#sam x female reader insert

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡When They Realised That They Loved You｡⋆.

Team free will x plus size reader (separately)

Warnings: smut, lil bit of angst, fluff, (somehow Dean’s isn’t the angsty one), undefined relationship (Dean), mention of scars, sam detoxing off demon blood, childhood friends to strangers to ?, heartbreak, pain, mention of torture and pain and Dean’s death, sam being sad, gentleness, Ruby can catch these hands, seemingly unrequited love on both sides, a kid being lost, castiel being stupidly in love and not knowing what to do with himself, humanity being good WC: 3.8k

Minors DNI

A/N: One assignment left baby!!

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Dean- When you were the only person he could let his walls down with

You weren’t exactly a hunter but you also weren’t exactly a civilian. You were… something else. You could shoot, recite an exorcism backwards and outdrink the most seasoned hunter but you also were stationary, paid your taxes, even had a retirement fund and to Dean, you were safe. And a damn good lay at that.

“That’s it baby. Move those hips for me.” Your nails bit into the muscles of his chest as you lifted yourself up on shaky legs, then slammed back down onto his cock. Dean hissed and bit down on his lip, desperately trying to keep his eyes open to watch you fall apart just one more time before he succumbs to the blinding pleasure he could only find with you.

“It’s too much, Dean.” You wailed but continued to roll your hips downwards like you didn’t even think of stopping. His hands clamped down on the meat of your plush thighs as you tightened impossibly around his thick cock.

“Fuck, baby. I know you’re close; just come for me. Cum, and I’ll give you what you want.” He planted his feet onto your bed and thrust upwards, hitting that one spot inside you he knew made your brain turn into TV static. “Thaaaaat’s it. That’s my girl.” He cooed as you slumped forwards, your mindless babbling only serving to spur him on even more.

You tucked your face into his neck, kissing and licking at his skin like you wanted to swallow him whole. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pounded into you even deeper. Your soft body trembled against him as you tumbled into your final orgasm of the night, your cunt fluttering around him like it was made for him.

“Dean. Cum inside me.” You managed to gasp out as you rode the last waves of your high. Dean snarled and pushed himself in as deep as he could go as the dam finally broke and he succumbed to his own end. You moaned softly at the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

Dean relaxed back down into the mattress, your body a comfortable weight on top of his, easing away the pain inside him. He ran his hand down the length of your back, coming to rest on the gentle swell of your ass. “You good sweetheart?”

A quiet giggle vibrated through your chest. “I think I saw god, I am more than good Deanie.”

He rolled his eyes as he guided you to lay down next to him, his softening cock slipping from your warm walls. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“How many times have I told you not to wear your boots in the house?” You retorted with a jab to his ribs, quickly followed by a loving kiss against his lips. His heart skipped a beat as he wrapped a strong arm around your thick waist, pressing deeper into the kiss. You let out a pleased sound that made his spent cock twitch in interest.

But all too soon, you pulled away and laid your head down on his shoulder.

It felt so domestic, so real. If he just shut his eyes he could almost imagine that this was your shared home; a place for him to just be without the worry of saving the world or protecting Sammy, that maybe he could have a lawn to mow and tedious chores that he would be happy to do for you. He wished he could wake up in this bed every day instead of once or twice in a blue moon when hunting had dried up or he needed more supplies from your shop for hunters.

“Do you remember the day we met?” His voice echoed through the small bedroom, soaking into the old wallpaper that you refused to let him replace, claiming that it was just fine the way it was.

You hummed and glanced up at him, your eyes still hazy from an entire afternoon of ‘I missed you but I’m not going to say it out loud’ sex. Dean cupped your full cheek.

“‘Course I do. You broke into my shop at 4 in the morning and I almost shot you.”

“We still need to work on that aim of yours sweetheart.” You scoffed but snuggled closer to him, the sweet smell of your skin almost getting overwhelming. Your fingers traced over the scars along his torso, never flinching away or touching them like you wished they weren’t there in the first place. You were mapping out the story of him without question or hesitation.

“Yeah well why would I need to do that if I have you here to protect me?” You said it like it was a fact, that you never doubted he would come to your rescue at a moment's notice. “I’ve got Dean Winchester in my bed, I’m the safest girl in the world.”

His breath caught but before you could notice, he gave you that smirk that got him there in the first place and drawled out a low: “Yeah you do sweetheart.” You visibly flustered, burying your face into his arm to escape the heat of his gaze. 

“You’re always so mean to me.” His laugh bounced your head up and down. You began to giggle, unable to help yourself, and slid your arm beneath his back so you could wrap your body around him. Electricity followed your touch, his nerves sparking to life like the feeling of stepping out from the darkness into the sun.

God I love her.

The thought slammed into his chest, briefly knocking the air from his lungs. He expected a sense of panic, maybe dread, but all he felt was a sense of calm that settled against his soul. Dean just pulled you tighter against him and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. You returned it with a soft peck right above his heart.

He didn’t want to run from this, not this time. You were everything to him and he wanted to stay right here, even if he knew he didn’t deserve it. Your breathing evened out as you succumbed to some much-needed sleep.

Maybe staying another few days wouldn’t be so bad, Sammy kept telling him he needed a vacation.

Sam- When you were kind to him even after he broke your heart

Sam’s voice had gone hoarse over an hour ago but they still hadn’t let him out. He knew that they wouldn’t but still he had begged and pleaded, even succumbed to tears yet there was no answer from outside the heavy iron door. 

He slumped back against the cot in the centre of the room, the sharp metal scraped against his back but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt in every waking moment. The cold concrete beneath him did nothing to soothe the burning inside of him. 

“Please.” The word was barely even audible, escaping his lungs with little more than a whimper. Sam let his head fall back onto the thin mattress.

As soon as the door was slammed shut, all he felt was blinding rage. Didn’t they understand why he was doing this? The blood gave him the power they needed to help people! But when hours had passed without so much as a hint that they even heard him, the anger melted away into a sort of numbness. Dean and Bobby had tricked him into this, you had tricked him.

It was your face that he saw last as the door was shut. Your lips were pulled downwards, your eyes rimmed with red, your shoulders slumped. You had looked like you were in mourning. Guilt curled in his stomach, just like every other time he looked at you since the day he left for Stanford. But this time, the sour taste of betrayal filled his mouth like bile.

You were turning your back on him, siding with his brother when all he wanted to do was to make the world safer, for you. 

Sam forced himself to take a deep breath, even as his body screamed with the ache of movement. The air was stale and settled heavily onto his chest but he was grateful to feel it, he was grateful to feel anything besides the searing pain of his nerves. This was the first break from the hallucinations he’d had in days, or weeks, time, just like everything else, had no meaning within the iron walls that enclosed him.

The cotton of his shirt felt like it was rubbing his sensitive skin raw but to take it off meant moving and he was far too tired to withstand the pain anymore. His head turned, letting the right half of his face press into the cot. The single flat sheet on the bed smelt of the flowery laundry detergent that you always used, it made something inside of him twist sickeningly.

A single tear slipped down his cheek.

“Sam?” His eyes squeezed shut.

“Please not again. Please don’t hurt me again.” He begged with broken words. He cringed at the sound of metal scraping against concrete. He couldn’t do it again, he wouldn’t fight it. Sam was going to let the pain take him.

Soft footsteps drew closer. He braced himself for the first strike. Would it be the sharp pinch of a scalpel or the burn of a propane torch? Or would it be the voices of people he loved reminding him of just how tainted he was? How evil? 

He whimpered as they stopped right beside him. There was a beat, then two, then the gentle whoosh of air as someone kneeled down beside him. 

“Sam.” Your voice washed over him like a gentle breeze, easing the stiffness in his bones. “Sam? Can you look at me?” He wanted to say no, to yell at you to get out and leave him alone like you did when you first locked him in here but the exhaustion in your tone made him crack open one of his eyes.

You sat on your knees mere inches from him, letting him see you in stark detail. One of his flannels hung from your shoulders partially concealing the form-fitting tank top you wore beneath it. Normally, his heart would have skipped a beat seeing you wear his clothes, but now it only reminded him of why you stopped. Bruise-like dark bags marred your full cheeks, your eyes blood-shot.

“Oh Sammy. I-“ Your voice cracked. You reached for him but quickly thought better of it, your hand dropped back down to your side where there was a bucket of water now on the ground. “You know you can’t come out yet but I thought you might like to clean up a bit, maybe eat something that isn’t dried or jerkied.” 

Sam opened his other eye but made no other efforts to move. You sighed, your shoulders dropping as you sat back on your heels. “Will you let me wash your hair and change your clothes at least? I bought the softest ones I could find and even washed them in the fabric softener Dean keeps secretly buying.” Your lips quirked up, attempting some sort of reaction from him.

You looked so worn out, Sam wondered if you had sat right outside the door waiting for him to stop screaming. His head bobbed and the hardness in your gaze eased. “Thank you. I’ll be as gentle as I can, squeeze my leg if you want me to stop.”

He bit back a whimper as you guided him to the floor. His broad shoulders rested across your plump thighs, letting his head hang above the floor. You kept one hand beneath his neck, taking far more of his weight than he would be willing to admit, and reached for the small plastic cup floating at the top of the bucket. 

His fingers curled around your knee, his short nails digging into the denim as you poured a cup full of hot water over the crown of his head. You paused for a moment but continued when Sam loosened his grip. 

As you placed the cup to the side and retrieved a small bottle of fragrance-free shampoo, he let his eyes shut once more, this time, his mind wandering to the last time the two of you had spoken.

It had been in the days after Dean died. You refused to break down in the face of losing your best friend, the man that taught you to drive, to throw a proper punch. You wanted to stay strong for Sam and for Bobby but Sam knew it wouldn’t last long. 

You had been slowly, methodically cleaning Baby, just like Dean taught you to when the younger Winchester approached you with a bowed head and a duffle bag on his shoulder. Just like the day he left for college.

You didn’t wait for his excuses.

“You’re leaving?” You said but it didn’t sound like you, not really. Sam didn’t answer and you scoffed, throwing the sponge you’d been using onto the dusty driveway. “Just like that, running off days after-“ Your breath caught but you swallowed down your tears, “What are you planning, Sam? You know selling your soul won’t work, we’ve already tried that.”

Sam huffed and pulled the strap of the bag higher on his shoulder. “I’ve got a friend who might know a way to get him back.”

He should’ve seen the way your back straightened as your body went stiff. “A ‘friend’?”

“She knows a lot about hell and right now I’ll try anything to bring him back.” And then he did something truly stupid. “Unlike you.” 

Silence crashed down around you like a falling building, immediately filling the air with a tension so thick Sam could almost choke on it. He watched your shoulders draw up, your hackles raised before your chest expanded fully and you exhaled through your nose.

“Then I won’t stop you. I trust you Sam but I don’t trust Ruby and I won’t be around forever to fix up your messes, not anymore. I’m worth a hell of a lot more than just being the girl you always leave behind but keep running back to.” You fished Baby’s keys from your front pocket, tossing them at Sam as you passed.

“Ruby’s dead.”

“Is she?” You shot him a look before opening Bobby’s front door. “Don’t get yourself killed. Lose my number.” The door slammed behind you and suddenly Sam felt like he was making the wrong decision, again.

You ran a hand through his hair, letting the shampoo run through your fingers as you carefully washed it away with the lukewarm water and with it, you washed away his pain. He turned his head into your hand, soaking up every ounce of touch you were willing to give him. It’d been so long since he had felt anything other than lust or hurt pressed to his body. 

You refused to meet his gaze, not that he could blame you after everything he had done, but he wanted so badly to look into those perfect e/c’s even just one more time. To feel that peace and acceptance that had always swirled within the deep colour of your irises. 

Suddenly, all Sam wanted to do was curl up in your lap and cry. He’d spent so many years taking your warmth for granted and now, after months of being denied even a sliver of your presence, he couldn’t imagine ever being away from you again. He wanted to prove to you that you were worth staying for, you were worth everything to him, but all he could do was let you care for him with hesitant hands.

He loved you, he always had, even when he was trying to run away from his life, even as he fell in love with someone else. It was you that kept him from falling into that well of darkness that would be so easy to slip into. You with your sass and your gentleness, your softness and your bite, your laughter and your grief. He loved you.

But how could you ever love him back?

Castiel- When you made him remember why he loved humanity in the first place

It was the sound of crying that drew Castiel to the playground across the street from the motel you had been camped out at. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sound to the angel given his age and how many prayers he’d heard throughout his existence, but the pitch was so high, so truly filled with fear that he didn’t hesitate to follow it.

“Angel? Where are you going?” He glanced back at you as you were pulling on your boots.

“There’s crying.” He said simply before descending the concrete steps to the ground floor. You let out a noise like a scoff and scrambled after him, barely grabbing the room key and your hunting knife before the heavy door slammed shut.

“Cas!” His pace didn’t falter as the crying picked up in intensity but he was confident you were following close behind him. His blue eyes flicked over the colourful plastic structures, expecting some siren or ghost to pop out at him. The weight of the angle blade against his forearm and your steady footsteps behind him reminded Castiel that he would not fight this battle alone.

He slowly rounded the bright yellow twisty slide just as you skidded to a halt a step behind him. Thankfully, you remained silent, a palm pressed to his back to remind him that you had him covered. The crying was louder now, though it did not sound like it was from any creature he had encountered before. 

There was a shadow at the edge of the monkey bars. Castiel’s blade dropped silently from his sleeve, sliding perfectly into his grip. He took a single stride forwards, ready to attack before it could when your fingers suddenly snagged the back of his trenchcoat.

“It’s a kid.” You breathed, he imagined it was out of relief but your human emotions always confused him. You slid the knife into the sheath you kept at the small of your back, tugging down your shirt so it was completely hidden as you cautiously approached the small figure curled up in the wood chips.

“Hi sweetie, are you ok?” Your voice dripped with sweetness, like he remembered syrup to taste like. You leaned forwards, your shoulders dropped as low as they could go.

The crying stopped but small hiccups still echoed through the maze of playground structures. The sun had been steadily setting and now sat just above the horizon, the darkness creeping in. 

Castiel watched closely as you squatted a foot away from the child, a soft smile on your face. “Are you lost?” The child finally looked up, their eyes wide and sparkling with tears in the low light of the evening. They nodded.

“Can we help you find your parents?” Their nodding got quicker and they reached out their arms to you. Your smile grew wider as you stood up, easily pulling them up and resting them on your wide hip. You turned back to face Castiel, a hand rubbing up and down the child’s back.

They must’ve been only 4 or 5 and wearing an outfit that was far from appropriate for the dropping temperature. “We’re going to go to the police station, I bet your parents are waiting there for you.” They looked up at you, still silent, but now clinging to your t-shirt in a way that made Castiel’s heart inexplicably skip a beat.

“This is my friend Cas,” You leaned closer to their little ear and loudly whispered the next part, “He’s an angel.” The child’s eyes widened and their head snapped around to look at him. Cas stepped closer, the child didn’t flinch.

“I am and so is she, that’s how she was able to find you.” He could almost feel the heat from your cheeks even feet away but still the child seemed convinced. 

“Really?” You hiked them up higher on your hip, your arm wrapping tighter around their little body to keep them warm.

“Really really. Now why don’t we get you back home?” They rested their head beneath your jaw and nodded, snuggling closer to your soft body. 

Cas dutifully followed you as you walked out of the park, watching the child bounce with each of your steps. You chattered away about things you were seeing around the street, your voice filling the silence like a white noise machine. Cas could feel the calmness radiating from the child and it warmed something long forgotten inside of him.

You had no duty to this child, nor any other person that you saved and he knew that you would receive no thanks for your actions but yet you still did them. You threw yourself into harm’s way to protect complete strangers from things they could not possibly understand. You had once confided in the angel that you had been pressured into hunting but you had stopped trying to run away from it long ago.

He’d felt anger for you, just the same as he felt for the Winchesters and all the other unfortunate children who never had a choice. He felt angry for himself, at humanity.

But seeing you now, caring for this child like they were your own, Castiel understood why you stayed. You didn’t do it for the glory of saying you saved the world, nor for some duty bestowed to you by your parents, it was because you cared and because you knew what evil was. 

The near empty streets soon gave way to rows of shops and townhouses, leading directly to the lit up police station only a few blocks away. The child started to fidget against you as they began to recognise their surroundings, making you laugh quietly. “I know sweetie! We’re almost there. You’re so close.”

You came to a stop right at the entrance. “You can go right in and tell them your name and that you were lost.” They nodded dutifully while you carefully lowered them to their feet. “Ok sweetie, you were so brave today but make sure you stay with your parents next time.” You ran a hand over their head and stod to your full height.

They looked at you and Castiel before gracing you with a toothy grin. “Thank you nice angels!” Then they threw open the glass door and rushed inside just as two grown ups turned the corner behind the reception desk. They fell to their knees, catching the little one in their arms.

Something warm brushed the side of his hand, making Castiel tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. You took his hand into your own, your eyes shimmering with tears. You didn’t say anything and he found that no words were needed.

Tomorrow, he would tell you how incredible you were, that you were what angels should be and that he was feeling something for you that he never thought he could ever experience. But for right now, he wanted to watch this child reunite with the people that loved them most while the chill of the night and the monsters in it were kept at bay by the brilliance of your soul.

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[supernotnatural2005]

The Great Sam Winchester C*ck Block!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and you have been desperate for some much needed alone time. However, a certain Winchester keeps getting in the way.

Word Count: 4106

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only! Fluff, Sam is a massive c*ck block (yes that’s a warning!)

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since i posted anything. Life has been wild. But i miss writing so much and have a few WIP. This just happens to be the one i’ve finished! 😅 Just something fun and spicy. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

My Masterlist

You sighed, head thrown back against the leather seat, back arched and legs spread wide as Dean scissored two of his thick fingers inside of you.

Soft lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and suckled at the spot behind your ear, which only added to the desperate throb of the walls of your pussy.

Your skin flushed and breathing laboured as he expertly rubbed at that spongey spot inside you, making you gasp and tense at the thrum of pleasure, tingling from the tops of your ears down to the tips of your toes.

The soft praises of; “you’re so wet”, “so beautiful” and “come for me baby”, followed by the lewd sounds of your dripping core against the harsh thrust of his digits, echoed in the small confinements of Baby’s backseat. Resulting in an ecstasy like state of desperation to reach your peak for him.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, the material covering his skin all but assaulted by your vice-like grip, as he brought you closer and closer to your impending crash.

You opened your eyes, gaze heated and glazed as you met fiery green orbs, drinking in your wrecked state with satisfaction and pride.

With his thumb now rubbing against your clit, you could feel your body begin to tense. The coil in your lower belly wound tight, ready to just about snap, when something over his shoulder caught your attention.

“Sam!” You gasped in an attempt to warn him. Though in your current state, it came out as more of a gasp of unmeant pleasure. But it had Dean’s fingers stilling instantly, drowning the flame he’d brought to life inside of you.

“What?” The shock was evident in his voice and the same eyes that had been filled with lust just moments ago, now laced with hurt at your outburst of his brother’s name. Made ten times worse at the fact it was whilst he was fingering you into oblivion.

Dread filled you at his harshly retracted fingers and you scrambled to explain before another fire brewed in his eyes, but this time with intent to burn rather than pleasure.

“Oh God, no baby! Sam is coming.” You guided his head in the direction of the other end on the motel’s parking lot, to where Sam was indeed approaching.

Relief flooded him like a cold drink of water quenching one’s thirst in a hot desert. His rapidly beating heart simmered somewhat at the realisation and he welcomed the soothing hand you ran through his short strands as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

You felt the rumble of his chuckle before you heard it, finding yourself joining in at the absurdity and worst timing ever of your boyfriend’s baby-bro.

“I guess we’re gonna have to pick this up another time.” He sighed disappointedly, but his eyes held a promise you clung to.

Sam Winchester was many things. A great hunter, empathetic and kind, your best friend. But mostly, he was the most oblivious cock block known to man.

For weeks you and Dean had been trying to have a little alone time. If it wasn’t the motel’s having only one twin room left, or a case taking its tole on you both to the point of pure exhaution, it was Sam’s impeccable timing.

You righted yourself by pulling on your discarded underwear and sleep-shorts, grimacing as the fabric met the mess between your legs.

Dean casually sucked his fingers clean of your juices, making your jaw drop and clit pulse in want.

Noticing your longing stare, he winked and slid a hand beneath his sweat pants to adjust the obvious tent, just in time for Sam to tap on the window.

“What are you guys doing out here? I tried calling you both for the past half hour.” Dean had opened the back seat and stepped out, allowing you to shuffle to the edge of the seat.

“I had a nightmare.” You lied easily as you stepped out of the car as well.

“I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you, so Dean offered to sit with me, calm me down.”

If oscars were awarded for best lie told, you’re sure you’d be up there in the nominees. It wasn’t necessary to lie to Sam but it beat, “your brother was just fingering me in the back of his car because we never have any time alone away from you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam was sincere and his look sympathetic. It allowed for a shred of guilt to be had.

“Why were you looking for us anyway?” Dean interrupted, voice slightly rough and irritated, although Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“I found a case a couple of miles out. Three victims have turned up dead in the last week, all with their hearts missing. Sherif is calling it a vicious animal attack but, i figures we got ourselves a werewolf.”

Silence.

“And that couldn’t wait until morning.” Dean speaks up first. His agitation clear this time.

“Well, technically it is morning. It’s like five A M.” Sam shrugs like it’s nothing and you internally sigh.

“You’re right, we just lost track of time.” You force a smile and ignore Dean’s pointed look as a sudden plan forms in your mind.

“Let us freshen up and maybe you could grab us some coffee and breakfast? You know, since you’re the only one dressed and all.” You ask sweetly, hoping he takes the bait.

“Yeah sure. I was going to grab us all some breakfast anyway.” Sam offers.

Bingo.

“That’d be great, i’m starving.” You exaggerate with a hand on your stomach. In the corner of your eye, Dean gives you a funny look and it takes everything in you not to smirk.

“Okay, well i’ll see you in ten.” Sam says before making his way across the street toward the 24 hour diner.

Wasting no time, you grab Dean’s hand and roughly pull him with you toward the room.

“Woah, what in the-“ You shut him up with your lips roughly pressing to his once you enter the room. His back hitting the closed door with a dull thud.

“If you think i’m going to wait for God knows how long before i feel you inside me again. You’ve got another thing coming.” You explain in a rush as you tug his plain-black t-shirt over his head.

A smirk forms on his lips at your eagerness and Dean has to admit, it turns him on just how desperate you are.

“Oh, i like the way you think sweetheart.”

You sat in the backseat of baby, irritable, uncomfortable and beyond sexually frustrated.

Your attempt to finish what you and Dean had started back in the room was short lived, when Sam returned only 2 minutes later, having forgotten his wallet.

To say you were in a mood was an understatement. And the permanent scowl on Dean’s face and his white knuckling grip on the steering wheel, told you he was right there with you.

In the end, the three of you figured out who the culprit was, or should you say culprits were, relatively quickly. It was a young man, Johnny Turner who was recently turned, which explained the sloppy kills. And you later discovered the pack who’d turned him, hiding out in a cabin just outside of town.

Overall, it was a successful hunt with minimum injuries and you had prevented a young girl from being the fourth victim. But three people had still died and a young man had to spend his last moments of life as a monster he never wanted to be.

You still remember the fear and confusion in his eyes at what he’d done. But then he’d went to attack you and ended up with three silver bullets from Dean’s gun lodged in his chest.

So, when you climbed into bed that night, Dean following shortly after you as Sam lightly snored away on the bed opposite. There were no wandering hands under the covers, working each other up until you were desperate enough to find yourself back in the back seat of baby. Just silence.

All in all, Sam’s case had inadvertently been another giant cock-block in itself.

3 Days Later.

It wasn’t your most classiest moment, but you found yourself knelt on a grubby restroom floor; Dean above you with his jeans and boxers pushed down mid thigh as you took his heavy, achingly hard length into your mouth.

You could be ashamed at how horny you were. That you’d stoop so low as to pushing him into a disgusting bathroom stall; dropping to your knees and blowing him right then and there.

But after a whole day of watching him work on Baby, greased up, sweaty and watching his biceps flex as he adjusted loose bolts and nuts under the hood. It was like dangling a piece of meat in-front of a starving dog. You just had to take a bite.

After being unfairly teased all day, you had all ventured to the local dive in town. Of course, Sam came along, actually wanting to join in for once.

Despite your own sexual frustrations, you’d had a good time. Drunk Sam was a lot of fun and it was nice seeing everyone relaxed and with a smile on their face for once.

However, once Sam’s attention was preoccupied by a pretty brunette; and with a strong bout of liquid courage in your system, you’d taken advantage of the situation and summoned Dean to join you in the restroom.

You knew he was just as worked up as you were. You’d felt as much whilst playing a game pool earlier on in the night, when he’d pressed up against you, not so subtly and let you feel just how much the skirt you’d opted to wear turned him on.

So now here you were, sucking off your boyfriend in the restroom stall of a dive bar, like some horny teenager. But if his moans and grunts as he lightly thrusted his hips intime with the bobbing of your head, told you anything. It was that he was more than on board.

Your panties were beyond soaked and uncomfortable but, Dean’s laboured breath’s and flushed cheeks as you looked up at him; his balls drawing up tight in your palm as you let him fuck into your mouth, a tell tail sign he was close, had you doubling your efforts to get him there.

“Holy shit baby. Right there.” He panted as you breathed deeply through your nose and took him as deep as your gag reflex would allow. The hand holding your hair back tightened, bringing with it a sharp sting of pleasure, making you moan around him.

He was seconds away from his release, when a loud bang interrupted you. It was as if an ice-cold bucket of water had been poured over your heads.

Startled, Dean’s slick cock slipped from your lips as you jumped back in shock. The loud bang was shortly followed by a girly giggle and a mans chuckle.

You looked up at Dean, wide eyed and silently asking if he wanted you to continue, when you heard it.

The stall next you rattled as the couple stumbled inside, the sounds of lips lewdly smacking together and then a voice you’d recognise anywhere, instantly cleared your sex hazed fog and had you as dry as a desert.

It was Sam.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean’s look told you.

One week later found the three of you pulling into Bobby’s for some much needed R&R.

After a week of non stop hunts, your bruised and beaten body needed at least a long weekend to recover. And the boys were more than inclined to agree.

As soon as your feet hit the gravel outside of Bobby’s house, you sighed in relief. The drive was long and your back, legs and butt ached from the lengthy position held.

���S’good to see you idgits.” Came the gruff greeting from Bobby as he stepped out the front door. You smiled at the term that had always been more out of endearment rather than as an insult.

You were the first to make your way over and fall into his embrace. Bobby always did give the best hugs. You’d missed him, a lot you realised as he gave you a big squeeze.

Although, your wince had him pulling back immediately to assess you with concern.

“Im all good, it’s just been a long week.” You explained truthfully and though he let it go, you could see he wasn’t fully satisfied with your answer.

“Mind if i grab a shower? I need to get the stink of hours being hot-boxed with the most gassiest man alive off of me.” You jab your finger blindly in Sam’s direction and miss his offended look.

Dean however, barks out a laugh to which Sam throws him his signature bitch-face.

“Hey, she’s not wrong man. S’probably all that rabbit food you eat.” Dean shrugs innocently, but is unable to contain his amusement.

“I’m not going to apologise for eating healthy Dean. Wouldn’t kill you to eat a salad once in a while mister, two double cheese burgers with extra bacon for breakfast.” Sam sasses back, mocking Dean’s gravelly voice. And in doing so, starts the endless bickering between the two brothers.

You decide then to make your escape, passing Bobby with a thankful hand on his shoulder and an apologetic look in your eyes as you make your way inside and upstairs toward the bathroom.

You drop your duffle to the floor and rummage through for some clean clothes. Luckily, you find a faded band t-shirt that you’re pretty sure once belonged to Dean and some leggings. It’ll have to do until you can take advantage of Bobby’s washer and dryer.

You’ll have to cook dinner as a thank you, you decide before peeling off your two day old clothes; grimacing slightly at the pain in your overused muscles and possibly bruised ribs.

You turn on the shower, making sure it’s on the verge of scolding, allowing for a billow of steam to encompass the medium sized bathroom, before stepping into the tub.

At first you flinch at warm spray in contrast to your much cooler skin, but quickly melt under the pressure and warmth seeping deep into your bones.

As you stand motionless, the weight of the last few weeks, possibly months, of being tense, unsatisfied and in pain, gradually releases it’s vice-like grip on you and washes away with the muck and grime accumulated on your skin.

Bliss. Thats what this was. Pure unadulterated bliss.

You’re so enraptured with the feeling, you don’t even notice him enter the room. Nor do you hear the shuffling of clothes being removed, or the curtain pulling back for him to step inside behind you.

It’s not until the coolness of his palms makes contact with your hips, do you startle and turn to meet the vibrant green eyes of your intruder.

“You don’t mind if i join you, do you?” Dean asks. As if you had a choice on the matter, as if you’d ever refuse.

You shake your head in both amusement and in answer to his question, and turn back around as he begins to lather his palms up with the body wash you’d brought with you.

A welcoming fruity smell of strawberries invades your sinuses and you soon hum in pleasure as his large, soapy hands glide across your skin. The act is incredibly intimate without the need to initiate into anything more than Dean simply taking care of you.

However, as his slick hands wander to your front, gliding across your stomach and up to lather your breasts. A fire that had been put out one too many times, reignites within you.

You bite your lip and lay your head back against his shoulder as his hands travel back south. Your breathing grows heavier as his seemingly innocent actions spark you to life.

The feel of his smile against the side of your head, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing though. So as a form of punishment, you subtly press back against him, smiling devilishly at the feel of his hardening length against your lower back.

His breathing shallows as you slowly gyrate your hips back against him and your pussy throbs in need of something, anything.

The famous saying, ‘great minds think alike’ had never proven more true as Dean’s right hand continues its journey, until two of his thick digits part your wet folds.

You gasp as his middle finger begins to slowly circle your clit, causing an electric jolt of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“You’re so wet already baby.” Dean husks in your ear, just as he briefly dips a finger into your dripping hole before returning the coated digit to your clit.

Adding his forefinger, Dean begins to quicken the pace of his fingers and adds pressure onto the pulsing bundle of nerves, making you cry out and twitch and convulse in his embrace.

He holds you tightly to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist, as you shake and your stance falters, gripping onto the arm wrapped around you like a life line.

“Come for me baby.” You hear him all but growl, before you feel his soft lips begin to nip and suck at the sensitive junction between your neck and shoulder. His fingers are vigorous now and the coil wound tight within in you finally snaps.

Everything goes white; your veins like molten lava, fiery hot and melting your bones as the tremors of your well- overdue orgasm course through you.

“Fuuuck.” You can’t help but moan as your tense body slowly becomes like jelly against the strength of your boyfriend. Dean holds you upright as you slowly come to and only loosens his hold when he knows you’re able to stand on your own.

For a moment you feel like you had died and gone to heaven. Utterly relaxed and boneless, you smile dopily until the numbness fades and the overwhelming need to feel him inside you takes over.

You twist in his embrace and pull his face down to crash your lips to his. It’s messy, all tongue and clashing teeth, both blinded by pure desire and pent up frustrations.

You slide a hand between your bodies and glide your hand up and down his length. He’s hard as a rock and seeping at the tip, which you gather in your palm as you continue to jerk him off.

“Shit.” He pulls away with a hiss, eyes closed tight as he presses his forehead to yours. You bite your lip as you take him in, forever impressed of the beauty that is Dean Winchester.

His hand moves to stop you suddenly and he meets your questioning look with pupils blown wide.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep it up. Need to be inside you now.” He all but growls before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You wrap your legs securely around his waist as he pushes you against the tile. The coolness brings out a gasp that’s soon swallowed by Dean’s all consuming, toe curling kiss.

“Please.” You beg as you pull away for a needed breath. Too worked up to vocalise anything else. Dean understands you though and shifts you higher up the wall, using it as leverage as he frees an arm to guide himself into you.

Your eyes cross as he slowly descends you onto his cock. The stretch is both overwhelming and not enough at the same time as he bottoms out. It’s a feeling you’ve missed gravely and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Holy fuck.” Dean groans deep in his throat at the feel of your tight, warm walls finally wrapped around him. A feeling he’s been starved of for too damn long.

“You feel so good baby.” You praise and cup his cheek to guide his lips back to yours. He slowly slides his way out of you until just his tip remains, before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

The action makes you cry out breathlessly, eyes wide in the most painful pleasure. You keep your eyes locked when he does it again, mouth agape in a silent scream with each drag of his length against your sensitive walls.

He builds up a confident rhythm, hitting you in the sweet spot every time, making your toes curl and breathing labour.

“Fuck i’ve missed the feel of you.” You moan particularly loudly when he hits the right spot.

“You’re so tight and wet. Fuck.” Dean groans as he picks up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, almost overshadowing the patter of the showers spray.

You’re close, you can feel it. Feel it in the way your lower belly clenches and limbs tense as your nerve endings spark with each thrust.

Dean’s close too. His panting breaths making way for the odd growl to slip out as he strains with effort to keep you both up. His own limbs starting to flutter in strength at his impending release.

Just as you’re about to loose it, there’s knock on the door, causing Dean to still and you to bite your lip in attempt to stop a frustrated groan.

“Hey Y/N? Have you seen Dean? I need the keys to the impala.” Sam’s muffled voice carried through the door.

Dean looks livid, but you look at him questioning eyes. ‘What do i say?’

It takes a moment, but Deans irritation fades and a sly smirk replaces it.

“I’m in here Sammy!” Dean calls out and your eyes widen in shock. However, you’re unable to say a thing when he shifts his hips, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out, before pushing just as slowly back in.

Your mouth drops open and eyes flutter as he repeats the action.

“Wait why are you…” Sam trails off and you almost don’t hear his “oh.” Of realisation.

“Might not wanna traumatise yourself Sammy.” Dean calls out, just before he snaps his hips harshly into you again, and you can’t help but cry out. Your cheeks blush at the fact Sam could hear you.

“Dean!” You scold in a hushed whisper, but he doesn’t stop, making you bite your lip to stop from crying out more. Thankfully you hear Sam’s footsteps quickly retreat.

“I’m done with interruptions.” Dean all but growls before crashing his lips to yours. His hips begin to piston into you at an almost bruising, quickly bringing you both back to the brink. Your cries of pleasure muffle against his lips and your hands tangle in his hair harshly, making him moan.

“Fuck i’m going to cum.” You gasp, head thrown back and back arching as much as was possible in the position you were in.

“Let go baby. I’m right there with you.” Dean pants and you meet his eyes in a silent cry as you tense up. Your orgasm rippling through you like a bolt of electricity.

“Fuuuuck.” Dean quickly follows you with a couple more thrusts. His body tensing as he grunts into your neck, each twitch of his cock as he empties his seed deep inside you, sending little aftershocks through your body.

You’re both breathing hard, even when he pulls back to look at you. Dopy smiles rise on your lips simultaneously, and laughter soon follows. Dean slowly puts you down on shaky legs, but keeps you close as he leans down to claim your lips once more.

It’s slow and passionate and striking you back to life as we speak. The smirk on Dean’s lips is all knowing and you want to smack away his smugness, but you can’t find it in you to make on that promise when his wandering hand cups your aching sex.

“Someone’s a needy girl, ain’t they.” He mumbles between kissing his way down your neck as his thick digits stroke you to life.

You gasp at the sensation, torn between too sensitive and desperate to feel more.

You glide your hand up his broad shoulder and through his damp hair before gripping tight enough to make him hiss. His eyes darken lustfully and you smirk a little at the feel of him twitching against you.

“You have no fucking idea.” You whisper, before pulling his lips to yours.

It’s safe to say Bobby’s water bill paid a price that day.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Flufftober - Mistaken Identity

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

A.N. - I'm sorry, did you guys think I was just going to sit Flufftober out? Unfortunately, I run into the same problem I run into with all prompt challenges, I've already written many of the prompts so I just won't be doing all thirty one days, but we're gonna have fun anyway! And thank you to @flufftober for keeping this tradition alive!

Grumpy Sunshine Universe | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

The moment Bucky enters your apartment, he breathes a deep sigh of relief.

It's quiet, quaint. A sanctuary for only the two of you. And after the day he battled against, his home wraps around him like a warm blanket.

He tosses his keys down onto the side table, trudging down to your warm embrace.

The entire apartment is dim with only your string lights lighting up the space.

He smiles to himself as he finds you completely huddled up underneath the thick blanket, napping on the couch.

"Hi, honey," Bucky presses a kiss through the thick blanket. He'd asked you a million times over, and he knew you said you didn't mind if he woke you, but there was something so welcoming about the sight of you so at peace. He gives your hip a gentle squeeze, tracing a gentle pattern. "Honey? You're gonna suffocate yourself with the blanket over your face."

Bucky finds it odd that you don't stir at the gentle nudging. And he'd be concerned if he couldn't see the faint rise and fall of your breathing.

"Doll?" He finally caves, gently grabbing the corner of the blanket to untuck it from your face. Except it's not you. An involuntary shout falls from his mouth as he removes his hand like he's been burned. "Ah!"

"Ah!" Sam yelps.

"Sam, what the hell?" Bucky demands. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing feeling me up!?" Sam screeches.

"I thought you were - Wait, why am I explaining myself to you?" Bucky rants, his hands frantically flailing around him. "You're in my apartment! Taking a nap on my couch!"

"I had permission!"

Just as the words leave Sam's mouth, you burst through the door, your eyes frantically taking in the scene before you. "What's going on here?! I heard screaming from down the hall!"

Sam points an accusing finger at Bucky. "Bucky was feeling me up!"

"No! I mean, not no, but context! Context is important! I thought it was you were underneath the blanket!" Bucky explains in a high pitched, shrill tone.

You clap a hand over your mouth to smother your laughter at the scene.

Bucky grimaces, "It's not funny."

"It's a little funny." You pad over to Bucky, wrapping an arm around his waist. You gently pat his chest with a smirk, "And you know, I've never been in a love triangle before."

"This is not a love triangle!" he fumes. "It's the world's worst case of mistaken identity!"

Grumpy Sunshine Series Grumpy Sunshine Drabbles

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[castiwls]

Hii

I was wondering if you could so something with a dean x reader where one of them gets attacked by a djinn and their fantasy involves the other person?

djinn - d.w

pairing; Dean x fem!reader

synopsis; A Djinn's coma causes Dean to come to a realisation

warnings; none

notes; Idk how i feel about the ending of this one

masterlist

Dean groaned as he squinted at the light snaking through the gap in the curtains. Throwing an arm over his eyes he turned pulling the covers up with him. How much did he drink last night? He hadn’t had a hangover this bad in years.

Deciding sleep was the best idea he pulled the cover higher and closed his eyes. The room was quiet for a few minutes as he lay still, his head still throbbing. 

“Dean. Come on you need to get up. You're going to be late.” Someone reached over and pulled the cover down despite his protests. A hand shook his shoulder briefly before he felt a dip in the bed. The hand which had previously been in his hair moved upwards and began carding through his hair slowly. “Dean, come on.” 

Dean frowned slightly. He knew that voice. “Y/n?” He opened his eyes slightly and stared at the person beside him in slight shock. You smiled at him, your hand continuing its movements. “You need to stop drinking at night.” Your voice was still quiet but there was a hard edge to it. “You promised you’d stop.” 

What was going on? This wasn’t normal…at all. Sure you’d been on his case about his drinking habits for ages but you’d never been this nice about it. Normally you’d just make some snarky comment about how he was drinking himself to an early grave before pushing him to bed.

He rubbed at his eyes sitting up slowly. He slowly took in his surroundings as his body seemed to finally wake up. This wasn't the motel. His eyes darted around the room for a moment before landing on you. You looked…different.

You looked happier. The stress lines which seemed to be prematurely forming were gone and those dark bags which seemed a constant under your eyes were gone. Satisfied that he was up you stood from the bed. “You have an hour till you need to go.” 

Dean frowned clearing his throat. The headache seemed to be subsiding. “Go where?” At his words, your frown deepened. A look of concern crossed your face. “The garage. You said you would cover a shift for Bobby remember?”

Dean quickly nodded. “Yeah, yeah sorry just not with it this morning.” You shook your head before leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lips before turning and walking out of the room. 

Dean felt his cheeks heat up at the affection. While he couldn’t lie that he enjoyed it, the action also caused warning alarms in his head.

You and Dean weren’t a thing. You’d always just been his best friend nothing more. He slowly stood and walked over to the drawers pushed up against the wall and pulled a few open till eventually he found his own stuff. He’d never seen this house before in his life yet as he looked around the room it seemed that he had lived here for a while. The bedroom alone had pictures dotted around, things he had no memory of.

The last thing he remembered before waking up here was being in a barn on a hunt with Sam and the real you. He rubbed his neck as he racked his brain. What had you all been hunting?

Suddenly it hit him. A Djinn. “Fuck. Fuck.” He kicked the leg of the bed in frustration. That son of a bitch had managed to get the jump on him. He needed to get out of this dreamland fast. 

After calming himself down and getting dressed Dean made his way through the house. As he’d gotten dressed he’d been thinking of a plan. He had to wake up his actual body somehow and then get out of the barn. So far though he had no idea how to do that.

His only hope was that you and Sam would realise that he’d been grabbed and go after him. 

After a few moments, he found himself standing in the doorway to a small kitchen. At the sound of his steps (fake), you turned to face him. “There’s coffee in the pot.” You gestured to the counter beside you before you went back to cooking. 

Was this really his fantasy? Yeah sure, maybe his feelings for you weren’t exactly platonic but he didn’t realise they went this far. While he knew he had to wake up part of him didn’t want to. For the first time in years, you looked calm. You seemed the happiest he’d seen as you moved around the kitchen, humming softly.

“So, um.” He cleared his throat as he leaned against the counter. “Any plans for today?” He cursed himself internally at how awkward he was being but he had to at least act like he had an idea of what was going on.

You pursed your lips for a moment before coming over to him. You stopped in front of him before speaking. “Not much. Probably just more wedding planning I guess.” You shrugged not noticing his expression. “Oh yeah, I was gonna ask if you were happy with the quote for the venue. They need a response by tomorrow.” You stepped back before reaching for two plates from behind him.

Dean stood still as he digested what you had just dropped on him. You were getting married. To him. 

“Uh yea. Yeah, it was nice.” He nodded. You smiled as you turned with two plates. “Great I’ll call them later.” 

Dean followed behind you as you walked over to a small table. He was getting married.

What else was different in this ‘fantasy’

You frowned stepping over a pile of you didn’t even know what. “He has to be here somewhere.” You whispered as Sam shone the flashlight around the old barn.

“Over there” Sam shined the light to a corner of the barn. You could just make out the shape of a person strung up. You and Sam had managed to get rid of the Djinn relatively easily, the hard part was finding his hideout. The creature hadn’t exactly been willing to talk.

You’d only managed to figure it out due to Dean mentioning to you before he left that he was going to a barn a few miles from the motel.

You both rushed over and began to untie him. “Dean! Hey Dean.” Sam shook his brother harshly for a moment. Dean let out a quiet groan before his eyes slowly opened. “Wha-where.” He stumbled over his words for a moment before rubbing at his eyes.

Y/n crouched down beside Sam and reached out to place a hand on Dean’s arm. “Are you ok?” 

Dean nodded. He slowly pulled himself to his feet stumbling slightly. You quickly reached out to steady him. Dean’s eyes flew down to where your hand rested on his arm.

His heart picked up slightly at the touch before he cleared his throat and looked back up to where you were looking back with a concerned expression. He cleared his throat trying to push the woozy feeling in his stomach away.

As the three of you walked back to the car he found his gaze falling on your left hand. Dean had never been one for marriage or even crushes for that matter but for the first time in his life, he felt himself longing for something which seemed so far out of reach.

[maybesamikins]

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 » 𝐬.𝐰

sam winchester x female!reader

genre: smut warnings: NSWF , 18⁺ , explicitly sexual content , mention of readers death , spoilers? wc: 2.6k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when sam faces death, he wakes up in heaven and is forced to relive one of his happiest memories with his late girlfriend who tragically passed away six years ago.

𝐚/𝐧: this idea literally came to me in the middle of the night… i’ve never written smut before nor have i ever actually posted a fan fiction, please be nice or i think i might die. and please ignore any typos and grammatical errors i don’t feel like proofreading.. ENJOYYY!! <3

ꔫ » 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟓𝐱𝟏𝟔 “𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧”

the two men standing before sam exchanged looks, nodding at one another. sam’s heart was pounding so hard he swore it was about to burst out of his chest. sam clinched his eyes shut so he no longer had to stare down the barrel of a shotgun. the sound of the trigger clicking echoed through his ears, then all he remembered was the bright flash that followed. he felt his body growing cold as the world fell quiet.

“sam, c’mon we gotta leave!”

his eyes fluttered open, in a confused daze he began checking out the very familiar surroundings. his dorm. and was that her voice?

“sam? you dressed yet, babe?” after hearing your voice for the second time sam came to the conclusion that this was the light at the end of the tunnel before eternal hell.

your sweet voice came from behind the door of his room. a smile instinctively grew onto his face. the small sound of the door knob twisting followed by the larger sound of the door opening grabbed his attention, he turned to face the now open door. his eyes instantly met your face. the familiar glow of your face and the welcoming smile that had stuck with him over the years made him feel like he had just fallen in love all over again. god how he’s missed you. he had only seen your face as an image in his head for the past six years. and to see you now, so vividly, it felt so real– it made his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

“what’s got you so smiley?” you giggled at his goofy smile as you walked further into his room. he remembered now, this had happened before. a full year before you died, the night of some halloween party, which explained the angel costume, coincidentally enough. he remembered how you had wanted to go with the witch costume, which sam had talked you out of— he hated witches.

“just happy to see you.” he found himself stuttering over his words trying to gather the right things to say. sam couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face even if he tried his hardest. he walked over to you and gently placed his hands on your waist that was covered with a sheer white fabric. leaning down, not once letting his eyes fall away from you, slowly connecting his lips to yours with anticipation. it was just as he remembered, your lips still soft and sweet. the distinctive taste of the chapstick you always wore he had been dreaming of for years.

your arms flat against his chest to playfully push him off.

“alright, loverboy. where's your costume?” you stood with your arms crossed waiting for an answer. he could only smile, this all felt so surreal. to feel your lips plush against his for the first time in forever, to taste the reminisce of your sweetness lingering on his own lips. he was so happy to see your face again, this time your eyes filled with light instead of terror. for years the scared expression you had before you died had haunted him.

“you know halloween isn’t my thing.” he finally spoke.

“yeah yeah, whatever,” you rolled her eyes in a toying manner. “you ready to go then?” you gestured to his current outfit. he had on what he had every time this memory would repeat in his dreams, the button up shirt that had the sleeves pushed up a little past his forearms and his jeans that hung the slightest bit low.

sam looked at you for a moment, his eyes falling over each and every one of your features before his gaze finally met your eyes again,

“mm’ not yet.” he hummed to himself with a low mumble.

he pulled you in by the waist once again, this time with more grip in his touch. one hand falling on the small of your back guiding you closer to his body. your hands glide up his toned chest and land on the back of his neck, you pull him down to you connecting your lips with his. the hand that laid on your back moved to the warmth of your cheek only pulling you further into the passionate kiss that was growing sloppy. your hands now in his soft brunette hair, playing with it gently in your fingers— including an occasional tug. his tongue slowly grazes over your plump lips, slightly parting your lips allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth ravenously. his hand slid onto your back as you arched closer into his needy touch, he kissed slowly along the soft skin of your neck. you tilted your head giving him additional access to more of your tender skin. taking your swollen bottom lip in between your teeth clenching your eyes shut at small tickling feeling of sam kissing up your neck.

he couldn’t help but tease the skin of your neck, abusing the sensitive bits of your skin that would make your breath hitch and your heart speed up a beat. sam was like a starved man in front of a perfectly plated meal, and he just couldn’t get enough. his hands wandered over your clothed body feeling more of your warm skin. reluctantly removing his lips from your skin, he gently tossed you onto the bed with a sense of urgency. immediately climbing on top of you, your hips slotted together perfectly. he left small kisses on your body occasionally sucking harshly on your skin. leaving a trail of small pecks as he made his way back up to your lips. his arm on the side of your head caging you in propped him up over your body, while his free hand rested beneath your back. his knee between your legs supported the rest of his larger body that covered yours entirely. the hand beneath your back now grazing over the fabric of your costume. he began slowly slipping the material over your shoulder as he kissed further down your neck and along your collarbone taking note of the spots that made you let out those cute little noises. his free hand pushing more of the costume material down your body, leaving your upper half in just that white lacy bra that he could never forget. he slowly slipped the straps from your shoulders, still kissing along your skin.

“this okay, pretty girl?”

he looked up at you with those beautiful hazel eyes. begging for your permission to go any further. he already knew what your answer was, he had relieved this moment time and time again in his head and his dreams, but he just needed to hear you say it— to listen to your sweet voice telling him to continue.

nodding frantically, you answered. “mhm, please keep going, sam.”

and that’s all he needed.

the underlying hints of sultry and desire in your voice made his mind foggy. his thoughts being taken over by the pure feeling of lust. your lips link together once again, like two magnets being pulled together. warmth coursed through his core as he deepened the kiss, his body ached for more. his fingers fumbled with the clasps of the white lacy bra that had been committed to his memory by now, he was quick to discard of it by tossing it to the floor. you simultaneously run your hands beneath his shirt against his toned torso urging him to lose the layer— which he happily did. quickly unbuttoning the buttons that lined his shirt then throwing it to wherever your bra had ended up. he pulled away to take in the image of you laying beneath him; your bare chest rising and falling at a quick pace, lips parted sucking in the cold air of the room. his legs now straddled over your frame, soaking in the moment with a growing smirk on his face. his coarse hands ran up and down your body appreciating every curve, the same hands that could be so violent, but were always gentle when it came to you.

lowering his head he began leaving small kisses against your chest all while taking your exposed breast into his big hand and massaging your tender skin. he hummed against your smooth skin as you played gently with his hair, urging you to continue combing your fingers through his hair. he ran his hands down your figure, pushing the material of your costume fully off your body and discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. you now laid beneath him, almost completely bare. the only thing that was covering you was the matching lacy panties that were decorated with a small bow on the hem.

you watched his own eyes trace the outline of your body, his eyes full of lust and desire. you return his gaze with a sense of anticipation in your eyes. his hands glide up your soft legs slowly parting them to make room for himself in the middle of them. he gently rests his hand on your knee as his other hand slides over your slit that was still clothed.

he notices the way your body shudders as he teased your sensitive core, and with no rush he slowly pushed your damp panties to the side. he then ran his two of his fingers between the slick of your folds. he watched you take your bottom lip in your mouth in an attempt to suppress the small whimpers that were on the tip of your tongue. slowly slipping his index finger into you with ease, he studied your reaction before he slipped his middle finger in along with the first one. your eyes fluttered open and closed as you felt this sudden feeling of pleasure. he leaned down connecting his lips to yours as his fingers continued to work inside of you.

he’d slowly pull his fingers out, then he’d quickly push them deeper in. repeating this process over and over, pumping deeper into you with more pace each time. his lips suppressing the moans that were dying to spill from your lips. your hands run up his bare back feeling his muscles flex as he pleasured you. his free hand connected with the small of your back as you arched further off the bed trying to get closer to the pleasure sam was giving you. he watched your eyes squint shut while you threw your head back letting out a few small whimpers that sent heat coursing through sam’s body. your hands fall down to the waist band of sam’s jeans that have failed to come off. your hands fumbling with the belt on his pants, your progress reset each time he’d push his fingers deeper into you. finally unbuckling his belt, you yanked the belt from the loops of his jeans and tossed it to the floor.

“sam, please..” you whimper his name, your voice hoarse. you begged him to take it further, you needed to feel him against you. and he’d do anything you asked for.

“please what, sweet girl?” he whispered close to your ear as he began teasing at your sensitive clit. he knew what you wanted, he just desperately wanted to hear you say it. to hear you beg to feel him deeper inside of you.

your hands gripped onto his flexed biceps in an attempt to pull yourself back down from this high. “need to feel you inside me.” your words came out broken and breathy from the pleasure he was not letting up on. your thoughts were scattered, barely able to finish one thought before you’d get distracted from the satisfaction you were feeling.

“yeah? i can do that for you, baby.”

he peppered kisses down your neck while he spoke to you, a tone of sultry in his voice. he once again leaned over your body and kissed your swollen lips, this kiss being more aggressive and hungry. the proximity made you feel how hard he was against your bare pussy. you squirmed beneath him as he slowly grinded against you. he finally sat up and began to unbutton his jeans, you eagerly watching as he pushed the waistband of his jeans and boxers down at the same time, then discarding them to the floor just like every other layer of clothing that had been shed. you bit down on your bottom lip, your gaze focused on his finally completely bare body. your eyes traced over his v-line, noticing each and every vein. he took his hard dick into his hand and guided over your wet slit, coating this tip of his cock in your slick. he slowly pushed himself into you, watching your face twist as he pushed further in.

“shit, you feel so good.. so tight.” he slurred against the crook of your neck.

you were boxed in beneath him, his forearm on the other side of your head keeping himself propped up above you while he left sloppy kisses down your jawline. when he finally bottomed out in you, he found your eyes with his own looking for approval to start moving. you nodded, looking at him through your lashes. he took a moment to take in the look on your face, committing the way you looked at him to memory. the way your eyes had been lit up pretty much the whole night, and how your lips looked so soft and plush.

“my beautiful girl.” he whispered to you, his voice low and almost hurt.

he had finally started to move inside you, pulling out just enough to push further in. repeating this movement over and over picking up pace with each thrust. your hands gripping on to his back, digging your nails into his toned back as you felt him push further into you. he went back to leaving sloppy wet kisses over your body as he continued to push deeper into you. your legs now wrapped around his waist trying to get even closer against him. the sound of skin slapping synchronized with the moans and breaths you’d let out.

as you felt yourself getting closer you felt a knot growing in your stomach, your eyes closing shut as a small tear fell down your cheek. sam’s thrusts grow increasingly more sloppy as your walls squeezed tight around his cock.

“s’close..” you moaned against his neck, your words were slurred and broken. he began to whisper strings of praise against the cuff of your ear. going on about how good you were taking him, trying to get you closer and closer to the edge. his thrusts not showing any signs of mercy as he continued to plunge deep into you.

“c’mon, cum f‘me pretty girl.”

you finally felt the pure bless of your release, letting out a loud breathy moans as a few tears stream down your face. at your release sam pulls himself out, and with his hand he strokes his cock over your body. within seconds he came, spurting out a stream of hot liquid onto your body, groaning as he squeezed the last few drops out.

his tired body falls next to yours after he had fetched a towel and cleaned you up. his back flat against the bed. the two of you laying next to each other sweaty and out of breath, now both of you under the covers of his bed. you cuddled up next to sam, tracing small circles over his chest as he looked up at the ceiling with his arm under his head.

seconds later the moment of peace was interrupted by the door flinging open, dean falling through. sam shooting up from his side of the bed. meeting eyes with dean, who immediately went to cover his eyes.

“jeez, you dirty dog.”

[kaleldobrev]

Never the Favorite

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Platonic Pairing: Sam Winchester & F. Reader

Summary: You finally try and set the record straight

Word Count: 844

Warnings: Cursing (1x)

Authors Note: Takes place during season one | Something that always got me, is whenever Sam said something along the lines of Dean being the favorite child. Like Sam, he wasn’t and it was pretty clear so that’s what I based this fic on | Let me know if you like the new way I have formatted | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It was another classic Sam and Dean argument — Sam telling Dean how he was never the favorite child growing up and how Dean actually was; and how much of a black sheep of the family Sam had felt because he didn't want to go into the family business. It was an argument and a sentiment that you were so used to hearing at this point that you could pretty much recite word for word their replies. The boys were starting to sound like broken records, and you and Dean had only picked up Sam from Stanford a few months ago.

You didn't want to get involved in their argument as you felt like it wasn't really your place, but there was a part of you that started to get annoyed with Sam, because you knew that Dean was never the favorite — Sam always was. You knew how hard Dean had tried over the years to try and get his father's approval, but it was approval that he would never be able to get, no matter how hard he tried. It killed you inside, because you loved Dean for who he truly was, not who he was pretending to be.

But because you had heard this argument so many times, you had told yourself that you were finally going to say something to Sam; to try and stop this argument once and for all.

Parking Baby and cutting the engine, Dean pulled out his wallet from the glove compartment, pulling out a crumpled up 20 that he won from a poker game a few nights ago. “Gonna grab some snacks. Either of you want anything?” He asked before turning to you. “Want your usual chocolate anything?”

You gave him a small smile. “Yes please. And orange soda if they have it.”

“Getting you the bottle this time. ‘Cause I don’t want another spilling incident like last time with the can,” he said, giving you a wink. “How about you?” He asked, turning to Sam.

“I’m good thanks,” Sam nodded, before pulling out his phone and promptly started checking his e-mail.

“Alrighty,” Dean said, getting out of the car. “Be back in ten.”

As soon as Dean was out of eyeshot and earshot, you sat up closer to the passenger side where Sam was, placing a hand on the back of the seat. “Hey, I know he’s your brother and the whole point of brothers is basically being assholes to each other but, I really need you to lay off the whole Dean being the favorite stuff.”

Sam turned to you, placing his phone in his lap; the look he gave you was of pure confusion. “But he is the favorite. Always has, always will be. I know you probably wouldn’t know that consider —”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you began, slight attitude in your voice. “I’ve been hunting with Dean and your father for about a year now, and let me tell you, I didn’t need to be around for your childhoods to know that you were and are still the very clear favorite.”

“Me? The favorite?” He scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

You rolled your eyes. “Did it ever occur to you why he’s so similar to your dad? Why he barely shows any of his actual interests around anyone but me? Dean wears his jacket, listens to the same music, says the same phrases.”

“But…that’s how Dean always has been," Sam stated. For as long as he could remember, that's always how he remembered Dean, being so similar to their father. Memories flashed before him, recalling numerous times where him and his father sang along to Zeppelin during one of their many insanely long car rides to Pastor Jim's, or how Dean would refuse to go anywhere without their father's leather jacket.

"You really know nothing about your brother do you?" You asked him, slight sadness and hurt entering your voice. You hadn't known for very long, but you had known him long enough for him to start letting you in and getting to know the real him, and not the facade he let everyone else believe. "The only reason Dean acts like your father is because in his mind, if he acts like him he'll get the approval he always wanted that you never had to try and get." You felt your blood start to boil. "So please stop with the fucking favorite argument okay? I'm sick and tired of it."

Sam was silent for a moment, as he's never seen you this angry before nor has he ever seen you this defensive of anyone. As much as he wanted to disagree with you, he knew that he couldn't because he clearly didn't know Dean the way that you did. He might of spent 18 years of his life on the road with him, but he didn't actually know him. "Okay," he finally said, slightly sighing.

"Just...don't tell Dean I said any of this to you okay?" You asked him, slightly patting his shoulder.

"Of course," he said, slightly smiling.

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[dianawinchester03]

The Beginning of Their Downfall: A Supernatural Series Rewrite Prequel Masterlist by @dianawinchester03

This book is dedicated to the childhood of Sam and Dean Winchester along with their best friend Y/N L/N. Both families lost their matriarch to devastating house fires. Sam and Y/N were just 6 months old at the times, while a 4 year old Dean witnessed not only one, but all two of his closest relatives diminish to nothing but ash.

The events in this books take place after the fires with John Winchester and F/N L/N struggling to raise their three kids meanwhile restarting the family business of which F/N had to reveal to John the dangers of the world, having been a hunter himself along with his wife, who was born from a lineage of psychics.

Prequel to The Old Testament Series: A Supernatural Series Rewrite (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Aftermath

First Kiss?

Makeover

Period.

Juvenile Delinquent

Juvenile Detention Center

Behind Bars….Again

Haircut

Legally Drunk

Senior Prom

The Rebel

The Runaway

Authors Note: I promise more will be coming soon, this is just the only few I’ve finished

Updates on this will be slower because I’m terrible at multitasking but in time I will finish it, promise.

Xoxo

[sammyslovergirl]

Sam Winchester Fingering You

𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: Sam fingering you

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 159

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: Fingering, Praise, Fem Reader, Dom Sam, Established Relationship, Porn Without Plot

𝔸/ℕ:

𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃 {𝟷𝟾+}

You're sitting on Sam's lap, your back on his chest, your legs spread open, Sam's left hand playing with your sensitive nipples. His right hand slips between your panties, and his middle finger slowly slides up and down your slippery folds.

"D-don't tease me Sam." You whined as you bucked your hips against his hand. "Always so needy for me sweetheart." You moaned as Sam's middle finger entered your tight cunt. Sam groaned as he felt your cunt sucking on his finger. Sam inserted another finger and started massaging your g spot. "Oh, S-Sam, I'm going to cum," you cried out. "Go ahead baby make a mess all over my fingers." Your back arched, while you moaned loudly as you came on Sam's fingers.

Sam removed his fingers from your cunt, and you complained about the absence of contact. "Good girl, you did so good for me baby," Sam muttered in your ear as he kissed your temple.

[imagineteamfreewill]

Powerful Magic

Title: Powerful Magic

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 13.7k

Warnings: Brief language, witches, magic/curses, frequent mentions of death and dying, crying, very light blood, angst, fluff

Summary: While on a witch hunt in Boston, Sam puts his life on the line to save Y/N. When he begins to suffer from the effects of the magic the next morning, they’re forced into an impossible situation with no way out. 

A/N: This is a commission for the lovely @park-simphwa. Thank you to them for giving me such a fun prompt to write, and thank you to everyone who supports me in a million other ways. As always, I hope you enjoy this story!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You aren’t expecting to run into anyone on the grocery run, least of all your old hunting partner, but life’s been throwing fireball after fireball at you lately, so you really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been years since you’ve seen Jason, and somehow he still looks exactly the same, maybe with a few more wrinkles and scars. His hair is still greasy and cropped close to his skull, and you can smell the cigarettes on him even from where you stand a few feet away. His boots are caked with dried mud that sprinkles across the tile of the grocery store every time he shifts his weight or takes a step to get out of someone’s way, which is often because he’s always been the type of guy that thinks of himself first and others second.

Smiling tightly, you yank your cart closer to the shelves of jarred salsa and bottles of colorful sodas to make room for people trying to get by, and you use that movement to look over your shoulder. There’s no sign of Sam or Dean.

Damnit.

“So, how’ve you been?” Jason asks. “You look good, Y/N.”

You nod. “Good, fine. How about you? Are you still…?” You don’t dare utter the words aloud, but Jason gets the hint. He nods.

“Still in pest control. It keeps me busy.” He grins, and you try not to grimace at the yellow tinge of his teeth. How had you ignored all of his red flags for so long? With the exception of your last hunt together, it’s not like Jason was necessarily a bad guy, he was just gross and inconsiderate. On top of the constant smoking, he always took too long to shower after coming back from hunts. You know for a fact that he only brushed his teeth once a week. Plus, you don’t remember ever seeing him do laundry, though logically, he’d done it at some point… Right? Or maybe you’d just gotten used to the stench.

“There you are,” Sam’s voice in your ear makes you shiver, but his hand on your lower back warms you right back up. “I was looking for you.” He pauses. “Who’s this?”

You glance up at him, smiling in relief. Sam doesn’t smile back. His face is a hard mask of protectiveness, one that you’re always grateful for, even if it’s being wasted. You know that he’s amping it up a little just because you were approached while he was out of sight. He’s always a little more protective when he thinks you’re getting hit on by some creep. You can’t count the number of times he’s pretended to be your boyfriend to help you avoid men hitting on you at the skeevy dive bars that you always seem to find after hunts. Part of you should be offended that he’s stepping in instead of letting you handle it yourself, but you know he doesn’t do it because he doesn’t think you’re capable. Sam does it because you shouldn’t have to fend them off on your own. You shouldn’t have to be in that position, but because you are, he’s not going to let you be there alone.

“This is Jason. He’s an old coworker, from before I joined up with you and Dean. Jason, this is my…”

You hesitate, instantly knowing that you shouldn’t. You and Sam are just friends. It doesn’t matter how badly you want to be more than that, or how easily the two of you fall into the rhythm of a fake relationship, both for a moment in the grocery store or for a week-long hunt. It doesn’t matter that Dean insists his younger brother likes you. It doesn’t matter what Sam said the one time you’ve seen him really, truly drunk. You’re just friends.

“—friend,” Sam finishes. He holds out his right hand, and his fierce expression has been replaced with a polite smile, though you can tell it’s fake. You know him well, but for a second, he almost looks a bit jealous. “Sam.”

Jason shakes his hand with both eyebrows raised. His smile had faded the second Sam approached, but now he seems uneasy. “Sam. And… Dean?” He glances between you and Sam. “As in…?”

You cut him off with a quick, “I’m so sorry, Jason, but we’re really cutting it close on time.” His mouth snaps shut and he has the decency to look chagrined. Anyone with any common sense in the hunting world knows not to name names, especially last ones. You never know who might be listening.

“She’s right. Dean’s waiting on us, and we’ve got to get back on the road. It was great meeting you,” Sam adds. “Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” His hand drops from the small of your back. You try not to let your disappointment show.

With one last smile and a promise to keep in touch, even though all three of you know that you won’t, you make a u-turn with the cart and walk with Sam toward the checkout lanes. He doesn’t say anything as the two of you unload the items onto the belt, nor does he say anything as the items are scanned and bagged. Your stomach churns as the tension crackles between you. Why had you hesitated? Why had you acted so weird? Had Sam really been jealous, or did you just imagine it?

Chill out, you think as you load the bags of groceries into the cart. Sam pulls out his wallet and swipes his latest fraudulent card, then takes the receipt. You watch out of the corner of his eye as he tucks the card into the left hand pocket, the one he reserves for cards he’ll need to ditch soon.

You’re going to make this worse if you don’t relax.

You follow him out to the Impala, pushing the cart slow enough that you won’t run into him if he stops. Dean is already leaning against the side of the car. He has an energy drink in one hand and his phone in the other. Whatever else he decided to buy has already been loaded into the trunk. He glances between you and Sam as you get closer, clearly sensing something is off, and you watch as he straightens and deposits his phone into the pocket of his jacket.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks.

Before you can answer, Sam nods. “Yeah, all good. They were out of the soup you wanted.”

Dean grumbles to himself and opens the trunk, then helps you unload the groceries. His three bags of purchases are already tucked into the back, and you’re careful not to load anything on top of them in case he bought something that could get squished. As you work, Sam goes around to the passenger side and takes his seat, shutting the door behind him.

“What happened?” Dean asks you. He rearranges some of the bags you’ve put onto the trunk’s false bottom. Though there’s plenty of noise to talk over in the busy parking lot, he keeps his voice quiet enough that Sam won’t be able to hear it through the backseat. 

You don’t meet his eyes. “Nothing. Just ran into an old partner of mine, that’s all.”

“Partner?” You can feel his gaze on you, and your cheeks grow warm.

“Not like that,” you huff. “We were just… partners. For a while, it could have been something else, but it never happened.”

“Why not?”

Unloading the last bag, you glance up at the storefront, where Jason is exiting. He’s only got two bags in hand, but there’s a six-pack of beer tucked under his arm. He already has a cigarette tucked between his lips. Dean looks past you and grunts a little.

“If that’s him, I can see why.”

“Be nice,” you tell him.

“Was he at least a good guy?” 

You shrug. “He wasn’t bad. Just kinda gross, that’s all.”

Dean grabs your arm before you can walk away with the cart. You look back at him, and he’s watching you with the same protective glint in his eye that Sam had inside the store.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Did he say something to you in there?”

“No. That’s not why it was weird.”

“I gotta know if something happened, Y/N. If I’m gonna ride in the car with the two of you—”

“I hesitated, okay?” you answer, yanking yourself free from his grip. Your cheeks are definitely hot now, and it’s not the sun. It’s still cloudy from last night’s storm. “I went to introduce Sam and I hesitated.”

Dean is staring at you like you’ve just broken into song. “You hesitated?”

Sighing, you look up at the clouds, willing yourself not to be so embarrassed by this. It shouldn’t be this big of a deal. 

“Yes, I hesitated. Instead of just saying that his name was Sam, I said, ‘This is Sam, my….’” You gesture with the hand not holding the cart, letting the unfinished sentence hang in the air.

His face twists. “Oh. Rookie move, Y/N.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“So what did you end up saying?” Dean asks.

“I didn’t. Sam finished and said he was my friend.”

“And you want to be more than friends.”

“I didn’t say that,” you quickly reply, but you look away, and your cover is ruined.

“Why don’t you believe me when I tell you that he likes you? You two are driving me insane. I’m going to lose my mind before we ever get to Boston if this keeps up.”

You roll your eyes and head towards the cart corral, then push the cart in with the others. Dean’s already in the driver’s seat by the time you start walking back, and he starts pulling out of the spot as soon as you have the back door shut. Sam doesn’t say anything. You cast him a quick glance, but that’s all you risk as you settle into your usual spot with the book he’s loaned you. It isn’t one you’re particularly interested in, but you’ve traded books for the trip. You’re fairly certain that you got the short end of the stick. Despite the years of friendship under your belt, he never takes your book suggestions. Then again, you don’t take his.

The universe finally takes mercy on you, and the rest of the drive to Boston goes by faster than expected. You have one overnight stay in a motel, but the boys decide to get two rooms instead of one, so you get a queen size bed and the bathroom all to yourself. 

Once in Boston, you check in to a second motel, then head out to get your bearings. The person who sent the information to Dean had only given you the address for the hotel where the witch is supposedly hiding out, plus the names of two of the victims. Sam decides to look at some old, non-digitized records of the hotel, so you go with him, knowing that if you go with Dean, you’ll most likely end up at the morgue. You’re not really in the mood for a dead body. You’ll take an afternoon with your best friend over that any day, even if your best friend is currently giving you the cold shoulder.

You’re in one of the reservable rooms at the library, looking over the papers and logbooks spread out over the table, when Sam finally brings up the grocery store incident.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you look up from the patron log you’ve been carefully sorting through.

“Yeah, why?” You try not to seem surprised that he’s asking, considering he hasn’t said much of anything to you since you left the grocery store over 24 hours ago.

“You’ve been quiet since we ran into Jason.”

You shrug a little and look back down at the page, then flip it over to look at the names listed on the back. “I’ve been reading the book you loaned me.”

“It’s not that,” he says. “This is your ‘I made a mistake’ quiet.”

Not knowing how to answer, you keep your eyes on the book in front of you. Sam stares at you, and you can feel him watching you as you gingerly turn the page again.

“I don’t want to press—”

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” you finally say, still not looking up. It’s the truth, even if it’s not the whole truth. “It just… caught me off guard, that’s all. It’s not every day you run into someone that almost got you killed, you know? And then I was flustered when I introduced you, and I panicked. I was worried that maybe you were offended because I got all tongue-tied.”

He’s quiet for a second. You risk a glance in his direction, only to find that Sam is already watching you.

“What?” you ask. You fidget with the corner of the paper for a second, and then you have to force yourself to release it before you damage the time-worn parchment. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—”

“No, that’s not it,” Sam interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not offended, Y/N. I don’t think you could ever offend me.”

The tension between you breaks, and you grin at him. “Oh yeah? Not ever?”

He laughs and pulls his laptop over to where he’s sitting. “Well, maybe if you—”

“No, you can’t take it back now!” you laugh. You scoot your chair closer to his, closing the palpable gap that had been left between you. Sam shifts his stuff to make room for you, and you smile wide, happy to have your friend back. You try to ignore the way your heart leaps into your throat for a brief moment after his hand brushes yours.

You continue researching, but only a couple minutes have passed before Sam clears his throat and speaks up again.

“So, you and Jason,” he starts, and you close the logbook. There’s nothing useful in it and you add it to the growing pile of books you’ve finished.

“What about me and Jason?”

“Were you ever… together?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Like, dating?” Sam nods and you grab another book, not wanting to look at him when you answer, “Yeah, for a little while, right before we split.”

“Ah.”

“Mm-hmm.” You open the book, silently hoping he doesn’t ask any more questions about Jason. The two of you have never really talked about any of your past partners. It’s a sore subject for Sam, so you’ve respected the territory, even though you’ve come dangerously close on a few occasions. You usually don’t mind, considering you’d have to lie if he asked if you were interested in dating, and he can always tell if you’re lying.

“You said he almost got you killed,” Sam says, his voice a little softer. His fingers stall over his laptop keyboard, and the screen goes black.

You look up from the book and he’s watching you carefully, gauging your reaction. He knows how hard it can be to discuss the past, and you’re in public. It’s not exactly the safest place for a hunter heart-to-heart. These kinds of conversations are best held in the bunker, or late at night in a motel room.

After a second, you nod. “Yeah. He… He used me as bait, and I didn’t know that was the plan. And then, while he was waiting for them to approach me, he got drunk. He showed up much, much later than he should have.”

You have to look away and swallow the lump in your throat. Under the table, Sam finds your hand and squeezes. 

“I promise to never do that to you,” he tells you, with such conviction that tears spring up in your eyes.

You squeeze his hand in return, blinking quickly to clear your vision. “I know.”

“I will always keep you safe, Y/N. You know that, right?”

Nodding, you look up and take a steadying breath, then smile a little. Sam’s expression doesn’t change. He’s not smiling back at you. Instead, he’s staring at you with an unmatched ferocity, and your smile fades.

“I know,” you gently reply. “I’ve never doubted that.”

You and Sam stare at each other for a long few moments. The other patrons in the library continue to go about their business, and he holds your hand under the table until his phone chimes loudly and several people look over. Sam pulls away first, reaching for the phone. You turn back to the book, feeling like a rug’s been pulled out from underneath your feet. 

What was that all about?

You and Sam have spent countless hours alone together, even going so far as to pose as a couple on a hunt, but it’s never felt like this before. He’s never been so adamant that you know he cares about you and your safety, and he’s never asked about your past love life. Sam’s a passionate guy, too, but you rarely see this side of him. His passion is normally directed toward hunts, or toward the academic subjects and topics he studies in his free time.

“Dean’s got a lead,” Sam relays, staring at the message on his phone. He texts back a response as you nod and begin to pack up. He puts his phone away and starts to help, and you finish cleaning up together, bumping elbows and hands as you stack the materials the way they’d come. Sam carries them back to the circulation desk before you can offer to help, leaving you to follow behind. You don’t mind.

As soon as the three of you are together again, Dean drives to the abandoned hotel and parks in an alley, far enough back from the street that you won’t be easily seen. You unload the guns and witch-killing bullets while they compare notes. You listen in silence as you load all three weapons. The whole thing sounds very straightforward.

“Ready?” Sam asks, and you nod, holding out his gun. He takes it and gives it a quick once-over before nodding his approval. Dean does the same.

You decide to head into the hotel through the old maintenance entrance. The two victims had been found just outside the door, and you quickly discover that it was the right choice. Dean taps on your shoulder only a minute after you enter the building, then points at a bookshelf half-full of spell ingredients. Jars of all shapes and sizes hold everything from small animal bones to a shimmering blue liquid that reminds you of the “potions” you would make using various soaps and shampoos as a kid. It’s one of the few memories you and Sam have in common from your childhoods, though you made yours at your house and his toiletries came from a long string of motels. 

There’s another tap on your shoulder and you glance behind you at Sam, who gestures to your left with his gun. You turn down the hallway, following the sound of shuffling that you hadn’t heard before. It gets louder as you get closer, and then the person begins to chant. Her voice is deep and rich, and without realizing it, you’re lowering your gun. All you want to do is listen. The Latin is almost melodic.

“What are you doing?” Dean hisses. He pulls you away from an open doorway by the collar of your jacket. You stumble and blink at him.

“She okay?” Sam whispers. 

“I have to…” You struggle to voice the burning desire inside of you, the little voice in your head telling you to find the witch. Deep down, you know that it’s dangerous and that you’re being affected by whatever spell she’s performing, but your hands move of their own accord, pushing the boys out of your way. 

Stop! You have to fight this, you think, but it’s as if your conscience is behind a thick glass pane. Your own thoughts feel muffled and far away. They’re useless against the effects of the witch’s magic.

Sam reaches for you, and you dodge him as you duck into the next room of the hotel. It’s an old ballroom with high, vaulted ceilings. A dusty chandelier with cracked crystal pendants hangs precariously over the center of the patterned dance floor, and cobwebs are strung up in every corner. Broken tables and chairs are pushed against one wall, and boarded up windows separate you from the garbage-littered street outside. A balcony winds around two of the walls, with the staircase behind the witch. The banister is made of marble columns and a dark wooden handrail coated with a thin layer of dust. Lit candles litter the floor, and beneath the chandelier, the witch stands surrounded by metal bowls of ingredients and a sigil painted in white.

She reaches out a hand for you when you enter. You’re in a daze, and as your feet carry you closer to her, your gut churns. Something inside you is screaming—every hunter’s instinct you have is telling you to lift your gun and shoot, but you reach down and place your weapon on the dusty tile instead. 

Chanting louder, the witch’s eyes begin to glow a vibrant red. An aura around her does the same, and your breath hitches at the sight. 

This is wrong!

She smiles then, beckoning you with her fingers, and the sudden onset of nerves dissipates. You smile back, taking another step. 

“Y/N!”

Dean’s voice makes you blink, and you flinch when a gunshot goes off behind you. It hits the banister behind the witch. Her volume increases again, reeling you back in as she pulls a thin, jagged knife from a sheath at her hip. Letters etched onto the blade glow red as well, and your eyes are drawn to it. Your mouth feels dry as you shuffle forward, entirely focused on the weapon in her hand.

“That’s it,” the witch coos, now finished with the incantation. “It’s alright, dear one.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Another shot rings out, but it sounds far away as you step closer. You’re almost to the edge of the sigil. Two more steps and you’ll be within her reach.

Someone grabs your arm, yanking you backwards. She screams a horrible scream, one that makes you shudder and cringe as an arm winds around your stomach, pulling you even further away. Your feet drag across the floor and you cling to the arm of whoever’s holding you. You’re torn between fighting them and letting yourself be rescued, but then the glow from the witch’s eyes fade. You gasp for air, feeling her hold on you relax.

“Dean,” you croak. You can’t see his face, but the feel of his jacket against your palms is familiar and comforting. Your throat feels raw, as if you’ve been screaming for hours. You go to say something, to warn him that her spell is almost finished, when the red light concentrates at her fingertips. “Dean!” 

There’s a flash of red. You close your eyes, turning your head away as Dean pulls you harder against him and whirls around so his back is toward the witch. Over the witch’s shout, you hear Sam yell something, and then there’s a heavy thud.

“Sammy!” Dean releases you, cursing, and you fall to your hands and knees. 

You yelp when you hit the floor. Your bones immediately ache from the impact, and you stay there for a minute. You know that you’ve messed up. Guilt blooms in the center of your chest and tears well up in your eyes. You feel weak and, for a second, violated. You should’ve been able to resist the witch’s magic.

Get it together, you silently order. You have to focus. You can feel bad after you kill her.

“Y/N!”

Looking over, you see Dean crouching beside his brother, who’s laid out on his side. Sam’s eyes are closed and your chest tightens.

“Sam!” you cry, and you scramble over to where he lays just outside the witch’s sigil.

Dean rolls him onto his back, and you kneel beside him, cradling his face in both hands as you search for any sign of life.

“Sam? Sam, wake up,” you plead.

“He’s still breathing,” Dean tells you. “She knocked him out with whatever that was.”

“Please, Sam. Please, open your eyes.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding, and you’re crying by the time he inhales sharply through his nose and blinks his eyes open. They immediately focus on you.

“Thank God,” you sob, and you throw yourself on top of him, hugging him tightly. Sam’s hand comes up to pat at your back.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

Sam grunts and winces as you pull back to look at him. “I think so,” he says after a second. “Did you get her?”

You shake your head and take a shaky breath, wiping at your cheeks and eyes. You sniffle for good measure, then say, “She got away, but she hit you with something. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

He shakes his head back at you, then closes his eyes. “It’s not your fault. She was more powerful than we thought,” he tells you. With his eyes still closed, he feels for your hand. He squeezes it when he finds it, and you squeeze back, just like you had in the library.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean asks. “You hit the floor pretty hard.”

“Just give me a minute.”

After several minutes, Sam slowly sits up. You and Dean help him to his feet, and then the three of you make your way back through the hotel to the car. Sam seems mostly himself on the drive back to the motel, but you’re on edge. You watch him carefully, cataloging anything that’s even slightly out of character.

“We’ll have to keep you awake tonight, make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Dean says as he sheds his jacket. He throws it over the back of one of the dining chairs.

“I definitely have a headache,” Sam replies. He moves slowly and stiffly, and you don’t blame him. You’ve been thrown to the floor dozens of times. It never hurts any less.

“I’ll take first shift,” you tell Dean. “Clean up and get some rest.”

He nods and heads into the bathroom while you help Sam get settled on the bed. You take his jacket from him, carefully noting how he winces when he moves his right shoulder, and drape it over the second chair.

“It’s a good thing we’re friends,” Sam says. He takes off his socks and shoes, then positions the pillows behind him so he can sit up against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Huh?” Your heart skips a beat. What’s he talking about?

“It would really suck staying up with me,” he clarifies. “If we weren’t friends, that is.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You smile a little before plugging in your phone. “You want some water?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

You freeze, fiddling with the lid of the ice bucket. You’ve got your back to him, so he can’t see the way you close your eyes, but he’s caught on to your lingering guilt much sooner than you hoped he would. You were hoping that Dean would at least be asleep before you had to have this conversation.

“I’m fine,” you answer. You grab the bucket and turn, giving him a forced smile. “Just tired. I’m gonna go get some ice.”

Sam swings his legs back over the side of the bed. He tries to hide his wince, but you catch it. You always do.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“You already took your shoes off.”

“What’s a little tetanus between friends?” He smiles at you and stands. You step closer, ready to steady him if needed. He’s fine, however, and he takes the ice bucket from you before gesturing toward the door.

Unable to argue, you lead him outside. The two of you walk in silence until you hear the door click shut. You’re already several rooms down, but the motel is larger than most, and the only working ice machine is in the tiny vending machine room at the far end of the building.

“What happened back at the hotel?” Sam asks.

You know he won’t judge you, but you keep your gaze forward. You don’t want to see his expression.

When you haven’t replied after passing several rooms, he gently asks, “Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you finally admit, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets. You’re glad you kept it on. There’s a receipt in one of the pockets and you crush it into a ball as you continue, “Whatever spell she was doing… It’s like it was directed at me. I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late, but by then I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t control myself. I was just—”

You inhale sharply and stop walking, looking up at the dilapidated roof covering the motel walkway. You’re blinking away tears again, and you hate how weak you feel. 

“It’s not your fault,” he says. He moves to stand in front of you, blocking the sun as it sets over the motel parking lot. “She was more powerful than we anticipated.”

Sniffling, you cross your arms over your chest and stare at one of the support columns off to the side. “I know.”

“You’re still you,” Sam says.

“What?”

“You’re still you,” he repeats. “No matter how her magic affected you, you’re still you. You’re not any less strong or smart or tough than you were before we went into that building.”

Tears truly well up at his words and you look up again, letting out a weak chuckle. “How is it that you know exactly what to say?” You wipe at your eyes and take a shaky breath to try and steady yourself.

When you finally meet his gaze, Sam answers, “Because I know you better than anyone else, and because I’ve been where you are. And you know what you told me the last time I was doubting myself because of all the crap I’ve been through?”

You sniffle and force a wobbly smile, remembering the late-night conversation you’d had months ago after he’d had a particularly awful nightmare. “That you’re still you,” you repeat. “And that we’ll always be friends, no matter what.”

Sam smiles back. After a second, he tilts his head to the side, toward the door to the vending machine room. You nod and start walking again, and he falls into step beside you. The silence that settles between you is comfortable again, and the knots in your stomach have loosened with his reassurance.

You get back to the room to find Dean already asleep, face-down on the bed. Sam climbs back into bed as well, and you fill up both your and his water bottles with ice water. He takes it with a silent, grateful smile. You slide under the covers beside him, intent on researching the witch on your laptop while he reads on his phone. You probably should yell at him for staring at a screen with a possible concussion, but you both know that he’s had so many that a few hours in front of a screen won’t kill him at this point.

Dean wakes up a few hours later and switches places with you. Though you know you should probably shower before you sleep, resting up is more important if you’re going to find the witch sooner rather than later.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean. Just tired.”

“Maybe you should hang tight for today, try and get some sleep while Y/N and I do a little more research.”

You blink your eyes open and immediately squint. Dean must have every light in the motel room on. You swear he does it to spite you, and you groan in protest.

“Good morning to you too,” he teases, stepping into your line of vision.

You throw a pillow at him, and Dean catches it with one hand, laughing. You grunt and push yourself up with one hand, using the other to rub at your eyes.

“How’d you sleep?” Sam asks.

Yawning, you start to answer, but you stop as soon as you see him. Sam looks awful. His skin is pale and drawn, and the bags under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen. He gives you a weak smile.

“We’re heading to the diner down the street for breakfast,” he says. “You wanna come with?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean replies. He pulls on his jacket and digs the keys out of his pocket. “Except back to bed.”

You sit up a little more, frowning. “You sure you’re not sick?” you ask Sam. “I mean, I’ve seen you when you’re tired, but you look…”

“Like he’s been hit with a spell,” finishes Dean. “I’ve already told him that, but he says that the witch didn’t say anything when she hit him with that freaky red light.”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam says. He stands from the side of the bed, but he instantly starts to sway. You’re on your feet in a split-second, steadying him with a hand on his arm.

“Maybe you should stay here,” you quietly suggest. You glance over at Dean, who holds up his hands.

“I’ll be in the car,” Dean tells you, and you nod. 

You and Sam stand in silence until Dean’s gone and the door shuts behind him. Then, you look at him with as stern a look as you can muster having just woken up.

“Be honest.”

“I’m tired.”

“Sam.”

He sighs.

“Sam.”

“I’m… exhausted. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this tired in my life, and I want to sleep, but I’m scared,” he admits.

Your eyebrows push together as you frown even harder, and you guide him to sit beside you on the edge of his bed. “Why are you scared?”

“The witch didn’t say anything when she hit me with whatever it was, but we also know that her magic was strong enough to affect you from several rooms away,” Sam says. “If she did something to me, we have no clues as to what it is.”

You hum a little, mulling over his words for a second before looking over at him. “What if I gave Rowena a call? Had her come check you over, see if there’s any kind of lingering effect we haven’t seen yet?”

Sam takes a deep breath, then exhales and shakes his head. “We already owe her.”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay. You’re my best friend, Sam. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Because I wouldn’t know what to do without you. Those words go unspoken, but you hope he hears them regardless.

Nodding, Sam replies, “Okay. Okay. I’ll… I’ll give her a call.”

“No, I’ll do it. You should rest. I’ll keep an eye on you,” you assure him. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, Sam.”

He smiles just a little bit, though you can tell it’s only for your sake. “You always do.”

You get up to grab your phone from where you’d left it charging, and Sam slowly lays back on the bed. As you type out a text to Rowena, you try to remember if the witch really hadn’t said something, or if you’ve just forgotten it.

“I’m gonna text Dean and let him know to go ahead without me. Do you want him to get you anything?” you ask. He doesn’t reply. “Sam? Did you hear—”

Turning, you stop when you see Sam has his eyes closed. For a second, you worry that he’s dead, and you hold your breath as you wait to see his chest move. When it does, you exhale heavily.

He’s okay, you reassure yourself. He’s going to be just fine.

You shoot a quick text to Dean with your order, plus a few things that Sam might want, and Rowena replies as soon as you’re done. She’s nearby. 

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully. Sam sleeps for an hour or so at a time. Every time he wakes, he looks more tired than before, and the smaller-than-usual meals he eats don’t seem to help him at all. It’s hard to tell since he’s been in bed most of the day, but when he gets up around dinnertime, he looks thinner. 

Dean’s pacing the length of the room by the time Rowena shows up at the door, and you’re in even worse condition. You’re pretty sure that if she’d shown up any later, he might actually have relented and taken Sam to a hospital. You caught a glimpse of his phone when he passed by and he had the directions already open on his maps app.

Rowena stands beside the bed and moves her hands over Sam’s chest. He’s awake now, and he stares straight up at the ceiling as she works. A soft glow emanates from her palms, but as you watch from a few feet away, it strengthens, turning from golden to crimson to a vibrant purple.

“Well?” Dean asks. He shifts in place by the small dining table. His fingers twitch and he makes a fist with one hand. “Is he alright?”

She drops her hands and turns to face the two of you. Sam sits back up against the headboard, and you glance over at him. His eyes are bloodshot, as if he hasn’t slept in days. You’ve seen him look like this before, but it’s never been this concerning. He’s never managed to look this ragged so quickly.

“It’s a siphoning curse,” she explains, adjusting the jacket she’s wearing over her black jumpsuit. 

“Siphoning?” Dean questions. “Siphoning what?”

“Life.”

You suck in a breath. It’s cold against your teeth, and Sam meets your eyes. There’s recognition in them, and not in a good way. A lump forms in your throat as you turn back to Rowena.

“Life?” you ask her. “But… Then…”

“I’ll die,” Sam finishes.

You blink. Your eyes burn and you frantically shake your head, taking a deep breath. Inside your chest, your lungs stutter as you try to compose yourself.

“No,” Dean says, shaking his head. “No. There’s got to be a way.”

Rowena purses her lips a little. She clearly knows more, and you take a step forward, clenching both hands into fists.

“Tell us,” you demand. “Tell us!”

You don’t mean to scream—you really don’t—but it just comes out. Dean reaches for you, grabbing your arm and looking toward the door with wide eyes as he listens for a response from anyone nearby who might have heard. Rowena doesn’t react. Swallowing thickly, you look from her to Sam, who has his eyes downcast and his hands folded in his lap. If you didn’t know any better, you might think he was sleeping, but the way he grimaces as you yank your arm from Dean’s tells you that he’s awake and listening.

Your throat feels raw and you swallow again. “How long?” you croak. 

“A week, at most,” Rowena adds. “It’s likely he will be unconscious for the last few days. It takes a lot of energy to stay awake, and his body will try to conserve as much as it can before it fully shuts down.”

Dean mutters a curse and shakes his head again. “No. There has to be a way. A counter-curse?”

Rowena shakes her head, and this time, her expression is almost apologetic. “I’m afraid not. Whoever cast this spell is very powerful, and it would take extremely powerful magic to reverse the curse.”

You look from her, to Sam, to Dean, and then finally back at her. Rowena is the most powerful witch you know.

“Can you reverse it?”

“I’m sorry, dear,” she replies, meeting your gaze. Her lips press together in a sad smile. It’s the first show of genuine emotion you’ve seen from her, and it’s not enough. “But this is beyond even me.”

“And if we killed her?” Dean asks.

“It won’t have an effect. You still need the magic to reverse it. Not even the caster herself can reverse this particular curse once it’s taken hold.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Go home,” Sam finally says. It’s so quiet that you almost miss it in your hurry to ask about recruiting another witch to help you, but you stop with your mouth open. Sam opens his eyes and sighs softly. “We go home.”

“Bullshit. I’m not taking you home just so you can die!”

“Dean. Enough. You heard what she said.”

Rowena looks between Sam and Dean. After a moment, she says, “I need a moment alone with Samuel here.”

Immediately, Dean is on guard. He straightens up, standing tall as he stares her down with enough ire that you want to shirk back, and you’re not even on the receiving end of his glare.

“I might be able to give him some more time,” she gently adds. With more confidence than you think you could muster if you were in her shoes, she places a hand on Dean’s arm and takes one step forward, guiding him toward the door.

“One of us stays,” Dean answers, nodding his chin in your direction. 

Rowena nods, agreeing, “Y/N is welcome to stay, but you have a habit of riling him up. Big brothers always have a way of doing that, in my experience.”

“I need to know what you’re doing before you do it. No funny business,” he adds.

She nods again and gestures with one hand to the door. “Let’s talk outside.”

You stand by the dresser, watching as she leads Dean out of the room. He exits with one last look over his shoulder at Sam, but Rowena pacifies his worries with words too quiet for you to hear. She gives you a strange look before she follows him out and closes the door behind them.

You stare at the door for a second, then at the window adjacent. The white horizontal blinds have gaps in them after years of use, and you’re able to see Dean, then Rowena, as they move to the side to talk. Eventually, they walk away, most likely to the Impala for spell ingredients. Sam’s been keeping a small travel case in the trunk for the past year or so, especially since you’ve been away from the bunker more and more often.

As you wait for them to return, your gaze drifts back to Sam. He’s watching you.

“What?” you ask after a second.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” You wipe your cheeks with both hands, unsurprised that there are tears you hadn’t initially registered. “I probably look a mess right now.”

“Not any more than me, I’m sure,” he replies with a wry smile. You both fall silent for a minute before he continues, “You’re gonna be okay, you know.”

“What?” Your voice cracks. You hate it.

“Without me.”

You inhale through your nose and push your hair back, doing anything to keep your hands busy. “Don’t— Don’t talk like that. Rowena said she might be able to give you more time. We’ll find something, Sam. You’re not going to die.”

“I was going to die eventually. Everyone does.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” he asks.

You look up at the ceiling, staring for a few seconds at the circular brown water stain that stretches several feet into the room. You’re lucky it hasn’t rained in Boston since you arrived, judging by the darkness of the stain. The dark brown is unchanging, but it’s not enough to steady yourself.

“I don’t want to live without you,” you finally say, your voice trembling.

Sam doesn’t answer, and when you look down at him, he’s wiping tears from his own face. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look truly upset since Rowena broke the news.

Maybe it’s just finally settling in, you think.

His chest shudders as he takes a breath and it’s enough to propel you forward, to move you to his side. You stand beside the bed, staring down at him until he reaches for your hand. He grabs it with more strength than he’s shown all day and you suck in a sharp breath, tears welling up in your eyes all over again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sam,” you whimper, and you use your free hand to wipe them away, but he shakes his head. He pulls you down until you’re sitting on the opposite side of him. Your legs are draped over his and your feet dangle over the edge of the bed. You lean against his shoulder and start to cry in earnest, and Sam holds you. He doesn’t ask you to stop, and for that, you’re grateful.

Your cries have petered out by the time Rowena and Dean come back into the room. You can’t bear to make eye contact with them as they return, so you stare at where Sam is holding your hand atop your knees. Besides letting out the occasional sniffle, you simply listen as Rowena explains her plan to help extend Sam’s life. It’s a complex spell, one you’ve never heard of. She claims it will only add a few days, essentially putting off the point where he’ll become comatose, but it’s more hope than you had before. Sam asks questions about the ingredients and the text and the magic, which Rowena answers somewhat impatiently. Dean is strangely quiet.

“You’ll have to move for the spell, dear,” Rowena gently instructs.

Nodding, you clumsily pull your legs from Sam’s lap and move to roll off the other side of the mattress, but Sam grabs your hand before you get too far. You look back at him, confused.

“Stay,” he says. “Please.”

After a second, you nod again, then settle against the headboard beside him. Sam carefully lays down on his back. He rests one arm in the space between his body and the edge of the bed, but he takes your hand with the other. You rub your thumb over his as Rowena takes her place on the other side of him and begins to mix the spell in the small copper bowl they’ve retrieved from the Impala.

She chants, her eyes glowing purple, and Sam squeezes your hand with a grunt. His grip is almost bone-crushing and it takes everything in you not to yelp.

Stay strong, you urge yourself. He can’t help it.

The glow of Rowena’s eyes grows so bright it’s blinding. You look away, closing your eyes and gritting your teeth as Sam squeezes your hand even tighter, but then suddenly, he releases you.

You open your eyes and look over to see him passed out beside you. The purple light is fading and your heart leaps into your chest.

“Sam?” 

“Sam!” Dean cries. He pushes Rowena backwards onto the other bed and pulls his gun on her. “What the hell did you do to him?”

She holds up her hands in defense as you shake Sam by the shoulder, then pat his cheek. “Your precious brother will be fine,” she soothes, a small smile on her face. “The spell takes some time to activate, like I told you. He’ll look better when he’s awake again.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you? Just like that?” Dean gestures a little with the gun, but it stays pointed in her direction.

Rowena scoffs. “Don’t forget that you came to me, Dean Winchester. You already owe me for the spell.”

You’re gentle as you check to make sure Sam’s still breathing. He is and you sit back on your feet.

“She’s right,” you say. “He’s still breathing.”

Raising an eyebrow, Rowena stares Dean down until he lowers the gun. She gives him a satisfied smile when he reluctantly tucks it back into his waistband, then stands and dusts off her hands. 

“Now,” she sighs, smoothing the wrinkles in her jumpsuit from where Dean had shoved her. “I believe some payment is in order.”

Dean turns around to look at you. For a second, you stare at each other, and you have the brief thought that he might do something stupid, or crazy, or both, but then he grits his teeth and his jaw clenches. That’s when you know that he’s fighting the urge to pull his gun back out. The only reason he hasn’t is because Sam’s life is already on the line. One bad choice could lead to Rowena casting another curse on him.

“Go,” you quietly urge. “I’ve got him.” You nod in encouragement, and Dean returns it with one terse nod of his own.

You carefully move Sam’s hands to rest on his stomach, then sit beside him as Dean leads Rowena back out to the Impala. Whatever he’s giving her as recompense for the spell, it must be valuable, because he comes back in with clenched fists and muttering curses under his breath. He begins to pace the length of the room again. You don’t interrupt. Your chest aches and an empty feeling grows as you think of what life will be like if you can’t save Sam. Dean’s jaw is still clenched, and you know he’s doing the same.

“We—” He stops by the door to the bathroom, lifting a hand, but he drops it back down by his side. “Y/N, we have to find something.” His voice breaks and a lump forms in your throat, just as tears form in Dean’s eyes.

You nod. “I know.”

“We’ll— I’ll give Jody a call, and Garth. Maybe they’ll know of another witch that can help us.”

You look down at Sam and inhale shakily. With one hand, you adjust the sleeve of Sam’s t-shirt.

“I’m gonna take him home,” you tell Dean, not looking up.

“What?”

“He said he wanted to go home. I’m gonna take him home.”

“Like hell you are!”

Finally, you look up and meet Dean’s eyes. You have to take a second to breathe when you see him. You’ve been with Dean Winchester for plenty of hunts, but he’s never looked this afraid. He’s a man that laughs in the face of danger, not one whose hands tremble when he thinks about his brother dying.

“We have to try, Y/N,” Dean says, and he’s staring at you with eyes so wild that you find yourself gripping the motel sheets crumpled beside you. “I can’t just let him die. Not like this.”

You have no response. Dean will just argue if you try to reason with him, but you know that Sam isn’t one to prolong the inevitable. It doesn’t matter how terrified of a future without him you are. If he’s made his peace with it, then you need to consider doing the same.

Even if it kills me too, you think.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Okay.”

Dean swallows thickly, then nods once. “I’ll start calling. See what I can find.” He’s just looking for a reason to leave the room so you can’t see past his hardened exterior, and you both know it, but you don’t argue. 

You stare at the edge of the bed, just behind where he’d been standing, as he starts to leave. He’s made it to the door when you lift your head and look over at him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Someone needs to be in the bunker. It’s better if he goes with me than with you.” Before he can argue, you continue, “What if you need to check something against one of the books? Or if you need an ingredient we don’t keep in the car? What’s your plan then? Sam knows both the library and the storage rooms better than both of us combined, and he’ll be able to rest when he needs it. Plus, if I need to, I can try and recreate the spell Rowena cast to give him extra time.”

Dean is quiet for a minute, but you see him nod through the gaps in the metal floral divider that separates the door from the rest of the room.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Then you two should get going. The sooner you’re there, the better.”

You’d driven together in the Impala, but it doesn’t take long for Dean to hotwire a car from the farthest row of the motel parking lot. The backseat is, mercifully, big enough for Sam to lay down without being at too strange an angle. You and Dean drag him from the room to the car together. You’re lucky that it’s getting dark and no one is out to watch the ordeal.

Dean loads your backpack and Sam’s duffel into the trunk. Then, he sends you off with a simple, “Drive safe,” and a hug. He holds you a little longer than normal, but you’re not opposed. It’s nice to know that you’re not alone in this.

The drive is uneventful. Sam sleeps for most of the night. He only wakes up a few times during the day for food and bathroom stops, and though he looks better since Rowena’s spell, he’s lost muscle mass and he still looks exhausted. You have to support him on the walk across the street to the motel the following night, but he falls asleep again almost as soon as he’s in bed. His sleep seems to be dreamless, and for that, you’re thankful.

You, on the other hand, don’t sleep much. You probably should, considering you haven’t slept in 24 hours, but your brain won’t turn off. You spend most of that night awake, listening to Sam breathe, texting Dean about his progress, and doing what research you can online. At some point you actually do fall asleep, and you wake to the sound of Sam stumbling across the room to the bathroom.

He’s getting weaker, you think, and you lay on your back, listening to the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running as you stare up at the ceiling. You’ve cried so much over the past few days that the thought of crying now is exhausting. You just don’t have the energy.

It’s not a strange occurrence for you to lay in bed and listen to the boys move around a motel room. There have been plenty of mornings that Dean has gone out for food while Sam showers after his run, leaving you to soak up a few more minutes of sleep under the covers. Now, you can’t help but feel a little nostalgic for all those mornings. You don’t have many more with Sam, and Dean can be unpredictable when he’s grieving. You’re not sure if he’ll go off on his own or if you’ll be able to stick together.

When the door creaks open, you turn on your side and meet Sam’s eyes. His face, which you’ve come to associate with bright mornings just as much as the sun itself, is gaunt. It’s a harsh reminder that you’re losing him bit by bit. His cheeks and eyes have begun to sink in as well, as if his body is collapsing inwards, like a black hole. The effects of Rowena’s spell seem to have been short-lived.

“Good morning.” He’s leaning against the open door frame of the bathroom, and he’s managed to pull on a pair of clean pajama pants and a t-shirt. 

You try not to let your bad mood show. “Morning. How’re you feeling?” you ask.

Sam shrugs a little and his gaze wanders to the digital clock on the nightstand. You have no idea what time it is or how much you’ve slept. You’re lucky that your phone was plugged in when you finally fell asleep.

“Same as yesterday. Maybe a little bit more tired. Where are we?” asks Sam.

Sitting up, you yawn and stretch your arms above your head, then roll your shoulders and neck to try and release some tension. 

“Ohio,” you tell him. You roll over to grab your phone and check the time—it’s after eight, and you’ve missed half a dozen texts from Dean. None of them are useful. “We’ve only got one more day of driving if I can go straight through. It’s about twelve hours.”

“We can take shifts.”

You look over your shoulder and fix him with a look, raising your eyebrows. He doesn’t react and you stand, then toss your phone onto the bed as you pull your socks back on your feet.

“I’m not letting you drive, Sam.”

“I can do it. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not risking it,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t risk it.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

You falter as you rummage through your backpack for your last set of clean clothes. Sam is staring at you from the bathroom doorway, you can feel it, but you don’t look up at him. After a second, you slowly go back to searching. 

“Does it matter?” you finally ask.

He shuffles toward you and grabs your wrist, stopping you. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move. Reluctantly, you look up and meet his eyes. They’re just as resigned as yesterday, and though it makes your chest ache, you can’t look away.

“If I only have a week—”

“You don’t know that, Rowena cast that spell—”

“—then I want to spend it with you,” Sam finishes, and you peter out, not even bothering to finish your claim that Dean will be able to find something to save him. You know it’s not worth it, not if Sam’s made up his mind.

He continues, “I want to spend it doing all the things I love doing with you. You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

You close your eyes and turn away, hoping he doesn’t see the tear that slips out and runs down your cheek. You hate this. You’ve never felt this helpless before, not even when you’d been held captive for a week. In that situation, you’d known that the boys would find you and save you. You have no way of helping Sam out of this.

“I want…” Sam trails off, and he tugs on your wrist to pull you into a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around him and press the side of your face against him, keeping your eyes closed. 

I wish it was me, you think. I wish it was me instead of him.

“What are you thinking?” Sam whispers. His breath ruffles the hair on the top of your head.

“This is all my fault,” you reply. You can’t tell him what you’re really thinking without him lecturing you, so you pick the next best option. It’s really not that much better, if you’re being honest.

“Don’t say that,” he says. He squeezes you once. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“Sam—”

“No, I love you, and I’m not going to let you beat yourself up over this. It’s not your fault, Y/N. Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you quietly answer. It hurts to hear that Sam loves you. You know that he does—he’s your best friend, of course he loves you—but it hurts to know that he’ll never love you the way that you love him. He doesn’t have time to love you that way.

“I love you too,” you say after a moment. “I don’t…”

I have to tell him, you think. You start to pull away. Sam drops his arms, and he sits down as soon as he’s not touching you. The way he lowers himself to the edge of the mattress reminds you of some of the people you’ve seen in nursing homes while interviewing family members.

I can’t do this. He’ll just feel guilty.

“You don’t what?” Sam asks, and you look away.

“Never mind. I should get dressed,” you tell him. You turn back to the backpack and grab the clothes, then start heading to the bathroom with your clothes crumpled against your stomach. 

Sam reaches out with one hand and grabs your arm. “Talk to me.”

“Sam…”

“Please. I don’t want you to hide things from me because you think it’ll make me feel even worse. Trust me”—he lets out a wry laugh—“dying is the least of my worries right now.”

You freeze halfway to the bathroom, dropping your arms down to your side with your clothes clutched in one hand. After a second, you turn to face Sam, and you toss your clean clothes onto the bed behind him.

“That really doesn’t make this situation better,” you scoff. “I mean, come on, Sam! I’m about to lose the love of my life and he says that he’s not even worried about it? How’s that supposed to make me feel? Am I just supposed to be all, ‘Oh, okay! Let me tell you all about how I’ve had a massive crush on you—”

You stop talking the second you realize what you’re saying, which is much too late, and you snap your mouth shut. Sam stares at you with wide eyes and you stare back. Your heart is in your throat and when you finally feel embarrassed tears burning along your waterline, you turn around, clenching your hands into fists. 

Of all times for me to say that, you think, and you wish you could hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day.

“I’m gonna shower,” you manage to say. You take a step, then another, until finally, you’re locking the bathroom door behind yourself. 

Bracing your hands on the counter, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your heart is pounding inside your chest as your brain helpfully provides you with every possible outcome of the situation. None of them seem good. It should feel good to reveal the secret you’ve been holding so closely for years, but instead it’s only made you feel worse. On top of everything that Sam’s feeling and going through, he now has to deal with the news that you’re the biggest idiot on the planet. What kind of sappy Hallmark movie do you think you’re in? A hunter’s life doesn’t allow for love, let alone for a relationship with your hunting partner-slash-best friend.

A knock at the door startles you, and you quickly straighten up from the sink.

“Yeah?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Can I come in?” Sam asks. He jiggles the doorknob.

“Um..” Your voice trembles again and you inhale deeply through your nose as you open your eyes and look around. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; your eyes are bloodshot and your hair is a rat’s nest. The neckline of the old t-shirt you’ve been wearing since yesterday morning is stretched out and gaping, revealing a fading scar from a werewolf three weeks ago.

“You can say no,” Sam adds. “I can wait out here for you.”

Reaching out with one hand, you twist the doorknob and open the door. Sam has one hand against the door frame to help keep himself upright. Somehow he looks even worse than when you’d been by the bed just a minute before.

It’s probably just the lighting. He can’t be dying that quickly, right?

He doesn’t speak right away, so you step back into the bathroom and pull back the shower curtain, getting ready to start your shower. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I reacted to that poorly.”

“I didn’t mean to say all that,” you quietly admit, stopping just past the end of the counter. You don’t dare look up at him right now. Instead, you look down at a yellowed stain on the edge, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. “It’s not fair of me to tell you and then run away, especially since it’s too late.”

He leans forward, slowly entering the bathroom so you have time to back away. You don’t.

“Who says it’s too late? I know it’s not ideal, but I did say that I wanted to spend my time with you.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together as the new wave tears that have been forming finally escape. With one hand, you wipe them away and press your lips together. Sam pulls you into another hug.

“This is my worst nightmare,” you tell him. “I didn’t even know it was, but it is.”

“What? Spending time with me?”

A half-hearted laugh escapes you, and you blink your eyes a few times to try and clear the blurriness. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Sam kisses the top of your head and squeezes you once before dropping his arms so you can step away. Before you get too far, however, he reaches out to stop you.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he says, and you look back at him. 

The bathroom is tiny. It’s barely big enough for a sink, toilet, and bathtub-shower combo, but it feels miniscule once Sam steps inside. He’s taking up the space between the wall and the sink, leaving you to stand with your back to the shower and both the toilet and the wall within fingertip distance.

“Finish what?” you ask. Your heart skips a beat and your mind begins to jump to conclusions. What could Sam possibly have to finish that involves you? He’s not about to confess his undying love for you, right? That would be too cheesy, and too predictable for a hunter’s life. You don’t deserve that kind of happy ending.

Then again, it’s not so happy if he dies right after. You push that thought away immediately and try to focus solely on Sam.

He takes both of your hands in his, and though he sways a little, he stays upright. You try not to think about how his grip seems less firm than it has in the past.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you reply. “I love you too. And it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way. You don’t have to pretend to try and make me feel better. I’m not offended.”

Sam shakes his head and lifts your hands a little. “I love you, Y/N. I—” He stops to cough, a deep, bone-shaking, chest-rattling cough that forces him to lean against the wall on his left. He has to drop your hands to steady himself and cover his mouth, but you step closer and place one on his shoulder, hoping it’s enough to let him know that you’re there. When he drops his hand from his mouth, there’s blood on the side of his fist. Without a word, you tear off a piece of toilet paper so he can wipe it away.

“I’ve always loved you,” Sam manages after a few moments. He wheezes a little, and clears his throat to try and get rid of the raspiness left by his coughing fit.

“What?”

“I’ve—”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I heard you. I just don’t understand.”

He frowns at you, and you glance away, hating that you’re making this difficult for him. He’s balled up the bloody scrap of toilet paper in one hand, but he pushes himself off the wall and drops it into the trash can next to the sink. Without the support, Sam wobbles, and you reach out to catch him before he can fall forwards.

“You should sit,” you urge, and he shakes his head again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Sam. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m not going to fall over. There’s no place to fall in here.”

“You could hit your head on the edge of the counter, or you could knock me over and we could both fall into the bathtub,” you argue. “You could land face-first on the toilet which sounds like a horrible way to be knocked unconscious. You could fall backwards and I wouldn’t have the chance to catch—”

You’re cut off when Sam slides one hand up to cup your jaw back with one hand, then tilt your head back to kiss you. He moves quicker than you’ve seen him move in since the curse, and you’re so shocked that it takes you a second to process what’s happening.

Sam Winchester is kissing me, you think, and you let your eyes fall closed when his fingers shift, weaving into your hair as he crowds infinitesimally closer to you. 

When he finally parts, pulling away just enough to catch his breath, you stay close, too. You can feel his chest heave a little as he breathes, and though it pains you to think that every time you kiss him from now on will be more and more difficult for him, you push those thoughts away. You want to savor this. You need to savor this.

“Sam,” you whisper, and he hums, then kisses you again. It’s shorter this time, and your hands migrate to fist in the loose fabric of the t-shirt at his sides.

“You kissed me,” you say the next time he pauses to breathe. He hums again and gives you another kiss. 

“Sam,” you insist, and he gives an impatient sigh. His hand moves to rest on your upper arm. The side of your face feels suddenly cooler in his absence.

Sam opens his eyes to look at you, and you pause for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You’ve always loved the way Sam looks—you’d be crazy not to—but it’s the first time you’ve felt it’s okay to unabashedly take in the brilliance of his eyes. Sam is beautiful, but he’s also intelligent, funny, caring, strong, and brave. You can see all of that just by looking at him. Maybe it’s a testament to how well you know him, or maybe he’s just that beautiful. 

Both, you think. The thought makes you grin, and you duck your head to try and hide it. It’s definitely both.

“What?” Sam asks, impatience clear, though he’s not angry. “What’s so important that I had to stop kissing you?”

“You kissed me!”

“I know,” he answers. He leans into your space a little more. “I’d like to do it again.”

There’s heat in your cheeks now. It’s hard to tell if it’s from how he’s making you feel or if it’s from his proximity, but you’re not complaining about either of those things.

“Why?”

He gives you a look, one that asks if you’re serious, but you don’t rescind the question. Finally, Sam drops his hand from your arm to your hand, and he fiddles with your fingers as he answers,

“Because I love you, Y/N. I’m not sure how much clearer I can be.”

You gape at him. “So when you said that you’ve always loved me…”

“I meant it.”

Your brain is whirling as you process the new information, and Sam moves to sit on the edge of the counter. He still has your hand, so he pulls you with him. You let him lead you the few steps without a fight.

“So you…” You lick your lips, and you swear that he zeroes in on the movement because his eyes seem to grow darker despite the bright white light from the fixture in the ceiling. “You like-like me?”

Sam’s eyes lift from your lips to meet your gaze. He stares at you a second, then grins wide and lets out a loud laugh. It’s almost a guffaw, and it makes the heat flare up in your cheeks all over again. You feel silly, like you’re a teenager all over again, just waiting for the cute boy in class to make you swoon.

“Like-like you?” he asks. “Definitely.”

He pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. His legs bracket you on either side. You close your eyes and revel in his warmth and the scent of laundry detergent and the motel shampoo that somehow always smells better on him than it does you. It’s something you’ve come to associate with him, oddly enough, but you’re grateful. Motel shampoo is a constant in your life and it will always be there, even if he’s not. 

Sam sways a little bit, leaning a bit more on you, and you open your eyes, moving your head back slightly so you can look at him. His head has lolled to the side and his mouth is parted slightly. His eyes are closed, but his eyelashes flutter as if he’s just asleep.

“Sam?” you ask. He doesn’t respond, and panic replaces the giddiness you’d felt only moments before. “Sam? Hey, wake up for me. Open your eyes.”

You unwind one arm from around him, pulling it towards your stomach and out from under his arm that’s still around you. You pat his cheek a little and look for any reaction, but there isn’t any.

Cursing, you try to maneuver him off the counter to the floor. It takes all your strength to keep him from collapsing or hitting anything on the way down. By the time you get him stretched out on the grimy tile and the towel that you pull from the bar on the wall to cushion his head, you’re sweating.

“Please wake up,” you plead, kneeling on his left, near shoulder. His breathing is steady, but he’s just as comatose as he was before.

After a few moments, you launch yourself up and out of the bathroom. Your phone is still plugged in on the nightstand, so you grab it and frantically dial Dean’s number as you hurry back to the bathroom. Sam’s still out when you get back, and you crouch between him and the wall as you listen to the line ring over and over again. Finally, Dean answers.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Something happened, we were just—” You stop for a second, wondering if you should admit what you’d been doing, but Dean beats you to it.

“You were what, Y/N? What happened?” He’s shouting into the phone as he drives and you swallow thickly as tears burn in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did,” you choke out. “This is all my fault.”

“What the hell did you do?”

“Nothing! I mean, I kissed him! He kissed me first, and it seemed like he was alright, but then we were just talking and he gave me a hug and then he just passed out!”

Dean curses and you flinch at the volume, pulling the phone a few inches away from your ear. You’re on the verge of actually sobbing now, and you suck in a deep breath to try and stabilize yourself. Any sense of calm you’d felt less than a few minutes ago has completely vanished.

“He’s still breathing normally and I made sure he didn’t bump his head or anything—”

“You’re supposed to be taking care of him!” Dean shouts. “Where are you?”

“Ohio. At the Starlight Motel, off of I-71. We passed it on the way out to Boston.”

“I remember. I’m on my way.”

You can hear a turn signal on his end of the call and you set your phone on the floor, putting it on speaker. Judging by the noise in the background, he’s pulling off the road to turn around and head in your direction. After swallowing a few times, the lump in your throat begins to subside and you feel yourself starting to calm.

“How far away are you?” you ask, trying to focus on the steady sound of Sam’s breathing while at the same time listening for his response.

Dean answers, but you don’t hear it because Sam suddenly gasps for air. His eyes fly open as his chest heaves, and he coughs like he’s been suffocated. You shift onto your knees, lean forward, and quickly help him roll onto his side. He pushes you away with one hand as he props himself up with an elbow and continues to cough. You’re flustered and panicked, and your hands hover over his arm as you try to figure out how to help him further.

“Easy,” you soothe, and he takes another deep breath, followed by a few lighter coughs. There’s no blood this time, which is a welcome relief.

“I’m okay,” he wheezes. 

Still propped up on his left side, Sam closes his eyes. He breathes in and out slowly, steadying himself. After several seconds, the hand not bracing himself against the floor searches until it finds yours. He squeezes it once and you squeeze back, watching him intently.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” you question.

He rolls backwards until he’s flat on his back again, but he keeps hold of your hand, resting it on his stomach. He breathes for another few moments before opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

“Sam?”

“Y/N! Damnit, what’s going on over there?” Dean is shouting from the phone, and you realize that you’ve forgotten all about it. With your free hand, you scramble to grab it and pull it to your ear, taking the call off speaker with a singular jab of your thumb.

“He’s awake,” you tell him, feeling pretty breathless yourself. Your heart is still racing from the scare of Sam lurching into consciousness. “He’s okay. He’s alright.”

“He’s— He’s okay okay, or just okay?” Dean asks.

You look back at Sam, who lets go of your hand and pushes himself up into a sitting position. When he sees you watching him, he reaches for the phone.

“Hey, Dean,” he says, and he listens for a second before answering, “I’m fine. I think it’s gone.” He glances over at you while Dean replies, probably with more questions. “No, I’m not sure what it was, but I feel fine. Y/N and I will try to figure out what it was, and I’ll give Rowena a call, see if she can meet us here. How far away are you?”

“Tell him I’ll text him the address,” you interject, and Sam nods, relaying the message. He listens for a few moments longer, glances at you again, and then tilts his head away to try and hide his smile.

“Jerk,” he says. He smiles wider at Dean’s response. You don’t have to hear it to know what he says.

Sam hangs up a second later and hands the phone back to you. Without saying anything, you text the address to Dean, then slip the phone back into your pocket.

“Are you really feeling okay?” you ask.

He nods. “I think the curse, whatever it was, is gone. I don’t feel tired, and I’m not even stiff from laying down all day yesterday. Do I look any better?”

You search his face, looking for any sign of fatigue. The color has returned to his face, and the strange thinness that had made your stomach turn this morning is gone. He looks like he did just a few days ago when you’d made up in the library. Even his muscle mass has miraculously returned.

“You look a lot better,” you tell him, beginning to smile. “Like nothing even happened.”

Sam smiles back at you, as radiant as the sun, and you find yourself falling into his arms. He wraps them around you, but after a second he pulls away to look you in the eyes.

“I love you,” he says. “I know I said it before, but I mean it.”

Still smiling, you push his hair out of his eyes, cupping his face with one hand. “I know. I love you too.”

He kisses you then, like he did before, and your heart swells. You sit back on your feet as Sam leans into you. He smiles into the kiss when your free hand skims the length of his arm.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you murmur once you’ve caught your breath. “Okay?”

He nods, his forehead resting against yours. “Okay.”

You close your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him being so close. The two of you sit in silence on the bathroom floor. All the events of the past few days have worn you out, even with the few hours of sleep you got, and you eventually shift to rest your head against Sam’s shoulder. He reaches over with his right hand, rubbing your back in long, soothing strokes. You hold his other hand, the one he’d been using to prop himself up.

The silence is broken by your phone ringing after a few minutes. Sighing, you pull away and answer the call on speakerphone, setting it on the floor.

“I hear that Samuel’s on the mend,” Rowena says in lieu of greeting.

“I’m cured,” Sam answers. “Or at least we think I am.”

She hums in acknowledgement. “I’ll need more detail than that if you want me to tell you for sure. I may be powerful, but I’m not a mind reader.”

You roll your eyes at the haughtiness in her voice and reply, “He was unconscious for at least two minutes, but there was nothing leading up to it. He just passed out.”

“Did you eat or drink anything? Say any spells? Pray any prayers?”

Sam stares at the phone, his eyebrows furrowed together. “No. We were just talking and then—” He stops.

“And then you what?” Rowena prompts.

Sam’s eyes flicker from the screen to your face, and then he lets out a quiet chuckle. He’s smiling again, and you smile back. It’s contagious, despite the fact that you have no idea why he’s smiling.

“We kissed,” Sam tells her, not looking away. 

“I see.” Her arrogance has all but disappeared, and you know her just well enough to picture the sly smile forming on her face. “When it’s reciprocated by both, true love’s kiss is a very powerful form of magic. It’s one of the most powerful forms of magic. Wield it wisely, you two.”

You grin. “We will.”

She ends the call and you leave the phone on the floor, opting instead to lean in and kiss Sam again. 

“We definitely will,” he says.

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi!!

Can you do a Sam Winchester begging plus size reader to sit on his face. Whatever vibes you want :) Dommy Sam is always a fav but as long as Sam is reassuring and eating reader out, I’m happy :)

Thank you!!

.⋆｡Peaches and Cream｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

Dean made the mistake of leaving you alone with a very soulless version of your best friend who only wants one thing from you

Warnings: soulless!Sam, smut, friends to lovers?, oral (f receiving), mentions of condoms, praise, body worshipping, overstimulation, dom!Sam, almost getting caught, little bit of self-consciousness WC: 1.8k

Minors DNI

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me, i promise i only have a couple weeks left of uni and i'm gonna come running back with some new fics!

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

His eyes burned into the back of your skull, as they had been for the past 10 minutes. And yet, you refused to look up from the book in front of you, even though you had not turned a page in that same amount of time.  You weren’t a stranger to Sam’s gaze, in fact you used to love it; the way his big puppy dog eyes trailed up your curves whenever he thought you wouldn’t notice never failed to have heat bloom across your cheeks.

But his staring was far different now.

Sam was different now.

You could hear him shift in his seat before the tell-tale sound of his boots against the cheap vinyl as he got closer. You swallowed around the lump in your throat though it did nothing to sooth the fear simmering inside you. 

“You’re not reading.” His warm breath tickled your neck. You shivered and squeezed your eyes shut. You knew what he wanted, and so badly did you wish to give it to him, like you always had but it was so wrong. His soul was gone, the very thing that made Sam Sam but it was still his body, his voice so tantalisingly close.

“Yes I am.” You bit back a whimper as Sam leaned in closer, his large hands planting themselves on the table in front of you, keeping you pinned to the spot. The tip of his nose brushed gently along your ear.

“No.” Suddenly the book was ripped from your hands and thrown across the motel room (something your Sam would never do). “You’re not.”

His lips closed around your earlobe. “Sam.” You cursed Dean in your mind, that man and his need for diner pie no matter how far out of his way he had to go to get it. “We can’t.” Fire pooled between your plump thighs, quickly soaking through your panties. 

He shifted closer, his strong arms now tightly pressed against you. He released your ear with a soft pop. “Can’t or won’t? Because I think we both know just how badly you want me, sweetheart.” You held your breath as Sam’s hands slowly moved from the table to your wide hips.

“Sam.” You tried again but this time he answered you with a deep growl.

“Say my name like that again and I promise that you won’t be walking straight for a week.” A moan escaped your lips before you could even think of stopping it. You could feel Sam’s plump lips curl into a devious smirk. 

“But-“ His grip tightened and all the doubts in your mind vanished.

“But nothing. Dean won’t be back for hours and you need to unwind and I happen to know the perfect way to do that.” 

As a last ditch attempt before your mind completely went fuzzy, you blurted out- “We don’t have condoms.”

His chuckle rumbled through your bones, sending a chill of excitement up your spine. “I’m not gonna fuck you, not today at least. I just want a little taste of this nice,” His right hand slid down the pudge of your stomach and wedged itself between your thighs, cupping you over the thick denim of your jeans, “juicy,” He nuzzled his face against your neck, “cunt.” 

“Be gentle?” You turned your head, encouraging the larger man to meet your gaze. His eyes shone with his victory.

“You want your Sammy don’t you?” He teased. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll give you exactly what you want.” And then he struck. 

His lips moulded perfectly against yours in a kiss long overdue. It was soft, almost sweet but you could feel the way he was holding back, forcing himself to relent to your wishes, even as he cupped your jaw with his other hand, deepening it. 

You whimpered against his lips and he reluctantly pulled away. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Sam yanked you from your chair and lifted you into his arms. “Sam!” You tried to protest, but he silenced you with a kiss more determined than before. 

His tongue forced its way into your mouth as he strode to his unused bed. Your arms wound around his neck, Sam growling in approval. His knees bumped against the mattress and he fell forwards, catching himself with his right hand before he could crush you. Your pussy squeezed around nothing at the raw strength of the hunter you’d been pining for. 

You grabbed at the front of his flannel as he tugged on the hem of your jeans. Your teeth clacked together and the sound of ripping fabric filled the room. “Eager girl.” Sam groaned against your lips as you still held onto the now destroyed shirt in your grip. 

Your jeans button popped open. “Please Sam.” His long fingers grazed the wet spot on your panties and your hips bucked up, encouraging his touch to go just a little further down. He chuckled cruelly but yet he obeyed. The calloused tips of his fingers pressed into your throbbing clit, making your jaw drop with a silent moan.

He nipped at the frantic pulse along your throat, unbothered by the deep welts he was leaving behind. Your heart skipped a beat as you laid your palms onto his naked chest. “Sam.” His name was barely even a breath. 

“Good girl.” Your ruined panties were pushed to the side as his middle finger traced up your slit, gathering as much of your wetness as he could. “So wet for me. You’ve been waiting so long haven’t you.” He cooed.

You tried to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t budge, content in teasing you. “Shhh let me play a little longer and then I’ll give you what you want.” His slender hips rolled against your thigh, letting you feel the monstrous bulge of his cock where it was straining against his own jeans.

You squirmed as he finally pressed his thick fingers to your clit, just barely dousing the fire between your legs. “Please.” Your eyes burned with tears of desperation. You needed him like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

Sam tsked and in response, pulled his fingers away. You nearly cried as your relief was ripped away from you. “Now, while I do love your begging, we’re doing this my way. You need to learn.” 

He leaned back onto his heels, his ripped shirt perfectly framing his toned stomach and chest. You couldn’t look away from him, never could you have even dreamed that your best friend was this good-looking. “Jeans. Off.” 

Your hands flew down to your hips, eager to obey. Sam smirked and pulled off the tattered flannel, his eyes remained on you though, burning with lust. Your hands shook as you finally got your pants off. Your panties quickly followed after.

“What a good little slut, listening so prettily. You just want your Sammy to take care of you don’t you.” You nodded desperately.

“Please, wanna be good.” 

He grabbed your wide hips and rolled onto his back, dragging you up the length of his torso until you were straddling his wide shoulders. “Then be good for me and sit on my face.”

“But-“ He shot you a lot from between your legs and dragged you up further so you had no choice but to plant your knees on the mattress next to his head. You caught yourself on the wall behind the headboard as you tried to rock forwards and pull yourself up. 

“Do this for me, sweetheart. Lemme drown in that pussy.” His teeth sunk into the soft fat of your inner thigh. 

“But Sam, I-I don’t want to hurt you. ‘M not exactly small.” 

“Sit. I won’t repeat myself again.” Your knees wobbled but you remained upright, determined to not harm the man beneath you. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His arms wound around your legs and forced you down onto his mouth. “Perfect.” He grumbled into your cunt.

“Sam!” But before you had the chance to even think of prying yourself from him, Sam’s lips sealed around your clit and it took every ounce of self-restraint you had not to court around his head and keep him right there, suckling at you, forever.

Your moans echoed through the cheap motel room, bouncing off the peeling wallpaper and soaking into the old carpeting. You couldn’t help but grind down onto his face, chasing the pleasure he had already denied you once before. Sam groaned in approval from between your legs. His tongue lapped at you, moving with a precision that had you asking yourself why you hadn't relented sooner.

“Are-are you spelling something?” He just winked at you and ducked his head down once more. Your eyebrows scrunched as you tried to concentrate on the fluid movement of his tongue against you though the blinding pleasure made it difficult.

S-A-M-U-E-L He took a breath. W-I-N-C-H-E-S-T-E-R

He was branding you, and that thought sent you catapulting to the precipice of your end. “Sam, Sam please. ‘M so close, please, please.” His right hand released your thigh and quickly slipped underneath his chin, letting his thick fingers finally breach your needy cunt. The knot in your stomach wound impossibly tighter and then just as he crooked his fingers, hitting the delicate bundle of nerves within you, Sam spelled one more word.

M-I-N-E

“Fuck fuck fuck!” You thrashed on top of him, wave after wave of euphoria washing over you, drowning you in it as Sam’s unrelenting ministrations pushed you right into another orgasm just as the first was dying down.

Your hands flew to his silky hair and tried to pry him off of you but he kept going, seemingly determined to make you pass out from the pleasure. “Too much.” Your whole body shook as your nerves lit up like fireworks.

“Oh god-“ Suddenly, the tell-tale rumble of the Impala had both you and the man you were straddling freeze. The car door squeaked and you both looked at each other. 

Sam grabbed your hips and rolled you onto your back before ripping his half-naked body from yours. You threw the covers over yourself and shut your eyes, praying that your heavy breathing wouldn’t be noticed by the other hunter. 

Just as Dean’s footsteps reached the motel room door, Sam had tugged on a new (non-ripped) flannel from his bag. Your eyes slammed shut as the door creaked open and Dean slipped inside.

There was a beat of silence. “She sleeping?” You breathed out a sigh of relief, you couldn’t imagine what he would’ve thought if he realised what was happening between his soulless little brother and you barely moments before.

“Yeah.” Sam responded in a clipped tone, a now regular occurrence with his brother. Dean hummed and you heard the sound of a plastic bag being placed on the kitchen counter.

“I got some food for us. You want any?” You could’ve melted from the genuine concern in his voice but as Sam answered, your stomach churred with embarrassment.

“I already ate.” He smirked as he wiped away the last remnants of your cum from his lips with his thumb.

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[supernotnatural2005]

'Giddy up Cowboy' (Drabble)

Paring: Dean x Reader

Summary: The power of impression leads to wondrous things.

Word Count: 822

Prompt: ‘Character B tries to impress Character A’

Warnings: Dean riding a mechanical bull 🥵🥵

AN: This is another square completed for my @jacklesversebingo 24 card. It's a short one I know but, I think it fit perfectly for this prompt 😄

Main Masterlist

Bingo Masterlist

“Don’t you just love a man who knows how to ride one of those things?" You sigh dreamily, watching man after rugged-looking man try their damnedest at riding the mechanical bull.

There was just something so downright sexy about watching a guy flex his thighs and roll his hips in time with the sway of the machine. If you didn’t know any better, it seems as though you may have discovered a new turn-on for yourself.

“Um, not really Y/N.” Sam chuckles before taking a drink from his beer. You smack his arm in jest because he knew you were being rhetorical. You cease, however, when your attention is soon re-captured by another man stepping up for his turn. 

Meanwhile Dean frowns at you, his eyes glancing between you and the men making complete fools of themselves, in his opinion. Not one of them had been able to stay on for a full minute. There was nothing impressive about that, so he couldn’t see as to why you thought so. 

‘Because you just hate the fact she’s gawking at other men.’ Came the niggling voice in the back of his mind. A voice that hadn’t shut up about you for months now. 

Again, the new guy was flung from the machine, this time before even 30 seconds were up, and Dean scoffs. Apparently it was loud enough for your attention to turn to him. 

“What? You think you can do any better, Winchester?” You tease, and he rolls his eyes. 

“I think even Sammy here could do better than these goons.” Dean sasses back, and Sam frowns, knowing that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. You squint your eyes at Dean, too suspiciously for his liking, and he distracts himself with a pull from his beer. 

“Then why don’t you hop on? Show these goons—"you imitate his deep voice, "what you’ve got?” You challenge him playfully, almost like you didn’t believe he would. 

Fine, he thinks stubbornly. Maybe this time you’ll actually notice me; comes that voice again. 

You had been a casual hunting partner with the boys for a few months now; your knowledge, skill, and witty humour brought a fresh new light into their lives, and they both enjoyed having you around. Dean maybe more so, for other reasons. 

Finishing the rest of his beer in one big gulp, he stands from the table with a cocky smirk. “I’ll show you how a real man does it, sweetheart.” Sam cringes at his brothers statement, and Dean has to admit it was a cheap line, but it got that smile out of you. The one that made your eyes shine.

As Dean pays the operator, he looks over at you one last time and sends you a wink before he steps up onto the mat and effortlessly mounts the bull. He blows out a breath, suddenly nervous. He couldn’t make a fool out of himself now, not with the mouth he’d given you. 

Dean gives the guy a thumbs up once he’s situated, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His only thought; she’s watching, like a mantra in his mind. He hears the whirring of the machine spark to life, and no sooner as it did, does the bull begin to rock. 

At first, it’s a gentle forward and backward motion until it begins to spin. Dean clenches his knees tighter and rolls his hips, matching the same motion as the bull. He holds his left arm out for balance as the bull begins whipping around at a much faster pace. He grips on for dear life, the cheer from the crowd gathered drowning into nothingness as he puts all his concentration into staying on. 

It feels like a lifetime before he finally hears the operator announce he’d broken the 90 seconds before the bull gradually begins to wind down to a stop. An eruption of cheers, mostly from the women in the crowd, surrounds him as he hops down. Even some of the guys who’d failed shake his hand impressed as he steps off the mat. He nods politely as he pushes his way through, ignoring the women trying to get his attention—his eyes only searching for you. 

You’re standing at the back of the crowd, having moved to get a better view, your smile dazzling and eyes alight with wonder. 

“So. Was I better?” Dean asks, a little breathless from his effort but also incredibly curious. You take a step closer to him, your lips pulling up into a smirk as you come toe to toe. His breath hitches as you place a hand on his chest, and he’s certain you can feel what the simple action does to his heart. 

“You did great! But I think I can ride him better.” Your eyes glisten with mischief as you lean up on your toes to whisper in his ear. 

“And I’m not talking about the bull.” 

AN: Again, I know it was a short one but I have much more planned for the rest of my squares, maybe a series in the works 👀 As always I really appreciate any feedback! Let me know what you though 💕

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Introducing....The Love Club

Some of my most loved fics!

Two Sides of The Same Coin · Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

Every Part of You · Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

I Can See You · Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader · Summary: You and Bucky don't see eye to eye, everyone knows that. They don't know that you and Bucky once knew each other under very different names. And they most certainly don't know that when he looks at you, he can still every stolen moment, his jacket on the floor, notes saying meet him at midnight, you up against the wall with him. No, they don't see that at all.

The Uptown Girl and The Brooklyn Boy · Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader · Summary: Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

Let Me Help You · Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

"Slut!" Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.

My Personal Favorites

And here are some of my personal favorites because everyone is welcome in the love club!

On the Run · Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Timeless · Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader · Summary: It's the kind of love you find once in a lifetime, the kind of love you don't put down, and somehow, you know you would've found each other in every life.

If You Lie Down With Me · Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader · Summary: You know what kind of man he is. A liar. The sort of man that promises everything under the sun. The sort of man that promises dreamy nights and delivers lonely mornings. You only wish his lies weren't so sweet.

Midnight Rain · Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader · Summary - You broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, and you were more like Midnight Rain.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

[castiwls]

the prophecy - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'please change the prophecy'

Requested;anon? (i can't see the req in my inbox so if it was you and you didn't req on anon pls lmk)

Notes;so sorry this took so long <3 p.s reqs and inbox are open again :)

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Love had always been a complicated thing. It seemed to come easy enough yet slip away even easier. Sam knew falling for you could be a fatal mistake for both him and you, yet he did it anyway.

He ignored that voice in the back of his head which picked and picked at him about how asking you out would only end in heartache. How being around him put you in danger, how simply knowing his name placed you in danger.

The voice continued to nag at him every waking moment. It reminded him constantly that every day could be your last, that when you met your end it would be his fault.

“Sam.” A hand on his chest pulled his attention from his thoughts. Your smile was bright as you lay on your side gazing at him. Pushing yourself up you lent your head on your hand. “What’s wrong?” 

He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. “Nothing. Just can’t sleep.” He spoke quietly. You hummed quietly looking at the wall for a moment. “Really?” You looked back to him moving now to sit up fully, crossing your legs under you.

You knew him too well. Taking one look at him was enough for you to know that something was up. That the voice inside his head was winning again. 

“I’m fine. Seriously.” He sent you a weak smile reaching out to place a hand on your thigh. 

“No. No your not.” You shook your head. 

He let out a quiet sigh before moving to sit up against the headboard. He would never admit to you how he really felt. Admitting it would only make it real and he was determined to prove those thoughts wrong.

He was determined to keep you safe. To break the pattern.

He opened his arms reaching out for you. Taking the hint you moved into his arms, falling back against his chest your legs tangling with his. “I’m not gonna die.” You whispered after a moment.

Your words caused his breath to catch in his throat. His arms which were wrapped around your middle instinctively squeezed you closer. “Don’t say that.” He mumbled pressing his face into your hair. 

Ice-cold fear ran through him as he tried to calm his breathing. People had said that to him before. Most of those people ended up dead.

Sam had never asked for much in his life. Food, a warm place to sleep, all the normal things anyone wanted. His wishes had always included someone who could give him that love and affection he craved so desperately and now he had that the thought of losing it left him frightened in a way he’d never been.

“I mean it. I’m not going anywhere.” You turned your head slightly, moving your arm back to gently cup his face. “Promise me…promise me you’ll stay.” He stared down at you, eyes wide like a child who was afraid of the dark.

Accept it wasn't the dark he was afraid of.

“I promise.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut holding you impossibly closer as you gently stroked his cheek.

Maybe you were right. Maybe you were the exception, you would be the one who stayed. You’d be the one who he managed to keep safe. He knew nothing was for certain, no one could tell the future. 

[danielshouseofwhores]

Hello!

Whether you write for F1 or not, we all despise harassment. In the F1 fanfic community, there is this person going around and harassing @/logansargeantsbabymom and stealing their writing.

If you are not familiar with this drama already:

can you fucking fulfill my request? it’s been 4 days and you JUST posted. i’m sorry it’s not out yet but i have a job and other requests be

i literally don’t get why you could respond to my last request but not my fic? i also don’t get why it’s such a big deal, i’m just asking a

As much as I hate to keep posting about this, I got a lovely message from a fan!! I feel like you should read them: Like bro, I’m here fo

I come here today to ask you all, f1 fan or not, to block and report both of these blogs.

The user is @/buckyswifeblogs and @/blockingmeisinsane

[brooooswriting]

BOOM BROKO

IM BACK WITH ANOTHER IDEA FOR U

So I'm thinking Sam x Reader who is selectively mute <and a lil scared of her>(don't attack me people I just like the trope)

Yes , anyway at first she thought R was Suspicious, abut then she found out That R was Selectively mute when she pulled out a Pad to write an answer.

But then R talked to Sam 😯 and She was very happy ya know FLOOF because we need it

(if you don't feel comfortable doing this, then don't :) Lu <3 )

Might be quiet

Sam Carpenter x reader

Sam was suspicious of everyone, it was nothing new. So nobody was surprised when she was also suspicious of you, somebody new to the group. Especially because you were two years older than Tara, who had brought you into the group after meeting you at college. Something about that was already off for her, why would you hand out with people two years younger than you? And by the amount of times you and T hung out it seemed like you were only hanging out with her.

But what really made her suspicious was the fact that you never talked. Well, to be honest, Sam wasn’t one to strike up a convo either but ever since Tara brought you home three weeks ago she hasn’t heard you say a damn word, it was weird and nobody could convince her otherwise. Not saying anything would make it even harder for them to figure it out if you were ghostface.

“Tara, there’s something wrong with her. She’s totally 100% suspicious” Sam said as you left, hugging Tara but again, no words were spoken. Not even a goodbye, which wasn’t just suspicious to Sam but also rude.

“She’s not Sam. Just leave her alone about it please. She’s not suspicious or weird, she has her reasons” the younger carpenter disappeared before Sam could ask any questions. She knew about your selective muteness from the beginning, it was her first day and she didn’t know where to go so she asked you. When you pulled out pen and paper she thought you were mute but after meeting her a couple of times you could explain your condition to her.

After being at Tara’s for the first time you refused to go there again as Sam scared the living shit out of you. It was like that for rather long, even if seen in public she’d just stare you down which scared you even more. But after seeing her interact with her younger sister a couple of times, you realized that she was only overprotective of her. It made her a bit less scary. So you came to the apartment again, more often than you would have thought.

One day, Tara invited you over. But due to a terrible miscalculation of everything on Tara’s side you arrived before her, meaning that Sam opened the door for her. You gave her an awkward wave. “Y/n, hi. Tara said she’d be here soon” Sam said stepping to the side, slightly rolling her eyes when you didn’t talk. You stood even more awkwardly in the room, unsure of where to go until Sam pointed to the dinner table. When you said down without saying anything Sam finally snapped.

“Jeez, do you ever say anything? Do you know how weird it is to never say Anything?! And also quiet rude, I mean like, say hello and bye. My goodness” Sam nearly screamed making you cower and give her a sad smile which made her roll her eyes, this time very obvious. “How did Tara even meet you?!” She continued starring into your soul.

You looked away awkwardly, your eyes landing on your backpack. You held up a finger, signaling her to wait while you fished some things out of your bag. Sam looked at the paper and the pen curiously as you started to write in neat handwriting.

‘We met on campus, she didn’t know where to go so she asked me. Had to write down the directions’

Sam looked at you and then at the paper, trying to piece together the puzzle. “So you had to write down the way?” She asked and you nodded.

“You didn’t talk to her?” She continued, you shook your head this time.

“But you do talk to her now when you’re alone?” She mumbled unsure, but your nod reassured her.

“You’re not always mute right?” You nodded again giving her a small smile.

“But sometimes you are?” The older sister seemed to be happy that she finally figured it out, giving you a rather big smile which made you smile too.

There was a moment of silence which was broken by Tara entering the apartment. “Y/n” she called out, causing you to jump up and hug her, happy to be with someone who gave you comfort. “You good?” She asked and you nodded, smiling slightly as it reminded you of your interaction with Sam who was now gone.

When you noticed that you finally mustered up the courage to speak. “How was your day?” You asked as Tara pulled you into her room, but your thoughts they were only on the older carpenter.

The next time you saw Sam was on campus, she was picking Tara up who stayed at your dorm for the day to study with you. You offered that she could sleep here but her sister didn’t allow it, to scared of something happening to her so she picked her up herself. The brunette was 20 minutes earlier than she was supposed to be, you didn’t think that it was gonna be her at the door but Anika. She was around you constantly, another person you could talk to but who often would talk most of the time so you didn’t have to. She was comforting and knew everything about you.

You opened the door with freshly washed hair and in joggers and a sports bra, while Tara went to have a shower as it was a hot day. The way you looked in a simple fit like that was the only thing you could focus on. “Hey, sorry I’m earlier than I thought I’d be” she said as she finally stopped staring at you, your face beet red.

A small smile signaled her that it was fine before you opened the door further and stretched your arm to the side inviting her in. Out of politeness and maybe a bit of curiosity she came inside, looking at the posters and the pictures you had in your room and then looking forwards the bathroom where she heard your shower running.

‘Tara’s showering. How are you? How was your day?” You wrote on a small whiteboard, showing it to her with a smile. There was something about that smile that made Sam all giddy, so she sat on the end of you bed and started talking to you, explaining how shitty her boss is and how she can’t wait for him to retire before asking about your day.

‘Your sister is amazing but if she forces me to watch babadook again I’m gonna need a new friend. We are watching that damn movie after every study session’ Sam grinned at you as you huffed pointing to your open laptop, the credits of the movie on hold.

“She makes me watch that too. I gave up on trying to fight it, I’m pretty sure I can memorize it by now” she told you just as Tara came out of the bathroom in one of your shirts. She felt Ill at ease knowing that her sister got to wear your cloths.

“What are you already doing here?” Tara asked as she dried her hair with a towel, Sam only shaking her head at the rude tone.

“I’m happy to see you too, no. Really no problem, I love picking you up after work” Sam said, her voice filled with sarcasm Making you chuckle a bit. Her head turned to you, that was the first sound she had heard from you except maybe a sigh or a grunt. It was one of the best sounds she had ever heard.

It went on like that for a while, Sam would talk to you, you’d write on something. You’d have normal conversation, sometimes even a bit deeper ones but she never got to the point where you talked to her. She believed that she noticed times where you tried but couldn’t. Honestly, ever since she knew why you weren’t speaking she found it cute. Sure, it was sad too, but the shyness was kinda cute to her.

“Hey y/n” Sam said as she let you into the apartment, Tara was again to late. Or rather, you were too early but you wanted some alone time with Sam. You waved at her and stepped into the room, nodding your head toward the couch. By now Sam had gotten a hang of understanding you even without words so she sat down on the couch, close enough for your legs to touch.

It was a habit you to created, instead of talking you guys would have physical contact. Your legs were touching or your shoulders brushing, sometimes her hand would rest half on top of yours or on your knee. There was this weird connection between you two lately but Sam decided to wait to make a move until you could talk to her. It just felt right to her. Her arms was stretched behind you on the couch.

You took a deep breath before opening your mouth. “W-we should go on a date” you mumbled out barely loud enough for Sam to understand but she did, a smile forming on her face. But now it was her time to be unable to speak, a nod being the first thing coming from her before she finally caught herself again.

“Yeah we should. Oh my god, you talked to me” she had the biggest smile on her face as she turned to look at you. Your cheeks coated in a slight pink. Your voice was the loveliest thing she had ever heard.

“Is it okay if I hug you?” You nodded out of Habit before taking a deep breath again.

“Yes, please” you said. This time your voice was louder. She pulled you into her arms, hugging you tight while pressing a kiss to the side of your face. She still couldn’t believe you had talked.

“I’m so happy” she grinned out as she pulled away, the smiles on your face matching as you looked at each other. This time her arms wrapped around your shoulder pulling you a bit closer, you happily leaning against her.

At least until Tara came causing you to pull away from Sam and sit at your normal distance. She looked at you confused while her sister walked over to the two of you. “Hey guys” she said as she sat down on the arm chair. Sam greeted her back while you nodded at her, confusing Sam. “Wanna watch a movie?” The younger carpenter continued, both of you nodding.

After the movie you decided to go back to your dorm, waving goodbye to Sam after giving Tara a hug. You walked down the stairs in thoughts only to be interrupted by someone running down the stair, it was Sam with a trash bag in hand.

“I needed an excuse to follow you” she started as she followed your gaze to the trash in her hand. “Did you change your mind about this? Because everything changed as soon as T came in” she asked staring at the ground, scared that you did in fact change your mind.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, panic started to take over as your hands shook a bit and your eyes avoided sams. You heard the trash bag fell before you saw Sam take a step closer and engulfing you in a careful hug. “Shhh, take your time. It’s okay either way, if it was just a panic reaction it’s okay. Now take your time, or I can give you my phone and you can type it out” she held you so loose that you always had the opportunity to pull away but at the same time strong enough to give you comfort. Your arms wrapped around her neck, your face against her chest.

After a short bit you finally gathered the courage to talk again. “I didn’t change my mind, I just panicked when I heard T. I’m sorry but I promise you I want this” you told her leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s okay, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel pressured to go out with me” she smiled at your form in her arms before continuing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” You nodded, not wanting to waste any time by speaking. She grinned and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips, you were chasing hers as she pulled away.

“You know, I practiced asking you out a lot with Anika” you told her before leaning up to kiss her again. Her eyes stayed close as you pulled away as she wanted to bask in the feeling a little longer, but when she opened her eyes you were already out of the front door.

God, she couldn’t wait to hear your voice again.

What are we thinking about part two? Or maybe a series out of this?

[whatthetumblfck]

I Was Born Ready

Summary: You're kidnapped on a mission gone wrong and it only gets worse. You eventually escape, but will Bucky and the team see you the same way?

Word Count: 6517

Warnings: swearing, some injuries, angst, whump

Content: Bucky x reader, Y/N, Avengers, whump, kidnapping. All of my fics are self-indulgent.

Please don't claim my work as your own, but feel free to reblog.

You wiped the sweat from your brow.  As far as you could tell, it had been 5, maybe 6, days since you were taken. You knew what HYDRA were doing. They were trying to break you. You adjusted your legs and shifted your weight in the dark, cramped space.  For the last several hours, you had been locked in some sort of box, just big enough to crouch or sit with crossed legs. It was hot as hell and you’d been sweating profusely, wondering how much longer you would last before passing out from dehydration or dying from heat stroke. But you tried not to worry about it. They will come for you soon. He will come for you. You just need to hang on a little while longer.

               A few more hours had passed, and the heat was suffocating. What little strength you had left was dwindling. You rested your head against the wall of the enclosure and closed your eyes, fighting the nauseating dizziness that threatened to overcome you.  The rattling of chains caught your attention. It seemed like the sound was getting closer. It was then you realized you had drifted- asleep? Unconscious? You weren’t sure, but you fought like hell to focus your attention on what was happening right outside your tiny prison. Suddenly, there was a sharp creak of metal and cool light flooded the box. You squinted your eyes, desperate to see what was going on.

“Get up!” a harsh voice demanded.

Your body shook as you tried to stand, but it was no use. You were too weak and dehydrated.

“GET UP!” they shouted angrily, as if that would provide the strength needed to undo the last several hours of torture.

Instead, your body gave up completely and you slumped inside the box. The next thing you registered was the sensation of a cool breeze on your face and the tops of your feet scraping along concrete as they dragged you by your arms back to your cell.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

“The fuck you mean it’s abandoned?” you whispered.

“I mean, I’m not picking up any heat signatures inside the building,” Sam clarified, adjusting Redwing’s controls just to be sure.

Bucky lowered his chin, smiling to himself. He knew you were always looking forward to a fight.

“All right, until we clear it, we’re going to proceed with caution,” Steve began, “Y/N and Bucky, you’re going to enter the south side of the building. Sam and I will cover the north entrance. Position Redwing on the east to detect movement from the access road. Once it’s clear, we set the charges and evacuate.”

You stole a sideways glance at Bucky and tried to hide your excited smile. You loved working with Bucky; you consider him to be your best friend. You felt like there might even be more there too. But you never pushed him. If being friends was all he wanted, then you would be happy with that.  Bucky was mostly quiet and reserved, but sometimes he would open up to you, tell you about his life before the war. Sometimes, but very rarely, he would reveal the horrors HYDRA inflicted upon him. You couldn’t respond; only listen in sickened contempt. Your hatred for them became personal because of what they put him through, but you also began to piece together how they operate, their torture methods, and their twisted thought processes. You filed away this information little by little, to use against them and one day, take them down. It became your personal mission, why you were so eager to take on HYDRA related missions, and so disappointed when they turned out to be flops.

Your thoughts were interrupted by an elbow gently nudging your arm. “You ready?” Bucky said as your eyes met his.

“I was born ready,” you replied, smugly.

Bucky smiled at your enthusiasm, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was tired of fighting, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to watch HYDRA burn to the ground. Having you fight beside him, though, was a double-edged sword. He enjoyed your company more than he let on, but he also worried for your safety.  He always asked Steve to pair you two together as much as possible on missions (so he could keep an eye on you), and he always received a knowing look in return. You were one of the best fighters Bucky had ever seen, but you could also be impulsive. Most of the time, you managed to compensate for this flaw and come out on top in the fight, but there have been quite a few close calls. Too close for Bucky’s comfort, even if you insisted you had everything under control.

“After you then,” Bucky said, gesturing to the south entrance.

“Such a gentleman,” you flirted, even though your tone was a bit condescending. You didn’t miss the fact that Bucky liked to keep an eye on you. It was obvious, the way he stuck by your side for every mission. It was sweet, but completely unnecessary.

Entering the building was uneventful. As you looked around, you took note of all the dust and debris, the result of what must have been years of no use. Maybe Sam was right, it must be abandoned. What a waste of time. You continued your sweep, clearing each derelict room.

“Second and third floors are clear,” Sam’s voice sounded in your comm.

“Well, aren’t you an over-achiever?” you responded mockingly.

“Y/N, Buck. What’s your status?” Steve asked, attempting to maintain professionalism on the mission. Captain Steve didn’t know how to have fun. Killjoy.

“First floor is clear, heading to the basement now,” Bucky reported, shooting you a ‘behave yourself’ look. You stuck your tongue out at him and ran for the stairwell.

“Y/N, wait!”

“Come on! There’s nothing here. Let’s clear this moldy-ass basement so we can blow it up and get home. I’m starving!” you announced.

Bucky caught up with you and roughly grabbed your elbow to pull you back.

“We need to be careful. This is HYDRA we’re dealing with. You need to take this seriously.”

You ripped your arm from his grasp, offended he would be so rough with you. “This isn’t HYDRA. This isn’t anything. There’s literally nothing here.”

Bucky schooled his expression. He didn’t want to be angry with you, but your recklessness could put everyone in danger. He let out a frustrated sigh, putting his hands on your shoulders and lowering his head to look into your eyes.

“Will you please be more careful? For me?”

You were momentarily stunned by the soft cadence of his voice. But quickly regathered your thoughts.

“Bucky, I am being careful. You need to lighten up.” You shrugged out of his grasp and turned back to the stairwell.

What is with everyone today? The super-soldiers are being super-serious. Even Sam seems like a stick in the mud, definitely not his usual, talkative self. Did you do something to offend them? You thought about the events of the last few days and couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary. Definitely nothing that would explain what everyone’s problem is.

You glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky a few paces behind you as you descended the last of the stairs and reached the basement.

“Well, I didn’t think it was possible, but this looks even more abandoned than the first floor,” you said giving Bucky a pointed look.

“Just keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.” Bucky gently brushed past you to take the lead, advancing down the corridor. He had an uneasy feeling he just couldn’t shake.

“Suspicious?” you remarked sarcastically. “This whole mission is suspicious. What are we fighting here? The cobwebs? The ridiculous amount of dust?” You pushed past Bucky to take the lead again, but when you glanced back, you realized he had stopped. He was looking at you with wide eyes; his expression, one you didn’t recognize.  

“What? What is it?” you asked, concern growing in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re right. Nothing about this is right. There’s too much dust. Our source indicated there was activity here less than a year ago. It shouldn’t look like this.”

You looked around nervously. “Maybe the source was wrong.”

“Not likely…”

Unexpected static in the comms made you jump. You could hear Steve’s voice, but it kept breaking up and you couldn’t understand what he was saying until you made something out very clearly that made your blood run cold.

Pull back……’s a trap…--t out…ABORT!

Your eyes locked with Bucky’s. You froze. He was standing about 10 feet from you when you both registered a rapid clicking noise, like a sped-up clock.

“RUN!!” You heard him yell just before the explosion.

The wall behind you erupted, sending you several yards through the air until you collided with the ground. You could feel the heat and unbearable pressure on your back as you lay prone in the ruins. Dust swirled around you. After several moments of trying to remember how to breathe again and process what the hell had just happened, you remembered that Bucky was with you. You glanced over in his direction, but all you could see was a literal wall of rubble, fire, and smoke. You struggled to focus your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that were forming. Damn, that hurt.

Distantly, you could hear someone calling your name.

“Buck--,” your voice was cut off by a coughing fit as the dust invaded your lungs. “Bucky…” you tried again.

“Y/N?” he sounded closer. You could hear movement, crumbling concrete. “Are you hurt?”

It was at this point, you realized you should probably take a moment to figure out the damage.

“Y/N??” his voice sounded more concerned, more urgent. You weren’t sure how long you had taken to respond.

“Uhh…I….I think I’m okay……I can’t move. I think…ahh…there’s something on my back,” you choked out.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’re coming to get you. Just..hang on, okay? Hang on.”

Hearing this made you relax. Getting blown up was exhausting. You were certain you were going to hear about this later. About how you should have listened to Bucky, been more careful, taken the mission more seriously. You closed your eyes, trying to reserve your strength. You would need it to climb out of this burning hole in the ground.

After a few minutes, you felt the pressure on your back lessen. That was fast. You opened your eyes and tried to focus on Bucky’s face, but then you heard his voice from behind the burning wall of concrete. Confused, you concentrated your attention on the blurry figure standing before you. HYDRA. You gathered all your strength, trying to fight, but you couldn’t get a single hit in before a blow to your face rendered you unconscious.

Bucky heard footsteps and scraping rocks on the other side of the barrier. He had finally managed to make a dent in the rubble just large enough to see through. To see you being dragged away by HYDRA.

“NOOOO!” Bucky frantically slammed his metal fist into the rubble, trying to break through, but it was no use. He couldn’t get to you in time. He watched as you disappeared into the dust and smoke.

You were freezing. Another week had passed, maybe two. You weren’t sure. It was the same thing. Over and over.  Freezing to the point you couldn’t move or think. Then they would throw you in the box again until you passed out from the heat. You didn’t even know what they wanted. They didn’t ask you anything, barely said three words to you. Wouldn’t answer any of your questions. How the hell did they expect to get information out of you if they didn’t fucking ask you anything? Idiots. You’d be glad to give them as much false information as you could muster.

You were frustrated. Frustrated with this pointless torture and frustrated that no one had broken you out of this shithole yet. What was taking so long?

The next day was new. This time a man in a lab coat came into your cell. Based on the history of everything you have come to know about HYDRA, the lab coat is not a good sign.  He peered down at you where you sat against the cold, concrete wall.

“She’s ready,” he practically drooled with excitement. Disgusting.

Two oversized goons entered your cell and brought you to your feet as another ganglier looking goon wheeled in a stretcher. Your stomach dropped. Not good. This is not good. You tried not to let anxiety and fear get the best of you. You’ve endured the heat, the cold, the physical pain and the repulsive goop they fed you, but this was new, and you had no idea what they had planned.

“No. No no no. What are you doing?” You kicked and fought weakly as they strapped you down. You were unable to move.

Lab coat leaned in close to your face. You could smell the wicked stench rolling out of his mouth.

He simply answered, “Phase two.”

……..

“What do you want? You’ve been torturing me for weeks and haven’t asked me a damn thing! Do you even know how this works? No? Must have missed that day in torture 101.”

The lab coat stopped what he was doing and turned to face you. Amusement and almost pity plastered on his face.

“My dear. I haven’t been torturing you. I’ve been preparing you.”

…………

The first injection must have been a sedative and, for that, you were thankful. Your vision became blurry and all your muscles relaxed at once. You could’ve almost fallen asleep. Until the second injection. At first, it was cold, like ice running through your veins. Starting in your arm and flowing through your chest before settling in the rest of your limbs. It was enough to make you shiver and shake uncontrollably. With the last injection came the unbearable heat. It spread through you like wildfire, burning through the sedative and blistering your nerves. It coursed through your body, the agonizing flames filling your skull, threatening to split it open. It was too much. Unbearable. You thrashed your arms and legs beneath the restraints, screaming until you went hoarse. Nothing you did relieved the pain, the burning.  You were left alone in your misery, knowing nothing but the searing pain in your head, threatening to end your life. You hoped it would.

Then, it stopped. You thought maybe death had finally taken you and you felt sadness, for Bucky. For the team. But you were back in your cell. This couldn’t be death. Death isn’t this cruel.

You rolled on your side and slowly sat upright, fighting off the dizziness. You felt horrible, like you should be dead, but at least the pain had subsided. You experimentally staggered to the door of your cell and peered through the slot. It was eerily silent. Still, you waited to see if anyone approached. They almost always did when you awoke to send you for another round of torture…or wait. What did he say? They were preparing you..for what? The injections, ice and fire, the pain, all came flooding back to you. What did they do? Your breaths came faster. You had to get out of there. Fear and panic were in control now. You pushed and pulled at the door feverishly, and to your surprise, the door opened. Worried this was another trap, you stepped back, but no one came. What the fuck?

You left your cell and made your way down the hallway, searching for the exit or at the very least, a weapon. The building was completely cleaned out. They left you there, their experiment. Did they think you were dead? Or just a failure? You didn’t feel any different. Those HYDRA morons must have been bigger fucking idiots than you gave them credit for. Still, you weren’t going to stick around. When you finally made it out of the building, you realized you actually recognized the area. You weren’t that far from the compound. It made you sick to think you were only 10 or so miles from home this whole time, and still, they couldn’t find you. HYDRA could have practically walked up and rang the front doorbell, and the team would have had no idea.

It was cold outside and you were dressed only in a thin gown. You walked for hours, determined to make it home. You had no way of contacting anyone. You were surrounded by a few trees and fields of nothing. The final yards leading up to the compound were grueling. You were exhausted. Your feet bled and your legs shook with the effort.

It was early evening, you guessed, when you painfully stumbled into the common room, where Steve, Bucky and Sam all sat, attention focused on various maps and blueprints laid out before them. Steve saw you first, eyes staring and mouth hanging open. It would have been humorous had you not just been through hell and back. Bucky stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Steve’s expression and turned his head to see what Steve was staring at.

“Y/N??” Bucky couldn’t believe it. His eyes ran over your battered form, watching your whole body shake with fatigue.

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to choke back the tears that were now streaming down your face.

But this was all you could handle. You were suddenly dizzy, the room had started to spin and you dropped to your knees as Bucky ran towards you.

“Oh God! Call Dr. Cho!” Bucky ordered, but Sam was already on it.

You collapsed into Bucky’s arms and saw Steve running toward you. Bucky’s alarmed face was the last thing you saw before your eyes involuntarily closed.

When you awoke the next day, you were alone in the med bay. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, trying to force out the lingering headache. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and were about to remove your IV when Bucky walked into your room.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said as he approached you cautiously. “How are you feeling?”

“Um..really..hungover,” you cracked a smile trying to break the tension. “How long was I out?”

Bucky looked at his watch before responding, “About 23 hours.”

“Oh shit. New record.”

Bucky looked nervous. “We looked everywhere..”

“Not everywhere,” you retorted, sounding more bitter than you intended.

“I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

“Well…that makes two of us.” Your eyes stayed trained on the floor. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You spent weeks dreaming about seeing him again, and now you couldn’t even look at him. Why? Were you that angry that they couldn’t find you? They were obviously looking.

Bucky sensed that maybe this wasn’t the best time to broach the subject, so he changed it.

“So..uh…they want to do a debriefing on what happened as soon as you’re feeling well enough.”

You faltered. You didn’t want to talk about it, relive it. Especially so soon. But you’d rather get it over with so you can move on with your life. Put the whole ordeal behind you.

You looked down at the IV in your arm before ripping it out, the blood beginning to trickle down to your palm.

“Doll—what are you doing?” Bucky lunged toward you, grabbing gauze off the bedside table to apply pressure to the site.

You grabbed the gauze and took over applying pressure.

“I’m about to change my clothes,” you began glancing around the room before finding some in a bag below the bed, “so unless you want to see me naked, you can turn around.”

Bucky paused, mouth opening slightly before regaining his composure and turning to face away from you. You caught him off guard, which is honestly, something you’ve never seen happen.

You were a little disappointed. Maybe you’d been reading him wrong, and he doesn’t see you that way. Or maybe he’s just being a gentleman. This isn’t exactly the best time to explore your feelings for one another. Still, it stung.

………………………..

You sat at the table, nervously glancing at all the faces in the room. Fury, Tony, Steve, and Sam all had their eyes on you. Everyone except Bucky. He stood in the corner, holding his gaze to the floor.  He looked more nervous than you felt. Weird.

They asked their usual questions, and you answered as best you could. But you didn’t feel comfortable enough to go into extensive detail. You trusted these men with your life, but it was starting to feel less like a debriefing and more like an interrogation.

“…and you’re sure that’s all you remember?” Fury asked again.

You looked around the room again, each set of eyes seeming frustrated. Expecting more information than what you’ve provided for the last 2 hours. This was exhausting. A familiar headache was building behind your eyes, and you were beyond done with this.

When you didn’t answer right away, Tony asked another question. “They just let you walk away?” You could hear the blatant skepticism.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Tears were starting to fill your eyes. Damnit! This is not how you thought this would go, but you were feeling pressured, overwhelmed. “They tortured me! For weeks! The same damn thing. Over and over and over again! And I don’t know---maybe they thought I was DEAD!” You choked on a sob; tears streaming down your face now.

“Okay! That’s enough!” Bucky interjected, seemingly ending the questioning.

You quickly stood from your seat and rushed out of the room.

They all exchanged glances and Bucky lingered there silently for a moment before following you.

When he reached your room in the compound, he knocked, but you didn’t answer.

“Doll. It’s me. Can I come in?”

Again, you didn’t answer. He could hear your quiet cries. He tried the handle, but you had locked the door.

“Can you unlock the door, please?”

“Go away, Bucky,” you said, softly. You didn’t need to yell. You knew he could hear you.

“Come on. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” With that, he could hear you moving towards the door.

You angrily flung the door open, surprising Bucky and forcing him to take a step back. Your hair was disheveled, eyes red and still wet with tears.

“Do I look fucking okay to you!?!?” Bucky looked into your eyes, not knowing what to say.

“HYDRA imprisoned me, practically in our own fucking backyard and still no one came for me!”

“Y/N, I swear to you, we never stopped looking—”

“And as soon as I fight my way back here, you all grill me for information, like it was my fucking idea to get captured?”

“Doll, no one thinks this was—”

“I waited for—aagh—” the pain in your head suddenly flared. You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the skin between them. Your discomfort was evident.

“Hey, hey. What is it? What’s wrong?” Bucky’s worried eyes searched your face for answers.

You tried to recover, to push the pain aside.

“I waited for you—AAGH” the pain peaked. The same blistering heat threatening to end you, keeled you over.

With your shaking hands on your knees, you could feel Bucky move to your side. His arms wrapped around your waist to support you.

“Doll, what’s going on? Answer me. Please!”

But you couldn’t answer him. You were back on that stretcher. A prisoner, again. All you knew was the burning pain. Maybe this time, it would spare you the torment and claim your life.

“SOMEBODY HELP! I NEED HELP!” Bucky’s voice sounded far away.

The fire swirled in your skull and bile burned the back of your throat. You lurched forward, fell to your knees, and vomited on the floor. Everything was suddenly black, then nothing.

You awoke once more, alone, in the med bay.  Well, not completely alone. You could hear talking, whispers. Just outside your door.

There’s something she’s not telling me. But I’m not going to try to force answers out of her. She’ll come to me when she’s ready. I’m just going to be her friend. That’s what she really needs right now.

Just a friend? You felt the blanket of disappointment weigh on you again. You were pulled from your thoughts when Bucky opened the door.

You kept your eyes on him as he carefully entered the room.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Huh?”

“Who were you talking to just now?” You tried not to sound like you were accusing him, but you didn’t like being talked about behind your back.

“I wasn’t talking to anyone,” Bucky shook his head, seeming to be genuinely confused.

Great. Now Bucky was lying to you. Some friend he’s trying to be. Even with him literally by your side, you were suddenly feeling very alone. No one trusted you. They think you’re hiding something. Truth be told, you are hiding something. You never told them about the injections, how the torture was actually “preparations”. You even left out the creepy lab guy coat because you were afraid. Afraid if they found out what really happened, that you were an experiment, they wouldn’t look at you the same way. You were afraid you would lose their hard-earned respect, your place on the team. You couldn’t risk it.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The pain? Passing out?” Bucky pressed, becoming serious. This felt like an interrogation again.

“Oh…it was just a headache,” you offered. Were you honestly expecting them not to ask?

“That’s bullshit. What happened to you? What did they do?” He seemed desperate and angry and you were becoming more and more guarded.

“I thought you weren’t going to force answers out of me.” You threw his words back in his face.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“What did you say just now?”

You were out of patience and just wanted to be alone. “Nothing. Please leave.”

Bucky stared at you, disbelieving, before turning his back on you and walking out the door.

A single tear slipped down your cheek. What the hell happened? Everything was fine. You were on a mission, business as usual, and then you were captured and tortured. You miraculously make it back home and suddenly, everyone is against you? You didn’t do anything wrong. Why is everyone acting like you’re at fault?  Your thoughts are becoming louder in your head, circling frantically and building tension. You clench your teeth, trying to hold in a scream, but you can feel an energy building inside you. You pull your knees to your chest, struggling to contain it. Your clenched fists pound at your temples. You don’t know what’s happening; you feel out of control, about to spill over. Explode.

Suddenly, you lose control, letting out an ear-piercing scream, releasing a force you had never felt before. All at once, glass bottles and cabinets shatter, the reinforced windows in your room crack. Furniture is thrown chaotically. Everything is broken, in a frightening disarray, and you’re left sitting in the ruins of what once felt like a safe place.

You tried to catch your breath, eyes darting around the room, attempting to make sense of what just happened.

Oh, God. Oh, God.  What did HYDRA do to you? What have you done? You needed to get out of there. Now. You jump to your feet, grab your clothes, and run. You shove past S.H.I.E.L.D. employees in the hallways, their thoughts intruding and overlapping with your own.  It took you a moment to realize what it was, what you were doing: unintentionally hearing their thoughts. You have to get away, get out. It’s too loud. You’re still running when you hear more familiar voices, but these aren’t in your head.

You can hear Bucky, Steve and Sam talking about what they found at the base where you were kept. Empty syringes. Medical equipment. Partially encrypted files describing some kind of experiment. They know—how could they not? Have they known this whole time?

“I don’t know what they did to her. She won’t tell me, but…she’s different.” Bucky spoke quietly.

Different? Is that how he saw you now? Is that why he’d been acting so strangely since you got back?

“Look man,” Sam reasoned, “she’s been through a lot. It would be weird if she wasn’t acting differently.”

“Still, if they did do whatever this experiment is on her, we don’t know what the outcome is…If she’s still herself, or even on our side,” Steve added.

Your heart dropped. You already felt like they didn’t trust you, which was bad enough, but now they’re against you? You waited for Bucky to defend you. He knows you better than anyone, but his silence spoke volumes. You thought Bucky, of all people, would understand what you’d been through. That you would never turn on them. You really were all alone in this. You felt the fear and uncertainty pouring out of the room.

Then, an unfamiliar voice on the intercom startled you.

Code Gray- Med Room 4. Code Gray- Med Room 4.

Shit. That was your room. Then the alarm started blaring and you ran. When did you become the enemy? How did this happen? You’re not part of HYDRA. You’re the victim. You managed to get out of the compound without anyone else seeing you. But you had no idea where to go from there.

Bucky, Steve, and Sam rushed to your med room. They stood there in disbelief, taking in the scene. It looks like a bomb went off.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

“We’re not sure, sir. We, uh, heard a scream and when we got here, the room was empty,” a nurse answered.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked, growing impatient.

“We don’t know, I’m sorry,” the nurse responded before quicky leaving the room.

Steve and Sam exchanged looks. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair.

“Buck….”

“No.”

“We need to consider all the facts, here.”

“No, Steve! She wouldn’t do this. She’s not HYDRA.”

“Dude, she was missing for weeks and then just waltzed through the front door? That doesn’t seem odd to you?” Sam added.

“She didn’t waltz, Sam. She could barely walk, then she collapsed,” Bucky defended.

“So you think they just let her go? When the hell has HYDRA ever just let anybody go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Her story isn’t adding up, Buck.”

“They did something to her, she’s different. I just don’t know why she’d hiding it.”

“What do you mean? What aren’t you telling us?” Steve questioned.

“I think….whatever they did to her, worked. I thought it was a coincidence, at first, but then…this,” he motioned around the room. “I think she could hear what I was thinking earlier, and I think this is part of whatever she’s going through. I think she’s enhanced.”

They all looked around the room, letting Bucky’s theory sink it.

Steve broke the silence. “We need to find her before she hurts someone.”

You were walking against the cold wind and found yourself back at the shithole. You weren’t sure what you were doing there. Looking for answers, maybe? Waiting for them to find you? Like they were supposed to do. Before the injections, before they turned on you, before you lost control. What did they think of you now? You’re certain they must think you’re HYDRA. Fear and despair surged through you, and you started to lose control again. Objects that surrounded you started to rattle and lift into the air, crashing into walls.

You saw movement from the corner of your eye, emotions flaring even further. They had found you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, wetting the front of your sweatshirt.  You had already lost everything. They may as well take you now and put you in whatever floating prison they have. They marked you as guilty the moment you walked back into the compound.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Bucky approached you slowly, motioning to Steve and Sam to hang back.

You slowly turned to face him. Finally seeing his face broke you, and you started to cry harder. The cot beside you rattled along with desks and shelves, lifting off the floor, quaking violently, erratically. Bucky held up his hands, gesturing to you that he meant you no harm. And you wanted nothing more than to believe him, to melt into his arms.

As your emotions ran wild with fear and anguish, the chaos around you swelled. You shook your head trying to empty it of the intrusive whispers. You were ready to surrender. You just wanted all this to be over, but when you looked past Bucky to see Steve and Sam in their full Avenger gear, a realization hit you. They were here to fight you. Bucky noticed the change in your demeanor. You felt the energy inside you intensifying again. The building began to tremble.

“Y/N. Y/N! Look at me! You’re going to be okay. We’re here to take you home.” Bucky tried to reason.

“No. NO! You’re here to hurt me. You don’t trust me, think I’m HYDRA!”

“That’s not true. We’re your friends. We want to help you,” Bucky insisted.

“Help me? That’s why you brought Captain America and Falcon with you?!”

You were angry now. If they wanted to take you, it would have to be by force. That’s what they wanted. You looked back over at Bucky and noticed the light reflecting off the tears that gathered in his eyes. You felt like you were about to detonate.

“Sweetheart, please,” Bucky pleaded with you; His hand stretched out towards you, beckoning you to take it.

The building shook even more violently with the release of your emotions. Once again, objects cracked and shattered all around you, but this time, the entire building threatened to come down on top of all of you.

“I can’t. I can’t control it….” You looked to Bucky, desperate for all this to end.

As dust and debris rained from the ceiling, you heard the order.

TAKE HER! NOW!

You whipped your head to the side, catching sight of Redwing; you hadn’t noticed it there before, but it was too late. Two darts struck your neck, delivering a powerful sedative. You swayed on your feet for only a moment before going down hard. All the objects flying around the room, uncontrollably, crashed to the ground at once. The building stood still once again. Whatever they hit you with was strong. You couldn’t move, but yet, you weren’t completely unconscious.  You could faintly hear distorted commotion around you and your eyes felt heavy.

“Jesus Christ, Steve!” Bucky kneeled at your side to brush your hair from your face, wiping your tears in the process.

“I’m sorry, Buck. We had to. You heard her. She couldn’t control it.”

Bucky gently picked you up and held you close to his chest. You could tell he was walking, but your vision was starting to blur even more. Then you felt his breath on your ear as he whispered that you would be okay. You were safe now. They were going to fix this. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the darkness.

THREE WEEKS LATER

“I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore, Bucky.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“Well, I can’t leave. That is the definition of prisoner, right?”

“Bruce thinks he’s close to a cure. He just needs a little more time.”

“You’ve been saying that for 3 weeks.”

Bucky offered you a half-hearted smile, but it was tainted with regret.

You were beginning to doubt their ability to fix you. Where would they even begin? You were just the result of another fucked-up half-assed HYDRA experiment.  They couldn’t cure you any more than they could cure Bucky or Steve of being super-soldiers. You know it. They know it. You just wish they’d stop blowing smoke up your ass.

Just then, Bruce appeared behind the reinforced glass doors, pressing his palm to the scanner to gain access to your room.

He approached your bed with the same half-hearted smile Bucky imparted.

“Hello, Y/N. How are you feeling today?” Bruce began, like he always did when starting his examinations.

“Fine. Normal. How’s the cure coming along?”

He hesitated for a moment, ignoring your question before continuing with his own.

“Any more headaches?”

“No. Not really.”

“Good, good. That’s good.” More hesitation.

“Just spit it out, Bruce.”

“Well, uh..” he fiddled with his clipboard, pretending to review his findings. “We did some genetic profiling and it looks like the experiment has altered your DNA in ways we’ve never seen before. Your brain scans are phenomenal.”

“That’s not exactly comforting….” You knew where this was going, even though you didn’t completely understand the science of it all.

“What does that mean?” Bucky leaned forward in his seat, prompting Dr. Banner to elaborate.

“Well, I’m afraid it means we can’t cure you.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair; the atmosphere in the room deflated. He didn’t even look at you. You knew this was coming but hearing it out loud and seeing Bucky’s dejected reaction only solidified your fears. There is no hope.

Dr. Banner continued, “The good news is that you seem to be adapting and stabilizing well.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You didn’t want to hear anything else. You weren’t even listening. All you can think about is how you’re no longer an Avenger and how Bucky won’t even look at you now. You lost him; your best friend, maybe more. Where do you go from here?

“I just have a few more questions for you,” Dr. Banner began again, “Are you still able to hear the thoughts of others?”

“Yes. But I can mostly block it out. It’s gotten easier.”

Dr. Banner smiled. “And there haven’t been any more incidents….” He held up his pen. “Can you move this towards you, please?”

You looked up from your lap and focused on the pen, gently floating it above the bed until it reached your grasp.

“Amazing…”

You wished Dr. Banner would be a little less enthusiastic. Your life, as you know it, is over and you’re not in the mood for this.

“Okay. I’m releasing you from my care.”

“Wait. What? When?” You stared at him in awe. Is he joking?

“Right now.” He gathered his notes and left the room, door unlocked.

You felt Bucky grasp your hand. His smile was bright as he waited for your thoughts to catch up.

“Come on. We have a mission,” he coaxed.

“I-I don’t understand,” you hesitated. “I didn’t think you wanted---I didn’t think anyone trusted me.”

“Sweetheart, we do trust you…and I’ll always want you. No matter what.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter. “We found the shitbags that took you…you ready to kick some ass?”

Your eyes lit up with excitement and determination. “I was born ready.”