, a lot. Fast. Cyclical. Endless.”
It must be his metabolism adjusting. The realization of his relationship with food comes fast, almost visceral. Scarce when he was young, then rationed during the war before it was taken from him altogether. He was given the bare minimum with Hydra—protein slurry, tube-fed—then purged—stomach pumped—before being put on ice.
For decades.
Starvation must have truly felt endless.
And now with food being a surplus, with his body readjusting to it, yet his mind still struggling with habits—it must be so confusing. Another seemingly natural function to be confused about.
“Ah,” you manage, a lump in your throat like a blockade.
“I get nightmares.” He’s glaring at his hands, one flesh, one metal, opening and closing his fist like trying to get a grip on himself, and his voice is so small and pained. “These thoughts. All sorts. Can’t sleep.”
You extend your hands, shake off the dry sob that wants to erupt from your chest, and declare with flourish, “On the fourth day, God made Purple Kush, and it was good. So, we can—we can fix that.”
He takes another one of those long looks, through his lashes, lips quirked in quiet humor.
“You’re not really a fixer.”
He shakes the container of crumbs in your face.
You gasp, snatching it back in offense. “I can fix… some things! I replaced the utility light in the kitchen yesterday!“
Your cheeks are hot, face twitching like a broken screen because all you can think about is how handsome he is, out here like this, nose blushing, eyes lazy and crescent shaped, the heavy creases beneath them less pained and more relaxed.
And how he’s teasing you—- and he’s kind of a little shit.
“You fucker,” you say.
He grins—all big and silent, and for a second you count your blessings that he’s not going to say anything else shitty until he quips, “Not unless you’re offering.”
He’s staring at you intently, a curious expression winding its way up his face. His eyes are huge and blue and the most alert, glazed-over, pair of bloodshot, redder-than-the-devil’s-dick eyes you’ve ever seen on anyone stoned halfway to the moon.
His tongue darts out, sweeps a slow, careful line over the width of his bottom lip, practically asking, and you’re just the simple idiot who openly gawks at him.
“Ah,” you nod. “Yeah you’re definitely right. I’m—“ you gulp, “more of a fuck-up.”
Because what’s another fuck up to add onto the long-running list of fuck ups you’ve had recently, anyway? Kissing Barnes might count as a really serious one, sure, but at least it’s not pneumonia.
It’d make him feel better, probably, it’d make him feel something, at least. Steve would appreciate that, if Barnes came to the dinner table verbal, maybe even laughing. No one has to tell Steve that his best pal kissed your face off in the woods.
The idea of your face being kissed off is doing a number on you. The idea of Bucky Barnes, this gorgeous, miserable, godly, tragic contradiction, your at-arm’s-length teammate, your quickly-becoming friend, kissing your face off because he needs to feel something soft in the midst of the rest of the horrible, jagged things he already feels every second of his life—and he can get it from you.
You’re stupid and simple and how could anyone say no to that? So you take one last second to steel your heart, push forward, and lean in.
It’s, frankly, bizarre.
He kisses you gently, fantastically, inconsistently, wavering from assured one second to apprehensive the next, like he remembers how but can’t quite execute.
You meet him where you can, respond to the parting of his lips with your own, adjust to his tension with grace, and when he starts feeling like he’s getting the hang of it, like muscle memory has  finally settled into his body, you let him lead.
One hand finds the base of your skull, the other placing itself on your waist. His kisses grow greedy, like he remembers desire is a thing that occurs to him. He tilts his head down, kisses up like he wants to swallow every sigh between your lips, like he’s hungry for the sounds you make—and you’re making, embarrassingly, a lot of them. He’s good—dominant but kind, mouth wide, lips full, tongue cocoa-sweet and clever as it strokes yours again and again.
When he backs you up into a tree, you barely register it. His hand has moved to cushion your head, and he’s urging his entire body forward into yours, grip tight at your hipbone, moving his mouth to your jaw, then your neck, and you stutter a string of letters that refuse to make words.
Barnes is expertly sucking marks beneath your collar, right beneath the neckline, his breath hot and coming out in a near snarl and when he scrapes his teeth down, sinking them into the soft skin of your chest, you yelp loud enough to send a few birds scattering from the trees.
He jumps off like he’s burned you, eyes frantic, afraid.
“No—” you clear your throat, hands out, “Hold on.”
He’s blinking, head clearing, head trying to assess what he’s done, the situation, the pulled loose neckline, the wet shine of his spit up your throat.
“S-sorry—”
“No, don’t be sorry.” You give him his distance but take a small step forward. “That was hot. But,”
He blinks, confused, and this whole thing could easily go pear-shaped, your well-intentioned explanation might turn into unintelligible speech at any moment, but you have to try or else he’ll tailspin into catastrophe, and you suddenly feel so sorry for Steve, the poor fuck who’s doing this every day, clinging onto the hope that what he’s saying doesn’t set Bucky off, doesn’t push his boulder back downhill.
He's still stuttering sorry, starting to pace.
“Listen,” you say firmly, clipping your own panic, “that was wow, let me tell you. But if you don’t stop, I’m going to like— hotwire a car.”
Somehow this stops him in his tracks, “What?”
“Well, I didn’t drive here. Because you know, I was going to like, get really shitfaced.”
“What?”
“Yeah, and like, take you to a hotel or something.”
He frowns, obviously completely lost. “Why?”
It’s your turn to be lost. Both of you open-mouthed and panting at each other like two dumb dogs chasing each others’ tail in an ouroboros of idiocy.
“Huh? What do you mean why? You just tongue-fucked me, do you think I’m immune to getting on my knees for that?”
Now you can see it happening—the incomprehensible speech like a marquee as it runs across Barnes’ brain. Tongue-fuck, immune to getting on my knees. He doesn’t understand any of that, and god bless any soul who can. What language are you even speaking right now other than hot-brained, hot-skinned, hot-hearted to him, who’s still struggling to defrost?
“Never mind,” you redact, “ignore that.” You put your hands on his shoulders to ground yourself, vaguely thinking that maybe you shouldn’t touch him but the firm slap of your palms seems to break him out of his new trance. “Can we kiss again, later?”
He blinks, staring at you, at your hands on him, at your lips all swollen up.
“Yes.”
You sigh, relieved and thankful that other than you, no one’s freaking out, that your plan to get Bucky Barnes high worked out after all, and that he has agreed to make out later because he’s really, really good at it.
“Wonderful. Let’s go back now? Are you ready?”
He mulls it over and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. “Sure, but I’m not eating chili.”
“Well, you’re in luck, there’s plenty of chicken.”
He grimaces, cuts a sharp look up to you before a twinkle settles in his blue, blue eyes. “Okay,” he agrees, “guess we should do a prayer circle for my ass.”
You clap your hands together and recite Our Father.
-
“It was sex, wasn’t it?”
Sam’s got one hand over his belly, snickering. Everyone else looks your way, gullible, scandalized, and you can’t blame them since the two of you were gone an awfully long time and came back extremely disheveled.
Bucky had walked in dutifully behind you, wiped off his boots, sat down at the dinner table, and asked for seconds saying please and thank you and he even threw in a that was delicious just to watch Steve’s head explode.
And Bucky, who you’ve come to realize is genuinely a shit— still one-worded and knowing full well the repercussions of his one word— only shrugs and responds, “Yes.”
The room erupts into shouting as you throw a buttered roll at his head. He catches it easily and brings it up to his grinning mouth, shimmer of spit glossy and fantastic on his lips.
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(this is a repost)
This has been on my mind lately. First, let me make this clear, this is not a Dean positive post. Do not try to make it so. I understand how Dean came about to be as he is but I do not sympathize with him. I'd be ashamed of myself if I did.
Dean does not see Sam as a person, that is fairly obvious especially in later seasons but that isn't what I have been pondering lately.
I have been thinking about how Dean perceives Sam and how it affects Sam. The best way I can describe it is, Dean sees Sam as a trophy that he has to protect because he was always told he had to.
Going along that thought, I have noticed how much Dean seems (is) resentful of the golden trophy his Father told him to keep safe.
Dean has made sacrifices in his childhood to keep his brother safe and Sam didn't always comply. Which is normal because Sam wasn't aware of these sacrifices. I've been in both Dean's and Sam's shoes and I understand how both feel.
How are you supposed to be grateful for something you don't know about? And it can be painful to make difficult sacrifices with no reward but I have never made a sacrifice expecting praise. It's not why you should make one.
So I see why Dean feels when Sam isn't aware of those sacrifices, Sam was being ungrateful. Sam isn't because when Sam learns about them he holds them in praise, but Dean still isn't satisfied. Because those sacrifices were never about Sam, it was about John and keep his trophy safe.
So it means nothing to Dean when Sam is mentally distraught and needs help as long as Sam is physically well and they can do their job without an issue.
And why Dean doesn't care about Sam the same way Sam cares about Dean.
Sam would rather go on without his brother to respect his brother's wishes of staying dead than to cling onto him when Dean doesn't want to live. Dean accepted his death so Sam had to as well.
When it was flipped, Dean didn't give a damn about if Sam was ready to go or not. Dean refused to let go so it trumped over Sam's feelings.
This is not a one-time thing, Dean is okay with people using Sam's autonomy and makes decisions, deals, with supernatural creatures to keep Sam alive, even if Sam isn't the same person he was before.
Sam can be reduced to nothing but as long as he is physically there and Dean can see him as his little brother, Sam can suffer.
Or how Dean sees it, Dad's trophy is the original and in one piece, I am doing my job. I have nothing to feel guilty about, I am in control.
That is not an older brother protecting his younger brother. That's Dean trying to control Sam and when he can't he manipulates Sam into doing what he wants. That is fucked up and I can never praise it.
Dean should have never been a parent so young and deserved a childhood, but Sam is not the one to fault for this, that is all on John Winchester.
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grigori77 · 4 months
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Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 78
NOOOOOOO!!! No Liam? No Liam tonight? Bummer ...
Gods ... now Sam's a DOG ... how much worse than the Cat is this gonna be? Marisha is onto him, apparently ... yeah, no she's right, he is totally still the Cat ... yup, just as I thought ... oh dear ... XD
Ashley: "This is my favourite bit." Matt: "Oh ... it's my favourite when it's done."
Another NOOOOO!!! No Critical Role next week? Gah ... damn you, Thanksgiving, ruining it for the rest of the World ... I shake my fist at thee, non-anthropomorphic holiday ...
Yes, that's right, she KICKED HIM IN THE FACE. I do not blame her. That was a fucking MESS ...
Oh, they are all FREAKING OUT and it's entirely understandable ... yes, heal him, FCG! Heal him! 22 points back ... which he definitely needs ...
And now Fearne hits him in the face with his own bloody hammer ... 2 D20s? Oof ...
Crack! Oh boy ... andnow she's REALLY upset ... she's trying to BREAK his hammer now. Oof ... good thing she only rolled a 12 in strength ...
FCG tries to catch it? Oh boy ... Holy shit that WORKED ...
Fearne just grabs the Harness and storms off ... again I don't blame her ...
Laudna: "They betrayed us." Whoa ... hang on now ...
Wow ... it seems Ashton has ISSUES ...
Chetney's just rushing off after Fearne ... honestly, I don't think she's coming back any time soon.
Oh, so now Ashton can FEEL the very stone around him ... and then also there's the fire ... and now he's gonna puke? Oh boy ... fuck, is that the fucking crystal? Are you kidding me?
What, so it's a NEW crystal? Okay ... and his Constitution is PERMANENTLY reduced by 2? Oh, his body REJECTED the Shard? But he's still different ...
Wow .. so he really did all that for nothing ...
Fuck ... now shat thd fuck is going on with Laudna? Oh shit ... FUCK OFF, Delilah!
A Wisdom Save? Really? Fuck ... oh, Delilah is ACTUALLY trying to take over ... thank the gods that didn't work ...
Apparently Orym is nonplussed too ...
Yes. Ashton does INDEED have ISSUES ... but clearly it's NOT his fault, he's just been through it snd it kind of DROVE HIM to do the wrong thing ...
Even in the midst of All this angst, Ashley STILL tells Sam to "Stop it!" when he sneezes. XD
He wants to be WHOLE and not this broken thing he thinks he is ... oh man ...
FCG's right, this HURT Fearne ... they need to FIX this ...
Yup, Imogen has a point. They have to wait a day now ...
Chetney is VERY worried about Fearne and what she might do ... yes. He fucking SHOUL BE. Oh, she's gonna DESTROY the Harness ... shit ...
Oh she is just falling to pieces right now ...
Yeah, she really IS scared of Dark Fearne coming out ...
Chet is being REALLY SWEET and she doesn't even notice him sneaking the Harness out if her grasp ...
She said it. She actually said it. She's got a thing for Ashton. It's official ... oh boy ... and now she's really pissed about it ...
They're still in the tunnels, there aren't ant windows to break ... oh, they're really gonna do that? Wow ... it WILL make her feel better, at least ...
Laudna was prowling in the shadows eavesdropping on them ... and now she's just skulking around the tunnels ... oh boy, she us in a REALLY bad place ...
Marisha: "The chair knows what it did."
Ashton did indeed fuck up because he's an idiot.
Sam being very naughty again with that flask ... Taliesin: "That wig ..."
Imogen notices Laudna is gone ... tries to Send to her ... roll a D100? Oh man ... 9 points of Psychic damage! Crap ...
Oh boy ... Fearne and Chetney are indeed smashing windows ... oh, the Pale Guard have the good sense not to fuck with THIS ... yeah ...
Wow ... now Gwendolyn's in on the act too ... XD
Fearne is taking some personal time ... going to the graveyard ... hmmm ... the Dawnfather's temple, and the Matron's temple too ... she goes into the latter ... of course she does ...
She is alone ... with the tombs ... oh, there IS an altar? Okay ...
Trying to speak to the goddess, looking for guidance ... her postcards? Oh man ... she's leaving THESE as sn offering? Fuck ...
A young one-legged raven ... oh ... that was kind of sweet ... hmmm ...
Laudna is still sneaking around in the dark ... out into the woods ... darkly introspective ... oh boy ... but things are very different now ...
Ashton follows the sound of breakage ... oh, so Percy is NOT PLEASED ... but reflecting ... hmmm ...
Wow ... this is quickly becoming a very meta conversation ...
Oh, we're seeing the more peaceful and reflective side of Percival De Rolo again ...
Good gods ... and Ashton and Percy actually becoming friends? That is truly bizarre ...
Chetney (to Gwen): "The Fuzz! RUN!!!" XD
Imogen's still searching for Laudna, but having no luck ... ouch ...
Flossing ... oh boy ...
I love how Allura is thoroughly exasperated with the Hells but it's nothing she ain't seen before and she's definitely becoming quite fond of them ... this is like THE THIRD TIME for her now ... oh yes, she really likes these idiots ... :3
Imogen: "How much time do we have?" Allura: "All the time in the world and none at all."
Meanwhile Chetney's just roaming about in just his pants ... O.O
Grim Psychometry? Oh okay ... on the Shard ... this should be interesting ...
Primordial elemental spiritual weirdness ... hmmm ... yeah, it's all a bit vague but also not ...
Fucking hell ... they really are all very out of sorts right now ...
Is Laudna safe? FCG's coin says ... yes? Hmmm ...
Oh wow ... Chetney is NOT taking any prisoners right now ... oh shit ... where is this going?
That was ... a lot ...
Damn it ... fucking Delilah again ... gods, I fucking HATE that bitch ... oh seriously, Laudna, DO NOT listen to her! She is BAD NEWS ...
A doll for Ashton? Interesting ... off to her cabin, then ... and now time for a break ...
Fearne makes herself a druidy version of her old home in the woods for the night ... hmmmm ... oh, this is very nostalgic ... now she's thinking of Nana ... time for bed, then ...
Marisha and Ashley both roll D20s ... Will they run into each other?
Laudna stalks the night. Like a creepy goth wolf ... the scent if old charcoal ... oh ... she's home ...
Oh, so she IS making a doll for Ashton ... chipmunk skull, quartz ... fancy in a weird way ...
Oh for the gods' sake ... Delilah's at it again ... DON'T LISTEN TO HER, Laudna! Damn it ...
Now she's trying to turn Laudna all the way against Ashton ... fucking hell ...
Morning ...
Fearne wakes up and forgets she's not at Nana's ... oh ... she teats the whole thing down again ... oof ...
Laudna wakes up cold and lonely missing Imogen ... heading back, then ...
Imogen is panicking because Laudna didn't come back in the night, makes FCG cast Locate Creature ... no joy? Just means she's not close ... chill, Imogen ... but she's even more worried that Delilah's back ...
They grab Orym and go looking for her ...
Chetney still lives ... gods, he's playing it bloody close now ... he and Ashton are the only ones left ... Chet wolfs out and decides to test out Ashton's new arm ...
Roll initiative? Really?
Oh boy ... Ashton attacks with an unarmed strike ... oh, that definitely hits ... POW!!! Ouch ... now the hammer ... another big hit ... more ouch ... oh, so that's it, then? That was an anticlimax ...
They go looking for the others instead ...
FCG gets a blip ... homing in ... they find the others ... searching together now ...
There's Fearne ... oh, is she in a good mood? Interesting ...
And now there's Laudna ... okay ... and she's RUNNING AWAY ... what?
Now they're just chasing her into the forest ... and Chetney's in the lead, closing FAST ... he tackles her to the ground ... she is still PISSED at Ashton ... dangerously so ... oh boy ...
Imogen tells Ashton to just GO BACK to the castle ...
Wow ... this is getting REALLY fragile all of a sudden ... I DO NOT like where Laudna's at in her head right now ...
FCG: "Orym's never been this quiet." LOL
Maybe a break and a retreat is a good idea ... go to Nana Morri's? Yeah ... maybe ...
Chetney: "Let's go find the dumb dumb." Imogen: "Lady Allura?" Chetney: "No! OUR dumb dumb!"
Ashton is feeling the rock in the ground ...
Back together ... Laudna gives him the doll ... those is a very awkward reunion ... but they're both trying ... and Ashton does like the doll ...
And Ashton is going to try his best to make amends to all of them ... awwwwww ... damn it ...
They go find a VERY FLUSTERED Lady Allura ... and put the Fey Realm suggestion to her ... and she is actually FINE with it ... even though it's not opportune ...
Yes. THAT Fatestitcher ...
Oh ... so Allura is coming too ... oh, actually I love it ... :3
FCG is now planning activities for them to get up to during their time off ... it's adorable ...
Ah yes ... time for a private talk for Fearne and Ashton ...
He's searching for how to apologise ... and being really sweet about it ... he's actually doing really well ...
She's still a little mad at him ... which is fair ...
Ooooh ... adventurer Allura? That sounds a bit sexy, actually ...
Off already, then? Okay ... more pokes at absent Liam ... XD
Teleportation into another realm! O.O Awesome ... and they're back in the Fey Realm ...
Yup, this is definitely the place ...
The Ligament Manor ... lovely ... Fearne comes home ... Peepers! Hello! Awwwww ... that thing is adorable in a really awful way ...
Wait ... is that BIRDY?!!!
It is ... and Nana ... awww ... a sweet and simultaneously disturbing reunion ...
Yup ... Matt is IMMEDIATELY giving Travis little nightmares and I love it ... XD
Vitoren? Hmmm ...
The Hideaway is buried? Okay ... timely enough, in the end ...
Allura is TERRIFIED. It's perfect ... LOL
A scavenger hunt? Oh fucking hell ... what fresh hell is THIS idea? What are you going to unleash upon us, FCG?
Yes ... the Moon ...
Oh ... so the Bridge is genuinely HURTING all the magic in Exandria? Great ...
Fearne is coming to some kind of nexus point in her destiny? Intriguing ...
Wow ... Tavan ... the demon mark ... here we go ...
Ollie! Hello! Oh ... yes, grub, lovely ...
So the scavenger hunt is really happening ... wow ... this is going to be ... interesting ... and FCG is seriously considering having Nana wipe his memory so he can take part in the hunt too ... oh boy ...
"DIRTY Fey" ... yeah ...
Wow ... a whole new chamber just for them? Cool ... in a scary way ...
Time to wind down, then ...
And that's it ...
Thank the gods they're on the way to patching things up after THAT chaos ... I was getting worried ...
They really are the most full blown fucked up dysfunctional party in the whole show's run to date, aren't they?
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samspenandsword · 1 year
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Kinktober 2022/23 Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Summary: Kinktober Day 10 — Spanking with Wrecker Pairing: Wrecker/Reader; fem!reader with no mentions of her appearance. Rating: Explicit, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE!) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut; Spanking, unprotected PIV (PRACTICE SAFE SEX), size kink, vocal sex, mild dirty talk, kink discovery. Word Count: 1.2k
Sam's Pen and Sword Kinktober 2023 Taglist Form
I’m not sure how I feel about this one, it didn’t flow as well as some of the others. But regardless, I hope you guys like it!
Your senses were flooded. Absolutely overwhelmed, blanketed and deliciously smothered. Encompassed and wrapped up in Wrecker. Because everything about him was just big. And you weren't even talking about the cock buried inside you right now. You meant just him.
His hands. His shoulders. His smile. His hugs. His laugh. His chest. His thighs. His personality. His humor. His heart. Everything about Wrecker was just larger than life, and there was nothing quite like being wrapped up in him.
And nothing quite like being impaled on his cock.
Just the feel of him inside you was enough to turn you into a mewling mess. And Wrecker wasn't a quiet lover either. His own grunts and groans mingled with yours and filled the room, unencumbered by the firm kiss he had you locked into. An eager and passionate kiss, Wrecker cradled the back of your head in one large hand as you ground yourself down on him. His thighs and hips flexed underneath you in little thrusts, groaning deep in his chest at every flutter of your walls around him. His tongue was hot and heavy against your own, and you were reduced to nothing but blissed whines and keens against him.
The hand not cradling your head kneaded and squeezed the flesh of your ass with every movement of your hips, and it only worked more of those noises out of you. Wrecker eagerly returned them, back rippling as all he wanted was to be closer to you.
So caught up in you, Wrecker didn't realize he let go of your ass to smack down on it and squeeze it until your hips bucked against him, you squealed into his mouth, and the skin of his palm stung lightly.
He instantly broke away from you.
"Oh, ad'ika, sorry!"
You let him pull away, but you weren't going to let him apologize. "It's okay, Wreck. Calm down." The hands that had been digging into the muscles of his back now cupped his face reassuringly. "It's okay." You smiled a little, a touch of sheepishness in it. "I liked it."
Wrecker's brain stopped. "Uh..."
Your smile widened, mild amusement overtaking the sheepishness. "I liked it."
"Bluescreen" was an appropriate term to describe Wrecker's mind right now. Just blank. Shutting down. Unable to comprehend what you were saying.
Until the sight of your widening smile restarted him. Your smile never failed to invigorate him.
"Ad'ika..."
"It's okay, Wrecker," you said. You strained up to kiss his cheek. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
But Wrecker had liked it too. He had been so engrossed in you that he had simply done what felt good, what he wanted, rather than thinking about it.
Wrecker was usually so conscious of himself and how he handled you. Ever cognizant of his size, his sheer strength, he was always mindful of how he treated you. You were so precious to him, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally hurt you when all he wanted was to make you feel good.
So he fucked you tenderly. Gently. Softly. And as time went on, he grew more comfortable. He had fun with you, relishing in your giggles as he (gently) manhandled you and pinned you underneath him. Grinned with an uncharacteristic deviousness when he realized how you liked his size. His strength. And began using that to his advantage with you. But he still never handled you with any sort of roughness, whether that meant leaving bruises on your thighs or marking up your neck.
Or spanking.
But as Wrecker looked down at his hand, the hand that was as adept at loving you as it was at dismantling droids and setting bombs, Wrecker remembered the faint sting of your ass on his palm.
And he wanted to feel that again.
Wrecker leaned his forehead against yours. "Tell me to stop and I will, ad'ika, I... I don't want to hurt you."
You smiled affectionately at him and pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. Your hand stroked along the scars on his face, gently.
"I'm not going to break, Wrecker," you promised. "You always take such good care of me."
Wrecker shivered in your hold, and you giggled lightly against his lips. But with your words and assurances, Wrecker had a new way to silence those giggles of yours.
The first smack of his hand to your ass had your laughter turning to a squealing gasp, a little startled by it. But you instantly moaned afterwards, your pussy clenching around his cock with pleasure. Wrecker smiled into your kiss, slowly starting to rock his hips again.
The next smack came a couple minutes later, after you'd gotten a rhythm built up again. You whined into his mouth, entire body seizing with pleasure-pain.
"You do like it," Wrecker muttered against you, voice deepening with the pleased realization. "Oh, look at you, ad'ika..."
You mewled into his chest, hips starting to grind faster and faster.
Wrecker's hand smacked into your ass a third time, and you fully cried out. Your ass was starting to turn red, rippling under his touch and bouncing with each spank. Your skin tingled and stung beautifully, and all you wanted was for Wrecker to keep going.
And keep going he did.
The room was once again flooded with you and Wrecker’s vocal fucking as you rode him furiously, rocking your hips as he thrusted up into you over and over again, splitting you open around him. And while there was nothing quite like being stretched open by Wrecker’s cock, it was the occasional spank that landed on your ass that really fucked with you right now. Your mind was literally spinning with pleasure. Your core grew tighter and tighter with each smack that landed, no matter where or on which cheek. But as Wrecker landed two quick smacks to the exact same place, you broke away from his lips, crying out and feeling tears sting at your eyes.
“Oh, Maker, Wrecker, keep going!”
Wrecker’s following groan was nearly a growl. You wanted him to keep going? 
Who was he to deny you?
The room was full of your cries as Wrecker wrapped an arm around your hips, stopping your grinding, and forcefully thrusting up into you. You nearly screamed as Wrecker fully pounded up into you, holding you in place with one arm and fucking into you like you were his personal little cocksleeve. And with a grin, Wrecker spanked you one last time.
And your orgasm slammed into you.
You came around Wrecker with a scream and a shudder, body rippling just like the rippling of your ass under his hand. Wrecker grunted at the clenching of you around him, hand soothing over your bright red, stinging flesh and voice soothing you through your climax.
It eventually subsided, and you trembled lightly in Wrecker's hold, sweat-slicked skin sticking to his.
"Maker, Wrecker," you breathed, smiling tiredly.
He smiled back. "Feel okay?" His hand still smoothed over your cheeks, rubbing it soothingly.
"M'okay," you said. You felt sore and stretched around his still-hard cock, but relished in the feeling of it and the subsiding, stinging numbness of your ass. You smiled a little, kissing Wrecker.
"Keep going," you whispered, squeezing your pussy around him.
Wrecker grabbed you and flipped you onto your back, his booming laugh filling the room.
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Taglist: @twistedstitcher27 @rexxdjarin @frietiemeloen @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @jedimastersovi @hnnybee @sleepingsun501 @virginoliveoil @rosmariner @sunshinesdaydream @adikas-world @theroguesully @dangerousstrawberrypie @kraytclaw @lindsaygallof @misogirl828 @thefact0rygirl @mxkyrie @rain-on-kamino
Sam's Pen and Sword Kinktober 2022 Taglist Form
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adriennezzz · 10 months
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Thoughts and reactions I’ve had whilst listening to Welcome to Night Vale episode 230: Carlos , Explained .
Warning :
SPOILERS
and swearing
Buckle up mates , this is gonna be a long one
That quote is awesome
Oh crap what happened to the THEME . I don’t like this I don’t like it at all .
Oh my god is this the end of nightvale ?!?!?
Noooo not the lights above the arbys
Wait what do you mean NOTHING in nightvale ? Can everything be explained away 😱
DYLAN !!!!!!! DYLANS BACK OH MY GOD ITS BEEN SOOOO LONG I was just thinking an episode with Carlos’s name in it would be wrong without his voice actor in it and HES BACK MATE
“Dreary and reduced to a prize that can be held in the hand” perfectly encapsulates LuBelle and her henchmen .
Badass Carlos let’s gooooooooo
And messy gossip Cecil my beloved
Oh gods I hate her voice so freaking much she’s so bloody smug and mocking and condescending . I can’t picture her as anyone but Umbridge , which is fitting tbh
Because of COURSE SHE WAS ENGAGED IN DEVELOPING BIOTERRORISM
AND SHE DOESNT SEE A PROBLEM WITH IT
LADY
ROBLES
CARLOS HAS A LAST NAME
I mean reasonably he would have a last name but YOU WOULD TAKE THAT AWAY FROM US LUBELLE . OF COURSE YOU WOULD YOU WANNA WRECK EVERYONES LIVES
oh screw you lubelle
“ What I want is objective” lady , do you even know what OBJECTIVE means ?
“It is my family . It is my love.” Not me melting a little but despite ( or IN Spite of ) the circumstances
“Carlos will see us through this crisis.” YEAH HE WILL
“Do you look out on the glorious world, this starship upon which an unlikely group of animals and plants are touring the universe? Do you marvel at the beauty and splendor of something so simple as rainfall in sunlight? Do you look at that and feel any sense of wonder? Then that’s a lack of objectivity, and you shouldn’t be allowed to be a scientist.”
She really just MOCKED the vital factors that nurture the passion for science , did she
OH FUCK YOU JANET YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT
how did she know ? How did she KNOW ?
Oh my god Carlos , his guilt and mortification must be unbearable, though since he’s already said that in 210, I’m sure everyone knows , tho I don’t think he realises that . Or maybe he does .
“The danger here is not the manner in which we are thinking, or the curiosities that drive us, but the human intention behind the thought. I seek to help with science. Dr. Lubelle seeks to destroy.” DAMN STRAIGHT
Oh man this episode has me so anxious but why is this song a BANGER !?!?!
Josh and GlowCloud Jr are okay ! :D
I definitely didn’t mistake a jalopy for a cool jacket
If this episode didn’t already show how well Carlos understood and loved the fundamentals of science , then his speech sure did .
Chills man , literal chills
WHOOOOOO FOR CHARACTER GROWTH
Dr Blake Jones redemption
Dr Lubelle , you might still be confident , but your words are that of a woman who has yet to acknowledge that she’s already lost
But really , his middle name is Dave and he was studying marine biology ? Mannnn they’re piling on the trivia aren’t they ?
OH FUCK OH NO YOU DONT
D-did they just shoot her ?
Did sheriff Sam , or Cecil or hell , CARLOS shoot her ?
I know he said he’d destroy her if necessary but
Oh my god it was a COW
ALL HAIL THE CHILD OF THE GLOW CLOUD
“By the power vested in me due to the last person in charge getting squashed by a cow” This might be one of the greatest sentences ever
DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD
( Note , I asked my dad if I falling cow would kill somebody and he said definitely, so DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD )
Holy smokes , I’ve seen classroom projects being conducted more thoroughly than the “research” that Lubelle did
AND YOU CALL YOURSELF A SCIENTIST JANET
ITS SLOPPY JANET
SLOPPY
They’re BACK YAYYYYY
oh
Oh no
RIP Glow Cloud Sr
I’m actually sad :(
Wait he’s going back to the DOW ?
This isn’t the end of NightVale but oh gosh the ANGST is sure going be skyrocketing
Edit : “A young scientist and an ancient radio host” HOW OLD IS CECIL SUPPOSED TO BE WILL WE EVER KNOW
End of reaction
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The Demigod From Asgard - Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 28)
A/N: You guys are gonna love this part.....
Summary: You wait patiently and anxiously at Steve’s side in hospital 
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings: Hospital setting! Mention of Injuries! Fluff! Bit of Angst!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics​
Series Masterlist / Masterlist
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Chapter 28: Making Room
Arriving at the hospital they took Steve straight into surgery leaving you to anxiously pacing back and forth in the waiting room.
“Y/N! How is he?” Nat asks rushing in.
“I don’t know they won’t tell me anything! It’s been over an hour and nothing” you tell her continuing to pace back and forth.
“He’ll be fine he’s got that serum pumping through him. That’s only gonna help” Nat says grabbing your arm to pull you to a stop.
“So why do nurses keep rushing past refusing to talk or even look at me” you sigh turning to face her, barely holding it together.
Nat sighs but doesn’t say anything except hold up a bag “I brought you a change of clothes” she tells you.
“I don’t think I can go Nat not until I hear something” you sigh shaking your head, sniffling back the tears.
“He’ll be fine I promise, plus when he’s out of surgery they’re not gonna want someone covered in grime and dirt hanging around” Nat tells you softly.
“Okay fine but grab me as soon as anything happens” you say grabbing the bag and heading out towards a bathroom.
After changing into the clothes Nat brought you which consisted of a simple navy cotton top and jeans. Leaning over the sink you splash your face with some water taking a deep breath. Looking up at yourself in the mirror you still looked rough. You had marks around your neck from the collar.
When you walk back into the waiting room your see Nat talking to one of the nurses.
“What’s happening?” You ask rushing over.
“He’s still in surgery but so far he’s stable” the nurse tells you.
“So far?” You question.
“Yes, due to the serum his body is repairing itself before we can get in there so it’s taking longer than expected” the nurse sighs.
“Shit, but he’ll be okay right” you ask worriedly.
“We believe so yes, it’s just taking a while he’s in the best hands possible” the nurse tells you reassuringly.
“Thank you let us know when there’s any news” Nat says before leading you to sit down on one of the chairs.
A couple hours later the doctor walks in telling Steve was out of surgery. He was stable but still under anaesthesia. The doctor leads you Steve’s room, stepping in you took a shaky breath when you saw him.
He looked terrible, even worse than before. The number of wires and tubes attached to him keeping him stable was shocking. You quickly move to sit beside him pulling your seat closer. You gently take his hand careful of all the wires.
“Told you he’d be okay” Nat says.
“I know. Now I just want him to wake up” you sigh not taking your eyes off him.
You stayed beside Steve the entire time. Watching as doctors and nurses came, checked on him and left. Sam came and visited playing music because ‘apparently people can still hear when they’re under’. He’d tell you to rest but you’d refuse, not wanting to miss a thing.
Every night you’d fall asleep sat next to Steve. Your head resting on his arm. It had been 2 days and Steve was still under. The doctors said they wanted to play it safe, keep him under until they were certain his body was healed enough and doing so properly.
Finally though they were reducing the amount of anaesthetic and that he should hopefully be waking up soon.
“Hey how is he?” Sam asks walking in.
“Healing, doctor said he should hopefully wake up today” you tell him glancing at Steve.
“Guess that means you won’t be leaving at all” Sam says pulling up a chair.
“Nope not a chance” you say with a small smirk.
“You know he’s not gonna be happy when he wakes up to see you’ve not been looking after yourself” Sam tells you with a knowing look.
“Well I think we can call it even considering he was shot multiple times and fell into the Potomac” you point out.
Sam laughs shaking his head “I guess so, wanna listen to music?” He asks standing up.
“Yeah sure, what you putting on this time?” You ask him.
“Troubleman soundtrack. Told him to put it on the list” Sam says plugging his phone into the speaker.
“Oh he told me about that, said I should put it on mine too” you say as he sits back down.
“Oh yeah how are you finding living on earth” Sam asks.
“Nice, definitely feels like home, always felt out of place on Asgard on the count I grew up faster than everyone else. But I wouldn’t have been able to actually do it without Steve, he’s been there for me. We’ve helped each other” you sigh looking over at Steve secretly hoping he’d be awake.
“That’s nice, I can see that you mean a lot to each other” Sam smiles.
“I’m gonna go get a coffee you want one?” He asks standing back up.
“Desperately” you say making him laugh.
“I’ll go across the street to the coffee shop, get us some of the decent stuff” Sam says sliding on his jacket.
“That is greatly appreciated” you smile.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes” Sam chuckles heading out.
You sit back in your seat you fingers intertwined with Steve’s. You run your thumb gently over his hand as you rest your head on the side of the chair. You feel your eyelids grow heavy and you soon drift off.
You couldn’t have been asleep for more than 15 minutes tops. However, when you woke up you noticed the sensation of someone stroking your hand. Opening your eyes, you look down at your hand noticing Steve’s thumb gently moving.
You instantly look up at his face to see him looking over at you, a small smile on his face. It takes you a couple moments to make sure you weren’t dreaming, but sure enough his bright blue eyes were looking straight back st you. Well as well as they could through the swelling.
“Oh my god Steve” you exclaim jumping out of your seat.
You weren’t exactly sure what you were thinking. Actually, no you knew exactly what you were thinking. You nearly lost Steve. The most important person in your life. Someone you liked more than you could even describe. Someone who you realised you had liked more than just a friend, for a really long time without even knowing it.
You moved over him gently cupping his cheek before crashing your lips down onto his, Conscious of his split lip. Steve let out a small sound of surprise before instantly kissing you back. His hand moving to your hip squeezing you there gently.
When you pull away he blinks a couple times, looking up at you in surprise.
“I’m sorry that was-“ you apologise quickly going to move away but he stops you.
“No, I’ve wanted to do that for months now, I was gonna ask you at Sam’s house before Nat interrupted” he tells you his hand moving to brush some of your hair behind your ear.
“Really?” You ask not believing him.
“Really” he smiles his hand moving to your cheek pulling you back down onto his lips.
You smile and melt into the kiss, kicking yourself for taking so long to get to this moment in time.
“Well finally! I thought I was gonna lose the money I bet” you hear Nat say behind you.
Standing back up you turn around to see Nat and Sam stood by the door smirking over at the pair of you.
“Now if I’d known it would only take Steve falling from a helicarrier, I would have pushed you off one sooner” Nat says as she walks in.
You turn back to Steve to see him rolling his eyes at Nat “nice to see you too Romanoff” he sighs.
“How you feeling?” Sam asks as he passes you your coffee.
“Sore, but otherwise pretty good” Steve says smiling over at you taking your hand in his.
“Well I’m sure you’ll be glad to know the plan worked, multiple people in high up positions like senators have been arrested. SHIELD everywhere fell. Stark’s been helping with clean up, try and make sure tech doesn’t fall into the wrong hands” Nat tells Steve.
“That’s good, so Hydra is gone?” He asks.
“Unlikely, we’ll know more once we’ve recovered all the files but groups like this are likely to have bases that aren’t attached to other organisations” Nat sighs.
Steve nods his head slightly sighing deeply “well at least we got the main source” Steve sighs.
A short while later the doctor walk in checking in on Steve and how well he was healing.
“We’d like to keep you for one more night just for observation, then we can discharge you in the morning” the doctor says.
“Okay, thank you for everything” Steve agrees sitting up slightly.
“You can finally get some rest now that he’s awake” the doctor says turning to you before walking out.
“Snitch” you curse looking over Steve who had a brow raised at you.
“You haven’t gone home at all?” He asks.
“No, I didn’t want to leave you in case something happened” you admit with a sigh.
“Nothing is gonna happen to me doll, so go on, head home and get some proper rest” Steve tells you.
“While you’re still here no way” you state making him laugh.
“You’re not gonna give in are you” Steve sighs smiling over at you.
“Not at all Rogers” you smirk.
“Well then, I better move over then” Steve says shuffling over in his hospital bed.
“Steve what are you doing?” You ask putting your hand on his arm to stop him.
“Making room now c’mon” he smiles pulling you towards him.
“But won’t I hurt you?” You ask hesitantly.
“You could never hurt me doll” Steve smiles.
You sigh relenting and gently climbing into his hospital bed with him. You made sure that you didn’t touch any of his injuries. Steve wrapped his arm around you as you rested your head on his chest.
“Now get some rest, Captain’s orders” he says quietly.
“Oh is that how it is?” You chuckle looking up at him.
“That’s how it is” he laughs kissing you gently.
The next morning like promise Steve was discharged from hospital. The doctor told him to take it steady for at least a week just to be on the safe side. Once you collected the bandages he needed you two made you way out of the hospital.
“Where are we going? By apartment has a broken window and bullet holes in the wall” Steve asks as you step outside.
“You’re gonna stay with me if that’s okay?” You tell him glancing up.
“Of course it’s okay, looking forward to it doll” Steve smiles wrapping his arm around you and kissing the top of your head.
“Who’s um driving though?” He asks hesitantly.
“Not me you’ll be glad to hear, Nat’s picking us up” you tell him just as Nat pulls up outside the hospital.
“Wow two fossils for the price of one” Nat smirks rolling down the window.
“Hysterical” you sigh as you and Steve climb into the car.
“How come you’re dressed all official?” Steve asks as she pulls out onto the main road.
“I’ve got to go to the hill after this, explain what happened, keep us out of jail” Nat says shrugging her shoulders.
“They want to put us in jail?” You ask concerned.
“Maybe but they’re not gonna they need us too much” she says with a smirk.
A short while later she dropped you and Steve off at your apartment. You helped Steve in settling him down on the couch.
“You know I can walk perfectly fine” he says with a small smirk.
“I know but you’ve taken care of me so many times let me take care of you for once” you sigh as you sit down next to him.
“Well, I should let you know I’m not a very good patient” he smirks.
“I’m not surprised” you smile leaning over and kissing him.
When you pull away he takes your hand in his pulling it into his lap, fiddling with your fingers.
“I know we’ve kinda already started this off a bit unconventionally, and it may be a couple days till I’m ready to go out properly, but can I take you out on a proper date, like dinner and everything?” Steve asks looking over at you, his eyes shining.
“I’d love that” you smile as he brings your hand up to his lips.
“Also do I have to wait until after our date to call you my girlfriend?” Steve asks you a hint of nervousness in his voice.
“Depends, do I have to wait to call you my boyfriend?” You smirk making him laugh.
“Not at all doll” he smiles cupping your cheek and pulling you lips to his.
“Now how about we relax all day and rest while watching multiple movies” you suggest.
“Movie marathon?” He asks with a lopsided grin.
“Movie marathon” you agree.
You and Steve quickly decided on what movies to watch. Relaxing on your couch in each other’s arms. The two of you spent the entire day there eating take out and enjoying each other’s company taking advantage of the quiet.
In the evening after Steve showered you redressed his injuries and got him into bed. Once he was lying down you grabbed a pillow and a blanket and started to make your way out of the room.
“Whoa hey where are you going?” Steve asks sitting back up.
“I’m gonna sleep on the couch let you rest properly” you tell him turning round to face him.
“You don’t need to do that” he sighs shaking his head.
“Steve it’s fine, rest you need it” you tell him shaking his head.
“Not until you get in this bed, there is more than enough space and we’ve already shared a hospital bed half the size. You need rest too, and you’re not gonna get it on that couch” Steve argues.
“Doll please, for me?” He asks with the perfect puppy dog eyes.
“Fine” you sigh unable to stop yourself from smiling as you climb into bed next to Steve.
Steve smiles wrapping an arm around you pulling you into his embrace “hmm I could definitely get use to this” he sighs.
“Me too” you smile as you rest your head on his chest, arm outstretched over his abdomen careful of his bandages.
“Can I ask you something?” Steve asks after a moment.
“Yeah of course, what is it?” you ask moving to look at him.
“What happened to Bucky?” he asks his hand covering yours and fidgeting with your fingers.
“I don’t know where he is, but he’s in there, he was the one who pulled you from the river, he said he was sorry, I didn’t see where he went afterwards though” you tell him seeing the cogs turn in his head.
He sighs looking up at the ceiling “he remembered me” he says almost in disbelief.
“yeah, there’s a chance we can save him” you tell him making him look back over at you.
“you’ll help?” he asks.
“of course, I will, we’re in this together now” you say giving him a small smile.
He smiles back at you before cupping your cheek and kissing you “thank you doll, for everything” he sighs.
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narrans · 1 year
Text
Everyone Needs a Little Hero | Better Together?
For the rest of the day, Hero felt terrible about the incident with Rey and Sam. Hero didn’t know Rey had come so close to being hurt by a human since he never said anything about it. On the other hand, it wasn’t really something a Borrower would want to talk about casually.
Still, Hero hoped Rey would give him and Sam another chance. After Rey started talking with Sam, everything ran smoothly as though nothing bad happened.
Distracted for the remaining part of the day, Hero decided to reduce his heroing work to helping around the house for the rest of the day – and it was a good thing he did. The whole Rafter family seemed to have a persistent cough and was groggy for the rest of the day. At first, Hero didn’t think anything of it. Everyone got a cough from time to time.
He had to eat his words the next morning though. When he opened his eyes after a not-so-restful slumber, he felt like he was being rushed from the inside and chills kept him shivering to the point where he had to fish out his winter poncho. What was more alarming was that he was the least sick of his whole family.
Despite his burning desire to crawl back into bed, he had a job to do. Sam still needed help on his science project and Watney needed a model to sketch for one of his art projects.
So, leaving Cali, his oldest sister, to help tend to the family and the house, Hero left under the pretense that he was going to go find food that was good for someone who wasn’t feeling well when he was actually going to find something to make the family feel better.
He made his way through the rafters and beams, finding it difficult to balance on some of the wider beams, until he made it to the familiar trim piece above Sam’s cabinet. The wood didn’t even squeak when he pushed it open. Bright green eyes groggy but alert, Hero slipped out on top of the cabinet and inched to the edge.
Sam, his human friend, was at his desk working away on the surface of the volcano, making it look realistic for his project. A quick check for a closed door and Hero felt safe enough to call out to his friend.
“Sam,” he said, voice raspier than he thought it would be. Sam’s head instinctually turned to the little trim piece and a smile spread across his boyish face.
“Hey Hero,” he grinned as he wiped off his hands and jumped up onto his bed, hand outstretched for Hero to use rather than the small teen having to use his hooks and lines. Without hesitation, the Borrower boy walked across the slightly dusty top of the wooden structure and stepped onto Sam’s hand, dropping into a crouch instinctually. Carefully, Same knelt and descended from his spot on the bed and walked back to his desk.
“How’re you?” he asked, keeping his voice low so his parents wouldn’t hear him speaking to the small, handheld boy.
“I’m-” but Hero was interrupted from saying he was good when a fit of coughs ambushed his lungs.
“Woah,” muttered Sam. “That doesn’t sound good.” Hero recovered from his coughing fit just in time for Sam to rest the pad of his finger on his forehead. “And you feel warm.”
“I’m okay,” Hero said reassuringly, though not quite feeling confident in his declaration. “It’s just a cough.”
“Plus a fever. You need to rest and take it easy. Um… you might want some medicine too. Mom always gives me this weird grape tasting stuff when I get the shivers and a cough,” said Sam. Hero smiled and chuckled lightly to himself. Sam, noticing, stared curiously at Hero, prompting a response.
“It’s just… I’m glad you know this. Your offer basically proves the point I was trying to make to my friend when we were talking on our way here yesterday – that it would be a better world if we could all live together and out in the open,” said Hero as he positioned himself more comfortably in Sam’s hand.
Hero expected to hear Sam’s agreement moments after his conclusion, but Sam was quiet. The human boy looked concerned, as though something distracted him slightly about what Hero said.
“Oh yeah… is he okay? Your friend I mean? He seemed really upset yesterday. I… did I do something wrong?” asked Sam. Hero sighed and shook his head, a little off-put that Sam didn’t really answer his question. Still, it was sweet that Sam was worried about Rey.
“Yeah, he’s okay. He had a bad memory of getting stuck when he was little, and it all came back to him when he fell on the volcano yesterday,” stated Hero. A pang of momentary guilt hit him for telling Sam something sensitive and, quite possibly, private about Rey, but he didn’t want to lie and did manage to omit the specifics.
“That’s terrible. I hope he’s doing better. I didn’t mean to scare him. He was really upset when I pulled him out of the glue,” muttered Sam bashfully. “Is… that weird?”
“No, I don’t think it’s weird to feel that way. I think Rey goes by a different set of rules than I do,” stated Hero, but Sam shook his head.
“No… I mean… being held. Is it… weird? Do you… not want me to?” asked Sam, his hand tensing and relaxing a few times awkwardly under Hero. The Borrower teen shook his head.
“No, it’s not weird. I mean… it was a little odd at first, but it’s nice. I kind of like it now actually,” smiled the aspiring hero as he leaned against Sam’s thumb to support his back. Sam smiled in response and flexed his fingers to better cup the small person in his hand.
“That’s good to hear,” Same replied, relaxing with his friend’s reassurance. After a few minutes of quiet between them, Hero’s question came back to the forefront of his mind.
“You… didn’t really say what you thought,” pointed out the Borrower teen. “About living together out in the open. Do you… think it’s a bad idea? Or do you think it’s a good one?” Sam once again was quiet, much like how Rey had been quiet the day before when Hero had posed the same scenario. When Sam finally turned his eyes back to Hero, the answer was apparent.
“I… don’t know. I mean, I think everyone has a different opinion, right? If you want to live out in the open, you should be able to. If you don’t want to, then you shouldn’t need to,” stated Sam. Hero stared quizzically at his human friend before sighing and slumping slightly in Sam’s hand.
“You sound a bit like Rey. You don’t think it’s a good idea, but I don’t understand why,” muttered Hero.
“Well, I mean… your friend seemed really freaked out, meaning he was scared. Wouldn’t others feel the same? Didn’t you ask me not to tell anyone about you? Was that because you were supposed to? Or because you were scared?” asked Sam. Hero felt a pang in his chest. It was true that he was initially fearful of Sam but trusted that Sam would treat him with respect once he showed him that he was intelligent. He was also afraid that others humans would be interested in hunting down his fellow Borrowers if too many humans found out about them. Sam continued as Hero’s thoughts quieted. “I don’t know. I think it would be nice, but not for everyone.”
“I see. Well, I think it would be nice,” muttered Hero, wishing the answer Sam gave him was different. There was another silence between the two of them before Hero’s eyes lulled. He felt a sudden wave of exhaustion come over him. Sam readjusted his hand under the Borrower boy before speaking again.
“Do you want to take a nap? I can put you in my hoodie pocket while I work. I’d let you use my hand, but I need it to finish my project,” said Sam. Hero, liking the idea of a warm, covered place to take a nap, nodded and let Sam place him into his hoodie pocket. The surrounding warmth and minor jostling of Sam’s body when he worked was enough to put the young Borrower boy to sleep.
Hero wasn’t sure how long he was asleep until he poked his head outside of Sam’s pocket and glanced at the clock. He had been there for nearly three hours!
Not good, he thought. He still needed to make it to Watney’s place before the end of the day. He wriggled free and said his good-byes to Sam who, after Hero asked politely, gave him some food to bring back home as well as a tablet of something that he said would help them stop coughing, explaining that he just needed to mix a little into some flavored water and drink.
Hero, already feeling better, hurried back into the walls and made his way up to Watney’s home.
Thankfully, the artist was already home and had everything set up when Hero arrived.
“I just want to say thanks again, Hero. You’re seriously a huge help,” applauded Watney as he quickly sketched the Borrower’s body. Watney had Hero pose belaying down a part of a shelf. Watney let Hero take frequent breaks and let him stay close to the desk, picking himself up every once in a while to get the pose just right.
While the human artist sketched, Hero asked Watney the same question he asked Sam about living together in the open. Watney, unlike Sam, thought that it would be a better world. It would take some getting used to; however, Watney, like Hero, believed that there were more kind people in the world who would accept living together with the littles rather than being cruel to them.
Reassured, Hero continued to pose for the sketch until, finally, Watney was mostly finished. Sure, he needed to touch up a few things here and there, but the overall concept was there. Hero stared in complete amazement at his human friend’s sketch, marveling at the details he threw in such as the wrinkles in Hero’s shirt and the way his hook was just a tad bit bent on the end.
Even though he didn’t want to leave, Hero knew he was gone way longer than he would’ve wanted to be. He apologized and promised he would be back soon, asking bashfully to see the final product when the time came.
Hurrying home, Hero couldn’t help but think about his question like a competition. So far, he had a no, a maybe, and a yes. His vote technically didn’t count since he was asking everyone else what they thought, but the answers were so spread out, it was hard to tell how everyone felt about it.
Surely Ashlynn would agree with him, and probably a few others thought the world would be better if they could all live together. It would make his heroing work so much easier. Supplies would be bountiful, and the community collaboration would be through the roof. Borrowers could easily help with recycling and finding use for things that human might otherwise throw away, and small hands could help with building certain projects and solving problems. Borrowers wouldn’t get sick as often, and humans wouldn’t be as forgetful and lose things in narrow places.
Speaking of which, he concluded his thoughts just as he remembered he needed to help his family get better. What kind of hero would he be if he couldn’t help his family get better from some silly little cough. It wasn’t until he got home that he realized that this “little cough” was a lot more severe than he thought.
Everyone was practically out of commission. Even his oldest sister, who had one of the strongest spirits that he had ever encountered, was doubled over coughing. She would’ve scolded him for staying away so long if his haul, courtesy of Sam, weren’t so good. He managed to slip the medicine Sam gave him into some lemonade his mom made and began passing it around to everyone, who complained about an odd aftertaste.
While Hero began picking up the slack around the house that he had neglected while he was away for the morning, he noticed something. He noticed it on the way home too, but it was more noticeable now while he was bustling about their home. There was an odd, stale smell lingering in the air that smelled sour. Hero wanted to know more, but he would have to put that on the back burner for now.
Right now, his family needed him – they needed a hero – and he was just the person for the job, even if it was just doing the laundry.
~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~
Continue
Previous
Beginning
Prompt
ASK ME ANYTHING
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allthingsfook · 1 year
Text
Put it on: S.F.K
MINORS DNI 🔞 very slight pet play?, mentions of alcohol use, obscene language, rough handling, masturbation (f), hand job, sliver of degradation. Nothing too crazy 😜
Word Count: 1,541
Sam offers up an unusual request that you are too curious to decline 🐰
Author's Note: This idea originated in the GC, so I knew I needed to write it up. Enjoy this little “Easter” blurb! BTW- still working on a dom Josh fic— stay tuned 🫠
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Staggering into the living room, both you and Sam fall to the floor; the alcohol put a wobbling spell on your legs. You lay there giggling and clutching each other; no sense of shame. Caressing your arm, he asks if you’re okay.
“Yeah, I’m fine. How are you, grandpa? Can’t have ya breaking a hip now!” You joke.
“Hey, be careful with that shit! I am getting old,” he defends himself in a goofy tone.
You chuckle at his humor. He’s more stunning than ever; beautiful brown waves of hair framing his sweet face. He’s sprawled across the rug, looking back at you through squinted eyes. You continue to admire him while struggling to your knees.
“C’mon bunny! Get up!” You coax him by yanking his arm.
“Oh no!” He groans. “Go back to calling me grandpa!” Shading his eyes, he smiles with flushed cheeks.
“Ahhh! You’re the one that volunteered, Bunny,” you tease as you jump to your feet.
You know he’s embarrassed after Josh and Jake picked on him all day for dressing up as the Easter bunny. The harder they poked at him, the more he defended his choice; saying he did it for the kids. The only way he made it through the night was drowning his shame with tequila.
“You are never gunna let this one go,” he huffs.
“It’s not that bad, Sam. I actually thought it was kinda cute,” you admit to him.
“We’ll of course it was cute!” He exclaims as he springs up. “Pretty fucking embarrassing too,” he chuckles.
You grip his soft hands and flail his arms around in a drunken dance. You both are reduced to laughs. Everything seems comical even if it isn’t, and your next thought is true to that.
“Put it on,” you whisper with wide eyes and sprawling grin.
“What?” Sam grumbles back.
“Put the head on!” You shout.
Your own thought seemed to surprise you just as much as it did Sam. The look on his face quickly told you he wasn’t gunna do it at free will. You drop his hands and rush to the back of the house. Sam chases after you, insisting he will not put it on. You reach the bedroom with him right on your heels. Before you can grab the costume, he wraps his arms around your waist and tackles you on the bed. You struggle, trying to finesse your way out of his hold, but as soon as you notice his caramel eyes looking over you, you succumb. His chest is bounding, almost like his heart is gunna jump out of it. You are not sure if it’s from chasing you throughout the house, or because of what was going on inside his beautiful mind.
“You put it on,” he mutters.
Your smile fades.
“What?” You ask with a confused chuckle.
“You put the bunny head on,” he repeats.
You are a little unsure, but take that as an opportunity to rebuild his ego. He releases you from his straddle, but calmly tracks your every move. Tension swarms the room and this is no longer about being silly. No more laughing fits. No more jokes. You saunter into the closet and close the door. The hideous costume hangs on the door rack; the big fat head staring at you as you question what your about to do.
You shimmy your jeans off your hips and peel a thin t-shirt from your torso. Maybe part of you knew tonight was gunna end with sex, but not quite this way. The pink and black lingerie set you had on under your clothes matched the head way too well. You let out a shaky breath and take the head off the hook.
Cracking the door open, you see Sammy laying against the bed, propped up on his elbows. He licks his lips at the sight of your delicious body. You hide behind the head, nervous you’ll look stupid for him. Suddenly you realized the embarrassment Sammy must of felt earlier today.
“Y’know what, this is dumb. I just look ridiculous here,” you ramble as you start toward putting the head back.
“No!” He abruptly responds as he sits forward on the bed. “Just put it on—you look fucking slutty as hell,” he adds.
You give him a dubious glance followed by a sigh. You look down at the head and back to him, feeling vulnerable, but curiously turned on at the same time. You slowly place the bunny head on yours. It’s heavy on your shoulder and you can hardly see a damn thing out of it. You can hear Sam whimper for you though. You adjust it just right so you can catch a glimpse of him. His hands cover his mouth, elbows resting on his knees. He’s in awe. Knowing he’s totally turned on by you, your not as anxious as before. You actually become confident; as much as you can in this thing!
It smells like him; sandalwood and honey. His scent further intoxicates you. Your hands mindlessly run all along your curves. Your neck retches around, gyrating your bobble head. Arching your back, you moan out for him. Oh boy did he like that! Through the thin fabric you see Sam adjusting himself over his pants; getting stiff from watching you. Your hand slides into the front of your panties and begins to tease yourself.
“Oh God,” falls from his lips as his jaw hangs slack.
You continue cooing, edging him to take control. You wish he’d spring from the side of the bed, pull your fingers from your weeping core, and suck them clean. He’s stuck in a trance though. So zoned in on your actions, he couldn’t move if he wanted to. You decide to take control for yourself. You prance over to him, nudging your way between his thighs. His eyes are glued to your core, inches from his face. You place your index finger under his bearded chin and push it upward. His eyes longing and lips parted; looking like a lost puppy. Taking your slick fingers, you press them to his pouty lips. His tongue invites them into his mouth and nurses them until they are clean. Fuck. Flashbacks to his satin tongue licking your inner thighs fill your head. That’s all you wanted right now. Every time he treats you to that, you release all over his face. And the way he wipes his chin with a smirk, like he’s won a medal, it drives you wild! Your longing thoughts are interrupted by a tender grip on your wrist. He pulls your fingers from his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva from your fingertips to his lips. With his free hand he undoes his pants and pushes his briefs down, releasing his aching cock. He guides your dripping digits to his lap. You graze against him, using his saliva as lube so you can stroke him. You get down on your knees, knowing you are going to spend some time pleasing him. Sam leans forward, letting a trail of spit weep onto his cock. You begin stroking him with both hands, creating sloppy sounds within the room. His head rolls back, veins distended, eyes shut tight. You can tell he wants to observe everything, but a sweet euphoria overwhelms him.
If only you could wrap your lips around him right now, you could give him what he craves while on tour. What you crave as well.
“Can I—“ you begin.
“Keep it on just a little longer,” he interrupts.
Admittedly, you are bothered. This fucking thing is keeping you from seeing every sultry facial expression, every clench of the bedding, and most of all… sucking his aching cock. Your pussy is practically dripping for him and there’s only so much you can do. You continue caressing him until you figure: prove to him how slutty you can be.
You rise and climb on top of him. He lays back, squeezing your thighs on either side of him. You brush your core against his length. Your panties drenched already.
“Ooo, baby. You are soaked,” he moans.
“Yes Sammy. Why don’t you treat me like a bad bunny? I’ve been pretty naughty, don’t you think?” you coax him.
As you continue rubbing against him, his eyebrows furrow and mouth hangs open. His response still formulating.
“C’mon Sammy. Throw me off you and teach me how to behave,” you continue.
“Fuck,” escapes his mouth within a breath.
Without notice, he clutches your waist and tosses you into the pillows. He maneuvers onto his knees and scoots you into his space. You can’t see, but you feel his hand wander from your abdomen to your chest. He sneaks behind your bra and massages your breast. Your nipples are hard and sensitive.
“God. Look at you. As much as I’m enjoying this, I have to see your whiny little face when I devour your pussy,” he asserts.
He pries the bunny head from your shoulders; letting a rush of cool air fill your nose. You take a deep breath and smile at the sight of him over you. That douchebag attitude is coming out and you fucking love it. His fire had finally ignited.
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inutaffy · 1 year
Text
If m!leven was healthy (in which i compare cobra kai 5 to stranger things 3)
sam = el & miguel = mike
so in cobra kai, it's basically all about karate but also interpersonal relationships and things like bullying and trauma (and how people react or deal with the trauma)
similar to stranger things which is about supernatural things happening to people in a small town, it also deals with interpersonal relationships and trauma
so little backstory: miguel left for mexico at the end of season 4, and he came back at like season 5 episode ... 2 or 3 maybe. this put a strain on his relationship with sam
miguel's friends' hawk/eli and demitri tell him he needs to get an apology gift for sam
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sound familiar ?
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now okay, miguel is 17 and obviously has money compared to mike who is 13 and is apparently broke (ik karen give him an allowance he lying 🙄) but he could have gotten SOMETHING, anything honestly, lucas would have helped pay for a fucking bracelet in her fav color or something. anyway
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here is the necklace miguel got. orginially miguel was like.. it's perfect (the octopus is a symbol for their relationship because he bought her a octopus on their first date) but he then said "but i'm probably not going to be able to afford it ..." then employee said "actually it's been reduced" (and though it was still expensive ... it was like 182) but he bought it for her! HE WAS ACCOMMODATED ? it's almost like the writers wanted him to show his affection for her? ??? at all costs???
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and then the bear charm.... which was extremely expensive (definitely played up for comedy) i think i was like 300 something? correct me if i'm wrong, mike was sneered at after he gave a big smile to the employee, and stormed out of the store "i should have shoved that bear right up his-" and cut off. there's a distinct difference here. the bear doesn't really mean much to their relationship (but i think it's canon that el likes bears idk ?) or to mike actually, and he walks out of the store literallt empty handed....... nothing to show for lying to her..... or his feelings (a bit reductive bear w me . yes im making puns)
okay so, all of season 3 it was lucas giving mike advice. well miguel went to sensei lawrence for some advice
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this entire time he's very drained and sad about him and his girlfriend maybe breaking up, "I have a feeling she's still mad at me and i want to fix it but we haven't spoken in awhile and honestly i'm not sure what i'm supposed to say." "i've been there. how about the truth?"
it's a very enlightening scene for miguel, that he just needs to be honest and see how it works out. due to his age hes more mature than mike is at the time, but mileven's entire relationship is used for jokes a lot of the time.
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here he says "she knows i'm lying she KNOWS i'm LYING" (he was mostly lying because of hopper, but he doesn't say that until EPISODES later. how about the truth mike?) lucas insists on getting her a present etc etc they end up at the mall. this isn't played off as the cute teen montage with el and max. mike is frustrated and irritated like... the entire time. and lucas is so exasperated and will doesn't even know why he's here (mike doesn't acknowledge his existence unless will speaks up) the boys' montage is just cringe fail losers im so deadass😭 and elmax's is #LiveLaughLove. like i said. empty handed. nothing to show for his feelings.
Now i have to compare the break-ups! bro sam literally been fighting her demons 💀 anyways el broke up with mike to be more independent and find stuff she likes right? well sam broke up with miguel to work on herself and find herself as a person outside of karate. sort of similiar ??
the miguel and sam break up had very somber music and TEARS. DO YOU HEAR ME? T E A R S.
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here he said he was SORRY. mike didn't apologize until like 2 episodes later...... intyways.... he says the truth and "i wasn't thinking about you. or us." and she said "miguel you don't need to explain-" blah blah. and then "i need a little break. to figure out who i am outside of all that (karate)" here she starts to tear up and miguel goes "when you say break what do you mean...? break from karate? break from me?" to which she replies: "i'm not okay right now-" IS CRYING. "and i don't think i will be until i figure this out for myself" which i think is a lot like el finding herself and style (a lot less teary eyed tho) and miguel says he understands and they HUG
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and then he walks away... and starts to cry, and then drops the octopus necklace in her backyard because now they're no longer in a relationship blah blah it hurts ahhh also. losing that symbol of their relationship because they broke up
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he didn't get to give it to her !!!
now if we look at mileven, which wasn't alone, which was actually for giggles, and there wasn't a wet eye in the house
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there's 3 other people here (albeit know about the situation) who they are airing out their problems and arguments to rn. like she dumps him publically. right in front of a mall. in front of all his friends "i dump your ass😜" is so jarring from "i need a little break (voice crack)" anyways in this screenshot is when mike starts to KEEP LYING?? .... get you a man committed to the bit i guess. i mean he could have said right here "im sorry... hopper threatened me that if i didn't stay away from you well...." blah blah he's fucking insane. like i felt like he was just doing anything to justify it which makes it seem he didn't actually want to be around her? regardless of hopper.... which is .... odd considering how "crazy" he is about her (😉)
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here she asks "you lie. why do you lie?" and he just doesn't say anything. like genuinely just stares at her dumbfounded not knowing what to say. SO IF IT WAS REALLY HOPPER THEN WHY ISNT HE SAYING THAT? HE DOESNT EVEN BRING IT UP UNTIL LIKE 2 EPISODES LATER (my timing so off it could be like an episode later tbh) anyways. there's nothing showing for the lies. literally. verbally and physically. he didn't get her anything and he also isn't providing her any answers.
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and then she dumps him and he makes this face and "you're as cooolldd as ice" plays and she gets on the bus in her bright clothes and sunny weather and ice cream and hi fives max and she's happy about it!! girl does not gaf!!!! 😎 she's chillin fr.
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then mike goes home, eats nacho cheese chips, and complains to lucas while. not doing anything. about it. literally also not caring that much. there's no crying. he "rushes" after he bus after the doors close and they're gone. and he looks confused more than anything but i think that scene was to draw attention to the grey clouds (foreshadowing for byler rain fight.+ grey clouds often symbolism for trouble coming blah blah i wanna be a english major <- fun fact abt me)
this breakup is very very very lighthearted! i giggle watching it! typical middle school behavior honestly 🙄 either way. mike is not torn up about it. el is not torn up about it. (but lucas is about him and max's breakup post season 3)
now let's talk about that first i love you!
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sam found the necklace and brings it up after the big fight and everyone's getting literal medical treatment (wodkoajdosncosbxisjdosjdo) anyways. she asks if it's his and he said it was supposed to be a present for her but (she cuts him off) "i broke up with you before you could give it to me" and this sparks the conversation "so you weren't really fine with breaking up?" "well it's not what i wanted but you said you weren't okay. you needed some time and i just seemed like that was more important." she says thank you and it means a lot to her "of course........(extremely long pause but he has a loving glance).... i mean that's what you do when you love someone right?"
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"you've never said that before." "well, i do" blah blah "i love you too" HETEROSEXUAL KISSING TW
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a mutual kiss here. noticing how both their eyes are closed. 🧐 (this is at the end of the season)
for mike,
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there are 5 other people around. he isn't saying it to her. she's not in the room. hes upset and trying to prove hes right and cares about el. (also in the same breath he tells a false statement which to me discredits anything he says (/j) "and i don't want her to die looking for the flayed when obviously they've vanished off the face of the earth" the flayed did not vanish! this is disproven!) i think he loves el and cares abt her just not romantically btw
when el walks in he has a face of regret, not embarrassment or flustered lol he just plays dumb and forcefully says "Nothing. Nothing!" lookijg down and away from her after she asks what's going on and then lucas says "just family stuff" <- lying for his bestie (true ride or die honestly)
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and then... the notorious ending scene
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he gives her the bear! #MIDLEVEN ENGAME ok im kidding. so here he gave her this bear because she was too short to reach it and she lost her powers (his needless worrying payed off huh) so he reassures her that her powers will come back (they don't. not on their own.) now i think this is different from the octopus because there's no emotional value to them, he didn't buy it, he wasn't giving her a childhood bear, im pretty sure that's will's bear anyways. the bear means nothing. it doesn't symbolize anything for their relationship.
and then they talk, cerebro, thanksgiving christmas, presents, (sorry that made me sound like a 7 yr old) and it's so awkward. they made up in the hospital but that was weird and awkward too. it's really shown they don't talk much due to lack of common interest and el not really caring for mike's interests and it really shows. intyways, el walks away and mike sorta stands there . in front of the open closet (he also sort of . half smiles. relieved? content? but then he shakes it off) and then she turns around and
he actually doesn't understand at first ("your heart") and then when he does he tries to play it off because it doesn't really look like he wants to talk about it... he doesn't seem to like being vulnerable with her! he looks down and away, and asks what he said exactly. and she kisses him, open closet, open eyes,
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he doesn't move and it's very stiff and it's not MUTUAL.
and see the season doesn't END there? (duh they're not the main focus) it ends (on mikes part) with
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even though miguel and sam are not the main focus (and also the season doesn't end on their kiss also) that's how their arc ends. that's the last scene. the midleven "make up" is overshadowed by byers + el moving away. and probable a realization on mikes part. mikes only gone to his mom for comfort 1 other time and it was because will's body was pulled from the river
OK IM DONE! THIS ACTUALLY JUST TURNED INTO MY SEASON 3 THOUGHTS KINDA! THANK YOU FOR LISTENING
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and-stir-the-stars · 2 years
Text
These Tears Dry
summary: Au where Cas says goodbye to Sam post 15x03, intending to go back to Heaven
ao3
Notes Please note that what Sam and Dean call "angel radio," angels call "receiving revelation" Takes place a month and a half after Cas leaves the Bunker in 15x03
...
Sam had pushed himself too hard on his run this morning. 
His entire body was sore and aching, there was a cramp in his side like he hadn't gotten since he had first started going on runs years ago, and he was still half-panting even as he dug through his wardrobe for a change of clothes. His running clothes were plastered to his skin, which was itchy and damp from sweat. He was desperate for a shower. 
Sam had been going farther and farther on his morning runs lately, spending longer and longer away from the Bunker. He liked that jarring feeling of his feet slamming into the ground, one after the other in a predictable and familiar pattern. He liked the way everything seemed to fade away as he ran and his world got reduced to the bare simplicities: the feeling of concrete and hard-packed dirt under his feet, the whoosh of air through his hair and fingertips, and the burning in his lungs. Nothing else mattered as long as he was running. He didn't have to think about anything. 
There were a lot of things he didn't want to think about these days. 
No.
Sam grabbed a t-shirt and jeans at random and made his way to the bathroom. He had almost closed the bedroom door behind him when the ringing of a phone froze him in his tracks. 
Sam ran back into his room so fast he tripped over his feet and almost slammed face-first into the floor. His eyes shot wildly around the room-- where had he left his phone? -- before the phone rang again and his gaze snapped to the nightstand. He was across the room before the second ring finished, but his heart sank when he saw the caller ID flashing on the screen. 
It was an unfamiliar string of numbers. 
He could have thrown the damn phone into the wall. It had been a month and a half since Dean had told him that Castiel had left the Bunker. A month and a half of texting Cas every single day, a month and a half of unread messages and unanswered calls, and Sam still expected Cas' name to flash across the screen every time he got a notification. 
Glaring down at the stream of numbers as though they had personally offended him, Sam snatched up his phone and hovered his finger over the decline call button, but stopped himself from hitting it at the last second. The general rule of thumb for hunters was always answer your phone. You never knew whether a friend, or even a friend of a friend, who needed help might be on the other end. 
Sighing, the hunter answered the phone. "Yeah?" 
Silence on the other end. Then, right as the hunter was about to hang up, a voice spoke. "Hello, Sam."
The breath caught in Sam's throat, and he clutched at the edge of the nightstand so hard his knuckles went white. "Cas?" Sam pulled the phone away from his ear long enough to check the caller ID again like he might have somehow missed the angel's name and number, but of course he hadn't. 
A million questions reared their heads from where they had been simmering non-stop in the back of his mind.
Where are you? Are you okay? Why haven't you been answering the phone? Why the hell did you leave without saying goodbye? Are you hurt? Are you coming back? Did you not realize that leaving would fucking crush me? Did you ever stop to think about that? Do you even care?
Sam didn't say any of them. "Cas, it's-- it's good to hear from you again."
He waited, but there was nothing on the other end. "Uh, Cas? Are you…"
"I'm here," the angel interrupted, and Sam could have cried hearing Castiel’s familiar rumble after so long of silence and fear and uncertainty. And to think that he had almost ignored the call. 
Suddenly Sam's knees gave out and he half-sat, half-fell onto the bed behind him. 
Oh, God. He had almost ignored the call. And if Cas had called fifteen seconds later, Sam would have been already down the hall and never would have heard the phone ringing. Cas was right here and Sam had almost missed him. 
"Cas," Sam repeated, trying to keep the panic out of his voice, but why was Cas calling now? What had changed? "Are you okay?"
"I'm… fine, Sam. I'm better than I was, at least. Uh. How are you and… how are you, Sam?" 
"I'm good," Sam said and ignored the way the lie wrenched his stomach. "I've missed you, though, Cas. A lot." The hunter bit his lip, wanting to ask Cas why he hadn't been replying to any of Sam's texts or calls, but fearing what might happen if he pushed. "I didn't recognize the number when you called…" 
"I'm using a payphone. I had my cell phone, but I… broke it," Cas said, but Sam could tell there was something the angel wasn't saying there. Something about Castiel’s tone made Sam wonder if the broken phone had truly been accidental. 
Sam had tried tracking Cas through his phone two weeks ago. He hadn't wanted to invade Cas' privacy initially, but after a month of silence and not knowing what had happened to his friend or if Cas was okay and of getting only non-answers every time he asked Dean about what had happened, Sam had broken. But the website hadn't worked. None of the phone tracking websites or apps had worked.
It hadn't been lost on Sam that Cas had known him and Dean long enough to know some of their most basic tracking methods. To know to ditch his phone if he didn't want to be found. And his car. Sam had tried tracking that, too, before concluding that Cas must have changed trucks after he left. 
"Oh." Sam opened his mouth to offer Cas one of their spare phones-- that was a reasonable way of getting Cas to come back, right? -- but that wasn't what came out. "I prayed to you." 
A heavy sigh came over the phone, and Sam felt it like a blow to the chest. 
"I turned those off, Sam. My head, it's-- it's been loud enough without adding prayers on top of it. And I needed time to think." 
The ache spreading through Sam's chest eased. For a second, he had thought Cas just hadn't cared. Then Sam immediately felt guilty for being relieved, because Cas sounded so goddamn tired and there was clearly something going on with him. Cas wouldn't have left otherwise. Or called.
"I get that. I mean-- I mean, I wish you would have said goodbye, at least, but I get it. Needing space to clear your head." 
"I wish…" Cas' voice was quiet on the other end. "I wish that I could have been there for you after what happened with Rowena. But I-I couldn't. And I don't regret leaving, Sam. I don't." 
"I don't understand." Sam's eyes were stinging.
"You never even asked me if I was okay," Cas whispered. "I know Mary was your mother, but she was my friend, she was my friend and I lost her, then my father, and--and Jack. And then when that demon--"
There was a static warbling sound like the rush of air when you moved a phone away from your face too quickly. 
"You just expected me to be okay with it," Cas continued when the warbling had finished. "To be able to look that-- that thing in the face every day like it didn't tear me apart every time, like you didn't care. Both of you. Neither of you said a goddamn word."
"That's not true," Sam said, horrified. They did care, there was just-- so much going on--
Cas laughed. It was harsh and bitter, but mostly, it was just empty. Sam had never heard Cas like that before, and it made the blood burn cold in the hunter’s veins.
"I suppose you're right. Dean said something, at least. He told me it was my fault." 
"What?" Sam asked, horrified. "When?"
"It doesn't matter. This--this isn't why I called you. I didn't mean to say any of that," Cas said. "Not after… not after Rowena." 
"What, do you…" Sam swallowed hard. "Do you think I blame you for her death?" How the hell could he blame Cas for that when it was his hands that pushed a knife into her gut? "I don't, Cas." 
There was that warbling sound again, and this time, Sam thought he heard Cas let out a sigh or a shaky breath in the background. 
"I meant that you deserve time to grieve," Cas said, though Sam noted that he didn't answer Sam's question."Time to heal without me laying that burden on you." 
Sam said nothing. He didn't know what to say to that. He had always known that Cas must have left for a good reason, but that hadn't stopped the voice in Sam’s head from whispering that it was his fault Cas had left, that Cas just didn't care about someone as pathetic as him.
But this? This was worse. Because Cas did care, but Sam-- him and Dean-- they had made Cas feel like he had to leave anyway. They had made their best friend feel like he couldn't be around them anymore. And despite that, Cas was still trying to protect him, in his own way.
"You said--" Sam had to clear his throat to speak around the lump painfully lodging itself there. "You said that this wasn't why you called?"
"No. I wanted to let you know," Cas said. "That I'm going to Heaven." 
Sam blinked, and for a terrifying second, he thought Cas meant he was going to kill himself. 
"I'm not far from the Gate," the angel continued, and Sam finally realized what he meant. 
"You're what?" Sam asked, alarmed. Heaven was nowhere near as powerful as it had once been, but it was still bad news. What the hell was Cas thinking? 
"I told you," Cas said. "I've been thinking. And I realized that I don't know if any of the angels up there know. About--about Chuck, about what he did, the real reason why my brothers and I were even created."
"But can't you just, I don't know, leave them a message over angel radio?"
Cas was quiet for a long moment. "You would have me tell my siblings through a--a voice mail that our father never cared about them?"
"That… that wasn't what I meant." 
"I need to do this in person, Sam. Chuck has ripped my family apart enough. I need-- I need to take the time to put whatever is left of my family back together again." 
Sam had heard Cas refer to the angels as his siblings, as his brothers and sisters, but the hunter wasn't sure he had ever heard Cas call them family before. Not like this. "But-- but we're your family, too," Sam said, just stopping himself from adding a wobbly 'right?' at the end.
"Don't," Cas said, his voice quiet but firm. "I have spent the last decade fighting for your cause and trying to be a part of your family. I have sacrificed more for you than you could ever know. Now, after everything, I need to be with my people again. That's why I called you. Once I'm in Heaven…" Cas hesitated. "I might not come back." 
Sam's breath caught in his throat. "But…" 
"I thought you deserved to know," Cas said quietly. "I can turn your frequency of revelation back on if you want, for if you ever need anything, but-- but I won't keep it on if all you do is try to change my mind. So much has happened in Heaven, and when I tell them about Chuck--" 
Cas sighed. "We'll need time. Time to piece ourselves back together, to make sense of everything. And I don't know how long we'll have left before Chuck makes his next attack, so I need to do this, and I won't be moved."
Sam pressed the back of his hand against his mouth as a wave of anger and despair and self-pity washed over him and a sob burned the base of his throat. "You're not worried that the angels will turn on you? Attack?" 
"I would have been, once. But not anymore. Heaven has changed. There's… there's just not many of us left."
 "But I--I might never see you again?"
A pause. "...I wasn't sure you would care."
"Of course I care!" Sam's voice broke. "You're my best friend!" 
"Then why weren't you there for me?" 
Sam flinched.
"Why did it take me leaving for you to finally reach out to me?" 
"I…"
"Because there was too much happening," Cas murmured. "Because you needed to focus on the mission. Fixing Hell. Stopping Chuck. There's always another mission that's more important than me." 
Sam said nothing. Cas might as well have ripped open the hunter's chest and completely hollowed him out. There were no words inside him, no way to argue. The angel was telling the truth, and Sam knew it. 
"That's why I need to go back to Heaven. Why I want to go back. I've spent too long placing other things above my family there." 
Sam picked at a chipped part on the edge of the nightstand, feeling the edges of the wood press into his fingertips. "You should do it," he said quietly.
A pause on the other end. "You… agree with me?" 
The hunter nodded, then belatedly realized Cas wouldn't be able to see. "Yeah. I think you're doing the right thing. Just-- just be safe, please?" 
"I will," Cas said. "And, Sam? Thank you." 
"Of course." 
Sam swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say next. 
Before he could, Cas cleared his throat. "I think it's time for me to go." 
"Cas? Cas, wait." 
"Yes?"
"Before you go, I want you to know…" Sam took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "I want you to know that I've missed you, that I still miss you. I know that-- that you need time, and I'm okay with that, but it means the world to me that you called." Sam pulled his hand away from the nightstand to rub at his eyes again. "I love you, Cas."
Castiel went silent on the other end, but Sam could hear the angel's shaky breaths coming across the phone speaker. The silence kept going and Cas' breathing became more and more uneven, more and more like crying, and Sam wondered if his words had been too much. 
"I…" Cas started, but his voice shattered. 
"You don't have to say anything. I didn't say that because I was expecting something back, okay? You don't owe me anything. I just wanted you to know."
"O-Okay." 
"I hope you find what you're looking for." 
"I do, too," the angel murmured. "Thank you. Goodbye, Sam. Look after yourself." 
"Bye," Sam whispered.
There was a shuffle and a click as Cas ended the call. 
Sam reached up, rubbed the dampness away from the skin under his eyes, and told himself it was nothing more than sweat. 
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elamimax · 1 year
Text
Principles of Non-Euclidean Romance
Okay, because I wanted an excuse to post this: An Eldritch abomination (Sammaël, for convenience) has split off a piece of itself (Sam) to experience music (it has already cried to Bonnie Tyler's I Need A Hero and can you honestly even blame it) but now it seems it has to reconceptualize all of its ten dimensions while in a frail little human form. This is actually quite well into the story, so if you were already planning on reading this novella, there might be (will be) spoilers. Enjoy!
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Sam floated in the nothing, the nothing before waking up, when unconsciousness is a blanket slipping away. But Sam was not an ordinary person, and her consciousness wasn’t either. She held onto the blanket, and looked into the Darkness, which has less in common with regular darkness and more with the traditional abyss. The biggest difference is that the Darkness screens its calls. Sam stared into the Darkness. It stared back. This wasn’t going to keep working, was it? No, the Darkness seemed to say, although it didn’t say anything, of course. It isn’t. So, what then? Sam thought. The world was falling apart, on a bigger and bigger scale. Reality was beyond fraying, it was tying itself into knots to keep from turning into spaghetti. If she kept repeating the same pattern, it was only a matter of time before she was just a pair of eyeballs in a bowl of soup, bubbling up letters to talk. She was going to have to do something different, this time.  Yes, the Darkness didn’t say. You are.
But what? She looked up, although ‘up’ was a ridiculous concept when you were floating in the nothing between sleep and dreams. Up there* was Sammaël. Her original identity. The One she came from. She wondered if it could see her** and how different it was from her now. Was she her own person, or was she a small aspect of a larger creature? And would it be best to return to it, after all? She’d caused all of this, hadn’t she?
*ish **It can, and it waves at her. She can’t see it.
Yes. She thought and tried to imagine the universe, all of it, and found herself failing. Okay, fine, this meaty human brain didn’t have a way to easily conceptualize it. That was something she’d learned to accept, but she knew how to do this when she had thought herself into being aeons ago. She’d start from scratch, if she had to.  She imagined a dot. No dimensions. A point. Points were easy. Every entity could be represented by a dot. It was both every dimension and none. It was the zero and the one. Then, a line. Infinite points adjacent to each other, on one axis. A line, going from somewhere to somewhere, infinitely long and infinitely thin.  One dimension. Then, another line next to the first. And another, and another. Infinite lines, adjacent to each other, until there was a plane, perfectly visible in her mind. Planes were easy. You could draw stories on them. Write on them. They were easy to imagine.  Two dimensions. Still very easy. So stacking planes on top of each other was also easy. Stacking them above and below until this infinite plane covered every conceivable corner of the imaginary space. This was now imaginary space, stretching up, down, left, right, forward and backwards. Space. Three dimensions. This was where things got tricky. She reduced space to a point. For ease of imagination, she turned the point into an apple. All of space. As an apple. She imagined the exact same apple, one unit later. In the same space, but still different. All coordinates the same, except the fourth. The apple, but a little older. She imagined it older and older, rotting and falling apart, and then younger, becoming first red again, then green, and then turning into a bud, then nothing. Then, she imagined every point next to each other. A line. Time. 
Four dimensions. She took a deep breath. Now she had to go quantum, and going quantum was one of those things that was usually a bad idea unless you were an interdimensional horror from beyond the bounds of reality. It never ended well for superheroes and action heroes, after all. Across all of time, there had been trillions of quantum particles, existing in superposition until they collapsed. And every one of them could have collapsed in a different way. Every single one branching off from the original line. Every single one adjacent. Parallel. Infinite lines, next to each other. Creating a plane.  Five dimensions. Sam stood on the time plane and looked up. This bit was easy, at least. The universe was built on numbers, and all those numbers were reducible. The distance between atoms. The strength of covalent bonds. Up and down, infinite planes made of infinite timelines, and almost all except the one she was on mostly useless. If the universe had been slightly different, it would’ve been incapable of life. Sometimes even incapable of fission, or forming planets. But they were there. Spacetime. Six dimensions. She took a deep breath. Floated in the void for a bit. Now she had to get… conceptual. Weird with it. But it was fine. She’d done this before. Sure, back then she’d eaten concepts alive, and they had been a tasty cheat-day treat, too. Now, she wasn’t even sure about chocolate. But she could do this. Couldn’t she?  
Yes, the Darkness implied. You do. All of spacetime existed. In a single point. An apple in an apple. No, that didn’t help. A hypercube. A cube extruded from itself in every possible direction. Slightly better, but useless. She tried, instead, to imagine a field. Now, she imagined one next to it, but where concepts were slightly different. A tree in a point in space and time. The same tree, shifted across all axes, and then��� then just one more. An idea. The tree not growing apples, but pears. Then oranges. Then nuts. Then pineapples. Bananas. Carrots. Potatoes. Further. Trees growing smaller trees. Every conceivable concept. Growing on a tree. And then all of them in a line. Every concept. As fruit on a tree. All in a line.  Seven.  Then, every concept instead of every concept. Lines adjacent. A plane of concepts. Everything that could be. Everywhere. All at once.  Eight.  And then, everything that can’t. Up and down. Infinitely. Nine. Squeemp. The final axis of dimensionality. Sam realized she’d been holding her breath, which was a hell of a feat when she wasn’t even technically breathing. But the idea made sense, now. She could see it. The nine base dimensions. And now, the fracture. But it was going up, wasn’t it? Space itself seemed to be fine. Space falling apart was usually a lot of nothing. Nothing and nuclear fission.
And then, everything that can’t. Up and down. Infinitely. 
 This was different. The cause was time. And that was simple to pinpoint too. There was a tear, across reality. Someone had ripped it like a cheap cloth, and now the whole thing was bleeding in on each other, and it wasn’t going to last much longer like this. And Sam knew she had done all of this. She had rewound time, that first time. Not as Sammaël, who was all-present and powerful. Sam, before she’d known she was Sam, limited by a frail human body and a frail human mind to go with it. She’d shattered reality, and it was killing her over and over again. She was at the center of it. She was going to have to fix it.  Yes.  She was going to have to go back. Back back. Not just in Time, or Space, or Squeemp. Reduce all of them to a point. Go a step back.  Ten dimensions. But she couldn’t do that.  No. But someone else could.  Yes.
She looked into the Darkness, and Sammaël looked back at her. Had it always been so… terrifying in its formlessness? It didn’t scare her, because she knew it. And she’d conceptualized herself more than half of the way there, and she was even a little proud of that.  I have no need for Pride. “I do.” Interesting.
If you liked this and want to read more, consider picking up the whole book! It's on amazon right here. It's about an eldritch abomination trans lesbian in a time loop.
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lawandordersource · 1 year
Note
Just jumpin' in on the Mike Cutter Appreciation here. When it was announced that Fred Thompson was leaving, they were going to make Jack DA, thus reducing his screen time a bit, I was skeptical as all hell about Linus Roache and the new character, where the name hadn't even been announced yet (and nothing against Linus then either, I enjoyed his portrayal of Bobby Kennedy in the TV movie RFK).
After the season 18 premiere, I basically went, "Huh, they might've done the impossible and found a worthy successor to Jack."
And it was done so well. His early relationship with Connie was also great since she had apprenticed (basically) under Jack and clearly respected him that she also seemed rather skeptical of Mike early on. The vibe was, "Okay hotshot, let's see how good you really are."
And it was just great seeing the combative & father/son at times relationship Jack and Mike had. You recently posted those gifs from "Take Out" and I still chuckle at Jack telling Mike, "I don't know how to break this to you, Mike, but yours is not the only case on my plate."
And his ask got so long, sorry about that, but yeah. Mike Cutter was great and I still hold out hope that he's somewhere in the DA's office still.
Here's to earnest civil servants.
hey, it's holly again, the resident mike cutter stan on the blog!
i think a lot of people probably responded to mike initially the way you did—sam waterston/jack mccoy is a ridiculously tough act to follow, and i think that's part of why they didn't do the reshuffle sooner. how do you follow up Thee Jack McCoy??? it's a near-impossible task!
but yes, i totally agree that linus roache knocks it out of the park. he breathes a new life into the show, channeling the firebrand streak of early jack but making it his own with icy rage, and creates a complicated, wounded semi-anti-hero worthy of the series. same goes for the dynamics crafted between him and connie, and him and jack—sure, there are plenty of parallels between jack/claire and jack/adam schiff (which i'm sure is intentional), but they're a well-balanced triumvirate that makes it so easy to root for all of them as a team (i could go on for hours about the mike/jack surrogate father relationship, but i won't—although my personal blog dms and asks are always open, haha!)
i don't know how many people have seen this (or if this was intentional on the part of the set designers) but in season 21 a couple of people spotted this sign in the DA's office (thank you to @scoriasoil for the pics + the original post):
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since it says "chief assistant d.a." and not "executive" (mike's original title and jack's title when he first joined the show), it gives the impression that both mike and connie have been promoted (i guess she came back from the feds since that season 15 svu episode!) and are still at the DA's office—i have to believe it's canon! (in a more recent episode from season 22, they changed the sign to read "chief asst. D.A. nolan price" which DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. that's literally not his title!!! ANYWAY...)
this is probably a wayyyyy longer answer than you wanted, but that's the price you pay for mike cutter appreciation from me, haha.
indeed, here's to earnest civil servants! :)
~holly
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shrinkthisviolet · 2 years
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My Overall CK S5 Review
Okay so!! I’ve had thoughts percolating in my brain since I watched the season over the weekend, and here’s my attempt to combine them into something coherent.
First of all, let me say this, spoiler free: the season is a great experience imo. There were things I didn’t like, but honestly, I enjoyed this season more than s4! Especially the fight scenes, those were incredible. If you didn’t enjoy this season, I totally get why, but after s4, my bar was so low and this season definitely went over it 😂 so I’m happy.
Beyond that…spoilers below the cut, so don’t click if you don’t want those.
So I’m gonna start with the bad and end with the good. The bad:
The Johnny-Miguel-Robby arc. Literally the only parts I liked were the parts without Johnny in them: the Miguel-Robby heartfelt talk, backing each other up in Cobra Kai, etc. But…the stuff with Johnny didn’t land.
Johnny basically told Robby he was only making amends “so he didn’t have to live with regret”…aka he’s making this about himself yet again, not about Robby. And he suggested these two, who have a history of fights gone wrong, fight it out in the apartment complex…and when Johnny lost sight of them, Robby almost fell off a balcony! (As in, Miguel almost kicked him off but then stopped). Like?? Hello?? This is not how you reconcile fighting teen boys!
And then we come to the reason why that happened: BabyGate. I didn’t like this at all. It was so transparently meant to serve as Johnny’s main reason for reconciling Miguel and Robby, which just…again, weird?? Reconciliation should be about them, not about “well we’re having a baby so shape up”!
It also reduces Carmen to a love interest again (a problem ever since s3), and a baby incubator. Like…that’s her whole personality now. What happened to the awesome, take-no-bs nurse who turned Johnny away every time Miguel got hurt?? The one who sees Johnny’s bad habits, the one who ran away from her previous husband because of a bad feeling…now she suddenly wants a kid with Johnny?? After how Johnny has treated Robby, how he’s treated Miguel?? I think the only understandable reaction is Anoush’s sarcastic “congrats on procreating.”
Beyond that, Kenny was sent further down the CK corruption path, as I feared…the toilet scene was so disturbing. Like honestly, wtf?? Not much more to say about that, but…yeah I found that whole thing distasteful.
The Mexico arc was pointless and added nothing, but I can’t really be mad because that’s a holdover from s4 so 🤷‍♀️ honestly they wrapped that up the best they could, it wasn’t gonna be any better (it could’ve been a lot worse tbh).
The Sam & Tory reconciliation…ehh? I mean it wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great. Tory hasn’t apologized for the school fight or for the home invasion, and until then, a friendship between them doesn’t feel super strong and lasting. I was glad to see them friends, but they really need to talk things out, and Tory needs to apologize for traumatizing Sam twice. That needs to happen next season or be alluded to (time passes between seasons sometimes, so I can believe it happened if the show suggests it).
If you’d asked me yesterday, I’d put the Daniel vs Silver fight here too, but…honestly I’m kinda on the fence about it? I watched it again, and I see what other people on here mean when they say Daniel was using defense against Silver, twisting his method against him. Like that was cool, I’ll admit. But I think him doing kata, beating Silver like he beat Barnes (thus showing that Silver still underestimates him, because Daniel never needed him) would’ve been a lot better. But…hey, I cheered when Daniel crane-kicked him, I’m only human 🤷‍♀️ so yeah. Mixed feelings.
I skipped most of Kreese’s scenes except the ones with Tory, Daniel, and Johnny, and the therapy scene, and tbh I regret nothing. Glad I did that, I’d do it again.
Now on to the good!
Chozen is an absolute star, I love him. I wish we got more of him, especially him infiltrating CK…I felt like that was cut short too early. Especially with him mentoring Tory!
Amanda’s backstory is fantastic. s4 did a great job with it (surprisingly), and s5 carries that forward. I love her being Jessica’s cousin, I love her being a rebellious teen…I love all of it, honestly!
On that note, I originally put the Amaniel drama in the bad stuff section while watching, but seeing how it ended, with Jessica telling Amanda the truth about KK3…it’s in the good things column. I was crying when Jessica finally told Amanda everything, I’ve dreamed of the day she finally found out! And though I wished it was Daniel going into s5, I’m glad it wasn’t. The way Silver messed with his head this season…I’m glad it was someone who saw it firsthand and could tell Amanda in his stead.
Mike Barnes was a surprisingly great addition?? Didn’t expect that 😂 wish we got more of him, and I never thought I’d say that.
Sam this season was incredible, so was Tory’s arc at CK, so was Robby’s arc of trying to save Tory and Kenny, so were the adults’ arcs (not Johnny’s, as discussed)…and so was the new CK sensei! And…I didn’t know how they were gonna do the tournament placeholder, but they made it work, kudos to them!
So yeah, there are my thoughts! Thought it was great with room for improvement, and I’m cautiously optimistic about s6
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carryon117 · 2 years
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Fight Back
Rage fills your bones as you watch the newscaster speak. Your thoughts are spinning a hundred miles a minute. How could this happen? How could they do this? You’re one of the first to admit that nothing was perfect before this, but now… Now it is different.
You had woken up earlier to start your normal morning routine, a cup of coffee and bowl of cereal in front of the news before beginning your morning workout in the gym while the rest of the team is either out on a run or still asleep. Today, instead of getting up when you finished, you are still staring at the screen hours later.
The team starts to trickle in, the boys back from their run, Wanda and Nat walking through on their way to the kitchen for their morning coffee, but you barely notice the movement around them. All you can focus on is the words on the screen and the pounding in your chest.
You don’t even notice the shaking in your hands until someone else places theirs over yours to still their movements. At the touch you look up into the concerned eyes of Steve.
“Are you okay?” He asks tentatively, his blue eyes searching yours for an answer.
“No.” You don’t care to elaborate. The rage that runs through your mind is quickly turning to shock. How? Why?
“It’s going to be alright-” Steve begins before a glare from you cuts him off.
“No it won’t.” You finally find the strength to stand, allowing for the rage to return. “Nothing about this is alright. Not only did I wake up with less rights than I had yesterday, not only does a gun have more rights than I do, but they have already begun to make their moves against same sex marriage and contraception amongst other things. They didn’t even wait until the smoke had cleared before continuously pulling the trigger.”
You aren’t sure if your shaking is from exhaustion, stress, or rage, and you don’t care. “What is so wrong about letting someone make their own choices? What is so wrong with who people love?” The tears run down your face, and you don’t care to try and stop them.
You finally gain the courage to look your teammates in the eyes. “I’ve already lost friends to this battle, and I’m not ready to lose more.”
The silence in the room is deafening.
“Then don’t.” Nat says, stepping towards you. You look at her with a question on your face. “You said that you don’t want to lose anymore, then don’t. Fight back.”
Your voice is quiet, throat hoarse from silent sobs, “How?”
“I can donate to Planned Parenthood and other organizations.” Tony speaks up. “Throwing money at the problem won’t make it go away, but it can make it harder to fight against.” He says with a wink.
Wanda slides over to you. “I have seen that we can help others by offering them safe camping spots.” She smiles. “I would love to meet and help new people.”
Sam throws an arm around you. “We can all help people get to and from polls and help get people registered to vote. Voting is one of the easiest ways to fight back.”
You start to smile, there are things you can do.
“As far as everything else,” Bucky starts. “Don’t let them do anything behind closed doors. Don’t let anything go without a fight or letting your voice be heard.”
Bruce speaks up. “That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government. And when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such a government, and to provide new guards for their future security.”
You look at the scientist with a half smile.
Steve steps in, “In other words, if they don’t listen to the millions of voices yelling. We fight back.”
You feel the shock start to wear off, to be replaced by a sense of duty, of purpose.
Finally Nat speaks again, “We are with you. We are with the people. And if they don’t want to listen…” She smiles, baring her teeth. “An empire lasts 250 years on average, the States have been around for 246 years. It could be time for some change.”
You smile back at her. “Change is coming. They want to burn us, they can burn with us.”
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or-something-better · 2 years
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Sam & Ruby
May 1, 2022
Ruby
Taking a reprieve from Hell, I popped home to see if Sam wanted to go get something to eat. He’d started a subscription for some frozen smoothie thing, but somehow that just didn't sound appetizing.
At the apartment, it took about two seconds to register that Sam was laying on the floor in the bedroom, Crowley was making strange, intermittent noises, and there was smoothie…EVERYWHERE.
Rushing over to Sam and quickly checking for his pulse, thankfully I found it, a little thready, but there. Lifting his eyelid, I yelled.
 “Sam? Sam!!” 
No answer. Ignoring the smoothie mess, pushing on his shoulder and practically laying across him just to have leverage, I managed to get him on his back and checked his airway. He seemed to be breathing okay.
Standing and slipping in the mess, I stepped over him and knelt by his head. Patting his cheek just short of slapping him.*
“Sam!” 
Still nothing. With a deep breath to calm and center myself, I put both hands on Sam’s chest, sending my healing energy through his body. 
    “O dea adiuva me hominem hunc circumfer. Cura eum ac reduc ad me.”
Giving the spell a chance to work its magic, I wet a cloth from the bathroom and put it across Sam’s forehead. Glancing over I could see Crowley, unmoving, but vibrating with soft scraping noises. He’d valiantly kept on at his job regardless of the fruity mess now clogging his gears.
Sam
The rapid fluttering of my unrestrained eyelids and feeling of pressure along the length of my body, were the first gasps of recognized thought that returned to me. Being able to freely move my arms, sparked the second grab for consciousness.
My arms moved? Hope slammed into my chest like a bullet, while I’M FREE ricocheted through me! Opening my eyes and squinting against the brightness, the first things to come into focus were my arms, all red and covered in hunks of darker red.
“Nooooooo!” Thrashing in horror, my own voice filled my ears as I realized it was all just another trick, another torture from the Hell pit.
Ruby
Seeing the look of fear on his face,  I’m afraid he might hurt himself while in this nightmare of his. Looking around frantically, I grab the cover at the end of the bed and use it to throw over his arms and lay across him.
“Sam! Sam, it’s Ruby!” 
Sam
The sudden weight across my middle knocks the air out of me and I'm unable to continue to scream. After sucking in enough air to breathe, I can finally hear the sound of my own name being called. Freezing completely still, I notice the lack of any kind of pain and what sounds like Ruby's voice. Now real confusion is what dominates my mind.
"Ru-Ruby?"
Ruby
“I’m here Sam. I’m here.” Carefully I sit back, watching him become fully awake. 
“You’re all right, Sam. You’re with me.”
Sam
Almost afraid to believe, I take the brave step of opening my eyes and can see Ruby’s familiar face in front of me.
“Ruby?” 
Pulling my arm from under the blanket, I again see all the mottled red and jump, frantically trying to smother what must surely be flames against the blanket over me.
Ruby
“Take it easy Sam. You’re safe. You’re safe! 
Sam
The words she was speaking finally reached the part of my brain that was still processing and gradual awareness of where I actually was returned. Focusing on the sights before me, I recognized that the apartment bedroom surrounded me, not the Hell pit anymore.
“Ruby… is that… is that really you?”
Ruby
“It’s me, Sam. It’s me. You’re here, in the apartment.” I pat him on the leg to reassure him.
Sam
Sitting up enough to support myself on my elbows, I look around the room and an adrenaline rush of a different sort knocks into me. I was Free! This… whatever it had been, was over!  My heart pounded in my chest and my whole body started to tremble.
Unable to control my own body movements, I sit up completely and scoot back using my feet to rest with my back against the side of the bed. Hanging my head, I pull my knees up and lean forward with my arms resting on them. Trying to take small breaths, I fought back the elated panicky feeling.
Ruby
Watching Sam, I see he’s struggling with his feelings right now. I got up and went into the kitchen for a beer, giving him a moment. Taking a moment for myself, I open the beer, take a big drink and go back to Sam.
I kneel down beside him and sit back on my legs. Tapping his left bicep with the bottle, I hand him the beer.
Sam
I felt Ruby leave the room and was grateful for the chance to collect myself alone. Tipping my head back, I took a deep breath in and blew it out forcefully to the ceiling and it helped get the trembling a bit under control. It didn’t take any time at all before I heard footsteps coming back and a new different kind of panic washed over me. Don’t make me talk about this…don’t make me talk about this was the chanted prayer inside my head.
Feeling the tap against my arm, I look down and reach across for the beer. With still trembling hands, I bring it to my mouth and take the first drink my abused body had known for over 20 days.
Ruby
Quietly I whisper the obvious  “You were back there…”
Sam
Feeling the instant threat of tears, I finally met her concerned gaze and gave her a slight nod, with a cracking voice I choked out “The Pit.”
With her four little words, Ruby let me know that she already understood what happened. There wasn’t any need for me to say anything at all. Hell’s horrors were ones she’d had the strength to endure for a millennia and now here she sat, patiently, providing me with the grounding I needed to try and shake off what happened. There would be time later to begin to figure out the trigger event, but for now… those four little words are the only ones I need to hear.
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