#especially when you put yourself in sam's shoes in that moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uncouth-the-fifth · 2 years ago

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click - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (circa season 1) Tags/Warnings: cabin-in-the-woods moment, fluffy bestie banter, virgin reader, first time sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, and of course, Sam is a pussy god, as per usual. Word Count: ~20k (shhhh don't talk about it i have a problem) Notes: that's right, i make moodboards now bitches. these photos were collaged by my wonderful commissionee @daffodil-mania, who asked for: ""a reverse (you are a) natural, baby? where sam is the reader’s first time + a smutty cabin in the woods-type situation." Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

“Okay, okay,” you thought out loud, thinking hard, “my turn—if you could have anyone as a dinner guest, alive or dead, who’d you pick?”

A few paces ahead of you, Sam hummed in thought. His puffy winter coat made the outline of him against the swirling snow thicker, and if it was possible, taller, a menacing wall of deep blue between you and the woods. Something hiding out here and spying could even mistake Sam for something scary. Luckily, you weren’t that stupid.

Sam, for the millionth time in the last minute, checked that you were where you were supposed to be. (Two immediate steps behind him. Or he’d die). Looking back at you made the wind mess up his hair every time, and every time Sam tucked the same two strands behind his ears again. Like the shy girls in rom-coms did. Truly, monsters trembled at the sight of him.

He geeked at your question, but managed to play it cool: “Gandhi. Feel like he could teach me something. We’d probably like the same food, too, so it’d make for a good dinner.”

“Oh yeah, he was a vegetarian, right? You two could have a nerdy little salad together.”

Under the soft swell of the wind, you thought you heard Sam laugh, but it picked up in loud gusts at times that swirled skirts of untethered snow around your ankles. Well, your knees. The snow was tall enough here to seep into your boots. You’d given up totally on finding your own footing and started walking in Sam’s tracks, which were wider than yours almost all the way around. You told yourself that this was to confuse anyone tracking your prints in the snow, but really it was just fun to compare your shoe size to Sam’s. This set the walk back to the cabin at a snail’s pace. But with the way this conversation was going, you didn’t exactly mind freezing your ass off.

John had left his boys yet another unfinished hunt to distract them. Sam and Dean, tired of being distracted, changed tactics and split up. Dean was following a lead in Montana that could actually take him to John, and you and Sam were tying up John’s loose ends in upper Washington. The two of you had spent the last three days researching bloody disappearances in the area. An area in the thick of its snowiest, blurriest season, mind you, miles from anything but one of the Winchesters’ off-the-grid apocalypse shelters. This wasn’t how you and your mother had operated when you’d hunted together, but. Things changed. Parents disappeared.

Sam seemed to be shoving himself through John’s absence as best he could. You got smiles out of him here and there, but especially today, playing question games to pass the time mapping the woods and putting down traps.

“Gandhi was a fruitarian,” Sam clarified. He shielded his face from the snow by hiding in his collar, so you may have misheard when he added, “So, yeah. Him or my mom.”

Months ago, a mention of Sam’s mom would’ve shocked you into a full-on coma. He kept her memory even closer to his chest than Dean did, in some ways, and either brother even sneezing in the direction of their storied past had been a once-in-a-lifetime event. Before this hunt, that is. Now you couldn’t get Sam to shut up. Either the isolation had made him lonely or something else had pushed him to trust you, because the last two days had been spent this way—trudging through snow and spilling your guts about everything under the sun together. Sam loved to read and watch documentaries, he was fascinated by astronomy and meteorology and organized crime history and Native American folklore, and, hey, big surprise, reading. You’d never heard him talk about anything with so much passion. You hadn’t heard that passion in your own voice since before you’d lost your mom.

Still. As comfortable as you suddenly felt with Sam, you were sure to tread lightly. You risked a glimpse at his broad, snow-dusted back. “Mary would be nice too. Maybe you’d get to try some family recipe she’d make or something.”

“I think I remember my dad tellin’ me once that she hated cooking, actually, but m’ not sure,” Sam said, a bit of humor in his voice.

You thought of the soup Sam had turned to lava over the wood stove that morning, and grinned, “Yeah, I think you got that from her.”

Keeping casual eyes on your feet, you tried to see how fast you could get your boot through each foothold in the snow. Sam would make deep gouges in the powder with his longer strides. Crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch. You’d clear them three in a row, sometimes four, then stop short a step behind Sam and wait for him to make more tracks. Like hopscotch, almost. Every once in a while a huge gust of wind would force Sam to stop, and without a word he’d form a wall between you and the blast. You’d learned pretty much everything there was to know about Sam these last few days, but out of all his best dorky qualities his chivalry was your favorite.

“S’ not that I hate cookin’, I just suck attit.”

And the accent. The accent was gold, when the pretty drawl of it crept through with Sam’s boredom.

A little further and the spindly, snow-heavy trees parted for the lake you and Sam had been using to navigate. On your first day scouting you’d noticed how the icy surface had frozen like a misshapen heart, and since then Sam followed the point of it back to your cabin every night. Southeast of it was the abandoned mining facility that’d swallowed three people whole, and to its far right was where three more had disappeared. Your guess was a couple of territorial tree nymphs or werewolves, and Sam was betting on a Winter Hunger. The loser would take the first shift driving down to Montana.

Seeing the lake, Sam starts to arc your march around the edge, his sharp eyes on the treeline across the ice. The wind was stronger with room to run over the lake, but you reminded yourself that being a little cold was the gentlest way to die out here and forged ahead. Besides, most of your body had gone stark numb miles back. When you remembered how bad your cheeks were stinging, you’d bring your scarf tighter around your face and watch Sam, his long legs cutting easily through the snow.

The wind cooled down to a whisper. You reminded him, “Your turn.”

You’d reached a point where coming up with good questions had become harder than answering them, so Sam took a bit to stew on something good. There’d been a silent agreement on who was responsible for which kinds of asks. You would probe Sam with the deepest, most personal shit you could come up with, and after he explained what his life’s accomplishment was and what friendship means to him, Sam would go, uhhhh, what’s your favorite color? He was definitely the smartest shovel in the Winchester shed.

“How about this,” Sam cleared his throat. “Would you ever wanna be famous?”

You must’ve made a noise that gave away your surprise at the quality of his question, because he made a snooty sound back that had you seriously considering shoving him in the snow. You put your hands on his shoulders and everything, but where there should’ve been normal guy shoulders there were buff guy shoulders, which wouldn’t budge an inch. Sigh. What a lousy, muscly jackass.

Sam planted his feet, whining your name. “C’mon. Answer.”

“I’m thinking!” You laughed, and pushed with your legs until Sam tilted forward into his next step. It took a moment for you to keep your hands to yourself. “Okay. In this hypothetical world, what am I famous for?”

“Supermodel,” Sam answered right away.

You splashed a little snow at his jeans, deciding to save your funny feelings about his answer for later self-reflection. “Dude. Be realistic.”

At this, Sam snickered, and even with him facing forward you could imagine the dry sloping smile pressing into his dimples. “Okay—across the whole entire world, you’re famous for cooking the perfect soup in a can. Like, in ways no one can even imagine, that’s how good. You make millions of dollars off it and become a household name. Would you want that?”

“God, no,” you wuffed out, immediately sending Sam into a fit of giggles. “Are you kidding me? All those strangers knowing me, not giving me any privacy? And don’t even get me started on all those soup-hounds throwing themselves at me for my soup-money.”

“I guess that’s true. You could never marry for love, 'cause everybody would just want your soup,” Sam mourned. Another great Sam quality: he was excellent at going along with a bit. “You’d just have to live with brief soup-flings for the rest of your life.”

You thought about what a soup-fling could entail for all of one second, then burst out laughing, warm clouds of it spiraling into the air through your breath. The shoulders of Sam’s coat shook with glee. It was funny for a few more beats until it warmed into something that was light and airy, something you hadn’t heard from Sam since you’d met him. He had the sweetest laugh. It made your damn teeth rot.

“Y’know, speaking of flings,” you hollered over the hissing wind, “I have no idea how your brother does that shit.”

Dean was safe and familiar territory; he was the centerpiece of everything you had in common with Sam, so your conversation circled back to him plenty. Every conversation you’d had with Dean orbited around Sam some way, too, so you’d come to expect it. You’d never seen two brothers care about each other as much as they did. Which was hilarious, since the moment one of them got you alone all they did was bitch. Dean’s been driving me up the damn wall. Sam keeps stickin’ his nose in my business. Neither of them had ever had a trusted third set of eyes before, or at least one who understood that their complaints were overshadowed with love. John had been someone to look up to, to emulate and impress, but you were a fresh outlet available for family baggage. The boys were your outlet for bitching too, since it was understood that your bitching also came from the heart.

“A girl in every port sounds fun in theory, but I feel like I’d get sick of it fast,” you confessed.

The snow underfoot began to crunch harder with each step, packed down into a firm sheet. Soon Sam’s prints were so shallow that you could see the tips of your boots again. Taking the chance while you had it, you fought against the snow to walk side-by-side with him, then fought again to match him stride-for-stride. Sam’s poor face had been pounded with so much snow that his bangs were soaking wet, but he still managed a half-frozen smile seeing you next to him.

“And, I dunno. I think I care about hurting people’s feelings too much to just…” you gestured stiffly, “head to the next town after sharing a night with someone.”

“Same here,” Sam sighed, then gave a very subtle cough as a sign to shift gears: “But, uh, I think it’s kinda a stress relief thing for him.”

You probably should’ve guessed that Sam wasn’t the fling type, since you’d been there every time he’d shied away from Dean’s plans to pick up girls, but the idea… sat there. Staring at you. It’d be stupid-easy for Sam to live that lifestyle. Dean had his own notions about what girls were most into (bad boys, leather jackets, you know), but you happened to be certified in what girls were into, and you had it on good authority that Sam was a total dreamboat.

You nudged Sam with your shoulder, coaxing him open with a well-placed smile. This was unearthed territory. “Not your thing, huh?”

The snow had pinkened Sam’s face enough as it was, so what he was capable of on his own was downright impressive. Even his ears went red. “Uhh,” he chuckled, too skittish to look you in the eye. “No, not really. I’m. I, uh, I’d rather get to know her first, y’know. Before we’re intimate. And hopping towns doesn’t exactly give you the time to do that.”

Yup. Total dreamboat.

“Oh, so that’s your plan, asking me all these personal questions.”

Sam controlled his sputtering by pressing his lips into a firm, flat line, which refused to indulge your silly flirting. “You’re a jackass,” he said, and the growing smile in his voice betrayed just how little he thought that was true.

When you were done laughing at your own joke, Sam guessed, “So that’s not your thing, either? One night stands?”

You were having fun—pulling Sam’s leg, for one, but also talking to him in general, so the truth glides right out of your mouth.

“Wouldn’t know. I’ve never had sex.”

Sam had left his filter two states behind on the drive up, so he doesn’t even think to cap his disbelief. He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

His mortification with himself makes contact two beats later, and while you’re smirking and floating unbothered across the snow, Sam nearly goes belly-up falling over himself to apologize.

You soak up his groveling until Sam’s embarrassment hits a breaking point, then, in your humblest and kindest princess voice, you say, “It’s cool, Sam. No worries. I’m not at all offended you think it’s weird I’m a virgin.”

“I don—I-I don’t think it’s weird,” Sam stressed, going a little wild in the eyes. “It’s great! …I mean, not like, great, I just mean. It’s not a bad thing or anything.”

You meet his awkward silence with a smug, pleased one of your own. Sam’s smart enough to realize he’s stumbled into your trap, but not quick enough to find an escape, so he sputters for a long time and falls back on his third option.

“I’m just wondering,” he winces, knowing his question is stupid, “why are you still a virgin?” You’re about to laugh in his face, but the earnestness in Sam’s voice makes you hesitate. His question is a genuine one. “...That sounds awful, m’ sorry. But, c’mon. You’re smart enough to know how pretty you are. Charmin’ enough to use it, too. I mean, I’d…”

He caught himself. “—Anyone, would, uh…”

Sam didn’t finish his thought. He changed his grip on the shotgun swinging from his hand, self-conscious, and cleared his throat.

Well. That wasn’t obvious at all. No way in hell you were leaving that alone.

“You’d what?”

Sam didn’t say anything. He just tucked his hair behind his ears again, too shy to say what he was thinking but bold enough to let it be spoken in his silence instead. And it was a very, very telling silence.

Your brain scrambled to cram as much as possible into the blank Sam had left. There was so much potential in that one little word. I’d…

I’d understand if someone wanted to have sex with you.

I’d have found someone by now, if I were you.

I’d have sex with you.

I’d take that opportunity, ______, if I could.

Hm. Okay. Okay, huh. There weren’t a lot of people in the world capable of making you question your life decisions so quickly, but of course, this was Sam. His silence persevered. Your train of thought became an internal trainwreck.

A few opportunities had cropped up over the course of your life—third dates with guys that hadn’t totally sucked, a few handsome barflies—but nothing had… clicked. Because there was supposed to be a click, right? Before sex? Some compass in your body, moving you in a certain direction? You hoped to drift toward something that fit better than a stranger, but like Sam had said, that level of commitment wouldn’t be waiting for you out on the road. You could hook up with civilians or hunters as you pleased, but just the thought made your chest ache. Real connection wouldn’t be waiting for you in the back of a truck or a sleazy motel. Hunters lived short lives, sure, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be a hopeless romantic.

You’d held onto that notion for a long time. Someday, something would click, and it’d be worth the damn wait.

Now, Sam was here, blinking coyly at you through his bangs, keeping you close to him, listening when you spoke. Click, goes your brain. Like a gear notching into place. He has those mossy, sensitive eyes that pry right open just for you and the prettiest rasp to his voice. Click click.

“C’mon,” Sam coughs. “Cabin’s just ahead.”

I’d… Sam had said, and left you to fill in the blanks.

The next day, both of you were proven wrong. You found out the hard way that the disappearances weren’t caused by cannibalistic spirits or werewolves. After getting mauled by living hills of snow and almost swallowed by an avalanche, you and Sam got the very subtle and not-at-all-lethal impression that you were dealing with an insane case of cursed ground. (Cur-sed, Sam had said, because he was fancy.) It took some on-the-spot ritual work and a day’s worth of walking to bury hex bags in the right spots, but by dusk you were alive and comfortable back in the cabin.

“I say we stick around for one more night—make sure this place is clean,” Sam suggested, shaking himself out on the welcome mat. When he shucked his coat off, the silky interior and the back of his shirt were dark with melted snow.

You glanced between Sam, who was blue at the edges, and the shifting tides of flakes on the wind outside. If you stared long enough the whole mountainside seemed to come alive in the dark.

“Uh,” you told him, “are you sure? If we got even one of those spells wrong, what’s stopping this thing from burying the whole cabin?”

But Sam had already thought of that, like he’d already thought of everything else. He rose from where he’d been kicking off his boots to give your icy hands a quick, warming squeeze. “I got it covered. Go—get a fire started, and fast.”

Since you were still riding the wave of adrenaline that’d kept you alive against moving, living forces of nature, you were already following Sam’s orders before he’d finished saying them. He didn’t act hardly as hurried. Being soaked and half-frozen was apparently second nature to him, since he navigated uninhibited through the duffle of ingredients you’d unloaded on the cabin’s floor. Your fingers were so numb that it took three tries to scrape some fire out of your matches, and by then Sam was already tying off his millionth hexbag of the day.

You didn’t regain your senses until a few minutes later, which passed as slow as hours did. Somehow in that sliver of time you’d hauled more firewood inside, hurried it into the fireplace, lit it, helped Sam bury the protection spells around the yard, raced back inside, and laid all your wet clothes out in front of the hearth. The second the doors were locked, your high started to tank. Sam was talking.

“—will last us through til’ tomorrow. Then, in the morning, we can use the spell to see if the land is purified. It might even be a good idea to check with the dowsing rods, too. If this ground is as cursed as we think, the hexbags will be just fine, though, so you don’t have to worry. You listenin’?”

Sam was a big, fuzzy-edged shape sitting criss-cross on the ratty rug a few paces from the fire. His silhouette was outlined by it in handsome shades of gold and honey-white, ‘cause of course he was the kind of movie beautiful that suited romantic fire lighting. Like, really romantic. Your brain had been baking in the panicked sludge of fleeing and hunting all day, but even it was capable of looking at that image of Sam and going, Uh, yeah. There’s something going on here.

For the last few days, the two of you had purified the ground of the cabin, too. It was the most telling relic of Sam and Dean’s life with John Winchester: rationed, unglamorous, and harsh. John was usually an out-of-bounds subject for the boys, but Sam had spent the last few days describing him at length. He was paranoid and obsessive—hence the cabin’s military rations, hidden weapons, traps, metric fucktons of salt, and next to nothing else. John hated any music and technology post-1980—hence the cabin’s record player. It was the only source of entertainment on hand, and the same three records only lasted so long. Even as hunter’s hovels went, this one was impressively oppressive.

Sam, plagued by abysmal hunter-kid memories of being stuck out here, had warned you about it ahead of time. You’ll get bored and miserable. He’d said that and you’d thought to yourself how hard it would be to get bored and miserable around Sam, who mystified you just sitting there. Still, you splurged on some big fluffy blankets, the shittiest and cheapest chess set you could find, pillows, and s’mores. Not exactly the John Winchester essentials, but. Just in case.

Stuffing the footwell of Sam’s stolen truck with cozy bullshit had been worth it in the end, purely because you wouldn’t wish the sleeping situation in the cabin on your worst enemy. There was a single, boxspring-less bed crammed in the bedroom’s corner, with a blanket too pitiful to put into words. It only had one pillow. This pillow also happened to be of unknown origin and age, and you were only brave enough to touch it because you’d worn your big girl pants that day. Sam had banked on the two sleeping bags he and Dean had left there as kids, but they were unfortunately still kid-sized. The two of you would’ve been forced to share body heat under one petal-thin blanket. Now, loaded up with massive, fuzzy comforters and heavy quilts, the two of you were happily sharing body heat under enough blankets to drown in.

Sam had insisted on making a bed for himself on the floor the first night. You’d let him, purely because he was pouring on the chivalry by the truckload and you were too grateful to know what to say. Any plans to argue were pinned down by that stern, unguarded stare. S’okay, I’ve been sleepin’ like this since I was little. Just a few minutes sinking into your snug nest made you rot with guilt. Being on the road with the boys put you in a bed with Sam plenty of times, and though the quarters were a bit tighter in the cabin, the cold was sharper too. You confessed your guilt to Sam the next day, and after the usual research marathon that night you felt his weight fill the untouched side of the bed.

Okay, Sam had caved. But—you’re sleeping on the inside, by the wall. I’m a lighter sleeper. That way if somethin’ comes in, I can protect you.

Hearing that, you’d grabbed his wrist and pulled it over your side. You’d kept one hand fisted around the knife under your pillow and the other folded over Sam’s hand, as if to say, I can protect you, too. Sam must’ve understood, because he’d pressed his cheek against your shoulder blade and succumbed to sleep. The rest of the week was spent like that, Sam herding you against one side of the slim bed with his legs and his arms and his sleepy-soft breaths. Though the bed was toasty and the contact was a one-stop sleeping pill, you stayed up with your knife for company. Sam deserved to feel safe while he slept.

You didn’t get that often as a hunter. Especially the touching part. Touching of any kind only really happened when you trusted someone, and trust was earned on the road with all the ease and painlessness of pulling teeth. In Sam’s case, he was an untapped well for little doses of affection. The moment that line was crossed, the second you’d taken a hit in his place for the first time, the second you’d torn your own clothes to wrap his wounds, Sam was open to you. He would never reach for your hand first (not if he was still Sam, who thought he didn’t deserve it), but you could reach for his and he would take it without question. You could pull his arm around you and Sam would wrap it tight, pressing his nose into your back. There was an exchange that occurred. He trusted you to give him something he was too proud to ask for and you trusted him to let you in, the two of you careful not to break the magic.

While he poked at the fire and lit candles, you flitted to the other room to scoop up a blanket to wrap yourself up in. The constant back-and-forth insanity of the day had made you too nauseous to eat, but you knew your stomach needed something. Preferably something sweet to trick you into feeling rewarded. Military rations really weren’t your thing, so you opted for the pomegranate Sam had avoided to keep his research papers clean.

He’d been going through your plan for tomorrow, right. “I’m listening, Sammy.”

When you circled back to join him on the rug, you opened up an arm of your blanket-cape for him. Sam, without comment, ducked under it, and you shuffled around for a minute to give his broader shoulders some fabric to work with. “All we can do for now is wait,” he told you, “so… whaddya wanna do?”

You put a bowl down in front of you and started splitting the pomegranate with your knife. “Chess again?”

Sam’s lip slanted in a frown. All his energy for smart stuff had been spent on the hunt today, so you weren’t all that surprised at his reluctance.

“Cards, then?” You guessed. Beads of rich red fruit started to fill your bowl, which Sam didn’t hesitate to sneak a hand into.

“There’s only so many rounds of Go Fish a guy can handle losing, _____,” Sam teased.

It was true. You’d obliterated him every round so far, the poor bastard.

Sam leaned into your side, filling your peripherals with his know-it-all smirk. “Unless you—”

“We’re done playing poker,” you said, having suffered your fair share playing against him. The emptiness of your wallet must’ve reflected in your voice, since Sam started snickering into his lap—and yeah, maybe the whole cute-shy-guy routine had worked on you, but knowing Sam he’d find a way to sneak the money he’d won out of you back into your bag. He was sweet that way. Evil, but sweet.

“Okay,” Sam wet his lips and wracked his brain. “...I could read my book to you. It’s the one I was telling you about—”

“—with the corrupt cops in L.A,” you filled in. Separating the pomegranate seeds from their core was bloody work with your knife, so when the natural halves of it were happily in the bowl you picked the rest apart with purple-stained fingers.

“Uh-huh. And we’re at a part I think you’d find pretty interesting, all the crazy trial stuff.” Sam shrunk into his shoulders a little bit, then added in a quiet voice, “If you, y’know. If you want.”

Hmm. You swiped the book from Sam’s other hand, the planes of his fingers making brief, electric contact with yours. A sharp flash of heat whipped through your belly, sizzling through your nerves. It took a bit for you to refocus, but the pause made you look like you were some deep scholarly person really inspecting the back cover, which Sam seemed to appreciate. You took care not to get any fruit stains on the pages. When you turned to pass it back to him, Sam was rubbing his bruised knuckles into his sleepier eyes. How he could keep reading after staring at nothing but old newspapers all week, you had no clue.

You reeled the book back toward you. “...How about I read it to you?”

Sam froze, considering this. He considered it so long that you could watch his cheeks color in real-time, the same red they’d been in the snow, until he broke out of his trance and managed a warm, surprised sort of smile.

“Okay,” Sam melted.

“C’mere, lawboy,” you decided on a whim, and pat the top of your thigh. True to form, Sam took his permission and ran with it, twisting shyly to lay on his side and prop his cheek on your leg. “Lemme impress you with all the big words I know how to say.”

Sam chuckled, and it was the kind of laugh that told you just how many weird law words were about to trip you up. It was also the kind of laugh you could feel, rumbly and real through your leg, which was. It was. It was something. He got comfortable, curling a lazy arm around your knee and using you as a proper pillow.

You really should’ve put more thought into having Sam this close. Like, really should’ve, since he’s so big and warm that it has you running on nothing but instinct, and your first impulse having Sam in your lap is to go straight for that gorgeous hair.

You take the lock Sam’s been messing with all day and tuck it behind his ear, just because his head is there and you need a damn place for your hand to rest. Right. A deep and draining sigh airs out of Sam’s nose being touched like that, and you start to wonder if this was something he’d masterminded. He seeps into your lap like he’d been chasing this all day, all week, and something about it makes you feel special in ways no one else could manage.

You open to the page Sam left off on and start to read. Sam doesn’t move an inch, laying statue-still in your lap. He only moves to sneak pinches of pomegranate seeds. Stiff as he is, he’s there, the furnace you’ve relied on for the last few days to keep warm. You get through a few chapters this way, Sam pausing you every ten seconds to explain something or hum or snootily translate some lawyer-speak for you. The whole time you do an excellent job of keeping your hands to yourself. Ever since Sam’s comment from yesterday, the little pieces you’ve gotten of him have made you greedy. Click.

The fire and the candlelight create a perfect bubble of heat on the otherwise icy floor, so it doesn’t take long for Sam to go from resting in your lap to downright oozing across it. From your point of view he’s nothing but a mop of shining hair and a big hand curled around your knee. His presence seeps into you as much as his warmth does, and after so long it’s almost overwhelming to taste someone else’s vulnerability this way. Click click. You’re reminded of how much you care about Sam, and how long it’s been since you’ve been allowed that. There was something about him that would always be worth protecting. Maybe it was how fucking good he smelled.

“Doctor Janen’s contributions to the investigation, especially her knowledge of luminol, were,” you trailed off, “were…”

Sam’s breathing had evened out in your lap. Or, you thought it had, until his posture shifted under the sweater he was wearing. He rolled out of your lap and onto his hands with a reluctant groan. Tired as he was, Sam was always capable of being a smartass. “D’you know what luminol is?”

“Yes, detective,” you scoffed, maybe a teensy bit disappointed that he’d left your lap. The outline of his touch on your thigh burned like a heat beacon. “Should I go back and read the last few paragraphs, or was that you just pretending to sleep?”

Sam rubbed at his face, like it was possible to physically scrub the sleep from it. He sat up next to you, blinking slowly to get his bearings, and for no logical reason your heartbeat built to an ear-ringing throb in your chest. You were completely alone with him. For once, you had Sam all to yourself. Soft shadows kissed his arms and hands and neck. He was made up of nothing but full endless sloping lines, a charcoal sketch come to life.

“I was restin’ my eyes,” he sassed. “We should stay sharp through tonight, though. Stay up. I can take the first shift, since you’ve taken the last three.”

You didn’t miss the little nod to your sleeping habits. Which meant Sam had also laid awake long enough to know you hadn’t fallen asleep until late, which meant he’d laid awake next to you. In bed. Thinking with that big brain of his. It made your own big brain run around in crazy circles, chasing whatever conclusions he might come to.

You stole a glance at the nearest window. The salt lines were laid neatly on its sil, on the off chance boarding up the glass turned out to be useless. “That’s okay. I’m not exactly tired yet.”

Sam popped a few pomegranate seeds into his mouth, humming in thought. “Then it’d probably be smartest to keep each other up.”

“Samuel!” You gasped. He froze mid-chew, confused, and remained confused until you started poking him and laughing. “I’d expect a line like that from your brother, but never from you.”

You were a tease-first-ask-questions-later kind of person, so you understood Sam’s particular brand of banter and how he liked to respond to yours. Typically, you’d annoy him with a playful little taunt and Sam would let you know you were funny by calling you a jackass. You waited for Sam to hear your line and brush you off as an idiot. Instead, he did something much more interesting: he got defensive.

“I meant stay up like, like talking,” he sputtered. “I would never—y’know. I wouldn’t. Do, uh. Do that. Why don’t we keep up our question game from before? It’s, it’s your turn, right?”

“Okay. What was your first time like?”

Well. Shit.

This was the fastest question that either one of you had managed to whip out all week, and that fact hung so obviously in the air that you could feel it between you and Sam on the floor. It dropped so hard in the middle of the conversation that it shut you both up, silencing Sam’s sputtering and veering your train of thought to a shrieking, sparking halt. Sam was smart. His big brain would put together—had probably already put together—that you’d thought about asking him this. He might even be smart enough to intuit why you’d been itching to bring this subject back up, and for the first time in your life you prayed that Sam was the dumbest, most thick-headed man to ever hunt with you.

He did a great impression of someone less clever than himself. “Like. The first time I…?”

You chewed a few pomegranate seeds. “Uh-huh.”

“...Right.” Sam registered. He conveniently decided to fixate on the fire instead of you, which should’ve helped your sanity, if that was even possible anymore. The bulb of his nose and the swell of his lip curved just perfectly in profile, made even prettier by the firelight. God.

You panicked. “If that makes you uncomfortable—”

Sam swallowed. “No, no. You’re okay. Just thinking.”

You bit down on your tongue. Oh, awesome. Thinking! Exactly what I want you to be doing right now!

Sam swiped two sweaty, corded hands down each of his thighs. Tucked his hair behind his ears. Made your belly flutter and twist like a huge gust of wind going through a spring-fresh tree.

“I was seventeen,” Sam cleared his throat. “We were in Utah—well, I was in Utah, Dad and Dean were… Whatever. But I was sort of, um, on this rebellious streak at the time.”

You lazed back on your hands. “So, in hunter-kid terms, counting the days til’ you’re eighteen and packing your rucksack?”

An abrupt laugh barked out of Sam. His gaze loitered on your face with renewed comfort, remembering, again, that you’d both hidden your acceptance letters where no parent could see them. This was another Sam-move you knew the steps to.

“Yeah,” his eyes glittered. “Exactly.”

(The day you met Sam, the one reference you’d made to your associate’s degree had him crossing his legs under the table. He’d asked in a husky, tight voice what you’d gone to school for. Just hearing the words folklore and mythology had the guy close to pitching a tent.)

Sam managed to take his eyes off you. “But, uhm. There was this girl at school my Dad had ordered me not to hang around, so… I hung around. After a school dance. In her car.”

You were a very mature adult who was not at all jealous of a teenage Utahn, and thus sculpted your face into something playful. “Dirty,” you snickered. Sam’s light smile was encouraging, so you said as an afterthought, “Sounds like a squeeze, though. Don’t know if I’d want my first time to be in a car.”

“Especially in a tiny, cramped Nissan,” he agreed, chuckling. The smidgen of regret in his voice shouldn’t have made you feel like you’d earned a point against Random Utah Girl, but it did. You scolded yourself for it (your imaginary point gripped in one fist).

It was now Sam’s turn to ask a question, and he asked it fast. Impressively fast. “Okay, so. No car. Where would you want your first time to happen, then?”

Though you were an absolute animal when it came to Go Fish, your empty wallet was proof enough that you were a lousy poker player—due to an even lousier poker face. Hearing Sam’s question, it did you no favors. Even before you’d formed any thoughts about… everything, your body knew its answer, pointing every delicate nerve in your body toward the open doorway to the cabin’s bedroom.

You flicked a glance at the warm, intimate darkness waiting for you there.

It was only a second. But that one look was enough. Your hand was exposed, and Sam, by comparison, was an excellent poker player.

In a rush, you scrambled to put some distance between yourself and your obviousness. You winced. No way out. “Uhh, anywhere cozy. For the first time, I dunno if I’d wanna be cramped in a closet or something, no matter how sexy it may be. Is it lame to say… a bed?”

Sam hummed. As you’d talked, he’d become more and more relaxed in front of the fire, lounging on a propped-up arm and picking out of the fruit bowl. There was a long silence from him that could’ve been the weighted silence before a judge’s verdict.

…You’d never seen a judge draw his hand up to his mouth, suck pomegranate juice from the pads of his fingers, then pull off them with a noisy pop, but. But maybe they took a different approach at Stanford.

“It’s the standard for a reason, right?” Sam shrugged, amused.

He pushed the bowl across the floor with his wrist instead of his spit-slick fingers. It made a hollow scraping sound that brought your head back to the conversation, thank god, since the last seconds of your life post-fingers-to-mouth action had been spent elsewhere. The specific “elsewhere” that entailed Sam’s thick-knuckled fingers and Sam’s pretty pink mouth. You’d had the occasional intrusive thought about men creep up on you before, but the tricky part was that those thoughts pushed their way in. They jolted into your life then jolted back out.

Single-handed, Sam had hooked you, reeled you in, and pulled you “elsewhere.” Keyword: pulled. Not pushed.

…Then… maybe… pulled you again. And pushed you back. And again. Pulled out, then pushed in. Pulllled out slow, only to ssssink back in, deeper than before. Pulling and pushing with rhythm. Pulling, pushing, faster, deeper. Making you gasp and yelp his name, his fingers—Sam’s fingers—digging into your waist, your belly—

Click. Click click click click click click.

“_____?”

You’re so self-conscious you think you could feel the individual atoms of your body clanging against each other. “...Uh-huh?”

It’s your turn to ask a question next. But Sam breaks the rules and speaks first, since he knows exactly what he wants to ask you. He glides up onto one hand, his whole body a twenty-page study of lanky coyness, and tilts in close to you.

“If you could lay it all out—the timing, the place, the person…” Sam’s face glittered with a poker player’s curiosity. “What would your perfect first time be like?”

Or: Give me the manual, and I’ll follow it.

Your mouth was watering. It was one of a million things making it impossible for you to speak right now, including the sudden, nigh-unbearable heat of the room under your collar, and, oh right, the metric fuckton of slick soaking your underwear. The speed at which your arousal hits you is enough to make you dizzy, and in the haze you swear you start to hear something. Click. Click. Click click click click click click click—

Fuck. Sam is waiting for an answer. Fuck.

“I guess I’ve never thought about it before.”

Which was a blatant lie, since you’d spent the last ten minutes thinking of nothing else. Sam either sensed you weren’t telling the truth or was looking for something more, because he let you linger in your own answer, prying the rest out of you with his hanging silence.

Really, you should’ve been tougher, but the first long breath without anything from him shredded your strength. You caved and filled the quiet.

“I mean,” you toyed with your hands in your lap. “No matter what, I’d want it to be special. Bein’ out on the road, marching around, that’s not really a luxury we’re allowed to have. It’s like you said yesterday. I wanna be with someone I’m connected to, and I don’t think that’s gonna be in the back of a bar or—”

“—in a stranger’s bed,” Sam softened with understanding. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” You echoed. The fire crackled and popped, loud enough that you could use the sound as an excuse to look elsewhere. “And if I happened to find that person, they’d have to be in the life. We can only trust other hunters, nowadays.”

Sam snorted. “If we’re lucky, maybe.”

It disappointed you how much you had to agree with him. There used to be a sense of mutual understanding among the hunters you’d met, but something had shifted since you were little. The world was a much scarier place, and the hunters that’d survived to see it had darkened to meet it. You’d dodged all shades of skeevy, selfish people before you’d landed in the Impala’s backseat. Even Dean and Sam had colored the list of hunters you’d been warned to avoid. Of course, every inch of it had turned out to be triple-hand gossip. Maybe you were quick to judge or the boys were just good seeds in a shitty crop, either way, ending up with them was the kind of good luck that beat the devil.

You’d never had the chance to tell Sam that before.

“I dunno. Not to go all mushy on you, but I do feel pretty lucky.”

Sam indulged you with an inviting tilt of his head, impressed that either one of you had a sliver of luck between you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. This last year, before I joined up with you n’ Dean, there wasn’t a single living soul out there I thought was worth putting my faith in,” you said, easing your mushy confession onto him under the guise of fact. Sam couldn’t digest it any other way. “I’m really grateful you changed that for me. It feels—it feels good to trust people. To feel like somebody knows you.”

Sigh. The side of your personal bubble filled with nothing but Sam started to seep with quiet, disbelieving fondness, and you could tell because Sam was giving you the eyes. The eyes. The ones that people brought out their wallets for and sent girls like you into romantic psychosis.

You dared to face them head-on, which was a reckless idea (probably brought on by romantic psychosis). Sure enough, his gaze was big and soulful and heart-rending. Sam was sitting so close now that you could almost soak up his body heat. The biting wind wormed its way through the thin walls and the fire was fading with it, but Sam oozed magnetic warmth by comparison. Stuff-your-face-in-his-neck kind of warmth.

“Do you feel like…” Sam rasped. He brushed the flats of his knuckles down your arm, breaking that final touch barrier. “...like I really know you?”

Your entire nervous system implodes with fluttery feelings. It’s just two fingers, brushing soft down your arm through your sweater, but. It’s confirmation. It’s Sam’s yes, I want this, and it puts into perspective how the two of you have spent the last week: alone together. Curled as one shape in bed. Talking just loud enough for only the other to hear, and never an octave higher. Never more than a few feet apart. If you reached for Sam first you knew he’d accept your hand, your boots in his bootprints, but when he coasts his palm down the swell of your shoulder it’s him reaching out for you.

You reach right back. You curl a hand up to cover his hand with yours, those big doe eyes asking that same question on repeat. Do you think I know you? Do you trust me? Do you want this?

“All I’ve got is me, you, and Dean. And it wasn’t him that I told all my deepest hopes and shittiest moments to,” you laughed. “So…”

Every other time you’ve hit this point, you’d been distracted by the logistics and the math of sex—protection, chemistry, the when and how, and the consequences of both. It’s not gonna hit you until two days after this moment, after Sam has you as many times as you want in the plush cabin bed, that there was no math with him. Just want. Just things sliding into place. Click click click.

“So…” Sam’s face tips even closer. Your head fogs with the heat and smell and presence of him, mesmerized.

He puts it all together for the two of you: “Your perfect first time would be with a hunter, somebody in the life that you trust. Somebody who could make you feel special. Somebody who really knows you.”

You smirk before you can stop yourself. “Do I need to drop any more hints, Sam?”

Damn, could that boy put a fireworks show to shame. He lit up. Sam’s shoulders did this really cute boyish swell and his lips parted, telegraphing with every piece of himself, Oh, you really want this, you really want me!

You’d never seen him wear that kind of happiness before, and it made sense why. Thank god the two of you were off the grid out here, because you didn’t doubt that Sam’s smile could pop every lightbulb in the entire country.

Sam aimed a bubbly laugh at his lap, embarrassed. “I don’t think I’m getting the full picture,” he tried to flirt, “a few more, maybe?”

So, getting less and less subtle as you went on, you explained to Sam the hypothetical author of the night of your life. He’d be sweet. Polite. Smart, too, but not the type to rub it in your face. (This made Sam laugh). He’d be gentle and considerate and frankly fucking awesome, but not so shy that he couldn’t give you a wild time.

When he was blushing so hard you stopped needing the fire for warmth, you sprinkled one last handful of flattery on him. “And, jesus,” you whistled, “this guy I’m picturing? Total dreamboat. So pretty it makes me wanna write dumb songs about him.”

Predictably, Sam got so flustered that he went back to futzing with that same strand of hair by his ear. With the touch barrier between you broken, your mind buzzed with a million different ways to reach out and feel him, to draw him in, and all those ideas coalesced seeing Sam’s hand come up to his cheek. Before you lost your resolve, you stroked the messiest portion of his bangs behind his ear for him. Sam melted. He liked to do that around you.

“Now I’d just sound arrogant if I assumed that it’s me,” Sam snorted.

You pressed the flats of your knuckles down Sam’s warm, smooth cheek. “It’s you. It’s been you for a while, actually.”

The easy, loving contact dazed him. Sam’s eyes fluttered closed, and a short, shaky breath puffed out of him in one bracing go. It was clear that he hadn’t been touched this way in a while. He sat there absorbing your touch for a long time, a cat resting his head in the full scope of your palm. You turned your body to face his and Sam’s gaze, which was layer after layer of hazels no artist could mimic, opened for you.

You thought about saying something cheesy like, wow, ain’t I lucky, having the whole world in the palm of my hand, but Sam was much faster (and much, much cheesier).

A leather-tough hand scooped around the back of your neck. The touch was fucking-christ-big and god, so was he, the line of his thumb to his wristbone as long as the length of your neck. You knew this because that’s exactly where Sam placed it, stroking your chin with his thumb. Prickling chills tickled up your legs. He scrutinized you—and you say scrutinize loosely, since the Sam-equivalent was gazing into your face like a fatal decision was held there. Your mental yes, yes, I want you was so loud that Sam could’ve psychically heard it. If he did, it was enough to make his pupils become huge pools of want.

“C’mere,” Sam grinned.

You laughed. “M’ practically nose to nose with you, Sam, I don’t have any further to—”

The rest of your teasing was lost to a louder yelp. Sam scooped his arms around your middle and. And hauled you. Into his lap.

His—lap.

There was no way to survive this landing. You were plopped right on top of his barrel-wide thighs, your every sense instantly stuffed full to bursting with every wonderful thing that made Sam himself. A steam of woody body wash and aftershave put you under his spell. Two massive hands soothing down your back glued you happily in place. Sam’s warm chuckles seeped through his chest and into your hands, because, oh yeah, you were allowed to touch him. And there was so much of him to touch now, too. The entire front of your body was cozily smushed up against his firm, longer frame, filling your hazy vision with the soft shadows on his throat and collarbones and those fucking dimples. What the fuck.

“Is this okay?” Sam asked you.

The only time you’d been permitted in another person’s space like this was to hug them. Overwhelmed with choice—you could kiss him, touch him, run your fingers through his hair this close—you defaulted to what you knew. Sam hesitated, but with a breath, the coil of his body unwound and the two of you slid together with a satisfying smush. (Or maybe a click).

Oh my god that’s good, your senses wailed, but all you could manage with your face muffled in his neck was, “Warm. Sooo warm, Sammy.”

“Is that a yes?” He hoped.

You pulled your face out of his shirt to sigh. “The biggest yes of your life.”

Sam gleamed. Being so close to the source of all happiness on earth (the toothy grin he was biting back for your benefit) should’ve instantly pulverized you and every other hot-blooded being on this side of the planet. It should’ve. But your soul was still ringing around in your feeble body, and sure enough, your calves were still snug around Sam’s thighs like they’d been before. You’d survived being inches away from Sam’s face while he smiled all shy for you, and succeeded in feeling only a teeny bit like a pile of smoking ash because of it. For a second you tricked yourself into thinking you could survive him.

That is not the case.

With impeccable timing, Sam kisses you. Just a brief, firm peck on the mouth. Testing the waters. The waters that are now a fucking ocean in your underwear, thank you very much. It’s only a two-second kiss, but the instant Sam’s lips pop off of yours an embarrassing happy squeal follows him out. Definitely not the suave reaction you were expecting from yourself. Sam just laughs, which translates as a sexy hum under your free hand.

“That was cute,” he whispers, eyes crinkling.

“Shut up, Sam.”

He hums, still brimming with that big spoiled grin. He takes you by your prickling arms and starts to pull his hands down them, again and again, squeezing the anxiety out of you in huge handsy swaths. You feel a bit better about being such a nervous wreck. His hands are trembling too.

The first kiss was good. Really good. Wetter, warmer than you were expecting, but so fucking—good. His mouth was soft and stained by the pomegranate, but, oh no, you’re already forgetting what it was like to taste him. It’s so tempting… to just… lean in…

He’s just as tempted. Sam meets you in the middle for a second kiss that he finds so satisfying, so right that this deep rumbling moan purrs right out of him. The pink swell of his lips are, of course, pressed hot to yours, filling you head to fucking toe with that single bassy note. You gasp through your nose—because nothing is worth breaking his kiss. Not a desperate breath of air, not an uttered word.

Sam kisses you with his hands as much as he dazzles you with his mouth, laying heavy touches down your back, then your waist, then your legs, inspecting and absorbing. You’re hardly as methodical. He is a wonderful beach and it’s your first time seeing the ocean. You take the biggest fistfuls of him that you can, feeling the silky sand of him slip between your greedy fingers.

Sam is apparently into being your metaphorical beach, since after he’s done melting your brain and your underwear in the most intense make-out session of your life, he pulls away to speak.

Sam rasps. “Can I take care of you?”

It takes you a moment to respond, because. Well. A, that’s the sexiest way someone has asked to have sex with you, no contest, and B, you’ve been waiting this whole time for the moment where you don’t want this anymore. With other men, your body had just never found the spark that should’ve been there. Was this time different? Had things click click clicked into place?

You take a step back to put this in perspective for your future self. As vividly as you’re able, you think about having sex with Sam. You visualize Sam’s sharp eyes, his naked back, the cut of his hips, all of it, as he fucks you straight through the shitty mattress in the cabin’s bedroom. All the sweat-twisted blankets shoved to the floor. Sam’s hips canting your thighs apart. The worn-smooth slope of his—of his fucking paws, essentially, squeezing your tits and your tummy and your waist in achy handfuls. You think about it some more. How Sam would moan, how his lashes would screw shut in ecstasy as he filled you. You keep thinking about it. When your mind starts to deviate toward the filthy, thick sound of him… o-of Sam plunging into you over and over again, smushing you under his weight… uhm. Uh.

Yeah. Yeah, this is everything you fuckin’ want.

It takes conscious effort for you to close your gaping mouth, then pry it open again to blurt: “Please, yes.”

A tiny piece of his posture relaxed in relief. Sam smushed a cute, giddy peck into your cheek, reminding your entire tingling nervous system that there was a really sweet guy underneath the deadly-efficient hunter you knew.

“Okay,” he beamed, and shyly tipped his head toward the bedroom. “Shall we?”

You feel like you should be doing more than being demure and nodding a lot, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind. After you climb out of his lap and find your footing on your jellified legs, he unfolds off the floor like bucks do, knowing on instinct how to conduct the body he has so much of. The fire’s sleepy and weak in the hearth, and with it dead, Sam is the new center of heat in the room. He takes your hand and just touching the middle of his palm spurs shivery warmth down your legs. Now, you’re all too aware of Sam’s proportions—how encompassing his hand feels, how easily his shoulders fill the doorway to the little bedroom. Feeling mature, you fill the next room with bright giggles. You see in real-time how Sam melts at the noise.

Like you have the last few nights, you each scoop up a candle and find a place for it amidst the hunter clutter. It takes a beat to find your way through the dark. The space is just big enough for the slim bed pushed snug into the corner, and already you know from experience how you and Sam fit into the nest of blankets and pillows. (Hint: extremely well).

Sam uses his candle to light a few others on the bedside table, keeping a free hand stretched toward you to reserve his spot as your only hand-holder. You drop your candle on the dresser and consider the only thing next to it while you wait for him. The Winchesters had three vinyls total for their ancient record player, and seeing it unused and wasted in front of you, you have a stroke of romantic genius.

The second you drop the needle on the first jazz record and turn back toward the cozy, honey-lit room, Sam’s there, sliding into your open arms to plant a kiss on you. And another. And another. And another, coaxing little happy sighs from you. They’re such deep kisses that you dip back with each one, until the curve of Sam’s towering body is diagonal over you and you have to clutch his shoulders to stay standing. Both of his rough-sawn hands cup the scoop of your back to support you. All your daydreaming about him had convinced you that he’d be a head-to-toe brick wall, but Sam’s teddy-bear soft instead, the gleaming skin you have access to yielding and plush. His lips most of all, puffy pink and shining.

Sam persists, pressing closer, kissing you deeper, panting under his breath. Whatever it is about the happy sounds you make wake up something dark in him. There’s a tight, delicate rhythm he likes to follow, and the more of Sam you get the less of it you see. That straight-arrow persona is there, and then—poof! Sam’s tongue is laving wet and hot and perfect across your parted lips, ruining your underwear in one fell swoop.

He tilts in to start sucking on your tongue—

“Fuck, Sam,” you choke out.

The situation in your panties graduates to unbearable levels. If you have to makeout with Sam fully clothed for even a second longer, you think your core will enter a full reactor meltdown. You try to get the words across, grabbing helplessly at his sweater and whining, but Sam interprets it as something else.

“Everything okay?” He worries.

Dazed, you nod more than you need to. With your eyes open and his face in full view, you’re hit with a spark of self-consciousness. Sam fills the bedroom with easy conviction, owning his desire in a way you’ve never really been capable of. You don’t exactly have the experience to blow his mind or anything. Why would he want this if there was so little in it for him? Sam wasn’t a selfish guy, but… To you, your eagerness starts to feel more like greediness.

You shift from foot to anxious foot, shrinking in place. “...Could you, um? Walk me through it? How we’re gonna…?” You swallowed the frog in your throat. “Sorry, that must seem stupid.”

Leave it to him to make something stupid into something ridiculously, fatally sexy.

“S’okay, don’t be embarrassed. It’d…” Sam wets his lips, looking for the words. A quiet, dirty-minded smile plays across his face. He decides, “It’d be my pleasure.”

His touch moves away from your back, and you’re about to mourn the loss of it until Sam’s hands start to play with yours, twisting them around in his own like a schoolboy. He closes the space you’ve timidly left open between you by pressing your chests together. It’s a small gesture. But this is Sam, so your face is in smolders on that alone. (…And you’d just been french kissed, to be fair).

“Okay. Uhh,” Sam fumbles. He stops to consider his approach. As in, the approach he’ll take to seducing you, as if you aren’t seduced on a level incomprehensible to humankind.

You can’t help but laugh at how much Sam-math must be happening in his head, and Sam laughs too. Sam keeps laughing, until it warms into a handsome, knowing hum, and suddenly he’s laying your hands on his belt and tickling your ear with the hot fan of his breath. You squeak, sensitive, which tempts him into breaking character.

Sam reigns it back in, then whispers.

“When you’re ready… m’ gonna get you out of these clothes.”

The deliciously big set of hands on your waist sidle up under the open strip of skin below your shirt. Just one of his fingers is brave enough to sneak up to draw circles against your tummy. It’s the slightest taste of what it’ll be like to have those hands all over you, sweat-slick skin-to-naked skin, which is just enough to make your appetite for him boil in your gut.

“And I know you’re gonna be freezin’, we both are, but I promise you’ll get real hot real soon. Cause’...”

The bulb of his nose (and the ghost of his smile) brushed your cheek, then down, and the explosive fluttery feeling already lighting up your belly pitches into a whole fireworks show.

“...The minute I see you lying all pretty on your back for me…”

Sam tips in to lay a kiss on your throat. A slow, open-mouthed kiss, suckling soft on your skin.

“...In our bed…”

Our bed, he says. That choice of words alone implies so much. If the two of you sharing it before didn’t count, then Sam was about to make it your bed.

“I’m not stopping til’ you get every single thing you want,” Sam purrs. His kisses become blatant licks, the whole of his capable tongue drawing wet lines on your throat. “Til’ you’re damn spoiled.”

What. The fuck. The universe could dissolve into mist and you would be too turned on to care, tethered to the last atoms of the earth by your hands on Sam’s belt. You gape up at him. Sam, the evil genius, smirks right back. When you’d said you wished your first time could feel special, you hadn’t exactly been planning for Sam to follow that direction to the damn letter. He makes it sound like he’s going to bend to your every whim, and knowing Sam...

You swipe at your face to check that you’re not drooling. “I’m—I-I—you’re—” while you’re sputtering, he swipes a dab of spit off the other corner of your lip. “—Suh-Sam.”

Screw it. You drop both hands on Sam’s chest and twist your fingers in his shirt, forcing the words out in choppy pieces. “I’m not as experienced as you. But I really, really… want this. To be—to be good for us. Wanna give you everything you want, too.”

Sam makes a flattered, yet sympathetic face. “Oh, baby, don’t think about me—”

“—I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Now, it’s Sam’s turn to forget how to speak. Finally.

You wind your fingers into the tuft at the back of his neck, enunciating, “How… do I make this good for you?”

“You’re already here. That’s all I need,” Sam gushes, falling back on his tender chivalrous boyfriend routine. It’s really sexy. Almost sexy enough to work. He tucks back his signature lock of unruly hair, blushing from his ears to his neck.

Well, stream-of-consciousness hasn’t failed you yet.

“Uh-uh. We’ve been alone together in this teeny cabin for a whole week. There’s no way I’m the virgin, but you’re the one without the dirty fantasies.” You take a long squinting look at him to divulge any loose secrets. Thumbing Sam’s hip through his shirt, you press, “Tell me. C’mon. You want me to blow you? Pull your hair? Or do you, I dunno—wanna bite me? Pin me down?”

You can track the second Sam starts breathing harder, but somewhere between then and now his eyes have glazed over with dangerous desire.

Sam clutched fast at his shrinking sliver of self-control. “Okay,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere. So… if it feels right, and it’s not embarrassing, it would be… I’d, I’d love it if you…”

“Got super noisy?”

After an intensely bashful pause filled with quiet music, Sam nods, hiding behind his bangs. Knew it. He always got so squirrely when you did your oh-I’m-so-cozy moan snuggling into bed at night.

Teasing him any more would definitely be poking the bull. But is it fun to poke that bull? Absolutely. Especially when Sam starts to unbuckle his belt, his whole body crawling with the urge to throw himself at you.

“Alright, I can do that. But how noisy are we talking? Like, normal enjoying myself kind of noisy, or best-sex-of-my-life noisy?”

He gets this nasty, disbelieving smile on his face, and it’s your last warning before—

Snap. Sam’s restraint splits in two. In an instant you’re captured by the underarms and Sam, who’s honest-to-god grinning/snarling about how you need ta’ be taught a lesson on leavin’ well enough alone, flings you onto the end of the bed. You land with a shriek. Then a second, louder squeal, as Sam takes your pantlegs in his fists and whips them clean off.

The next precious moments are filled with all sorts of lessons. For one thing, it takes a lot of force to tear pants off a person. By happenstance, you’re dragged a whole foot further down the bed and right against Sam’s lap. You also learn that pants are connected to underwear, so following that math, it makes sense why your panties are now royally rearranged on your hips. These two factors are too convenient to not be planned on Sam’s part. You’re reminded, again, that Sam is a genius.

You also remember that you’ve never been pantsed before. With and without the sexy context. Keeping that in mind, you, like any other person in your delicate situation, snap your legs closed on instinct. Not because you don’t want Sam there—holy shit, do you want him there—but because he happened to tickle you in the transfer from floor to bed, and you’re not about to let him pounce on you and tickle you to death.

This really works out for you in the long run, since having your legs closed means that it’s inevitable Sam will have to open them.

You’re laughing so hard that your sides have locked up with stitches. Sam pretends he’s not just as amused by kneeling up on the bed as grouchily as possible, ripping his shirt off, and… and, uhm… scooping his huge palms under your knees, and… yeah. He doesn’t have to do any pushing past that. Your legs just fall right open for him, and Sam wiggles in between them where he belongs.

Nothing in this entire world could prepare you to have Sam this close, so the idea that you could even cope with being absolutely towered over by the indecent amount of ab he possesses is fuckin’ laughable. Who the fuck let him have abs? For the health of all people attracted to men on this planet, who taught Sam to work out?

Your giggling trails off into mesmerized, panting silence.

“How noisy?” Sam scoffs, chuckling mean and deep in his chest. “How noisy? I’ll give you a hint how noisy you’re gonna be—”

He falls forward onto his hands, effectively blanketing you in a swath of flushed-smooth, freckly skin. There’s not a thought in your mind about how cold this room is in comparison to the last. Your hands smooth over the planes of his cheeks on instinct, and Sam follows the touch into a soul-shattering, full-body, toe-curling kiss that melts both your bodies into the homey center of the quilts and comforters. His nose squishes into your cheek and a long, satisfied groan bubbles out of him. He barely pulls his lips from yours when he hisses—

“...I’m gonna fuck you til’ you’re hoarse.”

What in the ever-loving fuck.

I cannot put into words how much I want you to do that, you want to say, and it’s true, since you end up making the world’s neediest gasp of glee instead. You’re not pleading up into his face for a full second before Sam gets your message. One can only guess what he’ll do next. (Hint: Sam cannot take in a full breath without kissing you first).

All week you’ve been toiling away to earn tiny pieces of the Sam puzzle. The picture you’ve built so far is, frankly, a touch-starved animal, who will wait at the heels of the first trusted person willing to provide. You kiss Sam once and he’s so damn grateful that he’ll multiply it by five. You get adventurous with your hands, squeezing and appreciating Sam’s flushed-smooth back. Because he’s Sam, returning the favor takes precedence over his beloved activity, and your kiss is forced to break so he can sit up and touch you proper.

Well. If any of this can be considered proper, that is. And if there’s one word to describe what Sam does to you with his hands, it’s improper.

“Still ready, _____?” He asks.

You bite back your inner worries and taunt him, “Been ready.”

He splays his fingers on your belly and is so transfixed by its softness that he stoops to smudge a kiss above your belly button. You do your best to pretend it doesn’t tickle, which is the opposite of what Sam wants. He gives your sides two quick pinches that have you squirming and squeaking under him, too shy to keep your eyes open. You’re embarrassed about the girly sounds he gets out of you until you risk a look at his face—plum red, dizzy, and glazed with fond desire.

Sam wasn’t kidding. He does want you at your noisiest.

This brings your horniness to a whole new level, turning the airy fluttery feeling expanding in your belly into the opposite: an emptiness, a vacuum, and one that desperately needs to be filled. Sam seems to do nothing but fill things. The doorways he stands in, the beds he kneels on, the snuggly center of your embrace. Naturally, this makes you insane. His hands fill up the most—big swaths of your belly, your shirt—your bra.

They push the band of the hunting sportsbra you’re wearing clear over your tits and out of his way. Sam rumbles in approval.

You stop your hands from twitching up around your naked chest, now hyper-aware of how much your breasts rise with your breath. Sam breathes you in. His gaze is soft beyond imagination, which makes the whittled-down shards of fear inside you seem even sillier than before. Either he reads your mind or he’d predicted you’d be mousy (and christ do you hope it’s the latter, since that means he thought about this already), because Sam plucks up your closest hand and presses it flat to his happy trail.

“Don’t be nervous,” he soothes. “Touch me too.”

The thought alone explodes you into steam. But you’re no quitter, so you roll with the invitation, stroking the soft pads of your fingers along the line from Sam’s naval to his ill-fitting jeans. He’s not flexing for you, so you get to feel him as Sam really is: butter-smooth and blanket-soft. Without his belt there’s a precious gap hanging between his hips and his waistband. It’s just big enough for your hand to fit inside.

You’re not brave enough to take that final plunge until Sam twists down to kiss your chest. His mouth burns scorching hot on your breastbone, and as he curls over your body, his hands on your belly slide up to take two needy handfuls of your tits. In the same motion you fit your hand into Sam’s jeans and squeeze and—ohhh fuck, you wind in as one, sharing a perfect bow-taut moment of hissing pleasure.

Sam pressed his face where he was kissing, deflating on top of you with a long, seeping, “Shittt.”

Okay. On top of feeling good, sex could be a fun little puzzle to put together. Sam urging his hips into your hand was one piece, and if you put it in the right place (i.e: touched him like that again), he’d be all yours. You do. You cup him through his boxers and follow what you feel, and what you feel is. Fucking. It’s. I-is it supposed to be that big? And, and holy shit, is he hard.

Sam. Sam’s big, thick dick in your hand. You’re gonna be wet for damn weeks.

Stupified, you blurt out, “Do you always get this hard?”

Sam cracks a wry grin, his eyes lidded. “Mm. It’s definitely you. Bein’ stuck out here with you.”

He drops a kiss on the seam of your ribcage. Then lower. And lower, leaving shiny wet circles along your tummy. “Makin’ me crazy… sticking by me every second, pressing yourself into me in your sleep. Lookin’ at me like—like that.” Just thinking about it made Sam shiver. “You turn me on like nothing else. Just last night, even, right here in this bed—I must’a stopped myself from rolling you over and tasting you a hundred times.”

The urge was so vivid for him that Sam’s mouth must’ve been watering, since he sucks the spit back through his teeth before he starts to kiss your belly in earnest. Just that sound burns with lust. Sam wants it, wants you so bad he’s shaking, his hands trembling under your thighs as he slithers down to lay between them. His kisses grow fiercer, open-mouthed and sucking the closer he gets to your panties. Kitten-soft moans start to sneak into the cycle of your panting.

“Don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop myself this time,” Sam husks.

You let him know just how comfortable you are with that by curling your legs around his back. Then his shoulders. Then Sam’s ears, and at that point he’s singeing spit-damp kisses inside your thighs like the world’s most faithful servant.

Nobody but him had ever touched you there. You choke out his name on short, needy breaths. It’s like you’re filling a meter. With enough please, Sams, you hit his limit, and he stops rubbing his face into your soft under-thighs long enough to hook his fingers around your waistband.

You’re treated to the Sam Winchester specialty. He bats long lashes at you over dark, sensitive eyes, and rasps, “Am I okay to…?”

You’re so horny that you start spurring Sam closer with your heels. “Fucking yes.”

This is the A+ answer. Sam doesn’t even wait to get your underwear all the way down your legs, yanking them out from under you and ducking straight below the bridge they make. Just seeing your pussy makes him swear. You’re so swollen and slick and his mouth is so close, so close, but Sam decides to taunt you, blowing across the spit cooling on your belly instead. Heat oozes in hazy lines from his body. From his hands. By comparison, the night has leeched the warmth from the room and you’re cold enough to get goosebumps.

“Please please please, Sam,” you hiccup, “need it. Need you. Need you t’ warm me up.”

“My poor girl,” Sam coos, brows drawn with playful sympathy. He starts to rub some heat back into your freezing legs, tilting closer, closer. “I know just how to help.”

You let your head flop back as you take his cheesiness in, laughing. That’s not exactly a line you’d expect from him. Before, though, you would’ve never pinned Sam as the kind of guy to clamp your knees against your chest, drop his head between your legs and fit his mouth on you, slurping noisily on your slick like he’s eating the juiciest fruit of his life—

“—f-uuuuckkk Sammy yes yes yes—”

Indescribable pleasure pops and sizzles along your weeping core. It’s so fucking—fucking yes all at once that you clap down both hands to white-knuckle the top quilt and howl. Sam sets to work. He covers your entire pussy with his mouth, swallowing you fucking whole, apparently, since you’re the most delectable thing he’s ever tasted. You have to be, with Sam groaning and cursing all fierce and hot between licks.

“Fuck. That’s it, pretty girl,” Sam coaches. He slurps loud and obscenely on your clit, swallowing down the results with a shiver of ecstasy. “Shit, just like that. You’re so good at this already. So good at taking it, ______. Never should’a made you wait.”

But all that must not count as getting a full taste of you, since Sam deviates, splaying his tongue flat and wide to rake it against you top to bottom. His tongue almost drools with liquid heat. At first you’d been disappointed you couldn’t see him over your legs, and now, you’re grateful for the mercy. Seeing Sam like that…

Sam licks you open until there’s no breath left in him. He goes until his jaw is sore and your slick is rolling off his chin in sticky rivulets, wetting the bedspread. He goes and he keeps going, worshipping your slippery-wet cunt between huffy moans.

You make a pathetic attempt at giving as good as you’re getting, but what should be a sexy zinger actually comes out as, “Sam, I-I—oh, god—Sam—!”

After that, your ability to form words joins your other higher brain functions in the endless sparkling expanse of white in your mind. Sam stirs a single long finger through your sopping folds. The stimulation alone has your hips twisting helplessly up to his face, on top of the rapid flicks of his talented tongue, but it’s the easy pressure of Sam’s thick finger filling you to the knuckle that actually earns a scream.

Not your average horror movie scream—an honest, enthusiastic, belly-deep cry that jerks in your chest like a sob.

You can pinpoint the precise moment that Sam realizes you’re a screamer; he hum-laughs to himself where he thinks you can’t hear.

“Next time,” (oh my fucking god there’s a next time), “‘won’t make you wait a minute, baby. Gonna give you everythin’ you want. I’m real sorry, darlin’, do you forgive me? Forgive me for not fucking you the second we were alone?”

You’re too busy having actual, real tears of desire cake your cheeks to string together a better answer than a moan. Holy shit.

Sam gives your pussy two deep, loving licks, each hot enough to send you into a coma. “Say it,” he utters, teasing, “say you forgive me.”

“I forg’ve you,” you croak.

“Forgive who?” He presses.

“I forgive you, Sammy.”

“That’s my girl,” Sam husks the promise between kisses to your clit, “So good to me. So sweet.”

Somehow, this is just as life-altering for him as it is for you. Long, flowing crests of pleasure seep hot through your system, winding tighter, tighter, tighter, twitching in the muscles of your stomach and almost cramping in your curled toes. The taste of you is so rich that Sam’s back quakes with euphoric shudders, trembling deep under the skin where he’s too far gone to rein back in. Sweaty locks of his bangs flutter as he breathes. It’s the only sign he’s breathing at all, really, what with him eating you out like he’s fuckin’ starved.

Sam gives a few good twists of his finger deep in your pussy (which doesn’t even graze how deep he might be with his cock). When you’re a puddle on the mattress and used to him, Sam withdraws to studiously coach you, “Deep breaths, ______.”

It takes a moment for the words to register. Once they have, you wind down long enough to measure your crazed breathing into even strokes. The ceiling overhead swims with dancing candlelight shadows and floating cartoon stars. Sam lifts his head to see for himself that you’re following his instructions, and after he’s done falling in love with the sight of you, Sam fills you up with two digits instead of one.

“A-ah!”

Just like before, they’re thrust in to the hilt at once. The throbbing, aching, leeching core of your arousal positively explodes, the urge to be filled finally touched. Sam’s responding bassy groan vibrates all the way up your body. The length and thickness of his fingers is put to immediate use, stretching you out with long knuckling gestures. You’re so unimaginably wet that your pussy just pulls him right in.

There’s a pause where you wiggle down onto his hand and brace yourself for the next brain-melting touch, and true to form, Sam sails straight over your grandest expectations. He’s quick to find the silky heart of arousal in your core again. You only know it by reputation, not experience, so when Sam presses into it with two soft fingerpads the pitch of your wailing jumps up ten octaves. Suddenly the pleasure is hot hot hot inside-going-out.

Sam tilts his head to one side and finds the gall to ask you: “How does that feel?”

(He just wants to hear you say it.)

“So good,” you weep. “Please please please gimme more, Sam, please—”

“It’s gonna be okay, _____. I’ll make it all better…”

Only then does Sam’s tongue get back to work, and—and holy fucking shit, he swoops in to steal the gold, demolishing every other name in the pussy-eating game. Sam wins. Sam fucking wins.

If this is just how his fingers feel…

Sam’s grin takes on a confident gleam. By coincidence, it’s around then that you remember that he’s psychic.

Somewhere between licking you into the next dimension and, oh yeah, Sam licking you into the next dimension, he’s pinned your thighs to your chest with a firm hand under your knees. You squeeze that hand for all you’ve got, every feeble atom in your body scrubbed raw with perfect pulsing desire.

To think, you’d spent this whole time getting off with your hand. A fucking hand. A few fingers! Sam crooks his in a way you’d never even hoped for on your own, finding that fluttery, twitchy spot inside you and working it for all it has. You’d asked for more and he gives you more, thrusting two fingers in at a brutal, even pace—again and again and again, til’ you’re thrashing up and off the mattress, wailing, your whole body a fist cramping shut around him. You snap in so tight toward him that you shove your face into your knees and cross your ankles tight behind Sam’s neck, keening, the fire knotted in your body devouring whatever fuel he’ll give.

Sam’s skill with his hands made you feel like an amateur in your own department. But his slick velvet tongue on your slick velvet pussy, taking slow sucks on your clit that turn into big broad licks, licking you up, licking you into his mouth whole, made just the thought of masturbation fucking laughable. I mean, c’mon! What the fuck are you supposed to do after this? Pop into the bathroom to use the showerhead, when Sam and his insatiable appetite for pussy are sitting right in the next room? Why even bother fantasizing about him and dicking around with a vibrator when nothing would ever compare to the real thing, shoving his parched panting mouth between your legs in an addict’s haze?

Still lapping up your dripping core, Sam pries his free hand from your grip. You’re pretty sure you have the right to whine in protest. Without his leverage for support your weak thighs collapse straight open, and for all you know the gates of heaven had parted to reveal god’s most beautiful angel. Sam is the picture of filth. His pretty pink lips are sealed around your cunt, his nose is all cute and smushed into your pubic bone, and you watch in time with every dirty lap as his jaw rolls handsomely under his skin.

The look on his face is unfor-fucking-gettable. In fifty years, sixty years, seventy, you know this memory will still live inside you, since no man has ever looked at you that way before. You weren’t sure it was even possible. Hazy euphoria radiates in unending rays from Sam’s face. He wants you. He trusts you. He is written all over with warm, intent desire, satisfying himself on you.

“Stay still,” Sam asks, politely.

Politely, you slap back against the bed and moan out, “Mhhmm.”

A new kind of mischief flashes across his face. You would’ve never pinned Sam as the type of guy to thrive with an audience, but now that he knows you’re watching, he falls seamlessly into a performance. His act is a three-parter.

While keeping his pace with his fingers, Sam starts by sliding slow off your pussy and spitting on it even slower. Whatever hazel leftover in his eyes has been swallowed totally by glittering, black delight. The muscles is his arm bulge and cramp fucking into you so hard. Pleased with himself, Sam dips down, dark eyes disappearing under his bangs, and makes a show of pointing his tongue to flicker across the raw nerves of your clit.

There’s more after that in the finale of Sam’s act, but the constant, brutal winding toward your release has taken its final toll. You have no fucking clue how you’ve survived this long. The overpowering squeezes of arousal inside you become full-body, wracking pangs. The sweaty trembling scraps of your soul leftover from Sam’s work throb and throb until they’re a blinding star. At the center of it, your core, tight and hot and so loved by Sam’s mouth. The searing pleasure becomes explosive. Apparently, the noisy, pitchy moans waking up the mountainside are coming from you, as you claw to get Sam even a molecule closer—closer, closer, closer—s-so close—!

So…

Close…

And you’re there. In the shimmering, divine realm Sam has made just for you; the realm your meager hands could never bring you to, and the realm you’ll be chasing still for the rest of your life. It becomes blatantly obvious in the next blissful minute that you’ve never cum before. Not for real, at least. This was a real orgasm, flashing through your spirit and flowing hot and beautiful through the numb ends of your body. You wail through it like it’s real, that’s for sure.

Your pussy clamps down around Sam’s fingers in waves of slippery pressure, and he revels in every second of it. You’re fucked through it. Kissed through it. He keeps up his pace and smushes his face in close, and that’s when you realize, oh fuck, Sam is going to drink your glass empty. The soft scooping of his tongue ramps up and up and over, til’ the edges of your vision start to spot and your muscles are too tight to unknot and it’s all too much.

“Sa—Sam—”

Just that word has him off you. You think Sam draws back and away, but that’s just a guess, since the wires between you and the outside world have been fucked stupid. Even the language has been licked and lapped out of you.

“Sam…”

You feel… like soup. Wet all over and hot hot hot. Filling the shape of the bed. You make an honest attempt at communicating this to Sam as your soupy mind’s way of telling him how satisfied you are, but. Your pussy gives a delighted, distracting throb that melts you into the top quilt all over again. Wow.

Just. Wow. You marinate in the aftershocks for what feels like ages, speechless.

Down by your legs (so that’s where he went!), Sam peels his heaving chest off the bedspread. Right. If you couldn’t breathe, he definitely couldn’t either. He gets up on all fours and crawls towards you like a guy in an RnB music video, all sexy moving arms and hips. It really shouldn’t be as appealing as it absolutely is. Starry-eyed, you open lazy arms to him and haul him down the second he’s close enough. He falls on top of you with a happy oomf. He’s long and smooth and wonderful, making you sigh when he snuggles in.

A few sparkling millennia go by laying in bed with him, toying with his hair and giggling dazedly to yourself. Sam hides his blazing face in your neck and murmurs something.

You’re buzzed by the skin-to-skin contact and cum drunk, which puts everything he says into fuzzy empty speech bubbles. The low, shy rasp of his voice tickles your neck. You try again.

“...Uh-huh…?”

“Was, uh, that too intense? Or…?”

The question floats around in your head for a while, bumping into things and spinning in zero gravity. Finally, the lights in your ship start to come on, and you pull what Sam said out from space.

“Look at me a minute.”

Sam does, curious.

“How’d,” you struggled to find your breath, “how the hell’d you learn t’ do that.”

And suddenly, Sam’s high school shyness is on a man’s face, and that man licks your slick off his lip and suppresses an evil grin. “I have, y’know. A thing about it.”

“A thing?” You echo, laughing with him. Maybe if you said it again it wouldn’t blow your mind as much. “A thing. Try an addiction, Sam, holy shit.”

In a few days, you’re gonna have to act normal around him in a room with his brother, while Sam uses the lips he defiled you with to talk, drink, and smile. Fuck. For the rest of your life, you’re gonna have to sit beside him at the dinner table and remember how he told you had a thing for eating pussy. A thing.

Glowing with innocent humility, Sam pawed up onto his hands, rolled onto his side, and positioned himself like a pin-up girl inviting you to bed. When he was done broadcasting with his entire body how much he wanted you, Sam shrugged. “I dunno… I just love to do it.”

(Being stunned silent by Sam tally: one million and three.)

He’s not real. There’s no way he’s real. You grab around for some part of him to pinch, and though Sam’s indignant yelp sounds authentic, you’re unconvinced. They had to have cooked him up in a lab somewhere.

This earns you a deep, fond Sam laugh. He gives your closest hip a playful pinch too, and after a brief tickle-fight that you miserably lose, Sam tilts his lips toward yours and husks, “Roll over that way and c’mere.”

With nothing else to do but submit happily to Sam’s will, you follow his hand and tilt in toward the wall. “You are something else.”

You’re joking, but you can also kind of feel it. Sam slings his arm over your ribs to pull your back flush to his chest, and already you melt into each other, settling back into the hollows you made in the blankets the night before. This close you can feel the magic in him. Sam oozes with cozy bonfire heat, his body laying sure and protective against your body, the last dregs of hunt anxiety in him gone. You feel the worn-soft denim of his open jeans as Sam’s lap wiggles down to scoop under you. A map of what’s ahead.

He teases a hand down your ribcage, thumbing sweetly at your belly. Sam tilts his head forward for a kiss, and unable to resist him, you meet him in the middle for one that turns into two, then three, then a swath of obsessed pecks. He must have a thing about kissing, too.

Sam pulls back to study you. With less confidence than you’d expect, he asks, “You wanna keep going?”

Just the teeniest motion of your head has Sam swooping for the chance to kiss you again, but you stop him short and twist to get a better look at him. In a high, maidenly voice, you play at being confused. Your poker face is still awful, so you have to hide your massive grin behind the invisible handkerchief you’re clutching.

“Keep going? My, a gentleman like you… an unmarried woman like me… what else is there to do, Samuel?”

His week being teased by you at all angles has forced him to evolve. Sam forgets altogether about indulging your bit and upgrades straight to more wonderful, ticklish manhandling, wiggling an arm between your vulnerable side and the bed to practically throw you back where you belong. You squeak and sputter between laughs, pretending your skin doesn’t explode with goosebumps at his touch.

When his massive palm is spread over your breastbone, Sam hoists you back against him, rolls in to threaten squishing you with more plush muscle and manly weight, and snarls in a way that ruins your metaphorical panties all over again.

“Uh-uh. Don’t play. You know exactly what m’ gonna do to you. Do y—?”

Sam stirs up his hips as he talks. All the snooty teasing left in your tank evaporates in one fell swoop, feeling the delicious outline of his dick swelling against you. Okay. You’re woman enough to admit that does it for you, and you really, really don’t want to wait anymore. Sam is an unbearable tease who will drag this out forever. You take matters into your own hands. Or, really, you put them into his.

…You prop open your closest leg for him, bent at the knee.

“Aw,” Sam rumbles, “didn’t even have’ta ask.”

You don’t hide your mean little grin. Sam, of course, kisses you into oblivion just seeing it, sliding a coarse hand under the silky, sensitive flesh behind your knee to keep you open for him. The ashes of your last climax are still simmering with heat, but it’s Sam’s kiss and his touch that reignites you totally.

It’s a bit of a twist to lean back and kiss him, but Sam’s height is made for this: his bulge swells right under your pussy, and he has the room to lean in close to your ear and purr—

“Take it out.”

Sam is asking you to take out his dick. You know that, yet you imagine yourself a month from now, unsure of which weapon the boys are comfortable letting you borrow from the Impala’s trunk. Dean’ll tell you, oh, the machete’s fine. Then Sam, with glittering eyes and full knowledge of how he’s torturing you, will nudge his chin toward the trunk and utter that phrase. Go on. Take it out. Knowing exactly what you’re thinking, and when, and how. And how deep and how hard.

It takes some shuffling and some curling, but you manage to work Sam’s jeans and boxers down his thighs. Just the sound of his zipper makes your mouth water. He hisses soft by your ear at the chill of the room, but in your hand Sam’s dick is body-hot by comparison. And. And so… s-so…

You scoop your palm around the shaft, squeezing him, feeling him. Through your back you feel Sam curl in and shiver, rumbling in approval. Your cheeks feel like they’re cooking by the candlelight just going for it, but your curiosity wins out—or, more accurately, your fucking awe. Because. What the fuck. You’ve never exactly seen a dick in person before, but you’re not naive. Sam is big enough to split you in half, and—and it just kind of pisses you off, because not only is he big, his dick is pretty, too. He has a pretty dick. Just cause’ being smart and empathetic and all that other bullshit didn’t make him sexy enough. God.

You nuzzle your cheek into Sam’s and he drops his lazy temple against yours. The two of you lounge there, heaving like peeping toms, as you both take in how sexy his cock looks leaking against your belly. Laying between your legs. It’s goddamn photo-worthy. Then, the angle your hand is taking slow, experimental pumps of him… accidentally… grinds Sam’s shaft between your abuse-swollen folds. He’s already twisting to moan into your mouth when you start to rock along him in earnest. You take a fistful of Sam’s hair and ride him for all he’s worth, dragging your sopping wet cunt across his dick until he glistens.

For three blissful seconds Sam locks you against his chest and grinds with you, making it instantly clear why people always use the word friction with sex. The push and pull of it has you whimpering loud and high against Sam’s mouth. And, thank god for him, because when your head starts to fog with visions of being filled raw, Sam pulls away from your kiss and recollects his control.

“Condom,” he gasps for breath, “we should. Probably. Yeah.”

“...Right,” you cursed. Your high school sex-ed teachers would not be proud of your lack of forethought, but it’s impossible to have any kind of thought in this situation, period.

For example: Sam tilts away to fish around in his duffle bag beside the bed, and, unfiltered, your mind taps its fingertips together and cheerily hopes, maybe Sam will be so rough the condom breaks.

Woah there, girlfriend, your reason butts in. But it doesn’t have anything else to say, since you start picturing how Sam’s cum would look oozing out of you, and. Um.

“You almost sound disappointed,” Sam jokes, digging for his wallet.

You snuggle down into the blankets and pretend you’re not hiding your face. “A little bit,” you confess, chanting the word responsible over and over in your head for good measure. “How much am I gonna feel you?”

Sam finds the condom and rolls back into your bubble. He turns in to kiss your shoulder, and you can feel his smile when he tells you, “You’re gonna feel every bit of me. Every inch… every stroke… I promise.”

He is so determined to assuage your worries that he holds the condom where you can see it, turning it over (between those long, long fingers) to make sure it’s punctureless and new. The little foil packet has XL printed on one side, which both adds to your sexy thoughts and pulls you out of them. Sam really is that big. He knows it, too, which is probably how he reads your nervousness.

“We’ll take it slow,” Sam promises, voice honey-sweet and quick to reassure you. “S’ big, yeah, but I’m gonna do everything to make you comfortable, kay? And if you wanna stop—”

He cares so much, you realize.

“Sam?”

He looks into your eyes like he loves you, and utters, “Yeah?”

“Thank you for making this good for me,” you say.

Sam melts. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, and you let him know it’s okay with a softer, warmer kiss than the others you’ve shared. You take in the shape of his face, the subtle freckles on his cheeks and nose, how the candlelight shadows sweeten Sam’s gaze. It slams on top of you how there’s nobody in the whole world you’d rather be doing this with, and in one puff your anxiety is in the wind.

You wrap your fingers around Sam’s wrist and flirt, “...Can I put it on you?”

Sam nods, eyes lidded. You’ve never exactly had to open a condom before, so you’re careful to pry the foil open with your fingers. For whatever reason you hadn’t figured it’d be lubed, but it makes fitting the ring of it around Sam’s tip and sliding it down his shaft a bit easier. A soft happy groan escapes him. They keep escaping him as you pump his cock in languid twists of your hand.

Sam nuzzles his face between your shoulder blades, whisper-rasping, “Would you like to…? It’ll be less scary that way.”

You really, really would. Before you make your move, Sam adds, “But, uh, before you put it in—want you to look at me.” He wets his lips with his tongue. “Wanna see the look on your face when I fill you up.”

Well, fuck. You tilt your face against Sam’s, nose to nose with him and warmed by his breath, and feel the slow ripples of heat in your belly roll into long, growing waves. Sam slides a hand back to the silky underside of your thigh and props you open for him. When you line Sam up, you start with the tip, not pressing, just stroking, feeling him against you. A satisfied purr drizzles out of your mouth to Sam’s. So far, your chosen pace has been “just go for it,” and since it hasn’t failed you yet—

—you go for it.

Sam’s bulbous cockhead dips between your folds to find your hole. A desperate, keening yes squeals out of you. You’re spit-wet and absolutely caked in slick, so there’s no hitch when you pull Sam in, just a hot, sudden fullness that seems to go endlessly deeper and deeper. The fit is so fucking snug. Snug like he’s made for you. Snug and perfect and stinging, made easier by Sam’s soft huffing coos. Look at you go. Makin’ this look easy. You looked so pretty when I ate you out, baby, but I knew you’d look even prettier taking my dick. So eager, Sam says, and he’s right. Your wetness is just begging to swallow him whole. Just being stuffed with half of Sam’s cock has you sucking down air, so the final surge to bring him to the hilt pries a genuine, hoarse cry from your belly. Sam shoves his face in your hair and groans, the sound catching on the snarl between his teeth.

Together, you orbit around the throbbing core of pleasure between you, suspended in the moment.

Sam is a wind-up toy, springs tightening with every vicious squeeze of your pussy. His mouth has made you soft, slippery, and swollen, so the firmness of his cock is different but stellar. This close, in such an intimate position, you can feel his heartbeat in more ways than one, and it surrounds you and fills you so effortlessly that you can only assume it’s your own. He touches your body like it’s one he just stepped into, feeling you from a new perspective for the first time. Sam fixates on your tummy, too, and you find out why when he presses down under your belly button—feeling the thick swell of him under your skin, deeper than anyone else could ever go. He gives you a turn too, pressing your hand down in the same place. It sends electric blackouts of lust through your system that demand to be fucked brainless.

You start to wiggle in his grasp for more, stirring your hips down onto him and choking out his name. Sam is already responding: your open leg is scooped into the crook of his arm and drawn tight to his chest, spreading you open as wide as you’ll go. His hold cants up your hips in a way that lets his cock hit just that much deeper, and that’s all you need to dash your head against the pillows and mewl for your life. Two rough fingerpads slip back into the sopping wet home of your clit and stir against it at a pace brutal enough to cramp. Between Sam’s fingers and the thick drag of his cock against your soft walls, you’re desperate for something to hold onto. You latch onto Sam’s wrist for dear life. Then starts Sam’s pulling and pushing in brief, filling strokes, rocking, driving you fucking crazy, making you need him to fuck you like you need air. He was deep to a point that you swear you could feel him in the back of your throat.

“You want more?” Sam asks, and if it weren’t for the breathy rattle in his voice he could’ve sounded innocent.

You nod until your head is close to rolling off. “Yes, yes Sammy please.”

Sam grins. You feel it for an instant, then his cheek pulls away from your back and all you have left to read him by is the needy, carnal noises he’s making. All at once he’s drawing out further than he had before. You’re almost empty for a whole sob-worthy breath, which Sam makes up for with every ounce of his being.

For what has to be three glorious hours, Sam leans back to fuck you in powerful, even strokes, filling you to the brim every time, and filling the room with the thick, wet sound of his cock pounding into you. You repay him the only way you can, and—get—noisy.

You moan. You wail. You mewl, pretty much every time Sam’s hips snap up into your ass. You pant hard through it all, begging him in soft whines to f-fuck me, fuck me, p-please, Sam and to go deeper, baby—uhnn, more more more…! From there you’re on autopilot, letting loose even the most primal noises that Sam gets out of you. He is very, very good at his task, so you color the room with every erotic syllable under the sun. A porn studio would hire the two of you without even entering the room. Sam especially, but you might be biased since every time you sigh his name he drives in a little harder.

Indescribable pleasure follows even his tiniest movements. You absorb every pump with nothing but desperate enthusiasm, spreading your legs further, curling your back, and digging your fingers into the cushions for any sort of leverage at all. Just a few minutes pass until your limit is a trembling boulder of knots in your gut, but still Sam’s nowhere near finished yet. Slick coats your thighs and Sam's cock, you cry at every thrust, your body twitches and shudders all over, but he's still not there.

He slows. The brush of his lips against your ear and the wisp of his breath set your nerves on fire. “You’re gonna finish first, but tha’—that’s okay, baby,” Sam reassures, and works your poor swollen clit even harder, choking a string of thready moans from you. “Wanna feel your pretty pussy cum all over my dick.”

“Oh fuck,” you whine.

(Tomorrow, you’re going to wake up and wonder where the hell he got that dirty mouth from. Somebody needs to clean it out with soap.)

It’s as Sam’s laying sloppy kisses on your throat that his prediction comes true. The tissue in your body pulls taut, winding tight, tighter, curling around the epicenter of pleasure, toward him. You expect Sam’s thrusts to take a fierce turn. Instead, you’re treated to the same thorough, determined pace that got you here in the first place—the same pace that is currently jellifying your insides and reducing you to tears on this teeny bed. If the percussive slapping of skin on skin wasn’t enough to wake up the entire planet, then the vicious slam of the bedframe putting a new dent in the wall would certainly do the job. Somehow you hear it all past your pulse thundering in your ears. The arm hooked behind you to rake a hand through Sam’s hair bobs with each thrust, and your leg trapped in Sam’s hold bounces on beat. All you can do is scrape out broken gasps, until the tossing waves of heat and lust and power twisted in your belly have built too high—and all things that go up must inevitably come crashing down.

“That’s my girl,” Sam slurs, squeezing your tits in both hands. He rolls his hips into you and coos, “Just like that… take what you need, baby, it’s okay…”

Like last time, Sam fucks you through it. You’re scooped up in his arms and squeezed tight, tight enough to be drawn into Sam’s body and absorbed. The hot, gorgeous drags of friction against the sensitive walls of your cunt slow, but Sam never draws out, burying himself deep and soaking up every wild clamp of your pussy. There’s something fucking spectacular about having something to clench down on. Sam is that perfect something, vieny and thick and still fucking hard.

You cum on him in long rippling rushes of wet heat that feel downright unrealistic, otherworldly—exaggerated, maybe, by the fact that you fucking—black—out!

It must only be a few beats later that you come out of it, but the fact remains that Sam Winchester made you cum so hard you passed out, and you’re going to have to live with that for the rest of your life. You’re already starting to realize that Sam is the best lay you’re ever going to have, period, and the dull happy throb of your orgasm hasn’t even left your body yet. Sam hasn’t even left your body yet.

Wait, fuck. He’s still hard.

…This could be. This could be very good.

Fueled by hormones, sweat, and adrenaline, you pull off him and roll the rest of the way onto your belly. During all the crazed fucking, you and Sam had migrated halfway down the bed. You crawl to the top as sexily as you’re able, stuff your cheek against the closest pillow, and wiggle your cum-soaked ass in the air just for him, open for his taking. Your face could start the whole bed on fire, but you feel more alluring than embarrassed.

“C’mon, Sammy,” you taunt, and throw him a mean grin, “gimme the big finish.”

Sam sucked in a deep breath from his nose, probably preying for strength. A dirty smile touched his face. “You’re… you’re amazing, _____.”

Feeling like it, you turned your face over onto the other side of the pillow and tempted him with another mesmerizing ass wiggle. Sam was up on his knees in an instant. You should’ve known that Sam, the addict, would instantly take the chance to shove his face between your legs. The only warning you get is his massive hands clamping down on your calves to hold you still, then a hot, silky tongue swipes once through your folds for a taste. You haven’t finished squealing when Sam’s weight saddles up behind you, and the heavy shape of his cock starts to rut between your legs.

“Sorry,” Sam hums, not sorry at all, “Needed a taste of you.”

Stars above, he doesn’t hesitate to get handsy with you, too, taking two broad handfuls of your ass-cheeks. Your ass sits so nicely against his hips that you start to wonder if soulmates are real. Because Sam must be yours, fitting into you like a key and teasing you open like a master lockpicker. Once you’re where Sam wants you, he bobs your ass back until his tip has room to part your folds, and after that you’re both brought home into sparkling, slippery, blinding pleasure. He digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you right on him, filling your pussy to the hilt, like always. Key. Lock. Click click click.

“Yes,” you and Sam hiss together.

“Fuck,” Sam adds. “You should see yourself like this. You look so stuffed, baby, squeezing down on me.”

“Feel so stuffed,” you flirt back, wiggling into him.

This angle is different than the last, exaggerating, as Sam immediately starts in on his pace from before, how thick his cock is. He curls his fingers around your waist and beats in hard, pulling on your still-sparking overstimulated wires from last time. Every joint in your body locks ramrod straight, overwhelmed with brief flashes of too much too much. Your pussy clenches helplessly around him, but Sam brings you over it with a few well-placed stirs of his hips. In no time you’re mewling for him like you were before, emboldened by your first round.

You get your nails into Sam’s sculpted ass and drag him deeper, faster, urging him on the end of a moan, “Fuckin’ take it, Sammy—mhhnn, take what—what you need, Sam, yes, so good—”

This is exactly what Sam needs to hear. You’re scooped up around the middle, just like before, and Sam crushes his face into your back, spooning you close as he brings himself closer and closer to where he needs to be. Your hands can’t get enough of him, smoothing down his vieny arms and squeezing his hand against your belly. The picture the two of you must make is obscene on unimaginable levels. Sam, latched onto you like a parasite and reaming you for his release. You, smushed under him and loving it, digging your ass up into him for more. All the sweat-twisted blankets shoved to the floor. Sam’s hips canting your thighs apart. The worn-smooth slope of his palms, squeezing your tits and your tummy and your waist in achy handfuls.

Finally, Sam’s hoarse choked panting cuts off with a sharp breath. His hips putter into you for the last time, then still. Sam spills into the condom, shuddering against you from head to toe, and slowly… the two of you collapse into each other… panting and panting until your breathing syncs up. Sam’s chest goes up. You suck in a breath. His chest goes out, and you deflate right with him.

He doesn’t get up and you don’t ask him to. As the haze of sex starts to clear from the room (as much as it can, anyway), the chill of the mountainside creeps in behind it, and the hottest thing around for miles is easily the giant, naked Sam Winchester in your bed. Wrapped up in him and as warm as can be, you wonder if he’s as close to passing out (again) as you are.

But no. Suddenly, Sam’s up on his hands, and there’s only two possible reasons why.

“Didn’t get to kiss you as I finished,” he complained.

Smushed into your pillow, you tell him, “I think you have two addictions.”

Regardless, you roll onto your back so Sam can lay one on you. Since your soul is officially back in your body, you’re more aware than ever of the aches and bruises you’ve earned, not to mention a few sets of pomegranate-purple fingerprints. After a few stunning kisses from Sam, you’re still not sure that all of that actually happened. You touch his face and pinch his cheeks plenty of times, but all he does is look at you extra dreamily. Still doesn’t seem real.

Of course, being a gentleman, he decides to prove it to you.

“Speaking of my other addiction…” Sam lays a playful hand on your belly, “I know I wound you up a bit back there. Can I take care of you one more time? Please?”

“Hmm…” You pretend to think, grinning to yourself. “Man. I just can’t say no to you, Sammy…”

Two weeks later, you’re crammed in a teeny car instead of a teeny cabin, riding down a back road in rural Texas the Dean way—blowing by road signs at sixty miles an hour, windows down and music up. Sam’s shotgun. You’re content to sit behind him, catching his eye in the side-mirror as he pretends to hunt around newspapers for a new case. His hair flutters in the wind, outlining his face in the most enchanting way.

“I don’t know how the hell the two of you stayed up there the whole week!” Dean hollers over his Lynyrd Skynyrd tape, which he could turn down whenever he wants to. He throws you an unenvious look from the driver’s seat, “You must’a been bored out of your fuckin’ gourds!”

You’re honestly surprised that Dean didn’t automatically assume sexy shenanigans occurred at the cabin. Sam doesn’t move to answer, deeply engrossed in his reading. Where Dean can’t see, you curl your fingers into the hair at the back of Sam’s neck and caress his scalp, which earns you a look that promises that sexy shenanigans can happen anywhere. They can happen in motel rooms. Click. Even Impalas, when Dean’s gone. Click click click.

You shrug at Sam’s brother, shouting over the music with an unsubtle grin. “We entertained ourselves!”

Tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration

READ PART TWO.

#sam winchester #spn #supernatural #uncouthspn #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader headcanons #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester smut #user uncouth

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mizutsugi · 2 months ago

Text

late night hits ✩ (sam winchester x reader)

↳synopsis: you came back from a hunt with the winchesters but couldn't get to sleep, so you decided to smoke to ease your mind. sam joined you.

↳word count: 2,340

↳ cw: smoking w33d and sharing a bed! just kinda that tbh

↳a/n: first fic on this account! <3

You were just coming back from a particularly hard vampire hunt, and you were fucking exhausted. As you drudged up the stairs of the motel, shoulders barely able to hold up the straps of your bag, you groaned. Dean laughed, as if his ass wasn’t beat just as bad.

“That bad, y/n?”

You couldn’t do much else but grumble in response and keep trudging forward, hobbling down the upper deck until the three of you reached the room. Dean used the key, freshly picked up from a particularly pissy receptionist, and unlocked the door. You were so tired of sharing a dingy motel room with two boys, but at the moment you were too out of it to care. You wanted nothing more than to take a shower and go to bed, immediately dropping your things the second you got through the door and slumping down to kick off your boots.

“You know, that might work better if you actually untie the laces…” Sam quipped, undoing his own.

“Bite me.” You responded, managing to (painfully) shimmy out of the heavy shoes. Dean, as he tended to do when he was feeling especially diva-like, took a whole bed to himself. For once, you didn’t feel like fighting him on it- especially not when he immediately stripped down to his boxers and jumped into the bed.

You looked at Sam and shrugged. It wasn’t the first time you had shared a bed, and nothing weird ever came of it. You rifled through your bag for a bit before landing on your toiletries and PJs. You took both into the bathroom, getting ready for bed. As you stepped into the shower, a murky beige color with…questionable…stains adoring the tile, you felt the hot water hit your skin and wash away all the dirt and blood from the hunt. The more you hunted, the more you got used to the look of scars and scrapes on your own body. You ran body wash over your skin and washed your face, finally feeling the weight of the day lift off your body as you cleaned up. You stepped out and wrapped one of the paper-y feeling white towels around your body before sliding into your soft pjs. You brushed your teeth, looking at yourself in the mirror and noticing the bags under your eyes… you really needed to sleep.

You spat out the last of your toothpaste, rinsed your mouth out and put your brush back down on the counter. You lazily slapped the light off before stepping out, already hearing Deans loud snores from his bed. You looked to Sam, who had changed and had his laptop propped in his lap as he sat up against the headboard on your shared bed.

“She’s all yours.” You said, making your way to the bed. Sam’s eyes looked up from his research and looked at you, lingering for just a bit too long before he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and hopped off.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking some of his own toiletries before switching out with you.

You had an unspoken agreement where you got to shower first (you HATED how gross you felt after hunts), and Sam would go after, insisting you could turn the lights off and go to bed without waiting up on him. Sometimes to be nice you’d wait for him to get out, but tonight you just wanted to lay down, so you quickly reached over to his side of the bed and turned the light out from the bedside table, letting the darkness and consistent drone of Deans snoring absorb your senses. You could hear the light sound of water hitting the tile from the bathroom from behind the door, and you tried to let that pull you to sleep. Ten minutes passed and you were still wide awake. Sam stepped out of the bathroom, newly cleaned and changed into his pjs. He assumed you were asleep and tried to crawl into bed as quietly and gently as he could, and a part of you felt grateful for his consideration despite your restlessness. You felt him shift on the other end, doing his best to give you as much distance as possible. The stiff, pressed sheets pulled up against your body as he got settled, and you tried your best to ignore the cold feeling creeping up your back from the blasting AC. Another ten minutes went by… then another…. and then another, and you started to feel like you were never going to get sleep. You didn’t even know it was possible to feel so exhausted but so incapable of getting rest.

When you couldn’t stand it anymore, you remembered something you left in your bag. As silently as you could, you slowly stood up and pulled yourself out of bed, hissing at the feeling of the cold air on your now bare skin. As you slowly made your way to your open bag, you dug around blindly until you felt a small, thin object. You grabbed your jacket and room key from near the door and, as gently as you could, pulled and turned the handle. You quickly glanced back to make sure the boys were sleeping, and then stepped outside, closing the door behind you. You walked forward a bit before hitting the railing of the motel balcony, overlooking the parking lot and shitty neon sign that was missing over half the letters. One of these days, you really gotta bitch Dean out for nesting you up in these 1-star prisons. You pulled your pen up to your lips, inhaling slowly and allowing the smoke to enter your lungs. You held it for a moment, then exhaled, watching as the smoke drifted lazily out of your open lips. You were in Texas, at least you were pretty sure, so the nighttime air felt warm against your skin. You could hear the sound of relentlessly loud cicadas chirping from nearby, and somewhere ahead you could hear traffic from an overpass. For a few minutes you stood there, taking small hits and trying to clear your mind from your racing thoughts. A part of you was still on edge after the day's activities.

You heard a soft click before the door behind you creaked open, and you glanced behind your shoulder. Sam stood outside the doorway in his sweatpants and gray sleep shirt, looking at you with a hazy expression.

“Y/N, what are you doing out here?”

You flipped around to face him, trying to conceal the pen behind your back. “Nothing.”

Sam laughed before cocking a brow. “Oh, I don't smell nothing.”

You gave him a puzzled look back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey, I’m not going to judge you… Just ‘cos I went to law school doesn’t mean you’re in trouble.” He smiled, stepping towards you a bit and away from the shut door. You felt your face go red, somehow embarrassed by the situation.

“Listen…” You pulled the pen from behind your back, now coaxed out of hiding. “I couldn’t sleep, and this helps sometimes.”

“Mhm…” Sam teased sarcastically. You just rolled your eyes before attempting to slide the device back into your pocket, but Sam held his hand out. “Like I said, you’re not in trouble. By all means…” He walked up beside you, leaning his waist against the railing and looking out into the parking lot, a slight smile on his face.

You shot him another skeptical look, but then turned to face the same way, taking another inhale. As you blew smoke out, Sam watched and studied the way it poured out of your mouth, some of it drifting his direction.

“You can’t tell Dean,” You said, looking up to the other. “He’ll never leave me alone about it.”

Sam smirked. “Can’t tell Dean what? Our little passenger princess is a stoner? I’m sure he’d be just as shocked as me.”

“Sam! I mean it…” You said, angrily fidgeting with the hem of your jacket.

“Hey, hey, I know…” He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to tell him.”

You nodded, and the two of you fell into silence. You both listened to the drone of the AC unit and the distant sounds of cars and bugs, the comfort of one another’s presence enough to allow the background noise to flood in for a bit. You took another hit and exhaled before hesitantly holding the pen up to him, looking into his curious eyes.

“For me?” He asked skeptically. You rolled your eyes before nodding. He seemed to think for a moment before taking the pen into his fingers and lifting it to his lips. He took a long inhale, allowing the vapor to fill his lungs before squeezing it back out.

“Now who’s the stoner?” You asked with a smirk.

“Not me… I haven’t had this stuff in years. You on the other hand…” He took another inhale. “You sneak out and smoke a lot? Hm?”

You shrugged as he took another hit. “Not a lot…”

He gave you a fraction of a look with a quirked brow, the kind of look that you had grown to understand meant, Really? He didn’t push you on it, though. You both sat in silence for quite a bit, passing the pen back and forth. The quiet would normally be uncomfortable, but you and Sam had grown close enough where conversation never felt forced. As he passed it back from his fifth hit, he looked into your eyes and laughed a bit.

“What’s so funny, hm?” You asked, taking one last hit before pocketing the device.

“You’re a lightweight.” He said, slightly cocky.

“Am not!” You retorted.

“Uh, are too.” He laughed. “Your pupils are dilated, and your face got all pink.”

“You’re so full of shit.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head, but you knew he was right. You knew exactly your own tells, and you could feel the high creeping up on you.

“Oh yeah?” He pulled out his phone and put it up to your face. He took a photo and clicked on it, laughing to himself. You peered over his screen to see your own face, caught off guard in a half smile with flushed cheeks and heavily lidded eyes. You were nearly taken back by how incredibly noticeable it was.

“Oh…. yeah.” You said sheepishly, watching as he got his kicks out of how out of it you were. You watched his fingers slide across the screen and you grabbed his bare wrist. “Do NOT send that to the group chat.”

“Awe, man.” He said, but pocketed his phone, respecting your wishes. “You’re no fun.”

“If Cas knew… actually, wait… If Cas knew that might be kinda funny. Can angels get high?”

Sam chuckled, tilting his head and looking down on you. “I get the feeling the lore won’t have an answer to that question.”

“Probably not… maybe one day we can try it. Just, uhm, don’t tell them right now. I feel like they’ll be, like, disappointed parents.” You said, pulling at the end of your jacket sleeves as you gently swayed. The more it kicked in, the more you wanted to lay down and try to sleep again. You could see it in his eyes, too, as they got heavier and his gaze directed at you became more hazy.

“I think you worry too much.” He smiled.

“Yeah, probably…” You said, staring down at your feet like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Your limbs felt so heavy.

“You tired now?” He asked, smiling to himself as you nearly fell asleep standing up, blinks growing slower and heavier.

“Maybe a little…”

“Let’s get you to bed.” He guided you back towards the door, hand gently hovering over the small of your back.

“I’m not a kid you know, I can get myself to bed.” You said, yet smiled as he held the door for you. Your voices fell into whispers once Dean fell into view, sprawled out on his own bed.

“I know you can.” He whispered. “But you have to admit, you were about 20 seconds away from falling asleep standing up.”

You rolled your eyes, but as you shrugged off your coat onto the floor and your back hit the sheets, you almost didn’t stay awake enough to respond.

“Nuh uh…” Was the best you could muster as he crawled in beside you. You both fell into silence for a few moments before you felt a chill run through your body. If it was cold before, it was frigid now. Every sense was heightened, and it felt like your limbs were about to go numb. The paper thin motel sheets didn’t do a thing to retain heat, and you kept your arms wrapped around yourself to try to warm up. You involuntarily started inching towards Sam, whose back was facing you as he laid on his side. You tried to ignore it, but when yet another chill jolted your body you couldn’t take it.

“Sam…?” You whispered so quietly, you barely registered your own voice.

“Mhm?” He mumbled, now turning to face you. You suddenly felt embarrassed, even with your judgment clouded by the high.

“‘M cold..” You mumbled back. He sleepily smiled and opened his arms up, scooting towards you and wrapping them around you. Maybe it was both of your clouded judgements, but neither of you felt uncomfortable in the embrace. His arms and broad shoulders pulled you in, and your face fell to his chest. You could smell the cheap pine soap he used, and the feeling of his warmth could have knocked you out in seconds. You felt his hands lightly brush through the back of your hair, and you wouldn’t admit it but you loved the feeling.

“Thanks…” You mumbled against his chest. You felt him hum back in response, just seconds away from falling asleep. You smiled contently and, finally feeling comfortable, you rested.

↳ a/n: hiii! i randomly got back into writing one shots again so forgive me if i'm rusty lol... but anyways if anyone sees this pleaseeee send me prompts and stuff! thank uuu :)

also i really wanted to use this gif cos it reminds me of the w33d coughs so i'm leaving it here as a parting gift lmao

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural #spn #supernatural one shot #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #pleaseijustwannagethighwiththisbeautifulman

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idlenight · 4 months ago

Note

humbly asking you for more info on leo ortiz (if you want to ofc!) because everything i hear about him makes me fall more in love

Humbly (but elaborately) answering!!! I love my son - the fact that i advertised for his death to my GM non-withstanding, ignore that.

Leo Ortiz aka Starbright was my character in a game of Masks: A New Generation that is run by my dear friend @vin-ill. (he doesn't post all that much on here but he's a creative genius and I stand by that as his friend, dm, and player).

For those unfamiliar, Masks is a ttrpg based on the 'Powered by the Apocalypse System' (pbta for short). The main draw is that you play a teenage superhero. You are figuring out who you are, who you want to be, and what others (adults especially) want you to be - and whether you want that too.

the TL;DR about Leo is that he's a hypocrite, he never wanted to be a hero, is deeply self-sacrificing, kind of aloof and a dick but cares so much. And that he loves his brother despite everything.

If you want to long version on Leo's history, then take a peek below.

Leonardo Nathaniel Osborn aka Bryce Brilliant started out as the 'Star' playbook. Playbooks aren't like dnd classes, the idea is that you play an archetype. In this case the concept of the Star was being a Hero Influencer, who has an adoring fanbase.... but also obligations that come with that.

(above is the first page of the star playbook I had customised with my own art of Leo :D)

Before being a hero, Leo was a child-actor. When he came out of a car accident with light based powers, his mother created the hero persona 'Bryce Brilliant'. She was his manager and being a hero was just another role he played. His half-brother Logan (older) had been jealous and spiteful of this, he wanted powers, he wanted to be a hero.

When teaming up with a couple of other kids to save the day, his mother insisted they become a superhero team (aka the other players). Their team name was the Bryce Brilliants. They even had a Shoe brand sponsorship.

(first drawing of the entire squad, from left to right: Sam aka Saber, Leo aka Bryce Brilliant, Carey aka Carry, Sky Lee aka Justice)

In the team Leo first learned how to have proper friends teammates, and see being a hero as more than another role to play. Eventually he met Johanna Ortiz, the women he got his powers from.... What you thought they awakened naturally? No his mother bought these powers, she owns the Brilliant name, she owns the right to these powers. Powers that were grafted onto her son.

This is the moment Leo changed playbooks from the Star to the Protege.

The Protege playbook gives the player an NPC who is their mentor, they have a label they embody, and that they deny. (labels are like stats, but they are constantly shifting and are about how you see yourself vs how others see you). If you wanted to play a Robin type character you would probably pick the Protege. This is when he took on the superhero name Starbright.

(above is a screenshot of the Protege mentor labels, to give you an idea)

Leo moved out of his mother's home mansion, and moved into Johanna's trailer. It was quite the culture shock for the boy who would've unironically have said; "I mean it's one banana michael, what could it cost? ten dollars?".

He didn't get to stay a protege for long, as only a few session after he got uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Posessed.

Long story.

TL;DR: power dampening crystal was ground up and put into the water supply. Mixed with an entity that my GM called a 'Hydra-nt' (hydra creature made of water). So it became somewhat sentient and started serious shit all across the city. I failed a roll so fucking bad my guy got possessed by said goo and booked it into the direction of the Gotham to our Metropolis.

The team finished saving the city before going to the Worst City Imagineable(tm) to stage a Leo themed rescue. I played a character named Dr Lovelace (phd) aka Deckard Lovelace at this time, he was a child genius and earned his PHD when he was like, 12 or smth. He had mechanical limbs. i luv him. He never quite got into a hero persona but i had the name Dr Gizmo ready for him. He was the Brain playbook.

(some out of context memes from said rescue mission i found looking for smth else. David is me btw, hi.)

The team found Leo, he got exorcised with the power of friendship and this gun i found. (yk i dont remember exactly what happened, i think Carry did smth fucky with some uhhh power dust she had recently accidentally snorted which was absolutely not Deckard's fault. don't look at me)

the TL;DR of all that is that Leo was possessed by something that was aligned to one of the Five Powers That Be in this universe. Specifically he was possessed by the embodiment of the Abyss, emptiness. We ruled that going from Nothing to once again Everything that Leo was before changed his powers (and him) fundamentally. From then on Leo was the Nova, playbook. (also I made a tiktok about Leo not actually being dead at the time - wow did that not age well. not because it sucks, i still think its funny, but because he is kinda dead now)

The Nova playbook is build around the concept of having amazing godly powers, but little control. You could do everything and anything, but at what cost? Leo's powers become more cosmic than simply light based as a result. (smth smth becoming the sun itself, instead of the light it sheds)

(also HI obligatory new superhero outfit after life changing events 💛💛💛. The jacket used to belong to Johanna 💛💛💛)

A bunch of stuff happened after they got back. Leo changed his name from 'Leonardo Nathaniel Osborn' to 'Leo Ortiz', to officially move away from his birth-mom and align himself with his adoptive one. He broke into prison a little bit to talk and start the healing process with his brother Logan (oh yeah forgot to mention Logan was briefly a villain and Leo got him send to prison). Met a new teammate (an old player returning with a new character). Somehow kept collecting and aligning himself with the OTHER 5 powers that be, which I wasn't even actively trying for yknow. And yknow, fought a religious organisation for a bit.

One that Deckard is totally not responsible for gaining power, nooooo.... Don't look at me. (he just gave their leader a back of magical power dust in exchange for getting information on Leo during the rescue mission ok. it's fine, literally....)

At the climax of that arc, said leader tried to achieve godhood. And using the Nova's 'Moment of Truth', Leo took all of said power inside himself. Completing the 'powers that be' collection in the process, and shooting up far into space where he's become this kind of... shining star.

The moment of truth is an un-lockable playbook feature, where the player takes brief control of the narrative using the guidance of a written out blurb on the playbook. The above image is the MoT for the Nova playbook.

In his death he has created a new power in the universe - the power of friendship. No im not fucking kidding. The list is now: Potential, Tempest, Abyss, Sublime, Architects, and Leo with the power of friendship (and this gun i found).

Figuring he was too volatile to survive very long, he wrote letters to important people in his life. Letters I actually wrote out and printed, and were handed out during play to Players and NPC alike. They were read aloud and it was all very emotional, tears were shed.

A small excerpt from my favorite letter, written for Leo's brother:

Hi Logan, I love you. We stopped saying that to each other at some point. I can’t recall exactly when, I just knew you stopped saying it back so I did too. You know my friend Fleur? Her mother was pretty fucking bad too, and her older brother took her and ran one day. Sometimes I wish either of us had the courage to do the same when we were kids. I’m glad we kind of got there in the end. I’m sorry we lost so much time. I'm sorry we won’t have any more. (the letter continues here but its too long for this already long post)

Leo holds a very very special place in my heart. And he's like, super fucking dead now, and I wanted that to happen. Biting myself for that, evil bastard who does that to a character ಥ_ಥ.

If you got this far, thank you for reading! I love you 💛💛

#masks a new generation #masks #idle chatter #oc: leo ortiz / starbright #this got sooooooooo long and im not sorry gamers

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fantasylandbitch · 1 year ago

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Summary: Having saved Gale with Sam and Tara's help, you take the next day to recover your battery by ordering groceries. When they arrive you run into your landlord on the stairs who helps you bring it to your apartment before you receive a call from Anika. Later in the day while eating dinner you do research into Ghost Face's previous murders not realizing that your theory might get you killed the next day.

Warnings: Long Story, Cussing, Suggestive Themes,

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 4.5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5.5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 7.5 Chapter 8 Chapter 8.5 Chapter 9 (Chapter 9.5 Coming Soon)

-knock knock knock-

You hear as you wake up on your couch as the sun peers through the living room window hitting your eyes before you cover them with your hand as the sun disappears behind a cloud causing you to eventually pick up your phone that you had placed on the coffee table the night before. The time you read was 3:00 pm and you groaned a little at it not wanting to get up as you placed your phone back on the table before throwing your legs over the cushions to get up. But when the bottom of your feet touches the ground you retract them as if you were playing a game of lava “God these floors are so cold” you say aloud before forcing yourself off the couch jumping slightly at the contact as you began stretching from vegetating all day. “Come on women wake up, your groceries can’t pack themselves up now can they?” you questioned cracking yourself up as you made your way to the kitchen to wash your face and then dry your face with a paper towel, putting it in the trash afterward as you go to open your door.

“Good afternoon, Y/n” you hear someone say, making you jump as you look down the stairs and you smile at who it is.

“Good afternoon, Diana,” you say as you quickly go to get a pair of shoes from your apartment before heading down the stairs to get your groceries. Your landlord follows you down before she stops on the landing right behind you letting you walk down first before stretching her arms.

“You need help with your groceries?” she asks looking at you before her eyes noticed what you were wearing. She slowly smiles seeing that you're wearing cute boxers with burger designs that adorn your hips and as you bend down to grab some of your groceries she’s mentally drooling at how strong your legs are.

“Uh….um,” you say thinking as you get up to face your landlord before scratching your neck as you look up at her on the landing just before the last set of stairs. The thought made you shrug as you were a bit indecisive about wanting her help, especially with what's been going on in your life at the moment and Diana lightly laughed.

“Use your words Y/n, I don’t bite unless you want me to,” she says jokingly smirking at you while you stand there looking at her with a head tilt questioning her before you laughed as you made the connection of what she had just said making Diana confused.

“Well I’m glad you don’t bite, I’m pretty sure you’d get a stake through the heart Lestat. Anyway, yes I could use the help” you say with a smile as you grab two more bags. Your actions prompt Diana to walk down the stairs to get the last two bags for you as you both walk back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. “Hey Diana, where were you headed before I disturbed you whilst walking out of the apartment?” you ask looking back at the taller woman whom you’ve known for almost two years now.

Diana thinks about it while looking down at you with a smile “I was going to head down the street to get coffee and pastries. Why? Want to go with me?” she asks before watching you open your front door with your back.

“Uh, I just wanted to know where you were going, that's all,” you say to her, eventually turning away from Diana so you can put your grocery bags on the counter. But when you did you felt like something bad was going to happen to you due to the target on your back by association with your friends. When you heard your landlord shuffling quickly behind you, you pulled a taser from your kitchen drawer on her.

Your actions cause Diana to quickly drop your grocery bags before catching your wrist “Whoa! Listen I didn’t think that you actually thought I was going to try and bite you” she says thinking about her joke from earlier as she began breathing heavily by your sudden movement watching the taser in your hand.

But you couldn’t say anything because you were too afraid by the sudden rush of thoughts to protect yourself and what the ifs that ran in the background of your mind, while Diana looked from the taser in your hand to the scared look on your face. She then brought your attention back to her as she took the taser from your hand and placed it on the kitchen counter. “I-I’m so sorry, Diana. You just moved too quickly for my comfort and I thought you were going t-” you say as your voice died out as you were trying to keep yourself together.

But Diana knew what was going on she had seen the news “I should have thought about that, I’m sorry Y/n. I know everyone here in the building is a little on edge since Laura Crane, our bi-icon of a film professor was murdered." Diana says before she releases your wrist "I'm just going to place your groceries on the counter okay?" she asks and you nod, stepping to the side. When she was done she walked towards your front door before stopping to turn around to look at you as you walked over to lock your front door behind her.

“I really am sorry about that Diana” you apologize again looking up at her and she smiles down at you.

“Don’t be I would have done the same exact thing, Helsing” Diana says giving you a nickname while nodding before she had a question to ask.“Hey Y/n before I leave, you wouldn’t happen to know a woman that goes by the last name Carpenter do you?”

You hear your landlord say as you perk up at the name feeling calmer and less on edge now "What if I did?" you asked as Diana stepped further into the hallway.

"I would suggest staying as far away from her as possible because she's a murderer," Diana says as she watches your body language change from relaxed to defensive.

"How would you know Diana? She could've been framed and whoever is running around the city is trying to make a point with a few bodies” you say to her as your nose flare while your back moves up like hackles on a dog's back getting protective of Sam even though she wasn’t present. The conversation really rubbing you the wrong way and Diana tries not to let your reaction hurt her feelings because she feels that she knows you a whole lot better than this Carpenter woman does so Diana takes a deep breath before talking to you.

“I can’t speak for a lot of us ladies who like women who are unhinged and who love to see other women bathed in someone else's blood but Y/n she’s not a fictional killer.” Diana says straightening her back as she looks down at you “Y/n, you don’t want to be running around with the wrong crowd like this, let alone fall in love with a murderer” she says trying not to give you a dirty look while she read you like a book and you hated it. But you were going to make a snide comment when she cut off your thought “I would like you Y/n, to be more careful in the future because you have people in the building who care deeply about you” she says gazing into your eyes before you slammed the door on her and locking up.

“Very mature my little Helsing,” Diana says to your door as if talking to you through it before shaking her head and heading downstairs to the coffee shop.

“Breath Y/n, Breath,” you say to yourself, closing your eyes for a few minutes as you lean your head against the cool door. Taking a deep breath you open your eyes again to play with the locks checking if you thoroughly locked your front door before turning away from it to focus on putting your groceries away. While you're putting some of your groceries away you stop to the sound of your phone vibrating against the wooden coffee table in the living room so you walk over to the table to pick up your phone and without a second thought you say "Hello?"

"Hey, Y/n I'm glad you answered" you hear Anika say as a sigh of relief leaves your lips from her kind voice. "I hear you sighing over the phone Y/n, you must be on edge too," she says as you take a seat on the couch before covering your eyes with your hand.

"You have no idea…" you say to Anika over the phone "But anyway how are you and your folks?" you ask, trying to distract yourself from your current situation.

"I'm doing good. I mean the stab wound is still healing so I can't do anything strenuous yet but my folks are good they're helping me get around the house." Anika says to you before taking a moment to hear your response.

"That's good to hear. I'm glad you're away from this.. mess…" you say, taking your hand away from your eyes and looking into the void that is your TV screen.

"You know Mindy called me the other day Y/n,” she says as you get lost in her words as silence passes between you both for a few minutes before your fridge screams for you to close its door.

“Oh yeah?” you say as you get up from the couch and walk over to your kitchen to put your phone down on the counter. Later pressing the speaker button on your phone while you put the rest of your groceries away, “What did you girls talk about?”

“We talked about our future together,” Anika says making you smile with joy as you nod looking in your phone’s direction as if she was in the room with you “Then she told me about how the cute boy who lives across from our apartment..named Danny had clit blocked you last night?”

The last words of Anika’s sentence made you stop what you were doing.‘Danny, had clit blocked you last night?’ rang through your ears still, making you tilt your head while your eyes scanned the fridge. ‘Clit blocked? As opposed to cock blocked?’ you thought trying not to let this deep sense of sadness take over before replying to Anika “I..wouldn’t say he did that he was explaining that he and Sam are going out. That wouldn’t be considered clit blocking. It’s called hey, she’s taken, back off” you say to her as you feel severely disappointed about the turn of events from yesterday.

“Well, Tara told Mindy that she’s pretty sure that Sam is super single, especially after what happened with Richie. Danny wouldn't be a good suitor necessarily” Anika says trying to encourage you to risk it all for Sam.

You roll your eyes before saying “You say that Anika but he would be good for her because he's tall, probably got a great bank account, a good job, got a face that says I’ll beat your ass unless I like you, is physically strong, has a strong personality, and….h-he can give her the world and more if Sam asked him to.” You say as your heart aches causing you to rub your chest before pulling a bag of spinach from your fridge and a package of spicy sausage from the freezer and placing them on the counter before reaching for your cutting board. Then you looked into the cabinet for the right pot to use for the occasion of oiling it up a little before you started cutting into some of the spicy sausages with a kitchen knife as you are the only person in your dark apartment with only the kitchen light on.

“Y/n” Anika says your name softly before you hear a creaking sound coming from your phone telling you that Anika sat on a bed as she thought about what you said to her knowing that you are in fact comparing yourself to Danny. “He might be all of those things but Y/n, he will never be you. He will never be as artsy, a deep conversationalist, a kind-hearted, loyal, incredibly strong, and that marches to the beat of your own drum personality that you have. In addition, Y/n you are that rare shiny opal that people say they’ve seen but have never touched because they're too afraid of the dragons on the other side"

You hear her say to you over the phone as you wipe the tears that fell from your eyes “Mhm” you hummed with a laugh knowing what show she was referring to before trying to hide a sniffle that Anika clearly heard as she lightly sighed wishing she can be there for you "Thank you for that Anika and please be careful around the house for me and Mindy okay?”

“No problem and I will, later Y/n,” Anika says as she gets off the phone. You walk up to the counter to end the call yourself before you look around the apartment. You realize how dark it is so you go to an app on your phone called Hue, so you can put the lights on in certain parts of the apartment. Then you go back into your fridge to get a drink to have with your dinner and a container filled with rice as you begin prepping for when your spinach and spicy sausages are done cooking. When your toppings are done you bring them over to an isolated corner with two chairs and a table that is past the living room where you had been working on your laptop.

Then you sat down in a chair near a series of windows before stretching your arms and hands. “Let's get to researching Y/n '' you say to yourself before wiping your eyes again as you begin to research the past killings of Ghost Face in Woodsboro. The articles that come up are ones that say Ghost Face Killings During Stab Marathon, Party Gone Wrong Another Ghost Face?, Ghost Faces Survivors Where Are They Now? Two Ghost Faces and How Their Victims Were Murdered before you switched to Twitter and Reddit for help. While going through the forums and tweets where you had to refrain from being an internet justice warrior for Sam. You were looking through theories, comments, and accusations against her character and while you would have loved to put them in their places you didn’t want Ghost Face to figure out what you were doing online, so you used the many haters and their comments to help you further your research and lead you in the right direction. But there was a problem, you eventually forget what time it is as you were so engrossed in your research typing up what you think happened in Woodsboro and what's currently happening right now in New York that everything almost clicked and now you just need to relay your information to Sam. Now having gained confidence from your research you go to pick up your phone to call Sam when the sun reflects off of your screen, the light hitting your eyes as you put your phone down to cover them. “Ouch,” you say as you carefully turn to the window “Oh it's morning already?” you say to yourself before yawning, closing your laptop to put away in its suitcase, before heading to the kitchen to soak your bowl that you’ll clean later in the day before heading to your bed. When your body hits the mattress you pull your phone from your pocket as you remember that Tara had sent you a video through Sam's phone and while you rewatch the video you feel your eyelids get heavy at the sound of Sam's voice and eventually you fall asleep.

When you came to, it was to the sound of your front door being opened. The sudden sound caused your heart to drum hard against your rib cage as you tried to calm yourself down but to no avail so you dragged your body quietly off your bed with your phone. Then you look at the head of your bed as the light from the kitchen illuminates the metal bat that your roommates left you in your room so you pick it up before hiding in the shadows of your bedroom before walking over to your window to push up a little as an escape route before you proceeded to quietly wander past your bedroom door scanning your living room for any threats. Then you heard a loud sound coming from your kitchen causing you to put your back against the wall for protection, preparing for the worst if something happened to you, you hurriedly text Sam, so when you shimmy closer to the kitchen you take a quiet breath before swinging the bat hard as you hear something drop on the counter and a hand come into contact with your bat.

"Jesus Christ Y/n '' Sam says to you as you let out a shaky sigh of relief. Then Sam notices you shaking from the adrenaline she induced in you just seconds ago so she pulls you into a tight hug rubbing your back.

"What the fuck are you doing here Sam? Shouldn't you be with your sister and friends?" you say trying to calm down in Sam's embrace as you hug her back. You ended up leaning your ear against her chest as Sam took the bat from your hand to place it on the counter.

"I know I should,” Sam says to you, tightening her hug a little more “I had to leave Danny’s apartment because we had gotten into an argument and I needed the space so I thought I would drop by your place with dinner. " Sam says, making you look up at her before she watches you look over at the counter.

Pulling away you say "And you think it was a good idea to leave your family behind with your boyfriend?” you questioned taking your dinners and bringing them over to the little alcove that you had sat at that morning. After placing the food on the table you walk over to the speaker that is placed in front of your TV so you can connect your phone to the speaker to play some music.

Your question leaves Sam silent as she watches you unsure of what to say because while she finds Danny’s company great to be around even in the physical sense what they have is just a fling and she wanted to tell you about how that was the topic of their argument but she decided that she would leave it alone. “Why would I leave my family with Danny when there’s a perfectly good cafe down the street,” she says aloud, making you take a moment to look at her as she smiles in the kitchen before pulling on the drawer that holds your utensils. Sam then picks up two forks before noticing the taser in the drawer causing her to look over at you when you look away from her. This causes Sam to contemplate whether or not she should put it in your room along with your metal bat for safekeeping and for your safety. But before she can really think about it she’s stuffing the forks in her back pocket to pick up both the taser and your bat as she uses her hip to close the drawer and walk to your bedroom. As Sam puts away your belongings like your taser on your bedside table and your metal bat at the head of your bed, she hears you walking over to the kitchen sink to put water in a pitcher before hearing you go into your utensil drawer “I grabbed some forks already!” she yells behind her before walking over to your window to close on her way out.

As you bring over the pitcher of filtered water along with two cups you see Sam walk out of your bedroom and the forks that she stuffed in her back pocket, so when you get to the table and place the pitcher and cups down you notice that Sam was about to sit down and your immediate reaction was to reach for her ass.

The sudden contact made Sam get up before her butt could touch the seat. “Whoa who gave you permission to get handsy?” she asked you with a laugh as Sam remembered that she had forks in her right back pocket.

“T-T-That wasn’t my intention Sam I saw that you had packed forks in your ass pocket. I didn’t want you to get stabbed back there.” You say to her as you start to get red before moving your left hand and reaching for her opposite pocket but she laughs again and moves away from you. “Sam, please stop moving. I just want to get the forks so we can eat. Sam, I swear to some higher being if you do not allow me to get those forks I-”

You say as you reach for her pocket again but Sam stops you by putting her hands on your waist bringing you closer to her until she can feel your body against her own. Momentarily distracting you, she says “You’ll what Y/n?” looking down at you with that signature smile of hers “You’ll what uh? You’ll punish me?” she asks, giving you a smirk as she lightly rubbed your sides giving you goosebumps.

As you resist biting your lip in front of Sam you realize that you were too hangry to really care about the meaning behind her words even though you knew what she was implying but you also decided that you weren’t going to care about your own actions either. Then you began to snake your left hand around her hip while you let your other hand reach behind her back while you kept eye contact with Sam, dawning a smirk of your own. “Punish you, Sam? No, I would do a lot worse” you say to her as you push your body against hers starting to direct her body towards the couch. Sam allows you to lead her to the couch, finding this very amusing until the back of her legs hits the arm of the couch as she almost falls back so she rips her hands from your body so she can hold her own body up. Then you invade Sam’s space, you walk between her legs while putting the forks in your back pocket, placing your hands on both of her thighs “I would just ruin you instead, maybe teach you a thing or two about house rules" you say to her, words you purposely slowed down while talking to her as you wanted her to know what you’ve been thinking since she touched you. Your words leave Sam's mouth dry as she holds eye contact with you because she didn’t think you would talk back with something so clever to say to her nor your actions and it's driving her crazy. How the words left your mouth so clearly and unwavering surprised you because you never thought those words would unhurriedly go past your lips on an empty stomach. Your charged words leave Sam speechless as she waits for what you might do next but you give her false hope when you squeeze her thighs before backing away as you walk over to the table behind you placing the forks down “Now come over here and eat” you say calling her over which came out as more of a command as you dug into your food.

All Sam could do was stare at you from the couch with a surprised look on her face still while also feeling a little hot and bothered from your performance but eventually she got up to join you for dinner. But as Sam sat down she couldn’t really say anything to you at first because she was too surprised by the words you had let slip past your mouth and she constantly had them repeating in her head. Sam was driving herself crazy until her thoughts wondered about how her sister became friends with you in the first place because before you were quiet and only asked for things you needed like you were on edge around them way before you felt comfortable enough around them to allow yourself to bloom in their presence. “Y/n” Sam calls your name as you pour water into the cups, handing the first cup to Sam.

“Sam, stuff your face before I stuff it for you,” you say, giving Sam a serious look as you put down the pitcher before you continue to eat your food. The different flavors hitting your taste buds making you sigh with contentment, as your stomach slowly becomes satisfied. You realize slightly after a few more forks full of food that the words that had left your lips as well as your actions earlier were sexually charged only because Sam gave you grounds to say and act on them not realizing you hadn’t eaten yet. Your face becomes red thinking ‘I would have eaten her’ but also ‘Wait what the fuck are you thinking Y/n?! Sam is taken you big dummy’ you thought causing yourself to slouch in your chair before covering your eyes with your hand as you stopped eating.

But your change in mood doesn’t go unnoticed because as soon as you move your hand to cover your eyes Sam is wearing a shit-eating grin while watching you for a few minutes before her grin softens into a gentle smile. Because Sam figures that from how red your face is and she's making a guess here that you're overthinking under the protection of your hand to the point that you might cry from embarrassment. Unintentionally, Sam laughs at your expense as she leans forward in her chair, her hand reaching out for the side of your thigh patting and rubbing it to comfort you before saying "Don't think about it too much Y/n. It was funny…and your right, house rules are to never run around the apartment with something sharp in your hand or in my case, my butt pocket."

Hearing that from the women across from you made you smile and Sam knows that too as you started laughing, your hand still covering your eyes. “I saw the outcome of that by the way..like you don’t even know Sam,” you say in a fit of laughter as Sam started to picture the outcome of her own demise as she began to throw her head back as she covered her mouth finding it funny herself as you both laughed for a few minutes. You later had to cover your face with both of your hands because the picture in your head was too hilarious for you to handle as Sam’s laughter started to slowly die down while she waited for your laughter to cease even though your laugh is one of the many sounds she likes to hear from you.

It’s moments like this that Sam loves creating with you because you bring this type of energy that makes others feel like it's okay to be a kid or teen again even though society would rather hide you and it's a shame. You make Sam realize that despite her childhood, the comments online, the many looks she receives, and the current situation you’ve been consistently looking at her as if she is someone worth exploring the world with.’You make it hard not to love you’ she thinks as your beautiful smile reminds her to take pictures, so it will last longer but also for her mental health, you bring her a sense of peace when she feels troubled.

“That was too funny,” you say coming down from your laughing fit before wiping the tears from your face with your hand “Wow how long has it been since we’ve had time together like this?” you ask aloud as you think about it.

“I think maybe one or two months I’m not sure,” Sam says to you as you pick up your cup to drink from with a nod before pouring yourself another cup of water. As you pour yourself another cup she finds herself admiring you, taking in how your eyes are twinkling. Which is something she knows her sister's eyes would do when she has something she’s excited to tell her about.

“You know it's rude to stare, Sam,” you say with a bright smile as you look up from your cup.

“Sorry I was distracted by the crumb on your face,” Sam says, licking her thumb and reaching over the table to clean you up. Sam doesn’t realize the effect she has on you as you lean into her touch. You hum in response to the gesture and she sighs feeling thankful for having a darker complexion so you wouldn’t see her blush. “I also noticed that you have something in your eye Y/n. Is there something you want to share with me?”

Sam asks you and your smile sort of drops a little as you think about the research you did the night before because you don’t want to stress Sam out further but you nod in response to her question. “I do actually but what I want to say isn’t anything to be excited about, in fact, it's the exact opposite,” you say to Sam with a heavy sigh.

Sam stares at you for a second "What isn't a mood killer these days Y/n" she says to you before picking up the cup of water you poured for her earlier. "Spill it," she says taking a sip of her water before putting her cup down and leaning back in her chair, stretching her arms.

You take a second to admire Sam’s arms watching as they stretch and flex before you sit up straight, looking away as you speak. “I was doing research the other day about the past Ghost Face killings in your-” You stopped to look up at Sam because she moved her foot against yours so you would look at her before nodding so you could continue “Hometown and well I think we’re dealing with three Ghost Faces here,” you say scanning her features.

All Sam can do while looking at you is take a deep breath, she slowly nods looking away from you for a moment as she thinks of a follow up question. Then she scratched the side of her neck before asking “What makes you think there are three Ghost Faces and not just one Ghost Face coming after us?” Sam watched how your eyes lit up.

“Well, I’ll start off by talking about the previous Woodboro as the perfect setting. It’s a relatively small town which means bigger parties which also means there's a need for more than one Ghost Face prowling about. The setting makes it the perfect playground for Ghost Face to prey on particular people and not get caught because who in their drunken mind would remember where their friend went right?” you say looking at Sam.

The look on your face makes Sam smile because your mind works like Mindy’s but on a different setting and it's a bit chaotic “You have a point. Why else would Amber host a party if not to kill my sister's friends…and Tara” she says looking at the table with an angry look on her face like it happened yesterday.

“T-” you started before becoming quiet a little and Sam noticed this so she looked up at you with a concerned look not realizing you moved your chair to sit near her. “That's because those were legacy killings and I don’t think they're done yet, Sammy. I think there is someone who knew Richie and that deep down they hate you for killing him and that's why they’re spreading rumors about you online. They did it in a very discreet way so it wouldn’t be traced back to them” The sound of your voice is low, concerned, and yet calm, somehow it makes Sam relax.

“SO you're saying that Richie might have friends or family that he didn’t divulge to me and that they’re after me for killing him,” Sam asked with a questioning look trying to piece together in her head what else she could be missing as she entangled her hand in yours under the table eventually looking down at your intertwined fingers as some of her hair slips in front of her face.

“Yeah exactly, Sam,” you say with surprise smiling at her smarts not that she was dumb but because you wanted to take a deep dive into her thinking and the glimpse was beautiful to you. “Now if you were to apply what you just said Sam and some of the information from the previous killings that were done in Woodsboro then you would know that New York is a different terrain. Here in New York City, there are a lot of people who live here, and some people care and some don’t. It’s essentially an every man for himself situation but the name of the game here is to keep you on your feet because now there is a bigger playground to play on.”

Sam looks up from your intertwining hands as she attempts to fix her hair when you beat her to it. She watches as you gently move your other hand through her hair placing it behind her ear she watches your eyes flicker between one side of her face to the other as you want to get the placement just right, your perfectionist part of your personality coming out. “T-Thank you…uh continue what you were saying before I interrupted you,” she says with a light stutter, refraining from desperately wanting to attack you with kisses.

“I think the person online is Ghost Face #1 a friend or sibling of Richie. I’m thinking this person in particular loves to gossip therefore setting the stage by giving you a bad rap for killing their Richie making you afraid to slip up but also to lower your morale." You explain before thinking about the Ghost Faces you ran into.

“Then that would mean that Ghost Face #2 would be the one from the bodega right?” Sam asked you, questioning the events prior. “Other than the obvious of him being Ghost Face, I did think it was weird that he knew how to use a shotgun…maybe he’s a hunter?” Sam asked you as she watched the cogs in your head move.

“I…” you started, as you looked at Sam’s cup before looking at her eyes thinking about what she said “I think if that were the case then he would have shot my leg off with no problem in the alleyway. But the way he was walking in the store he was silent and the angle of the gun?” you questioned as you briefly took your hand out of Sam’s making the gesture of how Ghost Face held the shotgun “He had to be a professional he held the gun close to his body, maybe a cop? A hunter would need precision and I feel like their arm would be relaxed,” you say reaching for Sam's hand again to which she welcomingly took it back.

“Mmm,” Sam hummed at your thought “How would a cop have so much time on his hands then?” Sam asks looking at her food before looking up at you as you shrug “What about Ghost Face #3? If the Ghost Faces from the internet and bodega are separate people…then?” Sam asks challenging your thought process.

“I-well that's kind of a hard one Sam,’’ You say with a little laugh as you smile at her before you think about it more. “No, it's not. I think we had seen all three Ghost Faces. Actually, I’m just remembering the order of events all wrong” you say looking at Sam with soft eyes.

“Wait…I think I’m catching on now” Sam says looking at you with her brows furrowed thinking about the order of events “Ghost Face#1 was the Ghost at the bodega….Ghost Face#2 tried to kill me on the ladder” Sam says with surprise and her words cause you to move in your chair so that you face her fully before replacing your left hand with your right hand before squeezing her hand.

“That would make a lot of sense because Ghost Face#2 was strong enough to break into the apartment and kill Quinn and the guy she was with,” you say before taking a deep breath because the memory of you holding on to Sam while she was hanging outside the window has you shaking a little.

"I'm still here Y/n" Sam tries to reassure you as she cupped your face with her other hand."Keep talking to me what would that mean for Ghost Face #3?" Sam says trying to distract you from thinking about that scary moment you two shared.

"That would just mean…that Ghost face #3 could have gossiped online about you and tried to kill Gale because Gale was smart enough to find di-" you were going to finish your sentence when the sudden sound of someone hitting your front door cut off your thought and made you get up from your chair as Sam got up shortly after.

"Get behind me" Sam whispered to you walking in front of you as her hand searched for yours pulling you closer to her body for comfort. As you both walk towards the door Sam reaches for your kitchen knife and while she does the door is pushed again causing you to flinch as you almost release your hand from Sam's. But Sam pulls on your hand placing it on her hip. She then quickly looks through the peephole in your door before noticing who it is, and a sigh leaves her lips. "It's just Ethan at the door," Sam says turning to you and you give an even bigger sigh of relief as you take the kitchen knife from her to place in a separate drawer as Sam unlocks the door.

"Hey Sam, Y/n sorry for uh.." Ethan says looking past you and Sam as his eyes focused on the table where you guys ate dinner. "Interrupting your dinner, however, Tara wanted me to tell you that she's planning on taking the car to the gas station," he says, making Sam look at her phone as she nodded before turning her back on him to look at you.

"I'll" Sam started before looking at Tara's text message and messaging her back when she saw your message causing her to look up at you. "Y/n I’ll be back to pick you up. Also if you can could you pack some clothes because I would feel more relaxed if we stuck together" she says and you nod.

"Yeah, I will, not that I have a choice," you say smiling at Sam before looking down when Sam decides to lift your chin up to kiss the skin that is just a few inches away from your lips. Then she leaves as quickly as she kisses you, causing you to turn red when you remembered that Ethan was still standing outside your door "Uh…want to come in E?"

The gesture makes Ethan smile "Yeah sure I'd love to" he says stepping into your apartment as he begins looking around the room like he was at candy shop “You have a nice place” he says as you walk to your bedroom.

“Thanks my roommates figured that because they didn’t have an exact theme that I could collaborate with them to make the apartment feel more like home.” You say aloud so Ethan could hear you as you pull a duffle bag from underneath your bed to pack all over your clothes in plus your little hygiene bag as you place it on the bed.

“So you're an interior designer? I thought you said you had a Visual Communications degree?” He asked as he walked closer to the table where you and Sam were originally having dinner before he picked up your cup to put water into so he can have a drink.

“Well as someone who works as a Graphic Designer Ethan, I’m pretty sure if I wanted to I could dabble in Interior Design I would just have to switch how I approach a new project.” You say to Ethan as you look over at him and just as you do the lights in the apartment go off.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 4.5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5.5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 7.5 Chapter 8 Chapter 8.5 Chapter 9 (Chapter 9.5 Coming Soon)

Stay in my mentions crew: @daddycarpenter @lummaland @screechcat @grandpatrolnut @octaviasnextmeatcube @octavias-next-meat-bite @fanboy7794 @werewolfbansheelove

Scream 6 : A Love so Understanding Playlist

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter imagine #a fantasylandbitch presents a story #core four #a fantasylandbitch presents a story: scream6 #autistic!reader #Spotify

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yeeterthek33per · 1 year ago

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Big ol' storm vs The Amazing Sam (Sam Kerr x reader)

A/n requested.

As much as you loved that Sam was enjoying her time out, you hated the fact you were now stuck alone in your shared apartment at ten o'clock at night and forecast says a thunderstorm is looming on the horizon.

Funnily enough, you used to live on your own, and nowadays, you question how you ever even dealt with it before.

You hid it from Sam pretty well, using her presence to keep you from reacting too much to let on about your fear of thunderstorms.

However, you partly wished you had told her because there might have been a slight chance that she'd come back early so you wouldn't be stuck curled up in a corner with headphones on trying to avoid the booming sounds of the weather outside.

You scold yourself for that train of thought, though.

You know you're being selfish thinking like that. It's your girlfriend's first proper time off in a while, and she's getting to let loose finally.

Go out drinking, have a good time, the usual that came with a pretty decent result in a major comp.

The pride in your chest was immense when she'd placed fourth overall in the World Cup, especially in a home World Cup.

So she definitely deserved this time off and shouldn't have to worry about babysitting her girlfriend because she's scared of a little noisy weather.

So, instead of calling your girlfriend like you were going to do, evident by the fact you've only just realised your thumb was hovering over her contact for the past five minutes, you curl up a bit more against the side of the bed, turn up your music and put your phone down.

You only hope she doesn't notice you're not in bed when she gets home in her, probably black-out, drunk state.

She had several states of drunkenness, four year old Sam was super cheeky and cuddly, sixteen year old Sam was a whole other level of sober Sam and twenty-two year old horny Sam, as affectionately named by Millie when she busted the two of you making out in a toilet stall at a bar the team had commandeered.

The last one only came out depending on the type of alcohol she's had. Usually, Tequila or Rosé are the ones to bring out that side of her.

You were kind of hoping for the former. At least then she'd pass out quickly and not notice your shaken state.

--------------------

Sam's alcohol inpaired movements were kind of obvious. Both to herself and the outside world, she'd only hoped you wouldn't notice, and she could slip into bed without waking you up.

The room around her spins slightly, and she knows she's in for it in the morning but can't bring herself to care when all she can think is the warmth of your embrace beneath the expensive sheet and quilt that you'd insisted be switched onto her bed instead of the simple one she used to own.

Of course, she hadn't actually bought it. It was yours until you moved in with her just two months ago.

She manages to stumble into the hallway, cursing the two steps up she'd ignored when purchasing the place and makes her way up to the weirdly shut bedroom door.

She steels herself, trying to shake off her drunkeness and opens the door.

The room is quiet, save for the rumblings of the ongoing storm outside, which had also soaked her clothing the moment she'd gotten out of the Uber.

The bed is empty, though, which confuses her for a minute. You weren't home?

She swore she'd checked the kitchen when she'd stumbled in, and as far as she could tell, she couldn't hear you currently scolding a very intoxicated Guro and Erin for crashing on your shared couch. Again.

It's only when she notices in a flash of light from the lightning outside that she spots the black plastic curve of your soundproof headphones peaking out from the other side of the bed.

Why were you up so late and... listening to music as well?

Sam carefully walks across the room to the bed and crawls across it, having kicked her shoes off at the front door, which you'll also most likely scold her for as well.

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It startles you when a pair of cold hands gently move the headphones off your face and you scream, jumping away from the sudden intruder.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just me!"

You grab your chest, breathing rapid now and shake your head slightly.

"Jesus babe, heart attack. Just yell out to me next time or something."

"Sorry, baby." Her speech is slurred, like you expected.

"It's fine, just, you might wanna go to bed. Sleep off the alcohol and all- wait. Are you wet? Jesus, Sam, get off the bed and get changed. You're gonna dirty the covers."

The forward huffs but does as she's told, though struggling to find the closet in the dark and trips over a stray pair of shorts.

Luckily, you're right there to catch her and flip the switch for the light in the room to help her get changed.

"Fucking hell, and you complain about me not cleaning up."

You scoff.

"Excuse you, missy, those are yours. That's a number 20 on that leg."

As she pulls out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, she turns back to you, swaying on her feet lightly.

"You were wearing them s'morning. You've been insisting you sleep in my stuff lately."

You raise a brow but remain silent, knowing she's right.

You had been but only because storm season was a bitch, and when you live in England, storm season was just about year round, thus the smell of your girlfriends clothing was what soothed you when you were home alone.

At that, you wince as the house shakes with another thunderous clap, but quickly cover it up by bending down to pick up the offending clothing.

If Sam noticed it, she doesn't acknowledge it.

It's only when she stumbles, trying to pull on a pair of sleep shorts that you stop and help her.

"Oh, for the love of- come on. Sit. I'll help you put them on."

Another boom rattles the walls, making you jump as she pulls the shorts up her legs and stands to finish pulling them on.

This time, she does notice but stays quiet and sits back down on the bed, observing you as you move to clean up the room a bit more.

Every time there's a flash of light from outside, every time there's a small clap of thunder, she sees you flinch, though it looks like you're trying to conceal it.

Even in her heavily intoxicated brain, she can tell that you're not having a great time at the moment.

When you finally hit the switch to the light again, manoeuvre you both under the covers and into bed, her head tucked into your chest since she tended to little spoon when she was drunk like this.

It's then that she speaks up, feeling you tense with another clap of thunder.

"Baby.."

You hum softly in acknowledgement.

"Are you afraid of storms?"

That's when you freeze, unsure of what to tell her.

"I- what makes you say that?"

She sits up, moving so she's leaning on her elbow above you.

"You get jumpy whenever it's been storming lately, that and you're really tense right now. You get super cuddly and-."

You clench your eyes shut at the house's vibration with the boom of lightning once again.

"Okay, yeah... yep. I really hate storms..."

You duck under the covers a bit more, and Sam just about melts at the sight.

Immediately, her arms are around you again, tugging you closer to lay tangled up with your head buried in her neck.

Despite the obvious smell of alcohol on her skin, you lay silently and just breathe her in, occasionally flinching as the storm progresses.

It's silent for a few minutes, the rain seemingly calming from its hammering against the glass window in the room.

"Babe, if you don't mind me asking, why? What's got you afraid of those big ol' stormy boys?"

The way she says it makes you laugh, her goofiness is always a form of entertainment for you, her drunken state making it that much more amusing.

"I, uh, I don't know. Just hate them, can't stand them. I mean, lightning struck the big gum tree we had out the front of my childhood home when I was five, and it scared the crap out of me... but aside from that, like, nothing bad happened. It's just always been a phobia of mine."

The sentence is punctuated by another tense from you as there's another rumble.

Sam thinks for a minute and you wonder if she's finally drifted off in the silence, but she suddenly gets up on the bed, standing up on the mattress.

"Baby, what're you-"

Her hands move to her hips, and she points with an off in the distance gesture, much like a superhero would, and you both curse and try to smother a laugh as she does so.

"Hey you! Big ol' storm. You leave my girl alone. I'm The Amazing Sam, and I will beat you up for scaring her, and you'll rue the day you tried to hurt my baby!"

Through laughter, you try and pull her back down again as she does the put-em-up fighting stance.

"Sammy, for god's sake, get down." You laugh between words. "You're gonna fall off the bed."

She pouts softly but grins when she sees your silent laughter and quickly grabs a hold of you in her embrace.

Her lips press a kiss to your forehead as your chest shakes with laughter for a few minutes before finally calming down.

"Oh my god, I love you so much. You're such a goof."

The grin of pride on her lips makes you roll your eyes lovingly and press a small kiss to them.

She tastes mildly of whisky and a hint of beer.

"Love you too, gorgeous, I'll always protect you from meanies like the big bully out there."

You giggle softly.

"Thank you baby, now go to sleep, your head is already gonna hurt in the morning as is."

She huffs but curls back into your hold, and she eventually drifts off, the storm outside long forgotten by yourself as you drift with her.

--------------------

"Seriously guys?! Again?!"

The yell from the loungeroom makes Sam's head throb, and she huffs, burying her head back into the pillow, knowing she's in shit.

The pair of Chelsea players cuddling on your couch are startled awake at your scolding as you stand with your hands on your hips, a scowl on your features.

Guro jumps awake and falls off of Erin with a groan as she hits the floorboards.

"And you're both drenched as well. Damnit, Sam."

You sigh and run your hand over your face, walking away to now make breakfast and coffee for yourself and three other football players.

It was far too early for this.

--------------------

#woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagines #sam kerr imagine #guro reiten #erin cuthbert

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luvforemikai · 2 years ago

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Meant to be

synopsis ~ paul and y/n have been together for some time now. making commitments most people dont. but those commitments might end up being too dangerous in the end when y/n's life is on the line.

warnings ~ pregnancy, death, blood (i think thats it. lmk if there's more)

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Y/N and Paul Lahote were seen as twin flames. Inseparable. Destined to be together. You both knew this too and never doubted it.

2 years into the relationship y/n had just found out you were expecting. This was a special moment for you because you'd always talk about how you wanted kids with paul. It seemed a little rushed to have kids at the young ages you were so both of you decided to wait. Now was the time. One pregnancy test changed your lives forever.

About one month in, y/n and paul were beyond excited to they started talking about baby names right away. "How about.. Lily for girl or Liam for boy.." Paul said. He wanted something simple. Basic. Easy to pronounce so there would be no problems down the road. "Mm no, i was thinking something more different. Like.. Natalina for girl or Hasini for boy" Y/n wanted something special. Unique. Rare. Known between only them. You didnt care about pronunciation. There was no problem with correcting people if they ever got it wrong. After all this was your first child together. Y/n wanted it to be special. Paul may have had a few objections with the name y/n chose. Something cultural so their child can always remember where they come from. Paul wanted short and simple names like Diamond or Rose. Either way, you still had 8 months to firgure it out so there was no need to rush.

"Paul! Lets go, we're gonna be late!"......"I'm coming! Do you really think I'd miss my babies ultrasound and gender reveal?" You both pecked eachother on the lips and head out the door, excited to find out the gender of your baby... "It looks like you two are having.. a girl!! Congratulations!" Said the nurse. We both were beyond excited. Paul kissed y/n on the forehead.

9 months into the pregnancy, y/n and paul were overly excited. Sadly sam had to pull paul for some patrolling. You didnt mind much, sam was really generous towards the two of you the entire pregnancy. Emily coming over helping you with the basics that you couldnt get done because of your swollen pregnant belly. It was a nice gesture. But that day you had to get out of the house. You were craving food badly. You asked Emily to leave so you could get yourself something to eat. "You go easy on yourself y/n. That baby will be coming any day now. Rest." Emily said concerned. "I will Em. Thank you, now please go, you've taken really good care of me". You two hugged and Emily headed out the door. You had a tough time slipping your shoes on but you finally did it. Heading out the door you got bad contractions that stopped you in your tracks. You decided to sit this one out and wouldnt risk it.

Sitting down watching tv, you get a text. You look at it and its paul.

P - "I'm gonna be coming home late baby, there's some rogue vampires in the area that we have to keep an eye on. I'll be home soon, hopefully. Keep the doors locked, and call me if you need help. I'll come as fast as i can. I love you."

This scared you considering paul was killable. Especially when it comes to vampires. But you remained calm and rubbed your swollen belly, smiling.

A few hours pass and you're in extreme pain. Contractions are closing in. You didnt think much of it, thinking it was simple braxton hicks. Up until your water broke. You called paul a dozen times but he wouldnt pick up. Afriad for you and mostly your baby, you called an ambulance, not caring about vampires. While medics were getting you on a gurnee, you grabbed a folded piece of paper on your nightstand, putting it in your pocket.

Here you were at the hospital, giving birth to your baby girl. Paul no where in sight. You're alone and surrounded by nurses. The last push and you finally see your baby girl. She had brown eyes and a ton of hair. She was sat on your chest when suddenly you felt a wave of drowsiness. Your lips started to turn pale and your eyes were rolling. The nurses called a code blue and brought in defibrillators to wake your heart. But it was too late.. the nurse took the baby to the nursery.

Paul is in the woods and shifts back into a human with the rest of the pack. They make their way to Emily's. When they arrive emily is there and she looks defeated. "Hey Em. Weren't you supposed to be with Y/n today?" Paul asks. There's silence between everyone and Paul's heart drops. "Whats wrong." "Is it y/n?" "Did something happen?" The pack members bombard emily with questions. "I got a call. Y/n was rushed to the hospital, something was wrong". Paul freaks and pulls out his phone. Seeing the dozen missed calls from y/n..

Paul storms into the hospital asking nurses and doctors where you are. "Are you paul lahote?" A nurse asks and she gives him a sad look. "Y/n had her baby but... she died of complications im sorry". Paul looks purely shocked. "What?" He asks. "I can show you to her if you'd like" the nurse says. Guiding him to your room. You lay there lifeless and paul breaks down. The nurse attempts to leave. "Wait. Is the baby fine, where is she" paul asks with tears rolling down his cheeks. The nurse guides him to a separate room where she then brings the baby in. She hands paul your child while he smiles. She then pulls out a folded piece of paper. "Y/n had this in her pocket when she was picked up in the ambulance. She made it known that we had to give this to you.". She gives him the paper and quietly leaves.

"Dear paul, the love of my life. If you're reading this, then things didn't go as planned. I was undecided on making this but if something happened to me i didn't wanna leave you alone and confused. You already know this but my mom died during my birth and the pain my father felt was too much to bear so he took it out on me. I dont want you to become that pain and sorrow my father was. So this note is your closure. If i dont make it please protect our baby girl like you once did with me. I want her to have a stable and loving family. Something i did not have. I trust that you'll be there for her through everything. Birthdays, boyfriends, marriage. Everything that i wont see. Please live your life knowing i died loving you with everything in me. Every date, every hug. Every kiss, has meant more to me than anything. You've made my life a thousand times better. And for that i would never forget you nor die without you on my mind and in my heart. I always knew we were meant to be, even in death. Now please. Be happy and dont hold yourself back. And tell our daughter, RoseEmika Lahote that her mommy died loving the very best of her."

Paul wiped a tear from his wet cheeks and smiled. Holding our daughter, he told her "Meant to be".

-----------------------------------------

Maybe i cried during this, maybe i didnt. Im pretty proud of this. Considering its my first fanfic and all

#paul lahote #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x you #twilight #twilight fandom #sam uley #wolf pack #twilight pack #pregnant reader

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xx-blueboy-xx · 1 year ago

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Day Three: Inspired | Suptobber 2023

CW: None!

Words: 997

The pencil scratched over the page, and Sam tilted his head at it - his brows creased and he groaned, grabbing his eraser and scrubbing it across the page with a vengeance. Nothing looked right. What was worse? He had a sketch-phase due tomorrow and he has nothing. He knows that he could just put some bullshit on the page and turn it in and when the final looked utterly different? Well, he could just make the excuse he changed ideas. But that isn;t how Sam Winchester does anything. He is an all or nothing kind guy. Sometimes his own integrity bothers him. But when you leave your hyper masculine and toxic family to go to an art school in California? You have to want to be better. To prove yourself.

He sighs deeply and he presses his head to the back of the wall behind him. He is sitting inside of the library, one of his favorite places on campus to work. Not only is it always quiet, but the librarians love him and allow him to be here for hours. Even when sometimes it is technically ‘closed’. He also gets special access to study rooms should he want them. Being the ‘teacher’s pet’ pays well and he still doesn’t understand why his fellow students will dig at him for it. He looks around, deciding to begin watching people.

Afterall, Sma has discovered there is no easier way to find a muse - than by simply looking at those around you. Especially on a college campus, where so many people from all kinds of walks of life could be passing by. The library was particularly dead this time of day, considering it was a late-friday night. His fellow students all loved to go to parties, that just wasn’t his scene. He chewed on the end of his pencil as he looked around, desperately searching for anyone. That’s when he saw him. Sam had to stop himself from gasping out in awe. Standing across the way was one of the most beautiful man he has ever seen, and he isn’t even sure why. Afterall, he wasn’t all that near what most people would call attractive, and by that, Sam means he wasn’t a Hollywood hunk. Yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He was standing across the way, in front of the massive stained glass window that depicted an archangel of some kind in the rainbow glass. Oddly enough, he was practically posed in the same way as the saint behind him, completely covering the human parts - but instead of holding a lily a large lollipop was in his hand. The large-golden wings that spread from the image behind him almost looked as if they were his, spreading from his back. His golden-colored hair helped to make the illusion almost seamless. His eyes as moonlight and the bright lights of the library illuminated him made them look as if they were glowing. The whiskey color refracting the light in a million shades of orange and gold.

There were distinct smile lines in his features, and he looked to be at least in his early thirties. He was wearing a strangely fancy outfit for a college campus, and Sam had to wonder who he was. Why he was here? He was wearing a loose, black-buttondown that had the collar unbuttoned, and it was tucked into pin-striped pants, a deep green color. His shoes were shining.

Sam’s hand was moving before he could even realize it as he despret;ly began to sketch. It was messy and not his best work, but he recognized that the moment the man stepped away - there would be no hope in capturing this image again. He was already committing to memory the colors of his eyes and the wings. He looked up from his paper, and back at the man several times. Who oddly enough was just standing there, chewing on his lollipop. Which made his nose scrunch up. Who the hell bites into a lollipop? It seemed he was casually leaning against the glass, looking off at the bookshelf that was in front of him.

Sam swallowed, as minutes began to pass by and the man hadn’t moved an inch, which he was grateful for: but it started to worry him. Then, as the last pencil stroke of his imperfect sketch (it looked better than expected whoever) went across the page, golden eyes fixated on him. It was matched with a wide-knowing grin.

His face flushed red.

Oh. He realized with pure embarrassment coursing through his body, the man had clearly known he was being watched. He had posed for Sam. The blonde didn’t approach him; he simply wiggled his fingers at him, before stuffing his hands into his pockets. He pulled something out. There had to be at least ten feet between them, but yet, the chocolate he tossed landed perfectly in the art student’s lap. Sam fumbled, feeling the flush in his features simply deepen. He nearly dropped the chocolate as he picked it up and out of his lap, he turned it over. Mind whirling.

He looked up, only to realize the man was gone. Which was a bit of a shock, because he hadn’t seen nor heard him walk away. Sam was usually hyper aware of his surroundings. The second thing that shocked him was that the stained glass window he realized was depicting something entirely different. There was no archangel in it, but flowers and trees. A landscape.

He recognized slowly that it had never been an archangel.

A chill went down his spine and he swallowed. He glances down at his sketchbook staring at the angel he had drawn. He traced his fingers delicately over the dark-gray lines that made up the six-massive wings. Golden. Just like his eyes.

Sam stumbled up and he stuffed everything into his bag, tossing it over his shoulder.

The next day, he would chalk everything up to his lack of sleep.

#suptober23 #spn ficlet #sam winchester #sabriel ficlet #sabriel #sam x gabriel #art-student sam #au #supernatrual ficlet #supernatrual #gabriel spn #fluff #|| this one is kinda late but shhhhhhh

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fatecantstopme · 3 years ago

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Unrequited Love?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky have been friends and roommates for a couple years. You’re madly in love with him, but you’re pretty sure he just likes you as a friend. There’s a chance you’re 100% wrong.

Warnings: SMUT UNDER THE CUT. MINORS WALK AWAY. Bucky’s a dom (obvi). Metal arm kink. Cursing. Praise kink. Light choking.

You looked in the mirror and sighed. You looked fantastic in your little black dress and strapy heels, but you didn’t feel excited. You barely felt happy. You ran your fingers through your long hair and let out another sigh. Your hair and makeup was done and you were ready to go, but you felt the strong urge to call your date and cancel. He was a sweet guy you’d met at the bar last week where you’re a bartender. Tall, blonde, handsome…everything a normal girl would want. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted something, someone, you couldn’t have. You knew he would never return the affection, certainly never the love, but that didn’t stop your heart from longing for him. He was one of your two closest friends and you two hit it off instantly. Your friend Sam introduced the two of you a couple years ago. His name is James Buchanan Barnes, “Bucky” to his friends. Bucky was a ladies man and rarely saw the same girl twice. You weren’t his type. He went after the teeny tiny blonde bombshells, which you absolutely were not. You were a short brunette with curves you loved very much. More girl next door than sex kitten.

Your phone buzzed, bringing you out of your thoughts. You glanced down to see your date’s name on the screen letting you know he was on his way to the restaurant. You texted him back to let him know you’d be leaving in a couple minutes. You looked back in the mirror and adjusted your hair one last time before putting on your shoes and heading downstairs. New York City is expensive as hell, so Sam and Bucky were your roommates. Both of them were downstairs and they were arguing about some sport thing you didn’t care about. When you came down the stairs, Sam looked up at you and wolf-whistled. Bucky turned around to look and froze.

“How do I look?” You asked with a quick twirl.

“Hot as hell, Y/N.” Sam replied.

Bucky continued to stare silently. It was almost awkward, so Sam elbowed him in the side. He let out a cough before mumbling, “you look beautiful.”

His response sent warmth through your entire body. You were a little surprised by how shy he looked as he said it, but you figured it was because it was you. He was usually much more flirtatious, but always in a joking manner. “Thanks guys. I’m gonna head out. I’ll text you if he’s super creepy and I need you to save me.”

Sam laughed, but Bucky just nodded. “We’ll kick his ass if he screws with you.”

You smiled. “Oh I know it. Especially you, bionic man.” You winked and they both laughed. “Alright, boys. I’m out. Don’t wait up.” You blew them both a kiss and headed out the front door.

The moment you were gone, Sam smacked Bucky on the back of the head.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“When the hell are you gonna tell her?”

Bucky rubbed the back of his head. “Tell her what?”

Sam glared at him. “Dude. Anyone with eyeballs can see you’re in love with her.”

Bucky blushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Y/N is great, but she’s just a friend.”

“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that. Y/N is a catch. If you don’t tell her how you feel, she’s going to find someone and you’re going to hate yourself forever.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How is that different from now?”

“Right now you have a chance at real happiness. Even love. But you’re too scared or stupid to make a move.”

Bucky was about to argue, but he knew Sam was right. “You’re right. I am scared. I don’t deserve her and I’m willing to bet she knows it. Why would she want me when she could have someone without all my problems? My baggage? My fucked up life?”

Sam was about ready to slap his friend. “Man up, Barnes. Sure you’ve got some shit, we all do. But Y/N knows your history…and she’s still here. She’s still your friend.”

“What if she doesn’t want me?” He whispered.

“I’ve known Y/N/N a long time. I can read her like a book, even when she tries to hide it. She cares about you, Bucky. I’ve seen it in the way she looks at you.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t think he could. You were his favorite person in the entire world…he couldn’t bare the thought of losing you. He also couldn’t stand the idea of you being with someone else. But what if you didn’t want him? How could he possibly live his life without you in it?

“Go get her.”

Bucky looked at Sam like he was crazy, “What?”

“I said, go get her. You know she hates taxis, so she’ll be walking to the subway. You’re a super solider, I guarantee you can catch up to her.”

Bucky stared at his friend and his mind churned. Without a word, he turned away and went to his room. He came back a couple seconds later with his jacket and boots on. “I’ll be back.”

Sam watched him walk to the door. “Get your girl, Buck.”

You were about 2 blocks from the subway. You’d been walking slowly because you really weren’t looking forward to the evening ahead of you. As always, your thoughts strayed to Bucky. This time, you were thinking about the way he looked at you when you came down the stairs. The surprise, and dare you say, desire? No. There’s no way. He was just surprised. You shook your head to clear your thoughts. James Buchanan Barnes was absolutely not interested in you. No freaking way. As you neared the entrance to the subway, you heard shouting behind you. The voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. You kept walking and then you heard a very distinctive “Y/N!” You turned towards the direction of the voice and saw none other than Bucky Barnes running towards you. “Bucky? What are you doing here?” You asked when he reached you.

Not surprisingly, the super soldier wasn’t even out of breath. “You can’t go on this date.”

You looked surprised. “Why not? Do you know him or something?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, you just can’t. You can’t date.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I can’t date? Excuse me?”

“Shit. I’m saying this all wrong.”

“Apparently. What are you trying to say, Buck?”

Bucky started fiddling with his hands and he looked at the ground. “I don’t know how…what I mean is…I…shit.”

If he didn’t seem so upset, you would have laughed. It was rare that Bucky was speechless. “Buck? It’s me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He finally made eye contact with you and you were shocked by all the emotions filling his eyes. He took a deep breath and held your gaze. “I don’t want you to date anyone else,” he said softly.

“Anyone else?” You prompted.

“Anyone who isn’t me.”

You stared at him in stunned silence. You were quite sure you’d misheard him. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to date anyone who isn’t me.”

“You…you want to date me?”

Bucky nodded. “I’ve wanted to since the day we met.”

You stared at him again. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joy flooded your body, but it was quickly followed by anger. “Why the hell are you just telling me now? I’ve been single the entire time we’ve known each other! But you wait until I actually agree to go out with someone else and--”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me,” he said so softly you almost didn’t hear him. Almost.

His words softened your annoyance. “Bucky,” you whispered, stepping towards him. You laid a hand on his arm. “Why wouldn’t I want you? You’re amazing. You’re strong, brave, and so incredibly kind.”

He barked out a harsh laugh. “You’ve got a rose colored glasses view of me.”

“No I don’t, Bucky. I know you. I know about your past, but I don’t care. That wasn’t you. I love the man that’s standing here in front of me. The one that always buys me my favorite flowers on my birthday. The one that watches sappy romance movies with me. The one that would die to protect me. You, James Buchanan Barnes. You.” You punctuated the last word with a finger to his chest.

He looked at you like you were the most incredible human being he’d ever seen. “You love me?” He asked sheepishly.

You blushed. You hadn’t even realized you’d said it, but there was no backing out now. “Yes. I do…so damn much.”

He grinned ear to ear and wrapped his arms around your waist. “How much?” He asked with a smirk.

“More than anything.” You answered with a smirk of your own.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss began sweetly, but soon devolved into something much more passionate. You finally pulled away when you needed to breathe.

He leaned his forehead against yours and smiled softly. “So I think you’re gonna be late for your date.”

“Oh shit!” You quickly dug your phone out of your purse as he started laughing. “It’s not funny! I have to call him.”

“Nahhh. Just leave him hanging. We’ve got things to do.”

You looked up at him and he stared at you with dark eyes. You had never seen him look at you that way, but you knew very well what was on his mind. “James…” you warned.

“What? It’s not my fault you’re so gorgeous.”

You rolled your eyes. “At least let me call him while we walk home.”

“Walk? Who said anything about walking?” He asked as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. You yelped as he started jogging towards your townhouse.

“Bucky! Put me down!” You squealed.

“Not a chance, doll.”

He made it back to your shared home in record time. He deposited you on the front steps and you smacked his arm. “Don’t do that again!”

He grinned. “I have no regrets.”

You rolled your eyes and unlocked the door. You’d managed to send a text to your date while Bucky ran you home. You felt bad, but you had Bucky…which is what you really wanted. When you entered the house, Bucky pinned you against the door and kissed you passionately.

“Whoa! Guys, get a room!” Sam yelled as he came into view from the kitchen.

Bucky turned and glared at him. Apparently the glare was enough to make Sam uncomfortable, because he put his hands up and backed away slowly.

“Bucky, we really should go to your room.”

Bucky looked down at you and nodded. His bedroom was on the third floor, which was farthest away from Sam’s. Your’s was in the middle, so this was a better option to avoid annoying the shit out of Sam. Bucky followed you up the stairs and the moment you entered his room, he was on you.

It took you a moment to come to your senses. Bucky was just so damn intoxicating. You pushed him away gently and he looked at you with concern. “Are you okay, doll?”

You shook your head. “Is this real, Bucky?”

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is this real? Us? Or is this a one-time thing? Because I can’t do a friends with benefits thing or whatever—“

He cut you off with a metal finger to your lips. “This is anything but one-time. I want this, Y/N. I want you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

That was all you needed to hear. You grabbed his face and pulled him towards you, kissing him like you needed him to breathe. He melted into you and easily lifted your body up into his arms. He carried you to the bed and laid you down gently before crawling on top of you. You tugged on his shirt and he got the hint and quickly shed the garment. His hands were everywhere…he was everywhere. It was all you could do not to rip his clothes off and ride him until the sun rose.

Bucky felt the exact same way. He needed this. Needed you. Within minutes you were both down to your underwear and panting heavily. Bucky trailed kisses down your neck, nipping at your collarbone. You moaned softly and arched your back against him.

“Do you want this Y/N?” Bucky asked against your throat.

You nodded furiously.

“Words, doll. I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Bucky. I want this.”

He unceremoniously ripped your bra completely off your body and sealed his lips around your nipple. You gasped at the pleasant feeling and pressed your fingers into his shoulders. His hands traveled down your body, landing on your barely clothed core. He could feel the wetness and the heat and he groaned loudly. “So wet for me already and I’ve barely touched you.”

You merely moaned in response, already too far gone to think clearly.

His lips moved to take the place of his hands as he removed your thong. He sat back on his haunches and practically growled. “All of this for me?” He asked as he slid a metal finger through your slick folds.

“Only you, Bucky.” You moaned at the sensation.

“I need to taste you,” he said before diving in and licking a stripe up your pussy.

You moaned again and he slid his tongue between your folds. When his mouth found your clit, you nearly lost it. “Oh god!”

He grinned against you and picked up his pace, sliding a thick metal finger inside of you. “You taste so good, baby. I could eat you all night.”

You glanced down at him as you slotted your fingers in his hair. He looked so sexy between your thighs, beard rubbing against your sensitive skin. As if he felt your eyes on him, he glanced up at you and held your gaze as he continued sucking your clit. His normally bright blue eyes were dark and lust blown. You’d never seen a sexier sight. You lifted your hips up to meet his mouth and continued moaning loudly. Bucky brought his arm around your abdomen and held you in place as he worked you. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers and your moans increased in volume and frequency, so he knew you were close even before you told him.

“Bucky…I’m so close. Please.”

“Please what, doll?” He asked between licks.

“Please. I need to come. Please, Bucky.”

“Cum for me baby girl.”

His words, coupled with his skilled fingers were all you needed to fall over the edge. You cried out in pleasure and clung to his hair as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You tugged on his hair and tried to scoot away from him as the pleasure became too much. Bucky held you in place until he decided he was finished. He lifted his head and grinned at you, chin covered in your slick. You reached for him and he obliged, moving up to kiss you. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan and you felt his clothed cock twitch against your thigh.

“Bucky,” you whined softly.

“Yes, doll?”

“Lose the boxers,” you murmured.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly and he licked his lips as he ripped his boxers off and threw them across the room. He liked when you demanded what you wanted. “Tell me what you want baby girl.”

“You,” you moaned softly.

He smiled and lined himself up against your opening, but you stopped him. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head quickly. “Wanna taste you.”

Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head. He let you flip him over and straddle him. You looked incredible above him, so beautiful and fucked out. You kissed his lips before making your way down his muscular body. When you reached his cock, you licked the precum off his head and he groaned.

“You’re so big,” you said in awe as you ran your tongue from the base to the tip. “I like it.” You slid his head into your mouth and slowly lowered your head over his cock, taking as much as you could without gagging. Bucky’s fingers entwined in your hair and his breathing was already ragged. “Fuck, baby. You look so good taking my cock.”

You preened at the praise and started bobbing your head up and down and stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth with your hand. Bucky let out a loud moan and bucked his hips up to meet your mouth, causing you to gag slightly. “Holy shit yes, doll. Just like that.”

You could see how much he enjoyed seeing you gag and you liked letting him have control. “Fuck my face, Bucky,” you said as you lifted off his cock.

“What?” he sputtered in surprise.

“Use me. I want it.”

He only needed to be told once. He pulled you up and jumped off the bed. “On your knees, pretty girl.”

You dropped to the floor without a second thought, looking up at him with desire. You opened your mouth and waited patiently for him to thrust into you. He held the back of your head as he entered your mouth, starting gently so he didn’t hurt you. You grabbed his ass and pulled him closer to you, gagging on his cock. You needed him to move. Bucky got the message and began thrusting into your mouth as fast as he could. Spit dripped down your chin and your gagging noises mixed with his loud moans.

“God, Y/N, your mouth feels amazing. I’m so close baby. Can I cum in your mouth?”

You nodded your head as best you could and squeezed his thighs in hopes that he understood. Bucky’s thrusts became more frantic and irregular as he chased his high. A few seconds later, he was spurting hot streams of cum into your mouth and down your throat, which you swallowed happily. You licked him clean as he leaned back against the bed, breathing heavily.

“Come ‘ere, doll,” he said, pulling you towards him and back onto the bed. He kissed you lovingly before flipping you over onto your back. “So beautiful,” he whispered as he kissed down your neck. He pulled himself up, planting one arm on either side of your head so he could look down at you. You were breathing heavily, flushed, and entirely fucked out. But he was no where near done with you.

His flesh hand began to travel down your body and he was surprised when you stopped him before he reached your aching core. You looked at him with fiery eyes and ran a hand down his chest. “Metal, please,” you mumbled.

He was confused for a moment before he realized what you meant. “You want me to use my left arm?”

You bit your lip and nodded. “Please, Bucky.”

He grinned and switched arms, his right arm now supporting his upper body while his left traveled down to your inner thighs. He slid two metal fingers into your pussy and groaned as you bucked your hips against his hand. “You like my metal arm, don’t you dirty girl?”

You nodded and rutted yourself against his hand again. He pulled his hand away and you whimpered at the loss. You were about to protest, but he put his two slick fingers against your lips and silently asked you to taste them. You opened your mouth without hesitation and sucked them clean, moaning at your taste. Bucky let out a low groan as he watched you, the need to be inside of you almost unbearable. Perks of being a super solider...he was already hard again. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a soft pop and he rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, collecting some of your slick on it before lining himself up at your entrance.

You whimpered and he looked up at you with concern. When he saw your wide eyes gazing at his cock, he understood. “I’ve got you, doll. I’ll go slow.”

You nodded. You trusted him and dear god, you wanted to feel him inside of you. Bucky slid the tip of his cock inside of you and you did your best to relax your body. He moved slowly, filling you up and stretching you out. The pain was delicious and you cried out when he bottomed out.

Bucky misinterpreted your cry and panicked, “Did I hurt you? Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head harshly. “No, you’re just so big. It feels so good, Bucky. Need you to move. Please.”

Bucky grinned and immediately began to move, thrusting in and out of you at a gentle, slow pace. It felt good, but you wanted more. You could tell Bucky was holding back, afraid of hurting you. “Let go, Bucky.”

He looked at you quizzically, so you elaborated. “You’re not going to hurt me. Let go. I want to feel you, all of you. I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own damn name.”

He almost came right then and there. No one had ever said anything so deliciously sexy to him and the fact that it came from you only made it better. “You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” He just needed to make sure you were okay.

“Baby, I want this. Fuck me, Bucky. Please.”

He didn’t need to be told a second time. He picked up his pace and changed his angle, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You cried out in pleasure and dug your nails into his back. He felt your walls clenching around him and knew you were close. “Gonna cum for me, doll?”

“Yes, so close Buck.”

He picked up his pace again. “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you.” His words pushed you over the edge and you came with a cry. He kept pumping as you came down from your high, never stopping or slowing down. He worked you back up and within minutes you felt another orgasm building in your belly.

“God, doll. You take my cock so well. I love the way you feel around me, milking my cock. You’re so damn tight, baby girl.”

Your pussy clenched even tighter around his cock and he knew you liked the praise. “I love this perfect pussy. Feels so good, doll. Tell me who’s pussy this is.”

“Yours, Bucky. Only yours.”

He groaned. “That’s right, baby. Mine.” He shifted positions again and you gasped with pleasure. He pistoned in and out of you and you desperately wanted more. You grabbed his vibranium arm and tugged at it before gesturing to your throat. Bucky looked at you in surprise, but placed his hand around your throat tentatively. You wrapped your hand around his and squeezed it slightly, urging him to tighten his grip. He squeezed gently and you moaned louder. He watched you come undone under him and he gave your neck another squeeze, sending you over the edge again. “Bucky!” you yelled, your orgasm washing over you in waves of pleasure.

Bucky could feel his own impending orgasm, but he wasn’t quite ready to cum.

“Bucky, too much...please,” you whimpered.

He didn’t stop. “Think you can give me one more, baby?” He slid his hand down to your clit and began gently circling it. “Just one more. I know you can do it, baby.”

You nodded, barely able to think, let alone speak.

“Words, doll.”

“Yes, Buck.”

Bucky surged forward with a renewed pace. His fingers gently toyed with your clit, and you felt the familiar knot in your stomach. Your walls started to clench around him and Bucky groaned loudly. “Doll, I can’t hold back much longer. Need you to cum for me.”

Your body responded to his touch and his voice and you felt your orgasm nearing. “More,” you moaned.

Bucky sped up his pace on your clit and you let out a scream as you came one more time, coating his cock and his abdomen as you squirted.

The sight alone was enough to send Bucky over the edge. He came a few seconds later, calling out your name and filling you up with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, breathless and spent.

You panted beneath him, desperately trying to catch your breath. You tapped his shoulder gently and whispered, “too heavy.”

He laughed and lifted himself off you. “Sorry, doll.” He kissed your nose and flopped over beside you, watching you as you came down from all the pleasure. He reached over and caressed your cheek, turning your face towards him.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N/N.”

You blushed. “So are you.” You turned towards him and he pulled you in close so your head was on his chest. You curled up against him and sighed.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

You lifted your head to look at him. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly. “I always will be, doll. I love you. So damn much it hurts.”

You kissed his chest and he squeezed you impossibly closer. “I love you too, Bucky.”

Bucky was quiet for a few moments. Just when you thought he had drifted to sleep, he spoke again. “Sam is gonna be so annoying.”

“Why?”

“He’s going to run around yelling ‘I told you so’ until the day I die.”

You laughed happily and Bucky joined in. You could picture Sam’s glee and Bucky’s annoyance and it made you smile. “There are worse things, love.”

“I have you. That’s all that matters,” he said softly. You both drifted off to sleep shortly after in blissful happiness. Your love wasn't quite so unrequited after all.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanficiton #dom!bucky #dom!bucky x sub!reader #james buchanan barnes #fem!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut

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hiddles-and-skittles · 3 years ago

Text

Ride

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,585

Summary: Gatherings can't be that bad, right? Especially if your boyfriend convinces you to ditch early for a ride home on his motorcycle. It's just unfortunate he's gotta rile you up beforehand.. .

Warnings: 18+, kinda masturbation/edging by motorcycle???, teasing, pet names; sweetheart, doll, cocky Bucky (what? He's definitely a warning)

Notes: This idea came to me and I absolutely could NOT put it down. I don't typically write smut or anything along those lines, so any feedback is appreciated! This is way out of my comfort zone😅

____________

"Come on, Sam is waiting on us."

You roll your eyes and dramatically throw yourself back on the bed. "Yeah well, Sam can wait. I don't even want to be there."

"And you think I do?" He calls to you, pulling on his gloves and nearly stomping back towards your room.

"Bucky, I don't want to go." He stands in your doorway and you pout at him, making him sigh.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. "I know. But who says we gotta stay all night?" At this, you raise up from your mopey position. "We make an appearance, talk to Sam for a little while, then get lost in the crowd and disappear. He won't even notice."

You hum thoughtfully. "Good point." You swing your legs over the bed and slip into your Converse shoes, plastering a smile to your face and gleefully skipping due to the fact you'll get to leave early.

Sam was having a reunion party with some buddies from his Afghanistan tours. It was a huge event downtown, but neither you nor Bucky was a big fan of crowds. So the two of you only considered going in support of Sam.

Bucky stopped on the apartment complex's steps, narrowing his eyes at an empty parking spot. "He took my bike."

You snorted. "Cab it is."

________

Shortly you arrive at the event and he opens the cab door for you, his knuckles grazing down your arm to catch your hand in his. The action sends a shudder through your body and he smirks, stopping to give you a scheming look.

"What?" you ask him, furrowing your eyebrows and squeezing his hand.

"Nothing," he simpers.

You decide to be suspicious of him for the rest of the evening.

There are a plethora of people but you both advance through the crowd in search of Sam, Bucky stopping you to point out that Sam is quite preoccupied. He nudges you towards the most empty table he can find so you can sit down. On either side of you both is an empty seat, and the rest of the chairs are filled by half-drunk, burly men sporting drinks.

One of them turns to you and introduces himself and his comrades. A few of them take quick note of Bucky's name, quoting something Sam has mentioned about him before then thanking Bucky for his service. You wrap your arm around his middle and look up at him with pride, nuzzling yourself closer to your soldier.

You're both quiet as the vets around you continue their chatter about their best times, their laughter making the atmosphere light. You have to admit, you might actually be enjoying yourself. You're lost in a story about a guy teaching his kid how to hot wire a car when a hand squeezes your thigh.

Your knee immediately jerks and hits the table and you have to bite your bottom lip to stifle a yelp. A few heads turn in your direction and as you feel the warmth spreading to your face, you feign a sneeze, apologizing for the interruption. Bucky remains dead panned, although the sides of his mouth subtly quirk up. You glare at him. "Bless you, sweetheart," he patronizes. You shift uncomfortably as the men return to their conversations.

His hand makes its way back to your thigh and you inhale sharply through your nose. "Bucky," you whimper, swallowing hard.

"Gotta keep quiet for me, doll, or I'll stop," he tuts lowly. Instinctively you spread your legs a little to make enough room for his hand. Your breath hitches as he circles your clit with his middle finger, lightly tracing down your clothed mound. You curse yourself for wearing jeans, because the thickness of the denim heavily affects the way he feels against you.

But you want more.

He presses harder until Sam struts over to the table, and Bucky innocuously throws his arm around your shoulder. You huff in frustration and he chuckles.

"Surprised you two haven't left yet," Sam laughs, sipping a beer and slapping a hand over Bucky's shoulder.

"Why would we do that?" Bucky asks sarcastically.

Sam rolls his eyes playfully. "Stay awhile, enjoy the sunset and have a drink. They're all on the house." You both pause in thought. "I knew that would convince you!"

"Well," you start. "The sky is gorgeous right now. Maybe just one drink till the sun sets."

Someone then calls for Sam and he excuses himself, telling you he'll see you back at home later. You watch him disappear into the crowd, reality hitting you that you're still worked up from Bucky's teasing. And all it takes is a devious look from him to get you riled up again. You shoot up from your seat to thank the vets around you for their service, and tell them that it was nice to meet them, but you have some personal matters to attend to at home. Bucky follows suit, grabbing your hand.

You try to push your way through the crowd without an obvious, horny spring in your step, and as you pass by a table, Bucky fishes a beer with his free hand without stopping.

"I'll call the cab back here and we can-"

"No."

"What?" You stop in your tracks and Bucky lets go of you, continuing to walk to where his motorcycle is parked. He beckons you over with a crooked finger as he mounts the bike, and you fold your arms over your chest, cocking an eyebrow.

"What? It's not like he'll be able to drive tonight anyway." He foots the kick stand, placing his beer in the back compartment then bringing his hands up to twist around the handlebars. "Come on, let's go watch the sunset."

"The-the sunset?" You ask incredulously.

"What? You said it was pretty, let's go get a closer look." Your eye twitches at his feigned ignorance.

"Bucky I swear to god if you don't take me right now-"

He grins. "Then I just won't take you at all." He revs the engine once to accentuate his threat and you groan. "Come on or I'll leave you."

"Fine."

You march over to him and swing your leg over the bike, nestling yourself into his back and situating your hands on top of his shoulders. The engine roars to life, the heads of onlookers catching your eye and in one swift motion he kicks it into gear and you're off.

The winds whips your hair and licks at your face, causing you to constantly tear it away from your eyes. Once free, you take in the view before you, ever amazed at how the sun sets on the water; the sky glows with an orange and pink hue, making it look like a painting. And for a moment you forget about your throbbing lower half until you shift to get a little more comfortable on the seat and oh. Oh.

Your hands impulsively tighten around his shoulders and your jaw goes slack, gasping as the vibration from the motorcycle hits just the right spot. You let out a light moan and no sooner clap a hand over your mouth, hoping Bucky hasn't heard you. Your head slumps forward on his back.

"You good back there?" He yells over his shoulder.

"Y-yeah! Uh-all good!" you wheeze, attempting not to sound too out of sorts. The street is bare as he stops at a red light, and you try to breathe so as not to let the pleasure overtake you. It's not that you don't want to let go, it's just that you know you'll never hear the end of it from him of you do.

When the light turns green, he revs the engine so many times you lose count. Your mind is swirling in ecstacy and you start to pant faster, clinging onto Bucky for dear life as you near your release.

You screw your eyes shut, the coil finally snapping while you bite down harshly on the shoulder of his leather jacket. By this point you're unabashedly gasping and moaning, your hips bucking wildly into the seat as your clit is overstimulated to the point it hurts.

You pray for the ride to your apartment to end while he speeds up, causing you to sob into the waves of pleasure the vibrations are granting you. You claw mindlessly at his torso until he finally slows to a stop, and you catch your breath to come to your senses. You can't help the nagging, coherent thought that the ride home had taken a lot longer than usual and you realize the sky is now completely black and littered with stars.

He knew. That fucker knew.

Bucky dismounts the vehicle and stands before you with a hand on his hip and a smug demeanor. You lean forward on your hands, still heaving to try and even out your breath.

"Enjoy the ride?" Bucky taunts, flat lining his lips.

"Fuck-" pant "-you," you nearly spit. He chuckles darkly. "You were edging me, with a goddamn motorcycle."

He scratches the back of his head. "I might have added a little extra something just for you."

You raise your head. "Why don't we go upstairs and you let me get my revenge?"

He huffs. "What's the point? You already came all over my seat."

"It wasn't your cock," you retort, untangling your wobbly legs from the bike. Bucky reaches out to steady you, pulling you to him by your waist.

"Fair point, pretty girl."

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #marvel cinematic universe #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #tfatws

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theladybarnes · 2 years ago

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READY TO COMPLY - CHAPTER EIGHT: ONE LAST STOP

“It started out with a kiss. How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss.”

▸ summary: there’s another battle that’s taken the focus, but you can’t help but turn your head at something else. ▸ characters: bucky barnes, steve rogers, sam wilson, & team cap ▸ word count: 3,871 ▸ warnings: fluff, angst, and jealously ▸ series masterlist

The smell in the empty garage is stale and harsh on your nose. Remnants of oil from past cars lingered all across the floor, making your growing headache turn worse. It was only an hour since the four of you got away from the JCT building. Making you slightly worried as Bucky still had not woken up from the hit on his head.

“Any more pacing and you’re going to create a hole in the ground.”

Steve’s voice managed to stop your pacing. From the side of your eyes you can tell he’s still focused on outside the garage, making sure there’s no one nearby the building.

“I can’t help it. You won’t let me check on him.”

A sighed came out of the blonde, already the tension returned the moment you guys arrived in the empty building. When the running came to a pause and the three of you had Bucky locked down, the two men finally got a good look at you. Bruised around the neck with cut marks given you from the helicopter crash. It’s not the worst you’ve looked, but it’s enough to trigger them both into making you stay away from Bucky.

“He was trying to take you, Scout. We don’t know which Bucky we’re gonna see when he wakes up.”

“It’ll be him. He always comes back. Especially if he’s been hit on the head.”

“Well, I’m not taking any chances and neither is Sam.”

The sound of a helicopter in the distance shuts you both up and you press behind him to try and peek over his shoulder. “We can’t stay here much longer.” you whispered softly, the worry slowly sneaking its way back into your body.

“Hey, Cap!” Sam called out, causing both your heads to snap behind you. Without another word, you both run over to where Bucky had been placed. But before you could enter the room, Sam reached out to stop you.

“Give us a minute. Just to test it out..” he pleaded. And because it’s Sam asking, you actually bite your tongue and stay back. Leaning close to the wall that separated the two rooms. Bucky could be heard groaning as he slowly started to wake up, possibly freaked out at the sight of his arm trapped between the press plates.

A morbid question comes to mind. You truly wonder that if he was still activated, would that press do anything to stop the force that is the Winter Soldier? Your answer is thankfully given to you pretty quickly.

“..Steve.”

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asked, voice firm, but even you could still hear the hopefulness in the tone.

“Your Mom’s name was Sarah.” A pained chuckle comes from Bucky and you feel it make your heart jump. “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” These were his memories and you couldn’t be more thrilled to know he was back. But even if he was your Bucky again, Steve and Sam’s worry was slowly starting to get to you too.

What did the Winter Soldier want with you?

“Can’t read that in a museum.”

Sam’s slight frustration could be heard from a mile away. “Just like that we’re supposed to be cool?”

It’s taking everything in you not to come out from your hiding spot to see Bucky. You want to give the benefit to Steve and Sam’s questioning but the need to make sure Bucky is fine yourself was slowly winning any other thought.

“What did I do?”

“..Enough.”

There’s a sigh and you know he’s beating himself up for it. “Oh God, I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.” You're practically pinching at your leg to speak out and stop him from coming in.

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know.”

“People are dead. The bombing, the set up, the doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know’.” The firmness in Steve’s voice is still laced with a care that you’re thankful for. Sam cleared his throat, shuffling a bit before he chimed in.

“The other..uh you. Tried to take Scout with him. I need to know why.”

“Take her?...is she okay?”

Not having the strength to stay back anymore, you slowly emerged from behind the wall. Steve stiffening up as you slowly approached to stand beside Sam. The other man barely let you step a foot out before he gently kept you in place. “I’m okay.” you said softly, looking over at Bucky.

The warmth in his blue eyes had come back, making you want to go and reach for him. But the moment his gaze landed on your bruises and cuts, he’s quick to look away from you. Suddenly guilty all over again.

“The man..” he started up, looking at Steve. “He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.”

“Why would he need to know that?”

Bucky stayed quiet for a moment. A somber expression on his face as he gave in another clue to the puzzle. “Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier.”

The grueling details of HYDRA’s second Winter Soldier program had left you with a horrible unsettling feeling. There weren't any records anywhere in all the data you had compiled in the search for Bucky that even remotely stated there could be more people like him.

The severity of damage that the group could do around the world was enough to make you pace again, thinking how just the three of you were going to get any sort of way to even try to stop this Doctor from taking control of them. At this point, you were slowly wishing for a way to contact Tony.

But even then, if Bucky was able to get through a whole building while activated, just what could the whole lot of you do against a whole team of these guys?

Sam and Steve’s planning caused you to stop your pacing and peek over at Bucky. He was thankfully given freedom from the press and sitting down at a position that was hopefully more comfortable. Having enough of the distance now, you slowly walked over towards Bucky.

Instantly he’s straightened up. Almost ready to hold you back as his blue eyes bore into yours. “Please,” he whispered, hands held up in front of him. “I can’t..look at you..” there’s a pained broken groan in his voice and it nearly breaks your heart but you continue forward anyway till you're standing directly in front of him.

“Bucky.”

The sound of you saying his name caused him to blink hard, eyes closing up as you slowly reached out to cup the side of his face. The cut where he had hit his head was already healed, but the leftover blood still lingered at the side of his head. It isn’t till your thumb gently caresses the side of his cheek that he allowed himself to give in to the delicate touch. Moving ever so slightly to nuzzle into the palm of your hand.

“I’m so sorry.” you said finally. “I didn’t fight back..I couldn’t.”

“You promised me.”

“I know..but I choked up.”

The two of you hold your gazes for a second before you bend down to press your forehead against his. “Things are going to be a mess from here on out.” he sighed, moving to stand up now. The gentle touch of his metallic hand slid up your side until he was able to gently caress the red marks on your neck. “You could stay..let Tony come get you and be rid of all this.”

You frowned at that, hands gripping tightly at his waist. “You know I’m not just gonna leave because things get tough, right?” He nodded slowly, letting his hand move up to cup the side of your face now.

“It was worth a try to convince you.”

Leaning down, he pressed his lips gently against yours, filling your body with a warm you’ve missed for what felt like so long now. There’s a light murmuring behind you both and you ignore it for the sake of having Bucky to yourself. At least for just a second longer before Sam’s deep throat clearing cuts in.

“We got a plan, princess.”

“Coming!” you called back. Giving Bucky a small pat on the back before you pulled away. From the corner of your eye you can tell that Bucky was slightly glaring at Sam. Almost as if he were a little annoyed and somewhat jealous of Sam’s tone with you.

“He’s awfully comfortable bossing you around.” he muttered softly, extending his hand out for you to take. Snorting a bit, you laced your fingers together, tapping your finger on the back of his hand as you nod to walk towards Sam.

“If it helps, I’d sooner chew off my own arm than date Sam.”

A small smirk slowly tugged at his face and you took that as a sign of approval from him.

The two of you meet him by the entryway, moving down to where Steve was murmuring into the phone of the garage. At first you were worried what talking to someone would do, but you figured there was no moving forward with some sort of help.

“Okay, we can be there in twenty minutes.”

Placing down the phone back on the garage desk, Steve turned to face the three of you. His blue eyes flickering briefly over to you and Bucky before he nodded. “I got some help. But we’ll have to move fast if we’re going to be able to make it on time to stop this guy.”

“We’re ready.” Sam confirmed, looking over at the group.

“Let’s head out.”

The only problem with Bucky being awake now, was just how much more noticeable the small car was now. Between him and Sam fighting for the front, and you being almost crushed behind Steve’s seat, you were almost willing to be caught if it meant some leg space.

“Would you guys shut up for like a minute?” you whined, rubbing your finger tips over your temples.

“I would if your robo boyfriend would stop kicking my back.”

“I’m not kicking, there’s just no room back here.”

Sam briefly looked over his shoulder to shoot a glare in the backseat. “Sorry I couldn’t find a better car to steal. I was a little bit preoccupied.”

“It’s less conspicuous than me driving an SUV.” Steve sighed.

You highly doubted that the three burly men weren’t noticeably suspicious but kept that comment to yourself for the sake of peace. From behind you could tell Steve began to get more tense, his shoulder practically hunched up as he gripped the wheel tighter.

“We’re almost there.” he offered, his eyes glancing at you briefly in the mirror. You couldn’t help but offer back a sympathetic smile. The whole thing reminded you of the times where you, Sam, and Natasha would go show Steve new attractions in New York.

Steve almost insisted on taking his car, but would lose to Natasha’s insisting that her corvette. Leaving Steve and Sam having almost the same struggle as his two friends were now since your official seat was shot gun.

“I’m getting some deja vu.” you sighed, leaning your head against the seat as you tried to ignore the jabbing pain of your knees.

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Steve replied, turning into a parking structure. “I doubt any car could handle a group like ours.”

“Nope,” you chuckled. “I think we’ll need a moving truck just to have some room now.” The mental image caused the two boys in the front to laugh a bit, giving a lighter air in the car now as the destination approached closer.

Beside you, Bucky seemed to grow even more uncomfortable, glancing out the window as a distraction. The small glare on his face matched the same one he had with Sam earlier and you wondered if it had to two with the moment with Steve.

It’s never been a real thought how the two friends would react to your newer relationship. Steve’s reaction had come to mind, mostly because of the secret you had kept from him. But you truly didn’t dwell on the thought of how Bucky might feel about your old memories.

Reaching out, you grabbed his hand, letting your fingertips brush over the metal before you brought the hand up to your lips for a gentle kiss.

A small shy smile grazed his face when the car suddenly came to a halt on an underpass. There was another silver car waiting, making the three of you who weren't a part of the phone call lean forward in anticipation.

“You guys wait here.” Steve grunted, moving to climb out of the car.

At the same time, the driver of the other car comes out, revealing to be Sharon Carter.

You can’t help but let out a confused noise. Curious as to why Steve didn’t just say from the beginning who you guys were meeting. “Sharon was the one who helped us locate Bucky in Bucharest. Figures she’d help us again.” Commented Sam, almost reading your mind.

“So you guys got close while I was gone.”

“Well,” he sighed, not staring straight ahead. “One of us did.”

There’s a minute of silence, the soft conversation from Sharon and Steve in the background before Bucky spoke up.

“Can you move your seat up?”

Sam didn’t even hesitate to reply. Simply muttering back, “No.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the headache grow stronger as Bucky growled under his breath. The two stay silent, watching as Steve and Sharon begin to talk closer.

It’s almost as if it’s slow motion when you see Sharon reach out to pull Steve close. Their faces meeting together in the middle for what looked like a passionate kiss. And for the first time in a LONG time. You feel something ache in your chest.

When were they romantically involved? How long had Sharon had a crush on Steve and didn’t tell you? Was Steve interested in Sharon back when she posed as his neighbor?

“You okay?” Asked Bucky softly, metal fingers grazing your cheek.

“Scout, come out here.” Steve asked not a second later.

It snapped you back into focus and you smiled shyly at Bucky before you climbed out from the back seat. The blonde awkwardly pointed to the women behind him with his thumb before he reached into the trunk for their gear.

Sharon is reaching for something in her passenger side before she pops back out to look at you. She’s sheepishly holding a pile of clothes to her chest while trying to avoid your gaze.

“So I’m guessing you saw that?”

“Oh, you mean we weren’t meant to see that?”

You had tried to come off as joking. But something inside you must have felt different because it caused Sharon to look up at you with panic. “S, I swear. We didnt— I wouldn’t have—“

“It’s fine, Sharon.” You cut in, holding your hand up. “While it’s definitely awkward, I don’t have anything against it.”

She visibly relaxed, handing you the pile before she pulled you in for a hard hug. “I’m so glad you don’t hate me.” She whispered, gripping tighter around you.

“I could never.” Patting her back, you pull away to look at everything she brought for you guys. Feeling guilty for having even a second of negative thought. “I couldn’t thank you enough for all this.”

“I know. But you’d help me, right?”

“Of course!”

She glanced over to the car, watching as Steve packed away the gear in the car before glancing at Bucky. “So, Steve I get. But you? How much does he mean to you?”

You follow her gaze, catching Bucky already curiously looking at you from his seat. The slight arch in his brow already letting you know his super soldier hearing caught the very question. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before smiles adorned on both your faces.

“I think I have my answer.” Sharon chuckled softly, patting at your arm before she let you return back to the car.

Sam stepped out from his seat, taking the pile of clothes from you as he opened up his seat for you to enter. Climbing inside, you find a much more relaxed Bucky as he waits patiently for the journey to start again.

He reached out for you the moment Sam pushed the seat back, letting his warmer hand move to grip onto your thigh. It was a loving gesture but you couldn’t help but feel slightly shy while your two friends were in the same car. A glint of mischief shined in his eye as he leaned in towards you, speaking directly in your ear.

“You never answered her question.”

“Nosy, aren’t we?” you smirked, feeling him give a squeeze.

The truck door slammed shut and Steve slowly came back into the bug, starting up the engine quickly before pulling out. The next stop would be the airport. How you guys were going to sneak on a flight with only a shield and falcon wings felt impossible. But today seemed to already be filled with surprises.

“The team is making a rendezvous at the south parking lot. It was just closed for partial construction. We can meet up there.” Steve said, mostly to Sam.

“Sounds like a plan, Cap.” Sam replied back. You couldn’t help but feel slightly frustrated at the lack of information being passed around. It almost felt like you were back to being on the side of a team you weren’t allowed on.

“Just who are we meeting up with?” you asked, feeling slightly frustrated from being outside the loop.

“Barton. He should hopefully bring in Wanda and Sam’s friend.” Steve answered curtly, not even giving you a glance over.

It made sense. Clint would be the only person other than Natasha that could get someone out of the country unnoticed. But Wanda joining the team was a whole other situation.

“Well, this team is about to get more awkward.” you muttered, feeling tense now that Wanda was to join. You had left on somewhat civil terms the last you spoke with her. But after Tony grounded her, you’re pretty sure that the hate she felt is back again. Not to mention, you had no idea about this other friend of Sam’s.

“It’s the best we got.” Steve reminded, making you nod your head quietly. The day was only going to get worse and you really needed to keep yourself in check for the battle against the other soldiers.

Resting your head against Bucky’s shoulder, you closed your eyes, trying to mentally calm yourself down during the car ride there.

“Sam, can you do me a favor?”

“What’s up, Princess?”

“Can you move your seat up?”

The ride over is thankfully shorter, and you’re awakened by a gentle push on your leg from Bucky as Steve parked the car. To your left waited a large white van in the shadows. You can’t help but feel a little excited to see Clint again. The friendly face of an old mentor was sure to help give you some confidence in this.

Climbing out from behind Sam, you waste no time in rushing over to Clint. Watching a smile spread over his face as he held his arms open to you.

“It’s been too long, kid.” he chuckled, giving you a tight squeeze before he pulled back. Steve approached closer, extending a hand out for him to shake.

“You know I wouldn’t have called if I had another choice.”

“Hey, man, you’re doing me a favor.” He glanced behind him to cast Wanda a look. “Besides, I owe a debt.”

Wanda joined in the small circle, a look of determination crossed her face as she looked over at Steve.

“Thanks for having my back.” he nodded to her.

“It was time to get off my ass.”

She takes a step back when Clint moves to reveal the last person in the team, but you couldn’t help but find your way towards her side, giving her a small awkward wave before you stepped closer.

“It’s nice to see you, Wanda.”

Her greens sparkled a bit before she raised a brow at you. “It’s nice and yet you’re nervous to see me.” You almost feel like you might have slipped something out from internal thoughts when you remembered she was a bit of a mind reader.

“Well, it’s mostly because I feel the need to apologize again for what my family has done.”

Her gaze fell and she nodded her head a bit before shrugging at you. “I’m not happy about it, but I can’t hold this against you. Especially when this whole time you’ve been away.” The two of you peeked to look over at Bucky.

“So, that’s Bucky.”

“Yes.”

She looked at him again before a small smirk tugged at her lips.

“What?” you asked, a small smile forming on your face now.

“I don’t need to read your mind to know why you stayed in Romania for so long.”

A heated flush fell over your cheeks and you nearly laughed at this kind of talk coming from Wanda of all people. It’s not till you catch the last few words of Steve and Sam’s friend that you remembered there’s a seriousness to the reunion.

“We’re outside the law on this one. So if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.”

“Yeah, well, what else is new?”

Stepping forward, you give an awkward wave to the man. Introducing yourself politely to the older man. But the moment your full name falls past your lips, he gives you a sort of sour look to you. “Stark? As in Howard Stark?”

“Uh yes, that would be my father.”

He almost looked baffled by the concept, looking between you and Steve before he gingerly stepped back. “Right, I’ve kind of been warned to be wary of Starks. So if you don’t mind, I’ll be keeping a close eye on you.”

The interaction leaves you confused as you try and understand what he meant by all that when Bucky cut in.

“We should get moving.” he called out from the car. You made the effort to go over to him, ready to help grab the things you guys would need from the car when an announcement echoed across the parking lot from the airport.

“Dies ist eine Notsituation. Alle Passagiere müssen den Flughafen sofort evakuieren (This is an emergency situation. All passengers must evacuate the airport immediately).”

“They’re evacuating the airport.” Bucky translated.

You glanced over to Bucky worried. If Tony was clearing out the airport, the area would be even harder to pass through. And what really worried you, was the idea that maybe Tony wouldn’t let you guys through without a fight.

“Suit up.” Steve commanded.

All you could hope was that your hunch was wrong and today wouldn’t be filled with any more surprises.

A/N: Hello! It’s been so long since I’ve updated this fic. I’ve had such a struggle writing this. I feel truly like I haven’t captured Bucky/Scout’s relationship the way I wanted to. But I love this story truly and want to see it through.

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #rtc #it's been so long since ive updated thius #but i miss this story

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years ago

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Peace | Bucky Barnes x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You and Bucky get in an argument and you go MIA for a couple days.

A/N: I’m a litle iffy about this one. I didn’t care for the beginning but I really liked how the end turned out. I hope you guys enjoy! xx

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

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“No, you can’t do this, Bucky!” You follow Bucky into your shared bedroom as he begins packing a bag. He got it into his head that he was more than capable to help Sam out on this new mission. However, it would be against the rules of the pardon the president gave him for being the Winter Soldier.

“Sam needs my help, y/n. I can’t leave him to go alone on this mission.”

“Sam does not need your help. If you go on this mission and get caught, they could take away your pardon and put you in jail. For life!”

“That’s why we won’t get caught.”

“There is no guarantee of that.” You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. Bucky wasn’t seeing things clearly and it only angered you more that he was willing to put his freedom on the line for a mission. Especially after everything you and him went through to get to this very moment. It was like he was throwing all this hard work away.

“I have to go.” He says, facing you. His voice is stern, “This isn’t up for negotiation.”

“You do not have to go! You are not obligated to do anything someone tells you anymore. You’re a free man, Bucky.” You grasp his hands in yours, “You and I are free to live our lives, Bucky.. no crazy missions, no wars, no danger. We can be a normal couple.”

“We can’t be a normal couple y/n,” He lets go of your hands, “Not with a past like mine.” He grabs his bag from the bed then stares into your tear-filled eyes.

“We worked our asses off to get here today, Bucky! Those hours we spent in therapy, the hours spent trying to figure out how to move past your winter soldier days. You’re throwing all of it away on a mission! You’re.. you’re throwing a future with me away.”

“He needs my help.” Is all he says as he pushes passed you.

“If you walk out that door, Bucky Barnes, I promise you, that I will not be here when you get back.” You warn with tear filled eyes. You’d hoped Bucky’s love for you and the fear of losing you would overpower his overwhelming desire to help people when they need it even if it wasn’t the right thing to do. You didn’t know at the time if you truly meant the words spoken and if you could really bring yourself to leave Bucky even after everything the two of you had been through.

He doesn’t turn around or even look back at you over his shoulder and instead walks through the door, leaving you standing alone in your once shared bedroom. That was the only answer you needed.

Bucky left for that mission with Sam and you packed all your things heading for your favorite place, y/f/p. There were no avengers around you so there was no one to tell where you would be. No one knew of your location except for you, and this was probably toxic to think about, but you hoped it scared Bucky that he didn’t know where you would be. It was wrong of him to choose a mission over you, and you wanted him to see that. Yeah, it probably wasn’t the best way to show him, but you told him if he walked out the door you wouldn’t be there so you’re just sticking to your word.

In all honesty, Bucky didn’t think you were serious about leaving and that it was an in the moment thing for you to say. You’d been there for him during his recovery and he knew he didn’t make it easy on you but still you chose to stay. He was grateful to have you by his side especially after everyone around him left.

He was in for a rude awakening when he opened the door to your shared apartment. “Y/n? Doll?” He kicked off his shoes, knowing you hated when he tracked in dirt on his shoes. When you didn’t answer he proceeded through the apartment, only to find your favorite blanket that occupied the back of the couch was gone.

“y/n?” He called out once more, but no answer. As he made his way through the house, he realized none of your things were in the place you left them. When he entered the bedroom, he immediately started going through the drawers, but none of your things were in them. He pulled the door to the closet open and the only clothes occupying it were his.

You’d left him and it was all his fault.

He spent the next hour trying not to destroy the apartment. You had really left him, and he had no idea where you had gone. He called your phone, but it went straight to voicemail. He called Sam, but he had no idea where you’d be either.

Nat was dead; Wanda was off somewhere so that ruled out two people you would have told. Thor was in space with the Guardian’s. There had been no one for you to tell and he suddenly realized the severity of the situation. You were really gone, and he might never see you again.

It was a few days later and you decided to turn your phone back on. It was spammed with dozens of texts, calls and voicemails from Bucky. You tapped on a random voicemail and Bucky’s voice filled your ears.

“Doll… Please.” He’d been crying and his voice cracked, “I need you. I can’t do this without you and I was stupid to think some mission would fill my void of needing to do something.” He sniffles, “I finally have peace; something I haven’t had in a while and I guess I felt like a mission would make me feel better. That it would make me feel more like myself, but it wasn’t it. It wasn’t the answer.” There was a soft and quiet sob, “I need you, y/n. Please don’t do this, don’t leave me. I don’t have anyone else and you’re all I have.” More sobs, “You’re all I have,” and then the line beeped, ending the voicemail.

You would be lying if you weren’t crying by the end of the message. The sound of Bucky’s broken voice and the sobs. Now, everything began to make sense. Why he left, why he needed to go on that mission. He was beginning to feel peace after fighting war after war and thought that he needed to be fighting a war, doing something. It was his trauma response.

It was late when you entered the apartment and you figured Bucky would be asleep, so you were quiet. You headed for your bedroom and were surprised to find Bucky not in bed, but he was laid on the floor next to the bed. He hadn’t slept on the floor since he’d come home from fighting Thanos.

You set your things down in the floor and immediately made your way to him, “Bucky.”

He stirred in his sleep and you called out his name once more. You didn’t want to scare him by sneaking up on him. That was something you two had learned after the first time you did that trying to sneak into bed, careful not to wake him. He woke up in a panic and had attacked you. It was after that you two decided therapy would be a good idea.

“Bucky.”

He inhaled as he woke, his eyes scanning for danger, but he only sees yours, “Y/n.” He breaths out in relief.

Crawling next to him you laid down, your head going to his chest and you wrapped your free arm around him, “I’m here.”

His arms engulfed your body and he couldn’t help but start to sob. He just knew he’d lost you for good and it was all his fault. He’d been alone all those years and then you came along, and he didn’t want to be alone again.

You only tightened your arm around him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You two laid like that the rest of the night, enveloped in each other’s arms. This was the peace Bucky longed for; the peace Bucky deserved. You were his peace, and he wasn’t going to lose it again.

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bbgem329 · 3 years ago

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If Only You Were Mine… Chapter One

Pairings—Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary

You’ve been in love with Bucky Barnes since the moment you laid eyes on him. That was five years ago, when your older sister brought him home for a Sunday lunch and introduced him as her boyfriend.

Warnings

MINORS DNI. 18++. ANGSTTTT. Mentions of infidelity. Unrequited love.

Series Masterlist

—————

You’d never felt more out of place than you do now—wearing this far too tight dress, sipping expensive bubbly champagne amongst these sorts of people.

The dress wasn’t the issue. It was lovely. A blood red, floor length, silk gown with a slit up one leg paired with far too high nude heels.

You looked good, you knew that. Probably the best you’ve ever looked in your twenty three years of life.

It just wasn’t you.

You didn’t belong here.

Like a fly on the wall, you planted yourself in a far off corner, one that provided full visibility of the room but allowed you to remain hidden within the shadows. Because honestly, if you had to endure one more overly flirty, married, businessman with a pair of wandering hands, you were going to cause a scene.

Something your mother would highly disapprove of.

You could see her now—lips pursed in distaste, hands on her hips, cold eyes narrowed into mere slits as she spit words of pure venom at you.

Frankly, you weren’t in the mood for it. You’d save everyone a massive headache by keeping your distance and mouth shut this time.

Your eyes scanned the room for what seemed like the hundredth time, in search of the only person that truly mattered. It has become a subconscious habit at this point—after all these years of providing solace and comfort, especially at gatherings such as these.

You knew he felt the same. Like you, he’d much prefer to be laid out on the coach, downed in a pair of sweats, with takeout Thai food and a beer, watching movies or one of those shitty reality shows. But he too, was born into this life. Expected to be and act a certain way, even more so now that he was weeks away from taking his rightful place as CEO of his father’s company.

The mere sight of him standing between Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers—suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, slim waist, and thick thighs, calmed your frayed nerves and made your brain fuzzy at the same time.

For as long as you could remember, he’d always had that effect on you. The first smile he’d flashed you had turned your knees to jelly and had caused your rapidly beating heart to rise up into your throat.

You would never forget that moment, way back when he was that carefree guy in his last year of college with a boyish grin, a love for literature and the stars, and sporting long, thick locks that were often thrown, unceremoniously, into a low bun. He’d driven a motorcycle back then and was found more often than not to be downed in a leather jacket and big boots.

Unfortunately, those days are long gone now. It only took a few months for your sister to dig her claws deep into his soul and make him her own. And to this day, they remained there.

The hair was the first to go. You remember the fight he’d put up over it. You had to give it to him, he’d really given your sister a run for her money in a way that no one else ever had. But Carly always got her way. The term ‘no’ wasn’t in her vocabulary, it seemed. You’d never forget the way he’d grumbled and whined to you for months—years after that one.

After that, he seemed to have lost all fight. He didn’t bat an eye when a year later she demanded him to park his motorcycle—for good. Or when she started dressing him up like one of her dolls—The leather jackets, band T-shirts’, worn jeans, and combat boots were replaced with suits, pressed slacks, buttoned shirts, and perfectly shined shoes.

It broke you to watch the happiness and light slowly drain from those gorgeous blue eyes. Maybe it was because you understood the pain that came with having to pretend to be something you're not. Perhaps that’s why you naturally gravitated towards one another. Like a moth to flame, you were drawn to him and him to you. But whereas you were desperately in love with him, he considered you nothing more than a good friend, maybe even a little sister, much to your dismay.

“Hey, sweets.”

“Fuck.” You jumped, spilling the last of your champagne down the front of your dress.

“Oh, baby. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Fuck off, Bucky. You know I’d rather drink bleach than kiss that woman.” You hissed, shooting him a subtle glare as you attempted to wipe the spill away, though he didn’t miss the way you bit your lip to suppress a smile. “You scared the living daylights out of me. How did you even know I was here?” You glanced around the room, pressing yourself further against the wall.

“Relax.” He chuckled, a large hand brushing soothingly down your arm. “No one can see you. I just know your usual hiding spots.” He slumped back against the wall beside you, arms crossed over his broad chest, baby blues trained skeptically on you. “Not feeling it tonight, sweets?”

“When have I ever enjoyed these parties?” You laughed, shaking your head before you snagged his drink from his hand. You ignored the little cock of his brow and sly smirk as you tossed it back, coughing slightly at the burn it left in its wake.

Of course, he was drinking Van Winkle Whiskey. He always did at these events. And it was fucking disgusting.

“Careful.” He laughed, teasingly patting your back as you coughed and wheezed a few more times. He bit his lip, failing to his a satisfied smirk when you shoved the empty glass back in his hand with an eye roll.

“Well, if it’s any consolation.” He smiled softly, eyes shining and bright as he gazed at you once you’d straightened back up and gathered your bearings. “You look beautiful.”

You bowed your head, eyes falling to your painted red toes in attempts to hide the blush that coated the apples of your cheeks and bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “Thanks, Buck.” You spared him a quick glance, eyes trailing the length of him. “So do you.”

You wished he wouldn’t say things like that—things that made your heart flip in your chest and butterflies to flutter within your naval. It wasn’t fair, the effect he had on you. Especially because of how oblivious he seemed to be to it.

He didn’t even have to try.

One smile, look, touch, compliment and you were putty in his hands.

It was pathetic really. You knew that. But you really couldn’t help it. Not when he looked like that.

Bucky was an Adonis of man. Towering over you with his six foot four inches, and beefy as hell. Chest and shoulders broad, muscles toned and strong. His features were sharp and defined to perfection with the bluest of eyes accentuated by long, thick lashes.

And although he was a big, intimidating man, he had a heart of pure gold.

You’d never met a man like Bucky. Not in your world anyways. Most of the men in this atrocious life were selfish, power-hungry, and perverted. All they thought about was money, power, and the quickest, most proficient way to get their dicks wet. They cared little for who they hurt on their climb to the top.

But not him. Not your Bucky.

He was so selfless, kind, and compassionate. He went out of his way to make everyone he came in contact with feel important and valued. Instead of flaunting his riches and spending it on booze, drugs, fancy cars, and girls, he remained humble and donated generously and frequently to various causes and charities. He was unwaveringly loyal to the people he loved and cared for—sometimes a little too much, to people who truly didn’t deserve it. But you couldn’t fault him for that. He was a great man—the best in fact.

Polite, powerful, protective, charming, captivating. There were far too many words to describe James Buchanan Barnes.

He was everything anyone could ever look for, want, or need in a man. One of the most desired men in this world, in New York City—Hell, maybe even in the entire country.

Everyone seemed to know of Bucky Barnes.

And everyone wanted a piece of him.

But not you. You wanted all of him.

“What ya think, sweets?” Bucky spoke up, drawing you from your wandering thoughts. You couldn’t help but flush under his concerned gaze. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time he’d caught you lost in your own head. “You wanna ditch? Get some burgers from our place up the street.”

There it is again. Our place.

Didn’t he realize he was breaking and igniting your heart at the same time?

“What about Carly?” You asked, gnawing on your bottom lip. You really didn’t need to fuel another one of their explosive fights. Bucky didn’t deserve to be the target of your sister’s cruel and unforgiving wrath.

His eyes trailed along the room, and you followed his line of sight until they landed on your sister dressed in her flaming orange dress across the room.

You scoffed, louder than you intended, an all too familiar anger bubbling in your chest at the sight of your sister flirting it up with Brock Rumlow. If her body language and expression hadn’t been enough of an indication, the way Rumlow was reacting would’ve tipped you off.

Carly was all over him—batting her fake lashes, biting her painted red lips, manicured fingers brushing along his chest each time she threw her head back with a high pitched giggle. And that disgustingly disturbed man was absolutely eating it up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You grit out, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, and lips pursed. “She can’t just-”

You went to move forward, although you weren’t quick enough before Bucky’s arms looped around your waist, drawing you back into his chest. “It’s fine, Y/N. Let it go.”

“Let it go?” You hissed, struggling and wiggling in his embrace. “That’s not fucking okay, Bucky. She’s fucking-”

“It’s fine. She’s just trying to woo him.” Bucky insisted, spinning you around to face him, large hands planted on your bare shoulders. “You know your father’s trying to break a deal with his father. She’s just playing her hand at convincing him, that’s all.”

His expression remained cool, stoic, unaffected but his eyes told a different story. They always did. Clear as day, pain, betrayal, and jealousy resides in those pretty blue hues. He could never hide it from you, no matter how much he’d try and convince you otherwise.

“There are other ways to do that.” You stated, voice low and serious as your own eyes continued to search his face, searching and waiting for a falter in the strongly held facade. “There is absolutely no reason for her to touch, look, or talk to another man in that way. It’s not appropriate.”

“Please.” He begged, hands sliding down your arms, taking your smaller hands in his. “Please, sweets. Can we just drop it and get out of here?” He sighed softly, a small grin splitting across his handsome face. Though it wasn’t a completely fake smile, you could still see a slight falter at the corner of his pink lips. “I have a mean craving for curly fries and a milkshake.”

You huffed, eyes falling to where your hands rested in his and how the warmth his large palms provided, involuntarily calmed and eased your rising anger.

This wasn’t your first time doing this dance, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

You were so tired of watching Carly tear Bucky’s heart, piece by piece, right out of chest. He loved her, for some unknown reason that you would never understand. And because you loved him, you had no choice but to support his decisions and do as he asked. You didn’t want to argue, never with him.

If she is what he wanted—needed that was his choice and you’d stand by him no matter what. Because he needed you to.

Even if it meant watching your own flesh and blood, slowly break the heart of the man that you loved most in this world—simultaneously breaking you.

“Okay.” You whispered, nodding slowly. The smile he gave you, only helped the uneasiness growing in your chest a little. Because you knew if Bucky walked out that door with you right now, Carly would end the evening with a quick tumble in the sheets with Brock. Only to turn up tomorrow and rain hellfire on the man before you for leaving early with you.

And by the quick flicker of his gaze to where Carly stood with Rumlow and the tick in his jaw, he knew it too. Even if he never said a word or hinted at knowing of his girlfriend’s frequent, unforgivable acts with other men.

You didn’t understand why he ignored her indiscretions. How he could simply look the other way and remain miserable in his denial.

How could he love someone who repeatedly hurt him so much?

“Thank you, sweets.” His expression softened when his eyes met yours. He cupped your cheek, tucking a loose curl behind your ear before leaning down to press a tender kiss on your temple.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh spilling from your painted lips, reveling in the feeling of his lips against your skin and his warm hand on your cheek.

—————

“If you could go anywhere in the world right now.” Bucky began, pausing to take a sip of his strawberry milkshake. “Where would you go?”

You knew people were staring, you could feel their eyes burning into the back of your head and noticed the way gazes lingered when someone passed by the window on the street. It wasn’t everyday you saw two people dressed to the nines in a small, endearing diner such as this. Yet you found yourself completely relaxed. You always did while at Lula’s Diner. The welcoming, homey atmosphere, familiar, friendly waitresses, and Bucky’s presence alone, were enough to make you feel comfortable—more like yourself than you had all evening.

“You ask me this every time.” You giggled, popping a curly fry in your mouth. “You should know the answer by now.”

“It could’ve changed.” He gave a little shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So where will it be today?”

“Hm.” You bit your lip, feigning indecision as you adjusted his suit jacket that rested over your shoulders. “Athens, Greece.” You smiled to yourself, swirling your straw around your own shake. “From there I’d travel north to Bulgaria, then Romania, Hungary, Croatia, until I’ve made my way through all of Europe.”

“Me too.” Bucky mumbled, eyes flashing and grin big. “Can I join you?”

“Of course.” You beamed, shooting him a small wink. “There is no one else I’d want by my side. You’d make a splendid travel buddy.”

“As would you.” He chuckled to himself, expression turning solemn in a matter of seconds. “But could you imagine, Y/N? How freeing that would be?” He glanced out the window, gnawing on his bottom lip. “No worries, or responsibilities. Just us seeing the world, learning of various cultures, maybe picking up on a few different languages.”

You didn’t miss the far away look in his eye, the furrow in his brow, or frown on his lips. You saw the same yearning when looking in the mirror each morning. After waking up and wishing you could be anyone but yourself, even just for a day. That you didn’t live this life and weren’t held to such high expectations.

“Buck.” You reached your hand across the table, dainty fingers coming to rest comfortingly over the back of his hand. His eyes met yours, fingers slowly intertwining with yours as your thumb rubbed soothing circles across his skin. “Do you ever think about it? Just leaving it all behind—starting over and being someone else.”

Bucky looked at you—really looked at you then. Gaze intense and heavy as he considered your words. He bowed his head, free hand scrubbing the perfectly trimmed hair along his jaw before meeting your eyes again with a small sigh. “All the time, sweets.”

You inhaled sharply, nodding as you gave his hand a subtle squeeze. “Are you happy?” The words spilled from your lips like word vomit. It was something you’d been dying to ask but hadn’t yet managed to gain the courage for. Truthfully, you feared his answer. Not because you knew he’d most likely lie to you, but because you always found the truth in his eyes. You couldn’t stand the idea of the man before you being unhappy. He deserved nothing but pure, unadulterated happiness.

The hesitation in his response was all the answer you needed. You had to give it to him, he really did try—a fake smile with his eyes crinkled at the corner and all.

“Yeah.” He muttered, finding sudden interest in the napkin in lap. His hand slipped from yours as he leaned back in his booth. “I’m—I’m looking forward to taking over my father’s company.” He spared her a glance. He never could look her in the eye when he lied. “And—and Carly and our father’s have been discussing marriage.”

Your heart felt as it dropped into your stomach, fear beginning to creep up your spine. You knew it would come eventually but never this soon.

Was it too soon?

They’d been together for five years now. So you guess it wasn’t. Maybe it would even be considered overdue by now.

The day Bucky married Carly would be the day your heart shattered permanently. You knew when that happened the damage would be unrepairable.

What would you do then?

You didn’t think you could sit back and watch him live the rest of his days in an unhappy marriage with an unfaithful wife. Carly didn’t love him. Not in the way you did. She saw him as nothing more than a pawn—an accessory. Something to make her look better and to please your parents.

“Marriage?” You choked out, hands finding purchase on the edge of the table. You felt nauseous all of the sudden. Like you were running out of time. For what? You weren’t sure. It’s not like Bucky knew you were unequivocally in love with him, nor would he ever. You couldn’t tell him. You wouldn’t risk ruining your friendship or putting him in an unpleasant situation.

“Yeah.” Bucky replied, voice was low and expression blank as he pushed the food around on his plate. You felt a semblance of relief over his lack of excitement and confidence. Maybe he didn’t want to marry her. You hoped so badly he didn’t, as guilty as you felt for wishing something such as that.

“Is-” You cleared your throat, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Is that something you would want? To marry Carly?”

Before he could reply his phone rang. Saved by the bell, you supposed. You weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer, you didn’t even want to consider the idea and he clearly wasn’t ready to answer either by the relief that washed across his face as he fished his phone out of the front pocket of his trousers.

You didn’t bother to listen, you knew exactly who was on the other line. Bucky’s eye roll just confirmed it. Neither of you said a word as he threw a fifty on the table and led you to where his car was parked on the street.

The car ride was tense and silent, both seemingly lost in your own heads. There was a newfound weight on your chest and you feared if you tried to speak the only thing that would slip from your lips was a choked sob. You kept your gaze trained on the outside world as it passed you by, if you looked at him he’d no doubt see the tears building in your eyes.

He couldn’t know. You were afraid of what he might do if he did.

If Bucky married Carly, you’d lose him for good. The leash she kept on him would only grow tighter and she’d dictate each and every one of his moves. You’d be the first thing to go. She never did like or support you and Bucky’s relationship.

You knew that and he did too.

She’d make him choose and you weren’t at all confident that he’d choose you. And you would never want to put him in a position to do so.

You’d have no choice but to leave. The one thing keeping you here would be no more. You’d have no reason to stay in this miserable life.

Because Bucky wouldn’t be there to weather it with you, not in the way you needed him to.

—————

Tag list

@scxrletrecsmarvel @cjand10 @sarahrstephan @ladifreakingda

#bucky barns x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes

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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

Text

When Enough is Enough pt. II

Imagine being let down one too many times by your best friend, only to end up making some new ones in the process.

Words: 8.5K Author’s Note: Okay so some of you asked to only be added to part 2 of this while others asked to be added everything Bucky.. and a few others weren’t exactly clear. So if you want to be tagged in any future Bucky related imagines please let me know so I can get your blog name written down on my list.

Tags: @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination @mimilh @felicityofbakerstreet @eternalharry @eliwinchester99 @intothesoul @wintershadowkat @b1sexualtonystark @meredeph @miszswan

The Sunday before you are to return to work, you sleep in until nine in the morning. Your thoughts are immediately on Bucky's impending arrival and you couldn't help the butterflies that took flight in your stomach. He's a friend, just as all the others are, but you couldn't help but notice just how attractive this new friend of yours is. But not only does his attractiveness draw you in, his easy-going teasing and protectiveness does too. However, Bucky Barnes is still a man trying to find his footing in this world after all that's been done to him and finally getting his name cleared, and if he finds comfort with you then you're going to try your best and be the friend he needs.

So since you're not dressing to impress, you dress in your favorite lazy outfit after your shower- leggings, sports bra, a faded sleeveless band tee with the arm holes having been cut down to around your ribs, and a pair of socks. Damp hair gets gathered up into a messy bun and you walk around your apartment to pick up some things you had unknowingly left out.

You've skipped breakfast, so when there's a knock on your door and you open up to find Bucky standing there, you groan in relief. He raises both hands with paper bags hanging from each. "I come bearing sushi. Wanda let it slip how much you love it."

"Yesss." You step back, quickly taking in his own comfort outfit of sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt under an opened jacket. "Did you bring plenty of wasabi? And you can just kick off your shoes anywhere."

"Of course." He hands you the bags so he can kick off his shoes and strip out of his jacket before hanging it up. You don't know why, but seeing him in a short sleeve shirt makes you happy, knowing full well he was weird about his metal arm being out in the open. "And plenty of dipping sauce as well. Wanda was more than happy to give me advice."

"Wanda, huh?" You chuckle, leading the way to your kitchen. "You actually told her where'd you be?"

"Apparently I looked very pensive this morning. She asked and I figured she was a better confidant than Steve or Sam who would have made a big deal about us hanging out."

"True." Setting the bags down, you let him empty them while you head to the fridge. "Beer?"

"Yeah."

Grabbing him a beer and yourself a can of Cola, you return to the table and your eyes widen at the sight of all the sushi. "Damn, Barnes. That's a lot of sushi."

"Don't act like you won't eat half of it."

You laugh as you take a seat, handing him his beer and pulling a few trays to your side of the table. You take a container of wasabi and dipping sauce for yourself, and grab a pair of chopsticks to start digging in.

You moan in delight at your first taste, happily shimmying in your seat before taking another. Eventually, you ask, "So what are you going to do when I'm back at work and I can't keep you entertained by getting shitfaced?"

Bucky grins around his mouthful of food before chasing it down with a swig of his beer. "We actually got a mission comin' up so I'll be leavin' around mid-week."

"Well that sucks." You sigh. "Now who am I going to send random pictures to when I have downtime at work?"

He grins. "You can still send them to me. I just won't get back to you until after the mission's complete."

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of you continue to eat- Bucky dodging Steve's texts about where he is and when he's coming back, and you sending the middle finger emoji over and over to Wanda who keeps wondering how your date is going. Then once most of the sushi is gone and Bucky puts what little is left into the fridge, the two of you head to the living room. You immediately flop onto the couch as Bucky takes the plush recliner, only for you to hear him moving the chair into its reclined position seconds later.

"Oh. I definitely need to get one of these."

You laugh as he snuggles down and you pick up the remote to bring up your streaming services. "Anything you've been meaning to watch?"

"Not really. Just show me your favorites."

You start off with some humor by playing the Goonies. It's a movie that no matter how many times you've seen it, it always seems to make you laugh. And it seems Bucky is not immune either when they make Chunk to the truffle shuffle. Titanic plays afterwards, but only after making sure Bucky found it somewhat interesting after reading the movie summary to him. He is interested from beginning to end and doesn't even laugh at you when you shed a few tears for the old married couple who opt to stay in their bed as the room floods.

When a break is needed, you head off towards the bathroom as Bucky finishes off the leftover sushi. Both of you check your phones and read each other the missed text messages from Steve and his worrying behavior.

"Wanna tell Steve to fuck off via video message?" Bucky takes a moment to think on it before he grins and nods. "Excellent. Sit in the recliner. I'm gonna crawl up all in your business. That okay?"

"Yeah."

As Bucky gets comfortable in the recliner, you sit on the armrest before sliding down sideways onto his lap. You bring up the camera app on your phone and switch it to video, sliding your right arm behind Bucky's neck while holding your left arm out to capture the two of you on the screen. "Ready?"

"Sure, doll."

You chuckle quietly and then smirk mischievously as Bucky relaxes his expression into his best resting bitch face. After you hit record, you say, "Hey Rogers, stop being a little bitch and sending us text after text. I'm tryin' to fuck your best friend here." Bucky's expression cracks as he barks out a laugh and you turn to face him while grinning. You share a laugh with him before facing the camera once more. "Only joking, but seriously stop buggin' us. I promise to send him back in one piece."

As you prepare to send the text to Steve, Bucky says, "You're terrible."

"Whatever. Admit it, you adore me."

"Occasionally."

You huff another laugh as the video message finally sends. You and Bucky both watch as the delivered status turns to read, and then those three little dots appear as Steve starts typing his reply.

"Tell Bucky to wrap it before he taps it." You burst out laughing at Steve's text, Bucky's rumbling laughter only fueling yours even more. "God I hate your best friend sometimes." And before you climb off Bucky's lap, because honestly you were getting a little too comfortable, you send Steve a few middle finger emojis before deciding on a third movie to watch.

The third movie you choose is one that never fails to make you laugh- Bridesmaids. You had a moment of hesitancy because of the sex scenes, but you figured they were ridiculous enough that it wouldn't be awkward. Thankfully you're correct and you get the added bonus of hearing Bucky's laughter again during Megan's scenes, especially when they get food poisoning and are all fighting for the bathroom.

You and Bucky take yet another break after the film, just stretching and finding something to drink.

"So what's the verdict, Barnes? Are you enjoying the films?"

He grins. "Your taste is all over the place, huh? That last one we watched was raunchy."

"But hilarious! You need to watch the Hangover trilogy, but you definitely need to watch that with Steve and then watch him squirm at the pictures that roll with the credits."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jurassic Park holds his attention and he can't help but comment how stupid one has to be to replicate dinosaur DNA and then open up a park with live dinosaurs. You laugh, but don't bother commenting. You'll tell him later there are more movies involved, with yet another idiotic man who felt he could get the park up and running once more.

It's getting dark, but it's still a little too early for dinner. One more movie and then you'll order or go out and pick something up.

"So this last one for the day is a movie that's directed more towards the female viewers, but you did ask for my favorite films and Practical Magic is my absolute favorite."

"Well put it on, doll."

As you press play on Practical Magic, you quickly grab a throw blanket and snuggle in. Instead of watching Bucky, you watch the film and mumble certain quotes to yourself. The magic scenes always bring a soft smile to your face just as Gary's confession to Sally of I wished for you too breaks your heart, and Sally and Gillian's heartfelt sister moment makes you cry.

Afterwards, Bucky hums in thought. "So that's your favorite?"

"Absolutely." You tell him. He's watching you curiously and you grin. "If I show you something, you promise not to laugh?"

"I'll try."

"Whatever. That's good enough for me." Standing up, you walk towards him and kneel, and tell him to pull your shirt sideways by the armhole next to your left arm. There on the back of your left shoulder and forever etched into your skin is a salt shaker, a rosemary plant, a lavender plant, and a heart. You then rattle off one of your favorite quotes to him. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

Bucky chuckles as you get up, retaking your spot on the sofa. "You really are a fan of the movie."

You nod. "As a little girl, I was fascinated by magic. I thought I'd grow out of it, but I only grew more fond of it. And then I found Practical Magic and it had a bit of everything I adored."

"So what's the one scene that just gets you every time?"

"Ugh. You're making me choose?!" You feign being distraught and he grins. As you think about it, you keep coming back to two scenes in particular. "So there's two," you tell him, "and I'm not choosing between them." Bucky nods, awaiting your answer. "Gillian's possession. When Sally calls together the other mothers who were mean to her in order to make a temporary coven to save her sister, and Gillian begs Sally to just let her ghost ex have her."

Bucky hums. "That was a bit sad, doll. I saw you shedding a few tears over that."

"Mhm. And the other scene is when Sally comes clean to Gary and admits that she did a spell as a child to call forth her perfect love thinking it wouldn't exist, only it did. When Gary tells Sally that he wished for her too, it just breaks my fuckin' heart."

"Let me guess, you were one of the girls who cast her own spell after seeing that scene." You stay quiet for a moment and the second you feel your face heat, Bucky laughs. "What did you wish for?"

You groan quietly. "If I tell you, you can't laugh!" He only smiles in response and you know he won't drop it until you tell him. "Fine. So even though I knew it would never work, I gathered the weirdest objects and wished for a significant other with dark hair and colored eyes. He had to be protective and funny and love me for me. Simple."

For some reason you can't seem to meet Bucky's gaze then and you feel awkward the longer the silence stretches on.

"So dinner?" He asks.

"Oh god, yes please. Pizza and wings?"

"Sounds good."

You have the nearby pizza place on speed dial, so after finding out Bucky's preferences you make the call and place the order. It's going to be about a thirty minute wait, so you fill the time sending Steve pic after pic of Bucky who's none the wiser as he scrolls through his own phone and adding the most asinine comments to each picture. Steve thinks it's absolutely hilarious.

Then when the pizza and wings arrive, you beat Bucky to the door and thrust several bills at the delivery boy. He's more than happy with his tip and you hurriedly wave him off before shutting the door. You laugh at Bucky's disgruntled expression and then place everything on the table while gathering a beer for both you and him.

"Don't let me have more than two," you tell him while handing him his own bottle of beer.

Bucky agrees and the two of you dig into your own personal pizzas and boxes of wings once you're situated around the table. As you're eating, Bucky asks about what other movies you hold near and dear. You fill him in on a few others and he hesitantly puts it out there that he'd be up for another movie marathon when you both have a day off. You agree that that's doable.

Halfway through dinner, as you and Bucky are chuckling over the thought of making Steve sit through Bridesmaids, there's a sound of glass breaking from your living room and a muffled curse. The two of you immediately cease making any type of noise and Bucky is up with a gun in hand.

"Where the hell did that come from?! You hiss.

The telltale sound of a window then sliding shut can be heard.

"Shut up and get behind me."

The authority in his voice makes you freeze and your heart flutter at the same time, and you have to mentally scold yourself before you quickly do as he says. You follow Bucky towards the living, ready to duck at the ready, only to sigh and roll your eyes when you see who it is.

Bucky stands tall and lowers his gun. "Parker." You can practically hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Mr. Barnes?" Peeking around his shoulder, you raise your eyebrow at your best friend who's been too busy for you and is now frowning at Bucky. When he catches sight of you, he asks, "What's going on?"

"Uh, well we were having dinner until we thought someone was breaking in."

"Alone?!"

Your brow furrows at Peter's incredulousness, only for him to realize you're not impressed with his tone. You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, um, yeah." He shifts from foot to foot, gesturing to his face where there's a scrape on his cheekbone. "My ribs took a beating too. Can you patch me up?"

"Sure." You sigh. "Why not."

Before you can leave to go to the bathroom to get the supplies you need, Bucky says, "I'll just get out of your way then."

You stop and face him. "What? But we haven't even finished our food. It won't take me long."

"It's fine, doll." He grins when he realizes you're trying to get him to stay. "You gotta hit the hay early anyway. We'll talk soon."

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, sighing when he won't budge. "Well at least take your food with you. No use in it going to waste."

Bucky nods and heads back to the kitchen, collecting his food. You watch him and then follow him to the door, holding his food while he bends over to lace up his boots. Once he retakes his food and you open the door, he thanks you for the time away from the tower and disappears down the hall.

Shutting the door and then heading back into the living room, you tell Peter to get back into his regular clothes so you can get to his ribs while you go gather your medical supplies.

Meeting Peter back in the living room and setting everything down on the coffee table, he says, "So you and Bucky-"

"Don't." You pick up the peroxide bottle and soak a cotton ball in it. "Bucky and I are friends."

Peter manages to keep his mouth shut as you clean the scrape on his cheek and place a small bandage on it. Then when you've checked his ribs and tell him he just needs to ice them, he mumbles, "Friends who apparently lick each other." You snort and think nothing of his sullen tone, but when you look at his face you see he's actually being quite serious. There's no chuckle or boyish grin and for a moment you're absolutely floored at his attitude. "I don't think I'm comfortable with Bucky being alone with you in your apartment."

"Are you- are you kidding me?" You huff and take a step back from him. When Peter just continues to frown, you shake your head at him. "First of all, I'm an adult woman who can make her own decisions."

"I know, but-"

"I'm not finished!" You snap. Peter's eyes widen, but he smartly ceases talking. "I am allowed to have friends whether you like them or not. We have a pact, Petey, and since I'm still abiding by it I would hope that you would too."

"Yeah, but that's for significant others!"

"Significant others or friends, it doesn't matter. And you should be grateful I've kept my mouth shut when it comes to you and Leslie because let me tell you, I've been biting my tongue a lot these past few weeks. Bucky and the others have stepped up since you've abandoned me, so you have absolutely no room to tell me that you're uncomfortable with him or any of them being around me."

"Leslie isn't that bad and I have not abandoned you." You snort, but don't bother opening that can of worms even further. He finally gets annoyed with your quietness. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here because you needed a bandage. Tell me, Peter, where are you going after here? Where are you going after making five minutes of small talk and calling it a night?" He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut, shrugs, and you shake your head at him once more in disappointment. "Exactly. Just go, Peter. I'm so over this conversation right now and I have work in the morning."

"Wait, but we promised we'd never leave a conversation where we were still annoyed with each other!"

"And we also promised we'd never judge who the other decided to spend time with, but here we are." He frowns at you. "Go to your girlfriend, Peter. We'll talk again in another few days or weeks or whenever. I don't care right now."

Peter stands there, gaping, before he pulls himself together and makes his way back towards the window he had crawled through. He glances at you one last time, but you merely keep staring until his mask encompasses his head once more and he lifts the window before taking his leave.

As the window shuts behind him, you sag in on yourself and your breathing stutters in your chest as your eyes fill with tears. You've never been this angry at Peter and the fact that he thinks it's okay to ignore you until he needs something and then has an opinion about who you hang out with was just too much for you to let slide.

You quickly gather everything from your coffee table and return it to its rightful place in your bathroom, and throw away the trash. Your appetite is long gone, so you put up what's left of your food and then head to your room to gather some clothes so you can shower and get into bed.

By the time you've crawled into bed, you're still a bit annoyed. So grabbing your phone, you pull up your text messages and click on Bucky's thread.

To Bucky: Well that was a shit show. I don't think I've ever made Petey leave my apartment while we were still angry with each other.

From Bucky: I'm sorry, doll. Anything I can do?

To Bucky: If he gives you attitude, get a non-serum individual to punch him. You, Steve, and probably Nat will send him flying into the wall.

From Bucky: If I remember..

To Bucky: Well I mean if you forget, I won't complain. I'll probably laugh when he comes crying to me.

From Bucky: You're a terrible human being.

To Bucky: Whatever. You adore me just the way I am. And now I should get some shut eye. I'll talk to you soon. Night, Sarge.

From Bucky: Night, sweetheart.

For the next couple of weeks, you keep yourself busy with work. Bucky and a few others do go on a mission as he said they would, so you keep your texts to a minimum of three each day- a good morning, a random story from that day, and a good night. They're gone for four days and in those four days you've not heard from Peter. The only reason you know he's not completely done with you is the fact he likes your posts that you put up on social media.

But since you're not currently speaking to your best friend and are too exhausted to hang out with anyone else, you're in a bit of a funk and completely caught off guard one evening when the patient a police officer brings in smacks you right across the face. You had been trying to insert an IV into his arm when he completely lost his shit, and then you were hit so hard that you were strewn across the gurney behind you. And in your vulnerable position, a fistful of your hair had been grabbed and yanked right before the police officer had intervened and pulled the patient off of you.

You had been given a bit of time to ice your cheek before you had to get back to work, but your face and scalp were hurting you the entire time.

On your way home, however, you're surprised to receive a call from Pepper. You're heading towards your apartment complex when she invites you to dinner there at the tower since Darcy is finally back in town, and you hate to do it, but you're not exactly up to be around such a rowdy bunch. So you apologize to Pepper and ask her to apologize to Darcy for you, and take a rain check. Immediately she knows something is wrong, but you only tell her you had a rough night at work and all you want is a hot shower and to crawl into bed. She hesitates but wishes you well, and the call ends moments later.

When you get home, you waste no time in locking the door behind you and heading straight for your bathroom. You strip down and take the hottest shower your body is capable of handling, and let yourself relax in the steam-filled room. Afterwards, as you're drying off, you gently dry your hair since your scalp is still sensitive and then get dressed in some of your comfort clothes.

Then heading out into the kitchen, you find some leftovers in your fridge and heat those up, tiredly sitting at your kitchen table and digging in. Just as you're done with your food and heading towards the living room, someone pounds on your apartment door. You sigh, hoping they go away, and have only plopped down onto the sofa when a familiar gruff voice speaks through the wood.

You quietly groan as Bucky tells you he knows you're there and you get up to open the door for him. He's on the verge of knocking again when you swing the door open. "Hey. Pepper said-" He trails off as he takes in your appearance, expression going slack before his jaw clenches in anger. "Who?"

You shake your head, gesturing him inside as you turn around and walk towards your sofa. You hear your door click shut before the footsteps follow you. "Work got a little hectic. No need to hunt down anyone, Barnes. I'm fine."

"Half your face is bruised, doll. You are not fine."

"It's all part of my job." You shrug and plop down onto the sofa once more. Pulling a blanket over your lap, you stare up at your friend. "There will always be a drunk and disorderly patient. I was just lucky he didn't do more damage."

Bucky frowns, but he doesn't push you on it. Instead, he walks over and sits next to you, angling his body towards yours when gentle fingers grasp your chin to angle your face more towards him. "What exactly happened?" He asks as his eyes dart over every inch of your face.

"Some petty criminal did some damage to his head in the back of a patrol car. Police officer brought him in and he seemed pretty docile up until I jabbed him with the IV. He got the drop on me. It happens." Gentle fingers brush along your cheekbone and you flinch. Tears sting your eyes as you sniffle. "I'm fine."

"Just because you keep sayin' that doesn't mean it's true."

Your bottom lip wobbles at his words and you lose the battle with keeping the tears at bay. The moment they fall, Bucky pulls you into a hug and you cry into his shoulder. "Dammit," you mumble. "See what you started!"

Bucky chuckles and he holds you a few moments longer, rubbing a hand up and your back to offer a semblance of comfort. When he lets you go, you fall back against the sofa cushions and wipe the tears away with your blanket. "So what are we watching?" He asks while settling in next to you and draping an arm behind your head.

"Shouldn't you go back to the tower and have dinner with the rest of them? I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I will drag you back to the tower and let Steve motherhen you."

You sigh. "Low blow, Buckaroo."

"And for that horrendous nickname, you've lost the privilege of choosing what we're going to watch."

You laugh and don't bother arguing with him about it as he leans across you to snag up the remote. When he settles back down and you snuggle into his side, you huff a small laugh when he settles on TLC which is showing 90 Day Fiancé.

"Why this show?" You ask.

"Because it blows my mind that some people are so oblivious and can't see that their chosen partner is only in it for the green card."

As you let his reasoning sink in, you can't help but giggle as you picture Bucky sitting in his own apartment and bad mouthing the TV because he didn't like the decisions the people were making in their love life. You watch along with him, cringing at the more obvious couples that are only headed for future divorce and smiling when one of the couples is actually in it for love.

You manage to almost watch a complete two hour episode when there's a knock on your door, but you're too comfortable to get up and answer it.

"You get it," you say as you nudge Bucky.

He nudges you back. "It's your apartment."

"Yeah, but I don't feel like getting up."

"You could have at least come up with a better excuse."

You grin, finally taking your eyes off the screen and glancing up at Bucky. "M'too tired. Brain's not working fast enough." He continues to give you a deadpan stare until you jut out your bottom lip. "Please?"

The second Bucky's lips twitch, you know you've won. He huffs and roughly pushes himself up off the sofa as if answering the door is a hardship, and you go back to watching TV. At least until you hear a familiar voice stammer, "Uh, h-hey Mr. Barnes. Is Y/N home?"

Your gaze snaps towards the door where Peter is standing out in the hallway, hands in his pockets as he sheepishly stares at Bucky. The man in question turns and raises an eyebrow at you as if saying what do I do and you give him a terse nod to let him know it's okay. Bucky steps aside and Peter readily walks in.

"I should be getting back to the tower," Bucky suddenly says. "You kids have fun."

This time it's your turn to give him a deadpan stare and he smirks right before slipping his boots back on. Then as soon as they're laced up, he's walking out the door and shutting it behind him. Peter, who hadn't stopped staring at the intimidating man, finally turns to look at you. And when he does, his eyes widen.

"What happened to your face?!"

You sigh. "I'm fine. Just had a little incident at work."

"And Mr. Barnes was what? Comforting you?"

"First of all, can you stop calling him Mr. Barnes? You two avenge together and what not. I'm pretty sure that means you're on a first name basis." Peter grins as he takes a seat on the recliner near you, shrugging. "And Bucky was here because when I turned down dinner at the tower, Pepper figured something was wrong. Bucky took it upon himself to check in."

"So are you two like a thing or something?" He wonders.

"We're just.. friends," you say. "For some unknown reason we clicked and we're comfortable in each other's company."

For a moment Peter doesn't say anything, nor will he meet your gaze, but then he's looking at you and sighing. "I'm sorry." You blink at him, surprised to hear the apology. "I shouldn't have freaked out that one night. Who you are friends with and who you decide to date is your business."

You finally smile, even though it's rather small. "Thank you. And don't get me wrong, I know you meant well, but you should have dropped it and just trusted my judgment."

"Yeah. I know," he mumbles.

"Soo.. are we good?" You ask.

"Yeah."

"Good. I was getting tired of you liking my posts and not commenting on them."

Peter snorts. A moment of silence passes and then he says, "So you'll be glad to know that Leslie and I aren't together anymore. I broke it off earlier tonight."

You wince. "Sorry."

"Nah. Don't be. She was totally using me for access to the tower." You're torn between being smug about being right and being sad for your friend who just ended his relationship. "I only realized it earlier when she got upset because Mr. Rogers posted a picture of you and Mr. Barnes together, and she had a few choice words to say about it."

"What? Steve posted a picture of us?" You quickly pull out your phone, checking social media for any notifications. There are none, but as you get on Instagram you check Steve's page and sure enough there's a new pic that shows Bucky staring fondly at you as you laugh at something on your phone. "That little shit didn't tag us!"

As your thumbs move furiously to give Steve a piece of your mind and to comment how adorable you and Bucky look, Peter can't help but say, "You're attracted to him."

Your texting falters and you quickly glance at your friend to gauge his reaction, but when he just looks amused, you shrug. "I mean have you seen him? How could I not be attracted to him?"

"Does he know?"

"I have a feeling he does. Asshole likes to fluster me every now and then."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure he likes you back." You snort and go back to finishing up the comment on Steve's post. "I'm serious. When we stopped talking, he threatened me. He was pissed that I made you cry and said I was lucky. He's actually really scary when you're on his bad side."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you can feel your ears heating up, followed by your cheeks. Peter starts to laugh and you groan in embarrassment. "Why is this so weird? Dating should be easy!"

"Well he is an Avenger.."

"I don't care about that! He's just- he's really, really hot. It's intimidating."

"Wait, what?" Peter huffs. "So you're intimidated by his hotness and not because he's a super-soldier with a metal arm?"

"Well yeah."

Expression melting into one of confusion, your friend eventually shakes his head at you. "You're on your own with that. Good luck."

You hadn't realized how much everyone had known about your and Peter's brief falling out until the two of you were laughing together once again at the tower. It seemed like everyone had sagged in relief now that the two of you were poking fun at one another once more, and you had to apologize for apparently making it awkward for them.

And now that your best friend knew of your crush on a certain super-soldier, there was lots of teasing material. Of course you kept him in line when you could, but there was no stopping the force of Peter, Wanda, and Darcy combined.

It's a random Tuesday night when you've driven over to the Tower, Bucky having called you over for dinner with a few friends. You had the day off so you didn't mind heading on over, but as the elevator doors slide open after having ridden up to the communal floor, you yelp in surprise as the small gathered crows that shout, "Happy birthday!", at you.

Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Peter pop confetti poppers as you step out of the elevator, eyes wide as you glance between each of them. "My birthday is not until tomorrow!" You hiss.

"But you work tomorrow." Wanda frowns.

"Mhm." Your eyes then narrow, glancing behind them at the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling. "And how'd you guys even know?"

Everyone glances at Peter and he takes a step back when your gaze slides to him. He chuckles sheepishly. "I might have hid your birthday cupcake here and Steve found it."

"Petey," you groan. "Why couldn't you just hide it at aunt May's like usual? You know I dislike birthday celebrations."

"You don't dislike them. You just dislike all the attention being on you."

"Whatever. Where's Barnes? He's the one who lured me here under false pretenses. I got a bone to pick with him too."

Everyone turns around and Bucky's head appears from around the corner. He smirks and you glare at him. "Not false pretenses. We are having dinner," he says. "It just so happens to be a birthday dinner. And it's running a little bit late, so until the food gets here you get to open presents."

"You guys all suck."

Peter and Wanda each take a hand and drag you further into the room, heading towards the kitchen. Bucky fully steps out from behind the wall and you aim a kick at his shin as you're walking by. He laughs as he easily dodges it and then you're standing by the kitchen island that's been cleared of everything other than birthday presents.

You huff a small laugh and shake your head fondly at them. "I love you guys, but you do know you didn't have to get me anything, right?"

"Shut up and open the presents," Bucky says.

"Open mine first," Sam says, reaching into the small pile and pulling out a white envelope. "Unlike the others, I was literally told within the last thirty minutes we were doing this so yeah. It's not the best present, but I think you'll enjoy it."

You smile at Sam as you open it, chuckling at the plain birthday card and his brief personal message written inside. But it's what else that's inside that makes you meet Sam's gaze once more, smiling fondly at him. "Thank you. I can't get enough of bubble tea and I'm sure I can do some damage with this gift card."

"You're welcome."

"Mine next." Peter reaches in for a medium-sized box and hands it over to you. "I know you're not a fan of presents, so I got you something I actually knew you'd enjoy."

Raising an eyebrow at him, you pull the lid off of the box. Then glancing down, you snort before pulling out a bottle of Patron Silver Tequila. "I knew we were best friends for a reason."

Steve groans. "Please drink responsibly."

"Please. Responsible is my middle name, Rogers." Everyone snorts and instead of trying to remain serious and feign offense, you end up laughing. "Sam and Buck are good babysitters. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's to be determined," he says. "Here. Open mine. I honestly had no idea what to get you, but Peter assured me you'd enjoy this."

Putting the bottle of tequila back in its box, you accept Steve's gift. Pulling off the ribbon, you can't help but laugh when you see what's inside. "Cards Against Humanity." Peter cheers. "We're playing this the next time I have off," you say, grinning at Steve.

"What is Cards Against Humanity?" He wonders. "I just picked it up and boxed it."

"It's possibly one of the most confusing card games or raunchy card games you'll ever play," Sam says. "I, for one, am looking forward to it."

"Thank you, Steve. I seriously can't wait to play it."

"You're welcome."

Wanda claps her hands. "Mine and Darcy's next. She ordered online and I had to pick it up earlier. But, um, I'm not sure you want to open it up in front of everyone."

"Oh god. Don't tell me it's a vibrator."

Sam laughs out loud as both Peter and Steve start blushing. Bucky looks rather amused and intrigued as Wanda slides two boxes over to you. She shakes her head, giggling. "Not quite."

For a brief moment you're relieved, but then her answer sinks in and you're hesitant all over again. You groan. "Is yours safer? I feel like it is. Which one is it?"

Wanda only smirks as she pushes her box towards you. You open it, marvel at its contents, and then put the lid back on much to the boys' displeasure. Trying to keep a straight face, you look at Wanda. "How many sets did you get?"

"There's four. All in colors that will look amazing against your skin tone."

"Thank you. I'll send you pictures when I wear them."

"Yes please! Natasha wants to know how they fit as well. She was the one who suggested them."

"I'll send them to the ladies group chat then."

"Well that's not fair," Sam complains. "First for not showing us what's inside the box and then you guys have a ladies only group chat. I wanna be in the ladies only group chat."

"But then that defeats the purpose of it being a ladies only group chat," you muse.

"Come on," Peter then whines. "What was the present?"

Your gaze slides to Peter, but instead of outright saying what it is, you say, "Think back to that one Halloween night where you wouldn't let me out of the dorm until I switched costumes."

It takes him only a minute to understand and when he does, he snorts. "That wasn't a costume! That was lingerie."

"Whoa, what?" Sam exclaims, grinning.

"Lingerie can be worn as a costume?" Steve wonders.

"I was actually a Victoria's Secret Angel, complete with the most amazing set of wings, and Petey forbade me from leaving the room. It was a sad, sad night."

"As much as I wanna get into that," Sam says, "I wanna know what Barnes got you more."

You chuckle and glance at Bucky, smile faltering when you see him tense. But then he seems to shake himself out of it and offers you a grin. "Open the bigger one first."

Wanda clears away the other presents as Bucky slides his two towards you. You feel giddy as you grab the bigger box, untying the black silk ribbons and lifting the lid. There's tissue paper you open up and you gasp, happily giggling. "You didn't?!"

"Well you did say it was your favorite movie, sweetheart."

"Yes!" You glance up, beaming at Bucky, and your heart swells at his own smile being directed at you. "I really, really love this. I can't wait to hang it up."

"What is it?" Peter wonders, trying to peer across the island.

"It's a quote from Practical Magic," you say and Peter huffs a laugh, knowing full well your love for that movie. You carefully pick it up and turn it around so everyone can see it as you read it off by heart. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

"Aw," Wanda coos. "That's adorable."

"I made Bucky watch this movie a while back," you say. "I need to show it to you one of these days."

"I'm looking forward to it," she says.

With nothing else to say, you place it back in its box and set it aside in favor for the second box. It's a little smaller, but you're excited for it nonetheless. Untying the ribbon and lifting the lid, you immediately laugh at the white petals scattered atop the tissue paper.

"Barnes, you smooth sonuvabitch," Sam mutters.

Steve and Peter laugh, but you're so focused on the notecard that's under some of the petals. Lifting it up, you read the note to yourself because immediately you know it's personal. My better half has to be funny, get along with my friends, won't judge me for my past, and has decent taste in movies.

Heart fluttering, you bite the corner of your lip when it feels like you're smiling way too much.

"Well what does Prince Charming have to say?" Sam asks.

"That's none of your business." You close the note and then tuck into your back pocket, chuckling when Sam and Wanda complain. When you meet Bucky's gaze, you immediately flush and mentally curse yourself when you see him smirk in return.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you center yourself and then part the tissue paper. You look at the second portrait and gasp after you read it.

"What? What is it?" Peter wonders.

This second portrait is of a hand drawn bowl with a tipped over salt shaker, a small bundle of lavender, a small bundle of rosemary, and a heart beneath it. Above the bowl is a swirl of flower petals and inside the swirl of petals, in very pretty cursive writing, are the words I wished for you too.

Did he just- did he confess his own feelings by using a Practical Magic quote? Or was this just you overthinking his present? You glance to meet Bucky's gaze and at his gauging expression your eyes fill with tears.

"What did you do, Barnes?!" Sam scolds him. "You made the poor girl cry at her own birthday celebration!"

But Bucky isn't paying him any attention, instead he's solely focused on you. You set the present aside and walk around the kitchen island on shaky legs, and Bucky readily reaches for your waist as you grab his face and pull him down into a kiss.

You can't believe you're kissing Bucky, but then he squeezes your waist and returns the kiss, and you know you made the right choice.

Someone gasps, but then the following words let you know exactly who it is. "Darcy is going to be so angry she missed this." Wanda. That is Wanda.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam wonders. "What type of present can cause this type of reaction?"

You smile against Bucky's mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before falling flat on your feet after having been on the tips of your toes in order to reach his mouth.

"It's my favorite quote from my favorite movie," you say. You turn around to address your friends, but Bucky doesn't let you go far. He wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you back so you're resting against his chest and tucked beneath his chin. "It's a movie about witches," you explain. "These two little girls are being raised by their aunts and they see them performing love spells for a local woman. Basically, one of the young girls refuses to fall in love after witnessing a love spell gone wrong and she does her own spell to call forward a love that would be impossible to find- a man who's favorite shape would be a star and who had one green eye, one blue. Years down the road, the sisters accidentally murder a man."

Sam snorts. "How the hell does one accidentally murder someone?"

"Shush." Wanda admonishes him. "I want to hear the story behind the gift."

You and Bucky chuckle, and you continue to explain. "Anyway, they send in an US Marshall to investigate the disappearance and the one who had done the love spell at a young age starts to fall for this man. She ends up telling him about the murder, but he doesn't quite believe her. Then they're on the verge of hooking up when she gets a good look at his eyes- one green eye, one blue."

"Oh my god. That's so cute!" Wanda says.

"It gets cuter. And sadder," you say. "So she explains to this man about her family, the murder, and how she can't be with him because he's only attracted to her because of a love spell she did when she was just a little girl. At first he's skeptical about this spell bringing him to her, but then he ends up believing her. And as he's walking away from her, he stops to tell her I wished for you too."

"So you made out with Barnes because of that?" Sam shakes his head, chuckling. "Wow."

"It's fuckin' adorable. Stop ruining the moment, Samuel!" Bucky laughs at your words and pulls you closer to him.

"So while I'm happy for Buck," Steve says, "I'm still really curious about what Darcy's gift is."

Peter nods. "Same."

Wanda giggles, but says nothing as she grabs the box and slides it over to you. You groan because you know it can be nothing good, but you still open it since everyone is watching and waiting. As soon as you part the tissue paper and read the box, alongside taking in the picture on the box, your face flames as you shove the lid back on. Wanda cackles.

"I hate her."

"She said to give the remote to-"

"Don't!" You cut Wanda off, blushing even further. "I know who she means to have control of that."

"They- they make underwear that does that?" Bucky muses and you die a little on the inside in embarrassment. You elbow him as he starts to laugh behind you.

Sam instantly knows what the gift is now and starts to laugh, but Steve and Peter apparently need some help.

"Lewis got you vibrating panties, didn't she?"

"Oh my god, Sam, if you don't shut up I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

Steve is torn between laughing and trying not to make you even more uncomfortable, but his amusement wins out. "Given Y/N's flustered state, I'm assuming Darcy wants Bucky to have the remote."

"I mean this seems like it could make for an interesting night."

Everyone laughs at Bucky's sudden interest in the box you're doing your damnedest to keep shut, but luckily Peter steps in. "As much I love watching Y/N squirm, can we get ready to eat? I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go wait downstairs for it, kid."

Sam and Peter head for the elevator to take them down to the lobby, and you turn around in Bucky's hold. "Help me take this stuff to my car so I don't have to do it later?"

"Sure thing, doll." He grins. But instead of stepping away, he pushes you further into the kitchen island. You smile as he cages you in and then huff a laugh when he reaches for the box behind you. "So exactly how long do we have to be dating before we can test these out?"

You slowly lean upward so your lips brush his as you say, "I'd say very, very soon if you would put your ass into gear and help me move these presents like I asked."

Bucky laughs and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "Then let's get to it."

The telltale sound of a phone's camera goes off and you turn your face towards the sound. Wanda is beaming, her phone pointed towards you and Bucky. "Darcy wanted evidence I wasn't lying. She's going to be so happy."

Bucky turns his face to look at her then, his cheek brushing against yours where he's yet to back off from you. "Tell Lewis I said thanks for the present. I'll give her my review of them in a few weeks."

Wanda's eyes widen and you immediately blurt, "Don't you dare!" But she's already texting and you know the group chat full of ladies is going to be full of messages that you'll have to reply to later. Quietly groaning, you slap your hands against Bucky's waist and push him back. Looking up at him, you shake your head but the corner of your lips turn up in amusement. "You're terrible. I would threaten to withhold sex, but I've been looking forward to that for a while. I'd just be punishing us both."

"Just tell me when and where, sweetheart, and I'll be there."

"Oh no. You guys are going to be that couple," Steve complains.

And without missing a beat, you face him and say, "Fuck off, Rogers!" Bucky snorts.

"You're cranky when you haven't gotten laid."

You gasp as Bucky bursts out laughing right in your ear, but he quickly catches you as you try to lunge for his best friend. "You know what, I was going to be discreet when banging your best friend, but now I'm going to tell you all the filthy things Bucky likes to do just to annoy you. I will go into excruciating detail about the look and taste of his dick!"

Steve blanches as it's Wanda's turn to burst out laughing. "You've done it now, Steve."

And as Steve looks to Bucky for help, he merely shrugs. "You brought this on yourself, Stevie. Hope you enjoy the play by plays."

Relaxing in Bucky's hold and moving so you're hip to hip with him, you slide your arm behind his waist and hook your thumb into the belt loop of his jeans. "We're going to have so much fun."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #peter parker #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #darcy lewis #the avengers #avengers #avengers imagine #marvel

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fortuositywritings · 4 years ago

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I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 4

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Summary: You try to be friends with Wanda. Frankly, you could try a little harder. (Ice cream date, but it’s not really a date, but like it is but it’s not)

PS: There are like three swear words, mentions of exercise, and you eat a lot of pancakes but that’s cause you’re hungry. It’s not a problem. Also, if you are actually athletic, are fit, or like to exercise, you aren’t and you don’t. Not in this house.

You wake up the next morning with a sore neck. As you sit up, you see Nat standing beside the couch looking at you over her coffee cup scaring the life out of you.

“So, how’d you sleep?” she asks.

“Like a princess,” you sarcastically reply. Stretching, you hear your body popping in all different places. Maybe you will take Pietro up on his offer.

“I know what will help. Some exercise. Get ready. We’re going on a hike.”

You finally take in Nat’s appearance and see her sporting the attire for a hike.

You groan. “You say hike, but I know you really mean running at an incline.”

“Come on. Don’t be a baby. Exercise is good for you. When’s the last time you got any?”

You want to make a joke because of how she worded it, but your mischievous smile gives you away.

“Exercise, Y/N. When’s the last time you got any exercise,” she clarifies.

“The last time you asked me that.”

“A year ago?”

“And my body is still sore. Ask me again in a few months,” you go to lie down again but she throws a couch cushion at your head. “Okay, okay. Jeez, woman. I’m up.”

When you return from your hike, you are heaving. You don’t ever really think about how unfit you are, which makes sense when you don’t spare 5 minutes to do any kind of exercise, but a hike with Nat will surely remind you. You are sweating buckets and just want to pass out when you enter the house. Everyone is awake presumably having breakfast. You can smell the pancakes from the living room. Your stomach growls. You want to eat but even chewing sounds like too exhausting at the moment. You just want to knock out. You head over to your sleeping quarters for the week, but before you collapse on the couch, your cousin says, “I don’t want any sweat on my couch, Y/N.”

“Ugh,” you complain but comply and go to take a shower. There is no warm water. You assume all the guests had probably had their turn while you were out. You don’t mind it too much. The cold water wakes you up and you feel refreshed. Soon you are sitting with everyone else making plans for the day, but unlike everyone else at the table you are scarfing down pancake after pancake, hardly chewing between each swallow. The conversation dies down as everyone starts to look your way. You’d be embarrassed at your table manners but honestly you’re too famished to care.

“Woah, slow your roll there, Y/N. Where was this energy on our hike?” You hear Nat’s voice come up behind you. You don’t bother looking at her, showing her the middle finger behind your back so the kids won’t see. She chuckles as she sits on the empty seat beside you.

“You might be faster than me,” Pietro comments.

“You know it’s not gentleman-like commenting on the way a woman eats,” you answer, mouth full and all.

“It’s also not lady-like to speak with your mouth full of food,” Laura reprimands you.

“Cooper doesn’t care. Right, Cooper?” you turn to the kid in question still chewing on your food.

He answers you with a mouth full of food as well, “Right!”

Your cousin sighs as you reach over to give Cooper a fist bump. Wanda laughs at the interaction from beside Cooper. You give her a quick wink before settling back in your seat. She just rolls her eyes.

They all go back to their conversation and you go back to eating your delicious pancakes in peace. Once you are satisfied, you sink back in your chair letting out a happy sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t want another one? You hardly ate anything, Y/N,” Nat sarcastically says.

You roll your eyes in good nature. “Honestly, I do want another one but my stomach might explode. I’m going to be dreaming of these pancakes tonight. I’d wed whoever made these bad boys but sorry, cousin,” you turn to Laura, “you’ve got a husband and kids, and I just can’t tear a family apart.”

“Also, she’s your cousin,” Nat emphasizes.

“Obviously that was implied, Natasha,” you say her full name obnoxiously.

“I’d love to take all the credit, but Wanda actually made breakfast. So if you’re marrying anyone for the pancakes, it’s Wanda,” Laura says.

“You hear that, Wanda? I’m going to make an honest woman out of you.” You wiggled your eyebrows her way.

“If anything, it’s the other way around, Y/N,” your cousin teases.

“Don’t egg Y/N on, Laura,” Clint quips.

“But then who is going to make me pancakes like these, Barton?” You pout.

“I can,” Pietro pipes up. “I’ll even bring them to you for breakfast in bed.” He winks as Nat and Clint wrinkle their noses in distaste and Wanda stifles a laugh.

“What?” Pietro asks his sister.

“Pietro, you can’t boil an egg.”

“Yes, I can. I can make many things. I even helped you with this breakfast,” Pietro insists.

Everyone watches the siblings squabble in amusement, especially when Wanda turns to you to stage whisper, “He burnt two pancakes.”

“I did not!”

“Ask Peter. He had one,” Wanda says in turn. Peter shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“It was a little crunchy,” Peter says after much hesitation. Sam pats his shoulder, shaking his head. “Poor kid. No one should have to eat crunchy pancakes.”

After breakfast the kids decide they want to play basketball with the hoop Clint had placed over the barn doors. You break into teams of 3. It’s you, Lila, and Peter versus Sam, Cooper, and Pietro. Nat and Wanda sit on the sidelines watching and cheering. Your team is not doing so great. If it wasn’t for Peter pulling the team, you would cry in embarrassment. The guys on the opposing team start to get cocky. Sam rubbing the score in your team’s face, Cooper repeating whatever Sam says, and Pietro begins making flirty remarks about teaching you one on one and so on. You want to ignore his remarks but you kind of also want to wipe the smirk off his face. You do just that a few minutes later when you finally make a shot after Peter screens him allowing you to shoot. You look to see if Wanda saw but frown when you notice she’s not there anymore. You play for a few more minutes but you are quickly getting tired.

Laura comes up beside Nat and yells over to you, “Y/N, I need you to run to the store for me.”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief as you go over to your cousin and take the list she holds out to you. “Nat, sub me in?”

“Gladly.” She walks confidently over to take your place. You hear Sam and Pietro whine behind you when they realize Nat is playing in your place.

You chuckle as you read the list. “Are we having hamburgers tonight?”

“Gosh, you really were not paying attention while eating those pancakes. Clint wants to grill tonight.”

“Can you blame me? I’m getting that pancake recipe,” you say with complete determination. “Speaking of, have you seen Wanda?”

“Y/N.” Your cousin gives you a look.

“What?” You say innocently, knowing exactly what that look means.

“Clint told me about that little talk he and Nat had with you.”

“So, what now? I can’t be her friend?” you scoff.

“Friend. Mhmm, sure,” she laughs in disbelief and shakes her head. Why does no one in this damn house believe you?

“Mhmm,” you repeat as you are walking back to the house.

“Check the guest room,” Laura says last minute. Well, at least your cousin’s got your back. You give her a thumbs up in thanks.

Sure enough, Wanda is in the guest bedroom. She’s sitting in bed with a book in her hand. You softly knock on the door. She looks up, notices it’s you, frowns, and goes back to reading. You tilt your head wondering what has her in a mood. Is she back to thinking about her ex? Maybe you can help distract her as a good friend would do.

You walk over to the bed before deciding to sit in front of her cross-legged, elbows on knees, chin on the palm of one hand. “Whatcha got there?”

“A book. Ever heard of one?” she replies without bothering to look up.

Sheesh. “Oh, my god. Is it real? Can I, like, touch it? I’ve always heard about books but I’ve never seen one in person,” you say sarcastically, hoping to get some positive reaction from her. You see a slight upturn on the corner of her lips before it disappears. Though it was miniscule, it was a step forward no less. You sit there for a minute staring at her and thinking of how to proceed. You don’t want to worsen her mood with one of your dumb jokes.

Wanda can feel your eyes searching for some kind of sign from her. She gives up trying to read her book, having been repeating the same paragraph over and over again. She puts the book down and huffs. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, you can,” you say. “I’m going into town to get some stuff for the hamburgers and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

Maybe you are simply confusing Wanda’s boredom for an unpleasant attitude.

“Didn’t you ask Piet? There’s no way he refused going with you.”

Or not.

Her sardonic tone is not lost on you. So, it’s about the brother and not the ex. You want to scream. This is why you have the twin rule. Though you want to bang your head on a wall for not listening to your own rules, you keep your composure as you stand to leave the room. Before you go, you tell Wanda, “I haven’t asked Pietro. I thought of you first, but if you’re not feeling it, I’m sure he would say yes like you say.”

You turn and head out to the hallway dejectedly, but you perk up when you hear Wanda stop you. “Wait! Let me put on my shoes.”

You wait for her in the hallway, smiling to yourself in part because you would not have to spend hours with Pietro’s constant advances but mostly because you got to spend time with Wanda without supervision. You are a grown ass adult, eh, not really, but legally you were an adult. You don’t need to be supervised. It’s not like you needed someone to watch you else you throw yourself at Wanda. Sure, you like to tease here and there but it’s not bothersome. Is it? Oh, god, were you annoying Wanda?

Those thoughts are quickly dispelled when Wanda meets you with a smile. “Ready.”

No, Wanda wouldn’t have agreed to go with you if you were really a bother. You’re sure of it.

It’s a 20 minute ride into town. With Wanda’s mood having done a full 180, you find yourself enjoying your time with her as she recounts a slight hiccup on Steve’s behalf on a mission. Soon enough you are driving up the main street looking for a parking spot. Luckily you find a spot not too far from the store. You head inside and grab a cart. You and Wanda wander around the aisles looking for what you need. Wanda takes over cart duty when you keep bumping into things because you’re distracted with either looking over the list or looking over at her. You say a quick hello to a few people you recognize.

“Well aren’t you popular,” Wanda comments as you both turn into the frozen food aisle to look for hamburger patties.

“Yeah, that’s not always a good thing,” you say when you spot a woman you know in the same aisle. You move to walk real close behind Wanda, trying to hide your face.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks when she feels your forehead resting between her shoulder blades.

“Shhh, just keep walking,” you command without any explanation. Your really sad attempt at hiding was all for naught when you hear your name.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

You take a deep breath, plaster a fake smile, and leave Wanda’s space. “Hi, Mrs. Townsend. How’s it going?”

“I thought that was you. You can’t hide from me, you know. Not that you were ever any good at it,” she says knowingly. You cringe at the memory of her finding you in her daughter’s closet. This woman disliked you from start to finish, which made sense given that her daughter had broken up with her boyfriend for you only for you to break things off a few weeks later.

“Yeah, I know,” you smile sheepishly. She looks over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks curious but not in the best way. “And who is this?”

Wanda introduces herself with a polite smile. “Hello, I’m Wanda. Pleasure to meet you.”

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” Mrs. Townsend asks.

“No, I guess I just have that face,” Wanda responds with no hesitation having practiced that line so many times on missions. Mrs. Townsend’s stare weighs heavy and Wanda begins to feel uncomfortable.

“A very pretty one at that. Y/N sure knows how to pick them. Is that an accent I hear? Where are you from, dear?” Mrs. Townsend asks, with faux intrigue. Now you’re uncomfortable too.

You know you shouldn’t speak for Wanda but you don’t want to subject her to be in this woman’s presence any longer. “Actually, she’s just a friend visiting from New York. She and a few others are staying with Laura. And actually, she’s expecting us to return soon. So, have a good day, Mrs. Townsend. Come on, Wanda. Let’s go.”

You lead Wanda away by pulling the cart behind you. When you’re nearly clear of the aisle, Wanda stops and reminds you that you never got the patties. You tell her to go ahead and get in line to pay while you go back for the patties, them being the last thing to get from the list. Mrs. Townsend is still in the aisle now talking on the phone very displeased. “Yes, she was right here and with another girl-” she cuts herself off when you’re in her vision reaching to get what you need.

You give her a sarcastic smile. As you pass by her for the last time, you smirk and lean in to say, “Tell Abby I say hi.” Then you wink, leaving Mrs. Townsend very angry, and head over to the checkout area where Wanda is waiting. Wanda doesn’t say anything other than “Well, she was lovely” to which you laughed. Apart from that, she stays quiet at the checkout and as you put the items in the car. Before she has a chance to open the door to get in the passenger seat, you stand in front of the door blocking the handle.

“Hey,” you begin, but Wanda is looking at her shoes, her hands fiddling with the rings on her fingers. You take her hand to shake her arm in an attempt to get her to look up. “Look at me.”

You wish you hadn’t asked that of her because when she does look at you, it tears you apart. If you did not think your presence was needed more here, you could storm right back into that store and give Mrs. Townsend a piece of your mind.

“Mrs. Townsend is an asshole. You should never take what an asshole says to heart cause it’s all shit,” you say in all seriousness. Wanda giggles and raises her free hand to rub her face. You pull it away from her face. Holding both her hands you continue, “She’s just a grumpy lady holding a grudge over something I did like two years ago. It’s nothing to do with you and all to do with me. So don’t listen to anything she says, okay?”

It takes a moment but she finally nods. “There we are.” You pull her into a hug, one she accepts easily, hoping to give further comfort. You can’t help but think how nice it is to hold her, moreso, when she hugs you tighter.

“So, she was lying when she said I was pretty?” Wanda tries to joke, adopting your method of lightening the mood.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answer. She quickly pulls back from your hold but you don’t let her go too far, holding onto her elbows. “Cause you are breathtakingly gorgeous,” you finish.

She smiles and a blush takes over her face. You decide to add, “In fact, I can’t even breathe right now standing so close to your beauty.” You dramatically gasp for air making Wanda laugh and smack you.

“Ow, if this is how you Avenger women treat your adoring fans, I’d hate to see how you take down the bad guys.”

“Oh, so you’re a fan?” Wanda asks adorning a sly smile.

“Mhmm, since day one.”

“Is that so? Because from what I remember you called me Crimson Witch just yesterday,” she teases you.

“And I stand by what I said,” you respond. You cut her off when she opens her mouth to argue. “But if I have offended you, let me make it up to you.”

She narrows her eyes, looking at you skeptically as if you were up to no good making you want to laugh. “How?” She asks warily.

You lean into her space once more to say, “I know a place.” You wink and without allowing her to respond, you take her hand dragging her along behind you. “Come on.”

Your destination is just two blocks away. Wanda speeds up to walk beside you but she never lets your hand go. Not that you mind it in the least. You stop her when you arrive and reluctantly let her hand go to make a grandiose gesture with your arms. “Ta-Da!”

“An ice-cream shop?” she asks you, clearly unimpressed.

“Not just any ice-cream shop. The Ice Cream Shop!” You can’t help but say enthusiastically. Wanda on the other hand does not look enthused. You can’t believe she’s not excited for ice cream. “Oh, come on, Wanda. Don’t tell me you don’t like ice cream. The only excuse I’ll take is that you’re lactose intolerant or vegan. Just don’t tell me you prefer frozen yogurt. Oh, god. You do, don’t you?” You gasp dramatically, your hand clutching your chest.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes in a light hearted manner at your antics. “You’ve made your point. Just open the door.”

“Bossy,” you laugh, but do as she wishes though you make a show out of opening the door. You bow and motion for her to enter as you hold the door open. “After you, m’lady.”

She sighs. Passing through the door, she mumbles, “I could be in bed reading right now.”

“Ah, but then you would’ve missed the opportunity to hang out with someone as cool as me,” you say as you and Wanda go to stand behind the group of teenage girls ordering their ice cream.

“Oh, are they meeting us after? Do you think they’ll buy me frozen yogurt?” she retorts, amusement shining through her eyes. You generally find quick witted remarks annoying. Mostly because you’ve always been surrounded by smart-alecks all your life. Your cousin is one. Then she married one who had one as a best friend. Somehow, you find the same quality in Wanda kind of attractive. Oh god. This can’t be happening.

“Quit being so grumpy. You’re gonna thank me when you try it. It’s only the best there is.”

“You should listen to her, but hey, I may be a little biased,” the woman working at the counter backs you up. The teenage girls are long gone.

“Thank you, Tanya,” you reply, stepping forward to the middle aged woman you know to be the owner of the shop. She was actually the one to give you your first job at this very same ice cream shop. Maybe you were also a little biased.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be in town so early, Y/N.”

“Well, I just missed you so much, I couldn’t wait to get here,” you explain.

“Uh, huh. I’m sure that’s it.” Her voice is full of disbelief. You laugh.

“Actually, I got here yesterday. I wanted to come earlier to help out Laura now that she’s phwwt,” you whistle and make a belly bump gesture like it’s a scandalous secret.

“She’s married and this is baby number three, Y/N. You can say pregnant,” your old boss laughs.

“But that’s no fun,” you pout.

“And who is this little thing?” She turns to Wanda, who timidly smiles still two steps behind you.

“Come on, I don’t bite, hun.” Tanya gives her a sincere smile, one much different from Mrs. Townsend’s. Wanda slowly approaches after you wave her over encouragingly. When she is close enough, you hold her forearm to introduce her to Tanya, trying to ease her nerves. It seems to work. You feel her relax and lean into your side as she says, “Hi, I’m Wanda.”

“Pleasure to meet you dear. I’m Tanya. See, no need to be shy.”

“She’s not usually like this as far as I can tell. She’s actually quite chatty. Sometimes I don’t know how to get her to stop talking,” you joke. Wanda scoffs and bumps your hip with hers.

“Whenever Y/N begins to annoy you, just put on some earphones and hide them with your hair. It works wonders. She can talk to herself for hours,” your old boss advises Wanda.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Hey!” You interject. “Tanya, where is your loyalty? So quick to team up against me.”

Wanda giggles beside you. You turn your head to playfully glare at her, missing the way Tanya smiles at the interaction in front of her.

“So how’d you two meet? I don’t think I’ve seen you in town before, Wanda.”

“She’s a friend and um, coworker of Clint and Natasha. She’s here for the week.” You hope Tanya didn’t catch your little hiccup there. However, you miss the implication of her question. Tanya tries to remember who Nat is.

“Natasha. Is she the intimidating red head always wearing tight jeans?” You and Wanda laugh. You affirm with a finger to your nose. “Didn’t you date her sister?”

You let go of Wanda’s arm to throw your head into your hands. “Ugh, how could you possibly know that?”

“Small town. Word gets around fast. People are probably already talking about you two, especially when you’ve got someone as beautiful as Wanda with you.”

Wanda blushes at the insinuation. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you tell Tanya.

Tanya raises an eyebrow, “You mean, you’re not dating?”

“Please, Wanda here is way out of my league. I mean, funny, polite, pleasant, and gorgeous. Maybe even a little pretentious. I caught her reading a book… for fun. Who does that? Ow!” Wanda smacks your arm and Tanya laughs. “Did I mention violent?”

The bell above the entrance door chimes informing you three that other customers are coming in. “Okay, so what can I get you?” Tanya asks, moving this along.

“I’d like two scoops of rainbow sherbert on a cone, please.”

“And for you, hun?” Tanya asks Wanda after handing you your cone.

“Um, may I have two scoops of strawberry, please?”

“Of course, you’d get red,” you taunt.

“Here you are.” Tanya hands Wanda her cone. You take out a ten dollar bill from your pocket to pay but Tanya won’t have it. “My treat, ladies.”

“But this is sort of an apology cone I promised Wanda,” you try again.

“Y/N! Apologizing with a three dollar ice cream cone is not a real apology. You can do better.”

“It’s like you read my mind, Tanya,” Wanda says. You want to laugh at the irony.

“It wasn’t for anything serious,” you try to argue.

“Whatever it was, you can treat her to something nicer,” Tanya reprimands you.

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“The fair is in town. Take her to that. Now shoo, I’ve got customers waiting. Nice meeting you, Wanda,” she says.

“You too. Thanks.”

You exit first, holding the door open for Wanda without thinking about it. She smiles and loops her arm through yours as you both head back to the car at a leisurely pace. You look to see if Wanda likes her ice cream. There is no doubt about it as she begins to hum in happiness. You want to say something like “ I told you so” but she warns you before you have the chance to open your mouth. “Don’t.”

You smirk and turn to your ice cream. You try to savour it, but you demolish that ice cream. You pout when you see it all gone. Wanda still has half of hers.

“Quit being so grumpy,” she says, throwing your words from earlier back at your face. “Here, you can have some of mine.”

She lifts her cone to your mouth. You happily go to take a bite when Wanda shoves the rest of her cone in your face. It wasn’t much but you can smell the damn strawberry ice cream as it drips from your nose. You’re too shocked to move for a minute. She laughs as you try to process what just happened. You hear the shutter noise of a camera. You see Wanda holding her phone up. That snaps you out of your daze. Wanda takes off running the second she sees the look that settles on your face. She doesn’t have to be a telepath to know what that look means. You chase after her.

She gets to the car before you but can’t open the door. She turns around, hands out in front of her body which is shaking from nervous laughter. “Wait, Y/N. I’m sor-”

You pull her into a hug and shove your ice cream riddled nose to her neck smearing the strawberry flavored dessert on her. “Stop, okay. I’m sorry. Stop, that tickles!” She bursts out laughing. You take pity and let her go, but your feet stay planted where they are. You both quickly sober up when you see how close you are. You feel the tension from yesterday return. You know what you want to do but you know you shouldn’t. Wanda is not making it easy looking at you the same way. Before either of you make a decision, your phone rings ruining whatever that was. You awkwardly clear your throat and back away. You give Wanda a smile before reaching for your phone. You answer it without looking at the name of whoever is calling. It’s Laura asking if you are on your way. You tell her you’ll be there soon.

You unlock the car and open the passenger door for Wanda. She gives you a quiet thanks. The drive to the house is awkward to say the least, a total contrast to the ride into town. The music in the background does nothing to alleviate your discomfort. In fact, you think it might have made it worse.

You let out a little sigh of relief once the barn enters your line of sight. Wanda on the other hand can’t take it anymore. She turns off the radio and turns to you expectantly. You take a deep breath knowing what was coming. Having a feeling this conversation could get loud, you slow down the car to a stop before you could pull up to the barn. You’d rather not let anyone overhear knowing how nosy they all are.

“What was that back there?”

“You started it, shoving the ice cream in my face.” You play naive.

“Don’t do that.”

You don’t know why you thought you could get away with lying to her when you know she can literally read minds.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to. I did. I do.”

“Well, I do too,” Wanda says.

“You do?” you ask. You don’t know why you sound so shocked. You had a gut feeling already, but it surprises you hearing her say it aloud anyway.

“You know I do. So what’s the problem?”

The problem is you can’t. The problem is you promised Nat, Clint, and yourself you wouldn’t. The problem is what Nat said at dinner struck a chord with you. Sure she could have been a little nicer about it and maybe not say it in front of everybody, but she was right nonetheless. The problem is your habit of touch and go, the one you never wanted to admit you had, only hurts people. You are the problem and you‘ve decided to fix it, starting with Wanda. You won’t allow yourself the chance to break Wanda’s heart. You don’t think she deserves that.

“You don’t get to decide what I deserve. Neither does Nat. Neither does Clint. I get to make that decision for myself. If I put it all on the line and end up heartbroken, then that’s on me. I make that choice.”

You nod, “You’re right. That is your choice and I can respect that. But it’s also my choice to decide I can’t be the one to break your heart. Can you respect that?”

A heavy silence settles in the car, but you have said all you needed to say so you wait for Wanda to respond. When she realizes your mind is set, she nods. After another minute of silence, she asks, “What now, then?”

“Cliché, but friends?” you suggest. When Wanda scoffs in disbelief, you have to ask, “What?”

“You and me?” Wanda asks as if for clarification.

“Well, I don’t see anyone else in the car. Yes, Wanda. You and me.”

“Have you ever been just friends with anyone before?” Wanda asks, placing no kind of faith in your ability to maintain platonic relationships.

“Are you asking if I can keep it in my pants? Not to bruise your ego, but I can be in a room with you without wanting to jump your bones, Maximoff. I have plenty of strictly platonic friends. Like... Nat.”

She laughs at the choice you made for an example. “That’s only because Natasha doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“So, what you’re saying is this friendship won’t work because you can’t keep it in your pants?” you counter and watch with amusement Wanda’s face flush and her try to defend herself.

“N-no,” she stutters weakly.

“Great,” you say cheerily. “It’s settled then. We can be friends.”

“There are rules though,” Wanda warns you as you start driving toward the house again.

“Already? Had I known this friendship came with terms and conditions, I might have never suggested it. Fine, lay them on me.”

“No more flirting with my brother.”

“I have never flirted with your-” you start to deny, but when she gives you a knowing look you quickly agree. “Okay, but if he’s putting in all the work, who am I to keep him from living out his dreams?” You jest. She punches your arm.

“Alright, new rule! No more hitting me.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You were beginning to see the rules to this friendship were not going to be in your favor.

_____________________________________________________________________

So, I lied when I said this was going to be most likely 5 chapters. It turns out I really like dialogue. I'm hoping max is 8 chapters.

Your assignment in preparation for the next chapter: pick a nice outfit cause you're going to the county fair.

Extra Credit: Name the county. (I'm prob going to pick one from the comments)

taglist: @madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemessis @myperfectlovepoem @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you

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