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godmadeaterribleerror · 6 months ago

Text

Falling Into Me

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Smut (p in v, fingering, oral f receiving), angst, loss of virginity, light fluff, feelings :(, real bad self-image issues

Summary/Warnings: You're a virgin, and it's really not a big deal. Everyone was a virgin once. You're just a virgin longer. Maybe forever, because nobody really seems to be willing to solve that problem for you.

You've never told Sam and Dean, and you don't have any intention to. Ever. But when a hunt goes wrong, Dean finds out. And he might have been keeping something from you as well.

Author's Note: This might be the horniest thing I've ever written. Enjoy <3!

Title from Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan

Word Count: 8.9k

You haven’t slept in three days, and it’s starting to be a problem. But you can’t afford to sleep. You can only drink staler and staler coffee, sit at the motel table, and pretend this is a case that, somehow, you’re going to solve. That Dean isn’t grumpier than usual, and Sam doesn’t constantly look like he’s going to kill the next person that dares to have an incorrect idea. It’s why you volunteered for the next round of interviews. You don’t want to be there when one of them snaps and kills the other, and while you wouldn’t love to return to the room and find it covered in blood, at least then you’d have an excuse to call it.

You wouldn’t call it. You’d work the case until it was done, because that’s what you do. And Sam and Dean won’t kill each other, because they’re Sam and Dean. That said, you are expecting a pouting Dean to pacing back and forth outside the room as he waits for you to return, and a grumble about how Sammy said he was being annoying and needed to walk it off. You’re more than prepared to give him a sympathetic smile and ask him if he was being annoying. And he’ll probably protest that he wasn’t, and you’ll raise your brows, and he’ll admit he mighta been drumming really loud while eating the chips.

It’s not an unreasonable expectation. None of you have slept, because this thing is insane. There’s no obvious pattern to the victims, no connections, nothing in line with everything you’ve ever seen. It’s men and woman, a wide age range, no previous coflicts or knowledge of each other in life. There are holes through theirs chests that could be bullet wounds, but obviously aren’t, because Bullets don’t remove the heart from the body. But it’s not werewolves, because werewolves aren’t clean killers like this and every fucking person in this stupid town has passed the silver test. There’s a new kill every night, and a new body every morning, and another reason for you, Sam, and Dean to start screaming every day. Every hour makes you all wired, because it’s closer and closer to another evening where you won’t have caught this asshole and another person will die.

And it’s become really easy to get on each other’s nerves. Sam was mad at Dean because he’d purposefully gotten you all burgers instead of Sam’s rabbit food, you’re mad at Sam because he said you were bad at poker—and you are, but what the fuck—and Dean’s mad at you because-

Dean’s not mad at you. You and Dean don’t really get mad at each other. You understand each other, better than you’ve ever understood anyone else, and it’s the perfect amount of alike that you’ll lend him grace you wouldn’t lend anyone else—including yourself—but you don’t see enough of your own twisting, molding innards to hate him. You mostly see something better. A man that has all the same rotting parts, but has made something out of them while you just waste away in toxins.

And you think Dean sees something similar in you. It’s why you’d been obnoxiously chewing potato chips, right in his ear, and he hadn’t punched you or snatched the bag away from your hands. He’d just rolled his eyes, grabbed one of his own, and started chewing in Sam’s ear.

So you hadn’t really volunteered for interviews so much as been aggressively told by Sam you were doing interviews. And it was only fair Dean met the same fate.

But he hadn’t. And when you opened the door to the room, they both looked happy.

Dean practically shouts your name when he sees you, wildly gesturing for you to join them at the table. “Sammy found it!” He grins at you almost manically, and it’s a little adorable. “We can finally fucking leave.”

“I might have found it,” Sam corrects, his smile a little more tentative, but still real. “And we can’t leave yet. Not until we actually get the thing-“

“Obviously, dude, but that’ll be soon, instead of in a million years.” Dean looks to you for agreement. “I mean, c’mon. You guys can’t really wanna stay in hicktown Ohio forever?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Good coffee.”

Dean glares at you. “The coffee tastes like ass and you freakin’ know it-“

“Dean.” You give him a flat look. “Do I actually get to know what the monster is?”

Sam sighs. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“I already don’t love it, it’s a monster that’s killed like, ten people-“

“Worse than that.” Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “It’s sorta like a dragon.”

You, very suddenly, don’t feel really well. Everything is hotter than it had been a second ago, and the walls seem to be closing in as your skin begins to prickle and ache. “Like a dragon?” You ask, forcing your voice to remain steady. “Or a dragon?”

“Like a dragon. Tell her, Sammy.”

Sam shoots Dean a glare—not happy being thrown under the bus—and mutters, “It’s a unicorn.”

You stare at him for a long minute, then shake your head. “It’s a what.”

“Unicorn.” Sam mumbles. “They’re, uh, looks like they’re real.”

“But not Pinky Pie and Disney.” Dean adds, turning Sam’s laptop for you to read. “Real fucking assholes.”

“They hunt virgins.” Sam explains. “To bond with. And it’ll kill anyone who falsely lures it.”

“Stab the poor son of a bitch right through the heart, then pull that sucker right out.” Dean adds, spreading his legs and propping his elbows on his knees. “And it looks like it’ll go after chicks and dudes, any age, so that’s why there’s no pattern. You’re able to fuck, you’re fair game.”

“Oh, cool.” You mutter, a lump starting to form in your throat. “I’m always looking for equal opportunity murderers in the monsters I hunt.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna make it a little harder to find the thing.” Sam grabs his laptop back, frowning at the screen. “It’ll take a human form, then look for a virgin. And it won’t be able to tell until it gets the person’s heartbeat up, so it might be a guy or a girl, depending on who it’s hunting tonight.”

“But,” you glance at Dean, who’s grinning as you start to put it together. “It is hunting tonight.”

“Hunts every night.” Dean says, rubbing his hands together. “And we don’t know where, but we can take some guesses. Split up and look at all the bars in town ’till one of us finds something, then gank this douchebag and get the hell out of here.”

“Split up?” You whisper, something wired and flailing coiling around your guts. “That’s, um, shouldn’t we stick together? If it’ll go after anyone?”

“Not everyone.” Same shrugs. “Low, uh, body counts. I guess. Low enough that it can’t tell immediately.”

“So we just need a bunch of whores?"

Dean snorts. “Well tonight,” he spreads his arms, shooting you a wink that really isn’t helpful right now. “We’re the whores, Sweetheart. We’re safe, and we’re going to kick some unicorn ass.”

It’s a cheesy, stupid thing to say, and usually you’d laugh and crack a joke back. Something about unicorn ass and whores that you can’t really think of right now, because there’s bile in your throat and something heavy fogging over your brain.

“How do we, uh,” your tongue is numb in your mouth, and every word is dragged out of your throat. “How do we kick a unicorn’s ass.”

“Well, we’re looking for electrical malfunctions, golden eyes when it gets, uh, excited, and a refusal to drink anything but water.” Sam frowns at the screen, looking up at you with a half-shrug. “Anything amoral seems to knock it down, so just, uh, swear? Then shoot it with iron. Iron kills it.”

“And, um,” you swallow, tugging at the fabric of your sleeves. “What’s gonna to the virgin? If the unicorn finds it?”

Sam sighs. “They, uh, they seem to use them.”

Dean frowns, leaning around to try and read the screen. “Use them-“

“Their purity. Use their purity.” Sam raises his brows, and you can see the exact moment it clicks in Dean’s head.

“That’s...” Dean trails off, running a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Sam mutters an agreement, and your mouth feels like sandpaper, your heart beating like it’s trying to escape your chest.

“And after?” You whisper, a little unsure you want to actually ask the question, or know the answer. “After they’re used?”

“Well, they’re not ‘pure’ anymore.” Sam puts an air quote around pure, and you feel a little sick. “So, uh, stab.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly. You might need to lie down. “Stab.”

Dean looks over you with a drawn brow, his voice low and cautious as he says your name. “Are feelin’ okay-“

“I’m fine.” You remember how to smile, and hope it looks real. Not like your teeth are starting to feel out of place in your mouth, and you can’t seem to find enough spit to choke on. “Let’s get the unicorn ass.”

Dean doesn’t look convinced. Hell, Sam doesn’t look convinced. But they both let it go for now, and you can breathe just a little easier knowing you’re not barreling towards a fight.

But only a little easier.

Because you’re fucked.

Virginity is a funny thing. It’s just a social construct, but it’s a social construct some monsters seem to take as scripture, making it a hazardous thing to still have in your line of work.

And you hadn’t meant to be a hazard. It just kind of happened. Because it started as something that was a given to have, then turned into something that you just were a little too busy to lose, before becoming an awkward conversation you’re not willing to have. Something that hangs, silent and sharp, over your head and around your throat. Something that’s now a question of why? Why is it never you? You’re not ugly. You’re even pretty enough that, if you tell someone, they won’t believe you and it’ll all feel worse. You’re even pretty enough that you’ve seen people size you up at bars, but none of them ever approach you.

So it might just be you. You might just have something on your face that gives away that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, a little too rough to touch and not have it sting, telling people stay away.

And Sam and Dean will never know. You’re already a little younger, a little worse of a hunter, a small problem when they’re obviously trying to take someone to their bed but the girl sees you and makes quick and inaccurate assumptions. Sam is better at brushing them off—She’s like my little sister—but Dean gets red and awkward and suddenly loses all his well-practiced charm. He sulks back to the table, and won’t look you in the eyes for an hour or walk with you back to the bar. You’re honestly shocked neither of them have thrown you to the curb by now, an you’re not going to give them another reason to. Another reason for Sam to make a sad, puppy-eyed pity face and Dean to stare at you like he’s not sure you’re real. Like there’s no way someone could’ve possibility survived as a hunter like this.

And a small, well-contained part of you wishes Dean would look at you the way he looks at other women. Like they still have beautiful, horrible secrets that he’d love to uncover with only his hands and mouth.

You’ve got secrets. Dean can’t have them—because they’re a liability and you’re not looking to lose him forever—but you really wish he’d just look at you. Once, really look at you, and not see you. See something so much better, that you think he’s always a little close to finding, that nobody else ever seems willing to try and look for.

You’re a little grateful they left you alone in this backwater dive bar. It would hurt to watch Dean flirt right now, when everything feels raw and wired in your body, and every time someone drops next to you at the bar you feel more and more sick. There are quick, polite conversations with random strangers who sound like they’d rather be anywhere than here, with you, and by the time you’ve repeated your cover story for the eighth time your lungs are wrapped iron and your nails feel like a burden on your fingers.

It’ll be over by tonight. All three of you know what you’re looking for, so the unicorn will be dead before sunrise, and you won’t have to do any explanations about why you’ve been quiet and tense since Dean said like a dragon. Nobody will look at you with pity or confusion, nobody will get hurt, and you won’t end up with a hole in your heart as the only people that have ever seen you to be worth something realize just how wrong they were. That you’re really just a small, useless burden that even a literal monster wouldn’t be able to stomach the presence of-

“You here all by yourself?”

Something sparks in your gut at the voice, coming from off to the side, because for a second you really think it’s Dean. It’s deep, moves through your whole body, and knocks loose something in your lower gut that always makes you feel hungry, but it’s not Dean. When you turn, the man next to you looks like someone ran Dean through a printer too many times and he came out faded. A little too short, not quite as broad, all the pretty scars that make Dean Dean seemingly vanished, and a gleam in his eyes that Dean’s never had. It’s a little more feral, without any playfulness or glowing shadows. Too much yellow instead of green, the cocky smirk just a little off, none of it right. None of it Dean.

“I’m, um,” you frown, because this man even smells like Dean. “I’m waiting for a friend. He’s running late.”

Not-Dean clicks his tongue. “Shame, leaving a pretty girl like you all alone. You want some company until your boyfriend shows up?”

You shake your head, turning your glass around in your hand. “Not my boyfriend. And I’m actually…” You trail off, your eyes falling on the man’s own glass. The clear liquid inside. “You drinking vodka?”

“Am I- Oh, sure.” The man chuckles, raising his drink for you to click. “Here’s to not-boyfriends-“

“Can I have some?”

You watch the man carefully as he looks between you and the glass. “Nah, sweetie, you don’t want this, it’s some strong stuff-“

Sweetie. Not sweetheart. Not Dean, not right, not safe. And something is starting to crawl over your skin and shoot up your spine, making you sit a little taller as your heart pounds louder and louder.

As Not-Dean licks his lips, and scans over you with yellow eyes that might be shining.

Fuck.

“I, um, I’m gonna go call my friend.” You start to shift off your seat, pulling your phone slowly out of your pocket. “He should’ve been here a few minutes ago, and I’m worried-“

“C’mon, you haven’t even told me your name.” Not-Dean wiggles his brows, and it looks wrong on his face. “Bet I can guess, if you give me a hint-“

“No, it’s fine, my name is, uh…” you look down at your phone, the screen completely black. You’d charged it before you left.

“Your name?” Not-Dean prompts, grabbing your arm. Holding you near him, at the bar. “I’d really love to learn it. I could teach you a few things in exchange-“

“I was never given a name!” Your voice is a frantic shout, Not-Dean’s eyes narrow, and you do the only thing you can think of. Punch Not-Dean square in the face, yank your arm from his grip, and run. Fucking sprint out of the bar and not allow yourself to falter as you hear a roar that’s a little hoarse and off pitched. Like a horse keen. Like a wounded animal.

Like a monster.

Splitting up had been a terrible fucking idea. Now you’re alone, you don’t have even an idea where Sam and Dean are, and you can’t afford to stop and jack a car because you can hear it in the distance. Hooves, clapping against the pavement, getting closer and closer as you begin to run out of breath. You can’t hide, it can hear you, and you can’t go faster because you already feel faint and everything is beginning to collapse in your body. Muscles tightening and skin crawling and eyes pushing out of your skull, every breath too shallow and every step too short.

You fall to your knees behind a truck, wrapping a hand around your own throat and trying to force your heartbeat back down. Slow, even breathes that come out in choked gasps, nails digging into your skin as the hooves slow, and you hear a low sputtering sound from somewhere behind you.

And it’s too quiet. You can’t hear anything but your blood in your ears, and all you can see in the night is the flickering yellow light of a streetlamp in the distance. You squeeze your eyes shut and swallow every breath, hoping you can force yourself out before the unicorn finds you. You don’t want to be used. You don’t want to be alone. You just want Dean, where’s Dean, why the fuck did you let him leave you alone, why didn’t you tell him the truth, why can’t you think of anything else but Dean, where’s Dean-

There’s something hot on your neck, and a large presence at your side. Something like spit is being splattered on your neck, and you can’t contain the vomit when a too-rough hand trails up your arm-

“Get the fuck back, you son of a bitch!”

A loud bang cuts through the air—making you jump out of your skin as a heavy body slumps onto yours—and it sounds like church bells and music. It sounds like Dean. That’s his voice shouting your name, his arms wrapping around your body and carrying you away from the unicorn, his breath fanning over your face as he sits you on the curb and starts to turn your face in his hands.

“Fuck, never should’ve left you, but I didn’t-“ Dean cuts himself off with a huff, and you think he’s talking to himself more than you. “Did the asshole touch you anywhere I can’t see?”

You shake your head, keeping your eye glued shut as you curl your hands in Dean’s shirt. Maybe Dean’s shirt. Not-Dean had been wearing plaid too, and you don’t have the nerve or will to open your eyes and seen if it’s your Dean, or the cheap unicorn knockoff.

“Shit, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Sam’s on his way, but we gotta get you out of here-“

“Didn’t touch me.” You whisper, fighting every urge into your body to curl forwards and start sobbing weak and pointless apologies. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay? You think, fuck-“ Dean’s arm—bigger, warmer, maybe actual Dean—loops around your waist, his voice a little closer to your ear. “Need you to hold onto me, got it? We’re goin’ back to the car, and you gotta, fuck, can you open your damn eyes?”

They fly open, almost on command, and it’s Dean. The smell of whiskey is stronger, more authentic, and his face is sharp in all the right places, and it’s really Dean.

And he looks pissed. His touch on your body is careful, and his eyes are attentive and sparked with worry, but his jaw is clenched, and his every word is suddenly pushed through his teeth.

“You’re gonna hold onto me.” He orders, holding your wide-eyed gaze with a glower. “I’ll take a better look at you when we get back to the room-“

“Dean, I’m fine-“

“And,” Dean barrels on, as if he didn’t even hear you. “We’re going to have a chat. You’re, I can’t-” he shakes his head scooping you fully into his arms. “Just hold on.”

He sounds pissed. Dean’s rigid and silent the whole ride back to the hotel, his grip white-knuckled and tight on the wheel, and you feel even worse than before. This is it. He had to save you, and he’s going to learn why he had to save you, and he might not kick you out but he won’t look at you the same again. No more ease or awe or comfort or understanding, because Dean’s rotten in places where the mold can be burned away with every good part of him, but you’re just rotten. Just a hideous thing that roars in your chest, just angry and cowardlyand revolting and wrong. You’re just wrong.

All the panic and paralyzing adrenaline had left your body, so you push yourself out of the Impala on unsteady feet. Dean mutters something about Sam dealing with all the cleanup as he opens to motel room door, watching you shuffle inside with clenched fists and an unreadable expression. You flop onto the bed with a small whine, your body beginning to drown in exhaustion, your gaze locked on the peeling paint of the ceiling as Dean moves around the room out of your view.

“Why’d you come back?” You ask, your voice hoarse and weak, and Dean lets out a long, low exhale from somewhere off to the side.

“You were actin’ really weird.” He grunts. “Didn’t sound like yourself. Weren’t laughing at my jokes, or making fun of Sam. Looked sick every time one of us said stab.”

“I could’ve just been-“

“Don’t.” He snaps, and you crane your neck to see him at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and looking at you. Dean seems to be really looking at you, all of you, and you suddenly really wish he would stop. You’re complete exposed below him, under his glare, and he’s going to see something he hates. Something you don’t have a name for that you’ve never wanted him to see, never wanted him to find. The thing that makes everyone else look away.

But Dean’s attention is like a drug, and you need him to stop before you lose him, but you also never want him to stop watching you. It’s confusing and raw and makes you feel like a live wire, one word or touch or stare away from snapping and bursting into a million sparks.

And Dean’s still looking at you.

“I didn’t,” you swallow, his eyes like a magnet on yours. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.” He repeats, his voice lower. Harsher. “You’re not injured.”

You shake your head.

“Good. We need to talk.”

“Dean, I-“

“I’m asking the questions.” Dean leers over you slightly, and you nod again. “Why the fuck did that unicorn seem like it was hunting you.”

He knows the answer. His whole face is already painted in anger, and you know he knows. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Because it was hunting me.”

“Unicorns only hunt virgins.” Dean grunts your name, still not looking away. “You’re not-“

“I am.” You mumble, folding your arms over your own body as you drop back down onto the mattress. “Sorry.”

“Why would you say, fuck- Why in goddamn hell wouldn’t you tell me and Sam-“

“Tell you and Sam what?” You scowl at the ceiling. “That I’m untouched? Pure? Boring-“

“That you’d be in danger!” Dean all but roars, and you don’t flinch, but you do cringe. All the mold in your body feels as if it’s spreading like cancer, because Dean would never hurt you with his hands, but he might be about to curb stomp your heart with only his mouth. “I don’t give a shit about the virgin thing, I care that you were so fucking stupid to go off alone, that you didn’t trust me enough-“

“It’s not about trust, Dean,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut again. “And it’s not like you tell me everything-“

“I do! I’ve told you about all the shit in my past, and my fear of flying, and Rhonda Hurley, and that weird freaking dream I had with the mice in top hats-“

“That’s not the same!” You’re pushing back up on your palms, raising your voice to match Dean’s. You just need him to stop yelling at you, to rip the band-aid off and finally give up on you so you can rest. “This isn’t your business-“

“It’s my business if it’s gonna get you fucking killed, Sweetheart. And I coulda helped you-“

“Helped me?” You scoff. “I don’t need your help with this, Winchester, I’ve come to terms with it-“

There was a brief moment where Dean had looked like you’d kicked him, but it vanishes in a second as he gapes at you in disbelief. “To terms with virginity?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, holding his suddenly slack expression with your own glare. “Nobody wants me, it’s not a big deal-“

Dean snorts. “There’s no damn way you’re that stupid-“

“I am not stupid-“

“Yeah? Cause you’re a fucking idiot if you think nobody wants you.”

It’s your turn to gape at him. Your heart stumbles slightly in your chest, your fingers curling into bedsheets, and the world begins to spin as you try and understand his words. “What?”

“You,” Dean takes a firm step forward, drawing your name. “Are a fucking idiot if you think that there’s not one damn person on the planet who wants you.”

“But-“

“Nah. No freakin’ buts.” He’s closer now, his knees bumping yours as he glowers down at you. “I’ve watched too many hair-gelled losers at bars size you up like they wanna take a bite for you to have buts. Hell, I’ve-“ Dean shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Shit, there’s just, there’s no way-“

Your face twists back into a scowl. “Fuck off, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you believe me-“

“Oh, I believe you, Sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring as a low groan leaves his chest, rolling through the air and settling between your legs in an aching heat. “And I finally fucking get it. You just, you have no idea. I thought you just didn’t want it, but you’re just- Shit-“

“Dean,” your voice is soft, a little breathless, and can’t help but rub your thighs together as his hands start to flex at his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“I know,” he mutters, scanning over your body with an almost predatory expression. “I’m not, I just gotta,” his gaze flies back to yours, his voice suddenly stern. “Sam tell you how the unicorn choses its form?”

You blink. “Wha-“

“It takes the form that will be most appealing to the target. To help the asshole get attention quickly. That unicorn,” his voice drop, deeper than you’ve ever heard it, and it takes all the will you have to not start fall back into in the sheets. “Looked kinda like me.”

“I, um, I don’t-“

“Do you want me?” Dean grunts your name, and you make the mistake of dropping your gaze down, to his pants. To where an impressive outline is straining against his jeans.

“I’d, I mean, I’m not-“ You swallow, everything a dizzying haze of Dean. “Yeah, I think, but you’re not-“

“I’m not what?” He growls, kneeling down to your eye level, trailing a slow hand up your thigh. “Not interested?”

“Yeah?”

“Wrong.” Dean’s hand moves higher, trailing closer and closer to your center before running back down to your knee. “So incredibly wrong, Sweetheart. I’ve wanted you since, fuck, since I first saw ya’. But you didn’t seem to want me, so I backed off, but if you just didn’t-“ He pauses, his brilliant green eyes suddenly tearing into your soul, unraveling you before he’s even touched bare skin. “Do you? Want me?”

“I already said-“

“You said yeah.” He mutters, rubbing his hand is a slow pattern on your knee. “Need you to say the full thing, before I do anything else.”

Dean’s face is suddenly softer, with something that aches and tugs on your own heart shining through his eyes, and you couldn’t lie to him if you tried. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to Dean. It feels cruel, and wrong, and as if you’d be denying yourself something so good and rare it will never be replicated if you walk away now.

“I want you,” you whisper. “I’ve wanted you. But I’m not, it’s not going to be good for you. I mean, I know how to take care of that,” you point to the bulge in his pants, pressed slightly against your calf as he crouches before you, and Dean frowns. “But I’ve never, um, you know-“

“You’re not takin’ care of anything.” He says, scanning over your open face with drawn brows. “We’re doing this, it’s gonna be about you.”

“Oh.” There’s a little drool falling out of your mouth, Dean reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, and your voice becomes a squeak. “Okay.”

“If you really wanna,” his mouth curves into a smirk, and you need it on yours now. “Next time, I’ll let you go to town on Little Dean.”

You can’t stop the small giggle escaping your lips, and it turns into a full laugh as Dean’s own grin grows, and nothing really feels that bad anymore. “Little Dean?”

“Compared to the rest of me, yeah.” Dean does a loose gesture at his broad, strong body, his grin growing cocky. Hungry. Starved. “But trust me, gorgeous. Ain’t nothing little about him.”

Your eyes widen, your thighs rubbing together as the need for him becomes almost unbearable, and Dean lets out a deep, low chuckle.

“You want me, babygirl?”

You nod, and Dean’s eyes narrow as he squeezes his hand on your leg.

“Need you to say it-“

“Yeah.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

A grin splits over Dean’s handsome face, and his hand drifts to your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours as he drawls your name. “I’m gonna need to get you ready, so just,” he pushes you slightly, and you fall flat on your back, moving your own hands to hold his against you. “Stay there, look pretty, and let me work.”

You nod, your vision already a little blurred with desire as you stare at the ceiling. Dean draws back, shuffling around at the edge of the bed, and you look up to see his shirt gone. It’s all warm, slightly golden and freckled skin, strong and soft in all the right places. His muscles flex as he takes a long, deep breath, and big, calloused hands lowering to trace over your midriff, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What’d I say about stayin’ there-“

“I, um,” you gasp a little as his hand slips under your shirt, bunching the material and starting to slowly pull it over your chest. “I’ve done other stuff. Just so you know. And I’ve done things to myself-“

“I bet you have,” Dean mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you carefully against him as he helps you out of your clothing. “Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you, touch you, fucking ruin you-“

You let out a high, needy moan, burying your face in his neck and mumbling against his skin. “Please, Dean, just-“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as his free hand slips into your pants, cupping your pussy over the fabric of your underwear and rubbing back and forth so torturously slow you might fly out of your skin.

“So wet for me already,” he grunts, tugging on your hair until you lean back, meeting his gaze. “Ready?”

You’re not sure what you need to be ready for, but as long as it’s Dean doing it, you’re good. You nod, wrapping your arm around his neck in silent affirmation, and Dean pulls back to pop open the button of your jeans with a single hand, offering himself easier access.

Two broad fingers toy with the hem of your panties, Dean’s eyes almost glittering as his attention falls to where he’s touching you. Watching your body shiver when he glides his thumb over your clothed slit, your hips jerk when he presses down on your clit, your legs stretch as wide as they can when he starts to rub small circles against you.

“Dean,” you whine, your free hand moving to cup his jaw, trying to move his gaze back to yours. “Please, shit-“

“That feel good, babygirl?” Dean starts to quicken his movements, adding small, teasing flicks and pinches that make your eyes roll back in your head. “You like me teasin’ you? Playin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy until you’re soaked- Fuck-“

You start to grind on Dean’s hand, trying to chase relief while showing him that he didn’t need to play with or tease you. He has you, unraveled on his fingers and desperate for more of him, all of him, whatever he can offer you that will feel like this-

“Shit, you’re dripping.” Dean’s movement on your clit still as he drags his thumb down, resting right over your aching, already sensitive cunt, and pressing into you just enough to make you whimper. “I gotta taste you, Sweetheart, c’mon.”

His gaze shoots back to yours, something a little animalistic in his low, hoarse voice that almost makes you cum on the spot. “Need you hold on, pretty girl, we’re gonna get you out’a these.”

You nod, letting Dean lay you back down on the mattress, lifting your hips as he drags your jeans off your body, taking your underwear with them. Leaving to totally, completely naked on the bed. Vulnerable, entirely at his mercy, with not another place you’d wish to be in the world.

Dean crawls slightly over you, one of his hands tracing up your stomach, palming at your breasts, then rolling your nipple between two, rough, expert fingers. You gasp, arching slightly off the bed, and a low, deep groan rolls from Dean’s chest.

“Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You’re,” Dean cuts himself off, dropping his mouth to your other breast and latching plump, slightly chapped lips around your nipple. Your vision starts to line with light that might be angels coming to take you away, because this has to be heaven. This is better than heaven. Heaven wouldn’t allow such sinful things as Dean groaning against your skin, his boner pressing into your thigh, or his hand kneading at your ass. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good. This feels like everything, and blissfully nothing, and mostly just Dean.

You must have moaned his name, because he crashes up, fisting a hand in your hair as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. All teeth and spit and burning need. Dean tastes like coffee and whiskey and syrup and fruit when he shoves his tongue down your throat, and he smells like gunpowder and leather as his weight hold you easily down, and his lips are so soft but so demanding as he practically devours you, and you’re high. He’s not even inside you yet and you’ll never have enough. This isn’t more than what you’ve done before, but Dean’s ruined you with just teasing touches and wet, starved kisses, and you’re starting to worry you might ascend when he actually fucks you.

He starts to kiss and suck a line over your jaw, down your neck, and between your breasts. It’s heavy and wanting, but still so carefully coordinated. Every move Dean makes seems to be calculated, because he nips at your collarbone right as he tugs on your hair, and the sound that leaves you is high and undignified and exactly what he wanted. His chuckle rumbles in his chest—now pressed against your stomach—and all you can do is moan as he continues his perfect torture. Licking one nipple as he pinches the other, dragging two fingers through your folds as he kisses down the plane of your stomach, stopping right at the apex of your thighs with glittering eyes and firm hands, slowly guiding your legs open.

“Shit.” He mutters, warm breath right over your pussy, making your hips jerk slightly. “Goddamn, baby, you’re responsive.“ A wide, smug grin overtakes Dean’s face as he pushes one finger into your pussy, and you squeak. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He growls your name, and starts to pump that finger in and out, the pace so slow and almost painfully good. “God, you have fucking idea how long- How bad-“ Dean groans as you squeeze around him, and adds another finger. “You’re making such pretty sounds, babygirl, better than I ever imagined. Shit, you’re sexier than a fucking dream.”

His eyes drift back to yours, and shiver goes up your spine from how Dean’s looking at you. Really looking at you. Watching your writhe in the sheets and plead for him in weak gasps, watching you at your most vulnerable state, and grinning like he loves what he sees. Like he’s never seen anything better.

“Dean,” you gasp as his fingers pick up speed, starting to scissor inside your dripping cunt, bumping against a tender spot inside of you that seems to sing under his touch. “Oh my god, Dean, please-“

“Such pretty sounds,” Dean grins at you, crooking his fingers against that same spot to rub. “Let’s see if we can make some more.”

Without further warning Dean drops back down, latches his lips onto your clit, and sucks it right into his mouth like candy. It’s almost immediate, how he pulls you from warm pleasure to raw, almost feral desperation. You’re right on the edge, grinding on his face as his stubble burns your inner thighs in the best was possible, his tongue flicking over that pulsing bundle of nerves, his fingers reaching a demanding and brutal pace-

“Fuck, I’m-“ You let out a loud moan as Dean growls against you, pulling at his short, soft hair to try and both move him away as you dangle over the drop, and urge him on to let him catch you when you fall. “Close, Dean, I’m close, please-“

He pulls away, and you almost scream from the loss. You even force yourself up to glare at him, but you’ve barely gotten a steady balance when a high, needy breath escapes you at the sight of him.

Dean’s towering over you, his pants discarded into another corners of the room, stroking his massive, fully-erect cock in one hand as he scans over your sweaty, flushed body.

“I wanna fuck you dumb, babygirl.” He grunts, and you can’t really hear him your own Dean-addled brain, so you just gape and moan, and he chuckles. “Shit, looks like we’re already halfway there. You got any words for me-“

“Dean, please.” The words start to fall out of your mouth with the slight drool on your chin, almost as if he’d commanded them. “Please, I need you, need you so bad-“

You spread your legs in offering, and Dean groans. “Fuck, Sweetheart, you can’t just-“ He closes his eyes, running a hand over his face, and there’s a moment before he speaks again where you worry you’ve ruined it. That you’d shown too much, or Dean saw too much, but no matter what this is over before you can even get that huge, glorious cock inside of you-

“I’m sorry-“

Dean frowns, his brow drawn as he looks down at you. “What the hell are you sorry for.”

“I dunno, I’m just not-“ You swallow. “I’m not good at this, I don’t know what to say-“

He grunts your name, prowling over your body under your trapped between his strong body and the bed, unable to escape his intense, searing gaze. Looking at you, examining you, and not flinching or moving away. “You,” he says, tracing one gentle hand over your cheekbones. “Are fuckin’ amazing at this.”

You can only gape at him, so he keeps going.

“I’m the one that might fuck this up, Sweetheart. You’re so,” he makes a loose gesture to your body, and you really wish he’d use words, but the look of sheer awe in his eyes will be enough for now. “And I get to do this for you, and I’m not trying to blow my load before you even cum once.”

“I almost came.” You offer him a small smile, your fingers tracing over the sharp line of his jaw. “But you stopped me.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’m plannin’ to make that up to you. If you still-“

“I want it.” You cut him off quickly, rolling your hips up, right against his cock. “Please, Dean, I really want it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, dropping a little further down. “Are you-“

“I’m sure.” You guide Dean’s lips back to yours in a soft, almost sweet kiss, and say the words you really hope will snap whatever leash he’s put on himself. “I want you.”

It works. Something flashes in Dean’s eyes, and his hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and rolling it in slow circles as he growls in your ear.

“Wanna feel you, babygirl. Fuck you raw. I’m clean, but if you want me to grab a rubber you’re gonna need to keep yourself going while I-“

“No!” You almost yelp, wrapping your arms around him in a desperate attempt to keep him above you. “I mean, I’m clean too, obviously, and I take birth control just for like, lady stuff-“

Dean raises his brows at you. “Lady stuff?”

“It kinda helps with period cramps and-“ You cut yourself off with a moan as Dean flicks your clit, tossing your head back you start to squirm, trying to catch him into you. “Fuck, Dean, please just fuck me-“

“You mean like this?” Dean guides the head of his cock inside you, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Fuck ya’ like this, baby?”

You grind on him, scratching at his back as you plead. “Shit, that’s, Dean that’s good, more-“

“More, baby? You need more already?” His grin is shit-eating, and you’d hit him if the dark look of lust in his eyes, the baritone of his voice being several octaves lower than you’ve ever heard it, and the throbbing ache of him starting to split you open wasn’t rending your limbs only putty in his arms.

“Dean, please-“

You might stop breathing as Dean guides himself fully into you, settling his face in your neck as he bottoms out. There’s a long moment where it’s only Dean’s warmth over and inside you as he gives you time to adjust, groaning against your skin as you squeeze around him.

“Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so tight.” He kisses right behind your ear. “Feel, fuck, feel so good around my cock, so fuckin’ good-“ He emphasizes his words with one, short thrust that pushes him right against that one spot and makes you whine. “You ready, baby? Ready for me to pound this tight little pussy until you cum all over my cock-“

You almost yank him back down into a desperate, borderline feral kiss, because if he kept talking you might have cum from just the sound of his low, rough voice growling in your ear and rumbling in your chest.

Dean takes a long, ragged breath when he pulls away, and you roll your hips only once. Just enough for him to groans and fall back over you, kissing and sucking on your skin like he thinks you’ll vanish if he doesn’t mark you with his touch.

Then he starts to move, and you were right. This is heaven. Dean’s moving so slow, pulling almost all the way out before driving back inside, until you’re fully impaled on him—his cock pressed fully against that one spot, making your whole body feel warm and alight, and your head feel a little dizzy—then repeating the movement again. And again. Over and over, so fucking slow, still leaving softer, slightly uneven kisses along your collarbone and grunts against your skin but-

“Dean,” you gasp his name, your nails digging into the muscles of his broad back as he continues to move on you. “Fuck, Dean, go faster, please-“

He rises up to meet your eyes, an unreadable expression on his face that’s made entirely hunger and want, but edged with something a little stronger you don’t understand. “You sure-“

“Yes.” You’re practically whining, scratching at Dean’s skin as you squirm under him, desperate him to really, properly fuck you. “Please, Dean, feels so good, need more, need you-“

He shakes his head slightly. “Don’t wanna hurt you-“

“Not gonna-” you let out a breathy moan as Dean pushes back into you, the movement a little harsher than before, and so fucking good. “You won’t hurt me, please, Dean, fuck-“

“I’m-“

“You said,” you force your eyes to stay on Dean’s, even as he sits deep into you, cock throbbing against that soft spot and making you see stars. “You said you wanted to fuck me, Dean.” You raise your chin, grinding up into his torso until his throat bobs. “Fuck me.”

A low, primal noise leaves Dean’s mouth, and he fully snaps. You might have screamed his name when he began to move again—ramming into you at an unforgiving pace, creaking the bed and bruising your hips as he grabbed at your skin, molding you perfectly into his touch and body—but he swallows the noise with a deep kiss that makes your eyes go unfocused, your whole body slack and only for Dean to play with as he drags you higher. Slamming against that spot, balls slapping onto your ass, one free hand squeezing at your tits before dragging down your side and finding your clit-

“So fucking good, babygirl.” Dean groans into your mouth, and you think you might be floating or falling or flying, but it doesn’t matter because Dean grunting in your east and slamming into your dripping cunt, and that’s the whole world. “Look so good, all ruined and whiny, such a good fucking girl, taking this cock so well, made to be fucked so fucking pretty-“ He pinches your clit, and you whimper his name. “Wanna cum, baby? Wanna fucking soak this cock-“

“Yes,” you gasp, scratching at his back, muscles rippling as he drills into you. Something in you hopes it leaves a mark. That Dean feels you on his back a little forever, just like you know you’re going to feel him in your pussy and on your neck for the rest of your life. “Feels so good, Dean, feels so fucking good, wanna cum so bad-“

“Beg-“

Dean barely grunts your name before you bite on his upper lip, almost screaming into his mouth. “Please, Dean, please, need to cum, wanna cum so bad-“

“Shit, baby, you’re-“ Dean groans, his pace becoming uneven and thrusts slightly staggered, cock twitching deep inside you as he ruts into your aching, clenching pussy-

Dean flicks your clit once, sending your hips almost flying off the bed, and starts to rub you at a frantic, savage pace.

“Cum with me.” He growls your name, lips ghosting over yours and you stare at him under, cockdrunk, lidded eyes. “C’mon, baby, cum-“

Your scream is hoarse as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train—pure, drug-like bliss washing over your whole body, a soft haze of Dean settling behind your eyes and over your skin—and Dean roars as he slams open, warmth coating inside you and dripping between your thighs, down your ass, and onto the bed.

Dean rolls over, taking you with him, and remains carefully sheathed inside you as your cunt grows sensitive and your breathing slows back down. It helps that he keeps your ear pressed to his bare chest, where you can hear his heart beating. Calm and steady and strong, just as certain and constant as the man it’s inside.

As the man had been.

You’re not sure what he’s going to be now.

“That, ah,” Dean breaks the silence, his voice low and almost soft. “That do it?”

You smile against him. “If you mean take my virginity, then yeah, I think you did it-“

“No, I mean was it,” He groans, his arm shifting slightly around as his voice drops. “Was it good. For you.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, trying not to hum like a needy fucking when Dean starts to run his fingers through your hair. “Yeah. Really good.” You stifle a moan as he twitches inside you. “It was awesome. Good, uh, good job?”

“Thanks, Sweetheart.” You can hear to smug grin in his voice, his free hand starting to rub soothingly on your back. “You were pretty fucking awesome yourself.”

There it is. You were pretty awesome. And he’s still inside you. And you need to know if you were awesome enough for something, anything to stick.

“You said, um,” you swallow, staring at his tattoo because you can’t bear to look at his face right now. “You said I could give you a blowjob next time. Did-“

“Did I mean it?”

You nod nervously, and Dean’s whole chest rumbles with his low laugh, rolling right through your body. He grunts your name, and—when you still don’t look at him—hooks a finger under your chin to guide your gaze to his.

“Look.” He sighs, and this is it. He did you a favor, and that’s it. He won’t stay, nobody stays, why would Dean Winchester be the one to stay-

“I get it,” you mumble, and wish you would find the will to make your body roll away from his. “You don’t need to explain-“

Dean’s grip on you remains firm, and his voice is a deep, amused drawl. It feels a little cruel in your gut, because you’d have really liked more. More would have been the best. You didn’t even need all of Dean, you’d just have really like more.

“You get it.” He raises his brows, and you nod again. “Sweetheart, you might want to actually hear the explainin’ part before you say anything.”

“I, um-“

“See, I’m a firm believer that all ladies should ride more than one dick in life. Too much of a good thing, ya know?” He winks at you, thrusting slightly up into you, and you flush. “But, if you’re taking applicants for long-term dicks, I’d have to be dumb not to apply. I’m never gonna complain if I get you all to myself.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a whisper. “So, um, you mean-“

“If you’ll have me,” he mutters. “I’ll take you up on that blowjob offer soon. And any other offers you’ve got.”

“Offers,” you swallow. “For long-term dicks?”

He shrugs—tracing a finger over your arm and refusing to meet your eyes—and it might be your turn to make the move.

“Dean.” You whisper, crawling up his chest just enough for his eyes to easily find yours. “I’d really like you being my long-term dick.”

He frowns. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that-“

You drop down to press a soft, tentative kiss against his lips, and he tenses for only a second before overtaking you. Deepening the kiss with his tongue pushing on your lower lip, groaning when you open for him without a moment’s hesitation, pinning you onto his chest with big, strong arms as you fall fully into him.

Dean pulls back for only a second, searching over your open expression—all affection and need for him, swollen lips and shallow breaths—until he finds what he’s looking for, and his face splits into a wide grin.

“If you’re lettin’ me,” he says, tucking a little bit of hair behind your ears. “I think I’ll stay your long-term dick for while, Sweetheart.”

“I’m letting you.” You whisper, a small smile pulling on your own lips. “But we need to come up with a better name than long-term dick.”

“Boyfriend?”

You stare at him for a second, unsure if this is real, because Dean just said that word like it was obvious. Not something he’s adamantly refused to be for anyone, ever, for the entire time you’ve known him. He said it like he was waiting to say it. And, looking at him—unfamiliar hope haunting the very deepest part of those perfect eyes, his grin so genuine but filled with nerves—you think he might have been. And all the money and glory and pleasure in the world couldn’t make you tell him no.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Boyfriend’s good.”

Dean’s grin becomes almost boyish, and this last kiss is sweet. It’s a kiss in the rain, or under bleachers, or on a rooftop with nothing but time and peace around you.

And you and Dean have never had either of those things.

But you’d really like to and find them. And if it’s with Dean, you really think you could.

End Note: Look at Dean. Being Emotional. I'm so proud of him (I made him do that)

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@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature

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sunarryn · 1 month ago

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DP X Marvel #32

It all began when Dr. Jasmine Fenton—Jazz, to the brave and traumatized—walked into the Avengers Compound in five-inch block heels, a blood-red blazer, and a clipboard with everyone’s most damning psychological profiles printed in 12-point Times New Roman. She had been hired because, quote, “the last six therapists either quit, cried, or developed their own hero complexes.” SHIELD had gone through the best and brightest the world had to offer. They even tried a Wakandan empathy AI once. It cried. The AI cried.

So when Jazz Fenton walked in, armed with a dual PhD in clinical psychology and trauma therapy, the last thing they expected was that she’d personally know what hero trauma looked like. But she did. Her baby brother was a half-ghost interdimensional guardian who once got hit by a nuke and walked it off. Her parents were mad scientists who tried to dissect him. And her godfather was an immortal corporate vampire with a crown kink and a habit of kidnapping. She had seen things. She understood. And more importantly, she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to coddle them.

“Dr. Fenton,” Steve Rogers greeted politely that first morning.

“Please, call me Jazz,” she said with a smile that made even Natasha lower her coffee. “Or Doctor Fenton if you’re about to lie to me.”

Tony Stark made the mistake of raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What are you gonna do, psychoanalyze me into submission?”

She flipped to his file. “‘Severe abandonment issues, destructive self-worth tendencies, martyr complex buried under layers of narcissistic deflection, sleeps three hours a night, probably cries in the shower—’”

“I don’t cry in the shower!”

“That is because you don’t shower, Mr. Stark.”

That shut him up.

From that day onward, fear fell over the Avengers Compound like a thick, fragrant fog of anxiety. Jazz was everywhere. One moment she was on the roof with Clint discussing his grief over Budapest, the next she was in the lab with Bruce making him cry, and the moment after that she had Loki in handcuffs—not because he was arrested, but because he asked for them.

“I just think maybe I’m too attached to the idea of being hated,” Loki muttered, slouched on the therapy couch.

“You are,” Jazz replied, checking her notes. “You’re addicted to conflict because you’ve built your identity on being an outsider. Every time you’re offered genuine affection, you self-sabotage. You’re not a villain, you’re just a lonely youngest child.”

“I—” Loki blinked. “That is horrifically accurate. And incredibly offensive.”

“Cry harder, Sparklehorn.”

Thor, meanwhile, loved her. Adored her. Followed her around like an emotional support golden retriever with lightning powers. He kept trying to give her things—golden goblets, fur cloaks, an entire goat—until one day she casually picked up Mjolnir while fixing a crooked painting and everyone screamed.

“How the fuck—” Sam Wilson shouted.

“Why can she do that?” Peter Parker asked from the ceiling.

“Therapists shouldn’t be worthy!” Tony wailed. “It’s not natural!”

Jazz shrugged and handed the hammer back to Thor. “I was forged in the fires of Midwestern neglect and ghost radiation. You think Odin can break me? Try surviving your brother getting publicly disemboweled by a government robot while your parents take notes.”

She had no chill. None. She was the only person who called Wanda out on her grief projection, made Bucky talk about his repressed ballet skills, and forced Steve to draw a family tree so she could scream “YOUR ENTIRE FRIEND GROUP IS CODEPENDENT.”

“Group therapy!” she declared one Tuesday.

“No,” said literally everyone.

“Too bad. Show up or I will personally guilt you in front of the media using your own trauma receipts.”

And they did. They came. They came because they were afraid.

Tony sat with arms crossed. “This is stupid.”

“Tell that to your inner child.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Exactly.”

Clint sighed. “This is worse than Budapest.”

“Everything is worse than Budapest,” Natasha replied.

Wanda blinked slowly. “I think I just astrally projected my own anxiety. It’s hovering above me like a raincloud.”

Jazz didn’t even blink. “Let it hover. Let it watch you cry. Maybe it’ll finally grow up.”

Civil War? Canceled.

No one dared fight each other under Jazz’s watch. When tensions began rising between Tony and Steve over the Sokovia Accords, she locked them in a soundproof room with juice boxes and didn’t let them out until they hugged it out like the emotionally repressed golden retrievers they were.

“I will tranquilize you both,” she warned through the door. “I have the darts and the upper body strength. Don’t tempt me.”

They made up within the hour.

At one point, Nick Fury tried to get involved. He barged into one of Jazz’s sessions like he still ran SHIELD.

“What the hell kind of therapy involves throwing knives at a target while crying?” he demanded.

Jazz, unfazed, handed him a stress knife. “Want to try?”

He did. And then immediately rebooked weekly appointments.

By week four, the compound was transformed. Hulk was journaling. Peter was actually doing his homework. Wanda was learning healthy coping mechanisms that didn’t involve mind-controlling entire suburbs. Clint and Natasha were having pillow talks about emotional vulnerability. Even Loki was crocheting.

“Do you know what I’ve done?” he whispered as he stitched a duck.

“I’ve read your file,” Jazz said. “And your Tumblr tag. You’re not special.”

“I am special—”

“You’re traumatized, sweetie.”

Meanwhile, Tony—still deeply suspicious—began following her around trying to find proof she was a Hydra sleeper agent. What he found instead was her absolutely unhinged family.

“You’re related to who?” he asked over coffee one morning.

Jazz sighed. “My little brother is Danny Phantom, ghost-powered superhero and part-time physics major. My godfather is Vlad Masters, ex-billionaire and full-time supervillain with a complex. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton.”

Tony blinked. “The guys who duct-taped a rocket to a lawnmower and called it science?”

“The very same.”

“No wonder you’re like this.”

Jazz nodded. “Exactly. I was forged in chaos and trauma. Now I’m here to fix you.”

“I don’t want to be fixed.”

“Too bad. I’ve already started rebuilding your psyche.”

“What does that mean—”

“Check your inner monologue. Notice how it’s stopped calling you a worthless meat puppet?”

Tony screamed.

Even Doctor Strange, who allegedly had the answers to the universe, found himself in a corner drinking tea and rethinking the way he suppressed his emotions with sarcasm and facial hair.

“You’re not mystical, Stephen,” Jazz told him. “You’re just emotionally constipated.”

“I literally astral project.”

“Cool. Now try emotional projection. Maybe apologize to Wong.”

“…Wong is asleep.”

“Wake him up.”

By month two, even the press noticed. The Avengers were glowing. Smiling. Making eye contact during press conferences instead of brooding like middle school theater kids.

“What changed?” a reporter asked.

Tony grabbed the mic. “Her name is Jazz Fenton and she scares the hell out of us.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “She made me cry six times in one session. I told her about my dad.”

“She made me draw my feelings,” Clint added.

“I finally cried about Pietro,” Wanda whispered. “In public. It felt amazing. I think I vomited emotions.”

“Dr. Fenton helped me write a song about my grief,” Thor said proudly. “It’s a power ballad. With goats.”

And then came the incident.

The one time the Avengers tried to disobey her. Sam and Bucky had been arguing again. Loudly. And somewhere in the chaos, someone dared say, “It’s not like Jazz can stop us.”

Wrong.

So, so wrong.

Jazz calmly walked into the sparring room, confiscated Bucky’s knife mid-twirl, took Sam’s wings with one hand, and sat both men down with the force of divine intervention.

“You two,” she said in a voice that made the walls tremble, “are not enemies. You are trauma-bonded enemies-to-friends-to-exes-to-besties. You are a trope. You are a fanfiction tag. You are not about to regress into kindergarten slap fights because one of you forgot the others’ favorite breakfast order.”

“…He forgot my birthday,” Sam muttered.

“Because he has memory trauma! You have it too! You both need to go on a spa day and cry it out in a hot tub like normal people.”

And they did.

They actually did.

The day Jazz left for a conference—just one day—the entire compound fell into shambles. Loki started monologuing again, Peter accidentally built a sentient AI who wrote poetry about death, Wanda started glowing red again, and Tony tried to weaponize emotional damage via sarcastic limericks.

The moment she came back, they all lined up like chastised children.

“What did I say about emotionally projecting without supervision?” she asked.

“Don’t do it,” they chorused.

“And?”

Peter sniffled. “We missed you.”

“Damn right you did.”

Jazz smiled, terrifying and fond, and flipped her clipboard. “Now. Who wants to talk about their mother?”

And the Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, sat down.

Because nothing—not Chitauri, not Ultron, not even Thanos—was scarier than the therapist who could lift Mjolnir and your deepest childhood wound in the same breath.

Dr. Jasmine Fenton was the real hero. And everyone knew it.

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findmeinforks · 1 year ago

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Understanding - Paul Lahote X Fem!Reader

A little break up, make up one shot while I work on part two of stay 💕 as always, let me know what you think! 2.4K Words ❤️

You had been understanding. You had been so, incredibly, unbelievably understanding. You had been kind, patient, considerate. You had thrown every insecurity away in your mind. You shoved your feelings right down your throat.

But that was over with now.

Now, you faced him. In the middle of the yard, your throat agonizingly raw from yelling. You were shocked he hadn't phased yet, but he knew the minute he did you would take off. The pack, watching from afar and unbeknownst to you, were also shocked at his restraint.

"I would NEVER do anything to hurt you. Why won't you believe that?"

You laughed wetly through the tears. You were down right manic over what he didn't comprehend.

"Really?? You don't understand why I would be upset by ANY of this? Are you that fucking blind?"

Paul huffed through his nose, attempting to control his temper.

"I have a job, Y/N. There's new bloodsuckers popping up every day now and we have to make sure we're ready for anything. That means stacking up our numbers against them. Guy or girl, they have to be trained."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes,

"And don't you find it at all peculiar that everyone else is out on their own but you're STILL having to train this same girl? DAY IN AND DAY OUT?!"

He sighed.

"She should be ready, I know. But every time we get on patrol, she gets fearful and fails at basic exercises. Sam has me spend extra time with her."

You threw up your hands as if the answer was obvious, "Then TELL Sam to have someone else take a turn?"

"She only likes training with me."

Your eyes went wide, and all you saw was red.

"AND THAT DOESNT GIVE YOU ANY FUCKING CLUE THAT MAYBE SHES FAILING ON PURPOSE FOR YOUR ATTENTION? THAT MAYBE SHE DOESNT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT IMPRINTS? THAT MAYBE PERHAPS SHE HAS DIFFERENT INTENTIONS?"

Paul shook his head, him now scoffing.

"It's actually really hard to learn to navigate being a wolf. That's something YOU don't seem to understand."

You think you had lost your mind. It seemed as though the world crumbled around you, his words ringing in your ears from the impact. That was not something the imprint you knew before this would have ever dared say to you. It wasn't that you believed Paul would ever be disloyal, but your instincts were damn sure this girl wanted him to be.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"You're right. I don't. You need to be with someone that understands. We're done."

Paul stepped back like he had taken a blow to the chest. His eyes softened now.

"You....you don't mean that."

You headed towards your car, not being able to face the broken look in his eyes.

"Y/N, wait," he reached out, and even though you were mad, a part of it killed you to deny him.

You shook your head, new tears rehydrating their original streaks.

You sniffled, and took a deep breath.

"I'm tired, Paul. I'm tired of waiting up for you. I'm tired of being left unanswered for hours. I'm tired of making plans that just get canceled. Im tired of being lonely. And most of all, I'm tired of being disappointed."

He grabbed your arm before you could fully get in, and you saw Sam emerge, still at a respectable distance from the two of you.

"Baby listen, okay, I'm sorry. I can do better I-"

"You've said that before Paul. This is not the first time we've fought about this."

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes now.

"Please. Don't." He whispered.

He almost made you cave. You so badly wanted to stay. But you also knew if you did, it would be the same reoccurring cycle. He had to know you were serious. You wanted the relationship you had before she came along. Until you were sure you would get that again, you had to leave.

"I have to go. Call me when your priorities change." You said as you gently pulled out of his grip and shut the door. And with that, you took off to your father's place.

Paul stood planted in the same spot you had left him, shattered. What had he done?

He felt a small hand on his shoulder, a feminine voice in his ear,

"Maybe it was for the better. She seems like a total bitch."

Paul's blood turned cold. It was as if in that very moment, he had come to his senses. The smoke had cleared in his crowded mind. You were right. Of course you were right. All the stress that had been on his plate, he hadn't been thinking clearly at all.

He came to realization now, and it was too late.

Paul yanked away his arm, turning with a fury in his eyes to the woman behind him. She shrunk back under his gaze, feigning an innocence he knew good and well was all fake.

He trembled with anger, barely registering that Sam was now in between him and the girl. Paul pointed a finger at her, teeth gritting with anger.

"Get. The FUCK. Away from me."

Paul ripped apart as he phased, having it bottled up for far too long, and dashing off like a mad man into the woods.

The woman gaped like a fish, starting to babble, turning to Sam for reassurance.

"I didn't do anything I-"

Sam huffed a breath through his nose, "You heard him. I think it would be best if you left. Embry's cousin or not, you are no longer welcome here. That's an order."

Sam shook his head, running a hand through his hair as she stormed off. He felt guilty for letting it get like this. He had some suspicions about her joining the pack, seeing as she was always gravitating towards Paul, but he had shrugged it off, too occupied with everything else going on.

Sam also knew too well what it was like to hurt an imprint. Physically or emotionally, the bond felt all the same. Strict alpha or not, he valued Paul as a brother, and just hoped you would come back for him.

As Paul laid his head onto his pillow, he watched the days go by before him. Being forced to come eat dinner by Emily and whenever he had patrol were just about the only times Paul left his bed. He would call you once a day, sometimes with a small hope you'd answer, and sometimes just to hear your voicemail. After his patrol shifts ended, he would often sneak off to your house, just to make sure he'd know you were safe, if even from a mile away.

"Do you think she'll ever come back?" Kim asked Jared quietly one day, after watching Paul barely eat his food and sulk back up to his room.

"I don't know honestly. Y/N is just as stubborn as he is. But I do miss him. I've never in my life seen Paul like this. His internal thoughts are depressing as hell..."

Kim sighed, "It's not like she's doing any better. She finally answered my call yesterday, and I had to double check who I was talking too. She's miserable, Jare."

He shrugged, "I mean what can we do about it babe? You can't get involved in people's business like that."

"They're not people. They're family." She mumbled as she clutched her coffee mug.

Another week had gone by, the pack all sitting in the kitchen getting ready to eat.

"Boys. We have information on the new vampires in town," Sam announced as he walked through the door with Jacob.

"They're after Bella. She had a run in with that red head we keep chasing to the border every night. Her boyfriend had tried to kill her so the Cullen's killed him, and now this bitch is assembling an army to take her out for revenge." Jacob relayed.

This grabbed Paul's attention. If they were after your sister, that meant you were in danger.

"We're going to help them fight. Our people are at risk if we let this get out of hand, or if the Cullen's lose. But until the army comes here, we're going to be sharing shifts with them to watch over the Swan house," Sam said, looking at Paul who was heading out the door.

"Paul."

"You can watch Bella from a distance. I'm taking my imprint home," he slammed the front door.

"I can't imagine that's gonna go good." Embry mumbled.

Your body jolted upright from the couch at the abrupt knocking on the front door. You hadn't been expecting anyone, Bella out doing who knows what with Edward, and Charlie hours away on a fishing trip.

Opening the door your breath caught in your throat.

"What are you doing here?"

"We have to go. Now." He said sternly, ignoring your bewildered look as he flew past you and up the stairs to your room.

"And just who the hell do you think you are?!" You stormed after him, appalled he was barging in your house like this.

"There's an entire army of vampires on the hunt for your sister. You're not safe here, I'm taking you to Emily's." he said as he grabbed a suitcase and started throwing random clothes in.

"You don't own me Paul Lahote. I'm not going anywhere with you." You crossed your arms as you looked at him incredulously.

He refused to look you in the eye as he spoke, his breathing heavy from your scent,

"It is still my job to protect you whether we're together or not. You don't have to talk to me at all if you don't want too, and you can sleep in the spare bedroom" He said as he continued to pack.

You laughed.

"Come to Emily's with her there? I think the fuck-"

"She's not there anymore."

"Ohhhh so because she's gone you care about me again."

He stopped, this time turning to look you in the eyes for the first time in two weeks.

"Don't you ever fucking say that. I could give a shit less about her. It's always been you. I'm....look, I'm sorry I didn't make you believe that before. You were right. And I was so unbelievably wrong. I understand why you don't want to be with me anymore. I'm not asking you to forgive me. Im asking, just for the time being, that you do this so that I know you are safe....please."

You wish you could have stopped the tears that welled up in your eyes. A part of you wanted to stay mad forever, just to make a point. But the other just wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. Two weeks felt like two years apart from him, and your heart so desperately ached to be near him again.

"Fine," you whispered.

Paul looked like he wanted to say something more, his eyes lingering on yours, but he decided against it, zipping up your bag and heading to the truck.

Once you both arrived to Emily's the pack headed out to train with the Cullen's, leaving you both and Kim at the kitchen table.

"So you guys.....didn't make up?" Kim asked disappointed.

You shook your head, "He just wanted me here. He apologized and said he wanted me to be safe. It was left at that."

Emily reached her hand over into yours,

"Do you want to be with him?" She asked genuinely.

"I.....I mean," you sighed. "Of course I want to be with him. I just was so angry, you know?? I didn't like feeling that way in our relationship. Alone."

The girls nodded understandably.

"If it helps, he's been an absolute wreck without you. I think if anything it was a wake up call." Kim offered.

"I haven't been exactly living the best either," you slightly chuckled.

"Well. We are more than excited to have you back in the house. That being said, I'm going to need both of your help with dinner." Emily smiled as she looked at the clock, standing up.

You grinned, happy to at least be here with your friends.

It was the night before the fight. Everything was quiet, but you lie awake, your mind racing. You hadn't said much to Paul in the three days you were here. There were lingering stares, brushing past eachother occasionally in the hall, but no conversations had been had. You felt a pit in your stomach at the idea of this fight. What if something happened and you never got to see him again? What if the last thing you had between you two was this awkward tension? The more you thought about it, the faster the tears spilled down your cheeks. You sniffled hard.

A gentle knock at the door startled you, getting up you frantically tried to wipe them away.

There he stood on the other side, leaning against the frame. His eyes looked so exhausted, like he hadn't gotten sleep either in days. "Whats wrong?" He said softly, taking a look at your face.

His gentle voice was enough to send you flying into his embrace. You arms wrapped around him as you sobbed into his neck.

He held your waist as he walked you both backwards into the room, shutting the door. His hand caressed your face as he leaned his cheek on your forehead.

"Hey, hey. Shhhh. I'm right here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

You leaned back just enough to look at him, shaking your head. Your voice was broken and trembling,

"I-I don't care that I'm safe. T-tomorrow. A-and you. What if we never-"

Paul used both hands to cradle your face.

"Hey. Listen to me. Everything will be okay. This is what we've been training for. It's us and the Cullen's against them, our numbers are stronger. I'll be fine, alright? I'm just happy you're here and away from harm."

"I can't live without you. I love you." You whispered.

Paul instantly kissed you. It was like a wave of relief and happiness washed over you as you kissed him back with every ounce of passion you could muster.

Both your tongues danced as you refused to pull away from eachother. Paul bent down only for a moment to hoist you up in his arms, taking you into his room instead.

Unfortunately due to advanced hearing, the house was no longer quiet that night.

#paul lahote #sam uley #bella swan #edward cullen #embry call #twilight #imagine #jacob black #new moon #quil ateara #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #paul x reader

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that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 8 months ago

Text

:) you all know what time it isssss

Danny Al-ghul

But not in the way you would think. So the Fentons find out about Danny being phantom (catching him changing or something) and {this is a Bad Fenton Au so we gonna traumatizing the fuck out of this boy} and they experiment and torture him for a few weeks to a month in this time frame Jazz, Sam and Tucker have died and have not come back as ghost due to dying by a ghost blaster ( hint hint )

And Danny eventually die (fully this time) due to torture and starvation (They didn’t think ‘Ghost’ needed to eat) and when Danny died he gets yeeted into a part of the Zone no one goes to and when I say no one I mean NO ONE and eventually crashes into it

And now into a bit into this part of The Zone it is actually The Home of the dead Al-ghuls and their assassins + some pit demons but they aren’t really that conscious…I guess I mean they move around and sometimes talk or well scream because they are infected by The Madness (Pit Rage) and kinda act like obsessiveness ghost…oh I never explained what that was well I do it in the next post or something but for the time it just means feral and more animalistic than a normal ghost would be

So basically Danny crash landed into a feral Pit {you see what I did there} and after some shenanigans and shit the dead and Feral Al-ghuls kinda just accepted into the family I mean the past tense assassins and the younger dead Al-ghuls listen to them so he’s a part of them now

And if you were to ask one of the Al-ghuls ( If they were sane enough for that ) they would basically say

=====================================

“Yeah that Danny we don’t know who’s kid he is and he’s not really into the hole assassin thing and he’s far to soft to be an Al-ghul but he heals us and takes care of the younger ones so he’s part of the family and no one’s going to take him away” * proceeds to rip out the core of the ghost who asks and eats it or brings it to Danny because he eats less than everyone else ( he doesn’t he just doesn’t eat fucking CORES)*

=====================================

What I mean about healing them is that Danny constantly carries around a never ending black marble bowl { like in my Snake Empress Au } of the purest ecto you can have ( Clockwork gave it to him for helping the Ferals and the LOLS by the misunderstandings from the future you’ll give it in a sec ) and when ghost are feral instead of cuts and stuff they break and crack like a porcelain doll or something else that cracks that like that and pours a bit into the crack/break

——————————————————————————

Now onto the DC part of this! So while Tim was looking for Bruce in the timestream {like in my Void and Prism Au} and somehow ends up in front of a giant temple like building that is surrounded by multiple lagoons and lakes of Lazarus pits ( and that a bit concerning in itself ) and as Tim walks in he hears footsteps and the pulling of fabric on the ground so he turns around not really knowing what to expect but he was most definitely not expecting the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen but what caught his attention is the black marble bowl that has the purest Lazarus water he’s ever seen and a few shenanigans and a get together later Tim is now dating this ethereal, beautiful, kind he should probably stop while he’s ahead before he goes on for hours {So basically Tim is down bad for our little ghost boy} who so happens to an Al-ghul and Danny helps Tim find Bruce but Danny makes Tim promise to keep in contact ( which Tim was going to do anyway and not to mention Danny’s literal Amy of Feral Al-ghuls/assassins/pit demons who will kill him and than hunt him in death for his core to give to Danny as a trophy and just for the LOLS let’s have everyone misunderstand that Danny is an Al-ghul )

So a few years later Tim and Danny are still in contact and Tim is still down bad but he still hasn’t told everybody about it until one day the Batfam fucks up and Tim fucks off to The Ghost Zone back to his boyfriend ( possible fiancé but still hasn’t told anyone)

=====================================

The JL-JLD: running around like headless chickens

The Batfam: Much angst

Tim and Danny: chilling out and being in love and shit

====================================

And now on to the details of this!

For Danny’s outfit I’m thinking something like this

And he’s wearing some jewelry like this

And for hair

also here is a pic of the black marble bowl ( it is the same in my Snake empress au and in this )

=====================================

nd that’s about it about this au and I hope you guys like it tell me if you want to see more of this byeeeee

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imtryingbuck · 1 month ago

Text

Misunderstandings

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky misunderstands what Y/n means and overreacts. After talking to Steve he goes back home to apologise. Hopefully she will forgive him.

Word count: 1,659

Warnings: angst. Bucky being a dickhead. Arguing. Swearing. Fluff. I wrote this so long ago sorry it’s shit.

Masterlist

It had been going on for hours at this point. Y/n had long stopped replying instead choosing to cower in the corner as Bucky carried on with his rampage destroying his apartment.

It was an accident. Well and truly an accident.

Y/n said something about Bucky’s past that he took completely the wrong way. And now no matter what she said to try and calm him down it just wasn’t working.

Instead making him more mad.

“Buc-“

“No! No you don’t understand Y/n”

“I-I didn’t mean anything bad, I swear”

“It doesn’t matter does it?” Bucky shouted causing her to flinch. The second he sees it happening he recoils and drops the photo frame that she brought him, a photo of the two of them that Sarah - Sam’s sister - took of the two when the whole team went to Louisiana.

Bucky sees her trying to make herself smaller in the corner of the now destroyed living room. He hates it. Hates what she said. Hates what he’s done. Hates how he’s scared her. God the last thing he ever wanted to do was to scare her, he loves her way too much to have her cowering in a corner like a caged animal.

Sighing he walks into the bedroom and begins to pack a few of his things, even though it was his apartment he was going to leave so she would finally feel safe.

Neither one says anything as the broken shards of glass crunch underneath Bucky’s boots as he heads towards the front door. Bucky’s hand rested on the door knob waiting for Y/n to break the silence when she doesn’t he opens the door and slamming it with a deafening bang.

Steve walks towards his room with his bed in his sights, it’s been a long day for him from training new recruits to finally getting the massive stack of papers on his desk done and put away in their correct places. Through the whole time he was writing and signing things off he was thinking about his bed. His big comfy bed.

And he’s so close to his room that he could practically smell the detergent of his sheets that when he sees Bucky’s door open he’s in two minds on whether to shut the door or just carry on and get some much needed sleep. That’s until he hears a sniffle coming from his best friends room.

“Buck?” Steve makes his way in to the room halting when he sees his best friend sitting on the bed he hadn’t slept in for over a year, with his head in his hands. “Buck? What’s wrong? Where’s Y/n?”

“She doesn’t love me Steve”

“Of course she does punk, she worships the ground you walk on”

“No she don’t, not anymore she don’t” Bucky scoffs. Before tonight he would agree, everyone could tell Y/n loved him. It was obvious in the way she did things for him, obvious with the amount of times she tells him. But now? After what she said? He doubted it very much.

“What happened? Hey, tell me”

“W-we were laughing about something and she asked if we could watch a war film together and I said yeah, it didn’t bother me you know? But I thought it was going to be a film that we probably would have seen if-but it wasn’t” Steve listens patiently waiting for the rest to come, at that moment he couldn’t understand what was wrong or why Bucky would think that the woman the blond had grown close to in the year that he had met her would now hate him.

“Halfway through the film she asked me if I would have dated her if she was from our time and I didn’t answer straight away-“

“Why?”

“Because I was imagining her in our time, the dresses and skirts she would wear. But also the fact that she probably wouldn’t have paid any attention to me back then” Bucky shrugs.

“Okay, so where did everything go wrong?”

“Well because I didn’t say anything she laughed and said oh I see how it is and then she said she would have liked to have met me earlier and-and well I got mad”

“Why on earth did you get mad Bucky?”

“Because she wouldn’t have liked me Steve! It’s only because I’m damaged that she likes me”

Steve scoffs. What his best friend is saying is well and truly a lie. He knows it. Bucky knows it. The rest of the Avengers knows it. Hell the whole world knows it. Y/n loves him wholeheartedly, she defends him when Tony’s on one and winding everyone up. Bucky’s the first target in Tony’s sight when he wanted to get a reaction from someone. She defended him from some strangers that decided to give him a hard time on the train when they were going to his therapist, Bucky couldn’t stop telling Steve and Sam how Y/n was so quick to stand up for him or how she made those strangers get off the train way before their stop.

Y/n was the best thing that had ever happened to Bucky and everyone know knew it.

“Buck she didn’t mean it like tha-“

“She did Steve, she wouldn’t have wanted to know me before Hydra got to me and did their damage” Bucky says raising his prosthetic arm.

“Buck, listen to me Y/n would have loved the Bucky from the forty’s just as equally as she loves you now. You’ve blown it way out of proportion and you know that yourself don’t you?”

“B-but-“

“No buts Bucky you know you’ve screwed up and that’s why you’re crying-“

“I’m crying because I’ve lost the love of my life Steve”

“You haven’t lost her, go home and apologise to her”

Bucky realises that Steve’s right, he needed to apologise and make it right between them before he loses the best thing that ever happened to him. He just hopes that she’s still at his apartment. He just hopes that he can fix the damage he has caused.

Most importantly he hopes that she still loves him after what he’s done.

Two blocks away from his apartment building Bucky stopped by the store to grab a box of her favourite chocolates, then nipped into the florist two doors down and brought her a massive bouquet of Stargazer Lilies which were her favourite flowers.

Breathing heavily he strained his hearing to see if he could hear her still inside, his heart starting to settle when he could hear her shuffling around. Slowly opening the door he was faced with an apartment that didn’t look the same as it did when he left, the glass that littered the floor before was now cleaned up, the cushions that were thrown all over the place were placed back in their original places. The shelving unit that was on its side thanks to him was put back up in its standing position - the guilt that was already eating away at him was now taking chunks out off his soul knowing that the unit was not light in the slightest, the fact that she managed to lift it on her own made his heart ache painfully in his chest.

“Doll?” He whispered into the silence “Y/n? Doll it’s me” walking into their bedroom his heart breaking at seeing her packing her things. “Doll what are you doing?”

“I-I’m t-tr-trying to hurry up I promise”

“No baby. Baby I don’t want you to leave. Doll please stop, Y/n please I’m sorry, god I’m so sorry”

“I’m s-sorry I’m trying-“

Placing his hands on hers to stop them from shaking as she pulled on her hair - a nervous tick of hers. “Baby I am so sorry for earlier I-I overreacted an-and I thought when you said that you would have liked to have met me earlier meant that you wanted me before I was damaged”

“D-damaged? You think? No Bucky you aren’t dam-“ Bucky’s laugh cuts her off as he shakes his head at her words “Your not! Buck I meant that I would have liked to have met the Bucky that was so sure of himself, the one that still believed in the good things in life. Dont get it wrong Jamie I love this guy standing in front of me, more than anything in the world trust me I do but I guess sometimes it would have been nice to have met you before you know, I swear I didn’t mean anything bad by it”

“Ba-baby god I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” he repeats those words over and over whilst on his knees pulling her closer to him, hugging her legs tightly. His tears wetting her trousers.

For nearly two hours they talked it over with Bucky apologising for not only overreacting but for also making her scared, every few minutes.

“Buck? Babe where are you going?” Y/n laughed as he randomly detached himself from her and jumped up to leave their bedroom.

“Hold on pretty girl” Coming back into the bedroom with the flowers and her favourite chocolates. “I-I got these for you, to try and make up for me being the worlds biggest dickhead”

“Chocolates? Do you want to snuggle in bed and watch a film? You can pick”

“You’re willing to share your chocolates with me?”

“Of course” she giggles.

Bucky knew that he needed to do more than getting her some flowers and chocolates to make up for the pain he caused her for a misunderstanding all because he overthought what she said. As the film played and him having his best doll, his favourite person under his arm his mind raced through all the ideas of how to make things right between them.

Little did he know that the flowers and chocolates were more than enough to make up for what happened. She was just happy that he came back home.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

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demon-at-peace · 1 month ago

Text

DC + DP theatre kids

So Sam is such a theatre kid, don't even try to lie to me, she's dramatic, sassy ect, but she wouldn't ever participate in it, because the popular kids would be there, and it would just be awkward, after highschool though she drags Danny and Tucker to a small theatre three hours away.

Located in Gotham of all places, the current play is Hamilton, (purely for myself) Sam is Hamilton, Tucker is Thomas Jefferson, and Danny decided to be Eliza, they are in love with it. They are singing Guns and Ships in car rides, just utterly in love with the tiny Gothic theatre and the play.

Sam is thriving, funding the theatre simply because she can't stand to see them go out of business. the theatre kid shenanigans are maxed out. They are gossiping in the wings (totally get told to shut up) Sam constantly complaining about itchy costumes.

And obviously the theatre hasn't had enough funds to put on a production like this for years. So they are going full out, and are sold out. The bats are worried, rouges are theatric, there is a reason the theatre hadn't gotten funding, or actors. The rogues liked to make a mess of things. After all last time something like this was the Grayson's.

So on the opening night everyone is just waiting, for something to go horribly terribly wrong. The bats stationed around waiting for the joker, or scarecrow, just something to happen. Dick is so stressed out, he's fretting, yelling at everyone, practically breaking down. The bats are nervous too, this is practically begging something to go wrong.

Except Danny, Tucker and Sam refuse to let something go wrong. The first interference, an attempt at releasing fear toxin, is easily stopped by Danny. The next rouge to try something is Mr. Freeze (idk I just needed a rogue) the room starts to get cold, and Hamilton stops it, delivering right on beat of one of his dramatic lines.

Joker goons come at some point and Danny (in full costume) is just foiling them effortlessly before strutting on stage and delivering the best performance of his life. Tucker utterly saves the tech from going wrong, mad scientist hacker mode and then flounces on stage as Thomas Jefferson .

the bats are smitten. Steph doesn't know what to say, the lead is hot, and clearly a meta, and just effortlessly beat up a goon in the wings of the stage.

Tim doesn't know what to say about this Thomas Jefferson, other than he's a genius, and really fucking pretty.

Jason might be in love with the badass crossdressing guy that's Eliza. Because anyone who can beat someone up while wearing a corset is his type.

Jason is full also in nerd mode, and is utterly oblivious, he's singing to songs, and full on in love with all the actors voices. So what if he knows Hamilton, he doesn't predict the headlines, or realize his career as a badass crime lord is done.

Duke is also a theatre kid and knows all the lyrics, because he was forced into an after school activity as a kid and fell in love. so he knows the lyrics too.

Eventually the performance is done, with nothing happening, the rogues beat to hell, the bats exhausted, but they still ask out their perspective partners, because if they lose the chance they will regret it for eternity.

They say yes, obviously. And the first dates just make them fall in love even more. Mind you the next play is even more chaotic.

---

Hamilton is just awesome. I have no defence, I am simply a nerd.

Sorry I haven't been posting, schools are stressful and I've been a moron. also thank ya'll for being amazing, fr tho I'm shocked so many people like my silly ideas, but thanks!

Also am I spelling theatre right? cause google agrees with me but Tumblr doesn't.

Bye!

#danny fenton #dpxdc #tim drake #jason todd #batfam #dcu #dick grayson #Thanks!!

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buckybarnesslutshop · 2 months ago

Note

Hiiiii would love a one shot about Bucky feeling kinda hot and slutty in a new outfit and having a bathroom hookup x fem reader or something at a club haha 😅

Tiny Little Shorts

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Song: F U In My Head

CWs: MDNI 18+ ONLY, SMUT!, p in v, dancing at the club 😚, Wanda, Nat, Tony, Steve, and Sam mentioned, bathroom sex!! so public sex, a bit rough, eye contact, no condom (wrap it before you tap it guys), reader has a cunt, fluffy feelings, kinda got caught but afterward

Nicknames used by Bucky: Doll, slut, baby

Nicknames used by Reader: Buck, that’s it lol

A/N: i was a bit feral about this idea and wrote most of this while in the car on a 5 hour drive. i hope it’s what you had in mind 🫶 this was such a good ask, I really had a moment about this one so thank u!

ps. this is based on my personal alcohol tolerance, a few shots has never hit me so excuse that if two shots is your personal limit. Just pretend ig. Also this is 2.8k words. Went off. Still being proofread!!

Summary: You and Bucky had each hatched the same plan: tonight, you would each wear your most slutty outfits, with the help of your friends to look your best. The goal? Rile the other up.

Sam was often one of Bucky’s biggest migraines, but he wasn’t even mad tonight. He looked good. It wasn’t very intricate, black slacks met an unbuttoned black button down that showed off his chest. Sam said it would “make the ladies faint,” but Bucky hadn’t really been thinking of anyone but one specific person. He wore his black loafers, a silver watch, and his hair was slicked back. Looking at himself in the mirror, and Sam hovering over his shoulder, he actually smiled slightly.

“MY man! Look at you, you look like a fucking sex god or something, I swear. You’re gonna have everyone staring tonight, Buck,” Sam said. While Bucky never said it out loud, he and Sam had an understanding that it was never about everyone else. It was about you.

See, you had both been dancing around each other for too long, quiet glances and lingering touches driving you both insane. Luckily you lived on different floors because you probably would’ve seen each other post masturbation because of the other and that would’ve…. been interesting.

Nat had finished slicking your hair into a high ponytail before pulling out a few hairs to frame your face. You had both been planning this night for over a week now. You were wearing a red corset top that your tits threatened to spill out of (courtesy of nat having no restraint when tying it up, plus a nice push up bra) along with matching red makeup. You had on these tiny little black leather shorts that covered barely an enough to walk out of the house in, and you wore simple red open toed heels.

With a shared preliminary shot of vodka with Nat and the final application of your red lip gloss, you were finally ready to go. You didn’t wear underwear, fully intending to hopefully not need them, but you could still feel the arousal of seeing Bucky in your shorts.

The plan was for everyone to meet at Tony’s club of choice (who knew where, it often switched because he couldn’t afford to fuck up the same bar twice if they got too rowdy) at about 9pm. This club was known for starting early and ending late, but you hoped you wouldn’t be forced to stay that late. It’s not that you didn’t like a night of partying, but it had already been a long week.

You didn’t see Bucky when you arrived with Nat, already spying Wanda at the bar and making your way over. The three of you had another shot of vodka before moving out to the dance floor.

You never noticed him come in, but you locked eyes a few songs later from the dance floor. Your smile dropped and your eyes went wide as you saw what he was wearing. You raked your eyes down his sharp abs, down to the V and the slight start of a happy trail you could see. Before you caught yourself staring at his bulge, you flicked your eyes up to see him doing the same thing as you, stopping at your particularly short shorts and returning to your breasts before finding you already staring at him.

Nat stopped as well, thinking something was wrong, and she and Wanda looked in the direction you were staring and saw Bucky. “I see Sam and Bucky have a pretty similar idea,” Wanda said. You snapped out of it and turned to them, eyes still wide. Back to the bar you went, another shot of vodka to calm the sheer rush of your blood that felt like it was only going south.

“Doll,” you heard from behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you turned to see Bucky standing with his hands in his pockets. “Care to dance?” He extended his hand. You smirked. “Thought you’d never ask,” you said as you took his hand.

Nat and Wanda snickered and watched as you two made your way to the dance floor, hand in hand, before finding a spot. The music turned then to a song that made you feel even more hot and bothered than the two of you already were. You had listened to this song before, always thinking of him.

“Sorry for acting this strange,

I can't control myself

Struggling for what to say

but I could never tell”

You moved a bit closer to him, slinging your left arm over him as he gripped your waist with his viburnum arm. You sang along to it, staring right into his eyes as you felt your cunt soak at his dark eyes.

“Take me closer, take my clothes off,

oh I fantasize

If I'm honest, it's more fun when

you can't read my mind”

“Sometimes I fuck you in my head

I let you touch me when I'm lonely in my bed

I wanna scream, but hold my breath

The kinda thing that you would rather leave unsaid”

You were so close now you could feel and hear his breath. You were almost in his lap now, as close as you could be anyways, swaying your hips with the music and whispering the lyrics back at him.

“I got dirty wishes on my mind

But you will never ever know that I

I like to fuck you in my head

You make me scream when there's nobody, just the thought of your body”

You let your eyes flicker down when your thigh comes into contact with his, and you can’t miss the bulge of his hard cock. You gasp quietly, looking back up at him. His other hand joins in holding your hip.

“Sorry, I think I zoned out, can you say that again?

I, I, I am stuttering every time that I'm catching your scent”

You lean in, whispering the next lyric into his ear.

“Take me closer, take my clothes off, oh I fantasize

If I'm honest, it's more fun when you can't read my mind”

Bucky grips harder onto your hips, stopping you. He didn’t say anything as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you from the dance floor. You look back to see Nat and Wanda watching and they make a cheering gesture. They probably saw the whole thing, you realize, everyone did. Your face heated at the thought.

He led you down the back hall of the bar where no one was.“Buck- Bucky where are you-“ Bucky slammed you against the wall, almost a bit too hard, and attacked your mouth with a burning fever that immediately consumed you. You let out a soft moan at the contact, finally feeling that first hint of stimulation. When Bucky pulled back, his eyes were blown.

“I need you. Right now,” he said, breathless and certain. “But.. Buck we’re at a club. We can’t just…” you trail off, your face growing warm at the idea of doing it somewhere here. He paused for a minute before grabbing your wrist again and taking you down the hall to the bathroom. Thankfully, it was a series of large single bathrooms that you could lock. When Bucky pulled you in, he pinned you against the door again and continued his ministrations.

“Fuck- Bucky-“ you said between kisses. His tongue swirled into yours with no hesitation, very clearly marking who would be in charge in this situation. You wanted to fight back, and in many cases you would have, but the slick wetness between your thighs and the endorphins making you dizzy rendered you submissive and whiny. When he pulled away and began biting at your neck, the whimpers started. One hickey at the base of your neck, on under your jaw, one below your collar bone, even one at that little sensitive spot behind your ear. All the while, small strings of curses came from your mouth as you began to get cloudier and cloudier. You felt Bucky leave some bites on the top of your tits, but he skipped undressing your top and hooked his finger on the belt loops of your shorts.

It was then you remembered what you had done earlier: you had forgone underwear. As Bucky unbuttoned the shorts, you stuttered. “Bucky, wait. Wait I-“ But it was too late. He had already pulled them down to reveal your soaked cunt, bare from any covering. You sucked in a breath as he stilled, staring between your legs.

“Fuck…. baby….. no underwear?” His eyes flickered up to you. “Was this your plan all night?” He asked. You whimpered, trying to look away. He grabbed your chin, making you look at him. “Answer me. Were you trying to rile me up all night on purpose? Were you trying to be a slut so you could get me to fuck you stupid?” You whined again, nodding.

“Words, Doll. Or you get nothing,” he threatened, and your eyes flashed in panic. “Yes! Yes yes it was my plan all night.” Bucky smiled, but not the sweet smile you’ve grown to adore. No, this was more of a smirk, an evil and nasty smirk as he felt his dick twitch. He grabbed you by the hips and walked you to your the counter and mirror of the sink. It was a bit awkward, given the shorts around your ankles, but the submission of it just thrilled you more. You felt your slick hit your thighs.

He pushed you forward a bit, and you gripped the sides of the sink to stable yourself. You heard his belt unbuckle and his pants pull down, and in the mirror you saw his fat cock bulging from his boxers. Your eyes widened in a slight panic, but your cunt fluttered in the anticipation. One vibranium hand grabbed your ass, spreading you some, while his other hand began to tease your already soaked clit.

Your eyes shut and you groaned, already losing your mind. “Eyes open doll. Look at me in the mirror.” You whined, but looked at him as your eyes grew a bit teary. Bucky’s smile grew at your pretty teary eyes, deciding then it was his mission to make you cry on his cock. After just a minute of toying with your clit, he pulled away, gaining an angry whine from you. Before you even got a word out though, 2 fingers easily thrusted into your awaiting cunt, stretching slightly to accommodate them. His metal arm sat gripped tight on your hip.

He started slowly, or as slow as he could, stretching and teasing and trying to find that spot inside you. Once you gasped, having felt him hit it, it was over. His thrusts gained an intense amount of speed and power, your arms struggling to hold you up. Your eyes fluttered shut, but one spank to your ass from a vibranium hand fixed that. “You’ll keep your fucking eyes open, look at me. Or if you like, Princess, you can look at yourself as you lose your fucking mind on just 2 fingers.” You’ll keep whimpered and fluttered around him again, feeling the slow build of an orgasm. You weren’t all that far off before he stopped and pulled out, leaving you whining for him yet again. “Please Buck- please I was getting so close-“ and he shushes you, cooing in your ear.

“Shhhh doll it’s ok, I’ll sit you on my cock in just a second, you’ll be so full baby.” He pulled his boxers down, cock springing free with a hint of precum leaking already, and he manhandled your hips to align with him. He slid the head of his cock up and down your slit, and you fought with yourself to not let your eyes roll back as his cock tapped your clit. You kept your eyes on him, and his on you, and you maintained that contact as he aligned again with your cunt, slowly sliding in.

Bucky groaned lewdly, treasuring the slick warmth of your hole that may as well been dripping onto him. Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out as you tried to take everything he gave you. Finally fully thrusted into you, there was a brief moment of nothing but silence and your heavy breaths. His eyes bore into yours through the in the mirror as a slow, almost feral smile grew, and he began to pull out slowly. He thrusted back into you, hard, groaning again, as you struggled to keep hold of the sink. The second that first thrust hit, Bucky lost all sense of restrain.

“Fuck Doll, fuuuuck you feel- ‘ts so good princess so fucking good-“ his words becoming a bit slurred. You let out a sob, the sensation of his thick cock splitting you open and stretching you, hitting all those yummy spots, had you barely able to keep your eyes open at all. His cock almost bruising your cervix with the sheer force and deepness, but you didn’t care. You cunt clenched tightly on his fat, leaky cock as tears pricked in your eyes again. Your arms shook against the counter, threatening to give out.

“Fuck- fuck B- Buc- BUCKY PLEASE,” your orgasm grew close, the sound of your slick cunt being fucked into almost too much. You felt the sob at the back of your throat build at the same time as Bucky’s cooing filtered through your ears. “That’s it baby, that’s it. Just cum on my cock, cum like a stupid little slut for me, that’s it doll that’s it-“ and his words slurred into a mess of praises and groans. The first tear fell down your face and Bucky swore he almost lost it right then.

“FUCK- shit Bucky I- don’t stop please I’m-“ and your cunt spasmed and clenched around him, eyes fully closing, sobbing and arms giving out. His arm quickly caught you and continued to his high, cumming moments later with “Fuck doll-“

As your orgasms rode out, Bucky’s cum filled you up and he slowed. The sound of the squelching was significantly more lewd, and Bucky felt you flutter around him again. He gave an experimental thrust after stilling just to see your reaction.

You choked a gasp, another tear running down your face at the overstimulation. “Shit- ‘ts to sensitive Buck-“

“I know baby, just wanted to tease you a bit. You’re all safe, you did so good for me doll. Came so pretty for me, so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, still holding your almost shaking body up.

You whined softly at his praise, melting into him. “You were fucking amazing Buck- fucking hell,” you managed to say between breaths. He smiled, real and genuine this time, before kissing your neck gently and nuzzling into you.

“I want you to be mine, doll. Want to hold you all night and fuck you like this and then get to take care of you too. Wanna be around you all the time,” Bucky murmured in your ear in the vulnerable voice you rarely heard.

“You… actually want to be with me? Not just to fuck?” You uttered, a bit in disbelief. You had never held too tightly onto the notion that he could want you more than that.

Bucky laughed, “Doll, I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you. Please, I’ve waited too long. Please be mine.”

“Fuck yes,” you said. You turned to face him on wobbly legs, cum still dripping down your cunt. You didn’t care now, you just wanted to kiss him. It was gentle, soft, and sweet. Everything that your previous actions weren’t. You’d have time to get to that later, though. You just wanted him for now. After a moment, you nuzzled into his chest for a moment again.

“We.. should probably clean you up, baby,” Bucky said. You only laughed, nodding.

When you finally left the bathroom, you and Bucky walked together with his arm around your waist. Tony spotted this a mile away, whispering to Sam. Tony proceeded to pull out a crisp 100 bill and hand it to Sam.

He and Sam came out of nowhere, as did Wanda and Natasha, cornering you immediately. Steve was shortly behind them, everyone else not too far behind him.

“Well well well…” Sam said. You blushed, knowing the two of you had been caught.

Natasha spoke up next, “I see you two finally got your shit together. We’ve only been planning this for weeks!” You sputtered, realizing this you had never been the one to set up tonight’s plans.

“I honestly didn’t think you two had it in you just yet, I lost to Sam thanks to you two horny teenagers not being able to keep your hands off each other,” Tony said.

“Don’t care bout your money, Stark,” Bucky said, though he frankly was too happy to have you that it didn’t have much bite behind it.

“We’re just happy for you both,” Steve said. You smiled at him and said, “so are we,” as you looked up to see Bucky looking back down at you.

#request #lovely ask #yummy bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes rent free in my head #bucky barnes x reader #literally lost it while writing this

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itsriabby · 3 months ago

Text

Mona Lisa - S.H. (Part 1)

actor!steve x makeupartist!reader

Plot: When Steve meets his beloved makeup artist’s replacement, he swears it’s hate at first sight. But… is there truly such a thing?

Trope: enemies x lovers

Warnings: slight slut shaming (Steve is kind of an asshole at first).

Hi!! I thought about trying something new and this came up. I don’t really know if I should continue it so let me know if you like it! Thank youuuu!!!

Main Masterlist | Chapter 2

————————————————————————

“What do you mean she’s not coming?”

Steve was mad. Actually, no, Steve was furious. Angela had been working with him for the first two seasons of the show he was in, and frankly, she’s one of the only people he doesn’t hate in there.

Everyone treats him like this stuck up marionette, either not even looking at him because they’re scared of him, or kissing the ground he walks on, doing things for him like he’s a dummy, as if he can’t take a simple direction. It’s honestly insufferable.

The rest of the cast are nice and all, but he doesn’t really spend much time with them out of character. The only time he felt he could be himself and disconnect for a while was in that chair in the makeup trailer, with that middle-aged woman that treated him like her own son, and who’s now, apparently, getting fired.

“Steve, listen, I get that you’re angry, but she’s not getting the results we were hoping for. This season is filled with gruesome scenes that need some vfx makeup that she’s, quite frankly, not qualified for.” Sam, the showrunner, exhaled, like explaining the situation was a waste of his time.

“How do you know that though? You haven’t even seen-“

“We have. We’ve done a test run on a lot of the looks and even she said herself that it wasn’t “her thing”.” Sam sighed, pinching between his eyes. “Look, she’s been in the business for more than 20 years, and she’s tired of having to learn new advanced techniques to do everything we ask her, she just wants to do the usual screen-ready skin and that’s it.”

“But-“

Sam grabs Steve’s shoulder, softening his expression. “I know you bonded with her. And trust me, I get it, it sucks.” He shrugs nonchalantly “But her job wasn’t to be your friend, it was to do makeup, and it’s not up to par, so she’s out, end of story. Now please do me a favor and go change, the new makeup girl is waiting for you in the trailer.” Sam leaves immediately, leaving Steve to dwell on this unwanted situation.

Not only does he have to come to terms with the fact that Angela won’t be here anymore, he has to deal with the new hire.

He doesn’t want to meet her.

If Angela’s not enough for this, then who did they get to replace her? If 20 years worth of work isn’t good enough, the new “girl” has to be old enough to be her grandma. And he bets she’s one of those stuck up mua’s that stay quiet for two hours and look at you like a project, like you’re a canvas, not a human being. God he really didn’t want to meet her.

No one can compare to Angela. She was real to him, she treated him like he was normal. Plus, he really did see her as a parental figure, and God knows he doesn’t have much of those. But well, as it’s been shown time and time again, everyone leaves him, so what’s one more?

Actually no, that’s not true. Robin’s there, as always. She now has the title “manager” added to “best friend” but honestly, nothing’s changed. She’s always wanted the best for him and held him accountable at the same time, so he couldn’t have imagined someone better for the job.

The kids, Nancy and Jonathan are there too, but he hasn’t really seen them in a long time, and they call as much as they can but it’s not that much. Not that he blames them, they all have their own lives.

He thought making friends in Hollywood would be easier, a fresh start, but its the absolute worst. Not only are the friendships fake and shallow, they have a shelf life of 2 months tops. They adore you and tell you what you wanna hear, and the minute they find their next new shiny friend, you’re out. So he has to admit, he feels pretty lonely.

“Goddamit Steve, I’m not your nanny!” Robin marches into his trailer, walking up to him and yanking him up so he stands up “You were supposed to be in the makeup trailer 30 minutes ago! And that tiny short-tempered producer has been blowing up my ear for 10 minutes straight, so you either go out there or I’ll have to kick his minuscule ass and you’ll face the consequences cause-“

“Ok!ok! I’ll go!” Steve raises his hands, trying to calm her down “i didn’t notice I’d been here so long, I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders slump down and she sighs “It’s ok dingus, I’m sure you’re stressed with all your start-of-the-season shit. Go do your magic and we’ll order takeout tonight, alright?” She gives him a soft smile.

They’ve been roommates for years. It’s been a long time since they’ve passed the point of affording their own place, but L.A. is lonely, so having company at the end of the day is nice.

“Ok. Although I’m not sure if you need that more than I do.” Steve laughs and raises his eyebrows playfully.

“Sure, sure, whatever. Go get your makeup done princess” she ushers him away, pushing him out of his own trailer and shutting the door on his face.

…

When Robin said he was late to makeup, she really wasn’t lying. The trailer was almost empty at that point. A girl was sitting in one of the chairs, but apart from her, completely empty.

He’d never seen that girl before but he’d been told there were new characters this season, so she must be one of them. She’s pretty and around his age, maybe a love interest. She’s also on her phone so she must be waiting for this new makeup artist too.

Who’s nowhere to be seen apparently.

“Not very professional is she?” He jokes, sitting a couple chairs away from her and taking off his jacket.

She jumps a little, obviously not expecting him. Immediately she turns off her phone and tucks it in her jean pocket, looking at him very confused “Sorry?”

He points behind them, where no one is “The new makeup girl, or woman, I guess. Not very professional to be absent on her first day.”

She frowns “Actually-“

“But what do I know? The big guys hired her. She’s probably sucking up to them, figuratively or literally, cause she must be sleeping with one of them to make them fire Angela. She was the best, really, if you’d met her you’d love her. But she’s gone, so we’ll make do with whoever this is, if she shows up that is.” He shrugs, getting comfortable on the chair.

“Unbelievable.” she scoffs.

“Right?” Steve smiles. At last, someone who gets his indignation. It doesn’t hurt that she’s hot, but really, he needed a friend here.

Maybe this is the subject they relate to, and because of this mutual annoyance they end up with a beautiful friendship. Or something more. He hasn’t had action in a while.

You know what they say, nothing brings people closer than a common enemy.

He glimpses through the mirror the new plaque on the wall behind him, reading it out loud. “Wow, even her name sounds pretentious.” He looks at her with a smirk “I’m Steve by the way, what’s your name?”

————————————————————————

Frankie, the older black woman who introduced herself earlier as the hair magician, shouts your name before opening the door to the trailer “Hi honey, I don’t wanna rush you but he has to be ready in 5 minutes.” She nods to Steve.

“It’s alright, tell Erik I’ll be quick.” You pick up your face palette and start mixing shades to get Steve’s color.

Steve fucking Harrington. Who with a quick glance, you can see is shocked to learn you’re the woman he’s been shit-talking about. What an asshole.

You were actually excited to work with him. He was your favorite character in the show and after watching some of the cast’s interviews, you kinda became his fan.

Not anymore.

“Wait. You’re-“ He frowns, trying to understand just how bad he’s fucked up.

“The slut who’s sucked off her way here? In the flesh” You give him a sarcastic smile, before dropping it completely and turning his chair around, facing you.

“I- I thought…”

You start applying light concealer on the reddening areas of his face, not including the blush he’s now sporting. “That I wasn’t her? No shit.”

You continue working under his eyes, making him avoid staring at you.

“You could’ve told me.” he mutters, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“I tried, you were pretty passionate on the subject.”

You thank whoever made the schedule for filming a natural look today, because if you spend much more time with him alone, you can’t promise he’ll come out alive. And it’s not a good look for your first day of work.

He looks down apologetically, feeling guilty for his words in the heat of the moment “Look… I’m sorry for saying what I said, I’m having a really-“

“Shut up.” you cut him off.

He looks taken aback, frowning and looking up to stare at you “Excuse me?”

“Stop talking, I’m trying to do my job.” You mutter nonchalantly, giving him the last touches under his lower lip.

He’s still processing, a disoriented look taking over his face, cause there’s no way someone’s talked to him that way, not after he became who he is now at least.

You put all the makeup back in its place and turn around to face him one last time, “There you go Mona Lisa, you can leave now.” You clap his cheek a couple times without applying pressure, just to piss him off, and point to the door behind him.

He’s still speechless when he leaves the trailer, and when he finishes shooting, and even that night at home, with a slice of greasy pizza between his teeth, he can’t seem to shake off the way you acted, the way you talked to him. It’s like you couldn’t care less about him.

It infuriates him.

It infuriates him so much he spends all night tossing and turning, thinking about you. Cause if you want to play like this, then game on, you have no idea what you started.

#steve fic #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington hc #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve stranger things #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington one shots #steve harrington series #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you

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traveler-at-heart · 11 months ago

Text

Brave

Summary: The sudden loss of someone in your family leaves you broken. Natasha tries to help.

A/N: Special thanks to @happychopshoppenguin for helping me to sort out ideas for this plot.

It was a regular day for the Avengers.

Mission, explosions, fighting some bad guys and then fly back in the Quinjet.

“Fury’s gonna be mad” Clint taunts, looking at you.

“He didn’t say how to stop them from sharing the drive with the Chinese” you smile, thinking that blowing up their entire control room was a bit much. But, you were in a hurry to finish the mission and go home.

Clint rolls his eyes and steers the Quinjet.

“Alright, it’s gonna be at least seven hours. Go get some sleep, dynamite. Tasha, you ok?”

Natasha had been quiet, which was nothing new around you. To most people, it was probably the contrast in personalities; while the Russian was reserved, you were very outgoing.

You’d hope it was just that, and not that she disliked you. After a few attempts at conversation that turned cold, you decided to be cordial, but give her space.

Right now, she’s sitting in the back of the Quinjet, no visible injuries. But still, her hand is over her ribs, and she seems to be deep in thought.

You know what’s happening and that she’d never ask for help.

“Do you need to clean any wounds? I’ll take over the Quinjet while you do” you offer to Clint and he shakes his head no. Walking to the first aid kit, you pull out a bottle of water, painkillers and a pack of ice. You’re about to walk to sit next to Natasha, when you bring a hand to your forehead.

“Great. Blood and sooth. I must stink” placing the first aid stuff next to her, you mumble to yourself about taking a quick shower.

By the time you come out, Natasha has already taken a pill, and has the ice pack over her bruised ribs. Her eyes are closed, and much as you’d like to stare, you go sit next to Clint, hoping to get home soon.

—

Maria is waiting on the hangar when you land.

“Told ya” Clint mocks and you turn to glare at him.

“Did you snitch on me, Barton?”

“Y/N” Maria says, and her tone alone erases your smile.

“What’s wrong?” you say, going over every possible scenario. This is your last mission before a two week break to go back home. “Is it…?”

Your mom was supposed to have surgery. But she was fine. It couldn’t be…

“I’m sorry”

It’s as if a bucket of ice cold water was poured over your head. Your hands are so numb, you can’t feel Natasha taking one of them, her arm around your shoulders.

—

It’s been a week. Natasha tries not to think about you, mainly because there’s nothing she can do to help.

And it’s none of her business when (or if) you come back. Still, she feels a certain heaviness in her movements as she makes her morning coffee.

You always made enough for the two of you. And it tastes so much better than the one Natasha makes.

“Is Y/N around?” Maria walks in, looking for you.

“I thought she was still with her family”

“She came back earlier. It didn’t… it sounded bad. Like a family disagreement had happened on top of everything else” Maria sighs.

“Do you know what it was?”

“All I know is that her mother’s condition had been bad for a while… and then they did emergency surgery but her heart was too weak”

Natasha nods in silence, imagining how hard it must be for you. How your mother always sent something she knitted for everyone on the team on their birthdays, or how your parents would fly to visit at least once a month.

“If you see her, will you let me know? I just want to make sure she’s alright”

“Of course”

—

No one saw you, not even for movie night. It’s not like the team was expecting you, but it was quiet as the movie played on the screen, and only Sam seemed to be paying attention.

Natasha looks at the table in the middle of the room.

You always got her Dr. Pepper. Her guilty pleasure, a little indulgence in her life of strict physical activity and healthy meals.

This time, there’s only beer that no one bothers to drink. A headache threatens to sour her mood even more, but the cupboard with medical supplies is almost empty.

That’s how everything feels without you around.

Natasha had hoped you’d be at the staff meeting next Monday, but everyone took a seat, your chair remained empty.

“We have to do something” Steve says, looking around. His eyes meet Maria’s.

“Well, she’s been going on solo missions”

“And you think that’s a good idea?” Barton challenges, clearly annoyed. Would it be so hard for Fury to give a damn about his team?

“Listen, any one of you is welcomed to join her but I don’t think…”

“I’ll go” Natasha says.

“Good. Maybe she needs some… girl talk” Steve says and everyone laughs for the first time in weeks.

“Yes, we’ll braid our hair while we wait for the bad guys, Steve” Natasha mocks.

“Nice one, Capsicle” Tony says.

Truth be told, Natasha wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction when you saw her at the hangar.

“I’m on solo duty, Natasha” you say without looking at her, getting inside the small aircraft.

“Fury’s orders” the redhead lies, following you. She almost crashes against your back as you stop and turn around.

“If you’re coming, I don’t want to hear any scolding or complains. I’m running this operation”

“That’s fine by me”

Either way, from what she read on the file, it was only information extraction. And yet, you were gone for thirty minutes, after she successfully hacked into the database.

“Where the hell have you been?” Natasha scolds, forgetting about her previous promise.

“Can you get us on the air? I’ll take over in a minute” you answer, your face evidently beaten up, as one of your eyes was starting to swell.

Natasha is torn between concern and anger, but she figures it is better to talk to you once they’re away from the enemy. With a sigh, she starts the engine and sets the coordinates of the Compound.

A spot on the floor catches her eye.

Blood. A lot of it.

“Y/N?” she stands up, looking around. Following the trail of blood, she opens up the door to the small bathroom. She sees you, your uniform torn around your thigh, a gash exposed. “Oh my God!”

“Ever tried knocking?” you say, without looking at her. Next thing you do is use the surgical stapler to close the wound, not caring to use anesthesia.

“You need stitches”

“I’m fine” you stand up, taking off the top of your uniform. Natasha spots bruises that are just starting to heal.

Maybe that’s why the medical supplies were gone the other day.

“Y/N…”

“If you’re not gonna fly, I’m taking over” you walk towards the cabin, and she stands there, looking at all the blood that you left behind.

What the hell is she gonna tell Maria when you come back?

There’s a moment of silence as you land the Quinjet. You hope that Natasha will not even start about your injury, so you wait for her to leave.

“Y/N?”

“I’m fine, Natasha”

“I’m worried” she admits in a low voice, which catches you off guard. You’ve never thought she cared enough, not about you at least.

“I’ll stop going on missions until I’m better”

She wants to tell you it’s not enough, because an injury isn’t the issue here. But Natasha also recognizes when she’s about to cross a boundary.

So, she just nods and leaves the hangar. The feeling of defeat comes with her as you’re left alone on the jet.

—

Another Monday, another staff meeting.

To everyone’s surprise, you’re the last through the door. Steve sits up, but the rest of the team just looks at you, afraid that saying anything else might scare you away.

For your part, you ignore everyone but Natasha, placing a paper bag from her favorite bakery in front of her.

She smiles at you, because it’s something you always do on Monday meetings. This time, you don’t mutter your usual excuse of being around the bakery first thing in the morning. You do give a little smile in return, and Natasha tries to ignore the warm feeling she gets from the gesture.

“Everyone, have a seat” Maria says, trying to pretend she isn’t surprised to see you as well. “We have word of a HYDRA base storing potentially dangerous technology. It’s big enough to send the whole team”

“Surely some of us could stay behind if we’re not up for it” Barton says, avoiding your eyes. He’s the only one that knows about what happened on your mission with Natasha.

“It’s not ideal, but if anyone wants out, speak now. Very well”, she continues after a beat of silence. “Here’s the map of the facility. You leave in an hour”

—

The mission was completed.

Barely.

You’re holding a gauze against your side, to stop the bleeding from a bullet graze. Fury’s been called to go over what happened.

He doesn’t seem pleased.

“You better do something about her” Tony says, his finger pointing at you.

“Stark” Barton warns but you don’t even react to his confrontation.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. If she wants to go and get killed, that’s her deal. But we were just about done with the mission when she decides to fight a dozen HYDRA agents on her own”

“We need to calm down” Steve says.

“No, there was a town a few miles south and HYDRA had nuclear warheads. Have we learned nothing? This could have been catastrophic”

“But it wasn’t, so…”

“If you have some mommy issues to deal with, do it on your free time. I’m not gonna burden myself with civilian deaths over your trauma”

“Tony!” Steve reprimands, standing up. They’re so busy facing each other, they never see you approaching. You throw a punch that hits Stark square in the eye, followed by another one that breaks his nose.

“Say that again, you fucking asshole” you shout, throwing a kick that never lands. It takes Steve and Bucky to hold you back. “Talk shit, Stark, see what happens”

“That’s enough. You’re suspended, effective immediately” Fury says.

“I’ll do you one better. I quit” you push Rogers and Bucky away, not bothering to look at the rest of your teammates.

It’s better this way.

—

It’s not hard to find you. Being a professional spy works in Natasha’s favor, but you’re basically bouncing from your apartment to the bar around the corner.

Sit and drink.

That’s all you do from the moment you walk in, around noon and then you leave past midnight. Before going up your apartment, you stop by the bodega to get another bottle of whatever cheap booze they have and call it a night.

Natasha looks from across the street, debating between going inside and talking to you or just going home.

What can she tell you to make it all better?

That’s the question she asks herself all week, and come Friday Natasha still doesn’t have an answer.

The bar is crowded and the redhead figures it’s safe enough to go inside without being spotted.

You’re in your usual spot, leaning against the bar while sitting on a stool. The loud music and conversations make you dizzy, but you still ask for another scotch and drink half of it in one gulp.

“Are you moving anytime soon?” a twenty something year old pops out of nowhere and you don’t even look his way. “We want to sit at the bar and watch the game, I’m sure you can go be a sad drunk somewhere else”

“Fuck off” you say after finishing your drink and asking for another one. When they give it to you, the idiot knocks it from your hand.

“You have ten seconds to apologize or leave” you rub your temples, thinking how much worse your headache will be after kicking his ass.

“I don’t think so” he says, throwing a punch at you. Even with all you drank, you’re able to avoid his fist, knocking him down in one swift motion.

“Crap” you kinda forgot he was not alone. Three more guys show up, and while you’re busy blocking some kicks, one of them manages to punch you in the face. You fall to the ground, feeling a kick to your side and a fist that connects with your nose.

At this point, you give up, thinking that getting your ass kicked in a bar is just as effective as drinking the day away.

But the next attack never comes. In fact, all three men are down.

“Get up” you hear someone say.

It sounds like Natasha.

You try to stand, but there’s a pain in your side. Before you can collapse on the ground, arms go around your waist and help you stand, walking side by side all the way to your apartment.

The lavender scent and the gentle touch confirms it’s Natasha, and you try not to think about how much you’ve missed her.

The redhead opens the door to your apartment, letting you down on the couch. You grunt as you sit, blood running down your nose and temple.

Yeah, this is going to be the worst hangover of your life.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” Natasha says looking around the place.

You really did miss her and the thought finally breaks you.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” Natasha kneels in front of you the minute you let out a sob, tears mixing with the blood.

“It’s not worth it, Nat. I’m not worth the trouble. You should go” you plead, overwhelmed at the guilt that’s been consuming you for weeks now.

“What are you talking about?”

“She kept asking for me. When they were at the hospital. She wanted to see me, she was scared and in pain and I wasn’t there. My mother died and I didn’t get to say goodbye”

“Y/N…”

“What kind of person does that? How can you fail so badly to the people that loved you?”

“You didn’t fail”

“Yes, I did” you say, struggling to breathe.

“You didn’t. It’s ok” Natasha tries to calm you, her hands going through your hair until your breathing evens out.

The rush of adrenaline leaves your body, and pretty soon, you’re slumped against the couch, Natasha’s hands still in yours.

—

There’s light. And pain.

A different kind than the one you’ve had. As you sit up, you feel your bruised ribs and when you grimace, the split lip reminds you your face didn’t fare any better during your fight.

Natasha…

“How are you feeling?” you turn to find the woman standing in the middle of your kitchen.

“Like shit” you reply and she chuckles.

“There’s some coffee. It’s not as good as the one you make, but it will do. I should go” she sets her cup down, sighing.

“You don’t have to…” you want her to stay. But you don’t know what will happen if you ask her.

“I do, actually” she walks towards the door, but you endure the pain to meet her at the threshold.

“Nat”

“No” she shakes her head, without looking back at you. “You have no idea how hard it is to watch someone you love hurt themselves”

The word love echoes, making you take a step back.

Natasha turns to look at you, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I guess you were bound to find out eventually”

“Natasha” you plead, not knowing what to say.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I won’t go into this when you’re going through hell and all i’ve done is watch you from afar. I guess I just want you to know…” she wipes the tears and looks at you. “You buy my favorite brand of peanut butter. You wake up one hour before I do, but the coffee is done only when I’m up. My water bottle is always full and cold before going to the gym. You charge my phone when I forget to, and when it’s late and I’m still working you stop by and tell me you made too much pasta just so I eat something…. You’re not a bad person. You’re wonderful and I wish I could have told you sooner. I’m sorry” Natasha turns around and leaves.

You don’t stop her this time.

—

It’s been three days and Natasha hasn’t heard from you. To be fair, she said a lot of things and didn’t wait for you to reply, so that might have been a bad idea.

Talking to Clint might be the only solution and she’s looking for him when you leave the conference room, followed by Maria and Steve.

Tony approaches you from the other side and Natasha waits around the corner.

“I’m sorry about what I said” Stark says and you nod.

“Fair enough. Not sorry about punching you, though”

“Fair enough” he repeats, smiling.

When they all leave, you turn back, your eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Hi” you approach her, hands inside your pockets.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sober”

“That’s good”

“Mhm” you nod, holding her stare. Your eyes travel to her lips and you sigh. “Can we talk?”

“We don’t have to…”

“I wanna show you something. It won’t take long, I promise. What do you say?” you offer your hand and she stares at it for a second.

When Natasha nods and takes it, you hold her tight, leading her out of the Compound.

—

“She loved Central Park” you remember, walking around the benches, Natasha’s hand still in yours. “The whole city, really”

“She liked it because you live here, I think” Natasha says and you nod.

“Well, that and the pizza”

“Right” the redhead nods. You find a bench and lead her to it, pointing at the plaque.

Love is only for the brave, followed by your mother’s name.

“Is something she said often. Figured it might be nice to have it here, for people to read and gather courage”

“That’s a beautiful way to remember her” Natasha nods, aware that you’re moving closer.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you what I thought back at my place, Nat”

“You don’t need to explain anything” she interrupts, giving you a way out.

“I didn’t think you liked me that much. And I absolutely thought I was being more discreet about my feelings for you”

“It’s hard for me to think that love makes you brave… or strong” Natasha says, taking a step forward so you’re inches apart.

“I know. Please let me show you?”

“I think I’d like that” she nods, leaning forward until your lips meet in a short kiss.

When you break apart, you remember that time your mother visited. How she insisted Natasha looked at you in a special way.

“What’s so funny?” Natasha asks against your lips when you smile.

“I love you” you say and she pulls you closer.

Everything will be ok, as long as you have each other.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you

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persevereforahappyending · 10 months ago

Text

A Legacies Secret |11|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Tara stared mindlessly at the TV while some old movie played, she tried flipping through the channels, but the hospital was already limited and there seemed to be nothing on. Tara kept checking her phone, waiting for a text that said you were on the way. It had been twenty minutes since you had last texted her, but she wasn’t worried yet, she figured you were probably just getting out of the shower, and she’d receive a text any minute.

She quickly grabbed her phone a minute later when she felt it vibrate. She frowned when she saw it wasn’t you calling but her sister. She knew she’d have to talk to Sam at some point, she had definitely cooled off since their last conversation. She wasn’t even mad anymore, she didn’t care who Sam’s birth father was, she couldn’t believe Sam never said anything though, Tara would have been there for her. She was honestly just happy Sam was still in town, as angry as you were, you said Sam got Dewey involved and they were both at Mindy’s, Sam hadn’t bailed yet when she easily could have.

“Hello?” Tara answered the phone.

“Look, I know you don’t want to speak to me right now,” Sam said softly.

“It’s fine, I’m just-”

“Tara something happened,” Sam cut her off. Tara sat up in the bed, ignoring the pain in her side. Sam hadn’t said anything yet and she could already feel her heart trying to beat out of her chest. “Y/N was attacked.”

Tara shook her head, tears already filling her eyes. “No,” she whispered. It wasn’t possible, she had just talked to you, you were at your apartment, you had just met up with everyone else, there was no way you could have been attacked.

“They’re alive.” Tara let out a relieved breath which sounded more like a sob. Alive was good, alive was all that mattered, she didn’t know how extensive your injuries were though. Tara had survived and she had been stabbed several times and had her leg broken, she had no idea what condition you were in. “We’re on the way to the hospital now.” Tara could only nod, she couldn’t find the words to speak. “I’ll be right there.”

Tara wasn’t sure how long it was after she got off the phone with Sam before she saw her sister walking through the door. She knew it had probably only been a few minutes, but it felt like hours. When Sam finally walked through the door Tara shot up, wincing at the quick movement.

“Hey, take it easy,” Sam said, rushing to her bedside.

“Are they okay?” Tara asked. “What happened?” Tara searched Sam’s face for any signs of something bad.

“They’re okay,” Sam rested a gentle hand on Tara’s shoulder, easing her back down onto the pillow. “They’re getting stitched up right now.” Tears quickly filled Tara’s eyes again. “It was just a cut on their arm.” Tara let out a shaky breath, a cut was probably the best injury one could get from Ghostface. “And they have a concussion, they were already out before we arrived.”

“I-I have to go,” Tara looked around, trying to figure out how she’d make this work. “I have to see them,” her eyes landed on the wheelchair, widening slightly. She didn’t like the wheelchair, but it would have to do.

“No, you’re staying here.” Sam put her hand on Tara’s shoulder, keeping her from trying to push off the bed.

Tara instantly flicked a glare at her sister. “I need to be there for them.”

“They’re okay,” Sam tried to say as calmly as possible. “Right now, they’re unconscious, there’s nothing you can do anyway.”

“I have to be there when they wake up!” Tara snapped, her voice cracking. “They were right there when I first woke up,” she looked up at her sister through tear filled eyes. “They were the first person I saw, and the relief…” she let out a breath, when her eye landed on you, she knew no one would ever hurt her again. “Please,” she begged. “I don’t want them to be alone.”

“How about I go?” Sam suggested softly. Tara couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her sister, she never expected Sam to sit at your bedside and wait for you to wake up. “I’m serious, I can go and when they wake up, I’ll come tell you. Besides, Gale and Dewey should be there, they’re the ones I rode with.”

Tara let out a chuckle, she smiled until she realized Sam was serious. “Yeah, because the person who doesn’t like her,” she gestured to Sam. “The guy who has arrested her more than once,” she gestured to the door, “and some random stranger is so much better to wake up to than your girlfriend.”

Sam frowned at Tara’s words. She wasn’t wrong, if she had woken up with anyone at her bedside besides you, she wouldn’t have been happy. She didn’t think any of her friends would have given her the instant comfort you did. The only person she felt completely safe next to besides you, was Sam.

“You can barely move,” Sam said gently. “Please, you know Y/N wouldn’t want you to, knowing it would cause you more discomfort.”

Tara looked down at her blanket, silently pouting. If it weren’t for the fact that she was stabbed through the hand and any sort of movement caused her excruciating pain, she would have crossed her arms. “Fine,” she mumbled.

Sam let out a relieved sigh and finally took her hand off Tara’s shoulder, seeming to assume she wouldn’t try leaving the bed again. “Do you need anything before I go down there?”

Tara shook her head. “Thank you, for doing this.”

Sam just smiled at her words then leaned forward, placing a kiss on the top of Tara’s head before making her way out of the room. Tara sighed, dropping her head back against the pillow, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do until you woke up, it’s not like her mind could focus on anything but your safety now. She decided to grab her phone and send a quick text to Liv to tell her what happened. Liv might have been more Tara’s friend than yours, but she still cared about you, and she would want to know what happened. It was only a few minutes later that Tara received a text from Liv that she was on her way.

Tara went back to watching whatever was on the TV. She tried to actually focus on the movie and not on worrying about you. You had been attacked, but you were alive, you were in the same building as her, you were safe, she just hadn’t seen you yet. As much as she tried to focus on the movie, she couldn’t help but look at her phone every two minutes, waiting to see if there was an update from Sam on you.

Tara’s door opened after what felt like hours later. She knew not that much time could have passed considering the same movie was playing but a second had never felt longer in her life. She sat up straighter when she saw her friends all pile into the room.

“Hey,” Tara said. She couldn’t help but scrunch her eyebrows as she saw them shuffling into the room. Chad, Mindy, and Wes kept their eyes on the floor. Amber and Liv seemed to be the only ones willing to look Tara in the eye.

The group, specifically Amber and Mindy, disagreed with Liv a lot. Even if they all got along, most group activities involved an argument between Liv and one, if not both, of them. Liv was outwardly glaring at Mindy though, more than Tara had ever seen.

“Everything okay?” Tara asked slowly, glancing from Liv to Mindy.

“No,” Liv snapped. “We just got back from visiting Y/N.”

“Wha-what happened? Are they okay?” Tara sat up in her bed.

“They’re fine,” Amber said, waving her hand.

“Fine isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe them right now,” Liv shot a glare at Amber.

Tara furrowed her brow. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say it seems Sam isn’t the only one with family secrets,” Amber smirked.

“Can someone just tell me what the fuck happened?” Tara snapped. You clearly weren’t okay, something happened after her friends visited you and Liv seemed to be the only one that cared.

Everyone flicked a scared glance at Tara, all of them clearly too afraid to answer her. Tara rolled her eyes and was about to snap at them again when the door opened again. She snapped her eyes to the door, her gaze softening when she saw it was Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked slowly.

“I don’t know,” Tara snapped. “They were just about to tell me what happened with Y/N.” Sam’s eyes shot to the floor, making Tara furrow her brow again, her sister also knew what happened.

“Hey!” Richie said, popping into the room as well. “I got you some fries,” he held out a small order of fries to Sam. Sam rolled her eyes at the fries but offered Richie a soft smile. “What-What did I miss?” he glanced around the room, seeming to just realize he walked into something.

“Y/N was attacked,” Tara said.

“Holy shit,” Richie whispered.

“And something happened but no one will tell me what the fuck is going on with my girlfriend,” she glanced at each person in the room.

“She’s awake,” Sam said. “That’s the first thing.” Her voice was soft, as if she were trying to keep Tara from overreacting to whatever else she had to say. “While Judy was asking questions about what happened Ghostface called.” Tara sucked in a breath; her heart began beating faster. “They-they...” Sam blinked a few times to gather her thoughts. Tara wondered what possibly could have been said over this phone call. “Ghostface said something,” she whispered. “And then Gale Weathers,” Sam shook her head, making Tara furrowed her brow. “Y/N is Gale and Dewey’s daughter.”

Tara’s eyes widened. “What?” she shook her head; she couldn’t have heard right.

You didn’t know your parents, your parents threw you away, literally left you outside the hospital so there was no trace of them. Learning this, learning Dewey, a guy who arrested you, and Gale, a talk show host, learning they were your parents would be worse than Ghostface actually attacking you. Dewey and Gale lived in town, they had been married, you could have had a family, a home, but they abandoned you instead.

“And then Mindy accused them of being Ghostface,” Liv said. “Again.”

Tara snapped a furious glare to Mindy. “What?” she asked, venom clearly in her tone.

“It just makes sense,” Mindy said calmly, raising her hand as if that would quench Tara’s anger. “A child of two legacy characters, abandoned by them, betrayed by them, then learning all this,” she gestured around. “Taking on the mantle of the killer than defined them, that still defines all of them, that ruined them, what better revenge?”

Tara looked at Mindy with wide eyes, shaking her head as she tried to contain her anger. “You got to be fucking kidding me,” Tara said. “That’s fucking bullshit! She didn’t know who her parents were!” she gestured widely with her good hand.

“Well, Ghostface learned,” Amber said, giving a little shrug. “It makes more sense for the child to learn who their parents are than it does some random stranger.”

Tara shook her head. “No! Y/N isn’t the killer!”

“You can’t know that T,” Mindy sighed. “You were here when they were attacked,” she put attacked in quotation marks. “No one was with them.”

“So, all of you were together?” All her friends kept their mouths shut. Tara let out a humorless chuckle. “Any of you could be the killer,” she cast her eyes over each of them. “All I know is Y/N isn’t the killer, they’re the only one I can say that for certain about.” Tara didn’t miss the way Sam crossed her arms over her chest, she almost felt bad, it sounded like she might believe Sam was capable of this, but she didn’t, she didn’t think you or Sam could ever do something like this, she knew neither of you could ever hurt her. “I think you guys can show yourselves out.”

“Come on Tara-”

“Get the fuck out!”

“Come on,” Chad whispered just as Mindy opened her mouth again. He gently put his hand on her arm and led her out the door. Wes quietly followed behind them, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“You too,” Tara said, looking at Amber. Amber opened her mouth to probably defend herself but quickly closed it, rolling her eyes as she stomped out of the room.

Liv stepped forward, resting her hand on Tara’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “She said she wanted to be alone,” Liv whispered. “But...”

Tara nodded, giving her a kind smile. Even when you wanted to be alone that never applied to Tara, she was the exception, always. “Thank you,” Tara whispered.

Liv followed the others out of the room leaving Tara alone with Sam and Richie. She wasn’t alone with them for long before Richie seemed to take the hint and made himself scarce as well.

Tara narrowed her eyes as Sam kept her eyes pointed at the floor, refusing to look at her. “You don’t agree with them, do you?” Tara scoffed. She kicked Sam out of the room before she was not afraid to do it again.

“I don’t think she’s the killer,” Sam mumbled. “I was standing right there when Gale revealed the truth,” Sam looked up, meeting Tara’s eyes finally. “You’d have to be a fucking spectacular actor to fake that kind of pain.” Tara’s heart broke at hearing that, she knew you better than anyone, she still could only imagine what you were going through. “However,” Tara furrowed her brow, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like Sam’s next words. “I want you to stay away from Y/N.”

“No,” Tara said instantly, shaking her head. “No. She needs me right now.”

“Tara-”

“No!”

“She is the daughter of Dewey and Gale!” Tara glared up at Sam. “Mindy might be wrong about her being the killer, but Y/N is the daughter of two of the only survivors of the original attacks. None of this is a coincidence,” Sam shook her head. “Someone let her live because it’s all just a game to them. You’re only going to be in danger with her around.”

Tara clenched her jaw, shaking her head, she couldn’t believe Sam was actually saying this. It wasn’t true, if anything Tara was safer with you around, you’d never let someone hurt her, hell she was most likely attacked because you weren’t around.

“If that’s true about her then the same goes for you,” Tara said, shrugging indifferently.

“Tara-”

“No,” Tara snapped. “If I’m in danger because she’s Dewey and Gales daughter then I’m definitely in danger because you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis.” Tara glared at her sister, refusing to react to the way Sam flinched at her words. “So, if I can’t be around her then you need to leave as well.”

Part of her was hoping Sam would back down, that Sam would realize how insane her logic was. Sam didn’t back down though, she just nodded sadly, then left, leaving Tara alone in her hospital room once again. Tara wiped her eyes; she didn’t even know when she started to cry. She shot you a text, wanting to be there for you in any way she could since she literally couldn’t be there for you. She decided to rest her eyes as she waited for you to text back, yelling at her friends had been more exhausting than she realized.

Tara wasn’t sure how long she dozed off for before her eyes snapped open. Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on a figure sitting in the corner. It was still daylight out, but all the lights were off, and her blinds were closed making the room rather dark. Tara’s heartbeat picked up for a second, but she quickly let out a relieved breath, shaking her head.

“Shit,” she whispered. “You scared the hell out of me.” It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, but she would know your form anywhere, even slumped in a chair, in a dark corner of the room.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question; she knew the second it left her mouth. It wasn’t like she needed to ask anyway, once the others told her everything, she knew you most definitely weren’t okay. She could hear it in your voice, even before you spoke, she could tell by the way you were slumped in the seat, nowhere near her bedside.

“I assume you heard?” There was no emotion in your voice, it was like you detached yourself from everything.

“Yeah.” Tara didn’t take her eyes off you; she watched as you somehow sunk further into the chair, eyes glued to the floor. She couldn’t see you that well anyway but the only time you had looked at her was when you apologized for scaring her, otherwise your eyes had been glued to the same spot on the floor.

“Everyone thinks I’m the killer,” you whispered. “Sam doesn’t want me to see you anymore.” Tara opened her mouth to argue, to say she didn’t think you were the killer, and she couldn’t care less what Sam thought. You weren’t the killer and there was nothing that would keep Tara away from you, not even her own sister. “And-” your voice cracked. “And my-” you paused on the word as if you physically couldn’t say it. Tara wanted nothing more than to jump out of the stupid bed and run up to you. “My birth mother abandoned me.”

Tara could feel her heart break for you, tears filled her eyes as she watched you bury your head in your hands, gripping your hair tightly. “Baby,” she whispered.

“Why wasn’t I good enough?” You looked up and the little bit of light in the room allowed Tara to see the tears shining in your eyes. “She was right there!” Your voice went higher but not loud enough for anyone outside the room to hear you. “And Dewey, he-” you shook your head and quickly buried your head your hands again. “They were right there. Why wasn’t I enough?” Your breathing was starting to become erratic. “Why am I not enough?” You began to sob.

“Come here,” Tara said. Her own tears had already begun to fall at seeing you like this.

You didn’t hesitate to leave your chair and take the one at Tara’s side, on the side of her good hand. Despite your distressed state, you buried your head in Tara’s side, careful not to touch any of her injuries. Tara reached up with her good hand and began running her hand through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp. She tried to offer you any sort of comfort as you silently sobbed into her side.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream #scream v #scream 5 #a legacies secret

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jogetsobsessed · 1 year ago

Text

The Prophecy - Paul Lahote

I've never written angst before so this was me giving a shot at it, please be nice lol

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

Please…change the prophecy

You felt your heart shatter as you stood outside of Emily's cabin.

The joy that was radiating off the man that you were so in love with was causing you physical pain. How could he be so happy?

Until a few hours ago you had been in a three-year relationship. You had never felt more loved than when you were with your boy. He promised you so much, marriage, a big house with a white picket fence, and children. Since your third date, you have been planning your future together.

Everyone told you that you were moving too fast. But you didn't listen because you didn't care. Paul was the one for you and you were the one for him.

When he phased for the first time two years into your relationship he had been terrified to tell you. Wanting to keep it a secret until Sam told him what could happen if he didn't. So one night Paul reluctantly brought himself to your house, snuck into your bedroom so your parents wouldn't wake, and told you. He laid all his cards out on the table.

And while you had initially laughed in his face he begged for you to believe him. Which you only did once he snuck you out of your house and took you to where Emily's cabin sat tucked away in the thick of the reservation. She and Sam had watched as Paul urged you to stand back. Working himself up to phase.

You had fallen flat on your ass, tears springing almost instantly as you looked around unable to pick your jaw up. Paul had huffed for a few seconds, making himself look as big as possible to emphasize his point before he lowered himself down, lying flat and lowering his ears.

From that day on you felt a small sense of pride. You were someone that Paul trusted enough and loved enough to tell his deepest darkest secret. The fact that your relationship had reached the point where the two of you were open books with each other warmed your heart and made you fall in love with him all over again.

That was until Jacob opened his big fat mouth.

You had been sitting at the counter in Emily’s kitchen rolling the chocolate chip cookie dough into little balls and placing them on the cookie sheet. She was bouncing around the kitchen focusing not just on getting the cookies baked but also finishing up on the sandwiches she was making for lunch and starting the roast that was to be eaten for dinner.

This had become a routine for the two of you since you had graduated high school. You didn't have a post-grad plan but you knew for sure it certainly didn't involve going away to school. The idea of even leaving Forks drove you mad. Why would you want to leave a place of perfection?

So while the two of you made light small talk and listened to the wind chimes that were knocking around with the soft breeze you worked on your respective tasks. When the various sets of stomping bare feet came up the porch and the screen door was thrown open neither of you even looked up, completely unphased by the rambunctious pack of teenage boys.

Paul had rushed over to where you sat and placed a quick peck to your temple as he swiped a ball of cookie dough, turning around and eating before you could swat his hand away.

“Paul Lahote”, you screeched rolling your eyes as he just smirked, reaching out to grab another. This time you hand stopped him and were able to fight it off. Once he realized that you were not budging he gave in and pulled you into his arms.

He had turned the two of you so you were facing the kitchen table where Emily had just placed the first platter of sandwiches down. It had been a few months since Paul had let you in on the pack secret and since then it had grown from the awkward two-man pack that was him and Sam to them and several other members of the tribe. You knew them all having grown up in the small community and you were happy to see Paul secretly get excited each time one of his new brothers phased for the first time.

The boys had turned into feral animals like they always did around mealtime. Food was flying around the table as they all stuffed their faces as if Emily had not fed them breakfast just hours before. Your laugh was quiet and you leaned into Paul attempting to absorb his warmth thanking your lucky stars that you had chosen to eat before the boys got back so you didn't have to fight the wild beasts off to get a chance at eating lunch.

To be honest you weren't even really paying attention. As soon as Paul's body heat started to warm your bones you tuned out the chaos of the kitchen, that was until you heard Jacobs's unnaturally loud voice cut through the air.

“Sam thank god you imprinted on Em, I don't know what we’d do without her '', his comment was meant to be light and funny. And for everyone else it was, the rest of the boys at the table laughed, shelling out their agreement towards the statement. But you felt Paul stiffen at Jacob's words.

You lifted your head and were met with his now hardened expression. A small part of you didn't want to know why, what Jacob meant by Sam imprinting on Emily, and why that caused Paul's mood to shift. But a bigger part of you wanted to know.

“Paul what does that mean, imprinting?”.

Your words caused everyone to shut up. You had tried to be quiet but it was no match for their enhanced hearing. Instantly an awkward air settled over the normally happy kitchen. None of the boys moved a muscle, except to turn slightly in their chairs to throw dirty glances at Jacob, who looked incredibly guilty.

“Paul I'm not gonna ask again, what the hell did Jacob mean?”, you had pushed yourself out of his embrace, putting some distance between your two bodies. His face was unreadable but his body language displayed how upset he was. But it wasn't anger, which was what you expected to see, no he seemed genuinely upset.

Slowly he crossed the room reaching where you now stood by the front door and walked slightly past you holding the front door open while gesturing for you to follow. You allowed him to lead you to the set of beautiful handmade rocking chairs that sat on the creaky front porch.

It was then after he spent several minutes with his head in his hands that he explained to you what it meant for a quileute to imprint. The whole spiel on how this person becomes their whole world, no matter what the imprint wants the imprinter will dedicate their life to their imprint.

And when you asked the hard question, the one that you in the back of your mind knew the answer to but were too scared to ask because you knew it was about to change everything, you watched as life drained from his eyes.

“No”.

He hadn't imprinted on you.

That meant that no matter how much he loved you there was someone out there that he was going to love more when the time came. No matter how much he assured you that he would fight the connection because you were the love of his life and how the bond could still snap because it wasn't an exact science, you still felt a heavy presence settle in your chest.

Dread.

You were dreading the day that your boy was taken from you.

The day that it became a reality that you were going to get your perfect house or perfect family weighed heavily on your mind.

Paul had assured you that he wanted to stay in a relationship with you. Downright got on his knees and begged when you suggested that you should leave then, make it a no-hard-feelings split.

“Paul, it's not meant to be '', you cried as you watched him hold back his sobs.

“No baby please stay, I am begging you. I can not lose you, please”.

-----------

You made it work after that day.

Tried to ignore that nagging feeling of impending doom whenever your relationship got brought up.

But you watched as some of the other boys found their imprints and how their lives changed, becoming exactly what Paul had described.

So you knew that as much as Paul believed he would be able to fight back his instinctual need to put his imprint first when he did find her you knew that that wasn't going to be the case.

But no matter how much you tried to prepare yourself when the day came and you received the text you shattered.

I don't know how to do this. It doesn't feel fair to you to call or come over to tell you this but I’m sorry. Last night…the bond snapped with Rachel Black. She’s back in town from being with her aunts and I ran into her at the store. I’m so sorry, thank you for the past three years. I will never regret loving you.

The scream that had left you was guttural as you collapsed onto the floor. Tears were pouring out of your eyes as you clutched your heart.

You felt so stupid, wasting these past few months begging an invisible higher power for you to be Paul's person. Begging to please change what prophecy was written in the stars, so that Paul would continue loving you forever.

Your wails could no doubt be heard from outside of the house but it didn't matter. Not at this moment.

Hours were spent laying on your bedroom floor, trying to collect yourself. Eventually, you did enough to pull yourself up. You had no clue what you were doing. You knew that you shouldn't be getting in the truck and driving the familiar drive to a place that felt like a second home but you had to see him.

In your time wallowing on the floor of your bedroom you had decided that you weren't going to let him get away with this, flush three years down the drain in a text message. He owed you a face-to-face conversation.

Panic didn't start coursing through your veins until you had a moment of clarity and realized what you were doing. You didn't want to look crazy but you needed this. You needed to look him in the eyes and have him tell you that he wasn't in love with you anymore.

But as you opened your car door and made your way off the creaking steps of the front porch you stopped as your blood ran cold.

The curtains were pulled back from the front windows which gave you a perfect view of the kitchen. And you saw how happy everyone looked. There were various different bowls and plates of snacks lying on the table and the kitchen counter. Chairs had been found throughout the house to fit everyone at the table as they were playing what looked like an intense game of spoons. Their laughter was so loud you could hear it from outside and your heart swelled as you longed to be in there, having fun and laughing with your friends.

But the longing stopped when you saw him. How his arm was thrown around the back of her chair holding her close, his head thrown back as he howled with laughter.

He looked like for the first time in a long time, maybe even ever he was happy. Had you ever made him this happy?

You had been proud of yourself for keeping your composure but once you saw him bring her close and press a chaste kiss to the top of her head your knees buckled and you dropped to the ground.

Air was rushing out of your lungs and not returning as it became obvious coming over here was a mistake, you had been right there was no way Paul was going to be able to fight the bond he had with Rachel. But that didn't stop you from looking up at the sky blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay as you whispered,

“Please”.

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musubi05 · 2 months ago

Text

╰┈➤ R.I.P Dinos

Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Summary: You have to make an active volcano for science class. Sam was more than happy to help!

Warnings: None!

"Jesus all of these assignments for what? I swear this school sucks," you mumbled as you walked down the bunker's grand stairs. Luck was not on your side today but it almost never was for you. Today, specifically, you got tasked with four different projects from four different teachers. Thankfully one of them was a group project.

You threw your bag on the table in the library, accidentally causing a beer bottle to shatter once it hit the ground. Again, luck was not on your side.

Sam ran around the corner with a gun in his hand causing you to put your hands up. "Oh my god it's just you," he breathed out relieved. He uncocked his pistol and put it back in his waistband.

"Ouch," you replied sarcastically as you bent down to pick up the shards of glass. Sam came over and crouched on the floor to help.

"You know what I meaann." Sam rolled his eyes.

You chuckled softly, tossing a handful of glass shards into the trash bin nearby. "Yeah, yeah. Just messing with you," you muttered, brushing your hands off on your jeans.

Sam flopped down into one of the library chairs with a dramatic sigh. "So, what’s with the whole bag slam? You mad at the table or what?" he asked, leaning back and propping his boots up on the edge.

You groaned and pulled out the stack of assignment sheets. "Four projects. Four teachers. All due next Monday," you grumbled, spreading the papers out like a bad poker hand. "One of them’s a group thing, though, so I’m hoping I can trick someone into doing most of the work."

"Dang. Only a week to prepare," Sam’s eyes flicked over the papers disinterestedly, but then he snatched one up. His lips curled into a mischievous grin. "At least one of these seem fun! A volacano! Oooo."

You pursed your lips in a line with a unfazed look. "Are you serious right now?"

Sam shrugged as he read the projects details on the paper. "Yeah, actually. Why don't we do it together? Who's better at exploding things than me?"

"Dean is pretty good at exploding things with that grenade launcher," you smirked when Sam raised an eyebrow.

"He used that thing?! Without me-" Sam took a breath to stop himself. "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm better with mixing things to explode. I don't need a gun to do it."

"Fine, we can do it together. But we can't make it actually explode. If I get in trouble I'm blaming it on you." You point your finger at him with your warning.

"Okay okay. Minimal property damage." Sam put his hands up like he was swearing to it. "No fun," he mumbled.

"I am fun! Just don't want the attention." Sam hummed in response understanding what you mean.

⛧

You guys got started later that day after getting the supplies and your workspace was a mess. Newspapers covered the entire table, and somehow, you had managed to get some powder in your hair from the mâché. Sam, who has clay all over his hands, was vigorously shaping the volcano’s body with a mixture of paper-mâché and clay.

"Okay, okay, hear me out," Sam said, voice full of excitement. "What if we carve out tiny lava paths down the sides? Like, little rivers of doom?"

You raised an eyebrow as you smoothed another strip of paper-mâché onto the volcano’s surface. "And what happens when the 'lava' doesn’t follow your little paths and just explodes everywhere?"

"Then we know it’s realistic," he shot back with a grin.

You shook your head, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "Fine. But if this thing floods the classroom, I’m telling everyone it was your idea."

Sam dramatically placed a hand over his heart. "I’d expect nothing less."

After another half hour of slathering on layers, the volcano finally looked somewhat presentable—if you ignored the fact that it was still dripping with glue.

Sam leaned back in his chair, hands on his hips. "Dude. We made this."

"Yeah," you said, admiring the lumpy, yet oddly charming volcano. "And somehow, neither of us got hurt in the process."

Sam grinned. "Yet."

⛧

The next day, once the volcano had dried, the real fun began.

You were painting the gray and white paper-mâché into green and brown hills on one side. On the other side, that was already dried, Sam stuck little plastic dinosaurs into the scene. He gave one of them a dramatic shove, sending it tumbling down the side of the volcano. "This one knows what’s coming," he narrated ominously.

You rolled your eyes, but you were trying not to laugh. "Sam, I don't think the dinosaurs even knew the difference between a volcano and a mountain."

"Shhh," he hushed you, gently placing a palm-sized T-Rex on the peak. "This is the Volcano God. He watches over the others."

You looked at him, unimpressed. "You’re ridiculous."

"And yet, you keep me around."

Shaking your head, you grabbed a couple of tiny fake trees and positioned them at the volcano’s base. "Okay, I think this actually looks pretty cool."

Sam clapped his hands together. "Now we just have to make it erupt."

The moment of truth had arrived. The volcano sat on a metal tray, ready for the test eruption. Sam held the baking soda like it was a vial of liquid gold, while you carefully poured the vinegar into a cup.

"Okay," you said, taking a deep breath. "If this explodes too much—"

"It won’t," Sam interrupted confidently. "I measured this out."

You gave him a skeptical look but still handed him the vinegar. He dramatically lifted the cup over the volcano. "And so, the Volcano God awakens!" he proclaimed before dumping the liquid in.

For a second, nothing happened. Then, with a satisfying hiss, thick red foam bubbled up from the crater and poured down the sides. The tiny T-Rex at the top was quickly swallowed in the fizzing mess.

Sam gasped. "The Volcano God has fallen!"

You burst out laughing as the foam dripped onto the tray. "Dude, this actually looks sick."

Sam grinned proudly. "Told you."

As the eruption slowed to a stop, you sat back, arms crossed. "Okay. We definitely deserve an A for this."

Sam nodded, wiping a bit of foam off his sleeve. "Agreed. And if not, we threaten to make it actually explode next time."

You shot him a look.

"Kidding!" he said quickly, but his smirk said otherwise.

⛧

Today was the day. The day you had to turn in all four of your projects. After a week of nonstop researching, putting things together, and writing. You finally finished and jesus, you were tired.

Unfortunately Sam had to leave after helping you finish with the volcano to go do a hunt. He didn't want to just leave you alone with all this stress of school. Every time you were stressed out or very focused on something you wouldn't take care of yourself that well.

Sometimes you'd forget to eat meals. Sometimes you don't drink enough water and you don't realize until you have a huge headache that won't go away no matter how much water you drink. You also stay up at night making sure everything is perfect. That trait is from Sam himself and you mentally thank him every time this happens. However, you still convinced him to go and that you'd be fine.

You walked into the bunker, down the stairs and into the library as quickly as you could. You were happy that you were done and happy that Sam was coming home soon. You had planned to get some snacks so you could watch a movie in Dean's man cave which was one of your favorite things to do to pass the time.

You set your volcano down on the table and your bag on one of the seats when you heard the bunker's garage door opening.

"Sam?" You called out to see if that was him.

"Yep. I'm back!" He announced as he walked into the main room with his warm smile. You went down the little steps with arms open wide to hug him which he accepted with no hesitation.

"Welcome back," you said softly as your grip slightly tightened around him. He rubbed your shoulder with his thumb in response.

"Thanks, sweetie. So, how was school?" He asked not wanting to get out of the hug just yet.

"Better now since I'm not worrying about any projects," you bluntly spoke with annoyance about those assignments. "Speaking of..." you broke the hug to go back in the library with a curious Sam following you.

"Tada!" You put up jazz hands to show off the volcano. "I brought it back!"

"What grade did you get on it?"Sam asked as he smirked a little as if he already knows.

"Well, she hasn't officially graded it since she's slow at grading things but I may have saw good points on the rubric she was writing on," you returned the smirk to Sam.

"Ayy that's my girl!" He ruffled your hair a little but you didn't protest like you normally did. "But why bring it back? I thought you'd just throw it away."

"So we can make an actual explosion!" You said which warned a big smile from Sam.

"You're the best sister ever."

#spn #supernatural #winchester sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister #winchesters x sibling

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jazzyoranges · 2 years ago

Text

Harleys in Hawaii

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: you’re Tara’s older girlfriend

Words: 4.5k

A/n: listen to harleys in hawaii

Warnings: i didn’t feel like editing or spell checking sorry bout that 💀, age gap (Tara is 22/23, you’re 27), drinking, kissing, fade to black sex, R is implied to dress more masculine, also Scream 6 doesn’t exist cause Anika is alive 😇

Tara has gone through 3 girlfriends and 5 boyfriends in the span of 5 months. Currently, she’s having an intervention on how and why. Well, the core four’s version of an intervention at least

“Dude, you have to teach me how to get a girlfriend” Chad begs, and Mindy laughs

“Why am I even here? You guys suck at interventions. If anything, this is the opposite of one”

This time, her sister chimes in. “We’re here because you’ve been going through partners like pairs of clothes. Why are you dating all these people?”

“I don’t know!” Tara groans “In the beginning it’s to be fun dating someone, but after a week it feels like a chore”

“Wow, never knew you of all people would have the same mindset of a frat boy” This earns Mindy a slap on her shoulder from Anika, who was cuddled into her

“Shut up Mindy.” the younger Carpenter spits out

“So you date people and drop them ‘cause they don’t give you the thrill of being in a relationship?” Chad says and everyone in the room goes silent. Momentarily, he stops throwing his tennis ball up in the air

“…Did I say something wrong?”

“Never knew you could be smart, Chad”

“Sometimes I wish we weren’t related.”

“Is that it, Tara?” Sam asks “You just want the thrill of dating?”

“When you put it that way, I guess? I dunno, I haven’t really met anyone exciting. You’d think there’d be fun people in New York”

“You just haven’t met the right person, Tara. I’m sure there’s someone for you, you just suck at looking”

“Oh, really? Where am I supposed to look, then?”

“I dunno, definitely not where you’re looking right now” Mindy shrugs, and Tara sighs at how helpful her friends are

—

You meet you coworker’s sister when her and her friends decide to have a study session at the small coffee shop you and Sam work at. You and the older Carpenter instantly clicked as friends. Sam knew you knew about the Woodsboro killings, but you knew not to trust the media entirely. After a few weeks of talking to her, you didn’t understand how Sam could be accused of such disgusting things

Your friendship solidified when you ‘accidentally’ spilled an ice cream sundae on some girl who was being mean to her. Of course you were fired the next day, but Sam left with you, opting to work at a smaller coffee shop run by a nice old man and his lovely wife

Sam considered you a good friend, and she trusted you with being around her sister. Luckily the old couple who ran the shop were kind and trusting, and let Sam’s sister and friends use the coffee shop after hours for late-night studying. It was maybe about 6:30pm when the shop officially closed, and the study session started. Sam insisted she stay by herself, but you didn’t want her to be lonely while watching her kids friends study

Personally, you thought it was far too late to study, but you also hadn’t been to school in 3 years. Soft music was playing while the group studied and you and Sam cleaned up the shop here and there

Tara tried to focus on her work, she really did. After a few glances in your direction and many “sorry, what did you say?”’s later, Mindy finally decided to comment on Tara’s behavior. I mean, could she really be mad? You were breathtaking. Your shirt hugged your arms and torso just the right way, you hand a very pretty face, most of all, you were-

“Alright, what’s up with you? You’ve been distracted this entire time”

“I’m not distracted, I’m listening” Tara lied straight through her teeth, and Mindy just looked at her in suspicion

“You’ve seemed out of it this entire study session, you okay?” Anika reached to rub Tara’s shoulder

“Uh, y-yeah” Tara turned around in her seat looking for you. When she saw you were either in the break room or the bathroom, Tara leaned in closer to the group and so did her friends

“Sam’s friend is really hot.”

“Understandable” Chad nods

“Definitely ask her out”

“Like hell I am, Mindy!” Tara whisper-shouts

You’re about to leave for the night. Gathering your jacket, helmet, and keys from your locker, you barely make it out of the break room before one of Sam’s friends calls you over

“Hey, Sam’s coworker! Are you good at algebra?

“A little above average, why do you ask? You walk over to the booth they’re studying at. You miss the glare the brunette gives to her friend

Mindy motions to Tara “My friend over here is having a little trouble, and we’re all not really good at explaining. Could you help her?”

“Also,” the twin points at each of her friends “Anika, Chad, Tara, and I’m Mindy”

You pull up a chair to sit next to Tara “Y/N, nice to meet all of you. Sam says lots of good things”

“Likewise, Sam told us about what you did for her. We all appreciate it” Anika smiles

“Those girls were assholes,” you shrug “they deserved it.” Now focusing on Tara, you met her eyes while the rest of the group fell into discussion

“So, what exactly do you need help with?”

Tara tries to listen to what you’re saying, but everything is going in one ear and out the other with your proximity to her. You make simple small talk with Tara, and she notes how the corners of your eyes crinkle when you laugh. The brunette learns you’re about the same age as her sister, you have a second job as a mechanic, and you owned a motorcycle (in which her interest was immediately peaked).

A few hours of conversation and studying later, the group decides they’re finished. They pile into Sam’s car to be dropped off at their respective apartments. Unfortunately due to a little clutter, there isn’t enough room for Tara in the car (which is surprising since she’s incredibly small, but you decide to hold your tongue this time)

“Cmon, guys, can’t you make some room?” the brunette groans

“You could ride with Y/n,” Sam suggests “I trust her to get you home”

“Yeah, I got an extra helmet in my locker, I’ll go get it” You jog back to the shop, and you’re back a minute later with a helmet in one hand, and a hoodie in the other. Your hoodie, Tara thinks

“Here, it gets cold. Is this your first time?”

“Yeah, I’ve never been on a motorcycle before…” Tara says nervously, and she has to stop herself from taking a big whiff of your hoodie around her

“No worries! If you get scared just squeeze my thigh and I’ll pull over, okay? Also, make sure to hold on tight” You put the helmet on Tara, inspecting her to make sure it’s on correctly

“Geez, it feels like I’m an astronaut” Tara laughs, flipping up the visor

“Doesn’t it? I always feel like a bobble head or something when I’m in it” You teach Tara how to get on, and soon enough you’re on the road following Sam’s car

Tara’s arms were snugly wrapped around your torso, and she was absolutely having the time of her life. The helmet she was wearing smelled like you and it was absolutely intoxicating. Not to mention how your hoodie sat comfortably on her body — almost like it was meant for her to wear. Deciding to be bold, Tara decides to hug you tighter

When you two eventually stop at a stoplight, you hold out a thumbs up, questioning if Tara is comfortable. The brunette responds with a thumbs up of her own, and the slow circles she’s making with her thumb under your shirt that leave a trail of goosebumps behind

First Sam stops at Mindy and Anika’s, then Chads. Since there’s more room in the car Tara doesn’t actually need to stay with you, but she’s practically glued to your back. The brunette decides to be greedy and hold on

A few minutes later, you two reach Tara and Sam’s apartment complex. When you come to a stop the younger Carpenter gets off first, and you follow after

“So, how was your first time on a motorcycle? Scary?”

“Honestly? Not really. I trust you won’t crash, or else Sam’ll get real mad at you” Taking off her helmet, you get the pleasure of seeing Tara smile again. She starts to take off your hoodie, but you stop her before she does

“Keep it, I already have a bunch of other hoodies and jackets at my place”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be saying it if I wasn’t sure, Carpenter”

“You’re an ass” Tara rolls her eyes and playfully hits your arm

“Nice meeting you and your friends, by the way. I’ll see you guys around” After you wave bye and hop back on your motorcycle Tara watches you leave, pulling your hoodie closer to her body

—

Study sessions at the coffee shop after closing time became more and more regular. Sometimes it’s just Sam closing up, and other times it’s just you. Tara still regrets telling the group about her very tiny minuscule crush on you, since you’re now used as blackmail to get Tara to go anywhere

“Wanna go to the movies?”

“Sorry, I have to finish an essay”

“Y/n’s gonna be there” Mindy says in a sing-song tone

“Fuck you.” Tara groans before grabbing her jacket, fully expecting to be invited for a motorcycle ride from you

At first Tara only saw you during study sessions at the coffee shop. It was the same story almost every time. There wouldn’t be enough room in Sam’s car, you’d drive Tara home, and if she was lucky you’d stop at a 7 Eleven for slushees and a snack

When Sam invites you to a game night with the group, you happily accept the invitation. With a bottle of wine in your left hand, you make some final adjustments to your outfit before knocking. Smoothing out your shirt, you hear a familiar voice behind the door

“So, are you gonna stand there or are you going to knock?” The younger Carpenter teases, and she can practically hear you roll your eyes when you scoff

“I was making myself presentable” You shrug, hearing the click of the door as Tara opens it

“Whatever,” The shorter girl laughs “You’re kinda early so you can wait on the couch or something” She takes the bottle of wine from your hands, setting down on a table

“Geez, don’t people have manners nowadays? I thought it was a given to arrive early”

“I think that’s just you being old”

“You’re mean.” Tara’s face collides with a pillow as she turns around and the brunette can faintly hear you say ‘headshot!’ in an excited voice

“Me? Mean? You just assaulted me!”

“You’ll live. Mario Kart?” You wave a second controller in her direction with the game already booted up, and Tara takes her seat next to you on the floor

The next few minutes are spent casually trash-talking each other. When you get particularly close to winning Tara shoves you to the floor, causing you to lose. A smug grin adorns her face when you throw another pillow at her

“Stop throwing pillows at me!” Tara laughs

“You quite literally shoved me to the floor ‘cause you’re not as good as me”

“Shut up, you’ve have more experience”

“Are you calling me old again?” You say in a dramatic tone, and the door rings a whole 20 minutes after the rest of the group is supposed to show up. Sam lets them in, and you wave hello. Mindy gives Tara a look you don’t recognize, but Chad quickly challenges you to another game of Mario Kart

The twin tried his best, he really did. He took the shortcuts, chose the best character, and even optimized his power-ups. But alas, his efforts were rendered useless as you casually mopped the floor with his ass. The scoreboard with your name at the top is enough for Chad to groan in defeat

“Dude, how are you so good?”

“I guess I just have more experience”

“So you can say it but I can’t?” You end up sticking your tongue out at Tara like a child

“Whatever. You guys got any other games?”

“We have Uno” Sam suggests

Oh how foolish she was.

Arguing, wine, and lots of popcorn later, you’re currently in a battle for 4th place with Tara. Fifteen minutes after Chad won 3rd, both of you insisted a 4th place winner. When you put down a plus four twice in a row, the group only groans

“Please are you two almost done?”

“It’s Uno. How about we play another game?” Chad pleads

“Absolutely not. I refuse to lose to a girl that’s basically half my height.”

“Half your height!? You’ll probably be balding by 30!”

“You take that back!” You slam a hand against the table, and your friends can’t tell if they should intervene or watch the argument play out. They choose the latter

Shallow insults are exchanged between you two and the rest of the group finally understands both of you aren’t serious. They decide to leave you two to pick up some pizza, and you’re far too busy arguing how you’re not going to go bald at 30. Really, whose idea was it to give the most competitive people copious amounts of wine?

Eventually your arguing dies down, leaving you both giggling like middle school kids when they see their crush. The absurdity of the situation paired with the wine you both drank made a very fun combo

“Sorry I said you’d bald by 30” Tara leans onto your shoulder and you lay your head atop hers

“It’s okay. Sorry I said you were half my height… even if it’s true” You smile and Tara hits your arm while suppressing a grin

“You mind if I sleep here tonight? Pretty sure I can’t drive my baby in this state”

“Your baby?”

“My motorcycle. Her name is Elizabeth” You nudge her shoulder

“You named your motorcycle?

“It’s how you create attachment, Tara. You name everything so you care more about it”

“God, you’re a weirdo.” The younger Carpenter leans into you even further

“You never answered my question”

“Hmm… I think Sam wouldn’t mind”

“But would you mind?”

“No, you’re my friend”

A comfortable silence passes between you two. Tara, half asleep on your shoulder; and you, trying to formulate a plan to get Tara in her bed. The only good idea you’ve thought of is carrying her, so that’s what you decide to do

Tara makes a sound then holds onto your shirt as you scoop her up from the couch. There’s a feeling in her stomach she can’t quite place when your arms wrap around her. You’re warm, and Tara only wants to get closer to your body heat

“Tara, honey, where’s your room?” You whisper. The pet name accidentally slips, and you hope the younger girl doesn’t notice.

Oh but she does

Tara notices and opts to bury her head in you chest, pointing in the direction of her room. She can feel her face warm up immediately

You open up the door all the way with your foot, and lay Tara down in her bed. You’re about to leave to probably sleep on the couch, but you feel a hand around your wrist and Tara mumble something sleepily

“You alright, Tar?” You bend down

“Please stay… don’t go.” The younger Carpenter whispers, and you wouldn’t be able to hear her if not your close proximity

“I’ll be in the living room, don’t worry. I don’t drink and drive”

“No, I mean stay here.”

“You… You want me to stay in your room?”

Tara nods.

“I- I don’t know, Tara.” You were hesitant to accept her invitation.

“I won’t be far, I promise”

“I don’t care you’re older than me.”

“W-What?”

“Please, you make me so happy. People my age are so dull…” Tara takes your hand in her own, playing with your fingers

“You don’t mean that, Tar. You’re drunk and tired. How about you get some sleep, hm?” You say in the softest voice you can manage, pushing away the thoughts of how badly you just want to hold Tara in your arms again

“Y/n…” Something in you shifts when the brunette says your name in her sleep-drunk state. You notice the pleading look in her eyes, and it’s difficult to imagine saying no to her

“I can’t say no to you.” You sigh, taking off your jacket before getting in bed. Tara immediately curls up against your chest like it’s the most natural thing ever and you wrap your arms around her waist like it’s second nature

“Thank you. I really like you, Y/n”

“If you end up regretting this I’ll pretend like nothing’s happened if you want”

“No!” Both you and Tara are surprised by her tone

“I- I mean no. I promise I won’t regret this. Regret… you.” She says in a smaller voice

“Do you like me too?” Tara looks up at you with hope in her eyes and your heart melts at the sight

“I don’t know, Tara. Part of me thinks this is wrong, and the other part just wants to spend time with you.”

“Ever since… Amber, you’ve helped me move on” This was the most Tara has opened up about her late girlfriend. Of course the group told you a few tiny things about her here and there, but you hadn’t heard from Tara straight up. You knew this was a very hard and difficult subject even as time continued to pas

“You don’t need to feel like you have to tell me about her, Tara. How about we sleep? You’ll have a clearer mind tomorrow” Pressing a kiss against her forehead, your girlfriend(?) smiles

“…can I wear your shirt?”

“I’m right here, you know”

“I wanna be closer to you”

“Go actually get ready for bed, Tara. I know you don’t wanna sleep with makeup on” The brunette gets up to leave but decides to double back and give you a kiss on the cheek, leaving you a subtle lipstick mark

You hate how she makes you all giddy like a teenager in love.

Getting up to ask Tara if she has an oversized hoodie you could sleep in, you’re caught in the hallway by Sam. You only notice how bad it looks you’re walking out Tara’s room with messy hair, ruffled clothes, and a noticeable kiss on your cheek. You’re quick to wipe it off and smooth out your hair a second later

“Sam, it’s not what it looks like.” You say quickly

“I dunno, it really looks like you’re fucking my sister”

“I-It’s not like that! She- I uh-“

“Listen, I don’t mind you’re dating my sister. Would’ve wished you told me, though”

“That’s the thing! I have no idea what we are” You look behind to look for Tara before turning back to Sam

“She said she really liked me, but then she’s also drunk, but then she also kissed me. What if she doesn’t actually mean it? What if she regrets this? What if-” You’re talking quickly and about to start pacing around before Sam grounds you by holding onto your shoulders

“I trust you, Y/n. You’re my friend. I trust you’ll take good care of my sister”

The older Carpenter gives you a quick hug before leaving to her own room, leaving you staring at nothing as the door to the bathroom clicks open

“Y/n? You alright?” Tara pulls you into a hug, shoving her face in your neck

“Y-Yeah, do you have a hoodie I could sleep in?”

“Mmm… I think I have one in your size” The shorter girl leads you to her closet. A few seconds of searching lands you a hoodie with an album cover you don’t recognize. Tara notices your confusion

“Tyler the creator”

“Is he any good?”

“Well duh, I wouldn’t have him on a hoodie if he wasn’t”

“Okay smart ass, no need to be mean” You feign annoyance and the brunette can only roll her eyes and drag you into bed for the second time this night

Both of you get into position again. Tara’s arms securely wrapped around your torso, and your arms that bring her closer to your neck. You decide it isn’t so bad you’re in love with Tara Carpenter

—

You and Sam meet the rest of the group at their college. The lovely older couple that ran the coffee shop insisted you two spent time with Tara. They may as well be your parents with how much they treat you and Sam like their own kin. With the rest of the day to spoil Tara, you happily jump onto her with open arms while spewing a slew of praises and compliments

Your girlfriend should probably be embarrassed at how loud your affection is, but it’s New York. Who really cares? When you’re done being yourself, Sam also gives Tara a bear hug

“So, what’re the plans, birthday girl?” Mindy asks

“Honestly? I just wanna spend time with you guys”

“How disgustingly cute. I think that’s a great idea, babe”

“Are you kidding?” Chad speaks up “The last time we all spent time together, you two were fighting for 4th place in Uno. Fourth place!”

“I think you’re being over dramatic, bud”

“You looked like you were about to flip the fucking table when Tara made you draw 12 cards”

“Like I said, stacking is a curse that makes me angry”

“I gotta agree with Chad, here” Sam chimes in “You almost killed Tara because of Jenga”

“It’s not my fault your little sister is a pathological liar and a gaslighter!” The younger Carpenter rolls her eyes

“You’re awfully childish for someone that’s so old” Your girlfriend laughs, making you look away, embarrassed

“It’s not my fault I’m competitive!”

“So, where do you wanna eat out, Tara?” Anika asks “I’ve been starving practically all day”

“Hooters.” The brunette answers almost immediately

—

“So, birthday girl, what’s it like being 23?”

“A lot like being 22”

“Noting different?”

“Well, this is the first year you’re here to celebrate with me” Tara turns on her side to face you “I guess that’s pretty special”

You copy her actions, now looking at your girlfriend

“Oh yeah? What’s so special about me being here?”

“Please, you really don’t need a bigger ego”

“Aw you’re no fun”

“I’m plenty fun, babe” Tara reaches down to the hem of your shirt, feeling the skin right above your pants

“Mhm, and what type of fun?”

“You’re such a tease.” Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. Both of you are inching closer to each other to close the gap. You blink for half a second, and Tara straddles your lap with a hungry look in her eyes and a smile that highlights her cute dimples

Diving into you, Tara kisses you with fervor and lust. Her kisses are sloppy, but you don’t really care. Currently, the only thing in your mind is Tara’s name on repeat. Both of your clothes are off in only a matter of seconds due to the brunette’s growing eagerness of wanting your fingers inside of her

“A-Are you sure about this?” You mumble in between kisses and pecks

“Absolutely positive, baby.” Your girlfriend’s ever growing wetness smears on the skin of your exposed thigh, making you sigh in delight

“If you don’t want to keep going, just tell me and I’ll-“

“Y/n.” Your head snaps up at the brunette saying your name

“I want this. I want all of you. Drill it into your pretty brain, yeah?” Tara makes an act of lightly drilling her finger into the side of your head, making you laugh

When you kiss Tara for a second time it feels different. Her lips taste sweeter and all you want to do is give her the entire world. Unfortunately you’re only mortal, so you opt to give her a few lot of mind blowing orgasms instead

—

“So, what’re your plans for the break?”

“We were actually planning a road trip to the beach this weekend to celebrate, and you’re coming”

“No room for debate, huh?” You laugh, swinging an arm over her shoulders “I’ll have to bring my truck, though. Elizabeth is 100% going”

“Sometimes I think you like her more than me”

“You may be my girlfriend, but Elizabeth is my first love” This earns you a punch to the arm via Tara. Although it doesn’t hurt much, you feign a wounded expression and place the back of your hand to your forehead

“Woe is I, for my girlfriend no longer loves me…”

“You’ll be okay” Tara rolls her eyes

“Kiss it better?”

—

“Please can we have a ride without our helmets?”

“Sam wouldn’t forgive me if we crashed and you weren’t wearing a helmet”

“Please, baby?” Tara uses her best puppy eyes, and she knows they’re working when you look away to resist her charm

“The sunset is beautiful, the back roads are empty, and I want to spend our last moments here on the beach. Don’t you want to see the view, baby?”

You sigh, looking away. This girl was going to be the death of you.

“Well after such a confession, I don’t think I’m able to say anything other than yes” Tara kisses you on the tip of your nose, making it scrunch up just how she liked it

“This is gonna be so aesthetic, babe”

“…Aesthetic?”

“You’re not that old, love”

Before getting on, you take two spare sunglasses from your leather jacket pocket and hold them out for Tara

“Aviator or round?”

“You take the Aviators, I want you to look like one of those guys from Top Gun” Tara takes the sunglasses out of your hand to place them on your face

“Geez, I look more like a biker than a motorcyclist now”

“There’s a difference?”

“I’ll teach you one day. Cmon, the sun’s setting already”

Tara truly believes she’s made it to heaven while you drive. Arms around your waist, the salty breeze, and not to mention the beautiful setting sun. This is what she’s always been craving

Exhilarated is how she’d describe being around you. The simplest touches sent shivers down her spine. The tiniest glances made Tara’s heart giddy with joy. How couldn’t she fall for you? Picture-perfect is what you were. Not boring, not simple, not easy. You were… you

With sand in you hair from previous beach endeavors and a smile wide enough your girlfriend can see just from looking at the back of your head, Tara can’t image herself anywhere but with you

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #scream #tara carpenter #scream 6 #tara carpenter scream #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #sam carpenter #anika kayoko

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