#i didn’t realize i made sam’s hair that dark

[jojaxcola]

the jojamart mockumentary that constantly plays in my mind

[ next ]

[lex-the-flex]

Nightly Misery

Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: In the wake of another major nightmare, Logan is always grateful to have you by his side.

Word Count: 578

Warning(s): SLIGHT ANGST, MEGA FLUFF, mentions of PTSD, established relationship, brief descriptions of injuries, the reader being a sweetheart, and Logan being protective.

A/N: Welp, my hyper fixation for Hugh Jackman has come back. …As did my love for Wolverine. Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

Rustling in the softness of your shared bed, Logan’s warmth poured over every square inch over the quaint space. Shifting endlessly underneath the thin bedding, a thick layer of sweat covers his skin and the sheets that surround him. The faint sound of crickets beyond the windows do their best to provide some sense of comfort, but it seems that nothing’s working. Not even the faint beams of moonlight could calm the man’s restlessness.

“Logan, Logan…” You speak quietly.

Gently rubbing Logan’s shoulders, he continues to heavily toss and turn in his sleep. Beads of sweat trickle down his temples just as his mumbling grows louder.

“No… NO!” He shouts.

Suddenly, Logan’s body jolts awake, and he sits up. Yelling from his dream, he gasps for air before ultimately gaining his bearings.

He’s here, in the large comfortable master bedroom that he calls home. Logan’s chest rises and falls and his breathing returns to normal as his hazel eyes scan the dark room. Finding that everything is in its proper place, his light orbs find yours opposite him.

“Baby?” He whispers in the dark.

Silently reaching for you, the sight of his bone claws cause a gasp to leave his chapped lips. Retracting the claws, his brief moment of pain subsides, and a minuscule ring of tears begin to form in his eyes.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay, you just had a bad dream, Logan.” You say before traveling to the bathroom.

Retuning moments later, you join Logan’s side, and wipe the sweat from his face with a damp washcloth. Exhaling at the cool cloth, Logan wraps his arms around your waist.

“That’s nice.” He chuckles.

“I thought it might help. You’ve been doing this too much.” You reply with a smile.

“Can’t help it, bub. The wars, I- I can’t. They still…” Logan tries to explain, but fails silent.

“Hey, it’s alright. Don’t let them control you. You’ve done so well lately, don’t let this be the end of all the progress you’ve made.” You say, running your fingers through Logan’s thick dark hair.

Calming stroking his scruff, Logan’s eyelids grow heavy from your soothing touch. However, your therapeutic abilities only work for a short while before his eyes make contact with a series of three small scars on the base of your forearm.

“Jesus Christ. Y/N, I…” Logan begins, but you cut him off.

“I’m fine, babe. It’s just a scratch. I promise, you didn’t mean it.” You explain, stroking his cheeks.

Pulling you into him, Logan lays down with you in his arms. Letting go of a sigh of relief, you can feel Logan’s muscles start to relax beneath your fingertips. Turning to face you, Logan cradles you in his muscular arms, pulling you closer to his broad chest. Placing a soft kiss to your forehead, Logan's fingers lightly grip the hem of your sleep shirt, fearful of hurting you over again.

Facing you, his eyes grow weary whilst he touches the tip of your nose with his own. Tangling your hair in his fingers, he inhales deeply, longing for the taste of your scent on his tongue.

"I know I don't say this often, but I'm so grateful to have you in my life, Y/N. Not just here, in Canada, in our own private life. But you make me realize the true importance that life isn't always so bad." He vows through whispers with a rare, yet happy smile taking over his lips.

tagging ~

@dreamliners

@miss1sarcasmo

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

[supernaturalfreakout]

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. 😏

[lonelysheepling]

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.

[beth20light]

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.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

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

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

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

[mykoreanlove]

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?”

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

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

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

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.

[katebishopshands]

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

[cheynovak]

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]

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

Previous

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.”

Next

Masterlist

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[crivalsduo]

creature, creature

a day late but this is something i wrote for @alterdnbweek

i just wanted to explore my idea of a more inhuman c!dream

People had told Techno that Dream was a monster, that he wasn’t human. It had seemed like the sort of rumors that would’ve been directed at him if things had gone differently. He knew, at least partially, what Dream had done and had chalked it up to that which was none of his business. The fact that Dream had never betrayed him, that he owed Dream for helping to save his life and return Carl to him was what mattered to Techno and he kept that carefully separated from all the rest.

Techno was a little surprised, then, when the platform stopped at the cell with a thud and he saw Dream without the mask and carefully constructed outfit that showed nothing for the first time.

He wasn’t human.

It was hard to tell what he was. Techno was aware of a humanoid shape pressed into the corner of cell, tucked beneath the lectern as much as possible. But it felt off. The stained and ripped orange jumpsuit didn’t quite fit.

“Dream?”

The cell swallowed the name. Techno took a couple steps forward. He could smell sweat and too much blood in the air. He knew what the stains were.

“You—You shouldn’t have come.” Dream’s voice muffled and strained. “It’s a trap.”

“I know, Dream, I know,” said Techno, crouching down close enough he could reach out and touch Dream if he wanted to. The smell of blood was stronger now. “C’mon, it’s alright. Lemme see you.”

Dream let out a shaky breath then unfurled himself from the corner.

Green, tangled hair that was more like a mane fell down in front of Dream’s face. Two white, rabbit-like ears stuck out from the top of his head, a green tuft of fur on the tip of the one that hadn’t been torn raggedly. His eyes were round and so dark Techno couldn’t determine the color though when the light from the glowstone hit them, they shone green. His nose was also rabbit-like with a little bit of green fur set above a mouth that was entirely too wide, curved upwards. The flat, round shape of his face reminded Techno of a barn owl. A long white tail, also tipped with green, was wrapped around Dream’s legs. Sitting, it was hard to judge proportions but the lankiness Dream had always possessed now made more sense. He was all arms and legs, the paw shaped hands ending in claws, and Techno was certain the fluff on his rabbit shaped feet hid similar claws. Where there wasn’t green fur, his skin was an almost iridescent white and his back seemed oddly hunched. Dream blinked and two sets of eyelids slid across his eyes.

“I know,” he started, bitterly, “I’m—”

Techno cut him off.

“Bruh, what the heck happened to you?”

The question caught Dream off-guard and he tilted his head as he fell silent. He pulled his arms to his chest. The sleeves of the jumpsuit weren’t long enough, exposing his forearms and all the cuts and scars and bruises. Dream swallowed.

“I—They’ve been torturing me.”

Techno winced slightly at the confirmation of what was obvious from merely looking at Dream. He hadn’t wanted to believe it but the bloody jumpsuit and the torn ear and all the bruises and cuts were impossible to miss. The abuse was written all over him and it was horrific. Techno didn’t know what to do or say, not with Dream’s strange face staring at him like he was expecting something bad.

“Dang,” he said, throat tight. “That sucks, man.”

A rough, annoyed laugh was pulled from Dream and he smiled, too-wide mouth full of sharp teeth, before he could stop himself.

“It’s not—I mean, yeah, it—it does suck.”

Dream’s shoulders dropped. His collarbone stuck out sharply and Techno realized he had to be terribly underweight. He started to dig into his pockets but Sam had turned them out thoroughly. Instead, he untucked his shirt, stuck his thumb into the last button hole, and tore a strip of fabric off.

“L, couldn’t be me.” The words were soft and teasing and Techno moved a little closer to Dream. “You said ‘they’, I’m guessin’ you mean Sam and Quackity.”

At the names, Dream tensed, large eyes flicking upwards, looking beyond Techno to the wall of lava as if he thought they would be summoned by mere mention. He was trembling, shifting uncomfortably where he sat.

“Y-yeah. It was—It was him. Quackity,” said Dream after a long moment. “He tried to make me write you a note but I didn’t. I swear, I didn’t, Techno.”

It was the most emotion he had shown this entire time, face twisting in desperation. His hands had twitched, starting to reach out to Techno before pulling back. Techno reached out instead and touched the side of Dream’s head. The hair beneath his palm was soft despite the matting.

“It’s okay, Dream, I believe you, alright? I believe you, man. Just let me take a look at you. You’re a mess,” he said.

Instead of responding, Dream pushed himself further out of the corner and closer to Techno. The blood on his skin was dried and crusty but Techno did his best to clean it off. The first time Techno’s fingers touched Dream’s skin, he almost recoiled; it had a strange texture, almost like a slime block but dry and warm. He thought Dream noticed the almost, saw the way he lowered his gaze, and to make up for it, Techno pressed his palm against Dream’s cheek. There were scars on his face and around his neck and long, thin scars curling around his shoulder and down his back. On his back, two oddly shaped lumps were raised against the fabric of his jumpsuit and for some reason, Techno thought of Phil. He started to pull the jumpsuit back but Dream jerked away.

“Don’t—Just, don’t, please,” he said.

Techno frowned. He wanted to know what had happened because he had an idea and he didn’t like the idea, not even a little. He knew why he had thought of Phil. Discarding the scrap of fabric, Techno tugged off his cloak.

“Alright, alright.” He wrapped the cloak around Dream’s shoulders, careful with what part of his back he rubbed his hand against. Then he pulled Dream against his side. “I’ve got ya, Dream.”

[haddonfieldwhore]

jealousy, jealousy - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

summary: it takes a bit of help from your friends for matthew to admit his feelings for you

warnings: language, drinking (don’t drive impaired!), implied smut, jealous matty (duh)

word count: 1.3k

“dude, we’re supposed to be celebrating, why do you look so grumpy?” carter asked matthew, who swirled the ice around in his drink as he stared across the bar. carter followed his gaze, his eyes landing on you and a tall guy with dark hair, the man obviously flirting with you as you stared up at him with a smile. “oh, i get it.”

“get what?” matthew snapped.

“you’re jealous that she’s talking to him and not you.”

“i am not jealous. but she’s supposed to be celebrating with us, not ditching us for some guy who’s staring at her like she’s a piece of meat.” matthew scowled, finishing his drink in one gulp and placing the empty glass down on the table with a thud. carter laughed, shaking his head slightly at his friend and leaned over to sam bennett.

“see, jealous,” he whispered, and matthew shot him a glare, but didn’t say anything as he got up and walked over the bar to get another drink.

“i don’t know what to tell you, he’s been in love with her for years. he just doesn’t realize it,” sam told him, taking a sip of his drink.

“she doesn’t realize it either,” nick laughed.

“maybe they just need a little push,” carter suggested.

“is that a good idea?” nick asked, unsure of what carter was planning.

“whatever he has in mind, probably not,” sam grumbled. “just don’t piss chucky off too much, okay? if we want this win streak to keep going we need you in one piece,” he joked, patting verhaeghe on the shoulder. he gave a nod in response, finishing his drink before looking over at you.

“perfect timing. wish me luck,” he said, watching as the guy who had been hitting on you walked away, leaving you all alone.

carter strolled over to you, and you greeted your friend with a smile, feeling slightly buzzed from the alcohol, but not quite drunk yet.

“hey.”

“hey,” he replied. “you wanna dance?”

“sure,” you laughed, dragging him into the sea of bodies on the dance floor. his hands rested on your hips as you danced around, having the time of your life. you were oblivious to the pair of blue eyes locked on you, while carter could feel them burning a whole in him.

“what’s he doing?” he asked sam as he sat back down at their table.

“i think they call it dancing,” he teased. “why do you care so much?”

“i don’t.”

“bullshit,” nick disagreed, and matthew rolled his eyes.

“if you want to dance with her, just ask her,” sam suggested. matthew sipped his drink in silence, his eyes watching the way carter was touching you, spinning you around until you were face to face.

he thought about the way that carter could probably smell your perfume, a mix of amber and sandalwood, and he bet he could even feel your breath on his lips. he bet he was thinking about kissing you, and the idea of it made him furious, his hand clutching his glass so tight he thought it might break.

“chucky -“

“what?” he snapped, looking at sam.

“you like her.”

“we’re friends-“

“bullshit.”

“so what if i did? she doesn’t feel the same.”

“how do you know?” nick asked.

“she’s never said anything,” matthew shrugged.

“neither have you,” sam pointed out, and matthew sighed. maybe he was right.

“it doesn’t matter. it looks like i’ve missed my shot,” matthew sipped his drink, watching you and carter dance; mostly watching you.

“i wouldn’t give up so easily if i were you,” sam replied, and matthew hoped he was right.

the guys watched with a smile as matthew got up and walked over to you and carter. he looked like he wanted to punch verhaeghe in the face, instead they watched as you greeted him with the biggest smile they had seen from you all night.

“mind if i take over for a bit?” matthew asked, and carter stepped back, patting him on the back as he walked by, heading back to the table.

“that was a risky move, swaggy,” sam laughed as he sat back down.

“yeah, i think he’ll forgive me though,” he smiled as they all looked over at you and matthew.

“so you seem to have found your groove again, goals in the last three games? nice work matty.”

“are you saying i sucked?” he asked with a smile, his hands on your waist as he held you close to him, your bodies almost flush against eachother as you looked up at him.

“i didn’t say that,” you laughed. “you were still better than most of the players in the league. now you’re just playing like your old self again.”

“yeah, it feels good,” he smiled, happy to be meeting people’s expectations again; not that he really cared what most of them thought. but he had to admit, hearing it from you made him feel pretty damn good.

“carter must be in a good mood, he never wants to dance,” you laughed, and matthew bit his tongue so he wouldn’t say something rude.

“yeah, the win streak has us all in pretty good spirits,” he said instead, inhaling the scent of your perfume and watching the way your necklace sparkled in the lights.

“you looked upset earlier,” you commented, thinking back to the look on his face when he was sat at the table. “is something bothering you?”

“no, it’s-“ he took a deep breath. “i was just….”

“what is it matty?” you asked, staring up at him with your beautiful eyes, a concerned look on your face as your hand reached up to play with the curls at the base of his neck.

“fuck it,” he mumbled, before leaning down at pressing his lips to yours. you were stunned at first, but quickly kissed back, tugging on his hair gently as he pulled you closer, your other hand resting on his chest.

“he actually did it,” nick laughed back at their table, and he clinked his glass against sam and carters as they laughed at their friend.

“took him long enough,” sam shook his head with a smile. “even back in calgary he had a thing for her.”

when you separated for air, you stared up at matthew, waiting for an explanation.

“i’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.”

“so what you were trying to say is that you were jealous?” you teased playfully, and he blushed lightly.

“i-“ he sighed. “yeah alright; i was.”

“why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“i didn’t know if you felt the same way,” he shrugged, his fingers playing with the hem of your top, and you leaned up to kiss him again.

“well, now that you know… are we gonna stand here all night or are you gonna take me home?” you asked, and he raised an eyebrow.

“you sure?” he asked, a gleam in his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“i mean, if you’d rather stay here with the guys we can-“

“fuck that, let’s go,” he smiled as he dragged you by your wrist gently but quickly towards the door. your table laughed as you guys walked by without a word, and carter was pleased that his plan had worked.

matthews hand didn’t leave your thigh the whole drive to his place as you sat in the passenger seat, pleading with him to not run every red light to get you home faster.

“relax,” you laughed, as he leaned over to kiss you while he tapped his fingers against your thigh impatiently, waiting for the light to go green. “we have two whole days before your next game.”

“good,” he smiled, kissing you one more time as the light changed, and the car rolled forward.

“cause you’re not going anywhere.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[aylacavebear]

Three Little Words - A Touched Oneshot

Just something cute and fluffy. Established relationship. Dean x OCF reader/you

No warnings here, no insuations. Just fluffy cuteness. I hope you guys like it. I wrote and edited it this morning while having coffee in just a couple hours, since it invaded my dreams last night in the best way.

Memories are indented. Thoughts are in italics.

Word Count: 2583

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

The two of you were cuddling, your shared room dark. He’d just gotten back from a hunt and, after showering, had crawled into bed behind you. You weren’t completely asleep, trying to stay awake and wait for him. So when you felt the bed dip and the warmth of his body, you snuggled your back against his chest as his arm slipped over your waist.

Dean nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply, trying to find that peace you always brought to him. The way your body fit against his was where it always started. Then it was your scent as he closed his eyes and held you close. He knew you’d ask. You always did after the content hum left his lips.

“Why me?” your words were always a whisper because you still couldn’t understand it. But then again, Dean was never good with words.

He didn’t know how to tell you that holding you close like this brought peace to his soul in a way he never thought was possible.

He didn’t know how to tell you that your laughter was like a symphony that quieted his thoughts when nothing else did.

He didn’t know how to tell you that your smile brightened the room around you and took away the darkness he always felt.

He didn’t know how to tell you that when you would just sit and listen to him talk about how badly a hunt had gone while he stared at the floor said more than words ever could.

He didn’t know how to tell you that the moment his lips touched yours, the entire world melted away, leaving him with just you and how you made him feel.

He didn’t know how to tell you that when you were doing research, your focus completely on the book in front of you, that the way a few strands of hair had fallen over one side of your face made his breath hitch in his chest and the moment freeze and everything melted away.

He didn’t know how to tell you that when you’d bring him something to eat when he had put off eating for most of the day that the love he saw in your eyes made him realize how much you truly loved him and all he wanted to do was say those three little words to you, but couldn’t.

He didn’t know how to tell you that when you’d sing along to the radio and his favorite songs, you sounded like an angel, and for a few moments, he forgot about everything else but your voice.

He didn’t know how to tell you that just you being in his life brought joy back into his heart, and he found himself finding reasons to be silly with you, like a ticklefest, when he noticed a frown on your lips. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that when he got to wake up with you in his arms, he didn’t feel like a hunter or like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He felt like, in that moment, he had a normal, apple pie life, even if it never lasted.

He didn’t know how to tell you that when he would catch you baking, especially pie, he wished his mother was there, that she could have met you cause he knew she would have loved you as much as he did.

He didn’t know how to tell you that he loved hearing you squeal or squeak when he would surprise you, how it always made him smile when you pretended to be mad at him, but the look of love and joy in your eyes always gave you away.

He didn’t know how to tell you that when you didn’t go with him and Sam on a case, he missed everything about you, and he was always more on edge, and he always had nightmares of losing you to some monster before he could make it back to you.

There was so much he never knew how to tell you, so he had done his best to show you because it all sounded stupid in his head, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak any of the words he tried to put to the emotions you made him feel. So, he told you the thing he always did when you asked, “Why you.” It was because you were you, and he loved all of you.

A quiet sigh left his lips, but he didn’t move away from you. For a few moments, he tried to think of how to word his emotions, but the words never seemed right. “Because you’re you,” he whispered back as his mind wandered.

He didn’t know how to tell you that when you always split the last piece of bacon with him, he remembered how you helped change his perspective on things. 

The two of you had been sitting in the kitchen in the bunker, having just finished the breakfast he had cooked. There was one slice of bacon left on the plate. Dean didn’t know how to tell you he loved you. Those were words he just couldn’t manage to ever say out loud. So, instead, he picked up the slice of bacon and handed it to you, telling you that you could have it because he knew how much you loved bacon. It was your gentle chuckle as you took the bacon that made him pause and look at you, a little confused. He watched as you broke the bacon in half, “I never want to take more than you give,” you whispered, then put one of the halves in your mouth. Instead of handing that other half to Dean, you leaned across the table and fed it to him, nothing but love and adoration in your eyes. His breath had hitched in his chest. “You love bacon as much as I do. I’ll always share with you. I never want you to feel like I take more than I give,” you had told him softly. And from that moment on, he began trying the same thing with you.

“Where are your thoughts?” you asked him sleepily, feeling how he had tensed up a little as he held you.

He let out a quiet chuckle because you always seemed to know. “In my head,” he mumbled, nuzzling against your neck again and letting out a content sigh.

“Where are you?” you asked, this time softer.

“With you,” he whispered, feeling how just telling you that always made the tension ease out of him, everywhere.

He wanted to tell you that it was simple questions like that that had helped him over the years learn that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to face the things not only in his head but also in life, alone.

But Dean had never been good with sharing the things he went through, and you had never pushed. Just like now. He knew you knew he was tense from the hunt, but you hadn’t even asked him how it went. You never had to ask. You just had found ways to pull his mind into the now. He smiled a little, remembering back to the first fight between the two of you, before he’d ever even asked you to be with him, let alone wanted to admit that you had wormed your way into his heart.

It had been after a hunt. Sam had already gone to his room, knowing what was coming, but Dean had followed you to yours, slamming the door behind him. His eyes were on your blood-stained shirt. Your wounds had already healed, but that wasn’t the point, not for Dean. You had gotten injured, saving him. He could tell you were pissed, but he didn’t care. The tension and silence in the car ride back to the motel had only given him time to think about what he was going to say to you instead of what he wanted to say. You turned to look at him, a glare in your eyes as you crossed your arms, standing confidently across the small room. Dean didn’t care. To him, he wasn’t worth you getting hurt. “What you did was reckless,” he growled, but you didn’t even blink, only pushing his anger further. “You didn’t follow the plan, and you got hurt!” You just raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk toyed at your lips. He didn’t like that look. “Yes. It was reckless. Your plan was flawed, but you refuse to trust my judgment on things, so I have to improvise.” There was no anger in your words, and for the briefest of moments, he knew you saw the confusion in his eyes before he quickly hid it. Dean let the anger flare in his eyes again, wanting to make you understand that he wasn’t worth you getting hurt, period. To him, this wasn’t up for debate. He took two steps toward you, crossing the small room, but you didn’t even flinch as your eyes never left his. It was both slightly intimidating, but deep down, it tickled that hope he always pushed away. He hated himself for the things that spewed from his mouth after that as he looked down at you with utter anger. The fact that it didn’t seem to outwardly affect you only fueled it further. You literally just stood there, your eyes locked onto his, your expression almost neutral, and your arms crossed. It was infuriating him. You had waited patiently while he went off. He hadn’t said a single nice thing, but that wouldn’t deter you. Nope. You’d spent enough time now around the brothers that you knew Dean’s habits, his patterns. Hell, you had even tested them a few times just to make sure. The moment he was done yelling, you figured it was time to point a few things out.

“First off, you’re a hypocrite,” you began, but your tone was… normal? That puzzled Dean, but only for a split second before he quickly hid it, letting the anger flare in his eyes again. But you didn’t stop there. “You’re constantly putting yourself in harm's way to keep not only Sam and me safe but strangers too. I know you do it because you care. Dean, you have one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen in someone. You don’t chastise Sam when he does the same thing I just did tonight. I know this because I’ve tested it, among other things,” you told him, and he could hear the softness that trickled into your words. But you didn’t stop there. “You’re going to have to just deal with me doing what I do. I don’t do hypocrisy or double standards. If you don’t want me to do it, then don’t do it yourself, period.” The seriousness with which you said that made him see red, his jaw clenching as his hands balled into fists at his sides, but even that didn’t seem to affect you. He opened his mouth as he pointed a finger at you, but you kept going. “I’m allowed to put myself in harm’s way for those I care about. Plain and simple. I’m a hunter, Dean, just like you. You want to yell at me because I got hurt, fine. Then, when you get hurt, I’ll stay silent while I tend to your wounds because that’s just how I am. You yelling is your way of showing how you care. When I’m silently patching you or Sam up, that’s how I show I care. I’m not going to yell at you for protecting someone you care about.” There was a finality in your last statement that had Dean wanting so desperately to hate you. Dean couldn’t even find words to say something that would push you away, and that had pissed him off. You saw through him into the depths of the things he thought he kept hidden. The fact that you would let him yell at you, floored him. To him, he wasn’t worth saving, wasn’t worth protecting, wasn’t worth being cared for, and he damn well wasn’t worth getting hurt for. He wanted to yell at you, but he didn’t have an argument now. You just looked up at him with those eyes he had tried so hard not to get lost in since he and Sam had asked you to join them. Then there was how relaxed your expression was, like the cruel things he had said hadn’t even affected you. You had effectively taken away the things he could use to keep you at arm's length, the things he would have used to push you away.  It hit him in that moment, and it scared the hell out of him, but all he did was glare down at you, enraged. “This isn’t over,” he told you in a low growl. “Yes, Dean, it is. You can’t scare me away because I know you’ll never hurt me,” you told him plainly, and the shock in his eyes left just as quickly as it appeared. All he could do was storm out of your room, slamming the door behind him.

The memory brought a small smile to his lips as he pulled you just that much closer. That was the night he realized he loved you and that you loved him, but it took him nearly another three years before he acted on it. The bluntness of your words back then had always shut him up, but it was mostly because of the kindness in your eyes as you spoke them.

You felt him relax further behind you, the warmth of his body and how his arm was draped across you was lulling you off to sleep as a soft smile found your lips. It was these moments where nothing else mattered. There were no monsters, no pressing apocalypse that had to be tended to, and no research left untouched in the library. This moment was a peaceful reprieve from the hardships that came with being a hunter.

As Dean drifted off to sleep, his thoughts were only of you. His last thought was always those three little words he hadn’t been able to say to you, but he showed you in every way he could possibly imagine.

Like when he’d share his pie with you, feeding you pieces while he watched you smile and the light of wherever the two of you were sitting dance off your features. 

When he would say something silly just to hear you laugh with that huge smile that reached both your eyes.

He couldn’t tell you that when you would come up and hold him from behind while he was cooking, it instantly took the tension from his shoulders. So, he would hold you while you washed the dishes, hoping his closeness brought you the same feeling.

He couldn’t tell you that you were his home, the place where his soul found peace, and all he ever had to do was look into your eyes or watch you doing some simple task. So, he had vowed that he would do everything he could, every day, to be your Home. Why? Because Dean wasn’t good with words, but he could do actions, and those, those you could see. All he could do was hope that you felt them how he meant them because no matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn’t say those three little words.

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