#bee x Sam

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Bee wasn’t sure how he’d done it. Only knew that he had and that the pain had stopped because of it. He also knew that these people were not friendly. They’d hurt him and Sam, he’d seen it.

Before they’d taken them away he’d seen Sam run toward him, had tried to warn him away through the pain. Either Sam hadn’t heard him or hadn’t cared, shoving guys away and blasting a few them with their own weapons.

Bee couldn’t do anything as he watched the boy get tackled to the ground, his face smacking off the concrete and scraping up against it when the same man pulled at his arms roughly. Bee had screamed, with a bit of pain and a lot of anguish for seeing his human get hurt so close to him.

Sam hadn’t said anything though. Merely kept his eyes on him and fought against the hands dragging him away the entire time. Bee didn’t know what had happened after that but Sam was here now.

He was making the pain stop and his eyes were on him once again, all concern and worry for him. Bee had to get him away from these humans though, had to protect him from being hurt again.

He’d sat up as quickly as his slowly thawing joints allowed, battle mask on and gun at the ready, trained on all the hostiles that were still surrounding them.

“Hey, you alright? It’s ok. You’re ok.” Bee couldn’t help but scoop Sam up, holding him close to his spark, wishing he could tuck him away inside the chamber to protect him better.

He didn’t dare take his eyes off the hostiles, tucking Sam close and pushing them against the wall. The boy was stroking gentle hands against his chest plate, talking just loud enough for him to hear.

“It’s ok. You’re ok. Don’t worry about them, they’re ok now. They’re not gonna hurt you.” But Bee wasn’t worried about him being hurt, he was only worried about Sam being hurt.

[raileurta]

Therapy Humans

After being in a war for millions of years transformers gotta be really fucked up. So I imagine with humans being nice and soft and having therapists that we'll be therapy dog humans.

[fbfh]

did you know that Dean wakes up one morning and realizes he has a fucking bombshell of a wife/husband/spouse, a cozy (slightly rural) suburban house, and not one but three fucking daughters???? Did you know that he woke up one morning to toddler giggles and little kid bickering and baby babbling????? and your girls come charging in hushing their little giggles so they don't wake up mommy and daddy and so OBVIOUSLY he has to pretend to be asleep so he doesn't foil their plan. he focuses all his energy on keeping his face and body relaxed, keeping his breathing even. they're whispering and babbling and Dean peeks an eye open and looks at the love of his life and these three angels with their daddy's attitude and their mama's heart. they have your eyes and his smile. they're... the best parts of both of you, and there's something entirely new and beautiful in each of them too.

Bobby Dean is your oldest, and her 4th birthday is just around the corner. She's 3 and 3/4 right now, and won't let anyone forget it.

Your second is Jodi John, or JJ informally. She's fought her way half way through the terrible twos and is already getting a head start on the whole 3 going on 13 thing.

Mary Cass, or Cassie, is your youngest. She's just over a year old, and wants to do everything her big sisters do.

And Dean is looking at your little girls, and at you. He sees the way the morning sunlight dapples in through the window and illuminates their tangled hair and disney princess nightgowns. Your face is all puffy from sleep, and you still smell like the apple pie you made yesterday.

it's real, he realizes. that pipe dream that apple pie life.

you gave that to him. you did that. you turned his deepest, most unspoken desires into a reality like it was nothing. and every ounce of joy and love and peace he feels every moment of every day, he owes it all to you. You try to tell him on occasion when he gets all sentimental on you, he deserves it. he deserves every good thing he feels, and he's so great with the girls, he's a natural dad and you couldn't possibly dream of a better husband to do it with.

Because at his heart, Dean is a family man. He's your family man.

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Digging For Gold

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t always have to personally negotiate his business dealings, but what happens when one of them insists they’ll only deal with him? He heads out to the country to get it sorted, of course.

Word Count: 2,167

Content/Warnings: light mob themes, mentions of misogyny/ Bucky’s attempt at it, fem reader with minimal descriptions, minimal use of y/n, use of a pet name (Honey), Sam and Steve teasing Bucky and Bucky having none of it. Content below the cut.

Author’s Note: Well here it is— my first fic publication! I literally never write, but I’ve felt so motivated to get this down. Idek how I wrote this many words bc lord knows I’m not doing the same for school. Anyway, I digress. I hope you all enjoy. Comments, suggestions, asks, and reblogs are soooo appreciated!! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next >

Bucky was used to being turned down at first. In the fact, he was used to being turned down two, three, four times before getting his way. He always got his way, until it came to you. He had been trying to seal this deal for what was going on months now. Usually by his fifth ask, his clients got some sense into them, and in this case, sense means a threat of lead through the heart by a henchman. But that hadn’t phased you at all. If anything, it encouraged you to keep pushing back. A real piece of work, this girl was. Each time someone went to negotiate, they came back with their head hung low, sending in their boss to deal with her next as she had requested. Just for that cocky bastard to leave and come back doing the same. Why were they giving into your requests? They couldn’t help themselves when you had that convincing way about you, and neither could Bucky, even if he wanted to deny it to everyone around him. After months of asking for the next boss, you had finally reached James Buchanan Barnes: the head of his mob. Known for his ruthless nature, no one had ever come out of a deal saying ‘no’ to him. If they said no, they didn’t come out of the deal, simple as that. No one had seen his soft spots, and his buttons weren’t to be pushed. Too many had found out the hard way. The only one who could get away with it was his best friend who had known him since childhood Steve. More like a brother, and his only family left, at that. But it looked like he had a soft spot for you, letting you get away with dismissing these meetings, which is exactly why he needed to go himself: to show he wasn’t soft. To show that he could close the deal and his men lacked discipline when they fell to your kind charm. He’d go to this meeting and then wash his hands of the issue, making the deal he decided he had wanted months ago. He got into the back of his black town car and shut the door, directing the driver to start the long journey to the farm.

As he sat in the car, he wondered why the partition was up, as he heard singing faintly coming from the other side. He pushed the button for it to come down, to be greeted by a familiar pair of blue eyes that belonged to his best friend Steve and the back of Sam’s head.

“Oh heyyy boss. Fancy seeing you here,” Sam said keeping his eyes on the road and turning down the radio.

“Where’s Gio?” Bucky barked back.

“Oh calm down. He’s home relaxing with his family. Sam and I gave him the day off. Figured you’d need our help,” Steve said with a small shrug.

Bucky grumbled to himself something about being the boss while Steve and Sam exchanged a quick glance in the front seat before Sam spoke up again.

“Listen Boss, she’s already been through both of us. Obviously we can’t tell you how to succeed, but we can tell you what to expect going in there.”

“Plus we can remind you what we’re really here for and give you back-up none of us had the luxury of” Steve interjected, “the fact that you’ve waited this long shows you’ve got a soft spot for her, and we can’t afford to push this deal back any farther.”

Bucky knew that. He knew it was coming down to the wire “First off, I do not have a soft spot. Not since I was little, and you know that. I’d have anyone else’s head for even thinking such a thing. And second, if it’s so easy, why couldn’t you two have sealed this deal last month when you went, then? Huh?”

At that, Steve snapped his mouth shut and Sam kept his head forward, not daring to glance back at the mob boss whose jaw was clenched with anticipation.

“That’s what I thought. But go ahead, speak now or forever hold your peace, because when I go in there, I need to come out with a deal.”

He’d never let anyone besides his right-hand and number three men know how on edge he was for this meeting. He looked out the window hoping for the best and that his hard outer persona wouldn’t crack today as Sam and Steve started with their briefing.

When Sam pulled off of the pavement and onto the dirt driveway, Bucky’s eyes absorbed the rolling hills and abundant trees. It was beautiful, but nothing like his city. He enjoyed the tight spaces and routine rigidity of concrete. This was a different world. Her land was sprawling, far further than the crop fields sat. Acres for the cattle to graze and others that laid fallow. It was built over old mines. That’s why he wanted it all: for the tunnels. It would be so much easier to store and move his product, cutting transportation time and having discreet underground facilities if he could just strike a deal, but he’d finally met his match without even meeting her yet. A woman just as stubborn as him, but opposite in every other way.

Sam pulled up in front of a beautiful farm house. Modest, but chic and well cared for. Leaning against one of the posts that framed the front porch was her. Hair hidden under a cowgirl hat, well worn from work-filled days and in a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots showing even more mileage than the hat. Bucky looked out the window and let out a deep breath.

“Wish me luck, boys”

They both just nodded. A more than sufficient acknowledgment in their line of work. Bucky opened the car door and his red bottoms crunched the rocks beneath his feet as he sauntered over to her.

“Ms. Y/L/N. This has been a long time coming.”

“Indeed it has. Good to see you Mr. Barnes. And please, call me Y/N.” Her voice twanged.

Then she flashed him that smile, ugh how he hated that. She wasn’t even trying, but it made him feel an odd warmth that started deep in his chest. One that almost made it seem like it made his heart melt a little. A heart that was stuck in an ice age for as long as he could remember. Still, he couldn’t budge. He had to set an example for his men. How could he push an agenda he couldn’t fulfill? His thoughts continued to race as he stepped up to the bottom of the wooden steps leading to the porch. Not a good start with her literally having the high ground.

“Do your drivers want to come in? I don’t mind gettin’ them some refreshments while we chat.” She offered kindly. How was she so smooth? Bucky glanced back and Steve and Sam gawked at you though Steve’s window. Bucky made a mental note to have that tinted more so no one could see them embarrassing him and themselves in the future.

“No. They’re fine.” Bucky coldly, borderline spat back. “And you can call me by my name, as well, if we’re not doing last names. That’s mostly what I do with those I work closely with”

Bucky wanted to have a firm hand in these business dealings, but he wasn’t a total monster, plus, he knew in most cases, the more comfortable a client was, the more likely they’d give up benefits, sweetening up his own end of the deal. See? He was still working on wrapping you around his finger. He had this down, even if Steve and Sam didn’t think so. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself as you nodded with a soft smile on your face and led him inside.

Bucky followed you past a living room, flanked by a functional and methodically laid out kitchen. That gave him a better idea of who he was working with: someone who meticulously planned their work environment. Someone who cared for every aspect no matter how small. Everything had a place and made sense. Nothing unnecessary was present and it seemed ergonomic, yet modern and classy, like everything about you. His gaze lingered as long as he could until he had to pull his head forward to continue following you down the hallway to your home office. Once again, practical and functional, with a few papers strewn around a laptop and your other useful desk features. You had everything you needed in arm’s reach, no need to tuck it away in drawers if you were constantly using it and you kept it organized enough that it wasn’t a stressful mess. You gestured for Bucky to take a seat on the couch across from you as you sat in your desk chair and flashed him a smile. Ugh there was that smile again, and this time it got him good and he couldn’t help but dopily smile back, not even aware of what his body was doing.

“James” oh how he hated when you called him that. Sure, it was his formal business name, but the way you said it made him grimace. Yeah, it sounded beautiful from your lips, but its use meant your weren’t close. And that’s all he wanted. Was for you to be close. Up against him, on top of him, engulfing him, drowning him. And he would happily accept that fate. Heck, he was drowning right now in these thoughts about you, but he clawed his way to the surface and shook his head to refocus as you said his name again, noticing his attention had drifted in favor to a blank stare at your lips. He knew with that slip-up, he had to regain control and take charge.

“Listen Honey, you’ve essentially been exterminating every guy I send in here and I don’t like it. All you are is sweet but somehow you’re turning down this deal like a bitter old man would” His sudden stern and almost condescending tone was a huge juxtaposition to the wonderland face you had noticed moments ago. You didn’t like that one bit. Being an independent woman who ran a successful business, you were used to men trying to stomp on you until they had their way. You didn’t stand for it with all of Bucky’s underlings and you weren’t going to stand for it now. You’d regain control and keep your calm demeanor, because you’re that much better than all these other mediocre men in business you dealt with all too often.

“First off, James. Let’s not get into extermination or pesticides. That’s far too complicated of an issue for right now, especially if you don’t understand the simple terms I so graciously asked you for. And if you wanna call something honey, you better be referring to my beehives on the south side of the property. Now, I just want to talk to you so you can see where I’m coming from” you said was a sickeningly sweet smile. He could see it didn’t reach your eyes, still filled with fire and not backing down. But dang if your tone still didn’t match the new nickname he’s given you. Sweet and thick. Bucky for the first time found himself listening to demands from another. He settled down into the couch cushions as you pulled out the contract you’d drafted yourself.

Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, fine. By all means, let’s get down to business. I wanna see what’s been giving all my men such a hard time that you’ve had to come directly to me.”

Bucky leaned forward to grab the contract from your hands. He flipped through the pages, most of it was identical to what he’d drafted, besides you inflating the numbers. He could handle that, but the last line he saw made his neck muscles go limp as he dropped his head.

“James Barnes will work and stay at the farm for one month’s time, uninterrupted, to learn the gravity, value, and hard work associated with operations.”

He should’ve known, but what was one month? If he was going rn use the mines, he may as well see all the land and livestock that could be affected if things went awry. He’s been doing this job for years, anyway. Maybe he needed the break. He’s sure Steve could control everything else, right? He wouldn’t have waited so long for this deal had he not needed the mine shafts. Your smooth voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“So… what’ll it be, James?”

He looked up at you through his lashes with a smirk you couldn’t quite read as you returned your own smirk, knowing what this meeting meant. Knowing that he wouldn’t have come in person unless he really wanted to make a deal happen.

“Sure Honey, whatever you want”

Next>

[telumendils]

It's me! It's your Sam! Don't you know your Sam?

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Prompt: okay but cas would show up with a handful of weeds, with the roots and dirt still on the bottom, and give them to dean because 'it's the human tradition to bring flowers, right?' and dean would 'yeah. yeah cas that's right' because that is how they say i love you @deanspunchingbag

Title: Surprise me

Pairing: Castiel x Reader (they/them)

Characters: Castiel, Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Word Count: 1,254

Summary: What if you’re friends with Castiel and the Winchester brothers? Castiel, as an angel, obviously has issues with understanding body language and subtext, so you help him out now and then. One day after a case, you all go to a bar. For shits and giggles, you start teaching him about flirting. You’re not a great flirt, but you can read body language and explain it.

Thank Jack that Castiel doesn’t know you’ve been in love with him for a while. If only he would reciprocate your feelings, even a little.

Warnings: Alcohol, consensual licking of arms and neck (sort of)

A/N: This was the first idea I came up with for the prompt and it became self-indulgent. Hush. This is in second person POV.

What if you’re friends with Castiel and the Winchester brothers? Castiel, as an angel, obviously has issues with understanding body language and subtext, so you help him out now and then. One day after a case, you all go to a bar. For shits and giggles, you start teaching him about flirting. You’re not a great flirt, but you can read body language and explain it.

Dean, of course, interrupts you and explains to Castiel, for a couple hours, how to flirt with the ladies and men. You just giggle and chuckle at the stories he tells. It’s even funnier when Dean makes Castiel “practice” these “new moves” on him. Dean keeps at it, and finally the angel seems to be getting the hang of it.

Suddenly, Castiel gets up and goes to get everyone another round of beers, deciding to all get a shot of tequila, salt and lime. He sits back down next to you and distributes everything evenly. He tells you “The bartender said it could be a good tool to flirt with so I thought I’d try, but they didn’t explain how.”

Dean tells Cas to watch Sam and him. Sam and Dean eye each other in their silent communication, they salt and lemon their wrists and lick before shooting the tequila. You giggle when you see their faces.

The brothers aren’t big tequila people,they prefer whiskey or bourbon.

Castiel looks confused and says “That doesn’t seem very flirty.”

You giggle at them and tell Cas that “It isn’t. They’re chicken.”

Castiel then asks you to show him how to shoot the tequila flirtatiously. You know you’re a bit more than buzzed for this, and mumble “What the hell, why not?”

“Okay,” you begin. “I’ll show you. The idea is to make it as close to a body shot as you can, since putting your mouth on someone can be considered flirting if not a potential interest in sex.” You tell him step by step how to make a tequila shot flirty and sexy by taking the ladies wrist—you take Castiel’s wrist, in this case, and place a kiss on the sensitive area/spot inside before licking it.

You tell him how “Most people will laugh it off. That’s when you salt the wet area on their wrist so it sticks.” You salt his wrist and then grab the slice of lime, telling the blue-eyed man to open his mouth only a little. He looks confused, but does as instructed.

You notice Dean and Sam eyeing each other again and nod. They make some excuse to get up, and walk away as you continue teaching the angel.

You stick the lime in Castiel’s mouth to hold it. “The idea is to get a subtle kiss here. They’re going to come and bite the lime to get the juice, and you can either let them have the lime when they do, keep the lime so they only get the juice and you get the lip press, or if you wanna be a true sneak, spit out the lime and get the kiss you want instead.” You smirk at him, not telling him you’ve always been scared to do the latter.

Castiel quirks a brow at you and you have to stop the shiver that it causes, dominating you so easily.

He’d only have to do that brow at you and you’d probably do whatever he says. You can feel yourself beginning to get wet.

Ignoring it, you continue your lesson.

“So, you lick the salt, juice the lime and shoot the tequila, but this is the flirt…sexy way.”

He squints his eyes at you.

“You ready?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Still holding his wrist, you proceed to lick his wrist.

With his free hand, Castiel removes the lime and asks, “If this were you doing this to a man or woman, what would you do?”

“Me?” You ask. “For a guy I wanted to sleep with, I’d just ask him if he wants to go back to my place for sex. Men tend to like directness, from my experience. Women, though, I’d flirt with and tease. I’d probably do what I’m doing right now and make sure I was the one with the lime, so we could make out instead of shooting tequila.”

“You haven’t tried flirting with men?” Castiel inquires.

“I have, but I get nervous for some reason. I’ve taught many friends how to successfully flirt, but for some reason I end up acting like a fish or stuttering when I try to flirt with me.” You roll your eyes and shrug. “It’s easier to be friends with people I like than it is to actually…pursue,” you quietly confess to Castiel.

Castiel tilts his head, keeping his eyes on you for nearly a minute in silence. The silence isn’t awkward, but calming and companionable.

It is one of your favorite things about Castiel, you think to yourself. You can just sit together and do different things, but still feel like you’re engaged and doing something together…or maybe that is just you.

And then, he asks a really weird question: “How do you like to be flirted with?”

You furrow your brow at the question, initially confused, but then you think about it. You look down as you think, then say the first thing that comes to mind when you’ve gone on really good dates. “Be interested in me and actually listen to what I’m telling you. Tell me about you, your past, your history, experiences that I might be able to relate to, about your family and friends, your aspirations…”

Castiel’s head tilts the other way as his blue eyes continue to watch you.

“Be accepting of me and my truths, my authenticity. I may have been born female, but I am very good at taking care of myself. I’m choosing to be here with you when I could be elsewhere. Be satisfied I’m here with you.”

“You are,” agrees Castiel. “And others. You care very deeply about your found family, as you call us.” He uses air quotes and slightly smiles. He leans forward, getting your eye to look into his. He is mere centimeters from your face. “I’m very happy you came out here with me tonight. It makes me very happy to spend time with you.”

“Thanks, Cas,” you give him a small smile, feeling your cheeks heat up. Your brow furrows again. “Cas, are you flirting with me?”

He looks down at his wrist. You follow his gaze and see that you’re still holding it, but resting on the table now. He gives a sheepish smile and nods looking at your hand.

Your heart races as adrenaline pumps through you at this disclosure. You take a deep breath and exhale. Then, you rotate and slide your hand into his. “Okay.”

He looks at you, confused. “What do you do when they realize they’re flirting back?” Worried, Cas’ blue eyes search your face.

You grin at him. “How bout we get outta here, just the two of us?”

It takes him a few extra seconds to connect the dots and nod. “Yes, okay.”

He scoots out of the booth and you follow him, keeping his hand in yours. You look around for the brothers who are sitting at the bar, chatting.

You both walk outside, looking up through the light pollution to see the moon and brilliant Venus close by.

“Where to?” He queries.

“Surprise me, Angel.”

He bends down and plucks a daffodil that has broken through the asphalt parking lot. Castiel hands it to you. “For you.”

You smile and take it, putting it behind your right ear.

[silverflameataraxia]

[lovedaisy02]

It is so fascinating as fandom becomes mainstream one really see how worlds collide. Seeing people bring up older fandoms as examples of "non romantic" friendships or not having a history of shipping in defense of anti shipping/homophobia, when those exact older fandoms actually have a long history of gay shipping but the mainstream wouldn't know because shipping was still within our smaller circles in this corner of the internet---

*takes deep breath*

Wild to me

[he-safest-place]

Here’s an excerpt from that Sam x Bee Transformers fic I’ve been working on. Please no hate, criticism welcome. Please mention any spelling or grammar mistakes you may find (this was written on my notes app at 3 a.m.)

Sam lay comfortably on the mattress, the auto bot looming over him, almost bordering on menacingly to anyone else but to Sam his presence felt protective, as if he was guarding Sam from some unseen threat. But also scared, the human boy could see that. It made sense, this was their first time being intamte while Bumblebee was in his true form, both of them wanting to know how such a thing would feel.

Sam knew this day would come, but it just made sense that bee would keep the exact date a surprise.

“What a way to end my birthday, huh big guy?” Sam smiled, reaching up to bee’s antenna with one hand, propping himself up with his other.

“Only the best for you.” He said as he leaned into the touch.

“I’m kinda scared.” Sam confessed, chuckling nervously.

Bee seemed to smile patiently, “We can wait.” He said.

Bumblebee was a young and thus impulsive Autobot, but had a seemingly unending well of patience when it came to this one squishy, mortal being.

Sam felt his nerves almost immediately melt away when he realized this not for the first time.

“No”, Sam said said, head shaking, “it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Bee ‘huffed’ at the comment. “This isn’t about me, it’s about you, it’s for you.” He insisted. “ And if there’s anything you don’t like or if you want to stop-“

“- say ‘mercy’, I know Bee.”

Bee leaned in closer, cupping Sam’s naked back, leaning somehow further into the warm palm of his charge, and coming up closer to the human’s face.

“Good.”

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

Now, wait a damn minute—

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Now what if Sam and Bee were the ones who switched places? Honestly it’d be pretty much the same as canon just instead Sam and Optimus are sparkmates and Bee is like their son sorta jam ya know?

Or even Sam and Optimus aren’t spark mates, Sam and Bee start getting closer and with that Optimus starts getting wildly jealous. Can’t logically seperate the obviously brotherly affection from a closer sort of affection because of how long he’s been alone. Sam’s bemoaning the older prime’s obliviousness the entire time and Bee is an unwilling witness to all of it.

[raileurta]

Humans and their funny quirk of religious iconography, dubbing Bee the cybertronian saint of organic connection

Lol you know what? Sure yeah. Let the man have a cult.

[d4rk-x-w0lf-17]

story idea: parent career day at school is coming up soon and knowing chris' parents won't show up, he gets bummed. when he gets home, ella and cream ask him what's wrong and he tells them what's up

next day in class and as chris is watching his friend's and classmates parents show up, the door slams open and sonic, tails, amy, cream & cheese, knuckles, vector, espio, charmy, sam and chuck walk in. also shadow is awkwardly standing at the window, not knowing where the school entrance is. the teacher nervously asks what they're doing here and they all loudly proclaim that they're here as chris's family

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 2: Ouch, That Stings

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: Bucky’s first day on the farm is long. Very long.

Word Count: 3,680

Content/Warnings: light mob themes, alcohol consumption, mention of brass knuckles/ bruising, bee sting, Bucky being an absolute oaf, secondhand embarrassment, minor injuries, light mutual pining?, Y/N is used once, minimal afab reader descriptions

A/N: I just finished an exam, so obviously when I should’ve been studying, I had so much motivation that went straight into this chapter. Sorry if there’s minimal dialogue, I think the next will be mostly conversational interaction. And thank you guys so much for all the support already on ch. 1. You have no idea how much it means to me. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo appreciated. Literally, ask me anything. Even if it’s what I ate for dinner. Anyway, thank you for reading

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Bucky returned to the car with his head held high. If he had to agree to this term of yours, he was going to do it with as much defiance as he could. He opened the door to the car, just to be greeted by Steve and Sam’s knowing smiles.

“I take it that went well,” Sam said to Bucky through the rear view mirror as he put the car in drive.

“I don’t wanna talk about it” Bucky grumbled as he hit the button to raise the partition.

Steve quickly shifted upwards in his seat to give the last word before the screen closed “We knew it was gonna come to this, boss!”

Throughout the hours-long drive back to the city, Bucky got lost in his thoughts. How could he fold to you so quickly? If he had to personally work on this farm, he was going to do his worst. He wasn’t going to give into the pull he could already feel in his heart by just talking with you once. He’d keep his head down and do the work, he wouldn’t show his interest, if anything, he’d act distinterested, grasping for the ability to appear as though he had the power in this deal.

Sam pulled into the parking garage of Bucky’s penthouse apartment and the three of them took the elevator all the way up. When they arrived, Sam and Steve plopped themselves down on the couch while Bucky poured himself a tall glass of whiskey.

“So do we get some, or??” Sam asked as he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.

Bucky tossed him back a glare that most definitely said no while Steve laughed, putting his arms behind his head and kicking his feet up to rest on the ornate glass coffee table.

Bucky walked over to one of the luxury chairs that sat across from the pair and set his glass on a coaster on the table.

“Steven. Feet. Down.” If Bucky was still in this mood after having hours to calm down, no one was going to be having a good time.

“Sorry, Buck. You know you didn’t have to get this fancy furniture. You could’ve gotten a wooden table like mine, and a couch that’s actually comfortable.” Steve lowered his feet and got up to pour a small glass of whiskey for Sam and himself.

Bucky rolled his eyes “I like the finer things, and I think all of this works just fine. It’s not like we’re in here much anyway. We’re always in the office or the mansion for meetings. I just wanted to see this place one more time before I abandon it for a month. And if this is any indication on how you’re going to treat my things and my operation, I’m concerned”

“So does that mean we’re really in charge?” Sam nodded to Steve as he grabbed the glass out of his hands.

“Well, technically, Steve’s in charge. He’s the new me. And you’re the new Steve”

Steve chuckled at this and looked over at Sam. “Well, Stevie, we better help Y/N’s new errand boy get packed then.”

Bucky had wanted to make the drive back out to your farm on his own, but you had insisted you’d pick him up. It’s not like one of his luxury cars had a place on dirt roads. And where was he going to go, anyway? This had to be an uninterrupted month. So he conceded.

That’s how he found himself in this situation, looking out at the land as you grabbed one of his bags out of your truck bed and tossed it at him while you grabbed the other two.

The sun was setting over the rolling hills and his distracted glance caused him to stumble backwards as his duffel hit his arms. Man, you were strong. “Keep up, James, time for a house tour.”

Bucky scrambled to the steps and followed you inside. You went straight up the stairs with his bags and he followed as you turned at the top and went to the end of the hall.

“Here’s your room for the month, bathroom is just next door and I’m across the hall if you need anything. There’s plenty of dresser and closet space for your clothes. Let’s get you unpacked, I wanna see if you’ve got proper farm attire, otherwise you’re gonna have to borrow some.”

Bucky hadn’t even realized he hadn’t spoken since the small talk the two of you had made on the drive here. He just nodded and put his bags on the bed to open them up. Suddenly, he snapped out of his trance and threw them open, proudly showing clothes that were very much not for working. You walked towards the bed and looked through the pairs of dress pants and button-up shirts that filled two of the three bags, with only a couple Henleys and one pair of jeans in the duffel.

“Is this seriously what you brought? This is a farm, not a yacht club.”

Bucky let out a small chuckle at that one. She’s fiery and funny. “In my defense, these pieces of clothing are dressed down for me. I don’t really own anything not nice. Work attire for me is strictly suits. You’re lucky I own a pair of jeans.”

You had a playful smirk on your face. What did you really expect? You were prepared for this anyway, but it didn’t mean you’d let him off easily. “What, you saying my overalls aren’t nice? Wow James, that’s low. You just earned yourself dinner duty. I’ll grab you some actual work clothes while you familiarize yourself with the kitchen. Hope my apron down there is good enough to keep your designer clothes clean.”

Bucky smiled as you turned on your heel and left the room. An actual, genuine smile. You weren’t even being sweet to him, you were being challenging and strong-headed and he loved it. He reflected on the past few years of business. Everything had come more easily once he had built his reputation in the city. People feared the name Barnes, making business effortless. Bucky hadn’t been challenged like this in years. He missed it, which made him think he made the right decision, but thinking about being challenged and actually having to do the work were two very different things. The smile was just starting to naturally slide off Bucky’s face as you called from the hallway “You’ve already seen pretty much all there is to the first floor. Meet you down there” as you disappeared into the other guest bedroom.

Although Bucky had walked through the first story of your home, it had only been in passing before. Now that he got to look closer, he saw the way you decorated your house. Your couch and chairs in the living room were worn and showed some we, but they were definitely taken care of, just like the kitchen appliances. Photos of friends and family and souvenirs from travels that he couldn’t decipher were your own or not lined the walls and shelves next to a small book collection.

He made his was to the pantry on the edge of your kitchen and looked through the ingredients. He wanted to keep it simple, but impressive, but also, not something too close to his heart. He liked you as a person, but he didn’t know you like that. Whatever he made, you were going to ask questions. You were so perceptive, and he couldn’t let himself be that vulnerable. Not yet. After grabbing some pasta, he went and looked through the fridge and found the ingredients for chicken parm. Perfect, who doesn’t love that?

Once you made your way downstairs from putting the folded clothes on Bucky’s bed, you started to smell basil wafting through the house. You made your way down to see Bucky in your apron. “Wheres a scotch or a good wine to pair with this amazing meal I’m making for you. Man, this is shaping up to be real easy”

You laughed, a deep, shoulder bouncing laugh and Bucky looked at you with furrowed brown and confusion in his eyes. Oh, he has no idea what he’s in for. “Good one, Barnes. I forgot to tell you a few rules we’ve got around here. First off, no alcohol until the weekends. We’ve got some early mornings ahead, plus you gotta earn it. Second, when we do drink, it’s almost strictly bourbon and beer. Good luck finding your high-end liquor out here without getting funny looks.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell some, but you could tell he was trying not to show a reaction. His cocky smirk was fading slowly. You knew how different your lives were, but only time and work would tell how steep this learning curve would be for him. That’s why you wanted him out here in the first place, to see the vast differences between your worlds and the effects that would come from his attempt to shove his into your space. Or more realistically, for him to attempt to hijack your land and mine tunnels with his heavy operations.

He turned away from you to finish cooking while you set the table for him, putting out tall glasses of water. “Thank you for making this, James. It’ll be good to be hydrated and carb-loaded for tomorrow. I swear you’ve never seen work like this in your life.”

Bucky woke up with a jolt to screeching outside his window. What on Earth? The sound came again and he could tell it was a rooster crowing. He thought that sound was just a cliché, and even if it did happen, it would’ve been with the sunrise. But the rooster was up, and so were you, based on the smell of eggs cooking that wafted under Bucky’s door. And now, begrudgingly, Bucky was awake, too. He tried to pull the covers back over his head. Bucky was used to not getting much sleep, with the late nights and early mornings his job demanded, but for some reason the warm bed was sucking him back in, in juxtaposition to the cool early morning air. Just as he began to feel the pull of sleep again, that rooster cawed and he tossed the covers off in frustration, just as you knocked on his door.

“James? Time for breakfast. How do you want your eggs? You’ve got until I make them to be dressed and have your heinie downstairs.” You opened the door, letting in a stream of light that blinded Bucky, causing him to groan throw and arm over his eyes. How did he like his eggs? Served hours later to him in bed, where he wished he could stay right now.

“Over easy” he mumbled

“Oh good, you’re up.” You left the door open while you walked back downstairs. Of course you were already dressed. Bucky didn’t want to know what the implied ‘or else’ of your previous statement was. He hoped it didn’t have to do with scooping poop for your many animals, and he didn’t want to risk it, so he pulled on his clothes and made his way to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Little did he know, poop scooping was already in your plans for him, punishment or not.

During breakfast, you walked Bucky through the agenda for the day. He was only half-listening, still dazed by the way he was ripped out of his slumber by your darn rooster. He had picked up bits and pieces, though. Blah, blah, blah, ‘cows,’ blah, blah, blah ‘tractor,’ blah, blah, blah, ‘farmer’s market.’ It had to be easy enough, essentially he was following you all day.

By the time you two had finished breakfast and went outside, it was first light. Bucky checked the old, leather-banded watch you had given him on top of his pile last night to see the time. 5:14 am. Ugh, he’d been up for at least 20 minutes by now. How long had you been up?

“Ok, we’re already running a little bit behind schedule and that’s only gonna happen more since I’ve got to show you around and teach everything from the beginning. No worries, though. Today’s gonna be an easy day.”

A dozen heavy wheel barrow trips to feed the pigs, chickens, two kinds of cows, horses, goats, and sheep, four dozen dairy cow milkings, and three failed attempts at riding a horse later, Bucky looked up at you from his place sprawled on the ground. This was an easy day? Absolutely not. Despite the fact that he had to fall off the horse to end up in the middle of your field, laying like this was the best part of his day so far.

Who knew there were so many kinds of animal feed? Why were they all different? And why were they so heavy? Why did your one goat love head butting him so much? Bucky swore he was going to have permanent horn marks in his stomach, not unlike the ones left in his enemies from brass knuckles. And why were his clothes now covered in unpasteurized milk? Well, he knew why on that one, but it was still crusty. What had he signed up for? His body was so sore and he hadn’t sat down in six hours, so yeah, he was going to lay here on the ground. Maybe he could pretend to be dead. Maybe then this misery would end and you’d let him out of this deal. But that was wishful thinking as he cracked an eye open to see if he’d convinced you yet. Bad timing. Bucky was greeted with the sight of you leaning over him, hand reached out in an offer to get him up. Dang, every angle was your good angle.

“Alright, cowboy, one more thing, and then lunch.”

Bucky reached for your hand as you effortlessly lifted him up. You grabbed the reins of the horses, guiding them back to the barn. “I think that’s enough of that for you right now. I’ve honestly never seen anyone have that much trouble riding Ace before.”

At that, Bucky looked down, hiding his eyes from you and felt his face get hot as he rubbed his neck in embarrassment. Bucky hadn’t been embarrassed in years. He was good at his job, it came as second nature, so doing something new and failing at it was a foreign concept he didn’t love. You were being so kind with him learning, but he could tell you were just as exasperated as him. Although, you were hiding it better. If you had tried to make Bucky ride that horse one more time, he probably would’ve told you off and lost his precious deal. He couldn’t afford that.

You were trying so hard to be patient with Bucky, but was hard when you watched him do everything wrong. He very evidently had not listened to you at breakfast this morning. He had a long way to go, but luckily he had a month to figure it out. And you guys were heading to your favorite task, you couldn’t even call it a chore. Surely, this would be an easy one for Bucky.

After dropping off the horses, the two of you started walking through your native wildflower prairies towards the beehives. Every time you went through it, you were taken back by the beauty, and by the look on Bucky’s face, he was, too. Had you been looking at him this whole time? You had to admit he looked good in the old farm clothes you lent him, left behind by your old farmhand. It was all about half a size too small, though, but you’d never complain about seeing his bulging muscles stretch the fabric. Thank goodness for muscle memory as your legs carried you in the right direction, because you realized your mind had been solely occupied by Bucky as you made your way South within the property to reach the beehives.

You walked right up to the shed as you walked Bucky through all of the safety precautions of what you were doing and how exactly the honey was harvested. You explained the history of your family’s beekeeping and how the town went crazy for them at the farmer’s market you two were hosting at the end of the week. You went into the shed to get Bucky and yourself the proper protective gear.

“Now it may be a little difficult to see through the veil at first, but that’s ok. We’re not in a rush, so take your time. Plus, the bees will be calm as long as we keep pumping smoke into the hive.”

With this final warning, you and Bucky each started tending your own beehives, identifying which sections contained honey or not and setting them aside. This took a lot of multitasking and patience, which Bucky hadn’t seemed to have mastered yet, but you hoped he’d be ok. After all, this was something you’d done since you could drive a tractor, which was a young age around here. Rookie mistake on making that assumption.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a quick flash of movement. You turned your head to see Bucky swat the air. Followed by another one sooner, and then once again, until his arms were turning into a flailing mess. He’d forgotten to blow smoke and calm the bees down.

You were glad you’d sprung and made him put on the suit, despite his claims that ‘people on the internet do this without all this bulky equipment all the time. Bet it’s easy.’ Just as you thought back to that, though, in his frantic retreat from the hive, Bucky tripped over his own foot and fell flat on his face, veil flying forward off his head and several feet from the momentum he’d picked up. You both watched as a single bee fluttered down to his hairline.

“James, Bucky, I’m serious right now. Don’t move. You’re not allergic to bees, are you?”

This made Bucky stop and think for a little. Wait a minute, you didn’t know he wasn’t allergic to bees? And you let him do this task when it could’ve been fatal? He whipped his head around to tell you he wasn’t, completely forgetting that you’d told him not to move. The sudden jerk startled the bee, triggering it to sting Bucky in the temple.

“OW. Ouch, ouch, ouch, that stings!!”

You rushed over to Bucky and crouched beside him, putting the veil back on his head. You helped him up for what seemed like the thousandth time today and brushed off his shoulder.

“So you’re not allergic, right?” Your eyes were urgently looking him over for more stings and symptoms, as well as other injuries.

Bucky was fired up in his hangry and fed-up state, shooting back, “NO. But I can’t believe you let me do this without that knowledge.”

He stomped back to the shed while you cleaned up both of your stations. There wasn’t a response you could give him that would really make it better. You understood he was trying and this was all a lot. Your stomach grumbled, and rather than start a fight in your own hangry state, you decided to not respond. Plus, yeah, maybe you should’ve asked about allergies sooner. You made a mental note to do that tonight. You both just needed to eat. You could come back to this later, plus, you’d already grabbed most of the honey comb from yours. That should be enough for the market.

Just as you had prepared the honey comb to take back towards the house, you heard movement in the shed. It was the small thunks made by Bucky ripping off his gloves, veil, and the rest of the suit and throwing it back on the shelves. That was followed by a loud crash and metal clang. You could tell things had tumbled down off the wall. Bucky must’ve thrown one of the pieces a little too hard in a fit of rage.

You peeked through the door of the shed, not wanting to crowd Bucky too much, checking if he was okay. The doorway, though, was filled with a pair of old boots, attached to long legs, attached to a broad body propped up against a wall opposite the shelves. You began to snicker, unable to hold in your obvious amusement. Bucky moved his head a little to figure out where the sound was coming from, but you weren’t greeted by his eyes. No, a metal bucket had landed on Bucky’s head, entirely engulfing it. And in his fit of frustration and how done he was with the day, he just left it. Your snicker morphed into a giggle, then grew into full, guttural, hysterical laughter. You couldn’t stop. This was such a perfect moment that you had to capture it.

“Bucky Barnes? …. More like…. BUCKET BARNES!” you wheezed out in between gasps for air. Bucky sat there, bucket still on his head, but shoulders bouncing with his own laughter now. How could he not, yours was contagious, plus, that was a really clever one.

Once you caught your breath again. Bucky finally took the bucket off his head and looked up at you with a meek glance and red cheeks. “Ha ha ha, very funny. I think you’ve had your fill now in indulging in my bee-related misfortunes. But speaking about fill, is it time for lunch yet?”

The two of you headed back to the house and ate in a comfortable, exhausted silence, you writing out a simple to-do list that was more Bucky’s speed for after lunch, while he ate, using a fork in one hand, his other pressing an ice pack to his temple as his elbow rested on the table.

He sat there thinking about the fact that it hadn’t even been a day yet, let alone a month. Really, Buck, what have you gotten yourself into?

Next >

Series Taglist:

@scuzmunkie

@openup-yourmind

[drivinmeinsane]

i want that essay about six x k!! im curious to know what your favorite ryguy ships are because you write some interesting ones. what about your least favorites too?

Thank you for the question! I'm not sure I can ethically subject anyone to that essay, anon, it'd just be the ramblings of a madman. However, I'll let some of it slip through in response to your ask. Just for you. ♥

I narrowed my favorites down to three and provided explanations of sorts for all of them. Spoiler alert, they're not short and probably don't make a lot of sense. (；′⌒`)

»{ Driver x Ken

Ken desperately needs to be provided for. He withers and dies if not wanted, sincerely or not. He’ll accept someone’s false desire no matter how hollow it leaves him. He snaps up scraps of affection like a starving dog. He's bossy and flashy as a show of false bravado to cover up his deep insecurities and abandonment issues. There's that desire in him to be a little plaything, to let someone else call the shots. He’s very susceptible to being molded into whatever form someone else desires. He wants to be the “and Ken” even as he tries to figure out what it means to be himself. Driver has a deep seated need to be needed, being wanted is just a cherry on top. He's obsessive and territorial. He never got to keep anything for himself. The effect his parents had on him is clear. There’s traces in him of the way that his mom kept bugs trapped under drinking glasses until they suffocated rather than let them go. There’s flashes of casual brutality in him that echos when she took two knives to his father’s throat at the kitchen table. His father’s only need of him was to aid him in stealing, but found himself discarded the moment he hit his growth spurt and became too tall. He latched onto a childhood friend, carries pieces of his time with him and his family with him (his love of Mexican food among other things). His foster family didn’t need him, not really, so he left to find someone who did. He lets Shannon undercut him because Shannon finds him useful. He’s the best wheelman in the city and an excellent mechanic because it means people rely on him. He can taste being the most important person in their lives for just a moment. He's made himself as indispensable as possible, always chasing the dragon. He would destroy himself to be needed, never mind anyone else in his path. Driver latches onto Ken, because Ken needs him in order to survive in the real world. He’s needed more by him than anyone has never needed him, and oh, he revels in that need. In return for Ken’s reliance, Driver wants him, wants him so badly that he would throw any semblance of sanity out the window. He doesn’t ask questions of Ken’s circumstances, doesn’t want to know the hows and the whys, lest it break the spell. Ken can place the fragility of himself in Driver’s hands and know that Driver still wants him despite it. He can trust Driver to shape him with the careful touch of a mechanic, fine tune all the parts of him until there’s nothing else but tender maintenance. There’s no scraps here, it is a sickening feast of devotion and Ken will gorge himself. Driver will suffocate Ken under a glass and Ken will help Driver place it over him.

»{ Officer K x Sierra Six

There’s nothing truly real in K’s life. Everything is pretend, playacting, a pantomime of something greater. He is so wrapped up in the desire to be a real human being to the point where he does stop to consider the ways that he already is. He has his own humanity, his own soul, his own emotions. He doesn’t address the human quality of the drive to want. Instead, he yearns until it kills him and what is more human than that? He craves a family, craves connections. K patches together what he can. He finds a mother, a father, a wife. He collects things from replicants that he’s retired. He’s trying to make up a soul from pieces of others. He’s desperately reaching out only to hit walls. No one is reaching out for him in return. He’s nothing more than a means to an end, a tool. Six sacrifices himself, goes where he’s pointed, throws himself in the path of destruction over and over for people that he loves. He lets himself be injured, lets himself be thrown away, lets himself be used. All in the name of love and duty. He does not stop to contemplate what he is or what he might be. There is no chase for a deeper meaning of what it means to be human. He just simply is what he is because there is no time to be anything but that. He doesn’t have the time to examine his feelings. Tools don’t think. They are reflections of each other. Two men without human names, treated as objects. Their autonomy is of no consequence. They were two scared boys standing up for what was theirs only to become two scared men willing to die for what matters to them. K would be forced to see Six as a person. Perhaps he would realize that if the other individual is human, K must be as well because they are the same. Six would finally be able to open the lid on the swirl of thoughts inside him, to share a part of himself with someone who would understand. They could gather up the scraps of their lives and put them together to make something meaningful. Family. K would reach out to his mirror image only for it to do the same and meet him palm to palm. Flesh to flesh. Interlinked at last. Maybe the burden of what he has have done wouldn’t weigh so heavily on Six with someone else’s equally tainted hands on the stone beside his. Maybe the boulder wouldn’t roll back down the hill.

»{ Henry Letham x Sam Foster

No matter what, Henry is hell bound. He can’t imagine a happy ending for himself. He has woven a tangled web of destruction and self-flagellation that I think holds true even if he hadn’t been going through the events of the movie. He’s an artist with the flair for the extreme. He’s obsessive and ruminates over the same things over and over, wringing out every ounce of meaning. He assigns significance where there is none. Sam is a fixer. Despite his own mental well-being, he has to try to save others. He cannot sit by passively. It’s that kind of attitude that gets him crouching beside a dying man on a bridge at night. Outwardly, he has it all together, sensible. He is likely the model image of a good doctor, going above and beyond for those under his care. Henry would haunt Sam, consume his thoughts. Sam would let Henry infect him. They are intertwined and neither wants to truly break free. Henry finds a captive audience in Sam. He’s able to admit things to him he would never say to anyone else, couldn’t say to anyone else. Henry is Sam’s destruction in any reality. Sam will never not be too late to save Henry.

+ Shoutouts to Holland March x Jackson Healy. I really like the ship but would never write for it without my bestie, @danime25, collabing with me. It just doesn't scratch that itch in my brain in a way that makes me want to go solo.

Also, I'm not going to dive into ships I dislike here. I might be a hater, but I'm not going to hate publicly. This sideblog is for fun. We're all just celebrating the RyGos boys here so I just want to focus on what I do enjoy. ♪(´▽｀)

Feel free to share your thoughts. I'm always down to talk about these guys.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

“Don’t Provoke Dean”

Chapter 2

She had no idea where she was going, but her Omega told her to run hard from the pack leader. She knew she was faster than him, which meant he had to be smart or wait for her to get tired. She huffed, losing her jacket, she scented the air, searching for water. She moved around trees, avoiding bushes to prevent leaving her scent. Her human mind, still somewhat alert, began to question if she wanted to be caught.

She knew how she felt about him but was uncertain of his current intention. She was scared she pushed him too far and broke their friendship. Her Omega said differently believing this to be a mating run. She disbelieved the hopeful side of her. No one had ever punished her since she was packless. Being packless protected her from a lot of harm, but it also meant if an Alpha tried or did anything, there was no one to protect her or demand recompense on her behalf.

Every time she thought of Dean Winchester, her Omega would whine and whimper, saddened to be away from him. She had never understood the pull toward him, which had always been there. Since he seemed to not show any sign of it, she always assumed it was one-sided and just a biological instinct she ignored.

The run was making her realize just how tired she was of fighting whatever this was between them. She had never been afraid of Dean Winchester since they met. Right now, however, she was afraid of herself, of her Omega, because she wanted to be caught and had no idea what would happen when he did.

Dean, ever the hunter, knew after the first hunt with Y/N, they were scent-bonded. He never told Sam but wouldn’t be surprised if he knew. Sam was psychic and seemed to read people well. He caught her scent again and followed it. Her arousal became stronger, the vanilla becoming more buttery. The Alpha knew their situation was ideal: no wind and weather mild but for the humidity. He knew he could wait her out, but that meant she would stop simply due to her tiredness, he wanted her to want this just as much as him. His Alpha was a simpering mess every time she was near and he was done. Dean was going to mate her, and then neither of them would have this stupid argument ever again. She would be his Omega and he would get to keep her, forever.

Having hunted with her enough, he knew how she thought. He ran along the river, knowing she’d probably try to hide her scent. Oddly, once he was at the river, her scent didn’t lessen, it seemed stronger. He continued to follow it and after a few hundred yards noticed it weakened. He paused, scenting and tasting the air. He backtracked, thinking she must have done so as well. He was very wrong.

Once he was back at the river, where the scent guided him, he was knocked down to the ground. Instantly recognizing his Omega, he rolled to outmaneuver her but failed. She had him trapped in a headlock. He was getting too old to wrestle like a horny teenager. He was horny and knew his eyes were red. He was holding his Alpha from truly surfacing, worried he would scare her. He was a special Alpha who partially changed when completely in sync with his wolf. He was able to get out of her headlock and saw her.

Y/N was like him.

Her gold irises, beautiful in the moonlight that was making her freckles, somehow, glow. Her fangs had dropped as she encircled him. She had short, black claws in place of her fingernails and multiple tuffs of thin fur matching her Y/C hair on both hands, up her upper arms, and he bet it was along her back some too. Her scent wrapped around him: the woodiness of the sandalwood, the light, floral earthiness of strawberry, and the deep butteriness of the vanilla. The image of a sweet, floral strawberry rose pie on a window sill came to mind. It reminded him of the one Missouri made once, he secretly loved it but denied it when he was a kid. He inhaled his mate’s scent deeply.

Y/N growled at the Alpha. She was not some weak Omega waiting to be caught. No, she decided to trick him and get the jump on him before he did on her. Her plan worked perfectly until he got away. Despite her height advantage over him (being nearly a foot shorter than him), he was very good at wrestling and it was something they tended to do when bored at the bunker. She swiped at him, Alpha’s being quick to heal, his chest was already free of the mark by the time she’d knocked him off his feet and began working to pin him to the ground. He easily flipped them with his Alpha strength as his Alpha surfaced and he shifted as well.

Just like Y/N, Dean’s hands were covered in fur matching his dirty blonde hair that went up the back of his arms and down the back of his neck onto his whole back and down. His fangs dropped and he growled, dominantly, demanding her submission. She repositioned her feet and turned within his grasp onto her front but he kept her wrists in his hands. A wrong move for her as it allowed Dean to bite, without breaking skin, the back of her, pinning her Omega in place. Y/N’s Omega had no choice but to obey, and went pliant in his grip. She closed her eyes and waited. Her breathing came out in heavy pants. He carefully released his bite and leaned down next to her ear, licking the tender spot below and back of her ear causing a shiver to run down her body. Dean growled approvingly.

He nosed along her, placing sloppy kisses along her neck and inhaling at her mating gland. He licked and nipped her mating gland, increasing the scent of her Omega arousal. He softened his grip on her wrists as he continued to tease her mating gland. She whined as he continued.

“You have me,” Y/N’s voice broke with the admission. “Please,” she begged and huffed as she pushed her jean-cladded ass and thighs against his abdomen and pelvis.

He smiled, unseen, and kissed the back of her neck. Shivers ran down her spine each time he did. “Good girl.” She whimpered in response.

“Alpha,” she moaned, squeezing her thighs together.

“Impatient,” he stated, thrusting his leg between her legs. He leaned down next to her ear, breathing heavily. “You are mine, Y/N. I know you’ve felt it.”

She could feel tears flooding her eyes. He did. He did, and her mind celebrated.

He placed several kisses on the back of her back and quickly moved to limit his weight on her. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see, Omega,” he half growled and half whined.

She reached back, grabbed his neck, and turned her head into his face, attempting to nuzzle and comfort him. “I’m sorry…I…gave up,” she whispered, nasally from the tears she wouldn’t let fall.

He sat back, allowing her to roll back over. Her shirt and jeans were covered in dirt and grass stains. Dean figured he was the same but ignored it. It doesn’t matter. Red eyes met gold, silence encompassed them for several long moments as Dean looked over her face. Whatever Dean seemed to be searching for in Y/N’s face, he must have found it because the next thing she knew, he surged forward, kissing her. His arms wrapped around her, his leg returned between her thighs, and she reciprocated—one hand in his hair and the other holding the shirt on his back.

Dean pulled back, panting, gasping for breath. “You’re…you’re mine, Y/N.”

“I am,” she agreed, breathlessly. She whined. “Mate me, Alpha. Please,” she panted. “Please, Dean.” Her eyes searched his face.

“You’ll be mine?”

Tears began to fall down her cheeks. “I’ve always been yours, Dean. I—I—I love you.”

Dean passionately kissed her, mostly a gnashing of teeth and tongues. He slipped one hand between them, unsnapping his jeans and then hers, and pulled hers down. She wiggled to help, lips always touching, as he haphazardly pulled her underwear down in the process to where she had one leg out of her underwear and jeans. Dean smiled at this. She let go of his shirt and worked to help him with her jeans, and then when he leaned back, she followed him to help him with his. She reached in and grabbed his thick Alpha cock. He hissed at her touch and moaned as she pulled him out.

Moaning at the sight of Dean’s gorgeous erection, she laid down, grabbed his shirt with both hands and pulled him on her, wrapping her legs around him. “Fuck me, Alpha,” she demanded growling.

His eyebrows rose in surprise at her assertiveness as he went with her, one hand behind her head, leaning on his elbow as he took himself in hand positioning himself at her entrance. He looked down as he slowly pushed into her slick shiny pussy. Y/N groaned, reveling in the stretch. He touched everywhere inside her channel, and she practically purred at the feel.

Dean grinned, surprised by her sounds, and enjoyed them. “Like that, sweetheart?” His voice was deeper, guttural, and dancing goosebumps along her skin.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Full, so full, oh.”

Dean stilled but Y/N gritted her teeth. “Don’t you stop.”

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled back and thrust hard into her, both moaning in unison. He repeated the motion again and again as he built up a rhythm, both of them groaning in pleasure. Dean watched her writhe on his cock and felt her walls flutter around him. Y/N’s eyes were closed, mouth open panting as she held onto Dean’s biceps, meeting him thrust-for-thrust, over and over and over. Soon, she could feel his enlarging knot teasing her entrance. She tried grinding against him each time he bottomed out, pulling a growl from her when she succeeded

“Knot me,” she begged.

“Hold on, Darlin’,” Dean panted against her open mouth. He thrust harder, forcing his increasing knot in and out of her. Shudder after shudder with each jab of his knot’s partial entering, until his knot reached full size. A handful of thrusts later, he pushed it within her and the pressure against her sweet spot pulled her over the edge. Her walls squeezed around Dean’s knot and he bit into her swollen mating gland, coppery liquid rushing onto his tongue. He growled, feeling spend after spend coat Y/N’s inner walls as she gushed, coating his pelvis and her thighs in her juices, screaming through her orgasm as everything seemed to go dark.

To be continued…Part 3

Part 1

Tag @harmonity-vibes