#sam x f!reader

[tldrthor]

promises we intend to keep | steve rogers

Summary: The Avenger's spend time with their comatose friend, Cap's sanity slips from him as he spends every night by her bedside. Is blind faith enough?

Part 2 to things we shouldn't have said (prev. classic enemies to lovers stuff) // He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn't care less. // word count: 4.3k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

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“Hi, (y/n).” He settled himself into the chair next to the bed, the familiar antiseptic smell filling his nostrils, the beep, beep, beep of her heart like music to his ears. He had hated it at first, but now, it was evidence that she was still here. There was still hope. “I’ve got a break between meetings so I figured I’d come down and say hello.”

He leaned back, watching her peaceful features as unmoving as they had been for nearly a month now. He frowned at the wires connected to her neck and chest, knowing that if she was awake she would’ve hated that. Part of him wanted to rip them off, but his more rational thinking prevented him from doing that.

Dr. Cho’s words circled round his mind, as they hadn’t stopped doing since she spoke them all those weeks ago. “She’s not out of the woods yet. She died twice on the table, and requires all manners of intervention going forward. We’ll only know the extent of the damage when she wakes up –” The doctor had paused for just a second, trying to soften what was only certain to be a killing blow. “–If she wakes up.”

Every time he remembered those words, his knees felt as weak as Bambi on ice. The nausea he used to feel every time he entered this room had faded, and the shell-shock had worn. She still occupied every moment of his thoughts, awake or unconscious. Not that he had been doing a lot of sleeping.

He opened the book at the page he had last left off at, when Sam had come downstairs and dragged the Captain to bed himself last night. “Just to recap,” He spoke to her regardless of her response to him. “Laurie confessed to Jo, but she rejected him. Beth is still sick and boy, that’s rough.” 

He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

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“(Y/l/n), I’ve had enough now.” Natasha charged through the doors to where (y/n) lay. She threw herself down in the chair, leaning her head on her asleep friend’s shoulder, trying to gain what little emotional support she could from her usual source of sanity amongst the chaos of the compound. “The boys are driving me crazy. I think you’ve made your point; Cap is sorry – he’s very, very sorry, borderline depressed – so you can come back.”

She smiled a charming, pleading smile. But no one was there to see it. She dropped the smile after a few seconds.

“(Y/n), it’s hard without you here. No one’s the same, and Steve won’t accept any missions so we can’t even escape. Sam and Bucky are about to tear each other apart, and Cap just wallows in the gym whenever he’s not here with you.”

More silence. 

“Anyways, Cap said that he wants someone here as much as possible. And we haven’t hung out in a while, so if you don’t mind we’re going to watch the new season of Love Island together.” She kicked off her shoes, stretching her legs over the hospital bed and getting comfortable.

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The next visitor didn’t say anything as he walked through the doors, hovering by the foot of the bed. He uncomfortably brought his hands in and out of his pockets, shifting from one leg to the other. 

He eventually moved beside the bed, reaching a hand out to her forehead, to get rid of a hair that had found itself there. He stood there, staring, in silence for a while longer. He swallowed, took a breath, and spoke out loud;

“Kid, I don’t know if you can hear me.” He paused. “You probably can’t.”

He paced around the room, continuing; “I just want you to know, I got your little letter. Really, more of a stunt, very childish – anyway. I want you to know that if that’s your wish, I’ll help you out in setting up. But I also need you to know that you’re going to have to tell me that to my face. So you’ll have to wake up.”

“Also, I’m your boss and your sick pay is running out, so chop chop.” He joked to himself. He basked in the silence for another second.

“It’s not the same without you, (y/l/n). Hope to talk soon.”

“Mr. Stark, Mrs Potts is requesting your presence in the kitchen.” FRIDAY chimed in right on time. He muttered a be right up, taking one last look at his young teammate, and walked out the doors. 

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A month to the day since she was shot, Steve couldn’t sleep. Before the whole debacle, he would’ve just gone to the gym and fought it out of his system. But now, he couldn’t bear being anywhere but in the medical bay. He couldn’t even count the amount of times he had woken up in that chair, neck in excruciating pain, the book on the floor. Or, the amount of times Bucky or Sam or Natasha had come downstairs and marched him back to bed.

He couldn’t help it. The thought of her waking up alone, not knowing where she is, was his greatest concern – scratch that, his greatest fear was her not waking up at all.

He didn’t take the time to change into proper clothes, instead deciding to head down in his pyjamas – ones that she had complimented him on, once upon a time. Red flannel pants and a matching henley – she had described it as ‘lumberjack chic’ and then explained that that was a good thing. He hadn’t realised back then, but Steve now thinks she might have been flirting. He cursed how much of an idiot he was before this disaster.

He wished desperately he could turn back time to then. Before he decided the only way not to love her, was to hate her.

“It’s me, again.” He spoke, taking his familiar spot on the chair next to the bed. He yawned, getting himself more comfortable, flicking the blanket they had all collectively decided was required over his legs. “Now, where were we?” He picked up the book again, reciting words from the pages until it fell from his hand, loud snores from his mouth filling the room.

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When he awoke again, he was in the same familiar pain he always had when he spent too much time in the chair. This time he had fallen forward, his head resting on the bed and… his hand entwined in hers.

He sighed, giving himself the luxury of just a second feeling what he would never have. Her hands were soft, and smooth. Not like his own. They were warm, and comfortable, and something about her fingers holding onto his just felt right.

It wouldn’t be respectful to linger for longer than that, not without her knowing, but as he tried to pull his hand away –

Was that a twitch?

He stared at her hand, now more awake and alert than he had been all month. There was no way, he was definitely just going delirious through stress, or lack of sleep, or maybe his age had just caught up with him because –

A second twitch.

“Oh my god.” He glared daggers into her hand, as if that would do something. Maybe he really was losing his marbles. This was just wishful thinking. His heart feeling like it was about to thump, thump, thump right out of his chest. Do it again. Please, do it again. 

When it happened for a third time, and he saw it with his own eyes, he could only make a noise that could really only be described as a squeal. On his feet in an instant, his hand finding its way to her cheek, cupping her face.

There was no other sign of life. He stared and stared and stared. “Wake up, (y/n). Wake up, I’m here.” He pleaded. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he considered them; “If you wanted to prove a point, consider it proven. You’re not a liability, you’ve never, ever been a liability.”

“Just wake up. I am so, so sorry for everything.” His thumb stroked her cheek, his eyes staring at her face looking for anything that might indicate she was coming back to him. “Just wake up.”

Nothing.

He sat back down, defeated. He had gotten his hopes up, and it all came crashing back down. He placed his hand firmly back on hers as he leant his head on the bed, wet patches forming on the sheets as saltwater leaked from his eyes.

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“Cap, we’re not saying we don’t believe you —” Sam was interrupted.

Steve turned away from his friends, growing more and more frustrated with every sentence uttered. They didn’t believe him. She had moved. She was coming back, but no one would listen.

“You don’t believe me. I promise her hand twitched.” His jaw tensed, his stare as far away from his friends as he could get.

“Stevie, we believe that you felt something, but you have to admit, bud, you’ve been hardly sleeping and pushing yourself too far. Nothing was picked up on monitors, how would that be?” Bucky reasoned, sitting in the same chair where Steve had been so convinced she was waking up, just hours ago.

He had called them to the room as early as he deemed was responsible that day, and they had come running. Only to find their friend still asleep, and the captain with red eyes and bags under them that only seemed to get worse and worse the more they looked.

Sam sighed, hand reaching up to rub his temple. He had had a pretty consistent headache himself for a good couple of weeks. “Steve, I completely understand. We all want her back, but you can’t keep torturing yourself over this. She’ll wake up, just give her time.”

“Sam, it’s been a month – the doctor said if she was going to wake up it would take around a week.” Steve pleaded, the tears welling in his eyes again. He didn’t care anymore about hiding it from them. They already thought he was crazy anyway.

Sam placed a hand on his back as he wiped the water with the back of his hand.

“We’ll wait as long as it takes, but it has to be we. You can’t be here all the time, Steve. It’s no good if she wakes up and you’ve killed yourself from lack of sleep.”

“I don’t want to miss the moment she comes back.” He whispered.

Sam and Bucky made eye contact, pitying looks cast between them. 

Bucky decided to speak, seeing Sam’s heartbreak at trying to reason with their normally solid friend. “Steve, you have to go to bed – don’t argue – but I’ll stay with her. I promise that if anything happens, I will let you know in an instant.”

Steve’s lips drew into a tight line, his eyebrows furrowed. Bucky continued; “Come on, just give me a couple hours, Stevie. I’ll chat to her, we’ll listen to music or something. I promise I’ll take care of her.”

“Come on.” Sam put his arm round Steve, gentle but firmly leading him away. He stole one last glance, as Bucky pulled out his phone to put on some music.

When the boys were finally away, Bucky turned to her. “You’re causing quite a ruckus, tiger. You always liked your sleep, but this is a bit much.” He laughed, leaning back in the chair. “There’s not much to say, kid – I know that the others have been talking your ear off. We need you back.”

He scrolled on his phone a little. Looking for the playlist she had shared with him – one to blend their music tastes. It was originally just for a mission they had to go on together, but turned into one of his favourite ways to bond with her. Music. He laughed again at the name: ‘Golden Oldie and the Wunderkind’ He remembered the day she had made up the name, they hadn’t stopped laughing for hours.

He clicked shuffle, smiling as I and Love and You by the Avett Brothers came over the speakers. “I know you like this song because it reminds you of Stevie.” He teased, but let it play out. He didn’t quite let himself sing, but he did mouth the words to his favourite verse;

That woman, she’s got eyes that shine, Like a pair of stolen, polished dimes. She asked to dance, I said ‘it’s fine– I’ll see you in the morning time’.

What he didn’t tell her, didn’t dare to say out loud, was that ever since he had mentioned to Steve that she liked the song, Steve had listened to it at least once a day. Particularly after they had their usual fights.

These idiots have a lot to figure out when she wakes up. He thought to himself.

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Bucky got a few hours with her, listening to their playlist, occasionally chatting about the song choices. He briefly tried to read the book on the side, but when he saw it was Little Women, he put it right back down again. 

“Sorry, tiger. Not my vibe.” He chuckled.

The doors opened slowly, revealing a slightly-less-haggard Captain America. He had put actual clothes on, looked like he had slept at least a little bit and had even showered. Bucky gave a nod of approval, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair again.

“You feeling better?” Bucky asked his friend, who simply nodded in response. 

Buck stood, knowing that Steve wanted to be alone with her right now. To not have the pitying looks thrown at him that Bucky couldn’t help but cast. He understood, he had been there.

“See ya, punk.” He gave a hearty smile before leaving.

Steve took his rightful seat, sighing before starting the same routine they had done over, and over, and over again. He was growing so sick of this chair, and the bed, and the beeping from the machines that didn’t seem to be helping at all. 

He got through around half a chapter of Little Women, until he realised that Beth was going to die. He didn’t know how he hadn’t remembered, he had heard his mother reading this book all the way back in ‘35. He closed the book, finding death far too triggering, given the current situation. 

Just closing the book wasn’t enough, it was like it burned him to hold it. He threw it across the room in a moment of fury. Frustration swept his whole body as he spiralled, down and down and down. He was ashamed of how out of control he had become. He had always been so rational, so measured. He was always the one people came to when they needed grounding – yet he didn’t know how to ground himself.

He rested his head on her arm, his sweaty palms holding her hand with a ferocity hitherto unseen from him. Like his damn life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

“Come on, (y/n),” He pleaded with the air. With God. With her. “I know you’re mad at me, just wake up and we’ll have another shouting match. Just like before.” A brutally defeated tone weighed down his voice, rough and gravelly from the effort of his bargain. He enclosed her hand in both of his own, leaning his head against them.

A cough. 

He froze for a second, hiding behind her hand in his. The coughs continued, dry and painful sounding. Was there someone else in the room?

He took a moment to steel himself, peeling himself away from her hand, and staring at her, mouth agape like a fish out of water. “Oh my god.”

“Water.” She croaked.

He jumped up, the chair going flying backwards. He didn’t notice. With shaking hands, he poured the water from the jug on the bedside table into one of the plastic cups. He held it up to her dry, cracked lips, watching as she drank the whole cup.

“Be careful.” He spoke, instincts kicking in. “You’re on fluids, don’t overload your kidneys.”

She finished, her head laying straight back down on the pillow. He could see in her very brief movements that she was weak. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Her eyes were barely open as she turned her head in his direction.

“Captain?” Her voice was rough as sandpaper, like she was straining just to get her singular words out. He just stared, incredulously.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” The pet name rolled off his tongue like he had always said it, and he didn’t even notice. “Oh, my god. You’re awake. I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here.”

He had practiced over and over again, what he was going to say to her when she woke up. Thought about it for entire nights when he couldn’t get to sleep. His plans had been poetic and perfect – they were not ‘oh my god you’re awake.’ He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn’t care less.

Her eyes opened, slowly, and she looked around the room. “What happened?” The words were still a struggle to get out and he could tell. He wanted to tell her to rest, to save her voice for later, to recuperate. But he hadn’t heard that sound in so long, that he let himself be selfish – just one more time.

His own mouth when dry at her amnesia. She knew who he was, which was good. But not knowing how she ended up here was a bad sign. 

“What do you remember?” She was growing restless at lying down, and she was in so much pain. It felt like her whole body was made of stone, but she used all of the strength she had in her to try to sit up.

She was met by gentle hands, guiding her up and placing pillows behind her to support her. Hands that belonged to her once arch-nemesis, who looked at her now like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

She was so confused. 

“I remember arguing in the forest.” Her eyes were wide with what Steve could only decipher as panic. “I don’t remember anything else… Why am I here?” The scared tone in her voice broke Steve’s heart all over again, but it could not take over the elation he felt at the fact that she was there.

He took a deep breath, briefly considering what he should tell her, considering all the events of the last month, in particular, that day. One of the worst days of his life.

“You were shot through the chest.” He began. “It knocked you out instantly, we barely got you here alive.” He ran his thumb softly over the back of her hand, unable to make eye contact. “You- you’ve been asleep for a month.”

He decided not to tell her of the fact she had died on the operating table. That could wait.

“A month?!” She shouted, resulting in another coughing fit. He helped her drink some more water, making soothing noises as she did so. It all felt so surreal. Every minute of every day since that moment, he had wished for this. And now it was happening. She was awake, and talking. 

Her voice started to clear; “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No. Please, don’t worry about me. You saved me from being shot right before you went down – it was my fault you got hurt.”

“I don’t think that’s right.” She contorted her face into a puzzled expression, looking down at his hand, clasping hers. She said it as a mix between a statement and a question – “We’re holding hands?”

“Yes, um. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and your hand twitched a couple of days ago so that’s why – sorry, I’ll stop-”

As he tried to untangle their hands, she closed her fist and prevented him from doing so. He watched her chest rise and fall quickly, her eyes wide.

“Please, don’t.” Her words were like a child’s as her nostrils flared. She was uncertain. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her uncertain before, not even a flash of hesitance had danced across her features as far back as he could remember. “It feels nice.”

Maybe, he just wasn’t paying enough attention.

“Then I’ll keep holding your hand until you ask me to stop.” He promised. A gentle, sincere smile took over his features, which she tried her best to replicate. He observed her face, drinking in the colour in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. 

It was a stark contrast to how they had last left off – the image replaying over and over again in his mind of her clinging to life, blood leaking from her mouth, her nose, her chest. The inky, sticky red coating his suit and his hands and his shoes. So much blood, endless. Sometimes he still felt the slick heat of it all over him. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to scrub that feeling from his memory.

“Where are the others? Are they okay?” (Y/n) asked, looking around the room at the various bunches of flowers and cards littered upon every surface. Steve had completely forgotten the others existed in his complete shock at her return.

He winced, knowing he should have called for them immediately. “They’ll be so happy to see you.” He spoke directly to her, and then to the ceiling; “FRIDAY, let everyone know that (y/n) is awake.”

“Yes, Captain.” The irish lilt came from above.

It was mere seconds before the doors came barrelling open, the entire team funnelling into the relatively small room, crowding around the bed and exclaiming various different versions of ‘Oh my god’, ‘You’re awake’, ‘Holy shit’. The room was absolute chaos with an unmusical cacophony.

This was allowed to go on for a few minutes, before the on-call doctor, someone (y/n) had never seen before, rounded the corner. “Okay, okay!” He shouted, “This is too much for the patient, I want everyone out – you can come in smaller groups.”

Everyone grumbled but did as they were told, each taking their chance to say ‘call if you need anything’, ‘see you later’ or ‘we’ll come back with sweets’. Bucky ruffled her hair and Natasha pressed a kiss to her cheek, muttering about how a certain Captain would be looking after her. She didn’t really understand what it meant, but a blush spread to her cheeks anyway.

As the last of them filed out, Steve turned to her and asked; “Do you want me to stay?” A certain vulnerability sewn into his question.

“Yes.” She answered far too quickly. “Please, Captain. If that’s okay.” Her voice seemed to get smaller and smaller as she spoke. “I don’t want to be alone.” Her grip on his hand tightened, both a demand and a question contained within it.

How on Earth could he say no to her? Her wide, gorgeous eyes searched his face for an answer, which he gave by settling further into the chair, pulling it even closer to the bed, if that was even possible. 

“Like I said, as long as you want. I’m here, you’re not alone.”

They sat in silence for a while, the Captain not taking his eyes away from her face. 

“(Y/n).” He had to tell her, now or never. He wouldn’t risk something like this again, things going unsaid. “I hope you know how sorry I am for what I said, all those weeks ago. It’s not an excuse, but I realised all this time I’ve not hated you, I’ve …”

She looked at him, her lips parted. Her messy hair splayed in a way where the fluorescent lights caught it, making it look like a sort of pseudo-halo. He knew it, right there and then. This was it.

“I’ve loved you. Since the moment we met.”

A shocked expression on her face moved slowly, her open mouth contorting into a soft, loving smile. She squeezed his hand, bringing her other arm over to hold it as well. Just more contact. That was all she needed.

“Steve, I feel the same.” She was still playing with his actual name, not ‘Captain’ or ‘Rogers’ or a sarcastic ‘Cap’. He couldn’t believe how it sounded coming from her – like it was a new name altogether. Like a song he was discovering for the first time.

He couldn’t help it now, he beamed. “You do?”

She nodded, licking her lips. They were so cracked, and dry. But she didn’t care.

“I– I can’t lean over to you, but… I would love to kiss you right now.”

He didn’t waste any time. Up and out of his seat in an instant, crossing what little distance was left between them. His hands reached her cheeks first, cupping them ever so softly. They breathed together, just for a second, his eyes flicking to hers almost to make sure she knew what she was doing. 

And then his lips were on hers. The kiss wasn’t like she had imagined – it wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t angry, wasn’t sudden. It was calculated and gentle and passionate. It was everything she could ever have hoped for.

They pulled apart, Steve knowing that she wasn’t strong enough to hold her breath to kiss her as long as he wanted to. His hand stroked her cheek, his eyes staring into hers. He rested his forehead against hers for a second, before moving up and pressing a kiss to it.

The look in his eyes was one of love, happiness and admiration.

“I think I’ve wanted to do that since we met.” He admitted, breathless from excitement. They smiled at each other wordlessly, growing used to the looks between not being ones of glaring and daggers, but of kindness, and warmth.

The only sound was the steady beep, beep, beep of her heart rate – a sound he had definitely decided he loved. They stayed like that for hours, before she started to fall back asleep – to rest, this time.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” She asked, as she slipped back into slumber.

“I promise.” And nothing on Earth could stop him from keeping it.

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TAGS -- I've tagged everyone who requested a part two! You guys really keep my motivation up so I hope it's done you justice <3. This will be the last part for now, but I'm thinking of setting future domestic fics in this universe!

@haven-in-writing @marvelouskatie @veryaverageapple @ironwinnerwonderland @ohdrey89 @waqtzayaontmblr @shygamergirl01 @starkenobi @ynstark

p.s. please please listen to 'I and Love and You' by the Avett Brothers if you haven't before -- it's so Steve and is such a lovely song.

[meracyn]

ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ, ᴋᴡᴏɴ ᴊᴀᴇ-ꜱᴜɴɢ

sypnosis. after a painful breakup that left you mentally scarred, you're forced to see kwon again, this time at the sekai taikai tournament. after successfully avoiding him many times, he finally got you to himself. the question is- will you go back to him again?

warnings. cursing, female reader & part of miyagi-do. kind of angst? the other 2 parts are up! click these; two, three

You arrived at the bar with the rest of the Miyagi-Do members. After many hours of rough training sessions and competition at the Sekai Taikai tournament, you all agreed it was fair to have some fun for a while.

The music blared through the speakers, every vibration being sent to your body. It was pretty full, but you weren't going to let that prevent you from having fun. Robby and Miguel went off on their own, as well as Demetri and Hawk. Devon had stayed back since she claimed to feel unwell, leaving you, and the female captain of your dojo alone.

You made your way to an empty spot, when you heard an all familiar voice call out to you. Looking up, you saw Sam, who sat next to you on the table, offering you a drink. "Here, you did great today by the way." She said with a smile.

Taking it from her hand, you took a sip. "Thanks, you did too." Not long after, Sam excused herself to take some fresh air outside, reassuring you she wouldn't take long.

As you were left alone, you eventually got bored and decided to go up to the bartender and order a stronger drink, which was probably a bad idea as you ended up drinking more than you intended to. Your vision was slightly blurred and your head was starting to throb.

"Ugh.." You groaned, pressing a hand against your forehead as you tried to walk out of the bar, stumbling on the way before you bumped against someone. Muttering an apology, you took a step forward when a hand grabbed your arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A sharp, low voice practically hissed at you. You felt your heart stop as you recognized the voice all too well, bringing back painful memories you thought were already gone. You tried to get out of their grasp, but their hold became much more firm, making you unable to leave.

"Let me go," You said, your tone coming off more aggressive than you thought.

"And let you be with those guys who are practically eyefucking you?"

Clenching your fist, you finally looked up. Like you figured out, it was Kwon.

Memories of the breakup flooded your mind, reminding you of the pain you felt back then. It only made your head hurt even more–and your heart, too.

"I can handle myself, thanks." You mumbled, taking the opportunity to remove your hand away from his touch. "I don't have anything to talk to you about."

Kwon reached out to hold you again, this time an arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. "Actually, we do need to talk."

You shook your head in anger, attempting to get him off of you. Kwon dipped his head low in response, his lips beside your ear. "Do you really want to cause a scene right now?" He asked, his tone sending you shivers down your spine.

You reluctantly stopped moving, as Kwon took your hand and led you out of the bar, headed towards a dark alley. The air was very chilly, a stark contrast to the bar’s warm atmosphere. As soon as Kwon stopped walking, you yanked your hand out of his.

"Why did you even bring me here?"

"I didn't think you would be at the Sekai Taikai."

"But I am, what about it?"

"You keep avoiding me."

"Yeah. The same reason you ended our relationship turned out to be in vain." You retorted, voice wavering slightly. The alcohol was starting to affect you more by the second, causing you to hold onto the cold, rough wall behind you.

Kwon took a step closer to you, faint hesitation flickering in his eyes for a moment before disappearing just as quickly. He lifted his hand to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin. "Remember those nights we spent together?" He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling a wave of drowsiness overcome your senses. "Kwon..don't.." You said quietly.

"Let us try again," Kwon persisted. "Give me another chance..yeah?" He murmured, bringing your face closer to his. Your breath hitched at his actions, heart pounding.

"We can't." You pushed him away from you, making him slightly surprised. "We're in different dojos now. Focus on yours, and I'll focus on mine." Before you could continue any further, Sam spotted the both of you and quickly rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder as she glared at the male in front of you.

"Get out. Don't you dare get any closer to her." She threatened, before turning to look at you, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah.. let's just go." You replied while avoiding Kwon's burning gaze. Sam nodded, letting you hold onto her for support as she led you out of the place.

You couldn't look back, fearing you would break and go back to him. Although deep down, you knew Kwon would do his best to do just that.

[the-thing-withfeathers]

exceeded caution part 6

i get it now

series masterlist | previous part | next part

a/n: OKAY OKAY this is a super fucking long chapter i am so sorry but i had to finish up the rest of the canon and add some cheeky little sam and tara moments for y'all. plsplspls forgive me.

pairing: ex!tara carpenter x f!reader into sam carpenter x f!reader

warnings: LONG ASS CHAPTER. cursing, threatening language, gun usage, knife usage, major character deaths, stabbing, blood, gore, descriptions of murder, straight up murder. 6.7k words.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

“you’re not woodsboro.”

sam’s voice rang in your ears as your head pounded. you were in pain, your arm stung, your eyes felt heavy. it’s like you were coming out of a coma.

when you regained consciousness, you saw that danny was already awake. you tried to speak but you found that there were several layers of duct tape holding your mouth shut. you tried to move then realised you were restrained— that’s why your arm hurt so much.

you were tied to something. you tried to turn your head and you felt a rough, coarse material against your cheek. looking further, you were tied to a mannequin.

you turned over to danny and saw that he was trying to figure out where you were. the room was nearly completely dark, you guys were working only with the light that was shining through cracks in the door.

you deduced that you were probably inside the theater, you were just unsure about where exactly. you knew how you got here, it wasn’t hard to figure that part out. a part of you was frustrated that you allowed it to happen.

you heard commotion outside. it sounded like rattling.

and then it was screaming.

it sounded like tara for a second, you tried to fight against the rope that tied your hands together. you had no idea what was happening out there but there’s no way it was any good.

as the sound got further away, the door clicked open, revealing bailey.

you tried to speak against the tape on your mouth, asking him for help. as he tilted his head, looking at you mockingly, you quickly put together that he wasn't here to help.

"you were just too easy of a target." he said, the shift in his tone was unmissable. he had gone from a man that you relied on to a ruthless killer. "and now sam is gonna suffer the consequences of her actions."

he was a ghostface walking in to collect you and danny. danny tried to fight against the movement but you knew it was no use. the ghostface wheeled you to the stage, setting you on the right side of the glass enclosure that held billy loomis’ get-up. danny was placed on the opposite side.

god, you felt like you were about to throw up. they trusted him. you even trusted him. he was police, he was supposed to make you feel safe.

you suddenly felt a mesh fabric fall over your head. you were wearing one of the ghostface cloaks. you had no idea who it belonged to but you were uncomfortable knowing it belonged to someone that died.

you saw him do the same to danny. your cloaks looked similar, as if they were a part of a matching set. you looked straight ahead and squinted your eyes. the lights were blinding, the fact that there was a sheet in the way wasn’t helping.

you managed to make out shadows running towards the cinema’s entrance door. two, to be exact.

when the doors swung open, you saw sam and tara running into the room. where was chad? and mindy? and ethan? and kirby? you had too many questions. they were down too many people.

strength in numbers.

suddenly, you heard footsteps trade places with each other. one was running towards you and the other was walking away. someone in a ghostface attire brushed past you, you turned to see bailey walking backstage.

you watched as the ghostface leaped down the stage through the sheet. you only had a sliver of vision to work with. you tried crying out again once you saw the two girls come closer, but it was no use. they were too occupied by... two ghostfaces?

fuck. there were three of them.

only two sisters.

a gust of wind opened up more of the sheet. you watched as sam grabbed two bricks and handed one to tara. smart girl. you heard tara cry out for her sister, you felt yourself start to cry at the girl's helpless pleas.

"ready?" you heard sam ask, it was only met with tara's breathless sobs. "i need you to be ready. you ready?"

they were about to fight. you were scared shitless. they had bricks. the killers had knives. it could go any way. you knew that the girls were more than capable, but that didn't stop the images of their dead bodies on the carpet flooding through your head.

"come on motherfucker!" you heard tara scream. there she fucking was. a fire in you was lit when you heard that, you felt yourself ready to spring into action the second you were free.

suddenly, gunshots.

"it's okay!" you heard kirby walk out from the other side of the sheet. fuck, if only she saw you.

"stay the fuck back!" sam yelled at her. what the fuck was going on? why did sam suddenly distrust kirby too?

"we know it's you, kirby." tara said. you saw sam step back, bringing tara along with her.

bailey must have said something to them. him and kirby were in the same field but they butted heads too much. you knew he would try and turn them against her.

"somebody knocked me out!" kirby said in a begging tone, she needed sam and tara to believe her.

"kirby, stop!" you heard that deep authoritative voice again. he switched over too quickly. "get away from the girls!" you saw him come down the aisle with his gun drawn.

"what are you doing?" kirby asked him.

"did you kill quinn? did you kill my daughter?" his act was convincing. if you didn't know any better, you'd believe him too.

wait. quinn. why would he kill his own daughter? unless... oh my god.

"jesus christ!" kirby exclaimed. "whatever he's been saying to you, please don't listen to him. he's probably the killer."

please, please, please.

believe her. please.

the sheet covered your vision again, you had no idea what to think when you heard "behind you!" and three shots fired.

when your field of view increased again, you realised kirby was nowhere to be seen.

no!

you couldn't make out anything more. you heard faint voices but not enough to make anything clear out of it. for a theater, it had horrible acoustics.

you watched as the reveal happened.

ethan went first. he took of his mask, a sinister smile on his face. mindy was right, she was always right.

"fuck it felt good to kill him!" was the only thing you could make out from ethan's speech. him? chad? you had no idea where he was. you hoped that he didn't mean chad.

and then there she was, in all her very much alive glory. quinn.

you knew he wouldn't kill his own daughter.

it was eerily impressive, how they faked her death. you had to hand it to them for that one, it broke hearts. it tore down their morale.

you saw ethan and quinn disappear from your view, replaced by bailey wielding billy loomis' mask, handing it to sam. he wanted her to put it on, she looked repulsed by it.

"if you don't put it on... well..." ethan and quinn worked together to yank the sheet down, revealing you and danny. two spotlights were pointed directly at you. there was also a series of clips projected onto your skin, you couldn't make out exactly what they were.

sam and tara turned around to face you. the looks on their faces were a mix of things; fear, anger, worry, and most importantly, regret.

you were crying.

crying so much that your chest felt tight.

sam wanted more than anything to just run to you and set you free. she owed you a million apologies when you got out of this, but it was her call that ended with you in this position, so she didn't know if you would ever forgive her.

and tara would never forgive her either. seeing your snot and tear covered face broke her to pieces. she still cared for you, and she never wished this on you.

"we have two of your very dear friends to use as leverage!" bailey laughed, stepping closer to the two girls. "the more the merrier!"

quinn stepped closer to you, roughly ripping the tape off your mouth. the skin that held the adhesive grew hot, stinging. ethan walked back down the stage to join his father.

your voice was choked down by saliva and breathlessness, but you still managed.

"sam!!" you shouted at her. you were going to say more but quinn stepped behind you, holding a knife to your throat. you backed your head up as far as you could against the mannequin.

"stay the fuck away from her!" sam barked an order at quinn. but quinn knew she had the upper hand.

"hey tara!" quinn called out to the younger girl. tara turned to look at her, a glare on her face.

"the fuck do you want, quinn?" tara hissed at her.

"isn't it ironic that she's wearing your girl's cloak?" quinn tilted her head. "we thought it would be a little bit symbolic. you wanted her to be so much like amber and now here she is, sporting her wardrobe."

that was revolting. you wanted to take this thing off and take a five-hour long shower. you wanted to claw and itch at the fabric until it was torn into shreds.

"and not just that! sam... your boy toy is wearing richie!" ethan covered his mouth to mock snicker at her. "it's just too good!"

"you made it so easy, sam. when you made that call to leave them outside? we thought we would have to work harder." bailey sneered. "i bet you're regretting it now."

he was right. she was regretting it. she should have trusted you. and even if you ended up being the killer, she would have found a way. sam always finds a way.

"why the fuck are you doing this? you did this as a family?!" sam asked bailey, simultaneously spinning around to keep an eye on you and danny as well.

"oh yeah, bitch! you should know better than anyone!" quinn snapped at her.

"they're still not getting it!" ethan ridiculed them.

"i don't know what you believe but i didn't commit those murders in woodsboro! it wasn't me!" sam was trying to multitask figuring something out, how you could all get out of this alive.

"of course you didn’t! you think this is about that conspiracy theory bullshit?" bailey scoffed. "who do you think started those rumors about you in the first place?"

from behind you, quinn raised her hand.

"do you know how easy it was to turn sam from the hero of woodsboro to the villain?" you weren't surprised. you knew how tech-savvy quinn was, even outside of ghostface. "how easy it is to convince the world to believe the worst in people rather than the best?"

while ethan went on about destroying someone's character, your eyes scanned your surroundings. maybe you could figure out your own way of escaping so tara and sam had less to focus on.

"ah, ah, ah. eyes up, pretty girl. can't take any chances." quinn said, nudging your chin up with her knife. she leaned closer to your ear. "you know, it's a shame tara got to you first, i think you and i could have been fun."

you rolled your eyes at her, "dream on, quinn."

"i never had a chance anyway. i heard you have a thing for carpenters." she giggled. "i wonder how you're gonna feel when we slaughter them both in front of you."

"fuck off, quinn!" you spat at her. she just laughed softly and stood back upright.

"so when dad here 'discovers' your horribly mutilated bodies posed with sam wearing her father’s mask? he’ll say some poor dumb bastard must have read on the internet that you’re the real ghostface and took matters into their own deluded hands!"

it was an interesting plan, you thought, they would get what they wanted. they would get sam out of the way and get away with their own crimes. the only way for you all to get out of it though? kill them first.

"and even better! we'll say you went crazy and wanted to relive what you had with richie, so you dressed poor danny up in his clothes and killed him!" ethan's laughter hurt to hear.

"that's why it’s the perfect alibi!" bailey was practically jumping for joy. "because like all the best lies are based on a truth - you’re a killer, just like your father was."

"don't listen to them, sam!" you interrupted him. bold, you knew. but you had to say something to get her to focus on the real goal. she looked at you and nodded.

"i'm not a killer!" sam screeched.

"yes you are motherfucker, you killed our brother!" quinn's voice was piercing your ears. she had raised her voice and you had to recoil to avoid your eardrums being burst again.

"your brother?" tara started. "your brother died in a car accident."

"people lie, tara!" ethan interjected. "our brother died in woodsboro... at the hands of your bitch sister!"

sam blinks for a beat. she looks at ethan, then at quinn, then at he detective. she saw him in them. she just had to look hard enough. there was only one person it could have been.

"richie?" she pauses. "you're richie's family?"

ethan lunged forward, driving his knife into her collar. you let out a scream as sam clutched her wound, tara holding her up to support her.

"ding-ding-ding! she's getting it now!" ethan said, stepping back again.

you watched as tara and sam knocked over a statue and made their way to the side of the theater.

ethan gave chase,. tara swung a brick towards him, nearly nicking him.

"come on!!" you roared, trying to push them. you were about to scream again until you felt a sharp pain at your side. your cry of fury turned into a cry of pain. quinn had stabbed you, her knife completely inserted into your side. "fuck!" you cried out.

sam and tara both turned their attention to you. the knife hanging out of your side was enough to send both their lunches back up. sam's eyes hardened, like she was turning into a completely different person. she swore that she would wrangle the life out of quinn, even if it was the last thing she did.

"there she is." quinn smirked at sam. "there's the fucking killer."

you felt the wind sucked out of you when she retracted the blade, blood trickling down into your hipbone. the pain was unbearable, you didn't know how sam recovered so quickly after being stabbed.

"nice job with the parenting." tara mocked bailey.

"shut up!" ethan yelled, shoving tara and sam back over to the middle aisle. "get over there!"

bailey huffed. "am i a perfect dad? no. did i overindulge richie's fascination with these silly movies a little too much? maybe." he held his hand out. "for me, they're just a little dark."

you agreed with him. they made your stomach churn. you first watched them with mindy when you discovered the series of killings in woodsboro. she wanted to show you the films to give you a better insight on what happened. yes, they were overexaggerated but they still played a big part in the franchise.

"but... richie really loved them." he feigned a crying tone. "he even made a few of his own."

you realised that the clips being projected on your body were richie's films.

bailey ascended the steps, moving closer to you and danny. quinn made her way over to danny too, you knew that if the sisters tried anything, he would suffer an injury too.

"richie was a very passionate collector, as you can see." bailey gestured to the entire theater.

"this... this was all his?" sam asked, her voice stuttering.

you had grown to hate this richie guy. you hated the idea of him hunting sam down and earning her trust, only to turn out to be an obsessive creep.

"it was. and he even seemed to inspire others. so we had to kill those wannabe's... because we wanted the privilege of taking your life." bailey shrugged. "i built this shrine for him after he died to honour his memory." he turned around to watch his son's film again. "which is why this is where you have to die, sam."

"what happens next? after you're done with us, what? you just disappear?" sam asked, shaking her head.

"no!" bailey waved his hand at her in dismissal. "we gotta hurry over to the hospital to make sure mindy and gale don't pull through!"

mindy. mindy was at the hospital. you knew something was wrong when you didn't see her come in with everyone else.

"because everybody dies, sam!" bailey raised his gun to point the barrel at sam. "everyone who had anything to do with the death of my son! suffers. and dies."

"fuck yeah!" quinn and ethan cheered for their father. they were pumped up and ready to slash their knives at anything.

"now put on the mask." bailey ordered her.

you watched as sam looked at the ground. her face changed. she had all that pent up rage brewing deep down inside of her. it was reaching its boiling point. you almost leaned forward in anticipation.

"he was..." sam breathed slowly. "so pathetic."

yes, he was. cause anyone who decided that it would be fun to cross sam was absolutely fucking pathetic.

bailey stumbled over his words, his voice turning nasal. "that's... that's not true!"

sam was drawing them in, poking at all their weak spots. she was trying to rile them up then shoot them down. tara knew what she was doing, she understood her sister more than anyone.

"yeah... he was a man-baby." she prodded further, "who made his girlfriend do all the killing."

you wish you could see the detective's face right now, he was beginning to crack. you found amusement in it.

"he was a strong, virile young man?" jesus, who uses virile?

"he was a limp-dick little fuck." she stressed her words. "who cried before i slit his throat."

there she was, that was your sam. the sam that carried the rage of a thousand suns and the sam that wouldn't hesitate to use it to save the ones she loved.

"shut the fuck up!" quinn yelled from the stage, running straight towards tara. she jumped down and tara swung the brick at her. you swear you saw her teeth fly out of her mouth.

kirby suddenly rose from her state, firing bullets at detective bailey. tara ran straight for you, grabbing a blade from one of the cases. as she cut you loose, you watched kirby get tackled to the floor by ethan.

sam turned around to help her. as he plunged his knife into her, sam hit him in the head with a brick. she yanked the blade out of kirby as ethan recovered, a hand on the back of his head.

"got it!" tara declared, undoing the ropes. you put a hand to your side, it was still bleeding but you were confident you could pull through.

"go help danny!" you told her. she was about to turn but you pulled her back suddenly. "thank you. you did well." you said to her, she nodded and turned back around to run to danny.

danny ran out the back door, tara pushed a prop closet in front of it to block it. she sent him to get help and wanted to maximise your chances of getting it.

you faced sam again, only to see her jabbing her knife into ethan's chest, multiple times.

good, you should do it more. you said in your mind.

more. more more.

she stopped after tara got her attention, staring to climb the ladder to the second floor. sam ran to where you were standing at the bottom. she wanted to throw her arms around you, but you weren't even looking at her.

you wanted her to do the same but not now. she left you earlier, she left you to get taken. sure, she didn't mean to serve you up on a silver platter.

but she broke her promise to you.

you couldn't face her but you had no choice.

"i can't do it. my arm." you had been working on regaining mobility in your hand, but your arm wasn't strong enough yet.

"tara! i need your help!" sam called out to her sister, who was already up there. she then turned to you. "it's okay, we'll get you up there."

you had zero confidence in yourself at the moment. you knew it was going to be incredibly hard for you, but wishful thinking sometimes gets you places.

you put your foot onto one of the steps, using your good arm to hoist yourself up a bit more, climbing the steps you could make. you leaned back a little then lunged your body forward, grabbing the next railing. tara leaned over the banister, reaching a hand down to help you in that last bit.

you had gotten a fair amount up, before quinn suddenly shoved sam out of the way, knocking her down and grabbing you by the shirt. she yanked you down and you fell on your back, groaning.

quinn dragged you by the hair to the middle of the stage. sam was about to follow but you stopped her.

"no, sam!" you commanded her. "tara needs you! i've got this!"

she hesitated. but you were firm in your choice. you would get angry with her if you had to.

"go! now!" she made her way up the ladder and joined tara upstairs. you caught them slowly making their way through the ruins of the abandoned theater.

quinn dropped your hair and took a few paces away from you. you managed to get yourself up but you were slightly hunched over due to the pain from your side.

"hey, pretty girl." quinn taunted you. "you look good covered in blood. maybe you should join our little troupe here." she twisted her blade around her fingers.

"like hell." you scowled at her.

"what? you can't blame a girl for trying!" she chuckled. "come on, you're the perfect killer! just like sam, maybe that's what makes you good for each other, actually."

you tried to regain your breath and strength back as quinn monologued. you winced as you applied pressure on your stab wound.

"you're kind and very very injured. nobody would ever suspect you." she said, her voice turning sultry. "don't you wanna hurt tara for what she did to you? that was your first real heartbreak, wasn't it?"

she took your silence for an answer.

"don't you see? these carpenters are fucked up. they're scum. it would be so much better if the world went on without them." she pointed the knife at the two sisters. "use that fire in you."

you were letting your anger get the best of you now. you wanted to kill quinn for even thinking badly about them. but the question is, could you actually kill someone?

the thought was repulsive. you hated pain, blood, it wasn't something you could take. you didn't think you could take someone's life as easy as anyone else in the room. nevertheless, you wanted her subdued.

"shut up, quinn. you wouldn't know about fire even if it was burning your eyebrows off." you spit out a little bit of blood that was filling your mouth, glaring at her. "this is so fucking boring, you're all talk. where's the fight?"

your head turned sharply at a clattering noise. tara was dangling from the second floor, sam was holding onto her for dear life. ethan took the chance and started swinging at her feet. quinn screeched and charged at you, her blade in the air as she knocked you down to the floor with her shoulder.

she immediately went for your weak arm, stepping down on it and applying her entire body weight on it. you shouted at the sting, you felt like you were a kid all over again, remembering how you felt when it first happened.

she straddled you, one knee on each of your sides. you struggled against her as she used two hands to bring the blade down on you, you were able to get your hands to push against hers.

good! your arm was functional but extremely weak and painful. you had functionality of your fingers still, giving you less of a disadvantage.

you gritted your teeth as you tried to overpower her.

you saw tara still hanging in the corner of your eye. you had to do something now.

you swung your leg up to knee quinn in the back, throwing her off balance. you shoved her until she rolled off you. you stood up to go after her and at least knock her unconscious.

your head practically turned on its own when you heard crashing behind you. tara had fallen off the balcony and into ethan’s knife. your eyes widened as you watched the knife enter her stomach.

your attention flickered to sam on the second level who was coming face to face with bailey.

quinn battled cried behind you, recovering from her stumble. she thrusted her knife into your shoulder, you wailed out in pain. you shouldn’t have gotten distracted. you had to focus.

you kicked her again, ramming the heel of your foot into her thigh. her leg gave out, releasing her knife that was still inside you. you clamped your hand over it’s handle and pulled it out of you with a grunt.

you swerved sideways and switched places with quinn, standing directly behind her. you stomped down on the back of her other leg, getting her to kneel in front of you. you grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her head up.

could you really do it? you had the upper hand now, you had a choice to make. did you have it in you to rob quinn of the rest of her life? this was so far from how you made yourself out to be. you thrived on being good to others in hopes that they would do the same for you.

on the contrary, you were good to quinn. and here she was, ready to end your life if given the chance.

as the sight of her brother taking a blade to the mouth unraveled in front of her, you thought that maybe death was too generous for quinn. she could continue to live a life without her family. you watched as tara twisted the knife in ethan's mouth, a proud smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

you almost released quinn and succumbed to your desire to simply knock her out and tie her up so she couldn't interfere anymore.

but then you remembered.

"the last two people that fucked with us ended up dead."

and so has everyone that has fucked with them since. and so has everyone that tried to before. who were you to break the pattern?

"how do you like it now, quinn?" you leaned forward, whispering into her ear. you placed the blade against her throat. "down two brothers." you chuckled, pressing the blade down against her skin.

you watched as sam and bailey fell off the railing in a fight. sam hit the floor while the detective hit the glass case. you were worried for a split second before reminding yourself where you were. you weren't going to give up this advantage.

"and now your father will join you too. i hope you all have a nice family dinner in hell."

front and center stage, you dragged the knife across quinn's throat. the blood spilled like a gushing river. you couldn't watch even as you committed the act. you averted your eyes as you let her body drop to the floor.

you stepped down from the stage, holding onto your wounds. you let your severely damaged arm hang from your side. you felt like a zombie.

you rejoined sam and tara. you saw that tara was holding onto her own battle scar. you coughed up blood but chose to ignore it, wanting to check on the other two.

the three of you stood above the detective's unconscious body. you turned to the two sisters. this really was a damn family matter.

"so... what now?" you asked them. sam sighed softly, relieved that she didn't have to worry about two more of them anymore. she had her sights on bailey.

"i have an idea. but you and tara should take a second." sam put a hand on her sister's shoulder. tara nodded, slowly starting to make her way towards the seats. you followed behind her.

sam grabbed your wrist to stop you. you couldn't do this now. you yanked your hand away, just as she did to your hand when you tried to hold hers. she looked hurt, but understanding. she expected this reaction out of you.

"not now, sam." you shook her off. "i'm not having it."

and truth was, you geniunely weren't. you didn't want to deal with apologies right now, you wanted to make sure everyone was okay.

she was at least thankful for your honestly. she sadly nodded at you and turned back to bailey. you watched her take the stage, opening the glass enclosure that held her father's attire. she gripped it tight in her hands then put it on.

you sat next to tara, grunting as your back hit the seat. tara cautiously leaned her head on your shoulder, you found that you didn't mind the contact. you were glad that she was there with you, very much alive.

"i get it now." you murmured. "well... not to your extent, obviously. but i get it now."

she looked at you, a confused look on her face.

"never gonna be okay after this." was all you could get out.

she sat upright again and turned her body to face you. "i'm so sorry." she bit down on her lip, not knowing how to reassure you.

"we'll have each other though, right?" you asked her. she nodded quickly.

"always." she grabbed your hands, holding them in hers. your eyes trickled from her to sam, she glanced over at her sister too.

"you know she didn't mean what she said." tara turned back to you as she said that. "when she left you behind outside?"

"she definitely said it with her chest, tara." you breathed out through your nose. you know sam wanted to protect everyone, but you couldn't help but feel upset that she didn't trust you enough. "even then, she was right. i'm not woodsboro, i'll never understand fully what you all went through."

"yeah, i know. but that doesn't mean that you aren't one of us." tara said. "and she knows that. you're important to her. she was doing it to protect you too."

sam was wielding her father's own blade. she looked like she was in her element, which was strange as you never saw her as a killer. even when she did have a higher kill count than most people. but you knew it was her will power to end this whole thing that was driving her.

she walked over to the middle aisle, picking up billy's mask and putting it on herself. she looked frightening under the mask. it sent a shiver through you.

sam departed from the aisle, moving back towards the stage. you spotted bailey starting to stir, you grabbed tara and ran off. you took her to the backstage area, both of you deciding that you would stick around for sam.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

"what's your favorite scary movie?"

she embodied ghostface well. you admired her dedication to the bit. you knew it would scare the daylight out of bailey, to have the tables turned on him this time.

you watched as bailey ridiculously fired his gun at the mannequins. you flinched at the loud noises and held onto tara as she did the same. you didn't know where sam was, you were watching from the shadows.

"stop fuckin' around and show yourself!" he growled into the phone. he was trembling, sam had him right where she wanted him.

quiet.

"i’m a fucking police officer! what are you gonna do, huh? who do you think they’re gonna believe?" he spun around, trying to keep an eye on all his blind spots.

"probably the one that's still alive."

that shook him. he threw his phone away out of frustration.

from the shadows emerged sam's silhouette. as bailey turns at the last second, sam rams the knife into him. into his shoulder, his chest, everything she could get.

she was a fucking force of nature. a powerhouse if you'd ever seen one. the legacy her father held, she rewrote it herself.

she retracted her blade and lifted the mask off her face. and she was sam again. she was panting softly, the force she used to mutilate bailey took some energy out of her.

you and tara joined her on stage just as she was about to take another hit. she paused, her gaze softening at the two of you.

you looked at her. really looked at her.

you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself but you couldn't help it.

she looked good.

"my father was a murderer." she lowered the knife. "no matter what you think. i’m better than that."

bailey thanked her for her mercy. but then she looked to tara, as did you. tara tilted her head, as if giving her permission to change her mind. and then she looked to you. you read tara's expression and knew what sam was looking for in your eyes.

you met her stare, before looking away. you gave her a single nod. and you almost missed the smug smile that was plastered across her face.

"but you did fuck with our family so..."

the detective didn't even take a breath before sam jabbed the knife into his eye socket, all the way in.

he groaned in pain, his body shaking. he tried to raise his arms to fight back but it was too late.

you had looked away in time. you still felt your stomach churn at the sight of another dead body.

you heard his blood gurgle in his mouth as he took his last breath.

"nice." tara awkwardly said, trying to break the silence.

"are you guys okay?" sam asked, starting to take off the cloak.

"hell no." tara said. sam looked over to you and you shook your head too.

tara walked back down to the steps of the stage, sitting down on it.

you were about to follow then you spotted quinn's body. you felt yourself grow increasingly repelled at the sight. you reached for the sheet that was torn down to reveal all the masks and cloaks and threw it over her. it was the last good thing you'd ever do for her.

you let sam and tara have their moment to talk. you figured that they didn't have many talks together over the past few days, always being surrounded by others.

you walked over to the gate that locked you all inside the theater, hearing footsteps outside.

just then, ethan resurfaced, screaming his lungs out at the girls. you were about to run back to them but he was quickly stopped by a tv flying at his head. you almost laughed.

"saw that in a scary movie once." kirby joked through her injuries.

"you'll have to show me that one." you joked back.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

danny came in with reinforcements shortly after.

you watched as tara and sam talked to kirby who was now lying on a stretcher. when she was wheeled into the ambulance, you rejoined them.

you and tara both had your left arms in casts.

"hehe... matching." you said, nudging her side. she appreciated the banter returning.

"we should try cooking together like this or something." tara's dimples were flashed at you as you saw her crack a smile.

"that could be really fun." you snickered.

sam approached the two of you and tara got the hint.

"i'll give you two a second." she said, walking away and towards a group of officers.

sam rubbed her hands nervously, not knowing what to say to you.

"i'm sorry for leaving you." she started off. you admit, it was a good start. it was what you wanted to hear. unfortunately, she wasn't going to get a pass.

"you broke your promise to me." you gritted your teeth at her. "you said you wouldn't leave me alone."

"i know, i know. and i regret it. so much." she bit down on her bottom lip to try and stop tears from falling.

"i opened myself up to you, sam!" you choked down your own sobs. you were so afraid that you were going to die without saying anything to her because she left you behind. "i thought we were... i thought we had something!" you prodded your pointer finger against her chest.

"we do! we do have something!" sam dropped her jacket, opting to grab your hands and hold them against her. "i never meant to make you feel like i didn't want you. i just wanted to protect everyone. i thought that by leaving you behind, you wouldn't be hurt." she shook her head. "i never meant any of that, i just knew you would be determined to join us inside. and i couldn't have you hurt."

she was so sweet sometimes, she knew exactly what to say to pull you in. you were still angry at her, but you saw where she was coming from a bit clearer now.

you scoffed in her face, rolling your eyes. "that's bullshit!" you sneered at her. "we said we'd protect each other. i would have been safest next to you. i will always be safest next to you."

"you don't know that. this could happen again." she had to be realistic about the situation no matter how devoted you were being.

"i know. and i will be right here no matter what. the least you can do is return the favor."

"okay... i'll never leave you behind ever again." sam said, kissing your knuckles.

"you can do better than that." you grumbled, not wanting to settle for just a kiss to your hands.

sam grinned at you, stepping closer and wrapping her hands around your waist. she pulled you closer and captured your lips in a soft but passionate kiss. she was being gentle with you, trying not to hurt you. you found it sickeningly adorable. it was a juxtaposition from the intensity you saw from her earlier. your good arm wrapped around her neck, pulling her in closer. it was your way of saying that she wasn't going to break you.

"chad!" you heard tara yell. you quickly pulled away and saw chad being wheeled out on a stretcher.

thank god.

you and sam jogged over to chad.

"how are you alive?" sam asked. he raised his hand with four fingers up. mindy quickly came running in.

"are you guys okay?! i know who the killer is! it's ethan and bailey!" she said, stopping in her tracks.

"and quinn." sam added.

"and quinn? fuck!" mindy's hands slapped against her side in frustration. "did i miss the monologue again?"

you smiled at the sight of the four of them together. mindy was mumbling incoherent words to tara and chad. you giggled softly as she exclaimed that you all made it out alive.

you turned to sam again, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"hey, you." you poked her side, trying to get her attention.

"yeah?" she asked, turning to you with a smile on her face. it was to die for.

"i'm kinda starving." you chuckled, your stomach grumbled. fighting off a masked killer was hard work.

"okay well, we can go and get something to eat at the hospital." sam suggested.

you groaned softly at her not getting the memo.

"okay. that's fair. but i'll be kinda starving in a few days too so how about we go on an actual date then?" you flashed a sheepish smile her way.

she laughed at your attempt to ask her out.

"okay sweetheart." she pressed a kiss to your temple.

"promise?"

"hell yeah."

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

authors journal OKAY I KNOW IT LOOKS LIKE THE SERIES IS DONE BUT IT ISNT I PROMISE I HAVE LIKE 3 MORE PARTS UP MY SLEEVE. anyways i am SO SORRY for how long this chapter was, bailey fucking talks so much in the movie and i was trying to keep a lot of the final fight elements in. this literally took me a full 12 hours to write. anyways, back to MY yapping this time. i figured i should probably mention that i didnt forget about the tara kiss and i will bring it back for later. its my secret mousekatool. i also wanted to talk a bit more about the title of the series. i was thinking of changing it to 'promises, promises' cause obviously thats a thing with sam and the reader but i actually got it from a song! it's this one right here.

it actually has nothing too much to do with the series itself but i love the song heaps and i think the reader would too. its about getting away from something that was ruined for you by a relationship, i think thats pretty symbolic still. i also really wanna know what side stuff you guys want! i do have a few headcanons that i wanna write up but i wanna know if there's anything specific you want like blurbs or specific headcanons. i have one for 'if the reader chose tara' coming up which is pretty fun. overall, i hope you guys have been enjoying so far and i wanna hear everythinggggg you guys have to say. whether its in comments or reblogs or my inboxes, i'm so happy to read all of it. anyways, i shall stop yapping now. much love to everyone that has supported me in this so far. xx.

[morsmordre-writes]

small talk, big love - masterlist

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: After seeing that your relationship is a sinking ship, you make the decision to leave him and start over. Falling for your best friend, Bucky Barnes, was not in your plans. (But of course you did)

Warning(s): unhealthy/ controlling relationship (brief), stalking, idiots being idiots, happy ending

masterlist | twitter profiles

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14/end]

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

Your current boyfriend used to be the jock that shoved emo-freak SAM MONROE into lockers. And now Sam’s got you moaning his name while his skinny boy cock rearranges your insides. Who needs all that muscle when you’ve got a sleep-deprived pill-popping grunge cunt destroyer filling up the empty space in your bed? Is he doing this to get back at your soon-to-be-ex? No. He’s always loved you. Always wanted you. Looked after you in envy while you were with that air-headed football player. He’s only got the confidence to fuck you now though. He’ll worry about his future broken nose later. Currently, all that matters is getting you to squirt all over the mattress so his old bully comes home to soaked sheets that smell of sweet betrayal.

[sofreddie]

Line in the Sand

Summary: When Sam and Reader meet, he lays down a line, letting her know nothing would ever happen between them despite the deep connection that was felt. It doesn't take long for him to regret that decision.

Characters: Sam Winchester x F!Reader, Dean Winchester, Castiel

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Angst, Fluff, Hunting, Injury to Reader, Smut (Unprotected Sex)

WC: 6,809

A/N: Hey, all! I know it's been a million years since I've been posting. Life, ya know? Anywho, here's a fic I've been gradually working on for longer than I remember. It was supposed to be a little fic and grew into this (sorry, I'm so wordy). I'm really happy with how it came out in the end. Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated. : )

Sam gently laid Y/N in bed, tucking the sheets around her. She was spelled, her body immobile and looking as if she were merely asleep. Sam knew better, knew that she had been close to death's door.

Dean leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching Sam lean down to kiss her forehead. Then, he shifted his gaze away, feeling that the moment was too private to be witnessed.

Sam took one last look at Y/N before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him. It seemed silly, but it helped him deal with it if he had imagined she was only sleeping.

“She’ll be okay,” Dean reassured his brother as they walked down the hall to the kitchen, “We killed the bitch and gave her the antidote. Should just take a few hours for the spell to wear off.”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Sam growled, and Dean nodded in agreement, “She could have died!”

“She didn’t.”

The brothers stared at each other in silence, Dean calm, and Sam still too riled from the hunt and nearly losing her. Sam loved Y/N deeply and with all he had, and he knew she felt the same. Even if they never said it, they knew. But they both had reasons for not pursuing anything beyond their cherished friendship. Sam couldn’t help but feel the distance between them, and even her injury was, his fault.

Yes, there would always be the threat of their enemies pulling them apart. Yes, there would always be the threat of death hanging over them. And yes, falling in love again after losing so much and so many people was a debilitating concept. But after nearly losing her, Sam wasn’t sure any of those reasons mattered anymore.

They’re lucky they had the cure after saving another victim in the case. Otherwise…Sam ran a hand over his mouth, shaking his head as he thought again about nearly losing her.

“You should be there when she wakes up,” Dean offered, grabbing a couple of beers to return to his room for the night.

He knew Sam would eventually find his way to Y/N’s side. He hoped that if he had just put it out there, Sam would have skipped the pretense and brooding before inevitably finding himself at her side anyway.

Sam nodded, clutching the unopened beer bottle as he went down the Bunker hallway and to her room again. He was restless, eager for her to open her eyes and smile at him again. Until that happened, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He quietly entered her room, hoping she’d be awake, but his heart sank seeing her exactly as he left her. He closed the door quietly behind him. Walking over to the desk, he pulled out the wooden chair and turned it around to face Y/N. He set the beer aside, not thirsty anyway, and cradled his head in his hands.

–

“I can’t believe it’s you!”

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes as he and Dean left the abandoned house. The new hunter they’d met, Y/N, was as green as they come, trying to take on a haunting by herself. She’s lucky they showed up when they did, or else her first hunt might have been her last.

“I’ve heard so much about you from other hunters,” Y/N rattled on, tripping over aged debris as they exited the now ghost-free domicile. “I’m such a fan-” she continued, but Sam wasn’t listening.

He spun on her in a flash, his face showing his apparent ire and dislike of her, “You nearly got yourself killed in there. What the hell were you thinking?”

Y/N jumped in shock, her eyes flashing between the brothers as she tried to come up with a response, “Well, my family hunted for years, and I helped with research, but after they were gone, it was kind of my responsibility to take over, right?” she asked with a lopsided grin and shrug.

“It’s not unheard of,” Dean chimed in with a tight smile. Sam flashed him a bitchface, to which Dean raised his hands in defense and shut the hell up.

“You’re like, my heroes,” she added with a chipper demeanor.

Sam scowled harder as he saw the stars in her eyes and how she seemed to want to reach out and touch him. He could feel it, too, if he were being honest. A pull to her, a need to want to know her and keep her safe. She was beautiful and shapely, and unlike any other woman he knew. If they had met a few years before he’d become so angry and cynical, there might have been a chance. But the way his life was now and the way her happy eagerness grated on his nerves, it was best he shut that down from the start, for both their sakes.

He scoffed, taking a cocky and stern stance as he shook his head and lowered his voice, “It’s NEVER gonna happen, you hear me?”

Sam knew and could feel this odd connection between them. It seemed to pulse with a faint life all its own, and it was unnerving. He could see in her eyes the admiration and attraction she bore for him. Though it made him want, he rejected her.

Y/N hesitated only a moment, but it was long enough for her to crack, for the pain of his statement to be seen. She quickly recovered, the smile and upbeat attitude back in place in the blink of an eye, almost making Sam think he’d imagined it.

“Okay, Sam,” she grinned, waving farewell as she backed away to her car.

Sam’s heart sank as he watched her go; he was sad to see her leave and mad at himself for doing that in the first place. He chose to ignore Dean’s stern glare and unapproving stance. Dean let it go with a sigh, knowing it would come up again at some point.

–

Sam groaned, running a hand down his face at the memory of when they met. He couldn't stand himself and what he did to her, trying to push her away, even if it was for their own good. Now, however, his eyes landing on her still and quiet body in her bed, he regretted everything. She was his, and he was hers; their souls connected on a deeper level from the moment their eyes met.

He came so close to losing her and would never have been able to tell her the truth.

He sighed again, trying to stay calm while waiting for her to wake. He knew she would wake, but he was still nervous that maybe this was it, and she was lost to him. He only had himself to blame for his misery. 

Unbidden, his mind drifted back to the beginning, and he remembered how she became so engrained in their lives despite his attempts at distance.

-

"Fancy meeting you here," Y/N greeted as she walked out of the Sheriff's office, greeting the Winchesters as they arrived in the parking lot. She straightened her blazer, self-conscious and uncomfortable, but more than looking the part of the FBI for the case.

Sam scoffed, "Are you following us?"

Y/N glared back at him. "Looks like I was here first. Are you following me?"

"Cut the shit," Sam growled. "Every other case we go to, we run into you."

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You're not the only hunters in the world, and you're certainly not the only ones with obligations and family ties to fulfill," she growled back. 

Dean couldn't stand the tension that seemed to grow between Y/N and his brother every time they saw each other. He liked Y/N. She was new but eager and had some skills and knowledge. With some training and guidance, she had great potential. 

"Why don't we work this one together?" Dean insisted, ignoring his brother's scowl as Y/N lit up. 

"Really?" she practically squealed in delight before giving Dean her motel and room number. 

He intended to follow her there, and they could discuss and work the case together. He was concerned about her hunting alone and hoped he could sort through whatever was going on with his brother regarding Y/N. 

-

The first hunt they worked together and the first grave injury she'd received. They had done research, but Sam had missed some key details. He was too focused on Y/N - her voice, body, giddiness, and eagerness to prove herself. And he was angry that she could have that effect on him and couldn't shake it no matter how hard he tried.

So when they went to the cabin in the woods to take out two werewolves - which Y/N was extremely nervous about - Sam missed the details that would have told him there were twice as many.

Y/N groaned and shifted before settling back into silent stillness. The hem of her shirt rid up, showing a sliver of skin along her stomach. Sam could just make out the shimmering silvery scars she was left with after nearly dying on the first case they all worked together.

Sam again blamed himself. She was associated with them, somehow connected to him, and the universe cursed him to lose anyone he grew close to. It only further settled his resolve to avoid her entirely. He planned to help her heal and then part ways, never to meet again at any cost. He was convinced it was the only way to keep her safe.

However, Dean, being Dean, thwarted Sam's plans entirely when he invited Y/N to stay at the Bunker with them while she healed. Sam had argued with Dean, insisting that once she was healed, she should leave.

But Dean had convinced him otherwise. Dean wanted to train, guide, and keep an eye on her. Dean explained that she would hunt regardless, so it would be better if they taught her and helped her out instead of leaving her to hunt alone. That thought made Sam sick to his stomach.

She'd been with them ever since.

Y/N stirred in her sleep again, the spell gradually wearing off a little at a time as she metabolized the cure. Sam breathed shakily, wondering if she'd even want to see him when she came to. He tried to keep her off this hunt. She had never hunted witches before, and Sam tried explaining just how awful they could be, but she wouldn't be deterred. They had argued, but in the end, it didn't matter because she went on the hunt, and despite his best efforts, Sam couldn't protect her in time from the witch.

He should get Dean to be here when she woke. They had a much easier relationship. Dean and Y/N quickly became good friends, having so much in common and getting along better than Sam had ever seen Dean with anyone. Since she came into their lives, Dean has always been smiling and laughing, and she has improved their lives positively. Dean took her under his wing like a sister, but Sam didn't always see it that way.

-

Sam grit his teeth, emptying the contents of his crystal glass and refilling it with the amber liquid and a heavy hand. He took a healthy sip and leaned back in his chair at the map table. Dean and Y/N sat across from him, drinking, chatting, and laughing like they had been most of the night. Sam wasn't even sure they remembered he was there. 

Y/N tapped out first, dismissing herself to bed. Sam barely grunted a response as she left, Dean bidding her goodnight, his eyes glued to her as she went. Once she disappeared, Dean dropped his head with a smile and chuckled. Sam couldn't stop glaring at his brother, and he couldn't stop the scoff he huffed.

"What's your deal?" Dean scoffed back, sipping at his glass. "You've been broody all night."

"Are you and Y/N a thing?" Sam asked, his glare steady as Dean's eyes widened. "You're always together and so friendly," Sam seethed accusingly.

He wasn't expecting Dean's uproarious laughter, which confused and angered him further.

"Holy shit," Dean laughed as he caught his breath, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "She's my friend, like a sister to me. We aren't a thing," Dean insisted with an amused grin. "Is that why you've been bitchy all night?" he continued to chuckle.

Sam glared, not amused. Dean finally let out a long breath, the laughter fading as he realized how bad Sam had gotten over Y/N.

"Sam, I know how it is between you two," Dean tried explaining. "I wouldn't knowingly take her away from you."

"She's not mine," Sam said, though the lie was blatant even to him.

"I think you're starting to regret that line in the sand," Dean shook his head, rising from the table before heading to his room. 

Sam knew his brother was right. He regretted the walls and distance he'd placed between Y/N and himself and was beginning to feel differently about the whole thing.

-

Sam rubbed his hands over his face, trying to remove the sleep from his eyes and mind. He stood from the chair only to turn it back around. He slumped and leaned back, his legs spread wide, reaching for the beer he hadn’t been interested in earlier. Taking a long swig, he relaxed in the chair, eyes focused on Y/N.

After that night, he tried to talk to Y/N, make a move, and remove the line between them. Based on how she acted when they met and how she was in general, he thought she would have jumped at the opportunity. Instead, she surprised him by rejecting his advances. Confused and hurt, Sam tried explaining that whatever reasons he had before weren't reasons anymore.

"I still have my reasons, Sam," she answered as she turned away from him.

Her rejection deeply hurt Sam, but he didn't blame her. He hadn't exactly been warm and welcoming to the idea of her or them. He figured she needed some time to come to terms with the fact that he did actually want something between them. He was also desperate to know her reasons, and then maybe he could do something about it.

Dean wouldn't tell him anything other than to try and take things slow and start small. Sam was more than frustrated with Dean's apparent lack of knowledge - he knew his brother was hiding something with how close they were - but he respected that Dean wouldn't betray her trust. So, Sam tried to start small and slow, but Y/N didn't seem interested in anything to do with him other than hunting.

Things between all three of them grew unbearably awkward.

Dean constantly felt torn between his brother and Y/N. He could never spend time with them together because the tension was so thick it choked the air. He didn't understand their connection, but he knew there was something, and he was frustrated with their denying and avoiding it. He wanted them together and happy, and the way they constantly stole glances and lingering looks when the other wasn't paying attention told him how much they wanted it, too. But he didn't know what to do that wouldn't upset or betray either of their trust in him.

But Sam did notice all the glances and looks. He knew Dean was aware but didn't care. Sam could see that Y/N looked at him often when she thought he wouldn't notice. Sometimes, she looked at him with stars in her eyes, sometimes with a heat so palpable that he felt its caress burn across his skin. Sam could tell that she was thinking about it. About what he said, about him, about them. Yet, she continued to deny them the chance.

Y/N's rejection began to affect him soul-deep in a way that concerned him enough to conduct research. After many hours and tons of books, he discovered the answer - they were soulmates. Of course, he ran to tell Dean to have someone to talk to about it. Dean insisted Sam should tell Y/N and finally face what it was between them. But Sam wasn't ready to tell her, and Dean was gravely disappointed.

Then came the hunt.

Sam groaned, slumping further into the chair and letting his head rest on the back, the now empty beer bottle resting atop his thigh. Why did he have to be such an asshole? He wasn't always so angry, suspicious, and cynical. There was a time - most of his life, actually - when he dreamed of something like this. A deep connection, a love that could survive his life. After nearly losing her, he had to tell her and attempt to convince her that they could try.

-

"Hey guys, I think I found a hunt."

Y/N announced as she practically bounced into the war room towards the brothers. She handed over her tablet with a big grin, watching as Sam and Dean crowded into each other to read the tablet screen.

"I think you're right," Dean agreed, handing the tablet back to her. 

"Looks like a witch, most likely," Sam huffed.

"A witch?" Y/N asked, her eyes widening. "Never hunted those before," she mumbled as she fidgeted with the device.

"First time for everything," Dean grinned.

"She should stay here," Sam argued, wanting to protect her. "You know how bad witches are."

"She's gotta learn sooner or later," Dean shrugged.

Y/N glared at Sam and huffed as she stomped away, presumably to pack for the hunt. Sam tugged at his hair in frustration. 

"You're not helping anything by trying to bench her, Sam," Dean argued in her defense.

"She could get hurt. She could die, Dean!" Sam roared. "I'm just trying to protect her."

"Then look out for her on the hunt, have her back, and don't make her doubt herself."

She was great on the hunt. Dean beamed with pride as she recited her knowledge of witches and the defense tactics to use against them. She quickly made suggestions, found connections, and helped make everything go smoothly. But Sam could not help but brood once more, worried about her and the bond and her not reciprocating. 

It didn't help that she and Dean were so damn close, Dean praising and encouraging her, making her laugh and smile and beam with joy. It made Sam sick, the jealousy of not having that with her burning through him. He seethed over not being allowed even to be friendly with her as Dean was, let alone what they were supposed to have together.

It distracted him and angered him, and he knew he was being a dick, but he couldn't stop, couldn't help any of it. 

On the hunt, she was nervous but sharp and ready. Cornering the witch in her home went according to plan until she managed to get the three of them separated around her. She attacked Dean first, sending him crashing to the ground. Seeing his brother fall, Sam lunged forward, ready to shoot the witch, but she flung a hand that sent him flying into the wall, his gun clattering from his hold. 

"Sam!" Y/N screamed, worried as she watched Sam and Dean crumpled to the ground. She raised her gun, ready to shoot, but hesitated a moment too long.

The witch launched a blue powder at her - the same that they had found on the victims - before a shot rang out. Dean was lying on his side on the floor, gun perched in his hands, smoke rising from the barrel. The witch fell to the floor in a heap, the bullet hole in her forehead sizzling. 

Sam and Dean rose to their feet just as Y/N fell unconscious to the floor. They both rushed to her, Dean taking her in his arms and checking her pulse and breath while Sam buzzed with worried energy.

"We have the antidote, right?" Dean spoke as he lifted Y/N into his arms and carried her to the car. Sam followed like a worried puppy. He could only nod as Dean lay Y/N in the backseat, rushing to the Bunker to administer the antidote.

-

Sam groaned as his head lolled to the side, revealing an uncomfortable kink in his neck. He hadn't meant to doze off. He discarded the empty beer bottle, which he was surprised was still in his hand. Sitting forward, he groaned again as he rolled his neck to stretch out the muscles and rub the sleep from his face. He froze, however, when his eyes landed on Y/N, sitting up against the headboard, her eyes open and on him.

"Y/N." Sam breathed, surprised to see her awake, but the joyful ache in his heart spurred him to action.

Launching from the chair, Sam hurried to sit on the side of the bed, taking Y/N in his arms in a warm hug. "You're awake," he repeated, his breath fanning her hair. "You're okay."

"I'm okay," she agreed, patting his back. Sam reluctantly left the hug but held her hand in his, needing the comfort and connection.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, broken.

Before Y/N could respond, her bedroom door opened, revealing a beaming Dean Winchester.

"Well, hey there, Lady," he grinned, coming around the other side of the bed to hug her. "I'm glad to see you're up and well; you had us scared for a minute."

"I messed up, didn't I?" Y/N asked, dropping her gaze to her lap and missing the confused looks of the brothers.

"No, Y/N, you were great," Dean insisted. "Witch dead, no one else got hurt, and you're recovering. Considering how nasty those bitches are, I'd say things went pretty smoothly."

"Hey, Y/N."

She grinned as she looked at Castiel, a real-life Angel she considered a friend, even though they hadn't interacted or seen each other much.

"Can I check you over? Make sure everything's okay?"

Y/N nodded, allowing Cas to place a hand on her forehead. She felt the warmth of his grace as it searched her system, seeking out any damages that needed to be healed. When he pulled away, she felt refreshed, and aches she didn't know she had were suddenly gone.

"The spell's broken," Cas announced. "You'll still need rest, though." He added, smiling when he noticed Sam holding Y/N's hand. "I could sense the connection between you," he continued, grinning as though it were the happiest news he could deliver. "Very rare, very strong," he kept speaking, oblivious to their discomfort. Y/N gently pulled her hand from Sam's hold, leaving him feeling cold without her touch.

"Rare?" Dean asked, ignoring the looks of the others.

"Yes," Cas clarified. "It is a natural soulmate connection. It happens randomly in nature, not assigned like in Heaven. I believe humans referred to it as 'One True Love.'"

Sam had discovered their connection through research, but Cas' words pinpointed the exact kind of connection they shared. His heart raced, and his mind repeated the words 'truelove, truelove' like a mantra. He felt the truth of it deep in his bones.

Y/N was more than surprised hearing Cas's words, though she supposed it explained why she always felt like she did for Sam, despite him rejecting her and being an ass. But as she glanced between Sam and Dean, sharing twin sheepish expressions, her heart sank.

"You knew?" she asked, glancing between them and their silent nods of confirmation. "You knew, and you didn't tell me?!"

She was angry and hurt. Angry that everyone except her seemed to know what was going on. Hurt that they hadn't told her, hadn't trusted her enough to bring her in, even on something that involved her. But she was also trying to corale the crazy galloping of her heart. It always did that when it came to Sam, but with what she'd just learned, it was so much worse. Still, she couldn't let herself accept it or give in.

"I was going to," Sam began but stopped when Y/N shook her head.

"It doesn't matter," she spoke defeatedly. "It doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything!"

"You made it perfectly clear from the start, Sam, that this would never happen. Just because we know what this is doesn't change our reasons for not doing it to begin with."

"Y/N-"

"I think I just want to be alone for now," she spoke, not meeting anyone's eyes as they shuffled out of the room, feeling like scolded children. Sam lingered in the doorway, hand on the knob, hoping that she'd ask him to stay. But when she didn't even look at him, he reluctantly left and closed the door behind him.

-

Sam huffed in his seat at the table, running his fingers through his hair and harshly tucking it behind his ears. He, Dean, and Y/N were in one of the many storerooms, cataloging the many items in the supernatural vault they called home. They had been trying, whenever they had downtime, to archive and digitize the Bunker's contents.

This time, however, they'd been at it for a week already, establishing a daily, monotonous routine as they worked diligently. Surprisingly, it was at Dean's insistence. Unsurprisingly, it was because things between the three of them had gotten entirely worse, tensions extremely high. It started when Y/N began going on less and less hunts along with the brothers. That turned into Sam getting far too distracted on hunts, and when he got injured because his mind was elsewhere, Dean said enough was enough, and they were taking a break.

Y/N, however, had been going on small, local hunts when the brothers were away. Dean found out about it when they returned early from a hunt due to Sam's injury, and she was arriving back from her own hunt. Thoroughly fed up and worried about them both, Dean practically put everyone on house arrest under his watchful eye.

This is how they ended up working on their project, following a routine set by Dean and cleverly forcing them all to interact. Sam and Y/N still managed to barely speak to each other or be as distant as possible within whatever room they were in. This only angered Dean more, frustrating him beyond belief. But he was determined to make them talk and work through it. After all, they were supposed to be each other's True Loves. Though you couldn't tell it by looking at them.

Sam appeared patient and calm, completely contrasting with the raging storm within him. Everything in him ached and begged for her, for even a sliver of positive attention that he would undoubtedly preen under. Despite everything, all he received from her was a cold shoulder. While working, everything seemed normal and fine so long as they stayed on task. As soon as Sam tried to joke or be personal, her icy walls went up, blocking him out again.

It didn't help that Dean was always there, or she was away, or they were doing something together. But she was never alone with him, and he started to think it was intentional. He just didn't know if that was her doing or Dean's. The tension between them was growing to suffocation, and Sam wasn't sure how long he could maintain his carefully crafted control.

Over time, he had become more tuned into her, able to feel and sense her, and understood her more than ever. He deduced that it must be the same for her, two halves eager to become one, which confused him even more about why or how she resisted.

"Alright," Dean announced as he stretched. "I'm gonna make lunch. You two keep working, and I'll bring everything back."

"Want some help?" Y/N quickly volunteered, and Sam dropped his head at how much she seemed to want to avoid him.

"No, I got it," Dean said with a smile before leaving the storeroom, which suddenly felt smaller.

"Y/N," Sam said the moment they were alone. She barely spared him a glance and a hum in acknowledgment as she stood beside the table, looking over the items they had piled to catalog. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you or insult you or whatever you think I might do," he said, unable to keep the hurt from his tone. "So you can relax."

She huffed and shook her head, glancing at him quickly before looking back at the items. "You already did," she mumbled, but he heard it clear as a bell.

"Y/N-" Sam whispered, his heart breaking a little more as she shook her head again, trying to fight off tears.

He could feel her pain and her fear. That's when he realized how terrified she was of letting down her walls and letting someone in. He understood entirely, but he also knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her if the lingering and longing looks were anything to go by, not to mention the thick and taut tension that grew between them.

Sam sighed, then stood, leaning his hands on the table, his head hanging down. He chewed his lip as he thought over what he wanted to say.

"When we met, I wasn't in a great place," he began, not chancing a look at her, instead just focusing on his words and thoughts.

"Everyone we care about dies. It's happened so much, to so many, and it makes it hard to get close to anyone," he admitted with a huff. He glanced up at her, seeing her had her full attention, but his pain reflected in her eyes.

"On that hunt, we had been tracking you. We didn't know who you were but knew you were an inexperienced hunter."

Y/N was more than shocked, and Sam managed to smile sheepishly.

"We decided to follow you in case things went wrong. I was almost certain something would go wrong, they usually do with new hunters."

Y/N looked ashamed, and Sam pushed on.

"When we entered that house and saw you shooting off salt rounds at the ghosts," Sam chuckled and shook his head, his dimples showing and a tinge of red on his cheeks. Y/N fought to contain the dreamy sigh that wanted to slip out. "It was like one of those movie moments where everything slows down, and the light is shining just so," he chuckled, laughing a little harder as her expression morphed into disbelief and skepticism.

"I swear," he continued, enjoying her attention and reaction, feeling the ice chip away. "When you went all fangirl," he teased, "I wanted to be like Dean. Just lean against the car, smirk, and ask what you liked about me."

Y/N flushed hard, the heat in her cheeks enough to cause a blaze. She would have absolutely died if he had done that. Then the heat died down as she sobered, remembering that was absolutely not his reaction. Sensing he was losing her, Sam pushed on.

"I thought I was doing you a favor, doing me a favor, when I drew that line," he admitted, speaking quicker in his haste to explain himself. "But I was wrong, Y/N. And I didn't mean to hurt you."

Her heart soared at his words, his tender and desperate look, and the fear and hope wafting from him. But she still had her doubts - about herself, about them - that he put there. She wanted to trust him but wasn't sure she could.

"Okay, who is hungry?" Dean announced with a grin, setting a tray on the table and handing out sandwiches and beers.

Y/N turned her attention to Dean and the food, thanking him and tucking in. Sam shook his head, not wanting to stop their conversation but a little angry with Dean for his timing. Dean looked at his brother, who was still standing, with a questioning look. Sam deflated and slumped into his chair, ignoring his sandwich in favor of the beer and taking a healthy swig.

Y/N could feel the disappointment and growing depression coming off of Sam, and Dean's questioning gaze between them wasn't helping her feel any better. She set her sandwich down and pushed away her plate with a grumble.

"Lost my appetite," she explained.

"Alright, what happened?" Dean asked, looking between the two, who were looking anywhere but at him. Or each other.

Sam looked to Y/N, waiting for her to say something. The tension and pressure mounted so high that Y/N felt she couldn't breathe. Her flight instincts kicked in, and she dashed from the room, heading down the halls, hoping to barricade herself in her room until the tensions died down.

Dean could see the heartbreak flashing on Sam's face as the object of his affection ran from the room. He wasn't sure what happened while he was gone, but he hoped the renewed tension meant they were trying to work through everything.

"Sam," Dean said to his brother, having to repeat it a few times before he received the big man's attention. "Go after her!"

Sam's brow furrowed, but when Dean repeated himself a little louder, he jumped to action. Dean was right; he shouldn't leave it. Y/N might hate him or push him away, but he felt like maybe he was getting through to her. And he couldn't just leave things the way they were. A sense of urgency filled him, quickening his steps, as he began to feel like he might lose everything if he didn't reach her in time.

Rushing through the halls, he spotted her approaching her bedroom door. "Y/N!" 

He forced himself to walk, though at a brisk speed. He could see her flinch and knew she had heard him, but she didn't stop or turn to him. 

"Y/N!" He repeated, realizing she was still trying to escape him and the talk they desperately needed to have.

His fingers wrapped around her upper arm, and he tugged lightly, making her stop. She tried to shrug him off, which only upset him further. Reaching for her again, he spun her, pinning her in place with her back against the wall right next to her door.

"Sam!" she shouted, trying to push at his chest, but he wasn't moving. Instead, he crowded her further against the wall.

"We have to talk about this, Y/N. We need to deal with this."

She shook her head, on the verge of tears, afraid to look up at him. Her heart had been galloping over his words, and she was grappling with the contradiction between them and what her mind was telling her. His proximity wasn't helping; his scent was warm, and his frame was large. When she had pushed against him, she was surprised she hadn't whined at the strength in his muscles and the solidity of his body. 

It all served to make it impossible to think beyond her desires.

She still hadn't managed to remove her hands from his chest, her fingers twitching lightly against the soft flannel he wore. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her hands, his hands gently holding her upper arms, his warm breath fanning over her face, knowing he was looking down at her and waiting. Waiting for her to speak, to move, to do anything.

"Sam." She breathed, finally getting the courage to look up at him. 

She regretted it almost immediately. His beautiful hazel eyes—so close and in exquisite detail—mesmerized her. Her heart beat so hard and fast that she was sure he could hear it. 

"Please forgive me," Sam spoke, barely a whisper but enough for her to hear.

Everything about Sam was screaming at her to give in, seek out the connection, and revel in all that she had felt and dreamed about with him. She had fought so hard, trying not to give in because he made it clear where he stood. Having him so close, in her space and under her fingers, made something inside her crack and shatter, her walls crumbling down, leaving her open and vulnerable to him.

She nodded, fighting back the tears building in her eyes, "I forgive you."

As he met her eyes, the long-ignored spark brewing between them ignited. Throwing caution and restraint to the wind, Sam cupped her face in his large, strong hands and kissed her with all the passion he’d been denying. He couldn’t fight it anymore and knew she’d likely push him away and maybe slap him, but still, he couldn’t deny himself any longer.

To his surprise, she didn’t pull away and instead leaned into him, moaning as she tilted her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He could feel that she had reached a limit, her desire having lasted just as long. He didn’t think, only felt, as he allowed the moment to carry him away.

Sam wrapped his arms around her, and she bent her body into him, giving in willingly. It was he who moaned this time, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into her room, blindly shutting the door behind them and dropping her down to the mattress. He continued kissing her as he hastily undressed her. His hands skimmed along her silky thighs, desperate and eager for her. Inching his hand higher, he groaned as he found her mound, exposed and wet and waiting for him.

Y/N gasped as Sam trailed his kisses down her neck to her chest, and she scrambled to unfasten his pants. She needed him buried deep inside of her. She had thought about it, dreamed about it, for far too long. Her heart was racing, but she simply couldn’t wait a second longer to feel him.

As soon as his cock was free - hard and throbbing in her small and warm hand - Sam moved her hand away and lined up with her entrance, sinking completely inside in one thrust. Y/N’s hands clung to his back, her thighs tight around his hips as he buried his face between her breasts.

He knew it had been a while since she’d been with anyone, and he was bigger than average. He should have given her more time to adjust, but he just couldn’t keep his hips still; his need was too much to bear. He pulled back and thrust in hard, penetrating deep. Y/N threw her head back, and her mouth hung open at its suddenness. Still, he couldn’t stop or slow.

Capturing her mouth again, he kept up a punishing pace, fucking her hard and thorough. Not just because he’d wanted it for so long. Not just because she had been so stubborn in denying him when he’d been clear of his desire. Not just because he needed to hear her scream from pleasure because of him.

But also to fuck the stubbornness out of her. To claim her as his, inside and out. To make her finally submit and give in to what could exist between them.

Their eyes locked as they approached that climax together, moving hard against each other, desperate for that final release. Y/N broke first, her pussy clenching hard around his shaft as she screamed out her pleasure. Sam followed quickly behind, choking on his breath as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hips finally stilled as he pressed as deep as he could go, his cock throbbing relentlessly as he released several streams of cum within her warm depths.

Sam pulled away with a gasp and rose to his feet. Y/N was briefly worried that he was going to run off in shame. Instead, he devoured her with his eyes, licking and biting at his lower lip as he removed all of his clothes.

Once bare, he climbed back over her and kissed her with teeth and tongue, stripping her down to leave her nude and writhing. Y/N’s thighs wrapped around his hips, her arms securing around his neck to keep him close.

“Sam .”

“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he confessed, settling his hips between her thighs. She was surprised to find him hard again, or still, as his length nestled against her wet folds.

“You’re mine,” he insisted, sliding within her core slow and steady. “And I’m yours.” He slowly moved his hips, completely contrasting the urgency of before. “No more denying or hiding,” he continued as he slowly thrust in and out, kissing along her neck and collarbone, pressing his promises into her skin.

FOREVERS:

@lyarr24

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@leigh70

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SAM WINCHESTER:

@b3autyfuldisast3r

[buckysmischief]

no strings attached - 1

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: "No strings attached" was always a trap, you should have known your situation wouldn't be any different. Falling totally in love with Bucky would only end one way: tragically. So you handle it the only way your self destructive tendencies will allow.

Warnings: adult themes 18+ , reader makes dumb decisions

masterlist | series masterlist

[tfmerc]

"Atta girl..." – Sam Monroe

mindless smut below MDNI

“Sam— oh god.” Your pace quickens, humping down onto the boy’s throbbing length. Poor Sam had gone dumb, jaw slack as his hips twitched upward; desperately thrusting upward into your greedy hole.

His head lolled back on his pillow, pathetic whines bouncing off the walls as tears started to form in Sam's eyes. The raven was in pure bliss, unable to comprehend that you were letting him bury himself into your gummy walls.

The pair of you looked almost... pornographic. Sam picked his head up, hands reaching for your hips out of instinct. His lashes fluttered, staring up at your heavenly form before glancing down to where your bodies met; groaning at the sight.

A hot creamy ring had formed around the base of his cock, strings of his precum and your arousal mixing; smearing across his lower abdomen and inner thighs - your lower half doing nothing but reflecting his own, "Keep... keep going baby, 'm so close."

Your hands fell forward, nails pressing into the milky skin of his shoulder; leaving inflamed crescents in their wake. Whines grew louder, the image of your body and sweet little sounds engraved into his memory - stained to the back of his eyelids, cursed to see the sight of you whenever he closed his eyes.

But god, it was worth it. Listening to your pathetic mews as you begged for more, clawing at his chest as his hands declared war with your hips. He dug into the plush fat, chin tilting up as his back flexed, "C'mon sweetheart, please."

You both grew unfocused, rolling and thrusting like helpless virgins - your hand cupping against your lips, poorly concealing your pitchy moan as your silly walls spazed around Sam's twitching; his own high pulling gasping groans from his throat.

"Atta girl..." Sam's words fell breathless, heavy hands brushing the hair from your eyes as you collapsed against his chest; your thighs quivering and head heavy - pussy full.

[literaryavenger]

I love you and I hate it - part 2

Summary: After your fight with Bucky, you put all your efforts into avoiding him, convinced that your friendship is over. Bucky, however, has other plans.

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Reader being dramatic. Angst. Language maybe. Minimal use of Y/N. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: I promise I didn't mean to make it this long, but I couldn't help myself, again, and I didn't want to end on another 'cliffhanger' so here it is! hope you like it!

Part 1

Masterlist

Bucky can't believe what he just heard... You like him?

No, you used the word ‘love’. You love him.

Do you love him?

Certainly, he would’ve noticed if you did... Right? He is a trained assassin, he was taught how to see beyond people’s words and actions.

And he knows you, you can deny it all you want, but he knows you better than anyone. He knows you better than he knows himself.

And if he’s being honest, you know him better than anyone ever has, Steve included.

You feel safe, you feel calm. You feel like the peace he’s always wanted, the quiet he needs.

You feel like home. In a platonic way, of course.

Right?

His thoughts of you are interrupted by Sharon’s voice. He didn’t even realize he was back at the party.

"Where did you go?" she asks and, suddenly, her grip on his arm was just a little too tight for his liking. But it was probably nothing.

"I went to check if Y/N was okay."

"Oh." something in her voice felt wrong, but Bucky tried to ignore it, that is until what she said next.

"Why would you even care about her? All she does is embarrass you like before. She’s useful to no one, I heard the only reason she’s even on the team is because she slept her way to it." she laughed like it was the funniest thought in the world, and Bucky couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Not only was she saying hurtful, untrue things about his girl, but she has the audacity to laugh at her own cruelty?

"How dare you?" he does his best not to yell, but his tone still startles Sharon. "Y/N is the best agent in all of Shield, that’s why she got in the team! She’s not an embarrassment, she’s a valued member of our family and she’s my best friend! Of course I care about her, she’s the most important person in my life! Don’t ever talk about her that way again."

Sharon seems shocked at his words but, looking around, she realizes people are starting to stare so she tries her best to defuse the situation. "Alright, I’m sorry, I won’t say things like that again. Let’s just calm down and have a nice rest of the evening, ok?"

In his head Bucky knew her request was reasonable, he could forget about this and keep having fun with his girlfriend. But in his heart he just knew he couldn’t let it go.

The words were coming out of his mouth before he can stop them, not that he even wants to.

"You know what, Sharon? This isn’t working. We have to break up." He doesn’t even give her a chance to say anything before he’s turning around and making his way to his room.

Meanwhile, on the roof, Steve’s trying to talk you down the ledge. Metaphorically speaking, obviously. 

"He hates me, Steve." you can't stop the tears.

"Stop saying that, sweetheart, he doesn’t hate you."

"You saw what happened at the party, the way he looked at me. And he heard me say that I love him and walked away like it was nothing." You sniffle. "If he didn’t hate me before, this certainly pushed him off the edge."

Steve has nothing to say to that, he knows Bucky doesn't hate you, but he also knows that you’re too stubborn to hear any reason, especially not right now when you're in the eye of the tornado and can't see a way out.

Right now you need a friend and shoulder to cry on, usually Bucky would take on that role, but, given the circumstances, Steve decides to step up and be that friend.

He wraps his arms around your crying body and holds you as you let it all out. Neither of you say anything else, the only sounds in the dark of the night being your sobs, until eventually you calm down and after a few moments of silence Steve glances down to see you fell asleep. 

Not wanting to wake you he carefully picks you up and makes his way to the elevator.

When he gets to the floor you both reside in he finds Sam and Natasha chatting at the kitchen counter, probably about to go to bed after coming up from the party.

Sam gives him a confused look, while Nat seems to understand what is going on right away as she moves without saying a word, walking ahead of Steve towards your room.

She opens the door for him and walks in behind, moving the covers back as he lays you on your bed as carefully as he can, and then Nat delicately takes your heels off before covering you with the duvet.

As they’re leaving your room the door opposite yours opens, revealing a hopeful Bucky but when he sees it’s not you, his face becomes stoic once again. He’s about to ask where you are when Natasha beats him to the punch.

"Leave her alone, Barnes. You’ve hurt her enough already." Is all she says before she steps into her own bedroom.

Bucky looks to his best friend for help but, at his confused face, the blonde super soldier just shakes his head in disappointment and walks away without a word.

Bucky stands there for a few minutes, just staring at your door like he's gonna will you to open it and talk to him.

He sighs and goes back to his room where he spends the next few hours overthinking about you and this whole night, eventually falling into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning when you wake up you feel at peace for about 10 seconds before the events of last night hit you like a truck, and all you can feel is humiliation.

How can you face the team after they witnessed your fight with Bucky?

How can you face Steve after he saw you at your most vulnerable and, apparently, carried you to bed after you cried yourself to sleep?

How can you face Bucky after he heard you say you love him and he walked away from you?

You can’t, that’s the answer.

Should you just move out? Just quit the team, ask Hill to be reassigned? Maybe you could even get transferred to another country...

You’re not overreacting, right? This is a very embarrassing situation and you have every right to want to run away from all of it.

As you’re making up an escape plan in your mind you hear a knock on your door, followed by Steve’s voice. "Hey, are you awake? We just want to make sure you're okay…"

You try to be as silent as you can, slowing down your breathing praying he’ll think you’re sleeping.

You can hear him exchange some muffled words with what sounds like Natasha, and then you hear their footsteps as they walk away, so you let out a relieved sigh.

Okay, step one is definitely getting out of this room, it’s just the most obvious place where to look for you.

You get up and out of your awfully classy dress, take a shower being sure to clean away all the makeup from last night and put on the most comfortable sweats you own.

Just as you’re opening the door you can see Bucky opening his about to get out and, in a panic move, you run back inside your room and slam the door shut.

Very subtle, yes.

You rest your back against the door and can hear him sigh and then walk away.

You wait a few minutes, just to be sure, and then relax a little. Your plan was to go to the gym and work out a bit, but now all you can think about is getting the hell out of this compound.

You grab your purse, make sure to have your phone and keys in it and open the door, making sure no one’s around before getting out.

You’re practically running, taking the stairs for good measure, and in a flash you’re at the garage. You jump in your car and drive away as fast as you can without breaking the law, not even knowing where to go.

Once you’re in the city you stop at a cafe for breakfast near your favorite book store, the one you and Bucky have visited together a hundred times.

Okay, stop that. No more thinking about Bucky.

You spend the rest of the day just going from one store to the other, stopping to have lunch at the diner you always go to when you’re in the city, and trying not to kick yourself for not being able to stop thinking about Bucky.

Seriously, why can’t you stop thinking about him?

It doesn’t help the fact that every one of your favorite places has at least a hundred and twelve memories of Bucky.

God, have you ever gone anywhere on your own in the last two years?

The more memories come to mind the more you think that maybe transferring wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Go somewhere new, get a fresh start.

When it starts getting dark you decide to drive back to the compound, but when you park and turn the car off you can’t find it in yourself to get out.

You take out your phone, which you’ve been ignoring all day, and go through all the messages of your worried friends, hating yourself a little more when you catch yourself looking for his name in your notifications.

Just as you’re about to answer Tony’s texts first, you get a call from Steve. You stare at your phone, unsure if you can stomach answering him right now, but your decision is rendered moot when someone taps against your car window.

Your head snaps towards it and you let out a breath of relief when you see Steve standing there, holding his phone and using it to tap on your window again.

You close your eyes for a second but resign to your fate as you gather your things and get out of the car.

When you lock your car you turn to see that Steve moved to be leaning on the trunk of your car, so you join him and wait for him to say something, not knowing what to say yourself.

"So," he starts, with his arm folded in front of his chest and looking at his shoes "you’re avoiding all of us now?" You let out a sigh, feeling bad for hurting his feelings.

"I’m sorry, Steve. I just…" you can’t even look at him as you talk, so you just look ahead of you at all the cars "I’m just embarrassed. After everything that happened last night, I don’t know… God, you even carried me to bed like a child." you cover your face with your hands.

You finally look at him when you hear him chuckling. "That’s what friends do, Y/N. They lean on each other." he bumps your shoulder with his playfully.

"I know we’re not as close as you and Bucky, but I am your friend too. I’m not gonna judge you for last night, I just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s what we all want. You made us worry that you might run away on us." He says the last part as a joke, but you can’t help looking away from him.

That’s exactly what you wanted to do.

You bite your lip as he keeps looking at you and you feel like he can see the gears turning in your head, like your thoughts are so loud and your guilt so visible that he knows right away he was right on the money.

"Y/N…" it’s almost a warning, but you still can’t find the courage to look at him. "You were seriously thinking of running away?!" he seems almost shocked.

"Okay, it’s not like I’m a teenager running away in the middle of the night after a fight with her parents!" you finally look at him. "I was just considering… I don’t know, maybe asking for a transfer?"

"So you actually want to leave the team just because you had a fight with Bucky?" He scoffs.

"It’s not just the fight, Steve, he knows I love him and he doesn’t even care!" You yell before sighing and lovering your voice.

"Do you realize how much that hurts? And now I’m supposed to, what? Just go back to how things used to be? Pretend like nothing happened? Even if we’re not friends anymore, he lives across the hall from me! I’m bound to see him and it’s gonna hurt every fucking time!" You’re almost crying, again, but you hold back not wanting to go through that again and you look away.

"I know it hurts, trust me, sweetheart, but… what about us?" you look at him again as he goes on. "We’re your team too. We’re your friends, we’re your family... You can’t just leave us. I'm not saying it's gonna be easy, but we can help you make it better. We all care about you a lot." It’s honestly a miracle you’re not crying already. You feel him take your hand, but don’t look away from his face.

"Please let us help you." you squeeze his hand and nod, not trusting your voice not to break and the flood to hit as soon as you open your mouth.

He smiles at you and you can’t help but do the same. "Good. Then let’s go up and have dinner like we always do." He starts walking and taking you with him, his hand still in yours.

While you’re waiting for the elevator you can’t hold yourself back as you turn to him and give him a tight hug. "Thank you."

He hugs you back just as tight. "Anytime, rookie." you snort and let go of him, giving him a punch in the arm you’re sure he didn’t even feel as he laughs with you.

When you get to the big kitchen most of the team is already there and you sit down next to Natasha while Steve sits at her other side.

The seat next to you is quickly occupied by Sam as he bings the pizza to the table. He gives you a side hug and squeezes your arm in sympathy but aside from that nobody even mentioned what happened last night, which you're grateful for.

You eat like always, having conversations, laughing and teasing each other like normal, you didn’t feel like anyone was pitying you and you realized Steve was right: these people are your family, you could never leave them.

And, as you watch Loki and Peter trying to make you laugh by messing with Thor’s hair, putting tiny umbrellas in it while he's not looking, you just know they’re gonna help you through everything.

What makes you sad to notice is that one brooding super soldier is missing, though you don’t bring it up for fear of opening that particular door.

And that’s how you spend the next few weeks: avoiding anything and everything that has to do with Bucky, including the man himself.

You start training with Natasha and realize how easy Bucky went on you.

You do more missions with Sam and Steve and realize that missions aren't as fun for everybody as they were for you and Bucky.

You hang out during your down time with pretty much everyone and realize that you couldn’t have as much fun with everyone as you had with Bucky.

So yeah, as much as you could avoid Bucky and talking about him to anybody, he lived rent free in your head.

Fun, huh?

It also didn’t help the look that Steve gave you every time you basically ran out of a room as soon as you caught a glimpse of your former best friend. 

Everybody noticed the change in your friendship, but it felt like they all took a silent oath to not mention anything to either of you, and you were glad they were respecting your choice to stay away from Bucky.

He, on the other hand, was going crazy.

He hasn’t seen you in weeks, except for those few seconds before you realize he’s in the same room and run away.

He doesn’t hear your voice unless he’s eavesdropping on you with someone else, but even then he never hears his name come out of your mouth.

Nobody will tell him anything about you, the only thing he can get out of Steve is ‘she’s okay, just give her time’.

He’s been trying his best to give you the space you need, but he feels like he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t hear you say his name soon.

It’s been a month of successfully and not so subtly avoiding Bucky.

There was one time where, as the team about to land for a mission, he got much too close to you for your liking and you thought he was about to say something so you grabbed a parachute and quite literally jumped out the jet, then walked the rest of the way to the Hydra base.

Everyone had to wait for you, some annoyed, but most found the situation too amusing to be bothered by it.

Anyway. 

You’re at the gym for an early morning workout, a habit you took to when you started avoiding Bucky.

You know he usually stays up at night. Occasionally because he still gets nightmares, usually because his overthinking mind tortures him until early hours. So he uses mornings to sleep in when he doesn’t have missions.

You’re on the treadmill when you hear the doors of the gym open behind you but think nothing of it, assuming it’s just Steve replacing his morning run with a workout because it’s too hot to run outside.

When you don’t hear him say anything, you’re about to turn your head to see who it is, but before you can do anything you feel two hands, one cold and one hot, on your waist.

You squeal when they pick you up and take you away from the treadmill, setting you down on the ground in front of it before turning off the machine.

"Bucky, what the fuck?! I could’ve gotten hurt!" you were so shocked you didn’t even fully realize you were actually talking to the person you’ve spent so much time and effort avoiding, or that you were walking backwards while Bucky was getting closer to you.

"Oh please, I’d ever let you get hurt." he’s sounds almost amused, like this is a normal thing between you two, but the truth is he’s just happy that you’re actually talking to him.

When your back hits the wall you realize too late that it’s Bucky in front of you and suddenly you’re looking around you to find a way to escape. But all you find is that he’s successfully trapped you between the wall and his body, his hands on the wall at either side of your head.

You swallow hard and if he notices he doesn’t say anything, but your brain is too busy registering the warmth of his body so close to yours to even be ashamed right now.

"Is this the only way I’ll get to talk to you now?" you almost miss his question, your eyes snapping up to meet his and, where you expected to see a smug look at having caught you not only off guard but also ogling, you found a frown and a slight pout.

Something about the hurt on his face stopped you from lying or straight up kicking him so he’d move and you could run away.

No, Bucky was your best friend, you’ve always felt the need to be honest with him ever since that first day, and even now you owe it to him to tell him nothing but the truth.

"I just need time." You hoped he understood.

"How much more time do you need?" Apparently not.

"I don’t know, can’t you just be patient?" You can't believe you really have to ask him this.

"It’s been a month, doll, I think I’ve been plenty patient. Are you planning on avoiding me forever?"

"Not forever… just… I don’t know." If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know how long you would’ve kept on avoiding him.

You were so busy doing the actual avoiding that you didn’t take the time to think about when you’d be able to stop.

You let out a sigh, but didn’t look away from his eyes for a second. He needs to know you meant every word you're about to say. "I was hurting, Bucky. I still am. I get that you have a girlfriend-"

"I broke up with her." he interrupts you.

"You… What?" you weren’t expecting that. "When?"

"The night of our fight. I would’ve told you sooner but it was hard to catch you, you know, with you avoiding me and everything."

You almost lost your train of thought, but it didn’t matter that he was single, he was still the first one to walk away, why was it so wrong for you to do it now?

"It doesn’t matter… I know you don’t owe me anything, but you walked away from me. From my feelings." you can see Bucky’s confusion so, before he can say anything, you explain yourself.

"That night on the roof. I know you were there, you heard me say that I loved you and you walked away like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. I know you don’t like me like that, and I can live with that in time, but it hurt. It still hurts." you don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn’t he says next.

"Do you remember the day we met?" you furrow your brows in confusion but he waits for you to nod before he keeps going. "We’ve never really talked about it, have we? It's ironic since we’ve talked about pretty much every topic we could possibly come up with. But that day, you introduced yourself and I just got up and walked away. Kind of what you’ve been doing this past few weeks."  he chuckles a bit and you have the impression he's getting closer to your face, but you're probably just imagining that.

"Yeah, I thought I did something wrong, but you were just a rude bitch." he laughs and you can’t help but smile.

"I’m sorry about that, I just… the second I saw you I felt weird. And when you talked to me it was too much, I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t know what I was feeling and my brain just screamed at me to get out, so I did. Then you came to my door and said all those nice things and that weird feeling started to feel more and more comfortable as you talked. It was nice. Then we became friends and I guess I just dismissed that feeling as friendship. It was a different type of friendship that I’d never had... But then again I’ve never been this close to a woman. Emotionally speaking, of course." His hand comes to cup your cheek and you can’t speak, so he takes the opportunity to say everything he needs to say.

"This month has been hell for me, doll. I’ve missed you more than I’ve ever missed anybody in my entire life. Not being able to spend time with you, joke around, talk to you, barely even see you. It's been driving me insane. Being away from you for so long made me realize what that feeling was. You’re not just my best friend, you’re my person. You’re my calm, and my reason. You’re my happiness, my home. You’re the love of my life."

"What?" you're basically whispering, so quietly you’re sure he wouldn’t have heard you if he didn’t have super hearing.

"I love you too, doll. I love you." he holds your face in his hands "I love you."

You feel like your brain shut down all of a sudden. You barely know how to breathe, let alone talk. All you can do is stare at him, the look he's giving you making you weak in the knees.

"You’re killing me here, doll. For the love of god, say something, angel." The nickname seems to snap you out of it, and there's only one thing in your mind left to ask.

"If you love me, why didn’t you tell me on the roof?" He let out a deep sigh, you can feel his breath on your lips, but you try your hardest to focus on his words and not his lips.

"For one I was still with Sharon. And I didn’t really know what I was feeling. Also, I wasn’t even sure you were serious. Honestly, I was just confused about the whole thing, and still mad about the fight. Nothing good would’ve come from me staying and talking to you that night. I probably would’ve ended up hurting you more." All that makes a lot of sense, sure, but it doesn't change the fact that it hurt.

The look in Bucky’s face at the moment though makes you want to forgive him right this second and let this whole thing go. Pretend like the last month didn’t happen. 

So that’s what you do.

"What if…" you start, looking back and forth between his eyes and his lips "what if we forget all of this happened?"

"No." he answered so fast and firmly that it made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and disappointment. "I don’t want to forget anything about us, doll. Good or bad, it’s all worth it, as long as it ends with you in my arms."

You're melting and can't hold yourself back, you grab his face and bring his lips down to yours.

He freezes, probably not expecting it, but when you're about to pull away, he holds your face to keep you there, deepening the kiss.

After a few moments you hear someone clear their throat and almost throw Bucky off of you, looking behind him while he turns to see who it is and you see Steve and Sam standing there, amused looks on their faces.

"We were just talking." You blurted out and Sam cracked and almost doubled over with laughter.

"Really?" Steve said while raising an eyebrow, almost exasperated and knowing damn well what you were doing.

"Sure they were, Steve, she was obviously trying to get the word out of his mouth!" Sam said to the blonde, still laughing his ass off.

"Oh, of course she was. Tell us, sweetheart, what did you find in Bucky’s mouth?" Steve was now laughing too, and you were so embarrassed you hid your face in Bucky’s chest.

He wrapped his arms around you, barely glaring at the two laughing idiots. "Ok, just get out of here, punks." Fortunately for once in their lives they decided to actually listen and left, their laughs echoing through the halls.

"You okay there, doll?" Bucky was now chuckling at your embarrassment.

You raised your head and, meeting his eyes, you said "I can’t believe Captain Dumbass is making fun of us for kissing."

He started laughing and you gladly joined him, looking forward to making up for the time you missed with him, unknowingly promising each other to never let go of the other ever again.

taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @spookyparadisesheep @scott-loki-barnes @pattiemac1 @emerald-writes @sapphirebarnes

[allisluv]

Hii here with like kinda angsty thought: how would finnick react if reader flinches during an argument? Like he raises his hand to scratch his neck or smth, but she gets the wrong message??

-🎸

old habits die hard.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: reader has been in a previous abusive relationship. mentions of previous arguments and abuse, flinching, hurt/comfort, established relationship, improved communication at the end, angst with a happy ending.

word count: 546

It happens so quick.

One minute, you're arguing with Finnick, and the next, he's raised his hand to scratch the back of his neck. Your brain whirls into overdrive and you flinch, hands flying up to protect your face.

As god-awful as it sounds, it is an instinct by now. Living with your ex has thrown you into a permanent state of fight or flight. You've been dating Finnick for the better part of six years and the thought of him raising a hand to you has never even crossed your mind. It's just your luck that your ex's actions have taken permanent residence in your psyche.

Dread runs through your veins when you hear Finnick inhale a sharp breath. You lower your hands from your face, but the devastated look on your boyfriend's face makes you want to hide away again.

Tears are gathering on Finnick's waterline and he furiously blinks them away. He bites his bottom lip to stop it from trembling and says, "I would never."

You don't trust yourself to say anything, so you're quiet instead. You know Finnick isnt the type of guy to lay so much as a finger on you. You know that, but still, deep down, there's a nagging feeling that says, what if?

You never thought your ex would hit you, either.

Finnick sighs, running a hand down the length of his face. "Can I give you a hug or do you need some space?"

The words end up getting caught in the back of your throat. When you finally manage to push through the pain, your voice is strained and broken. "I want a hug."

Finnick obliges, but keeps his hands where you can see them, just in case you change your mind. When you don't cower away from him like he had expected, he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on top of your head. He kisses above where your hairline starts. "I'm so sorry, angel."

"It's not your fault--"

Finnick cuts you off before you can get much further. "No, I shouldn't have shouted. I didn't mean to scare you. I should have walked away and came back when the both of us were calmer. I never want you to feel scared and I definitely don't want you to think that I'm going to hit you because I'm mad. I would never do that to you, and the fact I have to clarify that makes my heart ache."

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the warmth of your tears staining his cotton shirt. "I know you weren't going to hit me," you eventually say. "I know that. I-- sometimes I just forget that everyone's not like him. I'm sorry."

Finnick pulls away and cradles your face in his hands. The pad of his thumb reaches out and swipes away your tears. "Don't you dare apologise, angel. None of this is your fault, and I'm not mad. I just-- 'm sorry for scaring you. I'd never do that intentionally, you know that, right?"

You nod, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "We need to talk some more about this later, when you're ready, but for now, I think we should cuddle and watch some tv. How does that sound?"

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: To obtain a mystic gun capable of destroying the demon that killed their mother, the group must team up with John and face off against vampires.

Warnings: cannon violence and gore, John Winchester, arguing, girl kissing (not really a warning but), slightly jealous Dean??, reader being a nerd

Word Count: 8.5k

Dead Man's Blood

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Outfit Board)

 The cafe is quiet except for the distant chatter of conversations that melt together, the clinks of glasses and dishes, the clacking of a keyboard, and the shuffling of paper. So, maybe quiet isn’t the right word. Nevertheless, the steady background noise is peaceful. It brings me back to the days when I’d linger in cafes to study for an upcoming exam in both high school and college. Though, I suppose, looking through various obituaries and news articles to find our next hunt isn’t that different. “Well, man,” Dean starts, folding his newspaper. “Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got?”

  I lean back in my seat, pushing away from the screen I’ve been looking out for God knows how long. “Nothing of note in Iowa, Kansas, or Missouri,” I announce, noting some of the states surrounding Nebraska. The various tabs open for each state are a little concerning. “Unless you count a woman in Iowa who managed to fall 10,000 feet from an airplane and survive.”

  “Sounds more like ‘That’s Incredible’ than, uh, ‘Twilight Zone,’” Dean remarks.

  “Yeah definitely weird but not that concerning,” I nod. It surely reeked of the supernatural because there was no human way to do that, but it also wasn’t a top-of-the-list concern when no one got hurt and it seemed like an isolated event.

  “Hey, Sam, you know we could keep heading East. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh?” Dean suggests, smirking as he leans his elbows on the table. “Cool chick man, smokin’” he whistles. I shake my head, mentally grimacing. Yeah, she was attractive but to say it aloud and whistle about some girl your brother was clearly into? A little weird. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

  “Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday,” he answers vaguely. “But in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that.”

  “Yeah, alright,” Dean gives in.

  “You get anything in the states you checked?” I ask Sam, knowing he had looked at Wyoming, Colorado, and South Dakota. More states that surround the state we currently reside in. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Uh, a man in Colorado. A local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home.”

  “That’s certainly one way to go,” I mumble.

  “Elkins?” Dean echos. “I know that name.”

  “You do?” I ask.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” Sam shakes his head.”Sounds like the police don’t know what to think,” he continues as his brother mumbles Elkins under his breath and pulls out their Dad’s journal. “At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, they’ve found some signs of robbery.”

  “You know, sometimes it amazes me how the police solve anything,” I remark. Sure, if it’s supernatural related then they don’t have the upper hand of knowledge but seriously a bear attack and a robbery are two completely different things.

  Dean hums absentmindedly in acknowledgment, flicking through the journal. “There, check it out,” he announces, flipping the book around for us to see. A phone number resides on the page right next to the name. “You think it’s the same Elkins?” Sam asks.

  “It’s a Colorado area code,” Dean points out. 

****

  Sam kneels on the wooden porch, the flashlight illuminating his work with the lockpick. It’s not too long before the lock clicks, and the door creeps open with a turn and push.

  “Looks like the maid didn’t come today,” Dean comments, looking over a table cluttered with books and papers. Otherwise, this room was pretty clean at least in terms of the crime. “Hey, there’s salt over here. Right beside the door,” Sam announces, lingering by the front door. 

  “You mean protection against demon salt or, ‘oops I spilled the popcorn’ salt?” Dean asks, his interest tuned into a journal he discovered on the desk.

  My flashlight guides my eyes across the room. It didn’t happen in this room, it doesn’t seem like the perpetrator(s) came from the front door into the entryway. “It’s clearly a ring,” Sam clarifies. “You think this guy Elkins was a player?”

  “Definitely,” he answers. I wander a little further into the house, the real mess lying in the next room over, the door knocked off its hinges. “That looks a hell of a lot like Dad’s,” Sam says. I look over my shoulder, and both boys are checking out the journal. “Yep, except this dates back to the 60s,” Dean responds.

  I step into what looks to be an office, or what’s left of it. It’s pure destruction. If you told me a tornado came through this room I’d believe you. Broken and overturned furniture litter the floor, books and papers scattered about. I can barely see the floor, it's all covered. “Whoever this guy was, he put up a hell of a fight,” I comment as I carefully step further into the room, glass crunching beneath my shoe. Glass but no broken windows. “Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam adds, looking up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze to the broken sunroof, the source of the glass.

  Where did the police get a bear attack from even if he did have scratch marks on him? Did they think it fell into the sunroof? I could understand the robbery considering the mess, but a bear? Seriously? I shake my head at the thought, walking over to the cleared-off desk. Whatever was atop it was on the floor now. “Do you think whoever or whatever did this was looking for something?” I ask, taking in the mess again. Some of it was from fighting, but the desk's open draws, which were barely hanging on, suggests it may be more. It could be an added motive. “Maybe,” Sam answers before his attention turns over to his brother who is crouched down and examining the floor. “You got something?” Sam asks.

 “I dunno,” he answers. “Some scratches on the floor.”

  “Death throes maybe?” Sam suggests, referring to the last moments before the end. 

  “Yeah, maybe,” Dean says, grabbing a nearby notebook. He opens a page, placing it over the scratches before using a pencil to scratch over it revealing the marks better. “Or maybe a message.” He peels up the paper, some blood soaked into the back, but the markings are clear. “Look familiar?” He asks, holding it up.

  “Three letters, six digits,” Sam answers. “The location and combination of a post office box. It’s a mail drop.” The message was an incredible feat to manage before death took him under. To be able to scatch it out…it must be more than important.

  “Just the way Dad does it,” Dean adds. 

****

 A simple letter rests in Sam’s hand. The letter was found in the post office box. “‘J.W.’” Sam reads off the envelope, “You think that's John Winchester?”

  “I mean your Dad clearly knew the guy,” I offer, his number is inside the journal. “Maybe he even learned this way of communicating from him.” 

“Should we open it?” Dean asks, something uncertain yet insistent in his voice. But, no one gets to answer the question on each of our minds when, instead, there is a knock on the driver-side window. Dean gasps and flinches, his arm raised in defense. “Dad?” he breathes, his fist lowering. The door beside me opens then, hazel eyes looking at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows with a tight-lipped smile as I scooch over. He takes my seat, closing the door behind him. “Dad, what are you doing here?” Sam asks. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” he answers simply. He looks the same as the last time we saw him, with messy dark hair similar to Sam’s cut and a ragged beard. “I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

  “Why didn’t you come in Dad?” Sam questions, his voice soft as if he knows the answer.

  “You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren’t followed…by anyone or anything,” John responds. He sounds more paranoid than anything. It sounds like a sad excuse to avoid speaking and seeing his kids again, but I keep those thoughts to myself. “Nice job of covering your tracks by the way,” he compliments. And it’s like being buttered up before the roast— before you’re put right back on the fire that eats at you until you forget your self-worth. 

  “Yeah, well, we learned from the best,” Dean answers with a proud smile on his face as his chest puffs out a little bit.

  “Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam points out.

  “Yeah. He was... he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting,” he reveals. I guess I was somewhat right on my assumption. “Well, you never mentioned him to us,” Sam shrugs.

  “We had a... we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years,” he explains, gesturing towards the envelope. “I should look at that.” Sam hands it over easily, and his father wastes no time in opening it. “'If you're reading this, I'm already dead',” he reads, trailing off. “That son of a bitch.”

  “What is it?” Dean asks.

  “He had it the whole time,” he answers vaguely as if we know what he's talking about. “Has what?” I ask.   “When you searched the place, did you, did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?” He asks each question one right after the other almost frantically.   “Uh, there was, there was an old case but it was empty,” Dean answers.

  “They have it,” John announces.

  “‘You mean whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asks. John opens the door, shifting to get out. “We gotta pick up the trail.” But before he can make it out of the vehicle Sam stops him, “Wait. ‘You want us to come with you?”

  “If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” he explains, doing that thing where he’s insanely unhelpful.

  “The gun–why?” Sam pushes.   “Because it's important, that's why,” he replies. I roll my eyes, for a guy who wasn’t very present he managed to be incredibly irritating. “Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” Sam reasons. 

  “They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires,” he reveals, finally being helpful.   “Vampires? I thought there was no such thing,” Dean answers.

  “You didn’t?” I ask, surprised.

  “You did?” He throws right back with a just as surprised tone as mine.

  “Yeah,” I say like it's obvious. “I took down a nest back in college.” It was the first and only time I had encountered a vampire let alone a vampiric hunt. Students started to go missing, seemingly picked off one by one, and like any school word had spread quickly. It was weird, yes, but with no bodies and only having gossip I had nothing to work with. No one saw anything, the picks were clean and concise. Well, that was until certain bodies did show up. Four out of nine bodies were found, two were located near or around campus grounds, and the others were left in the town that was a short drive from the school. I managed to pull some strings and cash in ‘I owe you’ to see the bodies firsthand. My initial thought was vampires but the thought was more of a joke than anything, I thought I was watching too much Buffy. But then some research made a joke no longer a joke. It was vampires and I had to kill them.

  I can remember it still, the way the heads went flying and how blood caked my clothes. Buffy makes it look cleaner than what it is. 

  “You did?” John asks, his voice dripping in disbelief and sass. “Don’t sound so surprised,” I mumble, my distaste for him almost painfully clear in the curl of my lip. He has been here for less than five minutes and I’m already a little irritated. I’d like to think that I’m not a hateful person, that I don’t hold grudges or malice but when it comes to John Winchester suddenly I’m the biggest hater you’ve ever seen. “Well, I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and—“ he throws a glare at me. “And others had wiped them out. I was wrong.”   “You were,” I agree, smiling a little at the slow turn of his head as he stares at me with daggers. 

  “Most vampire lore is crap,” he starts, his voice gruff, looking back at his boys. “A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

  “The way to kill them is decapitation,” I add. “Interestingly enough the story to get it right is a work of fiction, though, of course, you could argue that it was only presented that way and the author knew more than any normal person would. The final blow in Carmilla, written by some Irish guy, is her head being struck off. Before that was a stake through the heart but, it’s interesting that he would add the decapitation aspect especially when it’s the first ever Vampire novel so it’s not like he changed things to be different.”

  “Are you done?” John remarks, unamused.

  “Yeah, now I am,” I respond, equally unamused with him.

  “Wake up! Come on,” a voice demands. I grumble something incoherent, my fingers softly curling into the warmth beneath my hand. The something beneath my hand rumbles with the “Mm-hmm,” that follows from its lips. 

  My eyes squint open, my hand resting on Dean's chest, fingers clutching his shirt, his arm resting around my waist. We didn’t fall asleep like this when John hated the very idea of us sharing a bed even though we’d done it before. I know John doesn’t trust me, even though I haven’t done anything to warrant such feelings. It’s more like he doesn’t trust who I am and he makes it known with every look and side comment. Yet, as much as he hated it, he didn’t want me in a separate room because it would “waste time and money.” So, we had slept back to back which felt so horribly unnatural.

  I do not make a move to separate from him. He rubs his eyes and I want to bury my face into the pillow in a desperate attempt to grasp onto the remains of sleep but the sight of his messy short hair going every which way, and his eyes barely being held open from the sleep that clings to them keeps my attention. Even on interrupted sleep, he looks so good. “I picked up a police call,” John announces, the faint noise of radio static proving his statement. 

  “What happened?” Sam asks, his voice laced with sleep. Dean’s hand drops from his eyes going, instead, to my hand on his chest. He gives it a little squeeze and it would be so easy to just fall back into a sweet sleep with the butterflies that dance in my stomach. But, the harsh reality of, well, reality comes crashing back when John answers, “A couple called 911, ‘found a body in the street. Cops got there. Blood was missing. It's the vampires.”

  “How do you know?” Sam asks logically. But, John is already halfway out the door forgoing explanations as he typically does. “Just follow me, okay?” he responds, shutting the door behind him. 

“Huh, vampires,” Dean muses, his eyes still half open. “Gets funnier every time I hear it.”

****

 The spin of red and blue lights shatters the atmosphere, a long cloth placed over a body in the middle of the road, yellow tape sanctioning off the area as cops work the scene, and a certain irritating Winchester talking to a cop as we are forced to wait by the Impala like kids waiting while their parent talks to an old friend and you just know you’re going to be waiting forever. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have gone over with him,” Sam complains, sulking slightly. 

  “Should’ve let us sleep,” I agree, mumbling. I don’t see the point in dragging us from bed just to put us on the back burner, but I guess that’s John for you. 

  “Oh, don’t tell me it’s already starting,” Dean responds.   “What's starting?” he asks. But he doesn’t get his answer as their father approaches, Dean putting his focus there. “What have you got?” he asks his Dad. 

  “It was them alright,” John confirms. “Looks like they’re heading west. We’ll have to double back to get around that detour.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Sam asks, arms crossed. 

  “Sam…” Dean warns.

  “I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” he snaps at his brother.

  “We are,” John answers vaguely.

  “How do you know?” 

  John hands something small to Dean, answering with “I found this.” 

  Dean cups the long and sharp tooth in the palm of his hand. “It’s a…” he tries to find the words, “a vampire fang.”

  “It’s not necessarily a fang,” I correct. “An entire set of teeth that look just like that descends when they attack, covering the normal set of teeth.” 

  “Any more questions?” John asks, looking at Sam expectantly, a certain bite to his words. Sam remains quiet, his eyes flicking away—the kind of answer his father wants. No, an answer he expects. “Alright, let’s get out of here, we’re losing daylight,” John orders. He walks to his truck, a vehicle I suddenly love because he doesn’t have to be in the same car as us. “Hey, Dean why don’t you touch up your car before you get rust?” he throws back the comment, “I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it.” 

  I look at Dean with widened eyes. His face drops. Drops. My heart might as well drop with it. I dig my nails into my palms in an attempt to control my mouth, my teeth clenched painfully to hold in my own comment. I should make him apologize. I should do more than that but I know it will only make it worse for them and that is the last thing I want. Yet, saying nothing feels worse so the word slips out before I can reel it back in. “Asshole,” I grumble beneath my breath, opening the back door to the Impala.

  “What’d you say?” John asks, seemingly having super hearing, pausing short of his truck. The stiffness in his shoulder is familiar, or similar. So, I duck into the car with an, “I didn’t say anything.” I expect him to say something or for him to make some sort of move. I see the unamused look on his face even as I close the door behind me, creating a barrier between us. I half expect him to drag me from the car and make me answer him. Dad said I never knew how to hold my tongue or when to stop. And maybe he was right.

*****

  The Impala rolls down the road, following John’s truck. “Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten,” Dean reads from the passenger seat. “Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that’s what happened to that 911 couple.”

  “I didn’t see the corpses well enough but it’s likely,” I answer, though I don’t know why John didn’t let us see the body or do any work.

  “It’s probably what Dad's thinking. ‘Course it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks,” Sam grumbles, a certain furrow to his brow.   “So it is starting,” Dean remarks.

  “What?”

  Well, this is my queue to keep my comments to myself and let them talk this out. 

  “Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year,” he explains. “Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?” 

  “Hm. No. Look, I'm happy he's ok, alright?” he responds. “And I'm happy that we're all working together again.” “Well good.”

  “It’s just the way he treats us like we’re children,” Sam adds, seemingly unable to help himself. But I’m here for the John bashing. 

  “Oh God,” Dean mumbles. 

  “He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.”

  Sam’s not wrong. His vagueness is one of his worst traits which is saying something because he has a long list of horrible traits. He’s really the King of being as vague and unhelpful as possible for a reason I simply can’t discern. Maybe it makes him feel like he has some power or the upper hand.

  “He does what he does for a reason,” Dean reasons.   “What reason?” Sam pushes.

  “Our job!” Dean snaps. “There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.”   “I’d argue that leaving you guys in the dark can lead to more error,” I comment, accidentally saying my inside thoughts out loud. Luckily, I’m pretty much annoyed as Sam challenges his brother. “Yeah well maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, alright. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?” 

  A heavy silence fills the car as Dean stares at his brother like he’s trying to muster the right words. “If that’s what it takes.”

****

 We drive for what feels like an eternity, though it must only have been a couple of hours, the sky falling to darkness. Dean is on the phone with his father, keeping in touch with him even as we follow after his car. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it,” he answers before hanging up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

  “Why?” Sam asks with a certain edge or bite to his voice.

  “Cause Dad thinks we’ve got the vampire’s trail,” Dean responds.

  “How?” 

  “I don’t know; he didn’t say.”

  Suddenly I’m pushed back into my seat as the Impala goes faster, fast enough to overtake Johns truck. The car swerves in front of it, my body jerking sideways and forward as the vehicle swerves again and slams to a stop. My heart stammers in my chest as I look out the window, John's truck nearly missing the side of the Impala. “What the frick, S–” I yell, my cursing cut off as Sam gets out of the car. “Oh crap here we go,” Dean mumbles, following him out of the vehicle. I sigh, rolling my eyes, as much as I expected an argument to break out this is a very dramatic and dangerous way to start it. Even so, I follow them out of the Impala as Dean calls out for his brother.

  “What the hell was that?” John yells, stomping over to his son.

  “We need to talk.”

  John steps closer, getting face to face with him and I half expect him to grab Sam by the collar and shake some “sense” into him. “About what?”

  “About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?”

  “Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires,” Dean says.

  “You’re brothers right, we don’t have time for this,” John adds.   “Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue, you need our help,” Sam yells. “Now obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!”   “Get back in the car.”   “No.”   “I said get back in the damn car.”   “Yeah. And I said no.”

  “Okay, you made your point tough guy,” Dean tries again, hovering between his father and his brother. But, of course, his words are directed at his brother. “Look we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on.” Dean grabs him, pushing him back toward the car. He gives in, allowing his brother to move him along even as he glares at his father, mumbling, “This is why I left in the first place.”  “What’d you say?”

  Sam steps forward, snapping back, “You heard me.”

  “Yeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.”

  “Sam…” Dean warns.

  “You walked away!” John yells in his face.

  “Come on, stop,” I urge, trying to push John back as Dean had tried with his brother. But he just shoves me off, forcing me back a couple of steps.   “You're the one who said don't come back Dad, you closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!”

  Dean jumps in the middle, forcing them apart. “Listen, stop it, stop it. Stop it!! That's enough!!”   They don’t say another word; they just glare at each other over Dean’s head. “That means you too,” Dean adds, looking at his father. Despite the harsh words that linger in the air and the unspoken jabs that are begging to be said, they back off. Each step back into their vehicles. Dean sighs, the tension clear in his shoulders until he turns to me, brows furrowed as he half yells, “Are you okay?” The question is genuine despite how harsh they sound escaping his lips. There's a silence that falls between us; I don’t know why he asks me; it’s not like I was the one arguing. Perhaps it was because I stumbled back as his father shoved me or because he knows I do not like arguments. Either way, I nod silently, and he gives a single nod back, the stress soon returning to his face.

  With the sun on our back and the tree line at our front, blocking us, I watch a beat-up Camaro pull up the old barn. A man in a t-shirt walks up to the car, shielding his eyes as he escorts the person inside and making a very good guess it’s likely they’re both vampires. “Son of a bitch,” Dean curses. “So they’re really not afraid of the sun?”

  “Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill ‘em is by beheading,” John answers and I roll my eyes at the repetition especially when half the information is something I already said. “And yeah, they sleep during the day—doesn’t mean they won’t wake up.”

  “So I guess walking right in’s not our best option,” Dean remarks.

  “Actually, that’s the plan,” John answers, immediately creeping from the treeline back to where the Impala and his truck are parked. 

  Weapons are handed out like candy on Halloween night, the machete's blade seeming to gleam as the sun hits it just right. Grasping the hilt reminds me of that day long ago, how my hand shook as I killed the first vampire. They look human, and the blood that falls is so human that it’s like killing one instead of a vampire. I had to remind myself they weren’t human and that they killed so many. Then, it was almost too easy.

  “So, you really wanna know about this Colt?” John suddenly asks.   “Yes sir,” Sam answers.

  It's just “a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” he starts. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. ‘Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say... they say this gun can kill anything.”

  Something unsettling settles in my gut, something I don’t want to discern. We aren’t in the nest, and yet it’s like the fight-or-flight instinct has kicked in. “Kill anything like supernatural anything?” Dean asks. The same thought eats at my mind but where concern hits me surprise hits him.

  “Like the demon,” Sam connects, and I feel foolish. Maybe it’s a survival instinct, or maybe it’s selfishness that makes me worry more about a weapon that can kill me rather than a gun that can kill the yellow-eyed demon. I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of dying, at least not totally, especially when what I am makes it incredibly difficult to kill me, to begin with. But now I’m aware of something that can. It won’t be like a bullet wound you can maybe heal from; there won’t be hope—just death. Gone in the blink of an eye with no goodbye or warning.

  “Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun -- we may have it,” John answers.

  I want to be happy for them. I’m trying to be happy. I’m trying to push the fear away because isn’t it an irrational one? But I am scared. What if I don’t get a goodbye? What if it winds up in the wrong hands and I’m at the other end of it? Technically, right now it is in the wrong hands if the vampires do have it. “No offense, I'm glad this is an opportunity to get the damn thing,” I start, my fear turning into anger. “But did you, oh, I don't know, plan on informing us about this before we go into the place that has this gun, or was it Sam that convinced you?” I’m not an idiot; I am aware of the possibility that this could’ve been left out for God knows how long. “I mean, this could literally kill me, like end-end me, and you were just gonna, what, not mention it? ‘Cause it would’ve been a great warning.”

  He doesn’t answer, and I’m not sure if he’s going to acknowledge me, which is answer enough. I move to try to get in his way. “You know, somehow I find a new reason to dislike you, which is kind of impressive.” I know I’m being mean as if a jab could heal the panic in my veins.

  “You should be grateful I haven’t sent your ass back home,” he bites.

  “Yeah well, this ass saved your life back with the Daeva’s.”

  “Y/N,” Dean says, carefully touching my arm. But I step out of his hold, my shoulders going up as if trying to un-feel the touch, which is weird because I never do that with him. “No, Dean, this is serious,” I reason, my voice higher in an attempt to be louder, though it never nears a yell. I don’t dare look at him, weary of the hurt that might pass over his face.

  “Were you going to say something if Sam hadn’t called you out?” I ask him again. But, I’m sure I know the answer. He pauses for a beat too long, and I feel foolish again. I’m arguing with a guy who couldn’t care less about what happens to me. The anger simmers in my gut, bubbling down until it’s replaced by shame. “You know what? Never mind,” I give up. “Let’s just go kill the vampires.” I shake my head, walking away from the group towards the run-down barn. 

  I creep between the trees, careful of where I step so that I don’t make a sound, even though I’m outside the barn. I take a couple of deep breaths as I walk; I need to have a clear head. This isn’t the kind of hunt you can be careless on; one wrong move and it all goes up in flames. I clear my head of any leftover anger or negative emotions; I need to lead with focus, not emotions. 

  I move closer to the barn, finding a window that looks easy to get into without making so much noise. That is key. I lift myself onto the thin windowsill, cautious as to not let my legs or any body part slam into the wall. And with the knowledge that the boys are close behind, I move into the barn. I move silently, first observing the layout and the countless hammocks filled with vampires as well as the occasional vamp that rests on the floor. 

  Ever so slowly, I move forward, careful to step over the beer bottles as I move as quietly as a mouse. Inch by inch, I lurk towards a random vampire in a hammock. A lone vampire, or at least one that’s farthest away from the others, even if far isn’t far at all.

  I stand over his sleeping figure like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Ever so carefully, I lift my blade, hovering it above its neck. With one quick motion, I know I am a hypocrite. Blood drips down its neck in waves like a relentless ocean; its eyes shoot open as the blade is plunged deeper. Its mouth parts in an attempt at a screech it can’t possibly make as its head is severed from its body. It did not get to warn the others. It did not get to say goodbye.

  I pull my blade from the mess; blood seeps into the fabric of the hammock and drips to the floor. I sense the Winchesters enter the barn as I pick my next target. The goal is to get as many asleep so that should they wake, it’d be a slightly easier fight. Again, I take my stance over a vampire when I hear the faint clink of a glass bottle knocking over. I hold incredibly still, so still, I feel like the narrator in “Tell-Tale Heart.”

  By luck alone, the vampire beneath my gaze does not stir, nor do any others. I turn my head slowly to where the noise originated, seeing Dean and Sam at the other end of the barn near each other. I swallow roughly, focusing in on the task at hand. Again, I drive my blade into the pale neck of the resting creature, blood spraying onto my cheek. I move to the next, stalking forth with my raised blade when an unearthly roar breaks the silence. The vampire beneath my gaze shoots up, clutching my wrist before I can lay the blade onto it. The machete vanishes from my hand, appearing in my other. I swing the blade; the cut is uncoordinated and messy in my non-dominant hand, slashing off its hand. My wrist is free as the limb goes flying, a horrible screech coming from the vampire as it clutches its wrist, blood spurting from where the hand used to be, bone exposed to the air. Glass shatters somewhere overhead, and I switch the weapon back to my dominant hand, unable to get another swing in when I dodge the lunging vampire.

  “Run!” John yells from the same direction as the broken glass. I sidestep just in time, narrowly avoiding a swing from a vampire lunging at me. More of them surge toward me, their snarls filling the air. Reluctantly, I turn and run. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound almost drowning out the thudding of their footsteps behind me. I race toward the back of the barn, but there’s no clear exit—just solid walls and shadows. I sprint toward one of the walls. My legs push forward harder, willing myself to pass through before I crash into it. 

  The world blurs for a heartbeat, and then I stumble forward, my feet skidding on the dirt outside. I glance back, breathless, at the wall I just passed through. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, I’m getting really good at the whole teleporting thing. But enough celebrating, I quickly round the outskirts of the barn and make my way up the hill to where the distinct figures of the Winchesters wait. A look of relief passes over Sam and Deans face at the sight of me but I can’t say the same for John. I know he doesn’t care if I get injured or die. 

  “They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John informs, slightly out of breath.   “Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean asks.

  I wipe the blood from my cheek with the back of my sleeve, glad that I decided to wear dark clothes today. “I’ll go back in there and finish it,” I answer.

  “No, you’re not,” Dean declares, taking a single step toward me.

  “Why not?” I ask. “I already killed two and—”

  “You did?” John cuts me off, reflecting the same surprise he did before.

  “No, my machete is just normally covered in blood.” 

  “You’re not goin’ back in,” Dean says firmly.

  “Dean—”

  “Not on my watch.”   “Oh, come on. This is quicker than waiting until night and you can have your special gun sooner,” I reason, following him as he walks away. 

  “Not happening.”

  “Don’t you want that gun?”

  He stops short of the Impala's trunk, his expression firm as he faces me. “Not at the expense of your life.” His eyes are set on mine, a challenge burning behind his irises.

  “I’m very capable of doing it myself,” I argue, my chin raised to meet his gaze head-on.

  “I know you are,” he replies, his voice low and sure. “‘Doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you go.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you, you know,” I point out, the words sounding childish on my tongue.   His brow arches, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face. He wets his lips, voice dropping lower, “I don’t see you goin’.”

  The words hang heavy between us. He’s got me, and he knows it. I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my throat. His eyes drop briefly, flicking to the small space between us like he’s daring me to move. He tilts his head slightly, waiting, his confidence annoyingly attractive. His fingers brush my wrist, featherlight, trailing down the inside. It tickles my skin, my breath hitching slightly, loosening my hold on the machete. He doesn’t rush—his hand glides lower, steady, until he slides the weapon from my grasp as if he already knew my answer before I had the chance to utter it.

 “We’ll need dead man’s blood,” I manage, my voice quieter than I intended. His eyes flick back to mine, dark and unreadable, the weapon now clasped firmly in his hand alongside his own. He nods, his lips parted slightly.

****

  After splitting up from John and Sam—and some lying and distracting on our part— Dean and I managed to grab the dead man's blood from the local funeral home. Afterward, it took some extensive convincing, including arguing that it would be safer for me to act as bait instead of Dean to be where I am now.

  Now, I lean over the car’s popped hood, peering at the engine while the Winchesters watch from somewhere in the trees. “Car trouble?” a woman's voice asks. I turn around to see a dark-haired woman with thin eyebrows and striking blue eyes standing with another girl lingering behind. It didn’t take them long to show up. “Let me give you a lift. I’ll take you back to my place,” she purrs.

  I lean against the front of the Impala, tilting my head slightly as I eye her. “I’m sure you’d like that,” I respond, biting my bottom lip, purposefully teasing. She steps closer as expected, so close I can smell the lingering metallic scent of blood on her mouth as well as her strong perfume. She grabs my jaw roughly, her fingertips digging in as she holds my face firmly, forcing my head back an inch so that she can use our small height difference to her advantage. I let her do what she wants, I’m not afraid of her or the other vampire. I’m just here to get her close enough for a good shot. “Would you like that?” she asks, spinning my question.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not Buffy and you’re not Spike,” I smile teasingly. 

  Her smile deepens, turning a little wicked. “You know, I should kill you for what you did to them.” 

  And I know she’s talking about the two I killed and the third I hurt. “Will you?” I challenge. I’m sure she won’t, at least not now. They like to play with their food. So, just as expected her eyes trace down my face, the collum of my neck, and dip beneath my shirt. “We could have some fun first,” she answers, eyes tracing back up.

  Her head tilts down, her hold on my face tightening as her lips brush mine. Her hand slips to the back of my head, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging. My lips part in a groan, my head harshly bent back, giving her the chance to crash her lips to mine. She kisses me roughly and fast, all teeth and tongue before pulling away and licking her lips as if savoring the taste. “Heard you had a boyfriend,” I remark. “You think he’d mind you–” She cuts me off with her lips, teeth clashing with mine. My hands grasp the Impala behind me, the cold metal digging into my palms contrasting with the heat of her mouth. 

  She gasps, an almost choking noise as she pulls away and I know the shot has been taken. My eyes fall to her chest, the arrowhead sticking out. “Dammit,” she curses. The Winchesters emerge from the trees, crossbows in hand and unreadable expressions on their faces. Her hands fall from my face as she steps back, my chest heaving a little as I try to catch my breath. “It barely even stings,” she claims.

  “Give it time, sweetheart,” John answers. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. It’s like poison to you, isn’t it?”

  Real surprise passes over her features, a hand coming up to cradle where she’s been hit as she staggers backward, wavering before she collapses to the asphalt. “Load her up,” John directs, moving to the other vampire who’s also on the floor with an arrow through her. “I’ll take care of this one.”

  I turn around, shutting the hood of the car just as I hear the familiar squelch of blood.

****

  The campfire burns bright in the middle of the small clearing of woods. She's still unconscious, secured with a rope around her that she could tear easily the moment she awakens. “Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John orders as he walks back into the clearing with his eldest son in tow.

  Dean sniffs the bag contents and coughs, “Stuff stinks!”

  “That’s the point. It has to be strong enough to cover your scent,” I smile while simultaneously feeling bad for finding his reaction to the ingredients funny. “You can dust your clothes with the ashes and they, hopefully, won't be able to detect you.” I move to him, willing to take the bag from his grimacing face. 

  “‘You sure they’ll come after ‘er?” Sam asks as I carefully separate and dump the ingredients into the fire.

  “Yeah,” John answers. “Vampires mate for life—”

  “Didn’t seem she cared about that with Y/N” Dean remarks, cutting off his father. I give him a pointed look. And he just responds with, “What? She was the one who looked real into you.” There's a certain edge to his voice that I can’t quite discern, something almost snarky.

  “Well, one thing interpretations got right about vampires is how inherently sexual they are,” I explain. “I’m not sure why but I guess it makes sense considering how they take the blood is intimate.” Still, Dean doesn’t seem particularly satisfied with that answer.

  “She means more to the leader than the gun,” John continues. “But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time.”   “A half-hour oughta do it,” Sam answers.   “And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John orders.

  “But…”

  “Well, Dad you can’t take care of them all yourself,” Dean cuts his brother off.

  “I'll have her and the Colt,” John reasons.

  “That’s hardly a lot of protection,” I point out.

  “And if I remember you wanted to go in with less,” he bites back.

  “I also have abilities that you don’t. I can stay with you, ‘make sure you get it safely.”

  “‘Don’t need your protection,” he answers. I figure ego has some part of his decision so I drop it, if he doesn’t want backup then he doesn’t want it.

  “But after. We're gonna meet up, right?” Sam asks. “Use the gun together. Right?” There's a long pause, the question hanging in the air for one too many seconds. “You're leaving again, aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like children,” Sam answers firmly.   “You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe,” he reasons. I bite back my comment about how ironic that is coming from him as I walk a couple of steps away.   “Dad, all due respect but, uh, that's a bunch of crap,” Dean says, all heads snapping to him.   “Excuse me?”

  I half expect him to back off, instead, he doubles down. “You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.”   “It's not the same thing, Dean.”   “Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?”   “This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive.”   “You mean you can't be as reckless.”

  “Look... I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece.” The atmosphere seems to change, becoming a little heavier in the wake of his words. “Your mother's death ... it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't.”

  I’m sure there is some truth to his words but at the same time, he's been a horrible father to them, leaving them alone as mere kids to fend for themselves, forcing them into the hunting world at a young age, and even bringing them on hunts when they should’ve been worrying about school not their lives.   “What happens if you die?” Dean points out. “Dad, what happens if you die, and we coulda done something about it? You know I’ve been thinking. I ...think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.”

  Sam nods.

  “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it,” Dean argues. It may sound cheesy but it holds merit.  “We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order.” His answer is unsurprising and yet the way Dean looks down and the way Sam clenches his jaw makes me want to deck John Winchester until he agrees.

****

  We quickly follow after John, having already killed the vampires in the barn and freed the container of people they had. Of course, it’s against what we were directed to do but we aren’t exactly known for following rules, so there's that. We ditched the Impala some ways back, sticking to the trees with our crossbows as we approached John's truck and the group of vampires.

  We arrive in time to see John get knocked to the ground, his plan going south immediately. He’s backhanded into the door of his truck just as one of many arrows flies through the air, hitting the other vampires that crowd around. We emerge from the trees and I switch my crossbow to my off-hand to unseathe my machete. I easily walk up to one and in one clean motion send their head flying, the body buckling to the floor.

  Quickly I turn, my crossbow raised to shoot a vampire that was creeping up on Dean. “Don't!” someone yells. I pause, eyes landing on a vampire who looks like a rock band reject with his arm around Sam’s neck while Dean tries to lurk forward with a machete. “I'll break his neck. Put the blade down,” the man orders. Everything stands still for a moment as I drop both my weapons. Dean, however, pauses until the man tightens his hold on Sam’s neck and then the machete is dropped to the ground with a clink.

  Suddenly, the man’s arm is forced from Sam’s neck. It shakes as it's pulled away by an invisible force, his face contorting with confusion as he loses the ability to control his limbs. My head tilts slightly as I control him, forcing his other arm to remain at its side so that Sam is free to stumble away, his brother immediately dragging him behind him. The knees of the man buckle, forcing him to kneel on the asphalt. “You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the man cries and I falter. 

I falter. The one thing you’re never supposed to do in a fight. But, it doesn’t matter because his head is cleaned off his body before he can get up. John standing behind him, blood dripping from his machete. “Lutherrrr!!!!” the girl from before screams a horrible guttural scream that seems to reverberate in my ears. She’s dragged away by another vampire, fighting against their hold as she stares down John and her lover's body.

  I stand over the little table in the motel room making sure I didn’t leave anything when John enters—the first we’ve seen him since last night. “So boys,” he starts immediately, the door closing behind him feeling like a death sentence.

  “Yes sir,” Sam answers, both boys straightening out like soldiers.

  “You ignored a direct order back there,” he starts.

  “Yes sir,” Sam answers.   “Yeah, but we saved your ass,” Dean intervenes, nervous looks thrown his way from Sam and I.

  “You're right,” John, surprisingly, nods.   “I am?”

  “It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing. Together.”   “Yes sir,” they say in unison.

  “And I guess you can be there too,” he adds, looking over at me.

(Next Chapter)

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[tldrthor]

things we shouldn't have said | steve rogers

Summary: The Captain has a scathing outburst that puts their already rocky relationship six feet under for good. He reaps the consequences when she gets hurt while looking out for him.

Part one // She was watching my back, and I wasn't watching hers. // word count: 3k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

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“I am sick and tired of you endangering yourself and others, (y/l/n)!” The shouting started from behind the frosted panes of the meeting room. Tony, sitting on one of the benches outside, wondered if he had considered that the meeting room wouldn’t be soundproofed enough to stop people hearing sensitive information, or, if you were Steve and (y/n), insanely loud arguments nearly every day. It seemed like a design flaw.

“You were the one who made the wrong call! They weren’t on the left wing, they were on the right, who knows what could’ve happened if I hadn’t followed my instincts?!”

“It doesn’t matter, you flung yourself headfirst into danger, and disobeyed a direct order.”

“I’m not your soldier, Rogers. And I told you exactly what was happening, you just didn’t listen!”

Natasha banged the back of her head repeatedly on the wall she leant on. “How long do we reckon this ones going to take? I need a shower.” She sighed, sniffing at her armpits and wincing a little at the result. 

Tony looked at his watch, responding: “If I am correct in my estimation (y/n) will storm out right around …” The door to the meeting room burst open, and out barrelled a seething Agent (y/l/n). “Now.” Tony concluded, as the others laughed at his uncanny ability to predict how a Rogers-(y/l/n) fight went. He waved his hand and lowered his head in a fake bow.

“Do you think they’ll ever get along?” Young, innocent, naïve Peter asked. He had previously been fast asleep sitting upright in the uncomfortable waiting chairs. The sound of the door hitting the plasterboard on the wall had startled him awake.

Sam chuckled. “Kid, those two have been at each other’s throats since you were in middle school. It’s just what they do.”

Peter seemed to accept that answer, nodding slowly before covering a yawn with his hand. “That's classic enemies to lovers stuff.” He was nearly asleep again by the time the others had processed his statement enough to question what it meant.

The door opened again. “Come on, let’s debrief.” Cap pulled an anxious hand through his hair, clearly in turmoil. The Captain looked exhausted, his eyes nearly bloodshot. The bags under his eyes were some of the worst Tony had ever seen, and that was saying something. When his eyes landed on Peter, he shook his head, “Pete, head to bed. You’re beat.”

Peter nodded again, but fell asleep in the exact same position, approximately 0.3 seconds after the door closed behind the other Avengers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good morning." (Y/n) muttered, walking into the briefing room with a coffee in hand. It wasn’t like her to be late, especially not with coffee. Tony realised that lately, she had been more and more demoralised after every mission. Especially after every argument with Cap. He was worried there was more going on with her than they knew. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t resist a dig.

"Don't you hate it when someone turns up late to a meeting with Starbucks in hand?" Tony tilted his head and spoke with sarcasm coating nearly every word.

"Bite me, tin man." She joked with her mentor. It wasn’t her usual chipper humour, but rather much more subdued, more pointed. She looked more tired than usual as well, Tony noted. But he had a meeting to present, and an interview in an hour, so there wasn’t much time to mull it over.

Steve didn’t pick up on anything strange, blinded by his annoyance. He shook his head silently in the corner, jaw tensed, eyes sending daggers into her with every step she took.

"Young lady, you are in a terrible mood this morning. And, I'm about to make it worse." Tony flashed her a charming but sarcastic smile. "We've got a code red recon mission over in Europe, and only you and our dear fearless leader are available to man it."

Her face immediately fell, but she wasn't the first to find her voice.

"Nope. There's no way." Steve responded to the news. She sent him a foul look at his rude outburst, before chiming in with her own.

"Rude, Rogers. But agreed, you send us on that mission, one of us is coming back in a body bag." And it won't be me. She thought.

He wouldn't meet her eyes, his tense posture maintaining an intense gaze on Tony. His arms, crossed, shoulders raised nearly to his ears.

Tony rolled his eyes at their reactions. "You guys need to stop your middle school bullshit. We're the Avengers, and at the end of the day, we've got each other's backs."

She decided to bite her tongue, opting for a vicious look towards Tony instead. Sure, it would be awful, but she wouldn’t mind a chance to prove to Steve that she was a valuable member of the team, and shove it in his face that he was wrong about her. 

She looked towards him, expecting him to have a similar disposition. Mr. Upstanding, the moral preacher. To her shock, he didn’t. And god, was he vocal about it.

“No, she’s a goddamn liability.” He turned to her with a withering, disdainful look. “She messes up every mission, and I’ve had enough. I’m not putting a code red in her hands, she doesn’t have the skills for it.” He immediately turned to face her, expecting her to fire back with the same passion.

He didn’t expect her neutral, almost – almost – hurt expression. She pressed her lips into a straight line, and his heart dropped when he thought maybe there were tears in her eyes. For just a second.

He might have gone too far. He didn’t think he would ever miss her rebuttals, her constant nitpicking, her endless talking back. But at this moment, he knew he would have preferred it. 

She looked away from him, and back to Tony, who watched the outburst with an open mouth. It wasn’t very often he was rendered speechless, but it took a solid ten seconds for him to clear his throat, pick his jaw up off the floor and continue.

“Unfortunately, there is no other choice, um, so hopefully that will go smoothly. You will leave at 8am sharp tomorrow. Uh … onto other business…”

(Y/n) drowned the rest of Tony’s briefing out as she replayed the Captain’s outburst over and over again. Liability. Messes up every mission. Doesn’t have the skills. It was all of her worst fears come true, packaged up neatly coming from the mouth of someone she had always secretly admired. Not that she would ever tell him that.

She wasn't sure why, but his words had cut her to the core.

An excruciating thirty minutes later, Tony concluded his meeting. “Okay, everyone out. Except Cap, we have to talk about logistics for tomorrow.” He watched with eagle eyes as (y/n) ran out of the room, lowering her face and ignoring anyone who sent pitying looks her way.

He turned to the Captain, who covered a bright red face with his hands.

“Now what the hell was that?” He asked.

Cap groaned, “I messed up.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8am. Sharp. She took a deep breath as she left her room, locking the door behind her. Her pack wasn’t too heavy, considering they were only supposed to be gone for a couple of nights max. Her chest felt tight, walking to the aircraft hangar, a pit of dread growing and growing with every step.

Before she met the hangar, she passed by Tony’s office. It was one of Tony’s off days, so she knew he wouldn’t be in. She slipped an envelope under the door, hoping he would only see it once she was long gone.

“See ya later.” She whispered to no-one.

Trudging to what felt like the executioner’s block, she was dismayed to see Steve already fully ready and waiting for her. She braced herself for the lecture, for the ‘we said leave at 8am, not arrive.’ But it didn’t come. 

“Good morning.” He spoke cordially, almost upbeat. Making up for something.

She could only manage a polite smile in return. He frowned at the lack of response, but she didn’t see it. 

“All systems ready to go.” She said, once she had got a seat and checked all her listed items. Steve nodded, and made a call through the radio to air control. “Alpha base control, this is Eagle and Wunderkind, ready to take off.” She hated hearing him say her nickname from Tony, which had become her official callsign for all base activities. 

Through the headset, she heard the confirmation from ATC, and watched as the Captain piloted the quinjet up and away from the base. God, it was going to be a long trip. 

As soon as she could, she took off her harness and retreated back to the seats further away from him. She heard the gentle click and mechanical thrum of the auto-pilot being put on, and the movement of the leather seats as Steve moved away from the cockpit.

She felt his presence over her as she tried to focus on her kindle. She had been reading and re-reading the same page, over and over, desperately trying to take in the words. But it was futile. 

“(y/n).” He sighed, knowing that she was purposefully ignoring him. “I want to apologise for my outburst at the meeting yesterday.”

She shrugged. He desperately searched for some kind of anger, some kind of white-hot hurt that she would respond with. It was what he deserved, after he had embarrassed her and doubted her in front of the whole team. 

“You told me how you really feel. It’s okay.” She still didn’t look at him.

“That’s not –” He huffed. “That’s not what I think. I was out of line.” It seemed that the words he wanted eluded him. What do you say to someone after you’ve put out their spark? How do you ‘fix’ a quenched fire?

“It’s fine, Captain. Honestly.” 

Rogers sighed and understood that he was being subtly asked to leave. He understood, really. But there was something about her dejected manner, her slumping posture and her big, sad eyes that made him feel like more of a villain than he already did. Like he had kicked a puppy, or stolen candy from a baby or…

Completely humiliated one of the newest Avengers in front of the whole team.

“I’m sorry.” He managed to stutter out, before turning and leaving to fiddle with some of the controls on the quinjet’s interface. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the six hours were long. Painfully, achingly long. The tension in the atmosphere was only marginally cut by the quiet hum of the engine and the tap, tap, tap of the Captain getting some work done. The captain spent a longer time staring at his comrade than he would ever admit, watching as she frowned at her book. She turned one page approximately every five minutes, her eyes continually moving from the top to the bottom of the same page, over and over again. Her frustrated sighing the only sign of emotion coming from her.

He took a deep breath, trying to remove the suffocating guilt from his chest.

Standing, he waved a hand in her line of sight, interrupting her ‘reading’ session. She slid her headphones off, looking up at him expectantly. “We’re going down.” He spoke. “Thought you would like to get ready.”

The problem with recon missions was that a quinjet was a dead giveaway. So, they had to take their large, heavy packs, and camp out in the forest surrounding the castle. Why was it always a castle?

The hike was hard. The frost on the path made it difficult to get a proper grip on the near-vertical slope, and she realised quickly she had forgotten her gloves. The frost nipped at her hands, growing more painful with her step. She cursed Tony for sending them here in the dead of winter.

She threw her pack up a ledge, scrambling up behind it. While scrambling up the side, she made the mistake of grabbing on to a bundle of brambles. She hissed and retracted her hand, a line of crimson appearing straight across her palm, a precious droplet splashing down onto the snow. 

“You good?” Steve turned to watch her as she folded and unfolded her palm. He reached a hand out to help her up, his eyes focusing on the blood drip, drip, dripping.

She wiped the wound on her trousers, and took his offered hand with her opposite one. “I’m good.” She seemed agitated, nervous. “Do you feel like something’s not right?”

When she said it out loud, just for a second, his heart rate raised. He had convinced himself through his inner dialogue that he was just being overly cautious, but as she said it, he realised that she was right. If there was one thing Steve had learned, a true philosophy of his, it was that one Avenger’s intuition can be wrong. But two Avenger’s instincts are always correct. The unique blend of pattern recognition and situational awareness made the Avengers the closest thing on earth to fortune tellers. Or, so he believed.

“I agree. Let’s hunker down for a minute.” They settled in some of the brush, making themselves as invisible as possible. She was thankful to have a rest, she couldn’t lie. The tossing and turning all night, and every night for weeks, had truly taken its toll.

“Do you think it's bad intel, or a set-up?” She asked, her heart beginning to race at the sight of Steve becoming more and more stressed. She realised that the forest was absolutely silent. No wind, no birds, nothing. She hated it.

He took a second to respond, “I’m not sure. I don’t think we should keep going.”

“What? Then we’ve come all this way for nothing?” 

“I would rather us have come for nothing than die for nothing.” He spoke, trying desperately to manage his tone. How did this girl have such a way of getting under his skin?

She scowled. “Aye, aye, Captain.” A sarcastic salute followed.

With a futile deep breath, he snapped. He rolled his head in disbelief, incredulous that she would choose now to be obstinate. “Are you serious, (y/l/n)? You want to walk straight into something we have no idea about?” He gesticulated, hands flying wildly through the air. 

Both of them were too annoyed to realise that they were on a recon mission while quite loudly arguing in a forest. The Captain, blood boiling, didn’t hear the snap of a distant twig.

“I didn’t even say anything, Rogers! Don’t pretend like you care about my opinion anyway.” She scoffed. “Let’s just fucking go back.” She grabbed her pack, hauling it onto her back, standing from their spot in the brush.

“Shit!” She exclaimed as a bullet past her ear by less than an inch, the sound startling her down. The Captain instantaneously jumped over her, pulling her into him and covering them both with the shield. 

For the record, he smelt like cedarwood and rosemary.

“Came from the East.” He smouldered into the distance. If she hadn’t been so focused, she would have scoffed. He turned to her, his mouth mere centimetres from her ear, his warm whispers tickling her neck. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, no. Aside from the goosebumps, she had luckily been missed. The eye contact he made had something behind it… something she didn’t recognise. Something she had never noticed before.

The moment was shattered by more gunfire.

So, they did the avenging thing. He covered her, she shot as much as she could. Bullets sprayed in every direction, missing them both by the narrowest margins possible. They battled on and on, seemingly endless waves of agents appearing as soon as they thought they were almost through with it.

That’s when she saw it. The bullet heading straight for him. 

“Steve!” She screamed. She didn’t know why she called him by his first name. They weren’t friends. Hell, soon, they wouldn’t even be colleagues. 

He snapped to attention, spinning quickly to ricochet the bullet off of his shield. The bullet was so close to hitting him, he realised she had potentially just saved him from dying in the snow, 5,000 miles from home.

He looked to her to thank her and it all happened in slow motion. She screamed, a shrill, ear-splitting scream that turned his stomach. “No!” He shouted, still fighting through the hordes, sprinting to where the snow turned maroon.

His thrown shield thudded through the undergrowth, distant shouts of soldiers nearly split in half by the metallic disc. He grabbed the gun that had fallen from her hands, unleashing the last of its bullets on those who still dared to try him.

And the forest fell silent.

“(Y/n)!” He looked at her, her usually rosy face growing greater pallor by the second, her chest moving ever-so-slightly, and with growing effort. The black stain on her suit grew larger, and larger, and larger. Any and all medical training he had escaped him, as he realised that now, this moment, was where his regrets were fated to culminate. This was his punishment, his comeuppance.

He didn’t hate her. As he watched this hollow form of her, he realised he would give his own life to bring her back. He would bargain with anything and everything he could for this to be a nightmare that he would wake up from. He would fight with everything he had left to give to her.

Grabbing his pack from behind him, he tipped out its entire contents. 

God, what had he learned on those courses? What was going to kill her first?

“(Y/n), if you can hear me, this is going to hurt. I don’t… I don’t have anything to stop the pain. You’re bleeding out.” He spoke into the void, using scissors to remove her outer layer, exposing the wound. He noticed the blood slowly trickle from her mouth and nose, only worsening his anxiety.

It was worse than he thought, in fact, too deep for him to even suture… He used an antiseptic wipe to clean the area, before packing it with cotton swabs. He swore to himself. They had left the quinjet so far away, and he didn’t know if she would make it all the way back to the compound. 

He had to get her out of here. It was cold, and wet, and there could be even more enemy agents on their way there, right now.

“God, you’re going to have to hold on for just a little while longer, (y/l/n).” He whispered to her, picking her up bridal-style and running for the jet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The other avengers weren’t expecting them to be back for a couple of days, so when Sam ran into the room with news that the quinjet was on the way back, they were pleasantly surprised. Each had finished their missions or meetings early it seemed. Which meant that just maybe they would be able to have some time as a team. Something they were in dire need of.

Tony smiled at his friends, but for a change wasn’t chatting. He sipped his coffee, and smoothed his hand over the handwritten note in his pocket. The note that he thought would never come.

Steve's voice over the intercom. “Mayday, mayday. Eagle to Alpha Base Control, we have a critical medical incident on board. Ready the medbay for severe blood loss and potential hypothermia. Wunderkind is compromised. Wheels down in 10.”

A panicked hush fell over the group.

“Okay, code red.” Sam jumped into the procedures they had all been trained on. “Bruce and I will go down to the hangar and help out. The rest of you stay here and we’ll keep you updated.” The four named avengers immediately ran to their stations, as the others tried to busy themselves doing other tasks that could be useful. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quinjet came into land at a near-dangerous speed. Bruce and Sam burst open the door as the back door of the jet opened and Cap ran out with a limp (y/n) in his arms, jumping over the ramp before it had even reached the ground.

“What happened?” Sam shouted, running in front of the Captain up the stairs to the nearest Medbay, making sure the way was clear. FRIDAY has thankfully opened all doors in advance.  

“Gunshot wound to the chest, severe haemorrhage. I’ve managed to pack it but not stalled the bleeding nearly enough, she needs help now.”

“Have you got vitals?” Bruce ran along, slightly behind them, not quite as fit. 

“She’s still breathing on her own, weakly. Low pulse. Unconscious since the event.” 

As they reached the medical room and Steve laid her down on the surgical table, it hit all of them how severe the situation was.

“Oh my god.” Whispered Sam, as he saw not only the extent of her wounds, but the volume of blood that covered every inch of the Captain. The colour of skin on his hands could not be seen from the crimson staining covering every inch of them, and his once-blue suit looked more like an inky black, even under the fluorescent lighting of the medical ward. 

More than that, the expression on Steve’s face was something he could only recall seeing on him once. When they discovered that Bucky was alive. He was shell-shocked.

“You guys need to clear the room.” Commanded Dr. Cho, scrubbed in and ready to operate. “We’ll keep you updated.”

“We trust you, Doctor.” Bruce spoke, as he realised the others weren’t going to. Both men grabbed Steve’s shoulder, gently directing him back through the double doors. Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away, as Dr. Cho made demands to the other members of her team, beginning surgery immediately.

“Come on, bud. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sam was trying not to treat him like a ticking time bomb. But he knew that the Captain was going to snap out of his stupor eventually, and the consequences could be disastrous.

Steve’s eyes didn’t move from her lifeless body on that cold, steel table until they were well past the doors. When Sam tried to lead him out of the medical wing in general, his feet stopped just short of the door.

“I can’t, I - I have to wait.” He turned back around. He looked to Sam, almost asking permission. “I can’t leave her.”

It wasn’t lost on Sam that Steve had to have been keeping her alive by himself for at least six hours, over the Atlantic. That’s not only an impressive feat, but a damn near miracle. It was beyond dedication, it was lunacy. And something like that will make a pretty strong bond between people.

There was something deeper at play here. And as the pieces started to click into place, he wondered how he had never seen it before. The reason Cap was so hard on (y/n), and had been since the beginning.

“Okay, okay.” He guided him to a seat, as an unspoken compromise. “Bruce, could you grab a wet towel?” He spoke softly.

Banner nodded, and wandered off to find ways to help Steve be a little more comfortable. When Bruce returned, Sam gently took his bloody friend’s hands and wiped away the crusted blood that stained them.

Cap watched the red as it left his hands. He couldn’t help the sinking feeling that with every smear of dark brown on the towel, she was slipping away. 

Sam’s adrenaline could only abide the silence for so long. “Cap, you gotta talk to me. Are you hurt?”

“She saved me, that’s how she got shot.” He didn’t make eye contact, instead staring towards the doors, behind which she lay on death’s door.

“It’s not your fault.” Steve didn’t have to say anything for Sam to know that’s what’s running through his mind. A hazard of being an Avenger – the unending and relentless guilt.

“It is my fault. She was watching my back, but I wasn’t watching hers. And I had the damn audacity to call her a liability.” He scoffed, bitterly. 

“It’s nobody’s fault, Steve. These things happen, it’s part of the job. She’s going to pull through.” Sam hadn’t even considered the fact that the last proper interaction they had had, was rather… vitriolic in nature. He didn’t dare ask if anything else had happened on the mission. Not for now, at least.

Steve felt like he was being crushed by his own ribs, like his own body was depriving him of oxygen he didn’t deserve. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare think, except to chastise and punish himself for what he had done.

And not once did he take his eyes off those doors.

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

part two: promises we intend to keep

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[meracyn]

ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ, ᴋᴡᴏɴ ᴊᴀᴇ-ꜱᴜɴɢ

summary. stuck between miyagi-do and kwon's magnetic-like pull towards you, you feel torn. sam confronts you for being distracted, while kwon continues to challenge your loyalty.

a/n. the (possible idk lol) finale of this mini series!! thank you to each and every one of you for all the support, you guys are the highlight of my days 💕 read the previous parts here; one, two.

warnings. female pronouns mentioned, use of y/n

"...and..Hey, Y/N! Are you even listening?"

Sam's voice cut through your train of thoughts, snapping you back to reality as you turned to face the captain, who held a disappointed expression. "I..uh..I was—" you trailed off, mind blank as you tried to come up with an excuse. "no.." You mumbled in embarrassment.

The girl sighed, sitting down next to you on the bench. "What's going on with you? Don't tell me– is it him?" She asked, sending a look over her shoulder in the direction where the Cobra Kai members were standing, Kwon being with them.

You hesitated for a second before nodding.

"You can't let him keep distracting you. You already know how that keeps ending." Her tone became stern, blunt. It was like a punch as she referred to your losses ever since Kwon talked to you at the bar.

"Don't start with this again. You know I was doing well but–" You tried to defend yourself before she cut you off.

"But what? Y/N, you changed. All you focus is on Kwon and not on your team– this tournament. Does it even matter to you?" Sam asked, standing up. "It might not be important for you, but to me, Miguel and the others–it is." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing, "So..it's your decision if you make the most out of this opportunity, or leave it." Without giving you a chance to reply, she left.

── ⋆ ──

Hours passed. As you were walking around, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned– and as expected, it was Kwon. "Did you make it a mission to follow me around everyday?" You asked, stepping back as you glared at him.

Kwon chuckled, his expression turning serious. "We need to talk."

"Again? No."

He took a step closer to you. "Just for a minute."

"Time's running."

"You're distracted, Y/N,—" He began, when you interrupted him. "I wonder why." Kwon ignored your remark, "—I see it. You don't belong with them anymore, you belong with me, with Cobra Kai."

You shook your head. "No."

Getting closer, his tone dropped to a softer one. "Don't you see I need you by my side?"

"You made your decision, Kwon. I can't betray my team just because you want to get back together." Your chest tightened as you spoke. It was all coming back again, the memories filled with pain.

Kwon fell silent for a few seconds, debating what to say. "I get it," He finally said. "Loyalty. But think about it– what have they given you? I've seen LaRusso and the rest doubt you. They're holding you back."

You didn't reply, the words lingering in the air.

"I'll give you time to think," he continued, keeping his gaze on you. "When you've made your choice, you know where to find me."

── ⋆ ──

You were going back to your room, the weight of Kwon's words still there, the decision tugging in your chest. The closer you got, you felt the cold tension between you and your team– the distance. Just as you were about to pass the boy's room, you heard Miguel's voice cut through the silence.

"..She's been so distracted lately. I just don't get it." he said with concern, but also frustration.

There was some muffled movement when Demetri spoke up. "All I'm saying is– if we keep going like this, we'll lose. It's better if we keep her back, Sam and Devon are enough anyway."

Your heart sank at their comments, the guilt crushing you. It was finally clear what you had to do. That night, as you opened the door to find Kwon, you got surprised at seeing that he was already there, leaning against the wall outside of your room, as if he knew you would come. Pushing away your pride, you went up to him.

"I've thought about it," you said quietly. "I'll join Cobra Kai."

Looking at the smile that appeared on his face as he took your hands in his, you knew there was no turning back.

[the-thing-withfeathers]

exceeded caution: part 1

she would have chosen the devil

series masterlist | next part

summary: when your relationship with the younger carpenter sister fails, what happens when thoughts of her older sister start to take over your mind? 4.1k words pairing: tara carpenter x f!reader into sam carpenter x f!reader warnings: toxic relationship, cursing, fighting, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, frankie mentioned, out of character tara.

a/n: this is actually such a bad first chapter because its mostly set up but i promise the next chapters are so much better. but ily carpenter sisters mwah mwah.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

couples fight, right?

that’s how they show they care, right?

that’s what you were always taught when talking about relationships.

you and tara had started off as friends with benefits. you met early in freshman year and the attraction was instant.

when you started to meet her friends, you quickly learned about their experience in woodsboro. you had known about the notorious killer but you never thought you would find yourself amongst the people associated with the incident.

as time went on, you decided to shoot your shot with her. your feelings became deeper than the desire to satisfy each other in bed.

you asked her out on a proper date after chasing her halfway across campus. you were sweaty and panting but when she delivered a kiss to her cheek with a "yes, i would love to", you knew it was worth it.

after a few dates, you learned that tara had a fear of getting close to people. she told you about amber and how she'd developed issues with commitment after that disastrous relationship.

so when you and tara started fighting at a higher frequency, you thought it was just because you didn’t want to lose each other.

you chalked it up to the perpetual state of stress she was in due to her sister being overprotective and not letting her go out as often as she used to.

then you started noticing the cracks in your theory when tara started fighting with you over the smallest thing. your jacket didn’t match her skirt, you chewed a little too loud, you handed her the wrong coffee order.

you did your best to calm the girl when she was in her angered state, your efforts proved to be futile when she would just kick you out of her room and you’d have to do the walk of shame out of her apartment.

only to make things worse, you usually bumped into sam on the way out. you knew your girlfriend’s older sister was overprotective of her and you were worried about what she thought of you.

sam often watched you leave from the kitchen, shooting you a look that you couldn’t decipher.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

"there's a party tonight for halloween, we should all go." mindy proposed to the group. it was a frat party, and you hated frat parties.

"we should!" your girlfriend, tara, exclaimed.

"is sam even going to let you out of the house?" chad asked, chuckling softly at tara's excitement.

"uhh... that's an issue for later." she said, looking away. you saw the gears turning in her head.

"you're not gonna tell her, are you?" you asked her, you knew her all too well. she turned to you with a small glare on her face.

"and what of it?" she said, snapping a bit. you seem to have taken her out of deep thought. you should have known that would be her response.

whenever a sore subject would come up, you tried not to bother her too much about it. you should have held your tongue, knowing you were talking about one of the sorest subjects— her sister. you frowned at her.

"i was just trying to tease, tara." you clarified. "it's okay, i won't judge you for it. i know sam's been overprotective recently."

tara seemed to back down from her anger when you said that. she just turned back to her phone as you turned back to your uneaten lunch.

you agreed to the party under the impression that it might be good for you and tara. it might be nice for her to get out of the house for once and spend time just being a young adult.

"i'll go as a cowboy." chad chimed into the conversation again. you had no idea what you were going to put together at the last minute.

"i'll throw together a pirate outfit." tara shrugged her shoulders, thinking back to her own closet.

"maybe i could be the parrot on your shoulder." you joked at her, she rolled her eyes at you with a small smile on her face.

"please don't." she laughed softly. you loved her laugh so much, and you loved being the reason for it. you’ve grown to cherish those little slivers of happiness between the two of you.

“okay.” you retreated your statement. “i’ll go as an angel.” you grinned. you had a dress waiting for you back home and some spare angel wings you used for a previous costume party.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you were on your third drink of the night and had your arms around chad and ethan, singing the lyrics to sweet caroline. you three were swaying together on the dance floor.

mindy and anika looked over you three and rolled their eyes. it’s like they were meant to be.

you realised that your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen, that was concerning. she’d usually be joining you three in your antics.

you turned around to see her at the drinks table, talking to a taller man in a white shirt. you recognized him from somewhere but you weren’t entirely sure.

you opted to trust tara instead of the sinking gut feeling you had. she tended to get angry at you when you acted impulsively, you wanted to avoid that tonight.

you stepped away from the boys and made your way over to mindy and anika. you put your arm around mindy, you both had a great relationship— it was like you were her non-sibling twin flame.

"hey spoilsport. you suggested coming! why are you hiding all the way out here?" you asked her, leaning your head on her shoulder. you spotted a smile creep up her cheeks.

"because someone has to make sure all of you get home safe and sound." she poked your nose and you pulled your head back reflexively.

"that shouldn't stop you from having some fun with us too." you prodded more, trying to get her to loosen up.

however, mindy's point proved itself when you heard commotion come from the stairway. you turned your heads to see chad and tara along with the man in the white shirt by the staircase.

"holy fuck, is that frankie?" mindy asked.

it was like a jolt had electrified your entire body.

frankie.

you should have listened to that gut feeling. it got worse as you spotted tara by his side, his hand wrapped around her wrist.

you felt a fire rage in your belly and an overwhelming concern for tara. you made your way over only to already hear chad telling him off.

"what's going on?" you asked as you approached, standing shoulder to shoulder with chad.

“none of your business.” tara spat out at you, you looked at her with worried eyes. you never provoked her when she was like this but you realised the gut feeling not only applied to frankie but also tara.

“chad.” you called the boy’s name out, indicating that you wanted an explanation.

“frankie was trying to take tara upstairs for god knows what.” chad glared at the man a couple of steps above him.

your jaw clenched and fury filled your pupils.

“she wanted it, dude.” frankie shot back, “she asked me to.”

you looked over at tara only to see that she wasn’t looking at you, she was looking down at the accumulating crowd.

“tara, surely not.” you said, almost pleading. it was a contrast to your angry stare.

she didn’t respond.

she didn’t say a word.

“bro, shut up. she’s drunk and she isn’t thinking straight.” chad fought back at frankie. you snapped out of your thoughts and looked over at the two men.

“he’s right. she isn’t capable of making decisions. you have no right.” you said.

“whatever.” frankie rolled his eyes and pulled tara up the stairs, causing the shorter girl to tumble.

chad snapped and grabbed frankie by the shirt, throwing him down the stairs. you immediately went to check on tara.

“hey, love. let’s get you up. are you okay?” you asked her but you were simply met with silence and her trying to yank her arm away from your touch. she helped herself up but not without struggling.

you watched the altercation between chad and frankie go down, the two boys shoving each other back and forth.

you looked over at tara. you had almost forgotten the look on her face when you asked her if she was really wanting to go upstairs with frankie. she was inebriated, she wasn’t thinking clearly. she didn’t mean it— you could tell yourself that all you want but tara was never one to hide her emotions— especially if it was annoyance.

your thoughts were cut short when you saw sam carpenter walk straight in to the party.

fuck.

you couldn’t zone in enough to hear their conversation from the stairs, but your eyes did enough when they saw sam tase frankie’s balls.

you almost laughed at the sight of the man falling to the floor, but you knew you had to do something.

you stepped in suddenly, holding the older carpenter’s shoulders.

“let’s go. we don’t need any more trouble.” you thought you would be met with a scolding but sam simply nodded at you. she walked over to tara and helped her down the stairs, practically dragging her out of the party.

“sam, let me go!” your girlfriend protested. you followed behind the sisters along with chad, ethan, anika, and mindy.

tara managed to break herself free from sam’s grasp when you were all outside on the street. you stopped in your tracks and it landed you beside sam.

“tara, really?!” sam yelled at her sister, “sneaking out?! i had to find out from quinn that you were here. what if something happened to you?!”

“nothing was gonna happen, sam!” tara rubbed the inner corners of her eyes, trying to wrap her head around the situation.

“really?! cause i don’t think that guy was gonna let you go easy!” sam gestured back to the house. “and what were you thinking?! you have a girlfriend.”

“oh please, she won’t care.” tara scoffed. you were standing right there, but it was like she looked straight through you. how could she say that about you?

“right.” sam stopped her before she could say anything else. “i’m taking you home.” she said. she turned around to you, making eye contact. your breath hitched in your throat. “and you too. c’mon.”

you had to oblige, you weren’t going to fight against an angry sam.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

the car ride was more eerie than silent.

despite the looming quiet, you looked over at tara in the rearview. she was staring outside the window in the backseat while you sat in the front. sam had forced her into the back, saying she didn’t wanna get thrown up on.

you looked over at sam, her eyebrows furrowed as she drove you both back. you wondered what was happening in that head of hers. she had been through a lot too. her protective nature was a product of everything that had happened in woodsboro, you found your concern growing for her too.

you helped tara up to the apartment with sam. at one point, you gave up and decided to princess carry her. she protested at first but realised she had no other choice.

you put tara down on her bed, taking off the bandana that covered her hair. you went into her closet to grab some clothes for her, kneeling down about to help her.

she suddenly turned away from you.

“tara, please. let’s not fight.” you pleaded with her, wanting to get her comfortable more than anything.

“fighting is the only reason i stay with you.” she mumbled.

“what?” you looked up at her from your kneeling position, trying to help her take her shoes off.

“you’re so nice all the time.” she glares at you. “you’re too different from her.”

oh, her. you knew.

“but i like controlling you. it’s almost too easy.” she had a venom-laced tongue tonight, the alcohol allowing the toxin to seep through your skin. “but i feel absolutely nothing for you.”

you finally knew the reason for your fighting.

“i almost even hate you sometimes though.” she admitted. “i only said yes to going out with you cause we were in public. if it was anywhere else, i would have rejected you.”

you were silent, you were stunned.

“i’m too young to settle down too, y’know?” she followed up, it was never-ending. “nothing was gonna happen with frankie. i knew better— he’s disgusting. but you had to end the fun when i was finally allowing myself to realise i had other options.” she scoffed.

her words didn’t make sense to you. she wouldn’t do that, she couldn’t do that. surely she had some heart in her.

you felt disgusted with yourself. you stepped back and had to hold back from saying anything. it was late, they had another roommate who was asleep and sam was waiting for you in the living room to take you home.

when you stepped back, tara rolled into bed, pulling the covers to her chin. you stared at her, tears forming in your eyes from what she said.

you were being used.

and she played you like a fiddle.

you were dressed as an angel, which was ironic.

because tara would rather have the devil.

you had tried to be the best possible person for her. you took everything she’s been to into consideration, always looking after her. but you realised she didn’t want that, she wanted someone else.

you covered your mouth to stiffle sobs that threatened to escape your lips.

you walked out of her room only to nearly come crashing into sam, who was leaning on the wall by the doorway the whole time.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

sam had previously been in the kitchen, preparing a glass of water for tara. she realised you were taking a bit longer than she expected, she figured you fell asleep next to tara.

she knew the nature of your relationship with tara. she had to listen to tara’s entire thought process of saying yes to you asking her out. she even discouraged tara, letting her know that it wasn’t fair to you.

but tara always had a mind of her own.

when she heard soft voices, she decided to come and check on the two of you. she stopped walking and listened in when she heard what you were talking about.

oh, she felt sick.

she felt sick hearing her younger sister say those words to you. she always cherished tara. she missed her sister that wasn’t capable of hurting a fly but quickly let those thoughts go when she acknowledged that the girl that she cared for was gone.

she leaned against the wall and heard your footsteps quickly approach. she didn’t expect you to almost crash into her, her hands flew to your waist, stabilising you.

she hadn’t gotten a good look at you earlier, you were dressed as an angel. a part of her almost smiled at how pretty you looked. sam always thought you were pretty, her eyes weren’t painted on.

“hey…” she said, watching you wipe your tears away. “here, take this.” the water meant for tara quickly changed ownership.

you declined the water, shaking your head and waving it away.

“please. you’ve been crying.” you hated that sam carpenter caught you in this state. you hoped to compose yourself before seeing her again.

“sam, it’s fine. let’s just go, please.” you brushed past her, she quickly turned and followed you out. she grabbed her jacket and her keys before following you downstairs.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

“you didn’t deserve that.” sam broke the silence. you slowly turned to her and just stared, you were still trying to find the words.

“sam…” you started.

“no. it doesn’t matter.” she interjected. “i’m sorry about tara.”

“it’s fine. i can handle it. she's right anyway."

“it’s not. and she isn't."

you felt yourself crawl back into your shell. the order in sam’s voice, like she was a general, made you feel like you couldn’t say a word.

“you deserve better than her." she suddenly turned to look at you, her glare wasn't like tara's though. hers was more angry at you for saying those things about yourself.

"she's just stressed." you try to justify tara's actions. you still harboured feelings for the girl. it was going to be hard to see it any other way.

"don't try and do that." sam shook her head, pulling up outside your apartment. "you're a grown ass woman, you know better than to try and justify someone hurting you."

you'd never seen that side to sam before. she was always tara's timid older sister, a strong but silent type. you didn't expect to hear her suddenly standing up for you.

"i just need a night, sam." you didn't want to talk about it anymore, it was all too much for you.

"get some rest." she nodded at you while you pulled at the door handle, unlocking it and hopping out. you leaned down and poked your head back into the car.

"thank you for the ride home. i appreciate it. i'll see you soon."

sam nodded at you. "goodnight."

"goodnight, sam."

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

tara thought her eyes were burning in the sunlight. she felt herself wither away as she was hit with a pounding headache.

her throat was dry but as she blinked away the exhaustion, she realised there was a glass of water by her bedside. she practically leapt for it, chugging it all in one go.

she was still in her clothes from last night. she got up to change into something more comfortable and take her make-up off. it was the weekend so she had nowhere to be, deciding to dedicate the free day to recovering from her wicked hangover.

she walked out of her room to see sam making breakfast. she could literally eat anything right now.

sam looked just as exhausted as her.

memories started flooding in from last night, the fight that ensued coming back to her

"jesus sam, no way you actually used a taser on someone last night." tara grumbled as she took her seat on the dining table.

"i absolutely did. and i'm not regretting it." sam retaliated, setting a plate down in front of tara. "eat up. you're gonna need the energy for today."

"why? what's today?" tara asked, already wolfing down the food in front of her.

"do you really not remember anything from last night?" sam asked her, sitting down beside her with her own plate of food.

tara shook her head which led to sam explaining what you two talked about that night.

tara was horrified. she felt so guilty. sure, she knew she didn't lie completely, but she knew you didn't need to hear that.

and it was too late to take it back now.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

five knocks woke you from your own slumber.

you groaned and pushed yourself off the mattress, glitter still coating your eyes from your costume last night. you immediately rolled into bed after changing last night.

you threw the door open, a frustrated look on your face.

tara.

oh, and sam around the corner.

sam shot you a sheepish wave, you waved back at her. you knew the only reason that tara was here was because sam brought her. while you appreciated the gesture, you knew there was only one way this was ending.

"you shouldn't have kept this going for as long as it did!"

you yelled at tara. you two had been going at it for ten minutes now, you were sure the entire apartment complex could hear the two of you. and you knew they could hear your heart breaking.

"what the fuck was i supposed to do?!" tara exclaimed back. "walk up to you and oh hey, i don't actually have any feelings for you?!"

"yes! exactly that." you shot back, scoffing and crossing your arms across your chest. "you should have been honest with me, tara."

"i couldn't. you... you were good for me." tara whispered, her anger subsiding. "you were kind and just what i needed after everything that happened. i thought that maybe i could grow to have feelings for you."

"you shouldn't have taken that chance. you basically lied to me for months." your posture straightened, your jaw tightening. "it wasn't fair."

"i know... i know..." tara said, trying to calm you a bit more. "i'm sorry."

"you know that sorry isn't gonna cut it, right tara?" you huffed, shaking your head at her. "we're done."

she stared at you for a beat, she didn't believe that you ended it. you were so quiet all the time, always kind and happy. you never took the initiative, she thought she would have to do it. to say you surprised her was an understatement.

"i understand." she nodded. "i'll go."

"yeah... you'd better." you weren't going to stop her, she was the last person you wanted to see.

you opened the door for her and saw sam avoiding your eyes around the corner.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

three weeks later, you hadn't seen much of your friends. you decided to be the one to keep your distance, you hadn't even seen mindy all that much.

it wasn't until you heard your phone buzz on a random friday morning that you realised that you were missing your dear friends.

"come over tonight, we're watching a movie." a text from mindy.

"we're?" you responded. you knew that mindy would pick up on what you were putting down.

"yes. tara will be there. but we haven't seen you in ages. i'll put you on seperate ends of the room." she typed quickly.

"okay. what time?" you missed your friends more than anything, it was worth seeing tara if it meant you got to see everyone else too.

"4 plus 3." mindy replied, you chucked your phone to the side and sighed. you had to spend the rest of the day psyching yourself up to face everyone again.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you arrived at the twin's place at exactly seven sharp.

you walked in and saw that everyone else was already there, surrounding the television.

"bystanders reported seeing the killer with a black cloak and sporting the infamous ghostface mask."

oh no. oh no no no.

you knew all the stories, you'd seen what the killer had done to the carpenters and the twins. and you couldn't believe that he was back.

silence coated the walls of the room, everyone was too shocked to say anything.

tara ran out of the room into another area of the apartment, mindy and chad following behind her. sam walked out the door. you wanted to go after tara, but you thought you might make things worse in that sector. she already had the twins following her, and sam had nobody.

you trailed behind sam. she ran down the stairs, sitting down on the end step, her head falling into her hands. you slowly approached, sitting down on the end step beside her.

"i'm so sorry." you whispered, looking straight ahead.

"its never gonna fucking end." sam sobbed out, her fingers tangling into her hair.

you sat in silence, your palms flat on your lap. you didn't know if you should do anything or say anything.

"there's nothing i can say or do to make this better... but i hope you know, there's more of us now. no way in hell are we leaving you alone in all of this." you said, determined. "you aren't going to go through this alone, sam."

sam peeked her head out. your words were something she had heard before, but coming from you, she felt different about them. she knew you didn't know how to reassure her, you hadn't been through the same thing. you two only knew each other in passing, but she appreciated it.

she turned to you, and you turned to her.

this was the closest you two had been ever.

had she always been this beautiful?

had you?

you shook your head to shake away your thoughts, now was not the time. you could tell she was also trying to push her own thoughts away.

"thank you, i appreciate that." she whispered, a small but genuine smile flashed at you.

"do you want to sit here for a bit longer?" you asked her.

sam begun to think that tara was right. you were incredibly kind and considerate, you could read people like they were an open book. she nodded at you and you nodded back at her.

you two proceeded to sit in a comfortable silence.

you could hear thumping above you, knowing that the twin's apartment was active with stress and fear.

but you couldn't move. you had to be there for sam.

and you meant what you said.

no matter what, you weren't leaving.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

author's journal i actually am also unsure about this set up for the series. i hope my writing gets better as it goes on but the set up was a bit rough to write and even read. but i promise better content soon y’all 😫 i also would have written a longer drunken argument scene between tara & reader but i needed some sam emphasis, this might get edited in the future

on another note, okay yeah i have so much love for the carpenter sisters actually. this idea came to be out of nowhere when i was watching scream vi to fall asleep and i immediately told emma about it so everyone say ty emma ilysm liefje. she's had to deal with all my bullshit recently so this entire series is dedicated to her <3

another thing is heaps and heaps of credits to @shdysders one of my current favorite writers because the drunken argument scene is hella similar to theirs from one of their fics, if only (which you all should read btw.) thank you babes.

andddd let me know if you wanna get added to the taglist for this fic also and i’ll be more than happy to oblige <3

[morsmordre-writes]

this must be fake - masterlist

Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: After a year of being gone, and you finally deciding to move on, Bucky is back in town and trying to win you back. Can he win you over before you fall for someone else? Can his actions be redeemed? Will your friends get you committed for insanity? Maybe!

Warning(s): slow burn, bucky starts off stupid and ends up, well probably more stupid!

masterlist | twitter profiles

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15 & epilogue]

[coffeeshopguest]

Perhaps a dom!sebastian x switch!sam x sub!farmer fic?

sorry for so many requests i just love your stardew fics and writing!

-🐇

hello! don't apologize for all the requests, i love it!!! my deepest apologies for disappearing off the face of the internet for far too long! after the whole quotev incident and the removal of messages/groups/feed on there i got so bummed that my favorite fanfic website basically died i couldn't really get into fanfic writing. but!! i'm back! so now i'm gonna clear out my inbox <3 hope you enjoy o7

The Three of Us

Word Count: 1263 Pairing: dom!Sebastian x switch!Sam x sub!reader (female) Warnings: 18+, smut, swearing, threesome, bondage, praising kink, unprotected vaginal sex, degradation kink, oral sex (Art by @.tecochet on tumblr)

You were close with the two, Sam and Sebastian had been your friends since you first moved to Stardew Valley. You three had become super close, basically an inseparable trio. You weren't quite sure when things began to get a bit more intense. From just a simple friendship - to more - between the three of you. All you knew, was here you were, stripped, tied down onto your bed, Sam kneeling at your feet eagerly jacking off and whimpering desperately for permission to touch you while Sebastian watched with a smirk on his face. "No, no, you can't. Not yet," he said simply, watching Sam wait impatiently was one of Sebastian's favorites.  

You were sure Sam was itching for release based on the way his face was red, biting his lip, a pathetic whine escaping him yet again. Sebastian was always like this - in charge of the whole thing. You gladly let it happen, you weren't much for being in charge of anything anyway. Sam let Sebastian boss him around as much as Sebastian wanted - if it meant at least for a little Sam could relentlessly take charge of you and get to do everything he wanted to you. 

As Sam whined, Sebastian easily took off his jacket, "Stop being so pathetic," he teased, moving towards Sam and capturing him in a quick kiss, "I've not even got my turn with her yet," he said it so easily - his turn with you, like you were just some object for the two to fuck whenever they wanted. Truth be told, you loved being talked about like that by those two. The way they treated you in bed was absolutely horrendous but you couldn't act like you didn't enjoy every single second of it. Your eyes flickered to Sebastian, who had thrown his jacket and now his shirt aside, leaving him shirtless before you. He wasn't super buff. Not insanely so, at least, but he definitely was fit. 

Sam made a noise, muffling it quietly with his lip. Sebastian smirked a little, "You know what, Sam? Go ahead," he said, and with the two words Sam's face lit up. He eagerly moved forward, spreading out your thighs, eyes locked onto your needing cunt. His eyes flickered up to you and you could see the flicker of submissive neediness give way to a look of complete control. 

Without a word of warning he took his hand, the other keeping your thighs spread, and slowly began guiding his cock into you. The feeling was instant, you gripped the bedsheet, eyes shutting as you let him slowly push into you. "F-fuck..." you groaned out, Sam smiled as he watched your reaction. He loved this, love fucking you, watching your reactions. He'd never say it verbally, but he also loved the way Sebastian watched on beside the bed, ensuring Sam was being good. Ensuring that you wouldn't be too used when he was ready - ensuring that if he wanted - he could pull Sam off and fuck either one of you. Sam watched on as he finished pushing himself fully in, eyes flickering back up to your face. "F-feels good..." you grumbled out, gripping the sheets tighter as you looked up at him. 

He didn't need anything other than that look, he immediately began plunging himself into you. Ramming himself as far as he could before pulling fully back out. "Fuck~" you moaned out, head rolling back, you could see Sebastian watching from the corner of your eye, his hand rubbing his hardness through his pants. Waiting. You knew what he would do - he'd let Sam finish his fun, let him make you cum, and as soon as that was over he would order Sam to the side and take full control of you. You could feel the way Sam's hands dug into you, "Fuck, so- so...good..." you groaned, Sam looked quite pleased as your head fell against the pillows. He loved causing you to fall apart. He loved pleasing. Even when he was in charge he wanted to make you feel good, satisfy every desire that crossed your mind - however gross or filthy or rough it was. He couldn't resist going faster, harder, ramming into you. His head fell back, quickly looking over at Sebastian.

"Go on, good boy," Sebastian encouraged, "Make sure she feels good," Sam nodded quickly, eyes flickering back to you beneath him as he tried to speed up even more, balls slapping against you as he rammed in. Your head lolled back, back arched for Sam, eyes glossed over with pleasure. He felt it, the tightening. The way your pussy clenched desperatley around him. He felt it before you said anything. 

"Gon- gonna..." you began, Sam nodded more, throwing his head back.

"Oh- fuck...me too-" he groaned out, his cock sliding in and out of you. He knew Sebastian would want him to milk you before he came, so he focused on making sure you came. The thick, warm liquid coating your thighs and his cock, making it even easier for him to slide in and out. He kept going, eyes scrunching up, "Mh- fuck..." he slid in one final time, pushing in as deep as he could go. Before he shot his load deep inside you, he panted out, satisfied, looking down at your face. Drool rolling down your chin, mouth agape, the sensations of your orgasm still hitting you as he slowly pulled his cock out. Looking at the way his cum dripped out of your pussy. Smirking. 

He felt Sebastian grip his hair, turning him to face him, "You did good, didn't you?" he praised, quickly kissing Sam before shoving him away. "Give me a turn though," and like the desperate to please boy he was Sam skirted off to the side, letting Sebastian crawl between your legs. He was still wearing his jeans. He smirked down at you, "Hey there, pretty girl, think you can take a little more?" your head bobbed pathetically and Sebastian nodded. "Good girl..." he purred, before he shifted back. "Damn, Sam, you really did fill her up, huh?" He lowered his head, slowly, eyes flickering up to yours before he slowly lapped at the fluids dripping out of you. 

Your head fell back, eyes shutting as his tongue slowly, gently lapped at your entrance, not quite yet plunging into your soakingness, he lapped gently, Slowly. Not rushing the process. His tongue swirls around, sucking softly on your clit. You let out soft, pathetic noises and Sebastian grins against your folds, continuing his work. Hands reaching for your thighs and holding them in place as he sucks, licks, - forcing your moans out. Slowly, he shoves his tongue into your most sensitive spot - causing you to moan out. "Fuck! Seb..." your hands eagerly find his hair, clinging to it, pushing his face deeper. His hands keep your legs spread as he focuses his assault on your pussy, making your moaning louder. He groans with satisfaction at every noise, the vibrations running up through you.

You feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach, the tightness - the heat rushing through you. "Seb - I'm gonna!" you whine out, and he smirks, eagerly nursing you to cum for him. Once you do, he eagerly laps up the juice coming down your thighs and out of your dripping pussy. He pulls his head back, moving to kiss your forehead. "You did such a good job, you're such a good girl," he praises sweetly. 

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