#sam says he forgets stuff all the time so he sets reminders for himself also he's described to have a habit of leaving projects unfinished-

[impalaslytherin]

Arcane

Chapter 1

Writer's note

-Well no need to say it but I am new to writing so mistakes are evident kindly ignore them

-The story is solely my imagination it don't entirely follow the show's storyline but it is mainly set after mark of Cain chapter

- rest enjoy the ride 😉

"And Sam don't forget the pie " dean reminded him for another tenth time as Sam was heading towards for supply run

"Have I ever " Sam replied carelessly walking upwards to the bunker stairs ignoring all the reminders of Dean

Here in bucker Dean whilst putting another stitches to his wound wondering do Sam forget pie on purpose ?

ofcourse he do it on purpose that man can remember maths , heavy latin chants ,all the lore stuff

but that giant can't remember to bring a pie just a pie well definitely dean can have more than one but Sam bringing pie that's not an easy task

After cleaning up the wounds he unchanged his cloths man he is becoming like a canvass to these demons , vampires, werewolves ,ghosts and all the monsters each passing day a new scar to this glorious body of Dean Winchester well maybe this scar don't last long but who knows ,

Opening the shower he felt relaxed well aside from memory foam the bunker is blessed with this awesome water pressure and shower this is something he just relish after a tiresome hunting days

After spending quite some minutes in shower he stepped out

In his room just wrapping towel around his waist looking for something warm and suddenly one of his phone flash with a preview message and without wasting a second he quickly feed the password and read the message

" Hey hope you are doing ok after kicking ass of creepy monster "

" Do take the meds on time and don't drink too much ok !

A smile formed on his lips while reading the text and suddenly the mobile flashes again

" I know Mr. you can handle yourself but still it's sometime good to do what your body demands - that is rest and healthy food ,less drinking "

Well the smile never left Dean's face he was overjoyed to read these texts his heart was fluttering with happiness this is all still very distant to him someone asking him how is he doing someone reminding him about the food and medicines well Sam is there for him his family and previously Bobby was genuinely concerned about him Charlie and Jody also count for family but this is something regular a routine sort of thing he won't be lying to himself but his mind is still processing to how to respond to these concern that are being there for him but deep down he knows he want this to be a regular thing but he is also aware of his life as much fluttering this is it will go down to worse at some point well welcome to Winchester wasteland...

Brushing aside his imagination he responded to the text

" Well ok doctor anything else I need to be lectured on "

The mobile flashes again

" Oh really that you call a lecture well sorry Mr you can't handle me actually giving you a lecture

Smirking at the phone screen he started tapping the screen

" Oh sweetheart you don't have any idea what I can handle " he sent the text well not forgetting to send the winking emoji along with it

He was about to ask for a phone call but suddenly he heard footsteps outside his room well Sam is back with the food and other necessities

That was quick he thought though keeping hopes up that his little brother didn't forget the pie he hide the phone and again start searching for what to wear he need to the laundry soon

" Dude seriously this is how you are going to roam around here in towel "

Annoyed by his little brother remark

" Well Sam I think I should when you don't remember to do the laundry on time I think should roam around in towel and who's even here to judge me "

Rolling his eyes he left Dean's room to his private space well that means reading book without the picture

Finally all dressed up in red flannel and jacket and hope for a pie on kitchen table well again that counts for disappointment

"What the hell Sam where is the pie "

Yelling two or three times at Sam knowing very well that he is ignoring him now and engrossed himself to read god know what

He started eating and want to keep texting her this was fun to him this thing in his life was something exciting, something new something he never done before ,

waking up to someone's text and wait for someone response being anxious over a text well all this was crappy Romeo stuff to him previously but oblivious to all the prior judgement he wait for her text and something even more when he gets some chance to meet her he look for these moments

He still remember the time when god knows how he met her again at that coffee shop and the other miraculous happening she remembered her like the way they used to before all the monstrous incident hit their lives

and from that day to present they are in touch with each other just finding comfort and solace in each other's company just being in present not worrying for future, for once Dean not worrying about will heaven and hell collapse or not

Somehow with her he just live at the present

As he was cherishing on their unexpected meeting at coffee shop the worry of future not exactly vanished from his brain and tons of negative possibility hit his mind

what if he will loose her like everyone else in his life what if keeping her near him bring danger to her , well she can protect herself and kick ass but still....

What if he can't protect his Sammy because of her

What if he loose her again ! ....

Chapter 2

Divider credit @firefly-graphics

Well I was not expecting a single response on the intro post but glad I got some response hopefully this will continue for this story

Thank you everyone ☺️

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[mypassionsarenysins]

disremembered.

Past!Steve Rogers x Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader. 

Summary: Steve Rogers had lived his life, it was only fair for you to live yours right?

Author’s Note: okay so another crossover and for this I’m thinking of Christian Bale batman, so read at your discretion. It’s also a lil sad and some happy parts. Thank you to @stuckonjbbarnes @honeyloverogers and @buckysmischief

Steve stared at the roof looking at the white pristine celling. 

He waited for the other person on the other side of the room to finish with her nightly routine. 

He kept staring at the ceiling closing his eyes and for a brief moment he felt you.

His mind had the ability of taking him back to that night, the moment he decided to leave her. Trying to conquer an illusion, a fleeting moment of what should have been. 

His mind told him to do it, but his heart. 

His heart was the most unforgiving part of himself that never really let it go. 

And now here he is age clear on his face, wrinkles in his one youthful hands that made you laugh, that held you when you cried, now old and lonely. 

He had everything he was looking for, or so he thought. 

A knock on the door interrupted his thought making Steve get up from the bed looking outside the window as he makes his way to the front door. 

He opens the door smiling at the man on the other side who had his infamous frown plastered on his face. 

“Come in please,” Steve motions to the living room but the man on the other side doesn’t make a move, for a moment it looks like he could burn at the mere thought of walking through the door. 

“No,” the man says anger written clear on his features. 

“Bucky you’ve been here before,” Steve motions with pleading eyes, but Bucky stays unmoving. 

“You really think I wouldn’t know that Scott wouldn’t tell us what you wanted to do,” Bucky says as he gets more and more exasperated. 

“It’s not what you think,” Steve please as he closes the door and walks to the porch Bucky leaving as much distance as possible. 

“No it’s much worse,” Bucky says. 

“Sam and I receive this call from Scott saying that you met to get back to the past to get back to her.” Bucky says. 

“You already lived your life Steve, you have a wife, kids, and grandkids.” Bucky motions at the house. 

The house that he build but thought of you in every detail, when Peggy would ask about why he would say. 

“Because its meant to be that way.”

She never really mentioned it again but the essence of her was in the house of all time. 

From the constant need to have sunflowers in the kitchen because, 

“Steve if there is gonna be flowers in the kitchen its gonna be sunflowers.” You said softly as you unwrapped the bright flowers from the brown paper.

Or how he still kept the little folded handkerchief you embroided because, 

“That is more your style Steve.” You said softly as you stand on your toes and kiss him softly on the lips.

After all those years Steve could still see you, feel you, and on some night he can almost touch you. 

“Bucky I don’t think you understand, this, this is meant to be hers,” Steve says looking up at the house that took him a good decade yo built.

When Peggy asked him why the changes to the house he was never brave enough to admit that the house never felt his and Peggy’s, he always felt this should’ve been your house with him. 

“This is not her house Steve! She already has a home,” Bucky says accentuating each word he said. 

“Her home, with her fiancé” Bucky said louder coming face to face to the man in front of him. 

The words surprised Steve more than it should. He knew he had no right to complain at this point. You were free the moment he left her, he assumed you would move forward, but he felt the slight betrayal in his core. 

But who was Steve to judge when he was the first one to move forward. 

Still that voice in the back of his mind that always brought you up was, angry, to say the least. 

Steve takes a deep breath and takes a seat over the rocking chairs on the front porch. Another touched you where enamored by. 

“Steve, when we get our house he have to put rocking chairs in the front porch.” You said sternly yet a smile shone on your face. 

“Why is that sweetheart?” Steve ask as serially as he can with you sitting on his lap. 

“Because I know we are growing old together, and you of all people should know that people of a certain age like rocking chairs on the porch, old man.” You say that last part and leap out of his lap running away you giggles is all that can be heard in the apartment as Steve laughs and runs after you. 

“Tell me about it,” Steve motions to the chair, but Bucky stays still.

“Steve you just have to let it go,” Bucky tries to appeal Steve but he knows it’s a lost cause. 

Bucky sighs and sits on the step on the porch, his back turned to Steve as he recalls the news and everything that lead up to it. 

“She actually left New York a couple of weeks after you left,” Bucky recalls with sadness on his eyes. 

Bucky remembers how betrayed he felt, you where leaving him, just like Steve. Of course now he realizes it was for the best, but at the moment, he had a different mind set. 

“You are gonna leave me to? Huh? My so called new sister, just gonna walk away like him?” Bucky yells angry as you turn to him shocked face and tears on your eyes. 

“You don’t get to compare what happened,” You drop the box in your hands and sob. Your sobs clear Bucky’s head for a minute. 

“Steve left us Bucky, he left to follow his dreams, I am allowed to try to move forward!” You yell from the place on the floor as you hug your knees. 

Bucky slowly approaches you realizing that this is bigger than he could’ve ever imagined. He realized in that moment that he was supposed to be Steve’s past, but you, you that opened you life to him. 

You so soft and tender, never an ounce of judgment or regret of letting him in. 

You that tenderly took care of him, welcome him into your home, and called him your brother to anyone who would listen. 

You where supposed to be Steve’s future. 

And now all you both had left was the whole Steve Rogers left. 

“Don’t cry petal, I’m sorry,” He says tenderly as he reaches for you slowly. 

“Do you think that I want to leave my home. My whole life behind.” You say as you calm down and look at Bucky with sadness, but love for him. 

“I know Steve left you too, but you can come with me to Gotham. “ you say as you look at him with determination. 

“But New York is my home,”  Bucky tries to reason. 

“But it’s bit mine anymore,” You say softly as you hold his hand. 

“I am always here Bucky, I just can’t be here anymore.” You motion at the left overs of you heart. 

“I know I am just afraid,” Bucky rest his head on your shoulder. 

“I know but I am you sister James Barnes,” you say determination clear in his voice. 

“ Also someone’s gotta keep an eye on Sam, he’s your responsibility now you know? Handling Captan Americas’. That should be you new name.” You joke making Bucky laugh. 

“Alright let’s finish this before the pigeon arrives and see us sad. He can stand people being sad, he always has to be so happy and sunshine-y.” Bucky says as he stands up and hold his hand out for yours. 

You smile up at him as he hold you up he envelops his arms around you hugging you desperately. 

“Thank you, for being here, I am really going to miss you,” he says softly. 

“I am always here, never forget that,” you whisper. 

As you continue to hug the front door announce loudly the third person of the party arrived. 

“So I go out for pizza in the cold streets of New Yorker and this is how I find you red eyes and hugging like we are never gonna see each other again?” Sam asks leaving the two large pizzas on the table. 

“As if you could get rid so easily of me,” you say as you open you arms, Sam jumping in. 

“Never petal, we are family here.” Sam says as Bucky hums in agreement. 

“Okay that’s enough of the mushy stuff we gotta get this lady to Gotham city!” Sam yells as you all laugh. 

In that moment Bucky felt like everything would be alight and true to your word, even if you had to fly to New York or Louisiana, you where there even of it was for something as simple as birthdays, holidays, or just because Bucky was missing you. 

Bucky tells the story more of a reminder of who you where, than to tell Steve about you. 

From the past years Bucky visited Steve he never brought you up. He felt like his loyalty was to you. 

“So she left everything behind huh?” Steve wonder heaviness in his heart, but a small light shining knowing Bucky was never really alone. 

“I think thats what she needed to heal.” Bucky says standing up. 

“She was always there, at the end of the line.” Bucky says harshly and with protection written all over the place. 

“Bucky,” Steve stands up to reach him. 

“I need to go weddings gonna be next week and I can’t wait. I’m giving her away,” Bucky says as a smile makes a way to his eyes. 

“You know I always thought I’d be you at the end of the altar.” Bucky says as he starts leaving. 

“Also if you really need to know you should look at social media, everything you want to know about him is there.” Bucky says walking out suddenly he stops. 

“Tell the misses I said goodnight.” Bucky says looking up at the house one last time as he gets on his bike driving away leaving a trail on dirt behind him. 

Steve sits there for a while emotions swirling in his being. 

As he pulls his cellphone out he hears soft steps and he looks up to look at his wife. 

“Steve you’ve been here for an hour what happened?” Peggy says taking the chair next to him concern on his face. 

“I just- Bucky came over, he just needed someone to talk to.” Steve says as he tries to smile hiding yet more emotions form his wife. 

He was good at that, he guessed. 

“Oh strange he didn’t stay,” she shrugs standing up. 

“Yeah guys stuff you know,” Steve tries to laugh as Peggy smiles at him. 

“Oh this also arrived on the mail today,” Peggy hands him a white luxurious envelope. 

“Alright I’m going to bed,” She says as she kisses his cheek. 

“Okay I’ll be there in a minute.” He says as she heads back inside. 

He looks at the envelope and think nothing of it thinking its an invitation from Pepper. As he opens it and reads it he stays silent his eyes roaming all over the written words. 

            You are cordially invited to the wedding of 

                               Bruce Thomas Wayne                                              And                                (Y/N)(Y/M/N)(Y/L/N)

    Who’s nuptials will be taking place in

The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

    Located at 1000 5th Ave, New York, New York. 

Steve can’t even finish reading as he drops the paper. 

Anger and sadness fill him as he stares at the mocking piece of paper on the floor. 

He takes out his phone opening google and typing Bruce Wayne and thousands of result pop up. He opens the wikipedia article and starts reading. After reading some information he looks at the some pictures and he sees it. You and him on a red carpet for one of his galas or something smiles all over as he click the article states very clear that since you went public with him he was seen visibly happier. He can’t help but mad at him, you, and specially himself. 

He sits again in the rocking chair, the one you where meant to grow old together on, and stare at the horizon thinking of you and what to do with the wedding invitation at his feet. 

How could he get back to you?  

#steve rogers x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #bruce wayne #Steve Rogers #dc #marvel

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #6 - No One Said Anything About a Metal Arm

Word Count: 2011

Warnings: Explosions, Gunshots, The Winter Soldier, Implied Death, Stevie Almost Crying

Setting/Characters: Towards the End of Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Bucky Barnes; Mentions of Alexander Pierce, Arnim Zola

A/N: This one took me a while to write and I’ll tell you why. Rewatching this movie made me want to do a complete rewrite of it. I had so many ideas of where the reader could be and why and what she was doing then and all that. But…I told myself this is a One Shot of her unofficially meeting Bucky for the first time. Which is why it seems incomplete - because it kinda is - it’s just that scene picked from the movie. Am I happy with it? Eh. Am I holding back from writing more parts and just saying “forget this piece, it never happened”? Maybe. But, I can’t. I wish I could. But if I were to rewrite this movie, I’d rewrite the next one. And the next one. And it would take me months to finish these. So…this is what you’re getting.

Also, NO ONE MENTION WHAT’S ABOUT TO HAPPEN IN A COUPLE HOURS! I’M THIS CLOSE TO FREAKING OUT!

Thanks! As always, it’s not beta’d, so please excuse mistakes! Enjoy reading, be kind to yourselves and others, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

********

Sitting on the edge of the old dam was calming. Peaceful, even. The constant sound of the flowing water, the trees swaying in the slight breeze. It was nice to take a breath after everything that had gone down the past week.

To say you were worried was an understatement. The last time you saw Steve was the evening after you met Sam. He dropped you off at your place, refusing your invitation to stay saying that he should probably check on his apartment since he hadn’t been there in a while.

A lot had changed since then.

Steve was wanted by SHIELD, along with Natasha. Fury was considered dead, but was actually still kicking in the structure beneath your feet with the help of you and Hill. You had tried to go after Steve, but it was too risky. Pierce - who you were almost 100% certain was behind this whole thing - had been keeping a close eye on you since Steve ran away, knowing you’d be behind him. You tried to catch the blonde at the hospital, but you were seconds too late, meeting up with Natasha who told you STRIKE already took him away for questioning.

You had been called by Hill and she told you what had happened. Fury had asked for your help specifically, considering the amount of times you’d had to fake your own death while being undercover. And you’d been dealing with that ever since.

You had wanted to go get the three of them - you learned Sam joined Steve and Natasha, which somehow didn’t surprise you - but Hill refused, saying you needed to stay there just in case.

But Fury was fine, no one was coming, which is how you found yourself swinging your legs above a hundred feet of rushing water.

It didn’t last long. A car pulling up to the side entrance caught your eye and you immediately swung your legs around to rush towards the stairs. It’s not like you haven’t gone longer without seeing Steve before. You’d gone months without seeing him. It was your job. But this was different. Whether it was because for the first time he was the one who left or because he was on the run from the organization you worked for, you didn’t know and didn’t care. All you knew was you needed to see him. Make sure he was okay.

It took you a while to get there, all the stairs and corners and twist and turns. You got there just as Fury ended his explanation, hearing him tell the trio, “can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides…I wasn’t sure who to trust.”

Your footsteps were echoing and you were sure Steve heard you but when you entered the room, his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening. “Honey?”

“Oh thank fucking God.” You breathed out, jogging over to squeeze him tightly. 

“Y/N…” He murmured in your hair, hugging you tightly back. “What happened? Why are you here?”

Pulling back, you jerked your thumb over your shoulder to the director. “I’m saving his ass.” Your finger then jabbed into his firm chest, your lips falling into a frown. “And worrying about yours. Are you okay?”

“I am. Natasha got shot, but she’ll live.”

You looked over at Natasha, who nodded in confirmation, before looking back into those azure eyes of Steve’s. “What happened? Pierce is keeping a tight lid on everything. I was gonna come find you, but I couldn’t because he was watching me. It’s a miracle I got away from them to help Nicky boy. I haven’t gone out since. But, honest, I was gonna-”

“Honey, honey. You’re rambling again.” Steve chuckled, hand resting on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’ve been safe here. Pierce is behind this whole thing-”

“Yeah, I figured that-”

“-It’s HYDRA, Y/N.”

You froze. “What? HYDRA? Whaddya mean?”

Steve nodded. “HYDRA’s what’s been infiltrating SHIELD. It’s a long story, but Zola continued it when he was hired for-”

“Operation Paperclip. Yeah, I remember learning about that.” You ran a hand over your face. “Okay…” You hummed, looking at the three of them. “Let’s…talk about it more in a little bit. I know we gotta act soon, but Natasha and Fury need to heal a little bit longer and you should get some rest. You look tired.”

Everyone seemed to agree with your statement, starting to disperse from the room. You started walking out, too, when Steve grabbed your bicep and pulled you aside, down the hall a ways away. You opened your mouth, only for him to pull you into his chest.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

You nodded, lightly scratching his back, your arms around his slim waist. “I’m glad you are too.” You could feel how tense he was, which was understandable considering what he’d gone through the past couple days. But there was something else. Something in the grip he had on your shirt. The way his heart was hammering against your chest. His erratic breathing and his ducked head. You pulled away to catch his jaw between your fingers, eyes scanning the anguish in his own. “Bubba? What’s wrong?”

It took a moment for him to answer, his eyes growing sadder with every second that passed. “It was Bucky.”

“What?” You felt like the air was knocked out of you. “What do you mean?”

“The Winter Soldier. The assassin who shot Fury. The one who tried killing us on the bridge. It was Bucky. It is Bucky. I saw him, Y/N. I saw his face. It’s him. He survived. When they experimented on him, it must’ve…God, I’m so…I didn’t even notice…I didn’t even check…I left him…” he shook his head, which fell to your shoulder. “Stupid. I’m so stupid.”

“No, no.” You shook your head quickly, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you twisted to kiss the hinge of his tense jaw. “It wasn’t your fault, Steve.” You mumbled softly, lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. He fell thousands of feet, Stevie. You wouldn’t have found him even if you did.”

HIs grip on your hips tightened. “But I didn’t even try.” His voice broke on that last word. “And how could I not notice something going on with him? There were two years between being experimented on and falling. How-?” Voice catching in his throat, he stopped talking to stop himself from crying. You knew he hated crying.

“You can’t do anything about past Bucky.” You reminded him gently. “But you can help him now.”

“He didn’t even remember me.”

“Then make him.”

********************

To say you were pissed was an understatement. “I’ve been doing undercover stuff for years! This is a piece of cake!”

Steve shook his head. “You’ll be more helpful with Hill. You know more about Project Insight than me, Sam, and Natasha.”

“Bullshit, Steven! You just don’t want-”

“Honey, please.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as he gave you those fucking puppy eyes, his dumb pink lips stuck in a pout. Letting out a rather aggressive puff of air, you looked away. “Fine. But I hate you.”

He beamed and nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Okay.” You glanced at the others. “You all ready?”

“Let’s get these sons of bitches.” Sam stated, making the final adjustments to the wings.

Natasha gave a smirk. “As long as you are.”

Turning back to Steve, you raised an eyebrow, waiting for the captain’s orders. He nodded. “Let’s head out.”

****************

“There’s a problem on the flight deck.” Hill informed you, looking at the alert. 

“Alright. I’ll-”

“Stay with Hill!”

You rolled your eyes at Steve’s voice through the comms. “Sorry, Cap. You’re breaking up.”

“I know I’m not, Y/N! I’m serious! Stay there!”

But you were already moving towards the flight deck. “I’m not gonna sit on my ass here, Rogers! Hill’s got it covered! I’m just gonna go check it out!”

“Honey-!”

“Bubba!”

The line went quiet and for a moment you thought you lost connection. “Please stay safe.”

You let out a sigh at his quiet pleads, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “That goes for you, too, Steve.”

By the time you got out there, most of the jets were in flames, pilots and crew members scattered around the deck. You scanned the wreckage, trying to find the source-

A gunshot made your head whip to the side. Found it. Or, more accurately, him.

He was standing on top of one of the jets, gun pointed down at the pilot that was sitting in it. Before he could slip in the cockpit, though, you took out your gun and fired at him. Even though you knew who he was, when he looked at you it made your blood run cold. It was confirmation - not that you didn’t trust Steve - but still. Seeing is believing. yet seeing the same eyes you’d seen sparkling up at you from pictures now staring you down, void of any emotion? It was hard to believe it was the same person.

“Oh shit. Bubs?”

“What?! What’s wrong?! Are you okay?!”

You took a couple steps back as the Winter Soldier, no. Bucky - Steve’s Bucky - strode towards you. “Uh…nothing, nothing. I just I, uh, found your Bucky.”

“Y/N, get outta there now! I told you to stay with Hill!”

“Fuck!” You dove out of the way as the assassin started shooting at you. “Now’s not the time for reprimanding, Steven!”

You tuned out his cursings so as to not get distracted when you became engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the fucking Winter Soldier.

“Hi.” You grunted, ducking under his arm and throwing a kick at him, faking it at the last second. Except, he’d already grabbed your ankle. But you did kick him with your other foot. But…he didn’t really move and it made you fall back, so…fail. You let out a grimace when the wind was knocked out of you, but you couldn’t lay there for long as he moved to slam his foot down. You rolled out of the way, swinging your legs up to hit him in the back of the knee. “Nice to finally meet you.”

He growled as Sam exclaimed, “are you seriously chatting with him?”

“It’s mostly one sided - dammit!” The both of you had gotten on your feet again, and you tried hooking your left knee around his left shoulder to tug him down, but he had slammed you against a jet, your leg stretched in a very uncomfortable position as your free foot stood on your toes. He had his metal arm - which no one had informed you about and you were kinda salty about it - against your throat, his other hand coming up in a fist.

Bouncing on your toes a bit, you finally lifted your free leg up to knee him in the side of his face, making you wince slightly at the stretch and the burn in your left thigh, which was the only thing besides his metallic limb holding you up against the jet.

He stumbled to the side, throwing you by the leg on his shoulder. You went sprawling against the pavement, a hiss leaving your lips at the serious roadburn you no doubt just got. Sitting up quickly, not wanting him to get the upper hand, you let out a breath seeing him swiftly moving into the cockpit of the jet he just had you pinned against.

“Guys…he’s…heading your way…just a…heads up. Also…thank you. It was nice…to fucking know…about the metal arm…beforehand. I’m just gonna…rest here for a minute…”

“You’re not hurt too bad, are you?”

“No, Cap. No, just…gonna be aching for a while. Ugh…” Begrudgingly, you got up to your feet. “I think I’m gonna…go back and chill with Maria.”

“Told you so.”

“Shut up, finish your job, and don’t die, Rogers! And next time, please, for the love of God, mention the metal arm!”

****************

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[wikiangela-fanfics]

Heartbeat

Ao3 here

This is dumb. I was listening to Enrique Iglesias and when I heard 'Hearbeat' I had this idea and decided to write it and, well, it sucks haha

Wasn't sure if I even wanna post this, but fuck it 🤷

It doesn't make any sense, I don't know what this is,

But enjoy, I guess hah 😅🖤

***

Bucky was a super soldier. That was common knowledge. And what it meant was having super strength, being super fast, having enhanced senses… like enhanced hearing. And look, by now he got used to it. He could just tune out certain sounds, or focus on that certain thing he wanted to hear. But there was one thing that he kept hearing, even though he didn’t try not to.

No matter how hard he tried to resist, his super hearing became really sensitive to Sam’s heartbeat. Which was crazy, and he didn’t exactly understand it. Just, whenever he was in a close vicinity with Sam, his ears were picking up on his heartbeat. In a short time he knew what even the smallest change meant.

What shocked him the most, was how it changed around Bucky.

How it would get a little quicker every time Bucky smiled at Sam - which he didn’t notice at the beginning, but he was observant.

How it would skip a beat whenever their hands accidentally touched, when they hugged, when there was any kind of physical contact, really.

After a while, Bucky even started noticing Sam’s heartbeat quicken when Bucky simply walked into the room where Sam was. And that’s because his super hearing started to pick up Sam even when they weren’t in the same room, somehow.

Honestly, the fact that he heard all that and physically couldn’t tune it out made him feel invasive and a little creepy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Again, he really tried not to do that.

Now, Bucky wasn’t stupid. He knew what it meant. He observed Sam and his behavior for a while after he started noticing this. He knew Sam’s heartbeat around others, while doing different activities, and he knew the difference. He knew how Sam felt about him.

And he felt the same way about Sam. His heart was doing all the same things as Sam’s. Plus, he kept thinking about him. He wanted to always be around him, though at the same time keep his distance, because hearing his heartbeat was intense and overwhelming, and hearing it on top of everything else was sometimes making his head hurt. He loved Sam’s smile, his stupid unfunny jokes that Bucky laughed at anyway, his movie references Bucky rarely got, but also how kind, good, and amazing he was. Bucky was just… so in love. He could list things he loved about Sam without end. He couldn’t imagine his life without Sam anymore, in whatever way he could have it, even if he tried.

But he didn’t want to ruin their friendship, especially at the beginning. And then with more and more time passing by, them becoming more comfortable with each other, becoming best friends, it became harder to both ignore the feelings, or gather courage to admit it. That’s when Bucky’s hearing started to hyper focus on Sam’s heartbeat and Bucky got the confirmation he needed - that Sam felt something for him too. Still, it was difficult. Because there was a possibility he was wrong.

With more and more time passing, he was getting more sure, but, to be honest, he was just scared. So he decided to keep ignoring those feelings, and wait until whatever was gonna happen between them happened - because he had no doubt it would eventually. For now, though, he decided to keep those feelings to himself. Until finally he couldn’t do it anymore.

***

They were in Delacroix, sitting at the docks, drinking beer, talking and just relaxing. Well, Sam was doing most of the talking, as usual. Bucky enjoyed listening to him talk, like he always did. But then Sam said something that made Bucky laugh, and suddenly Sam’s heart skipped a beat, reminding Bucky that, oh yeah, he could still hear it. Fuck, Sam was in love. And it made Bucky extremely happy, but constantly hearing it made him feel not only annoyed, but also just bad.

Still, he looked at Sam and saw him already looking at Bucky and smiling, and Bucky couldn’t not smile back. That’s when he heard Sam’s heartbeat quicken, just a little bit, but Bucky was really sensitive and attentive to every smallest change.

For some reason, that was the moment he couldn’t handle it anymore. His smile dropped and he quickly got up.

“What’s-” Sam started to ask, also slowly getting up, but Bucky interrupted him.

“I can’t, uh-” he exhaled heavily. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“Go where?” Sam seemed confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, yeah there is.” Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t stop hearing- fuck.”

“Hearing what?” Sam tried to put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but Bucky moved away. “Buck, you’re starting to worry me.” yeah, Bucky got that. He heard his heart start beating like it did when he was concerned.

“I feel insane, you know?” Bucky chuckled. This was ridiculous. “It’s gonna sound insane, and really bad, but don’t judge me, I really don’t have control over it.”

“No judgement here. Ever. Cross my heart.”

“Okay.” Bucky took a deep breath. “For a while now, I haven’t been able to- to stop hearing your heartbeat.” he more mumbled the last part, but he was embarrassed having to admit it. “My hearing just focuses on it, and it’s always there, in the background, even when you’re in the next room.” he wasn’t looking at Sam as he was talking, not wanting to see his expression. “It’s the only thing I can’t tune out. And it’s driving me crazy. I can hear your reaction to literally everything, including-” he sighed. “Including me.”

“Oh.” Sam said. He tried for a calm tone, but Bucky knew he was nervous. “And you, uh, you don’t like how, um, I react to you?”

“What?” Bucky looked at him now. Sam seemed unsure. “That’s not it at all, Sam. That I’m happy about. I just, it’s overwhelming. And it makes me feel like I’m invading your privacy, which I am doing, but I really don’t mean to.” he hoped he sounded as genuine as he felt. “I’m sorry, I’ve been trying not to listen. It’s not happening with anyone else, I don’t know-” he exhaled loudly again. “It’s just frustrating. I’m so sorry.” he repeated.

“Bucky, it’s fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You could’ve just told me.”

“And then what?” Bucky scoffed. “We’d just stop hanging out because of it?”

“We’d find a way to fix this. There has to be a reason, right?” Sam tentatively reached out again, putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “We can deal with this.”

“And you’re not mad?” Bucky asked doubtfully.

“Dude, how many times can we go through this?” Sam asked incredulously. “I can’t be mad at something outside of your control, okay? Besides, it’s just my heartbeat. Why would it be a big deal to listen to it? It’s not my thoughts.”

“You can find out surprisingly a lot by just listening to someone’s heartbeat and observing what caused different reactions.” he pointed out.

“Oh, really? And what did you find out?” Sam grinned, his heart quickening, probably already knowing what Bucky was gonna say.

“That, um, apparently-” Bucky cleared his throat, gathering his courage to say it. Here goes nothing. “Apparently you feel about me the same way I feel about you. If I read that correctly.”

“Well, that’s not ambiguous at all.” Sam rolled his eyes again. Then he moved his hand from Bucky’s shoulder to his cheek. Bucky felt his own heart start pounding in his chest. “So, if I am reading this correctly, uh- you’d be okay with me kissing you?” Sam asked, his voice shaky, heart beating as fast as Bucky’s, slowly bringing his face closer to Bucky’s.

“God, yes.” Bucky exhaled, and that’s when Sam linked their lips. And at that moment, their heartbeats, beating in the same rhythm, were the only thing Bucky could hear. All that existed was just them. It was amazing, and beautiful, and so much more than Bucky could’ve imagined. It felt long and short at the same time, and Bucky felt so much, he felt as if his every enhanced sense was working at the highest possible setting, and it was one of the most insane experiences he’s had. When they pulled apart, he felt lightheaded, and almost drunk, if he remembered correctly what feeling drunk felt like.

“You know, maybe the reason you couldn’t tune out only my heartbeat,” Sam started, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s, “is that you stole my heart and it’s yours now.”

“That was so cheesy.” Bucky laughed, not able to stop himself.

“Fuck you.” Sam pushed him away playfully, also laughing. “I’m trying to tell you I love you, and you're making fun of me.”

“Could’ve found better words for it.” Bucky shrugged, a huge grin not disappearing from his face. “I love you too.” he added, his voice softer now.

“Now go fuck yourself.” Sam said, amusement clear in his voice, as he sat down. Bucky just laughed and sat down next to Sam. “I’m serious, I take it all back.” he tried to make his expression serious, but failed. He couldn’t contain a smile, but he was looking ahead, not turning towards Bucky.

“Sure you are.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “I can hear when you’re lying.”

“Shit. Maybe it is an invasion of privacy. Should I be mad about it?”

“Yeah.” Bucky immediately responded. “But please don’t. I wanna kiss you again, and I have a feeling it won’t happen if you’re mad at me.” he added, leaning into Sam and putting his chin on Sam’s shoulder, so that his nose was against Sam’s cheek. Sam chuckled.

“Fine.” he sighed theatrically, then turning his head towards Bucky, bumping their noses. “I guess I can make out with you a little. And we’ll deal with the whole eavesdropping on my heartbeat stuff later.”

“That’s fine by me.” Bucky responded, because despite it still being intense and overwhelming, he felt a little better knowing Sam wasn’t mad about it. And that he knew about it now. So it wasn’t like, well, eavesdropping.

Bucky kissed Sam again, forgetting about anything else but the man next to him. They’d deal with whatever they have to deal with later. For now, he was happy, finally getting to express his feelings to the man he loved - getting to make out with him was even better, because damn, Sam was a good kisser. And being this close to Sam, Bucky could not only hear his heartbeat, but feel it, too. Sam was overwhelming all his senses, but for once, Bucky wasn’t gonna complain.

#sambucky #sambucky fic #sambucky oneshot #oneshot #fluff #first kiss #getting together #eavesdropping #kinda #this is one of the dumbest things I've written #I blame the song I was listening to when this idea came to my mind #they're in love #but the fic is dumb #I don't even know what to tag #also if anyone's here - I'm writing a multichapter post-tws sambucky fic you can find on my ao3 or here on my blog #also i think i kida like this one despite it being really dumb? idk hah #sambucky fluff

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

“Last night I woke the hell up. I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah.” - Jon Bellion

Masterlist

Chapter Nine-

Aelin showed up to the police department in a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. She didn't even bother putting on the new-ish sneakers she owned, opting for the ones with holes because they didn't squeeze her feet. It wasn't the first impression she wanted to give, but you deserve a little forgiveness when making a whole-ass human.

Leaning over the dash of the car, she presses a friendly kiss to the side of Chaol's face. "Thanks for the ride, boys."

His cheeks redden, and Dorian leans as much of his body as he can into the front of the car, "No sugar for me?"

Aelin laughs and kisses his cheek good-naturedly. "Feel less left out now?"

"Much better," the corners of his happy smile dim, his blue eyes dart to the doors of the precinct. "Are you sure you don't want me to call you a lawyer, Aelin?"

Chaol nods his agreement beside him, his hands clenching the steering wheel despite the car being in park. "Do you want me to go inside with you?"

Aelin feels a bubble of warmth blossoming in her chest. Their worried faces and eagerness to help her- it was almost enough to warm an assassin's heart. "Don't worry. They just need me to clarify a few things in my statement. Nothing serious. Paperwork issues."

Dorian and Chaol had shown up right as she was walking out of the front door of The Stag. When they realized she was leaving and offered her a ride... Aelin couldn't say no. Not with how her feet were aching.

It took some more reassuring, but they finally agreed to let her leave their caring grasps.

Fenrys met her at the door with a smile, "Hey, Baby Mama. Looking beautiful."

Aelin is surprised to find she's genuinely happy to see him. She can't help the toothy grin he brings out in her. "I'm well. How are you this morning, Fen?"

Fenrys lights up at the nickname. "I bought us some donuts. We have a hard day of work ahead of us, and I figured we would deserve a treat in advance."

Donuts sounded phenomenal and vastly improved her outlook of the day.

He steers her through the PD, and several heads turn to stare as she passes. Aelin didn't particularly care. Whatever they thought they knew about her, they probably didn't.

When they finally reach Rowan's office, they find him slumped over a laptop at a desk piled high with neatly stacked papers. The room is minimalistic. Only necessary office items were visible—no personal effects, knickknacks, or pictures of any kind adorning the space.

Rowan himself is also in his usual state of neatness, minus the dirt she could see staining the underside of his nails. He must have been gardening this morning.

Aelin doesn't bother with greetings. She grabs a chair opposite him and sits down. The last few days, she'd been feeling more drained and quick to tire. At first, she attributed it to the baby getting larger and demanding more of her body's resources, but now Aelin started to think that she caught a bug galavanting through the night.

Fenrys set a blueberry donut and a cup of hot tea in front of her. Bless him. Aelin mumbles her thanks before stuffing her mouth.

Rowan shuts his laptop with a snap and replaces it with a yellow notepad. "Alright, Aelin. I need a name. Who do you think is doing this?"

"When is Aedion getting released?" She says around a mouthful of glazed blueberry.

Fenrys slumps into an office chair at a tinier desk in the corner of the room. "This afternoon."

"If all goes well at this meeting," Rowan tacks on the thinly veiled warning. "I need a name."

Aelin leans back in her seat and takes a deep breath. There was a strange heaviness in giving his name. As if speaking it would materialize him into existence in front of her. Her goal when she moved to Ornyth was to forget about him and push her old master as far from her mind as she physically could, but she supposed it was naive to think he wouldn't come looking for her.

This wasn't just for her, Aelin reminds herself. Aedion would benefit from this conversation.

"His name is Arobynn Hammel. He's thirty-five, red hair, grey eyes, and an utter asshole." Aelin lays the name of her childhood tormentor out on the table. A bad taste sours her mouth.

Rowan tosses the notepad to Fenrys, who relays what she said to the paper. He looks at her over his desk with an unreadable expression. "What is your relation to Mr. Hammel?"

"Why?" Aelin chuckles as if the stress is trying to escape her with each half-hearted chuckle. "Do you want to know if he's my baby daddy?"

"Yes," Rowan and Fenrys say simultaneously.

Aelin's smile falls, and she scowls at both of them. They didn't know better, but she still felt insulted.

"He isn't, but I suppose he probably would have liked to be. Make sure to underline that," she points at Fenry's pad of paper. "Arobynn raised me. I don't think he was legally a foster parent, but he is who I was given to in the shuffle after the occupation."

Rowan dips his chin. Green eyes focus on her intensely, as if he's trying to absorb and commit her every word to memory. "How old were you when they put you in his care?"

"Eight," Aelin breathes out, a sharp tingling of grief comes with that admission. "I lived with him from the time I was eight until I turned nineteen."

"Why do you suspect him of producing and distributing Synth?" Rowan asks the nail-in-the-coffin question, and Aelin has to bite back old instincts to lie and conceal this information. It makes her feel vulnerable to expose Arobynn.

Vulnerability isn't an emotion she handles well. After all, when you bare your neck to someone, it becomes within their power to cut their throat.

"I've seen where he makes it, and I oversaw some of his high-risk contracts and dealings with the distribution," Fenrys chokes beside her, but he smothers it with a cough. Even Rowan looks a little taken back, eyes narrowing.

"At what age did you start assisting with his-" he struggles to find the words. "-His business practices."

Aelin blinks, "Eight."

This time, neither of them covers their reactions. They both freeze in their seats, an air of disbelief hanging over them. Aelin feels a chill and tugs at the hem of her shirt, wishing the sleeves were longer.

"What?" Rowan is the first to break the tension.

"I was displaced in the occupation," Aelin begins the watered-down version of her sob story. "I was carted into Adarlan and placed in the care of Arobynn Hammel. Within a couple of months, he was already using me as a mule to get orders across Rifthold. He trained me in various skills to carry out larger jobs, along with a few other children."

"There were others?" Rowan looks saddened by that tidbit.

Mentally Aelin wants to laugh.

Of course, he would be upset at the prospect of other good children suffering from such a fate.`Ones who had the potential he thought she lacked.

If only he knew what bastards they all grew up to be, and she by far was not the worst of them.

Fenrys' eyes were gleaming with more pity than Aelin was comfortable with because, unlike Rowan, she knew it was directed towards her. Gratefully he didn't dig too deeply. Instead, Fenrys picked up the next question. "Can you name the others?"

Aelin bites her lip, leg fidgeting under the table. "Tern Fletcher, Archer Flynn, Adam Mulligan, Lysandra Ennar-" she swallows past the lump in her throat. "Samuel Cortland and myself."

"Lysandra was involved?" Rowan leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He hasn't looked away, barely blinked, since the questioning began. Aelin feels naked as his eyes seemed to be raking in her every movement.

"Not-" she tries to think of how to phrase it in a way that respects her friend's privacy. "She wasn't involved in the same capacity I was."

"Are the others you know still working with Hammel?" Rowan asks, and Aelin gladly lets them move the conversation away from Lys. She wasn't comfortable digging into her friend's wounds when she wasn't around.

"I suspect Mulligan, Flynn, and Fletcher. They were extremely loyal, and as of the last time I saw them, very active in the business." Aelin fondly remembers the beat down she laid on Archer before their parting words. He sold them out, and she hopes for his sake that they never run into each other again.

Fenrys looks up, "What about Samuel?"

"What?" Aelin flinches, the question taking her back.

"Samuel Cortland," Rowan reiterates. "You named him as one of the employees in Hammel's custody but implied he's no longer active in the business. Where is he then?" He leans forward, and Aelin wishes she could shrink back. "Would he be willing to speak with us?"

"Children." Her voice comes out as gruffer than she intends. "We were kids. Not employees. It wasn't a mutual agreement. None of us could consent to what became of us."

Aelin is surprised by the emotion that makes itself known. She swallows back the tears that want to fall and stuffs her trembling hands under her thighs. The implication any of them had a choice in serving Arobynn was disturbing and utterly wrong.

The taste of skin between her teeth, blood crusting under her nails, and being surrounded in pitch-black darkness consume her. Aelin suddenly feels more ill than she had this morning.

"Of course, Aelin." Fenrys placates. "That's understood. We just need to know where Samuel is. He could be very useful to the investigation."

"Dead," Aelin throws the word out like a dying fish on the table. "He died."

It hurt to say that. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Sam dying was worse than talking about Arobynn. A million times worse.

Aelin tries to swallow the lead rock in her throat. Arobynn didn't deserve to be known. His legacy was of blood, abuse, and control. It belonged in the sewer alongside his corpse.

Sam, on the other hand, deserved to be known. He abandoned by the system, forgotten by his family, and still chose kindness above all else. Sam's story deserved to be told, and it killed Aelin that it hurt her so much to share it.

"How did he die?" Fenrys prods delicately.

"What?" Aelin asks dumbly, heart accelerating in her chest.

"How did Samuel die? Any details you can give are beneficial. and you agreed to cooperate." Rowan reminds her sternly.

Mala save her, she couldn't go into detail about how she found him. She couldn't. Aelin feels blood rushing up to her head, and the room seems to sway.

"Sam. He liked to be called Sam-" Is all Aelin manages to choke out. "Excuse me."

Pushing herself from the desk, she shakily bolts for the office door. Their complaints are silenced as the glass shuts behind her. Outside, Aelin can feel the trembling beginning in her hands and spreading up her arms.

Sweat beads on her forehead in the oppressive heat of the building, but when she rubs her face, it feels damp and cold to the touch.

Aelin frantically strides down the hall, eyes darting around madly for a bathroom door. Nausea was creeping up her throat, and she really didn't want to throw up in someone's trashcan. She knew she was moving quickly, that someone might see her and become alarmed, but anxiety made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion.

A dainty hand grips her elbow and tugs in gently. "Follow me, dear. I can help you."

Aelin's head is swimming, and she allows the calming voice to steer her back in the other direction. When the person pushes open the bathroom door and Aelin sees the navy blue stalls, she rips her arm away and falls to her knees before the porcelain bowl.

Long, slender fingers pull her hair back from her face and rub her shoulders as Aelin loses her breakfast. "You are okay," the voice consoles—a hand massages up her spine and soothes the aches there.

Aelin's whole body is shuddering now. Her stomach rolls over itself, and the muscles of her diaphragm are quaking with exertion. She doubts she could get to her feet if she tried. A strand of drool hangs from her lips, and Aelin would be humiliated if her head wasn't still reeling.

Gouged eyes. Bent fingers. Blood on her lips.

A wad of paper towels appears and dabs at her cheeks, which Aelin hadn't even realized were wet with tears. She failed to notice that her body was shuddering under the intensity of the sobs coming from her. The woman continues to pat her cheeks and nose. Then to her mortification, it swipes at the spit hanging from her mouth.

Mala end me now, she mentally pleads.

Aelin looks up to find a woman with raven hair and onyx eyes looking at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't mean to overstep. I've been where you are before. Please don't be embarrassed."

Opening her mouth, Aelin makes to apologize, but another crackling sob breaks from her chest instead.

She's just tired. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling sick. Tired of being unable to even say his name without breaking down.

Arms wrap around Aelin's shoulders and tug her into an embrace. She allows her face to burrow into the woman's blazer as the grief racks through her body.

"Oh, sweety. It's going to be alright. I promise whatever is going on right now will work out." Fingers rake through Aelin's hair soothingly. It turns her to jello in the woman's arms. Her presence was just so motherly in a way that Aelin sorely misses.

She holds Aelin tight until she's calm enough to hold a plastic cup of water without dropping it. The woman helps her stand and wipes the mascara smudges off her cheeks with a damp towel. "There you go," she tosses the towel in the trash when she deems Aelin presentable. "Brand new, again."

"Thank you," Aelin breathes out at last. "I don't even know what to say."

"Say nothing," the woman waves her hand. "I've been pregnant before. Hormones. Nausea. It isn't an easy ride, dear. Besides, no one comes to a police station for a good reason." The woman pulls a stick of gum from a purse sitting on the sink and offers it to her. Aelin accepts it gratefully.

"Has anyone told you that stress isn't good for you?" Her kind eyes bore into Aelin worriedly. "You look very pale."

"I've been told. Many times." Aelin rubs her forehead, an ache already forming there. "I just don't have much of a choice."

"What's your name? I'm Maeve." She smiles and extends a hand for Aelin to shake.

Aelin takes the hand, happy that they aren't trembling so badly. "Aelin."

"Do you have any name ideas for the baby?" Maeve's eyes glance down towards the slight swell of her belly a little wistfully.

Names? Aelin periodically forgot that the human growing inside of her would pop into the world and require such a thing. It was a far-off event where she had plenty of time to accommodate for things in her head. In reality, she was halfway through her fourth month.

Time was ticking.

"No. I don't have any ideas yet." Aelin admits.

Maeve pats Aelin's shoulder kindly. "That's just fine. Ignore my curiosity. You have plenty of time if-" she emphasizes, "you take better care of yourself."

There is a knock on the door. "Aelin, are you alright?"

Rowan.

"Yes. I'll be back in a minute," Aelin says through the door.

She waits until his footsteps echo back down the hallway before she makes towards the exit. Eager to leave the bathroom and the memories of her awkward breakdown with it. "Thanks again. Really. I appreciate it."

Aelin truly meant it despite the utter humiliation she felt.

"Let me walk you back to Rowan's office?" Maeve asked. "It's easy to get turned around in this building."

They walked in a comfortable silence back to the office. Maeve's demeanor is so tranquil it surprises Aelin when the demure woman pushes the door open without knocking. "I have a delivery for you boys."

"Chief?" Rowan stands up, confused.

What? Aelin blinks and turns back to the woman, noting the black and whites and the metal badge on the breast of her blazer. The same blazer Aelin had just cried on.

Blood rushed to her face, and her brain curdles in her skull. Of course, it was the law of Orynth whose arms she just broke down in. Adarlan's Assassin reduced to a ball of hormones clinging to the chief detective of Terrasen like a baby clinging to its mother.

"Has she caused trouble?" Rowan's eyes glint with steel.

If you've done anything to degrade me to my boss, the deal is off.

"Not at all. We ran into each other in the bathroom and had a lovely chat," Maeve brushes an invisible piece of dust from Aelin's shoulder. "I will let the three of you get back to business. You are in excellent company."

Aelin's lip quirks. Just the opposite. She loves me. Congratulations, you are already reaping the benefits of my presence.

"Oh, and Fenrys?" Aelin looks at Fenrys, who is actively ignoring them. "The reports you promised are late. Have them to my desk by the end of the day, please."

"Will do, Chief." Fenrys' reply is dry and lacks his usual pep.

Aelin notes the worried glance Rowan throws him, but he swiftly covers it with an expressionless mask. "I will make sure he gets it done."

What was that? Aelin tries to pry an answer from Rowan, but he avoids her look.

When Maeve leaves, the tension eases from the men's shoulders.

"You are trouble," Rowan tosses at her without venom.

Aelin picks up the cup of tea she left at his desk, glad it's still warm. "Yes, but only the best kind."

"We haven't laid out a single plan for weaseling out Arobynn," Fenrys makes an irritated face at them. "If either of you could focus for ten minutes, we can do the rest of the questioning later, but we need to start throwing out ideas."

"Did Rowan piss in your tea in the last ten minutes I was gone?" Aelin shoots back, not appreciating his sudden attitude.

"Thirty," Rowan says. "You were gone for thirty minutes. That's why I came looking for you. Also, ruining beverages is your thing, not mine."

Damn, had she been gone that long? A glance at the clock confirms he was correct.

When she turns back to Rowan, there is almost something like worry in his eyes? That couldn't be right, Aelin rubs that aching side of her head again. She needed to stop reading so deeply into things.

"We can continue with questioning later," Rowan announces. "Fenrys is correct in saying we need to start making plans. You've given us enough to work with for now."

They sat back in their chairs, pulled out more notepads, red pens, and sticky notes. Together, Aelin helped them form a list of potential places Arobynn would be laying low. Hotels, rental homes, and vacant manors. He had a taste for luxury Aelin knew he wouldn't sacrifice for anonymity.

Test results were still running on the Synth. Technicians had let them know it showed highly abnormal properties compared to average street drugs, and they promised to send them an extensive report when they were through.

Rowan had hushed any potential news stories about The Stag shooting. He didn't want anyone who may know Celaena to catch wind and start snooping around. Aelin was his best lead, which afforded her a certain level of discretion he acknowledged.

They didn't know about the Bane patrolling her block at night, keeping their eyes on the streets for unusual activity.

The clock ticked, and the light beaming through the winders grew warmer as the afternoon trickled away. It was nearly five o'clock when Rowan declared then done for the day, and Aelin was utterly exhausted.

"Come on," Fenrys offered her a hand to help her stand. "I can drive you by the prison. Aedion should be getting checked out as we speak."

"Thank you," Aelin accepts the help. Her feet ached, and she felt entirely drained. It was good Fenrys was offering a ride, or she'd have to call Dorian to come and get her.

Together, the three of them made their way to the parking lot. Conversation between them was sparse but not unpleasant. They'd fallen into a rhythm at some point while working together. It helped break up some of the awkwardness between her and Rowan.

Aelin hustled a little bit when she spotted Fenry's luxury car. She wanted to claim the front seat before Rowan did. Her gut couldn't handle the stress of riding the back.

Her fingers barely grazed the polished handle when Fenrys started yelling.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and Aelin's face throbbed as it found itself slammed into the asphalt. A loud explosion rattled her ears, and chunks of debris went flying through the air. A thick foggy smoke started filling the air, and she immediately started choking on it.

A dense weight lifts off her back, and hands grab her shoulders, rolling her body to face the clouded sky instead of the ground. Rowan is in her personal space immediately. He's speaking to her, but no sound is penetrating the ringing in her ears.

His hands are running along her arms, the side of her face, checking for injury. Aelin tries to ask him if he's alright, but he doesn't seem able to hear her either.

Suddenly, Fenrys is there, and he's grabbing them both by the arms. They are moving away at a sprint. Fenrys is yelling, but the smoke is stinging her eyes, and even seeing is becoming hard.

There is another explosion, and Aelin can feel the tremors beneath the soles of her shoes as the three of them hit the ground once more.

People are pouring out of the precinct. Aelin spies Cheif Maeve at the front of them, ordering people out of the building. Red and blue lights reflect off the smoke, and she knows that ambulances must be on their way.

Rowan is lying beside her. She hadn't noticed the rips in the back of his suit jacket at first, but there were long gouges in the material, and smoke wafted off a couple of scorch marks. The fact he'd thrown himself over her body and shielded her from the explosion was only starting to register when something warm squeezed her hand.

Are you okay? Green eyes were scouring her body for wounds.

I'm fine, Aelin assures him. She's more concerned about the spots on the back of his suit growing wet as he bled.

"Someone blew up my car," Fenrys is gaping at the spot where his vintage ride used to be. All that remained was a roughed-up frame that was lit ablaze like a campfire.

"Gods," Aelin breathed out, the ringing in her ears dying down. "I almost died."

Rowan hadn't let go of her hand and made no move to do so as his eyes fixed on the burning car. "That was meant for us."

He didn't have to elaborate for Aelin to understand. Whoever had placed the bomb hadn't been targeting her, but Rowan and Fenrys. They arrived and left work together. The bomb wasn't there when they got to the precinct this morning, so someone must have placed it while they were inside.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Fenrys runs a dirty hand through his hair.

Sirens wailed as paramedics filed into the parking lot. Other detectives and officers were starting to approach them. Firefighters approached the car with extinguishers and began to tame the burning fire.

Aelin didn't have an answer. Just the sinking feeling that the game they'd entered into had more players than she'd thought.

Here is part one of the mass updates! Thank you SO much for reading. I’ve gotten so much feedback and love on this fic it’s been so wonderful 💚

I do have an ✨IMPORTANT QUESTION✨

Would you all prefer I have tag lists specific to certain fics or an overall tag list for ships? So one tag list for all of my rowaelin fics, one for all my quinlar fics, or would you like me to keep it as I have been? Please let me know! ✨

Tag list- Let me know if you would like to be added or removed. :D ( names in bold won’t tag)

@thisismylibrary​

@highladywhitethrone​

@bee55​

@royalsqueeze​

@rowaelin-cressworth​

@booknerdproblems​

@sjmships​

@ladyfireheart-and-buzzard​

@wordsxstars​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@courtofjurdan​

@emmiesbook​

@killian-me-slowly​

@miserablemusings​

@aelinchocolatelover​

@booksbqueen​

@flamingveritas​

@tomtenadia​

@fromthelibraryofemilyj​

@loudphantomdragon​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@superspiritfestival​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@charlizeed​

@nish247

@vasudharaghavan

@maybekindasortaace

@mariamuses

@frosted-crackers

@foughtconquered

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

#coffeeshopau #rowaelin #throne of glass #angst #aelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn

[dcforts]

[week 3: i can still recall our last summer]

1.6k, pre s12.

Dean said it was too hot. He’d said it fifty times already since they left the bunker this morning and they were not even halfway through the journey.

He huffed and puffed, saying how uncomfortable he was in his jeans and tshirt and how much he hated his sweaty skin sticking to the vinyl seat. Cas tried to look sympathetic.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” said Dean, his eyes on the road, little drops of sweat above his upper lip. “At least loose the trench coat. I feel like I’m wearing it, it’s making me physically sick,” he said overly dramatic.

Cas indulged him and slipped it off, took off his jacket as well and loosened his tie.

Then he unbottoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He did a pretty nice job of it, he thought. He'd had done it a couple of times before, but Dean always said it looked messy and usually rolled them down again to do them himself.

Cas didn't mind that too much; Dean's fingertips travelling up his arms felt different than anything else he'd have ever experienced and he kind of started anticipating it.

Dean must have felt really bad today though, because he didn’t do anything but throw a quick look at him. Despite not being affected by it, Cas could tell the weather was unusually hot and Dean was definitely not used to it. Still, he could do with a change of topic.

Dean seemed to cheer up a bit when they passed a sign saying they were nearing a gas station, but then spent the time it took to get there to complain some more and apologize to his girl for not thinking of getting her a drink sooner. Cas managed to avoid making a comment on Dean talking about his car like that.

The place was pretty much empty. There were only two pumps that looked pretty old and a little store behind them. Dean stopped the car at the pump closer to the road and wriggled in his seat to take out a few dollar bills from his jeans, “I’m gonna get gas, could you go ahead to pay and get me something to drink?”

Cas nodded, “Sure.”

So he stepped into the store where the A/C was blasting and some mellow music was playing in the background. He wandered towards the fridges that held the beverages and spent a while trying not to feel overwhelmed by the choices available.

He knew what kind of beer Dean preferred, but it was too early for that. He scanned the shelves and looked for something that seemed refreshing.

There was one kind of juice that promised to be a "Natural Fruit Drink" and was stored in little colourful pouches. It looked refreshing enough. He grabbed two lemonaded drinks and a big water bottle.

“Would you consider this being a refreshing beverage?”

The old lady at the cash register smiled at him as if he was being funny, “Sure. There’s only one*, right?” she said, winking. She looked like she was expecting a reaction from him, but Cas didn’t know what to say. First of all, he was paying for two pouches.

“Uh –"

“Nevermind, dear,” she huffed a laugh, “you were probably too young to remember.”

That was highly unlikely, Cas thought. Thankfully she was handing him his receipt already so he was able to get away from the conversation with a, "Have a good day, ma’am.”

When he got outside Dean was waiting for him leaned against the Impala. There was no one else still, so he wasn’t in a hurry to free the space and lose the shade of the canopy over his head.

He had his arms crossed and looked like he was thinking intensely. Probably a way to murder the Sun.

He looked up when Cas approached, “What you got for me?”, he said and when he saw what he was carrying, he had the funniest reaction.

He started laughing.

“What?”

“Capri Sun?” he laughed some more, genuinely delighted, “God,” he said, taking one of the pouches from Cas, “Wh-why did you get these?” he asked in a silly voice and didn’t even wait for Cas to reply. “I haven’t had one of these in like – forever.”

He turned the pouch in his hands and then his smile softened and disappeared. He cleared his throat and knitted his eyebrows.

“You don’t like it?” Cas asked, confused by the sudden change of expression. “I also got you water.”

“Uh – no,” said Dean, “No, nothing like that. It’s just –” he was still turning the thing in his hands and not making any move to start drinking it. “These remind me of my mum?” he said like it was a question. He looked up at him and let out a little laugh. “It’s – weird. I can’t really – I mean I was three. I know I can’t possibly remember, and maybe most of the things are like – a wish or a dream or something, but – You know when you get like, memories from tastes and stuff? Like in In Search of Lost Time.”

Cas didn’t really know.

It must have read on his face because Dean snorted, “Forget it,” and kept going, “It brings me back to when I was a kid and – I don’t know.” He looked at the pouch. “I think it was summer? Must have been summer. I don’t even – She’d like, take me to the park, I think. I don’t remember Sam being there, so it must have been the last summer where it was just me and her, you know, before she – ” he trailed off, his hand gently squeezing the pouch. “Yeah. Anyway, I don't even know if it's real. Could be a commercial or something." He clicked his tongue, then finally jammed the straw in the plastic and brought it to his lips.

Cas was still standing there, his hands full, watching him as he drank. There was more to the story and he didn't want to interrupt. Sure enough, Dean added, “Anyway, when she was gone and we got on the road, money got a bit tight. I remember crying and kicking ‘cause my dad wasn’t buying it for me. That I remember well. I remember I learned not to ask for it anymore. So I had kind of – forgotten about it.”

He fell silent. Dean's childhood had been unfair and tragic and if Cas could have had the power to do something to set it right he would have. Dean rarely talked about it so casually. He didn't seem sad like other times, but as he finished his drink, Cas still felt the need to tell him, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, I'm not upset," he was quick to reply, shrugging, "I mean, real or not, it makes me feel good." He flashed out a smile, "It's making me feel good right now," he said, raising his eyebrows playfully at him, "Guess it'll remind me of today now too. And at least I'm sure this is real."

“Is today really a good memory?" asked Cas, skeptical, "You complained all the way here. And I thought you said, 'I'd rather go back to Hell than live another day like this.'"

Dean snorted, “Yeah, well," he said, one corner of his mouth going up in half a smile, "the weather is not all there is."

He looked away and walked a few steps to throw out the empty pouch. On his way back he headed straight towards Cas, and came to stand very close to him.

Cas blinked, “Do you want the other one?”

Dean smiled like he was being funny. “Nah, I’ll drink that later,” he said, but still took out of his hands both the water bottle and the juice and Cas didn’t understand what was going on when Dean sent them bouncing onto the backseat from the open window, barely taking his eyes off of him. Cas could not help but stare back.

“What-" he tried to ask, but Dean was already cupping his left elbow with one hand, soon joined by the other and unrolling the sleeve of his shirt. Oh.

Dean lowered his gaze as he worked and Cas took the chance to stare at him from such a short distance, focus on his eyelashes, his sweaty brow, the dark freckles on his skin. He was really close, closer than Cas thought he'd like to be in this heat. Cas' arm dangled by his side like a dead weight when he released it and his right arm was already halfway up in offering. Seeing that made Dean smile a little.

They were really close.

They were really close and Cas kind of wanted to step closer.

“You are so bad at this,” Dean huffed, his fingertips and knuckles brushing his skin. Cas thought it hadn’t looked that bad, but Dean would surely know better than he. He'd almost finished rolling up the other one as well, and he was slowing down his movements.

Cas wished he had four other arms.

"So -" Dean said, taking his time to smooth the last of the wrinkles, "How about a deal? If I start complaining too much, you -", he pursed his lips like he was thinking it through, but he was just trying to be funny. Cas found him funny, "you can play some music, drown out my voice."

"Do I get to choose the tape?" Cas asked, feigning innocence.

Dean looked up to give him an unamused look that said he was taking it too far, but when their eyes met he realized Cas had been waiting for that and was actually holding back a grin.

So Dean puffed a sigh to smooth the smile that was threatening to curl his lips. It didn't really work so he had to look away to hide it.

"Fine," he said in the end, finally letting go of his arm. He gave him a pat on his shoulder as he walked past him. "I'll let you choose the tape." He pointed a finger at him from the other side of the car. "Just this one time."

Cas was fine with that.

*a reference to the 82' commercial you can see here - just a fun a coincidence that it's the same year Dean's referring to :)

@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES

#deancassummerprompts21 #deancas #deancas ficlet #destiel fanfic #mentions of dean & mary #and #john winchester a+ parenting #me: okay for this prompt i have a very sad idea #cas: k but what if i rolled up my sleeves? #so i researched capri sun and they were distributed in the us starting from 81 so phewww just in time #or this whole thing wouldnt have made any sense #i know i cheated cause its not really their last summer but it was THEIR last summer yk?? :)))) yeah i know i cheated #my writing #cant believe im finally posting this #bet ill find 29032 mistakes a second after it goes live #playlist to write you say? i only listen to 80s commercials on repeat

[bucky-hues]

sambucky fic recs

hellooo!! i've been wanting to do a sambucky fic rec, so i thought i'd do one for @fuckyeahsambucky ‘s fic yeah friday! here are some sambucky fics i love <3 do read the warnings on each fic!

one-shots

when i'm in a room with you (that missing piece is found) | @omg-just-peachy

sam x bucky

Three times Bucky falls asleep on Sam, and one time Sam asks why.

double dare | @omg-just-peachy

sam x bucky

Bucky follows his therapist’s advice to cultivate friendship, Sam makes him work for it, and by the time he’s sure they’re friends, Bucky has an entirely new problem on his hands.

press conference | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

Sam watches from a distance a journalist from Denver, Summer, puts her hand on Bucky’s arm and laughs at something he says. Her hand trails further up and squeezes his bicep which Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, he laughs along with her and leans in closer to her to say something. Sam closes his eyes briefly and swallows back his anger.

accidentally | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

x | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

request: during the time when sam is tracking bucky in romania, after sam and bucky get caught up in a fight against some hydra agents who were also tracking bucky

sam gets hurt and bucky feels guilty so he carries him inside to patch him up, they talk some stuff out, its all very intimate and both start to fall for each other a little

acquiring alpine | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

prompt: alpine being cute

x | @sammy-souffle (18+)

sam x bartender!bucky (modern au)

regrets | @sammy-souffle

sam x bucky

x | @jeffersonshattricks

sam x bucky

Bucky being completely oblivious that him and Sam have been dating for like 6 months and Bucky finally understands why Sam has been kissing him, sleeping in the bed with him, and being an all around sap with him.

reckless idiots tend to fall | @jeffersonshattricks

sam x bucky

Bucky and Sam are arguing cause Sam did something reckless on a mission and Bucky freaks out but oblivious Sam genuinely has no idea why. And then Bucky accidentally yells ‘because I love you’

tell me a secret | @jeffersonshattricks

sam x bucky

Every time Sam gets drunk he finds Bucky and asks him for a secret. Bucky always gives him one.

fucking ridiculous | @jeffersonshattricks

sam x bucky

Sam is pining and a bitter grumpy grump, Bucky is mostly oblivious but also pining. misunderstandings happen, feelings get hurt, people get hurt (like physically), and then confessions happen and all is well. yay! also the other avengers are just their nerdy selves for the most part!

come to the ocean, even when you're broken | @liminalmess

sam x bucky

“Bucky, hey, man, fancy meeting you here!” he said with an exaggerated enthusiasm that he probably knew would get under Bucky’s skin, clapping him on the shoulder as he sat down.

“I thought we were taking separate vacations,” Bucky grumbled back.

Or, in which Sam and Bucky go an accidentally not separate vacation to the Bahamas.

feelings | @yaksomins

sam x bucky (modern au)

sam crossed his arms and inspected the lobby. they were indeed the only people there, not including the few staff members seated at a table near a magenta-tinted arcade area with their noses buried in their phones.

"i think i can help with that," a voice said from behind sam.

sam turned and found himself face to face with the clerk they'd bought their tickets from earlier, the scruffy-looking man that seemed a little out of place amongst the younger staff. sam gave him a quick scan, his eyes catching the name plastered to his chest via a paper name tag, scribbled by hand using a marker.

"and what exactly can you do for us...bucky?" sam frowned. what kind of name was ‘bucky’?

"i can be your extra," he said, removing a hairband from his wrist and swiftly tying up his hair into a tidy bun. with more of him now visible, sam could get a better view of his face, all hard lines and soft eyes. "and it's a nickname," bucky added, smirking and moving past a puzzled sam towards the game room. "c'mon, let's suit up."

x | @yaksomins

sam x bucky

prompt: leaving each other notes

x | @yaksomins

sam x bucky

bucky takes sam for a ride on his motorcycle

i'll make this feel like home | @buckywilsonbarnes

sam x bucky

sambucky domestic fluff

x | @transjoaquintorres

sam x bucky

sam loves bucky's handwriting

just let me adore you | dharmainitiative (AO3)

sam x bucky

“Alright, what gives?” Sam demands. “Why do you turn down every single person I try to set you up with?”

He expects Bucky to avoid the question, come up with all sorts of excuses. What he doesn’t expect is for Bucky to start laughing.

“C’mon, Sam. Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

“Sam,” Bucky finally says, slow and deliberate. “I’m not interested in anyone you’ve tried to set me up with because I’ve been gone on you for ages.”

watch your words | dancer_in_the_rain (AO3)

sam x bucky

sam insults bucky and then loses his shit when someone agrees with him

love, punch | @clintbartonswife

sam x bucky

Bucky can get protective, but Sam reminds him he doesn’t need to be defended - a confession is made

exchange rate | @joycesully

sam x bucky

Bucky's older memories are coming back, sometimes at the cost of more recent ones. What he cannot forget is tearing the wings off Sam Wilson. Too bad Bucky just let Steve talk him into staying with him and Sam. Consumed by guilt, the only thing Bucky knows to do by way of apology is to let Sam hurt him back. Fortunately, Sam has better ideas.

stubborn wounds | @constantwriter85

sam x bucky

When Bucky’s badly injured after trying to protect his partner, Sam realizes that he needs Bucky more than he’d care to admit.

nurturing | the_buzz (AO3)

sam x bucky (pre-slash)

Bucky isn't the only one who feels alone after coming back from the Blip.

keep the ashes from my heart (and walk away) | @coffeeinallcaps

sam x bucky

In which Sam starts dating someone who is not Bucky, and Bucky pines, gets seriously injured, and proves himself wrong.

you're blowin' my mind (with the things you say to me) | @jemgirl86

sam x bucky

After getting an earful from Bucky at the cookout, Sarah suggests Sam and Bucky have a chat... and they do.

(sometimes) all i think about is you | @softhauntedwinds

sam x bucky

Bucky discovers Sam Wilson's pre-blip media content and things escalate.

when the wheels come off (i'll be your spare) | @returnsandreturns

sam x bucky

“What, the government doesn’t pay you enough to buy some art?” Bucky asks, a minute after Sam lets him into his apartment, gesturing at the blank walls. “It still looks like you just moved in.”

“Uhm, I’ve been busy being a national treasure,” Sam says. “The government doesn’t pay you enough to buy a shirt that fits?”

Bucky glances down at his long sleeve t-shirt for a second before he looks back up with a grin.

“I’m just a part-timer,” he says, shrugging.

forever and a day | @returnsandreturns

sam x bucky

When he sets the needle, Ella Fitzgerald croons and he glances over to see Sam sitting up, looking interested as she sings it’s very clear. . .our love is here to stay.

Bucky can flirt and he can really tell that he’s still got it by the way Sam’s mouth drops open for a moment when he saunters up and offers a hand, smiling with all the potential of where this could lead and asking, “Care for a dance, doll?”

Sam stares up at him before he sighs and mutters, “Fuck, that’s really working for me somehow,” and lets Bucky pull him onto his feet and into his arm.

world's greatest uncle | @novembermurray

sam x bucky

Rhodes arrives in Delacroix to bring Sam up to speed on their newest mission and deliver the bad news: Bucky Barnes has gone AWOL. He's in for a few surprising discoveries.

panic | alienspronkles (AO3)

sam x bucky

When Sam and Bucky go to Sarah's place for a get together, Bucky's anxiety starts kicking in. And he's trying to hide it from everyone there.

series

sam and bucky first date 2: electric boogaloo | ObsessiveExplosion (AO3)

sam x bucky

Sam is gearing up to ask Bucky on their first date, but he is interrupted by a bullet wound to the shoulder.

sam and bucky go to a fourth of july party | ObsessiveExplosion (AO3)

sam x bucky

Sam and Bucky, recently engaged, make an appearance at the annual Delacroix Fourth of July Block Party, and Sam ends up partying a little too hard.

the gang navigates and airport | ObsessiveExplosion (AO3)

sam x bucky

Sam and Bucky have to navigate an unexpected layover on their way home from a mission, made more difficult by the fact that Bucky has just taken a sleeping pill designed for Super Soldiers.

he followed me home one day | AshaCrone (AO3)

sam x bucky (au)

He was supposed to be starting fresh.

Sam Wilson was moving from New York to Washington and picked the worst possible Friday to finish his move. But he does what he does best- stops to help.

And asks a passing stranger for a little muscle to get some trapped people out of a car. Feeds the stranger a protein bar.

Now a lost cyborg has followed him home. And he isn't quite sure what to do about it.

#sambucky fic #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sambucky #fysbfriday #fysambuckyweek

[themadamespod]

The Great White Gripe

A lot has been said about the “social commentary” within The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. 

“Since when is Marvel a bunch of SJWs? I don’t need this shit.”

“All this race stuff feels SUPER forced.”

“Oh here we go Marvel tryin to be all woke to get the libs on board.”

If you personally know anyone who spews this brand of ignorance, we’re sorry. 

Let’s make one thing perfectly clear: there is no social commentary on TFATWS. Showrunner Malcolm Spellman and director Kari Skogland simply show the reality of life in America. It’s not their fault that so many (white) people (men) don’t like looking in the mirror.

And some people claim they have no problem with film and television addressing politics and social change.

“Just keep it out of my comic book movies. It doesn’t belong there.”

They could not be anymore wrong, even if Chandler Bing himself was lecturing them. 

If you asked 100 people to name the top ten movies of all time, you’d get 100 different lists. But one thing we can all agree on is that film has power. It has the power to move us, to divide us, to unite us. Entertainment can lead to the kind of discourse that prompts action and positive change.

And that’s why The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and the conversations it’s sparking are so important.

One World, One Reality

“Marvel has always been and always will be a reflection of the world right outside our window.” - Stan Lee

There are two takeaways from that statement:

One: Stan Lee didn’t say that in the 1960s, 1970s, or even the 1980s. He said it in 2017.

Two: Our window, not your window, is a subtle but important distinction, particularly as it relates to TFATWS. The Flag Smashers, led by Karli Morgenthau, live by a simple creed: “One world, One people.” The core message of the show is that white Americans and Black Americans experience the world very differently, but there’s still only one world, one reality. 

It’s just a matter of people opening their eyes and seeing it.

TFATWS is an extension of Marvel’s early support of the Civil Rights Movement. In 1963, Stan Lee created the X-Men as an allegory for the ongoing struggles of the African-American community. Though he didn’t explicitly base Professor X and Magneto on Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X, there are ideological similarities.

Five years later, following the assassinations of Dr. King and Robert Kennedy, Stan wrote the following:

“Bigotry and racism are among the deadliest social ills plaguing the world today. It’s totally irrational, patently insane to condemn an entire race—to despise an entire nation—to vilify an entire religion. Sooner or later, we must learn to judge each other on our own merits. Sooner or later, if a man is ever to be worthy of his destiny, we must fill our hearts with tolerance.”

In 2021, Stan’s words still resonate. Racism in the United States is as virulent and damaging as it’s ever been. Black Americans are facing deadly policing, Jim Crow 2.0 voting laws, mass incarceration, and countless other roadblocks to mobility that most white people have never encountered.

Through the journeys of Sam and Sarah Wilson, Lemar Hoskins, and the heartbreaking Isaiah Bradley, TFATWS shows the unvarnished truth of what Ira Glass might call Black American Life. And through John Walker, the writers nail home the message that’s really making certain people squirm:

White men are the greatest threat not just to Black Americans, but all Americans, because TFATWS is as much an indictment of toxic masculinity as it is of bigotry. 

As aggressive racism has spread like wildfire since 2016, so has hostile sexism towards women of all colors. John Walker is the embodiment of the hyper aggression that the Proud Boys applaud. The clearest example of this comes when Walker dares to clap the shoulder of Ayo, one of Wakanda’s Dora Milaje.

Her swift and, ahem, pointed response had women the world over screaming like they’d just won the lottery. 

One could also argue that Walker’s dogged pursuit of Karli and displaced peoples supporting the Flag Smasher cause mirrors the Trump administration’s war on immigrants. 

There are plenty of parallels to draw. The point is, none of them are forced or manufactured or exaggerated. And whether we’re talking about a fictional road in Latvia or a real street in Minnesota, white Americans need to stop avoiding conversations that make them uncomfortable.

The Politics of Comics 

In 1938, Americans were still reeling from the Great Depression. Enter Superman, the everyman hero, who made his comic debut while the nation was facing widespread unemployment, rampant poverty, and blatant corruption at every level of government.

Superman could have faced off against any number of supernatural villains. But Siegel and Shuster went a different route, setting a precedent for comic books that has prevailed to this day:

They got political. 

Throughout Superman’s earliest adventures, he fought against evil politicians, apathetic bureaucrats, aggressive police officers, greedy businessmen, and even a Washington lobbyist. 

Then in 1941, Joe Simon & Jack Kirby introduced Captain America just in time to fight the nazis and free the world from fascism. A couple decades later, Kirby and Stan Lee would tell the tale of the aforementioned Erik Lehnsherr, who survived the horrors of Auschwitz. These comics endured because their passion and nuance transcended entertainment. So what was the secret sauce?

Like Siegel and Shuster, Simon, Kirby, and Stan Lee were Jewish. Representation matters, folks. 

Later on, the X-Men weren’t the only conduit through which Marvel supported Civil Rights. In 1966, on the heels of the “March Against Fear” from Memphis, TN to Jackson, MS, Stan Lee & Jack Kirby unveiled Black Panther. When African-Americans were fighting harder than ever, Black children could suddenly read a comic book about T’Challa, the noble warrior king of a highly advanced African nation. 

Marvel has never been shy about critiquing foreign policy either. Tony Stark and Iron Man debuted in 1968 as the conflict in Vietnam was escalating. And let’s not forget, Tony made his MCU debut in a film that is a clear indictment of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

We could do this all day, but you get the idea. 

Comic books have always reflected the politics of our times, and so has the MCU. Fanboys can’t start crying now just because they’re on the wrong side of history. And when they do, we defer to the great Jon Bernthal when asked about alt-righters appropriating the Punisher symbol:

“Fuck them.”

Life Imitates Art

In 1986, American men felt the need for speed. After Top Gun was released, applications to U.S. aviation forces increased by a staggering 500%. 

Two years later, Errol Morris exposed police corruption in his film The Thin Blue Line. The documentary prompted a new investigation that eventually exonerated death row inmate Randall Adams for the murder of a police officer.

That same year, the Polish government ceased all executions after leaders were swayed to do so by A Short Film about Killing.

Following the release of Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine in 1999, Kmart bowed to public pressure and stopped selling handgun ammunition. 

And 5 years ago, Pakistani Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif changed the law on honor killings in response to the critically-acclaimed film A Girl in the River. 

Like we said earlier, film has the power to spur social change. Even if the effects aren’t always so direct and immediate, television and movies have always contributed to the process in America. 

Seeing the Ricardos sharing a bed allowed some Americans to start relaxing their prudish ways. 

The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Maude empowered women as they fought for reproductive rights.

The Jeffersons and Good Times facilitated calmer discussions about race relations.

And The Ellen Show led to greater representation of queer people on screen and greater acceptance of queer people in society. Though Ellen herself has become a problematic figure in the last year, that legacy still remains.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is hardly the first show of its kind. And given the impact film has on society, we believe Hollywood has a moral obligation to produce content that exposes society’s ills and fosters productive debate. 

Stan Lee would be very proud of the team behind TFATWS for bringing the stark reality of American life into people’s living rooms. The next time you see someone bitching about it, remind them what Stan himself said just a few years ago: 

“Those stories have room for everyone, regardless of their race, gender, religion, or color of their skin. The only things we don't have room for are hatred, intolerance, and bigotry.”

#marvel #mcu #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson #isaiah bradley #sarah wilson #ayo #wakanda #wakanda forever #dora milaje #stan lee #jack kirby #superman #marvel comics #dc comics #iron man #tony stark #anthony mackie #sebastian stan #social justice #george floyd #justice for george floyd #justice for daunte wright #daunte wright #lgbtq #representation matters #representation #racism #tfatws #flag smashers

[the-rad-pineapple]

i want u

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Supernatural oneshot: After they found a way to get Cas back from the Empty, things go back to normal between Dean and Cas. Dean thinks he made up the whole love confession thing. It was exactly what he wants to hear. Plus, he’s re-written his own memories before like when he lost Cas in Purgatory all those years ago. It totally makes sense he’d make up a love confession to cope with Cas leaving him again. Dean’s suspicions are confirmed when Cas comes back and doesn’t say anything about it to Dean. And things go back to normal as if it never happened. Because it didn’t.

Words: 2.7k

I’ve been writing angsty stuff for my current WIP, but then I had an angsty day and needed something sweet. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!

Inspired by Violent by Cummrs

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ao3

fanfiction

wattpad

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Today is one of the best days ever. Sam married Eileen. Dean cried. Multiple times. He ate too much at the reception and got a little tipsy. His best man speech rocked, though. Sam and Eileen left ages ago. They’re having their honeymoon in California. Dean can’t be happier. Everyone left a couple hours after them. The last people to leave were Jody, Claire, Kaia, and Jack.

Now Dean and Cas are sitting against the empty wall of the dirty dance floor. Music is still playing, and it echoes across the empty room, making the moment feel ethereal. Miscellaneous wedding decorations and napkins litter the floor. A lone broken high heel lays near the edge of the dance floor. Dean takes a swig of a champaign bottle and passes it to Cas. Cas doesn’t have his shoes on for some reason. He said it was easier to dance without them or something. He takes a drink from the champaign bottle. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned a few buttons on the top. His suit jacket disappeared hours ago. His hair is messy. He looks so good as a human. Cas hands the bottle back to Dean.

Dean takes it and stares at the empty floor in front of them. “This is the best day ever,” Dean decides. He takes a drink and hands the bottle back to Cas.

Cas hums. “It is one of the best I’ve ever had,” he agrees and takes a long drink.

“Mmhmm.” Dean leans his head against the wall and stares at Cas. The singular white light in the center of the ceiling casts long shadows on Cas’ face, making his face full of dark, sharp angles. It reminds Dean of the Cas he met in a barn over a decade ago. Dean lets the nostalgia wash over him as he stares at his best friend. Cas takes another drink from the champaign bottle and swallows. It’s really distracting, especially when Cas has his shirt unbuttoned like that.

After they found a way to get Cas back from the Empty, things went back to normal between them. Dean thinks he made up the whole love confession thing. It was exactly what he wants to hear. Plus, he’s re-written his own memories before like when he lost Cas in Purgatory all those years ago. It totally makes sense he’d make up a love confession to cope with Cas leaving him again. Dean’s suspicions were confirmed when Cas came back and didn’t say anything about it to Dean. And things went back to normal as if it never happened. Because it didn’t.

And Dean doesn’t really care. It hurt at first, but that was eclipsed by the ecstasy of having Cas back. He’ll take Cas in any way he can get. Angel. Human. Friend. Lover. Anything. Just as long as Cas is here and safe.

Cas hands the bottle back to Dean. Dean finishes it and sets the empty bottle down beside him. They don’t really have a reason to stay here anymore. It’s also getting late. And Dean is tired. They should go back to their hotel. Jody booked everyone a room at the hotel nearby as a wedding gift.

“I don’t want to move,” Cas says.

Dean chuckles. “Me neither.”

A comfortable silence lapses between them. The music is still playing. Dean closes his eyes.

“Dean.”

“Mmm,” Dean answers.

“I don’t want to move, but I also don’t want to sleep here.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, yeah.” He opens his eyes and looks at Cas again. Cas is staring at him. Dean smiles. “What?”

Cas’ smile turns sad. “Nothing.” He looks away. “I suppose we should stand up now.”

“I suppose.”

Cas sighs and tugs his shoes forward. He slowly puts them on and ties them. Dean watches. Cas’ hands work carefully and precisely. Cas’ hands look soft. He finally stands up and looks down at Dean. He offers Dean a hand. Dean grabs it and stands up. Cas releases Dean’s hand, and Dean wishes he didn’t. Dean doesn’t want this moment to end. He likes being near Cas, and he knows once they get to the hotel, they’ll separate. It’s clingy as shit, but it’s how Dean feels. And he can’t do anything about that, can he?

He used to shove down those thoughts and feelings like they were something toxic. But, over time, he stopped doing that. He’s not exactly sure why. Maybe he’s just getting more comfortable with himself. Maybe he just doesn’t care enough to push them away. Maybe he’s just getting old. Maybe it’s all of those things. Dean doesn’t really know. And he doesn’t really care.

Cas smiles sadly at him again and turns away. Cas does that a lot now. Smile sad. He’s done it ever since he got back from the Empty. Dean thinks Cas misses being an angel.

Dean follows Cas down the short hallway and out into the parking lot. The Impala is the only car left. The summer air is warm and humid. The stars twinkle above them. Dean reaches into his pocket and grabs his keys, already missing today. It was so blissful and happy. Dean’s still adjusting to not feeling completely shitty all the time, let alone happy. It’s nice but also kind of weird.

They both head over to the Impala, and Dean unlocks it. They get inside. Dean turns the radio on to a low volume. The streets are practically empty, and the drive back to the hotel is relaxing. He also enjoys Cas’ presence, even if they’re both too tired to say anything. Just being around Cas makes Dean content.

They pull into the hotel parking lot and get back outside. The night air is peaceful, and Dean stands for a moment to feel it. He’s happy. Really happy. And so is Sam. They somehow did it. Part of Dean is convinced this must be a dream or something.

“Dean?”

Dean turns to look. Cas is standing in front of him, the lights from the hotel outline him. He’s so pretty. “Sorry,” Dean says. “Just don’t want this day to end, you know?”

Cas smiles. This time it isn’t sad. “Me neither.”

An idea pops into Dean’s head. “Wanna watch a movie in my room? We got the fancy tv’s here.”

Cas’ smile grows. “I would like that.”

Dean smiles back. “Awesome.”

----

Dean picks the first action movie he sees. He and Cas are sitting on his bed. Their shoulders are touching. It would take barely any effort for Dean to rest his head on Cas’ shoulder. He doesn’t.

Not even halfway through the movie, Cas starts to fall asleep. It’s selfish, but Dean doesn’t wake him up. He’ll take as many moments as he can with Cas. Besides, Dean will wake him up once the movie is over. But Dean doesn’t count on drifting off himself.

“Dean.”

Dean jerks awake, immediately on alert. He doesn’t have a gun on him, and he goes rigid.

“Dean,” Cas says again, gently.

Dean blinks and blows out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Oh, that’s right. They’re fine. They’re in a hotel. Sam got fucking married today.

Cas continues, “I think we missed the movie.”

Dean chuckles and looks over to him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Cas looks sleepy. His eyes are half open and his hair somehow got messier. His clothes are wrinkled, and he has a dazed smile on his face. He’s gorgeous.

Dean smiles. “You can stay here if you want, sleepyhead.”

Cas lifts his head up from where it was resting against the wall. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not. You never are.”

Cas smiles at him again. But it’s one of the sad ones. “Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome.” They stare at each other. The longer it gets, the more awkward it is, but Dean can’t look away. To break the silence, he says, “I can take the couch.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

They stare at each other again, but Dean is too tired to care. He closes his eyes.

A few moments pass before Cas says, “We can share the bed if you’re comfortable with that.”

Dean cracks his eyes open. “Yeah, okay.” He ignores how his heart jumps in excitement. They’re not even going to do anything, and he’s elated. Dean kicks off his shoes and automatically starts unbuckling his pants and freezes. “Is it okay if I don’t have pants on?” He glances at Cas.

Cas is already halfway under the covers. His eyes flick over Dean’s body. It’s so fast that Dean thinks he makes it up. “Yes, that’s fine,” Cas answers.

The mental image of Cas checking him out—real or not—makes Dean blush, and he quickly looks away and finishes taking his pants off. He shuts down every dirty thought he gets in the process; it’s easier than it usually is since he’s so damn tired.

Dean turns to Cas, and Cas is definitely staring at his bare legs this time. “Can I turn the light off?” Dean asks.

Cas’ eyes snap up to meet Dean’s. “Um, yes.” His cheeks turn pink.

Dean stares for a second and then realizes he’s probably making things worse by staring and quickly looks away at the lamp on his bedside table. He hits the switch and slides underneath the covers. He can feel Cas’ body heat next to him and forgets how to breathe. The temptation of having the one thing he wants most in the universe right next to him is too much. He’s tense and as close to the edge of the bed as he can be without falling off. Dean is wide awake now. He doubts he’ll get a wink of sleep.

Cas shifts beside him, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin. Thankfully, Cas doesn’t seem to notice. Cas’ breathing evens out. Dean closes his eyes and focuses on the sound. He wants this so fucking bad it hurts. He squeezes his eyes shut harder when he feels the pin-prickle of tears forming. He won’t cry. Not on a good day like today. He spent way too many nights drinking and crying himself to sleep when he thought Cas was dead forever. He won’t do that when he has Cas literally right next to him. Dean swallows down the lump forming in his throat. As sleep tugs at his mind and consciousness begins to fade, he can’t help but think, I love you. I love you so fucking much. I think it’s killing me.

----

Dean wakes up, and he can’t remember where he is. He knows it isn’t the bunker. He feels a body next to him. He’s not even fully awake, and he can’t bring himself to remember who he’s in bed with. Damn. It’s been a while since he’s had a one-night stand. Loneliness stabs him in the chest, and he shifts towards the warmth of the person beside him. He reaches on arm out, and touches their back. He snakes a hand around their waist and pulls himself against them. Dean feels them begin to stir.

“Shh, go to sleep,” he murmurs.

That seems satisfactory, and they relax. They interlace their fingers with the hand Dean has draped over their waist. Dean pulls them closer. He’s so fucking needy and lonely. He wishes he was holding Cas. He pretends he is.

----

Dean’s pillow feels weird. It’s lumpy but soft. It’s very warm. It also smells like Cas. Which is also weird. Why does his pillow smell like Cas? Cas is dead. But, no. No. Cas is alive. He has been for months now. Dean just forgets when he wakes up sometimes.

Dean keeps his eyes closed as he rests. Any second he’s not fully awake is a good one. Dean then realizes his pillow has a heartbeat. Dean’s pillow might not be a pillow. He’s lying on someone. Someone who smells like Cas.

Dean’s heartrate spikes, and he jerks his head up.

Cas blinks up at him. “Are you alright?” Cas asks, his voice deep with sleep. Well, deeper than usual.

“Yes,” Dean says. “I just forgot you’re alive.”

Cas blinks again. “Oh.” He reaches up with one hand and cups Dean’s face. “Well, I’m alive.”

Dean smiles. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Cas smiles back. It’s the brightest smile Dean’s seen on him since he’s been back. But then it turns sad. Like it always does. Cas starts to pull his hand away, but Dean quickly grabs it. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing; he’s still not even fully awake. Dean closes his eyes and leans further into Cas’ touch, keeping his hand on Cas’. He doesn’t want Cas to move away.

Cas’ breath hitches. “Dean,” he begins.

And Dean can tell by Cas’ tone that he is going to tell Dean to let go or something. Dean doesn’t want that. “Shh,” Dean says.

“Dean,” Cas says more firmly and tugs on his hand. Dean doesn’t let go. “Don’t do this.”

Dean opens his eyes. Cas’ smile is gone, and all the sadness has moved to his eyes. “Do what?” Dean asks.

“I know you’re doing this just because of what I told you before the Empty took me.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t feel obligated to…to sleep in the same bed as me or hold my hand like this just because I love you.”

“What?”

The hurt in Cas’ eyes throws Dean off so much that Cas manages to snatch his hand back.

Dean stares. Then swallows. “I thought I made that up,” Dean whispers.

“Made what up?”

“That you—that you…” Dean swallows again. Why is his mouth so dry? “That you lo—” His voice cracks. He furiously blinks back tears. “You said that, right?”

“You don’t remember?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I do, I just…I thought I made that up. Because I—I want…” He licks his lips. “I want you.”

Cas stares at him with wide eyes.

Dean’s blood runs cold. “Wait, am I completely misinterpreting this, oh my god, Cas, I’m so sor—”

“You want me?” Cas is still staring. His eyes still wide with disbelief.

Dean’s already gone this far. There’s no turning back now. Might as well tell Cas everything. “You’re all I ever wanted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Absolutely not!” Dean is just as surprised at his outburst as Cas is. He takes a deep breath before continuing, much calmer this time, “Cas, I have a hard time saying, ‘I love you’ to Sam. Why would I ever say that to you unless I completely mean it?”

“You didn’t say, ‘I love you,’” Cas tells him. “You said, ‘I want you.’ There’s a difference.”

That stubborn motherfucker. But Dean can be stubborn right back. This will show him! “Well, I love you. So there,” Dean states, staring at Cas to challenge him on that.

“Oh…” Cas’ gaze becomes distant.

“Yeah, not so fun being on the receiving end of a love confession, is it?”

Cas is unresponsive.

Uh, oh. Dean cups his face with one of his hands. “Cas, buddy, look at me.”

Cas’ eyes finally focus on Dean. “Y-yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Yes,” Cas repeats.

Dean leans in and gently presses his lips against Cas’. There’s a moment where neither of them move, as if what they’re doing isn’t real, but then Cas’ mouth opens up under Dean’s, and Dean moves in closer. He still has one hand on Cas’ face and moves it back to tangle in his hair. Dean allows himself to get lost in the kiss. It’s slow and gentle and even better than anything he dreamed a kiss could ever be. It’s all Cas, Cas, and more Cas, and Dean’s heart is soaring. He pulls back just far enough to whisper, “I love you so much.” before kissing Cas again, a little more desperately this time.

Dean isn’t quite sure how long they do this; kiss each other stupid with their bodies pressed into each other, but he treasures every second of it.

This day is somehow even better than yesterday. And, who knows? Tomorrow might even be better than today. But one thing Dean knows for sure is that they have all the time in the world, and he’s not going to waste a single minute.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #fix-it fic #post-canon #angst #pining #first kiss #sharing a bed #happy ending #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #wattpad

[clairenatural]

destiel, 2k. mafia!Cas/Kingergarten teacher!Dean from an anon prompt for mafia!dean or Cas protecting the other at all costs. I’m not entirely sure what this turned into but it was fun to write so I hope it’s also fun to read :) it references stuff that happens in 12x10, Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

Castiel sighs. His five least favorite words. He glances up, frowning at Inias. “What kind of problem?” He doesn’t add that it had better be important to justify the younger man barging into his office like this, but it’s implied.

Inias takes a deep breath before stepping fully into the room, letting Castiel’s glass office door shut behind him. “The DA’s office is refusing to back down on the Ishim case.”

“And you paid them the standard amount?”

“Yes, sir. But one of the DDAs refused it.”

“Refused it.”

“He’s new. He doesn’t understand our arrangement.”

“Hm.” Castiel closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, considering both the situation and the man in front of him. They hadn’t had a problem with the DA in years—at least, not since Castiel had taken over. Their messes were less messy and they paid more generously for silence. “How much does he need to understand?”

“That’s the problem, sir. I don’t think he will.”

Castiel scoffs. “Anyone in power can be bought off,” he replies, because in all his years he’d never met someone who couldn’t be. Power corrupts, after all.

Inias shifts uneasily, and Castiel can tell he isn’t going to like how this ends.

“We’ve received word that he’s begun investigating independently.”

Castiel groans at this, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But don’t worry!” Inias continues quickly, hurridly. “We can put our best men on the assignment, have him taken care of by tonight—”

“Wait,” Castiel cuts him off with a sigh. He forces his eyes back open. “I’m not mad,” he says before anything else, because Inias looks like a deer in the headlights and even after all this time his employees still need occasional reminding that he is not his brothers.

When he’d taken over for Michael he’d promised himself—he’d promised everyone—less bloodshed. He swore to defend his family, business, and territory from Crowley and his cronies, but he’d been determined to stop ending innocent lives. For some reason, though, innocents just love getting in the way. He sighs again. “What’s his name?��

“Sam Winchester.”

And, well. That certainly complicates things. He’d known when Sam announced he was going into criminal law that this was a possibility—in some ways, he thinks he should have expected this.

“Sir?” Inias asks, and Castiel realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at him. “Are you…do you know him?”

Castiel blinks back to reality and glares at him. “Call them off,” he orders, and cuts Inias off when he tries to protest. “Call them all off, Inias. Now.”

“But, sir, what about—”

“I’ll deal with Sam Winchester myself. Nobody else is to touch him.” Then, just for emphasis, “Until I say otherwise, consider him under my protection.”

Inias is still staring at him, baffled, but after a moment he nods, and Castiel is thankful that he’s decided not to argue. “Alright, I—yes. Understood.” He nods again before leaving the office and Castiel sinks deep into his chair, pressing the heels of his hands into both eyes.

His phone buzzes and Castiel watches as a text message lights up the screen, revealing the photo from his wedding he has set as his background. It’s a message from Dean, because of course it is, asking him what he wants for dinner and if he wants wine with it.

Castiel looks around his office, awarded to him based on his surname but paid for in blood, and he’s never hated it more.  

————————————————————-

They get half an hour into the low-budget western Dean had insisted in watching before his husband sighs, pauses the movie, and sets his wine glass down on the coffee table.  “What’s going on with you?”

Castiel frowns up at him from where he’s lying on the couch, cheek against Dean’s thigh, his own wine glass barely touched. All things considered, Castiel thinks he’s been doing a great job acting like everything is fine. He forgets, sometimes, how easily Dean can read him.

“Work was…long,” he answers, and it isn’t a lie. Then, because Dean is looking at him like he doesn’t believe him, he follows up with “How’s Sam?”

It’s both a deflection and an answer to Dean’s question, but Dean doesn’t know that. Dean thinks he manages a hedge fund. Which he does. Technically. Legally, at least.

Dean knows he’s changing the subject but he doesn’t press it, and his face lights up the way it always does when someone asks about his brother. Castiel loves him for it. Dean starts on about Sam, how he’s doing with Eileen, how they just moved into a bigger house because they want to start a family. Castiel isn’t paying attention, not really, because Dean’s fingers are playing with his hair and he doesn’t really want to think about anything else.

“—I said I’d help him out, though.”

That catches his attention. “What? Why?” he asks, a bit too quickly, because even though he’s missed most of the context he can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Come on, babe. I never get to use my degree anymore.” He shrugs. “And it sounds fun, you know? Helping my baby brother take down a corrupt criminal justice system. I feel like Serpico.”

“No.” It comes out more forcefully than he had intended and he sits up, turning fully to face Dean. “No, Dean, you need to stay out of it.”

Dean blinks at his husband, and Castiel immediately backtracks. “I mean, um. You don’t—you don’t have any evidence.”

“That’s the point of me helping,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I know I chose teaching five-year-olds over working in cybersecurity, but I still know my way around.”

“You’re going to hack into the DA’s office?”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that.”

“It is bad.” Castiel knows he’s being too insistent, is pushing too hard, but Dean can’t get involved, too. He can’t. “It’s dangerous. You don’t know who else could be involved.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You should. You just don’t understand—”

“Understand what, Cas?” Dean snaps, and now it’s the fight Castiel didn’t want to have. “What could I possibly not understand that you do? A kid is dead and the DA is trying to cover it up and just maybe I can help figure out why.”

“There are things you don’t—” Castiel is already halfway through his next argument when the second half of Dean’s sentence catches up with him, and he stops. “Did you say a kid?”

Dean scoffs. “You weren’t even listening, right? Great. Yeah, some asshole killed his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend and her kid and the DA is refusing to press charges. Says there isn’t enough evidence. Sam thinks they were paid off.”

“No,” he says, quietly, because no. The daughter was never supposed to—that’s not what happened. He had been told that’s not what happened.

“What do you mean, no?” There’s less heat in Dean’s words, and Castiel thinks it’s because he himself has completely deflated.

He stares at his husband—the love of his life, the beautiful, generous, selfless man he doesn’t deserve—and realizes he’s never going to be able to talk Dean down from this. If he could, he wouldn’t be Dean.

He thinks about all he’s done to keep this part of his life safely tucked away. He cultivated a reclusive public image to keep Dean safe from being the husband of Castiel Novak, manager of the Novak Group. He expanded their territory to encompass the school Dean works at, something his family still holds against him as a waste of resources, to protect him from being the husband of Castiel Novak, leader of the crime syndacate. He’s hidden his marriage from nearly the entire family, labeling anything to do with Dean as the most privileged of information.

The only reason he’s still doing this at all, really, is Dean. He could have jumped ship when Michael died, when Gabriel left, when Lucifer took the fall and was sentenced to life, but that meant giving everything to Raphael, who promised to hunt both him and Dean down if he left. So he took the reins instead and he’s tried his best to keep his family safe while managing the business—both the above and underground aspects.

And now, despite all that, both Dean and his brother have somehow gotten themselves involved.

Dean is still staring at him, brows furrowed, and he doesn’t move away when Castiel reaches out to take both of his hands into his own. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and Dean looks taken aback but he doesn’t break the eye contact. “I love you. I don’t want you to end up in trouble.”

Something in Dean’s eyes softens. “Hey,” He squeezes Castiel’s hands lightly. “Come on. Have a little faith in me.”

And all Castiel can do, just like any time Dean looks at him like that, is smile back. And nod. And lean forward to kiss him, just once, softly.

“I do, Dean. I always do.”

Dean leans their foreheads together and Castiel can tell he’s still concerned, but he doesn’t want there to be any more yelling tonight, so instead he pulls back to lie down in Dean’s lap again. He hears Dean sigh before picking up the remote with the hand not still intertwined with Castiel’s, and then he restarts the movie, and Castiel tries not to think for the rest of the night.

 ————————————————————-

The next morning, though, he’s storming into his office, ready to lay into anyone involved with lying to him. He doesn’t get far—Naomi is sitting in his chair. At his desk. For a brief moment, he sees red.

“That’s my chair.”

His aunt regards him, cool as ever. “Is it?” she asks, and she stands, but only to walk around the desk and into his space. “And who gave it to you?” In her heels she’s taller than him but he glares anyway, refusing to be intimidated. He doesn’t respond.

“Why are you protecting Sam Winchester?” she asks after a moment of silence, still standing just as close.

“Why did you lie to me about the incident with Ishim?”

Naomi’s expression doesn’t change, but something close to surprise flickers across her eyes and she backs off to lean against his desk. “I suspect the answer to both of those questions is the same.”

“May Sunder was never supposed to die,” he presses, not backing down, and Naomi looks at him as if he’s being an unruly child.

“Yes, but her mother threatened to go to the police. Come now, Castiel, you’re old enough to understand these things.”

“I never authorized that.”

Naomi stands again. “You think you have to?”

This, of all things, catches him off-guard. “I—yes?”

His aunt steps forward, crowding him again, and he hates himself for taking a step back. “You’re a figurehead, Castiel. You’re in power because you’re Michael’s brother, people like you, and we thought you’d at least be loyal.”

“I am loyal,” he retorts, and she sighs.

“I’m not the only one who’s begun to question your sympathies, Castiel. Who are you loyal to?”

“My family.”

“Does that mean us? Or Dean Winchester?”

Castiel freezes, stunned. “How—”

Naomi cuts him off with a smile. “You think we don’t know? We’ve been letting you play house because it kept you distracted. Now, it seems, it’s making you weak. If you don’t fix this, I’ll have no choice but to cure you of that weakness.”

At last she steps away and turns towards the door. “You have an army here, Castiel. Don’t lose it for one man.”

And then she leaves.

And then, Castiel makes a decision.

In the next few hours, he makes several more—and then he’s driving home with all his family’s secrets copied onto a hard drive, the few items from his office that he actually cares about, and a plan forming on how to take the whole system down.

It’s almost funny, he thinks, the decision Naomi expected him to make—that she’d expected him to choose the family over Dean. That she’d expected him to choose anything over Dean.

She has no idea what’s coming. 

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel one-shot #deancas fic #deancas #spn #the destiel starts after the cut!! #mafia!au #teacher!au #background saileen #my words #over 1k words

[lyricalvillain]

TFaWS Spoilers Below!

Okay. Okay. Can we frigging talk about Falcon and Winter Soldier stuff real quick? Cause like... I'm blown away by all the emotional stuff going on here. I am loving where this is going so far and the intense issues the characters are struggling with and how wonderful the Actors are doing right now.

Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie)

Anthony Mackie is a national treasure. I love his portrayal of Sam Wilson. He does an astounding job. He has such an expressive face and he uses it to break my heart.

His character is going through a lot right now. He just got back from being dead for five years. People mourned him, his family mourned him. He is trying to reintegrate himself into the world and his loved one's lives. Which is even harder when there's a five year gap of missing time to account for. Right away in Ep1 he's given shit from a banker about that five year gap in employment. (Which, excuse me sir who raised you???)

All while coming to terms with the fact that Steve is gone. Steve is gone and he dropped this monumental legacy onto Sam's shoulders.

And Sam felt he didn't fit that role, felt like he was standing in this massive shadow cast by what people expected from Steve (and now what they expect from Sam). His speech about needing new heros, and letting the shield rest because noone could live up to Steve-- wonderful. Beautifully delivered. Mackie is killing it portraying Sam. Just. A++

And the cinematography in that moment. The massive image of Steve looming over Sam. Really pushing how Sam feels in that moment.

He felt that the shield, the legacy, the title belonged to someone else. He had his own name, his own legacy that he was building. His own identity. I can see how he wouldn't want to give up being Falcon and pick up Steve's shield.

But that made the end of ep announcement of the new Captain America all the more heart wrenching, like seriously I wanted to cry. Because Sam trusted that the shield and uniform would be kept at the museum. Trusted that his decision and wishes would be respected. And oh god, how they rolled over that without a seconds hesitation.

The entirety of episode two was just triggering for both of our boys. Sam was constantly being reminded of how he gave up the shield. It’s the first thing Bucky says to him, and it’s the thing Bucky focuses on the most. Sam is probably already furious that this is happening and John Walker isn’t helping that either.

“It would be easier if I had Cap’s wingmen to back me up.”

Sam’s reaction to this was very telling. He was with the guy up until this point it seemed. As soon as he said this, Sam left. And I think it has a lot to do with him having his own autonomy as a hero, his own identity, his own legacy. He is very focused on who is behind the symbol, the person behind the symbol. (I also think Sam may have some Imposter syndrome going on, maybe?) He helped take down Thanos, take down Hydra. He’s put the work in, he's made a name for hinself. So when John says he's put the work in. I feel like that's just insult to injury right there for Sam.

While I doubt John meant any harm, he definitely stuck his foot in his mouth. It seemed like he thought of Bucky and Sam as accessories instead of their own individual people. Like they didn’t have issues and lives outside of being brushed off and put in play for whatever Cap needed them for. 

Sam was with Steve because they were friends, why would he ally himself with John Walker, a man who had taken up the mantle he had tried to lay to rest, a man he didn’t know at all? A man who didn’t know him at all.

And don’t get me started on the cops man, they called for BACKUP. They stopped because they judged someone based on the color of their skin, and the backup arrived as they figured out who they were harassing. Fucking systemic racism, man. (Good job portraying that as well though.)

Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan)

Bucky... God damn. What a mess. Tragic back story to the max, add in a dash of survivors guilt, self worth issues a mile wide. And lets not forget the trust issues. We have those too.

We all know his past, the brainwashed assassin with no real name. Treated like a weapon, stripped of humanity and autonomy.

He was a fugitive for probably about four years spent some more time on ice in Wakanda, and then vanished for five. He comes back to help kick Thanos' butt and then Steve... Just leaves him to live his life in the past. For Steve it's been a long time. Steve lived through those five years without Sam or Bucky. But for Bucky it was only yesterday that they had been fighting to stop Thanos. He hasn't been able to integrate properly into society. He only had Steve and by extension Sam.

So now he's left to integrate on his own. Steve was his anchor, and he's adrift in the future where he only consistently talks to his therapist and a man who's son he murdered.

He is not okay.

In episode one and two we see just how not okay he is. He's mired in his past, clinging to the vestiges of his combat experience and skill set he picked up as the winter soldier. Sam tells him he's not a spy anymore and Bucky fights to be able to help, to feel relevant again.

Hes so focused on Steve's shield. I like to think its partially because of what Steve's trust symbolized to him, and also because it's tied so closely with Steve's memory that seeing someone, that Steve didn't give it to, wield it bugs him. Steve's last wish was for Sam to pick up the title.

The revelation that he was trying so hard because Steve believed in him broke my heart. Especially once he started doubting that faith his friend had in him.

"What was rule two again, Doc?"

Nobody gets hurt. But I wonder if bucky was implying that he has been hurt. I mean probably, Sam said some hurtful things, they both did. And they're both snarky and defensive. Still Bucky will help Sam, because even though they argue and fight, they're friends, united in grief and trauma. I just have so many feelings about my boys guys.

John Walker (Wyatt Russell)

I’m not gonna lie I expected to hate John, in fact the ending of the first episode just begs you to hate him. I don’t love him. But surprisingly I also definitely don’t hate him. He is a giant dumbass though.

So firstly, this dude is from the comics, he’s eventually  known as U.S. Agent.

He operates within the confines of the law, and is basically the government’s lap dog at this point. Whereas Steve, as Captain America, had gone against orders multiple times, against the law even, to do what he thought was right. Despite the obvious differences in their character so far, there is a parallel we can draw between John and Steve and even John and Sam.

John feels that pressure that Sam felt in Episode one. It’s the first thing he really talks about. He doesn't want to let the people down.

He has been used as a marketing tool very much like Steve. Propaganda posters, the works. He tells his friend (high-school sweetheart?) that he wants to just “do the job” like Steve did. He’s frustrated about being paraded around, surrounded by dancing girls and stuffed in front of cameras.

As irritatingly confident as he seems, there is a lot of doubt and nerves in this guy. He is also… not enhanced. He’s just slightly above average for a human.

“I’m not trying to replace Steve, I’m not trying to be Steve. I’m just trying to be the best Captain America I can be.” This was honesty, there was frustration in the lines. He probably feels overwhelmed, he is reaching out for help from people who knew Cap best and are best equipped to help him take down the Flag Smashers.

Later when he shows up to bail Bucky out, he made a few more mistakes. Firstly, the therapy thing. Ordering his therapy to clear him so he wouldn’t be tied up was just short sighted and selfish. He may have thought he was doing Bucky a favor seeing as the therapy was court mandated, but Bucky NEEDS that therapy. His therapist was the only person he had regular contact with that wasn’t emotionally torturous for him.

Also calling Bucky an asset. DUDE. This man was referred to as “The Asset” for 70 YEARS. He was brainwashed and treated like a thing, didn’t have a name, wasn’t allowed to decide things for himself. So John swooping in and making the decision to “liberate him” from therapy because he was “a valuable asset”? John, buddy, pal. Maybe don’t. Maybe take you “I know what’s best” shtick somewhere else okay?

He knows who these men are, and he’s trying to be helpful and supportive to get them to like him, trust him and work with him. But that’s hard when you don’t KNOW these men and what they’re suffering through. John is just going to trample all over their emotional minefield.

That’s it from me, thanks for reading through my rambling thoughts on fictional characters guys! I'm going to go cry in a corner until next week.

#tfaws spoilers #wintersoldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #falcon #the falcon #sam wilson #anthony mackie #john walker #captain america #u.s. agent #wyatt russell #character analysis #like just a long post of me talking #marvel #MCU #falcon and winter soldier spoilers #the falcon and winter soldier spoilers #the falcon & winter soldier spoilers

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker - I’ll find my way to you(1)

Did I watch Far From Home and decided to write about it instead of doing responsable things? Of course. This will be a little different to what you’re used to do, becuase I’ll follow the movie and dialogues mostly, only that reader is the romantic interest instead of MJ. Hope you enjoy it, I’m really excited for this series!

If Tumblr fucks this fic up and doesn’t show the tags I’m suing them

Plot: Peter Parker couldn’t be more excited for the trip. It wasn’t only the best vacation he could dream of - I mean, Europe? Cool - but they also gave him the chance to spend more time with you, his new found crush that makes him stutter and blush. He should have known that something would get in the way.

-

Spider Man far from home featuring Peter Parker as a clueless, cute baby and reader, who is Bucky Barnes’ daughter and as badass as her father.

Warnings: far from home spoilers - but come on, you’ve seen it.

“I have a plan”

Peter all but fell on the chair, dropping his bag on the ground and making a few classmates look his way. He had just ran through the hallways, nearly colliding with a few people in his way. But if he wanted to talk to Ned before the class started, and the rest of the students came in, he had to be quick. Flash was talking about how the teacher had to grab some books from the library before starting the lesson, and he had took his chance; because lately, finding Ned alone was something weird.

Said boy looked at his friend with raised eyebrows, and put his notebook away. He had been making a list about the best ways to impress an European girl, something he didn’t want to forget. Ned was determinated to meet some pretty girl and impress them with his American accent; Peter had a hard time believing that, but he didn’t dare to break his hopes.

Before talking, he made sure there was no one around who could listen to their conversation.

“Okay, first. I’m gonna sit next to Y/N on the flight” Peter rushed his words out, and Ned hummed. “Second, I’m gonna buy a duple headphone adapter and watch movies with her, the whole time”

“Right” Ned nodded, his eyebrows furrowing as Peter kept talking.

“Three, when we go to Venice – Venice is super famous for making stuff out of glass, right?”

“True”

“So I’m gonna buy her a bright read star necklace, cause her favourite colour is red” Peter shrugged, moving his hands around. “And because of, well”

“It reminds her of her father, a worldwide recognised assassin but also the man who lives five blocks away from your apartment” Ned completed. “Didn’t he drive you to the last decathlon competition?”

“Yeah, her father” Peter nodded, not even blinking at Ned’s words. “Four. When we get to Paris, I’m gonna get her to the top of the Eiffel tower, give her the necklace, and then five, I’m gonna tell her how I feel. And then six hopefully she tells me… she feels the same way”

“Oh, don’t forget step seven” Ned crossed his arms in front of his chest, and Peter missed the sarcastic remark as he reached again for his notebook, where he had written down all the steps. “Don’t do any of that”

Brown, tired eyes met Ned, and the boy felt bad for about a second. It was obvious that Peter had been having a hard time in the last months; Tony’s death, the feeling of being on borrowed time because of the ‘blip’, and the pressure of being Spiderman in a world who needed superheroes more than ever. He could count with the fingers of one hand how many hours of good sleep he had gotten that week, and they were on Wednesday. Besides, he was also stressing with the stupid plan with the steps, and the final trip to Europe.

May had had the idea of writing down the steps. He had come to her – after Ned proved to be useless for it and Happy refused to talk about girls – when he had realized he had feelings for someone. Not just someone, but one of his new friends who shared with him more than just a friendship. Y/N Barnes, friend and work-colleague, talking about avengers. And of course, crush.

“Why” he sighed, not even asking. He thought of himself as a balloon that had just been poked with a sharp needle, and was slowly deflating.

“Because we’re gonna be bachelors in Europe, Peter!” Ned said, his voice too similar to a whine.

“Ned…”

“Look, I may not know much, but I do know this” he nodded at his friend to make sure he was still listening. “Europeans love Americans”

“Really?” Peter tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, knowing that probably Europeans didn’t really care about them. If he was European, he would sure not give a damn about America.

“And more than half of them are women!”

“Okay, sure. But… I really like Y/N” he gave him a tight smile. “She’s awesome. She’s super funny in a kind of a dark way. And sometimes I catch her looking at me and I feel like I’m – She’s coming – don’t say anything!”

Ned looked to his right, and indeed, another person walked in class. Betty waved from the door at you and you gave her a small smile, still not used to her and having so many teenage attention to yourself. Still, you made an effort and contributed to some of her conversations, although most of them were monologues. Again, that feeling that Ned had had about being wrong just moments ago came back when you looked at them and lighted up at the sight of Peter.

Not a lot of people noticed, but you were nothing like your father. The stereotype of a bad mean soldier died when someone talked with you for a few minutes. You were shy, liked puppies and colour pink, and even if your jokes sometimes crossed the line of personal baggage and were a little too dark, you were funny.

You clutched the big sketchbook to your chest and skipped towards your friends. Peter kicked Ned softly under the desk to avoid him saying anything about the plan, and Ned just chuckled awkwardly.

“Hi” you smiled at them, dimples on your cheeks that made Peter mess with the pen on the desk. “Excited about the trip?

“Hey. Uh, yeah” Peter tried not to make it too obvious that he was staring at you, so he looked at Ned. “We’re just – talking about the trip”

“Yeah, and Peter’s plan”

“You have a plan?” you raised your eyebrows, and Peter felt himself stopping breathing for a moment.

“I-I don’t… I d-don’t have plan”

“He’s just gonna collect tiny spoons while we’re traveling through all the countries”

The wink that he sent his friend wasn’t at all discreet, because to do so Ned moved all his face along with his left eye. Peter didn’t feel any better with the answer, if anything it made him feel a small pressure on his chest. He turned the pen around his fingers as he looked at you again, who thankfully, looked unsuspicious. In times like that he was grateful that you still hadn’t caught everything about the sarcasm and indirect intentions.

But even you, who spent more than half of your life locked in a cell and used as leverage for the winter soldier, knew that it was something weird to do. So you hummed and made a small grimace.

“Like a – like a grandmother?”

“I’m not collecting tiny spoons” he scoffed, pointing with the pen at Ned. “He’s collecting tiny spoons”

“Oh. Okay. Well… that was… a real rollercoaster”

Peter’s eyes drifted to your wrist as you moved your hands around, and his previous mood fell like a ton of bricks. He knew he should be thankful that you were allowed to come with them to Europe, since your father wasn’t welcomed in at least half of the countries. Thick, black bracelets fell on your wrist, a huge contrast to your delicate skin. They had a small red light that was always on, unless you broke one of the rules Thaddeus Ross had set.

He had been there when the secretary forbid you to leave the country, using words as ‘freak’ and ‘danger’. Between your father, Sam and a little bit of help of Pepper Potts, he had agreed as long as you carried the bracelets. Peter himself had threatened to go and talk to him too, rambling and speeding across the walls and ceilings as he traumatised May. But then, you had asked him to stay put, and he could never say no to you.

Peter bit his lip and tried to hide his discomfort at seeing your wrists. You had to endure enough from the rest of the classmates, and he would hate himself if you dropped that smile.

“By the way, my dad gave me some stuff for you” you changed the topic, digging into your backpack for something. A metal, clanking noise came from inside. “Told me you should have it since I’m not even allowed to cut an apple if I want to stay out of jail. In case something happen”

“What – don’t!”

Peter jumped out of his seat and pushed your hand back into the bag, careful of the sharp edges. He was too busy pushing the knives back into the bag to notice how your hands touched for more than one second, or to admire how your cheeks turned pink and you eyes went wide. You were so close that he could smell your vanilla scent, and you could see the wrinkles of his sweater’s neck.

The whole class seemed to disappear around as he finally noticed what he had done. Peter was always careful of not being too close to you, in case you could get overwhelmed – like in your first day of highschool – or feel uncomfortable. His own cheeks went red, and the tips of his ears started to burn. He pulled his hand out of your bag so quick that he got a scratch on his palm; not that he cared, as he jumped back to his seat and almost fell out of the chair.

“Did you bring knives to class?” Ned squealed out. A girl nearby had noticed, but she chose to turn away.

“Well, not knives” you tried to explain. “They are like – uh – daggers? Throwing daggers. Dad got them from internet, and some of them have dents so that when you stab someone –“

“Okay, class! I’m here!” the teacher cut your conversation, and a flow of students filled the class.

You quickly ran to your place at the back, besides another boy your age, and Peter tried to follow you as you moved. He could have sworn that you smiled when you passed his side, but he wanted it so bad to be true that he could have imagined it. Most of the times he thought you were looking at him in class, and when he looked at you, there was nothing to see. Sure, you liked to sit beside him at lunch time, and never turned down an awkward proposal for a “date” with Peter, although he was the only one calling them that, as nothing ever happened.

Still, he allowed himself a sweet second of happiness as he watched you greet your classmate and pull down your sketchbook.

“Dude” Ned chuckled behind him, and Peter stared with amused eyes. “I think that went really great”

-

“Yo, Parker”

Peter turned around and saw Flash calling him from the other side of the plane. He was sitting on the closest side of the window, but even from there he could see the boy’s smug smirk. So far, the whole ‘getting into the plane and not having any problem’ was going good. He had his headphone adapter on his right hand, and was preparing himself to tell Ned to change places with MJ and let him sit with you. The rest of the class seemed fine too, and he was enjoying the trip so far.

But of course not a lot of things in his life went right, and he felt his mood lower down a bit when Flash called him. He fidgeted with the adapter on his hands and nodded at him.

“This is called an airplane” Flash said, and to Peter utter mortification, you stopped right beside his seat to look at Flash. “It’s like the busses you’re used to, except they fly over the poor neighbours instead of driving through them”

“Madam?” a kind looking woman appeared beside Flash and looked at you, smiling. “He blipped, so technically he’s sixteen, not twenty one”

“I’ll take that”

“No – no she’s – s-she’s lying! I don’t even –“

Flash trailed behind the woman as he tried to take back the drink, giving you the nastiest look he could manage. Which wasn’t too big, as he was mostly embarrassed.

When you had first arrived to Midtown, two years ago after you father went to Wakanda and Tony – as a favour to Steve, who was like you uncle – let you stay with him and attend highschool, Flash thought you were pretty. He followed you everywhere you went, tried to win you over with the stupidest and most expensive details about his life and invited you to every party. Then, he noticed that you ignored him in favour of staying with Peter, who you had met in that airport fight. And from that moment, he liked to pretend he hadn’t liked you at all.

Once he was gone, you looked at Peter and gave him a small, shy smile. He smiled back, his face melting at the sight of you. He almost dropped the headphone adapter as he watched past by, if it wasn’t for Ned catching it in the last second.

“Classic of Y/N, right?” Brad Davis appeared out of thin air, following you into the airplane and making Peter drop his smile.

“Did you know Brad was coming?” he asked Ned once the boy was out; although he didn’t stop looking at him.

“It’s… so weird” Ned chuckled, looking at Brad too. “Like, one day he’s a little kid that cried and got nosebleeds all the time, and suddenly we blip back and he’s totally ripped and super nice. And all this girls are after him”

“Not all the girls are after him”

“No man, they’re all after him”

Peter felt a sudden weight on his chest that he couldn’t describe. Brad was helping you to put your handbag on the top part of the plane, apparently saying something funny; really funny, because you weren’t using that fake smile you put when you didn’t get what was funny or what people were talking about. The sound of your laugh usually made his stomach flutter, but that time it made him feel sick. He knew he was selfish for thinking that way – you were allowed to have friends, to be interested in someone, and to like Brad.

But he didn’t know all of that, it was just you laughing with Brad. He was so busy drowning in his own feelings that he missed how you looked at him once more before sitting beside MJ.

“Anyway” Ned went back to his bag, taking out his computer. “Onto more important things, it’s an nine hour flight. We play beast slayers the whole time”

“I need your help sitting next to Y/N” Peter blurted out, finally tearing his eyes away from Brad.

“Seriously?” Ned sighed. He left his computer on the desk and tried to look miserable to Peter, who was too busy already tearing his seatbelt away.

“Yes, seriously”

“What about our plan? American bachelors in Europe?”

“That’s your plan. That’s a solo plan. Come on, this is my plan” Peter tried to remember how May told him that he could get almost anything with those puppy eyes, so he put them on for Ned; who couldn’t be more unbothered by them. But Peter really, really wanted to sit with you. “Please”

Ned threw his head back and scoffed, leaving the computer back on the bag and tugging at his own seatbelt. Maybe the puppy eyes didn’t work with him, but Peter was glad to have such a good friend.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists​, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #spider man imagine #spider man far from home #smffh #ffh #far from home #spider man x reader #spider man one shot #spider man fic #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #imaginesmai #imaginemai #i'll find my way to you

[quwarichi]

15.06 and the breather Cas took

Golden Time was interesting for Cas - a moment for him to rediscover who he is, really. Let's have a look, shall we?

Firstly, we need to recount what were the events leading up to this episode from Cas' POV:

1. Mary dies, killed by soulless Jack, which Cas hid from Dean and Sam. This breaks up the family he'd so carefully built in the past few years and jumpstarts his and Dean's fallout (i.e. divorce)

2. Cas tries to call Chuck, tries to fix everything. It works a little too well (or too badly).

3. Chuck kills Jack in front of Cas, Dean, and Sam, and starts the "End." Castiel now lost his son.

4. Belphegor happens. The scheming demon that has a weird thing for Cas' husband/ex and wears Jack's face. He has to kill it, destroying his son's body.

5. Rowena dies, the apocalypse ends, Dean and he break things off.

For a long time, Cas has measured himself by how useful he is to Dean and Sam, they were his purpose. Then Jack came along and his purpose became being a parent. Then both of those were taken from him in barely a week. In his own words:

"Jack's dead. Chuck's gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it's time for me to move on."

His purpose as a father is no longer there. His purpose as a preventer of an apocalypse, as a protector of humans and angel, the problem he created by summoning Chuck, is dealt with. Dean has Sam, and Sam has Dean. They don't need him there if he's not useful, because even if they're friends, Castiel is an outsider. I think it's time for me to let go, because I no longer serve a purpose for you. That's one side of it. The other is the break up. The divorce. He just lost, romantically, the love of his life. His reason, his devotion. He's adrift, he doesn't want to stay in a place where the man he loves looks at him like that, refuses to listen to him. Refuses to give up his anger for the sake of them. He leaves.

Then we don't see Cas for 2 episodes, but we feel his Absence.

I checked, I did the calculations; Atomic Monsters and Proverbs 17:3 take place over two weeks - 5-7 of November and 13-15 of November. We don't get a timeline in Golden times, but I can just assume it's at the end of November, so it's basically barely a month after the events of the Rapture.

Now with the set up done, we can get down to it.

"Golden Time" is a reference to the time period after a traumatic injury, aka "golden hour" where treatment has the highest chance of preventing death. Cas has basically had a traumatic injury to him, but not a physical one. He's wandering, lost and unattached, until deciding to settle down in a cabin at a fishing lake in Wyoming.

Cas is on vacation, is the main tagline. He's fishing, undercover and going by the name of "Clarence", which he used before in season 9. A few people pointed out that when he's buying some stuff at the store, he's also buying fishing guides and batteries

that according to our lovely Tumblr friends can be used to power a cassette player. Mixtape anyone? Breakup soundtrack for one, please.

He's out there looking for peace and quiet, to clear his head, gather himself, and mourn.

Cas lost his son, and his lover, and his friend, all because he called Chuck. This must add to the guilt he constantly carries around, but not too dive into that too deeply other than when he calls Dean and gets notified that Chuck is back.

Cas finds a case, about a missing boy and a concerned mother. This was him, less than a month ago - with Jack killing Mary and going off the grid, and him worrying over it, not being able to do much.

He helps her in the search, eventually finding the boy, and then discovering it was a djinn, disguised as the sheriff who waved him off, that took the kid and hurt a family. Nearly ruined a family.

He gets angry, good and truly angry - and says this:

CASTIEL: It's always you... you selfish little men in positions of authority. You take what you want, you take who you want. And you believe that your power will protect you. [Sheriff Roy shoots him in the heart, point-blank, and Cas heals it again] Well, it won't protect you from me.

"It's always you... you selfish little men in positions of authority" - who Cas had a run-in with and might be bitter and angry at, who's a man and in position of authority? Chuck.

"You take what you want" - the family he'd built, the peace he worked hard to cultivate.

"you take who you want" - he took Mary, and killed Jack in front of their eyes.

"And you believe your power will protect you. Well, it won't protect you from me." - Foreshadowing? Maybe, because in the end, Cas helped defeat Chuck, by being himself. The famous spanner in the works, the one with the crack in his chassis. The free will creator that wouldn't fall in line.

He took a breather, to refind himself. People say about the djinn scene that the writers finally remembered that Cas has superpowers - I say that Cas finally remembered he has superpowers. He was so deep in his purpose, worrying about others, fighting so hard for his family, he forgot who he was. He took a moment, took a break, to remind himself who he is, without all of the things around him, and discovered some new things that later come into play in 15.15.

Sometimes, when you're in a position that has people dependent on you, by choice or not, you tend to forget who you are without those.

Cas took a vacation, and he remembered.

#This was put together after me thinking about cas being shot and still looking badass #it's like 3 am I don't know what im doing #but seriously think about this #his beef with chuck is also important to note #his guilt #castiel #spn #castiel meta #spn meta #chi's meta #15x06 #spn 15x06 #season 15 #golden time #polol

[bellaslilpapercut]

Oh boy New Moon! I've got some Thoughts a brewin' babey:

1. Smeyer: you do not need to remind your audience what happened last book, they aren't stupid. Imagine if SC started catching fire with ANOTHER explanation of what the hunger games are and that's the vibe of the first chapters of new moon. We remember james, we know what vampires are, we know that Bella is white, stop reminding us!

2. Bella has the worst self esteem of all time. Every bad thing that has happened to her since the Van Incident has been Edward's fault but she still blames herself and idk if this is Intentional Insecurity or if smeyer is protecting edward's "character" or both but gdamn it's depressing.

3. The reason I said Jasper was Inconsistently Written jumped out at me again. Smeyer dedicated a whole paragraph to pointing out how terrible jasper is at the diet or whatever but in the guide, smeyer tells us jasper actively tried to starve himself in the past because of how difficult his gift made feeding. He was one of only two Cullens to show bella empathy, he smelled her blood before, why does he attack her? The weakness of this decision is pointed out in the exposition: if it really were likely that Jasper would attack Bella, she wouldn't have needed a superfluous paragraph dedicated to telling us how bad he is at self control. If the story had convinced us of that beforehand, we would have believed the attack without the addendum.

4. The party is my least favorite part of the whole series and I will die on this hill: edward should have attacked bella. Bella should have tripped into something glass and edward should have lost it because he tasted her blood before and couldn't help himself. That way: edwards self loathing makes sense and he's forced to recon with his superiority complex from the ending chapters of twilight AND bella's self blame makes sense. A vamp who was able to starve himself before he even heard of the cullens should not have lost it around someone he spent days in close quarters with, building rapport and friendship. Edward got too high and mighty after he fed from Bella in Twilight, that should have had real consequence.

5. The writing is getting a little better as we near Edward leaving. "Better" isn't a good word actually but it's getting closer to the prose in twilight (which was flowery and annoying but at least it didn't constantly feel like being spoonfed exposition every paragraph). Hm wrote this blurb while I was still on chapter 3 and the vibe of being spoonfed reminders has not really dissipated lmfao.

We remember Sam Uley, smeyer, you introduced him four chapters ago. Just quick question: did anyone proofread this?? I think it's fair to say: when she isn't reminding us of things that we remember the prose is more similar to twilight. A little annoying but interesting enough to forgive the errors (or at least move past them easily enough lol).

6. I'm on chapter 8 now (I'm gonna break this up into three parts so I don't forget stuff like I did during the twilight reread) and there's a very heavy Vibe that smeyer is setting Jake up to be a parallel for twilight-era Bella. This line here is a pretty clear parallel for Bella telling Edward not to hold his breath in Twilight when he tells her she might get tired of him.

7. This line here "almost happy in a shallow kind of way" really jumped out. What Bella's narration says about Jacob versus her conversations with him (and her one paragraph about his happiness being effortlessly contagious) are at odds. It doesn't read like shallow happiness when she's with Jake. However, Smeyer is also a bad writer, she thinks the story she's telling us is literally what the narration says and not what the action shows and I think she realizes this in Eclipse (but obviously I'm not there yet so I can't say for sure).

8. I really can't get over the drop in writing quality. I know that she had already mostly finished Forever Dawn by the time Twilight was published (or was halfway done, I think her website said she had over 300 pages of forever dawn complete when she found out Twilight was getting published). I think the writing quality really reveals that she was not prepared to write New Moon. It's sloppier than Twilight in a way I'm not able to articulate (by that I mean I personally have a more intuitive than technical understanding of grammar and syntax so I don't have the language to break down the differences). Twilight itself is ripe with technical errors and plot errors and awkward exposition so it's not an overt drop in quality but I think it very much reads like a rushed writing job. She was committed to forever dawn, her publishers wanted New Moon, it shows.

9. I think New Moon was when I first started physically editing my copies of the saga lol. Even reading it now I'm so tempted to open up a word document and cut half of the useless shit out and fix all the grammatical mistakes. I can't even talk shit because I am also a comma-abuser but I hoped an editor would at least catch the errors before publishing. Guess not! Brevity is very clearly not meyers strong suit and this would have been a much stronger sequel if she had been able to reign herself in a bit. New Moon isn't supposed to be as narration heavy as twilight, there's already more action in the first seven chapters than the there was in the first 19 of twilight but she always delivers exposition via awkward dialogue or Bella's narration. Again, we already got a lot of the exposition in twilight, we know how vampires work et cetera. You can show us how bella feels instead of making her tell us and the story would run a lot more smoothly.

10. I'll end on a nice note! Little treat!

This is my favorite part of the book so far. I whited-out the useless dialogue tag because the line reads better without it ( line originally ends with "I emphasized" but she could have been brief and just ended the dialogue with an exclamation point for the same effect). The dialogue is natural and shows the J/B relationship that lives in my head way better than anything else I've seen on the page at this point. Like, I literally love this line more than any dialogue that preceded it (including twilight) lol.

#new moon reread #its taken me so long to get through these first chapters because its physically painful lmfao #i think when jacob comes in it gets more enjoyable if im remembering correctly #though im sure the writing quality will be equal to twilight at best #i wish anyone else in the world had written jacob black #everything about his character from the jump has been to serve bella's story #and everything about bella was to serve edward #i think i will write a meta on that eventually

[stovetuna]

This is for @bardingbeedle who yelled at me in the tags and then on messenger and ultimately inspired me to write some “lorge soft steve” and tbh who am I to refuse. (also high-key inspired by this masterpiece of fanart I RBed [again] earlier today)

(takes place shortly after the events of Avengers Assemble episode 2x07, aka the best fic none of us ever wrote)

(heed the READ MORE!)

***

Tony is hustling from one meeting to the next, all but literally running into the kitchen for a cup of afternoon coffee, when he spies Steve Rogers bent over the communal living room coffee table. That in and of itself isn’t exactly outside the realm of normal Steve Rogers activities—the man does love a good brood, even if he won’t admit it and doesn’t do it as often as he used to.

But Tony wracks his brain for possible reasons why Steve would be hunched up around the shoulders like he’s expecting a body blow any minute and keeps coming up empty. Not even fresh coffee makes his synapses fire faster. Did they forget his birthday? Impossible. Did someone send Captain America hate mail? Uh, doubly impossible, especially because Tony’s got lawyers screening their mail for that kind of stuff (they’ve got more than enough pressure in their day-to-day lives, time-slip dinosaurs and age regressions notwithstanding).

Maybe Steve found a piece of upsetting news, or some fact of modern history that isn’t sitting well with him? That’s a lot more likely.

Before he can remind himself that Pepper’s waiting in his office to put him on a call with the president of MIT—something about a commencement speech, if memory serves—Tony is sauntering into the living room, nonchalant, tongue already prickling with some smart remark. He’s got it all written out in his head like a perfect line of code up until the moment he’s standing in front of Steve and sees the expression on his face.

“Whoa, who ran over your puppy?”

Tony winces, wishing for the millionth time that his mouth and his brain could work together simultaneously, but no. Worse, Steve doesn’t even answer him—he just frowns harder, if that’s even possible, and folds in on himself like his shoulders alone don’t take up half the length of the massive couch. Tony lowers the hand holding his coffee and blinks.

“Steve?”

“Oh!” Steve jumps upright, and quick as a flash moves something vaguely folder-shaped behind his back. “Tony! I didn’t hear you walk in—don’t you have a meeting right now?”

Something in Tony’s chest squeezes at the sight of that smile and at Steve’s impeccable attention to detail. But really, ever since the incident with the Time Stone, when he’d jolted back into his adult body and come to in Steve’s arms, he’s felt completely knocked off-balance. Now everything about Steve Rogers—the man, not the superhero—is a revelation. Every smile, every word, every look has Tony tripping over his own feet, tongue, thoughts. He may be back in his adult body, but he’s never felt more like a prepubescent teenager with a crush, fidgeting in place under Steve’s gaze.

“It got postponed,” he lies, because whatever has put that pinch between Steve’s eyebrows is way more important right now. “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” Steve replies, too loud and too quickly. Tony gives him a look. Steve flushes, shrinking in on himself even further, like he wants the couch to devour him. “Uh, nothing important. Just an anniversary I forgot about.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to frown. He likes to think he’s got a solid mental calendar of important dates for all of his teammates memorized at this point—Natasha’s move-in, Bruce’s lab incident, Sam’s SHIELD acceptance, Steve being found in the ice—but none of those are today.

“Got room for one more?” Tony asks, nodding at the scant space next to Steve on the couch when the man gives him a questioning look. Steve’s cheeks immediately go a charming shade of pink, which churns the coffee in Tony’s empty stomach with a vengeance. Steve shifts to press himself against the arm as Tony moves to sit down next to him, almost crushing the folder Steve had hidden earlier in the process. There’s a gasp, and a lightning-quick hand, and then Steve, pale and breathless, is holding a manila folder against his chest like it’s the secret to the Super Soldier Serum.

It’s weird—Tony knows Steve trusts him, and vice versa. They wouldn’t have solved the riddle of the Time Stone if they didn’t trust each other. So to sit next to Steve, who’s gone from morose to terrified in the three minutes since Tony walked into the room and feel a wall between them is jarring. And upsetting. He’s only been nursing this crush for a few days, and Steve’s not that perceptive…is he? Maybe he is. Maybe this is Steve weeding out Tony’s feelings before they’ve even had a chance to grow.

Tony shakes his head at the thought. No, Steve’s a lot of things, but cruel isn’t one of them.

“Care to share with the class?” he asks, gently so he doesn’t spook Steve. It seems to work: Steve relaxes, tension falling from his shoulders as he eases into Tony’s presence. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, but keeps the folder pressed securely against his sternum. Tony tries hard not to steal a glance at the way Steve’s shirt pulls across his broad, thick chest as he breathes.

“It’s nothing.”

“Cap, if it was nothing, you wouldn’t be trying to Honey-I-Shrunk-Myself into the couch right now.”

Steve Rogers in active wear doesn’t cut quite the same figure as Steve Rogers in full Captain America regalia, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean he’s small. Like this, he’s just as large and has just as much presence as he does in uniform; it’s just…more human. Less Captain, more Steve. Both are devastating in their own way, but only Steve—friendly, blushing, awkward, unassuming Steve—makes Tony acutely aware of the distance between their bodies, down to the last electrified hair.

Catching his own breath, Tony puts his full mug on the coffee table and drops his hands into his lap, turning his head to watch Steve chew on whatever words are fighting to come out. Be patient, he tells himself. Whatever this is, Steve’s struggling with it, and Tony can have some tact when he wants to.

Finally, Steve closes his eyes and sighs. When he lowers his hands, the folder goes with them. Tony glances at the cover and almost swallows his tongue.

“Is that—?” Steve makes a noncommittal sound, like a ‘yes’ but softer, uncertain, like he’s not sure Tony’s reaction is a good one. Tony swallows his excitement with a wince. “Is that the Project Rebirth file? I told Fury to give it to you a long time ago, but I wasn’t sure he did.”

Tony is so preoccupied looking at the folder he doesn’t hear Steve’s gasp or notice his eyes lock onto him. “He did,” Steve replies quietly after a pause. “But that’s isn’t…that’s not what this is about.”

That’s kind of a surprise. The sudden appearance of the Project Rebirth file would explain Steve’s face and body language, but if it’s not that…

Steve hands the entire folder over to Tony without another word.

“Uh,” Tony gapes, too awestruck to achieve any kind of higher brain function.

“Look at the date,” Steve says. It’s not an order, just a gentle request, but it doesn’t prevent a shiver from rippling down the length of Tony’s spine. If he was hyperaware of the space between their bodies before, it’s even worse now with Steve leaning every-so-slightly toward him and reaching out a hand to point directly at the date written on the faded label.

22 June 1943

Tony blinks. “It’s the anniversary…of you?” He opens the folder without a second thought, and the first thing he sees is a picture of Steve. There are other things in the file—sheaves of what look like medical reports, heavily redacted memos, and carbon copies of typed letters—but the only thing Tony can focus on is Steven Grant Rogers circa 1943. The Steven Grant Rogers of before.

He’s touching the photo before he can stop himself, being so, so careful as he traces the narrow shape of the man in the photograph while the real, supersized thing sits next to him.

“It’s the first time I’ve really had a chance to sit and think about what it was like, before,” Steve says, unprompted. “Everything happened so fast once I got the serum, I didn’t have time to just…take it all in. And then I went into the ice and—well. You know the rest.”

All skin and bones, this man, back then. But the jut of his jaw is the same; the serum didn’t change that, or the flinty stubbornness in Steve’s eyes, or the proud set of his shoulders, just daring the world to try and fuck with him. Tony smiles—Steve before the serum is like a matchstick, short and thin and always one spark away from bursting into flame. He really didn’t change a bit.

When Tony finally looks up from the photo (not gazing, of course not), he sees Steve’s expression has gone pinched again, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.

“Alright, there’s that face again. Out with it, Cap.”

Steve really shouldn’t bite his lip—it’s bad for Tony’s health. But Tony’s comment does get him to smile a little bit, which is good. “I guess…it’s been over seventy years since I got the serum, but most days I still feel like that skinny guy in the picture.” Tony watches him as he speaks, taking in the faraway look in Steve’s eyes, the shrinking posture, the downward turn of his mouth—who says I can’t be observant, Tony thinks—and wishes he and Steve were the kind of friends who hugged outside of catastrophic cosmic events. God knows it looks like Steve could use one, as wound up and tense as he is right now.

“I’ve broken so many things by accident because I keep forgetting I’m this, now,” he says, gesturing broadly at himself with one hand. Frowning, Steve uses that same hand to brace his forehead, elbow dropping down onto his thigh. The man is the picture of misery, and Tony aches to comfort him. It’s a physical pull in the pit of his stomach, urgent and needy—like if he doesn’t get his arms around Steve Rogers right this second, something important inside him is going to malfunction.

Tony shoves his hands under his thighs and nods. “Dr. Erskine could turn you into a super soldier,” he says softly, “but he couldn’t erase the first 27 years of your life.” He doesn’t speak his next thought aloud—that if there was in fact a way to erase those years, Tony would have signed up for the very first clinical trial. It’s a grim thought, and not something Steve needs to hear right now, but it’s been on Tony’s mind ever since his brief return to adolescence, and it’s a hard one to shake.

But what Steve heard seems to help. He peeks at Tony through his fingers and swallows loud enough even Tony can hear it.

“Yeah,” he rasps, “something like that.”

“What else?”

“What?”

“What else is bugging you? About this?”

Steve lowers his hand and stares at Tony. Stares. It’s such a feeling, being stared at by Steve Rogers, Tony can feel the heat climbing up from underneath his t-shirt. Even the arc reactor feels a bit warmer in his chest.

“How could you tell?”

“You’re still doing your level-best impression of a Shrinky Dink, Cap,” Tony replies. “Kind of hard not to notice.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Steve laughs, a hoarse, dry sound, “but you’re not wrong. I guess…I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words.”

“Try.”

Seriously, when Steve looks at him like that—like he did when Tony soared through the air as Iron Kid, all awe and pride and warmth—Tony feels capable of anything. Anything. He’d bottle that feeling, if he could, just like he’d bottle the color of Steve’s hair in the afternoon light coming in through the living room windows right now, all warm, pale yellows shot through with gold. If the photo in the file were in full color, Tony would bet his fortune Steve’s hair would be the same shade it is now.

Because Steve Rogers has always been perfect. Damn him.

“I still feel small,” Steve says, and any thoughts of hair and perfection derail abruptly. Looking into the middle-distance past his nose, he continues, “I don’t fit in this body. That doesn’t make sense, but—it’s like the super soldier is a mold, and I’m just there rattling around inside it, too small to fit. Does that—does that make any sense?” He looks at Tony imploringly, begging him with his eyes to understand. Tony feels that tug again, worse now, to wrap his arms around Steve and hold him tight. Call it returning the favor for the other day with the Time Stone, call it acting on his crush, whatever.

No one so large has ever looked as small as Steve Rogers does right now.

“It does,” Tony croaks.

“Really?”

“Really. I mean, how do you think I feel inside the suit?”

Steve makes a sound at that—not a whimper, not a gasp, but something hovering between the two that splits Tony’s heart right down the middle. “I never thought of it that way,” he whispers. “But that’s it. That’s exactly it.” Visible relief fills Steve’s lungs and makes his entire body go lax, leaning closer to Tony in the process. Tony, of course, is hyperaware of Steve’s size—everyone except Thor and Hulk is small compared to him—but now he’s equally aware of who’s operating the Cap-suit, so to speak.

“The only difference is, I can take my super-suit off,” Tony says, pinching the underside of his own thigh to cut off a laugh—Steve hasn’t seen The Incredibles yet—and continues, “you can’t. That’s bound to make a guy feel uncomfortable, even you, Mr. ‘I can handle anything you throw at me.’” He elbows Steve a little, good-naturedly, for emphasis, and gets a full, beautiful smile for his efforts.

God. Skinny or huge, Steve Rogers is gorgeous. It really shouldn’t be allowed.

“Yeah, good point.” Face still split by a smile—I put that there, Tony preens—Steve leans against the back of the couch and sighs. “There are things I miss, though. About being small. I didn’t think I did, until…” He glances at Tony, then, and there’s no missing the blush creeping up his neck.

“Until?”

“The other day,” Steve replies. “When you de-aged, and I—when we—” Tony bites his tongue so hard he’s pretty sure he tastes blood. Don’t interrupt. Let him get it out. Steve laughs breathily. “When I hugged you, I was so glad I was in a position to protect you, physically, like that. But later on I kept thinking about how much I miss being the protected one, sometimes. Not always, but. Sometimes.” Steve looks at the photo and sighs. “I keep thinking about what it felt like when ma looked after me when I was sick, or when Bucky put himself between me and the bigger guy because he knew I couldn’t take another hit…sure I resented it a little, being so weak, but I liked…that.”

“You liked being cared for.”

The look Steve levels at Tony could drive away a storm.

“Yeah,” he husks. “I did.”

“And now that you’re—” Tony waves a hand at Steve’s everything, “—this, you think you don’t, what, deserve care?”

“Maybe?” Steve blinks. “I don’t know.”

“Cap—Steve,” Tony says, putting his hands palms-up in his lap so Steve can see all of him. No threat, no judgment. “Everyone wants to feel cared for. It’s human nature. And just because you’re superhuman doesn’t mean you’re inhuman.”

Damn if those therapy sessions Pepper forced him into aren’t paying off big time right now. If the sheen in Steve’s eyes is anything to go by, Tony’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Oh,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Tony smiles. Butterflies be damned, he moves the project file onto the coffee table next to his now-cold mug and turns toward Steve. Slowly, he opens his arms. “C’mere,” he says, so quiet only Steve would hear if anyone else was around. As it is, they’re alone in the tower, and Steve doesn’t hesitate—one moment Tony’s arms are empty and the next he’s got 240 pounds of solid muscle curling into his chest and Steve’s tucking his big head under Tony’s chin like the world’s neediest Bernese mountain dog.

Thankfully, Tony’s arms are just long enough to fit all the way around Steve’s massive shoulders. And even if they weren’t, he’d find a way to make it work.

Knees knocking together, feet brushing up against each other on the carpet, Steve shifts and adjusts until he can wrap his arms around Tony’s waist. Once he settles in, he sighs right into the notch at the base of Tony’s throat. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Anytime, big guy,” Tony replies, softly with a warm smile he thinks Steve can’t see.

#bardingbeedle #steve rogers #tony stark #pre-getting together #stevetony #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #rachel writes fic #HAPPY JUNE 22 #KINDA #ignoring the fact that I'm posting this at 0130 on June 23 :3 #insecure steve rogers #insecure tony stark #tony and I see the same therapist lol #stovetuna writes #and yes 22 June is apparently the MCU date of Project Rebirth #PERFECT TIMING

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Natural” - Chapter 5 - Embry Call x Reader

Bonfire

“(Y/N)!” Seth says excitedly from the log he was sitting on, jumping up to come over. 

“Hey Seth.” I smile, hugging him as Embry took the cookies from my hand. 

“Welcome back. We all missed you, especially Embry.” He elbows me in the side jokingly. 

“You’re all Embry thought about, all the time.” Paul teases, nudging Embry before running further down the beach. 

I look at Embry with a questioning look.

“We can hear each other’s thoughts in wolf form.” Jacob whispers to me. 

I look at him, nodding in surprise, mouthing a “wow.” 

“I missed you all. I’m so happy to be back.” I look around, seeing Leah sitting on the log. 

“Hey, Leah. How are you?” I ask. 

“Well, you know. Dealing with all these jackasses. The usual.” She smirks. 

“Fair. Let’s hang out soon and catch up. I’m sure you need a girl’s day soon.” I smile. 

“That could be fun, they drive me mad.” She nods, giving a soft smile. 

Jacob looks at me surprised, flashing me a set of worried eyes. 

I return the look with one of questioning, I’ve always been cool with Leah. She was great. Something to ask about later, noted. 

Embry opens the container and begins taking cookies, then the rest of them devoured the cookies quicker than I thought possible. Embry himself put seven away before I finished my first one. 

“Easy there, killer.” I joke. 

From what I recognize to be Emily walks over with a tray of sandwiches and s’mores stuff, earning the hands from everyone grabbing something off the tray. 

A tall man walks closely behind her, I assume this to be Sam. 

“You must be (Y/N), I’m Sam.” He walks over, smiling at me and reaching his hand out for me to shake. 

“Hi Sam, nice to meet you.” I smile back. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet the girl that my pack speaks so fondly of.” 

“Likewise, they all speak very highly of you.” 

My mind suddenly raced back to a little over a year ago. 

“(Y/N), I don’t want to be next. I don’t understand what happened to Embry… to Jake. I’m so scared.” 

“Quil, I don’t understand. What’s going on?” 

“Jake and Embry won’t talk to me anymore, they’re different.” His voice cracks over the phone.

I too noticed the difference in Jacob and Embry, less phone calls. Less texts. Less video chatting. But overall I still heard from them regularly. I don’t know why they would abandon Quil. 

“What, where did all this come from?” 

“Sam. Sam Uley.” His shaky voice speaks through the phone.

And suddenly it all made sense. It made sense why soon after that conversation, they seemed to resolve their issues-- without any further explanation to me. 

I snap back to reality as Sam let go of my hand and I was met with a welcoming hug from Emily. 

I hugged her back, feeling her sweet and caring nature through the embrace. 

We pull apart and I’m met with the feeling of Embry’s hand on my lower back, lighting my senses on fire. 

The sun was starting to set, so Jacob and Embry took over lighting the fire. 

I took the opportunity to sit and talk with Leah, 

“So, how’s La Push been treating you?” I ask. 

“It’s been better. It’s been pretty tough.” She gives me a sad smile. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I am. I’m really sorry for everything you’ve been going through.” Both of us turn our attention to Emily and Sam. 

“Thanks. Everyone else seems to get annoyed by it.” She scoffs. 

“What?” I turn to her with wide eyes, filled with shock.

She looks at me, disappointed in her face.

“Apparently it’s annoying that I’m mad about it because Sam can’t control it.” She shrugs, Seth sitting next to her placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“It doesn’t matter if he can’t control it. Of course you’re mad-- you’re upset. You have every right to be. Is it Jacob?” I ask. 

“Thanks, (Y/N). It’s nice to have someone rational around here. Of course it’s Jacob.” She scoffs.

“What a hypocrite.” I huff. 

“Exactly.” 

“I’m sorry, Leah. I can talk to him if you want, remind him he’s not far from your position at all.” I look over at Jacob, who can clearly hear me, eyeing me from the side. 

“It’s fine, he can hear you now. He knows what you think.” She smirks. 

“Well, now you have another girl here. It’s been a while since we talked but I hope we can be good friends.” I smile at her. 

She nods, smiling a bit. Leah cared and I knew it. Though she was a woman of few words, her feelings were apparent in her actions, I knew she enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed hers. She was fun, but knew when to calm it down. She knew what she wanted, she knew her worth. Leah was stronger than most, I can’t imagine seeing someone I thought I would marry one day drop all feelings for me and end up proposing to my cousin. Let alone to have to see him every day, following his orders, and to have that mind link. 

The more I thought, the more I thought about how she needs a friend. I felt for her. She deserved better, and I would help her find better. 

Embry soon joined us, sitting on my other side and wrapping his arm around me. 

“Hey guys.” He smiles.

“Hey.” Leah mumbles, in her slightly sour mood. 

“Hey, Emrby.” Seth smiles. 

“Does Sunday work? We can get food or something? Or hang out at my house? Give you a break from all this?” I offer. 

“Yeah, that sounds like fun.” She smiles. 

“Can I co-” Embry and Seth begin. 

“Nope. Sorry.” I smile. 

Embry pouts and Seth looks a bit disappointed, but I saw Leah’s appreciation in her eyes. 

“We can all do something another day. Leah needs a break from testosterone. Em, you and I will be together the rest of the weekend, don’t forget.” I smile at him. 

“You’re right.” He kissed my temple. 

“Okay, it’s time for them to talk.” He whispers in my ear. 

The elders sat around, explaining the legends from the beginning. 

The story about the third wife was one that stuck with me since I was a child. What a courageous woman. It’s crazy to hear all of these stories again, now knowing that they were no longer legends-- but real history. I was mesmerized by Billy’s words just as much as I was over a decade ago. 

Soon after, we returned to the light banter and roasting of marshmallows.  

“So how was Texas, (Y/N)?” Seth asks excitedly. 

“I hated it. I really did.” I laugh. 

“Dang, I’m sorry. At least you’re back, though.” He smiles at me. 

“I know, I’m so happy to be back with everyone.” I smile. 

Embry pulls me closer into his side. 

“I’m so happy to hold you again, I’m so happy you’re back.” He whispers into my ear, sending shivers up my spine. 

I turn around and press a kiss to his cheek, smiling like an idiot as I pull away. 

“Yuck!” Quil comes over, beginning to wrestle with Embry. 

“Damn it, Quil.” Embry says, falling into the sand behind him. 

I heard them rustling, Embry quickly overpowering Quil as they continued. 

I look down at them, shaking my head and laughing to myself. 

“My money’s on Quil.” I heard a voice belonging to none other than Jake.

“Oh, you’re on. Five bucks Quil taps out.” I scoff.

“You got it, chief.” He laughs. 

“Em, don’t mess this up. I got money on this.” I chuckle. 

“So, you and Leah are gonna be buddies?” He laughs. 

“Listen, you guys are more alike than you think. Stop being a dick to her.” I scold. 

“I’m not being a dick, I just don’t know what else to say. Try having your own pent up anger plus that in your mind almost every day.” He shakes his head. 

“She can say the same thing, but she doesn’t. Just try to have some compassion.” I reason.

“Alright Dr. Phil, I’ll work on it.” He laughs. 

“Ow! Jesus Embry chill!” We hear Quil exclaim from behind us. 

“Hand it over, Jake.” I put my hand out as Jake pulls a five out of his pocket, handing it over. 

“Damn it, Quil.” He mumbles. 

I laugh as Embry joins my side once again, behaving kind of like a magnet. 

The elders left the beach, off to do their own thing. Soon Sam and Emily followed. Leaving Embry, Jake, Paul, Jared, Quil, Leah, Seth and myself left at the beach.  

“What should we do now, guys?” Seth asked. 

“We can play games at my house.” I offer. “That sounds like fun.” Seth beams. 

Everyone nods in agreement and we head back to my house in Forks. 

I drove with my usual group, allowing everyone else to follow me back to my house. 

I open my door and see my dad sitting on the couch, watching TV. 

“Hey, dad.” I smile. 

“What’s up, (Y/N)? Hello Embry, Quil, and Jake.” He smiles.

“The rest of them are coming, too. Game night.” I smile at him.

“Oh, cool. I haven’t seen everyone in a while. I’ll say hi but I’m gonna head to bed, I have work in the morning. Try not to be too loud.” 

“Okay, you got it.” 

“So, Embry.” My dad begins, walking over to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and leading him into the kitchen. 

“Great.” I sigh, looking at Embry as he turns his head, eyes about to pop out of his skull.

Jacob and Quil look at me, eyes also widening and stifling their laughs. 

I heard the rest of everyone talking outside the door, I swung it open to let them in. 

“Hey, (Y/N)!” A chorus of voices ring through my ears. 

“Hey, come on in. Take a seat.” I nod over to the couches behind me.

They all shuffle in, sitting around my living room. Jake turns the TV on and I grab the board games from my room, bringing them downstairs. 

“Is he still in there?” I ask Quil.

“Yeah, it’s going well.” He laughs at me. 

“Oh I forgot you can hear, fill me in.” I laugh. 

“We can all hear.” Jared reminds me, smiling. 

I shake my head, realizing how much of this I would have to get used to. 

“Well, what game should we play?” Leah asks. 

“I wish we could do monopoly, there’s just too many of us.” I shrug. 

“We can do teams.” Seth offers up. 

“That could work, it just might get intense.” I warn, smiling at the thought. 

Embry walks back into the living room, my father walks up the stairs after bidding us all a goodnight. 

“Welcome back.” I smile awkwardly. 

His eyes never broke mine, seemingly of excitement but also nervousness. 

“How was it?” I ask.

“It went well. Normal dad things, I think. We caught up on life, then he told me about how he feels about this happening.” He spoke lowly to me, trying to give the illusion of privacy. 

Thankfully, everyone else talked amongst themselves, also being considerate to my feelings.

“What did he say about it?” I whisper. 

“That he’s happy it’s me, he’s happy about it. Still gave me the stereotypical dad rundown though, even though he and I both know I don’t need it.” He smiled, kissing my temple once again.

“That’s great.” I smile, leaning into his side. 

We split up the teams and prepared for blood. 

Jared chose Paul, a dangerous combo. Leah and Seth paired up, Jake and Quil, leaving Embry and I as the last team. To say this was a competitive bunch was an understatement. There was a lot of discussion, a lot of yelling and frustration, cheating accusations, and cheating attempts. After about two hours, Leah won after building on every property she could, destroying everyone in her path.

“Ha.” She smirks. “Unreal.” Paul scoffs. 

Everyone had their little disagreements, but thankfully no blood spilled. It was a great time.

At about midnight, we decided to call it a night. 

I walk everyone out, but Embry stays behind once again as Paul’s phone began to ring. 

“Hello?” He answers on the front porch. 

“Why is Emily calling so late?” Jared asks. 

“We’re coming.” Paul speaks into the phone, serious tone quickly taking over. 

“What’s up?” Jared asks. 

“Sam picked up on something, you and I are patrolling with him.” He nods at Jared.

“I’ll come, too.” Jacob decides. 

“You guys are taking over later.” Paul looks at Seth and Leah. 

“Embry, be ready. You’ll join them at 4 if we still don’t get anything or need your help.” Paul looks at him. 

“Okay.” He looks Paul in the eye, nodding in agreement. 

I look up at everyone, seeing how quickly things can change for them. 

And then it hit me, that meant there was a vampire running around. 

Fear instilled in my body, freezing me in my tracks. 

“Don’t worry, bean. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.” Embry noticed my discomfort, trying to help me feel better. 

“But I don’t want any of you to get hurt.” I say meekly.

“(Y/N), don’t worry. We got this, it’s what we’re made to do.” Jacob nudges me. 

“Nothing’s gonna happen to us. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. You gotta see us in action one day.” Paul smiles. 

“No, she doesn’t.” Embry says quickly. 

“I mean, I feel in the dark. I kinda wanna see what goes on. Maybe not in action but...” I trail off. 

“Maybe.” Embry looks down at me. 

“Good luck.” I say to Paul and Jared before they took off into the woods. 

Everyone parts ways, but Embry follows me up into my room until it’s his turn to patrol.

I lay in my bed, patting the spot next to me. Embry walks over and lays in the spot next to me, pulling me into his chest. 

“Bean?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, right?” 

“Of course. I know.” I inhale his scent, feeling serenity take over.

“I won’t let anyone touch you. Ever. I’m gonna be perfectly safe, we work as a pack. We’re much faster, stronger, and most vampires don’t know that we even exist. I want you to know, you’re safe.” He kisses my forehead. 

“You do make me feel safe, Embry.” I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. 

“Your heart is still racing.” He chuckles. 

“I know, I still feel safe with you… I just worry about you. I need to know you’re safe. This feeling goes both ways.” My words barely above a whisper. 

“I’ll show you, we can handle ourselves. Don’t worry about us.” 

“I love you, Embry.”

“I love you, too (Y/N). Try to sleep tonight. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, and tomorrow I’ll check on you, or you can check on me.” He chuckles softly. 

I nod into his chest. 

His warm hands held me, one rubbed circles in my back and the other ran fingers through my hair. His warmth radiated, making me fall into a deep slumber. 

__________________________

Word Count: 2559

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