#also sam's legs in that first frame gave me hell for some reason

[justapitcherofwater]

I imagine this little interaction happening sometime at the end of the first sam bucket stream.

just two funny traumatized fellows having a time

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 1

Author’s Note: Had this idea living in my head rent free so hopefully I don’t butcher it.

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language

Part 1 , Part 2

“So, where are we going again?” Bucky asked Sam, confusion written on his face as he leaned back in the front passenger seat of the car.

“You’ll find out. We’ll be there soon.” Sam answered, his eyes glued to the road and hands gripping the wheel.

“But we’ve been driving in the middle of nowhere for an hour now.” Bucky fussed while staring at the never ending green grass that passed by, clearly irritated with Sam’s lack of details.

“I too would like to know where we are going.” Zemo spoke up only to add to Sam’s annoyance.

“YOU don’t get to ask questions.” Sam glared at Zemo through the rear view mirror before staring back at the road. He was starting to get fed up with their questions and lack of patience.

The three men had been driving with their windows down for what felt like hours through the Scottish countryside, watching the green highlands pass by. Though they admired the beauty of the landscape, they were extremely anxious to stretch their legs and get to their unknown destination. Not to mention, they were starting to get a little hungry as well.

“Are we there yet?” Bucky broke the silence after some time.

“We get there when we get there.” Sam snapped, his knuckles turning white from gripping the wheel a bit too hard. He was really looking forward to getting out of the car and away from those two.

After a short while they neared a small seaside village. The place was not that busy, save for the few locals and fishermen going about the cloudy day.

Sam drove on a little further before finally reaching a quaint stone cottage that sat on a hill at the edge of town, overlooking the ocean. He pulled up next to the 60s convertible cream colored Volkswagen Beetle that had a surfboard tied on the roof, parked next to the cottage. Sam took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out, stretching his legs as the others followed suit.

Sam smiled to himself as he walked up the path leading to the front door and glanced upon the flower garden and the decorations out front. He knew for sure this was your place. The other two quietly followed behind while looking around the residence, from the neatly kept garden and the vines that crawled along the house, to the fishing equipment hung up on the side, down to the handmade birdhouses and the wind chimes and sun-catchers that clinked melodically against the ocean breeze, including the collection of garden gnomes. The place reminded the men something straight out of Jane Austen’s novels, not that they’d like to admit they knew such a thing.

Sam stopped at the front door before turning to the others with a pointed finger. “Now whatever you do, don’t stare.”

“Wait what?” Bucky scrunched his nose.

“Just don’t.”

Sam paused for a moment, thinking of how to explain this situation to you before tapping on the wooden door. No answer. Sam could feel Bucky glaring at the back of his head, ready to scold him about how this was a big waste of time. So he knocked again, this time calling out if any one was home.

Before Bucky could open his mouth there was rustling coming from inside and the sound of someone knocking into furniture before a faint “ow” and “fuck” of a woman’s voice made Bucky and Zemo glance questioningly at each other. Where the hell did Sam lead them to?

The locks on the door were fumbled with before opening up to reveal your head poking out from behind.

“Sam?” You breathed out. You were slightly out of breath and your hair was disheveled with strands falling out of your bun at the front from under your silk scarf. The sleeves of your button up blouse were rolled up at your elbows, revealing your dirt covered arms. You were working on your vegetable garden in the back before you were interrupted by your unexpected visitors.

Bucky stood behind Sam and couldn’t help but widen his eyes when he saw you. He only met you a few times during the threat of Thanos and before, but the interactions he had with you were very brief. All he knew was that you were a good friend of the Avengers, especially Thor, Clint, Nat, Wanda, Tony and Steve and now apparently Sam. But after Thanos was defeated you disappeared and nothing was heard of you since.

Zemo glanced out from behind Bucky and tried to remain hidden behind the super soldier once he recognized your face. You weren’t exactly an Avenger and you weren’t on Earth when he tore the Avengers apart, you were helping Thor at the time and little to everyone’s knowledge, you were also defending your planet against an inside threat. But you had heard of him through your friends, and though you hadn’t met him, Zemo knew you would strangle him once you spotted him.

“Hey y/n.” Sam smiled at you, calling you by your alias name. He knew who you were through Steve, but even then, he didn’t know everything about you and about the recent events that took place in your home planet that still devastated you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked with a mixture of surprise and annoyance, wiping your hands on your apron. There was a reason you chose to live all the way out here, and though you gave Sam your new address, you didn’t expect him to bring company.

“I came to see how you were doing?”

“Bullshit.” You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you wanted to check up on me you wouldn’t have brought someone.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak but decided against it, refused to meet your stern eyes and looking down at the ground instead with his hands in his pockets. He often forgot how well you were able to read people, almost as if you were telepathic. Little to his knowing, you were in fact a telepath but decided against telling him. You’ve known people who became uncomfortable when finding that detail about you and noticed how they tried to avoid you, constantly guarding their thoughts when around. If only they knew you never bothered to do such a thing because you respected their privacy and because you’ve seen things in people’s heads you wished to forget. You’ve only ever used your telepathy when it was absolutely necessary. Straightening up, you finally took a better look at the other man behind him and instantly recognized him as Bucky.

“Barnes?”

“Hi y/n.” Bucky smiled shyly at you as he looked into your eyes. And that’s when he noticed for the first time that your eyes were different from when he last saw you. Your irises were now a shade of purples and blues with flecks of gold that spread out, a reflection of the stars and the universe. So that’s what Sam meant when he said to not stare. But could you have just been wearing contacts? Bucky’s stare was cut short as Sam noticed, glaring at him and clearing his throat before elbowing him in the stomach.

Suddenly, there came the sound of a little girls squeals coming from inside your home, startling the men except for Sam. And before they knew it, a small girl in overalls who looked to be of 6 years of age sprinted through your legs and out the door. “Uncle Sam!”

“Oof! Athena wait!” You gasped against the impact as you tried to reach for her.

“Hey hey little Athena!” Sam smiled as he picked the excited girl up into his arms before setting her on his hip. “How’s my favorite little warrior?”

“I’m helping Mommy with the garden! See!” She squealed in delight before showing off her dirty hands.

“I can see that.” Sam chuckled. “Looks like you’ve been working hard.”

“God, I’m so sorry Sam. She’s covered in dirt.” You tried to apologize with an embarrassed face.

“Hey no worries.” Sam smiled at you. “Some dirt is not gonna kill me.”

“Mommy who’s this?” Athena questioned as she looked at the man next to Sam.

You looked at Bucky and gave him a look that questioned what name he would prefer, to which he nodded and mouthed Bucky to you.

“That’s Bucky sweetie.”

“Hi Bucky! I’m Athena!” She stuck her tiny hand out to for him to shake, a big grin plastered on her face from meeting new people.

“It’s very nice to meet you Athena.” Bucky smiled as he gently shook her hand, making her giggle.

The scene made you smile to yourself as you pushed a strand of your hair behind your ears. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that Sam and Bucky decided to pay a visit.

“Mommy who’s the man in the back?”

The man in the back? You looked to Sam and James with a raised brow before craning your neck to see who the third guest could be, only to tense up and clutch the door frame, forcing yourself to not go over there right now and throw him off a cliff.

“What the hell is he doing here?” You glared daggers at Zemo as he watched you with caution, before you turned to Sam.

“I can explain.” Sam tightened his jaw as he saw your expression.

“Athena, sweetie.” You turned to your daughter with a gentle smile. “I want you to go up to your room and clean up okay?”

“Okay mommy.” Athena looked back at you with a worried look as Sam set her down.

You caressed her head as she walked in, watching her go up the stairs and waiting for the sound of her bedroom door to close and her shower to turn on before shutting the front door behind you.

“Are you out of your goddamn minds?” You glared at the two, trying to not yell, your fists balling up in anger. “What in the three hells is going on?”

“Look y/n. He might be of some use.” Sam tried to explain.

“So you broke him out of prison?!”

“Well technically he got himself out.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. He was starting to think that this wasn’t such a good idea and felt guilty for coming here.

“Oh? So what? He magically decides to join your little boy band? The Wakandans are after his ass in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Look I get it. Working with Zemo sounds like a terrible idea and you have every right to be upset. We just need a place to lay low for now. Just...hear us out.” Sam responded with a pleading look.

You stood there with a hand on your hip, squeezing your eyes shut while you pinched the bridge of your nose, not even caring that you still had dirt on your hands.

“Please y/n.” Bucky spoke up, making you look up at him. “Sam wouldn’t come here if he didn’t know what he was doing.”

You looked between the two, rubbing your chin in contemplation as you thought everything over. Bucky was right. Sam would never try to purposely put you in harm’s way.

“Fine.” You breathed out. “You can stay for the night. But you are going to tell me everything. Every last detail.”

“I promise.” Sam looked to you as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Well come on then. Get in.” You nodded your head towards the door as you opened it, letting Bucky and Sam in before putting yourself in front of Zemo and blocking him with a threatening look while speaking in a cold tone. “I swear to the gods, if you so much as try anything, I will bury you alive in my backyard and use you as fertilizer to grow fungi.”

“Y/n what the fuck.” You heard Sam utter from inside.

Zemo gave you a bewildered look and decided to keep quiet as you stepped aside to let him in, watching him closely as he went in. You stuck your head outside again, looking around for any bystanders and making sure the men were preoccupied before muttering something in Ancient Greek, waving your hand around and moving your fingers in specific gestures as a clear glass like film covered the area around your home for protection. You did another once over before going back in and closing the front door, readying yourself for the conversation you would have with Sam and Bucky.

[imerdwarf]

Sworn To Secrecy

Requested by @imagine-all-the-fandoms: Hey colleague ❤️ I really love your writing! So I also thought to send you an idea 😊 The reader is Bucky’s girlfriend but just a normal civilian and he keeps it a secret at the compound. One day she visits him but crosses the other Avengers and Sam is immediately flirting with you but Bucky just comes, swoops you in his arms and kisses you. The others are shocked and confused and later that day they finally tell them they’ve been together for a while now and they are all happy for you two? 😊

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Civilian!Reader (Modern AU)

Warnings: Absolutely none! Just a lot of fluff 🥰

Author's Notes: Thank you so much my dear friend for sending in this beautiful request, I hope you like it and please let me know if there's anything you want me to change! 💜

Your phone vibrated in the palm of your hand and your smile reached both corners of your eyes when you saw the name light up your screen.

Bucky: I can't wait to see you, how long until you get here?

Your fingers flew quickly over the touch sensitive keyboard to reply back, without any typos might I add.

Y/N: I'm five minutes away. Patience! ;)

The wind blew in your face as you tilted your head upwards and sighed. Your relationship with Bucky Barnes was absolutely not the easiest thing in the world. He had made you sworn to secrecy about it, to protect yourself and him from potential haters and enemies.

You were grateful that you were able to spend a lot of time together when he didn't have month-long missions to go on. The sunny afternoons were spent in your small apartment on the couch watching movies with a blanket draped over the two of you, often accompanied by a hot chocolate made from his secret recipe.

Everything about Bucky screamed safety; his big beefy frame, bulging biceps that he just knew you loved and deliberately bought small sizes to show them off, his thick thighs were a dream for you whenever you draped your legs over them to get comfortable. Nothing about him scared you, not even that matte black and gold Wakandan inspired arm of his. It did wonders when you were burning up with fevers.

You met Bucky by chance at a coffee shop in Brooklyn. It was a cliché moment when you accidentally turned around too quickly and spilled your hot drink over his white shirt. Endless apologies spilled from your lips while Bucky was too busy admiring your beautiful features that your words simply fell on deaf ears. To Bucky, it felt as though time had temporarily stopped ticking, and the only people in the coffee shop at that moment was you and him.

The two of you exchanged numbers with your promises of buying him a brand new shirt to replace the one you ruined. You texted each other every second of every day. The more you talked, the easier and the flirty-er the texts became.

A month after the coffee shop incident, you almost keeled over when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. He regretted he couldn't take you on a date because of his status, and that never really bothered you.

You didn't date him because he was a popular avenger, with a staggering 100 million followers on his Instagram. For your protection, he couldn't follow you either, but that too didn't bother you. You dated him because you loved his personality and you loved him.

You zig-zagged past the oncoming pedestrians as the tower came into view. Outside of the gates there was already a crowd of people hoping to catch a glimpse of the avengers.

The security guard in the booth next to the gate was trying to reason with the crowd, sadly a building this well known attracted all kinds of attention and tourism. You were told that people from Australia would come to visit.

You approached the guard with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon sir," you greeted politely, pulling some I.D out from your purse.

"Good afternoon! Are you expected here today?" The guard smiled but looked over your shoulder to see the crowd was now taking pictures of the front of the tower. He shooed them away and brought his attention back to you.

"Yes, Sergeant James Barnes is expecting me." The way his name rolled off your tongue was like drops of honey. Smooth and sweet.

The guard checked the list of visitors expected today and hummed with a smile.

"So he is. So what you do is, go to the front desk with your visitor badge and they'll direct you to his floor."

With a quiet thanks and holding on tightly to the badge, you walk through the screeching iron gates. Your shoes crunch underneath the gravel and the wind howls through the trees that gives off extra privacy.

The lady at reception greets you warmly and you relax when you give her your name and show her your visitor badge as directed by the security guard.

"Take the elevator and go to floor 13. Sergeant Barnes is currently in a meeting but he won't be too long." Another thank you passes through your lips as you head off towards the glass and chrome elevator.

The ride up to the 13 floors was agonisingly slow. Classical music filled the emptiness of the elevator. The glass casing gave you a beautiful view overlooking the grounds of the compound. A rose garden of all different shades of roses up the far left of the green garden surrounded by cherry blossoms and hydrangeas. Benches scattered across the grounds that you hoped to one day have the pleasure of sitting on and watch the bumblebees.

This was another reason Bucky loved you so much, you were so passionate and kind against wildlife and nature.

Finally, after god knows how long you've been staring out into the garden daydreaming, the elevator doors ding open and you're greeted with a muscular blond God with a red Cape hung over his back and a creepy wide grin on his face. His scruffy hair made you think he hadn't washed it in a few days.

"I was expecting someone else, but hello!" His voice seemed to boom throughout the space of whatever room this actually was. Some kind of hallway, but you're pretty sure you would hear his voice from all the way from that beautiful garden.

"Uh hello!" You stuttered, taken by surprise that there would be other people here.

"I am Thor, the God of Thunder!" His arms went wide and so did his smile. Your mouth gaped open and closed when you recognised the name. Thor. God of thunder. Of course, you read about these gods and how he ruled Asgard. Or was set to.

"Thor! Of course," you chuckled nervously, stretching your hand out in front of you, "I'm Y/N."

"It's a pleasure to meet you! Please follow me and allow me to introduce you to my mortal friends," you chuckled at that line, and adjusted your sweater.

"Friends, mortals! We have a guest, this is Y/N, A human of Earth." Thor stepped aside and your eyes widened; you were only standing in the same room as the avengers, the same people Bucky spoke so highly of. Thor told you the names of the people in front of you, everyone was there and you wondered where the hell Bucky was.

Tony was the first one to step forward and looked you up and down by moving his tinted glasses to the bridge of his nose. You relaxed when he smiled, but only slightly. You realised they had not asked why some stranger was standing in their living room.

"You know who I am?" Tony asked smugly, his arms folded over his chest.

You nodded, your eyes flickered down his chest, his arc reactor lit up in a bright blue. You almost reached out to touch it but stopped yourself before you could.

"Uh yes. You're Tony I believe?" You blushed under their gazes. Bucky told you they were the best people, but to you they were very intimidating.

"Very good. What brings you to my tower?"

"I'm here to see—"

"Wow! Who is this?" A voice yelled out from behind you. A guy you recognised as Sam, or Falcon, or Birdbrain as Bucky liked to call him.

"Y/N!" Thor answered before you could, the rest of the avengers took a seat on the couch.

"Yeah, hi," a small laugh came out and it made your cheeks heat up when his eyes raked over your form.

"My, my. You are gorgeous!" He kept that grin on his lips as he stepped closer. His over-sprayed cologne was suffocating you. "Beautiful, just perfect, just—"

"Mine!" Bucky yelled from the doorway as he stormed past Sam to get to you. You bit your lip to hide the growing grin and failed, he swooped you up in his arms, your legs instantly wrapped around his waist as he spun the two of you around and kissed you.

Cat calls sounded from the couch and you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled away for air, the expressions on everyone's faces told you they needed and wanted an explanation.

You could only imagine the questions they wanted to ask; how did you know Bucky Barnes? How did a soldier and an assassin manage to keep a relationship so hidden under the eyes of a mind-reader and a super intelligent spy? How did Bucky not slip up to Steve about having a girlfriend? All valid questions of course.

Bucky lowered you back down on your feet and pressed his forehead against yours. Without giving the team an answer, he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you away, leaving the superheroes with confusion etched upon their faces.

Bucky gave you a thorough tour of the tower. He showed you the gym, the kitchen where he made you his favourite sandwich, he even showed you his room. It was painted in a light blue with white curtains and blinds, thick, soft cream carpet covered the floor and his bed was as soft as a cloud. It was a lot more comfortable than your bed, that's for sure.

Later that day, Tony ordered a takeout and invited everyone to the dining room to eat, including you. The way Bucky's hand was slung protectively around your shoulder didn't go amiss by anyone in the room. It was when he finally sat down did the questions start.

"Alright, what's the deal with you two? Is this a prank? Is he paying you darling?" Sam fired off first, pointing his fork at the two of you opposite him.

Bucky glared at him from calling you 'darling', from where you were sat you could hear the heavy breathing. Your hand slipped into your lap and into his, giving his thigh a firm squeeze to keep calm.

"Y/N is not being paid!" Bucky defended, outraged he could even think such a thing.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of water before speaking, "it's true and I understand it's a shock but Bucky is actually my boyfriend and has been for the past couple of months," you smiled, proud of the fact you were in a relationship with this man and it was no longer secret.

"How the hell did that happen?" Tony queried, waving his chopsticks in the air, flabbergasted by the whole situation.

"What, you think I'm not capable of meeting people?" Bucky challenged, not really enjoying the interrogation which was the whole reason he didn't want to say anything at the beginning.

"Well of course I wouldn't be surprised if it was Capsicle here but it's you," Tony snorted.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bucky was yelling and turning red with anger when Nat sought the opportunity to take the heat off the two men.

"So, Y/N. Tell us about yourself."

Tags: @smokeybluebrooke-lyn @pinkdiamond1016

[shurisneakers]

shut in [10]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting, abuse

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: double digit chapter!!! like 3 parts to go everyoneeee woo!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The nostalgia was strong. 

The last time you and Sam were sitting like this, you were deciding on what to make of the bread supply that was now dwindling. The soup had ran out maybe a day or two ago and you were left with just bread, peanut butter and jelly.

You two had to devise an escape plan. You’d been there long enough and now with Sam making his first public appearance as Mob’s Most Wanted, even if it was for a good cause, there was no doubt that people would be after you.

“What if we go back to Ransone and let the rest sort itself out along the way?”

You made a note of it on the paper but you weren’t very convinced with the idea, not with the realisations you had made along the way.

“Do we know any other hideouts?” you asked instead, tapping the pencil against the paper.

“None that you don’t already know.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What are your thoughts on caves? Think we can make a bed outta some leaves?”

You wrote down ‘Sam’s cave idea’, just to humour him. Stupid, but more plausible than other options.

“If we make a run for it, what are the chances we’ll survive?”

“With law enforcement, civilians and gang members looking for us, I’d give us about-” you said candidly, “-two months. Three max.”

It wasn’t like you had no experience running from the state, but it was never on this scale. 

“We’d have years if it was only law enforcement, but we had to go get the entire fuckin’ mafia involved,” he huffed in annoyance.

An idea occurred to you that made you pause, but you hated it.

“What if we split up?” you suggested halfheartedly. “It’ll take them more time to find the both of us, if they’re looking for us together.”

When he didn’t reply, you looked up at him from the sheet in front of you.

“We’re not splitting up,” he began steadily, just as you knew he would. “The same people who are after you are after me. We need to stick together.”

“I know. I’m not saying we can’t meet again after that, I’m saying that maybe it’ll be easier for us to hide.”

He couldn’t deny that it wasn't the worst idea, but something didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to do it.

“Okay, then how do we find each other after that? When? I don’t have your email; fuck that, I don’t even have your number.”

“We’ll schedule it, I guess,” you murmur, trying to work out the logistics. “Whoever gets there late has to buy ice cream. And I’m particular about the flavour I like.”

You tried to lighten up the mood but he wasn’t having it, as much as he appreciated it.

“I don’t care if it’s more difficult,” he said slowly. “But I’d like us to stick together. Not until we’re out of this mess. Then if you want to never see my face again, which you shouldn’t because it’s beautiful, we’ll go our different ways.”

He was adamant about it, and you knew he’d argue and poke holes into the plan until it didn’t make sense anymore. You weren’t going to argue.

“Okay,” you accepted. “We stick together.”

A smile spread across his face which equated to one of triumph. “You got any other ideas?” 

“We stay right here and fight off whoever comes.”

It was dumb. This place wasn’t yours, and staying here would be a death wish. That didn’t stop you from saying it since neither of you were holding back on implausible ideas.

“This is our house now,” Sam added with determination, playing along.

“Damn right,” you affirmed, cracking a smile at him.

Bringing your attention back, you stared at the list. There is one option you wanted to explore but you weren’t sure if you could because you didn’t have the resources. But he may.

“You got any friends whose help we could use?” you asked cautiously, unsure of how this would play out. 

He continued chewing on his lip for a second like he was analysing all options, before nodding. 

“I got a friend. Well, my only friend,” he corrects himself. “His name’s Riley.”

“He got a place we can stay, this Riley?”

“He does. But I don’t want to involve him. He’s-” he paused, trying to find the right words to frame what he’s thinking “-he’s been through a lot.”

“We’ll leave him alone then,” you assured, realising that it must be a touchy topic for him.

Sam didn’t move on, though. 

“I’m all ears if you want to talk,” you offered. 

He pressed his lips together, giving you a tight smile. He looked like he wanted to say more but was holding back. You reciprocated, hoping it would give him some reassurance, noting how he exhaled softly.

“When I joined the cartel, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to since everyone was much older than I was. Riley was the first friend I made. He was a mouthy li’l one.” Sam smiled wistfully and you found yourself smiling with him. “He talked so much shit and he had the spunk to back it up but he never really got that far because no one wanted to test their luck with him.”

“We spent whatever free time we had together. He didn’t have a family so he and I-” he trailed off but you knew what he was getting at. “Ransone found out. Didn’t like anyone in his stupid squad becoming all buddies because if we turned against him, he knew he’d lose.”

Shared experience. You didn’t have any friends in the organization either; they were always separated from you willingly or by force. You wondered if that’s why you had taken such a liking towards Sam, knowing fully well that it was the first time in years you were able to be friends with someone without having to worry.

“He started pittin’ us against one another. Combat training, preferential treatment, just plain out sabotage. Riley’s the reason my back’s all kinds of fucked up.” He gave a short laugh. “Tried everything he could to make sure we’d stay away or even kill each other if it came to that.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But we didn’t,” he confirmed. “Ransone fuckin’ hated it, so one day, he decided that he’s going to finish it once and for all. Sent us on a fake mission so that we’d be alone together, then told us that only one of us could come back. One of us had to die or else both of us would. Some sick fuckin’ form of entertainment.”

It was exactly something that Ransone would do. Dramatic, vile and utterly despicable, just for his own joy,

Your eyebrows knit together when his eyes glazed over. 

“Riley, he- he didn’t even let me have at the gun. Just straight up chose for the both of us that he was going to be the one who died. He was so tired, of everythin’.” The muscles in your jaw tightened at where this was going. “He didn’t do it though. We figured out another way.”

You didn’t realise how tensed you were until you forced yourself to relax.

“Faked his death.” He shrugged. “It was the only way. Let Ransone believe he bled out and that I buried him behind the warehouse he sent us to. Shot him in the leg to make it look convincing. He’s still got a limp.”

“He made a run for it. Found himself a place in New Orleans, changed his identity, basically made turned into a whole new person. Ransone bought it for a while because I’d make it a point to visit the grave, leave some flowers and shit. Told him that if he messed with it that I’d put a bullet in his head and I was angry enough for him to see that I wasn’t kidding. I knew he’d figure it out eventually but I was hoping I’d get rid of him by then.”

“He lived in New Orleans for years. Never had a problem until recently.”

Sam paused for a second, but it gave you the time to pull up an old conversation you had with him.

“He’s the one Ransone threatened you with,” you connected the dots. “He’s the one he found.”

“Said he’d kill him if I didn’t take out Pierce for him,” his words were bitter, confirming what you said. “Sent me a picture of him in front of his house to prove it.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed, leaning back. Sam’s situation was more dangerous than you initially thought. Having Riley in the picture just made it more difficult to help Sam get out of the organization, especially since he was now leverage material.

“You asked me once what the scariest thing I had done was.” You didn’t get immediately what he was talking about until you remember the questions you had asked to get to know him better. “It was that. Getting him out of this life and trying not to get caught in the process.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“He’s the only family I got left.” The way his voice dropped made him sound so tired. “He’s already on their radar. If they find out I’m staying with him or that he’s helping in any way, they’ll kill him.”

You didn’t say anything, not like you had anything constructive to offer at that moment.

“That got dark real quick,” he remarked, the corners of his lips quirking upward.

Clearly he didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. To explain the entire thing from the beginning must have drained him completely.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you said quietly.

He paused for a second, looking like he was thinking to himself.

“Me too.”

______

The sky’s beautiful, you decide.

You could stare at the clouds for hours.

Which is what the both of you have been doing.

“If you fucking say it’s anything other than a dog, I’ll push you off the roof myself.”

“It’s clearly a penguin, Samuel.”

“I hate you.”

The cement was cool against your skin even though there was a blanket serving as a mediator between you and it. The sun nipped at your skin and your back was aching from staying in the same place for a prolonged period.

Sam tended to think better when he was outside, unconstrained by harsh white walls and artificial light. So you grabbed a spare blanket, a bottle of water and the ladder to haul the both of you to the roof. It was filthy, as you expected but you managed to tidy a part of it to the best of your ability before laying the blanket down.

“I know why you brought me up here, Y/N,” he piped up.

You just knew that when you needed some space, he often implored you to go outside. You figured the best way to help him was to do the same, not knowing what else you could have to give.

“Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it,” he added.

Okay good. It helped.

“That’s a tree.” You pointed upwards, avoiding his gaze.

“You get three more seconds to change that answer to a table.”

“That looks nothing like a table. You’re delusional.”

He laughed, not offering a counter argument.

The outside did him good. He was calmer than when you first came here a few hours ago. He didn’t let his spite towards Ransone show very often, especially at this volume. Talking about Riley only reaffirmed how much he despised the man.

“We need to get out of here eventually, you know?” you mused.

You don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that saying it out loud made it worse.

“We do,” he sounded sure and you wondered if he ever felt bad about it too, “but we need a proper plan.”

The clouds shifted. It looked like a kid on a bike; not that you’d ever tell him. He would never agree.

“We need help,” you stated.

“We can’t.” You knew he’d say that.

“You know we do, Sam.”

“There’s no one out there we can trust.”

You liked that he used ‘we’. The only other times you had been referred to as ‘we’ had been for things so sinister, so violent.

His elbow was touching yours lightly. You wanted to move closer, press against him.

“There’s one person who might be able to.”

He turned to look at you questioningly. You did the same.

You waited till he figured it out on his own. His face shifted the minute it clicked in his head.

“No way.” He turned away, almost laughing out of bewilderment.

“It’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll find another one,” he began to sound more insistent, realising you were being serious. It was a crazy idea, you’d give him that, but it’s the only one you had that had a sure shot of working.

“We’ve tried. You’ve tried. There’s only one way,” you knew that getting annoyed wouldn’t get through to him and you also understood his hesitations. “He’ll help.”

“We don’t know that. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous.” He couldn’t afford that; not this late in the game.

“I know it. Lis- Sam. Look at me,” you commanded gently, and he obeyed reluctantly. “I understand that this is absolutely batshit wild, but I promised I’d help you. This is the only way I can think of. But I need you to trust me.”

He looked unsettled.

He didn’t have anything to go on. Only your word and his faith in you. He could say no and he knew you’d spend countless hours pouring over multiple options just to find another way. He could say no and you’d take it in stride and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t about trusting you, it was about not trusting the others.

But he could also say yes and let you take control, trust your instincts. You had never let him down before and he knew you wouldn’t now. He could say yes and help you work on one solid plan that had equal chances of failing as it did being a success, but it was something that you could be sure of.

“I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

He felt your fingers trace at his face patiently. He scooted closer, letting your bodies press gently against each other.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

He didn’t know if he made the right choice or not, but the smile that appeared on your face made him think that maybe he did.

God, he was done for.

___

“You ready?” you asked him.

“No, but what the hell; let’s do it.”

You let it ring right to the very end.

“Hello.” It seemed gratuitous at this point because you knew the conversation wouldn’t proceed with that.

“Code?”

“1993.”

“Y/N. Hello,” his voice came back loud and clear.

“Hey.” You snuck a glance at Sam. He was completely stiff.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been… good,” you admitted.

“Oh?” he sounded amused. “That’s a change.”

“Yeah.” You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Listen, I need help.”

“Help with?”

“We need to get out of here. We can’t do it without you. I mean we can, but it’d be better if you lent a hand.”

“When you say ‘we’, you’re referring to…”

“Me.” Sam stepped forward towards the phone. You shifted it so it was between you.

“Oh, hello,” he sounded surprised, and he had good reason to be. “You know about-”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Y/N, you trust him?”

“Yeah,” you looked up at Sam, “I do.”

“Alright. If shit goes wrong, you’re both fucked. I’m not taking any responsibility.”

“We get that,” you sighed. “Can you help or not?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end as he thought.

“Tell me what you had in mind.”

“We got a hit.”

They turned away from their conversation with the person walking beside them at the interruption.

“This better be important.” They gestured to their companion who looked annoyed at being interrupted. He was too dangerous to have on anyone’s bad side but the agent didn’t care. This was crucial.

“Someone saw him. Wilson.” He was breathless from the flight of stairs he had run to come upstairs.

“Where?” They could hardly believe their ears, restraining to contain the excitement that was threatening to rise.

“A town, miles away from Pierce’s place. Said he roamed around looking for a store, bought some food and then left.” His eyes shone. “We think we might know where they are. A rough sketch at least. Couldn’t follow him too far because he kept checking.”

“Finally,” their face gleamed, completely discarding the guest they had and the confusion on his face. “Some good fucking news.”

“Do you want us to put a hit out on them?” The relief the agent felt was almost overwhelming. His partner may have died but it didn’t look like he was going to.

“No,” they said crisply, certainly. “This one’s on me.”

Next part

[kalee60]

i wish you would write a fic where jock!bucky seduces twink!steve, maybe he hits steve with that pec flex guys do that is both dick-ish and insanely hot at the same time?

Oh Manda - you absolute gorgeous gem! I very much like what you're asking me to create here 😘 I also love, love, love that you sent me a prompt!

I immediately think of sun, summer, ice cream, boys at the beach playing frisbee and our gorgeous Smol!Steve and Jock!Bucky as friends mutually pining (Ha - it's me, it was never going to be anything but this story!)

Once again, my quick little drabble (that I wrote today when I woke up {thanks to my sprinting buddies in discord}) turned into a 4k fic... But I mean - I think that's okay (more stucky for us - right?)

I hope you like where I took this, maybe in a slightly different direction than intended - it's also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to check them out and read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - Beach and rated M for mild sexual content 😉

If you'd like a fic - here's the post - I wish you'd write a fic... (It might take me a little bit to write - but I will get there!)

Steve was in hell, literally. It was hot, he was sweaty and he was being tortured. Honestly, Steve really loved summer, but at the same time he loathed it. And most of that had to do with the fact he had to sit around in his large group of friends and watch Bucky fucking Barnes sans top and wearing only a small pair of running shorts frolic over the sand at the beach.

Life was unfair. 

How could somebody like Bucky actually exist in real time? He was a complete jock for starters, his looks and size perfect for being naturally great at sports, earning him a football scholarship of his choice (of course). And Steve, well Steve Rogers was as far from a jock as anyone could get. Not that he was horrible in the fitness and muscular department, but he was too little and his asthma still played up to join rugged contact sports. Being 5’4 also didn’t particularly endear him to any of the coaches at college who were scouting for star players. Plus studying to be a high school teacher probably wasn’t sporty enough, and he was leaning towards a specialist English role, not Gym.

So Steve joined the campus gym instead of a sporting team, did weights and classes and enjoyed it immensely. It was where he met Natasha, and that fateful meeting brought him to Bucky and his dickish jock ways and friends.

Though if Steve was to be fair (of which he was - usually) not all jocks were dicks, even if Steve had preconceived notions from high school what college boys would be like. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find that the captain of the football team was not only gorgeous, cocky and a bit of a douche, but also very smart, kind and had a smile that could make Steve’s legs turn to jelly with only a small half tilt.

But it was as he sat on a towel under the shade of a large umbrella that Carol had stolen from her parent’s garden shed, that Steve really felt the heat, and it had nothing to do with the blazing sun above him and the burning sand beneath his feet.

It was all Bucky Barnes and his chest, his slim waist, his tanned olive skin, the breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his sinewed and muscled thighs that tapered down to calves that bunched up as he jumped and landed to grab the frisbee aimed at him.

Steve sighed heavily as his gaze lingered on the brunette. Bucky Barnes was every mans wet dream, every girls perfect prince, and Steve pulled his dark sunnies over his eyes again, ignoring the pounding in his chest, the throbbing in his groin as he watched Bucky behind dark lenses spring up and prance over the sand, laughing with a wide mouth that could do sinful things to Steve’s body. The worst part was that Bucky was doing all of this with no knowledge that Steve harboured the biggest crush of his life.

It really was unfair.

Sitting back to lean on his hands, stretching his legs out, he saw Bucky glance over at him, and gave a smile. Bucky grinned back and then grappled Sam to the sand to yank the frisbee from his grip. Life wasn’t unfair because Bucky didn’t date guys, he did, very much so, and girls too from what Steve had seen, it was just the guys Bucky dated were typically more like… jocks.

Steve hunched over, trying to not stare too long and inadvertently get turned on, finding it an impossibility as his eyes wouldn’t tear away from Bucky’s frame as he bounded effortlessly over the soft sand, something Steve couldn’t do. He’d almost lost a lung from the trek over to their secluded spot earlier that day. Soft sand was the enemy - that was fact.

“Heads up.”

Startled from his thoughts by Bucky’s deep voice urgently calling out his way, Steve looked up only to see the frisbee coming straight for him. With a reaction that even surprised himself, Steve raised his hand and caught the flying disc with nary a blink of an eye.

Bucky was skidding to a halt on his knees before him a second later.

“Shit, Steve. That was epic, you sure you don’t want to play? You can be on my team - my secret frisbee weapon.”

Steve’s mouth went dry as he tried to listen to the words leaving Bucky, because the delectable man was less than two feet away and the smell of sunscreen, sweat and something virile and uniquely Bucky entered his senses. Steve knew that if sitting next to Bucky in the dining hall was torture when Bucky was wearing his spicy cologne, he’d keel over being enveloped in his sweaty beach scent for longer than a minute. 

God he wanted Bucky to fill him, everywhere. Make him forget his name, take him over and over.

He realised that he still hadn’t answered and heat crept into his cheeks, managing to blurt out, “I’m good for now. Nat’s grabbing ice creams and I don’t want to get a stitch.”

Steve then gave Bucky what he hoped was a soft and cheeky winning grin, but the way Bucky faltered, swallowed tightly, face impassive made Steve wonder if he’d missed the mark on trying to be flirty.

He really was as hopeless as Darcy continually told him.

Steve’s eyes trailed down to Bucky’s broad and lightly haired chest, finding himself breathing quicker, wondering if he’d remembered to pack his inhaler. No, he was sure it was in the pocket of his backpack. Thank god, he might need it in the face of Bucky’s glorious muscles moving in his vision all day.

“If you’re sure,” Bucky finally said in a deep steady voice.

“Maybe later,” Steve stammered, holding up the frisbee with a shaky hand. He had to get a grip.

“Alright, later then, I’m holding you to that.” And Bucky took the disc from Steve’s grip and was off bounding towards Sam, Carol, Thor and Maria.

While Steve recalibrated his thoughts, Nat came back holding only one ice cream cone, licking it slowly with a sparkle in her eye as Clint trailed behind, wearing Nat’s beach bag and carrying the rest of the ice creams, and Steve worried she’d overestimated his balancing skills. But if Nat asked, Clint would do - it was kind of amazing the power she had over him without even trying. Although they weren’t dating (yet), Nat was never cruel, she was playing the long game and really liked Clint, but had been hurt before by some Russian asshole, and Steve knew that Clint, when Nat finally agreed to go out with him would never be the same man again. He’d be lost in deep shock and joy. They were perfect for each other.

A pang went through his gut as Steve watched them, taking a cone from Clint, wishing he had someone that wanted him as much as they wanted each other.

“Vanilla,” Nat commented with a scrunch of her nose at Steve’s choice as he took a lick of the creamy goodness, the chill on his tongue welcome under the heat of the day. “You’re so very basic, Rogers.”

“Hey there is nothing wrong with that. I happen to love vanilla.” A rich voice said from right in front of Steve as Bucky flopped down on the sand, kicking up little grains that stuck on Bucky’s thighs where he was sweating. Steve shut his eyes against the picture before him, once again pleading to any God or Goddess that would listen that it wasn’t fair, that they had to find him someone one day. He just hoped it would be soon, else his dick drop off from Bucky unwittingly giving him blue balls.

“You’re one to talk, you didn’t even want ice cream, just a soda. And a club soda at that.”

Bucky looked over to Nat, flashing her a wide grin, and Steve immediately started to lick his ice cream just to do anything but stare at the crinkling in the corners of Bucky’s eyes, or to watch his lips as they wrapped around the bottle tip. He only half listened to their banter as they kept teasing each other, Nat and Bucky having been best friends from childhood, the reason how Steve inadvertently fell into the group of jocks, for a lack of a better term to encompass all the fit people he was now surrounded with.

Nat had introduced him to everyone after they’d hit it off at the gym in first semester, and Steve had waited for the inevitable teasing to commence about his small stature, but it never came. He was always included, never mocked (unless it was called for, because he was a facts man and couldn’t help correcting people when they were clearly in the wrong) and it was such a novel experience, so how could he not fall immediately in lust with the football captain? One who had smokey blue-grey eyes, sinfully full lips made for kissing among other fun activities and a personality that you could fall into and live inside forever.

“Err, Steve… your ice cream, it’s ummm, dripping.”

“What?” Steve asked, realising that he’d been swirling his tongue over the top of the soft confectionary and that his fingers were now completely sticky as the ice cream dripped over them on to his thigh. “Oh shit.”

Steve immediately switched hands and started to lap at his fingers, tongue darting between them to catch all the creaminess, sucking them into his mouth one by one, only looking up when he heard a muted groan. Bucky was moving before him, squirming in the sand, and as his eyes landed on Bucky, he startled, surprised to find Bucky’s hooded gaze directly on Steve. But his eyes hadn’t landed just anywhere, they were trained to Steve’s mouth, and as Steve swiped his finger through the sweetness that had dribbled on his thigh, Bucky’s gaze followed that finger's movements. Steve without thought, heart thumping hard, confusion and awe flowing through his veins, stuck the digit in his mouth, licking off the stickiness. 

Thankfully, Steve had his sunglasses on, hiding his expression, but he knew his face was burning red at the brash and overt display. Bucky was watching him intently, the rise and fall of his gloriously thick chest heaved, and Bucky’s skin flushed from the exercise or maybe the sun. Steve wasn’t sure.

But it was as Steve licked around the base of the cone again, the ice cream melting quicker in the heat than he could swallow, Bucky’s pecs twitched.

Steve stopped all movement, caught at the tick of flesh, the way it bounced taut, watching with abject lust and desire as Bucky did it again - knowing exactly where Steve’s eyes were trained.

It was such a fucking dick move, a power move to get attention and Steve hated jocks who flexed like that, but on Bucky… on Bucky it was god damn mesmerizing. And it was after the third time Bucky’s pecs jumped, Bucky stood up abruptly and fled saying in a higher pitch than usual that he was jumping in the water, that Steve realised he might not have been doing it on purpose.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bucky was dead, he was going to die from being hard for... how long had he known Steve Rogers, six months maybe? Well, that was how long he’d survived with a non-stop boner for the blonde man. And he was at the end of his tether.

Steve was everything Bucky ever wanted in a partner, smart, strong, intense, funny, handsome  and a person that he could fall into, spend time with - love.

So it didn't help his little issue to be at the beach that day, watching Steve sit under the huge umbrella on brightly coloured towels in his swim trunks and a loose tank with arm holes so big he could see all the way through to his muscular chest and pink nipples. It was driving him fucking insane. 

Sure he’d seen Steve wearing an array of items at the gym, but he’d never witnessed him so carefree as he was at the beach. He was smiling more, relaxed, joking while big sunglasses hid those gorgeous eyes that would give the ocean a run for its money as to what was bluer.

But what killed Bucky that particular day over every other day he lusted after Steve, what made him clench and twitch all over was watching Steve lick up his ice cream. It was downright obscene, Steve shouldn’t be allowed to do that in public, or at least he should have a warning sticker on his person.

Steve had a mouth made for sucking cock, and Bucky wanted, no, he needed to know what having those lips wrapped around him felt like. Christ, he wanted to know what it felt like to be buried in Steve, maybe even have Steve press into him. Fuck.

There was only one thing for it.

He had to seduce Steve, and he had to do it soon.

But that begged the question - how?

How did Bucky capture the attention of the smartest, funniest, quick witted and grumpiest man on campus? Not only that, but to have Steve take him seriously? Bucky was aware that people thought he was only a dumb jock, that all he had to offer the world was to play ball and shit talk other teams and work out in the gym. Which, yeah of course he did all of those things - but he really was so much more. He was studying economics, was thinking about trying to specialise and work as an international trade specialist after college, and although Bucky really loved playing ball - it wasn’t his whole life. He’d never go pro - well, not without a hell of a lot of luck and persistence, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to take something he enjoyed and make it a living in that way. He’d seen how broken some sports stars bodies were after a career, and he still wanted to be able to walk at forty without having had three knee reconstructions.

But Steve, Steve saw through all of that, he spoke to Bucky like an intellect, like he had something worthy to say, to add to the conversation. Even at the gym after Nat had introduced them (Bucky begging to know who the gorgeous guy she was chatting to on the rowing machines was) Steve and he worked out together, had fun catcalling each other for being weak and helped each other with their forms - something Bucky largely did just to get hands on Steve even though Steve’s form was perfect.

Bucky had been taken with the slight man from the first moment he’d seen him, always under the impression that Steve was too smart to even think about dating a meathead like him, even if he truly wasn't what his physique made him. So he stuck with friendship, but now he wanted more. Was going to ask for more.

“Whatcha thinking?” Nat asked as she swam out to float in the water next to him.

“Nothing much,” He replied, ignoring her knowing hum. He hated that they’d been friends forever and she knew all his tells.

The much needed cold water had soothed his itching skin, and from his vantage point he could look back at their rag tag group of friends, able to stare unabashadly at Steve as he laughed with Clint and Thor about something, staring up at Thor as he... as he fucking flexed in front of Steve.

“Easy boy,” Natasha grabbed his bicep that was taut from clenching his fists, “Thor’s with Jane remember? Steve’s not interested in someone like Thor anyway.”

Bucky’s eyes swung to her immediately. “What do you mean? Because he's a jock?”

Nat let out an exasperated sigh. “No you idiot. Because he’s interest lies elsewhere.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s chest squeezed tight, wondering who had Steve’s undivided attention. And he couldn’t help but watch Steve as Carol held out a hand to pull him to his feet, and suddenly Bucky forgot his disappointment when Steve pulled his tank off, revealing a gorgeous toned body in all its glory. Bucky’s dick stirred. Thank fuck he was hidden in the water.

“You are a colossal idiot. You know that right?” Nat deadpanned.

“I have to ask Steve out,” he blurted. “I need to… I need to be with him.”

“I know,” Nat said with a smirk, and Bucky looked at her gratefully, if she helped he would be fine. “But that really sounds like a you problem. Have fun with that.”

“You horrible cow,” Bucky sniped back, ready to splash her, but she was already under the water stealthily swimming up behind Clint, only to dunk the unsuspecting man. 

Bucky’s attention suddenly caught on movement on the shoreline as Steve stood knee deep, testing the water and with no further hesitation, dove in, coming up for air not far from where Bucky floated. Bucky watched mesmerized as the sun glinted off Steve’s wet eyelashes, before he wiped the droplets from them, smiling at Bucky.

“Oh god, this water feels amazing.”

“So would you,” Bucky whispered.

“Huh?” Steve asked.

For a long moment, Bucky stared at Steve, realising that sound carried over water differently and Steve most likely caught what he said. Seducing someone was hard, even though he hadn’t even tried yet.

Instead of answering, Bucky ducked his head so his mouth went underwater and swam towards Steve like a shark, deciding that he just had to ask him point blank, no messing around with seduction. Slipping up out of the water at the last moment he put on his most predatory smile, Steve’s eyes widening and he looked around, face flushed and Bucky hoped he wasn’t looking for an escape.

He quickly darted behind Steve, wrapping his arms tight around his lithe body, trying not to linger too much as Steve was the perfect fit, felt so good against him; and when he heard the small gasp from Steve’s throat he launched him into the air. Flinging Steve into the water a few feet away.

“You fucker,” Steve exclaimed laughing as he came up for air, and Bucky smirked.

Suddenly with a smirk of his own that made Bucky inhale sharply, Steve disappeared under the water, Bucky feeling him come up underneath his body and with a strength that belied Steve’s small stature, completely turning Bucky on more than it should, he was pushed up out of the water, throwing him completely under as well.

“Jesus, Steve. You should join the team.” Bucky spluttered when he came up for air.

Steve grinned back, pushing wet hair out of his eyes and Bucky stared, lost in how stunning Steve looked in the sunlight, that he was there before him alone in the ocean full of people, “I mean they already have you and Sam as Captains. Wouldn’t want to put either of you out of a job.”

Bucky laughed, “I don’t doubt you’d do it too, Stevie.”

And when Steve stopped smiling, Bucky realised what he’d said.

“Shit, sorry - you don’t like that? Nicknames?”

“No I... I do…” Steve answered softly, and Bucky became lost in a blue that matched the water they were treading.

“Would you get out with me?” Bucky blurted.

“Sorry? Get out of the water?”

Bucky internally facepalmed himself. “No, I mean go out.”

“Out. With you?”

Bucky nodded.

“Err, why me?” Steve asked in a small voice lost on a gust of wind.

Looking at Steve, who stared back at him with questions in his eyes, Bucky wanted to explain how much he’d desired it for months, to tell Steve all the ways he wanted to make him happy, and as a multitude of words sat on his tongue, Bucky suddenly understood Steve might not listen to his reasoning, might not believe him. So he decided to show his intent instead, and swam closer. Steve’s eyes were wide, guileless, Bucky seeing a small spark of something more, and hoping he wasn’t triple jumping over a line, he swam up behind Steve. He felt Steve tense up, anticipating to be flung into the water again, but instead, Bucky pulled him closer so that Steve’s back slotted against his front and leaned in, mouth only an inch away from Steve’s ear.

“Why you? Oh Stevie, you have no idea how gorgeous you are. How much I want you.” Bucky pressed his nose against the back of Steve’s ear and inhaled deeply, sunscreen, salt and Steve’s shampoo filled his senses and he lost his head for a moment, especially when Steve let out a high pitched groan and wriggled back into Bucky. “I want to spread you out beneath me, I want to lick all the sweat off your body, sweat that I'm going to cause from working you hard, making you work extra hard for my dick, because Stevie - I want you, I want you bad, and I think you might want me back just as much.”

Bucky hoped he wasn’t completely off base with his desires, that Steve really was just as interested, and when Steve ground back against him, skin sliding against Bucky’s, letting out another moan at the friction when he felt Bucky hardening up underneath him, Bucky knew it was going to be ok.

“Yes…” Steve whimpered as his shorts caught against Bucky’s dick, pushing backwards.

“You want that baby?”

“Fuck. Yes, I do.”

“How much?”

Steve spluttered, and Bucky couldn’t help chuckle at the noise. “What do you mean?”

“How much do you want it?” Bucky knew he was being a prick, making his pec’s tense against Steve’s back, pulling him onto his lap as they floated in the water, before wrapping a leg around one of Steve’s pulling it to the side, making Steve gasp gorgeously.

“A normal amount,” Steve husked back.

“Oh, you want me a normal amount - is that all?” Bucky smirked before licking a sloppy stripe up Steve’s neck at the same time as he snuck a hand down the front of Steve’s swim trunks, gripping his dick tightly, feeling the impressive length and girth for the first time. Fuck, he was definietly not taking switching of the table. But not anytime soon. First, he wanted to take Steve apart in every way conceivable.

Steve meanwhile, was liquid in his arms, going slack as Bucky took his time to explore while they floated in circles not far from the shore, but far enough out they wouldn’t get in trouble. He hoped. 

The moans tearing from Steve’s throat were getting louder though, Bucky loving every noise punched out of Steve as he stroked harder under the water, the friction and pressure of the water making him slower and more languid than usual. And Bucky wanted to make Steve call out with no thought or boundaries, nothing to stifle his pleasure, he needed Steve coming in his arms, again and again.

“I think you might just want me a little more than that.” Bucky rasped against Steve’s neck, sucking a bruise onto his pink skin, giving Steve’s dick another sharp tug and before he knew what was happening, Steve was shaking in his arms, whimpering out a release and Bucky was speechless. Utterly speechless as he continued to stroke Steve slowly, carefully as he jerked in his hand.

“Holy fuck, you’re stunning, gorgeous, the absolute best,” Bucky rambled into Steve’s neck, nipping kisses and pressing his lips against him in absolute awe at what had just occured.

Suddenly Steve moved, spinning himself around to straddle Bucky and he went under for a moment as their weights shifted and came back up spluttering, only for Steve to launch himself so his lips pushed against his. Steve took over, devouring his mouth, and although Bucky was the one in control, holding them both up, he’d never felt so out of control as Steve writhed and ground down as best he could in the water. Shit, Steve was going to be a handful and Bucky was there for it.

As he kissed back, grabbing the back of Steve’s head, holding him still as he pressed his tongue in deeply, a huge beach ball smacked into the side of his face. They jumped apart with a gasp.

“Don’t make me go get the hose!” Nat yelled out as she and Clint swam around nearby. “It’s about time you dolts wised up, but this is a public beach with you know - families.”

Bucky watched as Steve’s face flushed a perfect shade of red, and he couldn’t help but grab him again, giving him a quick intense kiss, claiming Steve until he struggled for breath, to show Bucky’s intent was clear and true. It was pure perfection.

“We’ll pick this up again later.” Bucky promised.

“Later.” Steve replied breathlessly.

Suddenly Steve pushed himself away from Bucky, grabbing and throwing the beach ball, hitting Clint dead on the nose. The surprised yelp from both Clint and Natasha made Bucky laugh.

“Oh it’s so on, James,” Nat yelled out.

Steve piped up from his side, “you wish, Romanoff - we’re gonna take you down!”

Bucky beamed.

“Yeah!” he called over to them, dodging the ball that came directly for him as Nat and Clint shit-talked. And as he and Steve swam out to retrieve the ball floating behind them, Bucky turned to Steve and gave him an overtly salacious wink. “And once we take them down, I’m going to take you home and show you what going down is all about.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Really? That was incredibly lame, especially for a savvy sex-crazed jock.”

“You’re not interested in my proposal then?”

“Oh I’m interested,” Steve grinned, licking his lips and Bucky caught his breath. “But if you’re going to use dad jokes on the regular - I might have to start calling you something else in the bedroom.”

Steve then threw the ball, Nat ducking at the last minute, and Bucky didn’t even feel when the returning pitch slammed into his head; Steve’s words creating a delicious cacophony of images and filthy thoughts in his mind instead.

Bucky had always known that Stevie Rogers was going to be both the life and death of him, and as he rubbed his head, grasping the ball in one hand, ready to throw it, he couldn’t wait to see where their adventure would take them.

But first - Clint had to pay.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Alpha and Omega - Ch 2 / 2

Pairing: Sam x Dean Rating: 18+ Tags: A/B/O, Darkness magic,  Alpha!Dean, Omega!Sam, Dub-Con (biological necessity), little bit of meta (cuz why not), Sam’s a needy mess, Dean is possessive af  Word Count: 4k Created for: @first-time-wincest-fest​ - 12x02 Mamma Mia | @spnabobingo​ - Male Omega | Summary: Amara wants to thank Dean by giving him the thing he needs most – Sam – but she knows the boys are stubborn, so she’s going to have to be creative. Problem is, she doesn’t tell Dean or Sam what she’s put in motion, and magic can be unpredictable.

Despite the many apparent flaws of these British Men of Letters dicks, at least Mick has the good sense to let Dean and Sam go. He offers to try helping Sam, but he doesn’t have any more ideas about his condition than that blonde bitch does, so Dean declines and gets Sam the hell out of dodge.

The moment they make it over the property line and past the efficacy of the anti-angel warding Cas is by their sides, sliding under Sam’s other arm to help Dean carry him to the Impala.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean growls, startling Cas and himself. Cas raises his hands in a show of good faith.

“I am just trying to help, Dean,” he reassures the hunter, lowly.

“Yeah, um, sorry man,” Dean shakes his head to clear it. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching Sam right now but he doesn’t want anyone’s hands on his baby brother. Begrudgingly, he lets Castiel grab Sam’s arm and help them to the car, where they gingerly lay a shivering, and for all intents and purposes unconscious, Sam on the back seat. “Cas, what’s wrong with him?” Dean tries to keep a grip on the panic in his voice but he doesn’t have much luck.

“It’s hard to be sure,” Castiel mutters, laying a hand against Sam’s forehead, which is burning hot. “We need to get him home immediately, this fever is dangerously high.”

Dean rounds the car to root through the first aid pack in the trunk, pulling out a few instant cold packs. “Here,” he cracks one up in his hands and passes it to Cas. “Get in back, try to keep him cool.” Cas slides into the back seat of the Impala, pulling Sam over his lap and pressing the cold pack against the young man’s forehead. Dean drops the spare cold packs beside him as he jumps in behind the wheel and peels out of the dirt road driveway in reverse, gunning them back home towards Kansas.

The use of cold packs and bags of ice they picked up at gas stations along their way get the trio home without Sam’s condition worsening. Dean would send up a thank you to Chuck for that except that he’s nearly positive Chuck’s sister is the reason Sam is in this mess in the first place. I thought she wanted to do something to thank me, not destroy my life. They get Sam into bed without too much trouble, and Castiel suggests stripping Sam out of his clothes to help keep him cool.

“Get away from him,” Dean growls, baring his teeth at his friend. Castiel once again looks at him in confusion, his brow crinkling as he stares hard at Dean.

“I’m going to call Rowena, see if maybe she can help us determine what is wrong with Sam.” Cas backs up cautiously, and Dean is glad to see him go.

Once he’s alone with his brother, he does think that stripping Sam down is a decent idea – at the very least he should change him into some clean pyjamas instead of the bloodied tatters he’s dressed in now. Dean sits on the edge of the bed, gently brushing Sam’s hair away from his eyes. He has the sudden urge to lean down and kiss Sam, so he does – very carefully placing his lips against his little brother’s forehead. It seems to Dean like Sam presses back into the kiss, and when his lips retreat, Sam stretches his neck and turns his head into Dean’s side, almost like he’s burrowing there. The unconscious display of affection brings a surge of warmth to Dean’s chest, though he can’t find it in him to smile with Sam like this.

Gingerly, Dean unbuttons Sam’s shirt and eases it over his shoulders, his fingers tracing over Sam’s muscles on the way down each arm. He hadn’t spent too much time around Sam’s unclothed chest recently and he couldn’t help staring at the contours of his frame. Sometimes he spends so much time thinking about Sam as his little brother, he forgets how much he’d built himself up over the years, forgets about the strength that all those layers of shirts they wear everyday are hiding. Dean has to shake himself in chastisement for staring at Sam’s body and lusting after it like a creep when he’s supposed to be taking care of him. How could he be thinking with his dick, even now, when Sam is deathly ill? But he was thinking with his dick, because even seeing Sam half naked for a matter of thirty seconds seems to be enough to give him a semi. For fuck’s sake, Dean curses himself, and sets about the task of easing Sam out of his torn up jeans.

As he gets Sam’s abnormally long jeans off his abnormally long body, three things strike Dean as odd. The first, that the smell he’d overwhelmingly associated with Sam back at the farmhouse in Missouri all of the sudden permeates the air around him. Sure, he’d been smelling it this whole time – it had been almost unbearably strong on the 6 hour drive back to Kansas – but he figured he must have gotten used to it because it had sort of faded into the background until just now. Secondly, the way Sam’s legs were splayed out across the bed right now gave Dean a view of a dark wet patch on the light grey of Sam’s underwear – gross, Dean thinks to himself, until he realises that the stain isn’t on the front of Sam’s briefs like it would be if he’d pissed himself. That examination leads him to his third odd discovery, which is that Sam has a boner.

“Well, what have we here?” Dean spins to see Rowena standing in the doorway, smirking.

“I’m sorry, Sam’s turned into a what?” Dean blinks incredulously at Rowena, who’s perching on the edge of the table in the kitchen. He turns his head to look at Castiel, who is sitting stoically behind Rowena. The angel shrugs unhelpfully.

“An Omega, dearie,” Rowena enunciates more clearly, like she imagines she’s talking to a four year old.

“Right,” Dean nods, although he doesn’t really understand. “And I’m a–”

“An Alpha, yes,” Rowena reiterates, clearly annoyed Dean isn’t getting this. “Well, Sam’s Alpha, more specifically,” she amends.

“And what exactly does all this mean?” Dean grunts, frustrated.

“It means that you and Samuel are mates,” Rowena elaborates.

“We know that, we saw our shared heaven, like a decade ago. What the hell does it have to do with him being sick?”

“Samuel is sick because he’s an Omega in heat, and he needs his mate.”

“Well if I’m his ‘mate’ and he ‘needs me’ – I’m right here! So why isn’t he better?” Dean growls.

“I believe,” Cas clears his throat, “from what I understand of the traditional elements of this condition, that what Rowena means is that Sam needs you, as his mate, physically.” Cas looks sheepishly at Rowena for confirmation.

“Precisely,” she smiles thankfully at Castiel.

“Physically?” Dean’s not any closer to understanding what’s happening. “So what, I need to go hold his hand until his fever breaks?”

“Well, I’m not surprised that you might want to hold his hand, but it’s going to take a wee bit more than that.”

“Will you just tell me how the hell to cure him?” Dean shouts, accidentally shattering the beer bottle he’s holding. He looks down, surprised at his own strength and at the end of his tether now.

“Sexual intercourse,” Cas answers shortly, his face carefully blank. “Though, again, from my understanding, that will only cure his heat. He will remain an Omega and you will remain an Alpha.”

“What the hell are you talking about ‘from what you understand’?” Dean makes indignant air quotes at Cas.

“When Metatron put all of popular culture into my head it included every story ever written. There are a large number of stories on the internet that incorporate the dynamics of the Alpha/Omega hierarchy. It’s a trope primarily found in something called ‘fanfiction’,” Cas explains. “In fact, there is some ‘fanfiction’ about yourself and Sam if it would help you to understand the mating requirements.” Dean feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Cas, listen to me very carefully: under no circumstances are you to ever tell anyone else that those exist,” Dean groans, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why is this happening?”

“That’s the part I’ve not got the faintest idea about,” Rowena sighs. “It would take something more than a simple spell to alter your anatomies like this. Not even an angel,” she glances at Castiel quickly to check she’s right in her assumption. “I’ve never heard of something like this actually happening outside of fiction.”

“It was Amara,” Dean sighs. “When she left she told me she was going to give me what I ‘needed most’, but I don’t know why she thought this was it. It just seems like some sick joke.”

“Ah,” Rowena nods sagely like she understands now. “She was giving you Samuel.”

“How is this ‘giving me’ Sam?”

“A physically bonded Alpha and Omega are bonded for life, inseparable. Without the other, they won’t survive their heats – or ruts, in your case.”

“So every time Sam goes into a heat, we need to have sex, or he dies?” Dean can’t believe how fucked up this is.

“You’ll also need to knot him,” Cas adds gravely. Noticing Dean’s look of incredulity, he continues. “The base of your penis will inflate when you ejaculate and lock you and Sam together for a brief time. It’s the knot that Sam needs to relieve the symptoms of his heat.”

“What the fuck?” Dean blanches.

“Not to importune but I do believe Samuel was running out of time when I examined him. You really should get to it, Dean,” Rowena cuts in.

“And how am I supposed to do that, huh? The guy’s unconscious! I can’t just–” Dean’s stomach roiled. The thought of fucking Sam was tempting, amazingly so, but the thought of doing it to Sam, without his knowledge or participation, was sickening.

“I can make him a wee draft to revive him and stave off the fever,” Rowena moves towards one of the cupboards in the kitchen where Sam keeps the common spell ingredients. “Then Castiel and I can make ourselves scarce and leave you two to it,” she smiles.

“And you’re positive this is the only way?” Dean presses desperately.

“That Amara is a crafty woman, she knew what she was doing.” Rowena throws some herbs into a small dish. “She saw that you would never ‘put the moves on Sam’, as you say. This is her way of giving you both that little push.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a bitch,” Dean grumbles, dropping his head in his hands and waiting for Rowena to finish the potion to wake Sam up.

Sam blinks awake wearily, vaguely aware that he’s safe and not being held captive anymore, but he can’t remember much more than snippets of sound and scent. The rumble of an engine, the smell of motor oil; the low tenor of Dean’s voice, and the scent of whiskey, apple pie, and old leather. He can make out all of those scents now, too, swirling around him and pulling him back into consciousness – like smelling salts.

“Hey, there he is,” Dean’s voice says nearby, he’s sitting on the side of Sam’s bed.

Sam nuzzles towards his older brother, inexplicably craving the closeness. “De,” Sam mumbles, still sleepy.

“Yeah, it’s me Sammy,” Dean smiles down at him gently, eyes soft. Sam feels an unusual rush of need wash over him like a heat wave and he presses himself as close to Dean as two bodies can possibly get with a blanket still in between them.

“Wha s’happening?” he grumbles into Dean’s chest, looping his long arms around his brother’s waist.

“Short version?” Dean scoffs, but not unkindly. “Listen man, I’ll explain everything, I promise but – right now I just need to make sure you get outta this in one piece,” Dean sighs, drawing his hand down Sam’s face and holding his cheek. Sam looks up at Dean quizzically, unused to the level of physical affection but finding he was in desperate want of more. He nods at his big brother – whatever’s wrong, he knows Dean will take care of him. “You trust me Sammy?” Dean’s voice is hoarse, and Sam realises he’s scared.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam breathes quietly into the slowly decreasing space between them. “Course I do,” he confirms again.

“Alright then,” Dean gulps and nods, mostly to himself though, like he’s trying to psych himself up for something. Then without any further warning, Dean’s lips are covering Sam’s and pressing him down onto the bed.

The fire that had been smouldering inside Sam for days now leaps and dances, as if Dean’s kiss is gasoline being thrown across him. Sam clings to Dean as he’s laid back onto the bed, and lets Dean climb into his lap and bury his hands in Sam’s hair. Dean licks across the seam of his lips and Sam parts them willingly, drinking in every bit of Dean that is being offered to him. He can’t remember why he needs Dean like this so badly, or when he started needing him, but now that he has him he couldn’t care less. He knows with certainty that the only thing he needs to be happy for the rest of his life is Dean – Dean loving him, Dean kissing him, Dean inside him. Fuck, he needs Dean inside him right fucking now.

At this realisation, Sam starts tearing into Dean’s clothes, ripping through the thread keeping buttons in their places without a thought. He expects Dean to start doing the same to him, but then realises he’s not wearing anything but his underwear, which suits Sam just fine. Dean has to pull away from him to wriggle out of his jeans, and Sam groans involuntarily at the sight of the bulge Dean reveals when he strips down.

“Someone likes the view, huh?” Dean teases him, voice deep and throaty, but Sam’s too far gone to come up with a bratty retort. All he can focus on is that he wants Dean’s cock – now.

“Shit, you look so big De,” Sam groans, reaching out a hand to cup around Dean’s member, still hidden behind black cotton. The front of the material is wet with precum, Sam can feel it against his fingertips.

“Think you can handle me, little bro?” Dean grabs Sam’s wrist and drags his fingers along the outline of his cock, up to the elastic waist of his boxers, and then inside them. Sam’s fingers curl around Dean and stroke him gently beneath the fabric. “Think you can fit all that inside your tight little ass f’me?” he grunts, thrusting into Sam’s grip.

“Fuck yes,” Sam rasps, and his breath sounds like it’s raking over hot coals in his throat. He pulls back from Dean to shed his own underwear, staring at it puzzledly when it comes away from his body covered in slick. What is that, he wonders as he feels it on his fingers. It doesn't feel like lube… “Dean?” Sam looks to his brother for answers.

“S’okay,” Dean rushes to reassure him, joining his little brother on the bed, both of them now completely bared to the other. “I’ll explain later, yeah? Just let me take care of you right now, okay?” Dean’s eyes are wide and pleading as he looks to Sam, and Sam nods; he trusts Dean. “Just lemme take care a’you,” Dean whispers again as he brushes their lips together, and Sam pulls him in tight for another bruising kiss.

Their bodies twist and tangle easily, Sam just letting Dean put them together however he wanted. The heat of Dean against him is overwhelming, the sweat on their skin mingles and sticks them together, pulling at their nerves every time they part. Sam doesn’t want them to part. He reaches between them, grabbing Dean’s cock in his hand and thrusts his own into the same grip. Their moans ring through each others’ mouths as Sam jerks them against each other, and they take turns fucking into his fist. Before long Dean pulls away from Sam with a groan, probably to stop himself from finishing before he’s had a chance to see what the inside of his brother feels like. Sam is glad of his consideration in this case, because if he ends tonight without Dean locked firmly inside of him, he’s going to feel like he’s missing out. If he was more clear headed, he might question why the phrase ‘locked inside of him’ is the one that came to mind but he’s not thinking too deeply about what he wants right now — he just wants.

“Need you, Dean,” Sam pants, widely, grabbing at Dean, trying to bring their bodies back together. “Need… ne—” Sam’s vocabulary has become shockingly singular, and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to be irritated with his brother when Dean smiles down at him smugly, knowingly.

“I know what you need, Sammy” Dean grins down at his little brother. Having Sam this strung out and desperate for him is like a drug. I could get used to this being a monthly thing, he smirks to himself, reaching his hand down between Sam’s legs and rubbing at his slick entrance. “Need me right here, dontcha Sammy? I can feel how much you need me,” Dean groans as the tip of his finger slips inside of Sam too easily, “fuck, you’re wet. So fucking wet for me, huh Sammy?”

Sam just nods blissfully down at Dean; it seems his vocabulary of one word has now receded to zero.

Cas had warned him about this, that as an Omega, Sam would start leaking like a fire hydrant, but at least it saved him having to hunt around for some kind of lube — he’d never needed to have that on hand before, and if he found any lying around the bunker there’s a decent chance it would be cursed or something. Plus, he bet this made the whole experience way better for Sam, so he was all for it. Dean moves between Sam’s legs and runs the head of his cock over Sam’s twitching entrance. Sammy lets out a weak moan and arches against the pressure, trying to get Dean to slip inside. Dean’s about to oblige when he remembers what Cas said about them getting locked together by the Alpha’s knot once he comes, and he thinks better of their position. It will be easier to roll on to their sides and rest if he does this with Sam on his hands and knees.

He manhandles Sam into position, rolling him over, and when Sam gets the idea and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, arching his back and presenting himself to Dean like some kind of trophy, Dean can’t hold himself back any longer. He pushes his cock inside Sam slowly, agonisingly and torturously slowly. Not because he’s concerned about hurting Sam, who is opening up beneath him like he was born for this — born to take Dean’s cock — but because he knows he wants to savour this moment for the rest of his life. He wants to remember every second of the first time he felt what it was like to truly possess Sam, to be joined so completely to one another that not even their bodies can keep them separate. So Dean goes slow, even though Sam is begging beneath him, asking him to just fuck him already, Dean ignores him, and he drinks the feelings in.

When he’s got himself bottomed out inside of Sam he leans down over his brother and presses a kiss to his shoulder, tenderly, thanking him for what he’s giving Dean right now. “You feel so good Sammy,” Dean moans, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound as sappy as it does but it’s hard to regulate things like that when you feel like you’ve just connected to your soulmate for the first time, so he gives himself a pass.

The next time Sam begs, Dean gives in, snapping his hips back and fucking into him as hard as he can manage. And once he’s started he can’t stop. Every instinct inside of Dean is shouting at him to take, to fuck Sam into the mattress and never let up, which Sam doesn’t seem to mind, because no matter how roughly Dean thrusts into him he keeps shouting for more, faster, harder, please. So Dean, ever the good big brother, gives Sammy what he needs — what they both need.

Dean can feel himself getting closer and closer to his release, and that’s when he notices that he can’t quite pull out as far as before. His knot has begun swelling at the base of his cock, getting ready to pop and bind him and Sam together. The fattening edges catching on Sam’s rim give Dean a kind of friction no sex ever has before and, fucking hell, it feels unbelievably good. He grinds himself harder against Sam, dropping over his back so they can be as close as possible, and bringing his hand up beneath Sam to grasp at his little brother’s dick. It’s the first time he’s properly touched it, felt it in his hand, and shit, it feels even bigger than it looks.

“Oh my god, Dean,” Sam groans, sounding absolutely wrecked, and Dean takes that as a compliment. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck, please,” Sam is pleading with him so prettily, and Dean wants to cum just as badly as him.

“Not stopping Sammy,” Dean strokes him faster, grinds into him harder, “not stopping until you cum all over my hand baby boy, so c’mon, want you to cum f’me.” Dean thanks God that Sam starts to cum loudly when Dean tells him too, because the second he feels Sam start to convulse around him his knot pops and he’s cumming harder than he ever has in his life. The thought of his seed whitewashing Sam’s insides is sickeningly thrilling and he swears a second, small orgasm rocks through him — and hey, if that’s a perk of being an Alpha, I could get used to this.

When Dean comes back to himself, his breathing finally evening out, he notices Sam slumped beneath him, no longer holding himself up. He quickly checks for a pulse, and relaxes when he finds one – Sam’s just passed out. Fuck, he came so hard he passed out. Dean shudders, feeling another small blurt of cum force itself out of his cock at the thought that he’d fucked Sam so thoroughly. To be honest he was a little proud of himself.

Dean arranges himself on his side on the bed, so he can curl around Sam while he waits for his knot to deflate. He thought he’d be annoyed by having to stay still like this for so long but it’s surprisingly peaceful, laying here with Sam asleep in his arms. He hugs his little brother tighter to him, clasping his hands over Sam’s chest – over his heart – feels the rhythm and reassures himself that Sam is here, and alive, and safe. And his. The realisation hits Dean unexpectedly. Sam is finally his in the most permanent way he can think of, and his heart leaps at the thought. The last thing he thinks before he drops off to sleep too, is that he hopes Sam still wants to be his when he wakes up.

Tags: @vulgar-library​ @tintentrinkerin​ @negans-lucille-tblr​ @fandomfic-galore​ @petitgateau911​ @whoreforackles-deactivated20210​ @schaefchenherde​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @little-diable​ @laxe-chester67​ @kassyscarlett​ @akshi8278 @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @stoneyggirl 

[duuhrayliegh]

watch your six - part four

pairing: eventual bucky x reader (still a slow burn but it’s getting closer)

warnings: some violence but not really, men being creepy, language (one f bomb), also badly written speaking while crying, aaand i think that’s it

word count: a little over 2300

a/n: aaaah it’s part four babes!!!! the response to this has been so positive i’m in love with y’all!!! <3 <3 <3 i’m still way behind on my classwork and going through a terrible break up but we’re pushing through here

p.s.: my requests are still open if y’all want me to write yall something! aaalso, there’s a bucky short coming tomorrow ;)) <3

series m.list

ray’s m.list

********************************** 

This strange man’s hand was still caressing my hair as he smirked down at me. Running has hands up to the root and then yanking my head upwards to face him directly. “When I speak to you, you look me in the eye, little one.” Not one to show my fear, at least not to men like him, I scoffed. Thick brows shot towards his hairline and a twitch in his jaw as he clenched it. The hold he had in my hair gave him leverage over me. I winced as he lifted his arm to bring my face closer to his. A small whimper escaped the back of my throat, saliva gathering in my mouth. “Don’t test me, little one.” I sneered then spat in his face, the wet substance sticking to his face across his nose and cheek.

Bringing a hand up to his face to swipe the thick liquid from his skin, he glowered as he pulled his palm away. Then several things happened at once. The man forced a harsh breath out and then I was facing the ground with a sting on my left cheek. A gasp left my lips, he just slapped me. Who the hell does he think he is? I shook my head and then leveled my gaze with the man’s. I’m almost positive that my cheek is sporting a bright red handprint that does nothing for my complexion.

“What the hell man? What was that for?” I groaned while attempting to soothe my throbbing cheek on my shoulder. I mean, was it kind of justified? I did just spit in this man's face. No, he totally deserved that. After releasing his grip on my hair, he transferred his hands to the sides of the chair I was chained to. The metal scraping along the concrete floor caused a loud screech to reverberate through the small room.

“I said not to test me, bitch.” the man growled out as he pushed my chair onto the back two legs. I’m starting to think that this is a bit more serious than I originally thought. “Now, you’re going to sit here like a good little bitch and tell me what I want to know.” He retreated only to grab the chair that Suits used. Slamming against the pavement he straddled the chair with his forearms resting on the back.

“How many missions did you participate in?” I released a groan and rotated my head, leaning my head back.

“I already told your friend,” I tilted my head to speak directly to the absolute jerk-wad of a man in front of me, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man quirked an eyebrow and clenched his jaw. He rolled his neck, causing the bones in it to crack and then stood. He walked to the other side of the metal table that sat in the middle of the room. The sound of a zipper caused me to snap my head to where he was standing. The tactical vest he was wearing dropped to the metal surface allowing for a loud thunk to flow through the room. He stretched out his shoulders and swung his arms out in front as if he was trying to increase the blood flow. I’m the one who’s literally tied to a freaking chair, what does he need blood flow for? My breathing quickened,  calm down, don’t show any fear. He popped the knuckles of his hands and approached me.

“I’m not a patient man.” He bent at the knees and leaned his face closer to mine. Exhaling into my face, he maintained eye contact with me. “And you’re not acting like the good little girl we both know you oh-so-desperately want to be.” I rolled my eyes at that, apparently that was the wrong thing to do in this man’s face. His left eye twitched as he stared at me.

“Do you think you could back up? Your breath reeks, man.” I have no concern for my own well-being do I? The man’s head tilted to the side and then he wolfed out a gruff laugh. He shifted his weight to land on the heels of his feet and threw his body into the laugh. It was a bit disconcerting to see this man laughing so wholeheartedly in a situation that didn’t feel funny to me. Another blow to the side of my face was issued, however this time he didn’t stop. Several open handed hits were delivered, all the while he was resetting my head back by grasping my chin. My breathing was becoming labored, my chest heaving up and down in a frenzy. He gripped my chin and jerked it upwards so he could stand at his full height to tower over me.

“How many missions did they send you on?” He demanded, increasing his hold on my face surely leaving sickening bruises that would match his fingers perfectly. At some point, tears began running down my red cheeks.

“I don’t kno-ow what you’re talking ab-about!” Tears streaming down my swollen face, “I s-swear to god, I don’t know wh-what you mean!” Choked sobs were preventing me from breathing correctly. The man grabbed my shoulders and shook my body.

“Calm the fuck down and speak clearly.” Small hiccups were escaping my mouth without permission. Why am I letting this guy get to me? What the hell is happening? “How many missions did they send you on?” I broke down again, fat tears leaking out of my eyes.

“I ju-just want to go h-h-home. I s-swear I don’t kno-ow anything!” I shouted in his face. He glowered at me and lifted his hand from my shoulder. My whole body tensed as I readied myself to the impact.

“Johnson.” The door burst open, stopping Johnson from landing another hit. “This is not what you were supposed to be doing.” Suits walked back in the room. Johnson backed down, lowering his hand and turning to the new member in the room. “Sir, I was told to interrogate the prisoner.”

“Yes, Johnson, interrogate her. Not beat her to a pulp.” He gestured wildly with his hand. “If the boss found out you were doing this, he’d have your head on a platter.” Suits took steps closer toward us and Johnson shrunk into himself. “Get out of here before I call him about this.” Johnson nodded quickly and left the room quickly, leaving his tactical vest on the table.

I was still quietly crying while strapped to the metal frame of the chair. Suits approached me while pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. He raised it to my face and I jolted backwards away from his touch. “Easy now, I’m only here to help.” Is he seriously pulling a good cop, bad cop routine on me right now? He wiped my cheeks of the salty remnants, “Now, how can I help you besides that?”

“You co-could let me go h-home.” I tried to say without stuttering, clearly unsuccessful. I didn’t want to show my emotions but really at this point, could it get worse?

“Awe, girly. You know I can’t do that until you tell me what I want to know.” He began to drag the chair next to me, back to the opposite side of the table. This created an obstacle between the two of us, which made me slightly more comfortable knowing he wouldn’t be able to reach me as quickly.

I heaved a sigh, “but I don’t know anything.” My weeping had come to a definite end, making way for frustration. My face heated for a different reason than being struck several times.

“See, this is where we disagree because I know that you’re lying to me.” He shook his finger in my face and I scrunched my brows together, flicking my eyes between his finger and face.

“You’re kidding me. I told you I don’t know about any missions.”

“Oh really? Then who’s Gemini?” He reclined in his chair, looking smug. “Actually, you know more importantly, who is Libra? The whole thing is just fascinating to me.”

“I don’t know what any of that is. I swear to whatever you want me to.”

“Then why do I have this that says you do.” He held up the manila folder that he first walked in with. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Whatever is in there is lying to you.” He cocked his head to the side and flipped the folder open. He removed a photograph from the folder and placed it on the table in front of me. Staring back at me, was a slightly younger version of myself with shorter hair. A large X was drawn across the whole picture and underneath it read the words ‘Agent Libra.’

My eyes widened, “I have never seen that before, in my life.” Suits sighed heavily and then began flipping through the rest of the papers.

“So what is the Svengali?” He threw out another paper and I glanced down at it. It looked like a typed report of some kind. Much of it redacted by thick black lines. The words Libra, Gemini, and Svengali were visible amidst the sea of dark ink.

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

A ping sounded throughout the room causing the screen of the phone to illuminate. A metal hand reached for the thin device.

New mission alert. You’re needed. Meet at the compound.

Great, this is just what Bucky needed to keep him distracted. Sleep never came easy to him so he was spending copious amounts of time trying to catch up on what he missed out on. Steve told him to make a list and Sam kept rambling on about some gay Marvin man? Bucky much prefered to do things on his own. He hasn’t had help for over ninety years, why should he need it now?

Throwing on his leather jacket as he began to leave his apartment, he checked the pockets for the keys to his motorcycle. He also made sure to grab his gloves. Even though T’Challa and Shuri were good enough to give him a new vibranium arm, Bucky still wasn’t too keen on being stared at in public. It was better for everyone if he just kept the arm tucked away as much as he could while around strangers.

He did one last once over of his apartment before locking the door behind him. He jogged down the stairs towards his bike. It definitely was his pride and joy, it was the first thing that he bought with his own money since 1943. His apartment was courtesy of Pepper Potts, no thanks to Tony’s complaining. Tony and Bucky had eventually worked out their differences, to say the least. Tony still hadn’t fully forgiven the Winter Soldier for killing his parents, and neither had Bucky so they were agreeing to disagree.

The ride to the compound from Brooklyn wasn’t a hard one. It gave Bucky time to appreciate the scenery around him. Slowing to a stop at a four way stop just outside of the compound, Bucky dropped his feet to the tarmac below, stabilizing the bike between his legs. He tilted his head back and felt the warm rays of the sun on his face. Warm was something that Bucky was still getting used to, it was easier in Wakanda. He had his own hut, voluntary therapy sessions, and easy-going check ups with Shuri in her lab.

Everything was simpler in Wakanda, but what Bucky missed most from Wakanda was the stability. He didn’t have to worry about missions, or keeping up with Steve, or the crushing guilt that he felt whenever he saw Tony. After parking his bike at the facility, Bucky made his way to the meeting room. Dark wooden tables in an L-shape appeared in his view. Steve and Sam were standing in front of the large monitor that was displaying images of an unknown, yet familiar looking woman.

“Tony, we don’t know if she knows anything.” Natasha said, apparently trying to rationalize with someone else in the room.

“Natasha, we don’t know that she doesn’t not know anything.” Tony shot back, Sam turned slowly and opened his mouth with a confused expression on his face.

“Tony, we aren’t in an episode of FRIENDS. This is serious. We need to decide if this is worth pursuing or not.”

“Wilson, that’s all well and good but we have to acknowledge that this woman could get us our first real break in our search.” Tony explained while taking deep breaths.

“What are we deciding?” Bucky interrupted as he plopped into one of the chairs. Now that Bucky has been given his freedom back, he’s able to display a difference between his mission self and his regular self.

“This woman here,” Steve gestured to the woman on the screen, “is a member of the Virago. It’s an international branch of SHIELD that was believed to be infiltrated by HYRDA years ago.”

“This is the agent code named Libra. Her last mission was with another agent code named Gemini. The mission report has since been lost to us. All we know is that Libra and Gemini were instructed to watch a Svengali safehouse. Apparently something went wrong and only Libra made it out alive.” Tony added, “Which is why we need to find her and see what she knows.” “Tony! There’s no guarantee that she has any knowledge of this mission.” The redhead stressed as she leaned over the table towards the man she was speaking to.

“I think we should find her.” The words left Bucky’s mouth before he could stop them. All motion in the room stopped.

“Um, did the Manchurian Candidate just agree with me?” Tony questioned as the rest of the room remained quiet.

“Look, I’m not necessarily agreeing with you.” Bucky started.

“Nope, can’t take it back.” Tony mused, “Already said it.” Bucky sighed and shook his head.

“Why do you think we should go after her Buck?” Steve inquired. Bucky’s brows furrowed and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I think I know her from somewhere.”

[fics-of-culture]

Angelic Affections

Requested by anonymous

Gabriel x GN Reader

Summary: When Gabriel’s favorite human gets in an accident, Gabriel is forced to deal with his fear of loosing them as well as his own shortcomings. Slight angst with fluff ending.

Words: 2,876

You hummed softly to yourself as you stood in your room packing up your go bag. Your brother Sammy had stormed into the kitchen abruptly interrupting yours and Dean’s breakfast not 20 minutes ago with a new case. 

“So get this,” Sam said as he stormed in, laptop in hand. “A string of mysterious deaths all revolving around an old, seemingly abandoned house in Nevada.” You groan in frustration, pushing away your half eaten cereal. How hard was it to get a nice morning with your brothers without having to worry about some ghost or ghoul interrupting it? 

“Haunted?” Dean asked, only half paying attention. He took a sip of his coffee, looking awfully comfortable in his robe with his feet propped up on the table the two of you were seated at.

“Seems like it.” Sam replied, scrolling through an article on his laptop. 

“You know the drill,” Dean slowly dragged his legs off of the kitchen table as he stood. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

“You’ve been watching too many procedural cop shows, Dean.” You chime in as you stand up as well, turning to head to your room. Sam chuckled as Dean just scoffed indignantly at you.

“You know I hate that shit.” He muttered to himself. You just send your older brother a shit eating smile before heading out of the kitchen and into your bedroom. 

You turn towards your dresser to pull out a pair of socks when your eye catches on the picture frame resting on top. It’s a polaroid of you and Gabe dressed in terrible matching Christmas sweaters grinning like a couple of dorks in front of a fireplace. You smiled at the memory. Gabe had gotten you a polaroid camera for Christmas last year after you complained that the angels had never had their photos taken before. 

“I don’t see why that is an issue.” Cas had said, as oblivious as ever. The three of you were sitting on a couch in the DeanCave. You sat in between the two angels, body angled to face the befuddled angel.

“Well what if there’s a moment in your life that you never want to forget? It’s like being able to preserve the happiest times in your life.” Cas cocked his head at you as Gabe listened intently. You would’ve expected him to tease you for being so passionate about this, but he seems content just to watch the conversation unfold.

“An angel’s memory does not degrade like human’s do. We have no need for such reminders.” You just groan in frustration as Gabe chuckles beside you.

“That’s not the point, Cas.” Castiel just kept looking at you with that confused expression. You let out a sigh before shaking your head, defeated by Cas’s lack of understanding.

“Good luck with that one, honey. I think Cassy here is a lost cause.” The archangel places his hand on your knee as Cas casts a small glare towards him.

It wasn’t long after that incident that you opened one of your presents during Christmas to find the vintage camera. Upon opening it, Gabriel immediately insisted that the two of you take a photo. You put in the film as Gabe knelt beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against him.

“Come on! Let’s take the picture already!” Gabriel exclaimed impatiently. He had been hyperactive all morning (You suspected that he had been sneaking Christmas cookies when you weren’t watching) and it was becoming difficult to keep up with him.

“Give me a second! I need to set it up first.” Gabriel simply tugged the camera out of your hands. Truly the angel didn’t have a patient bone in his celestial body. He flicked the camera on and you only had a brief moment to smile at it before the picture was taken. The flash had caught you both by surprise and had you blinking the spots out of your eyes for the next few minutes. But when the picture came out, you couldn’t deny that it was perfect. You had taken several photos of your boys that day, but only that photo had gotten its own frame and a special place upon your dresser. 

Suddenly you feel a presence behind you. A warm breath brushes against the back of your neck and the hairs on your arms stand up. Despite knowing that you should be attacking the intruder, a part of you felt calmed by the presence behind you. So instead you just waited to see what would happen. 

“Whatya lookin’ at there, sugar?” You let out a sigh of relief as you recognized Gabe’s voice whispering in your ear. You can’t help but feel a blush stain your cheeks as you noticed just how close he was standing. You turn around and shove him away from you in retaliation for sneaking up on you. You avoid his eyes as he shoots you a playfully offended look. 

“I was looking at that dorky expression on your face.” You tell him as you gesture to the photo. You continue your task of packing as Gabe picks up the picture frame to take a better look.

“Well excuse me princess, but I see two dorky faces in this picture.” You just rolled your eyes as he shakes the photo in your direction. Focusing back at the task at hand, you bend over your bed to place your socks in your pack. With your back turned to the trickster angel, you miss the way his eyes slide down your form before quickly turning away to place the photo back down. 

“I still don’t see why you wanted that picture taken so badly. I’m pretty sure my hair wasn’t even combed!” You turned to look at your angel. His whiskey colored eyes were crinkled in amusement.

“Does an angel need a reason to want to take a picture with his favorite human?” You playfully rolled your eyes as he said this. It wasn’t a new occurrence, him referring to you as his favorite human. He seemed to work it into every conversation the two of you had, as though he felt the need to subtly remind you how much you meant to him. The two of you hadn’t always been this close. In fact, when the two of you first met, you regarded him mainly with suspicion. This suspicion quickly turned into a deep seated hatred for a time after he forced you to live through your brother dying over and over again. It actually wasn’t until Gabriel gave his life that you started to think that your hatred may have been misplaced. Although you had barely known him, a part of you had mourned your tormenter turned savior. As you had falsely assumed that you would never see him again. Cut to 8 years later when Ketch delivered an incredibly alive Gabriel to you. You had spent the next few days taking care of the broken archangel. For some reason, you were the only one Gabriel would allow to get close to him. Although he refused to speak, you could feel a tension rising between the two of you. It all came to ahead when Asmodeus broke into the bunker and almost killed you. Gabriel miraculously got his mojo back and smited Asmodeus where he stood for even laying a finger on you. You and the newly healed trickster had been “joined at the hip” as Dean puts it ever since.

“Speaking of which, I’ve got my favorite human’s favorite show queued up on my laptop right now. What do you say we snuggle up with some popcorn and lay in bed all day.” You giggle as Gabe wiggles his eyebrows as he steps closer to you.

“Honestly that sounds amazing, but we have a hunt.” Gabe just groans in disappointment before dramatically plopping on your bed. “And after last time, Dean says you’re not allowed to come with us anymore.” You watched as Gabe made himself comfortable on your bed.

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault! You brother just doesn’t have a sense of humor.” You zipped up your pack and picked it up. You looked back at Gabe, noticing the candy bar that miraculously appeared in his hand.

“Just stay out of trouble and we can watch tv when I get back.” Your angel just let out an indignant huff as you placed a kiss on his forehead and headed towards the door. “And no eating in my bed!” You smile softly at the disappointed groan you hear behind you.

“Stay safe, sugar.” You hear him chime out before you walk out.

“I always am.”

-

Gabriel had spent the last week lounging around the bunker waiting for you to get back. Well, lounging and rigging up a few surprises for the boys. But despite the inevitable boredom that comes with staying in one place too long, Gabe couldn’t find it in himself to leave until he saw you. This hunt had come up at the most inopportune moment possible. As well having a good Netflix and chill (Gabe knows you hate it when he says that but he just can’t resist), the archangel had also planned to talk to you that night. Yes, the larger than life angel/trickster had finally worked up the courage to confess his feelings to you. Gabriel’s face scrunches up at the thought. Usually he’d be content to avoid any and all conversations involving feelings, but somehow you managed to wiggle your way under his skin and he needed you to know how much he cared for you. He couldn’t help but care for you after you nursed him back to health. You had seen him at his most vulnerable, and you didn’t leave him or try to take advantage of him. You just sat quietly with him. Taking care of his injuries and pulling out his stitches. It wasn’t until sometime after he was healed that he realized how much he loved you, and how super boned he was for falling for a Winchester. So he planned to confess over tv and snacks, but of course the life of a hunter is never that straightforward. So naturally you were whisked away on a case, leaving Gabe behind to wait impatiently for you to get back. The trickster had actually been setting up a fun little surprise in the moose’s shower when he heard the bunker door slam open.

“Well it’s about time.” Gabriel stated as he appeared before the Winchesters. It wasn’t until that sentence left his lips that he properly surveyed the scene before him. You were being held in Dean’s arms as the two brothers pushed by him without saying a word. It wasn’t the sight of you being carried that jarred him into silence. Hell, it wasn’t even the copious amount of blood covering you and the older Winchester that shocked him. (He had seen you covered in blood on multiple occasions.) It was the way your skin looked pale and cold, as though you were already dead. Somewhere in his mind, it registered that the brothers were headed to the infirmary, but before he could even think to follow, Castiel appeared before him. “What happened?” Cas could faintly hear Gabe ask. At this moment, the archangel Gabriel looked less like a divine being and more like a broken man. Cas had trouble looking into his eyes at that moment. The desperation behind them forcing the guilt to creep slowly back into Castiel’s mind.

“We thought it was just a simple haunting. It turns out a group of demons were using the site to lure hunters. The Winchesters fell right into their trap.” If Gabriel comprehended his brother’s words, he did not show it. For the first time in the hyperactive angel’s life, he just stood there. He did not move, he did not breathe. If a stranger were to look at him, they might mistake him for a statue. Cas continued on. “I managed to heal her in time, but I believe she will need rest.” With that, Gabriel was suddenly moving again. Swiftly turning to head towards the infirmary. He needed to see you. To see for himself that you would be okay. But he was quickly halted by a hand being placed on his shoulder. “I… do not think you should see her like this.” This caused Gabe to snap. 

“And why’s that, Cas? Because you couldn’t protect her? Cause you couldn’t protect my… friend from a couple of rouge demons?” Gabriel was now standing toe to toe with Castiel, angelic energy flooding the room. “You failed her Cas. You don’t get to tell me what I should and should not do.” With that, Cas’s hand slid off Gabe’s shoulder and Gabe flew away towards the infirmary. 

-

Waking up in the infirmary was a… surprise to say the least. Your head ached and your throat was painfully dry. You tried to sit up and call for someone but when you opened your eyes you noticed that the room was empty. Which was an odd sight because usually your brothers would take turns watching over you whenever you got injured. You assumed that something must have happened… until you heard the voices outside. 

“No! You don’t get to storm in here blaming everyone else for your shit!” Dean was shouting at… someone? You couldn’t really tell who or what the conversation was about. It only took you a moment before your questions were answered. 

“Ha! my shit? You’re the one who almost let your sister get killed. Again.” Dean was arguing with Gabriel. Which in itself is not surprising, but it’s very rare that Gabriel truly shows anger during these fights. But you can tell by the way his voice is quivering that he is upset. 

“She’s a hunter,” Dean continues. “This is our job. So no, you do not get to blame me for this when really, you're mad at yourself for not being there to protect her.” The conversation goes quiet after that. You hear a sigh and footsteps walking away. Slowly, the door to the infirmary is pushed open. It’s safe to say that you’ve never seen Gabriel this sullen since he’d gotten his mojo back. His head hangs down to the floor as he quietly shuffles into the room. His eyes are sunken and laced with unshed tears. You’re not quite sure what to say. Luckily, you don’t need to because at that moment, Gabriel lifts his head and meets your gaze. 

“Y/n?” He speaks your name so softly that your heart almost breaks. “How long have you been awake for?” He rushes to sit by your side. 

“A couple of minutes.” You say quietly, your voice still hoarse from disuse. Gabe silently hands you a cup of water that was sitting on the side table. 

“Why didn’t you call anyone?” You took a sip from the cup before handing it back to him. 

“You guys seemed… busy.” Gabriel grimaced a bit as you said this. 

“You heard that?” Gabe sighs as you nod your head in confirmation. He rests his hand on your knee as the two of you sit in silence for a moment. You try to crack a joke to release some of the tension.

“It’s nice to know that you’d care if I died. Sorta assumed you’d be halfway to Vegas right now.” That statement draws a little chuckle out of your angel. 

“You know, I’ll smite you if you ever repeat this to anyone but… Dean was right.” Gabriel fixes his warm eyes on you as he speaks. “I am furious with myself for not being there. You’re my human. I should’ve been there to protect you.” It’s almost jarring to see Gabriel looking this vulnerable. You’re not quite sure what to say. So you don’t say anything. In a moment that catches the both of you off guard, you surge forward to wrap your arms around the broken looking angel. He lifts his arms after a moment to hold you back and you just rest against his chest for a while. Just allowing yourself to be held by your angel. You feel him press a kiss to your head and you sigh in contentment. Despite the soreness of your body, Gabriel’s presence feels like a relief. 

“I love you, you know.” You freeze as you feel him whisper the words into your hair. You draw your head up to look Gabe in the eyes once more. You can tell from the way he’s avoiding your gaze that he’s nervously waiting for your response. You lean in slowly and Gabriel sits frozen, waiting for your next move. You can’t even feel breath coming from him. Slowly, you place a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you too.” You whisper back once you pull away. The two of you don’t stay separated for long as the angel pulls you back for a more heated kiss. The two of you break apart after you realize that you desperately need air. Gabe chuckles as you gasp for breath. 

“Well I’ll tell you one thing, honey.” He says as he pulls you flush against him. “You’re never going anywhere without me ever again.”

[kyber-crystal]

Three Times

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.2k

Summary: In which three occasions happen that further prove how the two heroes were meant from the start to fall for each other. 

Warnings: loads of fluff hehe, minimal angst

A/N: I find myself often using Adelaide Kane or Danielle Campbell for Y/N’s faceclaim, but feel free to use whoever you wish lol also THIS REALLY SUCKED LOL

After a long two hours getting roped into an intense Wii Tennis deathmatch with Bucky and Pietro, your legs are ready to give out underneath you and you simply just want to collapse, feeling as you could fall asleep practically anywhere as soon as your head hits the ground. You honestly don't know what you're doing right now. Normally you'd try to maintain a good sleeping schedule.

You trudged down the hallway in a pair of running shorts and one of Steve’s shirts you stole after a team bonding day at the beach, pushing open the door to your room.

Several hours passed as you peacefully sat reading another one of your books when you heard loud, obnoxious pounding on the door. Upon looking at the digital clock on your nightstand, you saw it was past midnight, meaning one of two things: Steve was here to a) annoy you or b) sleep.

"Y/N?" you heard Steve's voice ask from behind your door.

"Hm?" You set your book down and went over to open the door, revealing an exhausted-looking Steve with dark circles lining his bloodshot eyes. "What...what happened to you? Are you alright?'

He stumbled past you, tiredly flopping onto your bed and crawling in, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "I'm sleeping in here," he announced.

"O-kay..." you looked at him quizzically, closing the door behind you. This wasn't the first time that your best friend had barged into your room late at night because he wanted to bug you or just pass out cold on the floor or in your bed, so you didn't question it.

You returned to your spot on the bed and clicked on your phone, making sure that it was on low brightness, scrolling through your camera roll and social media for a bit until you felt your eyelids droop heavily from fatigue.

"You're tired," Steve mumbled, moving his head so it was resting on your lap, his legs now entangled with yours. "You should get some sleep, too."

"Mhm," you hummed, absentmindedly playing with his hair as you cleaned out your camera roll. "Just a sec."

"It's getting late, get some sleep," he begged, looking up at you innocently.

"It's not that late..." you looked back at the clock and your eyes widened when you saw the blinking red numbers read 1:30 a.m.

"...oh."

You reached up to turn the light off and laid back in bed, pulling the covers up past your arms and snuggling into the pillows.

He leaned over to check the time and as he did so, you could feel his breath falling against your neck and a blush spread across your face as a result. You tried to cover it up but failed, as the blush had now spread to your ears.

"You're blushing," he smirked before sliding back under the covers. “Are you nervous? I didn’t know you got nervous around me.”

"Nope. And even if I was, you wouldn't be able to see, because it's pitch black in here."

"In case you're forgetting, the super serum gave me enhanced vision," he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Wow, the great Y/N is nervous.”

"Shut up," you smacked him lightly on the shoulder, turning away from him so that you faced the other side of your room. 

He pulled you against his back and his arms snaked their way around your waist as he rested his chin on top of your head, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Steve."

"Hmm?"

"Shouldn't you be back in your own room and sleeping in your own bed instead of invading my space like this?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm leaving for a mission tomorrow  afternoon and I need some rest. Let me liiiive."

"Okay, okay," you chuckled.

On the inside, though, you were panicking. Mission? He hadn't told you about this. Was this another impromptu surprise mission that Fury decided to spring up on several of you all of a sudden? And why hadn't you been informed of it?

"...And also, your bed is more comfortable. Tony spent more time choosing out your bedsheets than mine," he replied sleepily. "because he favors you over me."

"I thought we had the same beds?"

"Nope," he nuzzled his cheek into your hair, his grip around you tightening. "Now go to sleep."

"Goodnight," he murmured once you'd fallen asleep, softly pressing his lips to your forehead. "Sleep tight."

The next morning, Steve wakes up to see your legs tangled together and your head buried in his chest as one of his arms is draped across your torso. He admires the peaceful sight of you for a moment before getting up to go get breakfast.

When you wake up, he isn't there, and you try to ignore the flood of disappointment that comes over you. No wonder you'd slept so well last night; it was the first in months that you'd slept more than 6 hours without any interruptions.

You creep down the hall to Steve’s room and see his suit hanging over his desk's chair and smirk to yourself. He's probably in the middle of eating right now, you thought, so you decide to try his suit on.

"Hi, I'm Captain America," you puffed up your chest and struck your most patriotic pose, holding his shield up in front of your body, "I’m America’s golden boy and the nation’s symbol of freedom. I kick bad guys' butts and I'm super smart! Too bad I'm not as good as Y/N at Mario Kart, though. I don't know how she does it!"

Right at that moment, Steve walks in, leaning against the doorframe, and smirks. Your amused expression quickly changes into that of a mortified one and you immediately take his mask off, wide-eyed as you met his gaze.

"Hey look, Rogers, I'm you!" you spread your arms out wide, doing jazz hands.

"God, I love you," he says under his breath all of a sudden.

"What the hell did you just say?" your brows furrowed together in confusion.

"Nothing."

"Okay...I'm gonna change out of this thing and then I'm going to the kitchen to steal Wanda’s French toast. Spandex is not kind to me," you joked.

He just laughed in response.

You went to the bathroom with your regular clothing and came out about a minute later, wearing a simple black T-shirt and dark jeans.

...

You're standing in the middle of the vast, open space of the hangar bay later that afternoon, hearing the hum of the nearby jets and familiar chatter around you. You know that you only have a matter of minutes before Steve is expected to board the Quinjet and leave, for a trip that's over 4,000 miles away with no other way to communicate other than via comms.

And even then, the signal isn't strong enough to sustain a conversation longer than 10 minutes at a time, since you're supposed to be as discreet as possible while undercover.

Folding your arms over your chest, you glance around the space, looking for his familiar figure. When you don't catch sight of him after a few seconds you begin to wonder if he's even out here yet but then, you see him in the distance towards the opening gates talking to Bucky.

Before you can think about what you're doing, you start jogging towards him and call out his name. The blonde-haired man turns around to face you, a mix of surprise and relief on his face. He shakes his head and gives you a look that's trying to reassure you he's going to be okay, that he'll be fine and he'll return safely.

You don't know why you're not being let on the mission. The mere thought of him being sent off without you, the mere thought of you not being with him for an extended period of time makes you sick to your stomach. What if he got seriously injured or even worse, didn't come back at all?

You quickly pick up your pace and sprint as fast as your legs can possibly carry you towards him, closing the space between you two and pressing your lips against his without even a millisecond of hesitation.

When you imagined kissing Steve Rogers for the first time, you didn't think it would be rushed, but it was, and it didn't turn out how you'd initially expected it to. It doesn't play out like the way you've been thinking about it for months and months on a loop. Even though you're the one to kiss him first, you're shocked at your own sudden actions.

The fact that you're the one to initiate this doesn't stop you from feeling the dizzying effects his warm lips on your own have on you. Steve doesn't have time to reply or react, only being able to steady you before either one of you lost your balance, as Sam is pulling him away to follow Tony and Bucky onto the aircraft, and you whisper "Stay safe" before he's gone.

Before you can make your way back inside, you sink to the cold, concrete floors of the hangar bay on your knees and break down into heaving sobs.

The second time it happens, you're sitting on the couch wrapped up in blankets as you stare with a broken expression towards the main elevator, waiting for him to return from yet another trio mission.

You're left speechless when the doors slide open and his familiar figure steps through. His face is streaked with dirt and debris and blood and possibly the remnants of tear tracks, his shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion and a tired look in his eyes, but you think he looks perfect nonetheless.

Steve doesn't have time to even get out a short greeting before you break down right then and there. Hesitant at first, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. But then he steps forward and collects you into his arms into a comforting embrace. Heaving sobs rip through your body and tears stream down your cheeks like a seemingly never-ending flood, and he feels his heart shatter into a million pieces because he knows that he's the reason behind it.

He doesn't know what he can possibly say at this point anymore. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say in defense because he promised you he'd return within the allotted two-week time frame, but over five weeks have passed since he was sent off.

You close the gap between the two of you and press your lips to his. It doesn't taste like fireworks, nor something sweet or something that makes you feel so euphoric and as if your head's up in the clouds. It tastes of your salty tears and his heartache and you could've chosen a better moment to kiss him than right now but you were too broken to care, simply in need of someone to comfort you.

When he pulls away, neither of you say anything. That's it.

The following days and weeks are spent by you avoiding him as much as you can because you know that if you make eye contact with Steve again, it won't do your heart much good. And it hurts, because he doesn't know what exactly he did to deserve his treatment and realizes that maybe, just maybe, he's falling a little bit more in love with you each day.

The tables turn four months later and instead of him almost losing his life trying to save others, it's you this time, narrowly escaping your awaiting death. You see Steve waiting outside the helicarrier and you sprint towards him just like you'd done in the past, throwing yourself into his arms and your lips connect. He's warm and intoxicating but you're crying again and he's also crying and there's just too much that you want to say but can't.

But this time, he has enough time to react. His arms wrap around your waist to hold you steady as yours slid up around his neck to pull him closer, and he holds you with such a gentleness that makes you wonder if what you're feeling is even real or not. 

"You know," he said as you broke apart, "that confirms you definitely have feelings, right."

"Yeah," you swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled sadly, and he gently wiped your cheek with the tip of his thumb. "So what are we gonna do now?"

"I’m going to ask you out on a date," he says as he brings you in for another kiss, smiling when your arms around him tighten. "Be my girlfriend, Y/N."

"Okay," you choked out, a small sob escaping your lips, "I love you, Captain."

"I love you too, Y/N."

"ZERO ONE ZERO ZERO ONE ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ONE ZERO ZERO ZERO ONE ZERO ONE ZERO ONE ZERO ZERO ONE ONE ZERO ZERO ZERO ONE ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ONE ZERO ONE ZERO ONE ONE ONE ZERO ONE ZERO ZERO ONE ONE ZERO ONE ZERO!"

"Vis!" Wanda sighed and rolled her eyes, "we've talked about this. Drop the binary code."

"I was just commenting on how lovely Captain Rogers and Miss Y/N look together as a couple," he explained calmly.

[headoverhiddles]

House On Haunted Hill - Mr. Pink (Steve Buscemi) x Reader

Synopsis: Car troubles? No problem. Especially when you’ve got your boyfriend throwing a fit and a nice, scary looking house that just might have a phone.

Notes: Surprise! Revisiting my Dogs for a bit! Here’s a bit of a fun Pink fic. Hope you enjoy! 

“Oh, shit. Ah, fuck!” 

You wake up in the passenger’s seat, eyes blinking open. “What…? What is it?”

“God damn fuckin’ piece of shit. Dammit!” 

“You know, if you keep swearing at the poor car like that, it’ll stall out on us.”

“One step ahead of ya, kid.” He throws his arms up. You frown, sitting up fully. 

“The car…?”

“Died. Well, it’s outta something, but… might as well be dead.”

You lean over, trying to check the controls as your top falls lower, and Pink sighs in aggravation. “Hey, babe? I’d appreciate it if you didn’t flash your tits like that, it only reminds me of the mind blowing sex we’re not gonna have tonight because of this stupid car.”

“Whose car was this anyway?” you mutter, crawling into his lap. He puts a steadying hand on your back as you poke around. 

“Eddie’s.”

“Of course.” 

“Think he got it from Sam’s Hot Car Lot, let me borrow it for this.”

“Well,” you sit back up, crossing your arms, “Be sure to send him a thank you card.” 

Pink looks around, watching the rain pour down and hit the windows hard. “Where the hell are we gonna go from here?” 

“We could sleep in the car.”

“We are not sleeping in the car, in the middle of this dirt road, waiting for a mud slide to kill us. Fuck, who’s a guy have to kill for a cigarette?” 

“Wait,” you hit his shoulder, “Look! Up there!”

Pink doesn’t look over, instead digs around in his pockets for a light. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure the moon is full and it’s a lovely night to stargaze, but cut the romantic shit for a minute, will you, babe?” 

“You asshole, look where I’m pointing!” Pink tears himself away, and sees. There’s a big, old house up a hill beside you two. “It’s the only one I’ve seen for miles.” 

“Great,” he mutters. “And I have to get out, cause I’m the man.” 

“You know, Larry wouldn’t blow his lid like this.” 

“I beg to fuckin’ differ, that guy turns into a steam whistle at the slightest fuckin’ inconvenience.” 

“Like you?”

“I keep my cool ‘til it’s reasonable not to, and tonight, I don’t think it’s unreasonable that I would lose it.”

“Hm. Well… Vic would never lose his cool.”

“Vic probably also knows how to fix a car. Maybe we should use the phone in that old dark house to call him up, and invite him out here. While you’re at it, wanna jump into bed with him while I sit there like a tool and hold your purse?” 

“No,” you smile, crossing your legs. “No one can fuck me like you can.” 

Pink smirks, and shakes his head. “Alright. Wait here baby, okay? I’ll be back in a very wet second.” He leans over, gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Before I get murdered up there, I wanted to tell you– you look pretty tonight.” You blow him a kiss as he darts out of the car. You watch his lanky frame dash up the steps, and see him at the door. He rings the doorbell. 

After a few more tries, Pink deflates, and beckons. You groan, and open the glove compartment to find something to hold over your head. A playboy magazine falls out. Classy, Eddie. Holding it over your head, you run up the steps to join your boyfriend. 

As you join him, a bat comes and hangs just above you two. “Special. We found Dracula’s castle.” Rolling your eyes, you try the doorknocker yourself. “See? Assheads won’t open the doo–” Pink begins, but it swings open. A small, bitter looking old woman answers. 

“Yes? What do you want?” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Hello. Have you got a phone we can use? Our car broke down… we need to call someone.” The lady spends a long time glaring between you and Pink, as if you’ve just told her you had a warrant to search her house. Pink sighs, shaking the water off of him. He looks like a drowned rat.

“We’re not tryna sell you anything, lady, we promise! We just need a phone!”

“Very well,” she says, and lets you both in, slamming the door behind you. The house is large, strangely empty, and covered in cobwebs. 

“Great place you got here,” Pink says, managing a smile, “Real nice.” You rush over to the fireplace to warm your hands. 

“The phone is over there.” She points a gnarled finger toward an ancient looking rotary telephone, and Pink rolls his eyes.

“Geez,” he mutters to you, “Someone’s stuck in the dark ages.” 

“Baby, look at this place. Be grateful she even has a phone.” You huddle closer to him as he dials the only safe number he knows. Joe. It rings a couple times as you look around. The house gives you the creeps… just a bad feeling. 

“Who is it?” 

Pink takes your hand. “Joe. It’s me, Pink.”

“Pink? It’s eleven in the goddamn PM.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t ‘yeah, I know’ me. Didn’t you and your little sweetheart go on a trip somewhere?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“Then what the hell are you talkin’ to me for? If you want pillow talk, turn over. If your girl’s asleep like we all should be, I’ll patch you through to my son.”

“No, wait– it’s a fuckin’ emergency, alright! See, here’s the thing… we got car troubles.”

“Oh. I see.”

“And we need someone out here to come get us. You know… someone inconspicuous. No questions asked. I assume you know a guy.” 

“Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to drive a rust bucket Eddie gave ya.”

“Of course we were, Joe,” Pink sighs. As they’re talking, you wander off a bit. The house reminds you of a gothic mansion… rare to see nowadays in the state of California unless it’s on a movie set, but then again, you have no idea where the two of you had ended up.

You walk up the grand staircase, looking to find the lady and thank her again. The you hear the pounding. 

Pink paces, as far as he can attached to the phone. “So what do you say? Can you get someone out here for us?” 

“Eddie’s off in Cuba, enjoying the spoils of last week’s job like the rest of you. I’ll send Vic, he’s not far away.” 

“Great, he’ll have a great time laughing at us.” 

“Probably, and I can’t blame the man.” 

“Whatever. Tell him fuckin’ hurry up.”

“Don’t push your luck. Take care of that little girl of yours.” Joe hangs up, and Pink looks around. 

“(y/n)?!” 

You run your hand along the banister, transfixed by the door at the end of the hall. Along with the pounding sound, there’s some kind of blinking light coming from under it, illuminating the shadows, and you shiver. Your wet hair sticks to your neck as you get closer… closer… 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” 

The old lady comes out of nowhere, and sees you reaching for the doorknob. “N-nothing! I was just… curious–”

“Get out!” she screams, “Before–!”

The door slams open, and you both turn to look. What you see inside is the most horrifying thing you’ve ever seen… and you’ve seen a lot, as the girlfriend of a career criminal. 

“(y/n)! What are you…” Pink stops at the end of the hall, buggy eyes wide. “Oh, shit.” He runs over to you, and the two of you make a mad dash for the door. Running as fast as you can, the two of you make it back to the broken down car, leaning against the hood. “Jesus, fuck! What the hell was that?!”

“I don’t know,” you breathe, and Pink holds you close to him, to his chest. You look up, and bury your face into his neck. He holds you like that for a few seconds, before you bring your lips to his. The two of you make out for a minute, you straddling him on the hood of the car, before you pull away, leaving him breathless. “That was the bravest I saw you act since… ever,” you say, forehead resting against his. 

“You know, I’m not a coward,” he scoffs softly, kissing you again, “I just happen to be very good at running.” You giggle, and he laughs too, the both of you drenched from the rain. “Hey, I’ve got a question.” 

Your heart skips a beat. Was he gonna pop the question tonight? You figured it would be sometime during this trip, and this would definitely be one for the books.

“Yeah?” you ask excitedly. 

“Um… first of all, I really love you, kid. A lot. Second… did I leave the car keys with you?” You glare at him, as he squeezes water from your shirt sheepishly. 

[luke-o-lophus]

Coming Back to Life (Part 3)

Part 2 can be found here

Sam Wilson, Indian/Desi Reader, Bucky Barnes friendship

Warning: This episode has mention of attempted sexual assault. Apart from that, canon-typical violence and injuries, and conversations regarding these. Mention of smoking. Do tell me if I need to add more warnings/missing out on any warning.

Bucky took another drag of his cigarette, his phone pressed to his ear. In the dying light of the day, Sam could see his silhouette where he was standing in the balcony. Sam was on his fifth cup of coffee, sitting on his couch and flipping through some magazine. He could hear snippets of the conversation.

“....still at Sam’s...not yet....dunno Stevie...yeah...no you don’t have to...’kay...love you too....don’t you dare...yeah bye’‘

Sam wipes the tiny happy smile off his face before Bucky can see it (he’d never let him live that down). But times like this make him think of those years. Wondering if he was a guy who should be saved, or stopped. And now here Bucky was, on a phone with his century old lover, worrying over a friend who was still sleeping nearly twelve hours since she came home. The situation today is far from ideal, but it’s still days like this that still give him hope.

“You should stay”, Sam tells him as soon as he gets back to the living room. They’d tried to wake you up once, for lunch. You’d just opened your eyes with a blank stare, cowering slightly. Then recognition had sparked a bit, but you’d rolled over and continued to sleep. 

Bucky lets out a noise between a hum and a grunt, pondering whether he should sit, or go check up on you. It was past six, and you’d really need food and another dose of medicines soon. Also the fact was, he wasn’t very good at waiting. Especially when you were passed out, hurt and prone, and he didn’t know why.

“I think we should try again”, Sam says with a sigh, dropping his magazine. Bucky shrugs in response but follows eagerly. The guestroom is dark, the last glow of dusk peeping in from between curtain flaps. Sam flips on the light, and does a double take.

You're in bed, yeah, but curled up on yourself. Eyes open wide and lost somewhere in the distance, an unnatural glaze in your dark iris. Bucky recovers first, and covers the two strides to your bedside. He calls out your name softly, and your response is squeezing your eyes shut. A hand gingerly touches your forehead. Bucky's lips fall open at the jarring temperature difference between his cool vibranium and your forehead. "Sam, she's burning up", he whispers curtly. You blink your eyes open to the sight of both of them hovering over you.

"Am fine..", you insist, your voice small and rough from sleep. You try to offer a tiny lopsided smile,"Hey Buck. When'd you come?"

"Around six...In the morning.", He swipes some locks away from your clammy forehead. "When'd you wake up, doll?"

You look away at that question and make a move to sit up. You're grimacing the moment you lift your torso off the sheets; Sam steadies you silently as you lean back on the pillows Bucky fluffs up.

"I'm sorry", you whisper to no one in particular. "I... Should have told you I had a mission." Your words are spoken stiffly with obvious effort, you tried not to move your lips as much as possible.

"We can talk about that later...", Bucky offers an encouraging smile. You close your eyes with a sigh, letting Sam replace the blanket with a thicker one.

Bucky makes a move to get up for a cool washcloth but notes Sam's figure go still. He turns and quirks a brow at his expression, and the other man makes a quick motion with his head towards your legs. Bucky's blood runs cold when he follows that gaze.

Your shorts have ridden up in your sleep and the exposed flesh of your calf and thighs were marred with long purplish marks. Of fingers, gripping too hard? Looked that way. But, could be something else too, right? A quick glance to your face, eyes closed and blank, and another glance at Sam's face that looks this far from tortured. And he knows, the same thing's going on in Sam's head too. Bucky storms out of the room.

"What the fuck, Barnes", Sam hisses. He's standing inches from him in his kitchen, Bucky's fists flexing in anxiety.

"You know very well what the fuck." Bucky seethes, his blue eyes piercing into Sam's brown ones.

"How 'bout we let her tell us instead of making assumptions?"

"We could call Natasha...Or Wanda...Maybe she'll..."

"Man, she doesn't know them well. She trusts you, a lot."

Bucky looks up at that comment, his eyes softening somewhat. "She trusts us, Wilson. She did choose your place to crash." And that could be the biggest compliment Bucky has ever spoken aloud.

"Guys?", Your small worried voice makes them turn swiftly, to the sight of you leaning against the door frame, sheets wrapped around your form. You take a tentative step, supporting yourself with a hand on the wall. "It's not what it looks like", you whisper, lips and body trembling. Maybe, fever...maybe, nerves. You weren't sure.

"Jesus Christ" , Sam swears. Walking over, he takes your hand in his and guides you to the nearby couch. "Grab an ice pack, Barnes", he calls over his shoulder. His fingers gingerly touch your cheek that was more swollen around the cut. "You didn't have to get out of bed, tiger", he soothes you in his warm voice.

"You were worrying", you argue. After a pause, you blurt out, "My mission was successful, but it didn't go as planned."

The couch dips beside you where Bucky sits; he's waiting for you to go on, ice pack forgotten in his left hand. Gentle strokes on your cheek have you look up to Sam. He is nodding, egging you to go on.

"It was simple", you shrug. "It was this rich white guy who runs an illegal weapons ring as a side business. Has connections with..Terrorist organizations, trafficking rings. Has location of important bases. And apparently a 'taste in exotic young women'. The last words are spoken with obvious disgust, makes both men clench their jaws.

"You're not supposed to go solo on stuff like this", Bucky chides gently, dropping the ice pack to the floor before he can unwittingly ruin it with a squeeze.

You wring your fingers, turning to face him. Sam pulls a chair to sit; Bucky's cold metal fingers cup your cheek in the gentlest hold possible.

"Wasn't alone...." You whisper breathlessly. The men share a glance and Sam speaks up.

"Who was with you?"

"Harry"

"Harrison Drew? Agent 35?"

"Yeah..."

"Where's he now? In the hospital or..."

"Home....I think"

"How's he faring?"

You suck in a breath, pulling back from Bucky's touch. "He's doing well, yeah", you say, your head hanging. Tears brim in your eyes, you sniffle, not meeting their gaze.

"Sweetheart, can you tell us what happened, please?", Bucky whispers. "Or do you want us to call Wanda or..."

"I can", you interrupt indigantly. "You know I tell you guys everything", your eyes shine with unshed tears when you look up.

"We know", Sam is quick to comfort. "Of course, but if.."

"I don't want...you to freak out. Or..I don't know...I know you care about me...I don't want to be the reason Harry...."

"What'd Harrison do?", Bucky's voice has a sharp edge.

"I'm...I'm sure it was a misunderstanding", you try to reason.

"Yeah?", Sam holds your hands to give a comforting squeeze, encouraging you to continue.

"Hmm...", You hum. "There's no other reason why he'd turn off his comms, right, and..."

"What?"

"Yeah and it was fully charged so it couldn't have run out. The plan was to seduce the guy and let him take me to his place..Harry would follow and download the data while I kept him distracted, then kill him and get out, but....."

"But?"

"Harry didn't follow from the bar...I thought he hadn't noticed we left. I tried to contact him...Send the emergency signal when we reached...I thought he was coming but...The guy brought over two more people...And...I..Kept up the game, tapping out the signals...He, he didn't..."

"What... the hell", Bucky whispers.

"How'd you get out, tiger?", Sam coaxes you gently. You swallow and blink, tears spilling out at that motion and drawing a wet line down each cheek.

"When they were....You know..You saw the marks right? I know you did. I knew I had to get out before they could...Do it. But my hands were tied up... this freaky game of theirs...And I...For a moment..." A small sob rips from your throat. "This was..Was stupid but...For a moment I really thought I wouldn't make it. I'd never see you guys again and even if I did...I don't know how I'd...And I hadn't even told you I was going and...No one was coming with help 'cause...They thought Harry was with me and..."

Bucky's face, the tips of his ears, they're red. He's fuming with guarded anger. Sam is still too, his eyes wide.

"But yeah...Long story short...I broke out before they could do anything else...And..You know the rest, all is well.."

"Where...Was.. Harrison?", Bucky's voice is dangerously low and even Sam glances towards him in concern.

"In...In front of the bar? He drove me here."

"And..He just gave you his jacket? That's all?"

"N-no...That was one of the target's...I felt..Like I needed more cover..."

Sam sighs deeply, rubbing his face and sending the other man a gaze that told him to zip it for now.

"Sweetheart...You know how serious that breach is, right? Even if we don't take action, what he did would warrant a suspension anyway. Maybe more."

"He..He said he'll fill the paperwork..And report..."

Sam balks at that. "He..Said that? He had the fucking audacity to suggest that?"

The two men watch you finally break down in heaving sobs. "I..I thought he cared..I thought he actually cared, I thought after this mission I might even...", You hiccup.

Your face crumples in pain and guilt and you choke on another sob. "I ...I wasn't thinking Sammy...I agreed to it...He told me in the car he'd do it and...I just couldn't argue...I don't wanna go on a mission with him again Sammy and..Oh god I..I just let him do all this to me..."

They let you cry. Bucky quietly wraps an arm around your shoulders and Sam's thumb strokes on your palm. They ground you, but don't ask you to stop, or say anything for that matter. You cry till the sobs have ebbed to sniffles, then all is quiet. When you come to yourself again, you're resting your head on Bucky's shoulder, and Sam is wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You people...Have raised my standards in men", you attempt at joking. Bucky snorts, relieved to see you pull yourself together. His fingers stroke through your hair in slow soothing motions.

"Men are stupid, and irresponsible", he adds.

"You're a man, married to a man", you deadpan, making Sam chuckle.

"That changes nothing", Bucky huffs.

"You did amazing, okay?", Sam slides onto the couch on your other side. "You were strong, and damn brave. I'm proud of you." You give him a lazy grin, your eyes already closing.

"We'll deal with this tomorrow, rest up now. You're safe."

That word alone is enough to send you into peaceful slumber.

A/N: This was supposed to be a oneshot but it's turning into a series! Part 4 is in my head already!

[wikiangela-fanfics]

“No, and that’s final”

Another fic from Fictober 2019, again Destiel

I will post some new stuff soon, but currently I’m swamped with homework assignmets, so here’s another old fic

(I think I’ve made a post about it before, but it was just a link to Ao3, I guess)

I don’t even know what it was supposed to be, but it turned out like this, so here we go

Summary:  When Dean is jealous and starts a fight with his boyfriend, Cas.

Words: 2197

Ao3

***

"What did you just say?" Dean asked his boyfriend, getting just a little bit mad, with his fork midway between his mouth and his plate.

"That I ran into Michael and-" Cas started to say calmly, eating his dinner.

"Yeah, I heard that." Dean answered, angrily stabbing the food with his fork.

"Then why do you ask?" Cas was really confused. Sometimes he was so oblivious to rhetorical questions, as well as to sarcasm, actually. It was really adorable and Dean would probably smile with a smile reserved only for Castiel, but he was too mad now.

"I would love it if you waited until after dinner to ruin my mood." Dean grumbled, then chewing his food.

"What do you mean? It's not like anything happened. We're friends and-"

"Oh, really?" Dean scoffed. "Friends? You and that asshole?"

"First of all, it would be nice if you stopped interrupting me all the time." Cas was still calm, but Dean could see that there's a fight coming. He hated this. "And second of all, yes, we didn't end on good terms, but we ran into each other a couple of times and-"

"Excuse me?" Dean dropped his fork to the plate, which caused quite a loud sound. Cas shoot him an annoyed glare. Dean interrupting him while he was talking was infuriating sometimes. Or all the time. "Couple times? Why don't I know anything about it?"

"Because I knew how you'd react." Cas' tone changed. He sounded like he was getting angry too. "Which is, like you're acting right now."

"We're together, Cas. We should tell each other stuff." Dean said, still trying to eat. He was mad, but also hungry.

"Like you told me about how you ran into Lisa and went for coffee with her? I found out about that from Sam." Cas pointed out.

"That was different." Dean got defensive. They just happened to run into each other in a cafe. So of course they talked and tried to catch up, after not seeing each other for a few years. And of course he would tell Cas if friggin' Sam didn't beat him to it.

"How was it different? I just bumped into Michael a couple of times and we got to talking and we're cool now." Cas still tried to be calm.

"Then why did you even tell me at all?" Dean raised his voice a little, unconsciously. "It's not like you cheated, right? So no reason to tell me anything! Not like we're in a serious, mature relationship." suddenly he lost his appetite, so he just stood up and took the plate with his half eaten dinner and put it by the sink. Maybe he would microwave it later. Or not. Either way, he was done with eating for now.

"I'm telling you, because he invited me-"

"Hell no."

"You don't even-"

"I said no." Dean more growled than said.

"What do you mean 'no'? And would you stop cutting me off mid sentence?" Cas also raised his voice. He was getting sick of this. "You have absolutely no reason to act like that!"

"I have a reason!" now Dean almost yelled. "You went out with him for years!"

"Please, don't yell." Cas was still sitting at the table. "Just listen to me."

"Okay." Dean took a deep breath and stood by the kitchen counter. "I'm listening. What do you have to say?"

"I just wanted to say that, and let me finish please, he invited me, us, actually, to a small party, more like a gathering, really, he and his boyfriend are having this weekend. But we don't have to go, Dean." Cas stood up and took a few steps towards his boyfriend. "I just wish you would talk to me and listen to me, instead of getting angry."

"Sorry." Dean ran his hand through his hair. "I just don't want you meeting with your exes." he walked over to Cas and put his hands on Cas' waist, pulling him closer. "Really, I don't like to share you with anyone."

"But you don't have to be jealous. I love you."

"Love you too, Cas." Dean gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Just don't meet with him anymore."

"I can't really control if I run into him." Cas chuckled. "It's a small town."

"So don't talk to him then."

"That would be rather rude, don't you think?" Cas said and Dean took a step back, getting annoyed again.

"Dammit, Cas, I just don't want you seeing him ever again."

"That can't really happen. And you can't forbid me to talk to anyone." Cas was outraged. Dean was his partner, and he loved him, but this was ridiculous. He didn't have a right to forbid Cas doing anything. "Maybe I will go to this party." he said not because he wanted to go, but out of spite. They both weren't the easiest people, so when they fought, it could be for days.

"Like hell you will." Dean walked over to the fridge and took a beer.

"You can't tell me what to do."

"I said no. And that's final." Dean said quieter, but still angry, basically pointing the bottle at Cas. And he knew those words were a mistake as soon as they got out of his mouth.

"That's not up to discussion. I'm going. You're welcome to join me." with that, Cas stormed out of the room.

Dean sighed. He was too stubborn, he knew that. But he couldn't help it. He didn't want to sound like he did, but he was the way he was. He wanted to change a little, be easier to live with, but it was harder than he thought. And Cas knew him for years now, they moved in together almost three years ago. Cas knew him better than anyone. He knew what to expect. Still, Dean was mad at himself for everything he said.

He left the kitchen too, leaving the plates with unfinished dinner like they were. Then he left the house, taking only his car keys. When he was like this, he had to go for a ride and try to calm himself down. And his car was always able to help with that.

***

When he got back home, around an hour and a half later, it was dark outside. He saw a light in the bedroom window, so he knew where to find Cas.

He parked his car in the garage and went upstairs. Like he expected, Cas was on the bed, reading a book. They had different ways of dealing with stuff. Cas' was to just forget about everything for a moment, usually by reading. Of course, if he wasn't so mad that he couldn't even read. After their fight, he had to just sit there for a good half an hour and calm down before he could open a book.

The door was open. Cas was half lying on the bed, with his head on the headrest and book in his hands. He was wearing his glasses and his favourite t-shirt that originally belonged to Dean, but for years now was Cas'. Dean smiled, seeing him. He loved him so much, he wasn't sure that's even possible. And he had to try not to fuck it up, which wasn't always easy for him.

Cas didn't notice him, he was too into his book. So Dean knocked on the door frame quietly and Cas' gaze fell on him. He almost smiled but then he remembered that he's mad at Dean, so he kept his expression emotionless. As much as he could. It was hard not to smile, seeing this beautiful human he loved with all his heart.

"Hi." Winchester said, leaning on the door frame. "Can I come in?"

"It's your bedroom too." Cas said, sitting up properly, putting the book on the bedside table and taking his glasses off. Dean walked in and sat down next to Cas, with his feet still on the floor.

"Look, I'm really sorry." he started, taking Castiel's hand in his. "I didn't mean that. I'm just a jealous asshole."

"Agreed." Cas muttered as the corner of his mouth went up. Dean chuckled.

"Yeah. I'm just… I don't wanna lose you, Cas. I realise that you're way too good for me and you can't blame me for being a little paranoid because of that."

"Dean" Cas took Dean's face into his hands. "If anything, you are too good for me . And I'm not mad because you were jealous. I get that. I get jealous of you all the time."

"Really?" Dean was a little bit surprised. "You never say anything."

"Because I trust you and I know I have no reason to start a fight over my stupid jealousy." he gave Dean a look. That's what he's been doing and it was stupid, Dean knew that. He couldn't help it.

"I trust you too." he took Castiel's hands from his face and took them into his hands. "It's just, I don't know." he sighed. "You know that I can't really cope with my feelings."

"Oh, I know." Cas rolled his eyes. When they met, Dean was the biggest asshole to him, because he was into him. That was just ridiculous. But Cas fell in love with him anyway. "That's okay, I know you and I get it. But what pissed me off today was mostly the fact that you think-"

"I know." Dean interrupted him.

"That too." Cas muttered.

"Sorry, didn't mean to- fuck. I gotta stop doing this." Dean ran his hand over his face. "I know I shouldn't tell you who you can talk to or anything. It's not my place and it's not cool and I'm sorry. I can't do that. And if you wanna talk to all your exes, I can't and shouldn't stop you. I mostly got mad because you two have tons of history, you've known him since forever and it just made me feel... insecure."

"Why?" Cas was tilting his head in that adorable way.

"Because I'll never get to be what he was to you." Dean whispered, not really wanting to admit it even to himself. Michael was Castiel's childhood friend, than his on-and-off boyfriend, he was a bunch of Cas' firsts… and Dean was just another boyfriend. That was something he didn't realize he felt until he thought about it this whole time in the car.

"That's not true, Dean." Cas changed his position so that now he was sitting on Dean's lap, with his legs on both sides of Dean. "You are so much more to me than anyone ever was or will be." he kissed Dean's lips for a second. "You're my one true love and that will never change. You're the most amazing person I've ever met. Stop looking so down at yourself, Dean. I love you and only you, despite how hard it is sometimes. I love you, okay?" while he was talking he was looking into Dean's eyes.

"Will you marry me?" it slipped out of Dean's mouth. They never really talked about it, maybe sometimes they would mention it or joke about it, but they both didn't expect that to happen, at least not so soon, not in that moment. So they were both really surprised.

"Are you serious?" Cas wanted to make sure before he would say yes. Because of course he will. Despite how chaotic their relationship was, they made it work so far and they will for the rest of their lives.

"Yeah, I mean, I love you and I wanna spend the rest of my life loving you and making you happy." he gently stroked Cas' cheek. "If you can put up with all my bullshit." he added and Cas chuckled. "So, will you marry me?"

"Of course, Dean." he kissed him passionately, pushing his back onto the bed, so that now he was basically above Dean. He was so happy. "I can't believe this." he whispered against Dean's lips.

"Me neither." Dean admitted with a smile. And Cas sat up and looked down at Dean.

"You can't take that back now." he pointed his finger at Dean, who just laughed.

"I hope not." he grinned, pulling Cas to him again.

"We still need to talk, Dean." Cas said, not really wanting to, but, well, they needed to talk.

Dean kissed his jaw, but then Cas pulled away a little, cursing himself for it. Then Dean spoke: "We can go to the stupid party. I promise I'll behave. I'll try not to make a big deal out of stuff like that anymore and I promise not to interrupt you when you speak." he said quickly. "Now, if there's still something to talk about, it can wait. Now we gotta celebrate, fiancé. " he added, his hands sneaking under Castiel's t-shirt.

Cas smiled at that. They were engaged. Who cares if it happened because of a stupid irrelevant fight? He decided that all they needed to talk about, they can do later. They have the rest of their lives to talk and figure everything out. Right now, he was going to enjoy the moment. With his future husband.

[jetblackpayne]

Dazed & confused

✧･: *✧･ﾟ: * 　*:･✧*:･ﾟ✧

summary: In which Arden Keaton (OC, half!witch, time traveller!from present) travels to 1984 to fix the timeline for the sake of her future. She’s left Dazed and Confused. BASED OFF RUELS SONG

warning(s): part of another series (aka i’m too lazy to write and wanna write this first), language, sexual situations.

a/n: this was rushed lol. lmk if i should change it to make it less choppy/spelling corrections. AND OR IF IT MAKES NO SENSE ILL CHAT YOU IN THE COMMENTS AND MAKE IT CLEAR!⚡️⚡️😁

key: italics = flashback

bold = arden’s thoughts

bold italics = others thoughts

✧･: *✧･ﾟ:*:･✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･: *✧･ﾟ:* :･✧*:･✧･ﾟ:*✧

PART i.

i.

Arden Keaton woke up with a sudden urge to vomit. Her head was spinning as her eyes began to well up with tears. What just happened? Why do I feel different? She woke up in Murder House as she normally would but something to her seemed off. What was once her bedroom coated in lilac walls and light carpeting against cherry wood floors was now white cracked paint and nails sticking out of the floorboards. More hazard, dangerous, and unkept then she remembered. What happened to this place? For some unknown reason, her mind kept trailing. She couldn’t call out for help or question to her family or to the ghosts why her room looked the way it did. She felt as though she didn’t belong. She couldn’t feel half of the souls trapped in this house as she did before. Her friends Tate not Violet we’re present. A pounding sound suddenly filled her ears from the thin walls echoing through the narrow halls. Her head snapped up in surprise as she walked out of her room. She walked along side the doors, attempting to feel some type of energy from the rooms. Her tracks stopped beneath of a room she had yet to explore, the attic. Her gaze travelled up the suspended ladder as her hands and feet hooked onto the ledge one at a time. When atop, her heart stopped when she found Nikki and Sam Argento, the two loudest ghosts in Murder House screwing each other like some sort of kinky ritual. The woman’s wrists tied to the bedpost in the attic as a knife trailed down her collarbone to cut the strap of her bra off.

Arden gasped. Her hands feeling weak at the sight. Arden felt her body draw from the only thing keeping her stable as she landed on the ground with a thud echoing throughout the house. The sound of meaning and pounding against the wall was silenced. The two stopped in thier moment with wide eyes, “Who’s there?” She heard Nikki yell from the top. Arden scrambled up and ran to the staircase trying to keep her footsteps quiet as possiable. Where is my family? She took out her phone to see her worst nightmare, ‘No Service.’ What is going on?

Arden deceased down the main staircase as quietly as she could. She didn’t know what was going on. She walked into what her family called the ‘family room’ and walked over to the television. Her head lowered as she started intensely at the picture box; goring almost with a palm stuck out. The TV began to flicker as the static became clear. Arden cocked an eyebrow in confusion, the signal usually was great; static was unusual for her to see. The televisions signal slightly cleared up with a grainy effect. *“James Keaton, a young man, age of 19, the youngest ever to graduate from MIT was at his weekly press conference last night. He had some shocking yet releaving information to share with the world.”* The women on the news channel spoke. Arden’s heart pace quickened hearing her fathers name being mentioned. This had to be some sort of prank. The bottom right corner of the screen made her heart drop; there was no way. June 13, 1984. She didn’t know what to think let alone say in this moment. Either I’ve seen the light, or i’m loosing my mind.. The channel finally cut to a new scene. It was her father when he was younger. Arden could distinctly remember the photos framed on the wall above the fireplace in thier old home and the ones mounted on the counters. She could have sworn she’d seen a picture of him in that exact moment. *He looked as if hewere glowing yet looked around at the press with a nervous glance. “I am the Iron man.” He spoke as the crowd went crazy. He then proceeded to sit down in his seat behind the podium. The scene cut to the woman again as she smiled, “Los Angeles has their very own superhero; and it’s James Keaton, genius, soon to be billionaire, also known as Iron Man. Clever name for a clever guy!* The television suddenly went black. Arden’s eyes glued on the void lingering in the still-air.

“What the hell are you doing in our house?!” Nikkis voice shouted from the top of the stairs. Arden’s heart dropped into her stomach as her mouth ran dry. The woman had on a silky bubblegum pink robe untied revealing her lingerie set to the teenager. Behind her was Sam. His arms crossed over his chest as he stood in confusion.

“I’m sorry.” Arden spoke, “I’m not supposed to be here for another 35 years.” Arden stepped over to the staircase placing a nervous hand on the railing. Even the words that came out of her mouth cane as a shock. How was she so calm? “You see it might sound crazy but I fell asleep in 2019 and woke up here in 84. I don’t know what to do.” Arden didn’t feel guilty telling them. They were ghosts in her present house and she was sure they would remember her. “I didn’t mean any harm but I don’t know what to do. My parents are my age.” The couple exchanged glances. Arden read into their minds only to be thinking the same thing, What the hell? “I know what you’re thinking literally it might sound crazy—”

“The amount of shit we’ve seen going on in this house, nothing seems crazy anymore.” Nikki cut her off offering her a small smile. She returned the gesture with a slight pink tint to her cheeks. The couple were still in thier underwear behind the masks. “You don’t look too harmful to me.” she smirked walking down the stairs, “What’s your name?”

“Arden Keaton.”

“As in James Keaton?” Nikki stood stunned.

“In like 18 years time.”

“Bitchin” Sam spoke now beside his partner kissing her temple, “That’s your old man.”

Arden cringed at the term. She gave them a fake smile and snickered playing along, “Yep.”

“Well Arden,” Sam spoke looking down at her small frame, “If you’re gonna be here anyways, you can stay with us obviously.” Arden’s body shifted in slight discomfort. She knew what this couple was known for and being in the midst of that would be disturbing to say the least. “Don’t worry, we won’t keep you up all night with our noises.” He smirked at his significant other as she nibbled on the exposed skin on his neck. He sucked in a hitched breath as his eyes rolled back with pleasure.

Arden’s nose scrunched up, “I guess.”

“It’s settled then!” Nikki smiled again her.

Something to Arden didn’t make sense. Sure considering it is her house in 35 years, she should stay but in thier present time, it’s not. Why would they let her stay like it’s normal? “I’m sorry,” Arden spoke catching them in mid makeout session, “Why are you being so nice to me? I mean I woke up here, told you I was from the future, yet you treat me like i’m not crazy?”

“Like we mentioned, we live in the Murder House, nothing seems too crazy for us anymore.” Nikki wrapped a lazy arm around Sam. They smiled at the girl.

“Well.. t-thank you.” She stuttered a bit shaken up from what she found out.

“You seem tense.” Nikki pondered looking at Arden’s figure. Her shoulders were broadened, eyes diverted to the ground, and hands folded in front of her. “You need to let loose and I know just the thing.” Nikki ran over to the small closet near the front door. Rummaging through the racks she picked out two very bright workout outfits. She slung the two pieces over her shoulders and popped one hip out. To Arden, the outfits looked like a cry for attention; a good or bad cry was still being debated. “Were going to the aerobics studio!”

Arden tossed the woman a small smile. Maybe this would be good for me..

ii.

Sam stayed behind while Arden and Nikki were off to the studio. When they arrived, they went thier separate ways planning to meeting up later. Arden was currently stood in front of a full length mirror. On her body was one of the outfits Nikki gave her. The top was a hot pink bandeau under blue striped spandex suspenders. A buckle above her hips strapping over her belly button. "What the hell am I wearing?" Arden asked herself looking at herself. Her back arched as she looked at the leotard basically up her butt. She twirled amd reached her hands over her head in a semi-seductive way, admiring her look slightly, but she’d never admit it.

"A sexy aeroba-fit that will make all the guys pop a boner." A voice remarked behind her. Her gaze followed it to find a girl in her 20s if not Arden’s age, smirking in her direction. Her hair looked like she dyed and fried it too much. Her was face caked in makeup. She had on a leopard print leotard on; underneath were black leggings paired with platform boots. Interesting. “Don't worry, i'm not a les," The blonde spoke as she smacked her gum against her teeth smirking, "Just friendly." She beamed, "I'm Montana Duke by the way."

"Arden."

“You got a last name, Arden?” Montana challenged narrowing her brown eyes to the girl who stood a good few inches taller than her. Arden would have found her intimidating if she were weaker than her. She knew that wanst the case. She admired Montana Duke for her assertiveness and confidence. There was no way Arden introduce herself to anyone here without feeling awkward of it.

“Ke-” She thought for a moment noting a look of curiosity from the stranger across her. She couldn’t tell the girl her name. After all her father was famous for his now exposed identity for being a superhero and whatnot. The only reason why she told the overstimulated couple was because they once lives in her house; she would know them once she got back to present time as who was once living. Thier souls embodied in the wall of Murder House. She had no idea who this chick was. She couldn’t possibly trust her even if she held a knife to her throat. “Kline.” She firmly spoke.

“As in Calvin?”

“Far descent but yes.”

“Can’t possibly be that far if you have the same last name babe.” Montana smiled as she grabbed hold of the girls hand. Arden tensed up and Montana felt it, “Now let’s go Miss. Kline. Don’t wanna be late for your class.”

“I don’t have a class set up!”

“You do now. I’m sure X would let you join if you’re with me. I can tell we’re gonna be very good friends.” And they were off to class. Arden was a little anxious but she didn’t know why. She wouldn’t remember these people in the long run so why should she care what they think of? The two girls stepped into the bright room. Montana let go of Arden’s hand and practically ran to A hunky blonde Ken-doll. His features, to her, mirrored an angel. His perfectly gelled blonde hair was held up with a lilac headband. His clothes were light as well. White tank top and lilac shorts. The matierial hugged his body well. Arden couldn’t help but bite her lip unintentionally. Montana conversated with him as his gaze suddenly turned to Arden’s, winking in her direction. His tongue ran over this pearly white teeth. He gave her a sly wave. Arden felt her stomach drop as he left cheeks flourished. Her hand went up slightly to give him a shy wave. He laughed a bit looking at her again, he admired her shyness. If only he knew she wasn’t THAT shy.

Pretty soon class started and a few more people to Montana’s taste strolled in earning a wave. Arden stayed close to the back with a brunette girl who introduced herself as Brooke Thompson. They made quick conversation being thier first time in the studio, except Brooke wanted to come. Arden came with Nikki’s suggestion; she had no idea where the woman was. That was far beyond her concern. The sound of Frank Stallones, ‘Far from home’ began to fill the small room. X walked up to the front and began to stretch. His arm crossed his collarbone hugging it with the other. Once again, winking in the girls direction. She smiled at him and looked to the ground. This was gonna be a long day.

iii.

Arden began to hum/quietly sing the tune to Hanson's, 'Mmmbop' as she exited the women's locker room. The Montana and Brooke, whom she met prior, trailing behind her. Arden walked up to the counter and ordered a mango smoothie when she saw three guys converting. She recognised them from the slimmercise class she took. One being the the instructor and the one Montana mentioned, X. The one who couldnt keep his eyes off of her. X stopped what he was saying to look at her. He stared at her body licking his lips as his friends began to check her out. Arden sighed as she saw the hungry eyes melt into the back of her head. She began to read the filthy thoughts they had of her and shuttered. "You know it's not polite to stare." Arden turned around flipping her hair over the shoulders in the process. Batting her eyes, she took a sip of her smoothie. Where did this confidence come from? The boys stood there speechless at the sudden accusation; which happened to be true.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." X spoke as he stepped in ground of her. His perfectly structured jawline sharpened as he smiled at the girl. She couldn't help but blush at his gesture. He stuck his hand out to her, "I'm Xavier." He spoke as she looked at his hand. She finally knew what the letter stood for. "This is Chet and Ray." He motioned to the two other muscular guys behind him. Arden looked down at his empty hand and reached out for it. She brushed her hand against his smooth one to give him a gentle touch. Without warning, her mind clouded as her vision became blurry. She saw Xavier in a park with a needle in his arm. His pants soaked with his own urine. His eyes puffy from crying. Why did he let himself get like this? Just then a man came up to him and talked to him about the film industries he's worked in, "I could make you a star. With a pretty face like that, you could reach big places. And i'm gonna help you get there." He placed a hand on his inner thigh; groping is ever so slightly. "Trust Daddy." The man smirked at the broken man in front of him. Xavier nodded as he helped him up. Arden gasped as she stumbled into his arms. His smirk faltered to a scared expression. He snaked his arms under hers in a deadlift as her weight shifted onto him. He lifted her body over to the couch and looked around to see if anyone had seen the incident unfold. Nothing. The people in the lobby passed by doing anything but looking in thier direction. Chet, Ray, Brooke, and Montana rushed over to the couch as a drop of blood seeped it’s way down her drained face. None of them knew what to think.

“Good going man,” Ray said placing a hand on her shoulder wiping the dropping blood down her nose with a napkin from the counter, “You broke her!”

“Piss off!” Xavier exclaimed to his friends accusations, “I didn’t do anything. She grabbed my hand and went down. Then again most girls do.” Xavier and Chet shared a smirk.

Brooke rolled her eyes at thier childish behaviour. A girl just passed out in front of them and thier connecting it to thier hookups?

“That doesn’t explain why her nose is bleeding.” Montana spoke catching thier attention. They shook her off focusing on the limp girls body on the couch. What were they to do?

“Did you squeeze the poor girl too hard?” Chet asked.

“No fuck-face.” Xavier looked down at the girl. Her eyelids twitched slightly as her mouth parted. She sucked in a shaky breath as she opened her eyes slowly. The light from the ceiling blinding her. She hissed as she sat up and held her throbbing head. Xavier quickly sat next to her, taking her small hand into his large one, "Are you alright? Can I do anything?”

Her cheeks tinted as his simple gesture made her heart flutter. “Sorry about that.” She replies sheepishly

“Never has anyone in my class faint before.” He smirked at the thought. He leaned his body on the pillow her head was once on; elbow propped up holding his head in place looking up at her, “Guess you could say you ‘fell for me.’”

“Ugh,” Montana groaned and rolled her head back in annoyance, “Give me a break.”

Arden laughed at her remark. Xavier looked at her a winked at her making her flourished cheeks heat up more.

° :.  *₊ ° . ☆ ✮ ° :.  *₊ ° . ☆✮ °:.*₊ ° . ° . •°:.*₊ ° . ° . •

taglist: *based on reblogs/votes on this mini series*

@arkhamren @lourdlangdon

[crashdevlin]

Deserving

Author’s Note: Written for @georgialouisea‘s 2K Quote Challenge. I picked the FRIENDS quote ‘We were on a break!’. This was meant to be a light, funny fic and it just... I’m so sorry for the amount of angst in this fic... except, you know... it’s what I’m good at. No gifs are mine. Oh, and as angels are genderless, I use the pronouns appropriate to their vessel. SPOILERS FOR SEASON 14!

Pairing(s): Dean x Plus-sized Reader

Summary: y/n and Dean have been together for years, but they’ve been arguing nonstop since a couple weeks after Dean came back. 

Word Count: 4512

Story Warnings: so much angst it’s not even okay, kinda cheating, breakups, scars, self-esteem issues, Michael!Dean, character death (events of 14x08), the events of 14x09...

You stomped after Dean, fury on your face as the two of you entered the library of the Bunker. Castiel looked up, instantly uncomfortable with his friends’ human drama. The two of you had been fighting for three days straight, Cas wasn't sure about what, and he was certain that you’d broken off your relationship the night before, but here you were, fighting again.

“Cas, you’ve got a perfect memory,” Dean said, coming to a stop in front of the angel, whose eyes went wide. “What was the last thing y/n said before she threw her hands up like a toddler and stomped out of here last night?”

Castiel looked between the hunters. “Uh…”

“I’m a toddler?! At least I didn’t run to my best friend for help justifying-”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a bitch and you don’t have any friends.”

“I have friends!”

“Name one… and Sam and the hunters you talk to online don’t count.”

“Why not? They’re real people who like me so-”

“Cas! Come on,” Dean called out as the angel started to slink away.

Cas sighed and turned back to them. “I believe her words were… ‘Fuck you, Dean. If you want a break, we’re on one’.”

“Ha! See?” Dean turned to you. “We were on a break!”

“Dean, I don’t think-” Cas started as your mouth turned down in anger and disgust.

“You know what? Fine, Ross, we were on a break, so what you did wasn’t cheating.” Dean’s look of victory was cut short as you continued. “It was just a terrible, shitty thing to do to me.”

“Oh, come-”

“You couldn’t wait six fuckin’ hours for me to calm down, cool off and come home? No, you had to go pick up some bar skank and take her home to-”

“I was drunk!” Dean defended, throwing his hands up.

“So was I! But I managed to make it home without scratch marks down my back! Why didn’t you?!”

“Oh, the only reason you didn’t get fucked was because men don’t generally go to bars to pick up scarred-up fat chicks,” Dean spat out, nastily.

And just like that the fight was over, all anger being washed out of you by a wave of pain as Dean stabbed both of your weak points with one sentence. You blinked at Dean, your breath frozen in your lungs. You could see the moment he realized he’d gone too far, but you just looked away. “Oh. Okay. I…” You nodded, before rushing past Cas and running up the spiral staircase.

“y/n-” Dean called, but he was met with the sound of the Bunker door creaking closed. He wished you would have yelled at him, screamed, shouted, hit him, hurt him… fuck, he wouldn’t have been too upset if you shot him after that comment, that would’ve meant you were pissed. But you weren’t pissed. You were hurt and it was on him.

“Dean. Go after her,” Cas demanded.

Dean took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, man. Not after that. Gotta give her time to-” He rubbed his fingers over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “-get pissed off about it.”

“And if she doesn’t ‘get pissed off’?” Cas asked, his words stilted. “If she stays depressed and in pain? What then, Dean?”

Dean looked down. “Then, at least the fight’s over.”

“As well as your relationship.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was over the moment I stuck my dick in that hourglass blond from the roadhouse on Route 32.”

“Why?” Castiel shook his head. “Why would you have sex with someone other than y/n?”

Dean licked his lips and walked over to the whiskey in the crystal bottle. “Because, Cas… it’s…” He picked up the bottle and filled a crystal tumbler. “I just… when I imagined my life… when I imagined comin’ up on forty and settling down with just one woman… it wasn’t her.”

Cas’ eyebrows tucked together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“She’s just… I figured if I… if I got serious with a chick, it’d be with a normal one. One like Cassie, like Lisa. Y/n is… she’s hard and she’s broken and she’s the meanest bitch I’ve ever laid eyes on and that’s… I don’t think that’s what I want, Cas.”

“You did this… on purpose?”

Dean took a drink and shook his head. “No. No, I… I started the fight on purpose, but… I… didn’t mean to…”

“Yes, you did.” Castiel tilted his head in confusion, searching Dean's thoughts. “You went out and found a woman who embodies every trait y/n confided that she wishes she had, and you had sex with that woman just to hurt y/n. Dean… why didn't you just…”

“Break up with my brother's best friend for no reason? I still… I don't know. I mean, I wanted it over but I also didn't want to end it.”

“Yeah, I mean, I can, but- Are you sure, y/n?” Sam walked in, anger-tinged worry on his face as he held his cell phone to his ear. “No, I just- maybe after you calm down and think about-” He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I'll box it up. Text me the address. Yeah, you, too. Be careful.”

Sam stared at Dean for a moment after he clicked the phone off, anger radiating from him. “Her scars, Dean? The one thing she's more self-conscious about than her weight, which you also slammed her on! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Why don't you ask Cas? He seems to be an expert in why I do the things I do,” Dean responded, walking away toward his bedroom.

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

Dean set his drink on top of the dresser and sighed as he picked up a picture that had never found its way into a picture frame. A Polaroid of him and y/n at the South Dakota State Fair a year before. He ran his thumb over the scar on her cheek. He’d loved her scars when he first fell for her. They were badges of strength, proof that she could survive, that she could hack it in the Life. Now, they were a harsh reminder of bad times.

Sam pushed his door opened and walked in with an empty file box under his arm. “Get out,” he demanded.

“Excuse you? This is my room.” Dean set the picture down and picked up his drink.

“Yeah, well, I’m packin’ up y/n’s stuff for her, so get out or stay out out of my way.” Sam started to round the room as Dean sat on his bed with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out as he watched his brother. Sam picked up knives and hair ties, pens and notebooks and her hunter journal from the small desk. He slammed the box down on the desk and turned to Dean. “You know there are better ways you could’ve done this, Dean.”

Dean looked up at him, tiredly. “Oh, really?”

“Yes! A hundred better ways that wouldn’t leave her destroyed like this.”

“First, she’ll be fine. She’s strong as fuck.” Dean leaned forward, kicking his feet over the side of his bed, which still smelled like y/n. “Second, it had to be this way. Because this way, she’s gone and she’s not coming back. It’s over this way.” Sam shook his head in disbelief. “If she’d stuck around to be your bestie or Cas and Jack’s hunting partner… I know me, Sam, I’da ended up in bed with her again and then I’d have to deal with the morning after. It’s better if she’s just gone.”

“When the hell did you decide you didn’t want her, anymore? Because last I checked, you were over the moon for her.”

Dean looked at the glass of whiskey. “I don’t know, Sam, it’s just… ever since I’ve been back-”

“If you blame this on Michael, I swear I’m gonna punch you. This isn’t-”

“Do you know what he did to her?” Dean snapped. Sam looked away, his vision resting on the hunter journal in the box. He knew well the lines of her newest scars, the ones that covered the landscape of her body; the scars that were worse than the werewolf claws across her right cheek that had made her feel ugly for five years or the one across her left shin that kept her from wearing shorts. Sam knew her new scars, all created by a karambit held by Michael in Dean’s hands. Michael had left her barely alive, sent her back to the Bunker, a clear message not to try to find him, or stop him. “That she survived that… that she could still look me in my face after that… but she still loved me after that.”

“You didn’t do it, Dean. Michael did.”

“And it was my fault! My body, my face, my dumbass plan to save you and Jack. How could she not hold any grudge? How could she love me? I mean, that kind love… I don’t deserve that, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to his brother’s. “Are you telling me that you just crushed y/n’s heart because you think you don’t deserve the unconditional love she’s freely offered from the moment she met you?” Dean rolled his eyes and took a drink. “You’re an idiot. You are the dumbest man in the history of dumb men. You just fucked away the greatest thing God ever gave you because you thought you didn’t deserve her?”

Sam sighed loudly and turned back around to continue packing. “And, of course, you didn’t just fuck yourself out of y/n, you fucked me, too. You fucked over Jack. ‘cause losing one mom wasn’t bad enough, right?”

Dean set his drink down on the dresser and stood, pulling Baby’s keys out of his pocket and leaving his room without another word.

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

“I’m sorry, buddy. I know I should have said ‘goodbye’.” You’d willed yourself to stop crying long enough to answer one of Jack’s phone calls. “It all just… it happened so fast, Jack.”

“But, are you coming back?”

You shook your head, your throat clenching as you tried to avoid another wave of tears. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but-”

“But I wanted to show you what I learned on YouTube. I-”

“I’m sorry. Jack, I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t understand why you had to leave. Don’t you like it here?”

“O-of course, I do, but… things are complicated.” How do you explain a catastrophic breakup to a toddler? “I can’t be there, buddy. I wish I could, but… you’re better off with the guys anyway. They can help you better than me. Look, uh, can you… can you tell Dean that I… sent him a package? It’ll be at the post office in… uh, I think three days.”

“Okay.”

“I, uh, I gotta go.”

“Okay.”

“You know you can call me if you ever need anything, right?”

“Yeah. Goodbye, y/n.”

You stared at the ceiling of the motel room you’d grabbed after running from the bunker. How quickly your entire life had changed. A week ago, you were expecting to spend the rest of your life in Lebanon. Three months ago, you were half-dead in a hospital bed, having been almost destroyed by the archangel wearing the man you loved. You had nightmares of glowing blue eyes, of a curved blade tearing through your skin and the muscle under it, of him healing you just enough to keep you from dying of blood loss or shock.

You held on in hopes that Dean would come back some day, and he had. Dean came back and now? Now you were wishing Michael had just let you die in that hotel you tracked him down in.

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

Dean stared at the box sitting on the bench of the Impala for at least fifteen minutes, trying to decide whether he should open it. He knew what it was. Things he’d left in y/n’s car, things he’d given her that she didn’t want anymore, maybe a nasty note. He sighed and pulled out his pocket knife, running the blade across the tape and opening the flaps. He bit his bottom lip as he pulled out a Led Zeppelin cassette, followed by an AC/DC band tee, a switchblade he was sure he’d lost years ago, his favorite pair of vice-grip pliers, and the simple heart necklace he’d given her for her birthday the year before.

Under all of that was the other necklace she always wore, the white gold chain with the thick sterling silver band that used to reside on Dean’s right hand. It was never anything special until she picked it up from his bedside table and claimed it as her own. It was nothing more than a bottle opener to him until she slipped it on that chain, until he saw her kissing it before she slipped it into her t-shirt every day.

There was no note. There was nothing she needed to say, and that was good. That meant she was done. Dean slipped the ring off of the chain and slid it onto his right ring finger, tossing everything into the box before pulling away from the Lebanon Post Office.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean ‘Jack’s dying’?” you asked, panic settling in your chest.

“When Lucifer took his grace-” Sam started.

“How long?” you demanded.

“Rowena thinks not long. Couple hours, maybe.”

“No. How long has he been sick? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you?”

“He was hiding it. He had a cough, but… we didn’t know.” Sam was silent for a minute. “Can you get here?”

“I’m in Orlando, Sam.” Your voice broke as you continued. “I’m nah-ot gonna get there in time.”

“Can you try?”

“Of course, I’ll try.”

You were absolutely exhausted by the time you made it to the Bunker. You hadn’t slept in three days and you were emotionally unprepared for Jack to be dead. He was a baby! How could he be dead? Sam greeted you in the garage, Jack right behind him. The nephil didn’t even look slightly off. “We saved him,” Sam said, noticing your look of confusion.

Jack rushed forward, wrapping his arms around you and you crumbled. Tears streamed down your face as you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in the boy’s chest. “It’s okay, y/n. I’m okay.”

“Hey, what’s-” Dean’s voice was just audible over your sobs and it made you stiffen in Jack’s arms. “Oh. You called her?”

“Yeah, Dean. She deserved to be here,” Sam answered.

“Yeah, okay, well, he’s not dead anymore, so…”

“So, what, Dean?” Jack asked, pulling back to look at Dean. You didn’t. You looked at your feet. “She can’t leave. She just got here.”

“And she drove from Orlando in one go, Dean. She needs to rest,” Sam defended.

“It’s fine. I’ll just… the motel down the-”

“No!” Sam and Jack both shouted.

You shook your head. “Like I said, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t think you should even be driving, right now. You look like a stiff breeze would knock you over,” Sam said, putting a large hand on your shoulder. “Come on, we’ll get you set up in one of the extra rooms. You can at least get some sleep before Dean chases you away again.”

Dean growled and stomped out of the garage. “Why is Dean angry?” Jack asked.

“He kinda hates me, Jack. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna let anything taint the fact that my nephil buddy is alive and thriving.”

“How could he hate you?” Jack asked, curiously.

“He-” Sam started but shook his head. “Let’s just get you in bed, huh?”

“What happened to all the, uh, Apocalypse World folks?” you asked, tiredly, leaning into Sam’s embrace.

“Oh, they’re all out hunting. Out in the world, making things better. We got them in the habit of the check-ins and wearing the GoPros so… they don’t need to be here,” Sam answered.

“GoPros was a good idea, Sam,” you muttered as he led you into a nondescript room.

“What do you want for breakfast when you wake up, huh?” Sam asked as you dropped to the bed.

“We’ve got Krunch Cookie Crunch,” Jack offered with a smile.

“That stuff’ll rot your teeth,” Sam said, pulling your tennis shoes off and yanking the blanket back to let you under the thin brown fabric.

“Scrambled eggs. No teeth rot there,” you answered.

“Unless you cover them in ketchup,” Sam said, knowingly.

“Don’t reveal my secrets, Sam.”

He scoffed and stood as you snuggled into the pillow, heavy eyes falling closed and sleep dragging you down quickly.

~~~~~~~

“I told you that she needs to not be here, Sam.”

“Just because you can’t trust yourself to keep it in your fuckin’ pants when it comes to y/n, that doesn’t mean you have to put her in danger by sending her away when she’s half-dead.”

“You’re the one who didn’t call her and tell her that Lily Sunder was bringing Jack back from the dead. She wouldn’t have done that 24-hour drive all at once if you’d told her Jack was fine.”

“I’m sorry, Dean, I got distracted by Jack dying and coming back.”

“Oh, bullshit! You wanted her here.”

“So? We miss her, Dean,” Sam argued, before he sighed. “And we’re about to go against Michael. Don’t you think she deserves to have the option to participate?” Dean opened his mouth to argue that y/n shouldn’t be anywhere near Michael, but Sam continued. “He tortured her, Dean, which is worse than using your body and drowning you. She deserves to-”

“No the fuck she doesn’t! She doesn’t need to be anywhere near Michael, Sam. You can’t put her in that building with him.”

“Oh, but it’s fine for the rest of us? It’s fine for Garth? Dean, if she wants to go, none of us can stop her.”

Dean shook his head. “I hate this,” he said, stomping off.

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

“So, what do you think?” Castiel asked, licking his chapped lips as you pushed eggs around your plate with your fork.

You didn’t know what to think. Part of you really wanted to be there when Michael got what was coming to him. Part of you wanted to see an archangel’s eyes blow out with light, but the bigger part of you wanted to never be around Michael again. “I-I don’t know, Cas. Um… If you need me, I’m willing, but…” You swallowed to clear your suddenly dry throat, reaching out to pick up your coffee mug. “I just…”

“I understand.” Cas nodded. “Will you come to Kansas City? You don’t have to go against Michael, but I think it would be best for you to… to be there.”

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t leave you guys hanging.”

Cas gave a tight smile. “Thank you. Jack is a lot happier when you’re here.”

“Dean’s not,” you responded, standing to toss the rest of your scrambled eggs in the trash.

The angel sighed, heavily. “Dean is complicated.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Cas.” You walked to the sink, grabbing a sponge and cleaning the plate. “You know I can’t stay, right? I’m so happy that Jack’s okay and I… I, obviously, can be around Dean now without breaking down, but… I can’t stay around him not for very long, anyway. It’s too much.”

“You’re still in love?”

You bit your lip, grabbing a dishrag and wiping the plate. “Of course. He could never hurt me enough to make me stop.”

“Y/n…”

“It’s not a big deal.” You set the plate on the counter and turned to him. “I always knew I wasn't good enough for him, that someday… someday he'd realize that… someday he'd remember that he's Dean Winchester and that he could have almost any woman in the world.” A little shuddering sigh escaped you as you avoided looking at Cas. “Just wish he would've cast me out before Michael got his hands on me. I'd have far fewer scars to show if he had.”

You ran your hands across your shoulder and down. You'd counted them, once. Well, not just once. You'd actually counted them several times, sitting in front of a floor-length mirror with a compact in your hand, making sure that the number came out the same every time. Three-hundred and thirty-three cuts. Ignoring the old scars, just counting the ones Michael tore into your flesh over the two days he had you, there were three hundred and thirty-three of them; A divine number.

Cas had tried, on more than one occasion when you first got out of the hospital, to heal the scars. Michael had done something to you that prevented Cas’ grace from touching you, a ‘force field’ as Jack had dubbed it. You were stuck with the scars.

You cleared your throat and turned away. “Anyway, I’ll head to Kansas City, get a bit of an advance recon going. You can call me when you… when you get there.”

“You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I really should.” You stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him, before running for your car.

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

The copper taste of blood in your mouth pulled you out of the unconscious state you were in. “No,” was all you could say to the vamp that got the drop on you.

“Just let it happen, y/n,” a sharp-dressed, dark-skinned woman in clunky heels knelt down next to you. “You’ll be mine in a minute either way. It’ll go so much faster if you just let go.”

“Michael,” you groaned, trying to fight it as you could feel yourself turning.

“Do you remember what I said when I let you go, y/n?” Michael asked, her eyes glowing blue as she ran her hand over your mouth to clean the blood off of you. “I told you that I have no need of broken, human hunters. What I have need of is this… you, hungry.”

“I won’t,” you started to deny, shaking your head as everything started to get louder. Hyper-senses.

“You will. Pick her up. Take her to Hitomi Plaza… and get her someone to eat.”

You tried to resist. When they locked you in that office at Hitomi Plaza, you tried to find a way out. When they shoved that trembling businessman through the door and quickly closed it behind him, you tried to ignore the sound of his heart pounding, how the smell of him made your mouth water. You tried to keep away from him, but you were so hungry.

Michael appeared next to you as you dropped the man to the floor, disgust eating at you because of how satisfied you felt. She smiled. “Now, do you see? Every desire you’ve ever had, they pale in comparison to this one, and this desire is so easily sated.” You blinked as she cupped your chin in her hands. “You’re mine, now.”

You nodded, looking up into her eyes. Now that the hunger was gone, you could feel Michael’s grace flowing through you. You were Michael’s. “Good girl. Now, how about a treat?” You could feel grace pouring into your skin from her palms and when she pulled away smiling, you ran your hand over your right cheek. No raised tissue met your fingertips, the scars on your face gone. “Much more pleasing to the eye without those scars.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “But wh-”

“Why?” Michael smirked. “Because I found you deserving. You proved your strength… here.” She pointed to one of the scars on your stomach. “I gave you three hundred and thirty-three cuts. You gave me tears and blood in return, vomit at one point, but you did not, not once, beg me to stop or to end your life. You are strong. But I don’t want a strong human, y/n.”

“You needed a monster.”

“Wanted,” Michael corrected, before continuing. “I knew you’d be here, in Kansas City. I knew one of my army would find you. I incentivized them to turn you instead of killing you like we’ll be doing with the other hunters. And now, when the boys arrive, you’ll be here to greet them with me.”

You nodded. Suddenly, all you wanted was to show the Winchesters the new you. You felt your fangs poke out of your gums again in your excitement. “Put your fangs away, dear. Don’t want to ruin the surprise, do we?”

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

You watched from the CCTV in the security room as Michael beat Castiel bloody, while Sam, Jack and Dean infiltrated the office in an attempt to catch Michael by surprise. Of course the archangel knew they were there and called to you with her grace, bidding you to join them. You walked into the penthouse office as Michael’s female vessel dropped to the ground. You could feel Michael reenter Dean and it made you smile. It was right. He was stronger in Dean, better.

Michael stepped forward a few steps to look out at the lights of the city.

“Dean?” Cas said, confused.

You couldn’t see their faces from behind them, but you could see their bodies go tense as Michael broke the spear in half. You smiled as Michael turned, eyes glowing brightly. “No,” Sam denied. Their hearts were pounding and you felt yourself getting hungry again just from the sound of it.

“Yeah.” Michael’s eyes faded to a dark green. “When I gave up Dean, you didn’t think to question it, to ask why? Dean was… resisting me. He was too attached to you, to all of you.” He beckoned you closer and you came around Jack’s right side as he continued speaking. “He wouldn’t stop squirming… to get out, get back. So I left...” You swiped the crystal tumbler off of the coffee table and handed it to him.

“...but not without leaving the door open…” He licked his lips. “...just a crack.”

“Y/n?” Jack questioned, eyes wide and confused.

“Oh, don’t worry about y/n. She was just the first in a long line of things I ruined for Dean.”

“Why wait?” Castiel asked.

“The same reason I scarred y/n; to break him. To crush and disappoint him so completely that, this time, he’ll be nice and quiet for a change-” He reached out and ran his hand across your cheek. “-buried. And he is. He’s gone.”

You licked your lips as he drank down the rest of the liquor in the glass. “And now, I have a whole army out there…” He spread his arms dramatically to show the scale of his city-wide attack plan before turning to you and winking. “...and here, waiting, ready for my command, ready… for this.”

Michael didn’t have to tell you what to do as he snapped his fingers and your fangs descended, ready to attack at the behest of your master, your savior, the only one who ever saw you as deserving of anything.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys

SUPERNATURAL TAGS @letsby @mrswhozeewhatsis @adoptdontshoppets @spnskinnyballs @deansenwackles

[angrypixie-sarisa]

The tapestry

Piedras Rodantes Pt.7

Okay, so, I wanted to write another fanfic and since nobody pays attention to me on tumblr, the situation it’s just perfect, It’s a Supernatural fic. Now here’s the deal. It’s a polyamorous situation. I know, shush.

Sam x Mexican!Fem!Witch!reader x Dean  

Warnings: Throughout the fic there are gonna be lines in Spanish. Nothing to fancy for google traductor, i hope. “Suggestions” of spanish songs i love.  Swearing in both spanish and english. And the usual, mentions of blood, violence, smut and other varieties. It’s supernatural, really we don’t expect something else. Spoilers?(if you haven’t watch spn of course, or if you are just getting started with it) Also, SLOWBURN. Also, some chapters are short, some are long, depends on my mood.

Descriptionof the whole fic in general: So, remember when Sam took a break of hunting because he thought he was a danger for everyone? Season 5, i think? That’s where the fic starts. Reader and Sam met at the bar where he worked at, developed a friendship and a crush on one and the other. Then Sam has to leave because of all the shit that goes down throghout the season and the horseman and the fight between the archangels. But promises the reader that somehow, he’ll come back. Then, he goes to hell. That’s when reader meets Dean. And yeah, things aren’t as smooth with them in the begining. Reader befriends Lisa and Ben first, which raises Dean’s suspicions. He just wants to keep them save and all. After some stuff they become friends and the Sam comes back. So yeah…

What to do when feeling down

Things to do to cheer up

How to deal with a bad day

Good movies

Why?????????????

That was what your google research looked like. It had only been two days and you were nowhere near to carry on with your day. This usually didn’t happen to you. Normally you would see the signs and you’d end things before it got worse. But something about Sam just told you to keep going and you never feared where things were headed until it dawn to you. Well, shit. I’m a witch and he’s hunter. What could possibly go wrong? It’s not like you were in a coven or something like that. You weren’t satanic. You never even listened to the taunts of demons. You weren’t even sure if you were a witch. You only were certain that normal you were not. You had powers and gifts and your intuition was better than the others. Yet, these things had always been a part of you. And you knew your family well; they would’ve never dare to give in to the bullshit pact of a demon. Please, your mom would’ve even scolded the demon or threatened it with the, oh, so powerful chancla. Your dad didn’t believe in these things and your grandma always carried her Rosario with her.

Throughout the years, witch always felt the right word to describe you. Nobody had a bad reaction to it in México, so why was it that in the US everyone was ready to burn you alive?

You sighed and shrugged. There was only one thing you hadn’t tried yet. Well, two. And those were getting chocolate ice cream and painting.

Yes, you liked to paint and draw. You liked art in all its glorified representations and interpretations. You took out your supplies, a big white sheet you always intended on converting it in something else, all kinds of color acrylic paintings, a spoon and the ice cream. Brushes? What were those? You needn’t such things when you had fingers, the best brushes of the world.

You looked at your tin can filled with old and new brushes of all kinds. You stared and stared, as if the can itself had eyes and it was contesting against you.

“Fine, I’m sorry. I do love you guys, I just want to paint with my fingers today.” And it seemed that they understood. They always did.  

It did the trick, you blasted some music, ate ice cream from the container (staining the spoon just a smidge) and painted the sheet. You had not and specific image. You just ran your fingers through it with blue and then orange and then pink and then green; making a whole beautiful mess of it.

You were almost finished with it when a loud banging at the door disturbed you from your artsy mood.

“Hijo de su pinche madre. ¿Quién toca tan pinche feo?” You whispered out loud. You got up from the floor, pausing the music, and cautiously approached your front door. You looked through the window and saw a far too familiar tall figure standing in front of your door. His eyes caught you staring and he sheepishly waved his hand hi. You rolled your eyes.

As you opened your door, you leant on the door frame, not inviting him to come inside and not telling him to go away either.

“You owe my door an apology.” Sam knitted his eyebrows together and scoffed a laugh.

You raised your eyebrows and your chin. You pursed your lips and stared him down.

“Seriously, you want me to apologize to a door?” You nodded, he sighed.

“I’m sorry, dear Door, it wasn’t intentional. I will never do it again or to any of your door friends.” He looked at you, waiting for your approval. Trying to hide your smile, you bit your lip and only nodded once.

Sam took in the sight of you. Your hair was braided and away from your face. Your yaw had a little bit of blue paint. Your hands were a mess, all the colors seemed to merge in them, frankly it seemed as if that was your actual skin color, spots of pink and red and blue and orange and purple… It felt right, for some reason. You were wearing your “to paint” t-shirt; an oversized white old t-shirt which had hints of your many years painting.

His eyes, then, landed in your bare legs. And he knew, you were only wearing the t-shirt.

Sam cleared his throat and forced his eyes to go back to yours. You weren’t glaring anymore, you would’ve been, but it wasn’t the first time you had caught him looking.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey.” Your eyes followed his hand as he scratched the back of his neck. He’s nervous.

“Can I… May I come in?” You took a deep breath.

“Are you going to capture me and burn me alive?” He shook his head.

“No. I… I want to talk.”

“Did you bring something?” Sam laughed as your eyes traveled towards the brown bag behind him.

“Ice cream, chocolate and red wine, the cheapest red wine.” “As it should be”, he heard you whisper. It was then when the sound of your laugh filled his ears, he had missed it. You took a step inside and opened your arms wide.

“Come in.”

“So…” You said as you took two spoons out of the drawer. You opened the ice cream, but saved the wine for later. If Sam started asking questions, you might need it.

“I… I have questions.” He said. Oh boy, no. You sighed and opened the bottle.

“I figured. Shoot.” You poured yourself some wine and asked him if he wanted. He shook his head.

“Well, for how long?”

“Long as I can remember.” You took a sip and glued your eyes to the table.

“Well, what exactly can you do? Maybe you’re cursed or something similar. You don’t have to be a witch.” You silently laughed.

“Maybe you’re right but Sam you have to understand that I haven’t met someone, something or a whole definition for what I do.”

“Maybe I can help you with that.” He was wearing his worried face, with those puppy eyes looking at you. He wanted to help and correct the situation between you.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” You exhaled dramatically and brushed your hair with your fingers.

“Let’s start big, am, I can teleport, I see the future, I can sense people’s auras and sometimes even read their minds, although the last one’s rare. It only happens when the emotions of the person are very strong.” You looked at him through your glass of wine as you took another sip. He nodded for you to continue.

“I excel at divination, I can talk to animals but it’s the same situation as reading minds. I can heal myself and others in different levels…” Flashbacks started to flood Sam’s head. There was one time where he was preparing a coctel and as he was cutting the lime he had cut his finger. It wasn’t something big. You had already spent some time together and when he went back to talk to you at your place in the bar, you had indeed brushed your fingers lightly to the tips of his. By the time he saw his finger the cut was tinier than a papercut. Of course, when he questioned it out loud, you suggested it been the lime juice, you claimed it had scaring properties.

“You mentioned teleporting.” Sam started. You stopped talking and nodded, emptying the last of your wine in your mouth.

“How can you exactly teleport?”

“Not like demons. I can’t just banish in midair and reappear where I’d like.”

“Then how?” You gave him a small smile. You stood up and as easily as before the whole mess, took his hand in yours. As if it were the first time, he blushed intensely. It surprised him how used to your touch he was and how with only two days of not being around you it felt weird not to hold your hand in his.

You conducted him to the nearest closed door, that been the one of your supplies closet. You opened the door and showed him, well, your closet.

“What am I supposed to see?”

“Ordinary, isn’t it?” He rolled his eyes, but nodded. You closed the door again and when your hand went to touch the handle again, he thought he had seen it shine orange as the sunset. When you opened the door the sight in front of him was different.

It was a sunset in front of his eyes, a beach and a calm waving ocean; so near and real. He had never gone to the beach, ever. In the hunter life there wasn’t much space for vacations, let alone a vacation in a tropical destination.

“What? Is this real?” Sam turned to look at you. A warm feeling spread across your chest. Oh, his stupid face, so adorable and lighted and full of surprise and wonder.

“You want to go? The portal won’t close unless I close it. So we can walk in the beach if we want to.” He scoffed and started taking off his shoes and socks. You did the same.

“How does this work?”

“Well, there’s like a veil between the places. The veil helps the people or animals at the other side not see our side of the portal. They only see what they should be seeing.”

“So, we just have to step through the veil?” You nodded.

Sam took your hand in his. Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t often that he took the initiative, however through the past weeks; he seemed as if he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. It was always the small of your back, your elbow, knee, head, shoulder or back of your neck that was in touch of his palm. But when it came to holding hands, you were the one that usually started it.

“Ready?” You asked him. He didn’t answer. He just walked ahead of you, for the doorway wasn’t big enough.

You were already used to it. Being in one place and then being in another. The change of scenery didn’t affect you. Then, you looked at Sam, his eyes were closed. He was walking then stood still as he took in the feeling of soft sand beneath his feet.

He exhaled a shocked breath.

You giggled and contemplated the idea of kissing his cheek, his cheek or lips. A sad smile was drawn in your face. Even after all of this, you might still end up without him.

You gulped the knot in your throat, so your voice will sound smooth again.

“Open your eyes, Sammy.”

He did. If you thought his last expression was priceless, then the one in front of your eyes made the aching in your chest grew bigger. The sort of ache you have when you see something so beautiful it hurts. The sort of ache that you had both experienced at the sight of each other under the orange, golden light of the sunset.

He felt his hand leave yours as his arm slowly snaked his way around your waist. He drew you closer to him, chests pressed together. With his other hand, he cupped your face. You debated yourself whether you wanted to close your eyes or stare into his. Your hands placed themselves on his shoulders, but when he hugged you closer you clasped them at the back of his neck.

“I don’t know what you are Y/N and I don’t care anymore.” Sam whispered. He dipped his head more until you noses touched.

“I could be many things, corazón. But I know evil I am not.” He loved it when you called him that. That little pet name you had for him.

“Y/N, I really want to kiss you, so you better not tease me again.” You giggled and he closed the distance between you.

You both sighed in content. You had waited so long for this kiss. Such a tender yet desperate kiss. A kiss that could last forever and yet slip away. Like time or ether, touch or heartbeats. You both wanted it to last forever, if only your breaths had the same will as your lips.

When your lungs cried for air, you separated and stayed closed. Contradictory but existing.

“How was that tease, pretty boy?”

“You call that teasing?” In his eyes there was a promise, he’ll show you what it truly was teasing.

[fallenangelspnfanfic]

Wayward Huntress: Chapter 11

Summary : Shit hit the fan. You’re in Hell being the prisoner of a prisoner, Lucifer. 

Warnings : Language, Blood, Pain, Suffering

-Y/N, my dearest Y/N, would you like to see your little boyfriend of yours get his fingers cut one by one again?

*Pffffttt*

You spat blood in the face of the speaker who sat in front of you. He blinked and kept his eyes closed while he swiped the mix of your saliva and blood away from his face with his thumb.

-I gotta give you that, little Y/N....  the demon that held the chains that were attached to your wrists gave you another powerful kick in the guts that took your breath away. He then, grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled them so you would be forced to look up.

-You're really strong headed.... the blonde man licked your spat off his thumb while you frowned at him with disgust. Which is going to be a great asset... Once you let me finish what I started!

You faintly mumbled something through your swollen lips, you were so weak but you wouldn't give up. You could not give up. Not to him.

-Uhhh... Excuse me? Can you repeat that?

You lower your head for an instant as you try to hide the pain that was drawn all over your face but the demon behind you once again pulled your hair off your scalp with force.

-I said.... EAT. ME. DICK. HEAD. you hissed as loud as your broken ribs could let you as you deadly stared at Lucifer, who ironically, was a prisoner of his own too, a rusty metal necklace hung around his neck as he was stuck on his chair.

The demon behind you pulled swiftly on your chains as if to shut you up from disrespecting his master. You flinched, your wrists were probably infected since the metal was rubbing directly against your flesh, they were swollen, red and full of bloody crusts.

-Master, Crowley is on his way.  another demon claimed as he entered the room in panic, his facial expression clearly demonstrated how he was apprehending Lucifer's reaction over his sudden arrival. You, on the other hand, sighed in exasperation because you knew what was next to come.

*sigh*

Lucifer exaggerated his frustration as he glared the intruder with deathfull eyes.

-Alrighty then.

A couple seconds passed as both demons and you stared at Lucifer who rolled his eyes in annoyance when he noted no one was moving.

-What are you waiting for, you idiots! Gag her and bring her back to the cage!

In a instant, the both demons pulled vigorously on the metal links that were attached to your wrists, not even letting you time to crawl to follow them,  they just trailed you on the cold concrete floor as you held back cries of pain that were sitting in the back of your throat. The physical pain was nothing compared to what was next to come and you were dreading it.

-See you in a bit, cutie pie! Lucifer cooed as he tried to wave his hand to you, his own chains restraining his arms from moving.  I'll make sure to bring Cassie with me, alright!? Lucifer continued with a playful tone as the door was closed shut behind you.

-NO! PLEASE.  NO, PLEASE I BEG YOU! you screamed as loud as you could while you were still getting trailed down to your own prison.

-Heyyy guys? Why do I still hear this little mouse crying, I thought I ordered you to GAG HER.

You heard the Devil shouts through the metal door and both of your guards winced under his tone. One of the metal chain hit the floor as the tingle echoed in the dungeon and a moment after one of the demon appeared in your face.

-Don't touch me, you black eyed sons of a bitch or I swear- the demon laughed frantically before you could even finish your sentence.

-Yeah yeah, we know. You'll be the last thing we'll ever see. Whatchu gonna do, princess?  he bent down to be at your height and waved a hand in front of your face. Your mouth was instantly stitched closed and you could feel the cords painfully pulling on your lips as you tried to mumble something.

At that point, you gave up. You let them trailing you down to the cage without a single fight, your stomach threatening to spill itself even if it was totally empty as you feared the next few hours, days, months that were to come in the cage, stuck with Lucifer in your own imagination. You closed your eyes and wished for your body to let you rest in peace, you wanted your own body to give up and to stop struggling to stay alive. You wanted to die. Except in your case, dying wasn't the solution. If you die, Lucifer would bring you back. You died again? Lucifer brought you back again. You stopped counting how many times you've died since you've got here.

When you opened your eyes, you already were in the cage, alone. For now. You must've passed out in between, you were getting used to passing out here and there now. The human body can only endure so much before fainting. A little too much to your own taste.

-Y/N??

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard your angel's alarmed voice echoing through the emptiness of the dungeon.

Oh no, no. No please, not this again.  

-Y/N!  you felt your eyes filling with water as you watched Castiel running towards the cage, his unbuttoned trench coat floating to his sides. You knew this was only another of Lucifer's scheme to force you to give up to him.

I know it's you, Lucifer. Fuck you.

-Blossom, I... the cage's door opened magically as the angel stepped to get closer to you. He looked so real, you only wanted so much to throw yourself in his arms and rejoice yourself of his presence. He kneeled down next to you and peered right in your eyes, his ocean blue eyes were so realistic.

-I've been looking for you everywhere, I missed you so mu-

GRRRRRRWWWHH

You just had time to close your eyes as a vivid hellhound jumped and assaulted Castiel out of nowhere. You flinched every time you heard the angel that you love crying for help as he was being eaten alive right in front of you. You sobbed and brought your knees up to your face with your arms around your legs to keep your legs as close as possible to you. You couldn't stop crying while rocking yourself frantically forward and backwards waiting for the hallucinations to fade away....

-------

3 months earlier, somewhere in Indianapolis

-We told you to stay back, Y/N! Dean furiously punched the motel's frame door and Castiel instinctively stepped in front of you as if to shield you from Dean's tempered reaction.

-You can't expect me to stand aside from that, Dean Winchester! I'm a hunter of my own, for fuck's sakes! you countered the angel's frame to get a better glimpse of the eldest Winchester.

Sam who looked as furious as his brother took a deep breath before joining in the fight.

-Guys, we need to act fast now. It's our only chance to trap Lucifer. We can't screw this up. So both of you, shut up. NOW. Sam snapped as he pointed to the both of you. Y/N, Dean is right. This is absurdly stupid to come here when we agreed you should stay back! You're putting yourself in danger. In fact, we don't even know what kind of power Lucifer has on you. You could be putting us all in danger!

Sam's reaction hit you right in the guts since he's the most reasonable person you know. You peered at your side to see Cas apologetic smile as silently agreed with his friends. You knew you shouldn't be there but you couldn't stand the idea of letting your bestfriends facing Lucifer alone. If something was to happen to them while you weren't there you would never forgive yourself.

-I bet you would've stayed if he weren't coming with us, huh Y/N?  Dean mumbled as he passed next to you.

-Dean... Castiel deeply warned. Now, isn't the right time to-

-What did you say? you growled, your ears twitched when you finally understood Dean's remark.

-I said: maybe if his angelic ass would've stayed at the bunker you wouldn't be costing us so much right now!   

-You, little shit! SHUT YOUR MOUTH! you were about to throw yourself on Dean when Castiel stopped you from getting further, his grip held you in place even though you craved to slap Dean's face so much.  

-Crowley haven't mention me that the huntress had a wee problem with her temper, how saddening. Rowena chuckled as all of your heads flew in her direction.

-Rowena, now's not the time.  Sam warned as he regained his composure. He stepped towards Kelly who just sat there, on the bed, an expression of fear and confusion stuck on her face.

While Sam and Castiel took charge of her as they tried to convince her they were being genuine, you had an internal fight with yourself. Even though they were being real jerks about it, the brothers were right and you had to leave, being here was not just putting yourself in danger but also meant that everyone else could be in danger, well even more in danger than they already were. You had no idea if Lucifer could have some kind of hold on you.  

You approached Dean who stared through the window with a murderous look.

-I'm leaving. Call me if anything.

-------------

Everytime he cried for your assistance, your heart ached and your stomach twisted so hard you were on the verge of barfing. You sighed in relief as the last version of Castiel's dismembered corpse was finally fading away.

It must have been the 100th version of Castiel's death you've witnessed today. Every single one of them seemed more real than the previous one.

Lucifer was relentless, you couldn't catch a break. He was playing with your mind armed with your biggest weakness.

-Y/N.

Your eyes flashed opened as Castiel's stiff voice echoed through the cage. For the first time yet, Castiel sounded angry rather than relieved, his eyes showed no trace of affection, they were filled with rage and hatred.

-The plan failed because of you. Lucifer is still free and it's all because of your stubbornness.

The bonds that held your lips sealed suddenly disappeared and allowed you to speak your mind.

-Wh-What? You scoffed. What is it this time, Lucifer? Huh? New game?

-Lucifer? Castiel spat. You're delirious. Look around you. Lucifer is gone. All that's left is the cold bodies of your friends, Y/N.

You took in the decor around you, you were no longer in the cage, but in that same motel room you had plan to gank Lucifer weeks ago. You followed the blood trails until your eyes found a pool of blood, where was lying Dean's lifeless body.

You brought a hand to your mouth as you silently gasped, Dean's body getting blurred as your eyes filled up with tears.

-It's all your fault. Dean is dead because of you.

-It's not real. you closed your eyes as you shook your head. It's all in my head.

-W-we told you to stay away, Y/N.

Your heart pinched as you recognized Sam's weak voice. He was laying on the ground in between the two motel beds and from the blood that was running out of his mouth, he was agonizing.

-I wish we've never met you.

Your eyes landed over Castiel who was staring at Dean's body, his coat smeared with blood. He finally teared his eyes away from him and glared at you, his piercing blue eyes showed revulsion.

- You caused this atrocity...

No...

- I've never hated a human that much before... You've killed my family.

This isn't what happened...

-I hate you, Y/N.

You fell down to your knees as Castiel's hatred words hit you like a wave.

It's a trick...

-I've never loved you, anyways.

You closed your eyes as you were trying to keep a steady breath but there was a ball of energy growing inside you. You felt your whole body shaking as you kept telling yourself that all this was only Lucifer playing with your mind, your soul ignited with pure rage.

- You. Killed. Them. Castiel's voice reverberated in your head.

ENOUGH

You opened your eyes and you were shrouded in the darkness once again. You felt the coldness of the metal bars pressed in your back, you were back in Hell, in the cage.

But how the tables have turned... You've never felt this energized and powerful in all your life.

Time to get the fuck out of here.