#sam calling them little howler

[nescaveckwriter]

Stethoscopes & Triangles - Chapter Two ❤️🐞

Sam Winchester x Reader

A/N: Awww !my bugsies, this is just soooo freaking cute, don't get me wrong!!!! I'm still a 'Dean girlie' but 'Sam' is growing on me🥹😱

Side Note: Thank you all for the love and support, I love each and everyone of y'all 🐞❤️🩷🥳

Warnings: Fluff, Hospital scene's, mentions of blood, if anything else, let me know!!!🐞🩷

'You put the boom-boom into my heart (ooh-ooh), you send my soul sky-high, when your lovin' starts, Jitterbug into my brain (yeah-yeah)'  her eyes flung open as the alarm went off, a smile crept onto her lips, tapping on Sam's chest with her fingertips to the beat, her voice fruity, when she starts singing with 'wham' ... 'wake me up before you go-go' ... She starts showering him with little kisses, "wake up, sleepyhead" a sleepy smile tugs at his mouth, his eyes soft as he looks at her beautiful face, "morning sweetie" without any warning he puts his hands on her hips, rolling her over so that he's hovering on top of her, she let's out a giggle, "morning babe".

His lips brushes over hers, the kisses getting more passionate with every second passing, pulling a little back, to come up for air, breathy and with a teasing smile she asks "aren't we going for our morning jog babe?" A devilish grin, forms on his handsome face, "oh I can think of another way we can burn some calories" and with no further hesitation, he kisses her lips, tracing down to her neck, then towards her collar bone, her body reacts too his lips gracing her skin.

Spending the better half off the morning in each other's arms, "I love you so much babe" her voice sweet.

"I love you too sweetie" he says placing a kiss at the crown of her head.

"I wish I could stay like this forever, your arms around me, hearing your heartbeat, but my shift is starting soon" saying with a half smile.

Glancing at the alarm clock his eyes widens, "oh shit, Hun, I'm late again!" He exclaims

"What?" Concern evident on her face

Teasing her, "it's your fault, don't act so innocent"

Pouting now! "How is it my fault"?

"Well it's your alluring beauty, that forces me to stay of course!" He mocks

Both of them burst into laughter as they get out of bed, while there busy getting ready for the day, they laugh and chat, like they do every morning. In the kitchen she makes the coffee, throwing some muesli and yogurt into 'to-go' bowls, as they will not have time to eat at home.

 Getting into Sam's car, driving her towards the subway train station, kissing each other goodbye, he drives off to his office, as she gets on the train, the hospital being on the opposite side of where they live, its just easier for her to commute this way.

---

Looking at the watch, what Amy gave him, for his birthday last year, engraved with, Love, Amy��, cussing himself for walking into his office so late. 

''Morning Sir,'' the woman's voice sounded sugary

Confused expression on his face ''And you are?''

A smile on her, face, her almond eyes friendly ''I'm Ruby the temp standing in for Margie, while she's on maternity leave''

Scratching the back off his head ''Oh is it today already, I'm sorry, Hi, I'm Sam Winchester''

A giggle escapes her lips ''Its okay it looks like you had a busy morning''

''You have no idea, Miss? sorry your name? he questioned

''Oh, It's Ruby Jones'' her voice sweet

''Nice to meet you, Any messages?'' he asked

''Yes, two men called, a detective Novak, in connection with a case your working on, and another guy, he wanted to know how your doing, but didn't leave a name or contact details, sorry, would you like some coffee?'' she cheered

With a lifted brow, but with a smile, ''Thanks Ruby, I appreciate, I'm fine with the coffee for now, I'll howler if I need anything else''

''Alrighty Sir'' her voice rang

''Call me Sam'' he shouts as he walks into his office, closes the door behind him, glancing at the notes, his thoughts drifting off to the day he said he was going to college, off course his dad wasn't happy about, but nor was his older brother, Dean, at the time he thought it was because, he wanted to become a lawyer, as he gotten older, he realized, it wasn't the fact that he went to college, it was that he was leaving him behind, Dean has always taken care of him, when they were still little, his older brother carried him out of the house fire that took their mother's life, leaving their father bitter, and ever since that day, Dean swore he'll take care of him, but the day he moved to the city, to study, was like it broke something in their bond.

Every now and then he'll get a call from a man not leaving a name, but he knows its Dean, checking in on him, now and then, he'll wonder what Dean did with his life, of course he misses his big brother, but he has no way of getting in contact with him, and as for his father, he tried giving him a call on the first Christmas, but John was more bitter than ever, cussing Sam out from a side, the only thing he could make out of his dad's drunken slur, was that Dean has left him as well, but he had no information on were he is or what he's doing!

 The beeping sound on his phone, breaks his thoughts, 'Hey babe, have a great day, you've got this, I'm so proud of you, I love you' he loved getting texts from Amy, always telling him that, she's proud of him, and that she loves him, it gives him always that little extra nudge, to do better. Just quickly texting her back, 'Love you too babe, xoxo' before he dials, Detective Novak back.

---

As she walks in the big hospital doors, she reads Sam's text, she smiled, saying underneath her breath ''oh the love I have for that giant man'' walking towards the doctor's lounge, the charge nurse approaches her, her short platinum blonde hair, nicely styled with her longer side bangs, pinned behind her ears, making her high cheekbones more prominent, her olive-green eyes, sparkling and her full lips are turned upwards revealing a big smile, her voice sing-songs ''Hello Doctor Summers''

Her smile still evident on her face showing the dimples, ''Morning Nurse Brown, don't you look full of energy''

''You would be too Amy, George asked me last night to marry him'' she cheered, showing her the princess cut diamond ring on her slender finger.

Excitement in her voice, ''Ada that's amazing, congrats, I'm so happy for you'' pulling her into a celebratory hug. 

''Thank you, it was so romantic, tell you all about it over coffee'' she claimed

''Looking forward to it, Nurse almost Tucker'' she mocks

Only hearing the sing-song laughter as she walks towards the ER, thinking to herself, Ada Brown, is the only real friend she has in the whole hospital, for some reason, she's the only one who could see through her cold exterior, and even though she was reluctant letting a co-worker become a friend, Ada stuck by her side in the four years, she's been working here, and some where along the line, they became like sisters, of course the other staff, has no clue how the friendly outgoing nurse, can be friends with the cold doctor, but if anyone, tries to tell her about how cold and rude Amy is, she'll just shake her head, letting them know, ''you don't know her like I do''

Tying her hair up into a high ponytail, pinning her bangs back, so it doesn't fall in front of her eyes, as she works, reveals her delicate face. Walking out of doctor's lounge with her dark blue scrubs, hugging her hourglass figure, ready for whatever the day holds. As she walks towards the cafeteria for her fifth, espresso, her pager goes off, running towards the ER, ''Where do you need me Nurse Brown'' 

''Trauma Bay 3, Dr. Summers'' she expressed

''Got It'' she exclaimed, as she approached, grabbing a pair of medical gloves, observing a older man, eyes open, confused look on his face, her voice low and gently ''hello, I'm Dr. Summers, mind telling what happened''

The man's voice croaky ''I..I can't remember, I were driving and everything went dark''

A smile on her heart shaped lips, ''Okay well let's see what we can do for you'' her fingers gently runs over, the man's bushy brows, ''this is going to need stitches for sure'' holding her finger, ''follow my finger, from the right to the left please'' the man just whines in response, still confused. ''What's your name'' she questioned

''M..Mike, Mike Sanders'' he answered

''Well MR. Sanders, wish we met under other circumstances, but I'll tell you what, once we've done an x-ray to see in you have any fractures, we'll send you for a head CT, I'm also going to run some labs, to see, if we can spot the reason, why you blacked out behind the wheel okay, and then when you come back, we'll have a nice little chat, about how to make you better,'' saying with a assuring smile. 

''Sounds good Doc'' he expresses

Once she's done with the stitches, she asks the porters to take him for the other tests. Removing her gloves walking over to the nurses station, ''at least he didn't get to hurt in the car crash''

''Yeah, the medics just said, he slightly crashed into a tree, the bystanders said he went very slow,'' nurse Brown said.

 Before Amy could reply a man drenched in blood ran in, holding another man in his arms, unconscious, and bleeding from his neck, ''I need help now'' his rough voice demanded

Amy ran towards them, two others nurses went into the closest trauma bay, to be ready, for what Dr. Summers needs. The man placed the wounded man on the hospital bed, ''He's not breathing, no pulse'' she starts to resituate him, while the other nurse holds pressure on the bullet wound in his neck. The male Nurse let everyone know to stand back, as he places the defibrillator on his chest. 

After a few minutes, and no pulse or heart beat rhythm, Doctor Summer calls it. Walking out towards the man, distorted look on her face, her voice apologetic ''Sorry sir, unfortunately he didn't make it, his blood loss was just to severe.''

The man's face hardens his rough voice, almost screaming, ''No! You better save my brother, now!''

''Sir, I'm so sorry for your loss, but, there's nothing else, I can do'' her voice stern

The man glares at her, his eyes frighteningly dark, walking closer towards his brother, but then suddenly he turns around, pulling out a knife, grabbing the doctor from behind, ''save him now dammit'' he orders

Amy just stands there, her heart beating rapidly as she feels the blade's, sharp edges to her neck, piercing the skin, letting the red liquid seep through, barely breathing, scanning the room as everybody's eyes are glued on her, some shocked, some frightened and some even crying a little. He's warm breath sending shivers up her back, as he demands, they save his brother. In a small voice she tries to talk him down, but the security guard getting closer, upsets the man, making him... 

Chapter Three Here ;)

#spotify #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jared padalecki #jensen ackles x reader #sam and dean #benny lafitte #castiel spn #dean winchester imagine #eileen leahy #stethoscopesandtriangles #bugsies #d nesca

[still-simping-over-sambucky]

Sam calling his and Bucky's children "little howlers" because

a) Bucky once being part of the Howling Commando

b) Bucky being "the White Wolf"

Thanks for listening

#just imagine #sambucky with their little one #sam calling them little howler #maybe they even sound like little wolf pups #bucky blushing because of it #but secretly he's thrilled #sam howling with their little one once they are older #bucky pretends to be annoyed but it #but guess what #he isn't #and AJ and Cass juts go along with it #sambucky family feels #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #sam wilson #sambucky child #winterfalcon #sam x bucky #barnes wilson family

[vibesandwonders]

a tie that binds

Rhodey looks between the two of them; both grinning with unsettling glee. They barely waited for him to retract his helmet before making their request.

“How did you even know I can legally—”

“We’re past that.” Sam interrupts, he’s bleeding from a cut above his eye. Bucky notices it with an eye roll, and, —quite literally— slaps a bandage on it. “We just wanna know if you’ll do it.”

“And if you say no we’ll post about it.” Bucky adds. The buildings behind them smoke. Local authorities had been given the all-clear and are already raiding and arresting. “Instagram and Twitter will come for your ass.” He says with scary confidence.

Rhodey’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click. “You serious?” He asks.

“As a heart attack.”

“As the fuckin’ grave.” They answer in a horrifying tandem.

“Right here?” He watches Bucky move a knife from the inside of his wrist to his ankle for no visible reason. Sam’s only half-listening as Torres and Doppler give up-to-the-minute updates on the situation post-raid.

“Why not?” Buck asks.

Rhodey gives a half hearted gesture at their surroundings.

“We were gonna do a big thing.” Sam says, by way of explanation, “You know, invite all of our closest friends.”

“Enemies too.” Bucky adds, “Give ‘em a solid chance to take a potshot. Maybe take a couple of them down, kind of a two-for-one deal.”

“Wedding present to each other. Good shit like that.” Sam finishes. “But then Barnes here took an armor piercing round to the shoulder.” Bucky turns and shows the massive tear in his jacket on the vibranium arm side.

“And we figured. Life is short,” Sam says.

“—And you are hot.” Bucky quotes with a cheeky tilt to his mouth.

“We’ve been watching Doctor Who ,” Sam explains quickly to Rhodey.

“It’s been around almost as long as me.” Bucky says proudly. “I get to explain pop-culture references to Sam.”

“Research for the time/universe bullshit.”

“Timey-wimey—”

“ Please stop ,” Rhodey begs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And frankly, I don’t want you to explain.” He adds quickly. “I like not being a nerd-ass virgin.” Cuts himself off when he suddenly remembers that he’s somehow officiating their wedding; and has very-recently been witness to their oblivious R-rated behavior. A muscle in his eye twitches.

Sam blinks, then plows ahead unbothered. “Might as well make it official while we’re both young and have all our pieces.”

“Mostly,” Bucky reminds him, waves casually with his prosthetic, waggling his fingers dramatically.

“Fuck you, jackass.” Sam mouths happily. Bucky flips him off.

“Ya’ll got a real messed up thing going.” Rhodey says, reminding them that he’s definitely still in the middle of all this.. “But uh congratulations, I think, Future Wilsons? Barneses?”

There’s the pop of gunfire in the distance. All three heads snap that way, three sets of hands going for various weapons.

“So you’ll do it?” Sam asks, when a quick radio signal indicates that the situation was safe again. They can see the glow of some sort of magic still inside the building.

Fucking multiverse.

“I mean…” Rhodes sighs. “Yeah.”

Sam nods. “You mind if I facetime Sarah and the kids?”

“You’re kidding right?” Rhodey knows the answer. “She can’t be a witness if she’s not physically present—”

“Yeah.” Bucky acknowledges, “We know. I googled it.”

Sam looks pleased and surprised. “When?”

“After we finished clearing out the cult members inside the entry-way.” He shrugs, “There was a lull.”

“I knew getting you that phone was a good idea.”

Rhodey clears his throat. Bucky throws up his hand, “Yeah yeah, I remember, witnesses. Uh…” He looks around, makes eye-contact with a helmeted figure; rattles off something in quick, confident hungarian. Sam fights the urge to find it distractingly hot and fails. The man in SWAT gear stops, halting the prisoner in front of him. Rhodey and Sam wait for the conversation to end. Bucky’s speaking fast and grinning sort of sheepishly. There’s a quick bark of laughter from beneath the helmet.

“He says he’ll witness.” Bucky says.

“I now pronounce you husband and hus—”  There’s a breathtaking flash of color that they’ve all begun to recognize as magic and/or multiverse fuckery, of course,  it comes from over where the Multiverse cult had been performing their ritual, cutting off Sunny’s quick, joyful cheer. She’s holding Alpine and waving her little paws in her little videochat square. Zahra adds something over comms in persian and it makes Bucky blush.

“Ah fuck.” Sam murmurs, “Can’t give us five goddamn minutes to get hitched?”

Bucky squeezes his hand. “Could just let Strange and his people handle it?”

“Look at you acting like you wanna miss out on all the fun.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Sarah?” He says to the screen that the hungarian SWAT officer is holding. “We gotta go."

“Be safe you two,” she says all pixelated. “Or I'll kick your asses.”

Bucky waves and thanks the soldier who hands him his phone and kisses them both unexpectedly on the cheek.

Rhodey watches the whole thing in barely suppressed horror and fascination.

“You ready Cap?” He asks. Sam’s wings unfurl next to him. Torres is saying something about a big-ass, post-wedding party when they get home.

“You two have rings? Or is this uh, a purely gentleman’s handshake kinda deal?”

Sam scratches his head. “Well, uh—”

Bucky shyly pulls a small box from somewhere and tosses it to Sam. “I mighta called in a favor with Shuri—”

Sam opens it, finds a slim band made of a familiar gold metal. Bucky pulls his glove off and wiggles his fingers.

“Figured this’d be easier,” he says. Pointing smugly at the link of metal that had been swapped for gold on his left ring finger. “She took one outta my hand and made yours.” He adds. “I’ve just been uh, waiting for the right moment.”

“Ya’ll done?” Rhoday says tiredly.

Sam winks, pulls Bucky in for a kiss that makes Rhodey groan with annoyance and avert his eyes; slips him a little tongue just to be annoying. Torres (and the rest of the Little Howlers) whoop over the comms. He pulls back. Both now a little breathless, can’t resist, goes in for another. Shorter. Sweeter. The edge of Bucky’s mouth quirks up.

He tilts, looks a little past Sam’s face, pulls a pistol and fires a shot off behind them. Rhodey watches a figure fall from a hidden vantage point too-far for any normal human to hit. The barrel smokes softly.

Sam’s eyes darken, mouth dry. He swallows.

Honestly. Murder Husband hot.

Husband.

And there are no other thoughts for a solid 5 seconds.

“We are in active combat.” Rhodey reminds them, mostly for his sake. They separate hesitantly.

“Don’t do any dumb shit and make me a young widow, okay Barnes?” Sam calls over his shoulder, and then he’s blazing toward a wide wall of shimmering power starting to erode and expand out of the building. Bucky rolls his eyes at Rhodey and takes off running, calling after the winged silhouette.

“It’s young widower asshole.”

I'm on ao3 too :)

the series here

#bucky x sam #sambucky #winterfalcon #sam/bucky #bucky/sam #sam x bucky #the falcon and the winter soldier #captain America and the winter soldier #tfatws fic #caatws fic #enemies to friends to lovers to husbands #just kiss #marvel fic #its all au now #one shot #Rhodey is so tired of them

[catboygretzky]

best stucky fic recs pwease

Okay, disclaimer, these are all like five+ years old (which is the best Stucky era, imo) and definitely not the only ones I enjoy; these are just a few in my bookmarks on ao3.

In no particular order besides the order I bookmarked them and under a read more because there's a shit ton of them (really, it's a lot):

- hold me until we crumble; Not Rated, 23k

“Sam told me you were watching Antiques Roadshow,” Natasha says, shaking out her hair. “I assumed it was a national emergency.”

- despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained); Explicit, 72k

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier��s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

- family means no one gets left behind or forgotten; Teen, 11k

“Why did you think I wouldn’t like you for being gay?” Steve asks gently.

“You’re Captain America.” Eli’s got his teeth clenched and is resolutely looking ahead. “You stand for truth and justice and the American way. You stand for American morals. You stand for…” he shrugs awkwardly. “Not people like me.”

Steve blows the air out of his cheeks slowly, trying to figure out how to keep the anger out of his voice so Eli doesn’t think it’s at him.

Or, Steve comes to terms with his new world, and gains some children in the process.

- Mistake on the Part of Nature; Teen, 1.3k

Steve takes in Bucky's betrayed look and Sam's confusion, follows Sam's gaze to the pile of mangled fruit in the trash can. Sudden comprehension fills his face.

"Oh," he says. "Bucky found out about bananas."

In which an American icon is mourned. But probably not the one you're thinking of.

- Swear Jar; Teen, 1.5k

Bucky isn't the only troll in the future.

OR

Steve has a Swear Jar and he makes the Avengers pay up every time they cuss.

- Barnes & Rogers and the Goddamn Truth; Not Rated, 19k

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

- perfectly right wrong number; Teen, 32k

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

- The power of the right shirt (a.k.a. God bless America); Teen, 1.2k

"He just…" Phil trails off, mouth gaping. He is staring at the field outside the house, eyes glazed.

Clint sighs. "Yeah, he just ripped a log in two with his bare hands."

- To fill it up with something; Teen, 21k

A fateful encounter with Dr. Strange leaves the Winter Soldier transformed, and Bucky Barnes reunites with Steve Rogers in a most unexpected way.

“Steve brings the puppy inside, into the apartment that doesn't quite feel like home no matter how much he's been trying. He isn't used to being alone. Before the war, he always had Bucky, and his mother until her death. During the war, Bucky was there, too—and the rest of the Howlers, of course—but Bucky always meant home. (And well, maybe Steve's already got a name for the puppy in mind)."

- build it bigger than the sun; Teen, 10k

“Yeah, because nothing says heteronormative like living in Dupont Circle for two years and wearing skin-tight shirts to hit on hot airmen when you go running in the morning.”

“Look, I know you’re being sarcastic but I really don’t get how no one picked up on that.”

Steve and Bucky try to work out their relationship. The Avengers keep getting in the way.

- Memories Circle (Like Birds of Prey), Teen, 32k

Everything seems to be going right, Steve's fighting with his Commandos, they've saving lives-- until Steve falls from a train, is taken prisoner, and turned into the Winter Soldier. Meanwhile, Bucky takes up Steve's mantle as Captain America, and thanks to Zola's experiments, he gets dropped into a whole new time, only to cross paths with a Steve who doesn't know who he is anymore.

Essentially, the events of CA:TFA, mild mentioning of Avengers, and CA:TWS but with Steve as the Winter Soldier and Bucky as Captain America

- The Gentleness That Comes; Mature, 9k

Steve Rogers never really views the things he had to do to get by before the War with any sort of shame or embarrassment. People ask him for his opinions on modern issues in interviews, but Steve has gotten good at talking around those types of questions. Fury insists that there's no way to answer them without casting a shadow of controversy across the reputation of the Avengers, and that's the last thing Steve wants.

But then a sex tape is released featuring Tony Stark in bed with another man, and Steve can't stay quiet any longer.

- salt for the sea; Mature, 7.5k

Natasha comes home with intel regarding the fate of the Winter Soldier; Steve leaves to go and avenge Bucky Barnes.

“It's a list of everyone who was involved in his death, and a rough timeline of everything that happened beforehand,” she tells him.

“And the notebook?”

“I explained what they did,” Natasha says, “The blank pages are for you to explain what you do to them.”

- Lone Cat and Samurai; Teen, 8.4k

"We lost Kitten America sir!" Junior Agent blurted out. Then turned an unlovely shade of purple. "I mean, Captain America. Who’s a kitten. Because magic. Sir."

- Waiting To Prove You're Not Alone; Explicit, 41k

Months after he woke up on the banks of the Potomac, when a reporter mistakenly assumes Steve would disapprove of homosexuality being as accepted as it is in the modern day, Steve accidentally snaps and unleashes his real opinion on the matter... and with that, a secret he's hidden for over eighty years.

When that secret comes looking for him in New York, Steve can only hope that he can get a second chance at saving his best friend, even if it means keeping his heart in check.

“Yeah, back in my day it wasn't tolerated, and because of that I knew from the minute I figured it out, that I’d never get to tell my best friend that I loved him, and sure enough, he died without knowing that I’d been in love with him for a decade."

- I'm Not Sick (But I'm Not Well); Mature, 30k

Steve Rogers doesn’t meet Bucky Barnes in the 1930’s. Instead, Steve meets him April 17th, 2012.

Well…sort of meets him.

In actuality, Bucky had almost hit him with his truck.

Or: The fic where millennial Bucky Barnes nearly runs over a freshly thawed national treasure, and what Steve Rogers did to adjust to modern NYC during those two weeks before the events of The Avengers.

- pure as the driven slush; Explicit, 11k

He should have worked it out sooner. But then, Steve always was a sneaky little bastard—had to have been, just to survive this long.

For the SteveBucky Fest prompt, "Steve is quite experienced while Bucky's never gone beyond second base with anyone".

- Let's Be Exposed and Unprotected, Explicit, 5k

Bucky’s pretty sure he should be into getting fucked through the floor while walls explode around him like in that Mr and Mrs Smith movie that Clint loves. But he likes it like this. He likes being on his back with Steve looming above him, big and naked, blocking out the rest of the world.

- Man of Steel; Explicit, 6.7k

It’s like Steve looked at his metal arm and thought ‘Challenge Accepted.’

- 5 Times Steve Got Arrested and 1 Time They All Did; Teen, 4.9k

What it says, 5 times Steve Rogers ended up in jail (with and without Bucky) + 1 time all of the Avengers got arrested with him.

- the best of you; Teen, 16k

Bucky is on a mission when he gets the call.

They tell him that Steve has been compromised.

[The story wherein Hydra captures Steve to create a new weapon. Bucky, alongside the rest of the Avengers, come together and work through the fallout.]

- pull apart the dark; Teen, 79k

Steve's unending faith in his best friend was beginning to look less like hope and more like fantasy. When they'd caught the Soldier – in a fire fight that still gave Sam nightmares – the only thing the man seemed to recall was how to hit exactly where it hurt.

Four months later, Barnes still refused to speak English. Refused to heed anything but Steve's voice.

So, all in all, it was not a great time for Hydra to attack New York. All in all, Sam really wished they'd just killed him, instead of turning Captain America into a baby.

- Not Another Supersoldier Fantasy; Explicit, 8.9k

Bucky finds a popular sex toy modeled on Captain America's own anatomy. Well, isn't this just perfect? Because even after all this time, he still hasn’t seen Steve’s supersoldier cock. But apparently in this day and age anyone with $29.95 can get a decent replica. The unfairness of this is of galactic proportions.

- the blood of the covenant; Teen, 7.5k

Steve has a "thing" for hot water.

Or, Sam Wilson adopts Steve Rogers.

- Mighty like Love, Mighty like Sorrow; Teen, 19k

After freeing himself from the Russians' mind control, Bucky is left at loose ends, drifting through the decades. Still, he's in no hurry to take up Nick Fury's offer to once again fight the good fight -- especially not when Fury has the nerve to put some imposter in his best friend's old suit and send him out to fight against Chitauri.

- Read Me Like a Book; Gen, 1.5k

In which Bucky accidentally becomes a book collector, because when the universe gives you a million biographies about your boyfriend, you go bookcase shopping. And then he finds out about The Grenade Incident, and the boys actually talk about it like actual adults. (Somewhere, Sam sheds a proud tear.)

- the broadest stroke of color; Gen, 16k

Sarah Rogers always loved Steve's hands.

"Your hands will do a lifetime's work," she'd say. "Remember to do the work you can for those you love."

Almost a century later, Steve does just that.

[The story wherein Steve draws comics for Bucky to help him recover his memory. Through a series of events, the issues are leaked, and Steve finds himself reviving the Captain America comics. He still isn't sure how that happened.]

- If You're Loved By Someone (You're Never Rejected); Teen, 9.4k

You’re fifteen when you realize why you stare at Bucky’s lips more than normal when he laughs and when he says your name. You lean into his shoulder when you walk next to him and when you’re sick you don’t fight off his soft hands. You tease him, he teases back and being around him is so easy you forget what it was like to live without him. You can’t remember life pre-Bucky and it scares you.

- Unusual Weather; Explicit, 8.7k

Bucky’s been at the Avengers Tower for three weeks before he finally gives in to Steve’s gentle coaxing and Stark’s cheerful waving of fistfuls of circuits, and lets them scan the arm.

It doesn’t go well.

- this city bleeds its aching heart; Explicit, 35k

The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.

- Good Boy; Explicit, 13k

Bucky is still adjusting to life with the Avengers, and Steve is willing to do whatever it takes to make him feel comfortable. Increasingly, though, what seems to make him comfortable is strangely intimate.

Surprise, Steve! You're a gentle dom and Bucky wants to be your pretty pet!

- Brooklyn; Teen, 8.8k

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

#told you it was long as shit #fic rec #stucky #mcu #what do people have tagged #fsdjghk whatever

[bruciewayne]

unknown hex (love)

stevetony (surprised? lmao), hogwarts au, enemies to lovers, friends/enemies with benefits, fluff, humour, 2.3k

for ‘wizards and witches’ on @iron-man-bingo​

[[Hogwarts is exactly as it is in the UK except this one’s in upstate New York.]]

--

“Tony, you say his name one more time, I will, by no use of magic, make sure you can’t speak for the rest of the year,” Natasha growls out. It’s not that she even hates the guy that Tony’s complaining about, hell, she’s pretty good friends with Steve, but Merlin, both of them need to get their heads out of their asses and put something else in.

Natasha’s this close to taking their wands, shoving both of them into a closet, and only unlocking the door when they can prove that they can be civil for longer than five seconds. The only reason she hasn’t already is that both of them are too good at wandless magic (Tony kept accidentally lighting things on fire in Sixth Year (and ‘accidentally’ lighting Steve on fire)). 

And there’s a general ban on locking people in closets (Steve ‘accidentally’ locked Tony in a closet in Sixth Year in a potions class, so Tony locked him in a different closet and sunk it to the bottom of the lake, so Steve locked him in a closet and kept it levitating above Gryffindor tower until Tony woke up, and then, along with a general ban on locking people in closets, Steve and Tony aren’t allowed to be in any more closets - every single one in the castle and the neighbouring town are hexed to throw them out. Surprisingly, their… arguments have been far less physical after that, now just yelling and snarking at each other in the corridors. Natasha’s not quite sure what to make of that particular development.

Tony glares at her, flopping back on the grass, cushioned by the air with a flick of his hand, so he’s floating a little, “But S-- he’s so goddamn stupid--”

“Then stop talking to him!” Rhodey says, exasperatedly. They’ve been through this too many times to count, ever since the start of First Year, Steve and Tony hated each other and never made up, leading them to now, just over a month before they take their NEWTs and leave, and those two still can’t have a normal conversation.

“No,” Tony says, well used to the exchange, Rhodey will tell him to stop talking to him, and as much as Steve is an arrogant, stubborn, bastard, for some reason, he can’t stop talking to him. During one memorable argument last year that had resulted in the dining hall being blown up (only a little), the headmaster had forced them to go to medical to see if they had any hexes put on them. 

They didn’t. 

“Then don’t complain.”

“No.”

-

“What do you mean ‘no’ he’s the crux of all your problems, stop talking to him, pretend he doesn’t exist,” Sam says to Steve, tired of going through the same conversation and debate and argument again and again.

“Last time I tried that he blew up the hall,” Steve says.

“You also had a hand in blowing up, don’t think I’ve forgotten,” Bucky interrupts. He’s never gonna let Steve live that down, especially because after, they’d been forced to be checked for hexes. Even though the headmaster wasn’t aware of any hexes that could make them do… whatever they do.

“It was mostly him,” Steve insists, it was, he’s the one who started that particular argument.

“One day doesn’t count as ignoring,” Bucky adds. He’s pretty sure that he’s had this conversation in his sleep, the amount of times they’ve been over it.

Before Steve can say anything, Sam interrupts and says, “The longest you’ve gone without talking to him was that week you were in the infirmary, and even then you sent him howlers, and he sent them back!”

“God forbid if both of you end up working for the Magical Congress together,” Bucky mutters. 

He can’t imagine what it would be like for them in the working world, devoid of all the rules here. He fears the day they run MACUSA together. He’s not too sure that moving to different galaxies will stop them from talking to each other. Morons. He’s suggested to Steve to just fuck it out, but he’d just rolled his eyes, ignoring his incredibly helpful advice (it had worked for him and Sam, but they weren’t anywhere near as bad as Steve and Tony).

Going back to his charms homework, Steve replies amicably, “Fuck you.”

-

“Real original Stark,” Steve taunts back, repressing what he’d rather say, the corridor is full of people, everyone watching. Their drama a pretty big source of entertainment, for everyone who isn’t the headmaster and the ghosts he sometimes ropes in to referee them.

“What, you want me to fuck your mother instead?” Tony taunts back, without thinking.

The next thing he knows, he’s standing in his underwear in the middle of the quidditch field. 

In front of First Years.

Great.

When he gets back to Ravenclaw Tower, he finds out that Steve lost the Gryffindors a hundred points, and he, the Ravenclaws.

“He’s the one who used magic on me!” (Steve and Tony have a ban on using magic on each other (Third Year)) Tony complains, even though, admittedly, he went far too far, especially just for passing the hallways.

“Tony,” Bruce says.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Just st--”

“If you say stop talking to him--”

//

“Steve, that’s, barring actual death, and even then I’m not sure, is the only way to stop this, it was getting stupid five years ago,” Bucky interrupts. The worst thing is that he’s not even exaggerating. Those two have lost their respective houses so many points over the years that whenever points get deducted now because of them, they get put into different section (Idiotic Losses) and whichever Prefect wins the chess tournament at the end of the year between them, wins the points for their houses (Fourth Year).

“I can’t, Buck, if I do, then--”

“He wins, I know, I know,” Bucky sighs, “you okay?”

“Yeah, it was probably just a slip of the tongue or something,” Steve says, it’s common with them. More than it should be, really. He’s said his fair share of things that classify as ‘too far’, and got his due hexes from Rhodey - both Rhodey and Bucky stopped revenge-hexing about halfway into Third Year, claiming it lost them too many points too often. The headmaster also put a ban on revenge-hexing that had anything to do with Steven Grant Rogers and Anthony Edward Stark.

“Doesn’t make it acceptable.”

“I know, I know--”

-

“-- he’s a dick, stop talking to him, blah blah blah--”

“Have you maybe considered being nice to him?” Rhodey asks, pushing a pawn across the board. He’s trying to better his chess skills so maybe he’ll have a chance in the tournament at the end of the year - Hufflepuff have won every single time, and he’s determined not to let them in his last year.

Tony looks at him like he’s gone crazy, “Honeybear, have you already forgotten what he did--”

“Because of what you said!”

Tony concedes that, they took familial insults off the table halfway through First Year when Steve made a crack at his father and Tony, his. But he’s not going to be nice to him, he doesn’t deserve it. 

Maybe if he repeats it enough times he’ll believe it.

Rhodey sighs, so done, he’s practically burnt, “Do you know why little boys pull little girls’ pigtails?”

-

“Because boys are praised and rewarded for showing violence in place of affection?” Steve says, in place of admitting that Bucky might be right.

“Smartass,” Bucky grumbles, flicking ink at him.

“I don’t like him, he doesn’t like me, never will, never has.” 

-

“You physically can’t stop talking to him, what does that say about you?”

“Unknown hex,” Tony insists stubbornly. 

“Well what does that say about him?”

“It makes him a moron!”

-

“How am I the moron?”

“You’re clearly making them suspicious,” Tony says, glaring at Steve.

“Right, because this is so shameful?” Steve says, sarcastically, but there’s still hurt laced in the anger.

“Secret fucks? That’s pretty damn shameful,” Tony spits back. They’re at the top of Ravenclaw tower, alone, in the dark, save for the crescent moon and the stars. For better or for worse, they’re not yet banned from being in the same vicinity at the same time alone.

“Are you cheating on someone?” Tony wouldn’t, Steve knows that Tony wouldn’t and he isn’t.

“You know me better than that,” Tony scowls, indignant.

“Then why is it so shameful?”

“Because-- because neither of us can stand each other and that’s how it’s been for the past seven years and it’s staying that way!” Tony says, voice getting louder and louder. He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince anymore.

“Why do you hate me?” Steve provokes. He’s tired of all of this, he’s tired of the constant fighting that, ultimately, doesn’t mean anything at all, he’s tired of keeping secrets from his friends and he’s tired of pretending to hate Tony. In all honesty, he hasn’t hated him for a while now.

“Because,” Tony says, stubbornly, “it’s how it’s been for the past forever.” Maybe if Tony tells himself that he despises every cell in his body, he’ll believe it one day. He doesn’t want to hate him, but he doesn’t want to love him. He doesn’t. He doesn’t love the way he laughs, he doesn’t love his hair, or his eyes, or his body, or the way he thinks or his determination, or his pigheadedness, or the way he knows Tony inside out, or the way he’ll go out of his way to help someone, or his stupid smile and the way it brightens up his face. He doesn’t love him.

Steve gives him a disbelieving look, all the anger and hurt dissipating, “We’re not eleven anymore.”

“Yeah, we’re not,” Tony agrees, instead of saying the insult on the tip of his tongue, Tony doesn’t have it in him to force it out, no-ones watching anyway. 

“I don’t hate you, you know,” Steve says, quietly. He might even like him. Love him. His eleven-year-old self would Wingardium Leviosa his ass out the stratosphere.

Tony does know. Steve told him, last year, after the closet debacle. Tony called him a liar, Steve ignored him, they broke the dining hall a little in trying to convince each other. (The hall was empty, it had been just gone 3 in the morning.) And he doesn’t think that he hates him, not anymore.

“I know.”

Steve sighs and looks up at the stars, eyes tracking over constellations. Tony gets an irrational urge to take him to Australia to show him even more stars.

“Tell me you hate me,” Steve challenges, after a beat of silence, turning to him, fire in his eyes.

“What?”

Steve comes closer, close enough that Tony could count his eyelashes (give or take 550 - he counted, one night, after Steve had fallen asleep) if it weren’t so dark, he’s close enough that he can smell him. He resists the urge to hug him, to bury himself in his arms, to apologise, to spill all his secrets.

“Tell me you hate me.”

It’s not even on the tip of his tongue. Tony’s reasonably sure that all the willpower he currently possesses couldn’t make him say ‘I hate you’ to Steve. It used to be so damn easy, scathing and venomous, and then he started sleeping with him, they lost their virginity to each other, rash, stupid and full of hate, and then they said it simply in passing, more lighthearted, and they meant it, every time. But now, he can’t. Even an Imperio Curse couldn’t make him say it.

Steve takes his non-answer as an answer and smiles, like Tony finally, finally got something. He really is beautiful when he smiles. Tony can’t be bothered to keep back those thoughts anymore. Steve is beautiful, gorgeous, even when he’s angry he’s ridiculously hot - which is how the hate (well, not anymore) fucking started in the first place.

“I love you,” Steve can’t stop himself from saying it, but that just makes it ore true. And maybe it’ll turn out to be a mistake, and he’ll lose one of the best people he knows, but Gryffindors are meant to be impulsive, right?

Tony looks, surprised, mostly, but also relieved. Not a mistake. So very much not a mistake, especially when Tony closes the gap between them and kisses him as he holds him tight.

“I love you too,” Tony whispers, breath ghosting over his lips.

“You do?” Steve teases, and just like that, the air is cleared, so much goes unsaid, but Tony has to confirm, stupidly soft.

“I do.”

-

“And do you, Steven Grant Rogers, take Anthony Edward Stark to be your husband?”

“I do,” Steve says, grinning brightly. Nowadays, Tony has absolutely no qualms calling him gorgeous, or beautiful, or handsome (or a dickhead, but they’ve found better ways to resolves their conflicts). He’d say that they’re maturing in their old age (they’ve just left university), but he’s planning to shove cake in Steve’s face, and he’s willing to be that Steve is thinking the same exact thing.

“You may kiss the groom.”

They kiss, soft and chaste, through their smiles.

-

“I can’t believe our courting was pranks,” Tony says, as they pull away. He’s feeling nostalgic tonight, but he’s allowed, it’s his wedding night.

“I can’t believe we didn’t get expelled,” Steve says, littering kisses down his neck.

Tony hums and guides Steve’s face so he can kiss him on the lips, slow and unhurriedly, “Wouldn’t regret it.”

Steve grins. “Neither would I.”

--

iron man bingo masterpost

tell me what you thought?

#steve rogers x tony stark #steve x tony #stevetony fic #stevetony #stony fic #stony #hogwarts au #ironmanbingo3000 #iron man bingo 2019 #imb

[thecleverdame]

The Brown Bottle

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader

Story One of the Moonlight ‘Verse

Summary:  A/B/O - Sam is rough around the edges, you do your best to avoid him until one night you discover he’s your true mate and instincts take over. This is really just a lot of smut and a little plot to ease things along.

Warnings: Knotting, mating, claiming - you know the drill

Words: 3,350

-

You stop in your tracks, clutching an open hand over your abdomen.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath as an afterthought. Shit doesn’t quite do this kind of pain justice. This cycle’s heat has brought what your mother, Millie (owner and proprietor of The Brown Bottle), refers to as The Real Motherfuckers. The kind of cramps that stop a woman unexpectedly while on her way to work well after sundown. The two generic suppressants you popped an hour earlier aren’t working as well as you hoped and you find yourself wishing you’d taken a third.

These are indeed The Real Motherfuckers.

It’s looking to be the perfect cap on what’s shaping up to be a truly shitty night. A nearly full moon, unseasonably hot weather, an evening of pouring shots for drunk bikers and now, The Real Motherfuckers. Talk to a cop, emergency doctor or bartender and any of the front line veterans will tell you when the moon is fat in the sky, the crazies came out to play. And that’s not even taking into account every wolf suppressing the urge to shift, howl and run free.

A Saturday night at The Brown Bottle has never disappointed and as you glance back at your aging truck you shake the nagging feeling of something itching, shallow at the back your mind.

“Fuck, I should have called in,” you sigh pulling open the wrought iron door of the back entrance.

The Brown Bottle is the only roadhouse for a hundred miles, tucked along the back roads of a mundane Nebraska backdrop. The evening inevitably starts out with the locals, anyone looking for a cold beer on a weekend somehow finds their way here. The combination of classic rock on the jukebox and whiskey raining from the heavens is too much for people who have quite literally nothing else to do.

The first half of your shift plays out exactly as expected. Two regulars, Toby and Allen, sit in their usual seats; they’re here almost every night and wonderfully predictable. Roy, local trouble maker, and your biggest fan, is well into a ten beer buzz. He’s moved on from staring at your ass to making disgusting propositions about the two of you spending some quality time in men’s room. Roy is a pig, but he’s all talk and he tips well so you roll with it as best you can.

It’s little after eleven when the first of them arrive. You tense up, keeping an eye on them as they spill through the door.

“Hey Benny,” you call loud enough for him hear. Benny’s the nice one.  The only response you get is a friendly nod of his chin in your direction.

He takes a quick survey of the room before heading to the bar. You raise a hand giving him a friendly salute that coaxes a smile.  You already have a beer opened, it’s part of the routine. You play your part, get the drinks out fast and try to keep the peace.

Behind Benny the rest trickle in, sometimes they only ride four strong, the three men and the petite brunette but tonight they have a larger group in tow. They’ve been coming for a few months now, the newest pack to grace Deep Jaw County. Anyone without the knowledge of the creatures that go bump in the night might assume they’re a biker gang, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

Lars, The Brown Bottle’s only short order cook, calls them The Howlers. “They’re the real deal,” he whispers, throwing you warning glance from the kitchen.

Your mother got bit in her late teens, while she was pregnant with you. You imagine it had to be hard, having a baby at seventeen and then finding out you’re going to turn into an animal. She made it work (like she does with everything), flourishing and becoming a strong Alpha as if it was her destiny. She did her best to protect you from this world.

People make the mistake of thinking the change happens all at once, that you hit puberty and suddenly just shift into a wolf when the first full moon rises. It doesn’t. It’s a transitional process that can take years.

Your mother knew you were an Omega the moment your first heat came. She cried in the bathroom for hours. “You have to be careful,” she warned, “every Alpha who smells you will want to mark you, it’s just the biology.”

She wasn’t wrong but you’re used to it by now. Between men and wolves, you’re skilled at the art of making yourself unattainable. That is, until tonight.

You grab your regulars two more beers, double-checking their tabs as “he” approached the bar.

“Sam,” you acknowledge succinctly.

The closer he is the worse the pain in your stomach gets, tight muscles twisting sharply and sending twinges out in all directions.

“Salt,” he quips back. He came up with his own nickname for you after the first night you served him, spilling an unsealed salt shaker into his lap. Now you wonder if he even remembers what your real name is. You assume it’s his attempt at an inside joke but his straight face and unwavering seriousness make you forever uncomfortable.

His lips twist into something predatory as he smells you, every Alpha in the room must know you’re in heat by now; you should have stayed home. Jesus, he’s no different, the scent coming off him is ten times stronger than any Alpha you’ve ever encountered before.

You take a moment to give him the once over he deserves. He’s a brawler for sure but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s incredibly attractive. You’d have to be visually impaired not to notice that strong jaw and handsome face. However, there’s something else under the surface that keeps you at arm’s length. You’ve fucked more than a few bad boys in your time, but he’s is a different story. Sam makes your woman’s intuition scream: keep your legs closed and move away without any sudden movements.

“I’ll get you guys a round.” You go to work quickly as he watches, you can feel his eyes on you, burning into your back. Sam makes you nervous and for good reason. “You want anything special?” you ask over your shoulder.

“Just the regular for now…maybe later you can help me out with something else.” The timbre in his voice is unmistakable, he’s teasing you, in his stoic, unreadable way. You glance back him, searching for a smirk but there’s nothing.

You’re attractive, especially for these parts and it’s not an oddity to have men give you extra attention but it’s not the same with Sam. Most men stare at your butt or brush up against your breasts. But Sam just stares at the back of your head like it’s the new ass and titties. You get the distinct the impression he’s hunting you, watching and taking notes, feeling you out over the last couple of months. You’re pretty sure he’d just as easily fuck you as he’d put a bullet in your brain if you pissed him off.

You’ve been around rough guys your whole life, part of being your mother’s daughter. You can get a read on most people with the first hello. So you know the difference between guys playing dress up, guys who like the open road, a few beers, and good fight…and guys like Sam and his crew. He’s dangerous and not in a come-fuck-me-bad-boy kind of way. You’ve deduced by this point that their M.O. leans more toward bury-your-dismembered-body-in-the-woods.

Needless to say, you have no intentions of letting him between your legs…that is until he touches you.

--

It’s been a long night and you’re able to sneak out before closing. You fumble for your keys as you walk toward your truck.

“Y/N,” he calls after you.

“What?” you stop hesitantly, unnerved by his mere proximity. All it takes is his hand on your arm in the parking lot, just skin on skin that ignites a spark you never knew was there. For a split second, you pull away as if he’s burned you, looking at him bewildered with a wild stare.

“What the fuck,” you gulp, taking a deep breath as, what can only be described as frantic lust, climbs from your groin up to your chest. Sam scrunches his nose as his lips curls, taking a step toward you.

“Y/N,” he growls again, advancing but not touching you, just hovering as he snarls, breathing in your scent. “You feel it?”

Every muscle in your stomach cramps, pain shooting from most the sensitive parts as you double over. You cry out, looking up to him, “You’re doing this to me?”

You ask the question but the answer is obvious to you both. Sam stalks forward, reaching out and sliding his arm around your waist, your mouths meeting in a frantic union of teeth and tongues. You’re about to let him fuck you on the hood of a rusted out Chevy Caprice when you hear howls and hoops coming from the other side of the parking lot.

Sam pulls away from you, his eyes darting over to the audience you’ve failed to notice.

“Take me upstairs,” you plead sound embarrassingly desperate, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out over your body. Sam ticks his jaw and grabs your arm, dragging you toward the stairs that lead up to the small studio apartment above the bar where you lived when you were a kid.

There’s a constant stream of thoughts, none of them rational and all centered around Sam and how badly you suddenly find yourself needing him.

Once inside he begins peeling clothes off, whipping your shirt over your head before shedding his jacket and shirt. He kisses you hard, one hand in your hair twisting, the other curling around your throat as if he needs the force to bring you to his mouth. He strips you, tugging and pulling clothes until you’re fully nude. Then it’s hands cupping breasts, pinching nipples between rough fingers as his teeth leave a trail of red marks down your shoulders.

“Fuck, I wanna taste you but I need to fuck you first,” he lifts your head up to look at him, his hand cradling your jaw as you stare at him drunk with attraction. Staring at your mouth, shiny lips part as you gaze back at him. “Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you, little Omega? You want everyone to know you’re mine?”

“Yes,” you huff with conviction, the sound getting caught in your throat. This is about more than just sex; if he does this you’ll be mated for life.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs. Your lower lip catches under your teeth as you turn and wander in a haze over to the mattress. Climbing onto the bed you get on all fours before you feel him pushing you forward onto your stomach. Gripping your hip, he rolls you onto your side and then he’s right there, the length of his body pressing into you from behind, one arm under your neck and curled around your chest, the other on your hip pulling your backside into him as his rock hard cock pokes you in the lower back. There’s a strange mix of emotion as you feel him sniff at the back of your neck, breathing in your scent like a feral dog as he scrapes his teeth over skin and hair.

Part of you is scared, but the scent of him is utterly overwhelming. You squirm when his arm tightens around you and he growls in your hair, pressing his face into the back of your skull, breathing in again.

Your senses overcome, Sam moves his hips grinding his erection just enough to ease the friction. His skin is hot and it makes your breath come faster. You begin to melt into him as if mother nature is taking over and making your decisions for you. It’s almost familiar, he has his own manly scent but there something more. You inhale, drawing it into your lungs and your body begins to hum hotter. It’s a low vibration from somewhere deep inside your belly.  The more of him you breathe in the more your body relaxes and turns itself on, your hips canting back against his cock.

A true bond. This is what it feels like.

It’s only a moment of your panting before his hand slides over your hip and down your stomach. You hiss as two of his fingers find your cunt. He misses your clit but the near pressure makes you buck forward into his hand. He groans with satisfaction as he scoops two fingers into your cunt to find you wet, really wet. Satisfied, rubbing your slick between his thumb and middle finger, he withdraws his hand and huffs behind you, “I’m gonna make you mine, fuck you open.”

You close your eyes, sends up a silent prayer. You’re well aware of what’s about to happen, he’s a strong Alpha and your heat has triggered his rut.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, trapped between logic and your own physical response to him. Your hand slides down to cover his where his fingers are playing over your clit, urging him not to stop. Your words might be hesitant but you don’t want him to mistake them for true apprehension. You’ve never wanted anything more in your life than for him to push inside you.

He lifts you onto your side, moving behind you. “I’ll never hurt you,” his hand reaches under you, sliding over your stomach before grazing over your clit again. When he gets the reaction he’s looking for, a whimper accompanied by the cant of your hips, he presses hard, sliding back and forth over the little bundle of nerves. “I’m gonna put my pups in your belly tonight.”

“Alpha,” you groan, wanting nothing more in this moment than for him to do exactly what he’s promising. You have no idea who he is, this man who hours ago was practically a stranger is now the person you want to give yourself to in every possible way.  You’ve never felt anything as strong as the need to have him knot you. He continues to rub your clit, faster now as everything between your legs is wet and ready.

With two hands he hauls your hips into higher into the air, manhandling you like a rag-doll as the head of his cock finds it’s way inside you.

You yelp as he slides deep, his hips stutter against your ass for a moment before pulling back and driving back into you with force. He grunts as he holds your body in place and then he does just as he promised: he fucks you, he fucks you hard and fast until you see stars.

He feels you pushing back into him, your pink mouth falling open as he fucks you with the length of his cock, letting it slip almost all the way out before sinking back, deeper than before.

“Does my cock feel good inside you?” he asks.

Your cunt clenches around him, tightening at his words. You whimper in response, shivering  “Yes, so good.”

“Who do you belong to?” Sam commands, fisting a hand into the hair at the back of your head.

“Yours, I’m yours,” you cry, lost somewhere between the wet slap of your bodies and Sam’s barks of pleasure as you moan his name, begging him not to stop. At that moment there is nothing more the feeling of him rutting into you desperately, it’s primal. You’re wet enough that he’s sliding easily and his going deep enough that it’s bringing you incredible pleasure that borders on mind-numbing.

All this stimulation combined with your body’s response to his pheromones is like being in a dream state. You’re on the edge of orgasm for what feels like a lifetime, his cock sliding firm and hard, hitting a place inside you that you’ve never reached before.

As a general rule, you’re not hard to get off, a few well-placed strokes can send you careening over the edge but now, as Sam’s balls slap into you with each push of his hips it occurs to you that your body is reacting to his in a whole new way. You won’t come until he does, it’s nature’s way of making sure you’re ready for everything he’s got to give.

This isn’t fucking, you’re mating.

“Oh my god,” you moan as the realization somehow flips a switch inside you, pushing your hips back into his desperately.

Sam rolls you onto your belly, holding you just off the bed as he begins to grunt enthusiastically, shoving harder and faster, until you feel something, a tightness growing around his cock where it’s pumping at a furious pace.

“Gonna knot you, little Omega,” Sam growls, pulling your body back in tune with the rhythm of his hips. You feel the tight ring of muscle around the base of his dick expanding in size, stretching your pussy beyond anything you ever felt before.

“Sam,” you call out, reaching forward with arms flailing you find nothing but sheets to grab onto. His knot, now at it’s widest, is keeping his dick from sliding inside you, but he’s still moving his hips as you both rock into the mattress.

It’s at this point several things happen simultaneously. Sam practically howls a wild guttural sound that’s truly inhuman as he comes. You feel him spilling hot inside you, pulse after pulse of his seed fills, and fuck if you can’t actually feel it. It’s this new sensation that sends you over your own peak, chanting Alpha, Alpha, as your eyes roll back into your skull, mouth hanging open as pleasure racks your body.

You’re clenching and convulsing around his cock as Sam grabs a fist full of hair and yanks backward, your breasts arching off the bed. There’s a split second where you realize what’s happening before his teeth sink into your neck. You scream as skin breaks and he claims you, making you his in a very permanent, physical way. His mouth seals over the wound, tongue lapping over your torn flesh…

Time feels like it stops.

You lie tangled around one another, his mouth on your neck and cock in your cunt until your heart stops pounding and you can breathe again. Grunting, his lips pop free of the bite at your neckline.

“Are you okay?” he asks breathlessly, releasing your hair as your head falls limply to the mattress. You can feel his breath at your ear as he nuzzles affectionately, his nose rubbing the skin just behind your earlobe.

“I think so,” you reach behind you, placing at hand on his hip. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“I hope not,” he grins wrapping two arms under you and rolling you both onto your side. His cock tugs inside you, still trapped and his strong body curls around yours. His hand spreads wide over your stomach making you arch back into him.

“This is…bizarre,” you confess as exhaustion washes over you.

“What is?” he asks.

“This feeling,” you turn your head to try to look at him, but all you get are his lips trailing down your neck, “like love and need and desperation. Is this…what you want?”

It’s a little late to ask now. He could just as easily fuck you, claim you and leave you a marked Omega if he wanted. There are few things that bring more shame in your world than a claimed but unwanted Omega.

He makes a satisfied sound, pressing the palm of his hand over your belly button. “I’m gonna make you the mother of my children, I’ll always take care of you.”

His words sink in as you lay together, hands traveling over skin, lips anywhere and everywhere until you fall asleep surrounded by his body and his smell.

After this, everything will change, and it’s only the beginning of your story.

--

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#alpha!sam winchester #Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader #abo dynamics #sam winchester x reader

[sydneysageivashkov]

Spun Her Around On The Damp Old Stones

Captain America had done his duty. Steve Rogers still had a life to live.

AO3 | ff.net

Steve could never say when he’d first thought of it.

Maybe it had been when he saw Peggy in her office, looking so beautiful and competent that it made Steve’s heart hurt. Maybe it was when Bucky said, “I’ll miss you, pal,” like he already knew. Maybe it was as he returned the soul stone and stared into the withered, tired face of the embodiment of evil. Maybe it was as he stared down at the Pym Particles, ready to return to 2023.

Maybe it was all of them. It didn’t matter when, exactly, he’d had the thought. What mattered was that he materialised into existence in Brooklyn, 1947, on a cool, autumn afternoon, red and orange leaves blowing through the street around him.

Captain America had done his duty. Steve Rogers still had a life to live.

-

He found Peggy in an automat. Steve spotted her entirely by accident, just happening to glance in the window as he passed. She was chatting to a waitress, smiling in a way that reached her eyes. He took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside.

The bell over the door rang, and Peggy glanced up – a spy’s instinct, he thought, because he had never known Natasha, Clint or Fury to not glance up at an opened door. Peggy froze, the fork dropping from her hand. The waitress looked up at Peggy’s reaction, and her mouth dropped open.

He knelt down next to her chair, looking up at her still-frozen expression. Very gently, he took her hand. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Peggy’s lip trembled. “You couldn’t call your ride?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, half torn between genuine laughter and tears. “I couldn’t call my ride,” he agreed.

She brushed her free hand against his cheek tentatively, almost slumping in relief as her fingers touched his face. “Howard told me he stopped,” she said. “If I’d known, I would have come, I would have…”

“It wasn’t Howard,” he said. “It’s a long story, Peggy. God, it’s the longest story.” Natasha. Tony. Sam and Bucky, Wanda and Clint, Rhodey and Nebula and Rocket and Carol and Okoye.

Without taking her eyes off him, Peggy said with deliberate calmness, “Angie, I’m going to need the bill, now.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course,” said the waitress, glancing between them. She shuffled off and returned only a moment later, handing Peggy the cheque and hissing, “You’ve been holding out on me, English.”

“Sorry, Angie,” said Peggy, rather unapologetically.

Angie grinned, her eyes bright and laughing. “Sure you are, English. You get going with lover boy here, and I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” repeated Peggy, and dragged Steve up and out of the automat.

-

“Are you going to tell me your story?” asked Peggy, her head resting on his chest and tracing her fingers along his stomach absent-mindedly.

He barely even knew where to begin. “I’m not the Steve that went down with the Valkyrie, Peggy. It’s been years.”

Peggy’s fingers paused on his stomach. She propped herself up on her elbow so she could look down at him, dark hair falling around her head. “How long?”

“Eleven years,” he admitted.

She flopped back down on to the bed. “Bloody hell, Steve.”

“They found me in 2012,” he said. “They defrosted me and put me to work leading the Avengers against threats that the regular military couldn’t contain. It was only a few days ago that I even had the ability to come back to you.”

“They have time travel in the future?” asked Peggy, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s a very recent thing,” said Steve. “Almost impossible.”

Peggy’s hand found his, and he intertwined his fingers with hers, clinging on with everything he had.

“Howard had a son,” he said. “Tony. Probably cleverer than Howard, honestly. He was the one who worked it out. He was the one who…”

Peggy squeezed his hand when he couldn’t finish. “You had a life there. Friends.”

He nodded, swallowing. If he closed his eyes, he could see Natasha, still, saying that he was her family. He could see Tony, carrying his daughter in his arms. Sam and Wanda and Thor and T’Challa. “They were good people, Peggy.”

“If they were your friends, they would be,” said Peggy. She pushed herself back up and looked down at him, curls askew and her face soft. “You can tell me about them, if you want.”

“Natasha was one of the first people I met in the twenty-first century,” said Steve, his heart constricting a little. “If you’d asked me at the time, I don’t think I would have guessed she would be one of my best friends, but…”

-

They agreed to keep his return quiet. They reached out to the Howlers, to Howard, to Bucky’s sisters. Only Peggy knew about his eleven years in the future. Peggy and Howard forged him a new identity. He grew out his beard to help cover his face, let his hair grow a little longer than he used to. But his best defence against recognition – as he’d learned from Natasha – was simply that people didn’t expect to see Captain America. So they didn’t.

In some ways, slipping back into the 1940s was as easy as breathing. Sometimes, though, it was like a filter had been placed over his eyes, so everything was just the slightest bit different.

Sometimes, he hummed Hamilton songs under his breath, and the people around him questioned what genre he was singing. Sometimes, a joke or pop-culture reference slipped out that made sense in the twenty-first but earned him blank stares in the twentieth.

Sometimes, it was worse. The Civil Rights Movement was slowly beginning to pick up steam – but with it came the rebirth of the KKK. The eugenics movement might have been discredited by the revelation of the Holocaust, but the racist sentiments that caused it hadn’t dissipated. It wouldn’t be long before the women’s liberation movement began, but Peggy still seethed at the misogyny of her colleagues.

“Does it get better?” asked Peggy after one long day. She was collapsed on their sofa, her legs lying across Steve’s lap.

“Slowly,” he said. “There are setbacks and bumps in the road, but there’s progress, Peg.”

“Were you still fighting the good fight?” she asked, nudging him with her foot.

“Hell yeah,” he said. “I scandalised so many conservatives, Peggy. Tony Stark almost had an aneurysm, he laughed so hard the first time I went on Fox News.”

Peggy sighed. “I just wish they’d hurry up about it all.”

Steve took her hand and rubbed gentle circles with his thumb. “You deserve so much more than what they’re giving you.”

Peggy sat up, placing her hand on his cheek and smiling at him softly. “I know. Thompson’s lucky I haven’t murdered him already. I think you keeping me sane is the only reason I haven’t.”

Steve snorted. “I’m pretty sure the only reason I haven’t murdered Thompson is because of you keeping me sane.”

Peggy laughed, shifting so that she could rest against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her hair. “We are a pair, aren’t we? I do believe we’ve given Mr Jarvis grey hairs.”

“Oh, no, those grey hairs are all on you,” said Steve, elbowing her. “He had them all well before I came back.”

-

They name their eldest child Natasha Colleen Carter, their second Michael James, and their third – another girl – Samantha Wanda. Peggy was the first to suggest Natasha Colleen, and he had stared at her, wide-eyed.

“What?” she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice. “I thought you’d appreciate the name.”

“I do,” he said, slowly. “But… I met Natasha. At your funeral. She was…”

Peggy laughed outright at that. “Oh, darling,” she said. “Did you really think my children were from anyone else, at this point?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth several times before saying, “I suppose I hadn’t really thought about it.”

She patted his cheek affectionately. “I think you’ve been a little dense, my darling.”

“I suppose,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “She was wonderful, Peggy. All of them were.”

“So there’s more, is there?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Good. This world needs more Carter-Rogers in the world. Between us, we should be able to start a revolution.”

“Ooh,” said Steve, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not sure the word’s ready for a Carter revolution.” Peggy laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

“We’ll make them ready,” she said. She moved her hand to rest over her stomach. “We’ll make them better.”

-

He told the children stories at bedtime, but not from any book.

He told them of a girl who escaped a hate that had once consumed her, who had kept the capacity to love even after so many losses, who was the strongest of all of them.

He told them of a man and a woman who had done terrible, terrible things in another person’s name, and had dedicated their lives to saving as many lives as they could in their own name.

He told them of a man who had lost his best friend to war, and had dedicated his life to bringing everyone else home from it.

He told them of a man who gave his life for the world, who could finally, finally rest.

Most of his friends thought of them as stories. It wasn’t unreasonable. While Peggy ran the world’s most secretive agency, he had taken to drawing comic books, and if his heroines had a tendency to have a hint of red in their hair, or scarlet leaking from their fingertips – well, no one was around to call him on it.

There were three children calling him Dad, now, and so many more calling him Uncle Steve. (The day that a tiny, precocious Tony Stark had called him Uncle Steve for the first time was potentially the weirdest day of Steve’s life.) He was uncle to the Howler’s kids, to Bucky’s nieces and nephews, to Tony. Once upon a time, he had told Tony that the man who wanted a family and stability had died in the ice. He hadn’t even realised he was lying at the time. Now, he watched them all – his kids, his friends’ kids, his beautiful, wonderful wife – and almost couldn’t breathe, he loved them so much.

“About enough for the Carter-Rogers revolution,” whispered Peggy into his ear at one reunion, making him snort up his beer. Peggy smiled at him innocently as Howard cackled across the room.

“Watch what you drink, Dad!” yelled Tasha, twelve-years-old and still learning how snark worked. The rest of her cousins took up the yell, good-natured jeering coming from all corners of the garden.

There were things that he hadn’t missed about the twentieth century. There were things he did miss about the twenty-first. But these kids were going to be the ones who built that century, who changed the world. Steve wouldn’t trade the world for a single one of them.

-

“Was there ever anyone?” murmured Peggy one night, her chin resting on his shoulder as they slowly twirled around the living room.

“Anyone?”

“Did you ever find any other dance partners?” she asked.

He leant back to he could look her in the eye. “No, Peg. I mean, they convinced me to go on a date or two occasionally, but… It’s you.” Her grasp on his hand strengthened, and he pulled her ever so slightly closer to him. “It’s always been you.”

She leant up and kissed him, soft and long and slow.

“Thank you for coming home to me,” she said as she pulled away. “It’s always been you for me, too, you know. I tried, once. Maybe it might even have worked. But Daniel… I couldn’t forget you, and neither could he.”

“I will always come home to you,” he promised. “Always.”

She pulled him down to kiss again, but just as their lips met, the door swung open and little Sammy toddled in. She looked up at them, cocking her head.

“Dance?” she asked.

Steve met Peggy’s eyes, saw the barely suppressed smile in them. “Alright, squirt,” he said, letting go of Peggy’s waist. “Let’s teach you how to dance.”

He arranged her on his toes as Peggy turned the radio on, It’s Been a Long, Long Time wafting through the air. Sammy shrieked with laughter as they danced, and above her head, Steve watched Peggy, standing so, so beautiful by the window.

-

It had been seventy-five years and three hundred and twelve days since Steve had heard his brother’s voice.

“Sam!”

He smiled.

#mcu #steggy #steve rogers #peggy carter #captain america #endgame spoilers #fic

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

No Surrender: Part 2

Part 1

Request: hey i love your writing!! i was wondering if you could write something where the ready and bucky are in the same hydra facility and try to escape together. idk maybe that’s bad but i love your writing!!

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: In the winter of 1945 Hydra captures Sargent James Barnes. After months spent unconscious, he wakes up in a cell with you and a new addition on his left side. Quickly it becomes clear that being locked up together may be the best bout of luck either of you has had in a while… Maybe together the two of you have a chance of making it out of this hell alive. Now, 69 years later the two of you are brought back together, scars and all. War changes everyone it touches but maybe, together, you can both find some kind of peace. 

Warnings: Light angst, heavy emotions, that’s really it

A/N: Lol, one shot. I know better. This is prob going to be a 3 part with an epilogue. Why? Because this is A Few Marvelous Thoughts and that’s how things are done here. The stories are long and the writer is overly invested in ALL OF THEM.  And, honestly, I kind of liked doing something that brought the Howlers into the mix and some Peggy and... yeah. I’m just enjoying myself. I hope y’all enjoy it too!

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4@piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @handplucked  @krugeforeveryone @jewelofwinter @get-loki @just-a-littlebit-of-everything

June 2014

You stare at your muted reflection in the airplane window tracing the scar on your cheek. It’s not quite as visible as it once was but you can feel it all the same.

Pulling your eyes away you check the screen on the back of the seat in front of you. One more hour until DC. It had been 69 years, what was one more hour… Still, you can’t keep your heeled foot from jiggling nervously.

Opening your iPad you look over the files Sharon sent you, thinking as you often do just how much easier this kind of tech would have made yours and Peg’s lives back in the day. 

You wish Stark was here to give him shit for not coming up with this sooner. Thinking of your old friends always brings a sad smile to your face. Absentmindedly you fiddle with the dog tags and wedding rings always hanging around your neck from a long chain.

Steve and someone named Wilson had brought him in. Physically he was fine, some minor injuries but nothing to cause concern. Mentally… severe memory loss, disorientation, disassociation, PTSD, on and on. Quickly you scroll past it all, you didn’t need to read about it to know that a lifetime with Hydra could leave a person fractured. At the end was what you wanted. A photo.

He looked much the same. Dark hair and those spectacular blue eyes but… he was changed, even in a photo, you could see that. Really though you were all changed. Not one of you left that war or any of the ones that followed without wounds that wouldn’t heal.

Tenderly your fingers touch the image on the screen. You’re lost in memories of a day so long ago that the flight attendant startles you when she approaches.

“Sorry, ma'am,” she smiles brightly, “would you like another gin and tonic before we land?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” It wouldn’t do anything to calm your nerves of course, but you liked the taste.

The first sip reminds you you’ll also need to see Peg… it got harder every time. Silently you pray to anything that will listen for her to be lucid so you can tell her you found him, finally after all these years. Sharon said that seeing Steve helped her, he brought back the old Peg. Maybe you’d get lucky. Though… guilt roils in your gut.

You’d spent the last couple of years actively avoiding Steve Rogers. All you could think was that you could only give him a story of regret, one more may have been. He didn’t need that. Something in your heart reminds you though, you have more than that to give him. Stories of his old friends no one else could tell. How the Howlers never forgot him, how every toast until the very end held his name… and Bucky’s. What kind of legacy he really left with the people that mattered.

A tear winds its way down your cheek and you dash it away. You’d make up for it now. Tell them both the rest of their story. Maybe it would be a comfort.

When the wheels meet the tarmac your heart lodges in your throat. You rush off the plane to the nearest restroom to inspect yourself. In the floor length mirror, you smooth a hand over your breezy white blouse tucked into a pair of camel high waist trousers. The slim straight fit showed off your figure just enough. To anyone, you would look like a woman in her early 40’s maybe. A few grey hairs, soft lines on your face, but still young enough and certainly not 94.

You take a shaky breath, reapply your red lipstick, and stride confidently out of the airport, ready as you’ll ever be.

From the outside, it looks like a nondescript, if not a touch run down, office building. You know it’s an old S.H.I.E.L.D. office. They’re holding him here, assessing him, trying to figure out exactly what to do in a situation that bucks just about every bit of protocol there is in one way or another.

“Thank you,” you say to the agent in the front seat. 

Your accent had softened over the decades. This thought makes worry curl in your gut. The chances of him recognizing you are so slim. You were older, your voice was different… Hell, the report said he had trouble remembering Steve and they’d known one another their whole lives until the war. He’d only known you for a day…

“Are you ok?” The young man asks gently.

“Yes, sorry…” Your hand curls around the handle.

“Don’t know why they’re sending someone like you in with a monster like that. If you don’t wanna to go I’ll take you to your hotel or some-”

Your well-manicured hand wrapped around his throat cuts him off, “If that’s what you think that man is,” your voice a malicious purr, “I highly suggest you find a new line of work, boy.” You release him and go to open the door.

Turning back to him you catch his slack-jawed expression, “That man deserves your respect. Am I clear?”

“Y-Yes ma’am,” he stammers.

“Good,” you open the door and step out, strutting up to the building, adding just a touch of extra sway to your hips for good measure.

At the door, you push a button to activate the com, “Y/N Bernard, here for Sharon Carter.” There’s no response just a click.

As you enter the sparse lobby you hear the elevator ding, the doors swoosh, your body tenses on reflex. When a blonde with a bright smile exits though, you relax.

“Aunt Y/N!” Sharon calls, her tone full of excitement. She rushes you and you embrace your best friend’s favorite niece. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too my darling,” you pull the girl back and look at her. So much like her mother but she inherited Peggy’s fire.

“Come on, let’s get started.” You follow her into the elevator.

As the doors close and the elevator moves down, you reach into your tote to pull out a small box, “I never forget, mon chaton.”

Sharon laughs, taking the box from you, “You didn’t have to.” She lifts one of the macarons out, taking a bite, savoring it.

“Bah,” you wave away her protest, “of course I did.” Every time you saw Sharon you brought her some. Her whole life.

She takes a deep shaky breath, closing the lid, “Thank you Aunt Y/N.” Tenderly you cup the side of her face with your left hand, she shakes her head, “I’m ok.”

“No, you’re not. Nor should you be,” you tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as the elevator settles. “I’m here for you, always, you know that?”

“I do.” The doors slide open and you follow your adopted niece out. Heart kicking up a notch.

Sharon leads you down a corridor to a conference room. A young man with a kind smile rounds the corner just before she opens the door.

“Hey, Sam,” Sharon nods at him.

“Hey,” he returns the nod. “You must be Mrs. Bernard. Sam Wilson, it’s good to meet you,” he extends a hand and you take it giving it a shake.

“It’s, miss,” you say smiling. “But you can call me, Y/N. Thank you for what you did.”

Sam shakes his head, “Just helping out a fellow soldier, no need for thanks.”

“You have it anyway,” you smile, liking this young man already.

Sharon opens the door and your eyes see, not initially Steve Rogers as you expect, but Tony Stark. Once he registers who you are his jaw hits the floor, eyes wide with shock.

“You look well Anthony,” a mischievous smile curls your lips, “certainly better than the last time I saw you.”

“How do you…?” Sharon, standing to your right, looks like she may not want to know the answer.

You laugh, “Oh no darling, nothing like that. I simply got Anthony here out of a pinch in where was it Morocco?”

“Monaco,” Tony says, smiling a smile that makes you think of his father.

“Ah, yes Monaco,” Sam rounds the table and takes a seat to Tony’s left. “You couldn’t have been 17. Pissed off the wrong person and landed in a cell.”

“And somehow you got me out. Though I was more scared of you than the cops after that verbal lashing.”

“That sounds like my Aunt Y/N,” Sharon says smiling.

Tony’s brows raise trying to work that one out, “But you never told my dad.”

“What point was there to tell, Howard? He would have just thrown some overblown fit. He loved to hear himself talk, especially when he was angry.”

Tony laughs, “You’re not wrong.”

“Sounds like you knew Howard well,” a voice from the back left corner of the room says causing you to jump a little. Steve Rogers is leaning there, arms crossed, face dark, watching you.

You swallow hard, “I did. I knew them all… very well.”

He saunters to the table, “So I saw,” slamming down a thick file before he takes a seat. You hold his gaze for a second. The emotion passing between the two of you beyond words.

“Ooook,” Tony breaks the silence and you turn to him a tense smile on your lips. “I’m assuming you’re some kind of super soldier too.”

You take a seat next to Sharon, across from Tony. “I wouldn’t say soldier but I am… enhanced. Much like Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes. Only difference is I was never put on ice.”

“So you were born in…?” Sam is studying you with fascination.

“1920, I’m 94 years old,” he makes a whistling noise and you laugh.

The door opens and a slender brunette rushes in, “Sorry, had another fire to put out.” Agent Hill looks at you as you stand, “I’m-”

“Agent Hill,” you smile at her, “Nick spoke highly of you.” Your knowing gaze seems to convey that you’re all too aware that he’s fully alive. It would take a cataclysm to kill Nick Fury. Thank god for it.

“And you’re, Y/N Bernard,” her head shakes and an awkward smile curls her lips. “I never thought I’d have the honor.”

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”

She rounds the table and sits at the head opposite Steve, taking a deep breath. “Did you all start without me?”

“Nope,” Sharon slides a tablet to her.

“Good. We wanted to take a moment to brief you on the predicament we’re in, Ms. Bernard.”

“Y/N, please.”

“Y/N,” Hill smiles, “we think things are going to move quickly. The government wants to clean this mess up and do things under the radar as much as possible. That means we have to work fast to get our bearings and determine the best course of action.”

“Bearings regarding S.H.I.E.L.D. or Sargent Barnes?” You ask, tone even but suspect.

“Both,” Hill runs a hand over her face. “We’ve had Barnes for almost two weeks. So far they’re letting us hold him, mainly because no one else is equipped, but who knows how long that will last. Technically he’s considered a P.O.W. and Wilson is pulling any strings he can to sort that situation out. Get Barnes the care he deserves.”

You look to Sam, his eyes are on the wood of the table hands clasped in front of him. The Howlers would have liked this one. Out of habit you pull the necklace from your shirt and begin to fiddle with the contents.

“However, in the month since S.H.I.E.L.D. was exposed…” She clears her throat. You understand her pain, the thought that Hydra was so close… “Well, it’s become pretty apparent that there’s no rebuilding it.”

Sharon glances over to you. Slipping your hand into hers you give it a squeeze. Losing S.H.I.E.L.D. was like losing a part of yourselves.

“Stark has offered an alternative, kind of an official/unofficial organization,” Tony nods, “but that’s for another time. Right now we have to deal with the very real possibility of Barnes being put on trial.” Your blood runs cold, you release Sharon’s hand, worried you may accidentally break it.

“On trial for what exactly?” You spit.

Hill’s look is soft, sympathetic, “Anything they can pin on him.”

“That’s preposterous,” you try to take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“We agree,” Hill nods. “That’s why we’re trying to make sure we have anything we can to prove that whatever actions he partook in when he was with them was against his will.” 

Her jaw tenses, “Agent Carter has implied you may be able to help with that. There’s not a lot on file about you. You’re officially listed as retired, have been for over 40 years. I’ve heard stories of course but…”

“I’ll tell you anything you need to know. Put me on the stand if you must.”

“Aunt Y/N, that would-” Sharon’s eyes are filled with fear.

“Expose me? I know, mon chaton, I know,” your smile is tender. “It doesn’t matter. For him, I would do anything.”

Hill goes to speak but Steve cuts her off, his voice low, heavy with emotion, “Why?”

You drag your eyes to the brooding Captain, “Because, Captain Rogers, 69 years ago Bucky Barnes saved my life.” Your voice cracks despite your efforts, “And he’s here today because of that.” Sharon’s hand rests on your knee, trying to provide comfort. She doesn’t know that some hurts are too deep for comfort.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Hill’s voice is soft. “If it comes to that we will talk strategy. How about we break for now. I need,” she rubs the bridge of her nose, “something.”

Everyone stands to leave. You direct Sharon to look after Agent Hill and go to follow them all out when Steve grabs your arm.

“I think we need to talk,” his blue eyes are stormy.

“I agree,” you look into the conference room.

“No, follow me,” he walks to the elevators without once looking back.

It’s possible that it’s the most awkward elevator ride of your long life. When the doors open he walks to the end of the hall, a door opening to a steep flight of stairs.

“Will those be a problem,” he glances down to your breakneck stilettos.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You’d be surprised what I can do in heels, Captain Rogers.” He holds the door and you sprint up them, never teetering and not the least bit winded, smirking a bit at him as he comes up behind you.

Inwardly you thank god that he wanted to talk outside, you want a cigarette, desperately. Reaching into your bag you pull the pack and flick one up skillfully, pulling it out with red lips. He’s watching and you smile with the unlit cigarette between your lips.

“Want one?” You hold the pack out. He shrugs and takes one. You’re about to pull out your matches when he flicks up a zippo.  

“Light?” You nod and he lights yours before his own. A smile plays on your lips as you try to think of the last time a man lit your cigarette.

He walks to the edge of the roof and sits on the low wall facing you. Taking a drag he finally speaks, “I never smoked before… this,” he gestures to his body. “So I never really knew what the appeal was but the motion is-”

“Soothing,” you finish sitting next to him. “I miss what nicotine used to do to me. Can’t tell you how often I have wished I could get drunk still. Never thought I’d miss a good hangover.”

He laughs a little, “Yeah.” The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, lost in your own thoughts.

“What did you mean?” Rogers is staring off into the distance.

“Sorry?” You’re unsure what he wants you to clarify.

“When you said he’s here because he saved you… what did you mean?”

Your heart squeezes. Memories of that place, the sound of the soldiers coming, the bunker shaking, the look on his face as he shoved you into that crawl space… So long ago but it may as well have been yesterday.

Taking a deep breath you dive in, “Hydra captured me in January 1945…”

The two of you burn through two more cigarettes each as tell him your story. You keep the part about promises of dances and that kiss to yourself. Though your hand lingers near your lips as you remember.

“I crawled through that tunnel for what must have been a mile,” you take a drag. “When I finally got out I ran for two days until I came across a British camp. They thought I was Hydra with the uniform and all. I kept telling them, ‘My name is Y/N Bernard, I am French Resistance Lyon. I have a message for Captain America.’ But they wouldn’t-”

“Wait,” he holds up a hand, “what was the message.”

Oh. You had told him Bucky said find Steve and the Howlers but the message… You hold Steve’s gaze, “I was to tell you that it wasn’t the end of the line.” Somehow you had maintained composure through the whole thing but now tears spill from your eyes.

Rogers looks away, sniffing hard, wiping at his own eyes. His elbows rest on his knees and he laughs a bit, shaking his head, “It really was him then.”

“Oui,” you sit straighter trying to get a hold of yourself. “Of course they didn’t believe me. Threw me in shackles and transported me to London.” Steve’s eyes burn into you but you can’t look at him.

“Once there they locked me in an interrogation room for hours until they found, Peg,” your voice almost breaks but you push through it. “Since… since I was a woman and it had to do with you they thought she was best. I told her everything. Begged, cried, pleaded her to bring me to you, I had a message we didn’t have time…” Your hands are trembling with emotion, “Finally I just told her the message, just to pass it along. Lock me in a cell, whatever she had to do just to tell you.”

Finally, you can look at him, “That’s when she told me you had died. But she believed me, apparently, you had shared that pledge you and Bucky had with her.” 

He nods and you press on, “She took me to the Howlers immediately. Said we had a mission. At first, they didn’t believe some broad but Dugan,” you have to take a breath, “he said that if there was even a chance we had to take it.”

“Sounds like him,” Steve smiles sadly.

“It does, yes,” your hand toys with the tags, “We left the next day.” You shake your head, the lump in your throat growing, “We weren’t fast enough… I knew we wouldn’t be,” tears stream down your face now. 

“I failed him. He saved me and I didn’t make it back in time,” a sob tears out before you can stop it. You hadn’t ever told this story not the full thing… it felt like a special kind of hell.

Steve lays a hand on your back. You look to him, “We didn’t stop looking though. Every base, every agent, we tried to find something, anything, that would lead us to him. But… we never found him…”

“You were a Howler,” his tone is filled with respect.

You nod, “I was. Proud to be too.” You squeeze his knee, “They never forgot you, either of you.”

Tears sparkle in Steve’s eyes, “Did you know… when I… when I woke up?”

Shame rolls over you but you don’t look away, “I knew the day they found you, Fury called me…”

“Then why… I mean I know we didn’t know each other but… I,” he wipes his eyes and stands to take a few paces. “It would have been good to have someone who knew… what… what it’s like to…”

“Be so out of place?” He nods. “I know,” you look at the ground, tears streaming, “I’m so sorry.” You hold in a sob and try to compose yourself before looking up at him.

“All I could think was that I failed you both, that all I could give you were empty apologies.” He opens his mouth but you hold up a hand, “I know that’s not right… and I’m sorry. It’s a shit excuse, but it is the truth. I’d like to make it up to you if I can.”

Steve shakes his head, “You don’t have to make anything up. I understand.” A smile fills his face, “I’m just happy we have another Howler back where she belongs.”

Something between a laugh and a sob breaks from you and he holds out a hand. When you take it Steve pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The two of you hold one another and have a good cry for a bit.

“Come on,” he pulls back, “let’s head in.”

You follow him back inside and he leads you to a different section than where the conference room from earlier was. Two guards, heavily armed, eye you as you pass through sliding bulletproof doors.

He pauses in front of a nondescript door and turns to you thumb nervously tapping on the handle. “This is just the monitor room but… do you want to see him?”

Your fingers freeze on the dog tags you’d been fiddling with and stare at him suddenly unable to speak. The obvious answer was yes but… what if it was bad… what if he’s feral or catatonic or- It doesn’t matter.

“Yes,” the word finally crawls from your mouth. Steve smiles opening the door, holding it to allow you entry.

Sam’s already there and gives you a warm smile, “I’ll leave you two.” He gives Steve’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he walks out.

There’s a man wearing simple scrubs sitting on a cot with his back pressed to the wall, head leaned back, a knee pulled up with his metal left arm resting on it. Music is playing from speakers you can’t see, he softly sings along smiling gently.

Your jaw hangs open. This isn’t the ghost you were anticipating. This is Bucky.

“He’s had a good day,” Steve’s voice reaches you but you can’t look away.

Composure leaves you. Doubling over as if you’ve been hit you weep, a huge smile on your face. Pressing the dog tags and rings to your lips you eke out, “He’s ok, Dummy. He’s safe. It’s over, Dummy.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a minute then you feel his hand on your back, “It’s a lot I know. Here,” he gently lifts you and guides you to a desk chair passing you a box of tissues.

“Thank you,” you wipe at the mascara streaming down your face.

“I’m sorry but… did you say dummy a second ago?” He takes the seat next to you.

You smile, “I did.”

“As in, Dum Dum Dugan.”

Nodding you hold up the necklace, “My husband.”

“That has to be one of the first stories you regale me with,” Steve laughs.

“Deal,” your eyes wander back to one of the screens, fingers hovering over the image of Bucky. You can’t help but think of another cot in another cell. Snapping your eyes shut you remind yourself that this isn’t Hydra… well not anymore.

There’s a knock at the door, “Come in,” Steve replies. Sam and a woman you haven’t met enter. You stand wiping at your eyes a bit more, certain it’s all beyond saving anyway.

Steve introduces you, “Y/N, this is Dr. Laura Carr. She’s the psychologist taking point with Bucky, former S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Dr. Carr takes your hand, “It’s a pleasure.”

“Thank you for being willing to help him, Doctor,” you give her a warm smile.

“No thanks needed. It’s the right thing to do.” She laughs a little, “And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was more than a little fascinated by the case.”

You like her honesty, “I think that’s a good thing. Curiosity drives us to think outside set parameters,” Sharon comes in as you speak, “and I believe you’re going to need that in this case.” Dr. Carr nods.

Steve looks back at the screen then to you, “Dr. Carr,” he throws her a smile, “do you think Y/N, here could see Bucky today?” Your breath catches and you swear you can hardly feel your heartbeat.

The doctor eyes you, “Sharon told me you two have a history, though she was pretty vague with the details.”

“My apologies, doctor,” you smile softly at Sharon, “the life I’ve led has made vague the default. Being with S.H.I.E.L.D. I’m sure you understand.”

She nods, “I do. It always made things more complicated when your patients couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell you everything.” She takes a moment and looks to Steve, “You’re his medical power of attorney, if you trust her I would say that today would be fine. Though I will want to monitor the exchange.”

“I trust her,” some tension slides from you at Steve’s words, “I’m ok with you watching. Y/N?”

“Of course,” you nod. “But… there’s something I need to get first.” Confusion settles on the faces around you, “Just a promise I made a long time ago that I’d like to keep. Could I use your car, Sharon?”

“I can drive you,” she walks to your side.

“Fantastic!” You smile up at Steve, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

-

“Bread?” Sharon eyes the large french loaf you’re cradling as you get back in the car.

“Oui.”

“Not what I was expecting but… ok.”

“What were you expecting, mon chaton?”

She laughs, “I don’t know. Whiskey, brandy, lingerie.”

You laugh fully, it feels good after the weight of the day thus far, “I don’t usually prefer an audience when lingerie is involved, kitten.”

“Please, stop there,” Sharon’s face scrunches in mock disgust.

As she parks the tone shifts, “Will you be ok, Aunt Y/N… seeing him?” She takes your hand giving it a squeeze, “It’s ok if you want to-”

“My sweet girl,” you squeeze back, “I have not been this ok in a long, long time.” Sharon smiles and nods.

Back in the monitor room everyone looks just as confused when you enter with the bread. Steve is already in the room the two talking casually about something.

“You can go in whenever you’re ready, Y/N,” Dr. Carr tells you. “I thought it best to have Steve go in as a sort of warm up. Keep in mind he’s suffering from severe memory loss, he may not know you so don’t be put off by that.”

“I’ve grown strangely used to my friends not knowing me,” sadness flits across Sharon’s features, “doesn’t make me any less happy to see them.” The doctor nods and Sharon leads you down the hall.

The door is heavy, reinforced steel. She enters a code and does a retina scan before the locks give way. You had expected this to lead to the room but there’s just a hall. You go through two more less enforced doors before stopping at one that looks normal.

“You ready?” She asks you. Your grip on the bread tightens a little. The perfect crackle of the crust hits your ears and you know.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, it’s all yours,” she steps behind you, “just let me get past the last door then knock.”

As the door behind you closes you raise your fist, take a deep breath, and rap on the door. The metal tings and you realize that the normalcy is a bit of a front. A moment later Steve opens the door a nervous smile on his lips. He eyes the bread but doesn’t say anything.

“Buck, there’s someone who wants to see you if that’s ok?”

“Sure?” His voice hits you like a freight train. Steve leads you into the room, “Don’t know who would want-” His words halt when he sees you.

You press down the hope that rises in your chest. He doesn’t know you, the chances are too slim. He’s surprised is all, a new person, one he can’t remember wants to see him and he doesn’t know why. You tell yourself you’ve seen this before in Peg, Dernier, and Juniper. This is the same. Don’t get excited.

“Hello, Sargent Barnes,” your voice is soft, heart thundering in your chest. He stands slowly, those eyes you remember so well, studying you. You try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“I know this may be confusing. And that you likely don’t know who I am… That’s ok. I just… wanted to see that you were well and… bring you this.” Tentatively you hold the bread out to him. He takes the wrapped loaf and opens it.

You swear a smile is playing on his lips, “Bread?”

“Oui. I-I know it seems silly-”

“Did you fly all the way from Lyon to bring it to me?” The breath leaves you. Hot tears stream down your face instantly. 

He smiles, that bright true smile and sets the bread down on the edge of his cot, “I’m glad you’re ok, Y/N.”

“Bucky,” your voice is thick with emotion. Without thought you fling yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms encircle you holding you tight. When you feel a tremor pass through him you realize he’s crying too.

“I’m so sorry,” you say over and over again.

“Hush,” he whispers, pulling back he looks at you. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do though. I wasn’t fast enough I-”

“Stop,” his right-hand cups your face. The silence hangs for a moment while you try to find your bearings.

“I don’t know how or why, but you were always one of the first things I’d remember when my memories would come back. Before they…” His whole body shakes and you know exactly what he means. “You gave me hope. Reminded me that there was no surrender,” his lips twitch up into a crooked smile and your heart clenches.

“It’s not from Lyon,” you give him a grin. “But it is French, thought you had waited long enough for some decent bread.”

He laughs, “Well, it’ll do. For now.”

Oh yeah, there’s more to come.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #steve x reader #steve rogers

[chuuulip]

Favorite Record

Chapter Two

This is posted for Hannah’s @kentuckybarnes 3k Writing Challenge

Shout out to the lovelies @bucky-at-bedtime for beta’ing this and @mychemicalimagines for giving me feedback too hehe.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: I guess nothing?

Summary: You never fond of Natasha taste in music but you always giving it a try, but maybe you had enough.

Chapter one

The chilly October day in New York City didn’t bother you as you strolled along the brownstone line street in Manhattan, in fact, you were quite fond of it. Class has been a mess but you were excited to visit the pediatric hospital today. Stark Industries will host their annual charity in the hospital, something that you have adored for years.

The vibration of your phone caught your attention. You sweep the screen to the right when you saw the caller id. “Pumpkin, where are you?” You can hear your dad’s voice in a busy room full of background noise.

“I’m somewhere in Manhattan I guess. What’s wrong?”

“Weren't you supposed to arrive like 30 minutes ago? Your mom’s a bit worried right now. You know how she is after your accident”

“Oh, mom is in town? When did she arrive?” you walk a bit faster now.

“Like 2 hours ago. She said she missed her baby. Can you be here in 20? The guests are already in the hospital.”

“Okay! I’ll hail a cab now.”

The ride to the hospital is pretty fast since the traffic wasn’t so bad. You are greeted by some Halloween decorations when you enter the hospital. However, you can’t help but grin at the scary cute tidbits that adorn the hallway. Helping to decorate the hospital was a fun thing to do. You occupied yourself by selecting lots of balloons and knick-knacks to liven up the hall weeks ago. Your dad, Tony Stark has been working on advancing medical technology in the past couple years and this kind of event is always in his must to do list.

“Pumpkin!” A petite woman with a strawberry blonde hair were rushing to you. “Hi, mother.” She embraces you tightly which you returned eagerly. “My baby! Oh, I missed you so much.” She retreads and pinches your cheeks, a habit she always had since you are a baby. Her pastel blue blazer was a contrast from your mustard sweater and indigo jeans. “Mother stop it!” you laugh at her. Your mom takes pity on you and stops her attack.

“So how’s your wrist? Your dad said it’s getting better. I hope your school didn’t interfere with its full recovery.”

“It’s actually pretty great Mother, but the final recital kind of put me on pins and needle.”

“Just don’t push yourself too hard ok pumpkin?”

“Promise!”  Your mother finally let go and drag you to meet the small crowd at the front.

Since lots of nurses and volunteers were also wearing a costume, you can’t help but to live up to your nickname and join the rest of the people in the hospital. The bright orange bodysuit has that cute black jack-o-lantern face, far away from creepy. The costume also came together with a little cute stem cap that thankfully fit you. To make the appearance more appealing, you let the cap sit a bit to the right side of your head, strands of hair on the side of your face were let loose so the half up double braid still intact.

The small basket in your left hand was full of greeting cards from the Stark Tech staff, that you plan on hand deliver soon. Other baskets on the table near the fake ghost sweets, was created by people from across the country. Last month you get a bit carried away with Stark Tech Instagram post and upload a ‘special greeting cards’ for the kids in the pediatric hospital in New York City. Your aim was an extra smile to the kids with the cards and Halloween theme goody bag. Fortunately, it becomes a huge success to boost the fundraiser and you never been happier.

“Gentleman, thank you for coming today despite the busy schedule.”

“It’s nothing, Mr. Stark. I am happy we can participate in this charity”

You were immediately drawn to that distinctive low baritone voice. A glimpse of a brown hair took neatly in a low bun. The brushed plaid long flannel with port wine color with the sleeves roll up, display that notable bassist hands of Bucky. You arched your eyebrow curiously, how in the world does your father know Bucky Barnes and his band? Did Natasha tell your father about them? With a long sigh, you unlocked your phone and texted her.

“Yes sir, it’s a pleasure to be here. We love to do this kind of show as much as we can.” The blonde tall man known as Steve was talking to your father. “As long as we are in town, our manager definitely will arrange the schedule.”

“Thank you, Captain. I, for sure, will invite your band again.”

”The Instagram post on Stark Tech account was great. I immediately asked the gang to participate not only with greeting cards.” Bucky chuckles “we want to do more.”

“Oh yeah about that post, it’s my daughter actually.” Tony beams at that. “She’s been helping the PR since last year. She is here somewhere.” you immediately ducked behind a nurse when your father, start looking your way.

“Hmm strange, I just saw here near the table.” Tony’s left eyebrow furrowed, thumb and index finger on his chin, try once again looking for you. ”Anyway, the small stages are yours.” Tony clapped his hands on Bucky’s shoulder and retreat to talk with other parents and a kid who was wearing a ninja turtle costume.

The stage was actually a small area in the front of the hall. There sat a guitar and bass acoustic with three microphones and three performance stools. A small amplifier sat next to the left stool and a black cajon box drum situated to the far right

Because not all the kids and parents can join the rest of the kids in the hall, The Howler promised to visit the kids in their rooms and serenade them.

The kids, their parents, volunteers, and nurses apparently ready to watch The Howler. The band just released a new song for a Superhero movie called ‘Live to Rise’. The song became an immediate number one hit on Billboard 200 and i-tunes, a rare circumstance for a rock alternative band in this EDM era.

Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Clint were already sat on their position. The acoustic version of their songs has that unbelievable tone that sat well with the non-boisterous audience they usually have. Despite your hate towards Bucky, you can’t help but appreciate their performance.

A brush to your right shoulder didn’t go unnoticed but the fact that you know who is it made you loosen up.

“Hi… didn't expect to see you here.”

“Hi Scott.” You smile at him. “neither did I.”

“Nice costume, by the way, Cassie needs to buy this one.” His eyes can’t help but admire your costume.

“Dad, who is the pretty pumpkin?” a chirp of girly voice beside Scott made you sneak a peek.

“Oh, this is my daughter Cassie.”

“Hi, Cassie.” Scott introduced you to his daughter and explaining why he doesn’t go on stage with the others. You immediately offer a costume for Cassie and some strolling visiting the kids if she is interested.

“Our soldier was heartbroken when you slammed the door in front of his face.”

You suddenly tensed “Soldier? I am not sure I have any idea what this is all about?” suddenly the hem of your pumpkin costume is more interesting than the other things happen in the hall.

A small laugh escapes from Scott but your attention was distracted by the music of the next song. Bucky blue-grey eyes suddenly met yours, a startling display on his face, although he suddenly recovered and smiled. The need to flee is intense but it doesn't deter you from looking his way.

Bucky left hands dance around the mahogany neck between the frets of his acoustic bass, but his eyes never leave you. Right fingers slapping, alternate with the thumbing and plucking across the strings, generate that clean tone with volume. To the common listener, the melody of his bass might be overshadowed by Clint’s guitar, but not for you.

Sure, you have seen Bucky playing the bass before, live, but now seeing the acoustic bass been played with such precision, those odd sensations pull you back again. The music finally comes to an end and it freaks you out a little bit, unwilling to talk to the man yet.

“Cassie, what about we visit the kids and give them the cards and the goody bags?” a sneaky look at the stage gives you a glance on what Bucky’s doing.

“I can borrow you some Captain Marvel costume or a Unicorn.” Slowly and calculated, you are ready to escape from the hall.

“Daddy, can I go with her?” Cassie jumps a bit, excited to dress as Captain Marvel.

“Yes Jellybean. Don’t go too long, uncle Bucky might want to meet her.”

***

The hectic Monday had never been Bucky’s favorite, but he will do anything to get the forgiveness he is fighting for.

He thought he would finally get to talk to the woman he so stupidly dishonored. When he saw you at the hospital, he can’t help but trying to show off a little bit of his skill – stupid, he knows. After the performance, he even asked Steve for a break because he was determined to find you. Unfortunately, the lucky stars aren’t on Bucky’s side and he was once again left disappointed.

The chilly November in New York was always the same but Bucky absolutely loved the colors before it turns all white and wet because of the snow. The south street on the central park was adorned with a beautiful color. Not only it has the yellow ginko and gray birch leaves, but this part of the street also has red black cherry and pin oak leaves as well as an orange leaves of tupelo trees. Unable to resist capturing the scenery, Bucky starts doing an Instagram live, things he rarely did because he usually just post things like pictures of shows, his bandmate or his instrument. After fifteen minutes of walking through central park, Bucky finally arrives in the west street, his destination.

At first, Bucky had an appointment with Natasha but it’s actually an excuse of his intention to meet you. Eventually, Natasha gave in and giving Bucky information on what class you have today. To be honest there is a slight of agitation on Bucky’s, afraid of to be dismissed and branded as a bit of a stalker by you. But, when he reminds himself of the thing he said to you, he seriously wants to reflect on his wrong and apologize sincerely.

“Excuse me, I am looking for someone.” Bucky meets a man with a blue button-up and khakis pants. He doesn’t look old, probably in his mid or late thirty. Bucky gives him your name and showing the picture from Natasha’s Instagram.

“You are looking for Monet?” he asks Bucky curios.

“Monet?” Bucky confused.

“Yes, Monet. She is in the class, you just need to turn to the left.” The man checking his watch and look at Bucky again. “Class will be over in a minute, you need to hurry if you want to meet her. She has an appointment with Prof. Pierce.”

“Thank you, sir?”

“Rumlow, Brock Rumlow.” Bucky shakes Brock hand and dashed to the classroom quickly. To his disappointment, everyone seems already finished and only several students stay in class. With a defeated sigh, Bucky exits the class and walks through the corridor. For a second he thinks he sees a familiar silhouette at the far end of the hall and when the figure turns around, Bucky’s eyes meet yours. He watched as your eyes widened in shock and you hurriedly ran to an open door that Bucky’s assumed is the professor’s office.

***

“Malyshka, when will you stop being childish?”

“What?” you eyeing Natasha, hurt with her accusation. ”What is this about Nat?”

“Remember Bucky?” you groaned at Natasha when she said that.

“Sestra please, that was months ago.”

“I know, I know.” Natasha walks and sat at the bed beside you. “But don’t you think it will be better if you appreciate his effort to apologize? or better, let him apologize.”

“He never tries to apologize.”

“The thing is you didn’t let him try, don’t you?” Nat arched her eyebrow.

“How did you even know this?” you pout at Natasha.

“Well, he called me yesterday when you pull that latest escape from the class. Not to mention when you slammed the door in front of him.” Natasha added when looking at you, waiting for an excuse.

Along sighed escaped for you when you recalled what happened that Saturday night.

A Saturday night well spent, that’s might be the correct term the night. Especially before the so-called arrogant someone, knock on Natasha brownstone house.

Since Friday afternoon, Natasha has been dragging you out from your cave – your bedroom. The first week of the new semester has been difficult for you. Although the elective class on liberal arts and history wasn’t that hard, coming back after a year break definitely, taking a toll on your performance.

Natasha has been very supportive since you take a break from school last year. She always tried to include you in her so-called socializing activity, because she believed that you are too naïve and need more exposure to the wild ride.

Here you are at the cute brownstone that she shared with her roommate Maria. Maria is an art curator at a museum in New York but now is out of town visiting her boyfriend.

Friday night has been spent hopping from bar to bar with Nat. Saturday morning you spent quite some time in central park. The lake and the bridge is your favorite spot to spend the day for hours. That evening, Natasha initiates to just spend time at her home. Binge watched Netflix and eating pizza.

Your stomach growls loudly and your check the clock, noticing that the pizza is over 10 minutes late.

You heard a knock on the door and check the clock on the wall again. The pizza guy arrived 15 minutes late. Running from the couch, your hand immediately reached out the knob and open the door.

The view behind the door or more correctly, the person, wasn’t someone you had hoped to see. You stare at him wide-eyed. Never in your life, did you envision to meet the douchewagon again. Without further ado, you slammed the door in front of him. You winced when the door frame rattle slightly, it seems you slammed it too hard.

“Where is the pizza?” Natasha curious when you are coming back empty-handed.

“Uhh…no. It’s not the pizza guy. It’s just someone knocking on the wrong door.” You avoid looking her in the eyes, because if you don’t, she will instantly know that you’re lying to her, immediately. Sometimes you think that Natasha will be better as a spy than a ballerina.

“It’s not my fault! When he arrives at your house unannounced, I freaked out.” You explained to Natasha, although it also wasn’t a lie.

“Malyska will you let him apologized next time?”

“Sestra, why is it so important for me to forgive Bucky? I know that Clint is your boyfriend…” you winked at Natasha. “but, this has anything to do with me forgiving him or him apologizing.”

“It is important because you are my best friend and my sister and Bucky is my dumb cousin, but I also love him.”

“Your what?” you gasp in shock surprise. “Why did I never know this? Nat, I thought you don’t have any family in the state.” You can’t believe that Natasha didn’t mention her family. You have been friends for ages, and she knows almost everything about you and your small family of four.

“Well…I just knew this recently when I celebrate my nana 80th birthday two years ago in upper east. Apparently, my aunt moved to the state after she finished her school and married Bucky’s dad who is an American.”

“Ok. You don’t have any obligation to tell me anything. I mean I might believe the rumors that your family is a mafia back in Russia.”  A wide smile spread on your face and Natasha can’t help but giggling back at and throwing a pillow at you.

“Malyska, please give him a chance to explain himself. And he said he will do anything to gain your forgiveness so you might take advantage of that.” Natasha smiles mischievously at you and you can’t help but grin back at her.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #au fanfic #rockstar au #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #writing challange #bucky x reader fluff #chuuulip post #chuuulip #moodboard

[mittensmorgul]

The End

Yes, we have 5.04, the episode titled The End, with the whole end!verse, but every time this phrase pops up in the show since then, I think this is the first thought a lot of people have. And I think it’s... wildly misleading. I mean, since we haven’t actually had a return to this specific “end.” And I don’t think we ever will. As everyone will recall, the show did not actually end after 5.04.

So to that end (pffft), I wanted to cobble together a history of the phrase as it’s been used throughout canon. Just for my own reference purposes. Here’s the big ones, though:

5.22 Swan Song:

CHUCK types "THE END" and takes a drink.  CHUCK: No doubt – endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it? 

(spoiler alert: fuck you, Chuck)

11.22: We Happy Few:

AMARA: My brother will dim and fade away into nothing. (Outside, ROWENA staggers to her feet. The sunlight is no longer just rosy, tinting the sky purple.) AMARA: But not until he sees what comes next. Not until he watches this world, everything he created, everything he loves turn to ash. (Outside, ROWENA turns, lifting a hand to shield her eyes.) AMARA: Welcome to the end. (She disappears.)

(lol, bzzzt, wrong, try again)

13.23 Let The Good Times Roll:

CASTIEL (to Michael): How do we stop him? MICHAEL: You don't. After consuming the Nephilim's grace, Lucifer's juiced up. He's super-charged. He'll kill the boy, your brother. Hell, he could end the whole universe if he put his mind to it. And you thought I was bad. DEAN: No. No, you beat him. I saw you. MICHAEL: When he was weaker, and I was stronger. Believe me, I'd love to rip my brother apart. But now in this banged up meatsuit... not happening. This is the end, of everything.

(way to horrifically manipulate the situation!)

14.20 Moriah:

CHUCK: (angrily): Fine! That's the way you want it? Story's over. Welcome to  The End.

(cue things happening for another 20 episodes... he’s 20 episodes too soon)

and since there were *a LOT* of results:

yes each one of those open tabs is a reference page I’m pulling quotes from, and yes there are so many open tabs they’ve blurred together. one big drawback about watching a show that has apocalypses every now and again. i’m omitting references that aren’t directly about narrative ends, too (like casual “at the end of the day” references and the like). this is gonna be long so it’s going under a cut:

2.22 All Hell Breaks Loose: Part Two:

YED Oh, Jake. It's got to be you. I've been waiting for you for a very long time. You're my leader. You open that crypt, and you will have your army. JAKE You're talking about the end of the world. YED No, not the end— the beginning... a better world, where your family will be protected. More than that. They'll be royalty. Buddy boy, you have the chance to get in on the ground floor of a thrilling opportunity. Whaddya say? It's your call.

(spoiler alert: pffft... the whole “Demon Army” thing was always a sham, I think pulled ON Azazel by Lilith, even if that was only retconned in later in canon. but also, endings are beginnings, the spiral loops ever onward, and it’s laughable now eleventynine loops of the spiral down the way from this moment, isn’t it? Jake who? Azazel the fanatic who wasn’t even trustworthy enough to be let in on Lilith’s real plans? Incredible)

4.05 Monster Movie:

DEAN: You think "elegance" is really the word for what you did to Marissa, or Rick Deacon, or any of the others?! DRACULA: But of course. It is a monster movie, after all. DEAN: You do realize what happens at the end of every monster movie? DRACULA: Ah, but this movie is mine. And in it, the monster wins. The monster gets the girl. And the hero, he’s... electrocuted. And tonight, Jonathan Harker, you will be my hero.

(spoiler alert: the monster does not win)

4.06 Yellow Fever:

Sam: So uh...so, what did you see? Near the end, I mean. Dean: Oh, besides a cop beating my ass? Sam: Seriously. Dean: Howler monkeys. Whole roomful of them. Those things creep the hell out of me. Sam: Right. Dean: No, just the usual stuff, Sammy. Nothing I can’t handle.

(spoiler alert: it was definitely not anything Dean could handle)

4.09 I Know What You Did Last Summer:

ANNA: Look... I get it. You think I'm nuts. If I were you, I'd think I was nuts. But it's all true. PSYCHOLOGIST: It's okay. You can tell me. I'm here to listen. ANNA: The end... is coming. The apocalypse. PSYCHOLOGIST: The apocalypse. Like in the Bible? ANNA: Kind of. I mean, same bottom line. This demon, Lilith, is trying to break the 66 seals to free Lucifer from Hell. Lucifer... Will bring the apocalypse. So... Smoke 'em if you got 'em.

(spoiler alert:... we know how this turned out)

4.15 Death Takes a Holiday:

DEAN: You know what I mean. We're talking the end of the world here, okay? No more tasseled leather pants, no more Ramones CDs, no more nothing.

(spoiler alert: Pamela’s cool with that since she’ll get an endless show at the Meadowlands in her personal heaven)

4.22 Lucifer Rising:

DEAN: But me and Sam, we can stop... (he cuts off, having an epiphany) You don't want to stop it, do you? ZACHARIAH: Nope. Never did. The end is nigh. The apocalypse is coming, kiddo, to a theater near you.

(spoiler alert... it bombed at the box office)

5.02: Good God, Y’all:

Dean: Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory— Castiel: He is out there, Dean. Dean: Or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us. I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?

(spoiler alert: i mean he really wasn’t far off the mark was he...)

5.03 Free To Be You And Me:

REPORTER: —the town of Tully? tonight, John. Locals say that what started as a torrential hailstorm late this afternoon suddenly turned to massive lightning strikes that triggered the fires now consuming more than twenty acres here along the Route 17 corridor. County officials are advising all Tully residents to prepare for what could become mandatory evacuations. The BARTENDER shuts the TV off. BARTENDER: Damn. Is it me or does it seem like it's the end of the world? SAM looks away.

(spoiler alert: that was an observant bartender)

5.07 The Curious Case of Dean Winchester:

A WOMAN, MRS. XAVIER, is reading the Weekly World News, headline: "LEADING PSYCHICS AGREE: THE APOCALYPSE IS HERE! Experts confirm the end is upon us!" She chuckles. The door opens.

(spoiler alert: that time the Weekly World News was actually right)

5.08 Changing Channels:

Dean: Hey there, Sam. What's happening? Sam: Oh, nothing. Um. Just the end of the world.

(spoiler alert: lol)

5.09 The Real Ghostbusters:

CHUCK: Ok, Ok, just..okay, it's okay. so, next question. (hands shoot up) Yeah, you. FAN: Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to hell. So, what happens next?

(spoiler alert:  how do you feel about angels? Yeah, because let me tell you, they're not nearly as lame as you think.)

5.11 Sam Interrupted:

Dean: It's the end of the world, okay? I mean, it's a damn Biblical Apocalypse, and if I don't stop it and save everyone, then no one will, and we all die. Dr. Cartwright: That's horrible. Dean: Yeah, tell me about it. Dr. Cartwright: I mean, Apocalypse or no Apocalypse... monsters or no monsters, that's a crushing weight to have on your shoulders. To feel like six billion lives depend on you...God...how do you get up in the morning? Dean: That's a good question.

(spoiler alert: this is actually Dean talking to himself)

5.17 99 Problems:

SAM : Busy night? PAUL: I’m telling you, since The End started, it’s been like one long last call. That round’s on me. 

(spoiler alert: welcome to the apocalypse, pull up a bar stool)

DEAN: We’re all gonna die, Sam. In like a month—maybe two. I mean it. This is the end of the world, but these people aren’t freaking out. In fact they’re running to the exit in an orderly fashion. I don’t know that that’s such a bad thing. SAM: Who says they’re all gonna die? What ever happened to us saving them?

(spoiler alert: hey remember that other time Dean went all nihilistic about the end of the world? yeah good times)

DEAN: So the demons smoking out—that’s just a con? Why? What’s the endgame? CASTIEL: What you just saw—innocent blood spilled in God’s name. SAM: You heard all that heaven talk. She manipulates people. DEAN: To slaughter and kill and sing preppy little hymns. Awesome. CASTIEL: Her goal is to condemn as many souls to hell as possible. And it’s…just beginning. She’s well on her way to dragging this whole town into the pit. 

(remember the whore of babylon’s MO? manipulating people into doing stuff they never would’ve out of fear? yeah)

LEAH: This is why my team’s gonna win. You’re the great vessel? You’re pathetic, self-hating, and faithless. It’s the end of the world. And you’re just gonna sit back and watch it happen. DEAN grabs the stake, punches LEAH, and stakes her. DEAN : Don’t be so sure, whore.

(remember that time the whore of babylon taunted Dean about rejecting his destiny as the vessel of Michael, basically trying to manipulate him into doing the thing? And then he tried to go out and do the thing in the next episode but Cas stopped him? yeah good times)

5.18 Point Of No Return:

PREACHER : The end is nigh! The apocalypse is upon us! The angels talk to me, and they asked me to talk to you! The apocalypse— DEAN: Hey! I’m Dean Winchester. Do you know who I am? PREACHER: Dear God. DEAN: I’ll take that as a yes. Listen, I need you to pray to your angel buddies and let them know that I’m here. 

(spoiler alert: good thing that guy prayed too loud)

5.20 The Devil You Know:

CROWLEY Now...For the record, I'm against this. Negotiating a high-level defection -- It's very delicate business. SAM What are you talking about? CROWLEY I begged Dean not to come back. We should be miles away...from you. He replied with a colorful rejoinder about my "corn chute." SAM (scoffs) CROWLEY So, go ahead. Go --ruin our last best hope. It's only the end of the world.

(spoiler alert: considering this entire thing was a demonstration of Crowley’s ability to manipulate things to his favor... nice tug on the ol’ apocalypse card to get your way)

5.21 Two Minutes To Midnight:

Pestilence: Hmm. You boys don't look well. It might be the, uh, Scarlet fever. Or, uh, the meningitis. Oh! Or the syphilis. That's no fun. However you feel right now? It's gonna get so very, very much worse. Questions? Disease gets a bad rap, don't you think? For being filthy. Chaotic. Uh, but, really, t-that just describes people who get sick. Disease itself... very... pure... single-minded. Bacteria have one purpose -- divide and conquer. That's why, in the end... it always wins. So, you've got to wonder why God pours all his love into something so messy! And weak! It's ridiculous. All I can do is show him he's wrong, one epidemic at a time. Now... On a scale of 1 to 10, how's your pain?

(spoiler alert: blowing up the bacteria actually kills them)

Bonus:

Death: As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless -- at the end, I'll reap him, too. Dean: God? You'll reap God? Death: Oh, yes. God will die, too, Dean. Dean: Well, this is way above my pay grade. Death: Just a bit.

(spoiler alert: *taps watch and raises eyebrow at Billie*)

5.22 Swan Song:

CHUCK (VOICEOVER): Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.

(spoiler alert: with the context that this is God speaking, RUDE)

6.15 The French Mistake:

BALTHAZAR Hello, boys. You've seen "the Godfather," right? DEAN Balthazar... BALTHAZAR You know, the end, where Michael Corleone sends his men to kill his enemies in one big, bloody swoop? (Balthazar finds a container of salt and pours it into a bowl on Bobby's desk) DEAN Hey! BALTHAZAR  "Dead Sea brine." Good, good, good. You know, Moe Greene gets it in the eye, and Don Cuneo gets it in the revolving door? DEAN I said "hey." BALTHAZAR You did. Twice. Good for you. Blood of lamb. Blood of lamb. (looking through Bobby's fridge contents) Beer, cold pizza. Blood of lamb. Yes! Blood of lamb! SAM Why are you talking about "the Godfather"? BALTHAZAR Because we're in it – right now, tonight. And in the role of Michael Corleone – The archangel Raphael.

(spoiler alert: Raphael was playing at being a Michael wasn’t he...)

6.20 The Man Who Would Be King:

CASTIEL You want to make a deal? With me? I'm an Angel, you ass. I don't have a soul to sell. CROWLEY But that's it, isn't it? It's all of it. It's the souls. It all comes down to the souls in the end, doesn't it? CASTIEL What in the hell are you talking about? CROWLEY I'm talking about Raphael's head on a pike. I'm talking about happy endings for all of us, with all possible entendres intended. Come on. Just a chat.

(spoiler alert... it all comes down to the souls in the end, happy endings for all of us, or we can hope)

Bonus, for the sake of hilarity, because of the implication that Hell is a spiral narrative that begins at the ending, All Along The Watchtower style:

CROWLEY Yeah. See, problem with the old place was most of the inmates were masochists already. A lot of "thank you, sir. Can I have another hot spike up the jacksie?" But just look at them. No one likes waiting in line. CASTIEL And what happens when they reach the front? CROWLEY Nothing. They go right back to the end again. That's efficiency.

(spoiler alert: THAT’S EFFICIENCY!)

Double bonus, because I said so:

CASTIEL If you touch the Winchesters... CROWLEY Please. I heard you the first time. I promise -- nary a hair on their artfully tousled heads. Besides, I think they've proven my point for me. It's always your friends, isn't it, in the end? We try to change. We try to improve ourselves. It's always our friends who got to claw into our sides and hold us back. But you know what I see here? The new God (pointing at Castiel) and the new Devil, working together.

(no spoilers, this is just Cas giving everything, selling himself out, for his loved ones again)

6.21 Let It Bleed:

March 15, 1937 Providence, Rhode Island

(A man, H.P. Lovecraft, is typing on a typewriter. He drinks and continues typing. He types "THE END" then places the final paper on top of the others. His door creaks open, seemingly by itself. At the same time, there is a crack of thunder and the lights flicker. He looks up, afraid

(spoiler alert: guess what happened next? *screams and blood splatter* *title card*)

bonus:

CASTIEL: It's a means to an end. Balthazar, you understand that. BALTHAZAR: Oh, absolutely. But what's the end here exactly? You know, raid Purgatory, snatch up all the souls? CASTIEL: Win the war.

(spoiler alert: or option B, exploding and taking half the planet with him... always an option, apparently, and the one that kinda happened...)

7.20 The Girl With The Dungeons And Dragons Tattoo:

CHARLIE: So what's the end game – steal our resources, make us some slaves? DEAN: Planet-wide value meal. We're the meat.

(spoiler alert: sorry they weren’t kidding, Charlie. the Leviathan’s end game was pretty miserable)

7.21 Reading Is Fundamental:

DEAN picks up a “Sorry!” card. CASTIEL: You know, we weren't sure at first which monkeys were gonna make it. No offense, but I [DEAN moves a marker on the board] was backing the Neanderthals because their poetry was... just amazing. It's in perfect tune [CASTIEL picks up a card] with the spheres. But in the end, it was you – the [CASTIEL moves a marker] homo sapiens sapiens. You guys ate the apple, invented pants. DEAN: Cas, where can we find this, uh, Metatron? Is he still alive? CASTIEL: I'm sorry. I – I think you have to go back to start. DEAN moves a marker. DEAN: This is important. CASTIEL motions for DEAN to pick up another card. DEAN does and moves another marker. DEAN: I think Metatron could stop a lot of bad. You understand that? CASTIEL picks up another card. CASTIEL: We live in a "sorry" universe. It's engineered to create conflict. I mean, why should I prosper from... your misfortune? [CASTIEL puts down a marker and moves DEAN’s marker back to the start.] But these are the rules. I didn't make them. DEAN: You made some of them. When you tried to become God, when you cut that hole into that wall. CASTIEL: Dean... it's your move. DEAN pounds a fist on the table and swipes the board to the floor. DEAN: Forget the damn game! Forget the game, Cas.

(spoiler alert: In the end, it was you... I mean humanity won the evolutionary lottery and ended up being able to make the rules for ourselves. All through this, Dean’s looking for other potential avenues toward saving the world from being devoured by Leviathan. Remember when Metatron might be able to do a lot of good? while Cas dodges the actual subject and plays a game that literally continually sends Dean “back to the start” to make the same moves again, maybe slightly differently this time, different strategy, as he repeatedly tries to get Cas to answer HIS question about the actual world-ending game they’re playing against the Leviathan? THIS IS THE SPIRAL NARRATIVE IN ACTION IN ONE SCENE. “WE LIVE IN A SORRY UNIVERSE ENGINEERED TO CREATE CONFLICT” “BUT THESE ARE THE RULES” And when Dean is tired of trying to work within the rules? *game goes flying* *smashes God’s guitar* heck this is a perfect scene... have I mentioned that I love Ben Edlund lately?)

8.01 We Need To Talk About Kevin:

DEAN: Yeah, Cas didn't make it. SAM: What exactly does that mean? DEAN: Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he... just let go.

(spoiler alert: Dean’s already rewriting this ending in his head because he can’t accept the truth of it. Endings suck, and this one would not stand.)

8.12 As Time Goes By:

HENRY : John was a legacy. I was supposed to teach him the ways of the Letters. DEAN : Well, he learned things a little differently. HENRY : How? DEAN : The hard way. Surviving a lonely childhood, a stinking war... only to get married and have his wife taken by a demon... and later killed by one himself. That man got a bum rap around every turn. But you know what? He kept going. And in the end, he did a hell of a lot more good than he did bad.

(spoiler alert: see, Dean’s already made a hell of a lot of peace with John even way back then)

8.14 Trial and Error:

DEAN: I'm a grunt, Sam. You're not. You've always been the brains of this operation. SAM: Dean— DEAN: And you told me yourself that you see a way out. You see a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. I don't. But I tell you what I do know – it's that I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand. 'Cause that's what I have waiting for me – that's all I have waiting for me. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life – become a man of Letters, whatever. You, with a wife and kids and – and – and grandkids, living till you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra – that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get. So I'm gonna do these trials. I'm gonna do them alone – end of story. You're staying here. I'm going out there. If landshark comes knocking, you call me. If you try to follow me, I'm gonna put a bullet in your damn leg.

(spoiler alert: just look at the title of this episode to see how this all turned out. It ain’t called “Trial and Major Win”)

Bonus:

SAM: I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it. DEAN: Sam, be smart. SAM: I AM smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius – when it comes to lore, to – you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen – better than me, better than dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.

(spoiler alert: hell if this doesn’t sound like the speech Sam gave Dean in 14.12, but like way less frustrated, angry, and afraid)

8.17 Goodbye Stranger:

Meg: You ever miss the Apocalypse? Castiel: No. Why would I miss the end of times? Meg: I miss the simplicity. I was bad. You were good. Life was easier. Now it's all so messy. I'm kind of good, which sucks. And you're kind of bad -- which is actually all manner of hot. We survive this... I'm gonna order some pizza and we're gonna move some furniture around. You understand?

(spoiler alert: Cas doesn’t miss the end of times. And the only reason he was “kind of bad” here was because he was being mind-controlled by Naomi so... Meg will be dead by the end of the episode, and Cas will be freed from Heaven’s control. Good times. Better than the apocalypse anyway)

8.19 Taxi Driver:

BOBBY: Yeah. Yeah, well... You know, I always figured that'd be the end of it... You know, just a Hunter's funeral. Zip. Nothing. And I was okay with that. Imagine my surprise. SAM: Well, I guess if there has to be an eternity, I'd pick Heaven over Hell. BOBBY: Yeah. 'Cause there's nothing screwy going on up there. SAM: I wish I made the rules. BOBBY: Well... I'll, uh, do my part, get to the end of this, but... I ain't exactly the retiring type, so, you idjits figure out a way to spring me...

(spoiler alert: apparently what’s burned doesn’t stay dead, s8 version? Also Sam wishes he made the rules... I love all these mentions of “the rules”)

8.21 The Great Escapist:

DEAN: We got the other half of the tablet. KEVIN: What? DEAN: It's the light at the end of your tunnel, kid. Don't say we never got you nothing.

(tfw the light at the end of the tunnel is actually a locomotive)

Dean: Cure a demon. Okay, ignoring the fact that I have no idea what that actually means, if we — if we do this, you get better, right? I mean, you stop trying to cough up a lung, and, and, and bumping into furniture? Sam: I feel better, yeah, um, just having a direction to move in. Dean: Well, good, cause where we're headed doesn't sound like a picnic. Sam: But we're heading somewhere. The end.

(spoiler alert: LOLOLOL thing again bub.)

9.20 Bloodlines:

ENNIS: Look, I don't need no apology from you. DAVID: I lost someone, too, okay?! But I'm trying here. ENNIS: I'm sorry about your brother. He spoke about you at the end. He said, "David, I'm sorry. I didn't have a choice."

(I wasn’t gonna include this, because it’s purely conversational on top of being from this episode which doesn’t really count but... when they’ve both lost people in a sacrifice play, and one is mistaken for the other and his dying words for his brother are “I didn’t have a choice?” um... that just felt relevant)

9.23 Do You Believe in Miracles?

Gadreel: I sat in this hole for thousands of years thinking of nothing but redemption, of reclaiming my good name. I thought of nobody, no cause other than my own. Castiel: You've been redeemed my friend. Gadreel: The only thing that matters in the end is the mission: protecting those who would not and cannot protect themselves. The humans. None of us is bigger than that, we will not let our fears, our self absorption prevent us from seeing it through. Not anymore. Castiel: No, no of course not. Gadreel: Move to the other side of your cell Castiel, and keep your head down. When they say my name, perhaps I won't just be the one who let the Serpent in, perhaps I will be known as one of the many that gave Heaven a second chance. Run sister.

(spoiler alert: redemption, selfless sacrifice, Gadreel meets his end to prove Metatron’s manipulative duplicity and reveal his real motive... that was just another game in a different loop of the spiral. In the end, it’s the only thing that matters)

10.20 Angel Heart:

CASTIEL: So do you think she's better off on her own? SAM: Cas, she just turned 18. CASTIEL: You were alone when you left for college at that age, weren't you? SAM: Yeah, but that's different. CASTIEL: How, Sam? SAM: Here's all I know ... going it alone, that's no way to live. You being there for her, even if she thinks she doesn't want you to be there for her, that's good for both of you. CASTIEL: Maybe, in the end. SAM: In the end.

(spoiler alert: things don’t just get better right away, and they’re hard but family sticks together, loved ones stick together, even when they say they don’t want to... it might not be easy now, but in the end...)

11.02 Form and Void:

SAM: I was infected last night. You? RABID MAN: This morning. SAM: Wait a second. Then why -- RABID MAN: . . . am I further along? Don't know. This thing, it ain't math. I seen some people change fast, some change slow. But in the end . . . We all end up the same. We go psycho. And then we go boom. SAM: Well, that's not -- I'm gonna fix this. RABID MAN: LIAR! You and me, we're dead. We're just taking our sweet time about it. So if you were smart, you'd put a bullet in me . . . and then eat one yourself.

(Sam wasn’t lying, Rabid Man. You just didn’t make it. And Sam was smart not to put a bullet in either of you.)

Bonus, for extra manipulation:

HANNAH: Where is it? CASTIEL: I don't know. HANNAH: Then who would? The Winchesters? Castiel, if this is true, it's the end for all of us. Sam and Dean -- where are they? CASTIEL: I don't know. HANNAH: Then think harder! CASTIEL: How did you find me?

(because that’s the thing, Cas realized Hannah wasn’t there to help, not there to heal him, and that she’d been in charge of all of this all along. She could’ve helped Cas like he’d asked and earned his trust and he probably would’ve shared what he knew of the Darkness with her, but she resorted to the old Heaven Way Of Doing Things instead... and he saw through the manipulation)

11.09 O Brother Where Art Thou?

Man: Repress your sins. Beg for his divine mercy. When the end comes – and come it will – only the forgiven will ascend to holy grace.

and

Amara raises both her arms skyward, compelling lightning bolts. One by one the members of the crowd are struck down; with the final lightning bolt hitting the man who had been preaching. They are all dead, completely scorched. The blood on the fountain turns back to water. The thunderstorm ends. Amara surveys her work, her gaze resting on one body, still holding a sign that says: THE END IS NEAR!

(gotta love those wackadoo religious nuts in this universe, right?)

Dean: What is it exactly that you want? When you make the world of bliss and peace, what’s in it for you? Amara: What I deserve. Dean: Which is? Amara: Everything. Dean: Everything? Amara: I was the beginning and I will be the end. I will be all that there is. Dean: So, you’re it. [Dean turns away from Amara]. That would make you God. Amara: No, God was the Light. I’m the Dark.

(So Amara was the beginning and will be the ending, all that there is... kinda... sounds a bit like... the empty?)

11.10 The Devil In The Details:

Lucifer: Okay, you don't like me. I get it... I get it; sometimes I don't like me either. But Gabriel and Raphael are dead. God went out for a pack of smokes and never came back... and Michael... well, let's just say prison life hasn't really agreed with Michael. These days he's usually sitting in a corner singing show tunes and touching himself. Sam: So you're it. Lucifer [laughing]: I'm it! And hey, I'm not the good guy, we both know I'm not, but the Darkness, she's the end of everything. Lucifer crouches down so he is face to face with Sam, imploring with him. Lucifer: But I can beat her. We can beat her. You and me, together. So come on, Sam. Make the right choice, the big sacrifice one more time, man. Sam, it's time to save the world, man.

(hooooly shit there’s a lot of lying and manipulating happening here... and the Darkness? even she wasn’t the end of everything)

11.16 Safe House:

(mostly included for flashback-to-the-apocalypse lolz)

BOBBY: The apocalypse is on the horizon, and you wanna hunt a damn ghost! RUFUS: Well unless you found a way to stop the end of the world during your little siesta, we got jack all on any of that business. Now I knew you were in the area, heard about this possible little gig, I thought a win would be nice.

(because it’s the end of the world and weird random “wins” help. Plus things that exist outside of time and space in convenient pocket dimensions for easy storage outside of God’s lil creation)

11.17 Red Meat:

Michelle: I... I just wanted to see how you were doing. And to tell you th... [Her voice shakes with emotion and she pauses.] I'm sorry. You saved our lives and... [another pause] well, my mom used to say, um... I didn't believe her then, but I... I think I do now. She used to say... death... it's not the end.

(lololololololllllllllll)

Dean’s spirit: You know, the Darkness is out there... and the world is gonna burn. And once she gets started, that's the end of everything, including you. Now, Sam's the only one who can stop it. Billie: Hmm. How's that? Dean is lost for words. Billie: That's what I thought. It's cute, though. You pretending you're trying to save Sam for the greater good, when we both know you're doing it for you. You can't lose him. But even if Sammy could win the title bout... the answer would still be “no.” The answer will always be “no.” Game's over, Dean. No more second chances. No more extra lives. Time to say bye-bye to Luigi, Mario. Dean’s spirit [sadness and desperation in his eyes]: I'm asking you... I'm begging you, please. Bring him back. Bring him back and take me instead. Billie: I'm not here to bargain with you, kid. I'm here to reap you. And the kicker is... Sam's not dead. [Dean looks stunned] But you are. Or will be, soon enough.

(DOUBLE LOLLLOLOLOLOLLOLLOLLLL)

11.21 All in The Family:

Dean: You're right. I am drawn to you. And it bothers the hell out of me, 'cause I can't control it. Amara: Then why fight it? What you're feeling is that I am the end of your struggle. Something stops you. Keeps you from having it all.

(lol Amara REALLY wants to be the end doesn’t she... poor thing gonna get stuck with Mr. Infinite Loop Chuck... no wonder that’s like her worst nightmare. Heck, being locked up in nothingness sounds better, since that IS her deal... she’s not just the “end” though... she’s also the beginning...Alpha and Omega... Chuck is all the middle bits)

11.22 We Happy Few:

CHUCK: I can’t say I’m sorry if I’m not. (He places plates of pancakes in front of SAM and DEAN.) What he wants an apology for, I did it for humanity. For the world. Look, Lucifer wants what everybody wants: Amara gone. ‘kay? Let’s just give him a little time to cool off. (CHUCK sips from a mug labeled WORLD’S GREATEST DAD.) DEAN: Okay, well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but a little time is not something that we have. The end is frickin’ nigh.

(omfg it’s all the Dabb era themes... god Chuck has always been a dick)

Bonus:

CLEA: End times shouldn’t bother you though, Ro, you a rat. Find your way off any sinkin’ ship. ROWENA: Damn right. The spell I’m working on is Book of the Damned magic, and it can get us back. We can buy ourselves a few more centuries of life. Turn back the clock for us before the world inevitably goes (sing-song) ‘bye-bye.’ CLEA: You scared. ROWENA: Aye. I came face-to-face with the Darkness. The Apocalypse bell’s been rung a few times in our day, but when I looked inside her, I saw it. Not just the end of the world, Heaven and Hell. The end of magic. 

11.23 Alpha And Omega:

CAS: The angels are—Heaven won't help. DEAN: They know that this is the end, right? Of everything. CAS: Yes. SAM: And they don't care? CAS: No, it's not that. It's... They know—They know God is dying and they don't think we can win this. Souls or no souls. They're sealing Heaven, and they're "dying with dignity".

(spoiler alert: it’s like they keep trying to do this all through Dabb era... even after the Shadow throws open every gate. They’re still dying. Kinda makes me think it’s Chuck’s doing... literally... all of it, since it was Humanity’s Plan in this episode that CHANGED things from Chuck’s plan to just... wait for the inevitable blast wave ending)

[Sam, Cas, Crowley and Rowena, and Chuck pull up in the Impala to ‘The The Lazy Shag’ bar/restaurant which has a ‘Closed’ sign on the door. A man walks by with a sign that says ‘The End Is Near’.]

(and a bit later Cas comments that Chuck looks terrible >.>)

12.12 Stuck In The Middle (With You):

[organ music plays, Castiel is sitting in his truck listening to the radio] RADIO: Each of us has a time the physical body dies. We all face God’s judgment in the end. There’s not one of us alive walking on this earthly plane that will not pay the consequence for their actions. [the Impala pulls into the parking lot, distracting Cas from the radio] RADIO: The Lord will hold us in the palm of his hand, and he’ll weigh our souls. Brothers and sisters, are you worthy? [Cas turns off the radio]

(lol, THE WOUNDED ANGEL)

RAMIEL: Allies. Is that what you call three humans with one good liver between them and a busted up angel? CROWLEY: I admit they don’t sound like much. But every Armageddon, every bloody, “this is the end of all things,” a Winchester stopped it. Like it or not, they’re an asset we can’t afford to lose.

(Crowley being sensible, there’s something much bigger than Ramiel’s surface-level read at stake here)

12.20 Twigs And Twine And Tasha Banes:

KETCH: It's the end for the American Hunters. Their time has passed.

(BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA)

WOMAN: I'm reaching the end of my very long life, and it's a problem. Max and Dean are also in pain. Another image of Tasha in the cellar bleeding profusely from her stomach area flashes. WOMAN: 'cause I sold my soul for power. So when I pass, my soul goes to Hell. Unless I can find someone to take the burden, to take my magic.

(spoiler alert: that’s YOUR problem, lady)

12.22 Who We Are:

SAM: Is this how you pictured it? The end? DEAN: Oh, you know it's not. I always thought we'd go out like... Butch and Sundance style. (Sam chuckles) SAM: Yeah. Blaze of glory. DEAN: Blaze of glory. (Dean smirks) Son of a bitch.

(spoiler alert: the grenadebaiting payoff. Gonna die anyway? May as well get the big boom.)

13.02 The Rising Son:

SAM: These yellow-eyed things just keep on comin’, huh? DEAN: Mm—hmm. And hopefully this fourth Prince of Hell is the last Kardashian in the family. SAM: According to this, if that was Asmodeus, it’s the end of the line.

(hey, for once, reaching the end of the line is a relief)

13.16 Scoobynatural:

SAM: Dude, what's wrong with you? DEAN: They don't know that they're in a...a C-word. And we're not gonna tell 'em about anything. Not where we're from, not about monsters. Nothing. Capiche? (Dean looks over to the Scooby Gang, standing across the room) DEAN: They are pure and innocent and good, and we're gonna keep it that way. SAM: Look, if you've seen this episode, why-why can't we just skip to the end? DEAN: Well, 'cause sometimes it's about the journey and not the destination.

(we can’t “skip to the end” because it’s about the JOURNEY, which is still ONGOING, and therefore NOT THE END)

Bonus:

Sam: Ha! Velma was right. It was a shady real estate developer after all. Jay: It's not fair. I would've gotten away with it if it wasn't for those meddling kids. Dean: He said it! He said the line! Scooby Dooby Do! Sam: What are you doing? Dean: Well, I mean at the end of every mystery, Scooby looks at the camera and he says-- Castiel: Dean, you're not a talking dog. Dean: I know that. I... Sam: Yeah. Dean: No, but come on, I-I do look cool with the ascot, right? No? Guys? Come on, guys. Look, red is my color!

(lol!)

13.20 Unfinished Business:

KEVIN: I didn't have a choice! I… Y-you don't understand. I… I… I never used to believe in anything. Well, ex-except science-- quantum mechanical unpredictably. But then the end of the world happened, and everyone around me-- my friends, and my… my mom-- they all started to die. But God chose me? What… What does that even mean?! Michael said he wanted to save the world, not kill it. But he… he hurt so many people. When I couldn't perfect the spell, Michael, he got mad and threw me in the dungeon. And I was so scared, but I fixed it. B-but I… I couldn't do it anymore.

(aah, the poor Worst Version of Kevin, no choice, thought he was doing the right thing, manipulated by circumstance and empty promises...)

GABRIEL: I had it made-- all the booze I could drink, all the, uh, entertainment I could handle. [Sam interrupts and Dean looks disappointed, but the action returns to the motel room] SAM: Okay! Why don't we just skip to the end? [Gabriel sighs and skips to the end of the story, asleep in bed with the two women, when Sleipnir, Narfi, and Fenrir bound him with a sigil and kidnapped him from his bed] GABRIEL: So this is how it ended. By the time I came to, they had sold me to Asmodeus. SAM: Why would they do that? GABRIEL: Hello? Lucifer? In case you don't remember, there was an apocalypse brewing at the time.

(LOL Sam asked Gabriel to skip to the end of the story, and unlike Dean in 13.16, Gabriel did... no wonder Dean was disappointed, he was enjoying the journey even if most of Gabriel’s story was embellished beyond recognition)

LOKI: You think you're some… poor, innocent victim? [he strolls over and punches Gabriel again] Gabriel, with his deadbeat daddy and his mean older brothers. [he stomps on Gabriel] “Who will help me?” “Who will save me?” [he picks Gabriel up and pins him to the wall by his neck] I did! But you… you couldn't keep one promise. And then you had the audacity to ask me to help you again?! [he throws Gabriel down the hall, where Sam and Dean have arrived in a doorway behind him] You think I deserve to die for your spinelessness?! That my sons deserved to die?! [the fight continues, as Dean slides Loki’s sword to Gabriel and Gabriel finally gets Loki pinned to the wall at the tip of the blade] LOKI: Of course, of course you would need someone to swoop in and save your pitiful ass. GABRIEL: Shut up! LOKI: Face it, old friend, you're a joke. You're a failure. You live for pleasure. You stand for nothing. And in the end, that's exactly what you'll die for.

(heck... I mean, Loki dies here, because that “promise?” Gabriel didn’t break it. Loki just wouldn’t listen to facts or accept the reality of what happened. Gabriel had been trying to SAVE his father in 5.19, but THEY also wouldn’t listen... so... poor Gabriel was just stuck in the middle again, and he was imprisoned and tortured for it. Heck he better still be alive and that was another projection that died in 13.22)

14.03 The Scar:

Dean: You were right. I just didn’t want to look at it, what Michael used me for. I just wanted to race ahead. You know, skip to the end of the story the part where I get the weapon and I take out the bad guy. The part where I kill Michael. Sam: Yeah, I know. Dean: You know I said yes to him because I thought: it was stupid. I was stupid. Sam: Dean, you did what you had to do.

(ugh there’s that awful “you did what you had to do.” there was NO CHOICE. NONE. and Dean just wanted revenge at any cost for having been used like that... not even just by Michael, but in the Grander Scheme he has context for after 14.20)

14.07 Unhuman Nature:

Rowena: It's as I suspected. A Nephilim, for all its power, is an unnatural presence. Part human, part angel… It -- It doesn't quite fit. It's delicate. Its grace is what holds it in balance, and when Jack's grace was taken from him, his being fell into chaos. The -- The cells are gobbling each other up. Castiel: Well, if it's grace he needs, he can have mine. Rowena: No, dear, it won't do. Jack is part archangel. He needs a much stronger force and probably some kind of magic, and he needs it quick. Dean: How quick? Rowena: I don't...I don't exactly know, but he's enterin' a critical phase. Sometimes he'll look just fine, but then his body will give way and...it'll be the end of him.

(interesting phrasing...)

14.10 Nihilism:

Mainly, I wanted to make note of the song choice that plays in Rocky’s Bar, “Searchin’ for a Rainbow” by the Marshall Tucker Band. Because the lyrics repeat on a loop about looking for the end of the rainbow

14.11 Damaged Goods:

SAM: Mom, we don’t hug. I mean, w-we do, but only if it’s literally the end of the world, you know?

(yet... Dean awkwardly hugged him... sign of the apocalypse)

14.12 Prophet and Loss:

DEAN: Hey. Man, I-I just want to make sure that you’re still with me on this thing. You’re gonna see it through to the end. SAM: Well, I gave you my word, didn’t I? DEAN: Okay, alright. Just, you know, after what you said last night, I-I-I don’t need you and Mom coming up with some way to stop me. SAM: You know, Mom hates this. I hate this. DEAN: I know. SAM: And Cas and Jack, you haven’t even told them. DEAN: Okay, well, yeah, that’s because I’m not good with the whole big goodbyes, alright? I-I-I don’t need to get shaky on this thing. SAM: Wouldn’t be the worst thing. DEAN: You know what Michael wants to do, you know that this will stop it, and you know that there’s no other way. So, just put the end of this trip outta your head, okay?

(spoiler alert: oh look it’s nihilistic Dean from back in 5.18 come for a brief visit. good thing he got clocked on the noggin instead of doing this dumb thing)

Bonus that’s not really a bonus, because boy’s obsessed and it’s just not healthy:

DEAN: I believe in all of us. And I’ll keep believing until I can’t. Until there’s absolutely no other way. But when that day comes – if that day comes… Sam, you have to take it for what it is – the end. And you have to promise me that you’ll do then what you can’t do now, and that’s let me go. And put me in that box.

#it's spirals all the way down #spn 5.04 #is notably absent from this list... #spn masterlist masterlist pffft #this is just for my own personal musing purposes #the end

[booksviolinsandembroidery-moved]

okay I couldn’t help myself

OTP questions for Caphart (Diego x Sam) from this post.

1. Who likes to sit in the other’s lap?

Sam is petite so more often than not, Sam is in Diego’s lap. Diego might do it to make Sam blushy.

2. On a cold day, who likes to snuggle up to the other?

*banging on pots and pans* SAMMY IS VERY CUDDLY!! Definitely Sam, unless he’s already in bed and Diego isn’t... He would whine at Diego to join him though. He’s just really warm and Sam isn’t and why isn’t he holding his boyfriend already??

3. Who cooks the food and who does the dishes?

They share cooking and dishes pretty evenly, though Sam is the one who decides what to cook. Stuff like that becomes family bonding time where the kids help when they can with the cooking and then do most of the dishes because they need character building goddammit.

4. How would they describe each other to loved ones who haven’t met their partner yet?

Big oof okay two parts for this and I’ll write it from their point of view bc I’m extra: 

Sam- “Oh goodness, where do I even begin? He’s absolutely wonderful. He’s cute, and he’s funny, and he’s so flirty; ugh, I just love him so much. He loves dancing, and I love watching him dance. He’s just so elegant and I can’t handle it! Ah! And when he looks at me with those chestnut eyes, oh I just melt you know? Okay, I need to go find him now. I need him to kiss me.”

Diego- “Hah, Sammy... He is one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. He’s also one of the kindest. He would let you insult him and he would still worry about your well-being. He is also very energetic and it’s cute, but when he’s focused on something, it’s like he’s a completely different person. Hmm... He’s also very loving. I don’t go a single day without a kiss or a hug from him. To me, he’s perfect and I could not have asked for someone better.”

5. Who is more likely to kiss their partner on their forehead?

Sam. Yes, he’s shorter, but that won’t stop him from lifting up on the tips of his toes or catching Diego while he’s sitting, brushing away his hair, and planting a soft kiss on his forehead. Diego’s expression softens from a big grin to an adoring smile every. damn. time.

6. Who makes a scrapbook of all their memories to give to their partner for a special event? Ex- anniversary, birthday, etc.

I don’t really see either of them doing this. They’re both really busy as it is and every second they have free, they spend it with the other.

7. Where would they go to get away from everyone else and just be alone?

Outside. Why? Sam loves stars and the night sky. Diego will take him outside in the moonlight and just hold him as Sam lists off the names of constellations, the favorite stars, and obscure knowledge about them. They might also slow dance to the sounds of nature around them, no music. They don’t need music, they are already each other’s favorite song.

8. Who would want to take cute pictures for Instagram?

Sam is a very aesthetically oriented person. Definitely him. I see Diego as a person that would rather live in the moment and not really care about stopping to take a picture.

9. Who would most likely call their partner, dude, babe and idiot, all in the same sentence?

Probably Sam, but maybe not “idiot”. He gets very excited while talking about/to his bf. Actually... If Diego did something really bold like a public proposal with doves and roses and music, Sam might call him an idiot while recalling it, but very fondly with a soft smile on his face.

10. How do they let their loved ones know they are dating?

Diego? With a howler probably. “I HAVE A CUTE BOYFRIEND AND HIS NAME IS SAM!!” I feel like Sam would forget until someone asks, “So who was that boy that was holding your hand and making you giggle like that?” “Are you finally dating Diego? You’ve been pining for him for like a year now.”

11. Who breaks out in a dance when they hear their favourite song and who joins their partner dancing no matter what they are currently doing?

Sam gets excited really easily and can never hold still for any length of time, so you can bet your ass he would jam out to Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen or Don’t Stop Me Now. Diego... that’s a little obvious.

12. If they each went to go buy an outfit for one another, what would they get?

Diego knows Sam likes cozy and warm things. He would probably get him a sweater or cardigan and something soft to go with it. Sam... wouldn’t really know because there are just so many things he wants to see Diego in and can’t decide.

13. Who still blushes when their partner compliments them?

.... SAMMY! Big shocker, I know. But Sam might be able to make Diego blush if he surprises him enough... It probably wouldn’t be with something the children should hear...

14. What memories do they share together that will stay with them forever?

Their first date together. I will write this eventually. Probably today/tomorrow.

15. Who would dedicate a song to their partner at a karaoke night? Bonus - what song would it be and why?

Diego, mostly because Sam is too shy to sing in front of other people unless it’s his friends (or he’s a little tipsy). Never Gonna Give You Up comes to mind, mainly because it’s the 80′s and Diego would totally sing Sam an upbeat, super sappy song.

#caphart #diego caplan #diego caplan x mc #hphm mc #hphm #Samuel Gabehart

[vcsungmin]

-- 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝

→ @drvicvc

Sungmin had kept an open door policy in his home ever since the day he’d officially donned the Howlers tattoo years ago. He prided himself in it, his little safe haven away from the drama and chaos of gang life, a place where his little family could feel safe--- not only of sound body and mind, but also simply safe to expel whatever thoughts may be plaguing them. Generally his hospitality was mostly accepted by the younger members of the gang, often finding their way to his doorstep to hang out or eat a home cooked meal or simply avoid a situation at home. 

And Sungmin loved that, loved being there for them when they needed him the most. But there was something about seeing an older member arrive at his doorstep, not only treating him like a therapist but also like a friend, a close confidant who they could put their trust in wholeheartedly. That felt good like nothing else did. People as accomplished as Sam or Vic asking for his genuine opinion and taking value in the words that came out of his mouth. It wasn’t exactly something that he had an abundance of back when he worked for the Nightbloods. A welcome change.

The skinwalker had been nearly buried in financial reports when Vic had texted, asking if he could stop by for a bit. The answer was yes, of course--- it would always be yes. Sungmin only hoped that he wouldn’t mind his unruly appearance, still having not bothered to change out of the sweatpants he’d woken up in that morning, round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he sat between piles of paperwork on the couch, working from home to complete it on time. He could definitely use a break, and so when he heard a knock ring out from the front door, he called out an unceremonious “It’s open!” as he finished scrawling the line he was working on. 

Piles of paper were dumped from the couch to the coffee table in front of it, in disarray yet somehow the bookkeeper knew exactly where he could find everything he needed. He abandoned his work in favor of padding to the kitchen. “Would you like a beer?” he called out behind himself as he opened the fridge to dig through it, only to backtrack a moment later. “Or... coffee? Whiskey? What time is it?” The skinwalker found that he wasn’t actually sure of the answer to that question, digging his phone out of his back pocket to answer.

#-- thread: been seeing your soul || ( ft. vic ). #drvicvc #w h y did this get so long istg

[queercapwriting]

How about another Hogwarts AU but one day, pretty much the whole school catches Alex and Maggie making out and it's all "oh shit what do we do" all day but the next morning they find out somebody hexed the house flags across the whole school to show gay pride flags instead of the houses and everyone's scarves are the same AND HOLY SHIT IMAGINE THE QUIDDITCH PITCH

Neither of them are out, beyond their circle of friends.

Maggie, because she knows what her parents will say, and she doesn’t want to hear the Howler they’ll send before never speaking to her again.

Alex, because it’s so new and her girlfriend turns her to mush and god, what will that do to her reputation?

But one night, they meet in the Great Hall -- because being out of bed after hours is off-limits, but at least if they’re in the Great Hall, a completely innocent meeting place, they can’t get into too much trouble if they’re caught, right? -- and it seems like a good plan.

Except they forget to mind the time as it passes.

Because, when Maggie kisses Alex, it feels like time stops passing completely; because all that exists are Alex’s lips, her tongue, her hands, the warmth of her body, the softness of her laughter and the little sounds she makes, the strength she holds her with, the vulnerability she lets herself be held with.

So they don’t realize when the sun starts to come up, and they don’t realize when the whole school starts to stream in for breakfast, because tomorrow’s Quidditch, so today there are intense practices, and no one wants to miss that.

It’s only when Alex feels eyes on the back of her neck -- many, many wide-open eyes -- that they both notice that they’ve just been caught making out by pretty much the entire school.

They spend the day hiding in the Room of Requirement.

Their friends take turns trying to comfort them.

Kara brings them food and Sara reminds them that everyone knows she’s bi and no one other than that jerk Anthony Ivo has given her a problem; James promises he would never let anyone hurt them and Winn assures them that they’ll all be there for them if their parents find out; Lucy comes out to them as bi, and Lena brings them another round of food, and Sam comforts them by reminding them that at least it was a hot kiss, damn.

They almost don’t show up to the Quidditch game the next day -- between both their Houses, so even more eyes will be on them than there would be if they were from the same Houses, or at least, damn, not from Gryffindor and Slytherin -- but their friends all seem strangely optimistic, overly bubbly, even.

So it weirds them out a bit, but they go, because they’re not ashamed, dammit, and the school can deal with it, and who cares what other people think, because they love each other and they’re happy and no one can...

Alex notices first, and when she stops in her tracks, mouth wide open, Maggie immediately follows suit.

Kara beams and Lena giggles happily, along with the rest of their inter-House friend group.

Because last night, when Alex and Maggie were getting fitful bouts of sleep, the friends were conspiring to combine every bit of their different magical expertise to pull this off.

And really, it was working brilliantly.

Because every House flag is now a rainbow, and every House scarf and tie are now screaming reminders that Maggie and Alex are safe, are wanted, are adored, are real.

“You guys did this?” they ask, holding hands in awe as the rest of the school streams by, clapping them on the back and calling out how much they love the new scarf styles.

“We’ve got some skills,” Sara grins.

“That seems obvious.”

They all freeze as Professor J’onzz appears, his gaze fixed on the abundance of pride flags soaring above the Quidditch pitch.

“Headmaster,” Winn starts to explain, but J’onn holds up his hands and shakes his head.

“Fifty points to each of your Houses,” is all he says. When none of them know how to respond, he places a gentle hand on both Alex and Maggie’s shoulders.

“For bravery and for love,” he tells them, and they all swear they see him smile as he strolls away, toward the pitch.

He doesn’t put the flags back to House colors, and it feels like Pride Month all year.

#sanvers #sanvers at hogwarts #sanvers pride month #sanvers fluff #caps

[vcxhisoka-archived-blog]

protection || plot drop

Hisoka never went anywhere without three things: her favorite lipstick, a gun, and an unusually sharp butter knife. Of course, no one on the subway aside from Lena knew that. The two had been on the subway eating pretzels talking about things of little consequence what felt like a millennium ago now as gunshots rang out in the Underground, thick, smoke filling the air. She regretted not acting faster. As soon as she’d seen those canisters hit the stairs she grabbed the peachy-haired one’s hand and spoke, “Len, get down,” and then another canister and another and another, and as they popped and the smoke began to billow out, she screamed, “Everyone get down!” 

Everything happened so quickly after that. There was something in the gas aside from dye, that was certain, as the young half-blood’s lungs filled with heavy smoke that burned her from the inside, more so than normal smoke. Or maybe she was just being a little bitch? Who knows. But soon enough, gunshots rang out, and it was do or die. Hisoka’s fight or flight instincts were terrible, she always fights. When her loved ones are on the line, she fights and she fights hard, which is why through watery eyes, she took aim towards the entrance and opened fire. 

“Watch yourselves!” she shouted to her team members, warning them of the bullets coming from her side. She was so grateful that Sam had still been in his office, but she knew as soon as he heard this he couldn’t just stay. She had to get to him before they did- she had to keep their leader safe. First and foremost, The Howler’s needed Ace to be safe. Junho, Jaesun, and herself needed their father, though.  

She felt useless. Her powers meant nothing if she couldn’t make eye contact, and with smoke this dense she couldn’t see much of anything. She didn’t know how she was going to be able to avoid bullets and find Sam at the same time, but she couldn’t just leave him open like that. She kept low to the ground, getting grazed on the shoulder by one. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but it didn’t hurt as much as she knew losing Sam would, so she pushed on, eyes scanning the room for the little glowing moon. She heard her father call out, and like an idiot, she broke out into a full sprint towards the voice, “Sam!” she screamed out in response, but she bumped into an enemy, which stalled her. She grabbed her butter knife and plunged it into the shoulder of the obstacle in front of her and shoved him off to the side, making a mental note to thank Junho later.

A hit to the shoulder, she screamed in pain as a bullet tore through, close to the first wound. She was so close to the glowing moon, though, she could almost see Sam’s figure- she could help him now! Another to the lower leg sent her crashing to the ground as her muscle spasmed from the shock of the bullet, “Sam!” she had to keep going- she couldn’t let him get hurt. Running on pure adrenaline, she could barely feel the pain, but she knew her body was going to pay for this when it was over. The moon jolted and juttered before falling to the ground and she screamed, “Dad! Dad, no!” she couldn’t see his body, or his injuries, all she saw was the moon on the ground, and she cried. She couldn’t see anything through the tears in her eyes and the smoke, but she kept trying, struggling to get to him. 

A final bullet to her lower back, to the side, near the lower abdomen, stopped her. She reached out with her good arm, and manage to barely touch fabric. She didn’t know what it was, but it was enough to keep her going, though slowly. Her vision was blurry, but she couldn’t stop until she got to Sam... couldn’t...stop...had...to....get... “Dad...” she managed to reach him, but just barely. If she was going to die, which it sure felt like she was, she wanted it to be by Sam. She only hoped she’d stopped enough bullets to keep him alive. He was unconscious when she found him. Hisoka laid her hand on top of his, unable to find the strength in her body to hold it, and suddenly shock caught up with her. Her body couldn’t fight anymore, and her eyes fell shut. 

#vc: plot drop #she's not dead but she's fucked and y'all voted for this #tw: blood #tw: death mention #tw: violence

[gripefroot]

Howler & the Black Cat [3/11]

The sunny morning, several days since the last nighttime incident, finds you at your desk on the seventeenth floor of Avengers Tower. Sunlight spills on your desk, making it hard to see the computer screen - but the warmth is too nice to close the blinds. The babble of your coworkers behind you is lulling; sorting through pictures dull enough to make you yawn.  

The nights have been busy the last week or so - without Howler, wherever he is, your nighttime activities have become a little more difficult. But how? You’d worked alone for so long before he’d ever shown up - clearly you’ve gotten used to having backup.  

You snort to yourself. How’d he like to be called backup? 

A voice rises above the rest as you start to dial a phone number into your cell - Sam Wilson. The Avengers must have returned from South Africa. He’s cheerily greeting people left and right, but when he comes to your desk at the end, he stops. Glancing up, you return his smile, surprised to see Bucky’s dark figure hovering behind, glancing around with bored interest.  

“Good morning,” Sam says. “Wanted to make sure the pics you put up of last night in Johannesburg are all flattering.” 

You blank, and then snort again. “You came all the way down here to make sure only flattering pictures of you hit the web?” you ask, bemused. “Really? You could’ve texted.” 

“Aw, come on. Maybe I just wanted to see my favorite girl.” And with his toothy grin only broadening, Sam lifts a wrapped package, to balance on the lip of the cubicle. Your eyes flicker to it, and you quirk a brow.  

“You’re trying to bribe me,” you declare. “Getting me coffee all the time, and now gifts? What do you want?” 

“A good relationship with the person in charge of how I look to the world,” Sam says smoothly, casting you a wink. Behind him, Bucky is rolling his eyes, and you hide a snicker.  

“Well,” you say, reaching out to slide the package towards you. “I accept your gift, but will make no promises.” 

“I think she’s got you there, Wilson,” Bucky comments in his deep voice. Sam shakes his head, but his eyes are sparkling as he wheedles,  

“Can I at least see the shots from last night?” 

“Sure.” You turn your computer monitor to face Sam, and eagerly he leans down to scroll through the paparazzi shots. As soon as he’s done, you need to call the distributors and shut them down, and buy off the digital copies. Then you can post them, all royalties go to Stark, and ‘make sure’ there will only be shots flattering to Sam. Lips twitching, you meet Bucky’s eyes over Sam’s shoulder. He’s shaking his head in amusement, his eyes very blue in the bright sunlight.  

“Is that why you’re here, too?” you ask Bucky.  

“Nah. Sam promised some sparring in the training rooms downstairs, and I figured I’d get bored waiting,” Bucky says. “This way I can at least encourage him to hurry up.” 

You snicker.  

“This is a good one,” Sam decides. “And this one. Just those on Twitter, if you can.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you say diplomatically. “I can send you copies for yourself though, if you like.” 

But Sam is already distracted - as he straightens, he sees the mess of papers in your inbox, and reaches over to snatch up the top one, his eyes alight. “Oooo!” he gushes. “This is for the costume gala! Come as your favorite superhero; best costume will be crowned by Tony Stark himself,” Sam reads aloud. Then his eyes meet yours over the top of the proposed poster. “Does Tony know that?” he asks teasingly.  

“Not yet,” you admit. “Thought I’d spring it on him last minute. Then he can’t protest.” It’s a joke, of course - Tony doesn’t mind these sorts of things when it comes to charity gigs. Which is good for publicity. Bucky snorts at your joke, and Sam grins.  

“Who’re you going as?” Sam asks next, letting the poster fall back in the tray.  

You shrug. “Haven’t decided.” 

“I was thinking I’d go as Howler,” Sam says, and your eyes snap back up, startled. “But apparently at least four other guys are going as him. Popular dude.” 

“Go as Black Cat,” you suggest with a smirk.  

“Me-ow.” Sam pretends to claw the air, and you laugh. Bucky is rolling his eyes again.  

“What?” you snark at Bucky as his brow lifts. “You think Black Cat is overrated?” 

“Not at all,” he replies. “Quite the opposite, actually. Was thinking I might ask her to be my date.” 

You burst out a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that. She’s never made a public appearance before.” 

“Well,” Bucky says, shrugging with a hint of arrogance. “Who can resist - ” he pauses and blinks, as if rethinking what he was about to say. You lift a brow, and he stumbles to finish, “ - um, the Winter Soldier?” 

“Millions, I imagine.”  

Bucky doesn’t appear offended at your comment - in fact, his eyes are twinkling, and your face suddenly burns. Clearing your throat, you straighten the papers in the tray.  

“Well boys, I have some work to do making you two look good,” you say. “A lot of work, if you catch my meaning. Feel free to bring bribes any time.” 

“Sure thing.” Sam winks again, waving in parting. Bucky’s back turns - he pauses - and then glances back over his shoulder to shoot you a little smile. Then he’s gone after Sam, and you blink. There had been something strange in Bucky’s eyes...almost familiar. It’s hard to recall, as if the memory is just out of reach at the distant corner of your mind. And your reaction? Twisting stomach, fluttering nerves? Unusual. But dismissable. 

Maybe you’ll remember later.

~

Wiping blood from your mouth with the back of your hand, you stare down in disgust at the whimpering man on the ground. He, at least, is worse off than you - several cuts on his face, a knee to the groin, and a few kicks to his knees and ankles had taken care of that. Even if he had punched you in the face.  

“Next time I’m not gonna be so nice,” you say, spitting a glob of pink-tinged spit to the ground.  

The girl at the other side of the alley is still crying, great gulping sobs. With a last disdainful sniff at the man, you go over to her and offer a hand - she eyes you warily, and then takes it. She’s shaking head to foot, and you pull her up.  

“You have friends around?” you ask briskly.  

She nods her head. “Um - yeah, back at the bar.” 

“I’ll take you there.”  

The man is groaning behind you two, and is ignored as you keep a firm grip on the girl’s arm as you step back into the streetlights from the mostly-abandoned alley. It doesn’t seem right to be in the light - but fortunately the bar is only a few doors down. Leaving her in the company of sympathetic friends, you weave back around the brick building and into the shadows, letting out a sigh of relief.  

Your mouth is still throbbing. As you hoist yourself up to sit on the metal grate steps, you lean back slightly, closing your eyes and savoring the sting of broken flesh. Slowly you pull out some medicine and tug off a glove, wincing as you touch the cut.  

A whoosh in the dark - and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest as a figure appears before you, hanging upside down from the landing above.  

“Boo,” it says, and twists around to drop onto his feet a few steps below you. Giving Howler your best glare doesn’t deter him - he merely grins, and sits himself down right next to you. You scoot away slightly.  

“I should’ve known you’d show,” you say dryly, capping the medicine lid back on.  

“I saw you beating up that guy over there,” Howler says, jerking his head in the direction of your previous encounter. “Would’ve intervened - but you seemed to have it under control.” 

“I did.” 

“Are you okay?” 

You glance back up - the concern in Howler’s voice is startling - and his impulsive reach over to touch your wound even more so. You flinch away, and his hand drops. His smile hardens, and then fades.  

“I’m fine,” you say, half-distracted as you wrap your arms around your knees. You’d been hoping for quiet - guess that won’t be happening. Then again, the idea of sending him away doesn’t improve your mood, either. 

It’s silent for a few moments. You peer over at Howler, but he’s leaning one elbow against the steps, staring off into the distance like you. Half-hidden by his mask, his eyes are dark, and they aren’t sparkling. It wrenches your stomach with disappointment, for some reason. Then he glances back at you, and adds, “It gets hard, doesn’t it?” 

“Hmm?” Being distracted by his lazy, languid sexiness? Yes - but you suspect that’s not what he’s referring to, and your cheeks warm.  

“It’s hard to see all the bad things in the world.” Howler flicks off a shred of lint from his black pants. “It’s tough to decide who you should bust up for being a jerk.” 

A hollow laugh escapes your throat. “It’s not tough when I’m angry.” 

“Fair.” 

“But you’re right. It’s not easy to see the bad stuff.” Your fingers curl around the metal grates, knuckles discolored from your scrape. You stare at the blossoming bruise, frowning - you hadn’t noticed this wound, nor had you replaced the glove on your hand after applying ointment. Then Howler’s gloved hand covers yours without warning, cutting off your view. Startled, you glance up to meet his eyes.  

“Why do you do it?” he asks without preamble, his eyes glittering in the dim light.  

“Hmm?” 

“Why do you do it?” he asks again, then tilts his head slightly. “This.” 

“Oh.” You ponder this for a moment, choosing your words. Then, “Well - the police don’t notice everything. The Avengers don’t notice everything. I’m just here to fill in some cracks.” 

“The Avengers,” Howler says after a moment, and if you’re not mistaken - there’s surprise lacing his voice. His eyes have widened, and you quirk a brow.  

“I mean, they try,” you say mildly. “But they can only do so much.” 

“Sure, sure.” 

“Why do you do it?” you press him. If he’s allowed to ask personal questions… 

“Oh.” Howler wrinkles his nose - in a way that draws every iota of your attention - before he answers. “I guess I’m kinda like you. The justice system is too slow and clogged up. I mean, I know it's there for a reason - but sometimes operations under the radar keep things going more smoothly.” 

“That’s not very American of you,” you tease, and without thinking - well, only thinking of the unusually firm set of his mouth - you nudge his shoulder with yours, and immediately his grin is back in place.  

“Hey,” Howler protests, and leans over to poke you in the side, making you laugh. “Maybe I’m not American. Ever think of that?” 

“I don’t believe it for a minute, you fraud.” 

He groans, leaning his head back as his eyes close. “Fine. Fine. You got me. I’m at your mercy, darlin.’” 

Quieting your laughs - it’s not far to the sidewalks, you lapse back into silence for a moment. The depressed squeeze of your heart has lessened with Howler. Absently you rest your chin in your hands, studying the brick of the wall as your thoughts wander. 

“Speaking of the Avengers,” Howler blurts. “Have you heard of that charity gala they’re hosting for the children’s hospital?” 

Your mind goes completely blank - the charity gala? Howler knows about the charity gala? How? Has he figured out who you are? Did you give it away earlier by mentioning the Avengers? What does he know? What has he figured out?  

“Um,” you stall. “No?” 

“Oh, well - I keep hearing rumors all over the place that everyone’s keen to dress up as you and me.” 

“Really,” you say faintly. 

Howler’s grin is feral. “I swear it.” 

“And what sort of places do you go to, to listen to people talk about you?” you ask brusquely, taking a strong offense. “Is that some sort of ego thing?” 

“Aw, come on, kitten. You have such little faith in me.” 

“I barely know you at all.” 

“And I don’t object to more intimacy, if you know what I mean - ” 

Mouth falling open in indignity, you dig an elbow into Howler’s unprotected ribs - he grunts, wheezing with laughter as you fold your arms across your chest with a hmph! 

“Sorry, sorry - couldn’t resist - ” 

You sniff, and say nothing. 

“Look, the reason I brought it up,” he adds, still grinning as you glare over at him. “I thought it might be fun to make an appearance together. Really spook some people - if there are so many people dressed up like us, we’ll blend right in. Have some fun. Maybe make it a date.” 

“Nice try, dog. I’m not going anywhere like this. There’s a reason I keep it a secret. Now, stop hounding me.” 

Howler snickers, and a blossom of good humor starts back in your chest.  

“I mean it,” you add severely, but can’t help smiling - he’s grinning, his eyes shining.  

“Sure, kitten,” he says, lowering his voice. Shivers break out across your skin, and quickly you shift away from him. Then without warning, he leans his head back and lets loose a soft but unmistakable mimicked howl of a wolf, sending it into the black of night.  

“Oh my gosh.” You roll your eyes. “Give it a rest.” 

“Just tell me this, kitten,” Howler licks his lips, though he’s still smiling. “Why was the dog sad?” 

“Because he wouldn’t leave the cat alone,” you invent, annoyed.  

“He had a ruff week.” 

You groan loudly, and he cackles madly. Smugly.  

“Aww,” he says, tone beseeching. “It was funny, and you know it.” 

“I’m not giving you a pity laugh for that.” 

“Come on, just one.” 

“Dream on, Howlie!” 

“I just wanna see you smile, kitten,” Howler says, more gently now. “You looked so cut up earlier. I don’t wanna leave you until you’re feeling better.” 

“How very gallant,” you force yourself to snark, despite the heat in your cheeks. He scoots closer, still on his elbow as he gazes up at you.  

“Just one smile.” 

Gnawing your lip, you let yourself drown in his blue eyes - just a little bit - before sighing. “I’m guessing you’re not gonna leave me alone until I smile?” you ask, and he grins, nodding. “Fine.” Licking your lips, you offer a forced smile. Howler stares for a moment, and then snorts. His face is near enough that you can feel his warm breath on your arm, even through your shirt.  

“I’ll let it slide this time,” he says, wagging a finger. “Listen, kitten - I mean it when I say this is a tough job. Don’t push yourself too far, okay?” 

A retort is on the tip of your tongue - that’s none of your business, dog - but you bite it. There’s no condescension in his tone or eyes. Just sincerity. And kindness. Your heart does a strange little pattering beat, and you swallow.  

“Okay,” you say at last.  

“Good girl. If you ever need me, I’ll be there, okay?” 

“If you say so.” 

“Let’s exchange phone numbers, at least,” he suggests. “Then if you’re ever in a situation and you need help - I’ll be there.” 

Howler has a point. No one else knows what you do with your nights - if something worse than usual were to happen, you’d be totally screwed. Reluctantly you pull your phone out of your pocket.  

“Tell me your number, then.” 

He does, and you send a quick text.  

“That’s from me,” you inform his grinning face. “Now, I’m going to go home. A long route, see if I can put out any more fires. If you follow me, I’m gonna kick you so hard your grandchildren will feel it.” 

Howler snickers. “Duly noted. Be safe out there, kitten.” 

Standing, you hesitate for a moment as you tug your glove back on. Then, glancing down for a final look into his eyes - and enjoying every second - you smile.  

“You too, Howlie.” 

He dips his head in a nod, and you hop over the railing to the ground.

continue

[imwastingmylifeinhere]

Magnus Chase and the Obligatory Hogwarts Au Ch23

Here's a new chapter! Tbh, I'm not sure what to think about this chapter, it's honestly a filler chapter. However, I have something to show you! Here is the first piece of fanart my sister made! I thought I'd post the link now since she might still lazy out on me.

The rest few months until the Third Task went by quietly. And ‘quietly’ meant that Magnus didn’t fight against deadly beasts or finally get together with the girl-sometimes-boy of his dreams. What had every fifth and seventh year student in over their heads was something much different and much worse.

Exams.

The N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s were moved to an earlier time in the year since they normally would have happened at the week of the Third Task. Their new date had the students that would be sitting them in a frenzy; seventh year students in particular were rarely seen without a textbook in their hands or notes in their pockets. Many of them sported black circles under their eyes and the corridor leading to the kitchens smelt perpetually of coffee.

Magnus and his friends weren’t any better off. The earlier date of the exams meant that the weeks before the exams that were devoted in reviewing the material of each class were significantly cut down and most of their time now was spent cramming as much knowledge into their heads as possible. Bless Magnus and his house elves connections because they would have died of exhaustion long ago if he hadn’t been providing them with coffee and chocolate.

T.J was aiming for either Auror training or a position in the Ministry of Justice. He hadn’t been able to choose one, even though he had been thinking about it ever since his O.W.L.s, so he had decided to apply to both and see what happened later. A fine strategy, if only for the fact it meant he needed the N.E.W.T.s both jobs required. He might be good at studying, but it was getting a bit much even for a Ravenclaw.

Mallory was quite honestly lost about what she wanted to do after school ended. She decided to apply for Auror for no other reason other than that it seemed cool and she wouldn’t mind beating up people for a job. She didn’t have any problems with DADA but Potions were killing her. Last Wednesday she fell asleep on top of her Potions textbook. She had the instruction for a poison printed on her cheek when she woke up. Her other alternative was applying for an internship in Blitzen’s Best.

Sam, after some coaxing and support from her friends, had decided to risk it and try out for Quidditch teams. She had been approached by some scouts on occasion who told her that if she wanted to pursue it he should try out for their teams. She was nervous she wouldn’t succeed as a professional but her friends, especially Alex, had quickly called bullshit on that. She was studying hard for her N.E.W.T.s nevertheless because she was Sam and it was a matter of pride.

Alex wanted to get into art school so most of her time was spent going through her art to decide which she should put in her portfolio and studying so she wouldn’t flunk her N.E.W.T.s.  She had paint and clay on her nails all the time and Magnus would laugh every time she had come to breakfast with paint on her face from painting late at night.

Magnus was slaving over Potions and Healing textbooks. He wanted to become a Healer after Hogwarts finished and while he was good at healing he was nervous he wouldn’t go as well as he needed to at the other lessons.

Long story short, they were all missing sleep and suffering in the Hogwarts library. Halfborn would laugh at them in all the letters he sent them, most of them boiling down to “Ha ha, now it’s your time to suffer, I already went through this hell.”

The students of the other two schools had it just as bad with their respective exams and all of them bonded over a simple truth of life: exams suck.

And then, finally, the day of reckoning had arrived. Fifth and seventh year students of all schools were crowded outside the larger rooms of the castle, dreading the moment the large doors would open once the previous exam was over and they’d have to go inside or waiting anxiously for a friend who was already  inside every student’s hell on earth.

Alex was in the latter group. This particular classroom was one of the smallest exam rooms and the N.E.W.T.s of subjects less people took were held there. He had just come out of his Muggle Studies exam – a subject Magnus had chosen not to sit – and he was waiting for Magnus to finish his Healing exam. He knew Magnus would do well, heck, if there was a higher mark than “Outstanding” he would take it; he was talented at healing, probably the best in the class, even though the idiot wouldn’t admit it. He couldn’t help worrying a little bit, though – mostly about whether his boyfriend would write well without making stupid mistakes because he was going through the test too fast.

Finally, the door opened and the head of every student outside it turned to its direction. The Healing students came out, looking anywhere from tired to ‘I want to crawl inside a hole and die’. Alex caught sight of Magnus’s blonde head near the back of the group and he stepped to the side so he could ambush his boyfriend more efficiently.

“Maggie!” he yelled a bit too loudly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend and hugging him from behind. Magnus was just a couple centimeters shorter than him, which meant he was perfect for hugging (and stealing clothes from). “How did the exam go?”

“Pretty well. I might have made a mistake at the one exercise, but I think I did well,” he said, sounding fairly confident about himself and Alex kissed his cheek. At the start of their relationship Alex hugging him out of nowhere like he had now would have sent him toppling over and kissing his cheek in front of people would have made him flush and splutter. Now he hardly stumbled and okay, he blushed, but he didn’t splutter.

“I told you you’d do great. Do you want that congratulatory kiss now?” Before Magnus sat his Potions N.E.W.T – which Alex also took – he joked about getting a kiss for good luck. Alex, who was doing some last-minute cramming, told him he’d get a kiss as long as neither of them died during the exam. It had become a sort of joke between them and now they always asked the other for a kiss after they came out of an exam.

“I do, but maybe we should go somewhere else and not start making out in front of the exam room.”

Alex nodded begrudgingly and stopped hugging them to lace their finger together. They had been scolded a couple of times from teachers for their PDA, and while they hadn’t got in trouble for it, the general rule was that anything beyond a kiss on the cheek was only for more secluded places.

They made their way to the library hand in hand while Magnus told Alex about his exam, even though Alex only knew the basics when it came to healing. Still, he listened and made sarcastic comments here and then, making Magnus snort and laugh.

“And then there was this really basic question, like ‘What do you do if someone is unconscious and you don’t know why-‘“

“You slap them till they wake up so you can ask them!” Alex had cut in at one point and Magnus had laughed so loud at the enthusiasm in his eyes and voice that he snorted. The sound had made Alex laugh too and the portraits on the walls had been looking at them with anything from ‘Aw, young love’ to ‘Stupid children’.

“You know, if you keep calling me Maggie, I need to find a nickname for you too,” Magnus said with a grin after they had stopped laughing like idiots. “What about Ferraris?”

“What?” Alex snorted. Magnus calling him Ferraris made him imagine himself as a car from that Pixar movie and wow, was that a weird mental image.

“What about Figaro?” Magnus went on. He wouldn’t stop until he found a nickname that annoyed Alex just as much as ‘Maggie’ annoyed him.

Alex chuckled. “No.”

“Ferrero Roche?”

“What the-“ Alex started and Magnus made a mental note to use that one, or at least get her some of those chocolates at one point. He’d probably get punched for it but it’d be worth it.

Turning down a corner, Magnus noticed a group of students huddled over the Daily Prophet. An crying Helga screamed to the world from the first page. The fight after the Second Task had quickly made it to the headlines – the heir to one of the richest wizarding families revealing such things about her home life was like a chest of treasure for reporters. Someone had recorded nearly the whole argument and it had been sod for quite a price to the highest bidding newspaper.

Helga’s parents had been having a hell of a time trying to save their image but it was no use. Magnus had read some of the interviews they did in hopes of appearing good again but nothing they said could fix what had happened. On the other side, Helga was receiving letters from newspapers who wanted to interview her every day. She had been adamant that she had no wish to have an interview but the letters hadn’t stopped coming until a furies Agatha sent Howlers to each and every newspaper.  

Once at the library, Magnus noticed Louis and Raphael sitting at one of the tables in front of the windows. Raphael was bend over a book with his head in his hands, looking like he was about to either start crying or bang his head on the table in hopes it would get him to pass out. Louis looked much better on the other hand, a book and a notebook open in front of him and a pencil in his hand. A plate of half-eaten cookies lay between them and Louis swatted Raphael’s hand away when the other tried to take one. They heard Louis say something in French as they walked closer and Alex translated for him.

“He said ’I told you, you can only have one after you’re done with that chapter’.”

Raphael was in the middle of protesting when Magnus and Alex reached them.

“Hey, Raphael,” Magnus said in greeting. “Mind if we sit here?”

“Please sit,” Raphael replied, still frowning because he got no cookie. “I need witness of the horrors he puts me through for court.”

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Louis said exaggeratedly. “You know as well as I do that you have to study this.”

Raphael was still pouting. “But doesn’t mean I like it.” Louis sighed and rolled his eyes.

“What are you studying?” Magnus asked curiously. He was pulling out his Healing book to check over the answers he gave in the exam while Alex was getting her sketchbook ad art supplies out of her bag.

“History of Magic,” Raphael all but groaned as he let his head fall on the textbook’s open pages.

Magnus flinched at the mention of that subject and Alex groaned. “I hate that subject.”

“I hate the way it’s taught,” Raphael said as he raised his head up from his book. “It could be so interesting if done correctly but our teacher just drones on and on. How are we supposed not to fall asleep?” Raphael’s voice rose higher and higher and the librarian shushed them angrily.

“Anyway,” the French champion continued in a whisper, “now I have to learn all of this shit for tomorrow, even all the useless details not even our teacher remembers.”

Magnus nodded solemnly; he had suffered horribly to learn what he needed to for the History of Magic exam.

The four of them went back to studying in companionable silence. Louis was taking notes from his text book, Raphael was groaning every five minutes, Alex was sketching something and Magnus the questions from the exam. At one point Alex leaned forward and took a cookie from the plate. When Louis didn’t protest Raphael pouted at him and called him a traitor. Louis grinned but otherwise ignored his boyfriend; he just wanted an excuse to procrastinate.

The blonde’s eyes instead fell on Alex’s sketchbook. On the page was an almost finished sketch of Magnus smiling as he read his book, the light from the window making his eyes shine.

“That’s really good,” Louis said with a smirk. “You want to get into Art School?”

“Yeah.” Alex turned the sketchbook away so Magnus wouldn’t be able to see what it was he had been drawing. He’s drawn him a lot without his boyfriend finding out and he’s not going let Magnus find out and start teasing him about it. “I’ve done better than this, though. It’s just a sketch.”

Louis grinned even wider and Alex glared at him with burning cheeks. He made a gesture like he was zipping his lips shut and the blonde Frenchman nodded.

“What do you want to do?” Louis asked Magnus, taking the subject away from Alex’s sketches of his boyfriend.

“I want to be a healer,” Magnus answered simply. He didn’t have a clue that Alex had been drawing him or that he had a sketchbook worth’s of such drawings. “You?”

“I want to open a pastry shop,” Louis said. His eyes were twinkling, like he could already picture everything about his future shop. “Wizards have so many unique sweets but they completely ignore Muggle ones. I want my shop to sell both as well as the ones I make on my own. I’ve been working on some ideas.”

“If the cake you gave me is anything to go by your shop will be a hit,” Magnus said with a smile. He was kind of bummed the shop didn’t already exist because he would love to eat everything inside it.

“Oh, it’s definitely going to be a hit,” Raphael said, smiling proudly. He wrapped his arms around Louis’s shoulders and nuzzled his face into the other boy’s neck. “My boyfriend’s awesome.”

Louis blushed but he turned his to the side and kissed Raphael’s head. “My boyfriend is more awesome.”

“Are we that cheesy too?” Alex whispered to Magnus’s ear. Magnus shrugged.

“What do you want to do, Raphael?” Alex asked, hoping it would stop the other couple from making out in front of them.

Raphael instantly perked up and he started explaining to Magnus and Alex what it was he wanted to do with the excitement of a small child. Louis watched him ramble with a fond smile on his face.

“I want to study magic in different countries,” he started, his eyes glittering. “My grandparents’ immigrated to France and they use some spells I’ve never even heard of. I want to study how magic differs from place to place.” His face fell a bit and he sighed heavily. “But I need to get really good CR.E.P.E.s to make sure I’ll be able to apply for the different courses around the world. That’s why I’m dying over these textbooks.”

Alex raised a brow in question. “Crepes?”

Louis snorted. “Yes. It’s the equivalent of N.E.W.T.s in France.” He sounded like he had memorized the words. They probably had to explain it to a lot of different people recently. “It stands for Cripplingly Exhausting Proficiency Exam.”

Magnus and Alex laughed at the name. They probably didn’t have the right to talk when wizarding exams at the UK were called W.O.M.B.A.T, O.W.L and N.E.W.T but it still seemed funny to them.

“Do you have an exam called croissant too?” Magnus asked, still chuckling a bit.

“Yeah,” Raphael said, deadly serious. “Though I always forget what that stands for.”

Leaving pastry named exams aside, the four of them went back to their business. Time passed by relatively easily, the silence of the library punctuated only by coughs and the pained groans of studying students. Once they decided that enough was enough and that Raphael would sustain lasting damage if he read one more page about the goblin rebellion they left the library together.

“Did you hear about what happened with the lawsuit?” Magnus asked at one point. After the second task, the parents of Louis and Agatha as well as several other angry parents had sued the schools for putting the three students in danger. The Headmasters were drowning in angry letters.

“I think they got away, but they’ll have to pay compensation to the Champions and the people they poisoned,” Raphael said. His shoulders were slumped and Magnus was pretty sure he would pass out if they didn’t put some caffeine in him soon.

“How did they even get away with that?” Alex asked incredulously.

“I heard it’s because the poison wouldn’t have killed us but just give us bad fever,” Louis said. He thought that was stupid and he didn’t try to stop it from showing in his voice.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Magnus huffed.

“The second task was fucked up in general,” Alex grumbled. “I mean, what messed up psycho thought it be a good idea to force you to face the embodiment of your worse fears?”

Magnus squeezed Alex’s hand. After he had explained to Alex what happened during the second task, especially what happened at the Divination classroom, and needless to say the Slytherin didn’t like it. He spent the next ten minutes pacing up and down the Room of Requirement and shouting obscenities about whoever came up with that part of the task.

“Alex,” he had said, trying to get her to calm down. Alex didn’t pay attention to him.

“Who do they think they are? What if one of you had a panic attack or-“

“Alex!” He had spoken louder that time and it managed to get Alex to stop talking. “It’s alright,” he had continued, taking Alex’s hand and making her sit down next to him on the couch. “I’m alright. Nothing happened to me. I’m fine.”

“But you shouldn’t have to go through that,” Alex had protested. “You shouldn’t have to relive your mother’s death or see any of us die or…” Alex’s voice had broken and she took a deep, shaky breath. “I remember how broken you were in fourth year when your mum died. You shouldn’t have to go through that again. I don’t want to see you like that again.”

“Alex, I’m alright,” he had pressed on but Alex wouldn’t look at him. He had brought his hand up to her cheek and turned her face so she was facing him. “I’m alright,” he had repeated. “I know my mum’s dead and I can’t do anything to change that. I know you and everybody else are alright and I can do something to keep it that way. It’s alright.”

Alex had sighed and she wrapped her arms around Magnus, holding him tight to her chest. Magnus’s head had been buried the crook of her neck. She had started tracing circles on his back and Magnus had gotten lost in her warmth.

“You know we’re here, right?” She had said quietly after a moment. “You won’t lose us.”

Magnus had tightened his arms around her waist and nuzzled closer to her neck. “I know,” he had said. “Since when are you so affectionate?”

Alex had chuckled and the heavy tension between them had broken. “Since now,” she had said with a laugh before leaning in and kissing him softly.

“Magnus? Magnus?”  Alex’s voice snapped him out of his memories and he turned to him.

“Are you alright? You spaced out for a bit,” Alex went on.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I was just thinking.” Alex didn’t seem to be buying it but he let the subject drop.

“Anyway, I agree with Alex about the second task,” Louis said, continuing from where they had left off. “I mean, they didn’t know what your worse fear was, what if it made one of you faint or have a panic attack?” Louis’s face had gone red and his voice had risen an octave near the end. The though alone obviously made him nervous and his hands were twitching by his sides. Raphael reached out and took Louis’s hand in his own. The contact seemed to calm Louis down and he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry, Raph. It’s just…” he sighed. “You get anxious enough about exams as it is; I don’t want this to make it worse. I’m just worried.”

Raphael smiled and leaned in to peck Louis on the cheek. “(I’m alright, mon cher,)” he said. He was trying to be reassuring but it didn’t seem he was too sure about it himself.

“Was your worse fear exams?” Alex asked curiously. Magnus tugged at his hand and shot him a look. He shouldn’t have asked about that; Raphael might not want to talk about it.

“It wasn’t,” Raphael said, seemingly unfazed by the question. Louis was looking at him concerned. “It was my grave,” he went on. Magnus paled and from the look on Alex’s face he regretted bringing it up. “I was dead and everyone at my funeral were talking about how there were so many things I hadn’t done and would never be able to now.”

There was a moment of tense silence and Magnus refused to look at Raphael in the eye. He didn’t know how to react to something like that and it made him uncomfortable. If someone trusted you enough to tell you something like that you should say something, right?

“Shit,” Alex said tensely, finally breaking the silence. “That must have sucked.”

“Yeah,” Raph chuckled at the uncomfortable way Alex spoke. “It was. I spent at least ten minutes trying to get my family to realize I was alright and that I wasn’t dead. That was probably the worst part of it all;” Raphael went on, his thumb tracing circles on Louis hands as he looked at the other boy, “everyone I knew – my friends, my family, Louis – they were all crying over me. It was horrible to watch.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Alex muttered.

Raphael snorted. “It’s alright. Maybe I’ll forget about it easier if I talk about it.”

Louis squeezed Raphael’s hand and smiled at him, an unsaid I’m here passing between them. Magnus and Alex remained quiet and after a while changed the topic to something lighter to cheer Raphael up. Unfortunately for Magnus, this new topic happened to be embarrassing stories about him. He would have frowned at Alex for bringing up all those stories if Raphael wasn’t laughing at them, everything that happened with the boggart forgotten for now.

They split up when they made it to the Hall of the Slain and went to have lunch with their others friends as they complained over exams. Magnus was tackled halfway to their table by little Cheyenne who came to hug him. She had made a habit of that since the Second task, probably as a way to remind him she was safe just like everybody else from Perthro. Like every day, he smiled at her and ruffled her hair as her little head was buried in his chest.

Cheyenne wasn’t the only one who would try to make sure he was alright after everything that happened in the Divination classroom. T.J would be more touchy than he already was, Mallory would tease him more, Sam would somehow ask him how he was multiple times a day and even Halfborn would sent more letters than before. He appreciated a lot, but to be honest, as cheesy as it sounded, they didn’t need to do any of those things. Eating together like always, laughing and teasing each other and complaining about school was more than enough to make him forget the boggart’s vision.

//////////////////

The day of the final task was finally here, as was the summer heat. With exams done and the students having sent in their applications, the castle of Hogwarts and everyone inside it were preparing for the big finale of the Triwizard Tournament. The audience for this task was expected to be at least twice as big as it had been for the last two tasks combined and it probably would be even more than that. Every inn and every available room in Hogsmeade was booked by people who wanted to be at Hogwarts for the Third Task and the celebration afterwards.

Shops from Hogsmeade, like Valhalla and the Candy Store, would be selling their fare at the stands, street vendors were trying to make a few extra cash by selling flags, caps and t-shirts supporting the three schools and students were making banners to support their respective Champions. And of course, the betting was stronger than ever. With all three Champions at a draw, the Third Task would be the one to decide who would win – whoever won in the Third Task would win the Tournament. Everyone was excited about what would go down at the final task and the Champions were trying not to let their nerves get to them.

The day before the Third Task, Magnus was planning to relax in his dorm and then go to sleep so he wouldn’t be tired the next day. Instead, his friends dragged him to the school grounds the moment dinner was over. With summer finally here, the days were longer and it wasn’t too dark after dinner to go outside. In fact, a lot of students were wandering around, enjoying the evening before they would have to go back inside. Looking out to the Quidditch field, Magnus noticed that the stands were much bigger now, so big you’d thing they were hosting the World Cup. He wasn’t able to think about that for long because Alex finally let go of the hand she was dragging him by and turned around to face him. They were at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“Okay, can someone finally tell me what’s going on? Why did you drag me here?” He didn’t get an answer, just his friends grinning at each other. Before he managed to ask again, a blonde head peaked out from behind the trees and before he could react Annabeth was hugging him close.

“Surprise!” his cousin said when she let go of him. Percy was standing behind her, he was probably hiding behind the trees too. “Did you forget we were going to come visit?”

He did. With everything that happened this year he had completely forgotten Annabeth and Percy had said they would come see the Third Task with them.

“Oops?”

Annabeth chuckled. “It’s okay, I expected it. I can’t believe you’re Champion!”

“Yeah, I can’t either.”

“We were watching the Tournament with our friends from Ilvermorny,” Percy said. “They were disappointed they couldn’t come too, but they told us to tell you good luck for them. Leo also said to tell you that apparently being badass runs in the family.”

Magnus wasn’t sure how to react to being called badass, but Annabeth rolled her eyes with a smile, like it was expected for Leo to say something like that.

“Anyway, were staying at a room in Hogsmeade,” Annabeth continued. “We’ll be here for the celebration after the Tournament is over too.”

“We’re going to be the loudest people in the stands!” Percy said excitedly. He leaned in closer to Magnus and put a hand in front of his face like he was going to say something secret but he barely lowered his voice at all. “I brought a megaphone with me.”

Magnus couldn’t help laughing. The mental image of his friends taking turns to shout encouragements though a megaphone was hilarious.

They spent about an hour wandering around the school grounds and catching up. Magnus told Annabeth about his N.E.W.T.s, Annabeth told him about life at college, about how life was going in America.

“Dad’s been watching the Tournament. He’s really proud of you,” Annabeth said. “He said he’d love it if you were able to come visit during the summer. He’d come here but it’s not easy with his job.”

“My mom wanted to meet you too,” Percy said. “Though I warn you, she’ll probably adopt you the moment she sees you. That’s what she did you most of our friends.”

“His mom is an angel,” Annabeth said with the simplicity of someone stating the fundamental truths of the universe.

“I’d love to visit, though I’ll have to see how my N.E.W.T.s went first,” Magnus said. He knew his mum wasn’t on good terms with her brothers – you had to be to move an ocean away from them – but he wanted to meet the rest of his family again.

“I thought so. And hey,” Annabeth elbowed him playfully in the side, “dad said you can bring along a friend if you want.” The way she gestured at Alex with her eyes wasn’t subtle at all. Magnus blushed but a smile tugged at his lips nonetheless.

“Anyway,” Annabeth went on casually, like she hadn’t noticed Magnus’s pink cheeks, “we should get going. Your curfew must be about now and you need your sleep for tomorrow.”

Before Magnus could react she closed the distance between them and hugged him. “Good luck,” she whispered. She pulled away with a smile that made Magnus’s worries about tomorrow almost die down completely.

“Kick their asses, cuz!” Percy yelled dramatically, pumping his fist in the air as they headed back to Hogsmeade.

Magnus waved goodbye before heading back to the castle with his friends.

This was it. Tomorrow, after a whole year, the Triwizard Tournament was finally coming to an end.

So, the final amount of chapters for this fic is now 25... unless something changes. That said, next chapter might take a bit longer because you all know by now that the chapters with the tasks are ridiculously long. On another note, the lighting thief musical is AWESOME!

#Magnus chase and the obligatory hogwarts au #magnus chase #alex fierro #fierrochase #annabeth chase #percy jackson #percabeth #fanfiction #My fic