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lila-lou · 30 days ago

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✨Double Trouble✨

Summary: Christmas in the bunker was supposed to be quiet. With the twins finally in bed, Dean and you were ready to enjoy a little “grown-up time”. But as always with these two, nothing went as planned.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 9734

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

The bunker was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came on Christmas Eve when all the excitement of the day had simmered into the promise of tomorrow. You should’ve known better than to trust your five-year-old twins, Ellie and Jake, to stay in bed. But Dean had insisted, grinning ear-to-ear, that they’d be too tired from all the snowball fights and cookie decorating to cause any mischief.

Apparently, that grin lied.

You were leaning against the counter in the kitchen, enjoying the brief silence. The soft glow of the string lights you’d hung around the bunker shimmered faintly, casting a warm, cozy light over the room. It was moments like these—rare, fleeting moments—that made everything else worth it. The chaos, the hunting, the danger. This was home.

Dean walked in quietly, brushing flour off his dark flannel, his hair slightly disheveled. He still had that boyish grin, the one that had charmed you all those years ago and hadn’t lost its effect. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there for a moment, watching you. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze making your cheeks flush.

“Hey,”, he said softly, his voice warm, as he crossed the kitchen toward you.

“Hey yourself”, you replied, smiling at him as he closed the distance between you.

“You look too calm”, he teased, resting a hand on the counter beside you and leaning in slightly. “Makes me think you’re plotting something”.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “For once, no. Just enjoying the quiet while it lasts”.

Dean smirked, his other hand slipping around your waist. “Quiet doesn’t last long around here. Might as well make the most of it”.

Before you could reply, he leaned in and kissed you, soft at first, then deeper, his lips warm and familiar. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, and the tension of the day melted away in an instant. For a moment, it was just the two of you—no monsters, no apocalypse-level threats, no five-year-old twins who could rival Sam and Dean in sheer determination. Just you and him.

You smiled against his lips when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “What’s that for?”, you whispered, still feeling the warmth of him surrounding you.

Dean shrugged, though his smirk deepened. “Do I need a reason to kiss my wife?”.

“Guess not”, you murmured, sliding your hands up to rest on his shoulders. “Not that I’m complaining”.

“Better not”, he teased, his tone light. “Otherwise, I’ll have to—”.

Before he could finish, the sound of not-so-stealthy giggling reached you both from the hallway. Dean pulled back slightly, frowning in mock annoyance. “You hear that?”, he whispered, though the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“I hear it”, you replied, sighing as you glanced toward the doorway. “And I think I know exactly who it is”.

Dean smirked, his hands still resting on your waist. “Think we should let ‘em sweat it out, or should we just go ahead and bust them?”.

“Let’s see how far they’re willing to take this”, you said, grinning as you leaned against him.

Before either of you could move, Ellie’s little blonde head peeked around the corner, quickly followed by Jake’s. They froze when they realized they’d been caught, their identical green eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and amusement.

“Uh-oh”, Jake whispered, elbowing his sister. “Run?”.

Ellie shook her head, whispering back loudly, “No, we gotta play it cool!”.

Dean chuckled, letting his hands drop as he turned toward the doorway. “Alright, you two little troublemakers”, he said, his voice carrying just enough mock sternness to make them squirm. “What are you doing out of bed?”.

Ellie straightened her spine, clearly deciding to be the spokesperson for their operation. “We were just… making sure Santa didn’t need any help”, she said, her small chin lifting with determination.

Jake nodded vigorously. “Yeah, ‘cause, you know, Christmas is important”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as he leaned back against the counter. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh. “Uh-huh. And what’s so important about sneaking through the bunker in the middle of the night?”.

Ellie’s confidence faltered just slightly, and Jake’s gaze darted to the floor. They exchanged a quick, silent sibling look before Ellie blurted out, “We were looking for presents!”.

Dean groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face, though the twinkle in his eye gave him away. “Of course you were. You two are worse than I was at your age”.

“Got that right”. you muttered under your breath, earning a smirk from him.

“Did you find anything?”, Dean asked, crouching slightly to look them in the eye.

“Nooo”, Jake admitted, dragging out the word. “But we did see you kissing Mom, so… ew”.

Ellie wrinkled her nose in agreement. “So gross”.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at the twins. They were a whirlwind of mischief wrapped in innocence, and as much as they drove you and Dean crazy, you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Ellie and Jake padded into the kitchen, their tiny feet barely making a sound against the bunker’s cool floor. Their sheepish grins betrayed their earlier bravado, and you were just about to send them back to bed when another figure appeared in the doorway.

Sam.

He looked like he had just fallen out of bed, his hair a mess, and his flannel pajamas slightly askew. His face carried the same half-annoyed, half-amused expression he always wore when dealing with his niece and nephew’s antics.

“Let me guess”, Sam said, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. “The dynamic duo strikes again?”.

Dean smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “What gave it away, Sammy? The giggling or the fact that it’s two in the morning?”.

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “I was hoping they’d finally give you guys a break. Especially after the sugar high they’ve been on all day”.

Jake piped up, “We weren’t doing anything bad, Uncle Sam!”.

Ellie nodded in agreement, tugging on Sam’s sleeve as if to convince him. “Yeah! We were just making sure Santa’s okay!”.

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking down at them skeptically. “Uh-huh. And you thought Santa was hiding in the bunker kitchen?”.

Dean snorted, clearly enjoying the show. “Give ‘em some credit, Sammy. At least they’re committed”.

Meanwhile, Sam’s son, Caleb, was notably absent, which didn’t escape Dean’s notice. “And where’s the little angel?”, Dean asked, glancing behind Sam. “Still tucked in, dreaming about saving kittens or whatever perfect kids dream about?”.

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a smirk. “He’s asleep, like a normal kids. Not wandering around trying to play detective”.

“Pfft”, Dean said, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s just too scared to get caught. These two? Fearless”.

Ellie beamed at the backhanded compliment, while Jake puffed out his chest, clearly proud of their escapade. You shook your head, stepping in before they got any more ideas.

“Alright, enough”, you said firmly, placing your hands on your hips. “Ellie, Jake, back to bed. Now”.

“But Moooom!”, they whined in unison, dragging out the word as though it might change your mind.

Dean, however, backed you up, straightening to his full height and putting on his best stern-dad face. “Don’t ‘but Mom’ her. Get your butts in bed before Santa really skips over the bunker”.

The twins’ eyes widened, and Ellie clutched Jake’s arm. “He won’t skip us, will he?”, she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

“That depends on how fast you get to bed”, Dean replied, pointing toward the hallway.

That was all it took. They scurried out of the kitchen, their little footsteps echoing down the hall as they whispered frantically about whether Santa had heard them.

Once they were gone, the silence returned, broken only by the low hum of the bunker’s lights. Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You guys have your hands full”.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, you could’ve had twins too, but nooo, you got lucky with Mr. Perfect”.

Sam smirked. “Caleb’s not perfect, he’s just… well-behaved”.

Dean shot him a mock glare. “Same thing. Next time, send him over here. Maybe some of that ‘well-behaved’ will rub off”.

“Doubt it”, Sam said dryly.

Just as Sam turned to head back to his room, the sound of tiny, pattering footsteps echoed back down the hall. You sighed, already knowing who it was before Ellie and Jake reappeared in the doorway, their little faces full of a mix of defiance and something you recognized as an attempt at innocence.

Sam stopped in his tracks and turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you two just get sent to bed?”.

Ellie, clutching her favorite stuffed animal—a well-loved bunny missing one ear—padded straight toward you. “Mommy, we can’t sleep”, she said softly, her green eyes wide and pleading as she held out her little hands toward you.

Jake nodded behind her, trying to look equally earnest, though his mischievous smirk ruined the act. “Yeah, we need another story. Just one more”.

Sam let out a low snort, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. “I’ll say it again—you guys have your hands full”.

Dean groaned, running a hand over his face, though you could see the small, fond smile tugging at his lips. “You two are the worst negotiators ever”, he said, though there was no real heat in his tone. “Didn’t we read you a story already?”.

Ellie nodded solemnly. “But it wasn’t enough”, she said, her little voice trembling like she was delivering the most heartbreaking news. “I can’t sleep”.

Ellie had been having trouble sleeping the past few nights, and it didn’t take much to see the shadows of her recent restlessness in the way she clung to you now. Jake, you suspected, was just along for the ride, but Ellie’s unease was genuine.

You knelt down and gently scooped Ellie up, settling her on your hip with ease. She wrapped her little arms around your neck and rested her head against your shoulder, her well-loved bunny clutched tightly in one hand. She was already five, and you knew these moments wouldn’t last forever. Soon enough, she’d be too big to carry like this, but for now, you held her close, savoring her warmth and the soft scent of her shampoo.

“It’s okay, baby”, you murmured, running a hand soothingly over her back. “Mommy’s got you”.

Ellie sighed, her tiny body relaxing against yours. “I don’t wanna have bad dreams”, she whispered, her voice trembling.

Dean’s teasing expression softened instantly, and he stepped closer, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Ellie’s face. “No bad dreams tonight, kiddo”, he said gently. “You’re safe here. Nothing’s getting past me and your mom, okay?”.

Ellie nodded but didn’t lift her head, snuggling further into your shoulder. You kissed the top of her head and glanced at Jake, who stood nearby with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pajama pants, looking both sheepish and protective.

“And you, mister”, you said, giving Jake a soft smile, “are you here to keep your sister company?”.

Jake shrugged, his little smirk reappearing. “She doesn’t like being alone”, he admitted. “And I didn’t want her to cry”.

Dean chuckled, ruffling Jake’s hair. “Good man”, he said. “But you’re still going back to bed after this story”.

Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, his smirk growing as he stepped closer to rest his hand on your arm, as if to reassure Ellie without saying anything.

Sam, who had been leaning silently against the doorway, let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “You’re raising a couple of night owls, you know that?”.

Dean shot him a mock glare. “Yeah, thanks for the observation, Mr. Perfect-Kid. You can go back to your room now”.

“Gladly”, Sam replied with a smirk, pushing off the doorway. “Good luck with bedtime round two. Merry Christmas”.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Sam”, Jake called after him, earning another chuckle from Sam as he disappeared down the hallway.

With Sam gone, Dean turned his attention back to you and the kids. He reached out and gently took Ellie from your arms, shifting her easily onto his hip as if she weighed nothing. She yawned and leaned her head against his shoulder, her bunny dangling from her fingers.

“Alright”, Dean said, his voice soft but firm. “One more story. But that’s it. No excuses this time. Deal?”.

Ellie nodded, her fingers clutching the collar of Dean’s flannel. “Deal”, she mumbled.

Jake gave a little salute, his smirk still intact. “Deal”.

Dean shot you a knowing look, his lips twitching in a half-smile. “You coming, or do I have to tell this story solo?”.

“I’m coming”, you said, laughing softly as you followed them back to the kids’ room. Jake scampered ahead, already climbing into his bed and pulling the covers up to his chin. Dean sat down on the edge of Ellie’s bed, still holding her as she blinked sleepily up at him.

“What story tonight?”, Dean asked, his voice quieter now.

Ellie mumbled something about heroes again, her words barely audible, and Jake chimed in with, “And monsters! But the good guys win, like always”.

Dean smirked, glancing at you as you settled into the chair beside Ellie’s bed. “Heroes and monsters, huh? You kids are gonna grow up thinking hunting is some kind of fairy tale”.

“Not fairy tales”, Jake corrected, his grin wide. “Adventures”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, adventures it is”. He adjusted Ellie in his lap, holding her close as he launched into one of his and Sam’s hunts—toned down, of course, with a few embellishments to make it sound like a grand, thrilling tale.

Ellie’s eyes grew heavier with every word, and Jake, though fighting it, began to yawn halfway through the story. By the time Dean finished, Ellie was fast asleep, her bunny tucked under her chin, and Jake was dozing, his head resting on his pillow.

Dean carefully laid Ellie down and pulled the blanket up around her, tucking her in snugly before standing. You leaned over to press a kiss to Jake’s forehead, smoothing his hair back gently.

The next morning, you stirred slightly, still wrapped in the warmth of the bed and the familiar weight of Dean’s arm draped across your waist. You were half-asleep, lost in the haze of early morning, when you felt the soft brush of lips against your cheek.

Dean was awake.

His kisses started gentle, barely brushing against your skin, before growing more deliberate. His lips moved from your cheek to your jawline, lingering there for a moment, warm and lazy. His scruff tickled slightly as his mouth trailed down to the curve of your neck. A soft, open-mouthed kiss followed, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Morning”, he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with sleep.

You made a small sound in response, still too drowsy to form words. Dean chuckled softly, the deep rumble vibrating through his chest as his hand began to move, sliding slowly down from your waist to the hem of the shirt you were wearing—his old, worn AC/DC shirt that barely grazed mid-thigh.

His fingers brushed against the fabric lightly, teasingly, before slipping just underneath, grazing your bare skin. His touch was warm, deliberate, and achingly slow as his hand traveled along your hip.

“Dean…”, you mumbled, your voice still groggy but laced with amusement and warmth.

“Hm?”, he replied, his lips pressing another lazy kiss just below your ear. “Kids are still asleep. We’ve got time”.

You smiled faintly, your eyes still closed as you leaned into his touch. “Barely. They’ll be up in an hour”.

“An hour’s plenty”, he murmured, his hand sliding further under the shirt as his lips found your neck again, kissing a little more firmly this time. His thumb traced gentle circles against your hip, the touch soothing and tantalizing all at once.

You turned your head slightly, your nose brushing against his. “You’re really risking it, Winchester”.

Dean grinned, his mouth brushing yours in a kiss that was as playful as it was intimate. “Worth the risk”, he said, his voice low and teasing. “Besides, it’s Christmas. Can’t I wake my wife up with a little holiday cheer?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, finally opening your eyes to see his face inches from yours. His green eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint, his smile equal parts boyish charm and devilish intent.

“You’re impossible”, you said, your voice carrying no real conviction as you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“And yet”, he replied, his grin widening as his hand skimmed up your thigh, “you love me anyway”.

“Lucky for you”, you teased, pulling him down into a kiss.

Dean’s smirk deepened as he shifted himself between your legs, the soft fabric of his sweatpants already discarded on the floor. His movements were unhurried, his hands warm and steady as they slid along your thighs, gently spreading them apart. The teasing, deliberate way he pulled your panties aside made your breath hitch, his knuckles grazing your skin as he moved.

He leaned down, his forehead brushing yours, his lips hovering just a breath away as he locked eyes with you. His green eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and tenderness, the corners crinkling slightly as he grinned.

“Attempt number three for baby number three?”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His swollen tip brushed against your folds, the sensation sending a shiver through your body. He paused, grinning even wider as he added, “Or should I just wrap myself up? Merry Christmas and all”.

You snorted softly, shaking your head against the pillow. "You're ridiculous", you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep, but the corner of your lips twitched in amusement.

Dean's grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew wider. He nudged against you with his tip, teasingly brushing against your folds, just enough to make your breath hitch. His hands rested firmly on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin in slow, lazy circles.

"You better answer", he murmured, his voice low and thick with that familiar playful edge, "or I’ll decide for myself". He dipped his head, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "And as you know", he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I hate being wrapped up".

A soft laugh bubbled from your lips, your hands sliding to his shoulders as you looked up at him, your gaze warm despite the teasing frustration in your tone. "Oh, poor you", you said, your fingers curling slightly against his skin. "Such a hardship".

Dean chuckled, his lips grazing your collarbone as he pressed closer, his weight settling against you in that perfect, familiar way. "Yeah, it is", he muttered, his tone mock-serious. He nudged against you again, this time with a bit more pressure, his breath hitching slightly as he felt you respond.

"Dean", you whispered, your voice soft but filled with equal parts exasperation and affection.

He rested his forehead against yours, his voice softer now as he murmured, "So, what’s it gonna be? Option one or option two?".

You sighed dramatically, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. "Fine", you said, your hands sliding to rest on his lower back. "Let’s try for number three".

Dean’s grin widened, and he pressed another kiss to your lips, this one filled with both triumph and affection. "That’s my girl".

Dean’s grin softened as he aligned himself, his eyes locked on yours, searching your face as if committing every detail to memory. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed forward, his swollen tip parting you with a gentle ease. His movements were unhurried, savoring the moment as he sunk deeper, a quiet grunt escaping his lips.

His forehead rested against yours, his breaths mingling with yours, warm and steady. He paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his hand sliding up your thigh to rest on your hip, his thumb brushing tender circles against your skin. Then, his lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both soft and consuming, filled with a love that ran deeper than words.

Your hands moved to his back, your fingers curling against his warm skin as he began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His quiet groans mixed with your soft gasps, the two of you melting into each other in the quiet stillness of the morning. His lips stayed on yours, sometimes breaking away to trail kisses along your jaw or murmur your name in that low, gravelly voice that always made your heart flutter.

Dean’s hand slid from your hip to lace his fingers with yours, pinning your hand gently beside your head as his pace remained slow and steady. He kissed you again, his lips lingering this time, his breath catching slightly as he pressed deeper, his movements careful yet filled with passion.

Dean’s movements were deliberate, his hips rocking against you with a rhythm that was uniquely his—something so unhurried yet devastatingly precise. It wasn’t rushed or frantic; it was intimate, passionate, and filled with a kind of love and care that only Dean could give. Each thrust was measured, purposeful, his body moving with yours as though the two of you had been perfectly designed to fit together.

You felt his breath against your skin, warm and steady, as his lips traced a path along your jawline and down your neck. His low groans vibrated against your skin, sending waves of warmth coursing through you. He tilted his hips slightly, the angle changing just enough to send sparks of pleasure radiating from your core. Dean’s name fell from your lips in a breathless gasp, and his mouth curved into a grin against your neck.

“Right there, huh?”, he murmured, his voice husky and low, as his movements became more deliberate. He hit that perfect spot again, and your back arched off the bed, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. It was maddening how he could find it every time, how he knew your body so intimately after all these years.

Dean pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes blazing with intensity as he watched your reactions. “You’re so beautiful like this”, he whispered, his lips brushing yours. “Every time. Always”.

The way he said it, the raw honesty in his voice, made your chest tighten with emotion even as the pleasure built inside you, overwhelming and all-consuming. Your legs tightened around him instinctively, pulling him deeper, and he let out a quiet groan, his forehead pressing to yours as his hips rocked against you with just a little more force.

Dean’s grin widened, a flicker of pride flashing in his eyes as he felt your body respond to him, just like it always did. He knew exactly what he was doing, and his ego absolutely thrived on it. He never rushed, never stumbled—his confidence in how to handle you was unshakable, and it was maddeningly effective. He knew how to make you come, how to unravel you completely, and for him, it was almost too easy.

His hips pressed deeper, rolling against yours with deliberate precision, each thrust brushing that perfect spot inside you that had your breath catching and your nails digging into his shoulders. Dean’s quiet groans mixed with the soft sounds escaping your lips, and he couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his mouth.

“Look at you”, he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of teasing and reverence. “Already so close, aren’t you? Always so easy for me”. His words weren’t taunting—they were filled with a heady mix of love and cocky pride, the kind only Dean could pull off.

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, to come up with some smart remark, but all that came out was a broken gasp as his hips shifted slightly, hitting you even deeper. He chuckled softly, his lips trailing along your neck, leaving warm kisses in his wake.

“That’s right”, he whispered, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek as he kissed you deeply, swallowing the sounds you made. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I’ve got you”.

It wasn’t just his words or his touch—it was the way he looked at you, his green eyes locked on yours as though you were the only thing that existed in the world. It was the way he moved, deliberate and passionate, completely focused on you. It was everything about him, all at once, that pushed you over the edge.

Your body tightened around him, a cry escaping your lips as the orgasm crashed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Dean’s hips stuttered slightly as as he worked you through it. His breathing grew heavier, his quiet groans vibrating against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He pressed deeper, his rhythm faltering as he gave in, a low, guttural sound escaping him as he spilled inside you.

The tension in his body melted away as he stilled, his forehead resting against your shoulder. His chest heaved against yours, his warm breath tickling your skin as he whispered your name, almost reverently. He stayed like that for a moment, his weight comforting and grounding, his hand lazily brushing along your side.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his green eyes soft as they found yours. His lips curved into a tired but satisfied grin, the kind that was uniquely Dean—equal parts smug and adoring.

“Now that”, he said, his voice still rough with lingering passion, “was a hell of a way to start Christmas”.

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that bubbled up, your hands sliding to rest against his shoulders. “And here I thought the kids opening presents was supposed to be the highlight of the day”.

Dean smirked, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, this one slow and sweet, a stark contrast to the fire from moments before. “They can wait”, he murmured against your mouth, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This is my highlight”.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “You’re impossible, Winchester”.

“And yet”, he teased, grinning as he kissed you again, “you still married me”.

The two of you were still tangled in the quiet aftermath, basking in the warmth of each other, when the sound of Sam’s frustrated voice carried down the hallway.

“Ellie! Jake!”, Sam’s tone was exasperated, yet with that trademark calmness he always managed to maintain, even in chaos. “How many times do I have to tell you—stop hiding my toothbrush!”.

Dean groaned, dropping his head back against the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “And there goes the peace”, he muttered, though his smirk said he wasn’t entirely annoyed.

You stifled a laugh, pressing your hand over your mouth as Sam’s voice grew closer, clearly still trying to track down the culprits. “What do you think the odds are that they’ll deny it this time?”, you asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

Dean chuckled, sitting up slightly to rest on his elbows. “Oh, they’ll deny it. And then Jake’ll throw Ellie under the bus”.

Before you could reply, another voice joined the commotion in the hallway—Caleb’s, Sam’s ten-year-old son. “Dad!”, Caleb called, his tone half-annoyed, half-panicked. “I can’t find my toothbrush either! Did they take mine too?”.

Dean let out a full laugh now, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. “Well, guess we know what they’ve been up to”.

You snorted, sliding out from under the blanket and reaching for the nearest shirt—still Dean’s, of course. “Should we intervene, or let Sam handle it?”.

Dean leaned back lazily, folding his arms behind his head, his smirk wide. “Let him handle it. He’s got this”.

The sound of Ellie and Jake’s giggling reached your ears next, along with Sam’s resigned sigh. “Guys, this is the third time this week. I need my toothbrush. And Caleb needs his, too. Just tell me where you hid them”.

Ellie’s voice piped up, cheerful and completely unrepentant. “We didn’t hide it, Uncle Sam! Maybe the monsters took it”.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his sweatpants as he grinned at you. “Guess I should go rescue Sammy before he loses it completely”.

You laughed, grabbing his arm before he could get up. “You’ll just make it worse, and you know it”.

“Exactly”, Dean said, his grin widening. “What’s Christmas without a little chaos?”.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling as the sound of the kids’ laughter and Sam’s exasperated attempts to rein them in filled the bunker. It was chaotic, sure, but it was also home.

Dean swung the bedroom door open, stepping out into the hallway wearing nothing but his sweatpants. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and his smirk was firmly in place as he leaned against the doorframe. His bare chest caught the dim light of the bunker, and his presence immediately drew the attention of everyone in the hallway.

Sam stood there, arms crossed, his expression a mix of exasperation and long-suffering patience. Ellie and Jake were huddled together just a few feet away, their faces plastered with matching innocent grins that Dean could see through in an instant. Caleb, already taller and more composed than most ten-year-olds, stood off to the side with his hands on his hips, looking equally annoyed and amused.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as his eyes landed on his twins. “Alright”, he drawled, his voice still rough from sleep. “Who’s messing with Uncle Sammy’s toothbrush this time?”.

Ellie giggled, clutching her bunny closer to her chest as she tried to look innocent. “Not me!”, she chirped, her tone far too cheerful to be convincing.

Jake, true to Dean’s earlier prediction, pointed at Ellie without hesitation. “She did it!”, he declared, his voice a little too eager. “I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen”.

“Jake!”, Ellie squeaked, her eyes wide with mock betrayal. “That’s not true!”.

Dean sighted, running a hand through his messy hair as he stepped closer.

Jake pouted, crossing his arms. “I didn’t do it! It was her idea this time!”.

Caleb groaned, clearly fed up with the entire situation. “I just want my toothbrush back”, he muttered, looking at his cousins with a raised eyebrow. “You can’t keep stealing them!”.

Sam shot Dean a pointed look, his expression screaming control your kids. Dean just grinned back, completely unfazed. “Alright, alright”, he said, holding up his hands. “Let’s cut a deal. You two”, he pointed at Ellie and Jake, “tell Uncle Sam and Caleb where the toothbrushes are, and maybe Santa doesn’t hear about this little stunt”.

Ellie’s eyes widened, and she clutched her bunny even tighter. “You wouldn’t tell Santa!”, she gasped, her voice full of dramatic disbelief.

Jake’s resolve faltered, and he glanced at Ellie before mumbling, “Fine. They’re in the cereal box”.

Sam blinked, his arms dropping to his sides. “The cereal box?”.

Dean laughed, shaking his head as he clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Gotta hand it to ‘em, Sammy. That’s creative”.

Sam just sighed, muttering something under his breath as he turned toward the kitchen. Caleb followed after him, shaking his head as he glanced back at his cousins. “You guys are so weird”, he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

Dean crouched down to the twins’ level, his smirk softening into something more affectionate. “Alright, you two”, he said, his voice quieter. “What’s the deal with the toothbrush thing, huh? You trying to drive Uncle Sam crazy?”.

Ellie looked down at her bunny, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. “We were just playing”, she mumbled. “It was funny”.

Dean sighed, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “Yeah, it’s funny until Uncle Sam loses it and makes you scrub the bathroom for a week. You wanna deal with that?”.

Jake shook his head quickly, his eyes wide. “No”.

“Good”, Dean said, standing up and crossing his arms. “Now, go help him find them. And no more hiding stuff, got it?”.

“Yes, Daddy”, they chorused, their voices small but sincere.

Dean watched as they scampered off toward the kitchen, and he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Turning back toward the bedroom, he caught your amused expression.

Dean’s grin widened when he saw you leaning against the doorframe, your messy hair and his AC/DC shirt hanging loosely on your frame. He gave you a once-over, then nodded toward the bathroom with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.

“Wanna take a shower?”, he asked, his voice low and teasing, though the mischievous twinkle in his eye made it clear he wasn’t just talking about getting clean.

You were about to reply when Sam’s voice cut in sharply. “Nope. No way. You two aren’t disappearing on me right now”.

Dean turned slowly, raising an eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder at Sam, who was standing there with Caleb and the twins, all three kids looking suspiciously close to starting another round of chaos.

“Come on, Sammy”, Dean said, his voice dripping with mock indignation. “You can handle breakfast for twenty minutes”.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, sure. Because last time I ‘handled breakfast’, I had to explain to Caleb why Jake thought peanut butter went on the stove, and Ellie was using syrup as hair gel”.

Dean snorted, turning fully to face his brother. “You’re telling me you can face down demons and angels, but you can’t manage two five-year-olds and a ten-year-old for twenty minutes?”.

Sam opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue, but Dean held up a hand, his expression turning serious—or as serious as he could manage with his sweatpants slung low on his hips and his hair still sticking up.

“Sam”, Dean said, his tone low and firm, “it’s Christmas. Give us a break. Twenty minutes. That’s all I’m asking”.

Sam sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before glaring at Dean. “Fine. But if I find syrup anywhere it doesn’t belong—”.

“You won’t”, Dean said quickly, his grin returning. “They’re angels”.

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like yeah, right before shooing the kids back toward the kitchen. “Alright, come on, you three. Let’s see if we can make pancakes without burning the bunker down”.

Ellie and Jake cheered, bounding after him with Caleb trailing behind, looking both amused and resigned.

As soon as they disappeared, Dean turned back to you, his grin now entirely unrestrained. “See? Twenty minutes. Plenty of time”.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And what exactly are we doing in these twenty minutes?”.

Dean stepped closer, his hands sliding around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. “You agreed to the shower”, he said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone that made your knees weak. “I’m just making sure you don’t back out”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and lingering. “Alright”, you said against his lips. “Twenty minutes”.

Dean smirked, pulling you toward the bathroom. “You know I can work with that”.

Behind you, the faint sound of Sam’s exasperated voice carried from the kitchen, followed by Ellie’s laughter and Jake’s declaration that syrup was “just fancy hair gel”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he closed the bathroom door behind you. “Angels”, he repeated, his voice full of affectionate sarcasm. “Absolute angels”.

After the fourth attempt at trying for baby number three, you and Dean finally emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, the lingering steam from the hot water clinging faintly to your skin. The scent of Dean’s cologne mixed with the cozy aroma of pancakes and syrup wafting from the kitchen. As you walked in, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the kids gathered around the table, the twins buzzing with excitement while Caleb calmly helped make sure everything was in place.

Ellie and Jake had already set the table with plates, forks, and napkins—though not all of them were straight, and Ellie had stacked three napkins on her plate for some reason. Caleb was pouring juice into cups with the steady precision of someone who had been here before, a slight grin on his face as Jake talked a mile a minute about all the presents under the tree.

“We set it up, Mommy!”, Ellie exclaimed proudly, holding her bunny in one hand as she gestured at the slightly messy table with the other. “Is it good?”.

“It’s perfect”, you said warmly, walking over to ruffle her hair before noticing her sleeves. “But let’s get these up, okay? Don’t want syrup all over your jammies”.

Ellie giggled as you gently rolled up the sleeves of her favorite snowflake-patterned pajamas. Just as you finished, Dean’s phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

Dean grabbed it, smirking as he saw Jodie’s name flashing. “Looks like the cavalry’s here”, he muttered before answering. “Hey, Jodie. Merry Christmas”.

Before he could get another word in, Caleb bolted toward the door, shouting, “Auntie Jodie! Auntie Jodie’s here!”.

Dean shook his head, grinning as he hung up the phone. “Guess I didn’t need to answer after all”.

You chuckled as Caleb yanked open the heavy bunker door, his voice echoing through the hallway.

Sure enough, standing just outside in the frosty morning air was Jodie, her two girls—Claire and Alex—beside her, all bundled up against the cold. Donna stood to the side, her signature bright smile lighting up the moment, while Castiel and Jack stood behind them, looking equally festive despite Cas’s usual stoicism. In Jodie and Donna’s hands were several large bags, overflowing with brightly wrapped Christmas presents.

“About time you let us in!”, Jodie teased, stepping forward as Caleb flung his arms around her waist.

Donna laughed, hefting the bags higher. “We were starting to think you guys were still asleep!”.

Jack grinned, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he hugged Caleb. “Merry Christmas!”, he exclaimed, his eyes darting to the twins, who were already bouncing in place at the sight of all the presents. “We brought a lot of stuff!”.

“I can see that”, you said with a laugh, helping Donna with one of her bags. “Did you guys empty the store or what?”.

“Oh, you know”, Jodie said, her tone casual but her smile warm. “Just a little something for everyone”.

Claire rolled her eyes but smiled as she set her bag down by the tree. “You mean a lot of something for everyone”.

As everyone settled into the kitchen, the sounds of laughter, conversation, and clinking plates filled the bunker, the space alive with the kind of warmth that only came from being surrounded by family—both the one you were born into and the one you chose.

An hour later, the bunker’s usually stoic and cold atmosphere had transformed into a scene of warmth and chaos around the glowing Christmas tree. Wrapping paper and ribbons were scattered across the floor, the remnants of enthusiastic unwrapping now forgotten as everyone enjoyed their new gifts. The soft twinkle of lights illuminated the room, casting a warm glow on the smiling faces around you.

Jake sat in your lap on the floor, completely engrossed in his new dinosaur toy, his small hands moving it around as he made roaring noises. You leaned back against Dean, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist, his warmth anchoring you in the midst of the joyful commotion.

Ellie was sprawled on the floor nearby, her bunny nestled by her side as she played with a doll Jodie had brought her, already inventing an elaborate story involving an adventure in a magical forest. Caleb sat beside her, tinkering with a new model kit, his focus intense as he explained the mechanics to Jack, who listened with wide-eyed curiosity.

Dean’s hand rested lightly on your knee, his thumb brushing against your leg absentmindedly as he surveyed the scene. “Look at ‘em”, he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride. “Like a bunch of happy little squirrels”.

You laughed quietly, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “It’s chaos, but the good kind”.

He kissed your temple, his scruff brushing against your skin. “Yeah. This is the kinda chaos I could get used to”.

Across the room, Jodie and Donna were sitting on the couch, laughing together as they admired their gifts. Donna held up a fuzzy scarf that Claire had picked out for her, wrapping it dramatically around her neck as she struck a pose. “How do I look?”, she asked, grinning.

“Like a movie star”, Jodie teased, shaking her head. “A really dramatic one”.

Claire rolled her eyes from her spot on the floor, but a small smile tugged at her lips as Alex nudged her playfully. Castiel, ever the observer, sat quietly in a chair, his gaze fixed on the tree as if he were contemplating the deeper meaning of its existence.

Jack was perched on the edge of the couch, his face lit with excitement as he examined a book Jodie had given him on Earth’s natural wonders. “Did you know there’s a lake that glows in the dark?”, he asked Caleb, his voice filled with awe.

Caleb nodded, still focused on his kit. “Yeah, bioluminescence. It’s pretty cool”.

Dean chuckled softly, his chest rumbling against your back. “Leave it to Jack and Caleb to turn Christmas into a science lesson”.

Jake, oblivious to the conversation, looked up at you suddenly, his dinosaur still clutched in his hands. “Mommy, look! He can roar like this!”, He made a loud, exaggerated roar, his face scrunched up in concentration.

You grinned, smoothing his messy hair as you played along. “Wow, that’s a scary roar!".

"I think he might be the loudest dinosaur in the whole bunker”, Jack said.

Dean smirked, leaning forward slightly to ruffle Jake’s hair. “I dunno, kid. I think your Uncle Sammy might give him a run for his money”.

Sam, who was sitting cross-legged nearby and flipping through a new book, glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “I heard that”.

Dean winked, clearly unapologetic. “Yeah, you did”.

The laughter and chatter carried on, the room filled with the unmistakable sound of family—messy, chaotic, but completely full of love. You glanced around at everyone, your heart swelling as you took in the scene. This was what Christmas was supposed to feel like.

Dean’s arms tightened around you slightly, and when you looked up at him, his green eyes were soft and content as they met yours. “This is a pretty damn good Christmas, huh?”, he said, his voice low so only you could hear.

You smiled, resting your hand over his. “Yeah, it really is”.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you a little closer. “And it’s not over yet”, he said with a grin. “Still gotta watch the twins try to eat their body weight in cookies”.

You laughed, closing your eyes briefly as you leaned into him.

Ellie and Jake suddenly stood up, exchanging exaggerated whispers that had everyone turning to watch them curiously. Jake glanced back toward the couch, giving Ellie a quick nod before the two of them ducked behind it, giggling quietly as they rummaged for something.

“What are they up to now?”, Dean muttered, raising an eyebrow but smiling fondly. His arm tightened around your waist, keeping you close as he watched his kids with amusement.

Moments later, the twins emerged triumphantly, holding a small, brightly colored bag. It was obvious they’d been saving this for the right moment, and their matching grins could barely contain their excitement. Without a word, they turned and marched straight toward Castiel, who was still seated near the Christmas tree, quietly observing the scene.

Cas tilted his head slightly as the twins approached, his usual stoic expression giving way to curiosity. The twins stopped in front of him, their smiles widening as they held the bag out together.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Cas!”, Ellie declared, her voice bright and filled with excitement.

“Yeah! Merry Christmas!”, Jake chimed in, bouncing slightly on his toes.

Castiel blinked, his piercing blue eyes moving from the twins to the bag, then back to the twins. “This is for me?”, he asked, his tone laced with genuine surprise, as if the thought of receiving a gift hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Of course!”, Ellie said, nudging the bag closer to him. “You’re our favorite uncle!”.

Jake nodded eagerly, adding, “Yeah, you’re funny. Like, the way you talk and stuff. It’s, like… cool”.

Dean let out a quiet chuckle behind you, muttering, “Well, that’s one way to put it”.

Cas’s head tilted even further, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed their words. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile appeared on his face—the kind of rare, warm smile that made everyone in the room stop for a second.

“Thank you”, Cas said, his voice soft and sincere. He took the bag carefully, as though it were something fragile and precious. “I… appreciate this gesture. Merry Christmas to you both”.

Ellie and Jake beamed, clearly proud of themselves. They stepped back, watching eagerly as Cas opened the bag. Inside, he found a small, hand-painted ornament—a slightly crooked angel with golden wings and a blue trench coat, its expression remarkably serious.

Cas held up the ornament, studying it with that same intense focus he brought to everything. “It’s you, Uncle Cas!”, Ellie explained, bouncing on her toes. “We made it! Well, Mommy helped a little”.

Jake nodded. “Yeah, it’s your coat and your serious face! You can hang it on the tree!”.

Cas stared at the ornament for a long moment, his lips twitching as though he were trying to understand why the kids had chosen him for such a tribute. “It’s… accurate”, he said finally, his voice thoughtful.

The room burst into laughter, even Sam cracking a rare grin as Donna doubled over with a wheezing chuckle. “Oh, Cas”, she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Never change”.

Cas looked up at Ellie and Jake, who were grinning from ear to ear. His expression softened, and he nodded solemnly. “Thank you. I will treasure this”.

Ellie and Jake’s smiles widened, and they darted forward to hug him, surprising the stoic angel. He hesitated for only a moment before carefully placing the ornament back in the bag and returning their hugs, his movements slightly stiff but no less genuine.

Dean leaned over to you, his grin wide and teasing. “They’re right, you know. Cas is basically a cat in human form. Aloof most of the time, but when he decides he likes you, you’re stuck with him”.

You laughed softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “They adore him. It’s kind of perfect”.

“Merry Christmas, Cas”, Dean said, his voice soft but full of warmth.

Castiel’s blue eyes shifted to Dean, his face as calm and serious as ever, though his words carried the weight of a casually dropped bombshell. “Merry Christmas, Dean”, he said, before adding, in the same matter-of-fact tone, “Oh, and congratulations on child number three”.

The room went silent.

Ellie and Jake paused mid-conversation, their heads whipping around to look at you and Dean with matching expressions of surprise and curiosity. Jodie’s mug of coffee froze halfway to her lips, her brows shooting up. Donna’s jaw dropped, and even Claire stopped fiddling with the wrapper of a chocolate Santa.

Dean, for his part, blinked at Cas, his arms tightening around you instinctively as his brain worked to catch up. “I’m sorry, what?”, he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly.

Cas tilted his head, his expression neutral, as though he were oblivious to the bombshell he’d just dropped. “The child you conceived this morning”, he said patiently, as if clarifying something simple. “It will grow strong and healthy. Congratulations”.

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You turned to Dean, who was now gaping at Cas like the angel had sprouted a second head. “Cas”, Dean finally said, his voice strained. “Are you… are you serious right now?”.

Cas nodded solemnly. “Of course. I wouldn’t joke about something so significant”.

Donna choked on her coffee, sputtering as she tried to recover. “Uh, am I hearing this right?”, she asked, looking between you and Dean. “Is this, like, angel-level baby news?”.

Jodie covered her mouth with her hand, clearly trying not to laugh as her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, this is gonna be good”.

Dean’s eyes darted to the twins, who were staring at you both with wide eyes. “Wait a minute—Ellie, Jake, uh… you guys don’t even know what Cas is talking about, right?”, he asked, suddenly looking panicked.

Ellie tilted her head, her little brows furrowing. “Does it mean we’re getting a baby for Christmas?”.

Jake gasped, his excitement palpable. “Like a baby brother?".

Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face as he muttered, “Oh, for the love of—Cas, you couldn’t have said this later?”.

“I thought you’d like to know”, Cas said simply, looking genuinely confused by the commotion. “It’s joyous news, isn’t it?”.

You finally managed to speak, your cheeks flushed and your voice a little shaky. “Cas”, you said, holding up a hand, “you… you’re saying it worked?”.

“Yes”, Cas replied with a small nod. “The energy surrounding you both was unmistakable”.

Jodie finally let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Well, congrats, you two”, she said, her tone warm but teasing. “I guess we know what you were doing this morning”.

Dean groaned again, burying his face against your shoulder.

Sam threw his head back dramatically, letting out a long, exaggerated groan before turning toward Caleb, who was still sitting on the floor with a model kit in his hands. “Caleb”, Sam said, his voice filled with mock desperation, “we need backup”.

Dean’s hand rested protectively on your belly, his fingers splayed across the fabric of your shirt as though it were the most natural place for them to be. He didn’t even seem to realize it, his focus entirely on teasing Sam as the room buzzed with laughter. But you felt the warmth of his touch, grounding and comforting, and it sent a wave of emotion through you.

As you watched him, you couldn’t help but remember how he had been six years ago when you were pregnant with Ellie and Jake. Back then, Dean’s protectiveness had been a force of nature. He had insisted on doing almost everything for you—cooking, carrying anything remotely heavy, even trying (and failing) to assemble the crib himself without asking Sam for help. He’d hovered over you like a mother hen, always checking if you needed anything, always making sure you were comfortable and safe.

You smiled to yourself at the memory of him sneaking out in the middle of the night to get you a very specific brand of ice cream because you’d mentioned craving it once. Or how he’d built up an entire arsenal of baby books, even if he claimed he didn’t need them because “it’s instinct, babe”.

And now, seeing him so casually yet instinctively protective, even before you were showing or feeling the full weight of the pregnancy, reminded you just how much Dean cared—how deeply he loved his family.

“Sammy”, Dean drawled, grinning as he gestured toward the twins, who were still buzzing with excitement. “You’re just jealous because my kids already have a battle plan for world domination, and you can barely get Caleb to do the dishes”.

Caleb smirked from his spot on the floor, holding up his hands. “Hey, I do the dishes. Sometimes”.

“See?”, Dean shot back, his grin widening. “Meanwhile, I’ve got a baby on the way and two kids already training to take over the family business”.

Sam groaned, rubbing his temples. “Oh, yeah, the family business. Great. You’re turning them into mini versions of you”.

“Damn straight”, Dean said, his tone proud. “Best Christmas gift ever”.

You laughed softly, resting your hand on top of Dean’s where it still lay against your stomach. The motion caught his attention, and his teasing expression softened instantly when he looked at you. His green eyes met yours, a quiet, unspoken emotion passing between you.

“You okay?”, he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I’m perfect”, you replied, your smile widening as you squeezed his hand. “You?”.

His lips quirked into a softer smile as he laced his fingers with yours. “Never better”.

"Merry Christmas, Dean”, you whispered, tilting your head just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. His hand on your belly tightened slightly, and you felt him smile against your mouth before he murmured back, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart”.

Before the moment could deepen, a loud chorus of exaggerated gagging noises erupted from nearby. “Ewww!”, Jake groaned dramatically, scrunching his nose. “Gross!”.

“Disgusting!”, Ellie added, clutching her bunny to her chest as she made an exaggerated barfing sound.

Even Caleb, normally the calm and composed one, couldn’t resist joining in with a muttered, “Seriously, get a room”.

Dean pulled back from the kiss with a laugh, shaking his head as he looked at the kids, all of whom were now thoroughly invested in making the most dramatic gagging noises they could muster. His hand stayed on your belly, his thumb brushing against you in that comforting, protective way that made your heart flutter every time.

“Alright, alright”, Dean said, his smirk widening as he shot the kids a mock-stern look. “You can stop with the barf noises. We get it—you’re all scarred for life”.

Jake crossed his arms, still pouting. “I’m telling Santa about this”.

Ellie, clutching her bunny tightly, nodded with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, Santa should know what you’ve been doing”.

Dean let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, really? You’re gonna tattle on your own parents to Santa? Good luck with that, kiddo”.

“You’re both impossible”, you added with a laugh, shaking your head as the twins dissolved into giggles, their earlier protests forgotten. Caleb just rolled his eyes and muttered something about needing earplugs next Christmas.

Jodie, sitting on the couch, leaned over to Donna with a grin. “You know, I think this might be the most entertaining Christmas we’ve had yet”.

Donna nodded, chuckling as she sipped her coffee. “Definitely. And the most chaotic”.

Castiel, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange, tilted his head slightly. “I fail to understand why the children find displays of affection so objectionable. It is a natural expression of love”.

Dean barked out another laugh, pointing at Cas. “See? Even the angel gets it”.

You shook your head with a smile, leaning back against Dean as the room filled with laughter and playful teasing. The twins went back to their toys, Caleb resumed tinkering with his model kit, and the rest of the family settled into the warm, easy rhythm of Christmas morning.

Dean leaned closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “Crazy, isn’t it? This life, these kids, a new baby on the way…”.

You glanced up at him, catching the quiet wonder in his green eyes. “It’s crazy,” you admitted softly, lacing your fingers with his where his hand still rested on your belly. “But it’s ours. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything”.

Dean smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Me neither, sweetheart. Me neither”.

As the kids’ laughter echoed through the room and the twinkling lights of the tree cast a warm glow over the bunker, you felt a profound sense of peace. This was your family—messy, chaotic, loud, and so full of love it was almost overwhelming.

And as you sat there, wrapped in Dean’s arms and surrounded by the people you cared about most, you couldn’t help but think that this was the kind of Christmas you’d always dreamed of—perfect in its imperfection, filled with laughter, love, and the promise of everything good yet to come.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373

#jensen ackles #deanwinchester #dean and sam #sam and dean #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural

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supernaturalfreakout · 2 months ago

Text

The Morning After

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: You wake up after a wild night with Sam. He refuses to let you to forget how good he made you feel ...

Tags: 18+ MDNI, fluff and smut, Dom!Sam, Sub!You, BDSM, consensual kink, aftercare, oral (fem receiving), vaginal fingering.

Notes: This is part of a wider fic. Reader had mental health issues. Newly-established relationship. Sam is very protective over you.

The next morning came like a declaration. The sun was out, reigning high and bright in the crisp winter sky, and for the first time in years, you felt at peace; awoke without a deep, profound longing gnawing at your bones. The absence was noticeable. So noticeable in fact, that at first, it was almost unsettling. As if a piece of yourself had gotten lost in the night, only to be replaced by a feeling so foreign it felt out of place in your body. Where once stood a well, waters dark and stagnant, now existed an ocean—vast, moving, and alive. So instead of reaching for your phone, squeezing your knees to your chest, or holding your breath to fill the void, you rolled to the side, opened your eyes, and welcomed the day with the deepest sigh of relief you could muster.

Beside you, Sam splayed. His rich brown hair fanned like shards of chocolate over your faded floral pillowcase; his lips parted softly in sleep. His body took up most of the bed, and—as you had realized in the night—had a habit of eating the sheets. You now noticed that was probably because he clenched the edges in his fists, so whenever he rolled, they rolled with him. You smiled at that—little quirks only ever revealed in the midst of intimacy. After-hour truths and early-morning peculiarities. You wondered how many more he had; whether he knew them himself; whether you would be lucky enough to discover them all, one day. It was a wistful thought. A dangerous thought. Yet today, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to deny them.

Sweeping your eyes over his features, you admired the mix of sharp masculine strength, and soft delicate beauty. You observed the rise and fall of his chest in time with his peaceful breathing, the subtle flutter of his eyes beneath his lids, and his jaw; strong, but relaxed, framed by stubble that was getting even longer by the day. You knew that Dean would probably tease him for it, but you didn’t mind. In fact, it rather suited him. And the way it felt roughing up your thighs ...

You shuffled up the bed, wincing softly as you drew your eyes from the scene. It took every fiber of your strength, but you managed. It was too early for those kinds of thoughts, wasn’t it? Plus, you were sore, the ache in your glutes and hips reminiscent of a tough session at the gym.

Next to you, on your bedside table, stood a bottle of lotion, a half-sipped glass of water, and an open packet of Advil; the only evidence of last night’s promiscuities in sight.

After your shower, Sam had diligently stripped the bed, chucking the dirty sheets in the wash along with his soiled jeans.

Your face reddened at the thought, memories of the evening before resurfacing. You hadn’t had sex like that in… well … never.

Your eyes drifted back to Sam’s sleeping form. Your body heated. A selfish thought crossed your mind.

How easy it would be, you thought. To roll on top of him and take what I want. He wouldn’t say no. You were sure of it. Hell, he’d practically sworn an oath of servitude. But no. I can’t. I shouldn’t … Poor man needs his rest.

Sam must have felt your shifting as he groaned softly, then rolled away, towards the window where the morning light was waiting behind the backdrop of the curtain. You lingered for a moment, on the brink of hesitation before delicately slipping your legs out of the sheets, careful not to make too much of an impression in the mattress.

After quickly popping your pill, you padded barefoot towards the door. You floated down the stairs and into your kitchen where you went through the motions, swallowing your vitamins before pressing some fresh coffee for the both of you. Sam liked his black—because of course he did—health nut that he is. But your preferred brew was with oat milk, and a generous helping of caramel.

Balancing the two steaming mugs, you ascended the stairs and nudged open the bedroom door. The room was still bathed in the soft light of morning, the hazy transition between sleep and waking making it feel like you were in a dream. But you were not dreaming. This was real. And way more colorful.

Sam’s back was still turned to you, but he stirred as you set the mugs down on your nightstand. He rolled onto his back, blinking his eyes open. When he saw you, a sleepy smile spread across his lips.

“Morning," you said, your voice still hushed as you slipped back under the sheets.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice deep and rough with sleep. “You’re up early.”

“Made you coffee." You nodded towards the mug. “Figured you might need it after last night.”

A low, rumbling chuckle sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “You spoil me.” He kissed your forehead as he reached over to grab the mug from your nightstand. “Mm, perfect,” he said, eyes fluttering shut as he took a sip, savoring the warmth on his tongue. “Just what I needed.”

You smiled, took a sip from your own mug before setting it down and snuggling into his side. Into safety. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you couldn’t help but sigh in contentment as you laid your head on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

After a moment, Sam asked, “How’re you feeling?” as his hand gently traced circles on your lower back. “Any more aches or pains?”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Last night, before bed—but not before a thorough debrief and a comforting dinner—Sam had insisted on inspecting the damage, checking your body for any signs of injury or abrasion, making you lie still as he massaged lotion onto your ass, wrists and knees.

“How bad?” you’d asked, looking over your shoulder as you laid flat on your belly, feeling particularly silly as he slathered another cold dollop on your ass cheeks.

The redness was fading, but the most abused patches had already begun to mottle. “You’re bruised.” He’d said it like an accomplishment. Even so, you could tell he felt a little guilty. Dude seemed to find a reason for self-blame in everything, you’d noticed.

Bruises were acceptable, you’d agreed. Favorable, even. As long as they could stay hidden. A secret for you to enjoy. You weren’t a fan of parading your winnings.

“Jeez, baby," he'd said, "you didn’t even stop me once.”

“Didn’t need to. I’m a tough cookie.”

“You most certainly are.”

Sam had continued his inspection of your butt a bit longer than necessary, watching the emerging patterns bloom before him. And you’d let him. It felt nice to be wanted; to be admired.

Now you felt the residual ache of the night before as you stretched out your limbs. A reminder of how he’d marked you. Claimed you. A brand you were proud to bear. The hickey on his hip paled in comparison.

“A few,” you admitted, casting a shy, sideways smile. “But nothing too bad. Just … you know, the good kind of sore.”

Sam’s eyes darkened as he met your gaze, remembering the intensity of your session; how rough he’d been and how you’d embraced it all. Embraced him. He’d get a proper look at you later; get a better idea of your tolerance. But for now, his hand continued its soothing movements on your back, dipping lower to massage the ache in your hips. “Let me know if you need anything. I might’ve been a little too enthusiastic.”

“I think I can manage … Besides,” you added, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw, feeling the graze of his stubble against your lips. “You more than made up for it.”

His hand moved to your thigh, fingers kneading gently into the tender muscles there, his touch both comforting, and suggestive. “Maybe I should make it up to you again.” His voice dropped lower as his other hand cupped the back of your neck, guiding your lips to his.

The kiss was slow and deep; a languid exploration that sent a wave of heat through your body. You felt yourself melting into him, the soft sheets tangling around your legs as you pressed closer, craving the feel of his skin against yours. Suddenly, the ache in your muscles seemed to subside, replaced by a burning want. It had only been a few hours, book-ended by sleep, but still, you felt the pull, the desire to dive straight back in. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, the air between you sparkling with a familiar electricity.

“Careful,” you whispered, lips brushing against his as you spoke. “We might not make it out of bed if you keep that up.”

“Maybe that’s the point.” He slid his hand back under the sheets. Skimmed his fingers across your skin. “I’ll be gentle ...”

You swallowed, moistening a suddenly dry mouth. “You’re not ... tired?”

“Are you?”

“Wide awake.”

“Well, then . . .”

You let him guide you to your back, moaning softly as your head hit the pillow, followed by his mouth at the base of your throat. His kisses cascaded down your chest, between your breasts, down your stomach, tumbling over your hips like waves over rocks until they finally crashed in the hollow between your legs. The place that had become their home.

“I’ll never get sick of this…” A smile lit up his eyes, your sheen glistening like gloss on his lips. “You’re delightful ... Delicious.”

“You’re unreal.”

“No, princess…” A slip of a finger. In and up towards your navel. “I’m very … Real.”

----

This is an excerpt from my longer fic on AO3. You'll find more of this—including what they got up to the night before—here. 😏

#fanfic #sam winchester x reader #ao3 fanfic #history on your side #supernatural #sam winchester #x reader #ao3 writer #spn

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lonelysheepling · 5 months ago

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Recently read @queenofthequillandink ’s DPxDC crossover fic Unearthed, Reborn

I got inspired to draw character sheets for Danny, Sam, Jason, and Jazz’s vigilante personas. Here’s a link to the author’s drawings of their outfits (these were a vital reference for me when doing this so thank you so much for sharing them Quill) More commentary (like 7+ paragraphs plus 2 images) about this project and the designs below the “keep reading” line.

None of these thoughts I have for each character are in order, but I have a lot of commentary for these since this project was a lot more conceptual than my normal work. I also just like talking about my art/design process. If you ever find yourself wondering at some point why an element from the original design wasn’t included, the answer is that the removal was completely intentional and part of my grandmaster vision for this work and wasn’t because I just forgot about it entirely during the design process.

————————————————————————

Aconite (Sam)

This was the first one I sketched out, I wasn’t even sure at the time if I was going to fully commit to drawing all of them. I thought that Sam was gonna be the hardest since her description was way longer than the others, but then bird boy beat her out. I took a lot of creative liberties with her design, the bag was added bc I couldn’t figure out how to add pockets to the skirt. I was trying to avoid a joker color scheme so I had a lot of ref images that I got by searching like “purple green aesthetic” on Pinterest. The dark purple and dark forest/blueish green won out in the end. I desaturated a lot of my colors for her just to get as far away from the neon Gotham rogue aesthetic. I also added the bdsm harness over the armor to add more punk elements to her design, I know that in real life that would be very uncomfortable to wear over scalemail armor but sometimes we take creative liberties when they look sick as fuck. Also, I didn’t realize until I went to look for a reference for aconite flowers that aconite is wolfsbane! That was neat to learn! Also, the font I used for Aconite is called “zai Art School Calendar 1931”, I’ve used this a few times for other projects, it’s one of my favorite fonts. The ‘zai’ fonts the creator has are all very good.

Shade (Danny)

There wasn't much to add to this page. His outfit is pretty simple (besides the patterning). I wasn’t sure how to pull of an optical illusion pattern but I was reminded how I sometimes get an eyestrain induced headache when looking at someone wearing a patterned shirt with really thin stripes so I just leaned into the idea of a small/detailed hard lined pattern. I originally made 5 separate patterns for him and then turned them into stamp brushes in procreate. I only ended up using three of them, the one on the chest, the one on the legs, and the one on his hand. But, I imagine the patterns fade and shift when he moves, sort of like a lenticular print. I gave him constellation freckles and stylized the hair’s fade into white. The hair was inspired by how time-woods draws Martin Blackwood’s hair (linked: time-woods’s fanart of Martin Blackwood). Also put way too much effort into the teeth on the mask. I just like the chunky teeth design. Oh yeah and the font I used for him is called “Typewriter_Condensed_Demi”

Erinys (Jason)

Repeatedly ran into the issue of not having enough canvas space bc of my fervent need to thoroughly document and plan out how the wings worked. I also reversed the colors for the bodysuit & armor so the under layer was black while the armor plates were red. I only realized afterwards that I may have been inspired by the red centipedes in Rain World (linked: gif of the red centipede, don’t click the link if you’re unsettled/afraid of bugs/insects), artists subconsciously draw inspiration from other artists all the time though so I’m not like upset about it. I stand by it because it looks sick as hell. Also leaned into the magpie theming for the wings. I think the vigilante form was supposed to be reverse magpie coloring? I can’t remember, but I stuck with normal magpie coloring. The anatomy of how the wings connected to the collarbone was inspired by JayEaton’s Magpie Bridge Project. Reference image link. Link to the article the image is from. I didn’t draw the wing armor because I couldn’t figure out how to would work with the wing anatomy and I ran out of canvas space. Finally, the font used for him is “DIN Condensed” this is a default font, I would’ve used something more punk but I needed the text to be legible.

Insight (Jazz)

I did Jazz after I’d already finished the initial trio, so I had to switch to a new canvas for her bc I’d hit the layer limit multiple times on the previous one. I really do love doing that spiked under-eyelash thing with characters. Don’t know when that started. Anyway, I added the shoulder pads to her outfit to help break up the empty space. The golden eyes were a nice accent color since her design is very overwhelmingly green. Honestly the braid hairstyle and gold eyes really do obscure her identity, multiple times when drawing her I was worried that she didn’t really resemble Jazz enough. There wasn’t a drawing from the author for her so I only had the text description to go off of. I just realized that she sort of reminds me of a forest ranger and I don’t know what to do with that realization. I copy/pasted my drawing of her eyes when gold and recolored them to match her normal eye color. There were two layers for that, a hue shift and a hard light layer to emphasize the shadows.

Here’s what it looks like without the hue shift:

It looks really cool and I’m 100% that color combo in another drawing down the line. Oh yeah and the font used for this sheet was “Euphemia UCAS”. It comes with Apple’s operating system, I use it as a neutral default text most of the time bc it’s nicer than helvetica but not overly fancy like Times New Roman—and why am I talking about fonts. ——————————————————————— Anyway, this project was very fun to work on. The alt text for this was its own endeavor, hope the folks using screen-readers don’t mind 4-5 paragraphs of description text. Also, I cannot remember for the life of me if Dani got a costume description, but if she does I’ll make sure to update this image set with a sheet for her. And to the author, QueenOfTheQuill, if you’re reading this message that I’ve left at the very bottom of this post below a read more line, thank you for the fic. It’s very good and I’m glad I caught it during my slow decent into DPxDC brainrot. I love the interactions between Jason and Tim, it’s nice seeing a revived Jason that’s not bogged down by pit rage. They definitely seem like they could’ve been good friends if not for the unfortunate circumstances that led them to meet in canon. Also, I’m sure Jazz will love interacting with Batman and Nightwing. So much psychological & childhood trauma to unpack with them. Feel free to use/share these images if you so desire and thanks again for your work.

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beth20light · 4 months ago

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮

Jacob black x Reader

A/N: Hello! Right now i’m really obsessed with jacob black x reader fics but i cant seem to find something that i liked :( Soo i decided to write mine. Its gonna be 2 or 3 chapters im not sure yet and english is not my first language please excuse my mistakes .Anyway i hope you guys like it 🥰

Note: In this world there is no bella. So not any love triangles. There are vampires but just mentioned briefly. And both of you are above 18.

Summary: Your dad, Charlie, and Billy were on a fishing trip, and somehow you and Jacob ended up tagging along. When it was time to head back, everyone paired off, and you ended up with Jacob. Now, the two of you were already on the road in Billy’s old truck, heading back to Forks.

The car ride was quiet since both of you were tired from the fishing weekend with your dads. You just wanted to go home and sleep in your bed. While thinking about your cozy bed, you glanced at Jacob. He was focused on the road, not wanting to hit a deer or something in the middle of the night. Jacob had been your friend since your family moved to Forks when you were 12. Billy and your dad were friends, so it wasn’t surprising that you and Jacob became friends too. He was a good friend, but you and he had drifted apart for a couple of months. He’d been acting strange—cutting his hair, changing his look, hanging out with Sam, who he hated the most, and putting distance between the two of you for reasons you didn’t understand.

Somehow, you both ended up on this trip together. Instead of asking why he’d been distant, you decided to let it slide and act like nothing had happened. Only small gestures giving something that he needs etc. dull thanks and you are welcomes. Pf course your dad understand that there is something happened between you two. So maybe the reason that your dad wanted you to go with Jacob rather then himself. But now, with just the two of you alone, the mood felt more awkward then the fishing trip.

“Is there something on my face?” Jacob asked, lifting his lips slightly.

“What? No,” you said, caught off guard.

“ You’ve been staring at me for a couple minutes you know” He smirked.

You hadn’t realized you were staring at him, lost in thought about what had happened between you two.

“I was just looking at your new look. New hair, biggest biceps ever, and all. You’ve changed a lot. I do like your new look, but I miss the long hair,” you said with a half smile.

He gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Well, some things had to change. Nothing stays the same.”

The silence between you lingered after Jacob's quiet words. You turned your attention back to the road, focusing on the dark stretch ahead as you got lost in your thoughts again. You still couldn’t find a reason for why Jacob was acting this way, and it made you sad. His refusal to share anything with you only deepened your disappointment. It was as if the two of you had never been best friends who shared everything.

“What the—” Shaken from your thoughts by Jacob’s words, you looked around. The car was slowing down, and Jacob didn’t look happy. “What’s happening?” you asked with a concerned glance.

“The car is breaking down,” he sighed. “Great.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face with one hand. “Just what we needed.”

You sat up a little straighter, looking out the window at the seemingly endless stretch of dark highway. The woods loomed on either side, the only light coming from the car’s dim headlights and the faint glow of the moon.

“Is it the engine?” you asked, trying to hide the nervousness creeping into your voice.

Jacob shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Let me check.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, the door creaking as it closed behind him. You watched him walk around to the front, popping the hood and disappearing into the shadows. The night air seeped into the car, cold and unsettling.

You pulled out your phone to see if there was a signal. Of course, there was none. How could it be a signal in the middle of nowhere? As panic started to rise, you hoped it was something fixable.

Jacob reappeared a few minutes later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Looks like something’s wrong with the radiator. We’re not going anywhere,” he said with a shrug. “Let me call Dad so he can come get us.” He reached for his phone.

“We can’t. There’s no signal,” you sighed nervously, getting out of the car. “ What are we gonna do now ?”

Seeing your nervous, Jacob said, “Hey, relax. Y/N At least you’re not alone.” With his words, you glanced at him. The idea of spending the night stranded on the side of the road with your best friend—who had suddenly put distance between you for some unknown reason—wasn’t how you had imagined ending the weekend.

But it was better than being alone in the middle of the night, you thought.

“I think there are about 20 miles left. We can go on foot,” he said while looking at the empty road.

“Are you serious? You want to walk all that way? It’s nearly five hours of walking.” You looked at him in disbelief; he couldn’t be serious about this. Not to mention the wild animals that could attack at any moment.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess we’re stuck here until our dads realize we’re not home yet.”

“I hope they realize soon.” you said while looking at the endless woods beside you.

A wave of cold swept through you, making you shudder. you rubbled my arms without realizing.

“Y/N, you’re going to get cold. Get in the car,” Jacob said, scanning you. You nodded and went back to the car. Inside wasn’t that warm either since the car broke down, but it was better than being outside.

Jacob sat down in the car too. It was time for silence. Everything was worse between you two now; You had to sit with him on this cold night until God knows when. With the car broken down, the inside was getting colder. You realized your fingertips were freezing, so you put them in your pockets.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Jacob suddenly asked, concern etched on his face. “Why i am asking? Of course, you are.”

“Thanks for the concern, but unless you have a blanket you can give me, I don’t think you can help,” You said with a sly smile. “Wait, aren’t you cold too?” You asked suddenly, looking at him with a confused expression. The cold didn’t seem to bother him.

At your expression, his concerned face shifted, and he smirked. “No, only weak people like you get cold. Not me.”

Ha ha ha, You laughed ironically. “You are a joker now. Keep the comedy to yourself, I’m freezing.” You said, side-eyeing him.

You were warming to each other, making jokes, but the cold wasn’t letting up. You rubbed your arms again to feel some heat.

“Hey, come here,” he said while opening his arms.

You looked at him, confused. “You want to hug me now? How is that going to help?”

“Since I’m the hot one in both ways, I can help you not die from the cold.” He spoke with a cocky tone. “Besides, if I let you die like this, your dad would kill me too.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he gently pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. You rested your head and hands on his chest. He was holding you tight, not letting you escape. Then you realized and asked, “Jacob, why are you so hot?”

“What do you mean? I was always hot,” he said sarcastically.

“No, Jacob, why is your body so hot?” You asked, concerned as you tried to look at his face. “Do you have a fever?” You put your hand on his forehead; he was burning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I let you drive all this—” Your words were interrupted by his laughter.

“Ahh, I missed this,” he sighed. You were still looking worriedly at his face. “No, I’m fine. I’m like this all the time, so it’s not a fever.”

“Did you go to a doctor?”

“Yes, I did,” he said while pulling you closer to his chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure ?” You asked again. Didn’t get satisfied with answers “Yes for the billion time I’m fine.” He smiled with this unending questions.

“That’s good, then,” You said, you felt that he nodded.

All this chatting felt like old times. Both of you were joking again; You were worrying over him, and he was assuring you that he was okay. Just like that time when he fell off his bike and acted like nothing happened because he didn’t want you to worry. Those were good times.

You were getting warmer, of course. Jacob was practically an oven. Lost in your thoughts, a small giggle escaped from your mouth.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing, just my thoughts,” you said. He hummed agreeingly. There was silence again. This was the only time you could get alone with him, so you decided to speak.

“Hey, Jacob.”

“Yes, what’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Do you really miss us?” You asked, your head still on his chest, unable to see his reaction to the question.

He didn’t answer immediately. Then he sighed. “Yes, I do miss us. But there are things, Y/N, I can’t—”

You interrupted him. “What things, Jacob? What is it that you can’t tell your best friend?”

He sighed again, but it was different this time. “There are things that can harm you. You don’t understand now, but I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re protecting me by leaving and hanging out with Sam? I thought you hated him,” You said with a frustrated voice.

“I did hate him, but now I don’t. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “And yes, I’m protecting you by leaving.” His voice grew louder. You didn’t say anything, then his voice softened. “I wish I could tell you what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m sorry. This is the best for you.”

There was little silence again. You still couldn’t understand why he won’t tell. And it was eating you from inside not getting any answers. You felt desperate. The answers were on tip of his lips but he choose not to say anything. Maybe he didn’t trust you enough to say it. This even made you sadder.

“Will it always be this way until the end?” You asked, your voice cracking. It was your last attempt to get him to speak. Being like this forever made your heart feel so heavy with sorrow. You felt like you were going to cry, so you closed your eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from escaping.

“Y/N I—” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

You didn’t ask anything else, and he said nothing. Your bodies were close, but not your souls. You were scared to open your eyes again face the facts. With the warmth from him, and with your unending thoughts you fell asleep on his chest.

#jacob black x reader #twilight #edward cullen #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader #twilight x y/n #jacob black

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 9 months ago

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Hexed?

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader, Sam Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: you get your period for the first time, and Sam and Dean help you through it

Warnings: blood, period, crying, fluff

You awoke in the middle of the night, unsure at first what had woken you up. Then a sudden, stabbing pain in the pit of your gut had a pained gasp escaping your lips.

“What…” you mumbled as you pulled your blankets aside and clicked on your lamp. Another gasp, this time one of shock, came out as you saw blood covering your sheets and blankets. The gasp was followed by a whimper as another wave of pain washed over you.

You didn’t understand; you hadn’t been injured anywhere recently, and certainly not down there…

The only thing you could think of was a witch—Rowena had been around lately, and though she seemed to be on your side, could you really be sure? She could have left a hex bag in your room, something that would make you bleed to death! You checked your mouth, your nose, your ears—anywhere else that you could be bleeding from—but nothing; it was just between your legs. Your chest was tight, your throat constricted, as panicked gasps left you. You tried to take deep breaths—you needed to keep calm—but it wasn’t very effective.

You wanted to go and get your dad and Uncle Sam, but first you decided to do a quick sweep of the room; you didn’t find any hex bags.

You made your way awkwardly towards your fathers room, very aware of the blood running down your right leg. Your hands were shaking as you reached out to knock on his door, and when you looked down you realized that all of you was shaking.

Dean opened the door, rubbing his face and looking half asleep.

“N/N? What are you doing up?”

“I-I-I…” you swallowed hard and tried again to speak past your tears. “I think I got hexed.”

Dean was suddenly alert, his eyes fully open and his stance straight.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Im ble-bleeding and it won’t stop,” you sobbed.

“Bleeding? Where?” It was too dark for Dean to see the growing stain on your pajama pants.

“Um…my-my…” you were suddenly shy, struck with how awkward it felt to talk about this with your father. You clammed up, alarming Dean.

“Commere,” he said, opening his room for further and gesturing you in. He clicked on his bedroom lamp and looked you up and down. It took him mere seconds to see the blood on your pants, and to your surprise he relaxed completely. “Oh kiddo…”

His lips began to twitch ever-so-slightly, and now it looked like he was having an internal battle. Was he…

“Are you smiling?!” You demanded. “Dad, I could be dying!”

A single second of laughter escaped him before he schooled his features, noting how scared you were.

“Honey, you’re not dying, I swear. This is totally normal.”

“Normal? How could this be normal, I’m bleeding!” Dean’s nonchalance just made you more frustrated, which just made more tears fall.

“Hey, hey ok,” Dean’s voice was gentle and understanding. “Just take a seat and I’m gonna go get Sam. He can get you what you need for this and while he’s gone I’ll explain it.”

“Do-do we have to tell Uncle Sam?” You mumbled, still embarrassed, but less panicked.

“Trust me, Uncle Sam knows what this is too. It’s not gonna bother him a bit.”

“Ok.” You nodded your assent. “But-but I can’t sit on your bed, I’ll get blood all over your sheets.”

“Just sit, I’ll wash them later, ok?” Only after you’d hesitantly sat on your dad’s bed did he leave to get Sam.

…

Dean was just wrapping up his explanation when Sam returned with a Walmart bag and a gentle smile.

“Hey there,” he greeted. “How are we doing?”

“Um—ok,” you mumbled. Now that you understood you weren’t dying, you were more embarrassed than anything. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean insisted. “I should’ve told you earlier, I just…I thought I’d have another year or two.” Dean ruffled your hair. “You’re growing up fast, kiddo.”

Your lips twitched up—only a little—and Dean grinned before turning to take the bag from Sam.

“Ok, what do we have here?”

“Uh—“ Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Well I asked this lady that was buying some of this stuff herself, just to make sure I got everything. I got pads and tampons, because she said that Y/N should get to pick. Then I got a heating pad—that’s supposed to help with cramps. I got this one that you can plug in, it looks easy to use, but then I got this one shaped like a teddy bear that you can put in the microwave.” Sam reached into the bag as he spoke, pulling out each item in turn. Sure enough, he pulled out a little brown bear, and you smiled. “And then I got a lot of chocolate, and some, uh…” Sam pulled out a bottle. “I don’t really know what they are, but it’s supposed to be better for cramps and stuff than Advil, so…”

Looking at all the stuff on the table, you felt incredible overwhelmed. You needed all this stuff?

“Ok.” Dean clapped his hands together. “I guess you should start with these.” He held out the box of pads and the box of tampons. You took them both, reading the instructions on the back carefully before taking both boxes with you to the bathroom. You returned a few minutes later to both men busy at work—Dean taking the sheets off his bed while Sam was returning from your room with clean clothes.

You took the clothes from Sam and retreated back into the bathroom, and after a quick shower to clean yourself off, you emerged again in clean pajamas. Dean was just returning to the room with the teddy bear fresh from the microwave, and Sam had gotten you a water bottle.

“Do you want us to take this stuff to your room?” Dean asked, and you saw his question for the open invitation that it was.

“Could I stay in here?” You asked, and Dean smiled.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m gonna go get some clean sheets, and then we can go back to bed, ok?”

Not ten minutes later, Sam had returned to his room and you and Dean were getting comfortable in his bed.

“Just let me know how you’re feeling in the morning, and we’ll go from there ok?” Dean said.

“Ok,” you mumbled sleepily, burrowing into Dean’s side. “Hey dad?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure, kiddo.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

#dean winchester #the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #sam winchester x niece!reader

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 6 months ago

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The Naughty Nanny Chapter 1

Summary: Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand. He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later. But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her. The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time. Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought.

**In this universe Steve never left, Tony never died.** **curvy reader** Warnings: talk of sexual harassment, unwanted/non-consensual touching/sexual assault, eventual smut

Next chapter

“Please go to sleep,” Bucky begged quietly as the baby wailed in her crib. He rubbed his face roughly, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. He felt a wave of emotion through him and started crying, which surprised him. He had gone through years of torture, being put on ice, memories wiped, the worst things imaginable done to him and forced on him to do to others, sleep deprivation worse than this and yet here he was crying over a crying baby.

He’d never had a lot of experience with babies. He had sisters back then, but his mother had always been the one to take care of them as infants. None of the other Avengers brought their kids around to headquarters. This baby was unknown to him until four weeks ago.

“Hey Bucky, uh…you’re needed in the lobby,” Sam’s voice rang through Friday’s intercom.

“Okay,” Bucky answered back up to the ceiling, then headed down to the front of the building. When he approached the front desk a small group was forming around something on the floor. “What’s going on?” he asked as he walked up to Sam.

Sam gave him a worried look then pointed to the floor. It was a baby in a carrier, fast asleep, covered in a blanket, a diaper bag and a box of things next to it. Steve was holding a note in one hand and reading it over and over again, the other hand holding a small stack of papers.

“Oh cute, whose baby?” Bucky said, smiling softly. Everyone in the room looked at him uneasily.

“It’s um…it’s yours,” Steve said hesitantly, handing him the note.

“What? That’s–” Bucky scoffed then read the note. It was scribbled hurriedly and he read it slowly.

‘James Barnes,

You won’t remember me but we had a one night stand a few months ago. I didn’t realize I was pregnant till it was too late to have an abortion. I’m not cut out for motherhood, and won’t be able to give her the life she deserves. You’re an Avenger, so I’m guessing you’ve got money or options to make sure she’ll get a fair shot. I haven’t named her, and I’ve signed away my rights. She was born March 10. I’m sorry to drop this on you.

Good luck.’

Bucky stared at the note. He really couldn’t remember most of the one night stands he’d had. They had usually been drunken encounters after too much Asguardian mead at one of Tony’s many parties. “I…I don’t...”

“We should take a DNA sample, make sure it’s actually his,” Tony piped up.

“Oh please, Tony, just look at her. She looks just like him,” Pepper smacked his arm. “Let’s get her checked out by a doctor and then we’ll go from there.”

Steve stepped up to Bucky. “Buck?” He clapped his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. “What do you want to do?”

Bucky eyed the papers in Steve’s hand, seeing the “Termination of Parental Rights” in bold at the top of the packet. His ears were ringing, his eyes wide as he fought off a panic attack. He looked at the baby again. She did look like him, a tuft of dark brown hair atop her head and his lips and dimpled chin. He stepped toward her and knelt down. He reached forward a finger and softly stroked her cheek. It made her stir a little and her eyes opened a little, flashing the same blue color of his eyes. She even shared his birthday. He smiled. “My baby,” he mumbled.

Bucky decided to name her Winnie, after his mother. The entire Avengers team had jumped into action that day, Tony and Pepper calling multiple people and getting baby items delivered to the compound, Bruce coming to take a DNA sample and do a preliminary check up on her until a pediatrician could come do a thorough examination, Steve and Sam standing with him as he held her and stared at her, giving him advice and trying to talk through what to do next.

As time went by he learned a lot. Tony brought in a few people to teach him parenting skills and how to feed her, change her, bathe her, what different cries could mean, and so much more that it made his head swim. He’d gotten the hang of it for the most part, getting into a routine with her, but on a night like tonight where the team was gone on a mission, with no one to help him, and it didn’t seem to matter what he did she just would not stop crying, he felt overwhelmed. Bucky didn’t know how parents did this, let alone with multiple children. He picked her up from the crib and cradled her against his chest, patting her back firmly but gently as his body bounced to try to soothe her again. She continued crying but it died down a little at having him close.

“Please, Winnie, I can’t…I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered and shushed her. He quickly wiped his tears, but they kept coming as her head thrashed against his sternum, like she wanted to burrow into him. He carried her to the front room of his apartment suite in the compound then to the kitchen, grabbing another bottle and warming it in the microwave. The movement seemed to help calm her a little until she was sniffling, whimpering and only occasionally letting out a little wail. He made sure the formula wasn’t too hot then sat on the large sectional couch and leaned back against the pillow. Before she could start crying from the loss of movement he stuck the bottle in her mouth and she immediately started eating, her wet eyes blinking up at him as she drew in a shaky breath.

“There you go,” Bucky breathed. “See, all that fussing for nothing. You stinker,” he smiled as he sniffed and wiped his tears again. He snuggled her against him as he tried to even out his breathing. She was so tiny against his large frame that it made him smile wider. He hoped this would be enough to get her to sleep for longer than 45 minutes this time. He stared up at the ceiling then got an idea.

“Friday?”

“Yes Sergeant Barnes?”

“I need interviews with potential nannies,” Bucky said, looking back down at Winnie. “Specifically for live-in, night nannies.”

“I’ll compile a list and reach out for preliminary interviews. Any specific qualifications that you would like to have listed?”

“No, just someone who knows what they’re doing,” Bucky sighed, his eyes getting heavier.

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you,” he yawned as Winnie finished the bottle. He burped her, thanking whatever higher being there was in the universe for her milk-drunk expression as she drifted back to sleep, joining her shortly after.

**Once again, thank the AI/Photoshop gods for this perfect picture of Bucky found on Pinterest.**

@angelbabyyy99 @capswife @julvrs @bellabarnes1378 @mostlymarvelgirl @mega-kittyglitter-1 @buckitostan @drdbnkl2008 @wintrsoldrluvr @danzer8705

#marvel #smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #series fanfic #curvy reader #plus size!reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #single dad!bucky barnes #nanny!reader #chapter 1

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mykoreanlove · 1 year ago

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manifested

You were barely awake as you noticed the grip around your waist getting tighter. It was your boyfriend laying behind you, pulling you closer and nestling his head into your neck. He placed delicate kisses on your soft, warm skin while whispering beautiful things in your ear. You felt so giddy, so happy, so in love.

“Princess”, he whispered softly, “Are you awake?”

You didn’t answer but smiled brightly instead. You found his hand placed on your bare stomach covering you with safety and affection. You stroked the soft skin, starting with the back of his hand and ending with his long fingers.

Memories of where those fingers had been last night flooded your consciousness and made you shudder. You felt him grin into the back of your neck.

“I guess you are awake. Good morning, baby.”

You didn’t want to turn around as you were afraid of realizing that this was nothing but a dream. Just another session of your imagination that brightened up your life.

You had sucked at dating all your life – always being tossed aside by the guys you fell for. After a while you were consumed with your fears which resulted in you giving up dating altogether.

“Not everybody is going to leave you. Not everybody is going to cheat on you. Not everybody is going to use you for sex. Not everybody will leave you for someone else. Not everybody is a fuckboy, Y/N!”

Your friend’s words were prominent in your mind for a long time; however, you decided you couldn’t take the risk. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t believe in the possibility of her words being true. Being convinced that no guy on this planet would ever want you – really want you – was burned into the core of your whole being.

But what if an imaginary boy could?

You often daydreamed about him, just for fun. Imagining being with the one that truly loved you made you feel better, so you kind of turned your imagination into your own real world.

In here, everything was peachy. You had no idea how you did it but the most handsome guy on mother earth fell for you. He was tall, slim yet muscular and moved with vigor. He was in his early twenties, just like you. He had piercing dark eyes, a distinctive nose and full lips. His porcelain skin was flawless and perfectly accentuated by his long, black hair. Since you enjoyed him so much in your daydreams you even gave him a name – Sam.

Ever since inventing Sam nothing was the same for you. Hand-crafting the perfect man made you happy, seen and appreciated. You finally had the feeling that you were truly wanted for all that you were. Every day you spent lots of moments in your head imagining what it would be like to really date him.

After waking up you would place your arms around yourself and imagine it was him hugging you, wishing you a good morning.

While pouring black coffee into your favorite mug you imagined him standing next to you smiling brightly. “Here”, he handed you some sugar, “to make the coffee as sweet as you, y/n.”

During your daily walks you’d imagine him with you, holding your hand and stroking your thumb while chatting with you.

And at night, when you were left with your dirty thoughts and desperation, you imagined it were his lips on your clit sucking, instead of the pink sex toy you bought ages ago.

After a while your inner world felt so true to you, so real, that you actually felt like a different person. You were no longer y/n, single and desperately afraid of heartbreak, but y/n, happily partnered with the love of her life.

Naturally, you showed up different in the world. You had that glow, that aura, that only people who are fresh in love had to offer. You oozed confidence and fulfillment, no longer looking for someone to complete you.

Everybody noticed the change in you and approached you differently: your friends loved your sudden wholeness and congratulated you on being your best self, past lovers popped up and found their way into your DMs, begging for another chance as well as random strangers who asked you out on the street.

You rejected them all – in your head you were happily partnered to Sam. Your loyalty belonged to Sam.

Until one day you were out enjoying some pancakes when you were approached by a guy that resembled your imaginary boyfriend a bit too much.

“You might think I’m crazy and I probably am, but I couldn’t help myself. Ever since I saw you, I had to come and talk to you. It’s like.. I feel like I am magically drawn to you. I’m Hyunjin by the way.”

This was definitely odd, but you didn’t think he was crazy at all. You felt it, too. You shared an intimate connection even though you had never met. Being with Hyunjin felt natural, comfortable – as if you had been doing it all the time.

You forgot your fears about dating and heartbreak – in fact, they never made their comeback into your conscious mind. All you thought about was Hyunjin and how he made you feel.

Desired.

Loved.

Sexy.

Confident.

Wanted.

Appreciated.

Taken care of.

Safe.

His resemblance to Sam was almost frightening – they shared the same looks, mannerisms and characteristics. Sometimes you joked about dating your imaginary duplicate but deep down you knew it was far from comedy.

Your imaginary relationship started out as a relief, as a way to make you feel better about being lonely but somehow you managed to find a guy that was identical to your made-up boyfriend. You would have freaked out by now but luckily, he had another name, so you kept your trust in funny coincidences rather than magic.

“Princess”, Hyunjin’s kisses brought you back to actual reality. “I was thinking about taking a trip to the states to visit my relatives and friends from high school. Do you want to come with me? Say yes, please.”

You turned around cheerily. “You lived in the states?”

Relationships were a funny thing – you were fluent in Hyunjin’s body language and knew his deepest secrets, but random things like past high school exchanges were still foreign to you. He nodded while his fingers were caressing your face. “Yeah, for a couple of years I lived there. It was a crazy time, completely different to here.”

You leaned into his touch more. “Different how?”

“Well, the language for starters. The culture was way more open. I felt cooler in a way. Oh, and I even got another name since no American could pronounce Hyunjin without insulting my Korean ancestors.”

Your eyes shot up in panic. “Another name?”, you muttered. Hyunjin nodded unknowingly.

“Yeah, my English name is Sam. Why?”

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 10 months ago

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Hello! It's my first time requesting, I don't know if you will write it or not, but I thought I'll put the idea in, basically when I had this sudden burst of idea for a story where in this story Bucky is sort of a the type of guy who likes to bring girls and ykyk, and unfortunately the reader has a crush on Bucky and they r neighbour so reader would tend to listen to the noises and it would break the reader's heart. One day, she decided to go for a walk when Bucky was *cough* w some random girl, and unfortunately, the reader was attacked from behind, and Steve or Sam found her and brought her to the Medbay, and when Bucky found out his heart broke and he confessed, bc he also has a crush on the reader but don't know how to do handle it so he just go with other girls to push his feelings aside, obv doesn't work. Ending fluff!! Love your work always🫶

You’re The One That I Want » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Neighbor!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t want the other girls he has brought home, all he wants is Y/N.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentions of blood, crying, kissing, cuddling, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

You covered your ears with your hands and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to drown out the sound of the moans coming from Bucky’s apartment next door. You couldn’t help but feel jealous and heartbroken. You’ve had a crush on Bucky since the day you moved in next door to him, but it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t feel the same way about you. He brings a different girl home almost every night. You put on a jacket and grabbed your phone and keys. You decided to take a walk to get your mind off of Bucky having a girl over. The night air felt refreshing. You hadn’t realized how long you were walking when you felt someone grab you from behind and pulled you into a nearby alley. The person covered your mouth to muffle your screams. The next thing you knew, you felt something sharp pierce your left side. Soon your body felt limp and you fell to the ground, everything went dark after that. Steve was walking down the street when something caught his eye in the alley. He cautiously entered the alley and seen a person lying on the ground unconscious. Something about this person seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He crouched down and carefully rolled the person over. His eyes widened when he seen your face.

“Y/N, it’s Steve. Can you hear me?” Steve says.

That’s when he felt something wet. He looked down and seen a pool of blood underneath you. He checked for a pulse. Your pulse was weak, but it was there. Steve picked you up bridal style and took you to the med bay at the Avengers Compound. While the doctors were checking you out, he tried to call and text Bucky, but he didn’t answer.

“Come on, Buck. Answer your damn phone.” Steve says to himself.

Steve was sent to voicemail for what it seems like the hundredth time. He sighed and put his phone in pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. Steve knows you’re Bucky’s next door neighbor. He also knows that Bucky would like to know if something bad happened to you.

The next morning, Bucky woke up next to a girl who’s name he didn’t remember. He grabbed his phone and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when he seen a lot of miss calls and texts from Steve. He got out of bed to get dressed at the same time the girl woke up. He politely told her that he had to go to work and she left. He then made his way to the Avengers Compound.

“Why did you call and text me so many times last night? Where’s the emergency?” Bucky asks, walking towards Steve.

“It’s Y/N.” Steve says.

“My neighbor Y/N? What’s wrong with her?” He asks.

“I found her with a stab wound and passed out from blood loss in an alley last night.” Steve tells him.

Bucky felt his heart drop and his eyes widened. A bunch of bad scenarios were going through his mind.

“Where is she? Is she awake?” Bucky asks with worry in his voice.

“She’s in the med bay and still hasn’t woke up yet.” Steve says.

Bucky immediately ran to the med bay. His eyes teared up when he seen you in the bed with an IV in your arm and a breathing tube in your nose that’s giving you oxygen. He approached the bed and sat down next to you. Him seeing you in the bed like that almost killed him. He carefully picked up your hand, giving it a kiss and held it. Bucky couldn’t help but feel guilt. If he answered his phone last night, he would’ve been here sooner.

“I’m s-so sorry this happened to you, doll.” His voice cracking. “This shouldn’t have happened to you.” He says with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Bucky sniffles and let out a shaky breath. He thought hooking up with girls who aren’t you would push his feelings away about you, but it didn’t work. You’re on his mind 24/7.

“I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but umm…” Bucky paused for a few seconds. “I just want to tell you that I’m in love with you. I thought that seeing girls who aren’t you would push the feelings I have for you away. You’re always on my mind. You’re the one that I want.” He confesses. “If you don’t feel the same way as me, I totally understand.” He says.

He waited a moment, hoping you would wake up after he said that, but you didn’t. Bucky sighed and laid his head on the bed.

“What you said was really sweet.” Natasha says, breaking the silence.

Bucky lifted his head to see Natasha in the doorway. Wanda was standing next to her. They walked in the room and stood next on the opposite side of the bed.

“Thanks, but I doubt that she feels the same way about me.” He says.

“She’ll get through this, Bucky.” Wanda says.

“I hope so.” He says, looking at you.

Something came to Bucky’s mind. He remembered you told him you like red roses. Maybe that’ll help you change your mind about him if you feel differently towards him.

“Can you two do something for me?” Bucky asks, looking at them.

“Of course. Anything.” Natasha says.

“I want to get her roses, but I don’t want to leave her. Can you two get them for me? She likes the red ones.” He says, giving them some money.

“That’s so sweet of you. Of course we’ll do that for you.” Wanda says, taking the money from him.

After they left, Bucky looked at you with sadness in his eyes. He lifted one of his hands and moved your hair from your face, admiring your beautiful features. He gently caressed your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your skin. Bucky couldn’t stop his eyes from tearing up. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He wanted nothing more than for you to wake you up.

“Don’t leave me. Please wake up, doll.” Bucky says, letting his tears free fall.

Bucky laid his head against the bed. You could hear his voice. You also felt his hand holding yours. Your eyes fluttered open, squinting them to adjust to the light. It took you a moment to gather your surroundings. You looked to your right to see Bucky sitting next to the bed.

“B-Bucky?” You say weakly.

Bucky’s head shot up when he heard your voice. A smile grew on his face. Relief washed over him, knowing that you’re alive.

“Oh thank god!” Bucky says, hugging you tightly.

You whimpered in pain when his arm accidentally bumped your wound.

“Shit, sorry.” He apologizes, letting go of you.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, wondering why your left side is in pain. You lifted your shirt just enough to see bandages on your left side.

“Wh-What happened and where am I?” You asked, looking at him.

“Steve said you were attacked from behind. You’re in the med bay in the Avengers Compound.” Bucky explains.

“Did you find me?” You asked.

“No. Steve found you.” You could hear the sadness in Bucky’s voice. “What’s the last thing you remember?” He asks.

“Uhh…” That’s when it came to you. “You and the girl you brought home last night were- umm enjoying yourselves…” You tried not to sound awkward. “And I didn’t want to hear it so I went on a walk and someone grabbed me from behind. I’m assuming that’s how I got this.” You explained, lifting your shirt to show him the bandages.

Bucky felt even more guilty. He felt like this is his fault. A couple tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, doll.” Bucky apologizes. “I should’ve been there for you.” He says.

You lifted your hand weakly and caressed his cheek, your thumb rubbing across his stubble.

“This isn’t your fault, Bucky.” You say softly.

You looked in his teary blue eyes. Bucky leaned in, kissing you passionately. Steve, Natasha, and Wanda walked in at the same time you two were kissing. Bucky slowly pulled away from you, glancing over to the doorway to see the three of them standing there.

“You have company, doll.” Bucky says.

You looked at the door, smiling when you seen Steve, Natasha, and Wanda. Wanda had a vase of red roses in her hands.

“Bucky told me and Nat to get these for you.” Wanda says, placing the roses on the table next to the bed.

“We’ll leave you two alone. We’re happy that you’re awake.” Natasha says, walking out of the room with Wanda following her.

“Steve…” You stopped him in his tracks. “Thank you for saving me.” You say.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I’m just glad I found you and got you help.” Steve says with a smile before leaving the room.

You turned your head to admired the roses for a moment before turning to face Bucky.

“I don’t know if you heard what I said earlier or not, but I mean every word. If you don’t feel the same way about me, I completely understand. We can go back to being neighbors and-” You silenced Bucky with a kiss.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day I moved in next door to you.” You confessed.

Bucky smiles widely and kissed you sweetly and passionately.

“When you’re fully recovered, do you want to go on a date with me?” Bucky asks.

“I’d love that.” You say in almost a whisper.

You scooted over in the bed, whimpering in pain when you moved the wrong way.

“Doll, what are you doing?” Bucky asks.

“Lay down next to me.” You say, patting the bed next to you.

Bucky happily laid down next to you, wrapped his arms around you protectively and being careful not to touch your wound.

“You’re staying with me till you’re fully recovered and then I’m going to help you move your stuff to my apartment.” Bucky says.

“We’re not even dating yet and you want me to move in with you.” You say, looking up at him.

“You’re my girl now and that means I want you to live with me.” He says.

You smiled and kissed his stubbly cheek. You laid your head on his chest, slowly falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Bucky kissed the top of your head, smiling to himself when the two of you finally got each other to yourselves.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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winchestersisterimaginessss · 2 months ago

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Heeeeeeeelloooooo, you write so well, I'm not even joking, you're one of my favorite ones on this app, I know you would write about the sister being stalked by a man/boy. I don't know how that would happen, I guess in one of the hunts she meets him and it's cute until they leave town and she keeps getting gifts and letters from the boy and Sam and dean think it's weird and she starts to get scared when she realizes he's stalking her, the gifts and letters get too personal and too much and they think it's better if they just go to the bunker, but somehow he gets inside the bunker and hides, and they only realize when in one night she wakes up and he's watching her and she just screams and freezes, what happens next, I'm sure it will be amazing, lots of love

A/N: OMG I THINK I WROTE A NOVEL?!? I just couldn’t stop writing and the next thing I knew it was like a million words long. I wanted this to be so in detail and so deep. There was just so much trauma to be written over so I made sure to capture every single emotion. I hope you guys liked this, Requests are still open!

Warnings: Stalker, Roofied, Sexual harassment, Sexual assault (kinda), cursing, violence

You and your brothers just had a successful hunt and were celebrating at the local bar in town.

“Here Y/N/N.” Sam said and handed you a shot. “Now this is great way to start off the night.” You smirked, motioning to the shot.

“Alright easy there tiger.” Dean said, sending you a disapproving look.

“I am 21 now Dean.” You reminded him.

“Alright you just turned 21.” He sighed, concerned about this new milestone you’ve hit and wanting to keep you as safe as possible.

“Still 21.” You sassed before you downed the shot and slammed the glass down on the table.

“That felt good!” You grinned at your brothers as a guy walked past you.

“Come play a game of pool with me.” He said flirtatiously and winked before making his way towards the pool table.

“I could use some fun.” You beamed, knowing pool was your favorite.

“I know you wanna have fun, but keep your guard up and be careful.” Sam warned as Dean glared at the back of the guy.

“Yeah tell him no funny business.” Dean huffed.

“He asked me to play a game of pool not go home with him.” You pointed out sarcastically.

“Yeah well if he did that then he’d already be dead.” Dean growled.

“Alrighty then. Another round of shots for Deano!” You said shooting Sam a look as you walked away. You heard Dean’s grumble behind you, but you were already past it. It was just a game of pool. When you reached the table, the guy was already waiting there for you. He was tall, with dark hair and a confident smile.

“I’m Ryan.” He said, introducing himself and handing you a pool stick.

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled, taking the stick from him.

“You’re beautiful Y/N.” He smirked which immediately made you blush.

“Why thank you, you’re not too bad yourself.” You said playfully and turned your attention to the pool table. You grabbed the cue ball with a practiced hand.

“I’ll take the first shot, you know ladies first and all.” You grinned, eyeing the balls on the table.

“I have a feeling you might beat me.” He chuckled, looking towards the pool table.

“I have a feeling that you might be right.” You smirked, lining up your break shot.

You were halfway through your fourth game with Ryan, your competitive streak still going strong. He had joked around and said that you couldn’t leave without him beating you at least once. As you were about to take your next shot, you suddenly caught Dean’s eye from across the bar.

“We gotta go.” He mouthed and made a wrap it up motion with his finger. You nodded and turned your attention back to Ryan.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go now.” You sighed and placed your pool stick on the table. Ryan’s demeanor changed instantly. His body language that shifted from playful to dark didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“You’re not allowed to go.” He said, his voice low and unsettling. He took a step towards you and your heart skipped a beat.

“What?” You chuckled nervously, trying to keep the situation light, but your hunter instincts were screaming at you to move.

“I’m not letting you leave.” He repeated, now too close for comfort. Your body went into high alert, and you began to slowly back away, but the wall behind you stopped you. The look of panic must have been clear on your face because something in Ryan snapped, and his expression softened into a smile, like nothing had happened.

“I never got my win!” He laughed, his voice going back to its charming tone. You exhaled and forced a smile.

“Oh yeah! I mean technically this is your win since I have to forfeit.” You said.

“I guess that will have to do.” He smiled before it faltered and he clenched his jaw. You stood there awkwardly trying to find a way out of the conversation.

“Okay uh yeah I should get going then.” You said.

“Bye Y/N. I hope to see you again.” He said.

“Yeah, nice meeting you. Bye!” You forced another smile, spinning around to walk back towards your brothers. But as soon as you turned away, your smile faltered, replaced by a deep furrow of your brows. Something about that interaction just didn’t sit right. Dean didn’t miss a beat. As soon as you reached him, his sharp eyes were on you.

“Everything okay?” He asked, his voice low.

“Uh…” You hesitated, instinctively glancing at Ryan. It was a fleeting look, but Dean caught it—his eyes narrowed immediately. He followed your gaze toward Ryan and then back to you.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” You rushed to say.

“You sure?” His tone had shifted, no longer casual. His gaze moved back to Ryan, now squinting in suspicion.

“Yes,” you squeaked, your fingers tugging anxiously at your sleeve, betraying your nerves.

Dean's eyes flicked down to your fidgeting hands, and he exhaled slowly.

“Yeah, well, I don’t believe you, kid.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain.

“He just... something felt off at the end.” You said.

Dean’s expression softened, his voice quiet, but serious.

“Alright, kiddo. I’ve got your back.” He stepped closer, scanning the room.

“Do you need me to step in?” His eyes turned hard again, like steel, thinking about someone making his baby sister uncomfortable.

The last thing you wanted was for Dean to escalate the situation further. Ryan had seemed harmless enough. You were just in your head about it all.

“No, no, I think I’m just being overly cautious,” you said, lowering your voice, feeling the weight of embarrassment settle in. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of nothing.”

“Hey, trust your gut. If something feels off, it probably is.” Dean said, his voice softer now, though there was still an edge to it. You nodded, looking around the bar. Ryan had disappeared—gone without a trace.

“Well, looks like he left anyway.” You sighed.

“Yeah and we’re out of here once Sam gets back from the bathroom,” Dean replied. Just as he spoke, Sam emerged, heading straight for you.

“Alright, you ready to head out?” Sam asked, looking at you with a raised brow.

You nodded and the three of you walked out of the bar together.

————

It was a couple days later and you were only about 30 minutes away from the last town because you’d caught wind of another hunt. You woke up abruptly to a knock on the motel door. You noticed your brothers weren’t in the room so you peaked out of the peephole. You couldn’t see anyone so you quickly grabbed your gun. Carefully, you opened the door and saw a white bag on the ground. You picked it up with confusion and saw there was a banana nut muffin in the bag. Your absolute favorite muffin.

“What the hell?” You said to yourself. Where did this come from? Who dropped this off? Where were your brothers? You looked around, but didn’t notice anyone. You turned back into the room and shut the door. You placed the bag on the table and grabbed your phone.

‘Hey did you guys get me a muffin?’ You texted your brothers.

‘What?’ Dean replied.

‘No why? Do you want us to grab you one from somewhere on our way back?’ Sam texted.

‘Where are you guys?’ You texted

’Dropped Sam off at the library a little bit ago and I’m about finished checking out the scene.’ Dean replied.

‘We didn’t want to wake you up, you needed to catch up on your sleep.” Sam replied.

‘Someone knocked on the door, but when I opened the door no one was there. I looked down and there was a banana nut muffin in a bag.’ You texted.

‘That wasn’t us. Don’t eat it.’ Dean warned. You huffed out loud, feeling your hunger gnawing at you.

“Ugh you know it’s my favorite muffin though and now I want one😫’ You replied.

‘That’s weird, don’t eat it. We’ll stop and get you a muffin from somewhere on the way back.’ Sam texted.

‘A banana nut muffin?’ You questioned.

‘Yes, a banana nut muffin, you freak. Again, who eats banana nut muffins?!’ Dean replied.

‘Uh me and whoever this muffin was supposed to go to.” You responded.

‘Have a chocolate chip muffin like a normal person.’ Dean texted.

‘You know those are my second favorites!’ You replied.

‘You’ll get your muffin.’ Sam texted. You flopped onto the bed and sighed, staring at the ceiling. Stuck in your own thoughts you suddenly remembered that you told Ryan that banana nut muffins were your favorite muffin. A weird sinking feeling overcame you and you suddenly felt like you were being watched. You quickly shook the feeling off.

“I’m in my own head, I’m just paranoid.” You said out loud trying to convince yourself, needing to hear it to believe it.

“Perks of being a hunter I guess.” You sighed and grabbed your stuff to take a shower. You needed to get ready for the day especially because you were already running behind and your brothers were already out without you. You showered and got dressed. As you walked out of the bathroom, the motel door opened and your brothers walked in.

“Hey kiddo, Sam has your muffin.” Dean said.

“A banana nut muffin!?” You asked, excitingly.

“Yeah, that one.” Dean said and pretended to gag. He threw his bag down on the floor as Sam walked in behind him.

“Where’s the other muffin?” Sam asked as he handed you the bakery bag.

“Yum thank you!” You grinned and then pointed to the table where the other muffin was. You bit into your muffin as Sam walked over to where the other one was. He picked it up and looked inside the bag.

“Looks like a normal muffin.” Sam shrugged, looking towards Dean.

“Does that mean I can have that one later?” You asked with a mouth full of your muffin.

“No.” Both of your brothers responded at the same time.

“Okay fair enough.” You mumbled, swallowing your bite.

“You know what’s weird?” You asked, still trying to piece everything together.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I told Ryan that banana nut muffins were my favorite.” You trailed off, waiting for your brothers to dismiss your paranoia.

“Really? Huh.” Sam replied, processing the coincidence.

“Yeah, but it couldn’t have been him right? I’m just being paranoid.” You chuckled nervously, glancing towards your brothers in hopes of seeing a slight humor on their face, but you were met with looks of concern instead. When Dean noticed your face drop, he spoke up.

“Yeah kiddo, just a weird coincidence.” He said and sent you a quick smile. He didn’t want you to worry.

“Yeah okay that’s what I thought.” You said softly and sat down at the table to finish your muffin. As soon as you turned away, your brothers glanced at each other with concern, knowing that they stumbled into Ryan, in the town, earlier that morning. Sam walked over to the mystery muffin and immediately chucked it into the trash.

Weird things continued to show up at the motel door like flowers and little items. Each time there was never anyone around. Your brothers started to get concerned and you began to grow even more paranoid. The three of you had figured once the hunt was over and you were out of dodge, the weird things would stop happening. So the morning you were leaving town, you packed the car up with relief. You had about a 12 hour road trip ahead and you were going to stop halfway through and find a motel to stay at. You settled into the Impala for the long drive ahead, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was still watching.

“Let’s find a bar tonight.” You said, trying to push the unease aside.

“Fine by me, I’ve gotta look forward to something at the end of this drive.” Dean smirked. After hours on the road, the three of you finally made it to a small, quiet town. You grabbed some food, checked into a dingy motel, and after making sure everything was settled for the night, the idea of unwinding with a drink at the local bar felt like a godsend.

“Finally.” You grinned as the bartender handed out the round of shots. You threw it back and asked for a drink before Sam and Dean even grabbed theirs. Your drink was placed down at the same time the sound of yelling and shuffling caught your attention. You turned toward the bar, eyes narrowing in amusement at the chaos. The sudden noise was enough to draw everyone's focus away from their drinks, and you were no exception. The fight only lasted a couple of seconds, but it was just enough time for someone to slip something into your drink when you weren’t looking.

“Well that was good entertainment.” Dean said before standing up.

“I’m going to go find some more.” He smirked and walked away from the bar. You were still riding the buzz from the shots you’d downed, so you decided to let your drink sit for a little longer as you continued chatting with Sam.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right back.” Sam said, standing up. You nodded, watching him head off in the direction of the restroom. Left alone, you absently picked up your drink and took a big sip. You sat there, thinking mindlessly as you waited for Sam to come back, taking another sip of your drink. But as you put the glass down, a strange sensation started to come over you. Just as the unease settled in, Sam walked back to the table. You shook your head to clear it, but it only made things worse. The room started to spin. You grabbed onto Sam’s sleeve, your fingers tingling with a strange sensation.

“Sammy,” you whispered, your voice thicker than usual, a chill creeping up your spine. “I don’t feel good…”

Sam turned, his brow furrowing at the sight of you. The instinct to protect kicked in almost immediately, his eyes scanning your face for signs of distress. He took a step closer, gently pulling you into his arms to steady you.

"What’s wrong?" Sam asked, concern tightening his features as he steadied you. His eyes searched yours.

“I feel… funny.” You mumbled, your voice unrecognizable to your own ears. You couldn’t quite place what was happening, but everything about you felt wrong. Weak. Disoriented. Your vision blurred as you swayed slightly in his arms.

“Shh, take it easy,” Sam said, his grip tightening.

“What did you drink?” He asked, concerned.

"I-I don’t know.” You stammered, struggling to make sense of the haze in your head. The words wouldn’t come. The panic began to build in your chest.

"Sammy… what’s happening to me?” You whimpered. “I feel like I’m gonna die.” You whispered, unsure of what could possibly be happening to you.

Suddenly, Sam’s eyes went wide with realization.

“Okay, alright.” He muttered trying to keep the situation calm and under control.

“You’ve been roofied.” He said. He knew exactly what that meant and it terrified him.

“Somethings wrong. I’m scared.” You whimpered as you clutched onto his sleeves tighter.

"Listen to me.” Sam said, his voice low and steady, trying to keep you calm. "It’s the drugs. Someone slipped something in your drink, but I’ve got you, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you." He kept repeating the words, though his heart was hammering in his chest. He could already feel the overwhelming need to protect you—his baby sister against a predator. He wasn’t going to let anything bad happen. But you were already shaking with fear, your body trembling as you tried to push away from him weakly.

"I don’t…want anyone to touch me…" Your voice was strained, barely above a whisper. Your hands trying to push the danger away.

“Y/N/N, no one’s going to touch you.” Sam said urgently, his hands gripping your shoulders tighter, pulling you close as you fought weakly against him.

“I’ve got you, okay? I’m right here. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.” He reassured softly, urgently scanning the bar for Dean.

From across the room, Dean had noticed the change in your demeanor. He saw the way your body was trembling, the panic written across your face, and his gut twisted in response. He locked eyes with Sam and without hesitation, he was on his feet, moving toward you, his protective instincts kicking in.

“Y/N,” Dean said, his voice hard, but filled with concern as he approached.

“Kid, what’s going on?” He asked, glancing towards Sam.

“Someone drugged her.” Sam said, his jaw tight.

You looked at Dean, wide eyed and tearful.

“De…” You choked, your voice breaking.

“I’m scared… I- I don’t know what’s happening to me.” You barely recognized your own words, too foggy to make sense of them. You felt like your body was betraying you.

“I feel like I’m gonna die.” You whispered once again, your voice breaking.

“Y/N, no,” Sam said firmly, holding you close, his own heart pounding.

“You’re not gonna die. You’re just- it’s the drugs. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.” He reassured.

You were still confused and panicked, clinging to Sam’s arm weakly.

“I-I’m scared. What if something happens to me?” You whimpered.

Dean’s jaw clenched in disgust.

“No one’s gonna hurt you. I promise. We’ve got you.” Dean said before he wrapped his arm around the other side of you.

“We’re getting you out of here, kiddo.” He said, his voice soft but firm.

“Don’t let anyone—please no—don’t let—please.” You begged, words slipping out of your mouth in a garbled mess, but your brothers understood. They always did.

“No one’s gonna touch you, okay?” Dean’s voice was low, fighting off the rage inside him. “You’re safe now, and we’re gonna make damn sure you stay that way.”

"But… I… feel weird, De…" You whimpered, your voice barely coherent.

“Mm gonna… pass out, and mm scared…” Your words faltered, slipping off into nothingness. The fear in your voice hit Dean like a punch to the gut.

"If you pass out, you’ll still be safe, okay? We’re not going anywhere. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. We won’t let it." Sam said.

Dean nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He couldn’t stand seeing you like this, vulnerable and frightened. The thought of someone doing this to you made him sick.

“Just stay with us, kid. We’re with you, I promise.” He said as they gently guided you out of the bar, keeping you steady between them. You swayed, your legs unsteady, your body trembling as the drug continued to course through you, but they held you firm. They helped you into the Impala, keeping you between them as they kept you talking. Each word you spoke was slurred, and you kept shivering, your body fighting the effects of the drug.

“Just stay with us.” Sam kept saying, holding you steady, his hand brushing against your arm to comfort you. Dean’s jaw clenched as he stared ahead, fighting the urge to get back to the bar and deal with whoever had done this to you.

When you arrived at the motel, they helped you inside. You leaned against Sam, feeling weak, dizzy, and sick.

“I need to… I feel sick…” You mumbled.

Dean’s face darkened as he helped Sam help you into the bathroom, keeping his hands gentle on your shoulders.

“Yeah, you’ve gotta throw up, kid.” He said, his voice low. “We need to get the drugs out of your system.”

You could barely understand him, your body shaking so badly that you could hardly hold yourself up. You tried to push yourself upright, but your limbs felt so heavy. Dean's eyes softened, but there was no way around it. He placed his hand gently on the back of your neck and spoke calmly but firmly.

“Y/N, listen to me. You’ve got to throw up, alright? It’ll help. We’ll get you through this. You just need to trust me.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you whimpered, and as you went to protest, Dean’s fingers gently moved down your throat, making you gag. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, but Dean was right there, speaking in a low, steady voice. “You’re okay. Let it out kid. It’s okay.”

It felt like an eternity. Your body spasmed as you fought against the sickness and the overwhelming sensation of helplessness. But eventually, it passed, and you slumped against Sam, your body drained. Sam wiped your hair from your face, his expression soft.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, weak and exhausted. “I don’t know what’s happening…I-I don’t know.” You said still confused and everything being a blur. Sam’s arms tightened around you, his touch gentle but firm. He pressed his cheek to your hair, his voice soft and soothing.

“Y/N, hey, no. Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re not supposed to understand this, okay? None of this is your fault.” His hands ran through your hair in slow, comforting motions, as if trying to erase the fear from your mind. Dean, kneeled beside you, his face full of worry and love. He took a deep breath and reached for your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. His voice was low and tender, but firm with the promise of protection.

“You didn’t ask for any of this, Y/N. Someone was going to hurt you, they targeted you, but this isn’t on you. It’s not your fault.” He gently squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“We’re here, okay? We’ve got you. Always.” He promised. You felt the weight of their words settle into your chest, and though the fear still lingered, it was softened by their presence. You fell asleep shortly after, too exhausted to stay awake. Neither Sam nor Dean could rest. They took turns watching over you through the night, checking to make sure you were breathing, making sure you were safe. Both of them were sickened by what had happened, angry at whoever had done this to you, but all they could do now was protect you.

The next morning, you woke in a cold sweat, your heart racing, panic clawing at your chest. You couldn’t remember everything, the events from the night before felt distant and fragmented. “What happened?” You gasped, sitting up suddenly.

“What happened to me? Why can’t I remember?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a brief look before Sam moved toward you, his hand gentle on your arm.

“You were roofied, Y/N, but you’re okay. No one touched you. No one hurt you.” He promised. But you didn’t believe it. The anxiety grew and your breaths became shallow.

“I… I don’t remember. What if… what if something happened that I can’t remember? I… I… feel like… what if…” You couldn’t make out the words due to your panic. Dean’s jaw clenched. He hated seeing you like this, vulnerable and terrified.

“Nothing happened, kid. You were with us the whole time. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe. But listen to me—if you feel like you need to talk about it, we’re here.” Your anxiety was rising by the second. You clung to Sam’s arm.

“What if it was Ryan…” You whimpered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Now suddenly terrified of the man. “He could be stalking me… I know he’s the one who was leaving things at the motel door…” You panicked.

“We’ll take care of it, Y/N.” Sam said firmly, not believing it was Ryan, but not having the heart to tell you that there were predators everywhere who lurked in the darkness. Dean noticed the fear still haunting your eyes and your body still trembling.

“But you don’t have to worry. You’re safe. And we won’t let anything happen to you.” Dean nodded, his gaze darkening with something that was close to rage.

“You’re safe, kiddo.” He said, his voice tight with barely contained anger. “We’ll handle it. Just breathe for me, okay? We’ve got this.”

Your chest was still tight with fear, the anxiety overwhelming. You could feel your panic subsiding a little with the strength of their words, but your mind wouldn’t quiet. The thought of Ryan, the unsettling presence of him lingering at your door, kept gnawing at you.

"But... if it’s him, Dean..." Your voice cracked as you spoke, barely above a whisper. "What if he hurts me?"

Dean looked at you, his face softening. He gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a way that was meant to comfort, to ground you.

"I don’t think it was him, kid. But if it is… we’ll deal with it. We’ll make sure he never gets close to you again. That’s a promise.” He said before Sam spoke up. Sam’s voice was steady, filled with the kind of quiet certainty that only a brother could give.

“We’re not letting anything happen to you. It doesn’t matter who it is. No one is going to hurt you, Y/N.”

You wanted to believe them, needed to. And with every word, every gentle reassurance, you felt the weight in your chest slowly lifting. You were still terrified, still shaken to your core, but in this moment—surrounded by them, wrapped in their unwavering protection—you felt just a little bit safer.

They were right. They would take care of it. They always did. Even when the fear in your heart screamed that something was wrong, you knew, deep down, that as long as they were there, they wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.

A few hours later, you were in the motel room, packing up your things while your brothers were busy outside, loading the car. Your phone buzzed and you glanced down at it, your breath catching in your throat when you saw the message. The words sent a chill down your spine:

“I almost had you.”

It was like the air sucked out of the room, and you couldn’t breathe. Your entire body froze for a second, the words echoing in your mind, over and over, until you couldn’t stop shaking. Just then another buzz rang through.

“I’m closer than you think.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and each breath you took was getting shorter, faster, and harder to take. Your vision blurred, your hands trembling so violently that the phone slipped from your grasp and clattered to the floor. The fear of him, of Ryan, washed over you like a flood, paralyzing you in place.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it only got worse. You were suffocating. You could barely think. All you could feel was the terror, the sense of helplessness that seemed to be creeping in around you again. You barely registered the sound of the door opening, but when your brothers entered the room and saw you frozen, staring at the phone on the floor, their faces instantly went from casual to concerned.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice was low, his gaze flicking between you and the phone, noting your pale face and the panic in your eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even breathe properly. Your chest felt like it was caving in, and you choked on a sob. Your body was trembling, your legs unsteady beneath you. Your breath came in sharp, gasping sobs, like you couldn’t get enough air.

Dean’s gaze flicked to Sam, and both of them took a cautious step toward you. Sam’s voice was gentle, but filled with concern. “Y/N, look at me. Talk to us. What’s going on?” Sam’s hand was on your back, trying to ground you, but it wasn’t enough. The flood of emotion, the terror, it was all too much. You couldn’t control it.

“Y/N, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Sam said, his voice gentle but filled with urgency as he tried to soothe you. “Breathe for me, okay? Just breathe. You’re safe. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t stop. The sobs racked through you, violent and desperate. You couldn’t make sense of your words—nothing came out but frantic gasps and incoherent sobs. You stumbled backward, clinging to the edge of the bed, trying to stay upright. Your brain felt foggy, the panic overtaking every inch of your mind.

“M-my phone…” You managed to gasp, but the words barely made sense.

Dean stepped forward, kneeling down to pick up your phone from the floor. His hands were steady, but his jaw clenched tight as he saw the message that had sent you into this panic. He read it aloud, his voice cold with fury.

“I almost had you. I’m closer than you think?”

His jaw tightened, and you could see the fury building in him. “Who the hell…” He muttered under his breath, his voice low and full of anger, but there was also concern—so much concern—written in his features. His eyes darkened. “Goddamn it.” He said, coming to conclusion that you were right all along and it was Ryan.

Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion, his voice soothing, but cautious. “Dean, hold on, okay? It could be a wrong number. Maybe it’s just some sick joke. We don’t know for sure that it’s him.”

“Y/N,” Sam said quickly, now speaking directly to you. “It’s okay. Maybe it’s just a wrong number, alright?” But even as he said it, you could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He wanted to calm you, to make it go away, but the fear was already too deep. The message was too much.

Dean’s grip tightened on the phone, his face a mask of frustration and anger.

“I don’t care if it’s a wrong number, Sam. If someone’s messing with her—” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing as if trying to hold back the urge to act before having all the facts. You were shaking uncontrollably now, clinging to Sam as if he were the only thing that kept you from floating away into the panic that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Please… please… make it stop,” you sobbed, unable to stop the torrent of tears. “I can’t… I- I’m so scared…”

Sam wrapped both arms around you, pulling you in close, his voice steady but filled with desperation. “Y/N, we’re here. You’re safe. We’ll figure this out. We’ll take care of it, alright? No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna get close to you. We won’t let it happen.”

But you couldn’t stop the trembling, couldn’t stop the feeling that something terrible was waiting just around the corner. It didn’t matter that Sam was trying to calm you, or that Dean was ready to fight whoever had done this.

The fear was too deep and all you could do was cling to them as if your life depended on it—because, in that moment, it felt like it did.

You buried your face in Sam’s chest, letting the warmth of his arms envelop you, trying to believe that, somehow, you were safe. But the message kept ringing in your ears. "I almost had you. I’m closer than you think." It was like a shadow over you, and no matter how tightly they held you, you couldn’t shake it.

The ride back to the bunker was quiet. It had been a long, exhausting stretch of events, and the idea of getting home, even just to the safety of the familiar bunker, felt like a weight slowly lifting off your shoulders. But you couldn’t shake the tension you’d been carrying because of Ryan.

As you drove through the night, the road stretched on endlessly, the headlights of the Impala cutting through the dark, providing little comfort. A sudden pang hit your bladder, and you couldn’t ignore it any longer. You shifted in your seat, glancing at Dean.

“Hey, can we stop at the next rest stop? I really need to use the bathroom.” You asked, softly, still completely exhausted from your emotional turmoil.

Dean glanced at Sam, who nodded.

“Alright. There’s one coming up,” Dean said, pulling the car off the highway. “We’ll fill up on gas, you can go to the bathroom, stretch your legs, grab a snack if you need one and then we’re back on the road.” Dean’s protective streak had kicked in full force lately, especially after everything that had happened. He kept an eye on you constantly, like he was waiting for the next thing to happen, and part of you hated that, but you knew it was because he cared. Sam was always quietly watching, constantly reassessing how you were doing. You’d caught Sam looking at you more than once with that deep concern in his eyes, the same look he had when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Stay close, Y/N.” Dean said as you opened the door, his voice filled with a controlled kind of concern. “We’ll be right here. Just keep your guard up.”

“I’ll be fine.” You replied, attempting to sound convincing, but even as the words left your mouth, you knew it was a lie. You weren’t fine. Not really. But it was better than constantly showing how frazzled you felt. You were a hunter for God sake, you knew how to fight monsters. But Ryan felt worse than a monster, the way he had the ability to make you freeze was what freaked you out the most.

Dean pulled the car up to the gas pump, and Sam went inside, to pay for the fuel and grab a snack. You walked towards the restroom trying to ignore the way the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. The echo of your footsteps in the empty rest stop made your skin crawl. You told yourself it was just nerves. That you were being paranoid.

The bathroom was dark, lit only by the flickering fluorescent lights above, and it reeked of stale air and cheap soap. You walked quickly to the nearest stall, locking the door behind you. The last thing you wanted was to spend any more time in this place than necessary.

You exhaled sharply as you sat down to go to the bathroom, mentally trying to push away the unease that had settled in your chest. Everything’s fine, you told yourself. Just breathe. You’re fine.

But then it happened.

There was a soft click—barely audible, but enough to send your heart racing in your chest. You froze. The door to the bathroom had swung open—slowly and eerily.

A pool ball rolled into the stall with a dull clack against the floor, stopping just inches from your feet.

You couldn’t breathe. Your entire body went cold, and your heart slammed into your ribs. It was happening again. Ryan. You knew it in your gut—he’s here.

A panic that you could not control hit you like a freight train. Your mind screamed at you, but your body was already in fight or flight mode. Your hands shook violently as you tried to make yourself as small as possible, jumping up onto the toilet to hide your feet, praying to God that if he was here, he couldn’t see you. You scrambled for your phone, barely able to hold it steady. Your fingers were shaking so badly, it felt like you were losing control of them. You quickly typed a message, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears it was all you could hear.

Ryan's here. Please help. Please.

You hit send as quickly as your shaking hands would allow. You couldn’t risk making a sound, couldn’t risk him hearing you. Then the phone buzzed in your hand, and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

It was Dean.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you picked up the phone, holding it to your ear, barely able to speak through the tears welling in your eyes.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice came through, a steady presence despite the panic you could hear just beneath the surface. “Y/N, what’s going on? Talk to me. Where are you?”

“I… I… I’m in the bathroom,” you whispered, barely able to hold it together. “I—I think it’s Ryan. I’m hiding, Dean. I’m so scared. Please—please hurry.” In the midst of your panic, you didn't even realize you had grabbed the knife from your pocket—hunter instincts. You clutched the knife with a trembling hand as you listened to Dean.

“Okay, listen to me,” Dean’s voice was like a lifeline, and you clung to it, even as your panic threatened to swallow you whole. “We’re right here. We’re coming to you, alright? Just stay calm. Stay quiet.” A few seconds went by when you heard the click of the door again. You froze in place and you didn’t hear the voices at first. The knife was still in your hand, your breath coming out in ragged sobs. You were still convinced it was Ryan on the other side of that door. It was only when Sam’s voice broke through the fog of panic, softer but steady, that you recognized it was your brothers.

“Y/N,” Sam called, and his voice cracked just enough for you to hear how scared he was. “Y/N, it’s Sam. Unlock the door. It’s just us, okay? It’s just us. You’re safe now.” Your knuckles were turning white as you gripped the knife. You looked underneath the stall door to see the run down shoes Sam always had on. But you were still terrified. You could hear every heartbeat in your ears, every breath coming faster and more shallow than the last. Your fingers curled even tighter around the knife’s handle, the metal pressing into your palm.

Dean’s voice was next, firmer, more insistent.

“Open the stall, sweetheart. Let us in. You’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

But the fear had a grip on you now, and you couldn’t let go. You squeezed your eyes shut hoping to escape reality when you heard rustling.

It was Sam, he had crawled underneath the stall. Then, suddenly, you felt something solid against your wrist. His hands were gentle but firm, prying your fingers away from the knife you had clutched, but you weren’t willing to let go. Not yet.

"No, Sam, no…" You gasped, your breath coming in ragged bursts as your free hand shot out, trying to stop him from taking the knife. “Don’t. He’s here. I have to protect myself. He’s—he’s—” You tried to fight against him, but he held you firm as he quickly unlatched the lock on the stall with his other hand to let Dean through.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Dean interrupted, and you heard him moving closer. The panic in his voice made you flinch, but you couldn’t stop yourself. "You don’t need the knife, kid. We’ll keep you safe." But you were shaking too hard, unable to think clearly. You tried to pull away from Sam, but he was right there, keeping you grounded. His voice was low, soothing.

“Y/N, let it go. You don’t need it. We’ve got you, okay? We’ll keep you safe. Just give it to me.” The next moment, you felt a gentle touch on your arm, and Dean’s voice softened, coaxing you.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. Just... give us the knife.”

The words barely registered through the fog of fear, and you kept pulling your hand back, subconsciously trying to protect yourself with the knife. But Sam wouldn’t let go, gently but insistently removing your grip from the blade.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Sam murmured, his voice softer now, tinged with sadness. And then, slowly, you let go. Your hand, trembling uncontrollably, released its death grip on the knife, and Sam was there, gently pulling it from your grasp.

“There we go,” Dean said, his voice calm and soothing. Your body wracked with sobs, chest heaving as the tears poured down your face. You couldn’t stop.

“You’re alright, kid. We’ve got you.” Dean comforted you as Sam took care of the knife. Once Sam had it in a safe place, Dean ushered you both out of the stall, with urgency.

“Alright we’ve gotta get out of here.” He said on high alert. Dean had his hand guiding you toward the exit, every step purposeful, every motion an instinctual reaction to the threat that could be around the corner. He wasn’t just worried about Ryan or the fear you felt—he was scanning the area, his eyes darting from one corner of the rest stop to the next, his senses on full alert. He knew that, in situations like this, even the smallest thing could be a warning sign. Once you were safely out of the bathroom and outside of the rest stop, Dean’s pace didn’t slow. He didn’t give you the chance to second guess yourself, to freeze in place. He kept you moving.

“We’re almost to the car. Just stay with me.” He muttered, his voice low but firm, like a quiet command. Sam kept close behind you, watching your every move, staying attuned to the way your body shuddered with each passing moment.

Once you were all in the car, Dean started the engine quickly, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, but he kept his gaze focused, even as his voice softened.

“We’re gonna get get to the bunker and you’ll be safe there.” Dean calmed you. Sam leaned over the seat, his fingers brushing against your hand in a silent reassurance, his soft voice murmuring comforting words, “We’ve got you. You’re gonna be alright. We’re not going anywhere.”

And despite everything, despite the gnawing fear that still clawed at you, you found yourself believing them. Slowly, your heart rate began to settle, your breath no longer caught in your chest.

Dean shot a glance at you through the rearview mirror. His jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed in frustration—but when he saw the slight relaxation in your shoulders, the way your breathing steadied, he allowed himself to exhale.

“We’re alright, kiddo. We’ve got you. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

The Bunker had become your refuge. It was a safe place, a fortress—something that should have calmed you down. But every creak of the old walls, every gust of wind that rattled the windows, seemed to set off something inside you. You had days where you could function normally, where your mind didn’t constantly spiral into panic, but those moments were always fragile. The shadow of Ryan still loomed in your thoughts, and even though you were surrounded by your brothers, even though they were always there to watch your back, you couldn’t shake the fear that always seemed to cling to your skin.

Dean and Sam kept an eye on you, and they were more than just watchful. They were hyper aware of your anxious tics—your fingers twitching when you were nervous, the way you’d tap your foot repeatedly if you were on edge, the way your breathing would hitch in the moments before a panic attack. They knew you better than anyone, better than you even knew yourself.

You sat in the corner of the bunker’s kitchen, knees pulled to your chest, your hands tightly gripping the edge of the table. The world outside the safe walls of the bunker felt like a distant memory. Your breath came in shallow, panicked bursts, as your mind spiraled back to the last few weeks—the constant fear, the paranoia, the ever present sense of being watched.

You fought monsters. You faced things most people would only see in their worst nightmares. Hell, you had fought some of the most vicious, bloodthirsty creatures on Earth. But none of that compared to what Ryan had done to you. Nothing had ever made you freeze in place, completely shut down, like the thought of him did.

Monsters you could handle. But Ryan... he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t something you could fight with a knife or a gun. He was human. And that made him so much scarier.

The weight of that thought pressed down on you like a physical force, crushing you. Why did this scare you more than anything else? You felt weak. Stupid. You should be able to handle this. You should be stronger than this.

But you couldn’t. And it made you feel small.

Dean and Sam came into the kitchen, both looking at you with concern.

“I feel so stupid and so weak. I can fight monsters, but a simple human makes me shut down?” You scoffed getting right to the point now looking at them with tears glistening in your eyes. Sam stopped in front of you, crouching down to your level, his voice soft but firm.

"Y/N," he said gently, “you’re not weak. You’ve faced things that would make most people curl up into a ball. But this... it’s different. And we understand why it’s affecting you the way it is.” He finished.

Dean’s voice was low, full of raw emotion. “He’s not a monster, kid. That’s what makes him so dangerous. He’s messing with your head. He’s going after you in a way that’s—” Dean swallowed hard, his jaw tightening in anger. “—in a way that’s different. In a way that’s... about your vulnerability.”

Your breath caught, and you fought back the sting of tears threatening to spill over. “I don’t want to be scared,” you whispered. “I fought monsters... but a human makes me freeze.” You said again, getting the point across to your brothers that you know you shouldn’t be scared of Ryan.

Sam’s hand landed on your shoulder, his touch warm and steady. “Sometimes, Y/N, humans are more dangerous than anything. He’s going after you in a way that... you can’t just fight off. This is about control. And what he’s trying to do to you—it’s more terrifying than anything we’ve faced.”

Dean nodded, his eyes dark with anger. "Yeah, he’s not after your life, Y/N. He’s after something much worse. He’s using you, manipulating you. And the way he’s targeting you sexually... it’s a violation."

Your whole body trembled, the thought of it too much to bear. The idea of being controlled, of being violated in that way, was suffocating. It made your chest tighten, your body go cold with fear.

"You don’t deserve this," Sam murmured, his voice full of emotion. "You have every right to be petrified. What he’s doing to you isn��t just terrifying—it’s sick." He let out a slow breath. "He’s not just playing mind games. He’s hurting you in ways that can’t be fixed with a fight."

Dean’s gaze softened, his usual tough demeanor fading. "You’ve been through hell, Y/N. And sometimes, human evil? That’s the hardest kind of monster to face. You have every right to be scared. But we’re going to find a way through this."

The words hit you like a wave, washing away some of the shame you had felt. They understood. This wasn’t just some fight or some hunt. This was different. And it wasn’t your fault.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dean pulled you into a tight hug, his arms a wall of comfort around you. "You don’t have to thank us, kid. We’ve got you. Always."

Sam and Dean’s research had been relentless, and Dean. They were both determined to uncover any trace of Ryan’s past, to figure out whether he was truly a threat.

One night, while you tried to distract yourself with a book in the common room, Sam was hunched over his laptop, furiously typing. You had been trying to ignore the constant buzzing of his keyboard and the click of the mouse as he worked, but you couldn’t help glancing over.

"Anything new?" You asked, exhausted.

Sam didn’t look up, his eyes glued to the screen. "I’m digging through old records, old forums. He’s a ghost in the system, but there’s gotta be something."

A few minutes passed in silence. Then, Dean walked in, looking unusually serious. He was holding a set of files—notes, printed-out reports. He had been working his own angle, checking in with contacts and old hunters to see if anyone knew anything about Ryan.

“Anything on your end?” You asked quietly, anxiety creeping up your spine.

Dean threw the files on the table and gave you a grim look. “Nothing solid, but something doesn’t sit right. We’ve got a lot of leads on the guy—no criminal records, but that’s what makes it weird. People like Ryan? They don’t just disappear off the grid.”

You tried to force yourself to focus on his words, but the weight of everything you’d been through—the fear, the constant torment—was starting to take its toll. You rubbed your eyes, trying to stay strong. Sam noticed, and without missing a beat, he turned his attention back to his laptop, his voice gentle.

"Don't worry, Y/N. We’re getting closer. We’ll find him. We’ll take care of it." Sam’s reassurance had a weight to it. He wasn’t just trying to make you feel better, he was as focused as a bloodhound on the trail.

Dean nodded in agreement. "We’re going to find him and he’ll never bother you again."

Days passed, and though the investigation continued, the pressure of constant vigilance weighed heavily on you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was always watching, lurking just out of sight. Your nerves were frayed. Little things would trigger it—a knock on the door, a creak in the hallway, the sudden drop in the temperature of the Bunker’s stone walls.

You were in the kitchen, trying to get a glass of water. You’d been feeling restless for hours, but it wasn’t until you heard a soft sound—footsteps, faint but clear—that your heart slammed into your throat. You froze.

Someone’s in the bunker.

You swallowed hard, panic setting in instantly. Every part of your body screamed to run, to hide, to grab a weapon, but you were rooted to the spot.

You grabbed the closest thing to you—a heavy cast-iron skillet—and crept toward the hallway. Your breath was ragged, your heart beating so loud it drowned out everything else. Then, out of nowhere, you heard the familiar sound of a door creaking open.

It’s him. It’s Ryan.

Your mind went into overdrive. Without thinking, you darted around the corner, prepared to defend yourself, only to slam right into Dean.

"Y/N—what the hell are you doing?" Dean exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern.

You stared up at him, breathless, your hands still gripping the skillet. “I… I…thought that…”

Dean immediately caught on and with sad eyes, he took you into his arms.

“Alright I know. It’s okay.” He said, guiding you back into the kitchen with a firm hand. “You’re safe. I’ve been here the whole time. It’s just the bunker creaking.” He spoke softly, but his words barely registered. You were still on edge, your chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.

"Dean, I—" you choked out, shaking with fear. "I thought—"

He didn’t let you finish. He pulled you in closer. "I know. I know," He murmured, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

Sam appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“She thought she heard someone in the bunker,” Dean explained quickly, his voice still low and calm. “It’s okay, though. Everything’s fine.”

Sam nodded, his brow furrowed in concern. “Y/N, it’s okay. We’re right here with you. We’ve got you. You’re not alone in this.”

You nodded, finally letting yourself lean into Dean’s arms, your heart slowly starting to settle. The relief was fleeting, but it was enough to know you weren’t alone in this fight. You could breathe again, for now.

________

It had been a long next day of research and hunting. Sam and Dean had spent hours digging through files, trying to track down leads on Ryan. But after everything that had happened—after all the terror, the paranoia, the constant fear that hung in the air like a thick fog—they were both exhausted. The night had fallen over the bunker like a heavy blanket, and the silence was deafening.

But it wasn’t just the hunt that weighed on them. It was you.

Dean stood by the kitchen counter, staring down at his half-drunk coffee mug. He wasn’t drinking it. He hadn’t even taken a sip since he sat down.

“You saw her last night?” Dean’s voice was low, like he was afraid someone else would hear him. Sam, who had been pacing the floor, stopped for a second and turned to face him.

“Yeah. I saw it.” Sam’s voice was equally strained, and he wiped a hand over his face, as if trying to rub away the exhaustion.

“You think she’s okay?” Dean asked, his voice tight, filled with an edge that Sam wasn’t used to hearing.

Sam took a slow breath, letting the words settle for a moment before answering. He didn’t know how to say it without sounding weak. “No. No, I don’t. She’s… she’s scared, Dean. But it’s worse than that.” Sam’s brow furrowed as he moved closer, lowering his voice further. “It’s like she’s been breaking down more and more each day.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. He’d seen it too. He’d watched you freeze up, flinch at the slightest noise, and jump at shadows. He’d seen how her hands trembled when she was alone, how her eyes darted around like she was constantly expecting something—anything—to happen. It terrified him.

But what had happened in the middle of that night, had made his heart sink to his stomach.

He’d dodged the pan just in time, but it had been close. Too close.

And that was when it really hit him. You were spiraling.

Sam’s voice broke the silence. “She almost hurt you last night, Dean. She thought it was Ryan.” His words hung in the air, heavy and thick. “That’s not just paranoia anymore. She’s lost it.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the table. “I don’t know what to do, Sammy. She—she’s so scared of him. And every day it’s getting worse. But I don’t know how to fix this. Every time I try to reach her, it’s like she’s just… slipping away.”

Sam’s face softened, his eyes tired but filled with understanding. “You’ve seen her, Dean. She’s not herself anymore. I’ve never seen her this… broken. I think she’s just trying to survive right now. Trying to make it through the next hour, the next minute. But it’s eating her alive. And it’s getting worse.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, frustration and fear boiling beneath his tough exterior. He’d been the strong one his whole life, the one who protected everyone. But this? This was different. You weren’t just scared anymore. You were broken, and it killed him to see you like this.

“I just—I don’t know what to do, Sammy. I don’t know how to fix this.” Dean’s voice cracked slightly, betraying the deep pain he felt. “I’ve fought monsters, I’ve fought angels and demons, and nothing—nothing ever felt like this. This is different. This is personal.”

Sam’s expression softened even further. “She’s been through hell, Dean. Ryan’s a monster, and you know it. But what he’s doing to her... that’s worse than anything we’ve faced. He’s attacking her mind, her sense of control, her safety. He’s getting inside her head, and she doesn’t know how to fight back against that.”

Dean nodded, the tightness in his chest only growing. He knew all of that. He knew it. But hearing it out loud—hearing how bad it had gotten—just made him feel more helpless. His eyes met Sam’s, and for a moment, the weight of it all hung between them.

“She’s scared of herself now, Sammy,” Dean said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “She doesn’t know who she is anymore. And I—I—I can’t let her keep slipping like this.”

Sam stepped closer, resting a hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “We can’t fix it overnight. But we’ll be here for her. We’ll help her through it. And if we need to hunt Ryan down and make sure he never hurts her again, we’ll do that too. Hell, we’re trying to do that. But right now, we just need to be there. For her. For us.”

Dean sighed heavily, a hollow sound that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. “I know. But damn, Sam... I just— I never thought I’d see her like this. She’s just… so scared.”

“I know,” Sam replied.

Dean took a slow breath, his fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t know how they were going to get through this, how they were going to help you heal, but they had to. For you. Because no one—not Ryan, not any monster—was going to take you away from them. Not without a fight.

The fight had come sooner than expected and not in the way they wanted—so not in the way they wanted

———

That night, you woke up with the feeling that something was wrong—something was off. Your skin prickled. Your body stiffened, like it always did when you knew you weren’t alone, but you hadn’t heard anything. No footsteps. No creaking door.

You froze.

The next thing you knew, a figure was hovering over your bed, looming in the dark. Ryan.

His face was twisted with that sick grin, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You couldn't breathe. Your heart hammered in your chest.

His hands reached for you, and instinct took over. Panic. Pure, unfiltered panic surged through you.

“NO!” you screamed, your voice cracking with raw terror. The scream was torn from your throat before you could even think, before you could react, and you scrambled backward, the covers tangled around your legs as you tried to get away.

Ryan reached for you again, and you swiped at his hands, your own trembling in fear. You kicked your legs out, trying to get any distance between you and the nightmare looming over you. But it didn’t matter. He was too close.

A primal fear took over, and in that moment, you didn’t care about anything else but getting away. You couldn’t think, couldn’t make sense of anything. He was going to hurt you. He was going to touch you.

You managed to kick him in the chest, but he didn’t back away. He leaned forward, forcing himself onto the bed, and you fought back with everything you had. But you were weak. You were so weak. It was all you could do to flail helplessly against him.

Then, the door flew open.

Sam was there, standing in the doorway, his face pale with panic as he took in the sight of you struggling on the bed with Ryan. Dean was right behind him, eyes wild, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Dean roared as he charged forward. He didn’t hesitate for a second. With a wild force, he tackled Ryan off the bed, shoving him to the floor with an intensity that rattled the whole room and a force that made Ryan gasp in surprise.

Dean's grip was like iron, his face twisted in a mask of rage that you had only ever seen when someone dared hurt those he loved.

"Did you touch her? Did you touch her, you piece of shit?!" Dean's voice was thick with fury, a low, guttural growl of pure protective rage.

Ryan's eyes widened, his hands scrambling to break free of Dean's grip, but he didn't stand a chance. Dean slammed him into the wall with a thud that sent the room vibrating.

"Did you lay a hand on her?" Dean shouted, his voice cracking with fury. "Did you?" He slammed him against the wall again, fists swinging with devastating precision.

“You a piece of shit! You roofie her too?! Huh?!” He screamed, stopping for a moment and letting the room be still. “Answer me, bitch!” He growled and shoved him harder against the wall. Ryan started chuckling. A chuckle that was so evil, your breath got caught in your throat.

“I almost had you. So close in that bar. You were almost mine.” He confirmed. You, though, stood frozen, shaking violently, your body still trying to comprehend that he was there—that Ryan was there and he was there all along.

Your body felt like it was going to break apart from the inside, each sob ripped from you like it was being torn out of your chest. Your vision blurred with tears as your entire body trembled with fear. Sam rushed to you, holding you close to his chest.

“He’s not going to hurt you, okay? You’re safe. We’ve got you.” Sam’s voice was soft, but strained, as he knelt beside you, trying to ground you, trying to stop you from spiraling. His hands hovered over you, unsure of what to do, but he kept saying it, over and over. “We’ve got you. He’s not going to touch you.”

Dean had Ryan pinned to the floor now, holding him down as he growled, “You fucked with the wrong person.”

Ryan sneered up at him, but Dean didn’t hesitate. He leaned down, his face inches from Ryan’s, his voice low and full of venom, “You’re done.”

But your sobs only grew louder.

Sam, noticing how you were completely falling apart, moved even closer to you, lifting your head up gently and meeting your eyes with his. “Hey. Hey. You’re okay, alright? You’re okay. He’s not going to hurt you. We’re right here.” His voice, though calming, couldn’t seem to reach you. Not through the whirlwind of panic, the choking terror.

You kept gasping, clutching Sam’s shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. “He was going to... he was going to...” Your breath hitched, unable to complete the sentence and then you started to hyperventilate, your lungs unable to keep up.

Sam, visibly desperate, looked over at Dean. “We need to get him out of here. This isn’t helping her.” His voice was tight with emotion as he gently held you, his hands pressing you closer.

Dean’s face twisted in fury as he kept his eyes on Ryan. “We need him gone, completely gone.” Sam confirmed to Dean.

There was a beat of silence, before Dean’s jaw tightened, and he shouted, “CAS!” The desperation was palpable. They needed him. They needed something to stop this nightmare from getting worse. They couldn’t expect him to show up—after all he’s been MIA for the past couple months, but Dean prayed and he prayed hard.

Silence filled the room. It felt like eternity, the weight of it pressing on you, suffocating you. And then, without warning—Cas appeared in a flash of light.

“What is it?” Cas asked, his voice deep and serious. His eyes fell on you instantly, and he didn’t need to ask what was happening.

“We need him gone, Cas.” Dean’s voice was nearly breaking now. He was so close to losing control.

Without a word, Castiel stepped forward, his hand raised. In a flash, Ryan’s entire being seemed to freeze, his eyes glazing over as if everything about him was being wiped away.

For a moment, everything felt eerily still.

And then, Ryan collapsed to the floor, his body limp, his consciousness erased.

“Which timeline do you prefer I send him to?” Cas asked with a low tone.

“The one that’s going to make him suffer the most.” Dean raged. Another flash and Ryan was gone, away from you forever. Castiel turned to Dean, his face unreadable, but the weight of the decision hung heavily in the air.

"He's gone." Castiel said, his voice soft but firm.

"He will never remember anything about himself—let alone her. He will never come back."

Dean's eyes softened as he let go of the breath he'd been holding. "Good.” He said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Good." He stood back as Cas disappeared back into the light. Sam didn’t let go of you though. He stayed close as your body wracked with shudders. Your sobs came in gasps, your chest aching with the effort to release everything inside. You were falling apart, crumbling beneath the weight of what had almost been your reality.

"He was going to... he was going to..." You gasped through your tears, your words barely audible, as though speaking them made the fear real again. Your hands shook as you pressed them against your face, unable to wipe away the tears fast enough. "He was going to touch me. He was going to-"

"No. No, sweetheart," Sam murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "He's not here. He's gone. It's over, okay?" He held you tighter, one hand smoothing through your hair in gentle strokes, but you could feel the panic still surging inside of you, that paralyzing terror. It was a part of you now.

"Did he—did he touch you?” Dean's voice came low, ragged with an edge of panic. His fists were still clenched, his knuckles white from the tension. He couldn’t fully let go of the fury that had surged through him. But he wasn’t just angry at Ryan—he was angry at himself. He was angry because he wasn’t fast enough, because he couldn’t stop it before it almost happened.

You shook your head violently, your body trembling uncontrollably. “No... no, but he... he was going to. He was going to hurt me... I tried to fight him... I tried...” Your voice cracked, and another sob tore through your chest, shaking your body with it. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if doing so would somehow block out the fear.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his eyes scanning you like he was looking for the faintest sign of injury, but all he could see was the deep terror etched on your face. “You fought, kid. You fought him with everything you had,” he said, his voice gruff, though the softness was there too, buried underneath the anger. “You’re safe. You’re safe now.” But it didn’t feel safe. Nothing felt safe.

You clutched at Sam’s shirt, still shaking, still lost in the aftermath of what had almost happened, the sensation of Ryan on top of you, trying to press closer, his hands too damn close. The image wouldn’t leave your mind. You couldn’t make it stop. Your breath hitched in your chest, coming in short, sharp gasps, as if you couldn’t get enough air to fill your lungs.

Sam’s hand continued to stroke your hair, but you couldn’t ground yourself. The panic wasn’t letting go. The terror hadn’t left you, and it was suffocating. Your throat felt tight. Your pulse hammered in your ears.

"I thought he was going to- he was going to touch me, Sam. I couldn’t stop him..." You couldn’t say it without choking on it.

“You stopped him.” Sam whispered, his voice tight with emotion as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “You stopped him. You’re okay.”

But it didn’t feel that way. The room felt like it was closing in, suffocating you. The relief that had swept through your brothers didn’t touch you yet. It didn’t touch the panic that was still eating at you.

Ryan was gone.

Gone.

And yet, your body didn’t stop shaking. You couldn’t find the relief you so desperately craved.

Dean stood in front of you, his hands still twitching as he tried to fight back the overwhelming emotions inside him. “You’re safe now, kiddo,” he said again, his voice a little softer now, but it still held the rawness of everything he’d just been through. “No one’s gonna touch you again. Not him. Not anyone.”

You nodded, but it felt mechanical, like your mind couldn’t catch up to the reality of what was happening. It didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream—or rather, a nightmare. The only thing you were certain of was that the terror was still with you. And when you looked up at Dean, his eyes softened, but the weight of it all was still there, between you.

“We’ve got you, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

You pressed your face into his chest, your sobs quieting, but still present—too raw, too real. “I was so scared,” you choked out, your voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t know if I was going to make it.”

Dean swallowed hard, unable to speak for a moment. His voice was low, barely audible, “I know, kiddo. I know. But you did. You did.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Ryan’s empty space anymore. He was gone, yes—but so was something else: your peace. You didn’t know when it would come back, or if it would ever come back. But for now, at least Ryan couldn’t hurt you anymore.

And you had your brothers. They were here, and they weren’t going anywhere.

It wasn’t over. But you were safe. And you had them. That was enough—for now.

Maybe, just maybe, you could start to heal. Slowly.

This was the first real step towards your peace.

———

It had been a few weeks since everything had happened with Ryan, and things in the bunker were starting to feel normal again—or at least, the new normal. While the shadows of what you had gone through still lingered in small corners of your mind, there was a new, brighter energy in the air. The laughter was coming back, the goofiness, the spark that Dean and Sam had missed.

They could see it. They could feel it.

Dean watched you from across the room one night, a soft, proud smile creeping across his face as you and Sam joked about some ridiculous theory on a case you’d just picked up. Your laughter, unfiltered and full of life, echoed through the halls, and for a moment, he forgot about everything else. He could just hear the sound of you—the real you—being you again. It was a relief, the kind that settled deep into his bones.

You were teasing Sam about how much coffee he was drinking, and Dean could see the way your eyes sparkled as you exchanged insults, the kind of playful back-and-forth that was uniquely you.

He caught Sam's gaze from the corner of the room. Sam, too, was watching you, his face softening as you laughed. The tension in his shoulders had eased since the worst of the storm passed. He could see it, too. The light.

After a while, Dean leaned over to Sam, his voice low enough so you wouldn’t hear.

“You see that?” Dean asked, his voice filled with quiet admiration.

Sam glanced over at you, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Yeah. I do. She’s… coming back. Really coming back.”

Dean nodded, his eyes still fixed on you. “I haven’t seen her like this in a while. Not since before… you know.”

Sam's face softened as he nodded, the shadow of the past still lingering, but less overpowering. “Yeah. I’ve noticed. She’s more her now. It’s like the light inside her is just... brightening again. I mean, hell, just last week, she was practically making fun of my inability to eat my cereal without spilling half of it.”

Dean chuckled at that. “It’s good to see her like that again. I missed it. I missed her.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, eyes still following your movements as you began doing an impromptu dance around the kitchen, spinning a spatula like a baton while pretending to cook. “She’s not just laughing, though. She’s living again,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “I think she’s finally starting to feel safe again.”

Dean’s jaw tightened for a moment, his fists clenching at his sides, but his gaze softened again as he watched you. “She deserves that. She deserves to feel safe.”

Sam nodded, his voice heavy with unspoken thoughts. “We both know how much it’s taken for her to get back here. And it’s hard, man. It’s hard to see her like that. But… seeing her like this? It’s like a breath of fresh air.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, his usual bravado fading for just a moment as he took it in. “I don’t know if we can ever really fix her, Sam. Not completely. But we can help her find herself again. And that's more than I thought we could do.”

Sam smiled, his eyes full of understanding. “You’re right. We’re not gonna fix everything. But we can make sure she knows she’s not alone. We’ll help her pick up the pieces. One step at a time.”

Dean exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, one step at a time.”

Just then, you twirled around, catching their gaze, and flashed them a playful smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. “Am I distracting you guys from your super important brotherly talk?”

Dean couldn’t help but grin, his heart swelling with a strange combination of pride and relief. “Nah. Just admiring my sister’s insane dance moves.”

You raised an eyebrow, and Sam cracked a smile at your dramatic expression. “It’s not every day you get to witness a a crazy person, you know?”

“Oh, please,” you said, flipping your hair. “I’m basically a ballet prodigy in disguise. You should all be so lucky to witness this greatness.”

Sam, fighting back laughter, gestured toward your half-hearted dance. “A true masterpiece. You should really consider putting on a show, huh?”

Dean slapped his hand on the table and made a dramatic gasp. “I’m definitely booking tickets to that show. Front row, too.”

You giggled, the sound of it like music to their ears. “Alright, alright, don’t get too carried away. But you’re welcome for this once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

Dean and Sam both watched you with such quiet affection, their hearts full. It was moments like these that made everything they’d been through worth it. Every sleepless night, every fight, every broken moment.

You were coming back. You were finding your way back to yourself, and that made everything feel a little more right.

Later that night, after you’d gone to bed, Dean and Sam stayed up talking in the kitchen. They didn’t want to admit it, but they both knew something: You were healing.

“She’s not the same, Sam,” Dean murmured, his tone barely above a whisper. “She’s different. Lighter. Stronger.”

Sam nodded, eyes dark but filled with gratitude. “Yeah. She’s her again. And that means everything.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, staring out the kitchen window. “We’ve got a long road ahead, Sam. But I think she’s got it in her. She’s stronger than she thinks. And we’re here. Always.”

Sam smiled softly, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “Yeah. Always.”

And as they sat there in silence, they knew one thing for sure: The worst was behind them. The darkness had passed, and now, they just had to watch as the light you were rediscovering slowly grew brighter.

The road ahead wasn’t going to be easy. But together, with you back to yourself, they could handle anything. Together, they could face the world.

113 notes · View notes

fandom-lover2 · 1 month ago

Text

Wayward Adjacent

What if, when Sam and Dean met Adam, he wasn't the only child of John Winchester they found.

Chapter One - Who Are You

Word Count - 1163

Chapter Two - Why Are You Here

I slipped my key into the lock and twisted, and realized that the door was already unlocked.

Well fuck…

Maybe I could still recover from this. Before I had the chance to pull my key out the door, the front door swung open, and I came face to face with a pissed older brother.

“I dropped you off at school two hours ago.”

I shouldered past Adam and into the house, not bothering with my shoes. I wouldn’t be here long.

“Didn’t watch me go into the building.” I shot back, intent on ignoring him for the journey up to my room.

I stopped however when I unexpectantly found two men in our front room. One was freakishly tall, and had longish hair that ended below his ears. The other was tall, but not as tall and had clean cut hair. Both dressed like they came from a small town romance novel, boots, flannel, leather and Carhartt jackets.

“Who the hell are they?”

“Who the hell is she?” me and the shorter one spoke at the same time, and then blinked at one another.

Adam walked in behind me, for some reason holding the framed picture of him and John at his 14th birthday. “This is Andrea.” he introduced as he gestured to me. “Andrea, these are our brothers; Sam-”

“And Dean.” I finished, John’s words resonating in my head.

The men, my brothers, looked at me with a mixture of surprise and horror. The shorter especially looked mortified at my existence.

“Wait, you knew about them?”

“John mentioned them in passing.” I answered distracted, eyeing them up and down closely.

So, these were the guys I was supposed to turn out like. Jonathan would get a kick out of meeting them

. Wait, but if they were here, then I was right. Kate’s disappearance wasn’t natural, the things in the dark had something to do with this.

“Andrea is only my half-sister.” Adam went on to explain. “When her mother died, John brought her here, and my mom took her in. She’s been living with us for a year and a half.”

The shorter one recovered from his shock and was now pissed. And that pissed off look was the one I knew all too well, because it’s the one I saw every time I looked in the mirror. “So, what did Dad do for your birthdays?” he ground out.

“John never came around for my birthday.” I fired back. “Didn’t even know when it was.”

His eyes softened, pity replacing the pissed off.

“How long has your mom been missing.” the taller spoke suddenly, bringing everyone back to the problem at hand.

“Three days.” Adam answered.

“You the last one to see her?” Shorter one addressed me, now studying me differently.

“No.”

“The neighbor saw her get home Tuesday night but she never made it to work Wednesday morning.”

“Where were you?” Taller one asked me.

“School camp. Got back last night.”

Smaller one froze, his eye catching something. I followed his gaze to the framed picture of Kate and John. He dropped his head, eyes clenched. Maybe my mom wasn’t the only cheating one in the relationship. Adam continued answering taller one’s questions about Kate and her disappearance.

“Should have been here.” Adam added to the end of his explanation, eyes tearing up.

I personally wasn’t as affected by this as I should have been. Sure, Kate was welcoming and nice, but we never really formed a bond. Besides, she was always at work so. And Adam was leaving for college as I moved in, so I only knew it from the few times he was home.

Mostly, I was still thanking God that John was dead. If he found out I’d let something happen to Kate, he’d fucking kill me.

“What the uh, what the cops say?” Shorter one saved us from all the emotion.

“Uhh, they searched the house. They didn’t find anything.” Adam answered. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes getting more tear filled as he bounced a little on his feet. “She wouldn’t leave without telling anybody.” his voice cracked.

I’d been like this, with my mom. A crying, emotional wreck the second anything was wrong with her. When you grow up with a single mom, they become more than a parent. They are a friend, a mother, a constant. Loosing the only parent you have leaves the inner child in you scrambling for something to hold onto.

I’d long since given up needing someone to kiss my boo boos, but Adam was still close with his mom.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end again. Since I’d gotten back yesterday, I felt on edge. I couldn’t figure out why. Something wasn’t right, had my hackles up. It was beginning to piss me off.

“It looks like she just dropped off the face of the earth, you know?” Adam continued.

It was silent for a few seconds, as the two men, my eldest brothers, looked at one another. It was in that moment that I realized this was the first time all three of my brothers and I were in the same room. I knew of them, Adam didn’t. They didn’t know about Adam and me. In this room, I had the most knowledge. Which meant, I was going to be questioned soon enough.

“Well, I’m just here for my laptop so I’m gonna…” I made to move out the room and back towards the stairs.

“Wait, where are you going?” The tallest asked.

“Somewhere.” I replied, leaving the room and charging up the stairs.

Once at my room, I closed the door and locked it.

Oh my god! Sam and Dean were here! How did they get here? What had Adam done?

If Sam and Dean knew, if Adam had called them, did that mean John know? Would John come? If John knew I’d let something to Kate, if this was all something metaphysical, I had failed.

He was going to kill me. I needed to get out of here, before he got here. Clean my tracks long before he rolled into town. I didn’t have time to waste.

Darting around my room, I grabbed my backpack and began packing everything I thought I needed. Shirts, only 2, a change of pants, spare hoodie, a handful of underwear and three socks, hairbrush.

Why the hell would Adam phone them? Why the hell would Adam think of calling John? I didn’t even know Adam and John were still in contact. Of all the stupid things my older brother had done, this one took the cake.

All I needed was my toothbrush and I’d be set.

Switching out my jacket for a warmer, waterproof coat, I slung my backpack on my shoulder and pulled my door open. And almost collided into a chest.

Shorter one stood before the door, crossing his arms when he spotted my backpack. “Going somewhere?’

Well crap…

#spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #winchester sister #john winchester #supernatural adam #adam milligan #kate milligan #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #supernatural oc

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katebishopshands · 1 year ago

Text

You Can See Me As A Secret Mission

(Kate Bishop/Reader)

Content: (SMUT, 18+, wlw, top Kate bishop, bottom reader, enemies to lovers, hate sex (kinda??), fake dating/relationship, making out, finger bLASTING, strap on sex, reader has pierced tits because I do)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Kate bishop has been a pain in your ass since she joined the “new avengers”. Perky, talented, caring, but only you saw what she actually was, a rich girl that always got her way.

After being put on a undercover mission together, will pretending to be in a relationship with her for the sake of the mission push you farther apart, or will it make your realize maybe your feelings are more than meets the eye?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Does it always take you this long to get ready?”

Your eye twitched in annoyance as you put the final coat of mascara on your lashes. You knew if you were to walk out of the bathroom you’d see Kate Bishop, sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone looking bored.

You could’ve been paired with anyone on the team. Sam, Bucky..Yelena even. Her experience in the field would be appreciated. But instead you were paired with Kate bishop, the rookie. Clint had said that she was ready to take over his role as sharpshooter on the team but you think he really just wanted to retire. Lucky son of a bitch.

Kate was fine, she was good with a bow and could throw a punch, but she lacked precision. Often going out on her own and putting the whole mission at risk. It was extremely frustrating for someone who had worked most of their late teens and early twenties to be where you were. Her rich girl attitude showed through on more than one occasion, like when she forgot that not everyone didn’t go to a private school for all of their school career, or that most people rely on the subway to go from place to place and don’t get chauffeured.

In return to your shitty attitude to her, Kate had taken a liking to rolling her eyes and scoffing at things you said. Proving to you that she was smarter than you by correcting things you had said, and you most favorite of all, taking any chance she could to embarrass you. The endless nicknames that spew from her lips never ceased to make you want to punch her perfect teeth out.

You needed no further proof that Kate Bishop was an overgrown child, and not ready to be an Avenger.

“I have to look the part, do I not?”, you poked your head around the corner, you were correct with your prediction. Kate rolled her eyes and gave a weak glance up from her phone at you. Her eyes lit up at the sight of you however.She took in your figure, covered in some slinky black dress that showed way too much cleavage for your liking.

You could’ve sworn she licked her lips after she checked you out for what seemed to be the second time. You hated to admit it, but she looked good, too good for your liking.

Gone was the athleisure you normally saw her in, traded in for a black suit, her black undershirt’s top two buttons undone and a thin silver chain was visible hanging over her collarbones. Her hair still up on her usual ponytail and a dark purple polish on her nails. You stared for probably too long than was normal for someone who didn’t like their mission partner.

The two of you were supposed to play the roles of a young millionaire and her fiancé that were interested in purchasing some illegal weapons that were rumored to be made out of vibrainium. Tonight was a party at some exclusive bar for potential clients of the group, so you were to look your best so the two of you could scope out the scene. If your cover was blown tonight, the whole mission would go up in smoke.

Luckily for Kate, the role would come naturally. For you? Not so much. Pretending to be in love with Kate was difficult. Sure she was attractive and funny and considerate for the most part, but you were all business whereas Kate wanted to dilly dally a bit too much. Too different for anything to actually work.

The click of a camera brought you back to your senses.

“Yelena is never going to believe you’re wearing that”, Kate snickers and snaps another picture.

“Kate are you serious!? Cut it out!” You take a step forward and reach for her phone, which she holds out of your reach.

“Aw cmon, you look nice. Gimme a twirl” she gestures a twirling motion with her fingers. she’s sincere with her words, but her actions speak louder as she continues to play keep away with you.

“I’m serious Kate DO NOT send that” you reach across her, cleavage in her face, her phone almost in hand. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was looking.

With one slip of your hand off of the arm rest of the couch you were falling. Falling directly into Kate Bishops lap.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, not sure what to do. Searching each others faces for some sort of answer. You took in beauty marks splashed across her face that you’d never seen before, her full lips slightly parted.

Stormy blue eyes that looked into yours. She was prettier up close. You could smell the expensive perfume she had put on earlier for the first time. She had your stomach doing summersaults. Kate flashes you a million dollar smile and your senses come slamming into you like a semi truck. You’re scrambling back up in an instant before she gets the wrong idea.

“I’ll uh, delete the pictures, sorry for embarrassing you “ she looks like a scolded puppy. She avoids looking at you, choosing to fiddle with the hem of her jacket.

“We’re going to be late”, you say ignoring her apology as you rush over to put on your shoes. Your eyes stayed on the floor as you moved. Kate cleared her throat and readjusted her jacket Trying to brush off what had just happened.

You’re grabbing your purse containing the things you need for the night when you hear Kate rifling through all of her pockets.

“What’s wrong?” You say looking up at her. She’s tapping her her suit pockets aggressively, brows furrowed in concentration.

“We’re missing something”

“I don’t think we are, Kate we’re going to be late and it’s gonna blow our cov-“ Kate pulls something small and shiny out of her pocket with a small “aha!”. Your eyes lock with a diamond engagement ring she’s holding up to the light.

“Can’t blow our cover now can we?” Kate says as she positions herself in front of you on one knee, as If she was proposing. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as she shook her arms out, and cleared her throat once more.

“Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest girl on the planet, and being my fiancé?” Kate holds out the ring, and looks up at you. Batting her thick eyelashes a few times, lower lip caught in between her teeth as she smirks at you. She’s completely over the top and ridiculous with it, as she is with most things. But it feels a little too real for your liking.

You swallow hard, why were you nervous? You rub your clammy hand down the front of your dress and hold out your hand,Kate obliges and slips the ring on your index finger. She briefly squeezes your hand before she stands back up. You stand there, becoming accustomed to the ring you now bore on your finger.

“We’re gonna be late!!” Kate nags you, mocking your words from earlier. This snaps you out of your thought and you turn around, letting Kate slip a hand on your lower back, not even minding the gesture, as you’re guided out the door.

Kate bishop is going to be the death of you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Sam had given you specific instructions that tonight was for observing and surveying what exactly these people had on the market. No contact was supposed to be made with anyone. So here you sat, leaned up against a bar holding some drink that was sweating against your hand and had been for far too long.

The music was loud, it was too dark to see much, except for the few vibrainium weapons that were on pedestals illuminated with a blue light, giving the room a blue hue. You scanned the room once, then twice. Looking for anyone that might be of interest. But as for now, it seemed to be yuppy rich people wanting expensive and deadly toys to play with .

Kate fit right in. You watched her leaned up against the bar across from you, laughing and drinking with two girls that were on either side of you. She wasn’t even doing her job, instead taking the mission as a chance to party. You finished the rest of your drink, slamming it on the bar hard enough to make the remaining ice cubes jostle about.

A strange feeling bubbles in your stomach, one that you almost could call jealousy. Maybe it was that or the expensive tequila that had been in your drink. You smoothed your dress down, starting your way towards Kate and her new comrades. If she was going to not take this job seriously, then you might as well embarrass her a little.

Coming up behind Kate, you latch yourself onto one of her arms. Looking at her with doe eyes. She jumps a bit , but turns slightly to face you.

“There she is!! I was just talking about you!”

She smiles at you, pulling the arm you had grabbed from you and wrapping it around your waist. Kate’s hand found its resting place on your ass as she pulled you into her, giving it a light squeeze. Before you could have any reaction to the previous action, the other of Kate’s hands found its way to your chin. She held your face in place as she leaned down, connecting your lips . A surprised noise escaped your mouth and she deepens the kiss, letting her tongue push into your mouth. You couldn’t do anything but kiss back, not wanting to blow your cover and not wanting to let her win in whatever game she was trying to play.

She pulls away and you’re breathless. Kates face is flushed , eyes wide as she looks from you to her new friends.

“I was just telling these nice girls about how you so badly wanted to come to the party tonight and look at the new catalog they have this season!” Kates demeanor has changed from the goofy archer you normally know, to a socialite who knows what she wants.

“We just LOVE this years catalog, we’ve been buying all the latest models from this company for years!” The blonde across from you says excitedly.

Kate side eyes you, and you pick up what she’s trying to get you to notice. This company isn’t new, They’re just getting sloppy covering up their tracks, letting too many of the wrong people into their inner circle.

The two of you converse for some time more, digging up as much information as you can from the girls. Having moved from the bar to a small area of lounge tables and chairs. You watch as people trickle in and out of the party, some looking more important than others. Your eyes are constantly scanning the world around you.

You’re going to sit in the chair next to Kate when she grabs your hand, yanking you down on top of her. She gives a pat to your thigh and continues talking business with the ever growing crowd of people that surround you. This had somehow turned into Kates mission without you even realizing it.

Two can play at this game, let’s kick it up a notch. You lean back a bit, resting your arm around her shoulders, playing with the ends of her ponytail flirtily. Kate looks up at you and smiles a bit.

She rubs her thumb over your bare thigh in a comforting manner and goes back to the conversation. It’s amazing watching her run the conversation. Somehow knowing just what to say to everyone to get the information she wants out of them. She’s dazzling in the dim light of the party. You could almost get used to this.

“Show them your ring, babe” you’re snapped out of your thoughts by Kate giving you another pat to your thigh.

“Huh?” You blink at her. She shakes her head and laughs a little, her eyes flashing you the “ go along or we’ll blow our cover” look.

“Awh don’t be shy, show them the pretty rock I bought you” she removes your arm from around her shoulders and shows off the glittering ring on your finger.

“Oh my ring of course!” You laugh off your panic and wiggle your fingers in an attempt to show off how shiny the ring actually was. The group is filled with “oohs” and “ahhs” as you show it off, Kate smiling proudly at you the whole time. Your heart swells a bit at the attention. Almost believing for a bit that you’re actually engaged and in love, not in some rich guys warehouse on a mission for work.

You didn’t like Kate bishop. She was aggravating, the definition of a spoiled rich girl. Where were these feelings coming from?

“Where did you two first meet?” A voice from the group catches you off guard. You lock eyes with an older woman who has had way too much plastic surgery done.

“We uh…” Kate starts, you can see her losing her cool. You hadn’t come up with a backstory. Rookie move.

“We actually met in school!” You save the day by stepping in with your quick thinking skills. She lets out a barely noticeable breath of relief it technically wasn’t a lie. You HAD met in a class, a class about hand to hand combat, but a class nonetheless.

“And I guess it was just love at first sight” you say through almost gritted teeth. It pains you to say that, because it wasnt. This wasn’t real love, and you two have never gotten along. Physical attraction maybe, but your personalities continuously clashed.

Kate looks up at you once more, a small smile on her lips, “yeah….love at first sight”.

Your eyes meet each other. Her eyes are soft, pupils blown a bit. She continuously strokes her thumb on your leg. Kates acting is a bit too good for your liking.

A ding from Kate’s phone pulls your attention from each other and the other guests continue to chat amongst themselves. She reads it, biting her lip a little. You scoot yourself closer to her, wrapping your arms around Kate neck and reading the message on her phone.

Party’s over. Get outta there. Put together all information collected and send in a mission report by 9am.

It’s a text from Sam, updating you on what to do next. Kate looks at you, giving you a slightly disappointed look before she plants a kiss on your cheek. It’s a long kiss, one that only lovers share when they know they won’t see each other for a while.

She taps your leg to signal for you to stand up, so You oblige. Kate goes around the circle saying goodbye to the people you had met over the course of the night. You trailing behind her, admiring the way she looked in her suit.

God she was aggravating. Was there anything she wasn’t good at? She could charm people with the bat of her eyelashes. Flirt successfully with strangers. Shoot an arrow with a blindfold across her eyes. She was hot and you hated to admit it. She was perfect and that’s what you hated.

It was like you had come out of a haze now that you were off her lap. You were mad that she had charmed you THAT easily. Just like every other person in the Kate Bishop fanclub. You huff, grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the exit, not wanting to play the roles of young lovers anymore.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The room was eerily quiet as you both got unready. Fleeting glances towards each other, never meeting the others eyes.

You swallowed hard as you sat down on one of the couches to take off your heels, “Was tongue really necessary?”. You had broken the silence and now there was no going back.

“What?” Kate looked up from fiddling with her shirt buttons.

“The kiss, at the bar. Did you REALLY need to swap spit with me like that ?”

“Well I thought it was funny”

you scoffed at her. In shock that an hour ago you were thinking about how maybe you could get along and maybe have something more.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You say with a dirty look in her direction.

“Lyings not a good look on you. The noise you made told me that you were into it”

She laughs at her comment and you roll your eyes, letting a more awkward silence fall over the room.

“I think you might actually like me a little bit, she jokes half to herself and half to you.

She looks over to you, lightly biting her lip a little.

“You seemed a little into the act tonight, that’s all I’m trying to say”

“Shut the fuck up”, you snap at her.

Kate puts her hands up defensively and continues to unbutton her shirt. You sneak a glance at her, catching a look at her toned stomach. It made your face flush a bit before you continued working on unzipping your dress.

The zipper catches midway through your back and you groan. You tug it up and down a few more times in an attempt to free yourself. Kates eyes follow the noise of the zipper and she sees you struggling. She makes her way across the room, her black dress shirt unbuttoned and hanging untucked around her form. The purple lace bra she wore under it being exposed ever so slightly.

You attempted to ignore her, confining to tug on the zipper. But her exposed skin was so tempting to look at.

“Do you need some help?”

“No I don’t need your hel-“, you start to protest her intervention.

“Turn around” Kate demands.

You shut up, listening to her and turning around. Kate sighs and gently moves your hair to one shoulder. Her fingertips are gentle on your exposed back, touching you like you’d break.

You don’t dare to look back at her or else you might do something you regret. You feel her grab the zipper as she begins to work it free.

“Why do you hate me?”

Kate asks casually as she continues her work. It catches you off guard. In the time you’ve known her you’ve never known her to be this blunt. Your voice catches in your throat. The big and bad attitude you had five minutes ago slipping away quickly.

“I don’t hate you”

“Then what’s with the attitude”

You weren’t sure if you were lying or telling the truth when you say you didn’t hate her. The last few hours have been making You rethink everything.

Kate gives a yank to the zipper and it moves freely. Once she’s done you turn to meet her, still holding your dress up. She hasn’t moved, opting to stand and stare at you.

“Kate I-“

What were you going to say? You hated her? She drove you insane? You weren’t even sure anymore. You take a closer step to her,

“You make me feel frustrated. I’m not sure in what way, but I’m frustrated beyond belief by you”

She she searches your face, saying nothing.

“I’m confused, okay? There..are you happy?Did you get what you wanted out of me?” You’re exasperated with her lack of response.

You wait for a response from her for what feels like forever. Her brows are furrowed as she stares at you. You almost could swear that she was looking into your head. You couldn’t decipher what she was thinking. Her blue eyes dark, consumed in consideration. You’re about to walk away when she finally opens her mouth to say something.

“Do you want to find out exactly how I frustrate you?”

She’s close. Closer than you’ve ever been. She’s close and the air is tense, like a bomb ticking about to go off. Her eyes are on your lips, flicking between them and your eyes. She fiddles with a stray piece of hair resting over your shoulder.

“Kate what does that mea-“

She’s grabbing your face, colliding your lips in an explosion of frustrated passion.

You kiss her back hard, harder than you’ve ever kissed anyone before. A whine escapes your mouth. You’re fighting for dominance, and losing pathetically. Your arms are slung over her shoulders. Desperately clawing at her hair.

“Yes-“ you gasp for air when she pulls away, “I want to find out so fucking badly “

Atleast two years of tension had just blown up in your face. Two years of tension that you couldn’t name for the longest time, and now you could.

Kate had upset you so much because you liked her. You liked her giddiness for new things, her almost naivety to how non rich people live. You loved the millions of questions she asked Sam. How she teased you, even if it drove you up the wall. This girl drove you insane and you loved it.

She pounces on you, shoving you up against the nearest wall. Biting at your lip, you submit to her. This was a losing game, there was no point to fighting her. Kate would win, like she always did.

You’re panting when she pulls her mouth off of yours, dragging your bottom lip a little with her. Your unzipped dress finally gives way and falls to the floor. Kates eyes meet yours and then look down to the black dress pooled on the floor. She moans a little, seeing you in just your bra and underwear.

She’s kissing down your neck, leaving little bites in her wake and you’re breathless. Head spinning over the predicament at hand.

“You think I’m insufferable, but..” she trails off, planting a kiss on your collarbone. Her eyes flick up to yours, looking at you through dark lashes.

“The most insufferable thing is how insanely horny you’ve made me all night”

Your breath catches in your throat at her confession. She kisses down the valley of your breasts, her hands gripping your hips. You moan at her actions. A kiss to your ribs, to your stomach, to just above your underwear.

“Kate..”, your hands are caught in her black waves.

“What Princess? No snappy comebacks now?”

Another moan from your mouth. The nickname slips from her mouth so effortlessly, like she had been just waiting to call you it. She was right though, you had nothing to say for once. You looked down at her, Kate’s mouth mere inches from your aching cunt.

She smirks at you, hooking two fingers around the waistband of your underwear.

“Should I take these off?” She asks so innocently. She punctuates her words with a tug on the band. Her blue eyes burn into yours. You nod your head.

“Words please” she’s playing a game with you. Dangling your pleasure right in front of you.

You don’t want to give her the verbal satisfaction. She is still Kate Bishop after all. And she still presses all your buttons. You press your lips into a thin line and stick your chin up hoping she gets the hint. You are not going to use your words. intertwining your fingers with her hair, you give a harsh tug in an effort to show her what you want. Kate moans.

It makes you wetter.

“Oh and I’m the one who’s a spoiled brat” she lets go of your underwear,snapping it back in place and standing at her full height.

“Kate..” you pout at her jutting your lower lip out at her. She wipes her thumb over your lip, keeping it there. She forces you to keep your eyes on her.

You admire her. The freckle that seems to be right under her right eye. The way her eyes are lined with a darker blue than the rest. Her already kiss swollen lips. She’s close to you as she supports herself against the wall. You reach out, running your hand down her abs, almost letting your fingers reach the top button of her slacks. Kate grabs your hand and holds it in place.

“You knew what you were doing tonight” she smirks at you. You look at her through half lidded eyes and smile.

Kate laughs a little at you. It’s crazy hot.

“Sitting on my lap all night,” she removes your hands from her abs, holding them together in front of you, “in that little dress, clinging to me”

She leans close to your ear and whispers in a low voice,

“I am going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk”

“In your dreams, Bishop”

You had finally found your voice, her charm had worn off. She laughs again. Looking your face up and down.

You’re whining as she crashes your lips together. It’s messy. Teeth clacking here and there, Kate’s hands grabbing at your ass . You’re grabbing at her back, leaving indents where your nails meet her pale skin.

“And everyone at HQ is going to know that you let Kate bishop, the girl you hate, ruin you” That ignited something in you. Your ongoing feud was no secret, and having everyone know you fucked your feelings out was a little too tempting.

She’s kissing down your neck, sucking bruises that will last longer than you want them to.

“And what if I fuck you?”, You pant, grabbing at the back of Kate’s neck.

“I’d like to see you try”

Kate grabs your ass, picking you up quickly and moving you to the nearest bed. She’s reaching behind you to undo your bra.

“Hardly seems fair that I’m almost fully naked

And you still have your pants on”

Kate snorts at your remark, popping the back of your bra and removing it from your body swiftly. Your nipples perk up at the cold air of the hotel room. The metal bars in them glinting in the light, catching Kates eye. She looks at them, briefly licking her lips, and then back to you.

“Is this what you want?”

Kate stares into your eyes as she undoes the top button of her pants. She steps out of them, leaving her in just the matching lace bra, underwear and and her black button up.

“ shirt off too, please” you sit up, batting your eyes at her and jutting out your lower lip in a pout. She shakes her head as she reaches to take the button up off .

“Now you have manners…but remember.. IM the spoiled brat here” she rolls her eyes and throws the bunched up black shirt at you.

You catch it and toss it off the bed, welcoming Kate back as she crawls her way on top of you. She kisses you again , letting her hands explore down your chest. She kneads on your boobs, grabbing fistfuls of each.

You moan into her mouth, pushing your chest into her hands more.

“Eager much?” She pulls away, letting her breathe fan across your face.

“No chance” you laugh at her, your hands grasp both sides of her face as she leans over you. She rolls her eyes at you again, letting one of her hands stroke down to your nipple, where she takes the bar and gives a sharp tug.

You inhale through your teeth holding back a moan, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

She gives another tug, this time flicking her thumb over the bud of your nipple. She keeps her eyes locked with yours, smirking at you. She’s expecting you to show some sort of reaction.

Your chest lurches forward, seeking more friction from her calloused hands.

The damp spot in your underwear continues to grow as you rub your legs together in an effort to soothe the ache that’s ever growing in your cunt.

She glances down at the movement and looks back to you while biting her lip.

Kate lets her hand travel from your tit, down your stomach and ending right above the elastic to your underwear.

“This where you want me?” One finger slides its way under. You turn your head to the side, not wanting to confirm you wanted her fingers. Lips pressed into a fine line, you say nothing.

She huffs and leans forward, kissing her way up your neck.

“Cmon…you know it’ll feel good” , two fingers push farther down.

You’re holding back moans. Noises only Kate Bishop has been able to elicit from you and you haven’t even fucked yet.

She’s so warm and inviting. You know it would feel so good if she just stuffed her fingers in your cunt and fucked you stupid. But you can’t let her win. She’s always winning, running circles around you.

Kate bites at your earlobe, those two fingers dangerously close to your throbbing cunt.

You whine,not being able to contain the kind anymore. The scent of her lavender body wash looming around you, clouding your better judgement.

“Kate…” you whine her name out. Kate moans at the sound of your voice, needy and desperate.

“Yeah?” She asks, her thumb stroking gentle circles on your skin, a smile on her lips as they’re pressed to your neck.

How could the girl you had hated for so long be treating you so good right now?

“Please…” you whisper out, letting your resolve break.

Kate bishop had won this round.

Those wandering fingers abruptly enter your pussy, earning a loud moan from your mouth.

You jolt upwards, back arching and pressing your nipples against Kate’s lace covered chest. She continues to thrust her fingers in and out of you, occasionally letting her thumb brush up against your clit.

“I told you it’d feel good” she whispers into your ear. You moan at her words, she’s right. It feels fucking fantastic. She’s managing to hit all the spots that make you see stars. Your head leans back, making eye contact with the ceiling as Kate picks up her speed. She’s curling her fingers as she sucks marks down your neck, eventually leaving a few on your breasts.

You grab at her head, threading your fingers into her hair and pull her face into you chest. Kate gives a groan at that as she latches onto one of your nipples. She slides the bar in your nipple around with her tongue, making you groan loudly and tug at the strands of dark hair clutched in your hand.

She continues her ministrations at your core. Every press of her fingers has your eyes rolling back into your skull.

“I’m gonna..”

“You’re gonna what? Cum?” Kate laughs as she pulls off of you. You nod frantically at her. She’s slamming her fingers into you at this point and you’re a moaning mess, only wanting to finish.

Kate’s moving up closer to your face. She presses her forehead against yours, your noses grazing the other.

“Cum on my fingers then”

She thrusts her fingers into your cunt, your juices leaking down her arm.

“Shit, shit Katie”, you’re grabbing at the hand that’s thrusting in and out of you, curling upwards towards her.

Her thumb brushed against your clit, a purposeful circle and you’re unraveling into her.

Her lips find yours again, silencing the pathetic moans that you’re making. Kate moans into you as you finish on her fingers, exactly how she wanted you to. She works you through your orgasm for a moment, giving a few gentle thrusts before pulling her fingers out of you.

You wince a little as her fingers exit you, not letting the grip you had on her wrist go. Kate gently removes your hand from her wrist as she sits up. She gives it a light kiss before she turns her own hand towards her mouth.

Kate locks eyes with you as she slides her tongue up her wrist, collecting your slick before inserting her fingers in her own mouth. She moans a little as she wraps her lips around her fingers, sucking your juice from her fingers for a second before releasing them with a slight ‘pop’.

You blink a couple times, panting. Kate looks at you, and smiles a bit. A cocky, all knowing smile.

“Enjoy the show?” She smirks as she leans back towards you. Her dark hair falls around your face, pieces of it tickling your cheeks.

“Kate Bishop…” you pant a little, looking up at her, “I didn’t know you were such…”, your hands start to explore the plane of her stomach, touching the toned abs that lay there,

“…..a whore”, you smile at her. Your tone laced with malice as you spit out your last word.

Kate scoffs a bit, stopping your hand before you could get your fingers under the waistband of her underwear.

“I could say the same about you, based off the noises you were making”

She gets off the bed, but not before tweaking the jewelry that sat pretty in your nipples. You jump a little, moaning in pleasure.

“Brat”, she says, flashing a smile and laughing slightly before going to her bag and beginning to dig through it.

You sit up a little, admiring the way her purple underwear fits her ass. Your mind wanders to all the times you checked it out during training. God damn Kate bishop and her too tight leggings.

Kates digging goes on for a little too long and your curiosity begins to peak.

“Is your dick in there or something?” You half joke, wanting to know what she was looking for. You laid there, completely exposed to the too cold AC of the hotel room. You already missed Kate being in the bed with you.

“Yeah…Or something” Kate mumbles quietly. The sound of her zipping up her bag catches your attention.

“Kate is that a fucking strap on?”

“You never know when duty is gonna call!”

You sit up slightly, watching as Kate steps into her harness. The purple silicone dick bobs in between her legs, and you swallow slightly.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”, Kate joins you back on the bed, crawling over you.

“I know I am, and you’re obsessed with me because of it”, she kisses up your neck. Her confidence oozing out of her, you could almost swear you were breathing it in and letting it cloud your mind.

You grab at the ponytail at the back of her head, pulling her mouth off your neck. Kate gives a groan before her blue eyes meet yours.

“I told you I was going to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk. I’m a lady of my word”

Kate teases your entrance with her strap, letting it run through your folds.

“Shit Kate..” you half moan half whine as she positions her dick.

“God say that again” Kate moans into your ear . She begins to push her strap into you and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

You’re pulling on her ponytail, pulling her head away from you when all Kate wants to do is mark you, claim you as hers.

“Fucking shit Kate..” you repeat, more enthusiastically this time as Kate’s strap finally enters you, fully.

She fills you to the hilt of her strap, your hips almost flush with each another. The base of her dick rubbing sweetly against her clit.

She whines a little, resting her head into the crook of your neck.

“Aw poor baby, do you want to swap?” You coo sarcastically as you rub her back, finding your way to the clasp of her bra.

Kate gives an annoyed groan, punctuated by a hard thrust into your pulsating cunt.

You yelp in surprise, popping the clasps of her bra, watching the straps fall loose around her shoulders. Kate pulls out again and thrusts her hips once more,relishing in the friction she also receives from the motion.

“Just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, huh?” Kate begins to take off her bra, discarding it to wherever your clothes also lay.

Your hands find her nipples, twisting and pinching them as she snaps her hips into you.

You lean up, swallowing the beautiful whines she’s giving to you as you play with her tits with your mouth.

She kisses you back, letting herself submit to your suddenly surge of dominance.

“So fucking hot..” you mutter as you pull away, letting your eyes drift to Kate’s lust blown pupils, down to where her dick was splitting you in two.

“Could say the same about you” Kate watches your tits bounce with each thrust she gives. Her eyes following the shiny jewelry in your tits. she leans down a bit, taking one of your nipples in her mouth. Her teeth close in one of the bars and she pulls every so gently.

You’re moaning as you grasp at her back, letting your dominant facade fall and letting Kate have the full power once again.

Her hips are slamming into yours, practically humping you like a dog in heat. Your legs wrap around her hips, attempting to put you two closer than you already were.

Kates whining, actually whining. You can see sweat drip down the side of her face, baby hairs sticking to her forehead.

You’re in no better shape. Your back arched up, legs locked around Kate’s waist, sweat traveling down your back and into your asscrack.

“I’m gonna fucking-“ you moan, your sentence not even getting finished as Kate reaches down to rub your clit while continuing her ministrations with her hips.

“Me too…oh my god me too” Kate’s going hard now, chasing her own high. Her thrusts are spastic and uncalculated.

The floodgates open in a minute, and you’re gushing all over Kates cock, and hand once again. A whining, moaning, drooling mess.

She works you through your high, only taking a few more pumps until she’s also finishing. Kate gives a few weak pumps, almost pushing you towards overstimulation before she falls on top of you, leaving her strap on inside.

She gives you a few weak kisses on your chest as you run your fingers through her hair, releasing it from the ponytail.

Kate reached down to remove her strap, making you suck in a breath of air as you an adjust to the feeling.

Once the harness and silicone dick had been removed, she sighs, content as she sinks her face into your chest, fingers rubbing small circles in your stomach.

“I still don’t like you, you know that, right?”, you break the silence first, still playing with Kates dark locks.

“Mhm, and I hate you “ Kate smiles lazily up at you.

You roll your eyes at her. Kate turns to look at you, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Do you think we have to put this on the mission report to Sam?”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Kate bishop simp nation, I have returned.

My apologies, this is not proofread in the slightest lmao

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cheynovak · 3 months ago

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Last Christmas

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Summary: Y/N, a close friend of Sam and Dean, secretly struggles with her feelings for Dean as Christmas approaches, knowing it might be his last due to his demon deal. She convinces Sam to decorate the motel room and celebrate christmas one last time.

Warnings: none

English is not my first language

Inspiration: season 3 ep. 8: A Very Supernatural Christmas

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

It had been a long, grueling hunt. Y/N was exhausted, the adrenaline still wearing off as she leaned against the motel wall. Sam and Dean were nearby, packing away their gear with quiet efficiency. Even after years of hunting together, there was a comfort in their silence, a rhythm they’d all fallen into. But tonight, something felt different—heavier, like the weight of the world was pressing harder than usual.

Y/N stole a glance at Dean. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused on the weapons in front of him, but she knew his mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about the demon deal he made—the deal that was hanging over all of their heads like a dark, looming cloud. He’d given up his life to save Sam’s, and now his days were numbered. The thought alone twisted her heart, and she found herself staring longer than she should have.

“Y/N, you okay?” Sam’s voice snapped her back to reality. She quickly looked away from Dean, her cheeks warming.

“Yeah, just… tired,” she mumbled, forcing a smile. But Sam didn’t buy it, his brows furrowing as he studied her. He was always good at seeing right through her, but thankfully, he let it go this time.

Dean, however, didn’t seem to notice. He was already halfway out the door, saying something about grabbing food for the night.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She turned to Sam, trying to shift the mood.

“So… Christmas is in a couple of days,” she started, her voice soft, testing the waters.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, not really in the mood this year.”

Y/N had expected that. Dean’s deal hung over everything, making it hard to think about anything happy or festive. Still, she couldn’t help but want to give him something—one last Christmas, maybe, if things didn’t turn around. She had to try.

“Come on, Sam. I know things are… hard right now. But maybe we can do something small. For Dean’s sake, at least. It might be good for him—good for all of us.”

Sam hesitated, his jaw tightening. He stared at the floor, his conflict evident. “Y/N…”

“Please, Sam,” she interrupted, her voice almost pleading. “I just want this Christmas to be special. It might be our last with him.”

The room was quiet for a moment. Y/N saw Sam’s resolve crack, and finally, he nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Fine. I’ll take care of the eggnog,” he muttered,

Christmas eve arrived, Dean was out to get food thinking it would be a normal evening.

While Sam worked on the eggnog, Y/N busied herself with decorating the room. She strung up some old lights she’d found in a thrift store, their colorful glow bringing a little warmth to the cold, drab motel room. She even found a small, plastic Christmas tree earlier in the week, setting it up on the nightstand. It wasn’t much, but it felt a little like home.

As she adjusted the lights, she couldn’t help but think about Dean again. The feelings she’d been hiding for him for so long were bubbling closer to the surface. There was a chance this might be his last Christmas, and that thought sent a sharp pang through her chest. What if she never told him? What if he never knew how much he meant to her?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Dean walked in, his arms full of takeout bags and a couple of poorly wrapped presents.

“Well, look at this,” he said, his voice bright with surprise. “You two went all out. Kinda makes this crap motel room look… festive.”

Y/N grinned, feeling a small wave of relief wash over her. At least Dean seemed to appreciate the effort.

“Got you some food,” he said, setting the bags on the table. “And a couple of things to open, you know, for the hell of it.”

Y/N and Sam exchanged a look, their silent agreement to make this night something good for Dean. Y/N grabbed her own gifts from her bag—a couple of books for Sam (ones she knew he’d devour in no time) and a shirt for Dean with a classic Chevy logo on it.

“Here,” she said, handing them over with a smile.

Sam gave her a grateful nod, flipping through the pages of one of the books before setting it aside. Dean, on the other hand, held up the shirt, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Chevy, huh? You know me too well, sweetheart.”

Her heart skipped at the nickname, but she covered it with a laugh. “Figured you could use a shirt to work on baby, so you don't get all your good shirt dirty with oil.”

Sam handed her a small, neatly wrapped gift, and she opened it to find a bottle of shampoo—her favorite kind, the one she was always complaining about never finding on the road.

“I… I know it’s not much,” Sam said, scratching the back of his neck. “But I saw it and thought of you.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “It’s perfect, Sam. Thank you.”

Then Dean handed her his gift—a bottle of cheap perfume, the kind you’d find at a gas station. But when she opened it and took a whiff, it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it smelled pretty nice.

“I know it’s nothing fancy,” Dean said, a little sheepish. “But it smelled good, and I thought…”

Y/N couldn’t help but keep sniffing the bottle, a grin on her face. “Dean, I love it. Really, it’s… nice.”

Sam noticed the atmosphere in the room chance when Y/N kept looking at his brother while smelling her perfume covered wrist.

The second Sam closed the bathroom door Dean shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I really love it Dean, thank you." Y/N said. “Yeah, well… I had another gift in mind. This one was just easier to wrap.”

Y/N looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

Dean hesitated for just a moment, then took a step closer. His green eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of something in them—something vulnerable, something he usually hid behind jokes and bravado.

Before she could process what was happening, Dean leaned in, his lips brushing softly against hers. Her breath hitched, and for a second, everything else—the looming deal, the darkness of their lives—faded away.

All that mattered was this moment.

Him.

When he finally pulled back, Dean looked a little unsure of himself, but there was a small, crooked smile on his lips.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered.

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georgiapeach30513 · 8 months ago

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Your Mark On Me, Part 15

Summary: things are no good.

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit. Dead dove do not eat

Warnings: explicit language, explicit dark content, kidnapping, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of stealing money, degradation (not for sexual play), spitting, hitting, pinching, slapping, restraining, mocking, blood, human auction, forced removal of IUD, realization of voyeurism, sexual recordings without knowledge, dark imagery 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.4K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Rage. Blinding hot rage that boils every ounce of his blood. Hating himself doesn’t even cover it. Leaving you the way he did as a broken shell of the woman that he first met. You had shown resilience to his impossible needs. You had fallen so hard, and he still withheld how he truly felt for you.

The threat was enough to not just chill him all the way to the core of his being, but the video — whoever it was had caught him. Caught exactly what you meant to him on video. Words he had never spoken in years, and they had the evidence. Coupled with the threat of not only you, but Bucky’s Shy Violet. His unborn son. And Steve could not be responsible for that much pain.

Steve can barely see as he flees the hotel he left you in. A crumpled mess. A true depiction of the barren wasteland he left your heart. People don’t love as deeply as you did, and have someone rip it out with scars that may never heal. He’s an example of that. And he did it to the only person who he had ever truly been in love with.

He meant every word to you this morning, even the ones you would never hear. Why did this person, this entity hate him so much that he would threaten three people that had no part in this scheme? He had to tell Bucky. He also had to be able to visually see, and he can’t put anything into words except the red hot coils of desire to burn down the world.

Questioning if what he did was the right answer. He was told they knew his weakness, and you would be removed from his life. He beat them to it. He took away the person that they knew was his the one that would destroy him. But who? Who hated him that much to want to destroy him? Clearly it was competition but there was only one person, or people that were competitive with Steve.

“Sam?” The other man sighs. Hearing Steve's voice as wrecked as it was didn’t take much to realize what the idiot had done. “Who’s watching her?”

“You put Loki outside. Told him to watch her for a few weeks. Said that you figured she would move on. But you’re a fucking idiot.”

“They,” he yanks the steering wheel to the side of the road, throwing his car into park before pressing his palms into his eyes, and wills the tears to not spill over his lashes, “They were going to kill her and Bucky’s Shy, and…your family.”

“Figured as much. I told Nat to get the kids to the safe house. Just like you should have done with Dove. With her and Bucky there everyone would have been safe. You’re too fucking irrational. You don’t think. You should have discussed with me, and we could have came up with a plan. But you didn’t like that I heard what you said,” Steve pulls at wads of his hair, and he slams his fist on the steering wheel. “Love doesn’t make you weak.”

“I told you that you didn’t hear anything,” still in this world of denial and wanting to protect his ego. His pride? Protect anything but the person he truly cared about. You.

“You love her. You’re a coward that couldn’t even tell her to her fucking face. Is a million dollars really going to make up for what you did? You’re the problem here, Steve. She was the solution. Go back. Go get her, and I’ll take her to the safe house. I’ll leave Nat and Bucky with the kids, and Shy, and we will figure out what the fuck is going on,” Steve shakes his head. You hated him. He made sure to make you feel worthless to him, and hope that one day you could move on.

The thought of another man touching your flesh sears into his mind. Thinking this dumbass could ever hold you and love you the way he did. It was a toxic love, but he found serenity in your bright glow. The devil came to find his goddess of spring. The link that kept his underground hell blooming into the most beautiful chaotic garden.

Every morning he could see the sun shining on your face like you were the beacon, and it was trying to find you. But instead, Steve did. He tried to dim every bit of your light, and instead you changed him. And how did he repay you? He left you, his beautiful goddess, a void. Gave you every opportunity to turn into the darkness that he helped flourish. Instead, you were making him lighter.

You had a link to the depravity of his world that was Lark, and one wrong move and you would become a demon to addiction. A beautiful woman lively turned into a servant for drugs and the underbelly that he helped create. Try and be noble all he wants, he still sold a lie to users. He catered to the whims of one of the most powerful things in the world. Addiction.

“Sam,” he says as he starts to turn the car around. “I made a mistake.”

“Get your girl. I’m calling Bucky. We’ll keep her safe, and we finish this once and for all. It’s time,” without hesitation and very little thought Steve knows exactly where the threat came from. Peggy. The one who set this all off to begin with. No doubt a woman who thought she had broken Steve would be infuriated that he had managed to actually fall this time. The purest form of love. Childlike. He was in fact so in love with you it hurt him.

Pained every inch of his inky skin. He was only trying to let his Dove out of her cage, and let her fly alone. He was no longer the cage that kept you trapped. He was made pure again, and was a dove right along with you. He wasn’t meant to set you free, he was meant to fly out of his own cage with you.

He fucked up. He knows you may never forgive him for this whiplash, but if it meant that you were going to keep your life, that was the burden he would have to bear. He would carry the weight of that on his back for the rest of eternity as long as he knew you were alive and well. He had to. Because he was in love.

You don’t cry. You barely blink. Couldn’t even move to clean yourself off as per his request. That towel lays haphazardly on his spilt cum, and you stare up at the ceiling trying to make this a nightmare. He was a liar. That wasn’t Steve, and as much as you wanted to cut etches of his story off his skin, you wanted him to hold you even more.

It is a bizarre feeling to hate and need the same person. Time has no meaning on this bed. Earlier today you saw him for the man he used to be before Peggy tried to destroy him. And then he burned that man at the stake as he became the monster you first met. The lord of the underworld, and he brought you down into his depths, but maybe it was all one sided.

Watching as the room spins around you in a humiliating and dizzying haze. It’s why he couldn’t look at you. He has fought and fought his true feelings, and because he couldn’t accept them he had to remove the seed that was sprouting in his heart. The seed that was changing winter into spring and you saw lightness and color that once resided inside of his soul.

You hate him. And still, you’re in love with him, and you need him to hold you and tell you that wasn’t him. That he was sorry, and he was so in love with you and he was done fighting, and you doubt that moment will ever come. If you could close your eyes and never wake up that would be the most fitting. You didn’t want to see anything anymore.

“Dove?” Your eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling, and you swear there’s a pattern to the odd appearance of it. Dots that you feel are just the stars, and they’re covering you in a warm blanket. As warm as the fuzz that is thrown over your body.

“Sissy, how much money did he leave you?” Your blinks start to slow down, and you hope that they’ll eventually close forever so you don’t have this sickening feeling in your stomach. “I’m going to take this and invest in — things, yeah. You don’t need it. You’ve got your school you can bounce back on, okay?”

If there is one thing you wished it was that Steve could have quit fighting the inevitable. That he would have just admitted the feelings he had for you, and the two of you could run away. Money and power are just as dark of an addiction as the drugs he sold. And he was letting his addiction win.

“Won’t you let me get you dressed. You don’t want to leave here naked. And — he didn’t love you. That mess on your stomach is how he treats the girls he threw away at the club. Used their warm flesh to fill a need, and then…”

“You’re lying,” your eyes finally focus on your sister, and you turn and look away from her quickly. She no longer was the vibrant older sister you once knew. Either Steve had been lying about your addiction and usage, or she had found another supplier. “What happened to you?”

“You should look in the mirror,” you didn’t want to look at your face. You’d look like a bird with clipped wings that could no longer fly because that’s just what you feel like. “Get dressed.”

“What are you doing with the money?” You inquire. But she doesn’t respond just goes towards your bag, and opens up one. Tossing over a dress, and you finally take stock of what’s going on. Sitting up in the bed so see her clinging to the bag with cash in it. The stupor you were once in now is a dull pain of the past hour. “Lark?”

The door opens up to your room, and scramble to cover yourself. You know him. “Dovey, it’s time for you to go. He’s been waiting on you,” tears flood out your eyes as you shake your head. “You really want him to see you with Steve’s cum on your stomach. Your pussy fucked out, and tits hanging out? Now,” he clicks his tongue, snapping a finger at Lark, and your sister scurries out of the hotel room.

“It’s just you and me,” grabbing at your foot, he pulls you down to him and you kick and scream. Biting every time his hands touch you. Your reason to fight became apparent because whatever is wrong is worse than the empty gut you have now. “He threw you away!”

“Fuck you!”

“Keep fighting me, and it’s you that’s going to be fucked,” clearing his throat your room is flooded with men, and they all close in on you, struggling to hold on to your body before with one snap, you go into blackness. A darker world than you have ever ventured to. A world where things will never be the same. Left and broken, now stolen and restored. Fight is still there.

Steve sprints to your bedroom, racing through every part of it. Knowing without seeing physically that you’re gone. His hands pick up and throw everything in its path. Destroying the room just like he destroyed you. The luggage with clothes is still here, but the suitcase with money was gone.

Lifting up the mattress he flips it over, standing in the fucking room that was devoid of you. You were gone, and he can’t shake the feeling that you were taken. Stolen from this room, and from — he can’t even say himself anymore. Because he left you. You weren’t his to steal. He fucked up.

Chest heaving as his mind races on where you could be. He has an idea of who took you and it sickens him. He sees what Lark has become. Rumlow was the worst kind of drug dealer, because he dealt in more than just drugs, he dealt in women.

“Steve.”

“I fucked up,” he turns around. Eyes pleading at Bucky. “Why are you here?”

“Sam’s with the girls. I’m risking my life and the chance to see my future son because I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You fucked up, but I can’t let you wonder your what ifs or wonder where she is. I can’t let you lose the love of your life,” Steve shakes his head, the anger turning into the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. As the last of his humanity is wrenched from his fingers. “Why can’t you say it? Does she mean that little to you?”

“She means more than any amount fucking words, Bucky. She means everything. Shy and Ember were threatened. Nat and the girls, and a lot don’t even know that Sam and Nat are together and have kids. Why do they want her?”

“They’re trying to make your kingdom crumble. The dark lord of the seedy underbelly. Ruled by fear and power. For a drug lord you had some morals, if that’s what you want to call it. And there’s…”

“Peggy,” Steve gulps, glancing around the room that is as messy as his head. Disheveled in every crevice. He has to clear his mind if he’s ever going to find you.

“I want you to make me a promise,” Steve nods. Taking a few deep breaths to center himself. It ends now. He won’t hold back. It’s time to burn the world down to save you. Rumlow’s entire organization will disintegrate. He doesn’t even care where the two of you end up. He needs to know you’re alive, and living the life you want. And he hopes you still can find a place to put him in it.

“If we find Dove, I need you to tell her exactly how you feel, you coward. Quit waiting until the girl falls asleep before you say it.”

“Deal.”

“Let’s go save a dove.”

You could look at Steve trying to destroy you as a good thing. There’s a numbness that courses through your veins, or maybe it’s just a sleepy fog since the moment he walked out that door. Staring at the sleeping form of the man that tattooed you while your arms are restrained above your head, you wonder how you slipped this far into this world of darkness. Your will to fight dormant and resting. Now you observe. Paying attention to everything while you remember every bit of this moment. Something eventually had to help.

You don’t hate Steve. In fact the reason he did what he did seems to be to avoid this bullshit right here. Protecting you from whatever this hell is, but he failed. He let the wrong one watch you. And your own sister somehow played a part. You’d cuss him for the fool that he is when he comes to rescue you. And then allow your exhaustion and anger to rain down him with a fury that is hibernating.

Your eyes start to droop a bit. The adrenaline and heart shattering moments hitting a climax so high that your body is spent. There is no time for fear, and no time for anger. It’s survival. Steve would find you, and you would kick him in his perfect balls for ever hurting you. Even though the idea of him throwing that door open to save you like a scarred Prince Charming was looking damn fine, you can’t ignore what he did.

“How long has it been?” A sickeningly sweet voice walks into the room, and her beady eyes look you up and down. “What is she wearing?”

“Whatever I could put on her. You said you didn’t want Rumlow to see her the way I found her. You’re still so concerned with him leaving you for someone else?” His head bounces to the side with the force of the smack she connects to his face. “Why else do you need her covered?”

“I don’t need to see what cunt Steve’s been shagging. Pretending that she was the only one while he was fucking Rumlow’s whores at the club,” you roll your eyes, but refuse to comment. Sam kept tabs on Steve, and even told you he’s never seen him so much as glance at another woman. Her tactics of wearing you down were futile. You couldn’t sink any lower. The bottom has already been reached and all in a few short hours.

“You’ve been fucking like rabbits, and he still hasn’t fucked a baby in you?” You spit on her, gaining a slap against your own cheek. Her red painted nail wipes of your saliva from her face before she embarrassingly rubs it on your face.

“That’s rich coming from a double crossing bitch. You can only smack me when I can’t fight back?”

“You’re a bitchy one, aren’t ya? So tell me, sweet princess, how have you remained without a bastard?”

“It’s called birth control, you idiot.”

“One I need to cut out of your arm? Or rip it out from between your legs? Or do you trust the pill?” What the fuck was this woman getting off on? You aren’t even sure what her fucking problem was, or why it concerned you so much. “Rumlow has suffered with his business, while Steve flourishes. He needs to be destroyed, but I much prefer slow torture,” her fingernails connect to your arm, and she uses far too much pressure to slide all over the delicate skin of your arms before her eyes zone in on your lower body.

”Remove it.”

“What the fuck? No!”

“Stick another fucking needle in her neck and remove it,” she is psychotic. More than Steve could have ever realized. “You know your pretty sister? Yeah, it was easy to break her spirit. It’s funny what money and drugs can get people to do. What would destroy Steve? To see you broken from another human. To see you as a ghost of who you were. A zombie that he can’t even recognize. You know how many people are willing to bid for Steve’s precious Dove? Use your body to work out their frustrations on their biggest competition. Your sister sold you out for money and drugs, but the good thing is she is no longer being pimped out. But you — Steve will never want you again. Remove it. She can be someone else’s problem.”

Her stilettos click out of your room, and Loki stands up to walk closer to you. You flail, screaming out obscenities and no towards him. Having very little room to get any leverage over him. They were all fucking mental. “No! Don’t touch me.”

”It’ll only sting for a minute. You keep getting stuck with this, you’re going to have a bigger problem,” his voice is cloying in your ear as he grabs your face. Coming closer to you with a needle before it drives into your body.

“No! No! Please, no!” Another wave of blackness. Falling into an oblivion of a dark void that has no end in sight. Whispering out, “No,” one more time, and crying because no one can hear you. Being stripped away from the only salvation you knew, and now becoming the exact opposite of what Steve desired the most in you. Untouched. She wanted to sell you, auction you off while Steve can either be searching for you, or pretending you never existed.

You just want to go home. Home to the cabin, and pretend that he was coming home to you. Hold onto happy moments while your humanity is ripped from you. You hate her.

Your head lulls back on your shoulders, and the dingy light of the room tries to filter through the darkness, and you try to grasp it. Hoping that light can save your soul from the monster Peggy was forcing you to become. You hate her.

He didn’t like it. He hated it. Hated that you were ever put in this position, and he had himself more to blame than anyone. The very thought of something going wrong just wasn’t an option. He didn’t need anything to go wrong. He needed you. He needs to know that you are okay, and you were free to live a life.

The thoughts of you choosing a life that didn’t include him was on his mind, but he couldn’t think of that. Everything had to be perfectly planned out. He knew that Peggy was a vindictive bitch, while Rumlow was a pathetic one. He assumes that they’re hoping for an appearance by him.

It wasn’t a secret what they were doing. Everyone knew they were putting you up for auction. The reception went from an absolutely no because they knew Steve’s vengeance would be grisly to the ones that were drooling and licking their jowls at a chance to fuck Steve over. But retaliation would happen. To all of them. There would be a retribution on every single person that participates in the selling of you.

Every last one of them will get the fiery death of his dreams, and if you wanted to facilitate he would let you watch as they all burn. He failed in the one thing he promised above all else and that was to protect you. He’d make it up. He would get you. Or he would watch it all burn.

—

There’s moments in your life where you freeze up. Your body goes into autopilot, and you’re just there. Going through the motions. While your body is numb to every poke, prod, and movement by someone else. Your mind is on high alert. Listening to every door open. Absorbing every conversation. Your eyes take stock of all that is around you. Memorize every face as you dream about their demise.

You knew there would come a time when you had to identify people because you still hadn’t given up hope that Steve would keep his promise. Rumlow was a boastful idiot and he was letting everyone know who he was going to have up on that stage. Steve would hear about it, and you didn’t doubt that he would have fun in taking care of everything.

That’s not to say that you didn’t want to add another scar on Steve’s body, and you wanted to scratch him, and maul his perfect face, but you need him to wrap those stupid beefy arms around you and carry you out of this disgusting place. You know if you allow your mind to go into the dark places that you would lose all hope, and you’d never stop crying. Or worse become the devil Peggy was trying to make you.

You didn’t even speak to them when they’d ask you questions. You’d just stare at them blankly as they pinched, slapped, and pushed you around. You wouldn’t allow yourself to let them break you. Not yet. When this is all over you could have those moments of clarity, but right now it’s just to survive. And that meant focusing on everything.

You even knew it took Loki exactly thirty-four steps to get to the chair that set outside of your cage. And another forty-two steps to get to the door. You knew that he was the biggest coward of all, and needed to hide behind a more powerful man. Scheming and lying through his teeth while he collects secrets and information as his own form of currency.

He was loathsome. Peggy was the worst bitch you had ever met in your life. A woman who didn’t want Steve, and also couldn’t bare to see him happy with another woman. The kind of woman whose ego got in the way of the bigger picture. While Rumlow was describable he had bigger reasons for doing this. Peggy’s reasons didn’t go past needing to make Steve feel emasculated.

Disgusting woman, all dolled up for a pretty picture. Steve wasn’t a hero, but he could admit it. She wants to act like there was a moral high ground that she was part of, and still involved with another drug lord. That man just didn’t ask questions. You’d come to learn that Steve did, and that’s why Peggy had to ruin him.

“Are you still sore?” It is a stupid question when your arms were always extended above your head, the fact that she made people remove something so personal from you. Sore didn’t even begin to describe it. “You still mad at me, princess? And if you fucking spit on me again…”

You roll your eyes up to meet her, a sinister smile tugging at your mouth. “Ghastly woman. It’s what you deserve. You can pay for Steve’s sins. They always do,” another one of her tactics is to make you think you were nothing but a fleshlight to Steve. But you knew better. “Do you know how many girls that he has made become a sex worker? Rumor has it he filmed porn right in the club.”

Blah blah blah. You did actually talk to Steve. You also listened. It’s something she didn’t do well. Cocky little bitches never wanted to be the quiet little girls that people think aren’t threatening. Like you. She sees a weak submissive bird. You weren’t weak, and you weren’t dumb. You had more knowledge than she could even fathom about the ongoings of Steve’s enterprise. And there’s one thing she forgets, those sex workers Steve employed had a choice. She had removed yours.

“Are you going to play your game of not talking again?” Smirking, you roll your eyes before concentrating on her shoes. You weren’t going to give her the respect to look her in her face. “You’re such a spoiled child. Did your daddy Steve not spank you enough?”

“Nope,” Steve was not your daddy. He was your Captain.

“You do speak,” god, she’s a pompous twat. If she was closer you would spit on her, just for telling you not to.

“I don’t make it habit of talking to trollops,” with a painted red nail, she slaps you across the face, and your mouth fills with the pungent taste of metal. You gather it in your mouth, waiting. She is already getting closer to you.

“You fucking bitch. I will enjoy seeing you sold, and I will revel in the ways that they use your body to fuck over Steve. And that man never cared for you. You were just warm wet flesh,” one step too close to you, and you let her feel the blood she brought with her slap. The red paints her neck such a brilliant color and you chuckle, “You were just a whore to him. Let him fuck you raw. Intimately. Wanna see?”

Spinning on her heels, she snaps a finger at Loki, “I want Steve fucking her stupid on a loop. Let her watch every moment that was ever a lie. Break her fucking spirit, so she knows Steve never loved her. He couldn’t. Because he loved me, and will always look for a replacement. But there's only one me,” if only she knew that the love that Steve felt for her was nothing compared to how he felt about you. You knew it. He told you.

The sound of his voice stings as the monitor is lit up with the two of you. Precious moments stolen, and there is no telling how many people had seen this. You keep your eyes on Steve, more than you ever did while he was pumping into you. Steve never said the words, but he also couldn’t act. The way he stares at you with so much passion and love, versus the anger he had when he broke up with you. Such a lying coward.

You sniffle, refusing to let any tears cloud your vision or run down your face. You were becoming immune to the physical pain, but seeing a private beautiful moment with Steve hurts so deeply. Even the way he paints your skin with his fingers after making love. Yeah, Steve fucked you and would fuck you hard, but what you just witnessed was sweet. Almost like the first time.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Loki staring at you, and you twist your head to gaze back quickly, causing him to flinch. “When you came to our home…”

“It was just a place for him to hide you and fuck you. Don’t make it seem so domestic.”

“Was this your plan all along? Fuck Steve over?” He shrugs his shoulders, moving to turn back around after making a face with Steve’s grunts on the television. “He’ll enjoy torturing you.”

“You think very highly of yourself. Where were you at when I found you? Broken, naked, and used on a bed. Let’s not forget the money your sister stole from you. What do you think she’s going to do with that much money? Face it, Dovey, everyone around you used you and then left you. Steve for your tight cunt, and your sister for money. You’re better off this way.”

“Don’t call me that,” you wouldn’t let him win. Lark’s involvement is the most painful. Your therapist long ago told you drugs changed people. But inside of that body was still your sister. Somewhere.

“Don’t cry, Dove,” he mocks you as a single tear falls from your face. There’s no sincerity in his voice. And you want him to suffer from your own hands. “I finally know what it sounds like,” and you can’t wait to hear him plead for his pathetic life. His time will come.

You gulp as someone pulls on your leash. Fitted with a dog collar, and lingerie. You stare out blankly at the crowd as words about who you are and what the bidding starts off as begins. Faceless people litter a small crowd, and raised paddles keep being held up.

You try and focus on all their faces, see who is bidding the highest, and it is a zoo. Going so fast it makes you dizzy, and you sway on your heels. The price goes too high for average schmucks, and it seems it is a war between two people.

Both the man and woman are masked, and gloved, and neither have Steve’s features. You feel yourself for the first time slipping into despair. Feeling he didn’t actually care at all, and this is the result. Being sold like cattle.

“Two million,” the man say with finality, and the woman shakes her hand, refusing to pay that much. He left you. You really were worthless to him. Played in his stupid games.

“Sold to Mr. Wolf. Come collect your new pet,” the masked man stands up without a word. Pulling the leash from your handler before scooping up in his arms. Vacant. There’s nothing left. Steve left you to rot.

“I’ve got her,” he says into your ear, and it’s a weird sensation, causing goose pimples to arise on your skin. You didn’t have any idea why he was talking to you. You just need to forget the life you once came from.

The harsh light of the outside stings your eyes, and you start to regress in your body. The fight is finally over, and you just are in disbelief. “We’re out of the building. Clint, lock it down. Steve, I’m taking her to the safe house.”

“Steve?” Your body starts to tremble as the tears you have held in for far too long pours out.

“Shh, Dovey. I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re going someplace safe, but Steve and a few others are burning this down. “Do you know if Peggy was in there?”

“She was bidding,” your words are whispered and confused, using a hand to squeeze on his metal arm, “Bucky?”

“I’ve got you. I gotta get you away,” he places you into the car, buckling you up before he gets in the seat himself. “We’re outta here. Send them right back to hell. Dove, were there any other girls up for auction?” You shake your head no, starting to curl into a ball. Your arms are still so stiff and sore. “She was all. You’ve got free range, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth curls into a gruesome grin. Eyes blazing as he heads towards the building, “Peggy is mine. Fucking bitch.”

Masterlist

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