#hoping for that sam card

[letterstoear]

Presenting, Divus Crewel's bear

Hahahaha, I'm late on releasing bears, but I promise I'm getting them out. Here we have Divus' bear which is now live on my shop to purchase. I thought it would be nice to release him the same day as his groovy for his ssr fur coat.

Purchase bear here: Divus Crewel inspired bear — Letters to Ear (squarespace.com)

Isn't he adorable! I wanted his bear to resemble a dalmatian. My personal headcanon is that Divus has at least 2 dalmatians back home.

Anywho, the next staff member to be unveiled is going to be Sam's bear!

[yugiohcardsdaily]

Thoughts on my dear friend Fortune Lady Light? And if you're down for a double, Fortune Lady Wind

7/10

7/10

[shinyvibrava]

Work has me dead today ×_×

[plantswithme]

Kiss Me Under The Mistletoe

Written for Sambucky Festive Season Bingo 2022, Mistletoe Square, Bingo Card C. @sambuckylibrary​

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41688522

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes

Words: 1.2k

Some Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Dorks In Love, Snow, Romantic Guestures, Mistletoe

SUMMARY:

It’s been a while since Sam has done something like this, to be fair he hasn’t been in a relationship during Christmas for many years, so can you blame him for wanting to do something a little cheesy this Christmas?

[cashandprizes]

I just have to share my darling @autisticempathydaemon 's Valentine's day gift for me, which was a Shaw security tank (accidentally ordered so big it's a dress which is NOT a problem but also not quite sfw but if you're David Shaw come get this cake 👅👅) and this delightful Solaire cropped hoodie.

I am on my way to become an honorary clan member as I snatch the evil vampire lady for myself and constantly worship at her feet and help her be gay, do crimes.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Too Many Beds

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist 

summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again

pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.1k 

warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad

timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one

author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol

You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family. 

When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.

So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).

“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his��� credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.

“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”

“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”

“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”

There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.

“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash. 

“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.

You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.

“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints. 

**

“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.

You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”

“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.

“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”

You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”

“Understood.” He nodded.

You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”

**

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping. 

And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation. 

As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face. 

“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”

“I thought it looked familiar.”

He rolled off of you and out of bed. 

You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.

“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.

**

You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!? 

It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since. 

But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.

Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example. 

**

“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.

“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied. 

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.

“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile. 

“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you. 

God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.

**

It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake. 

“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.

“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”

You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.

“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.

**

“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”

Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message. 

“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.

Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound. 

As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.

“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you. 

You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.

“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”

“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face. 

“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”

“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”

“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him. 

“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”

“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…” 

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips. 

“That,” Dean finished his previous statement. 

“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”

“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.

You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly. 

“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered. 

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”

“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”

Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.

You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again. 

“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”

You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”

“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”

“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.

“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”

As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.

“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”

“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed. 

“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.

“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”

“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”

“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”

“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.

“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”

“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

[clairenatural]

Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.

It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.

It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.

He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.

Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.

So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.

It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long. 

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.” 

The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”

It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.

Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.

"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.

Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.

"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.

"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.

He turns the keys. He drives them home.

Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).

Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.

It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"

Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."

"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."

"You didn't correct her?"

"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.

"Uh huh."

"It felt trivial."

"To tell her we're not married?"

"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.

Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."

"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.

Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.

"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"

Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."

Across the table, Cas grins at him.

"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.

"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."

"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."

They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is This?: Chapter 1

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky had a wife during the 40s, she was left heartbroken after the telegram arrived (missing, presumed dead). It's surprising when 80 years later, she was working behind a bar in Madripoor of all places!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Bucky followed Sam and Zemo into a loud bar, he immediately wanted to turn around and go home, why had Zemo demanded he go back to being the Winter Soldier (even if it was one night)?

The sound of heavy drums and guitars also deafened his hearing, a song he had come to learn was The Wild Boy by a band called Duran Duran. A few bartenders and waitresses were walking around, there was only one who stuck out to him - a dark-haired young woman who reminded him too much of his departed wife.

His heart breaks even more, thinking of the woman he had left behind, his girl. The love of his life. Bucky doesn't think he will ever 'get over' her.

The way the young woman walked, carrying a tray of empty glasses (before being tossed an empty bottle by a patron), was so similar to the way his girl walked in the hole-in-the-wall diner she worked in.

She wasn't quick enough to duck under the bar before they got to the door leading upstairs (which was coincidentally next to the bar), Zemo was talking to the bouncer. "Excuse me, gentlemen," the young woman said, squeezing between the back of Zemo and the front of Bucky. Which is when he got a good look at her face.

There she was.

His girl. His wife.

He couldn't even say anything to her, as he was taken upstairs and away from his girl. He could only hope he would be allowed back in at the end of the night to see her.

Y/N Barnes made her way behind the bar, glancing up at the TV where the Kansas City Chiefs were currently playing the Buffalo Bills at Arrowhead Stadium, then down at her phone which showed the live score of the Dodgers game against the San Francisco Giants.

She had been a long-time Dodgers girl, even after she found out they had moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles.

"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Yasmine asked, pushing a dry Martini in front of a 26-year-old woman.

Y/N looked up from the glasses she was putting in the dishwasher. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"One of the men who went upstairs. The way he was looking at you," Yasmine fans her hand for dramatic effect. "I would drop my panties for him in a millisecond."

"Like you don't do that every night."

Yasmine rolled her eyes and served the next half-drunk who had come to the bar.

"Don't listen to her," Anastasia told her, rolling her eyes as Yasmine flirted with her current flavour of the week.

"It's not often I do, darling," Y/N replied, fiddling with Anastasia's curls for a second, before spotting a patron. "What can I get for you, darling?"

He hung off the bar, obviously far too drunk to understand what was going on. "Another beer and your phone number," he slurred.

She shook her head, reaching over and grabbing him another beer. As far as the boss of the bar (whoever that was) was concerned unless they were unconscious- why should you stop serving them? Y/N thought it wasn't right, but no matter how often she voiced this - she was shut down.

She set the beer in front of him and then went to the register to add it to his bill (good thing she currently has his credit card behind the bar).

"Oi, sweet cheeks!" He calls, but Y/N doesn't pay attention looking over at Yasmine and Anastasia with a raised eyebrow. "Sweet cheeks! I asked for your number."

Y/N replied by simply raising her hand proudly displaying her engagement and wedding rings to the drunk. It was only a small diamond (given Bucky worked on the docks before he was deployed), and the plain band she inherited from her great-grandmother.

"What's the matter with that 'un?" He hiccups. "He got you costume jewellery or somethin'?"

Y/N shook her head. "I'm going into the back for a moment," she tells Aidan.

Little did the drunk patron know, all those years ago, this was the date she was handed the telegraph - putting in such blunt words. Her James was missing, they presumed him to be dead. It breaks her heart that they never got to have a proper funeral.

"You alright, honey?" Elizabeth (another one of the waitresses) asked, she had been outside on her break. Elizabeth was the only one who knew her true age and about her James.

"It's the day I found out James was missing," Y/N said, before bursting into more tears.

Elizabeth wrapped Y/N up in a hug, everyone oblivious to the fact that Y/N's presumed dead husband was now running through the bar, flocked by Sam and Zemo, and into the alley behind the bar.

When Bucky was sure Zemo, Sam and Sharon were asleep, he slipped out of the safe house and into the night - determined to find out if the woman he saw in the bar was that of his (presumably? should be?) dead wife.

He eventually made his way to the front door of the bar, the bouncers had long since gone home. He could see lights on in the building and just about make out words being spoken thanks to the Super Soldier serum running through his veins.

He grasped the handle and gave it a push, the door hadn't been locked, as it gave beneath the slight push.

He could see three young women sitting on the bar, a man who was counting the money from the register and another man who was dancing.

The young woman sitting closest to the bar, had golden curls hanging around her head. "Mark, you didn't lock the door!"

The man dancing, Mark, looked over at Bucky, eyes widening when he saw the size of Bucky. "I say we just serve him, then lock the door behind him."

As the bartenders and waitress argued amongst themselves, Bucky's eyes never left the woman in the middle. It looked as if she had been crying. "Babydoll?"

The woman stopped giggling, tipping her head back to normal and looked at him, before dropping her glass as tears welled up in her eyes. "James?"

The curly-haired woman gasped, setting her glass down and giving Y/N a push off the bar.

Bucky held his arms out to catch her as her feet landed on the floor. He couldn't stop looking at her big eyes, he'd always loved her big expressive eyes. He always knew how she was feeling by just a look in her eyes.

"James? Is that you?" Her hand came out slowly, and shakily, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing in front of her.

"Hi, babydoll," Bucky smiled, tears starting to fall down his cheeks, a heavy sob held tightly in his chest at the moment in time. As soon as her fingers met his skin, Bucky let out a heavy sigh of relief, reaching over and pulling her into his arms. Y/N's arms dug themselves away from his chest and up around his neck before her hand soon started fiddling with his hair.

The couple stood there for a moment, finally finding their slice of peace. Some came barging into the bar, and the dark-haired woman who had been sitting on the other side of Y/N practically demanded Mark lock the door before the Hounds of Baskerville came in.

Y/N was so happy to finally have her James back in her arms, but there was a whirling sound she couldn't let go. "What's that noise?"

Bucky looked from his wife to his arm and back to his bride. "I'll explain everything to you later, but... I lost my arm, and I now have a prosthetic one," he tells her, letting go of her for a moment so he could take his glove off and show her the black and gold Vibranium one he had made.

"Ok, James. It's a good thing you gave me this," she reached beneath her top and pulled a ring out from beneath, hanging from a chain. "Before you were deployed."

Bucky smiled, cupping her face so he could kiss her. Bucky pulled away chuckling a little. "Babydoll, will you please put my ring back on?"

She reached behind her to unclasp the chain, and slid Bucky's band off, "if it doesn't fit we'll get it resized."

"I don't care what size it is, as long as you put my ring back where it belongs," Bucky almost growled, a piece of him falling back into place with the ring back on his finger.

The next morning - Sam, Zemo and Sharon came into the living room, seeing Bucky sleeping on the sofa (Sam was expecting this, after being told by Steve), however, there was a lump lying next to Bucky they didn't recognise.

Sam slowly makes his way over, gently easing down the thick blanket lying over Bucky and the lump.

Lying there, practically on top of the 'bionic staring machine' was a young woman.

"Did he somehow pick up a girl?" Sam whispered. Sam and Sharon were trying to be quiet - however, Zemo (who didn't care) started clattering around the kitchen, causing Bucky to wake up in a start, which then caused the young woman to look up with tired owl-like eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

[runawrites-blog]

In Tune (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: During a chance few situations, everyone in your and Bucky's social circle gets to notice how in tune with each other you two are. (Female Reader) Word Count: 3,958 Warnings: Non-Graphic Violence/ Referenced Fighting. Non Graphic Injuries. Non-Graphic Panic Attacks/ Aftermath of Panic Attacks. No Y/N. Petnames (Love, Sweetheart) A/N: Bucky has a panic attack in the VII part but it's not graphic and Steve basically stumbles in on the scene when he has already managed to calm down again. Also, the injury is that the reader got stabbed and Bucky is worried for her. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58773439

---

I.

The way back from your mission left you all freezing in the back of the SHIELD van you’d escaped. With two windows busted in and a huge hole shot into the side, the wind was now blowing through the vehicle as you descended the snowy mountain and made your way toward a SHIELD safe house.

Natasha’s eyes drifted across everyone on board, watching how Steve kept taking one hand off the steering wheel whenever possible to try and warm it up, how Sam was shivering in the seat next to her, how Clint had his arms tightly wrapped around himself and you pulling your jacket around your body as shivers wracked your form. She looked at Bucky and watched how he kept flexing his flesh hand, likely trying to keep the blood circulating and thereby keep it warm. What set him apart from everyone else was that, while the rest of the team looked miserable, Bucky looked more anxious than anything.

But before she could ask him if he was alright, Natasha noticed how you were also looking at Bucky. Your eyes flicked from his hand to his deep frown and back, a concerned expression on your face. It didn’t take you long to move, taking Bucky’s flesh hand into both of yours before bringing it up to your face to blow on it in the hopes of warming it up. To Natasha’s surprise Bucky almost instantly relaxed as you began to blow warm air onto his hand, turning to look at you with a thankful smile.

“Better?”

“Warmer.” He answered, balling his hand into a fist as you once again blew warm air onto his skin. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“I know how much you hate being cold.” You murmured, wrapping both your hands around his as you gave him a comforting smile. “If this is what I can do to help, then I’ll do it. No need to thank me, Love.”

Natasha watched you two with a fond expression, realising how in tune you were with each other, how you’d realised what had made Bucky so anxious in a matter of seconds and how you’d immediately known how to help him. It was understandable that after everything he’d been through he hated being cold but Natasha also knew as well as anyone on the team that Bucky would have suffered through his discomfort in silence had it not been for your quick reaction. And she was thankful that her friend had someone who loved and supported him.

---

II.

“Uno.”

Clint watched as Bucky, Natasha and you all stared at him putting down his second to last card, warning everyone that he had almost won. And he knew that if no one put down a draw two or a draw four card or changed the colour he was bound to win this game.

“Seriously?” Natasha said in faked exasperation, laughing as she leaned back in the seat of the SHIELD plane you were all taking on your way to another mission. “You’ve won how many times now? Four?”

“Five.”

“I still think you shouldn’t have won that last one.”

“We agreed that you were allowed to stack draw four cards onto other draw four cards or onto draw two cards, so I took advantage of that.”

Clint grinned at Natasha’s expression before turning back to you and Bucky, sitting opposite him at the table. But you two weren’t looking at him, at least not fully. While your eyes still kept flicking back to Clint, you were much more focused on Bucky next to you, raising your eyebrows as if asking him an unsaid question. Bucky was fully looking at you and when he saw your expression he closed is eyes, his head moving just the smallest fraction to give you a nod. Before Cint could even think about what you two were possibly planning Natasha put down her card, a simple blue seven.

Then it was Bucky’s turn and he placed his card down with the faintest smirk on his lips. “Draw two.”

For a second Clint wondered why Bucky was smirking like that because it was you that would have to draw two more cards and with the colour still being blue he would still get to place his last one. Then he saw the grin spreading on your face as you put your card onto the pile in the middle of the table. “Draw four. Now you have to draw six cards, Clint.”

“Doll, you also get to choose a colour.”

Clint watched your smirk grow at the chuckle in Bucky’s voice. “You’re right, Sweetheart. Well then, I choose green.”

“You have to be kidding me, you two! Did you seriously team up with each other, just so I wouldn’t win?”

Bucky chuckled at that, shrugging his shoulders at Clint. “And we did that without even having to exchange a word.”

“That was very creepy, yes.”

“I thought it was kind of sweet.”

“Nat, you only think so because it means I’m not winning the game.”

“I really do think it’s sweet how in synch they are.”

---

III.

“You can relax, I won’t hurt you and I will fix up that malfunction in your arm.”

But it was obvious to Tony that Bucky could not simply relax, not when he was sitting in a sterile-looking room, in a cold metal chair as the other man got ready to dig into the wires of his arm. He was sure the only reason Bucky had even agreed to let Tony take a look at his arm was that you had come along with the promise of making sure no one did anything he didn’t want. But Bucky still looked terribly tense despite your presence in the room. You stood by the side, obviously worried about getting in the way as Tony started to set everything up.

“Seriously, Bucky, you’re in good hands. I know I joke around all the time but right now I’m one hundred per cent serious and completely focused. You will be just fine.”

Bucky simply nodded, remaining quiet as he focused on his breathing. Tony watched your eyes flicking to Bucky once more, giving the man a comforting smile and immediately the grip he had on the armrest with his right hand loosened a little. Tony watched you trying to comfort Bucky while still trying to stay out of the way for a few seconds more before he spoke up.

“If you want to sit down by his side, that’s fine. You won’t get in the way.”

You perked up at that and quickly thanked him, grabbing a nearby stool and pulling it to the right side of the chair. There you sat down and placed a hand over Bucky’s right one. He immediately turned it around to grab onto your hand, holding on tight and taking a deep breath. Concern painted your features as you leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to his bare right shoulder.

“I can talk you through everything Tony does.”

“Thank you.”

That was the first time Tony had heard Bucky speak since coming into the lab over two hours earlier for a first assessment of the arm’s malfunction. It was not a surprise to him that you were the one who helped him relax enough to speak, though. Tony knew that you were by far one of the biggest sources of comfort to Bucky and that a few soothing words from you or some gentle touches could always calm the man down. Still, it was fascinating to Tony how quickly your words had done the trick. That was until you spoke up again.

“I know you hate having medical or maintenance procedures performed on you and not knowing exactly what’s going on, so if you want me to talk you through every little detail, I totally will.”

Bucky thanked you again, the tension in his muscles leaving, as understanding dawned on Tony. It made sense that after decades of having procedures performed on him without knowing what would happen next, much less having anyone ask his consent, not being filled in on the details would make Bucky anxious. Tony cursed himself for not having realised this sooner and it amazed him how quickly you had figured out what was making Bucky so anxious without the man even having to say a word. He turned to you with an amused smile.

“You’re really a mind reader, knowing what’s wrong without him even having to say a word.”

“I’m not a mind reader. Bucky and I just know what the other needs.”

“And I’m really thankful for that, Doll.”

---

IV.

The mission had been nothing short of demanding, both physically and mentally, and everyone who had been on it was drained by the end of it. A mission involving a hostage situation was always hard on everyone. However, due to an impending storm, the director had decided that everyone would be booked into a hotel to await being able to head back home. And since the hotels were overbooked due to the storm it left you in a room with two beds for three people. It only made sense that you shared one of the beds with Bucky, leaving Wanda with the other one, so you all silently went to get ready to turn in for the night.

Wanda found the quiet strangely unnerving since you were usually a talkative person and she always enjoyed talking to you. But now you were quietly changing into comfortable clothes, having just gotten out of the shower, before sitting down on the foot of your bed. It worried her, to say the least, but it wasn’t surprising. You’d had a pretty rough run-in with one of the hostage takers, so it was understandable that you were this quiet.

It seemed that Bucky had also noticed because he sat down right next to you and took your hand off your lap to hold it in both of his. Wanda sat on her bed and watched his actions, observing how he leaned forward to examine your face to which you simply turned your head away.

“This mission has been hard for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I know this sounds like empty words right now but you did all you could and you did well, Sweetheart.” Bucky said gently, making you turn back to look at him. “These people are still alive because of your help.”

“That man who attacked me, he came out of nowhere.”

“But you managed to fight him off because you’re strong and capable, Doll.”

“I was so scared.”

“How can I help you?” Bucky asked and Wanda watched you remain quiet, prompting him to lean closer again so he could press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Would you like to be my little spoon tonight? I can hold you all night long.”

“Please.”

With that, he began to gently move you and Wanda watched as he manoeuvred you into lying on your side, all soft touch and gentle guidance. When you were finally lying down, facing Wanda’s bed, Bucky lay down behind you and drew you into his arms, holding your hands with one of his and pressing a kiss to your cheek from behind. The two of you didn’t speak much after that, save for Bucky telling you how much he loved you when he realised you were about to drift off. When he was sure you were asleep he looked at Wanda who had lied down on her bed somewhere along the way as she’d been watching you two.

“Thank you, James.”

“For what?”

“Taking care of my friend. She means a lot to me but I wasn’t sure how to help. You immediately knew what she needed and how to take care of her.”

“I will always take care of her.”

---

V.

“This movie is kind of boring, I don’t understand why it made the list.”

Steve just shushed Sam’s complaint, eyes still glued to the screen. Resigning himself to the fate of having to sit through this movie Sam let his eyes wander across the living room and it became apparent to him that no one but Steve and perhaps Thor seemed really invested in the movie. Natasha was quietly talking to Clint next to her, Wanda had taken up doing her nails instead of watching the movie, Bruce was halfway to falling asleep, Tony was on his cellphone and you were reading a book with Bucky’s head on your chest, his eyes closed as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Sam couldn’t help smiling at the display because no matter how much he teased you or bickered with Bucky, he had always been genuinly happy for the two of you. Your fingers worked through Bucky’s hair, scratching his head as your free hand held the book you were currently reading. The only thing that clued Sam into the fact that Bucky was still awake was how he’d sometimes blink his eyes open to look at the television when there was a loud scene in the movie.

Then you took your hand out of Bucky’s hair to flip the page, making him look up at you with a deep frown on his features and Sam had to bite his lip to keep himself from chuckling at how grumpy his friend looked at this short lack of affection. You just gave Bucky an amused smile before going back to petting his hair, making him smile contently and close his eyes again.

This process repeated a few times until about the twelfth time you took your hand from his hair to flip the page which elicited what Sam could only describe as a whine from Bucky. Sam had to bring a hand in front of his mouth to stifle his laughter at the sound and he quickly decided to tease Bucky about this the next day.

But his quiet laughter turned into a smile when he watched your reaction. With an affectionate eye roll, you put your book down to wrap both your arms around Bucky. Your left hand took up running up and down his back while your right one resumed the previous task of petting Bucky’s hair, to which the man relaxed again, closing his eyes with a content smile on his face. And Sam couldn’t help thinking about how amazing it was that you always understood what Bucky needed or wanted, just from the looks he gave you or the sounds he made.

---

VI.

“We need a medic here! She was stabbed!”

Yelena watched as medics rushed over at your words, gathering around Natasha to help her. She gave you a thankful smile and you responded with a curt nod before turning to Bucky, asking him if he was alright. Yelena’s smile didn’t fade as she watched him press a lingering kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead against yours. From the moment she’d first seen you two she’d seen what a perfect match you two were.

“Thanks for having my back in there, Doll.”

“Always.”

“I mean it. That one guy surprised me and I’m glad you were there to take him down.” Bucky said with a soft smile before pulling back and giving you a once-over. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I will be fine, don’t you worry, Love.”

While Yelena felt relief wash over her at your words Bucky stilled, frowning in concern as he looked you over more thoroughly. His hand came up to cup your left shoulder, intending to turn your body to get a look at your back to check it for injuries, and you winced ever so slightly. Had it not been for Bucky immediately pulling his hand away Yelena was sure she would have missed it.

“What was that?”

“Love, listen--”

“You winced when I touched your shoulder.” He stated matter of factly, eyes going wide in fear. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

“Bucky, I will be fine.”

“There it is again.” Bucky shook his head and brought his hand up to once more reach for your arm, this time not touching you but hovering mere centimetres from your body. “You will be fine? That means you’re not fine now.”

“James, you don’t need to be so worried about me.”

But Bucky just shook his head and gently moved the strap of the harness that secured your weapon to your back, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw blood soaking your suit underneath. Before you could even say anything else, he was calling out to the paramedics who had taken care of Natasha, looking over his shoulder at them.

“We need help over here!”

Then he turned back to you and shook his head, bringing up both of his hands and interlacing his fingers before pressing the heel of his right one down on the wound to stop the bleeding, using the other one to apply pressure. You hissed in pain and Yelena was about to come over to ask if she could help when Bucky spoke up again. He sounded almost mad at you but Yelena could hear the obvious concern seeping into his voice.

“Why would you not tell me you were injured? What happened?”

“The guy who attacked you, he-- he stabbed me in the chest just below the shoulder. But-- But the strap of my holster kept the bleeding at bay and Natasha was worse off than me, so-- so I wanted them to look at her first.”

“We have dozens of paramedics on sight. One of them could have helped you.” Bucky chastised you as he kept up the pressure on your wound, making you groan in pain. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I need to stop the bleeding.”

Yelena watched as you opened your mouth to speak but you were interrupted when paramedics rushed over, med kits in hand, taking over for Bucky and treating your injury. She came over, seeing how worried Bucky looked, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She’s lucky she has you. I wouldn’t have been able to tell that she was injured.”

“I knew something was wrong the second we came out of the building.”

“Then she is really lucky you know her so well.”

---

VII.

When Steve returned with your drinks he found the table empty and when he looked around the cafe you three had stopped at after a day out, neither you nor Bucky were anywhere in sight. At first, he was confused but when he found Bucky’s phone still on the table and your jacket still hanging over the back of the chair his confusion was replaced with worry because you two had clearly left in a hurry.

Quickly, he put the beverages down and went for the door to go find you two but that was easier than he would have thought because he only had to take a few steps until he spotted you in the alleyway next to the cafe. At first, this only added to his confusion but when he got close enough to get a good look at you two, at Bucky standing hunched over with his hands clasping his bent knees and your fingers stroking his flesh shoulder while you talked to him in a hushed voice, everything became clear.

Bucky was having a panic attack.

Wanting nothing more than to help his friend Steve hurried over but the second he came into earshot he saw that you had already managed to calm Bucky down, to help him back to the present and control his breathing. He heard your whispered instructions to focus on five things he could hear, four things he could see, three things he could feel, two things he could smell and one thing he could taste. He watched as Bucky took shuddering breath after shuddering breath, as you rubbed his back soothingly and as his friend slowly straightened up again.

“Bucky, are you alright?”

Both you and Bucky turned to look at Steve, the latter giving his friend a shaky nod while your hand tightened on his shoulder. Steve watched as you leaned forward to get a good look at Bucky’s face, gently reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“It’s alright if you’re not.”

“No, I’m alright now.” Bucky said, swallowing thickly and taking another deep breath as his eyes flickered to your face. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t thank me, Love. I’m just glad that I could help you.”

“What happened, Buck?”

Bucky turned back to Steve, shaking his head dismissively but quickly stopping when his friend gave him a stern look, making him sigh in defeat. “This song came on and it-- it just triggered a memory from-- from this mission back in the eighties and it made me panic, made me think of how I made a mistake on that mission, how I was punished, how I hurt that man.”

Steve felt his heart ache at those words and he quickly moved closer to place a comforting hand on his friend’s back, strong and steady. “Bucky, are you sure you’re alright now?”

“Yes, I’m good.” He whispered out and nodded his head toward you. “She helped me calm down and did some grounding exercises with me. I just feel so ridiculous for getting triggered by a fucking song playing in a cafe.”

“Don’t say that, James.”

Steve knew that you only called Bucky by his first name when the situation was serious or when you needed to give him a stern talk and he watched as understanding dawned on his friend’s face that he would now get a lecture from you.

“Remember what your therapist said? Remember how she said that triggers can be anything and that is why you needed grounding exercises to bring you back to the moment, because anything can be triggering?” You said sternly though your thumb kept gently stroking over Bucky’s cheekbone. “This is not ridiculous, James.”

“I still ruined the day.”

“Steve, is your day ruined?”

“Nope, how about yours?”

“Mine, neither.” You said, raising an eyebrow at Bucky. “See? No one’s day is ruined. But the most important thing now is that you feel better. Do you really feel better or are you just trying to calm us down?”

Bucky sighed softly and nodded. “I do feel better, thanks to you. I’m so glad you caught onto the fact that I was going to a bad mental place and got me out of there. Thank you.”

“I know you, Bucky. The moment I saw your fingers clench around your phone, your pupils dilating and your breathing quicken I knew something was up.”

Steve looked back at you in surprise. He knew you and Bucky were very in tune with each other, that you two knew the other in and out, but it still surprised him how you could even recognise the smallest change in body language. And he decided to tell you as much.

“I’m really glad Bucky has a partner like you, that knows him so well. I feel terrible that I wasn’t there to help but I’m glad that you were with him.”

“Don’t martyr yourself now. You can’t be around all the time.” Bucky said before giving you and Steve a small smile. “Should we head back inside? We left all our stuff at the table.”

Steve nodded quickly, taking in how soaked you’d gotten from the rain. But before he could even comment on it or make a joke about how you’d left your jacket at the table Bucky was already shrugging his leather jacket off to drape it over your shoulder, making you smile back at him.

“Thanks, Love. You always know what I need.”

“Right back at you, Sweetheart.”

[3igbootyl0ver]

A New Face

pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

summary: where the group of friends meet Chad's new roommate.

word count: 1737

pt.2

a/n: heyyyyy this is my first ever fic I've written, don't mind it being cringy and I'm open to feedback teehee hope ya'll enjoy (p.s I'm new to this whole Tumblr thing cut me some slack 😭)

Chad has been trying to convince the core four to hangout at his apartment. He had been feeling lonely recently since Mindy and Anika had recently moved in together. 

It took him a few weeks to finally convince them into hanging out at his apartment. With Sam’s paranoia and busy work schedule, and the heavy workload for Tara,Mindy, and Anika in college, they were finally able to make the time and hangout. Plus, they could use a new scenery besides the Carpenter’s apartment, right?

That particular day they were supposed to meet up at Chad’s apartment, Tara was feeling under the weather, her finals for her college exam was killing her; And all she wanted to do was eat some greasy dough with sauce and meat while watching scary movies. 

“Hey guys! Come in, the pizza is getting delivered soon.” Chad exclaimed while hopping on his toes, feeling ecstatic since he hadn’t met them for a while. 

“What’s with you? you’re acting like a kid, dude.” Mindy commented, noticing her twin brothers’ gleamed faced and excitement. 

“Sorry, I’ve been lonely and I’m just glad we’re all together again. THE CORE FOUR! And Anika, of course.” 

“Didn’t you put up an online ad for a roommate? Where are they?”

“You don’t learn, do you?” Sam added, frowning with Chad’s method of calling in someone to fill in the extra room. 

Chad abashedly chuckled, and lowered his head, his cheeks burning up from embarrassment. It was Sam, who wouldn’t be scared?

“My roommate is cool! They’re out for work and should be here soon. They’re not a psychotic serial killer, I promise.”

Sam was skeptical, rightfully so. Meanwhile, Tara was sat on the couch, with her legs on the coffee table while scrolling through the tv to find a movie to watch. She couldn’t bother joining in on the conversation. She felt mentally exhausted from her exams and just wanted a day’s rest. 

After a while, the group was playing card games while eating their pizzas and watching movies. 

“That’s not fair Mindy! Stop giving me all the +4 cards!” Tara shrieked, feeling frustrated after getting the card that made her double the number of cards she had at least 4 times, making her chances of winning low.

“Whatever you big baby. Just admit that you suck in uno,” Mindy responded, smirking triumphantly while raising her voice

Tara rolled her eyes, not accepting her defeat and continued arguing with Mindy, with the rest watching amused by the entertainment. Unsurprisingly , Tara lost after Mindy getting rid of her cards before her. She couldn’t get rid of her cards with the suspicious amounts of +4 cards Mindy had. 

“Uno! Looks like I win, LOSER!”

“How about I shove this uno cards up your a-“

Tara’s reply was interrupted by the front door opening, revealing you carrying your backpack on your shoulders and your motorcycle helmet hanging off your hand (which peaked Tara’s interest, of course.) You looked tired, with dark circles under your eye, wearing your hoodie and sweatpants. 

Even so, Tara still thought you were the most beautiful human being she had ever seen. She was practically having heart eyes and drooling at this point, with Mindy noticing her stare and grinning cheekily. 

“What’s up dude. Tough day at work?” Chad commented, trying to create a conversation. 

“You know it, man” you softly chuckled while locking the door. 

“Anyways, my friends are gonna be here for a while. I hope you don’t mind,”

“Not at all, I’m probably just going to take a nap anyways,” you replied, finally looking at the group of people staring you. 

Mindy gave you a nod, already knowing who you were from her brother. Anika smiled and waved at you, which you responded by giving a soft smile back. Sam was staring you down, which made you uncomfortable and creeped out but ignored her action. Tara was well, staring at you? But not how Sam stared at you, she had a blank look on her face. 

Once you left and went into the hallway to your room, Mindy decided make a certain Carpenter’s life a living hell. 

“Tara, are you blushing right now? I didn’t know you had a type” she teased

“Shut up, Mindy. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You guys don’t find her suspicious? Seriously?” Sam commented, wondering why they weren’t skeptical like they usually were when there was new people around. 

It wasn’t new, after the incident of Ghostface, they all had their guards up, scared to open up to new people, to new faces. 

“They’re nice, I promise. How about I call them out so you guys can get to know them? They’re Y/N, by the way” Chad suggested, trying to convince them (especially Sam) to get to know you better before jumping into conclusions that you were a serial killer. 

All of them collectively agreed, with Tara nodding with a slight tint on her cheeks. Chad went up to your room and called you out, suggesting that you should hang out with them. Tara assumed it went well, as Chad grinned toothily and walked away. 

You’ve really peaked her interest. She didn’t know she had a type. The people she had dated before didn’t really cast a spark on her.  She didn’t feel happy or enjoyed her time during those relationships. It felt like she was the problem, however the thought was down the drain after going to a few therapy sessions with Sam after the Ghostface incident. Through the sessions, Tara found out that she didn’t feel happy through the lack of trust and being paranoid that her partner would be a killer. That’s understandable, it’s not everyday that your (ex) girlfriend tries to murder you. 

However after seeing you for 10 seconds, her mind was clouded by you. She noticed that you were as tall as Chad and probably plays sports too, based on your physique. All she thought of was finding out more about you.  Do you study in Blackmore? What bike do you own? Do you prefer cats or dogs? Did you find her cute?

‘Come on, Tara. Get it together.’ She reminded herself  after that embarrassing thought. 

When she saw you come out with the same sweatpants, but with a black t-shirt that showed off your arm sleeve tattoo on your left arm, she was practically drooling. You looked hot as fuck. 

“Hey guys, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N”

“I’m Tara,” she quickly replied, seeing Mindy and Anika grinning at each other with a knowing look from her peripheral vision. 

You gave a smile. You looked cute. You had that cute ass dimples no one could ever resist, Tara thought. You might be the death of her. 

The group settled down and decided to watch a movie, you sat the end of the couch while waiting for the movie to start. Mindy, being an (alleged) amazing wingman she is, literally forced Tara into sitting beside you by pushing her. She sat on the couch with a sigh, annoyed at Mindy’s antics and rolled her eyes. Sam was just giggling at the other side of the couch. 

As much as Sam didn’t trust you, she was glad that Tara could act like a normal teenager again. After multiple therapy sessions, she gave Tara a little bit of more freedom and let her make her own decisions, even if it’s distasteful to her. That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t tase someone in the balls again, though. 

You mistakenly thought the sigh Tara gave out was because she had to sit beside you. You had known about what happened to their group from Chad, after he poured his heart out when he was blackout drunk. You understood the group of friends can be lack trust and be suspicious of new people. 

“Sorry, did you want to sit with someone else? I can sit on the floor if you want-“

“No! I mean it’s okay, I don’t mind sitting with you,” Tara replied with a heavy tint on her cheeks, embarrassed at her sudden reaction. 

Throughout the movie, you were munching on your pizza, oblivious to the amount of times Tara took glances at you while trying to think of topics to create a conversation with you. 

“So..How do you find the movie?” Tara questioned you, trying to get to know you a little bit better. 

“It’s alright, though I prefer other scary movies. I definitely do have favourites.”

“Oh, what’s your favourite horror film?”

“I absolutely love The Babadook, it’s amazing because I..” Any words that you uttered out of that beautiful mouth of yours disappeared. The universe must be sending a sign, she needs you badly. There’s no way Chad’s super cute, hot roommate would coincidentally like The Babadook, Tara thought 

“Blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff..” was all she could hear. 

You on the other hand, only saw Tara staring at you blankly while she had her own inner turmoil and crisis.

“Uh, Tara..? You alright there?” you chuckled awkwardly.

“What? Oh, yeah sorry. I love The Babadook too! What’s your favourite scene?” Tara smoothly taught of a way to continue the conversation, silently cheering for herself. 

It took you both 2 horror films and a shared bag of popcorn to exchange numbers. Tara was secretly cheering in ecstasy of course. She would’ve jumped around and start dancing if she could. It was already close to midnight, and Sam decided that they should go back home before it’s too late to catch the last train.  Tara was devastated, she wished that she could’ve spent more time with you. 

“Soo, I’ll see you next time then? It was nice seeing you.” You initiated a conversation, seeing that Tara was pouting at Sam while trying to convince her into staying a little while longer

“Y-Yeah, see you. We should continue our horror fanatic activities again,” She chuckled, trying to prolong the moment. You nodded your head, giving her a soft smile while leading her, Sam, and the couple out of the apartment, since Chad was knocked out and asleep.

You took your last goodbyes with the group, even giving Sam a small wave, before closing the door. 

In the elevator, all Anika, Mindy and even Sam did was tease her on how red and lovestruck she looked. She didn’t pay any mind to it, all she could ever think of was you. 

[vinylmango]

Flower Delivery

crazy ex!Nicholas Alexander Chavez x black!reader

Request: Hi! Can you make a story about Nicholas Chavez being obsessed and real crazy if that’s fine!

Warnings: gaslighting and obsessive behavior, language

word count: 1.2k

Note: Fair warning this is my first time writing long form content in a while and my first request. Thanks so much for requesting and I hope you like it!

part two

part three

masterlist

You opened the shiny silver trailer door with a sigh, your eyes cutting left and right as you quickly clicked the door closed behind you. Silence enveloped you, a stark contrast from the hustle and bustle outside. Flopping down on the small beige sofa near the window of your trailer, you reached an arm out, haphazardly feeling for your phone as you tried your best not to move from your comfortable position. 

You finally grabbed your phone after a few tries, glancing at the various notifications on the screen. “Nothing important.” You mumbled to yourself as you placed the phone down on the coffee table. You glanced up at the table that was beside the full length mirror, your eyes being drawn there due to the pop of colors that screamed against the basically designed trailer that only utilized various shades of creams and whites. 

“No…wh-how?” Slipped from your lips, filling the silence as you stood and took a few hesitant steps towards the beautifully arranged flowers. A sinking feeling began to grow in the pit of your stomach, combining with a growing anger that only seemed to bubble up more the moment your hand touched one of the delicate yellow petals. 

A small white card with your name scrawled in intricately looped lettering caught your attention from beside the vase. “My (Y/n), I always knew you’d be a star. Love, Nick.” You gritted your teeth, tossing it back on the table as you rolled your eyes. “What the fuck?” You inhaled sharply. "Oh my God, what the fuck!" You repeated as you grabbed your phone once again, clicking the contact you didn’t really have to spend much time searching for, and clicking dial.

It only rang twice before the line connected. “Hi (Y/n).” You could hear the smile growing on his face already, your nails turning white around the phone that was pressed to your ear, your lips pulling into a firm line. “I take it you got my flowers?”

“I told you to stop.” Your tone was deceivingly calm as you closed your eyes and let out a breath.

“Stop what, love?” 

“Don’t call me that.” You instantly replied as he chuckled into the line. “Stop sending me things. Stop it. We aren’t dating anymore. It’s been a year, just stop.”

“I sent you flowers every week.” A chill ran up your spine as his tone switched from the lighthearted one to a much more serious and strangely calm one. You could picture his face now, devoid of emotion and dark eyes staring straight at you with a calculating look as if he were assessing you.

“Well we aren’t together. We haven’t been for a year.” You reminded him again as you heard him scoff. 

“You didn’t know what you wanted. I know you (Y/n). We’re better together. Just trust me.” 

“No.” You shook your head, although he couldn’t see you. “You don’t get to do that anymore. You have no idea what I want or need because you’re a fucking psycho!”

“Don’t be so dramatic (Y/N). You’re confu-”

“I know what you did with Sam.” You cut him off. “He showed up at my place last month going on about how two-faced I supposedly am. How he was so lucky some ex of mine told him that I’m a serial cheater, that I cheated on him too. Then the ex told him that I’ve been sleeping with him since before I even met Sam, let alone started dating him, because I’m still in love with my ex.” A humorless laugh left your lips at the absurdity of it all. “I know it was you and you know none of that is true."

"Hm." He didn't say anything, neither confirming or denying your accustation. But you both knew the truth, it hung heavy in the air.

"He broke up with me." You could picture the look of satisfaction that crossed his face. "This is the third time, Nicholas."

“He’s not good enough for you. He’s a douche and a scumbag and he's been that way since high school. He uses people to social climb.” Nicholas brushed it off. “You think I’d allow him to hurt you? Damage your reputation? Make you another one of his conquests? I was protecting you.”

“No. You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t talk to!” Your voice raised as you messed with your hair, a nervous habit that you didn’t realize you did until Nicholas pointed it out one time when you were over for a movie night. “And you need to stop showing up at my place. You’re scaring Mrs. Mills.” You added referring to your elderly neighbor who was the one that told you sometimes a car would come by late at night and park in front of your home then leave after 30 or so minutes. Always the same car. 

“That woman doesn’t even know what day of the week it is most of the time. You really are going to believe her over me? That's insane. She's damn near senile.” He sounded offended now, his tone short and tense.

“Nick, I'm done, seriously. Loose my fucking number.” You said finally, hanging up and immediately blocking his contact. You jumped as a loud knock sounded from the other side of your trailer door.

That couldn’t be him. Could it?

You opened the trailer door just enough to stick your head out. 

“Are you alright (Y/N)? You look like you saw a ghost or something.” It was just one of the studio interns coming to get you from the filming break. She laughed lightly, her blue eyes shining almost as much as her dark glossy hair in the sunlight. You let out a forced laugh, your mouth rising into a smile that did not reach your eyes, and frankly looked more like a grimace than anything close to a smile. 

“Sorry. I-I was just lost in thought.” You tried to cover for your awkward reaction as she nodded, looking you over once again before the smile returned to her face. 

“They’re ready for you on set again.” She told you as you nodded and grabbed your phone off the table before following her out and towards the stage. You should’ve grabbed those flowers and thrown them in the dumpster that was on your way to the stage from your trailer. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t.

You glanced back once, worried you may have forgotten to lock your trailer, you couldn’t remember if you had or hadn’t. Your foot caught on your shoelace as your eyes locked with the all too familiar dark brown ones that had once made you smile. 

He watched you stumble, his eyebrows raising as a hint of a smile appeared on his lips at your blunder. You gasped, looking around to see if anyone else was seeing the man who was not supposed to be on set or if this really was a figment of your imagination. 

“Are you okay?” The intern spun around and asked, concern written all over her face. “I’ve been trying to tell people on set about that hole. They really need to repave this. You aren’t hurt are you?” She was talking a mile a minute as you blinked at her and simply nodded, glancing back in the direction of your trailer to find nothing there. No Nicholas after all.

Maybe it really had just been your imagination.

“Uh…Ye-yeah. I’m alright.”

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— seven

SUMMARY : dean would rather be doing something else with his time rather than doing research, he’d rather be doing her

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester, donna handscum

WARNINGS : smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up, losers), fluff, the plot is abandoned :’(

WORD COUNT : 5.2k

A/N : yes, seven by jungkook. this fills the square for new position on my @jacklesversebingo card. this position is called ‘rocking horse’, lmao, very hot

She was staring at the screen of her laptop, every link was now purple instead of blue from having explored them all on her journey to research all there was to know about the Egyptian goddess Taweret. Still, she found nothing on how to weaken, stop, or kill the hippo. Taweret’s distorted usage of her abilities was getting too out of hand.

Too many pregnant people. Too many old people getting young again. Especially couples. For now, at least, that’s all that’s happened. 

Typically Sam, Dean, and Y/N dealt with the killing, the death, and the blood, but Donna managed to pick this up on her own and called the brothers for backup because it was starting to get way too ridiculous—terrifying, really. Reapers were overwhelmed and while the Winchesters and Y/N didn’t really care about how they were feeling, it was a major problem—when speaking about the universal rules: what is, what should be, what was, what should never be, etcetera. 

Unfortunately, the research has led to no real or useful information for how to stop the Goddess, not even how to kill her. And once Dean started to hum Travelling Riverside Blues while shaking his leg impatiently in the fourth hour, she couldn’t focus on anything else anymore.

Now that same song was stuck in her head and she glared at her laptop while trying to get a different song to replace Led Zeppelin’s in her mind. It wasn’t a bad song, but it got irritating, and every song somehow morphed right back to Travelling Riverside Blues. Her and Dean had been so good about focusing on the research, but sometimes one of them always made it impossible for the other to maintain that amount of silence and focus around each other. 

It usually started with some small conversations: How’s the research going? Have you found anything yet? Hey, remember when…? Are you hungry? I’m kinda hungry. Aren’t you tired? And so on. 

Then there were glances. From a distance, they’d stare at each other when the other isn’t looking, wondering if enough time has passed to not feel guilty for wanting to take a break. They’d smile to themselves, catching cute little habits in body language or facial expressions. 

Sometimes—most of the time—there was some sexualisation. If she’s wearing a skirt or a dress, he’d stare at the curve of her legs in some really sexy heels. He’d wish to have them wrapped around his waist as he fucks her or thrown over his shoulders with his face buried between her legs. He’d have to subtly place a hand over his crotch and hope his erection would go away or stop getting harder. 

If the neck of her clothes was low enough to show some cleavage, he’d spend his time analysing the size of them, the roundness and perkiness of them in the clothes she wore. Or remembering the way they felt in his hands, warm and soft, and the way she looked so hot when he’d tease her sensitive nipples with his fingers, the noises she made playing in his head until he was hot and red in the face.

And his mind would drift endlessly to the memory of her naked body. The perfect dip of her waist when he holds her there and the way she squirms when he does it. The softness of her skin when his hands and his mouth are exploring, sucking, licking, biting, tasting her as his mouth waters hungrily; touching, squeezing, scraping, possibly bruising her body so she could always remember him. So she could always feel him and where he had been. 

He’d stare at her hands as she typed away at the laptop, expertly pressing the keys with those swift and elegant fingers of her. She’d keep her nails relatively short and occasionally did them nicely. Currently, they were painted a mossy green colour that matched the gem of the silver ring she wore, one he’d picked out for her. Both of them knew the nail polish wouldn’t last, but he liked when she felt beautiful, it somehow made her a billion times more beautiful. 

It was the memory of them slowly moving across his body, worshipping while soft and sometimes cold, smaller than his, that made him bite his lip. Even the gentle caresses to his face when he was on the brink of breaking apart into dust in grief and despair. Her hand in his whenever they went somewhere, while they slept, in the Bunker, in the Impala, during sex. 

If he’s rolled up the sleeves of a white dress shirt, she’ll stare at the way the material stretches over his chest and broad shoulders, tightening around his arms when he flexes his hands and arms as a result of a cramp or the like. With that tiny fucking waist of his accentuated by the shirt tucked into his slacks, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to fuck him senseless or hold him gently in her arms. 

If he walked around to get a beer, she’d stare at the tightness of the black slacks over his ass, over his strong thighs when he’d bend over to reach down for the bottle. She’d have to hold back a moan and squeeze her thighs together to stop herself from jumping his bones or actually moaning out loud. 

Even his fucking fingers turned her on. It was fucking annoying, when he’d brush his thumb across his plump bottom lip to swipe away droplets of beer. It was embarrassing the way her walls clenched around nothing just at the memory of having his thick fingers inside her, pushing and stroking, quick and steadfast. Her panties soaked through with arousal with every bit of motion from his hands. Even when he’s cleaning their weapons. 

But the one thing that truly made her lose her mind were his lips. They were so distracting. All the time. Whenever he speaks, her eyes are glued on his lips, but he doesn’t think much of it because she does it often with everyone in order to focus on what they’re saying. He just doesn’t understand how much that doesn’t work for her when it’s his lips she’s looking at. 

All she can think about is how kissable they look, how soft they’d feel against hers, and how funny it would be if she just kissed him mid-sentence. He’d have that cute, bewildered, but pleased look on his face. He bit them often when he was deep in thought, slowly releasing it, turning it red and swollen, just slightly covered in his spit. 

He had the cutest habits with his mouth. Puckering them when he’s eating, pouting all the time, sometimes he said certain words they’d pout even more, and when he was pissed or focused. And then he did that model thing with his lips, leaving them slightly parted as he stared at nothing or was considering something seriously. 

He was fucking delicious. And that mouth of his was ridiculously talented. Really, very yummy…

It was unfair that he looked as sinful and as fuckable as he did without having to try. Even after waking up, with his soft hair spiked up in some places and flat in others. When his voice was thick and hot with sleep and he’d murmur half-irritated words if he was woken too early, or hot and loving things being mumbled against her ear when he was in a mood. 

After all that staring and longing, there would be trips to the fridge, when either one of them grabbed snacks for the other. Hands and fingers brushing against each other when passing over the snacks or drinks. Little smiles were exchanged and yearning sparkled in their eyes, but neither of them did or said anything about it, so the tension grew and grew. 

Maybe one of them might get closer to the other, pretending to curiously look at the work they were doing. Slowly, their eyes would drift innocently to each other and there would be an exchange of teasing and amused smiles. And then they’d bring their laptop or books closer and stay there, slowly legs would start to touch each other. 

It was like a circuit of lust. The endless tensions and the electricity that made them shiver, skin prickling, hair sticking up; for her: nipples tightening and tingly cunt dampening her panties; for him: cock stirring, slowly hardening and straining in his boxers. Their breaths became noticeably heavier and their eyes would be heavy with desire, and their arms and hands would touch to increase the voltage on each other’s skin until they just couldn’t take it and had to do something about it. 

They weren’t quite there yet, but they were both thinking about it. They already knew themselves and how things progressed from years of being together. It was nice.

“This is so fucking boring!” Dean whined abruptly, throwing his head back and running his hands down his face. “We shoulda stayed with Sammy and Donna to talk to witnesses.” He slumped down in his chair with a pout and then turned to look at his girlfriend who pursed her lips to stop a smile from spreading across her tinted lips. 

“You told Sam your knee was still hurting from the last hunt and wanted to come back here,” she reminded him with a laugh, moving the laptop off her lap to twist her torso left and right until the crack of her spine made her sigh happily.

“Yeah, well now my ass hurts, too,” he complained, arching his back in the chair and flattening his hands down his backside as it became numb. 

“Then stop sitting and walk around for a bit,” she suggested, stretching her legs underneath the table so their feet knocked against each other. 

“Ugh, fine,” he grunted petulantly, tapping his foot against hers in retaliation before getting up. He shut his laptop, taking the now-warm beer on the table with him. He squatted for a few seconds and she laughed through her nose, stretching in the chair while she watched him try to ease the pain on his butt from sitting. 

“Fuck, this feels so good… and painful, all at once,” he chuckled, pursing his lips so his little dimples appeared above his lips. He hissed when he strained his sore knee and then sighed when he was satisfied. When he stood up straight, he scrunched up his cute nose when something popped pleasantly, and slapped his own ass with both hands—at the same time. 

“Better?” She asked with a grin. 

“Not really,” he frowned dramatically, hunching his back. 

“Aw, come ‘ere then, sweetheart.” She mimicked his pout, moved her chair back from the table and patted her lap. “Come sit on daddy’s lap,” she said with a grin, then snorted. He let out a loud laugh and stood up straight again, placing his beer back on the table to make his way onto her lap. “Oh, sweet Jesus, you’re heavy,” she whispered playfully when he sat on her legs. 

“Shudup,” he said with a soft laugh, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to play with her hair and resting his over hand on her waist, his thumb brushing back and forth distractedly. 

“So, how’s it going?” She asked, a soft smile growing on her lips as she looked up at him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, intertwining her fingers to keep her hands from slipping away. 

“I’m bored,” he mumbled, lifting his hand from her waist to play with the thin strap of her red dress. 

“Yeah, you said that.” She stared at him for a moment, watching the way his eyes drifted from her hair, to her shoulder, and finally her breasts. 

“Do you have any idea how much I wanna fuck you?” Dean asked unexpectedly, his eyes snapping back up to hers to capture her reaction. She blinked at him in astonishment, a smile slowly growing on her face. “How much I’ve wanted to bend you over every counter we’ve come across?” He murmured, cupping the back of her head to gently tilt her head back, her lips parting and her heartbeat rising in response. She tightened her entwined fingers, staring into both of his eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers. “How badly I wanna taste you? Kiss your lips? And touch every inch of your sexy body?” 

“Dean,” she uttered breathily. 

He smirked, teasing her by keeping his face inches away from hers, refusing her the pleasure of a kiss. His fingers slipped away from the strap of her dress to sneak into the top, but as his hands turned downward to cup her breasts, his fingers brushed against coarse material.

“Fucking boobtape,” he whispered and she laughed.

“My tits have to stay up somehow and not slip out if I have to fight,” she reasoned, feeling his fingers start to pick at the sticky tape. “Plus, a bra won’t make this dress look very nice. I mean… it’s got you this needy and hard...” She bit her lip and untangled her fingers to slide a hand between his legs. He became stiff and his breath hitched when she patted his hardening dick. “Get off me,” she murmured lightheartedly, letting him go completely. 

“Y-yeah, okay,” he stammered, swiftly standing up off her lap. 

He’d barely straightened up in front of her when she was starting to pull at the dark green tie to bring his lips down to hers in a rough kiss. He all but moaned against her mouth, grasping her hips desperately to pull the thin and silky cloth up so it bunched up at her waist, exposing some seamless, red panties that nearly matched the softness of the blood-red dress. 

“Bed,” she murmured airily against his lips. 

Dean nodded and quickly pressed his lips against hers again, moving with her as she made her way backwards, his hands groping and touching her body, hers pulling and tugging at his hair, their teeth clashing and tongues licking into each other's mouths. Lost in eachother, she ended up pressed against the wall with his knee shoved between her legs.

He pulled away, just to keep teasing her, “think I can make you cum on my thigh again?” He kissed down her jawline, his stubble tickling her soft skin, setting her nerves alight when he got to her neck, kissing softly and gently nipping at her pulse. 

“I don’t doubt it,” she moaned, tilting her head back for him to stay there longer. He began rocking his knee back and forth, wrapped his arm around her waist and jutted her hips out slightly to position her perfectly on the tensing muscle of his thigh. 

She grabbed at his hips with both hands and gasped at the friction on her clit. She started to roll her hips to match his movements, fumbling with his belt, struggling only because he wouldn’t keep still and her hands were shaking with desire, but she got it off eventually. 

He pulled away from her before she could unbutton his pants and she pouted at him.

“Come sit on daddy’s lap,” he mocked her words from earlier with a laugh, sitting down on the bed. He patted his thigh for her to continue riding, and while the thought of that was hot, she was hung up on him calling himself daddy, even if it was a joke.  

“Ewww,” she complained, holding back laughter. Still, she made her way between his legs and straddled one of his thighs, kissing his cheeks and forehead rather than plopping down and riding his thigh. 

“Can I take the titty tape off?” He asked, lowering the neck of her dress to peek at the tape that matched her skin tone. She nodded, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, and settled onto his thigh, busying herself with loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. 

“What if I tattoo your name on my body?” She murmured. Dean shifted his gaze away from her chest to look at her inquisitively, blindly and carefully peeling off the tape from the skin of her breast. “Not a tacky tattoo, maybe Times New Roman, font size 10,” she replied playfully, dropping a chaste kiss to his parted lips.

“Oh,” he uttered shyly, and stayed quiet for a couple of moments. “Where?” He finally asked, giving her time to think before moving to her other breast to remove the tape there. She pondered for a while and then shrugged.

“Maybe… my finger,” she answered, wiggling her middle finger mischievously at him—as if flipping him off. He laughed at her, balled up the tape now that he was done, and threw it on the floor. 

“No….” He disagreed gently, grabbing her hand to close her fist, then kissed her knuckles. She bit her lip, smiling shyly when he looked up at her through his thick lashes. 

“No?” She questioned, rolling her hips against his thigh, her knee gently brushing against his erection. He shook his head and moaned, leaning forward to press hot and wet kisses along her neck. 

“Maybe here,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of her neck, nipping at her pulse point. She gasped and squirmed against his thigh, fisting his white t-shirt in one hand and burying her fingers into his hair with the other. “Or here,” he suggested, squeezing her breast, “maybe here would be better,” he added, then slapped her ass hard enough for her to yelp and jump. 

“All three of those places, then?” She teased breathlessly, rolling her hips slowly and sensually. He sucked softly at her clavicle, then dropped a few kisses onto her breasts. 

“Definitely,” he approved, dragging his lips up to her shoulders, letting his mouth push away the thin straps of her dress. “My favourite places.” She chuckled, squirming impatiently on his thigh. She guided his lips back up to hers by tugging at the short strands of his hair, choosing to nibble on his lip teasingly until he crashed his mouth against hers. “Need you…” he whispered between needy kisses, and slowly started to lift her dress upwards.

While she removed the dress, he shrugged off the white dress shirt, struggled a little when the sleeve got caught around his watch. “Fucken…” he grunted, unbuttoning the cuff with irritation.

“Don’t worry, baby, I love taking my time with you,” she laughed, pulling the t-shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants.

“Well, me personally? I don’t wanna have to pull out halfway through sex because Sammy’s on his way back. Not again,” he said seriously, lifting his arms to help her remove his shirt. She gave him an empathetic smile which quickly turned into an amused one when she remembered how uncomfortable and sensitive he had been the rest of the day. “It’s not funny, I was about to come, but fucken Sam had to text…” he pouted, then smiled when she started to laugh. 

“Yeah… as funny as that was, I really need to come right now,” she conceded and climbed off his lap to remove her underwear. Dean reached out excitedly for them, playfully brushing her hands out of the way to pull her underwear down swiftly. 

“I want you to come, too,” he said, licking his lips. She laughed quietly, holding his shoulders for balance, lifting her knee up so he could take her underwear off completely. “On my dick, though, not in my thigh,” he clarified, immediately pulling her back into him. 

He dropped impatient kisses along her waist, forcing her to climb onto the bed on her knees, before moving his mouth upwards, his hands exploring her smooth body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to steady her breath. She held him close to her, let him slowly pull her down onto his lap until their hips met. 

“Dean, you gotta get your pants off,” she sighed. 

“Stay,” he breathed, rolling his hips up into hers as a promise of what he’d give her. She moaned in surprise, whining when he pulled away and spread his legs, forcing her to do the same. Cool air passed between her soaked folds and she gasped.

Awkwardly, he fumbled with his slacks’ button between their bodies, careful not to make her shift or fall back with his brisk and eager movements. He shoved the pants down his legs, boxers sliding down right along with them, and kicked them off his feet.

He didn’t care about doing it properly and immediately drew her close to him when he heard the sound of his clothes hitting the floor. She laughed against his mouth, reached down between their bodies to wrap her hand around his cock. 

He cursed softly against her mouth, grabbed her hips roughly and moved her hastily onto her back. It didn’t stop her from playing with him, teasing him by rubbing the hot and hard length of him through her folds. When she made a ring with her forefinger and thumb, he roughly sank his teeth into her shoulder and groaned loudly, freezing at the overwhelming pleasure of her fingers tightening around him and moving upwards in precise twists.

“Goddamnit,” he hissed, “shouldn’t have… told you I like—ah, shit!” He jolted, bucking his hips involuntarily when she started to massage underneath the head of his cock, nearly losing himself and nearly giving into the threat of his orgasm. “No.. wait,” he whined, weakly stopping her with his hands around her wrist.

“You sound so fucking hot when I do that,” she chuckled, “you know I can’t help myself, Dean.” Still, she let go of him and licked her fingers clean of the precum that coated them. 

“I have something in mind,” he started suggestively, placing a rough kiss on her lips. She hummed softly and sucked on his lip, watching him move down her body with his lips and hands. He pulled away from her completely and positioned himself in the centre of the bed, patting the spot between his legs. 

“You and your slutty little imagination,” she teased, crawling up to him. She parted his thighs, kissed along the inside of his soft—slightly scarred—skin and licked up a stripe of the underside of his cock. He groaned, reaching out for her arm when she twirled her tongue around the leaking tip, sucking gently on the soft head. 

“Enough of that, beautiful,” he murmured, tugging her upwards by her arm and away from his dick. She pouted, letting go of his cock with a loud and obscenely wet pop that made him groan. “Lean back,” he instructed delicately, licking his lips when she brushed her wet lips against his teasingly. 

With a small ‘okay’, she complied, leaning back with her hands flat behind her on the bed, her two thighs resting on either side of him. “Now, what?” Dean wrapped his hands around her knees instead of replying, and started to bend them upwards. She wiggled around slightly, moving with him and bit her lip when he slid his hands beneath her knees to hold her waist. 

One of his hands migrated from her waist to wrap around his cock, guiding himself slowly and teasingly through her folds. She became flustered, staring at him with her knees bent over his forearms.

“This is…” she trailed off, cheeks red and heart beating wildly behind the cage of her ribs. 

“Very hot,” Dean finished for her. He let go of his cock just to reach over to the bedside table where his phone was resting. She looked curious at him, thinking maybe he’d check on Sam before they got started, but instead he opened the camera and swiped until he was on the video recording section. “Is this okay, babe?” He asked, gazing back into her eyes, his thumb hovering over the red button. 

“Yeah, D.” She nodded, chewing shyly on her lips. “Do you have way more videos of us fucking than of us doing.. ya know, cute romantic shit?” She asked, not caring that he was already recording. He scoffed, positioning the camera to capture her dripping folds, her breasts, and the bottom half of her face rather than his body.

“This is romantic,” he told her matter-of-factly. 

“Mm, yeah.. right,” she snickered and lifted herself up using the strength of her arms so she could then lower herself on his cock. 

“You don’t think so?” He grunted, watching lewdly as he stretched her pussy open, slowly disappearing inside her warmth. “I think it’s pretty romantic, watchin’ videos of how I fucked you… jerking off to them when I miss you. Listening to how needy and desperate you get for me when you’re about to come…” He explained explicitly, holding her waist tightly, when their hips met completely. 

“It’s not just about the sex, baby,” he added, gazing into her eyes. She bit her lip and slowly started to lift herself back up again. “It’s about how it makes me feel. How you make me feel. It’s about time. Makin’ you mine, givin’ myself to you, lovin’ you, you lovin’ me in return, us.. being vulnerable.” She squeezed around him tightly and sank back down, her gaze soft. “It’s romantic that there’s no adios afterward, nothin’ for us to hide from each other during, just you and me barin’ our souls to one another… it’s about us.” He pulled her even closer just to kiss her passionately. Her thighs were practically pressed against the front of her body, somehow he managed to sink deeper into her, and he rocked his hips upwards so her clit brushed against his pelvic bone.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, moving one arm to wrap her arm around his neck instead. He smiled against her mouth, and blindly set the phone down on the nightstand, skilfully getting enough in the shot without much fumbling. 

“C’mon, baby, you said you needed to come…” he whispered against her jawline, “so make yourself cum.” Dutifully, she began moving a little faster, trying to find a perfect cadence in this new position. 

He mouthed at the skin of her neck and chest that he could reach, careful to leave very light marks so she could wear that sexy little dress again, and let her take control of everything. Almost immediately, she was able to move at the perfect pace, towards her orgasm and his.

Gasps and grunts, moaning and groaning, they held onto each other trying to bring each other toward their orgasms unhurriedly. She tipped her head back and tried to pull him impossibly close. With the impact of their hips, her clit was stimulated with a pleasant grind of his hips moving upwards, and this time, rather than doing what they always did—slowing down when they were close to extend the proximity of their organs, increasing the intensity of it—he breathily encouraged her to keep going. 

He mindlessly praised her and confessed his love like he always did when he was close, meeting her thrusts far gentler than she was. Still, with one hand behind her and the other in his hair, she tugged on the hairs at the top of his head hard enough to make him moan loudly. His bruising grip on her waist didn’t let up, and his blunt nails dug into her back, waiting for her to cum before he could.

A few more strokes of his cock against her g-spot had her walls pulsing around him, gasping and panting his name, and pressing her forehead against his shoulder as her orgasm finally crashed over her. 

She dropped kisses along his shoulder and neck, shuddering from her orgasm, and with a loud grunt of her name, Dean came inside of her. Slowly, they stopped moving and tried to catch their breaths while holding each other closely. She played with his hair and he soothed her bruised waist with calloused palms, then leaned forward all the way until she was laying on her back to kiss her face lovingly.

“Porn worthy?” She teased quietly, resting her hands on his waist waiting as he made a cute path along her face with kisses to reach her lips.

“I could go a second round,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. He slowly rolled his hips against hers, still buried deep inside her. She groaned softly and wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him to keep moving, and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss anything vulgar he was about to say. 

Dean froze above her when he heard footsteps from outside their hotel room, pleading internally that it was random people passing by, but deflated when he heard Sam speak to Donna. “…I hope they found something.” 

“Shit!” Y/n whispered, trying to push Dean off her when the doorknob began to rattle, but Dean didn’t budge, knowing it was no use and wanting to use his body as a shield. 

“Well, the jig is up,” he joked, watching her throw her arms over her chest instead, glaring at him half-heartedly. 

“Dean, your phone!” She reminded him, but Dean shrugged just as Sam swung the door open and stopped mid-sentence with Donna exclaiming some sort of phrase in surprise. Y/n would have laughed at whatever it was she said—Donna’s refusal to actually say a swear word—but she just groaned in annoyance.

“Seriously, guys? Every time!” Sam shouted, apologising to Donna quietly who brushed it off with a quiet ‘it’s okay’. 

Donna sneaked one tiny glimpse at the naked couple just as Sam turned around for them to get dressed. Dean smirked smugly and winked at Donna, then looked away to watch as he pulled out of his girlfriend, their cum spilling out of her. His cock was hard again and Y/n shook her head, waiting for Dean to get the phone and get moving.

“You do realise that it could've been Taweret making you guys…” Sam scolded, filling the silence up as Dean gathered their clothes. Donna blushed and turned around as well, grateful that Sam didn’t mention her hesitation in turning around sooner. 

“Uh,” Y/n stammered, pulling her clothes on when Dean handed it to her. 

“You have a point, Sammy, but we usually do this, anyway, so…” Dean spoke up, giving Y/n a hand so she could stand on slightly shaky legs beside him. “‘sides, I did find something…” Dean announced, pointing to his laptop on the table. With a hard slap on Y/n’s ass, Dean walked to the bathroom to get cleaned up, grasping her small hand with his to bring her with him. 

“Sorry,” Y/n laughed, apologetically bowing her head before following Dean to get herself cleaned up as well. As she walked, she could feel Dean’s cum drip out of her, her panties wet and cool between her legs made her uncomfortable but she kept them on, washing her hands with Dean standing next to her doing the same.

“Well, they’re still cute,” Donna said brightly, trying to brighten Sam’s sour mood, but it only worsened when he opened Dean’s laptop and the open tab was a sex page with a list of positions to try. 

“Seriously, Dean? Close the damn tabs!” 

“Whoops,” Dean snickered, gazing at Y/n who only rolled her eyes at him, affectionately smiling. “Gonna play this video real loud tonight,” he whispered with a grin, shaking his phone in his hand, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead. 

“That’s really funny, but no,” she chuckled, bringing him down for a soft kiss when he pouted at her childishly. 

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[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Love or seal?

Dean Winchester x Fem!reader

Summary: An avenging spirit is killing married couples, so the Winchesters think it's a good idea to use you to pretend to be one and take down the ghost. But the act becomes all too real before you know it.

Words: 1,8k.

TW: mentions of murder, death, violence. so much teasing. a little of angst with happy ending. dean from the early seasons but soft and chaotic (a bit simp). sam being cupid and forgotten lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've always been a Dean girl and I'm so excited about this. I love the concept of "Frenemies to Lovers" with its more playful and cutie version from the earlier seasons, I hope I described it well.

This is my second time writing here, i'm still new.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You took another look in the mirror and walked a few laps around the dingy motel room, trying to swallow the act. It seemed ironic to wear such a fancy dress and high heels in a place like this, but it was all so you could solve the case and prevent more deaths. After all, it was your job to catch the ghosts and put them to rest.

It had been a long time since you'd been out on a date or worn anything other than your usual jeans and leather jacket. Buying yourself a cute dress and wedding rings with one of your fake cards had been entertaining, the closest thing to a normal life you'd had in years.

“Come in, I need help with the zipper on my dress.” You said after hearing a couple of knocks on your door.

You were still standing in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for Sam to show up to help you so the two of you could leave soon for the restaurant where you both had reserved a table. The strange thing was that the cold hands you felt running down your back and zipping you up were not his, but those of his older brother.

“What are you doing here? Where is Sam?” You turned around to look at Dean once your dress was closed. It was then that you noticed he was wearing a suit and the ring.

“In the room.” He replied, moving closer to you so he could look at himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie with difficulty, he was not used to wearing one at all and felt suffocated.

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked him after looking him over from head to toe and inevitably biting your lower lip. He looked good, all dressed up and dapper, you could even smell the scent of cologne wafting off him.

“I'll be your husband for tonight.” Dean smiled at you.

You frowned when you heard that the younger Winchester would no longer be your fake husband, because that was not what you had all agreed upon. Sam had always been more husband material, and you trusted him enough to have some physical contact if necessary. On the other hand, you saw Dean as someone who was far from the prototypical perfect partner, and you could barely talk to him without arguing about your differences, never having touched him except for sparring practice or taking away the gun he kept stealing from you. You couldn't deny that both brothers were attractive, but they were almost equally far from meaning anything romantic to you.

“We flipped a coin and I got the job.” He added to the explanation, noticing the confusion on your face.

Finally you nodded, realizing that once again they had not been able to reach an agreement and had had to put luck in the middle for the choice of roles. You didn't mind going with Dean, you had already been on several hunts with him and trusted his skills, but having to impersonate his wife was weird.

“Can you...?” He tried to ask you, pointing at his tie and all the trouble it caused him.

You let out a small laugh at seeing him so confused over a simple tie and went over to him to take it off. You had to tie it all over again because of how badly he had done it before.

“This looks very wife.” He commented as he saw the delicacy with which you were trying to fix his mess.

“I hope the spirit feels the same and is looking forward to slaughtering us.” You replied, taking a step away from him as you finished.

You two said a quick goodbye to Sam and then hopped into the Impala, which took you to a shiny restaurant near the road where the ghost appeared.

“Don't embarrass me, please.” You said to him as soon as you both sat down at the table and placed your order.

“How could I, darling?” He smiled innocently at you and took your hand on the table, caressing the ring on your finger.

You didn't say anything, just smiled back and kept your thoughts to yourself. You couldn't believe he actually called you that, sounding almost like a husband, even though you knew it was because of the acting, it gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. The most you'd gotten from Dean Winchester in all the years you'd known him was a "good job" and a strange smile, followed by a lot of questions about your careless decisions. You alone were far enough away from marriage, let alone someone like him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” You told him as you saw he was drinking water, causing him to almost spit it out in surprise.

Usually you never complimented him, barely looked him in the eye, talked about anything other than hunting, or even laughed at his jokes. It seemed that his presence didn't matter much to you because your interests were more aligned with Sam's and you got along better with him. That bothered Dean a lot, he hated being so invisible in your eyes.

Now, however, you didn't take your eyes off him and even gave him compliments that left him speechless to continue the performance.

“At least the food is good.” You said absentmindedly as the waiter brought the plates.

“And the company?”

You looked into his eyes, trying to understand if he was playing with you or if he was really hurt by your lack of emotion. The strange thing was that you didn't know if it was one or the other, his greenish gaze was a mystery.

“The best company, of course.” You gave him a smile and picked up your glass of wine to make a small toast.

“How affectionate you are now.”

“Yes, I feel almost as if today is the last day of my life.” You said with irony.

Dinner went off without a hitch in a quiet and strangely pleasant atmosphere. You couldn't help but be surprised by Dean's friendliness, it was the first time you had a civilized conversation with him. The first time he held your hand and you noticed how green his eyes were.

Suddenly, everything he said, silly or not, made you smile. The only rational thing to do was to attribute it to the glass of wine he had decided to drink. In general, you didn't allow yourself to drink alcohol, let alone in the middle of a hunt. But now, for some reason, you thought it would help your nerves and relax you a bit.

“Where did you leave the car?” You asked once they left the site and the time to travel the road of death was approaching.

“In the corner over there...I hope.” He answered without really being sure. For him, it had all happened so fast when you two arrived.

“My feet hurt. Don't play with me now.” You said, hating the high heels you were wearing.

At that moment, the hunter stopped and motioned for you to sit on the bench by the exit. Unsure, you obeyed and frowned as he knelt down to gently remove your shoes.

“Happy now?” He asked he asked, holding your heels in his hands.

“I can't walk barefoot.” You claimed, putting on a fake sad face and lowering your gaze to his arms.

Dean shook his head instantly.

“No, don't even think that I'll carry you.” He warned confidently, folding his arms.

A few minutes later, he was silently leading you to the car, snorting at every opportunity to give in so easily to your wishes.

“This looks very husband.” You pointed out with a smile and a teasing tone.

“I would offer you to the spirit right now.” He replied, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“How lovely you are, my dear.”

The two finally got into the car and headed for the exit. Dean had received a message from his brother telling him that he had found the name of the ghost woman and her grave with her husband, who was the cause of all his resentment against happily married couples, and to top it off, he was buried on top of her.

“Sam is going to burn the grave and everything will be fine.” He said trying to comfort you as he saw the concern on your face. “Maybe the woman doesn't want to kill anyone today.”

“You have too much faith in a murderous spirit.” You sighed and tried to remove the ring from your finger, but it stuck. “And you should take the ring off.”

“Are we getting divorced so soon?” He replied in a joking tone, with his eyes on the road.

You looked at him seriously, this was no time for jokes because everything was going wrong. If Sam didn't dig up those bones soon, they were probably going to kill you both and the plan was going to fail completely. It was supposed to be easy and you were terrified that it wasn't anymore.

“Come on, don't be like that. You were laughing so hard with me.” He smiled at you.

Before you could respond, a pale woman in a blood-stained wedding dress appeared in the back seat. You could barely say Dean's name when the ghost's hand came around your neck and began to choke you. After a few moments, you couldn't even breathe and everything became a blur.

You didn't want to die, at least not at that moment. Not without having lived a life as good as the night before everything went to hell. You still had too many things to do to go like that, let alone in front of him, you couldn't let that happen.

“Don't move.” The hunter said to you before drawing his gun and disputing you to the back seat.

The ghost disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared just ahead of the road. A braking maneuver as the woman was beginning to burn in front of the two of you almost made you jump out of your seat.

Sam had succeeded.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, still trying to catch your breath and process everything that had happened.

“And my thanks for saving you and not letting death part us?”

At any other time, you would have simply made a sarcastic comment and emphasized that it was all thanks to her brother. However, the recent experience had changed something in you and made you kiss his cheek.

Before you could completely pull your face away from his, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you close. You felt his lips move over yours and responded without hesitation. A big part of you had been thinking about this moment all night and was more than happy it was happening. It was like the perfect ending to a fake marriage date, minus the killer ghost part, and it made you smile in the middle of it.

“You didn't flip any coin, did you?” You asked as you broke away from the kiss for a second.

“No, I didn't.” He admitted, leaving a kiss on your head and making you smile even more.

[cobaltperun]

Can I pls request a Tara X reader who is the daughter of Gale and Dewey born around 2001 so just a year older than Tara. They start dating after the events of Scream 5 and Sam is not happy after catching them having sex in Tara’s room

I really love you’re stuff and I hope you enjoy your break ☺️

She's my Girlfriend!

Tara Carpenter x Female Reader (Request)

Warning: slight smut at the very start.

Masterlist

Word count: 1.3k

She was falling apart for you, broken moans she struggled to keep relatively quiet, her hands grasping for anything to hold on to, from your shoulders, to your back, to the back of your head and neck. Her back arched, her breasts bouncing slightly as she rode your fingers. Your eyes met and you could tell she was close, her wet walls clenched around your fingers as she pulled you in for a kiss. Only to quickly pull back and moan louder than she should when your thumb found her clit.

“That’s it, Tara,” you gasped, lips latching onto her neck as she threw her head back.

“Y/N,” she moaned your name, and then the disaster struck, the doors opened abruptly and slammed into the wall, the shadow trembling with fury remained illuminated by the light from the hall.

“Damn it, Sam!” you yelled, quickly getting on top of Tara and pulling the covers to shield Tara from Sam’s gaze.

“Y/N,” Sam growled, her overprotective instincts taking over at the worst possible moment.

Tara hid her face in the crook of your neck as you struggled to get dressed under the covers, you were not fighting this battle half naked, Sam did not need extra advantages. At least you didn’t get to take your jeans off before she barged in like a maniac.

“Yes, that is my name,” you said as you almost nonchalantly moved off Tara and sat down next to her. You leaned over the bed and grabbed the shirt Tara was wearing and gave it to her, so she could at least wear that and not rely only on the covers to keep her body hidden. “Here, Tara,” you kind of hoped that ignoring Sam would let her calm down. Besides, Tara would definitely start panicking if you started panicking, even before you got together, she would be much calmer if you were calm. As she often told you, you made her feel safe and if you weren’t panicking, she felt like she didn’t need to panic either.

She still refused to look at Sam and hastily pulled the shirt on before hiding behind you. She was usually headstrong and would defy Sam in a heartbeat if she felt like she needed, but she just got caught on the verge of an orgasm, naked on your lap with your fingers knuckle-deep inside her pussy, she was a bit too embarrassed to try arguing back.

“How dare you?” Sam, however, was still seething.

So, ignoring wasn’t working, hell, with how red Sam looked it was likely making it even worse. “No! None of that,” you quickly got up and put your hand up.

“What do you mean no?! You were fucking my sister!” Sam exclaimed furiously.

“Sam… She’s my girlfriend,” you said very slowly. “Tara and I are together, girlfriends, in a relationship,” you put emphasis on every word.

Sam’s eyebrow twitched. “And?”

You could not believe what you were hearing. You threw your arms up and glared at her. “I am not going to explain to you that sex is usually a part of a relationship, also, you heard us, you knew what we were doing. Pervert,” you didn’t even pause, not even when you could picture volcanos erupting out of rage within Sam.

“Get out!” Sam yelled.

“Sam, no!” Tara protested.

You could feel vein popping on your forehead as you stepped forward, closer to Sam. “Now listen here, the only person that can tell me if I’m going to pleasure my girlfriend,” you whipped your arm back and pointed at Tara. “Is my girlfriend,” you didn’t even sneak in! You arrived with Chad and Mindy, and you made it clear to Sam, both you and Tara, by the way, that you’d be staying the night and furthermore, that you’d spend it in Tara’s room. What did she think you would do?! Play card games?! None of this would be happening if Sam allowed Tara to at least every now and then sleep at your apartment, but no, she did not want to risk it and sneaking out was getting more difficult.

At least she didn’t think you’d hurt Tara. She knew you’d never become a Ghostface.

“I do not need to know my sister is,” she paused, visibly shivering at the thought and you understood, well, at least that part. “You were being loud,” she eventually said.

“She moaned louder once!” you exclaimed. And even then, it wasn’t too loud. Sam must have gone to the bathroom or something, because there was no way she could have heard it from her room.

“Sorry for feeling good. Guess I can’t have that either,” Tara looked away with a pout and you saw a tiny hint of guilt and regret in Sam’s eyes. “And we’ve been together for almost half a year…” she added, you and Tara got together about four months after she was attacked and your dad got killed.

“I’m just going to go now,” Sam sighed, and you closed the doors behind her, you could tell she was still fairly pissed off, but there was no point in continuing the conversation.

You went back to bed and groaned, covering your face with your palms. "Damn, that was embarrassing!" you complained, your ability to stay composed and collected vanishing the moment Sam was out the doors.

"Tell me about it," Tara groaned, leaning against you in equal state of distress.

You just pulled Tara into a hug, which she gladly accepted. She was much more embarrassed than you, after all you got caught by Sam, not by your mom. Hell, your mom probably wouldn't even make a fuss about it, just tease you in the morning. Not that she'd ever get the chance to do so, since you had your own apartment because it was closer to university and you needed your independence.

“I’m horny, and frustrated, and not in the mood, and I feel robbed, all at the same time,” she whined, her frustration more than a little clear in her voice, and the way she hugged you. Her hold on you was tight, like it often was when she felt intense emotions and could cling to you to ground herself. It’s been like that when you were younger, when you got closer, and it’s been even more prominent since the attack, since Amber killed your dad. Back then Tara clung to you, begging for forgiveness. In your mind there was nothing to forgive, she didn’t stab him, she didn’t kill him, your dad was being the hero that he always was in your eyes.

You kissed the top of her head. Hoping to reassure her and bring her some comfort, and it worked, as she snuggled closer to you and relaxed. You spent several minutes like that, for a moment you even thought Tara fell asleep. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she fell asleep in your arms.

You were wrong though, as she suddenly giggled and you looked down to see her trying to compose herself. “But still, for someone that just got caught in the middle of having sex, you sure were confident. That’s Gale Weathers’ daughter for you,” Tara teased, and you chuckled uneasily.

“Fake it till you make it?” you shrugged, after all, as far as you were concerned giving in to Sam’s anger would just give her more power. You did not need to know which measures would be necessary to get her to stop interfering if you gave in tonight.

“Mhm, guess I’ll start calling myself Tara Riley?” she was teasing you again! But you still choked on your own spit.

“Yeah, you do that,” you wheezed as she laughed.

[antiquarianfics]

Draw 4

You always swear you can hold your liquor until the next morning when you’ve no clue how you’re $80 richer and why your husband is too amused for your liking.

a/n: this ain’t proofread and this is just me fuckin’ around. i hope you enjoy it. :)

warnings: alcohol consumption, profanities

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

“Buuucckkky,” you slur, head flopping onto your husband’s shoulder. You vaguely feel his arm wrap around your waist and steady you. He hums in response.

“Sam cheated.”

Sam guffaws. “I did not! I won fair and square!” Your friend picks up a piece of popcorn and throws it at you.

“And now he’s throwing shit at me! A cheater and a bully!”

“I didn’t cheat! ‘S not m’ fault you suck at…” he trails off. “Whatever we were playing.” He is just as drunk as you.

“UNO,” Bucky supplies, an amused yet exasperated edge to his voice.

You’re sifting through cards clumsily before finding the one you want. Once you find it, you shove it in Sam’s face.

“Plus 4, bitch.”

“Y/N,” Bucky says gently, “the game is over.”

You shake your head emphatically.

“‘S not over till the Bluejay over here draws 4 and hands it over.”

Bucky pulls a confused face, but Sam sighs as if he understands what you mean, begrudgingly reaching for something in his back pocket.

“Hands 4 cards over?”

“Noooo!” You drawl, giving Bucky a look as if he had grown a second head. “4 $20s.” You look back to Sam. “Pay up, hummingbird!”

Sam forks over the money, shaking his head in defeat. Bucky is left wondering if the two of you had made a bet before getting blasted, or if you were both just on a different wavelength and it just made sense. Either way, Bucky decided it was time for him to get you home. He thanked Sam for having the two of you over, and then he helped his extremely intoxicated friend to his bedroom. Once Sam had been taken care of, he returned to the living room where he had left you.

You’re now lying on the ground, staring at the ceiling lights.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” you say dreamily. “It’s Ursa Major. Look.” You point. Bucky scrunches his eyebrows together.

“That’s the ceiling light.”

You look over at Bucky and shrug before looking back to the lights. Bucky sighs before making his way over to you, reaching down to help you stand.

“C’mon, Doll. Let’s get you home,” he says.

“My place or yours?” You ask. It’s not even a suggestive question, just a curious one. Bucky chuckles.

“Ours.”

Your eyes widen and your face breaks out into a grin. “No shit! That’s awesome.” Bucky laughs again.

“Mhmm. We’re married, sweetheart.”

“God, lucky fuckin’ me.”

—

You hang up the phone with a frown.

“What’s wrong, Doll? Who was it?” Bucky asks, setting a glass of water and a couple aspirin on the counter in front of you.

“Sam,” you say, a little confusedly. You take the aspirin and wash it down with the water Bucky gave you. “Said I stole 80 bucks from him last night?”

Bucky breaks out into a boisterous laugh that he doesn’t recover from for a full minute.