#she had to receive her jacket from sam

[coachbeards]

i will also be so upfront with everyone.

the tr karaoke panic attack scene still confuses me

[scudevils]

summer nights — JB9

pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader

warnings: smut, semi public?, teasing, oral (f receiving), established relationships, swearing, not proofread!!

synopsis: wedding joe makes brain go brrr [1.5k]

a/n: i wrote this in like 40 minutes after finally getting some decent pictures whoops

MASTERLIST

fuck he looked good in that shirt.

that was all you could think about for the past two hours, since you'd first seen him in it back home if you were being honest. it didn't help you'd had a drink, practically eye fucking him from across the room, where he was laughing at a joke sam had said, you were sitting, wanting to climb him like a tree.

were you ovulating? that was the only explanation for how badly you needed this man.

it was truly a gorgeous wedding, perfect in every sense of the word, sam and jess were one of the couples you and joe spent the most time with outside of the team, you clicked with jess the day you'd met her and ever since you'd been friends. you were part of her wedding party, the gorgeous dark blue dress she'd picked out for her bridesmaids somehow complimenting everyone.

they matched the blue suit jackets that the groomsmen had on, the one that rested over your shoulder when joe noticed you'd gotten a chill after the service.

joe wasn't a big drinker during the season, so it was always fun to see hin let loose without the consequences of an early morning training session. his movements were looser, a smile etched on his face and never leaving, and you loved every minute of it, you couldn't help but laugh at his little stumble when sam tried to get him dancing.

jess plopped herself down beside you, her skirt flowing out like the petals of a flower, heavy breathing as she'd just gotten off of the dance floor. "you gotta come up!" she shouted over the music, taking a swig of the drink she'd left on the table earlier. "cmon!" holding out her hand, you took it with a laugh, acting as though you were being dragged up.

"i can't dance, jess!" you shouted back at her, nearer the speakers now, you could feel the beat of the music through your body.

"neither can he," following where she was pointing at, you found joe and sam dancing together, covering your mouth as you couldn't help but laugh at the scene, you were definitely telling him about this tomorrow and you know he'd deny it.

wether it was the drink, it was most definitely the drink, or a false confidence from seeing joe not care, you followed jess's lead, dancing along to the music, the alcohol flowing through your veins, a smile a permanent feature on your face.

when you opened your eyes again, joe was gone from by sam, your eyes subconsciously scanning the room to find him, and when you didn't, your smile couldn't help bur fall. "i'll be right back, gonna find joe!" you weren't sure if she'd heard you entirely, just nodding her head at your words and trusted you'd be fine.

the music became less clear the further you got away, till it just became noise in the background, no longer thumping in your blood, the cool air in the hallway hitting you like a welcomed truck, only now realising just how hot it was in there.

you heard shuffling from the other end of the corridor, where the entrance to the toilets were and began to walk towards them, if you couldn't find joe, you could at least go to the bathroom. the sound of laughter from the main hall was faint now, finally able to hear yourself think. finally, when you reached the bathroom door, you could feel another presence behind you, hear them being breathing.

disregarding every horror movie you'd ever seen, you turned around to see your potential attacker, clutching a hand to your heart when you realised it was joe, you slapped his chest. "you dick! thought it was gonna die."

his laugh reverberated around you, warm and homely as he apologised for scaring you, his hands lingering on your waist as his fingers absentmindedly drew circles. "have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?" joe was a charmer, that was for sure, his words silky smooth.

"sure have, many times." you giggled, that was how he got you, laughing like a school girl who got some attention from her crush, wrapping your arms around his neck as you looked into his eyes. "doesn't hurt to hear it again."

joe dipped his head lower, lips barely brushing against yours, before pressing a chaste kiss to them. "you." kiss "look" kiss "so" kiss "beautiful" and another, your fingers tangling in the short strands of his messed up hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing him closer.

"joe," you whisper against his lips, and he's already moving, his hand leaving your waist for a second as he's opening the door behind you, the bathrooms in the venue only one room rather than stalls, and your already unbuttoning his shirt when you hear the lock click. "been wanting you since we left."

"fuck, i know." he's saying back to you, cradling your jaw in his hand as he's bringing you in for another kiss, messing up your hair even more, his lips tainted a faint pink. "gonna need you to be quiet, okay?"

when you nod at his words, his hand finds the zip on the back of your dress, pulling it down as the front falls, the lacy bra you had on leaving nothing to the imagination, his hand grazes over the flimsy material, hearing you suck in a breath as he teases over your hardening nipples. "been wanting you too, baby, couldn't think right."

he's kissing up the centre of your chest, across your collarbone and up your neck, and you're supposed to just take it, be quiet as he says, but you can't help the small moans and whines that fall from your lips. "no marks," you tell him, joe's eyes flickering to yours. "not where they can see."

you hated how deliberate his touches were, how he knew where to touch to tease you, have you begging for more. joe knew your body more than you did. his hand ghosted down your back, slipping the rest of the dress down your body, pupils blown wide when he sees the matching pair of panties you had on. "gonna be the death of me."

the press of his body against yours was electrifying, every one of your nerves on fire, on edge as his hands went lower down your body, skimming over your clothed cunt, and laughing at your reaction. your boyfriend was a cruel man.

joe was in total control as he was now crouched below you, lifting one of your legs over your shoulder, his fingers rough against yours skin dipping below the sides of your panties and sliding them down your legs, "fuck" he muttered to himself.

before you can react, his tongue is on you, flat against yours cunt, lapping as if you'll disappear from him if he doesn't, and your head falls against the wall, eyes screwed shut, tugging on the strands of his hair, inadvertently pushing his closer to you, egging him on.

you had nothing to hold onto but him, your thighs locking his head into place, even if he wanted to move he couldn't, and he certainly did not want to move. his teeth grazing against yours clit had you jolting forward, nearly toppling over him from the force you got up, you disregarded his prior instructions, letting the moans tumble from your lips

there was no stopping it, whines and whimpers following, his name spoken like a prayer, his attack on your cunt relentless, his thumb coming up to circle your clit, the added stimulation had your orgasm rolling towards you. your mouth fell open in a silent moan, feeling his groan vibrating against yours, legs shaking a little as he never relented, thoughts fuzzy.

when joe looked up he swore he had died and went to heaven, wanting to take a picture to remember the moment forever, but alas his memory would do. he was setting your body on fire, raising hairs you didn't even know you had, fingering digging into his scalp a little deeper. "joe,"

your voice gave you away, just barely above a whisper, yet it drove him absolutely fucking insane, the sweet sound of his name from your lips. joe feels your legs shake around his head, squeezing him in and keeping him in his place between them, the hand in his hair having a hold thats teetering on painful, but he only groaned at the feeling. when his tongue leaves you there’s an empty feeling, although still worked through the after shocks by his thumb.

“fuck, you’re amazing.” he’s whispering against yours skin, pressing kisses to the warmth. you look down to see him straining against his trousers, wanting to help him when he stops you, pointing towards his watch. “gotta wait till we get home.”

you know he’s right, but that doesn’t stop your whine of protest.

[imtryingbuck]

My Saviour

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Buckys just received some news from the love of his life.

Word count: 6,269

Warnings: angst. fluff. suicidal thoughts. Bucky’s past mentioned. insecurities. scars mentioned. Bucky being madly in love. reader being an angel. past cheating and domestic abuse. pregnancy (it’s me im sorry) me not knowing anything about courts/sentencing.

Translation: ты мой спаситель - you’re my saviour (if wrong take it up with google translation)

Masterlist

Bucky wished Steve was still around so he could talk to him about things. He wish that his best friend was still there to see the progress he was slowly making. Wished to know if his best friend was proud of him.

But most importantly he wished Steve chose to stay with him and Sam so he could have met the person who brought him back to life, who brought his long existence actual meaning other than jumping from fight to fight. He knew Steve would have loved her and probably would have thanked her for everything.

But sadly Steve went to live a different life without him so he had to deal with Sam all alone.

For a year after Steve left Bucky struggled to go out, he struggled to find his path in a world that he wasn’t suppose to be apart of. He should have died that day when he fell from the train.

His therapist tried to get him to go out into the world and meet people, Bucky would say ‘next time’ until Dr Raynor eventually gave up on trying.

For a whole year Bucky moved with the motion, just existing, alive and breathing but just barely holding on to that invisible thread.

That was until six years ago. Six years ago everything changed.

** six years ago **

“Buck please-“

“Don’t call me that! How many times do I have to tell you”

“Oh I’m sorry Sir Bucky! But like I said please just come with me? It would do you some good to get out of your apartment, wait Bucky are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m listening. I do get out-“

“To see your therapist and that’s it”

“I’m still going out aren’t I?” Bucky responds snappily, rolling his eyes as Sam groans through the speaker.

“Please Bucky, it’s just coffee!”

“God sake, okay. I’ll be there. Bye” He really didn’t want to go out and get a coffee with Sam but he ended agreeing knowing that he would not have stopped, probably even going as far as coming to his apartment just to drag him out of there. Since Steve left, poor Bucky had been left all alone on with Sam, okay it wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be but still he had been left with a man that annoyed him more than anything.

Groaning inwardly he slides his phone into his jeans front pocket before shoving his gloved hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, as he walked down the street he kept his head down so he didn’t make eye contact with anyone walking by. It was safer that way. For him and those around him.

“James Barnes” he spoke roughly to the receptionist who made a habit of always pushing her chest out so he could get an eye full of her cleavage.

“Take a seat” she responds batting her eyelashes with her chest pushed out. He thought after the tenth time of him rolling his eyes at her not so subtle attempt at flirting she would get the hint.

He was not interested.

“S-sorry is this seat taken?” A soft timid voice from a woman pulled Bucky out of his staring competition he was having with the fake plant by the water dispenser.

“Huh?”

“Is-is anyone sitting here?”

“No. No you can sit”

“T-thank you” Bucky smiled and nodded softly instantly curious as to why she was also seeing a therapist. Bucky found himself getting lost in the smell of her perfume, the sweet smell creeping up his nostrils and into his senses. His eyes focused on the slow motion of her leg closest to his bouncing in time with the ticking of the clock.

“S-sir?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“A-are you um are you J-James Barnes?”

Great just great. She knows who he is and from the way she stutters his name she clearly knows what he’s done and is scared of him. “Yes that’s me” he finally answers.

“Y-your names b-been called sir” she points over to where the receptionist is and sees her waiting for him to follow her down the hallway to Dr Raynors office.

Oh. Oh okay he got it wrong. “Oh, thank you”

“Y-your welcome sir”

Bucky offers her a small smile that she responds with the same and follows Lila down the corridor. He has no idea that the small smile he gave her meant a great deal to her. Nor does he know that she talks about him to her therapist that was two doors down from his.

Neither one realises that one small smile would make such a massive impact on their lives.

Over the course of four months, twice a week Bucky would see the woman whose name he had yet to know, every time they sat patiently in the waiting room they would find themselves sitting next to each other. Always quietly asking if the seat next to them was taken. Even if there were other available seats.

Dr Raynor had quite enjoyed hearing about the woman who seemed to have taken residence in Bucky’s mind. And Dr Harlow was proud of hearing that her patient was seeing someone new. She laughed when her patient blushed and began stumbling over her words that she was not seeing this man in that sense.

Bucky walked in to the waiting room expecting to find the woman whose presence he had become content being around only to frown at seeing the two seats that became unofficially theirs empty. The whole time he waited for her but she never showed. His name was called, as he followed Lila he kept turning his head back to the double doors in hopes that he would catch a glimpse of her. Walking into the room he frowned at seeing Dr Raynor and another woman sitting down. This was new.

“James, this is Dr Harlow.”

“Hi?”

“Hello James”

“What’s wrong? I didn’t do-“

“No, no James it’s… well you know the woman you’ve been telling me about?” Raynor cuts him off and waits for him to nod “well Dr Harlow is her therapist, Y/n was rushed in to the hospital early hours this morning-“

“Y/n? That’s her name? Wait… what happened to her? Is she okay? Where is-“

“James, she’s okay. We can’t disclose anything about what happened but-well you see Y/n has been talking about you in her sessions, nothing bad don’t worry, and you’ve been talking about her so we agreed that we should let you know”

Bucky sat there staring at his doctor as his mind raced with questions. She was in the hospital? Her name suited her perfectly. Why was she in the hospital? Who hurt her? She talked about him? ‘Nothing bad’ the good doctor stressed. Is she okay? “James?”

“Yeah erm, are you sure she’s okay?”

“Yes. We, well we talked to each other�� Raynor points at between herself and Dr Harlow “and we think it would be a great opportunity for you to talk to her, maybe offer her some support-“

“Why me? Aren’t you two the therapists?”

“Yes we are but James I don’t think you realise how much those smiles and a few quiet words mean to Y/n. Nor she with you, now in my opinion I think it would be nice if the pair of you had someone to lean on when you don’t have a session.”

Thinking it over for a few minutes he nodded and agreed. Dr Harlow said Y/n had mentioned that she felt safe with him which made his heart race faster than usual at hearing that a complete stranger felt safe around him when he was so use to it being different. No one felt safe around him, hell he didn’t even feel safe with himself but yet she did. Not even ten seconds after the door closed behind Dr Harlow did Bucky start questioning his doctor about what had happened or where she was so he could go and see her, he just wanted to make sure she was fine but Raynor held strong and didn’t back down from the harsh glare he was sending towards her. She never did though to be honest.

Ten minutes later Dr Raynor thought it was best to cut their session short, though promised him that she would make out that they did the full hour.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks it had been since he was told that she was in the hospital and he hadn’t seen her. That day he thought it wouldn’t be any different to the other days where he expected to see her, until he turned his back on Lila who thankfully now took the hint that he wasn’t interested in her. His eyes squinted at seeing someone sitting in their seats.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked quietly, hoping that the woman in front of him would raise her head and smile as she said ‘no you can sit’. And when she did. Well… let’s just say that what he wanted to do to whoever had caused such pain and suffering to his Y/n he wouldn’t have pinned it on the Winter Soldier. No because Bucky Barnes would have happily admitted to shedding blood that wasn’t his own. Happily and proudly.

“N-no you can sit” she responds with that smile he sees when he closes his eyes at night.

“Doll-“ Lila cuts him off by calling his name signalling that it was his time, he nods at her then faces Y/n. “After your session I’m going to be waiting right here okay, and I want to take you for a coffee.”

“O-okay” Y/n says with a shy smile. Bucky smiles back before going up to Lila, eyebrows burrowing when she doesn’t lead him down the corridor. And that’s when it finally hits him. He had never seen her doing that to any of the other patients.

He tells Dr Raynor that Y/n was back, told her the bruises that littered her beautiful face, told her what he had said to her and her response. “Go easy on her James, don’t try and rush her into telling you all of her secrets okay” but in the same breath suggests a nice place for him to take her.

Forty five minutes after his appointment had ended he was now sat a cross the table from Y/n with a black coffee in front of him and a hot chocolate in front of her.

“You know what I’m going to ask you don’t you?” He says with a gentle smile, she nods. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fi-fine now sir”

“Bucky, call me Bucky. How long was you in the hospital for?”

“A few d-days, Dr Harlow told me that she told you what happened”

“Not exactly they just said that you was in the hospital, wanted me to know since you talk about me all the time” winking at her when she blushed.

“I-I d-don’t”

“All the time they said, said that your obsessed with me”

“Well y-you talk a-about me too!”

“Me? Never!” Bucky was ninety nine point nine percent sure that he had died right there and then and went to heaven when she laughed. He was sure of it. Her laugh could only described as angelic. God he wanted to hear it again and again until he dying breath.

“I-it was my ex” she whispered. She wasn’t stupid she knew what he wanted to ask.

“Where is he now?”

“Jail still, h-have to go court in-in two weeks. My lawyer said h-he’ll be going to prison for a long time, he broke the protection order an-and well this” she said gesturing to her face.

“You had a protection order against him?”

“Yes, throughout our relationship he was abusive the o-only way I managed to get out was because he had been cheating on me with a friend of mine, he left me a-and I was so happy because it meant that I didn’t have to suffer no more but the friend didn’t want him anymore because the fun of sneaking around had gone”. Taking a deep breath before sipping on her hot chocolate she continued. “He broke into my apartment and attacked me because I said no to taking him back, police was called by my neighbour and I got the restraining order against him because I could do that then, he went to prison and h-he got out three weeks ago, he broke into my apartment again and did this b-but the police arrived quickly as I already rang them”

“Doll… I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay. I’m okay now”

“It’s not okay Y/n”

“It is what it is, he’ll be going to prison for a long time and I’ll be able to live my life again.” She smiled.

“W-when is it that you have to go to court?”

“In two weeks, why?”

“Can I come with you? To offer my support” With her lack of response he knew he overstepped. Of course she isn’t going to want the former Winter Soldier to come with her to face another monster in her life. He’s about to apologise until she smiles once more and nods.

“I would really like that. Thank you Bucky” Bucky smiled and nodded.

Their second cup of hot drinks had slowly grown cold as the conversation flowed effortlessly between the pair. Bucky loved the way she no longer stuttered or stumbled over her words the longer they spoke. She was about to say something when a bang from the window startled the pair of them.

“Great.” He muttered.

“D-do you know him?”

“Who the crazy guy with his face squashed up against the window? Unfortunately” Y/n giggled at his words then looked at the man who did in fact have his face squashed up against the window, his eyes moving back and forth between herself and Bucky. Waving shyly at the man who waved excitedly back Bucky rolled his eyes. “You do realise you’ve just basically invited him in, don’t you? Oh see now he’s entering.”

“Stop being mean”

“Didn’t expect to see you here Barnes. Hi I’m Sam, Bucky’s best friend in the whole world”

“Hi Sam, I’m Y/n” she shakes his hand and smiles at Bucky who sits there rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Scoot over then Bucky. So how did you two meet?”

Bucky looked at Y/n to see if she was comfortable with letting him know, she just smiled. “We met in therapy”

“Oh, are you a therapist?”

“No, no I’m a patient”

“Does it help?”

“Sam!”

“What? I’m just asking”

Giggling at the two men “it’s fine Bucky, it has been helping. My therapist is really nice and understanding”

“That’s great. So did you two meet from group therapy or?”

“No we actually sat next to each other in the waiting room”

“Aw that’s so cute!” Sam winks at her whilst Bucky grumbled under his breath.

Sam ends up convincing Bucky and Y/n in getting something to eat not that he puts up to much of a fight as both of them were hungry themselves. Once again conversation flows effortlessly, even Bucky joined in with the laughter.

After food was eaten and an argument between the three about who was going to pay - Y/n winning when the two men were still arguing over the bill - they walked her all the way to her apartment. Bucky’s heart clenched painfully seeing her front door with dried blood on it. Sam noticed too and smiled sadly at his friend.

Two whole weeks passed, in those two weeks Sam kept “bumping” into the pair, the three of them would walk around talking about their lives, both of the men noticing that she was very vague about her life but neither one pushed her into saying more.

Today was the day where Y/n was going to court, as she stood outside she checked her watch worrying that Bucky wasn’t going to show up, not like he needed to he didn’t owe her anything anyway. She turned around to head up the many steps when her names called, turning she sees Bucky running over towards her. Sam following closely behind.

“Hey, hi, sorry we’re late I tried to shake this one off but he’s persist-“

“No it’s okay, I-I really appreciate the pair of you coming today. It means so much”

“You’re welcome sunshine, you’ve got our support” Sam smiles wrapping his arms around her squeezing slightly.

“Y/n? We need to go in” her lawyer says from the large brown double doors.

Sam nods to the pair and heads up the steps, Bucky smiled “me and Sam are here for you, it’s going to be okay”

“I’m scared about seeing him again b-but I-I can do it” Bucky’s hand reached out to hers that shook.

“I’ve got you, I promise”

“T-th-thank you Bucky”

Hand in hand they head up to where Sam was waiting patiently and followed the lawyers lead into the courtroom. Bucky’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing from anger as Y/n bravely stood in the witness stand and gave her statement, hearing all the things that the bastard did to her made him want to attack him. Sam knew what was going through his friends head, honestly? He wasn’t going to be far behind him.

Three hours later her ex received a ten year sentence. Bucky watched as her body relaxes by hearing the judges words. He and Sam smiles at her when she turns around, her eyes moving along the rows to find where they sat, smiling as soon as she lands on them.

After leaving the courthouse Bucky took her hand in his again and the three of them went to the restaurant that Sam had suggested, in a way to celebrate Y/n’s new found freedom. Neither one of the men mentioned about what they heard or the photos they saw in the courtroom, other than telling her that they were proud of her bravery.

Six months had passed before any of them had realised, both of the therapists were proud of seeing completely different people sitting in front of them in their sessions. Bucky opened up more and so did Y/n, not only to their therapists but to each other.

The knock on the door pulled Bucky away from his bickering with Sam as his friend argued that pineapple on pizza was nice. “I’ll ask Y/n and see what she says! Hey doll”

“Hey, sorry I’m late”

“You’re not, don’t worry. Hey does pineapple belong on pizza?” He asked taking her coat and hanging it up on the hook.

“I’ve tried it and I like it” she waves to Sam.

“See! Sam I told you it was nice”

“But you said-“

“Shut up. Sam said that it was wrong but I said it was nice”

“No yo-“

“So how was your day?” Sam looked at Y/n mouthing ‘he’s lying’ making her giggle, she goes on to tell them all about her day which had Bucky hanging on to every word she spoke.

Halfway through the film Sam had picked Y/n went to the bathroom, Bucky eyed Sam curiously as the latter was sitting there grinning at him. “What?”

“Whens the wedding?”

“What wedding?”

“Yours and Y/ns”

“We’re not getting married? Why are you smiling like that?”

“If you say so, hey when are you going to tell her you love her?”

Choking on his beer Bucky shook his head “I don’t love her Sam”

“Okay, how about you telling her that you’re in love with her?”

“Sam shut up.”

“Nope. So when are you going to tell her?”

“I’m not going too alright. It’s just-it doesn’t matter alright just drop it”

“Drop what?” Y/n asked walking back into the living room.

“Pineapple being on pizza” Bucky says quickly his eyes going wide looking at Sam.

Laughing she shakes her head sitting back down next to Bucky “we’re not having this argument anymore boys”

“Try telling him that Y/n/n” now it’s Bucky’s turn to have a grin on his lips as Sam’s eyes squint at the pair.

“Sunshine has Bucky told you yet?”

“Told me what?”

“That he loves y-“

“Yogurts.”

“You… love yogurts?” She asked him with her eyebrow raised, Sam struggles to contain his laughter seeing Bucky become a stuttering mess.

“Yes… I love yogurts, problem?”

“Nope no problem here” If Y/n wasn’t snuggling into his left side Bucky would have throttled Sam.

The knock on her door startled her from the tv screen in front of her - it didn’t help that she was watching a horror and that a jump scare was about to happen when the knock came.

“Bucky? Hey, are you okay?”

“I-I was just in the neigh-neighbourhood a-and I thought that I’d st-stop by”

“Yeah come in, James is everything alright?”

“Yeah, w-why?”

“It’s just that you’re stuttering… and I’m just worried that’s all”

“S-someone said something about me, it-it wasn’t good” he admitted twisting the bottle cap from the water bottle she had gave him.

“What did they say?”

“It doesn’t matter, I-I just wanted to see you-you know because I was in the neighbourhood”

The truth was he wasn’t, he had finally listened to Dr Raynors advice and go out. His plan was to go down the corner store to get some essentials in. Get in, get out that was easy and simple. He could do it. Until he heard two men who were talking clearly and loudly about him their conversation attracting the attention of others passing by them. And that’s when he realised his second mistake that day, the first mistake being to agree to go out, the second being that he forgot his gloves. The comments were harsh and unkind.

His first response was to put his head down shoving his hands into his pockets and walk all the way to Y/n’s apartment. Even if it was a forty minute walk.

Bucky needed to see her, he didn’t care if they sat in silence just as long as he was with her, he didn’t care if she forced him to watch that terrible tv show.

“Come on let’s watch something and have cuddles”

He was safe with her. Calmer. Happier. More comfortable and relaxed.

“Have you asked her?”

“No Samuel I haven’t”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t seen her today”

“Why?”

“Because she had her session with Dr Harlow”

“Why?”

“Sam, I’m going to punch you in the face”

“Wh-“

Bucky rolled his eyes and put the phone call down. He couldn’t bear to hear why one more time. He was too busy going over what he was going to ask Y/n, so many things could go wrong she could say no, it would be weird as they’ve only known each other for a year now. She’s going to say no. Of course she is. He can’t ask, he just ca-

“Buck? Open up my arms hurt”

Buck. Buck, the name Sam was not happy about hearing slipping out of her mouth. He had tried years to call him that but always got shot down. It wasn’t fair.

“Buck? Shit are you not in?”

“No! No I’m in doll, hi, hello, hi”

“Hi, hello, hi to you too” Bucky laughs taking the bags off her arms carefully, then takes them into the kitchen. A month ago Y/n moved in to his apartment with him after the landlord put up the rent making her struggle to keep paying the higher rent, Bucky caught her looking for a new place to live when he suggested her living with him, she first denied but Bucky swore and promised that he was more than happy to let her stay with him, she ended up agreeing, Bucky could have cried with happiness all night but managed to contain himself.

“Did you get everything?”

“Nope, forgot absolutely everything you asked for” sticking her tongue out at him, he laughed.

God he loves her weirdness.

“So I- god sake Sam, hold on pretty girl. What now Sam? No I haven’t. Because she’s just walked in. You’re so needy do you know that? Okay I’ll ask now. Yes I’ll do it whilst you’re on the phone. Y/n, do you want to come to Louisiana with Sam and I?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we’re going for a week to see his sister and nephews and we want you to come too”

“Will his sister mind me being there?”

“No. So?”

“Are you guys really sure?”

“Absolutely”

“O-okay, that would be nice”

His smile doesn’t just take up his face but Sam’s as well “good, good. Did you hear Sam? Okay see you later” chucking his phone on to the counter he turns back to Y/n. “We leave tomorrow”

“Tomorrow? Oh god okay, I’ll go and pack now”

Two days later they arrive in Louisiana after both men took it in turns to drive, it was long and tiring for them but Y/n loved it. She had never been out of New York before so she was taking in the sights. When Bucky wasn’t driving he would watch her from his seat, seeing her face lit up made his heart tingle.

“Are you sure she won’t mind me being here?”

“I promise, she’s excited to meet you” Sam reassures her as he pulls up the gravelled driveway.

Greeting his sister and nephews, Bucky doing the same Sarah turned her attention to Y/n instantly engulfing her in a warm embrace. “It’s so nice to finally meet you”

“You too” she smiled softly.

Later that night after putting their things away they all sat outside watching as the sun started to set, Sam was manning the grill and Bucky were chasing the two boys around making them squeal with laughter and excitement. Sarah and Y/n were talking when Sarah asked the woman sitting in front of her something that made her choke and splutter on her drink.

“W-we aren’t to-together”

“Are you sure? The way he looks at you makes me think differently”

“No, no we’re just friends. Plus he wouldn’t like me so”

“Do you like him?”

“I-yes. But I would rather have him as my friend than not have him in my life”

“Tell him how you feel”

“No I can’t do that!”

“You can”

“No I can’t”

“Can’t what?” Bucky’s voice comes from behind her. Sarah has to stifle her laughter as Y/ns eyes went as wide as saucers.

“I-erm nothing.”

“Okay? Hey there’s a crab down on the beach that the boys have found, want to come and see it?”

“O-okay” Bucky smiles and holds out his hand for her to take, helping her stand he keeps his hand in hers as they walk towards the two boys.

“Is she in love with him?”

“I think so, hopefully they’ll admit their feelings because they’re so cute together” Sarah says with her eyes trained on the two fading figures, Sam smirks before flipping the burgers.

Later that night Y/n got startled when she went into the bathroom seeing Bucky standing motionless in front of the mirror. “Shit! Bucky you scared- hey are you okay?”

“I-I’m fi-I’m not okay Y/n/n” Y/n moved so quickly wrapping her arms around him, both falling on the ground.

“It’s okay, it’s okay” the sobs wracked through his body making her body shake. She kept repeating those words like a mantra.

“M-my hair”

“Your hair? What about it?”

“I-I want it gone, please, please help me g-get rid of it”

Her heart broke at hearing him sounding so small, in the whole year of knowing him he had always sounded so strong, and confident. Also she loved his hair and they both knew it, on nights where they cuddled up together on the couch watching movies her fingers would always end up playing with the soft strands of hair.

“A-are you sure?” feeling him nodding against her chest “okay, let me find some scissors and a clipper and I’ll do it for you okay?” Trying to stand was difficult especially since having a super soldier clinging to her. “Buck, I need to stand”

Finding the scissors was easy, it was just finding the clippers she had a difficult time coming up on. Cheering silently in triumph when she discovered them in the fourth draw. “Should we go outside so we don’t wake everyone up?”

“O-okay. Leave the light on Cass is scared of the dark, Sarah leaves the bathroom light on for him” Bucky whispered wrapping both of his hands around her free one.

Outside with only the porch light illuminating them, Y/n started cutting his hair the shorter it got the more Bucky started to relax. When it came to trimming his hair Bucky’s left arm reached around to tug on her waist, bringing her around to stand in between his legs, he smiled shyly up at her. Without thinking she leaned down as she placed her lips to his forehead. His arms snaked around the back of her legs squeezing lightly.

“I-it’s done, maybe Sam can fix it up later if it’s bad?”

“I bet y-you did a good job”

“Would you be mad if I said you had a massive bald spot right on the top of your head?”

He laughed and shook his head “no I won’t be mad”

“It’s a good job that there isn’t one isn’t there?”

“Y/n, thank you, i-it means a lot to me. Thank you”

“You don’t need to thank me. D-do you want to talk about what happened?”

“It was a nightmare. Just about my past” leading her over to the hammock on that swayed ever so lightly from the night breeze. “T-they did bad things to me, made me do worse”

“I’m here if you want to talk about it” she says squeezing his hand.

“They made me kill people, even when I completed the mission to their satisfaction they would still punish me and I never knew why. The chair was the worst, I-I did what I was told to do and I was still punished.”

Looking at the water he breathed deeply, he was about to tell her something to no one else knew, not even his therapist. “I-I’ve wanted to end my life since coming back from Wakanda b-b-but not since I met you I swear!”

“Oh Buck”

“It was easier to end it you know? But I couldn’t do it, I needed to try and make up for all the damage I caused.”

“Bucky it was-“

“It was though, wasn’t it? It was me the whole time”

“It wasn’t. Bucky you wasn’t in control of your own mind, your a good man, an incredible man - don’t scoff at me mister - you are, if you don’t believe me think about Sarah, even though I don’t know her all that well she seems to have a good sense of judgement, do you really think that she would let you be around her babies if she thought you was a bad person?”

Thinking her words over he had to agree with her words about Sarah even Sam wouldn’t let him anywhere near his sister and his nephews. Hell Tony wouldn’t have allowed him near his wife or daughter if they believed he was the monster that he still believed he was. “Y-you’re right”

Now it was her turn to think over the words from Sarah earlier that night. It was most likely going to blow up in her face and she was going to lose him as a friend forever but maybe just maybe Sarah could be right. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you were a bad person Buck”

The silence that followed was killing her. She should have just kept her mouth shut.

He however couldn’t believe his ears. Surely she was playing a trick on him. There was no way this perfect angel as he always described her would ever feel the same way as him. Surely.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I-I’ll go n-“

He cuts her off by pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, timid at first before they both gained their confidence their tongues dancing a slow dance together. Pulling away reluctantly Bucky leans his forehead against hers, both smiling widely at each other.

“I’m in love with you too” he whispered.

Nothing else was said. Nothing else was needed to be said.

Sam walks on to the porch with his hot cup of coffee that morning, his feet faltering when he sees Bucky and Y/n curled up together on the hammock fast asleep. Pulling his phone out he took a photo of the pair before running back into the house showing Sarah the photo.

As soon as they were back in New York Bucky asked Y/n out on a date, then another and another until he asked her to be his girlfriend. And soon enough she had moved into his room with him.

The first time she saw him topless was when he came out of the bathroom wearing grey joggers, he thought she was still in the living room. He heard the quiet gasp, he looked up to see her standing there and his stomach dropped.

“Y/n-“

“Your body… did the gods sculpt you? I-is that, two, four, six yep that’s an eight pack, how do you get an eight pack?”

Hearing her words he blushed with a little chuckle. “T-the scars-“

“Beautiful”

“Don’t lie to me”

“I would never lie to you Buck, everything about you is beautiful”

That night they made love for the first time, each of them taking their time in admiring the scars that littered their bodies. The second she pressed her lips delicately against the rough, raised patch where skin meets metal he honestly thought his heart was going to stop beating.

“ты мой спаситель, did you know that?” he whispered one night placing kisses on her bare shoulder.

“What does that mean?”

“ты мой спаситель?”

“Yeah”

“It means… your smelly”

“No it doesn’t” she laughs.

“No your right, it means you’re my saviour”

“Buck-“

“You are Y/n/n, you’ve saved me you’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been before a-and I know I wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t for you”

“I’ll be with you until you want me to leave”

“So never” he laughed, pulling her body even closer to his. “I love you Y/n/n”

“I love you too Buck”

Bucky wished Steve was still around so he could talk to him about things. He wish that his best friend was still there so he could tell the blond about how nervous he was. He imagined Steve’s reaction as he fixed his tie for the ninth time within five minutes.

A year had passed, on their year anniversary Bucky got down on one knee and proposed, three months later he was standing in the spare bedroom of Sarah’s house in his suit as Sarah helped Y/n with her dress.

He really wished Steve was there to see him marrying his love.

A month before marrying both Sam and Bucky retired, both men tired of the bloodshed and nightmares. Sam told Bucky that he was going to move down to Louisiana, he even brought up a business proposal, Bucky had to admit it did sound tempting he promised Sam that he would run it by Y/n.

“Sam’s moving closer to Sarah, you know now that we’ve retired.”

“Oh, right”

“He erm he brought up a proposal to go into business together-“

“Did you say yes? Please tell me you said yes!”

“Why? Do you want to move to Louisiana?”

“Yes! I mean I knew Sam was going to move back there so I may or may not have been looking at houses down there…”

Sam cheered loudly down the phone when Bucky rang him to tell him that they were coming too.

“You ready Bucky?” Sam asked popping his head around the door.

“Yeah, yeah I’m ready”

Bucky faltered walking out of the house only expecting to see AJ, Cass and Roy - the man who was going to be marrying them - but yet all the people Y/n and himself had befriended over the two years they had been going to Louisiana, had showed up to watch them become one.

Being announced as husband and wife had their hearts doing a double take. They were married and neither one could believe it. And neither one could wipe the smile off their faces.

“ты мой спаситель… wait did I pronounce any of that right?” She panicked as they slow danced to the live music from a local band.

“Di-did you learn that just for me?”

“Yes” she giggled “so did I say it correctly?”

“Yes you did мой спаситель”

The celebration went on well into the night.

** present time **

“Buck?”

“Huh?”

“Did you just hear what I said?” Y/n looks up at him lightly nibbling on her bottom lip looking nervously.

Of course he had heard the words that came out of her mouth but those exact words made him think about how they met, and how far they both had come from being complete strangers who met in the waiting room of their therapist building to now being a happily married couple whose love continued to grow as the days passed.

“I did, but tell me again, please”

Oh how he can’t wait to tell his best friend Sam the news he had just received.

Taking his hands in hers she placed them on her still flat stomach and smiled.

“You’re going to be a dad.”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[whimsyfinny]

How to Avoid the Love of Your Life

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: (Y/n) had spent the last four years of her life avoiding him, but when her and Dean inevitably cross paths again it could go one of two ways - either really good, or really bad.

Warnings: Language, angst (so much fucking angst I'm sorry), Smut, PinV, Fingering, Oral (F receiving), Overstimulation, Dean being a sex God, reader being anxious, bad breakup, reader having a gun

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 8200 (wtf I'm sorry I got carried away)

A/N: Here it is! I'm sooooo sorry @jackles010378 that this took so long. I would've had it up last week but my kid got sick and I had to learn how to solo parent hahaha. Anyway, this is the final competition oneshot, and I hope you enjoy it!

“Well well, what do we have here?”

A voice that I knew all too well reached my ears through the crowd of people in the bar. The deep tone of his voice immediately brought goosebumps to my skin and a small smirk to my lips. I straightened where I stood besides the pool table, lowering the cue and leaning on it lazily as I turned to the direction the voice had come from.

“Dean Winchester,” I let my eyes travel over his rugged form; taking in the faint new scars on his face, his weather-beaten jacket and distinctive choice of plaid and denim. He looked virtually the same as he did when I last saw him four years ago - just older. His eyes now holding more haunting memories than any man should ever have to keep locked away in the depths of ones mind.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked with the tilt of my head as he took a step closer, ignoring the bustling of people trying to get past him to order more drinks.

“You know why we’re here,” he pushed his hands into his pockets as he took another step, slowly creeping closer.

“Hmm,” I hummed, reaching for my beer and taking a sip, letting the bitter bubbles sit on my tongue for a moment before swallowing them down.

“So, I take it this has nothing to do with coming for that falsely promised personal visit, and all to do with the pack of werewolves that have moved in across town?” I jabbed the beer bottle in his direction, feeling the smile on my face lose its warmth. Dean sighed and looked at his boots, and when he’d pondered on his answer, ready to verbalise it, I cut him off.

“Jody has been doing her fucking best to keep shit safe around here with the skills you taught her. The least you could do is check in a couple of times a week - visit once a month.”

“Listen sweetheart-”

“I don’t need to hear how you saved the world five hundred times this week. I don’t need to hear it second hand from other hunters. I need to hear it from you. She needs to hear that you’re ok. We all do.”

Dean looked up, his eyes meeting mine, clouded by a regretful shadow.

“(Y/n) I’m sorry. Life has been so fucking messed up and sometimes I don’t even know what fucking month it is. I’ll do better. Me and Sam - we’ll be better.”

I stared at him intently, reassuring myself that he wasn’t saying ‘he’d be better’ if he didn’t mean it. He’d fed me empty lies wrapped in colourful silk in the past and I’d unwrapped every one with a hopeful heart, disappointment following every single one of them. People live and they learn, and I was no exception.

“If you’re not better, for Jodys sake - for Claire and Alex and even Donna - then I will never forgive you.” I stared at Dean long enough to feel the frustration towards him start to simmer in my veins, reminding me why I did what I did all those years ago. I was willing to endure him for my family’s sake despite hating that stupid pedestal they’d put him on - hating how in their eyes, he could do no wrong.

If only they could see him through my eyes.

The sound of long-strided footsteps and a familiar voice exclaiming “oh shit” snapped me from my festering thoughts, and I looked up to see Sam walk up and stand next to Dean.

“Sam!” I smiled, his face the picture of apprehension as he nervously smiled back.

“H-hey (Y/n), it’s been a while. I’m surprised to see you.”

I raised an eyebrow and looked around the room incredulously before locking eyes with him again.

“Surprised to see me? Drinking in a bar, in my hometown? Where you guys know that I live? I know, right? Who would’ve thunk it.”

Sam shifted nervously, like he wanted to whisper something to his brother or simply whisk him away to a booth where they could sip beers, work a case and ogle waitresses. I sighed out a mentally exhausted breath - the presence of the Winchesters flooding my mind with memories of a better time - a simpler time. Dean was right about one thing - that life was messed up.

“Look, I’m clearly keeping you boys from your secret club meeting. I promise to behave if you do too,” I eyed them, waiting for them to accept the proposal of peace. Sam nodded, offering a few lacklustre words of poor convincing whilst Dean just stared at me, his lips twitching into a slight smirk, his eyes swimming in defiance.

“You’ve never been one to behave yourself, have you? Let's see how long this lasts.”

“Fuck you, Dean.”

Sam pulled Dean away before any more weaponised words could be fired, Deans lips forever holding that slap-worthy grin as he eventually turned his back and headed to the other side of the bar.

For the whole evening I could feel eyes on my back and a prickle on my skin. No matter what I did or how much I tried to distract myself - I was so hyper-aware that the Winchesters were sitting at a table just across the room. Every time I turned my back or walked to the bar, I could feel myself scrutinised under an unwanted observation. As I politely turned down the offer of a drink from a handsome stranger, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I reached to answer it, my palms growing sweaty when I saw the name flash on the screen.

“Hey Jody,” I fought to keep my voice steady, my previous frustrations starting to bubble to the surface again.

“Hey (Y/n)! You’re never going to guess who’s in town!”

My teeth immediately clenched and I shot a glare over to where the brothers were sitting, watching Dean tuck his phone back into his pocket and drop his head into his hands.

When I failed to utter a single word at Jody’s excited proclamation, she instantly caught on.

“Oh shit, you know already, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You at the bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“I feel like I spoke at him, which counts I guess.”

Despite knowing my inner conflictions, she chuckled slightly.

“You give him a piece of your mind?”

“Yup,” I sighed, running a hand over my face, “I think I’m going to have to keep my distance from him, Jody. Just seeing him - looking at him after all these years - it hurts. It fucking hurts and he doesn’t realise how much he messed me up with everything that he did and said,” I could feel that all too familiar burn in my eyes as I fought desperately against the tears; biting my lip to stop it from trembling. When I gave my emotions away with a not-so-discrete sniff, Jody’s more sympathetic side emerged.

“Aw sweet girl, I know it’s hard. Do you want me to come and get you?”

I shook my head despite knowing she couldn’t see me and wiped away a rogue tear.

“No it’s ok, I think I just need to be alone. Plus I know you - you want to spend some time and catch up with them, which is fine and I get it. It’s just not something I can be there for right now,” I lifted my head and looked through the crowd of people, watching how Sam talked to Dean and Dean fiddled with his beer bottle again. I looked down before he could see me, though I knew he would be able to pick me out of any crowd anywhere within a matter of minutes. I hated that he knew me so well.

“If you’re sure, you know where we are if you need anything.”

“I know, thanks Jody. And… I’m sorry for making this so complicated for you. I know you have no reason to hate him, and I don’t like putting you in the middle like this.”

“(Y/n) I get it sweetheart, you have nothing to apologise for. Just…” she paused, as though debating if her words were worth saying.

“Just what?”

“Just don't do anything stupid,” I could hear the slight amusement in her voice despite her words of caution. I chuckled slightly, wiping away another tear.

“You know me - I can’t make that promise. Bye Jody, see you later.”

After the farewell I hung up the phone, deciding some fresh air would help me to cool my head.

I'd barely taken five steps out the bars entrance and into the parking lot when the harsh sound of rowdy chatter drew my attention. Snapping my head towards it, cold blood filled my veins at the sight in the shadows - the gut wrenching sight of a small group of men huddling together and attempting to steal a car.

To steal Baby.

The cold sensation of dread quickly transformed into the heat of fury as my blood started to boil at the sheer audacity of the thieving group, now doing their best to stay out of the glow of the street lamp. They were lucky it was me that had found them and not Dean, as the latter would have dropped every single one of them by now and not left a soul breathing. I know Dean and I no longer had any sort of relationship, but when we did, this car had been witness to every moment. Baby saw every smile, laugh, and happy tear shared between Dean and I, along with petty lovers quarrels and raw moments of lust filled passion. I'd lost count of how many times we'd steamed up those back windows since we were teenagers and Dean stole the car from his old man for our first date. Then there were the long rides from case to case - Sam and I arguing over who rode shotgun - with Metallica blasting from the speakers, windows rolled down and the wind wisping every worry away as we belted our lungs out. Those were the best moments of my life. In that car. And I'd be damned if I let some dive bar fuckheads steal her.

With zero hesitation I pulled out the gun tucked into my boot and fired three warning shots to the sky before aiming my piece at them, wary that they might also be packing.

“Get away from the FUCKING car - NOW!”

The anger in my voice was a deadly warning as the group turned to me like rabbits in the headlights before turning tail and bolting - one of them dropping a hefty crowbar in the process. As I lowered my gun when they fled, I turned around at the sound of hurried footsteps thumping on the gravel behind me.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean had arrived at my side before Sam and he reached to rest a hand on the small of my back; guided by muscle memory. I turned to face him, a small crowd gathering outside the bar to witness the fleeting commotion. As Sam arrived I explained, my voice harbouring a slight tremble of adrenaline and frustration.

“Some assholes tried to steal Baby-”

“WHAT?!” Deans voice filled with horror, yet his hand remained on my back.

“But you- you're ok right? They didn't hurt you?”

“What? No, I'm fine.”

With my confirmation he withdrew his hand and doubled over, resting his palms on his knees and dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Ugh thank fuck - you scared the shit out of me.”

Sam, who appeared shortly after Dean, patted him on the back and flashed me a split-second grin, the glint lingering in his eyes.

“Yeah, I don't think I've seen Dean move so fast - like… ever.”

I couldn't stop the soft, airy laugh leaving my lungs, a memory flooding my mind.

“I think the fastest I ever saw him move was when we used to hunt with your dad, and Dean took the car without permission. John ended up stranded at that god-awful motel for six hours after we accidentally fell asleep in the layby-”

“Oh god, was that the motel with those raccoons?” Dean stood up straight, the memory seeming to light up his face as he looked me straight in the eye, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

“Yes - oh my GOD those raccoons were awful,” I started to chuckle and I could tell Dean was holding it in.

“Raccoons?” Sam asked, looking between us with a raised eyebrow. I opened my mouth to explain but Dean beat me to it.

“In every corner of each room there was a taxidermy raccoon, however the person who taxidermied them obviously had no idea what an actual raccoon looked like.”

“Most of them had eyes that were too close together and their bodies were way too long - like some sort of ferret-raccoon hybrid,” I chimed in, the memory bringing warmth to my chest at the comical idiocy of it all.

“I remember dad turned his so they faced the wall and away from the bed,” Dean let out a small laugh, managing to pull one from Sam as well as we slowly made our way over to the car, my gun returned to the holster in my boot.

“I'm pretty sure that was the first and last thing that ever gave John Winchester genuine heebie jeebies,” I looked up at Sam's disbelieving expression.

“And your brother hid his in the bottom of the closet.”

Dean grimaced before chuckling again.

“They had tiny little ferret-raccoon buttcheeks.”

“Oh god yeah, they were so prominent.”

“So prominent.”

Stepping up to Baby, Dean gave her a thorough once over, running his large hands gently over the places most likely to have laid victim to the crowbar. After three laps and continuous scrutiny, he deemed her unharmed.

We stood together for a moment in silence, the conversation having bled out, leaving nothing but our prior heavy tension and my own dwelling sorrow. I looked up at them both, my gaze lingering on Dean.

“Look, I need to go. I can't- I can't be around you right now, Dean. I'm glad Baby is ok and I…” I sucked in a breath, steadying my voice, “I wish you all the best. Both of you. Stay safe out there.” with my final words I spun on my heel and left.

The motel room was pitch black save for the small box TV flickering in the corner, the original Ghostbusters playing through blown out speakers. I sat in the middle of the couch rocking baggy plaid pj pants and an old band t-shirt (likely Deans, much to my own dismay). With criss-crossed legs and a bowl of popcorn in my lap, I attempted to wallow, Rory Gilmore style, over a man who I would never fully get over. Mine and Deans relationship had ended years ago, yet here I was, the wound still as fresh as the day it was inflicted. Most days I get by, and sometimes even forget the pain he caused me, allowing me to feel light and almost normal. But seeing him in the flesh, catching the scent of him and hearing his voice had turned my defences to ash. I felt exposed and raw, my heart practically on a silver platter ready for another round of being ripped to pieces. I thought I would be able to handle it if I ran into him. I knew deep down in my gut that it would happen eventually, that it was unavoidable given my living arrangements. That he would likely come and visit Jody and the others, and I would have to pretend that everything was ok - that my heart wasn't still breaking over him. I'd avoided him for this long, always able to find the perfect excuse to not be around when he showed up. It was about time the avoidance streak ran it out.

The sound of his laugh earlier this evening had tightened every muscle in my chest, reminding me of every blissful moment we'd spent together - obsessed with each others company and craving nothing else on this fucked up Earth. His smile had made me want to weep, knowing I no longer got to wake up to it every morning or let it be the last thing I witnessed before sleep. The smile that got us both into so much trouble, both as teenagers and adults alike. The smile that always made arguments feel absurd half way through. No matter who I encounter in life or how many people God throws at me in an attempt to fill the void left behind by Dean, it's an incurable hole in my soul that can never be healed.

I shovelled a handful of popcorn into my mouth as I watched the movie unfold - desperate for the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man to reach through the screen and devour me along with my melancholy attitude. Too preoccupied with the film and the strange attraction I seemed to be harbouring to men in boiler suits, I almost missed the low rumble of an engine pull into the motel parking lot outside my room. An all too familiar engine. My ears pricked before reality dawned, the blood draining from my face.

“That son of a bitch.”

I scrambled off the couch and ducked behind it, popcorn flying, knowing all too well that he'd come peering in through the gaps in the blind - which my dumbass had left open so I could watch the rain. Heavy rain and self pity went together like jack and coke after all.

There were a few breaths of silence after the squeak and slam of the impala door, and I thought maybe I'd gotten away with it. Perhaps he was staying in a room further down? Fate was forever against me though when there was a loud knock on the door. I flinched, anxiety dampening my palms as I tucked my knees into my chest and held my breath, praying to Chuck himself that Dean would leave. That he'd convince himself that he was making a reckless decision by being here, or that he had the wrong room. I almost jumped out of my skin when he rapped on the window and his voice boomed through the pattering of rain and static-y TV audio.

“I know you're in there (Y/n), now open the door.”

Even if I'd wanted to move, the ability to do so had fled my body, my muscles petrified at the thought of confronting him. I jumped again when he hammered on the door this time, the cheap wood rattling on its hinges.

“Jesus Christ, (Y/n)! Your truck is parked outside and I can see your hunting gear on the table. Open the fucking door!”

“Go away!”

“Not until you let me speak to you!”

“No!”

There was a loud THUD as his boot collided with the door and I heard him growl in frustration. I could just picture him pacing in a circle, running a hand through his hair.

“(Y/n)-”

“Please, Dean, just… just don't. I can't look at you.” I felt my voice shrink as I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, unsure if he caught my words. He did.

“What- why not?” His voice was a wretched mix of desperation and confusion, cracking between words.

I was quiet for a moment, letting the silence hang thick in the air before I pushed myself to my feet, instantly missing the comfort of the upright foetal position. I wandered over to the door, my fuzzy-socked feet padding on the thread-bare carpet.

“Because,” I leant against the wood, my heart aching at the thought of him being so close yet so devastatingly untouchable, “if I open this door I'm going to undo all the progress I've made with getting over you, Dean.” His name was bittersweet as it slid off my tongue. The quiet sound of Dean sucking in a breath hissed through the gaps in the wood.

“Please, sweetheart. I need you to open this door.”

The softer tone of his voice made him infinitely harder to resist, but I had to stand my ground.

“Dean, you know I can't,” my eyes burned as the tears started to well, my voice objecting to my words with a pitiful rasp.

“Yes you can,” he paused, “you have to, otherwise I'm going to kick this piece of shit down.”

My eyes flew wide.

“No-no Dean-”

“Stand back.”

“Don't!”

“Three…”

“Stop-”

“Two…”

“Dean-”

“One-”

“Fine!”

I grasped the handle and flung the door open, my heart dancing with my stomach when I finally caught sight of him. There he was, soaked through from the rain and giving me that woeful Mr Darcy stare. The water droplets clung to his lashes and trickled down his cheeks, the breathtaking beauty of him erasing the pre-prepared sentence from my mind. Now, all I could think at that moment was to get him warm and dry. The noose around my heart tightened when I reached a hand out to grasp his, pulling him in out of the downpour. As the door closed behind him there was a pause, my quickly dissolving self restraint making it agonising to be in his presence. And Dean seemed to know that, yet he remained.

“(Y/n)-”

“Don’t,” as the cold water started to pool around his boots, I paced over to the bathroom, quickly emerging with a fuzzy towel in hand. I passed it over to him slowly, treating him like a wild, unpredictable animal that could pounce at any moment. He took it gently from my grasp, his fingers softly brushing mine. His skin was cold and damp from the outdoors. We stood in silence for a few moments whilst Dean dried his hair as best as he could, shortly after shrugging off his jacket to hang on the dining chair beside him. As he continued to ruffle his hair dry, I steeled myself, taking a deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Why are you here, Dean? What do you want?”

He lowered the towel and hung it with his jacket, sighing from the pit of his stomach.

“Me and Sam went to see Jody and the others. I was hoping to run into you again - I wanted to talk to you. But when you didn’t appear, Jody said you’d checked out for a few nights - said you wanted to be away from the house when… uh…” his voice faltered and something akin to guilt flashed in his eyes. Unable to finish his sentence he leant on the table, staring intently at the pile of hunting gear I'd dumped there.

“When you arrived,” I finished it for him, “Yeah, that’s right. And I told  her not to tell you where I was.”

“She didn’t,” he stood up straight again, holding his hands up, “I knew you wouldn’t have gone far, so I drove around until I spotted your truck,” he admitted, gaze flitting down to the floor. More silence followed, the atmosphere thickening as the seconds ticked by.

“Dean,” my voice was small as my anxiety spiked again, the question ready to spill from my mouth though no matter what he said, I knew I wasn’t ready for the answer. “Why are you here? What do you want from me? You say you want to talk, but you’re the one who ended everything. You ended our decades-long relationship out of fucking nowhere. What could there possibly be to talk about anymore. It’s been four years.” My voice trembled and he clenched his teeth, looking away from me before setting his eyes back to the floor. He dragged his gaze back up to mine, and something burned deep in those evergreen irises that took my breath away. Yet he remained silent.

“You crushed me when out of nowhere you said we were over - that we had no future. That you couldn't imagine growing old with me, like we'd always talked about. You have no idea how much you broke my fucking heart, and then you just expected me to live alongside you in the bunker like nothing was wrong? In my own room, far away from you? Why did you think that I would be ok with that?” I felt the familiar drip of hot tears and they flooded down my cheeks and rolled off my chin, the dam I’d fought so hard to contain now bursting wide with vengeance.

“You think I wanted you to leave?” Dean spoke up finally, his voice deep and gravelly, like it always was when he was upset. “You don’t think that telling you that everything was over wasn’t the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do? That I was happy watching you pack your bags and walk out without so much as a goodbye?”

“You didn’t love me, Dean, so why would you have cared? You obviously didn’t love me the way that I loved you.”

He flinched, but took a step closer. 

“You think this is because I stopped loving you? (Y/n)... it wasn’t safe- you weren’t safe in the bunker. You weren’t safe with me…” his expression turned to one of pain as his brows pinched and his eyes glistened. He took a deep breath. “I thought maybe if you just stayed in the bunker with little to no association with me, then it would be ok. I mean, I'd still get to see you, talk to you. Be in your fucking presence. I never expected you to- to…” he took another deep breath, his lungs almost stuttering. “I didn’t think you would leave.”

He never took his eyes off mine. I saw the years of hurt and heartbreak intertwine with glimmers of green and gold, the emotions I always knew he’d struggled to cope with were swimming in a pool of desperation and fear. On the outside, Dean Winchester was the strongest there was. He was an undefeated and undisputed leader of men. He was the King of hunters. The Alpha. The man who could make you wish you were dead. Yet here he was, wearing every vulnerable emotion on his sleeve as he stood before me with anxious breaths and fearful eyes. The sight made my heart break all over again.

“Dean,” his name was like a quiet prayer as he moved closer again, “I don’t think you understand…”

“Understand what, sweetheart?” the rasp in his voice pebbled goosebumps on my skin, and when he reached for a lock of my hair to twirl around his finger, I had to fight off every instinct to just throw myself into his arms and bury my face in his chest. His familiar scent floated through the air and wrapped itself around my senses, and when I breathed him in the aroma of old leather and gunpowder went straight to my brain like a hit of cocaine. The pleasant hum from my chest was involuntary. 

“I don’t think you understand that… that…” I sighed a woeful breath, looking up at him and seeing nothing but a warm, expectant gaze.

“That I’m still in love with you.”

The finger Dean had looped around my hair froze in place and I heard him suck in a breath, his lips parting. He remained unmoving, as though every thought racing through his mind had taken precedence over his body. It was a moment before he blinked, coming back down to Earth. When he looked down at me, all of the desperation, hurt and heartbreak dissipated from his eyes and in their place was the blazing heat of hope, accentuated by a small upturned twitch of his lips.

“You do?” 

“Yes.”

“You’re not fucking with me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Before I could react Dean had scooped me into his arms and crashed his mouth onto mine. The urge to push him away and tell him to get the fuck out bubbled up inside me, however when his familiar taste graced my tongue, a taste that was home, every desire for him to leave evaporated. The years of being apart, of being unable to touch him had made every caress electric, no matter how feather-light. My hands had tangled in his shirt as he pressed his mouth harder onto mine, pulling him crushingly close. His embrace was almost suffocating before he gently slid his hands up and threaded his rough fingers through my hair, and I lifted my own hands to do the same. I took my time with the motion, reminding myself of what he felt like - not that the memory of him ever truly left. I remembered how the muscles across his stomach and chest felt hard beneath a soft layer of skin. I remembered the way they quivered at my touch, and how my touch always pulled soft moans from his lips. My hands crept up to take hold of his face, the familiar feeling of his rough stubble beneath my fingertips ever present, a reminder of how that rough stubble felt when it tauntingly brushed against other parts of my body. I cupped his cheeks, feeling my own tears dampen his skin. He kissed me in a way that said I’m sorry, a kiss that held four years of pent up emotions with a desire to be released. A kiss that I knew was designed specifically for me. Our breaths and lips became frantic, the pace in which we were now devouring each other was still not enough to soothe the wounds in our hearts that were so desperate to be healed. Dean pulled away and held my face in his hands, running his rough thumbs over the soft skin under my eyes to wipe away the tears.

“I miss you, so fucking much,” his voice was low, his words for my ears only - not that anyone else was listening.

“I miss you too,” I sniffled, resting my palms on his chest again and relishing in the heat seeping through his shirt.

He leant down and rested his forehead against mine, taking a deep breath with his eyes closed. The atmosphere shifted however when he dipped down lower and pressed a hot kiss to my cheek, then to my ear, and then to my neck - each press of his lips drawing a shiver from my spine. I gasped when he nibbled my pulse point gently and my hands flew to grasp the short strands of hair at the back of his neck, my nails dragging over his scalp. He groaned against me at the sensation, one large hand moving to grip my hair at its roots whilst the other slid to my hip - squeezing the soft flesh. A moan of his name slipped past my lips and it was like a switch was flipped as he pulled away suddenly. He turned to take a few steps across the room, attempting to put some distance between us. I stood, baffled for a moment, but when he turned back to me and his vibrant eyes were now black with lust, I almost knew what he was going to say.

“Do you really want to go there sweetheart? Do you think you’ll be able to handle it?” he started making slow strides back towards me and I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. 

“Yes,” my voice was more breathy than I’d anticipated.

“No regrets?” he was almost within reach again.

“No regrets.”

When his hands landed on my waist again, his frenzied kisses on my lips, I was expecting to be able to ravage him equally; but when he lifted me and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing I let out a shocked yelp. 

“Dean!”

He chuckled, the sound low in his chest as he strode over to the bed and threw me down, the impact on the mattress knocking a breath out of me.

“I’ve not been able to fuck you sensless for four years, there ain’t no way I’m going easy on you tonight sweetheart.” I propped myself up on my elbows and watched as he tore his top from his body. I barely got a glimpse of his rugged physique that I’d so terribly missed before he all but pounced, trapping me beneath him. My hands immediately clung to the tight muscles of his back, my nails digging in and drawing a hiss from his clenched teeth before his mouth pressed to my neck right below my ear.

“Do you remember how you used to scream my name?”

I nodded.

“I’m going to make you scream much, much, louder than you ever have before. I’m going to make all past encounters feel like a warm up compared to what I’m gonna do to you tonight.” I shivered at his words as his hot breath fanned over my skin. His hands were fast, desperately tugging on my pyjama pants to slip one inside the soft fabric, not bothering to remove them entirely. There was an urgency to his movements like nothing I’d ever seen, the air leaving my lungs on a gasping moan when his fingers grazed my underwear. He chuckled slightly, pressing a series of searing kisses down my neck to my collar bone. 

“Well, aren't you sensitive? How long has it been, darlin’? Since someone else touched you - since someone else made you cum?” The heat rose to my already flushing cheeks at his words and I tried to cover my face with the back of my hand. My attempts to hide were futile as his long fingers wrapped around my wrist and he pinned my arm above my head. 

“Well?” he pressed, a smirk on his lips.

“Four years,” I all but squeaked. He thought for a moment before his smirk evolved into a widespread grin. “Don't let it go to your head, Winchester,” I did my best to bite out my words yet my voice trembled with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. My head rolled into the quilt and my back arched when he pushed his finger against my clit through my underwear a second time, this time harder, more purposeful. His own breath was shuddering as he continued to plant hot kisses against my skin, the slight dampness from his lips cooling quickly when he pulled back to sit on his knees. My heart didn't know if it wanted to stop dead in my chest or palpitate itself into oblivion when he looked down at me. Dean eminated a dark, primal hunger, glazing his eyes with lust as he gnawed his bottom lip. There wasn't a part of me that he hadn't seen before, and despite my current lack of nakedness it was as if I wasn't wearing anything at all. He made a noise in his chest that seemed to roll up his throat, like a growl of approval as I lay like prey beneath him. Dean may be older now, but he was bigger. Broader. Larger. The years of saving the world and fighting every abomination in his path had forced him to bulk up most exquisitely. With my free hand I traced over the scars adorning his shoulders, chest and abdomen: some old and silver, some newer and pink. There were even a fresh few, still scabbed over, and he shivered at every gentle touch. His gaze, however, was unrelenting. Without uttering a word he yanked my pyjama bottoms from my legs and tossed them into the depths of the room, immediately doing the same with my underwear. Instinctively I attempted to pull my knees together despite him being planted between them and he laughed softly, dragging his dark eyes over my slightly squirming body. He clutched my hand that was touching his chest and pinned it with my other one above my head, leaning down to lift the hem of my t-shirt, to gather above my breasts with his teeth. A shiver tore through me as his hot breath dusted the soft skin of my stomach and ribs, perking my nipples instantly.

“I think your body missed me sweetheart.”

“Definitely not just my body,” I panted. He breathed over my lips for a moment, every possibility of tonight's endeavours flashing before his eyes before he dipped his head to kiss me. His mouth moved slightly slower this time, like he was desperately trying to control the beast inside and make every moment count. To make every moment memorable.

“Do you remember Oasis Plains, Oklahoma? With that fancy house we borrowed?” His voice dropped an octave, eyes hooded as he recalled the memory.

“Yes,” I practically clenched, remembering the late night escapades from all those years ago. In my mind it was like yesterday - the way his lips felt on my skin, how his strong fingers bruised my thighs, and how he brought me to total completion no less than three times. His lips twitched up as he slid down my body and off the edge of the bed to kneel on the floor. He roughly gripped my thighs and threw them over his shoulders before slowly, tantalisingly sliding his hands up the supple flesh to grasp my ass and pull my whole body towards him.

“I’m gonna make you lose your fucking mind, just like you did back then. Maybe I'll even beat that record.”

My eyes could've disappeared inside my skull with how far they rolled back, his mouth's quick descent over my most intimate area - a soft kiss placed just above my clit - had me gasping in anticipation. Without a second to gather my thoughts he pressed his next kiss to that bundle of nerves; the wet heat of his mouth sending a pulse after pulse of fire through my veins as I twitched at his touch. He was an expert. Every flick of his tongue was practised and calculated, knowing which way to swirl, to caress, and how much pressure to apply. It was only a matter of minutes before my hands plunged into his hair and I grasped desperately at the soft strands, feeling that tidal wave build, and build, and build before he daringly grazed his teeth over my clit and it sent the wave crashing down around me, my body arching off the soft mattress as I came undone in his arms at the mercy of his mouth. 

“F-FUCK- Dean-”

My limbs twitched as they relaxed on the come-down, Deans tongue softly tracing up and down my opening. Without pulling away, he spoke in a husky tone:

“Fuck, sweetheart. You have no idea how many times I've reminisced about you moaning my name like that.”

The breath from his words made me shiver, and I moved to prop myself up on my elbows. 

“Ready for round two?” His voice remained low, not waiting for my inevitable confirmation before slowly dipping a finger into my still-clenching walls. The moan that slipped past my lips pulled a groan from Dean, a second finger joining the first as they curled up to push against the soft cushion hidden in the depths of my core. He knew where to find it with zero hesitation - his fingers seemingly acting on muscle memory as he beckoned another orgasm from me. He coaxed it forward, my inner nerves dangerously sensitive as the pleasure began to pool for a second time. With every motion of his finger, again and again, I started to feel the coil twist. I was in two minds on whether to be mortified by how easily he could pull a climax from my very soul, or impressed by it. Either way, he had me teetering on the edge a second time before a single flick of his tongue snapped the coil and euphoria claimed me once more.

His name merged with the endless moans spilling from my mouth, my hazy brain struggling to differentiate the two.

“Shit, you taste so good baby. I could devour you all night.”

“I wouldn't stop you.”

He grinned.

“As much as I would love to indulge you, I need to fuck you. Now.”

He pushed on the backs of my thighs, urging me to centre myself on the bed before he climbed back over me. I could feel myself salivating at the sight of his broad shoulders flexing under his weight, his skin damp with sweat from being trapped beneath my thighs.

He leant down to capture my mouth again, a kiss fueled with raw, carnal desire as he struggled to hold himself back. He shuddered under my fingertips as I trailed them down his torso to his belt, hastily unfastening the buckle and top button of his jeans. It was a joint effort to push them off his hips and down his thighs, but that's as far as they went. The feral need to be inside me had consumed him, and I'd barely withdrawn my hands from between us when he lined up and buried himself to the hilt. 

The burn and stretch was immediate - knocking the air from my lungs as I clutched his solid biceps like a lifeline, my nails indenting his scarred skin. He had the common decency to stay still for around ten seconds before his self restraint diminished yet again and he withdrew slowly. I could feel the divine ridges on his length through the immense build up of my slick and his spit, and as he eased back in he dropped his head into the crook of my neck with a gasp and a groan. A large, rough palm glided down my thigh, goosebumps in its wake as he grasped beneath my knee to rest my leg on his hip. Another moan filled the air between us at the new angle, the top of his cock kissing the soft, sensitive cushion inside. His mouth was hot on my neck as his hips found a rhythm against mine - a rhythm that gradually increased in speed with the intense pleasure unrelenting on my over-sensitive insides. My next impending climax swiftly appearing on the horizon.

“Dean,” I pleaded, my eyes cracking open to look up at him through welling tears, “I'm getting close again-”

He lifted his head, that play-boy grin finding his lips as he saw the mess I'd become at his touch; the mascara-stained tear tracks smudging on my cheeks and the unruly sex-hair was always a good sign of a good time.

“I need you to let go sweetheart - cum for me. Please…”

His words were the cherry on the cake for my undoing yet again and I felt my whole body explode with pleasure and tense up around him. The third orgasm of the night had my vision blurring when he cursed under his breath at my contracting walls, yet he didn't let up. He fucked me through the mind blowing bliss, not letting me catch my breath as a fourth climax hit me out of nowhere, the torturous attack on my g-spot making me feel close to blacking out.

“F-FUCK- Dean- Please- I can't,” my voice was hoarse from the moans and ragged breaths ripping from my throat every other second and my whole body trembled, slick with sweat from both myself and Dean. Despite the death grip I had on Deans cock, every involuntary clench making my knees twitch, he still wasn't finished. His powerful thrusts stuttered slightly before he pulled out, causing me to suck a breath through my teeth. Before I had a chance to query his actions he flipped me with ease, landing me flat on my stomach, my face buried in the soft quilt. Much like before, he didn't wait for an invitation to push back in, the overstimulated nerves in my core sending a jolt through every aching muscle in my body. The deeper angle pulled a cry from my lips when he bottomed out, and if I didn't know any better I would've said that his cock was in my ribcage. Deans large, warm hands took up residence on the supply flesh around my hips, tugging them up so my ass was in the air.

“Shit, (Y/n), with a view like this I'm not gonna last much longer- fuck,” Deans words were strained as he picked up the pace again, albeit this time there was an urgency to his movements. A desperate desire to experience the same Earth shattering euphoria that he had hand delivered to me. With my face in the fabric I snuck a hand down between my legs, finding the pleasure of circling my clit both a relief and an amplifier for the scorching pleasure Dean was inflicting. It didn't take long for him to tear my hand away, only to replace it with his own - pulling noises from my lips that were a whole new calibre of erotic that I didn't know I was capable of. My moans had an effect on Dean, and the hand that was on my hip, that was kneading my soft skin with a bruising grip had shot forwards and planted beside my head, bracing his weight above me. I couldn't see him but I could feel his solid chest against my back, his head dipping down to place rough kisses against my shoulder, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there. I prepared myself for the bruises I'd find on my body in the morning - his firm hold on me would have been almost painful given any other situation. That's not to forget the biting and sucking he was now subjecting my neck and shoulder blades to - the sensation setting my skin ablaze. Deans strained breaths were a tell for his own impending end, with his hips losing their strong rhythm as he panted out laboriously. The sound of him on the verge of bliss, accompanied by every other agonising ministration performed on my body had me unravelling one last time; one hand fisting the sheets whilst the other reached back, my nails brushing over Deans scalp and toying with his short, soft hair. The fluttering of my channel around his cock was all it took to bring him to his long awaited fervid finish. I trembled beneath him as he groaned into my ear, the sound something primal, something almost unhinged. We remained still for a moment, waiting for the post climax clarity to come along and make us regret our decision. He pulled out slowly, earning a hiss from both of us at the loss of warmth and intimate contact. The simultaneous feeling of emptiness and relief was an odd feeling, as I know full well he’d ruined me for anyone else - no one in Heaven or Hell could compete with that. Not that I wanted them to in the first place. Every nerve ending in my lower region fizzled with overstimulation, yet I couldn't have felt more relaxed; more satiated. For the first time in a very, very, long time, I felt complete. 

Dean grabbed the towel he'd left on the back of the chair and used it to catch the evidence of our intimacy, the wetness cooling quickly on my thighs as I pushed myself to sit on my knees. I turned and looked up at him, watching as he stood beside the bed, eyeing me nervously. I raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on my lips.

“What's wrong? Regretting the whole ‘No Regrets’ thing already?” 

He shook his head.

“Do you?” His voice held a crackle that equaled his nervous expression.

I shook my head. He looked down at his clothes on the floor.

“No, although I'm getting the impression from you that this was a one time thing,” he must've heard the disappointment when I spoke, his eyes flying up to meet mine.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you're picking your shit off the floor like you're about to leave, that's why.”

“You…want me to stay? I thought-”

“Did I fucking stutter when I said I still love you, Dean? Because I do, and it's all-consuming and to be totally honest, I never want to leave your side again.” Heat bloomed across my cheeks at my sudden proclamation. Deans grip on his clothes slackened, letting it all fall back to the floor. From the look on his face it was like I'd just declared him King of the world; like a light switched on behind his eyes and a smile threatened to spread across his face.

“Yeah?” 

I fiddle with my fingers in my lap, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Yeah-whoa!”

I didn't get the chance to feel bashful or embarrassed when Dean tackled me onto the bed. At first he peppered my still-damp skin with small kisses that tickled with his stubble, before placing his mouth over mine. I couldn't recall a time that he'd kissed me so softly, and accompanied by the gentle embrace of his arms with his fingers carefully threading through my hair, it was enough to bring me to tears.

“I've missed you so much,” my sniffles brought an almost relieved smile to his features as he pulled back and stroked my hair with overwhelming tenderness.

“I've missed you too, sweetheart.

So fucking much.”

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

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[h8aaz]

❝ taboo .ᐟ ❞

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — a demon and an angel being together is wrong; so why does it feel right when its just you and ruby alone and she makes you feel so good?

⭒ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 — angel!reader . kissing . fingering . oral fem! receiving . rubbing/scissoring? . slight dacryphilia . first time . use of (name) . NOT PROOFREAD SO BE NICE!! .

“hey, angel,” ruby mocked as she closed the door to the winchesters’ motel room, being empty of the brothers as they were on a hunt, leaving you in their wake.

“ruby.” you snarled as you turned to face her from your residence on sam’s bed. “what do you want? sam and dean are not here.” you spoke sternly. your structured way of speaking made the demon across from you smirk. she loved hearing you talk; how you didn’t know any slang or casual way of speaking, it made her admire you in a way she shouldn’t—you were an angel, and she hates angels.

ruby sighed, “formal as always, (name),” she rolled her eyes as she made her way towards you. “the guys should really teach you how to talk normally, because this?” she paused to circle her index finger at you, “this is too ‘business meeting’ rather than two friends catching up.”

you squinted your eyes into a strong glare as she shrugged off her jacket, tossing it onto the nearby chair. “we are not friends. and we do not catch up.” your gaze followed her form as she sauntered over to sit next to you on the edge of the bed.

“right. but we could be,” the side of her mouth upturned into a sly smirk, “i mean, a pretty angel being friends with her sworn enemy? quite the story, huh?” the glint in her eyes changed, you couldn’t exactly tell what it was—but it felt dangerous. she skimmed over your figure in a slow glide of her eyes, and it made you shiver.

“what? what are you doing?” you whispered, your shy voice egging her on unintentionally. “just looking,” she responded casually, very blatantly eyeing you up. you cowered slightly as she devoured you in her gaze. what was this feeling? why did you feel scared? you’re an angel, you’re better than this. better than her.

so why were you feeling the most conflicted you’ve ever been since you first arrived in your vessel? there was a hint of something else bubbling inside you. you didn’t know what that was either. but the way ruby was staring and the tone she had when she spoke, it was causing you to feel things you didn’t understand, and you were too afraid to find out.

“whatcha thinkin’ about, (name)?” her voice broke through your thoughts, bringing you back into the moment.

“nothing,” your voice wavered as you hesitantly met her eyes. what was wrong with you? why are you acting this way? did she do something? she smells the same, looks the same, irritates you the same. but what is this feeling in your lower stomach? and why is it somehow reaching further down your body the longer she stares at you?

“really? nothing?” she questioned, dragging out the last word as she got closer to you. you felt a familiar heat rise to your cheeks—something you always felt around the winchesters for some odd reason. you knew dean made certain jokes, and your body reacted accordingly, you assumed. sam would give you longing stares and often tried to protect you from said jokes, awkwardly yet intelligently explaining what was happening to you whenever you asked.

you were flustered. ruby had made you flustered.

and you liked it.

“what’s on your mind, angel?” the brunette asked. you could practically feel the desire dripping from her voice—almost like honey. “you can tell me. i’m here to listen.” her breath fanned over your lips as she got closer. and you didn’t back away. she tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and held back most of her smirk. “tell me what you want, baby, tell me what you want me to do, and i’ll do it.” she nudged your nose with her own.

and you whimpered.

“words, baby,” she cooed. she snuck a hand up to cradle your face, pulling you until your lips brushed. this was wrong. this was blasphemous. but you couldn’t stop the two words that came from you. “kiss me.” you whispered against her mouth, your words being swallowed by her open grin. ruby connected her lips with your own, the sensation filling you with immense warmth. the kiss itself was fairly soft, but lust lingered in every movement.

you didn’t know how to kiss—as this was obviously your first. but you assumed your vessel had kissed before as it seemed to act on muscle memory. but you mostly just followed ruby’s lead, and she was good.

your hands hovered over her waist before landing and finding sanctuary there. her shirt had ridden up slightly, and thanks to her low rise jeans, you felt her skin on your fingertips. she became more eager now that you were touching her. and she showed it. she licked your bottom lip before slipping her tongue past and into your mouth. you gasped at the action but soon melted as your tongues tangled together. moans fell from both of you, crashing as your mouths collided faster.

her hands glided down to your breasts, cupping and groping while her lips found residence on your neck. she nipped, sucked, marked you as hers while pleasured sounds flew freely from you, letting her know her effect on you. your own hands wandered her body in a mix of hesitance and curiosity. you wanted to feel her everywhere. her skin was smooth, perfect. you had yearned for her touch for so long, denying yourself of the thought of merely brushing your pinky against her fingers as you stood next to her. but now she was claiming you, flicking her tongue against the freshly red bites she left—that would soon turn purple and raise multiple questions from the winchesters.

“i wanna taste you,” she whispered into your ear. you shuddered at the thought. “please,” she begged. ruby would never beg. but now she’s begging you to let her taste you? kissing and touching—being in the same damn room as a demon was frowned upon, forbidden on all sides. but to let one ‘go down’ on you? as dean supposedly liked to call the action. that was a new level of rebellion and sin that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. but to lie and say you didn’t want to find out was another point against what you stood for.

“yes,” you breathed. and she was off. she pushed you back against the bed, in too gentle of a manner for a demon. she took her time undressing you. she planted soft kisses along your body, her lips touching every centimeter of your skin. she had saved your underwear for last, slowly taking off the cotton. her pupils dilated, her mouth salivating, all from the sight of your most sacred body part. drenched and sensitive. just for her. because of her.

her tongue slipped up your folds in a long stripe, making you whine and twitch as she circled your clit. she wrapped her arms under and around your thighs, prying you open as she worked you with her tongue, pornagraphic noises spewing from your slacked mouth. your body jolted at the feel of her devouring you—your hands gripping the sheets before moving to her hair. your fingers threaded through her brown strands, getting tangled the more you moved. she grumbled and groaned; the noises she let out vibrating against you, sending you into overdrive. you had never felt this way before. and you weren’t sure if you’d ever want to stop.

she pulled away, your arousal and her saliva mixed on her face. “tell me you want it, angel,” she purred. she brought one of her arms from under you, trailing a finger close to your entrance. “tell me you want me to fill you up.” she placed a kiss on your inner thigh. you propped yourself up on your elbows, meeting her gaze. she looked beautiful in-between your legs. the sight of her would be etched into your mind forever.

“i want it.” you mumbled, chest heaving from the pleasure. “you want it?” she hummed with a smirk. “i want it, ruby.” you whined. you were getting desperate as she waited, the tip of her finger just barely touching you. “you sure, angel?” she asked in mock uncertainty. “i fucking want it!” you cursed, bucking your hips up eagerly.

you let out a sharp gasp that dissolved into a long moan as she practically jammed two fingers into you, setting a brutal pace right off the bat. your moans grew louder and more intense as she pumped her fingers into you, curling them just right while she sucked at your clit. your head fell back against the pillows, your elbows giving out.

she was unruly. she aimed to pleasure you, chasing your high quickly. and when you eventually came, it washed over you like a tidal wave. she held down your legs as you thrashed around, your moans filling the room. she continued to eat you out and finger you through your orgasm—licking up your essence as it leaked. your eyes were shut tight, a film of sweat coating your skin. you opened your eyes at the sound of rustling, seeing ruby was now fully undressed like you. she gave you a sweet smile before getting into a position you had seen on dean’s laptop before. she did a test rub of her slick folds against yours, both of you moaning in response.

you rutted your hips up against hers. and your legs shook as your cunt dragged against her own, the beginning of overstimulation pulsing through you. ruby took it as a sign to move as well. the two of you moaned and mewled. the thought of a dual orgasm filling both of your minds, your movements getting sloppier.

your eyes glossed over, tears prickling and throat tightening. you couldn’t handle it anymore. “ruby, please, stop, ple-ase!” you cried. but the sight of your teary begging only fueled her more. “just a bit longer, angel, you’re okay, you can take it,” she grinded harder against you, purposefully making it worse for you.

she smiled as you squirmed. her name fell from you in whiny sobs, your limbs thrashing around as she used you. you couldn’t help the involuntary buck of your hips. it felt so good, but the pain from your overworked nerves was still present.

ruby leaned down to kiss your tears away before smashing her lips onto yours, making you taste the remnants of yourself. she shoved her tongue into your mouth, muffling your sounds as the mutual coils snapped, the two of you cumming together.

you both pulled back, mouths agape. ruby’s eyes flashed black as yours began to glow a vibrant blue, your grace shining and illuminating her.

when the two of you calmed down, eyes back to normal and breathing both heavy, she smiled and pecked your lips. “i hope sam doesn’t mind the mess we made.”

that’s when you heard it. the familiar yet slightly distant rumble of the impala as it was pulling into the parking lot. “shit.” you mumbled. how were you going to explain this?

⭒ 𝘨𝘢𝘣𝘴 𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘴 — i love genpad sm and i truly believe there should be more ruby fics on here. i've never written for two women before so i hope this is good, pls be nice 🙏🙏

⭒ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — @starzify @sunsbaby @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bittersweetfig @littlesoulshine @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @legalmente-loca @sacr1ficialang3l @j2archives @mahi-wayy @emeraldcrs @liiiilsss @jdmsslvt

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[wayward-dreamer]

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader

Word count: 3,730

Summary: Dean resigns himself to the fact that his girlfriend has to miss out on Christmas with him, hard at work and trying to meet a deadline over the holidays, states away. He hopes she can make it.

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst, lots of fluff towards the end, smut: dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), v fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up people), breeding kink if you squint, Dean being a domestic dream boyfriend.

A/N: Requested by @xlynnbbyx. I hope you like it! Happy reading everyone! Unbeta'd.

There’s nothing quite like coming home to a warm house, especially just as the chill of winter starts to set in. As Dean stepped into his home, scarf bundled around his neck and tucked into his long, black coat he was thankful that his home was well insulated, even when the heating wasn’t on. Snow was just beginning to fall, causing him to dust it off his shoulders and hair before he removed his coat, hanging it by the door on the rack along with his scarf. He slipped off his black loafers, turning the thermostat on as he walked into the kitchen. He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over the bar stool, making his way over to the fridge. He took out a bottle of beer, twisted the cap off and took a long swig, sitting in the bar stool with a heavy exhale.

He looked around the darkened house, the only light on in the kitchen, his eyes scanning over the photos on the wall. The only thing better than escaping the cold for warmth, was having the warmth of someone next to him. He smiled softly as he looked at his favorite photos of him and his girlfriend, wishing she had been there to greet him when he got back from work. It had been several months that hadn’t occurred, and he was starting to get sick of coming back to an empty nest. He took out his phone, checking the time and shaking his head when he realized it was too late to call her. He might just have to try for your lunch break the next day.

Y/N had been offered a new position at her company, which came in the form of a relocation for 10 months. It had been hard in the first few weeks to be apart, but they had made it work with her coming home every other weekend, or him flying in to see her on the alternate ones. As things got busier for both of them that meant they had less freedom to do that. He had spent many sleepless nights in their bed, wishing she could be back in Kansas with him and not miles away in another state.

Now with just a week until Christmas, he had to live with the fact that she couldn’t come home for the holidays. She had broken the news to him a week prior, apologizing profusely as they had to work through the Christmas period to meet a deadline. As usual, he understood it was her job and she had responsibilities, but it just plain sucked that he wasn’t going to have her home to celebrate.

He just hoped that they had a better shot at New Years Eve.

“So we’re doing 24th dinner here, and presents in the morning and then 25th dinner at mom and dad’s,” Sam explained, passing the box of orange chicken to Dean across the table.

“Sounds good,” Dean muttered, taking some of the chicken out onto his plate. “I gotta go to Benny’s after I’m done with work, but I’ll be here after that.”

Sam nodded, as he took the noodles from Eileen. “What time is Y/N flying in?”

Dean pursed his lips as he looked between both of them, totally forgetting the fact that he hadn’t told them yet. “Uh, she’s actually not gonna be here for Christmas. Her team’s working through to meet a deadline and she can’t make it.”

“Seriously? She’s not going to be here?” Eileen signed, frowning as she watched Dean sit back in his chair.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I mean, yeah it sucks that this’ll be our first time away from each other during Christmas, but she’s gotta work.”

“You’re shockingly cool about this,” Sam stated.

Dean huffed, shaking his head. “What do you want me to say, Sammy? You want me to say I want her here for Christmas, because it’s already been 5 months without her being home? Yeah, that’s what I want, okay? I really want that, but it’s her job, man. I can’t argue with that.”

Shoving a huge forkful of food meant the conversation was over, but as they continued with dinner and moved onto talking about other things, Sam couldn’t get the thought of Y/N not coming home for Christmas out of his mind.

Maybe he had to use his persuasive skills thanks to his job for this situation too.

If there was one place Y/N didn’t want to be so close to Christmas, it was work.

Relocating to Philadelphia had been exciting at first, even if she was sad about leaving her friends and family behind in Lawrence. She knew 10 months was going to be a lot, but she hoped with all the work that needed to be done, that time would fly by. However, it had 5 months of ridiculous hours, and only getting to see her boyfriend once every few weeks, if they could manage it. The work was fine, she was good at her job, but she never loved it. It was only meant to be temporary when she was back at the Kansas City branch, but when her boss asked her to relocate she hoped that it was just a way to prove herself and get back home sooner. Maybe even get a promotion because of it. Then hearing that she couldn’t travel back for the holidays was the tasteless icing on a shitty cake.

She just prayed they could meet the deadline by the weekend and she could still try and make it before it was too late.

Y/N finished typing up the latest report that needed to be collated with the others, emailing it to the administrative assistant of her department. Checking the time, she sighed in relief that it was just after 1pm and she could finally eat. Picking up her purse, she walked out of her office, her heels clacking against the wooden floors as she passed the assistant’s desk.

“Hey, Riley. I just emailed you the latest report, can you make 10 copies of those and have them on my desk by the end of lunch?” she asked, slinging her tote over her shoulder.

“Sure,” Riley replied, blandly as she ignored her.

Y/N closed her eyes, breathed in deep before she exhaled, trying to let go of her frustration. She looked at the younger blonde woman, plastering on a polite smile. “Please. In half an hour.”

She walked away before she caught Riley no doubt rolling her eyes, making her way to the elevators. She went down a few floors to the cafeteria, opting for lunch inside rather than enduring the cold and finding a cafe to go to. She didn’t have the energy or willpower for that today. As she sat down with her salad and water, she checked her texts and other emails she hadn’t gotten to yet. She scrolled mindlessly on Instagram, liking a post every now and then as she shoved food into her mouth. Her thumb lingered on one post, a sad smile pulling at her lips when she saw her boyfriend and his brother and sister-in-law just taking a casual selfie at family dinner, something she also would’ve been a part of had she been there. Double tapping and moving on after the heart appeared, she flinched as her phone buzzed in her hand, startling her. She recovered quickly, seeing Sam’s name pop up on the screen.

“Hey, Sam,” she answered, pressing the phone to her ear.

“Hey! How’s Philly treating you?” he asked, no doubt smiling.

“Just making me wish I was somewhere tropical right now,” she replied, glancing out the huge glass windows at the bleak sky.

She heard his boisterous laugh through the speaker, making her smile softly. “Well, it’s not much better here in Kansas, but we’re getting through it. Missing those gingerbread cookies of yours, though.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m missing the fact that I haven’t made them this year,” she admitted. “And I miss y’all enjoying them, too.”

“So… maybe we can expect a small batch at least if you swing by for just Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?” he asked, suggestively.

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Sam. I mean, I really want to and I’m working overtime just trying to get stuff done so that I can hopefully make it in time, but I don’t even know if we’ll be done by Tuesday at this point.”

Sam was quiet for a moment before she heard his soft timbre.

“Look, Y/N, I know that it’s your job and if you really can’t make it work then I completely understand… but if there’s a way you can, then just know that at least my brother’s not going to be brooding at the dinner table.”

She huffed a small laugh at that. She knew Dean was just being supportive of her and she loved him for it, but she wouldn’t have blamed him for being upset about this unfortunate circumstance. She was upset about it, knowing she’d much rather be with all of them.

“Okay, Sam. I’m gonna try like hell to be there,” she stated, firmly.

“Good. See you soon,” Sam ended the call with what she hoped was his words to God’s ears.

Y/N sat back in chair, fingers tapping against the screen of his phone, causing it to light up and show her she still had fifteen minutes before she had to head up to her desk. While she had hoped this relocation would be a way to come home to promotion, it was that she wished she could find her way home before kicking this job to the curb. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle being away from everyone, or how much longer she could endure the work that gave her absolutely no joy. Her phone buzzed again, this a text from her boss in all caps, reading: BE UP IN 5!!!

She glared down at the message, shaking her head as she considered the fact that she just felt like a pack mule carrying the entire load of the work and getting nothing in return. She had been there 6 years and barely had anything to show for it. She breathed in deep, closed her eyes and when she eventually opened them again, she knew what she needed to do. Something she should’ve done a long time ago.

When she got to her boss’s office, she walked in and was greeted by his scowling face barking orders at her. They went in one ear and out the other as she sat down calmly in the chair in front of his desk, waiting for him to finish before she spoke.

“There’s actually something we need to talk about first.”

Snowfall had begun and was sticking to the ground by the time Dean got home from his last day of work until after the new year began.

After leaving and making a quick stop at Benny’s to catch up before he left for Louisiana, he was intending to go straight to Sam’s, but he decided to go home first and change. Truly he didn’t care anymore if he was a dishevelled mess after work, but his mom would’ve had a few things to say and he didn’t want to deal with that today. It was Christmas Eve, and all he wanted to do was eat, drink and not think about the fact that Y/N was all the way in Philadelphia. He kept his mind occupied with the thought of food and alcohol, and not his beautiful girlfriend that he hadn’t seen in months. He missed her too much and he supposed for the sake of everyone in his family he should at least try not to dwell on the fact that she wasn’t there with them, to be more tolerable for the next few days.

He walked into the house, closing the door behind him and blocking out the cold. He frowned as he felt the house was warmer than usual, which meant he probably didn’t turn the heat off before leaving in the morning. Shaking his head at his own forgetfulness, he took off his coat and scarf, hung it up and was about to slip his loafers off when he heard a clattering sound from the kitchen. His jaw clenched as he stilled himself, wondering if he was just hearing things but then he heard the oven open and close, making him realize that the house was wafting with the smell of ginger and cinnamon. He took slow, tentative steps towards the arch to the living room and kitchen area, his heart beating rapidly in his chest until he saw the intruder he thought had broken very easily into his home wasn’t an intruder at all.

“Hey, baby,” Y/N greeted him with her signature beaming smile, placing a tray of her famous gingerbread cookies on the kitchen counter.

His eyes widened as he looked around the room before he focused on her. “I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know whether to laugh or be insulted,” she teased, leaning her hands on the edge of the bench.

A smirk crept up on his face as he stared at her, taking in her beautiful face. “Fuck.”

He rushed over just as she skipped out of the kitchen and met him halfway, jumping up and wrapping her arms around him. She squealed as his arms wrapped tight around her waist, spinning her around as she buried her face into his neck. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her jaw before looking deep into her eyes, confirming that this wasn’t a dream and pressing a searing kiss to her lips.

“Okay, okay, wait,” he muttered, pulling away but his face was still close to hers. “How the fuck are you here? I thought you had to work all-”

“Well, it turns out that I couldn’t take one more day in that place and being away from you,” she said, her hand combing through his short hair. “So, after a very brief but convincing phone call from your brother I went to my boss and asked if I could come home.”

“Damn, that was generous of him,” he stated, holding her tight. “I thought he was a hardass.”

“Oh, he is and he made a big noise about me leaving before the deadline, so I quit.”

“What?” he asked, frowning. “Babe, wait. Why would you do that?”

“Because I already had one foot out the door these last few months and I couldn’t spend another day doing something I didn’t love,” she explained, pecking his lips. “Plus, I missed you too much.”

“Y/N,” he shook his head, comprehending everything she just told him. “You gotta be totally sure about this, ‘cause-”

She cut him off with a soft kiss to his lips, looking deep into his eyes. “I am.”

“Fuck, I missed you so much, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. “I guess I owe Sam, huh?”

“Yes, and I owe him a whole batch of cookies just for him,” she chuckled, pointing her thumb behind her to the kitchen.

He hummed as he kissed her once, twice as he walked back towards the staircase near the front of the house. “That’s gonna have to wait until I’m done with you, though.”

“Dean, I have to put another batch in!” she exclaimed as he carried her upstairs.

“Later,” he breathed, his gaze intense as he looked into her eyes. “Right now we got a lot of time to make up for.”

“We’ll be late,” she mumbled between kisses as he moved towards their bed.

“They’ll live.”

She giggled as they quickly stripped themselves of their clothes before he helped her onto the bed. She laid down and pulled him with her, wrapping herself around him as he kissed her, roughly. Taking her hands in his, he moved them above her head, drifting down and leaving a trail of kisses along her body. Time apart hadn’t hindered the effect that he had on her, her legs immediately falling open as he nipped and licked along her soft skin. She sighed as his tongue found the swollen nub at the apex of her thighs, her fingers combing into his locks and keeping him in place. Soft moans gained volume as he continued to pleasure her with his talented mouth.

“Dean, oh god,” she moaned, loudly, throwing her head back. “Fuck, I missed this.”

He chuckled as he pulled away slightly, looking up at her. “Gotta make sure you didn’t forget it.”

“As if I ever could,” she sighed, meeting his gaze.

He continued his ministrations, groaning at the feel and taste of her against his tongue as he circled the bundle of nerves. He slipped two fingers into her, a sharp cry escaping her as he wasted no time and set a quick pace, finding that sweet spot inside with each thrust. Her arousal grew as he kept going, the familiar heat pooling deep in her core and she knew she was close. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time, hadn’t felt him in such a long time and she found herself growing impatient.

“Dean, please,” she pleaded, pushing herself up on her elbows. “I’m so close, baby, please.”

She gripped his hair roughly between her fingers as he sped up, his tongue flicking over her clit expertly. Her eyes squeezed shut as she felt the burning knot in her stomach wind tighter, his name falling from her lips in a loud whimper once she reached the blissful peak. Her wetness coated his tongue and fingers as he slowly withdrew from her, shifting up and pressing his lips to hers. She moaned at the taste of herself against him, clinging to him as he gathered her in his embrace.

“Fuck me,” she ordered, her lustful gaze meeting his. “Now, right now, please…”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice, babe,” he grinned.

He took hold of his hard shaft, notching himself to her entrance and in one quick motion, buried himself inside her soft walls. Her mouth fell open as a long moan escaped her, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he pulled out slightly, sliding into her wet heat again and setting a languid rhythm to his thrusts.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good,” he groaned, nipping at her jaw. “Missed feeling this sweet little pussy around my cock.”

Their faces were close as they gazed into each other’s eyes, neither wanting to look away considering how long it had been without this type of connection. She shifted her hips to meet his, the pace not being enough to satisfy her in that moment. She wanted more, needed more.

“Harder, Dean,” she gasped, pulling him closer by his shoulders. “Fuck me harder, wanna feel it for days…”

“Yeah? You wanna feel my dick deep inside you, huh?” he husked, low and rough.

She whined with desperation, the rumble of his voice making her clench around him. One hand slid down his muscular back, squeezing the curve of his pert ass. “Yeah, fuck me like you missed me, baby. Come on.”

She got exactly what she wanted as he slammed into her, a shrieking moan falling from her lips, feet locked as she wrapped herself around him to keep him right where he was. He pounded into her, the head of his cock pressing against that spot that made her toes curl, that caused her moans to grow louder with each stroke.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” she whimpered, her eyes half closed in bliss. “Right there, Dean, feel so fucking good inside me.”

“So perfect, baby,” he whispered against her lips. “So fucking perfect.”

She grabbed his face in both of her hands and pulled him into a passionate kiss, their lips fused together as he continued to move within her. He felt her slick walls clench around him, her impending release as close as his.

She hummed as she looked up at him, her thumb stroking his jaw. “So close, Dean…”

He smirked as his hand drifted down between their bodies, his fingers circling her clit and making her eyes widen as she clung to him. Her breath stuttered as he moved them faster, in time with the hard drive of his hips against her, the heat deep in her core growing. With another thrust, her walls contracted around him as she came undone, a sharp cry of his name from between her lips as her arousal covered his shaft. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer as his hips faltered, his cock throbbing inside her as he felt a heat curling in his belly.

“Cum inside me, baby,” her soft voice encouraged, her eyes sparkling with love for him. “Fill me up, I wanna feel it.”

A guttural moan rumbled in his chest as he slammed harder into her, his rhythm sloppier as he felt himself about to reach that perfect release. A shaky grunt escaped him as he finally shattered, pushing into her as far as possible. She moaned softly in his ear as she felt spurts of his seed flood her, content with being filled by him. He rolled his hips into her, the need to get his come as deep as he could inside her overwhelming in that moment.

He slowly dropped down on top of her, his head falling on her chest as her fingers combed his hair. They breathed heavily, coming down from the high they hadn’t experienced in a long time. She bit her lip as she stared up at the ceiling, a small giggle bubbling up through her lips. He lifted his head, resting his chin on her as he looked into her eyes.

“What?” His voice was low but rough from their activity.

She shook her head, smiling down at him. “Just… I’m so happy to be home. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he husked, kissing her chest. “Best Christmas ever.”

She beamed, her lips resting against his forehead as she sighed. She had never been happier about a decision in her life, and she was glad she came home before it was too late to celebrate the holidays.

“Best Christmas ever.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Double Date

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: you and Bucky go on a double date.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You come up to the restaurant, shivering as the cold permeates your wool coat. The nights are chilly, meanwhile the days can’t seem to mellow between sweltering and gloomy. You clack in your thick-heeled boots as Bucky drags his feet beside you. 

“This is the place?” He asks. “Thought you’d cash in on your work discount.” 

“Don’t start,” you warn him and check your phone. 

“Did they cancel? Can I go home?” Bucky asks. 

You hush him as you read the message. Charlize says she’s inside and your date-- 

“Hey, Bucky, look at you,” Sam’s voice cuts through the air. “Like a prize poodle, all washed and brushed.” 

Bucky sighs, “what the hell are you doing here?” He sneers. 

“I never say no to a free meal. It’s date night,” Sam chortles as he fixes his tie.  

“Date?” Bucky scowls and turns to you, “him? You asked him? How did you even--” 

“Well, Bucky, I’m a great tipper. After you took to that restaurant, I made sure my gratuity was received,” Sam chirps. “I knew you were too friendly with the waitress. I knew it. I know you.” 

“Whatever,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “You really had to do this to me?” He turns on you. “He gets to witness this mess?” 

“Mess? The night’s not even begun,” you argue. 

“That’s right, Buckaroo. Take a little advice from your friend. I have to admit, I was pretty surprised to hear you even had friends. Well, outside of yours truly.” 

“Come on,” Bucky grumbles and spins on his heel, “let’s just get this over with.” 

He marches forward as you linger behind. Sam sends you a look and you shrug. You don’t get it. You’re just trying to do something nice and you thought having two friends would help bolster Bucky’s courage. 

You follow and as you enter, the hostess only seems to add to Bucky’s chagrin. He reluctantly hands over his jacket as you do the same. You wait for the hostess to take them to the coatroom and feel a gentle nudge. 

“Hey, you look nice. It’s a cute dress,” Sam says. 

You smile at him, “thanks, Bucky didn’t seem to think so.” 

“I didn’t say it was ugly,” Bucky snips. 

“Trust me, it’s not what you say, Buck, it’s how you say it.” Sam scoffs. 

“Did you just come to be a pain in my ass?” Bucky snarls. 

“Woah, come on. It’s gonna be a fun night,” you insist. “Please. Charlize is waiting for us.” 

He sighs and shakes his head, “fine.” 

The hostess reappears and shows you into the dining room. You’re taken to a table where Charlize waits. She’s even more gorgeous in the halter dress in a beautiful indigo velvet. She stands to give you a hug and you turn to introduce everyone. 

“Bucky, this is Charlize, and this is Sam,” you gesture between everybody. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Charlize says in her smoky voice. It’s sultry even without trying. If you were a bit older, you might just swoon. 

You sit and a server comes to take your drink orders. Your nerves are buzzing as you sit beside Charlize. Bucky’s just next to Sam and you all settle in. You look around and clear your throat. 

“So, Charlize, uh, Bucky has a motorcycle too. It’s really cool. Vintage, right?” You prompt Bucky as a thick strand of his hair falls forward. 

“Uh, yeah. Nothing special,” he answers curtly. 

Your furrow your brow, “well, uh, Charlize rides motorcycles too. She even races.” 

“Oh, I used to race,” Charlize says. “I’ve aged out unfortunately. But I like to get out of town, find a nice back road...” 

“Right,” Bucky nods, staring at his fingertips as he taps them on the table top. 

“Not me, I hate motorcycles,” you announce. 

“Hm, yeah,” Bucky snorts, “she won’t even sit on it when it’s parked. Convinced she’s going to fly off like a cartoon.” 

“You never know,” you retort. “Um, er,” you squirm and realise the conversation is bouncing back at you. “Sam, do you ride?” 

“Nah, I got the wings. Much more fun. Maybe you can come for a ride one day. Not as loud and doesn’t smell like gas,” he winks. 

“Oh, she doesn’t do heights,” Bucky clucks. “Put some ear plugs in if you do.” 

You pause as the server brings the drinks. You thank him with a beaming smile. From one service worker to another. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “Charlize,” you turn to the elegant woman, “um, you’re from New York, right? So is Bucky.” 

“I am. Harlem,” she answers. “I live in Manhattan now but I do some pro bono work back home. So, Bucky, you’re from Brooklyn? I’ve done some cases there as well.” 

“I’m from Indiana,” Bucky says dully. “But yeah, we moved to Brooklyn. A hundred years ago.” 

You don’t like his tone. Why isn’t he gushing over Charlize? She’s amazing. She’s everything you want to be in twenty years. 

“So you’ve both been here a while,” you say. “And you both work in law...” 

“Doesn’t matter how long Dreamy’s been here, she’ll always find a way to get lost,” he snickers. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Er, uh, maybe, but Charlize...” 

“Bucky’s a hell of a guy,” Sam intones and you shoot him a thankful smile. “Always gets the job done. We were down in Harlem just the other week. You must’ve heard.” 

“I recall. I was at the press conference,” Charlize says. 

“Just work,” Bucky mutters. 

“Well, what do you do in your spare time?” Charlize prompts gently. 

“Not much. Usually just hang out. Oh, we went to a going out of business sale for a bookstore. Found a copy of Grapes of Wrath I’m pretty sure was in my high school library. Oh, but then Dreamy ripped a page in a Dickens early edition.” 

“It was an accident,” you squeak. 

“Always an accident,” he chortles. “That’s the thing about this one, always wandering into trouble.” 

“Explains how she met you,” Sam comments. In return he gets a sneer. 

“She’s a nice girl. She helped a lot down at the practice last summer. Did some volunteer work when he had to relocate.” Charlize explains. 

“She is nice. She took a chance on some old geezer like me. Puts up with me too.” 

“So do I,” Sam says. 

“Sounds like you’re really good friends,” Charlize sniffs. 

You glance over at her. She doesn’t look very happy. You peek around the table. Everyone is looking at you. Charlize looks stone sober and grim, Sam looks doubtful, and Bucky is cloudy-eyed. Why is he staring at you like that? 

“I gotta use the toilet,” you say abruptly and get up. 

You’re on fire. You don’t understand what’s going on. You’re doing double duty trying to juggle the table and Bucky seems to want to undermine everything you say. He won’t talk about himself and when he does, it’s a contradiction. And Sam is no help, he just keeps teasing him. 

You burst into the bathroom and look at your reflection. This was a mistake. You should’ve let Bucky do this by himself. He’s grown. You don’t want to ruin this for him. He deserves a woman like Charlize. 

You shake of your frustration and go back out. As you get to the table, you slow down. The seat beside yours is empty. Bucky sits with his arms crossed defiantly as Sam yammers at him. 

“Bro, you’re totally screwed,” Sam says. 

“Hey, did Charlize go to the restroom? I didn’t see her?” You ask. 

Sam turns and his eyebrows rise. He lets out an exasperated puff as Bucky lowers his chin and stares at the table. Why won’t he look at you? 

“Charlize left. She said sorry,” Sam explains at last. 

“She left? What happened?” You bluster. 

Sam looks at Bucky. He won’t look at you. 

“I don’t think they mesh,” Sam shrugs, “but hey, we can still enjoy dinner, right?” 

You purse your lips and take your seat. You watch Bucky as he twiddles his fingers next to his glass. You know it’s more than they’re saying but you’ve been so stressed about it all, you don’t even care what ruined it. It didn’t work out. All that effort for nothing. 

[iraot]

Did You Even Think | s.r

pairing steve rogers x small!reader word count 4,277 a/n gif credit - this  fic did not come to me in one go like my original a/n said, in fact it sat in my drafts since 2022. :) yeah so here you go - its finished. I might have missed a few tags but its all pretty basic stuff. :3 Hope you enjoy. warnings angst, dom/sub dynamics, 1st time in relationship, innocence kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), domestic kink, hair pulling, 18+ only, size kink, age gap

She and Steve had been together for just over four months now, and though their relationship was solid in many ways, a gnawing doubt had started to creep into her mind. Sweet kisses, lingering touches, the warmth of his hand resting at the small of her back—these were all constants. But the moment things threatened to turn into something more, something deeper, he pulled away. Not harshly, not with rejection in his eyes, but with a quiet, almost reverent hesitation that left her feeling unspoken words pressing between them like a wall.

They’d talked about a lot since the battle with Thanos—what they wanted out of life now that the fighting was done. When Steve returned the Stones and finally let the weight of the shield slip from his grasp, he told her he was ready for something real. A normal life. A simple life. He’d grown out his beard again, rough and golden in the sunlight, because Captain America had been clean-shaven, and Steve Rogers wanted to be anything but him now. The mantle belonged to Sam Wilson, and Steve had no interest in reclaiming it. The idea of picking up the shield again felt wrong when all he wanted was apple-pie Sundays and lazy mornings tangled in sheets.

So why did it feel like he was still holding back?

She thought about the night before, how his kisses had deepened, how she had pressed herself against him, fingers curling into the fabric of his Henley, heart hammering with the silent question—Will you stay? Maybe this would finally be the moment he let go. Maybe he’d touch her the way she ached to be touched. But instead, he stiffened, pulled back, and then practically leapt off the couch like it had burned him.

"I—I gotta go," he stammered, pressing a final kiss to her forehead before grabbing his jacket.

She barely had time to process it before the door clicked shut behind him.

Now, hours later, the rational part of her told her there had to be a reason. Maybe something was weighing on him. Maybe he was struggling with the idea of moving forward. Maybe—maybe. But the darker voice in her mind whispered crueler thoughts: He doesn’t want you. Not like that. He never will.

She busied herself at the lab, preparing tools for Bucky’s usual tune-up. The Winter Soldier—no, Bucky Barnes, as he liked to remind people now—strode in, rolling his shoulder like the vibranium arm had a crick in it.

"Alright," he said, narrowing his eyes at her silence. "What’s going on?"

She glanced up at him. Bucky wasn’t one to dance around things. He was blunt, cutting, and she should’ve known he’d pick up on the fact that she wasn’t her usual self.

"It’s nothing," she mumbled, adjusting the wrench in her hands. "Just… stupid."

Bucky snorted. "Bullshit. Talk to me." He plopped down in his usual seat, watching her with the same sharp stare that had once made HYDRA operatives piss themselves.

She exhaled through her nose, then finally admitted, "I think Steve’s going to end things."

Bucky’s expression didn’t shift at first, but then his brows pinched together, his mouth pulling into something between confusion and annoyance. "The hell are you talking about? He doesn’t shut up about you."

That made her pause. "What?"

Bucky leaned forward, resting his metal arm on his knee. "You kidding? Every time we get together, it’s ‘She said this funny thing at dinner’ or ‘You should’ve seen the way she kicked my ass at chess’ or ‘Do you think she’d like this book?’ If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re the only thing running through that punk’s head."

Her throat tightened, her fingers gripping the wrench harder. "Then why does he act like I’m radioactive? Why does he barely stay for an hour when we have date night? Last night, I didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he bolted, mumbling something about paperwork."

Bucky shook his head, clearly baffled. "That doesn’t make sense."

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

He stared at her for a moment, then pulled out his phone. "Text him."

She blinked. "What?"

"Ask him to lunch," Bucky said, already tapping away at his own screen.

She knew what this was. She’d done the same thing before with a friend who thought their boyfriend was dodging them. If Steve replied to Bucky and not her, well… that would tell her all she needed to know.

"Bucky..."

"Just do it." His tone was firm. "If he ignores you and texts me back, I swear to God, I’ll rip him a new one."

She sighed, but her fingers moved before she could stop them. Hey, want to grab lunch today?

A minute later, Bucky sent his own message.

They waited.

Her message sat, cold and blue. Read. No reply.

Bucky’s phone buzzed immediately. He turned the screen toward her, and her stomach twisted.

Steve: Sure. The lobby’s got a great menu.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. "Oh, that motherf—"

She looked away, swallowing hard, ignoring the sting behind her eyes. Maybe she really had been fooling herself. Maybe Captain America had saved the world, but Steve Rogers didn’t have the courage to love her back.

Her bottom lip trembled, and she sniffed, swiping the back of her hand over her eyes before the tears could fully fall. This was it her worst fear staring her in the face. If Steve Rogers, the Steve Rogers, couldn’t want her, then who the hell could?

“Hey...” Bucky’s voice was softer than usual, a rare gentleness lacing the edges as he pulled her into his arms, rubbing slow circles along her back. “None of that, alright? I’ll talk to him… we’ll straighten this out.”

“And if..”

“If he wants to end things,” Bucky cut in, “then we’ll figure that out too. But I gotta hear his side before I knock some sense into his star-spangled ass.”

His dry humor forced a snicker out of her despite everything, and she wiped at her eyes, nodding.

She motioned toward his arm, and he let her go so she could get to work. But her mind was elsewhere—dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. This could be the end of her relationship, and her career in one fell swoop. If Steve broke it off, what then? The Avengers Compound wasn’t exactly known for its clean breakups. Would she have to pack up her desk? Start over somewhere else, if she could even find a job in her field again?

The rest of the day crawled by in a haze. No word from Bucky. Nothing from Steve. The old saying—"No news is good news"—didn’t cut it today. It never had.

By the time she packed up for the night, she had checked her phone so many times that the ghost of the screen lingered behind her eyelids. Still no texts. Still left on read. Even from Bucky.

Her heart pounded as she stepped inside her apartment, tossing her keys onto the counter. The silence was thick, oppressive. She scrubbed a hand down her face, exhaling.

“Took you longer than usual.”

Steve’s voice.

She yelped, spinning on instinct, hand flying to her chest as her heart tried to beat its way out of her ribs. “Jesus, Steve! What the hell?!”

Her pulse hammered, anger rising to mask the anxiety. He knew she hated being startled. If he wanted to talk, he could’ve waited with the damn lights on, or sat on the couch like a normal person instead of lurking in the dark like some super-soldier cryptid.

He turned the lamp on, and for the first time, she saw the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers flexed like he was barely keeping himself together. Good. Let him squirm. He was the one who had been avoiding her, not the other way around.

“Bucky talked to me today,” he started, voice level but heavy. “Said you seemed really upset. You wanna tell me why?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she hung up her purse. “Oh, don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Steve exhaled sharply through his nose but stayed silent, watching her. She hated that unreadable expression, the one that made her feel like she was talking to a wall.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she continued, voice rising with every word. “And not just today. Not just this morning when you completely ignored my text. This has been happening for weeks. You ignore me, you leave in a rush like you can’t stand to be near me, and you never stay longer than you have to.”

Steve nodded as she spoke, like he was absorbing her words, but she wasn’t sure if he was actually listening or just waiting for her to get it all out.

Her throat was tight now, but she pushed through. “So if you’re gonna end things, just do it. I don’t like waiting in limbo. I don’t like sitting here, wondering what I did wrong, what I did to make you pull away. I hate this, Steve.”

He exhaled, rubbing at his beard. His silence stretched between them like a chasm before he finally spoke.

“I was doing what was best for you.” His voice was rough. “If… if you knew the things I think about you, you’d want me gone.”

Something in her stomach twisted. 

He shook his head, cutting her off. “Do you even realize what you do to me?” His voice was low now, raw. His hands flexed at his sides, like he was restraining himself. “I haven’t been able to think straight for days. Can’t eat. Can’t focus. I sure as hell can’t sit across from you at lunch when all I can think about is you on your knees—”

He stopped himself with a grunt, rubbing a hand down his face like the thought physically hurt him.

Her breath hitched. That… definitely wasn’t where she thought this was going.

“You what?” she whispered.

Steve took a step forward, and instinct had her stepping back until her spine met the wall behind her. His eyes were dark now, sharp with determination. There was something else in them too, something that made heat pool between her thighs before he even touched her.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you,” he admitted, voice low and thick with restraint. “But I knew if I didn’t leave when I did… I’d ruin you, sweetheart.”

A shiver rolled down her spine. She clenched her thighs, pulse hammering. 

“How?”

His nostrils flared, and then he was on her.

His hand slid up her cheek, fingers curling against the side of her neck, tilting her face up to meet his. Then his lips crashed against hers hard, messy, all teeth and heat and barely-contained desperation.

She gasped into his mouth, hands fisting into his shirt. He didn’t hesitate grabbing the hem, yanking it over his head, and tossing it to the floor like it was offending him.

“This is the last time,” he murmured against her throat, his voice a gravel rasp. 

“After this…” His teeth grazed the sensitive skin beneath her ear, making her whimper. “…you’re mine.”

The words sent molten heat flooding through her, soaking her panties before she could stop it.

“Steve, please..”

He lifted her like she weighed nothing, pressing her into the wall as his hands palmed her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her moan.

She barely registered him moving before she landed in the middle of the bed, breathless.

Steve stood at the foot of it, eyes dark, his gaze dragging over her like he could see straight through her clothes.

“Jesus,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Oh, she had a damn good idea.

Steve was breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling as he looked at her sprawled out on the bed—her hair wild, her chest heaving, lips swollen from his kiss.

"Take this off," he ordered, voice hoarse, fingers twitching at his sides.

She swallowed hard, hands fumbling at the hem of her shirt. Steve didn’t move as she pulled it over her head, exposing bare skin to the cool air. She had barely tossed it aside before he was on her again, pinning her to the mattress with his weight.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he muttered, his hands sliding up her body, mapping her like he needed to memorize every inch. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this."

Her breath hitched as his mouth descended on her throat, lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her pulse. She arched into him, pressing her body against his, feeling the heat of his skin and the hard planes of muscle beneath it.

"Then why did you keep pulling away?" she whispered, fingers threading through his hair, nails raking against his scalp.

Steve groaned, his teeth grazing her collarbone before he pulled back to meet her gaze. His pupils were blown, his expression wrecked with barely-contained hunger.

"Because I knew," he admitted, his hand sliding down, fingers tracing the band of her leggings before slipping beneath it. "Knew if I let myself have you, I wouldn't stop."

She gasped as his fingers brushed over her soaked panties, his touch feather-light, teasing.

"And now?" she asked breathlessly, barely able to form words as he pressed his palm against her, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm.

Steve exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes darkening further.

"Now," he murmured, voice rough with conviction, "I don’t give a damn."

His patience snapped like a frayed wire. In one swift movement, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and yanked them down, dragging her panties with them. She barely had time to process before he settled between her thighs, his broad hands gripping her hips to keep her still.

"Goddamn," he rasped, eyes locked on her as if he’d never seen anything so devastating in his life. "You’re perfect."

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she barely had time to be embarrassed before his mouth was on her, tongue sliding between her folds in a slow, deliberate stroke that sent shockwaves through her entire body.

She cried out, fingers tangling in his hair as he groaned against her, like he was the one being undone.

"You taste like heaven," he muttered against her, voice muffled, lips dragging over her in a way that had her hips bucking against his mouth. "Better than I ever let myself imagine."

She moaned his name, thighs trembling against his shoulders as he sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking over her with devastating precision. Her body was burning, heat pooling deep in her belly, pressure building too fast.

"Steve," she gasped.

His grip tightened on her hips, keeping her firmly against his mouth. "Let go, sweetheart," he ordered, voice rough. "Give it to me."

Her body obeyed before her mind did white-hot pleasure crashing over her as she shattered beneath him, her back arching, her cries muffled by her own gasping breaths.

Steve groaned as she came against his tongue, lapping her up like he needed it, like he was starving.

When she finally slumped against the mattress, boneless, he pressed one last lingering kiss against her thigh before pulling himself up, his lips shining with the evidence of what he’d done.

His expression was wrecked, his jaw tight with restraint, but his voice was steady when he spoke.

"I meant what I said." He leaned down, caging her beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress. "You’re mine now."

Her breath hitched, a fresh wave of heat rolling through her at the sheer certainty in his tone.

"Then show me," she whispered.

Steve groaned, dragging her into another bruising kiss as he reached down, undoing his belt with one hand. Steve’s belt hit the floor with a dull thud, and she barely had time to breathe before he was over her again, his weight pinning her down, his mouth consuming hers with a hunger that felt like it had been caged for years.

Her fingers scrambled against his back, tracing over thick muscle as he settled between her thighs, his clothed hardness pressing against her slick heat. He was big—she could feel it even through the fabric of his jeans, the pressure sending a thrill up her spine.

His lips ghosted over her jaw, down her neck, his breath hot as he growled, "You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart." His fingers curled under her chin, tilting her head up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

There was something feral in his eyes—something dark and starved. Possession.

Her breath hitched as he dragged his free hand down her stomach, his fingertips barely grazing her overly-sensitive skin before dipping between her thighs. She was soaked, and Steve felt it.

"Fuck," he groaned, his jaw clenching as his fingers slid through her wetness, teasing, testing. "You were made for me, weren’t you?"

She whimpered, bucking against his touch, desperate for more, but he didn’t give it to her—not yet. His fingers moved slowly, deliberate, just barely dipping inside before retreating, smearing her arousal over her swollen clit.

"Steve," she gasped, frustration lacing her voice as she tried to move her hips, but his other hand pressed firmly against her stomach, holding her down.

"Be patient, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her jaw. "I wanna take my time with you."

A whimper left her lips as he dipped his head, trailing hot kisses down her throat, his mouth searing against her flushed skin. He was moving like a man determined to devour her, to imprint himself into every inch of her body.

"Tell me you want this," he rasped, his voice shaking with restraint, like he was this close to snapping.

She shivered beneath him, her fingers threading into his hair as she pulled him closer. "I want this. I want you."

Something inside him snapped.

He kissed her like he was starving, teeth clashing against hers, tongue sliding deep as he ground his hips into her, letting her feel just how hard he was. His hands were everywhere palming her breasts, gripping her hips, holding her like she was something he was afraid to lose.

Then, suddenly, he was gone sitting back on his knees, undoing his jeans with one hand, yanking the zipper down with a rough jerk.

Her mouth went dry as he freed himself, his cock thick and aching, flushed red at the tip, already leaking precum.

Steve caught the way her eyes widened, and a smirk tugged at his lips. "You can take it," he murmured, dragging his length over her slit, coating himself in her slickness. "I’ll make sure you do."

She barely had time to brace herself before he pushed in, just the tip, stretching her impossibly slow, letting her feel every inch as her body opened for him.

"Jesus Christ," Steve groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he fought to keep himself from slamming into her all at once. "So fucking tight, sweetheart, squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go."

She whimpered, nails raking down his back as she felt him stretching her inch by inch, every thick, pulsing inch sinking deeper until he bottomed out, buried to the hilt.

Her head fell back against the pillows, lips parted in a soundless moan as she struggled to breathe. "Steve..."

His mouth was on hers instantly, swallowing her gasps as he stilled, his body shaking from the effort. "Look at me," he demanded, voice barely more than a growl.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, her vision blurred with heat, with pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain.

"You feel that?" he murmured, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath ragged. "You were made for me, baby,” then he moved.

A slow, torturous drag before slamming back in, setting a rhythm that was devastatingly deep, rough, and possessive.

She cried out, her body jolting with every thrust, the pleasure so intense it bordered on unbearable.

Steve groaned, burying his face in her neck, his breath ragged. "Mine," he growled against her skin, punctuating the word with another sharp thrust. "Say it."

"Yours," she gasped, nails clawing at his shoulders. "I’m yours."

A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest, and then he was gone, lost in her, lost in the pleasure, lost in the feel of her wrapped around him, squeezing him like she never wanted to let go.

Her body was fire, nerves ablaze, every single inch of her consumed by him, the overwhelming stretch, the unrelenting force of his thrusts, the deep, possessive way he took her, like she was something he had finally allowed himself to have.

She could barely breathe, barely think. The only thing that existed was the way Steve filled her, the deep, ragged sounds that escaped his throat, the desperate way his hands held onto her like he thought she might disappear.

"Fuck," Steve groaned, his voice wrecked, his body trembling with restraint. "Sweetheart, I can't…not gonna last!"

His words sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through her. "Don’t stop," she whimpered, nails dragging down his back, leaving marks he wouldn’t feel but she knew he’d wear like a brand. "Steve!”

That was all it took.

He snapped.

His grip on her hips tightened, and suddenly, he was driving into her, rougher, deeper, the rhythm frantic, almost desperate. Each thrust sent pleasure shattering through her, wrecking her, his body pressing into hers, so close yet somehow not close enough.

She was right there, right on the edge, her entire body coiling.

"Come for me," Steve ordered, his voice barely human, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot and ragged. "*I need you to come, sweetheart." he cursed.

Her body obeyed before her mind did.

The orgasm tore through her like a shockwave, her vision whiting out as she screamed his name, body convulsing around him, gripping him like she never wanted to let go.

Steve choked out a curse, his rhythm faltering as he felt her clench around him, pulling him deeper, sending him straight to the edge. His breath stuttered, his entire body shuddering as he slammed into her one final time, spilling deep inside her with a low, wrecked groan.

He froze, buried inside her to the hilt, his entire body shaking, a deep, guttural moan rumbling in his chest as he emptied himself completely, filling her so full it left her dizzy.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Their bodies were tangled, breath mingling, skin slick with sweat, the only sound in the room the rapid, erratic pounding of their hearts.

Then, slowly, Steve slumped forward, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath still uneven, his arms trembling as he caged her beneath him.

"Jesus," he whispered, voice wrecked, like he’d just been ruined.

She let out a shaky breath, hands sliding up to thread into his damp hair. "Yeah," she murmured weakly. "Jesus."

Steve exhaled a breathless chuckle, then—very carefully—pulled out of her, shifting to the side, immediately pulling her into his arms.

For a while, neither of them spoke. He just held her, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles along her spine, his lips brushing the top of her head.

But then, he sighed. A deep, heavy breath that made his chest rise beneath her cheek.

"I’m sorry," he murmured.

She blinked, tilting her head up to look at him. "For what?"

Steve groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "For being an asshole," he admitted, his voice dripping with regret. "For making you think I didn’t want you."

Her stomach twisted at the way his voice softened, at the sheer remorse in it. "I did," she confessed quietly. "I really thought you-"

"I know," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair, his grip tightening around her. "I hate that I made you feel that way."

She shifted in his arms, pressing a palm against his chest, feeling the steady thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat beneath her fingers. "Then why did you pull away?"

Steve inhaled sharply, his fingers stilling on her back.

For a moment, she thought he might not answer.

"Because I was scared," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Scared I’d ruin this. Scared I’d ruin you."

Her breath hitched. "Steve-"

He shook his head, tilting her chin up so he could look her in the eye. "I’ve spent my whole life fighting, being a soldier, being ‘Captain America,’ being whatever the world needed me to be. But with you…" He exhaled sharply, his expression raw. "With you, I don’t have to be anything other than just…me."

Her heart clenched. "And you thought that wasn’t enough?"

Steve’s jaw tensed, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "I thought if I let myself have you, I’d lose control. I thought I’d need you too much." He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Turns out I was right."

She swallowed hard, fingers threading through his. "I don’t mind."

He gave her a look. "Sweetheart, I just fucked you so hard I nearly broke the bed."

She snorted, cheeks flushing, but didn’t look away. "I still don’t mind."

Steve groaned, pulling her against his chest, burying his face in her hair. "God help me," he muttered. "I’m never letting you go."

She smiled, her lips pressing against his bare shoulder. "Good." Steve Rogers finally allowed himself the one thing he had denied for too long, peace.

Because she was his and he was never letting her go.

[roanofarcc]

A MOMENT IN THE IMPOSSIBLE

pairing. trevor lefkowtiz x alive!reader (requested)

summary.  near death experience sometimes gave people the ability to see and communicate with ghosts. what you did know was what a second near death experience meant for your ghostly communication, but you were about to find out. 

warnings. fem!reader, reader gets into an accident but is okay. mentions of injuries but nothing graphic. emotional trevor <3 talks of death (obv).

word count. 3.3K || masterlist

The first time you faced down death was as a small child, bright and plump in your winter coat and new set of ice skates. The frozen pond had been a journey you and your friends trudged to, noses cold but fingers warm under mittens. 

As your skates hit the ice, you embraced the winter breeze and the pleasant noise of blades cutting little grooves on the pond. You and your friends spun, leaped, laughed, and had not an inkling of worry in your minds. 

But the ice wasn’t frozen evenly across the pond, leaving spots only shallowly frozen. Somehow, your friends managed to keep on the thicker ice, but you weren’t as lucky. You glided across the ice with a grin, not noticing the cracks that formed under your blades. Before you knew what was happening, the thin ice crumbled, plunging you into the freezing water. 

The aftermath was foggy, a distant memory that lived under a haze in your brain. But the very moment it happened, the feeling of ice water soaking your winter jacket and your skates feeling weightless under the water, you remembered clearly. You should have been scared, but the plunge knocked the fear out of you, leaving it on top of the pond as an odd peace shielded you from the bitter cold. 

The story was retold years later, swapped at parties, and used as an icebreaker, no pun intended. Someone had managed to pull you, but your heart had stopped. No one was sure if it was an answered prayer, you got lucky, or it simply wasn’t your time to go, and the universe knew that. Whatever it was, you survived, a chill forever itching your bones when the weather turned gray. 

A good story wasn’t the only thing you received from that fateful day. Your second chance at life also left you with a newfound look on life, literally. Not only could you see the living and breathing people milling about their lives, but you could also see those in the afterlife. Everywhere you went, ghosts haunted. Some were so far out of time while others you almost mistaken for being alive. 

Once the initial shock wore off and you accepted that no one would ever believe what you could see, you started to befriend the ghosts you saw, especially those who were alone. Your presence was inviting; they were drawn to you, almost. 

For the longest time, well into your adulthood, you believed your talent came in far and few between, but then you met Sam, and learned she possessed the same ability as you. The two of you quickly fell into a friendship, sharing stories of your ridiculous lives and the characters you had met along the way. 

She eventually invited you over to meet the band of ghosts who haunted her house. 

You couldn’t have imagined a more perfect group to inhabit the old mansion. Each ghost had their quirks, wells of knowledge, and passion for drama. You fit into the odd puzzle that was Woodstone, so much so that Sam and Jay offered you a job at their B&B. 

It was almost perfect. You enjoyed the revolving door of guests and got along great with the ghosts. But luck was a tricky thing, and you couldn’t have such luck forever. 

“Is using ghosts technically cheating, or is it using your resources?” you asked, resting your chin on your hand as you lounged at the check-in desk of Woodstone. 

“I think it's a question of ethics, morals, and whatnot,” Pete replied. 

Trevor, who mirrored your position on the opposite side of the desk, replied, “Unless the rules explicitly against supernatural intervention, I think you’re fine.” 

You smiled. “Can’t say most people put that in the fine print. Though maybe they should. Who knows how many people can see ghosts and don’t tell anyone.” 

“People do get into near-death accidents every day, I’d guess,” Pete pondered. “I doubt all of them gain the ability, but if you and Sam had, who knows. That’s not really something you could ask people casually, though, right?” 

“Not without being called crazy by most people you asked,” Trevor said. “I know if someone asked me when I could see ghosts back when I was alive, I’d think they’d smoked something. Unless…” He trailed off, smirking at you with his signature look you had grown to roll your eyes at. It was a playful annoyance; Trevor was the easiest to imagine he was still alive when you spoke to him. The only disconcerting things about him was his lack of pants, but otherwise he reminded you of the cocky frat boys you went to college with, only he was a little softer around the edges. 

You indulged him, tilting your head to the side in question. “Unless what?” 

“Unless everyone who could see ghosts are hot. Based on you and Sam, those odds are looking pretty good.” 

Pete made a face before he made up an excuse to follow Jay around the kitchen instead of remaining in that conversation. 

You scoffed. “You’re hopeless, you know that?” 

Trevor shrugged, the grin not leaving his face. “What can I say? I have a thing for women way out of my league.” 

“Sam’s married, first of all.” Trevor waved his hand dismissively. “Second of all, out of your league is undercutting it a bit, don’t you think? We don’t exactly exist on the same plane of existence.” 

“Semantics.” 

You admired his persistence. You had never admitted it to him, but you liked Trevor. It made you feel silly; he was dead. Of course, you had a crush on a dead man. Trevor was too charming for his own good, a flirt and a constant presence. It was a recipe for disaster, but you never planned on admitting it, let alone indulging such a thought. You couldn’t even touch him. You didn’t see a way where a relationship was tangible or realistic, certainly not outside the walls of Woodstone. 

He made it very hard to act like you hadn’t thought about him in any romantic sense, with his constant lingering and comments he seemed to only direct at you since you had started at the mansion. 

“How exactly would you propose that ever working?” You phrased the question with a sarcastic twinge in your tone, but a part of you wanted to know. 

Trevor thought for a moment, humming as he pursed his lips. “I guess it’d be a little tough. I’m more of a hands-on kind of guy.” You rolled your eyes once more. “What’d they do in the olden days? Just kinda look at each other? That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

You raised your brows in surprise. “Do you think you could handle a relationship without ever touching the person or, you know, leaving the house with them?” 

“All I’m thinking about right now is how it sounds like you’re considering it.” 

You leaned over the counter, nose to nose with Trevor, with the smallest space in between, but that space was much further in reality. Separated by life and death. He stilled, eyes widening. “Unfortunately, I’m pretty hands-on too,” you replied, earning a subtle blush that spread across Trevor’s cheeks. You stepped back with a shake of your head. 

“Wait,” he reached out for you as a reflect, his hand passing right through your arm. With a groan, he threw his head back. “If we could touch, would you consider it?” 

You hesitated, unsure of your answer. He would still be dead at the end of the day, but a part of you did consider it. Trevor was the only person you felt connected to, in a way that leaned romantic, in a long time. Your luck with alive people was slim, but it was difficult to imagine a future with someone who was already dead, while you continued living. 

Instead of giving him a solid answer, you shrugged, at a crossroads. “I don’t know.” 

Instead of looking dejected, Trevor smiled widely. “That’s not a no.” No, it was not. 

“Can I say something that may potentially not help your situation?” asked Hetty as she watched Trevor lament on the sofa. 

He raised his brows. “Since when do you ask?” 

Hetty sat on the armrest of the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m trying to be kinder on a Thursdays.” 

“Only on Thursdays?” 

“I’m just a woman, Trevor. There’s only so much kindness I can offer,” she huffed. “And I am going to take that as a yes. What exactly do you foresee happening with you and Sam and Jay’s receptionist?” 

A dramatic sigh fell from Trevor’s lips. He had no clue what he saw happening. He knew it was a far-flung idea, a ghost and living being in a relationship. He would settle for a short-lived fling of shared gazes and conversations. That wasn’t like Trevor. He didn’t long for relationships or find himself daydreaming of his crushes. When he saw someone he was interested in, he wooed his way into a date or two, followed by some hands-on activities. Then either they tried to get serious and he ran away, or there was a mutual agreement to keep things casual until someone caught feelings and broke it off. 

Then he died, and suddenly he was acting like someone from the days before the internet and hooking up was cool. He wanted to hold hands, listen to you talk about anything and everything, and all around just be in your presence. His heart was too soft when he was around you; it was weird. 

“Nothing, probably,” he answered after a beat. “She’s alive. I’m dead. I get it.” 

Hetty pressed her lips in a thin line as she observed Trevor with a scrutinizing eye for a moment. “I don’t think I have ever seen you in such a state. You really are torn up over this, aren’t you?” 

“It just seems unfair for us to still have feelings when we can’t do anything about it."

Hetty opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a panicked Sam, who rushed into the living room. Her cellphone was pressed between her ear and shoulder as she waved over Jay, who had been watching and laughing at videos on his phone for the past hour in his armchair. 

Jay stood up, confused as Sam finished up her conversation. 

“Yes…O-Okay.” Her voice cracked, filled with emotion that was immediately concerning to everyone in the room. “Thank you…You too.” She hung up, dropping her phone onto the coffee table with a sniffle. 

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Jay asked, grasping her shoulders and pulling her into his arms. 

Through tears, Sam explained that you had been in a car accident. Trevor felt his no-longer-beating heart drop into his feet. Your mother had called Sam on your behalf and told her you had died in the ambulance, but by some miracle were resuscitated by the EMTs. You were alive, recovering from surgery in the hospital. 

You were alive, but Trevor felt shaken to the bone. You had died, again. Obvious Trevor hadn’t known you when you were a little girl who fell through the ice, but he knew you now. He cared for you dearly, and the idea of you nearly vanishing from his life hit him much harder than he expected. It felt like the time he was teaching his neighbor’s kid baseball, and the kid swung the bat just as Trevor approached behind him. The bat socked Trevor right in the gut, bruising a rib. That was how it felt to know he had almost lost you and had not even known. 

Hetty’s fingers grasped his shoulder, shaking him lightly with a pinched expression. “She’s alive,” she repeated. ��She’ll be all right, right?” 

Sam swallowed thickly but nodded. “According to her mom, she’s set to make a full recovery.” She turned to Jay. “We should go see her. Maybe bring some flowers or…or those cookies you make that she always talks about.” 

Jay wiped a couple of tears from Sam’s cheeks and sniffled himself. “Yeah, of course.” 

Dragging his hands down the length of his face, Trevor tried to soothe the terrible ache in his chest. He wanted to see you, bring you flowers, and ask if you’re okay. But he was suck in that house forever, and you could go anywhere you wanted. He couldn’t even hold your hand or hold you close. 

He wondered if the universe hated him, cursing him with feelings for the last person on Earth he could have. 

It got worse, too, thanks to the questions posed by his ghost-mates. If he didn’t feel so heavy with your absence that haunted Woodstone, he would have strangled Sass for putting the worry in his head. 

“You don’t think a second near-death experience will reverse the effects of the first one, do you?” Sass wondered aloud. 

Trevor stared at him, wide-eyed. 

Alberta hung her head. “Now, why would you ask that right now?” 

“It’s not a bad question,” Hett said. “What does two near-death experiences do to a person if one gives them the potential to see the dead?” 

“Or it could give someone the ability to be even more interactive,” Isaac suggested. 

Trevor nodded vigorously, panic swelling like a balloon in his chest. “Yeah, I like Isaac’s better.” 

“I hope she can still see us,” Flower sighed. “She’s catching me up on the music of today. I need to know more about this ‘One Direction Infection.’” 

Standing beside Flower, Thor furrowed his brows. “Infections no good. Friend lost foot to infection.” 

“Enough talk about infections,” Alberta snapped. “What’s important is that she’s not dead, and Sam said she plans on coming back once she feels better. Until then, we just need to think positively, okay?” She was looking at him, more sympathetically than her usual gaze. 

In the midst of your accident, he realized his crush was far from subtle. The other ghosts, Sam, and even Jay knew. It didn’t help his case that he was clearly the most torn up about it, since he couldn’t come see you at the hospital to ease his worries. Sam tried to tell him you were doing just fine and recovering better than the doctor predicted, but without seeing you with his own eyes, Trevor wasn’t convinced. 

On top of that, he started to worry that you had lost the ability to see him since the accident. What if you couldn’t? What would he do? How would be cope? How would you cope if such a big thing ceased to exist in your life? Would he have to spend the rest of his ghosthood playing telephone with you through Sam? Oh, he just couldn’t stomach all of that. It made him sick, couch-riding for days. He hardly moved, hardly thought of anything else. None of the ghosts, Sam, or Jay could ease his worries. 

It wasn’t until you arrived back at Woodstone did Trevor stop his wallowing. You stood in the doorframe of his bedroom, smiling lightly. Your arm was in a sling, and there were splotchy bruises on your face. 

“Hey, Trevor,” you greeted. He let out a breath he’d been holding since he first heard you were in an accident. His lungs relaxed, his heart unconstricted.

“You can still see me,” he said, more to himself than anything. 

You furrowed your brows, confused. “Of course I can,” you replied. “You were worried about that?” 

Trevor nodded slowly. “I was worried about a lot of things, all of them involving you.” Your expression softened as you entered the room, a slight limp in your step. “Sam said your heart stopped. Y-You died. And then Sass wondered if, when they brought you back, it would change your ability to see us because that was how you got it in the first place. And I kept thinking, ‘what if she can’t see us anymore?’ It freaked me out; really, really, freaked me out and-” 

You approached him, eyes wide and worried, as you said his name softly to stop his ranting. “I’m okay and I can still see you,” you reassured him. “I didn’t think you’d be so worried about me.” 

He scoffed, almost offended. “Are you kidding me? How could I not be? You’re…” he trailed off, a soft sigh falling him his lips before he turned on his heel. He didn’t like being so vulnerable, not in front of someone like you. 

As he turned his back to you, starting toward the window to collect himself without having to look you in the eyes, you reflectively reached out as you would have anyone. It was a hard habit to break with the ghosts, reaching out. Before your mind reminded you that your hand would only phase through him, your fingers brushed against the fabric of his suit jacket. 

Startled, Trevor spun around as you gasped. Your fingers didn’t phase through his ghostly form like they were supposed to. No, your hand grasped his jacket as if he were alive and standing in front of you. 

“What is happening right now?” he asked, staring at your hand on him. 

You sputtered for a response, pulling your hand back before you reached out again, thinking maybe the pain medicine you were on was playing tricks on your mind. But when you neared his arm, you didn’t pass through him again. You touched him, fingers curling around his forearm, which was impossible. 

Trevor stayed impossibly still, scared he’d break whatever weird illusion he found himself in. “Y-You’re not dead, right?” 

A startled laugh escaped your lips. “No,” you whispered. “I’m alive but…” You trailed your hand up the length of his arm, pausing on his shoulder before you met his gaze. “I don’t know how this is possible.” 

Trevor’s hands shook slightly as he reached out too, his fingers hesitantly brushing your sweater. No pain enclosed them, which often occurred when he’d phased through a living. The soft fabric of your sweater met his fingertips, solid and real under his touch. 

He could touch you. He was touching you. It felt like a dream, one he had many times before, but that time he wasn’t sleeping. 

A part of him was scared that whatever was happening wouldn’t last; he didn’t want to waste a moment of the real dream he found himself living. He grasped the sides of your face with both hands, feeling your soft skin under his fingers. That alone was enough for Trevor. To feel you, to feel real himself. 

You studied him with a soft gaze and the prettiest smile on the planet in Trevor’s eyes. You leaned in just a little, brushing your nose against his, a dramatic beat in your heart at the contact. 

Trevor seized the moment, unsure if he’d have another moment outside of that one. He closed the small gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours. 

The kiss was the desperate kind, the unknown if it was first and last that you’d share or the start of many. It didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was the firm pressure on your lips and the softness of Trevor’s thumbs lightly brushing your cheeks. His hands cradled the sides of your face like you were the most important thing he’d ever held. 

You kissed his back feverishly, savoring the feel and taste in case that was all you got. 

It wasn’t until your lungs started to scream at you did you pulled away from the kiss, but you remained as close as you could get to Trevor, scared to let go. 

Maybe it wouldn’t last, or maybe you had thinned the veil between your life and death just enough to be able to touch the dead. You had no idea if it was a fluke or a permanent effect. It didn’t really matter in that moment because you had Trevor in your grasp, and he had you in his. What came after was miles away, something you’d worry about later. You only cared about drinking in that moment, savoring the impossible while it lasted.

[sparks-and-smoke]

Chapter 3: Helping Hands

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (refered to as Petal) Word Count: 3385 Summary: Steve asks Sam if he can volunteer at his work. Getting his shoe in the door with someone special. This is a soulmate AU, just so we are all aware. Warnings/tropes: smut, oral (male receiving), grief, loss, angst, mental health, PTSD, conspiracy theories, stalking if you squint. Soulmate AU. A/N: Fun Fact, readers last name is Darnell in this because it mean "unknown or secret" This went through a couple different variasons so if tense is weird I'm sorry. English IS my first language. I just suck at it. Beta read by the ever lovely. @voice-of-velhart

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The guilt he felt asking Sam to help him was second only to his driving need to see you. He might have given the parameters of what he was doing more thought if it didn't seem like a necessary evil. To lie to one of his only friends. To manipulate him into getting Steve into your personal space. It was verging on vile and he knew it. His conscious was eating him alive, but he didn't know what else to do.

"I'm honestly surprised you even have time to volunteer man. Doesn't all that SHIELD shit keep you pretty busy?" Sam had been talking but Steve wasn't listening. Preoccupied with the sweat forming on his palms and the shake in his fingers. Every step they took brought him closer to you. Closer to either setting things right or ruining his life.

"Ah, yeah well. Everybody needs a sense of community right? I'm just trying to find mine. You try making friends with a bunch of spies and secret agents. Not exactly confidant material." He kept his tone light, his usual polite air covering his intentions. In all truth he was only half lying. He really wouldn't mind spending time with other combat vets. Though his faith in the VA as an institution was weak at best. "Besides you're the one that encouraged me to come."

Sam scoffed, giving his friend the side eye. "I suggested group sessions. Not volunteering in the housing division."

But she is in the housing division. It's an easy in. Steve only shrugged, "I find peace in helping others."

They made their way across the campus. Being greeted by the occasional coworker, or passersby. Voices murmuring as they trailed off to the building on the far end of the green. It was sinking in that there was a high likelihood he couldn't do this unrecognized. There was really no avoiding that, but… How would his sweet girl react to meeting someone the way he was now.

You had always been fiery and confident in their day, something that drew his pensive personality to you like a month to a flame. But had time changed that.. What if being near someone who had been genetically modified scared you or made you uncomfortable. He couldn't handle a rejection before this even began. He couldn’t begin to know what he would say or how he should act. Should he charm you, or should he stand off and let her come to him? Did he even have the restraint?

How had he done it the first time? That was the problem wasn't it. Because the first time around you had picked him. Sure he was bigger now, conventionally more attractive but he was still the same introverted knot-head he had always been. You had been the one to approach him then, you were the one asking questions and making his ears burn when you called him handsome. He had no clue how you found it charming then, he highly doubted it would be charming now. He needed to be smooth, he needed to be charming and friendly and not like the nervous desperate fool he felt like right now.

They made it to the large red brick building on the far side of campus and Steve was starting to feel exposed. Like this was a bad idea. He found himself fidgeting, smoothing back his hair and adjusting his jacket. Petal had always like him in brown leather. Hopefully that was still true now..

"Are you good? You got somewhere to be?"

Sam's retort pulled him from his grooming. "Yeah maybe. Who knows. I've always had a thing for a cute nurse."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah sure. Says the man that has turned down every opportunity I have shot your way for months now."

"Maybe you just don't know my type." Sam just rolled his eyes as he help open the door. They went about their tour. Meeting the orderly and getting the weekly schedule and where they could use help with activities and outings. Steve payed the closest attention to Monday-Thursday when he knew you were working. He did his best to remain respectful and give the orderly his full attention as he spoke up his eyes were constantly roaming looking for that distinctive head of hair…

As they walked Sam held most of the conversation to make up for Steve's apparent daze. They walked into a small hallway with a few doors, each leading to different departments. Nursing, mental health, physical therapy. They passed a door that led to a small garden where veterans sat, chatting on benches, and another one that looked like a rec room. A massive almost gymnasium like structure with open sky lights and an open floor. Clearly, most of the building funding had gone toward places like this.

Steve gave a low whistle hand in his pockets as he looked around, his body spinning slowly as his gaze wondered. "They didn't look like this when I was serving…" He stopped in his tracks. There you were. Off at one of the tables talking to an elderly man in a wheelchair. Your hair pushed back with a headband.

The world melted away. Not only was it you, and you were gorgeous as ever, but you looked so much happier than he left you in the 40's. You were healthier, more relaxed and calm in conversation with the man. You were happy here; without him. His heart squeezed painfully, but it was OK. You were happy.

He had the sudden urge to leave, to tell Sam to go and that he would come back another day… and then he heard you laugh. A real laugh for the first time in seventy years. He whipped back around, his eyes wide and locked onto you. All other thoughts faded, all he could see was you.

Steve was frozen, it was like his very being had short circuited. Finally your eyes caught his and his heart stopped. It was like a shock of electricity through his body. In that moment it was as if the war never happened, as if you had never lost each other at all. But just like that your gaze passed over him and you returned to the man, as if you hadn’t even seen him. Maybe you didn’t. But Steve knew he couldn’t move, was completely frozen watching you.

Sam gave him a nudge, “You OK brother?”

But Steve didn’t answer. His soul hurt so much he felt unable.

You could feel eyes on you, they were impossible to ignore. Glancing over to the doors you could see Sam Wilson and your head nurse talking to another tall man that seemed roughly familiar but you couldn't really place, maybe he was a family member or a vet here? Or a vet himself just here to provide company which was encouraged in the therapy sessions…

Either way it didn’t seem like the blonde was listening. Because he was staring out into the room with a look that could only be deceived as heartbreaking. Somewhere between hope and devastation.

His gaze locked on yours and you gave an encouraging smile. Trying to be warm as the man's face drained of color. Was he looking for someone? had he just been given bad news? You rose to her feet deciding to check on him when Lt. Nelson tapped your hip.

Leaning down you listened to what he had to say. "I served with him. That's Captain Steven Rogers, I would know him anywhere. I haven't seen him since Italy…"

“Do you think so?” You knew the name. Hell, everyone knew the name between the Smithsonian exhibit and the coverage in the news and tabloids it was a household name. Steve Rogers, Captain America, The world mightiest hero. It wasn't the craziest thing you had heard from a resident today. But, it wouldn't be the first time the Lieutenant had mistaken a visitor for someone from his glory days, and while you would never correct him. You tried not to encourage it either.

Superhero’s don’t come here, was you're first thought, but you didn't have the heart to say that, instead you told him. “Well why don’t I go say hello, and maybe you're right.” Rubbing Mr. Nelson’s shoulder warmly before watching over to Sam and the stranger.

You came closer and closer until Steve could see you clearly. All the details he had forgotten were there, the way your nose scrunched when you smiled and the way your eyes would sparkle with happiness or mischief. It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and beg her to remember him.

But then you were in front of them, you eyes on Sam, a soft smile and he felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under him again. “Sam! Long time no see, whose you're friend?"

Sam slung an arm around Petal, giving you a warm hug. Which you returned with a gusto that Steve knew all too well. Those hugs were warm, and snug, and you always lingered just long enough to make you feel important and safe..

"This is my friend Steve. He was hoping to come hang out with you and the old dogs a few times a month, ain't that right Cap?"

Steve shoved down the green monster rising in his gut at the hug and plastered a lopsided smile on his face. "That's right." he stated dumbly, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

"Oh, well that's nice of you. Were you in the service sir?" Their it was again. Sir. Not Steve or Stevie, but sir. The title you give to a respected stranger. Felt like fish hook in the gut. You were trying to be polite but all it did was make him want to evacuate his stomach on the checkered tiles.

He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat with a smile. "Yes, a captain in the army."

”Nice to meet you Captain,” you held out your hand to shake Steve’s. He took your hand, savoring your grip and your soft skin on his hand. He felt that soft wave of recognition buzz over his skin. One soulmate touching another, it wasn't the electric rapture that overcame you the first time you touched you're other half. It was that old familiar whirring under the skin that came with every contact with his girl. His eyes shot up to see if you recognized the feeling. Nothing

“The pleasure’s…” He had meant to to come off suave but his voice cracked and he cleared his throat to try again, “The pleasure’s all mine.” He felt like an idiot and his chest felt like might swing open and the contents would fall out, but he knew he had to be strong.

When you responded with a welcome smile, he felt maybe everything might be alright. He tried not to notice how perfectly your hand fit in his, though his brain instantly comparing the sizes and the way his palm dwarfed hers. Your handshake was warm, and he could have held you forever, but you took your hand back far too soon.

“Come on,” you said, smiling and lighting up the room. “I’ll show you around and we can discuss volunteering a little.”

Steve and Sam followed you, looking around as you introduced them to a few of the veterans that were sitting and chatting around. You seemed to know them all, giving nicknames to each one with a loving, familiar smile. Steve wasn't surprised by how easily you could make anyone feel like they were a friend. You had always been that way, Like when your eye's landed on someone you were actually seeing you and not just a face. you smile lit the room and he was so enchanted he let his guard down. Talking to vets and being recognized, if you were shocked you didn't show it. You just let him become part of the goings on.

You left the Captain to talk to Mr. Nelson. Smiling to you're self when they pulled out the checkers board and you made you're way back to Sam.

"So… THAT is Captain America?"

Sam laughed, watching the interaction between the Captain and the old vet.

“He’s a good guy, a little outdated and hard to get to know… but don’t let him intimidate you, he’s a marshmallow on the inside and he can be…charming… on occasion.”

"He seems.. melancholy?" you search for the word. Sad didn't seem right but there was this vague sense of otherness to Steve that almost comes off him in waves.

"Wouldn't you be? The man lost everything he's ever known. Was woken up only to be thrown into another fight… He probably needs therapy. But I think you would be hard pressed to get a man like him in a session. So, community is gonna have to do for now."

You consider that for a moment as Steve's gaze meets yours one more time. He does seem a like happier now that he is here. But you still see that flicker of something indescribable whenever he is left to his own thoughts. You may not know combat but you knows that feeling. That lost drifting feeling that settles on the bones after soldiers come home. You had seen it in the eyes of a least a hundred men.

You wished he would let Sam actually help him.

Steve did his best to focus on the game with the Lt. He really did. But when his petal was standing right there in your cute pink scrubs who could blame a man for being distracted.

"She is a cutie, let me tell you what." Nelson murmured with a smile as he took another of Steve's pieces.

Nelson gave him the look of a man that had a keen nose for bullshit. "Nurse Darnell. You've only been looking at her like she is made of sugar for the last 20 minutes."

Steve chuckled, trying to play it off. "She is very attractive yes."

"Then why are you wasting time talking to an old fart like me."

"I don't know if your aware of this pal but I am just as much of an old codger as you are."

Nelson shakes his head, his deep baritone laugh rumbling in that old smokers chest. "Naw, you may have been born the same year as me son, but you're still a young man inside. I know you feel out of place. But we all did when we came home."

Steve knew what he was saying was right, and that Nelson was trying to give him an out to go and ask his petal out. But Steve was still scared to death. "I don't know if I am ready for all that."

"You'll never know if you don't try son."

When Steve pushed up from his chair Sam and petal where no where to be found. He searched the room and came up empty. "You looking for me?"

Her warm voice trickled down his spine and made him smile. "Yes, I was. Do you have coffee in this place."

"Do we have coffee?" You sounded almost indignant. "You are aware this is a VA correct. And that we service exclusively military personnel and veterans… Yes we have coffee. Stiff enough to float a brick on."

Steve smiled at that, the grin lighting up his face. We are talking, she's talking to me… "Just how I like it."

You lead him off to the little coffee bar in the corner of the rec room, the one that is attached to the kitchen where all the meals are served, "Here we are." You pump a mug full out of a carafe and hands it over, "might be a little cold. Hopefully not."

"I'm sure it is just fine." He assures and takes a sip, it was in fact cold be he could not give less of a shit as long as you keeps talking to him. "It's perfect."

"Mhhm…" you looked like you didn't believe that for a moment but didn't say anything. "So how are you finding modern living, Captain Rogers?"

"Steve, please." He did his best to keep the pleading from his voice but if you called him Sir again he was gonna throw something. "And I'm… I'm finding it. It's different from home but most places are. And its better then the trenches so I guess I'm fine."

"I feel like there is a major difference between 1940's Brooklyn and the trenches Mr- uh Steve." You seemed to catch yourself. It was just one more reminder of how he had lost everything and even now with you right in front of him he was lost.

"Well yeah, but I have to find the good where I can. The food is good, the cars are fast, information at your fingertips anywhere and everywhere. The future isn't so bad…" He was rambling. And he knew it. But he didn’t know how to stop the words. You, his sweet girl, were right in front of him. And he could touch you. He could pull you into his into him, hold you close and sweep you off you're feet like he should have been able to 70 years ago if he hadn't been a fool. Taste your pretty lips again. Hear you say “I love you” with that laugh at the end, like always did.

It was taking every ounce of dignity and strength he had not to do it.

"What do you hate about it?"

That broke him from his daydream. "I'm sorry what?"

"What do you hate about the modern world? When I first moved from New York to DC i hated the way people talk. Back home everyone talks fast and straight to the point. No one sugar coats anything and you know precisely where you stand. Here, everything is niceties and small talk. It still drives me crazy sometimes, but I've gotten used to it." You swirl the tea in your mug. "So, what drives you crazy? What can't you stand."

He wanted to say he could not stand the distance between them. The fact that you did not know him. That the love between them was gone. That they had spent so much time apart, years where they could have been building a family together.

“Too much choice.” He said with a smile as he tried to hide the sadness in his eyes. “Back in the 40’s there were about 2 radio channels, you had one ice cream place to go to and movies were 15 cents a pop. People have hundreds if choices now. It's pretty overwhelming. Everything, is buzzing and moving and changing constantly. I can't keep up.”

She hadn't expected that answer but it made sense. "You'll like it here then. Our own little bubble her at the living center. You can stop in for a change of pace whenever you want."

The way you said 'our' and 'you' gave him a jolt of hope. "So, I can come back and help out when I can?" he asked casually.

"Oh, of course you are more then welcome. It benefits everyone don't you think? Plus I can always use the extra hands." You say and give him a grin that makes his whole day worth it.

Steve thought the grin on his face was permanent, he did not even notice his cheeks starting to ache. There was a warm feeling in his chest and he felt a calmness wash over him the longer he was in you're company.

"You got a pen I can borrow Pet?" He said as an idea came to mind.

You pulled an ink pen out of her breast pocket and handed it to him. "Sure."

He took the pen and took a napkin and quickly jotted down his number. "Here," he hands her the napkin back with a lopsided boyish smile, "for next time, you know, when I can help out."

Captain America just gave you his phone number on a napkin. You couldn't help but grin at how cute and old fashioned that was. He looked so boyish and shy, you just had to tease him. "Just for work?"

Tag List: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers, @delilah-hey @tldrthor @littlestxli @otterlycanadian @moviegurl2002

[nameless-jamie]

TARTT'S CORNER - Jamie Tartt x Y/N

Masterlist - Next Chapter

Chapter 2: The Star Player

It was Keeley who had orchestrated the meeting, her signature enthusiasm ensuring everything went off without a hitch. Y/N had received the text late the night before:

“Nelson Road, 2 PM. Jamie’s agreed! Don’t make him regret it. ;) xx”

Now, standing just outside the stadium she’d admired for years as a fan, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of awe. Nelson Road wasn’t just a football pitch—it was hallowed ground. The stands she’d once cheered from as a die-hard supporter loomed in the distance, their steel frames gleaming under the afternoon sun. The faint smell of freshly cut grass and faint echoes of distant chatter filled the air, making her heart swell. But today wasn’t about her as a fan. Today, she was here on business.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and straightened her jacket, steeling herself for what she hoped would be a productive—and not overly intimidating—afternoon.

The reception area buzzed with activity as she stepped inside, and almost immediately, she felt eyes on her. A staff member walking past did a double take, then stopped mid-stride.

“Wait… are you Y/N Y/L/N? From Striker’s Corner?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

The woman let out an excited squeal. “Oh my God, I love your podcast! That interview with Jude Bellingham? Amazing! My husband still talks about how he flirted with you the whole time.”

Y/N laughed awkwardly, her cheeks warming. “Yeah, uh, Jude’s got… a lot of charm.”

This wasn’t the first time someone had brought that up. Jude’s cheeky flirting during their interview had gone viral on social media, spawning countless memes and teasing comments from fans. Ao Jamie won't be the first cocky striker she's interviewing...

“Could I get an autograph? Maybe a selfie?” the woman asked eagerly.

Before Y/N could respond, a small crowd of staff had begun to gather, whispering and pointing in her direction. Some approached shyly, others more boldly, but all had one thing in common—they adored her podcast.

As Y/N posed for selfies and signed a few stray notebooks, she couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the moment. She’d come here to meet a Premier League star, and yet she was the one being treated like a celebrity.

“I’m never gonna live this Jude thing down, am I?” she muttered to herself as another staff member gushed about that infamous episode.

Amid the chaos, a familiar voice cut through. “Ah, there you are!”

Y/N turned to see Sam Obisanya, his ever-cheerful demeanor lighting up the room. He was already grinning as he approached, offering her a warm handshake.

“Sam!” Y/N exclaimed, genuinely happy to see him. “It’s so good to see you again!”

“And you, Y/N,” he replied. “Though I must say, I wasn’t expecting to find you signing autographs in the reception area.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t even start. It’s your fault—if you weren’t so charming and funny on the podcast, maybe the Richmond people wouldn’t think I’m so interesting.”

Sam laughed, then motioned for her to follow him. “Come on, let me take you to Jamie. He’s… well, he’s Jamie, but I think you’ll manage him.”

As they walked through the halls of Nelson Road, Y/N took in every detail. The framed photos lining the walls, the faint hum of voices from the locker rooms, and the occasional glimpse of players and staff going about their day. It was surreal to be here, not as a spectator, but as someone with a purpose.

When they reached the pitch, Y/N spotted Jamie immediately. He was juggling a ball near the center circle, his movements smooth and effortless. He radiated confidence, his usual swagger evident even in something as simple as a warm-up.

Sam led her closer, then called out, “Jamie! Your guest is here.”

Jamie stopped juggling and turned to face them, squinting slightly against the sun. His expression was unreadable at first as he walked over, the ball tucked casually under his arm.

Jamie Tartt didn’t really listen to podcasts. To him, they were just people talking about stuff he could barely be arsed to care about. So when Keeley had mentioned some “brilliant podcaster” she knew, wanted to interview him, he’d just shrugged it off. He’d assumed it’d be some boring football nerd—probably middle-aged, glasses, maybe a bit awkward. Definitely not this.

As he approached, he tried not to let the surprise show on his face. Bloody hell, she’s fit. Like, properly fit. Way too put-together for someone who talked about football for a living.

He ran a quick hand through his hair, keeping his face neutral. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard. But, God, why had no one warned him? Sam had said something about her being “cool” and “easy to talk to,” but Jamie hadn’t expected a fucking supermodel to interview him about football.

Sam clapped Jamie on the shoulder. “Be nice, Jamie. Y/N’s good people.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll play nice.”

Sam shot Y/N an encouraging look before excusing himself, leaving her alone with Jamie.

“Right,” Jamie said, turning back to her. “So, you’re the podcast lady.” His voice carried a hint of mockery, and his eyes flicked over her, appraising.

Y/N held her ground, offering a polite smile. “And you’re the star player who doesn’t like interviews.”

Jamie smirked, clearly amused. “Ah, you get me. I'm flattered.”

As they continued to interact—Jamie occasionally tossing cheeky comments her way—Y/N could sense the guardedness behind his bravado. But every so often, his gaze lingered just a little too long, his curiosity evident.

When Y/N mentioned moving the briefing to a more private area for a little privacy, she motioned to a door with a little window that looked unoccupied. Jamie couldn’t help but laugh. “The boot room? Classy,” he quipped, though the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.

“I mean, unless you want to talk out here with everyone listening…” Y/N shot back.

“Boot room it is,” Jamie said, smirking and grabbing her wrist to pull her inside.

The boot room was exactly as Y/N had expected—cramped, cluttered, and filled with the unmistakable smell of sweat and leather. Jamie plopped down on a bench, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, while Y/N gingerly perched on the edge of a nearby stool, trying not to touch anything sticky.

“This is cozy,” she said dryly, earning a chuckle from Jamie.

“Yeah, real five-star treatment, for Richmond's star striker and a global podcaster,” he replied.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. Jamie’s posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, watching her closely as if trying to figure her out.

Y/N cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “So, Jamie, before we get into the details of the podcast, I just want to say I appreciate you agreeing to this. I know it’s not exactly your thing.”

Jamie shrugged. “Keeley’s persuasive. And Sam wouldn’t shut up about how great you are, so I figured I’d see for myself.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.”

“You won’t,” Jamie said, almost too quickly. Realizing how sincere he’d sounded, he quickly added, “I mean, the verdict stills stands out, you know.”

Y/N suppressed a laugh. It was clear Jamie was putting up a front, but she could sense there was more to him beneath the exterior.

As they began discussing logistics for the episode—topics, format, and timing—Jamie’s initial cockiness started to fade. He still threw in the occasional cheeky comment, but Y/N could tell he was warming up to the idea. And when she mentioned her passion for football, his interest visibly piqued. They talked about who she already interviewed and her views on the Premier League at the moment.

"So, if City keeps playing like their defense is a brick wall, which it clearly isn't at the moment, Chelsea might have a shot at being number 1 this season." Y/N concluded her rant.

“You really study hard on that stuff, don’t you?” he said, almost grudgingly.

“I like to think so,” Y/N replied with a small smile.

Jamie nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Alright, podcast lady. Let’s see if you can handle me, live on air.”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, I can handle you, Jamie Tartt. The question is — can you handle me?”

For the first time, Jamie looked genuinely intrigued, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his eyes.

And just like that, the game was on.

As Jamie held the door open for her to step out of the boot room, he glanced at her one more time, something almost thoughtful flickering in his expression. Should he really bring back the prince-of-pricks to destroy such an important interview for your career, after you told him you built this podcast against all odds.

“See you at your studio then, yeah?” he said casually, though the edge of curiosity in his tone betrayed him.

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “See you there. Don’t be late.”

As she walked away, Jamie couldn’t help but watch her go, wondering—not for the first time that afternoon—what he’d just gotten himself into.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Something Wicked | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implications of verbal parental abuse

Word Count: 4885

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The two boys were bickering over coordinates Dean had received from an anonymous number. 

“Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy.”

“Well, I'm telling you, I looked, and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what.”

“Well, maybe he's going to meet us there.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point.”

You sighed. You weren’t about to get in the middle of this argument and tuned the rest of it out. Alas, Dean won the argument, as he often did. 

You stopped for some coffee along Fitchburg’s main street. The town itself was small, but it was quaint. A little too Middle America for your taste.

“Well… the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, no one's heard about anything freaky going on,” Dean sighed, handing you and Sam your respective coffee orders.

“Dean, you got the time?” you asked him.

“Ten after four. Why?”

You nodded in front of you at the playground you were looking at. “What's wrong with this picture?”

It was deserted aside from one child climbing on the jungle gym.

“School's out, isn't it?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. So where is everybody?” Sam added. “This place should be crawling with kids right now.”

You and the Winchesters walked over to a woman on a park bench reading a magazine. Dean approached her, saying, “Sure is quiet out here.”

The woman sighed, “Yeah, it’s a shame.”

“Why's that?”

“You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing.”

“How many?”

“Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching,” she explained.

All four of you watched the little girl playing by herself, and the wheels in your head began to turn. Why would John send you all the way to Fitchburg over a few sick kids?

The three of you made your way up to the pediatrics ward of the hospital to investigate the sick children. Dean and Sam donned suits, and you wore a pencil skirt and heels. You couldn’t lie to yourself, Dean looked amazing in his suit, but you much preferred his usual leather jacket and biker boots. 

“See something you like?” Dean smirked at you.

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. He just snickered in response while your cheeks burned.

A doctor approached you and the boys before Dean could taunt you any further. You introduced yourselves and headed down the corridor with the man. “Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker,” Dean said.

“Well, I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, some GP— I forget his name— he called Atlanta, and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch,” Dean lied.

“So you say you got six cases so far?” you asked.

“Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now…”

“What?”

“The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are... wearing out.”

“Wait, but are there any signs of leukopenia?” you asked. “Any history in these kids of that?”

Dean looked over at you, confused by what you were saying. You continued to talk to the doctor.

“No, actually,” Hydecker answered. 

“What about neutropenia?”

He shook his head as a nurse handed him a clipboard full of papers.

“Then, whatever this is would have to be attacking the bone marrow as well as the respiratory system… Have you done biopsies?”

“No, we haven’t,” Hydecker answered. “I’ll give that a try.”

“You ever seen anything like this before?” Sam questioned.

“Never this severe,” the doctor said. “And the way it spreads… that's a new one for me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another.”

“You mind if we interview a few of the kids?” Dean questioned.

“They’re not conscious,” the doctor replied.

You were shocked. “None of them?”

“No.”

“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” tried Dean.

“Well, if you think it'll help.”

“Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?”

Hydecker directed you to a man sitting on a chair against the wall in the waiting room. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He explained to you the oldest girl was first, and then his youngest. He told you that her window had been opened, but there was no one who could’ve done so except for his daughter because her room was on the second floor. 

You and the boys headed out of the pediatrics ward and back toward the car. 

“(Y/N), how’d you know all that stuff?” Sam asked you, referencing your conversation with the doctor.

“I like to read,” you shrugged. Sam smiled at your response and walked a little ahead of you. 

Dean came up next to you. “You were really serious about nursing, huh,” he said softly enough so Sam wouldn’t hear.

“I guess. I really do just like to read, though,” you smiled. “I think I just wanted to stick it to my dad. I always thought I’d be happier not hunting. But, uh, I just don’t think I could ever go back to being ‘normal’.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he responded. 

Sam turned back to you and his brother. “You know, this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia.”

“No way,” you shook your head, “pneumonia wouldn’t be lowering white blood cell count. It’d have to be elevated for it to be true pneumonia. Infection and all that.”

Sam hummed. “Okay, so then what’s your theory?”

“Honestly? Not sure.”

“I'll tell you one thing,” said Sam. “That dad we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home.”

***

“You got anything over there?” Sam asked Dean. The three of you had climbed through the home of the last two kids who had gotten sick looking for clues.

“Nah, nothing,” the older brother answered.

“Yeah, me neither,” you chimed in. You moved over to the window and paused. “Hey guys? I really don’t think it’s pneumonia.”

The boys came over and followed your line of sight to a rotted handprint with long, tendril-like fingers. 

“What the hell leaves a handprint like that?” Sam asked.

Dean seemed to get pulled away into his own mind for a moment before he began to look a little sick. “I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.”

Dean raced down the stairs to the window on the back of the house you’d climbed through. You followed him close behind. You would ask him what had happened to him in the little girl’s bedroom later.

Dean explained to you on the ride to the motel what he thought you were hunting: a shtriga.

“So what the hell is a shtriga?” Sam asked as Dean pulled into a motel parking lot. This motel was a little cuter than the ones you’d visited previously; centered around a white cabin with green shingles. 

“It's kinda like a witch, I think. I don't know much about 'em,” explained Dean.

“Well, I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal.”

“Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about sixteen, seventeen years ago. You were there. You don't remember?”

Sam shook his head.

“And I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates,” Dean went on.

“So wait, this…” Sam paused, waiting for Dean to remind him how to pronounce it.

“Shtriga.”

“Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?” Sam’s brows furrowed together.

“ ‘Cause it got away.”

Sam scoffed. “Got away?”

Dean was beginning to get frustrated, and you knew it was a cover-up for whatever was going on inside his head. “Yeah, Sammy, it happens.”

“Not very often.”

“Well, I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning,” snarked the older brother.

“What else do you remember?”

“Nothin'. I was a kid, alright?” Dean said defensively. You followed him into the motel lobby only to see a little boy watching TV in one room and a boy around ten or eleven walking out of it.

“A king or two queens?” The boy asked, looking between you and Dean.

“Two queens,” you and Dean answered quickly. “And one king, actually,” you added, stepping aside to reveal Sam behind you.

A woman entered smiling at you both. “Checking in?”

You nodded to her.

“Do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner,” the woman instructed the boy. 

“I'm helping a guest!” he protested, but turned away under his mother’s hard stare. “Two queens. And a king.”

“Will that be cash or credit?” she asked you.

Dean took out his card. “You take MasterCard? Perfect. Here you go.”

You watched him look behind the woman at the boy pouring his younger brother a glass of milk. And there he went again; pulled into what you could only assume was memories of himself and Sam.

The woman before you held out his card to zoned-out Dean, and you took it from her instead. “Uh, thanks.” She handed you the keys, and you nudged Dean to bring him back to reality.

***

Dean explained to you and Sam what shtrigas fed off: children, most commonly. The only thing that could kill them were specially designed wrought-iron rounds while the thing was feeding. They often take the form of something unsuspecting; like an old woman.

“Hang on,” Dean said. “Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far and dead center?”

“The hospital,” you noted.

“Now, when we were there, I saw a patient; an old woman,” Dean continued.

“An old person huh?” questioned Sam. “In a hospital? Phew. Better call the Coast Guard.”

You giggled at Sam.

“Well, listen, smart-asses, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.”

You and Sam stopped snickering and looked up at Dean. He raised an eyebrow at you.

And so, you headed to the hospital. Fortunately for her— but unfortunately for your hunt— the old woman with the upside down cross on the wall was just cataract-ridden and crotchety. Upon your return to the motel after thoroughly freaking out the old woman, you pulled Dean to your motel room for a talk before bed.

“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on a chair in your room. 

You sat on the bed across from him. “Where do you keep going?” you asked.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I just realized how stupid that sounded. You keep, like, disappearing into your own brain,” you responded. “Like in the motel lobby. You zoned out looking at that kid and his brother.”

“Oh, that,” he said quietly. “I, uh, it’s stupid.”

“Dean,” you leaned over your crossed legs and rested your hand on his knee. “I’m asking you. It’s not stupid. I just care.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Dean,” you said. “You made me a pinky promise at that scary asylum. You promised you’d tell me. Please?”

He huffed out a small laugh. “You know how I said my dad hunted this thing before?”

You nodded.

“Well, I’m the reason it got away.”

“How? Didn’t you say it was sixteen, seventeen years ago? You would’ve been ten, dude,” you responded.

“Yeah, but it’s complicated. My dad left us alone in motel rooms all the time. He made me repeat to him what I was and wasn’t supposed to do every time he would go out on a hunt. Sam and I would fight over the last bowl of Lucky Charms from the groceries Dad got us for the week; y'know, stupid kid stuff,” he chuckled. “But it’d been days. I was climbin’ the walls, (Y/N). I had to get some air. I went to an arcade to just… blow off some steam, I guess.

"When I came back, the thing was over Sammy’s bed. I was frozen. My dad came in and shot it a couple times, but it got away. Dad just... grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away, but by the time he got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga had disappeared; it was just gone. It never surfaced until now. Y'know, Dad never spoke about it again, I didn't ask." He looked away from you attempting to swallow his emotions. "But he, ah, he looked at me different, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn't listen; I almost got Sammy killed.”

“Dee, you were a kid,” you said softly. He went to cut you off, but you stopped him. “No, let me talk. I know how that feels. My parents left me with Stevie all the time. I would've done the same thing you did. We were kids. We had to take on parental responsibilities. Anybody would be going stir crazy, especially at ten years old like you were.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No,” you told him, grabbing his hand. “You cannot blame yourself. I won’t let you. Would you let me?”

He shook his head.

“Exactly.”

He held your intense stare and rubbed a thumb over your hand. The two of you awkwardly pulled away from each other, and Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you, for, y’know—”

“Yeah, any time,” you said, walking him to the door. 

***

The next morning, you and Sam were teasing Dean about the old woman from the hospital the night before. You were headed to the car to go get some breakfast.

“ ‘I was sleeping with my peepers open’?” Sam laughed heartily, remembering the old woman's strange way of talking.

“I almost smoked that old girl, I swear. It's not funny!” Dean grunted.

“Oh man, you shoulda seen your face,” you giggled.

“Yeah, laugh it up. Now we're back to square one.” He looked over to the ten-year-old blond boy sitting on the bench behind his mother’s office. “Hang on.” He led you over to the child. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“My brother's sick,” he replied.

“The little guy?”

He nodded. “Pneumonia. He's in the hospital. It's my fault.”

“Ah, c'mon, how?” You could tell Dean’s mind was racing just based on his tone.

“I should’ve made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't've got pneumonia if the window was latched,” the boy lamented.

You watched, frowningly thoughtfully, as Dean looked away from the boy. 

“Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?” Dean assured him.

“It's my job to look after him,” the boy frowned, tearing up.

His mother hurried out of the motel toward her minivan. “Michael, I want you to turn on the 'no vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service, so don't bother with any of the rooms.”

“I'm going with you,” he protested.

“Not now, Michael.”

“But I gotta see Asher!”

Dean responded before his mother could. “Hey, Michael. Hey. I know how you feel— I'm a big brother, too— but you gotta go easy on your mom right now, ok?”

His mom dropped her handbag in haste, cursing under her breath. You rushed to pick it up for her.

“Listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital,” Dean offered.

“No, I couldn't possibly—” she answered.

“No, it's no trouble. I insist.”

Michael’s mother handed Dean the keys and thanked him before addressing her son. “Be good.”

Dean turned to you before he went over to the car. “We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?”

You and Sam watched Dean pull out of the motel parking lot, driving much more carefully than he ever did when you and Sam were in the car.

“C’mon,” you said. “You got the keys?”

“Yeah,” he threw them to you. “Where we goin’?”

“Wait, you’re letting me drive?” you asked Sam.

He shrugged. 

You squealed childishly and jumped into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t lie, you loved this car. You loved how the steering wheel felt in your hands and the way the engine rumbled. 

“Seriously, where we going?”

“The library,” you answered. “Town records, national records, internet, anything and everything. Dean wants this thing dead, and I intend to get it done tonight. And I gotta tell you, dude, something’s really bothering me about this whole thing. I mean, I never even formally went to nursing school, but I knew it couldn’t be pneumonia immediately. Why would pediatric doctors be unable to figure that out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I get you. Something isn’t right.”

***

You and Sam poured through as many books you possibly could as quickly as you could. Sam was at his computer, scrolling with a furrowed brow when his phone rang. “ Hey. How's the kid?... We’re at the library. We've been trying to find out as much as we can about this shtriga… Well, bad news. I started with Fort Douglas around the time you said Dad was there?... Same deal.

"Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, before that, North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years, it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitzburgh. In all these other places, it goes on for months. Dozens of kids before the shtriga finally moves on. The kids just languish in comas, and then they die… Ah, I don't know. The earliest mention I could find is this  place called ‘Black River Falls’ back in the 1890s. Talk about a horror show.”

Your brain began to make connections between all of those events. “Wait, Sam, put Dean on speaker.” 

He did so.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to stay with me on this one. This could just be me spitballin’, but—”

“Just say it, (Y/N),” Dean said through the phone.

“I’ve been thinking, why wouldn’t Hydecker immediately rule out pneumonia? If he’s such a spectacular and caring doctor, why wouldn’t he know that pneumonia ups your white blood cell count; not depletes it? And the chance of all six kids having a pre-existing condition that lowers your WBC is incredibly low. I mean, why else wouldn’t he biopsy the kids?”

“Okay, WebMD, what does that have to do with anything?” Dean asked.

“I told you to stay with me.” You began typing in your computer searching for articles on the earliest case Sam had found in Black River Falls. “The point is, I think Hydecker’s our guy. Think about it— the center of the kidnappings is the hospital. And any pediatric doctor would be familiar with what pneumonia actually does to a kid’s body.” You smiled sourly at a photo you pulled up of doctors surrounding a child’s bed in 1893. You turned the computer around to Sam. “Boom.”

“(Y/N), that is huge.” He leaned over and lightly punched your shoulder. “Good going.”

“Thanks!” you grinned. “Dean, meet us back at the motel. Don’t deck the guy in the face, please. Not yet, anyway.”

“No promises,” he grumbled.

“Dean—”

“Fine.” He hung up the phone.

“Alright, we gotta get back before Dean explodes,” you told Sam. “Can I drive again?”

“Sure, why not. Just don’t tell my brother.” He tossed you the keys and you giggled.

***

“We should have thought of this before. A doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing,” Sam said. 

You and the brothers were back in the motel room. 

Dean threw off his jacket and paced agitatedly. “That son of a bitch.”

“I'm proud of you for not drawing on him right there,” you said.

“Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freakin' pediatrics ward.”

Sam nodded. “Good call.”

“Second, wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't packing, which is probably a really good thing, ‘cause I probably would've just burned a clip in him on principle alone.”

Despite the situation, you found Dean aggressively grumbling about guns very attractive.

“You're getting wise in your old age, Dean,” Sam quipped.

“Damn right. 'Cause now I know how we're going to get it,” replied Dean.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Shtriga works through siblings, right?”

You knew what he was getting at. “No, Dean, I don’t like that.”

“What?” Sam asked, clearly not picking up where you and Dean were at.

“(Y/N)—”

“No, dude, we gotta get Michael out of here. I’m not letting you use him as bait.”

“Dean, what?! That’s out of the question!” Sam protested.

“It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance.”

“Michael's a kid. And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook,” Sam scoffed. 

“Dad did not send me here to walk away.” Dean turned away from you and Sam and gripped the edges of the dresser.

“Send you here? He didn't send you here; he sent us here,” Sam replied.

“This isn't about you, Sam. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me.”

“What are you saying, Dean? How is it your fault?” Sam paused, taking a moment to calm down. “Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on.”

Dean proceeded to explain what he had to you last night. Sam gave him the same lecture about how it wasn’t his fault, but Dean began to protest again. “Don't. Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it.”

You were surprised at the tough facade he gave his brother in contrast to the way he was vulnerable with you.

“But using Michael— I don't know Dean. I mean, how 'bout one of us hides under the covers, you know, we'll be the bait,” Sam tried.

“No, it won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed— it'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid.”

***

Michael was completely against the idea and even threatened to call the cops on you. You and the boys returned to their motel room dejectedly.

“Well, that went crappy. Now what?” Dean groaned.

“What did you expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid,” the younger brother sighed.

There was a knock at the door, and you opened it to reveal Michael.

“Hey,” you said, surprised.

“If you kill it, will Asher get better?”

“Honestly? We don't know,” Dean told him.

“You said you were a big brother,” Michael started, “You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?”

“Yeah, I would,” Dean replied quietly. Your heart swelled at how much Dean and Sam cared for each other.

The young boy nodded. “Me, too. I'll help.”

Dean had hooked up a security camera to the boy’s room, and you and he watched the monitor closely. You were beginning to feel cross-eyed from how tired you were. It was around three in the morning, and your body protested against your will to stay awake.

“You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?” Sam asked his brother.

“Consecrated iron rounds, and yeah, it's what Dad used last time.”

“Hey, Dean? I’m sorry,” the younger brother said softly. “You know, I've really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad's orders. But I know why you do it.”

“Oh, god, kill me now,” Dean groaned.

You giggled to yourself, eyes returning to the screen. “Dean, look.”

There was a bit of movement off to the right of the screen outside of the window. You and the boys picked up your guns, holding them tightly and waiting for the right moment. 

“Now?” you asked.

“Not yet.”

The shtriga moved closer and leaned over the bed. You could see Michael tense under the covers and draw them closer to himself. The creature leaned over the bed, pushing the covers down. 

“Now?!”

“Now.”

You and the boys burst through the door and began to shoot the creature after Michael rolled away. It flew off Michael’s bed and fell to the side you couldn’t see.

“Mike, you alright?” Dean asked the kid.

“Yeah,” came his muffled reply from under the bed.

“Just sit tight.” Dean approached the shtriga, his gun at the ready. There was no movement for just a moment, before the shtriga shot up and grabbed Dean by his throat, throwing him across the room.

“Dean!” you cried, trying to run to him. The shtriga threw you to the side against Michael’s bed. Your back protested as you tried to roll and grab your gun that had fallen out of your hand in the chaos. You noticed the shtriga leaning over the top of the younger Winchester. Sam’s body went limp and began to go gray as the shtriga began to suck out his life force.

“Hey!” Dean gruffly spat. The shtriga turned to the older brother just to get shot straight between the eyes.

“Nice!” you said. You rushed to Sam’s side and smoothed a hand over his messy hair while he tried to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“You okay, little brother?” Dean called from behind you. You thought it was adorable how much he cared.

You and Sam stood and you tried to help hold the tall man up on his unsteady legs. You guided him over to the shtriga, and Dean shot it three times at point-blank range. The shtriga’s body fell in on itself, disintegrating.

You looked up at Dean, whose face was still set in hard lines.

“It's okay, Michael, you can come on out,” Dean told the boy peeking out from under his bed. He rose to stand beside you, smiling tentatively. Dean put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. You looked on, feeling your heart swell at what you knew was a full-circle moment for Dean. You knew these moments were few and far-between in a profession like yours, and you had learned to savor them in your memory.

***

You and the brothers returned to your rooms to pack now that the monster was dead. As usual, you were finished packing before the boys were and leaned against the Impala waiting for them.

You watched Michael’s mom’s car pull up in the motel parking lot. At that moment, the boys came out to join you.

“Hey, Joanna. How's Asher doing?” Dean asked the mother of the two boys.

“Have you seen Michael?” she asked him.

“Mom! Mom!” the child in question ran up and hugged him. “How's Ash?”

“Got some good news. Your brother's gonna be fine,” she smiled down at the boy.

“Really?” Michael grinned.

“Yeah. Really. No one can explain it; it's a miracle. They're going to keep him overnight for observation, and then, he's coming home.”

You smiled as Sam asked, “How are all the other kids doing?”

“Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town,” she explained.

“Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?” you asked.

“Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something.”

You shot a knowing look to the boys.

“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Joanna asked her son.

The boy looked to Dean before responding, “Nah, same old stuff.”

“Okay.” Joanna smoothed a hand over Michael’s blonde hair. “You can go see Ash.”

A wide grin spread across the boy’s face. “Now?!”

She nodded at her son, who ran into the car. “I, ah, I'd better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself,” she told you and the boys. The three of you watched as Joanna’s car pulled out of the parking lot. Sam and Dean turned to you and placed their bags in the trunk next to yours. 

“It's too bad,” said Sam.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“That's not what I meant,” he shook his head. “I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark— he'll never be the same, you know?” He paused. “Sometimes I wish that....”

“What?” Dean questioned.

“I wish I could have that kinda innocence.”

Dean walked to the driver’s side door. He leaned on the roof of the car and said, “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn

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[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  FOLLOW THE SUN

SUMMARY : the adventures of dean accidentally growing a beard and learning to love it, or the sudden rise of a kink. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader 

CHARACTERS : sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, oral sex (f. receiving), p in v, my headcannon — dean is a germaphobe about other people’s germs but not about his own 😭

WORD COUNT : 3.1k

A/N : close your eyes song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — beard kink. ngl, I hated beards, but jensen would grow them between seasons for years, and… pfft, i changed my mind, especially now that it’s a constant. 

Being stuck in the woods was truly a pain in the ass. 

Y/n felt dirty, sweaty, and was completely disgusted by the smell of blood on her. It was worse being aware of the chunks of guts and other monster bits stuck to her, but they had to survive the night to finish off the wolf pack. 

It was their last night, but they were able to finish the job completely before the full moon could fully wane. 

Now, entering the Bunker was the best feeling in the world. Sam and Dean had the decency to only turn the lamps on to not overwhelm her senses, and on the ride back to their room, Dean didn’t play music too loud either.

She’d kiss him, but she felt too disgusted by the sensation of dirtiness on her own skin. And while Dean looked absolutely kissable and adorable, she had to resist out of apprehension of getting anything else in her mouth. She already felt like puking her guts out or getting some blood cleanse, anything to feel fully clean again after the week's hunt.

Despite feeling overwhelmed by the layer of gunk and grime, when Dean sweetly wrapped his arms around her, and pressed a big kiss to her cheek in a comforting manner, she let him. She closed her eyes, shivering at the tickle of his beard against her cheek, and hummed softly.

Finally, she felt she could relax. Her entire body released all the tension and stress the longer he held her, and after a few minutes, he murmured, “let get cleaned up.” 

“Go ahead, guys,” Sam told them, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m gonna go down and use the bath in the other room.” He sent Y/n a sweet smile, reassuring her that it was fine for her and Dean to use the shower rather than him. 

“Alright,” she drew out, slightly unsure, letting Dean remove himself from behind her. He gave her a bright smile when he moved in front of her and led her into the communal bathing room with their fingers intertwined.

“Look,” Dean started as soon as Sam was out of earshot, sensing his girlfriend’s discomfort, “we both know Sam’s not going in the showers with you naked. Even if there’s a thick wall between us. He never has and he’s not going to today. He said it’s fine, so it’s fine.” He brushed his thumb gently over hers and she squeezed his hand gratefully. 

“I’ve known Sam for seventeen years, I know that about him already,” she laughed, “doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop feeling bad.”

“Okay, yeah, fine,” he frowned, amusement sparkling in his eyes. He watched her for a while and she pretended not to feel his eyes on her. He grinned down at her lovingly when he opened the door to the showers.  

Once they were inside, they dumped the top layers inside-out onto the floor first, Dean’s thick giant jacket holding her smaller clothes. They began getting rid of big chunks and body parts by dumping them into the bin. 

“That’s so gross,” she groaned, reaching into Dean’s head to remove a few monster bits that he missed while he did the same to her.

“You’re still beautiful, d’ya know?” He smiled down at her flirtatiously, brushing her unkempt hair away from her face. She blushed, puffing her cheeks out when she averted her gaze from his face. 

“So are you, somehow,” she said softly. “Even if it took me five days to convince you to get rid of your boxers.” She bit her tongue as she grinned up at him. Dean snorted, stepping away from her to cross his arms across his chest defensively.

“It’s not the first time I do the ‘flip them inside out, backwards, and wear them in all the possible ways to make them last’ thing,” he confessed, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. 

She blinked up at him, letting the information sink, with a pout on her lips. Unexpectedly, after a few moments, she beamed up at him and started to laugh. 

“That’s… so adorable,” she told him between laughs. 

“You don’t think it’s gross?” His brows furrowed, but there was a little smile on his face. 

“Well, yeah,” she gasped, “but.. it’s also cute.” She slapped a hand over his chest and shook her head. “You’re so adorable,” she cooed playfully, squeezing his bearded cheeks with one hand. 

He rolled his eyes and wrapped his fingers around her small wrist, pulling her hand away. Except she curled her other hand around the back of his neck, stood on the tips of her toes, and brought him down for a sweet kiss. His eyes closed immediately, brows furrowing in concentration, his chapped lips turning up into a smile. 

She pulled away, then scratched her chin with a childish pout, at the tickle of his beard against her soft skin. 

“I’m shaving it off after we shower,” he told her with a smile, scratching the prickly hair on his jaw. 

“Yes, I want to see you naked already,” she cheered lightheartedly, extending her hand to unbuckle his belt. He chuckled at her enthusiasm and pulled his t-shirt off over his head, flinging it across with the pile of clothes they left behind while she unbuttoned his pants expertly.

Dean bit his lip, his cock stirring in his jeans, and then she cackled playfully when she unzipped his jeans, revealing his pubic hair and half-hard dick. He’d gone completely commando for the past two days. 

“Ya know, if you needed underwear, you coulda asked to wear my panties,” she teased, lowering his jeans down his legs slowly. He snickered and nodded, regarding her words as reasonable. Then, he began to measure her hips with his hands clamped around them and clicked his tongue disappointedly.

“You’re way too small, babe,” he informed her. She looked up at him, completely delighted, and started to lift her thermal, long-sleeved shirt up her body. “‘Sides, isn’t this a much better surprise?” 

He looked way too pleased with himself and she gave him a flirtatious side-glance, ridding herself of her jeans. They both kicked them across to the same pile and he turned away to turn the shower on. 

What an ass. 

She bit her lip as she looked fixedly at his nice behind—at his nice… everything. Wow, she was lucky. He had one hell of an ass, and those broad shoulders… sheesh. He was way too hot. His entire body littered in different shades, patterns, sizes, and shapes of freckles. He was all taut and tight in all the right places, and… soft and fleshy in all the right places, too. 

“You gonna strip or just stare at my ass all night, sweetheart?” Dean asked, then looked over his shoulder to catch her with an amused expression on his face. She shook her head, looking him in the eyes rather than at his ass, and sputtered. 

“I wasn’t staring at your ass,” she lied terribly, skilfully removing her bra with one hand behind her, “I was staring at your… everything.” She disclosed breathlessly, kicking her underwear away. He knew she was exaggerating her tone of voice, but he still flushed pink, and turned to face her. She walked up to him inside the large open stall of the shower, the hot water creating a warm mist in the air.  

“Even your wittle ears are cute from behind,” she murmured amorously, gently flicking his bloodstained ears with her fingers. They were slowly turning red and warm the more she flirted with him. “And you’ve got this cute little twirl behind your head where your hair goes down, then some goes to the sides, and the rest goes up to the top… it’s very endearing,” she asserted with a nod and an expression of utter tenderness. 

Her earnestness left no room for doubt and insecurity, but all Dean could do was laugh, and lean down to kiss her. He brought them both beneath the shower head, and pecked her lips a final time.

Carefully—thoroughly, they removed the uncomfortable layers of dirt and blood from their bodies with soap and shampoo. Their skin was clearer, their muscles were loose, and they were now getting sleepy beneath the near-scalding water they both enjoyed.

“Now that I’m seeing you clearly…” she murmured thoughtfully, taking his chin between her fingers. “The beard doesn’t have to go away.” She glanced up at him and brushed her pruned thumb over his pink, wet lips. 

“It’s itchy,” he frowned thoughtfully, attempting to prove his point by nuzzling his bearded jaw into her palm. She giggled, but kept her hand over his cheek. 

“Maybe on your birthday you can shave it off… or maybe after Valentine’s Day?” She suggested quietly, shivering as she now pictured the sensation of it across her skin if he would kiss her. 

He studied her face, the flush from the hot water astride her cheeks and chest. The hardness of her nipples, though, could only be attributed to arousal. He inhaled slowly and gazed at her eyes once more, taking in her pondering expression. 

“But, it’s your face, Dean,” she dropped her hand from his cheek and smiled up at him cutely, “do what makes you happy.”

Dean took her words into consideration. It’s December now—halfway through the month, really. His birthday would then be a little over a month away on the twenty-fourth of January… Valentine's day would be longer, but not undoable…

“If I keep it, I do get rewards, right?” He asked smugly, gripping her arms. She squinted her eyes at him, smiling, allowing him to walk her backwards until the cold tile touched her back.

“What would you like?” She bit her lip, her breath picking up as she stared up at him, his sensual green eyes staring down at her knowingly. Dean slid his hands down her arms and intertwined his fingers of one hand with hers, tilting his head as he pretended to think. 

He switched the water off with the other, then kissed her softly, plush lips pushing against hers, his lips trapping her bottom lip in between. Unconsciously, his hand found her hip, and he gently brushed his thumb over her hip bone before he pulled back and smiled at her tenderly.

“Nothin’ you haven’t already given to me, baby.”

“Sex?” She asked between heated kisses. “That’s what you wanted?” She smiled against Dean’s mouth, permitting him to kiss her the whole journey to his room. “Not sure how that’s a reward…” Every now and then, he’d push her into a wall to grope her needily. And then, she’d pull him away from the walls to drag him away from where Sam or even Cas could catch them making out. 

“The reward’s gonna be how sensitive…” he panted, leaving wet kisses along her neck as he opened the door to his room, she gasped at the sensation of his beard moving across her skin. “... you’ll be… and how wet I’ll make you…” he kicked the door behind him once they were inside and pushed her into the table next to the entrance, tugging the towel loose from her body to throw it over the green leather couch. “... every time I fuck you…” He dragged his fingertips down the front of her body, sensually, slowly, driving her mad before dipping down between her legs. “... all because you have a thing for my beard.” 

She inhaled sharply, balancing herself by gripping the edge of the table. “I do not,” she denied, spreading her legs a little more as he teased her slick entrance with two of his fingers. 

“Really?” Dean wondered, wearing a fake frown on his face. He lowered himself  down, tugging the towel from his hips to fold it on the hard floor for his knees. He brought her hips toward his face, away from the table, licking his lips while keeping his eyes on hers.

“I have… just a,” she paused, watching Dean stick his tongue out between her folds to find her clit, “uh, a general… attraction to you…” He stared up at her smugly, flicking her clit teasingly with the tip of his tongue until her legs shook, and she flexed her hand on the table, letting it fly into his wet hair. “... y’know,” she moaned, “regardless of what you look like.” Dean leaned his head back to look at her, disbelieving as he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder.

“So… you don’t think I look hotter,” he stated, tilting his head up. She tried to resist smiling, but she couldn’t, and she snickered down at him.

“No,” she lied, then took his face in both of her hands, and shoved it between her legs to stop him from teasing her with words. He didn’t fight her, just hummed in surprise, and vengefully sucked on her clit, pushing his face deeper into her, his beard brushing delightfully between her sensitive thighs. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, gazing down at him with a mirrored look of mischief and affection. Her cheeks were hot and coloured, and her heart was beating excitedly. 

He moved his mouth lower as she writhed and moaned his name, lovingly combing her fingers through his wet hair while he lapped at her entrance enthusiastically, breaching her tight hole. With a rumbling moan, Dean squeezed the back of her thighs, salivating at the taste of her, igniting her nerves as his bearded mouth moved between her legs.

She gently ground her hips against his face, her eyes fluttering shut for a few moments, before opening to continue admiring him. His nose moved against her clit while his tongue dipped inside the opening of her vagina, twisting around inside her pulsing walls, devouring her to prove his point, leading her to the ends of her pleasure.

He waited for the tell-tale signs of her orgasm’s approach: the flutter of her eyes, the breathiness of her moans, the arch of her back, the tightening of her grip on his hair. That’s when he pulled his mouth from her cunt, licking his lips to swipe away her arousal, he ignored her protests, and stood up.

“Gonna admit it now?” He murmured, grasping her chin, continuing to gaze down at her with admiration. She licked her dry lips and had the audacity to think about his question while batting her lashes at Dean. It amused him so much it drew out a husky chuckle as he leaned down to kiss her once more. 

“I’m just messin’ with you,” she mumbled against his lips, burying her fingers into his hair, leading him away from the door. “You look very hot with a beard, Dean,” she continued kissing him, pressing him close to her mouth, guiding him blindly to his bed. 

“I knew it,” he whispered with an eager smile against her mouth, turning her towards the green couch, and away from his memory-foam mattress. 

She slowly pulled away, sitting down on the leather couch after moving away the half-wet towel he’d thrown on it. “Couch sex,” she smirked, grabbing his waist to bring him closer to her. 

Dean mirrored her smirk, “your favourite,” he teased, biting his lip when she wrapped her hand around his cock, kissing his stomach first. Slowly, she stroked his heavy cock up and down, and hummed in agreement, opening her mouth for his hard cock. 

He moaned softly, bringing his hand to the back of her neck, splaying his fingers to grasp the wet hair at the bottom of her head. He clenched his hand, breathless as she licks into his slit for his precum, swirling her wet tongue around the pink tip. 

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped, tugging her hair when she started sucking and bobbing her head, taking him deeper into her mouth. “As sexy as you look…” he trailed off, pulling her off his dick. She pouted at him, even when he nudged her thigh with his knee, and they moved together to lay down over the couch. 

Dean slid his hand beneath her waist, kissing her lips, slowly ghosting his lips away. He teased her by nibbling her jawline, sucking at her neck when she pushed her head into the couch and arched her back, creating marks on collarbone and above her breasts. 

Her hands slid across his body, touching what she could reach, enjoying the warmth of his skin beneath her palms. Her hand veered up to the back of his neck, pressing him closer into her chest, his beard tickling her skin.

“Yeah,” she whispered to herself when Dean swirled his tongue around her hard nipple, “that feels great.” Dean smirked against her breast, encircling his lips around it to begin sucking. 

Dean’s freehand skimmed down her side and the side of her leg, bending her knee, pressing it against her chest. He curled his hand around the bend of her knee and lifted it up to his shoulder, keeping it there as he lifted himself up her body, breathing warmly against her lips. 

“If Sam’s an ass about the beard,” Dean warned her, his cock pressing into her entrance, “I’m gonna tell him you have a kink.” She lifted her head to glare at him, but when he gently pushed into her, she closed her eyes and dropped her head back on the couch, bringing him in for a kiss.

“It wouldn’t even be a lie,” she confessed, short of breath against his mouth with a flirtatious grin. He breathed out a laugh, pushing his hips flush against hers before starting to thrust into her roughly. 

“Well,” Dean exhaled, “I didn’t count you for a beard lover.” She bit her lip and laughed through her nose while Dean’s hand dropped down between her legs, shoving her leg off the couch to pound deeper into her as the leather squeaked and the wood creaked beneath them. 

“Sometimes… I don’t know if you’re actually unaware of how good looking you are… but you make everything work,” she panted, watching Dean stand on his knee with his other leg on the floor. She slowly slid her hands away from his body with a pout. 

“Sure…” he whispered, ears turning red. “Beauty, eye of the beholder… all that,” he reasoned, lifting her hips for a better angle, moaning when she clenched around his cock and released a high-pitched gasp. Dean moved his hand between their bodies, splaying his hand over her pelvis, lifting her clitoral hood, and gently pushing circling around her clit. 

Despite the overwhelming bliss of her impending orgasm, she lifted herself up on her elbow and glared at him for attempting to minimise her praise. She saved her words for later, the darkening of her eyes making him swallow anxiously, but delight made his stomach flip and warmth spread through him. 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[nightxcreature]

A Little Less Talk

Part three of Hot-Blooded! I’m sorry it took so long to get it out! I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Minors DNI/18+ ONLY

Don’t copy my work.

Summary: reader and Dean finally have their moment.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: angst, smut, PinV babyyyyyy, choking, public sex, oral (female receiving), cursing, I think that’s all but let me know if I forgot any. No use of Y/N.

—————————————————————————————————————

It had been three days since the phone call that rocked my world, and Dean and I had barely spoken a word to one another. When I’d finally come down from the god-tiered high that I’d been on, I had every intention of finally admitting to the feelings that had been bubbling inside of me from the moment I’d locked eyes with the green-eyed hunter years ago; I’d left my room intent on throwing him into bed and confessing my love a million times over….and then I chickened out. He’d side-stepped me in the kitchen when I’d come in for breakfast, I’d avoided his gaze while he was explaining the next case we’d be on, we’d gotten completely different motel rooms instead of the three of us sharing like normal. Embarrassment flooded my nervous system whenever I even stepped into a room with him. Which puts me here, sat next to Sam in a run down dive bar somewhere in Missouri watching Dean flirt shamelessly with the busy blonde bartender.

The paint on my nails chips as I peel the tape on my beer bottle, scowling down at the label. A chuckle comes from beside me and I turn slowly toward Sam, a glare of mass proportions on my face, “What?” I bite through clenched teeth.

My rage does nothing to deter him as he laughs again and shrugs, “Nothing, just…” he glances over toward Dean and then back to me, “you seem…grumpy.” He mumbles, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“The seats sticky.” I grumble out the excuse quickly and turn back to the label, “And the music’s too loud.”

He nods and I can tell from the look on his face that he’s holding back a laugh, “The seats are sticky. But, I would think you’d both would be in a better mood.”

I peek over at him, my eyebrows raising in question, “What does that mean?”

He grins and nods toward Dean, “You sort of admitted to that little crush you’d been harboring for years.”

I shake my head, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, “Didn’t admit shit, Samuel. I got drugged. And look at him,” I point over at him, leaning casually against the bar, that Winchester Swagger just rolling off of him, “He isn’t interested. Whatever did or did not happen between us was a one time thing.”

Sam glances over to Dean, a knowing look in his eyes when he finally turns back to me and whispers, “Huh, I thought you had more balls than this.” He shrugs again, chuckling at my wide eyes, “Oh well…” he trails off, leaving the dare hanging between us.

“More balls than-.” A loud giggle cuts me off and I turn to see Dean leaning across the bar, that sly smirk on his face as the poor blonde just eats him up. Rage fills my body and I slam a hand down on the table, “You know what, Sam!” I stand up quickly and grab my empty bottle, “I’ll show you balls.”

The grin on his face widens and he nods, throwing me a thumbs up, “Go get em, Tiger.” His teasing tone spurs me on and I turn toward the bar, making my way as quickly as I can to Dean’s side.

“So, where are you staying tonight?” I hear the bartender mumble as she reaches across the bar to place her hand on his.

“With me.” I snap and set the empty bottle down harshly on the counter. Her hand slinks back, shock crossing her features, but I don’t have time to argue. I grab Dean by the jacket and spin toward the door, stomping out before this sudden adrenaline plummets.

“Hey!” He shouts as we burst through the door and into the cool night air, “What are you doing?!” He shoves my hand off of his jacket and takes a step backward, shooting me a confused look.

I take a deep breath as the adrenaline coursing through me begins to fade. Facing him, I can feel the rush of embarrassment creeping up my body. His green eyes are bright and confusion covers his features. I can almost see the millions of questions running through his mind.

“I just don’t want to ignore each other anymore.” I mumble out, a blush covering my cheeks.

His brows furrow and he leans down, “Huh?” He’s close enough now that I can smell the whiskey on his breath and it’s taking everything in me not to grab his collar and taste his lips.

“I said,” I huff, speaking loudly as i peek up at him, “I don’t want to keep ignoring each other.”

He places a hand gently on my shoulder, a sigh leaving him, “I’m not ignor—“

“Yes. You are.” I cut him off and cross my arms, “And I’ve been ignoring you because I’m too scared to actually say anything, but between Sam practically goading me to do something and you about to bring that woman back home…” I lean against the wall, placing my head in my hands, mumbling, “You’re killing me, Dean.”

He says nothing for a minute, giving me space to breathe before he places a hand on my arm and pulls me up to look at him, “I didn’t think you’d want to talk after the other night.”

I scoff, glancing down at his hand in mine, “I wanted to do a lot more than talk…”

His eye brows raise again, a devilish smirk crossing his face at the same time, “Oh yeah?”

I pull my lip between my teeth and nod, “I thought I made that pretty clear.”

He shakes his head, the smirk still on his lips as he answers, “Thought that could’ve just been the potion talking.” He mumbles out, stepping closer to block me against the wall, “Wasn’t sure you actually meant any of it.”

“I meant every word.” I whisper, placing a hand on his chest. Tension was rising between us at a rapid pace and I could feel my heart beating quickly in my chest as I waited for his response.

He licks his lips quickly, glancing down at my own, before whispering, “Prove it.”

And that was all it took to snap whatever willpower I had left. I grabbed the collar of his jacket, yanking him into me and crashing my lips onto his. He gasps at the sudden movement and I take the opportunity to slip my tongue in his mouth. We fight for dominance before I graze my teeth across his bottom lip. He groans into my mouth, slipping a hand up my frame to grip my throat as he breaks the kiss and places his forehead against mine.

“Dirty girl.” He mumbles, staring down at me , “Still want me to make you forget your name?”

I nod breathlessly as I stare up into his eyes, “Please.”

He glances around quickly before pulling me to the side of the bar. Shoving me chest first against the wall, he presses against my back and I feel the outline of him straining against his jeans, “You’ll have to be quiet, think you can do that?”

I nod again, glancing back toward the parking lot, “What about Baby? We could-.”

“Can’t wait that long.” He gruffly bites out. He drops his hands to my waist, pushing my shorts down as he slowly kisses his way up my throat to my ear, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” I groan, tipping my head back to capture his lips. He nips my bottom lip and drops to his knees as he slides my shorts down to my ankles. He pushes my shoulders further into the wall as he pulls my hips back toward him, arching my back for me.

“Beautiful.” He mumbles out as he slips a single finger through my folds, “So wet already.”

I jerk at the friction, pushing my hips farther back as I feel his lips against my core. He licks a long stripe up my middle, moaning at the taste, “Tastes so good, Baby. All for me?”

I nod vigorously and glance down at him. He’s latched his lips to my core, his movements slow and precise causing me to bite my lip hard to keep from groaning too loudly. He glances up at me, a glint in his eyes as he slips a finger inside me, curling it just right. He slips his tongue over my clit as his fingers work me up, the band in my belly tightening and tightening as he builds up what feels like the orgasm of a lifetime.

“Come on, Darlin’, cum for me.” He mutters lowly. His green eyes feel like they’re staring into my soul when the band finally snaps and stutter out his name. My eyes roll back at I watch him and I groan loudly, sagging against the wall. He pops up beside me, a grin on his face as he slips his fingers out of me. His lips are glistening in the moonlight and I can’t help it as I lean up to kiss him deeply; the taste of me coating my own tongue.

“That was….wow…” I whisper against his smile, “You really do know what you’re doing.”

He lets out a low chuckle, “You don’t know the half of it.” He kisses me again and the metal click of his belt buckle falling to his side reaches my ears as he slips himself out of his pants. He slides his hands up my shoulders and spins me around to hoist me into his arms, my shorts dropping to the ground as he does. I feel the cool brick from the wall through my shirt as I wrap my arms around his neck, “You ready?” He asks with a quick glance to the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

I feel the head of him slide between my folds, notching at my entrance when he smiles mischievously, “Beg me.” He arrogantly says, his brows raising when I don’t immediately comply. His tone changes and his voice drops what feels like an octave when he repeats himself, “I liked that shit the other night. Beg me.”

“Please?” I whisper, glancing down at the sight below me. His hard member between us, so close to exactly where I want him to be…I peer back up at him as he shakes his head, “Dean, please. Please fuck me. I’ll do anything, please.” My hands wrap around the back of his neck as I plead and I can feel my nails sinking superficially into the skin there.

His smile widens, “I thought you’d never ask.” He sinks me down onto him, sheathing himself tightly inside me. He slaps a hand over my mouth as I moan loudly and shakes his head, “Quieter or I’ll stop.” He places his hands back on my hips, bracing us against the wall as he begins to piston in and out of me quickly, “God, you’re so tight, Darlin’.”

“Just for you.” I manage to whisper, raking my hands through his hair, “All for you.”

He places sweet kisses across my collar bones as he continues his pace, one hand sliding between us to work my clit while the other keeps me pinned against the wall, “Yeah, it is.” He begins to rock into me slower, releasing my clit to wrap his hand around my wrist. He tugs my arm down my belly and kisses my cheek, “Touch yourself for me. I didn’t get to watch before.”

I bite my lip and look between us, watching as he rocks into me slowly. I slip my hand between us, fingers grazing over the bundle of nerves he’d been busy with before, moaning lowly as the pressure begins to build. I flick my wrist faster and watch him as he watches me; his eyes blown with lust and his own lip between his teeth. His hand wraps around my throat again when he pulls me in for a heated kiss, his tongue quickly slipping into my mouth as he moans out, “So fuckin’ hot.”

His hips stutter a bit and my eyes clench closed as we both reach our peaks at the same time. His hand tightens around my throat as he groans out a quick, “Son of a bitch…” when he spills inside me. And I chuckle a little as I slump against him, breathing heavy.

We both stay that way for a moment, his arms wrapped around me as we pant against the wall. Our skin, sticky with sweet, is adamant against parting as he leans up to stare into my eyes. His cheeky smile makes one form on my own face as he places sweet kisses across my cheeks.

“Should’ve done that a long time ago.” He whispers, placing his lips against my temple.

I nod and lean into his kiss, “I agree.”

He bends down and grabs my shorts, helping me keep balance as I slip them on before sending me another mischievous smile, “Wanna go back to the motel and do it again?”

_______________________________________________

A/N: I hope that lived up to your expectations! I think that’s the last part for this one, but I’m open for requests if you’d like for me to write something for you. 🫶🏼 if you’d like to be added or removed from my Taglist please let me know!

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[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

tick boy. ( freddie benson x reader )

gif belongs to me

Sam was well known for her temper, and after years of trying to break through to her, you were pleasantly surprised when she decided to turn over a new leaf one day. You had no idea why, nor did you push for answers, because it had been proven never to work, and you were too thrilled at the prospect of her getting into fewer fights.

You were a year older than Sam and Melanie and due to an absent mother, you adapted at a young age to look after the twins who couldn't be more different. You dropped out of high school and worked two jobs to pay off the credit cards Pam had taken out and to take care of your younger sisters. Despite your efforts to keep her on the straight and narrow, Sam frequently got into fights, and when you tried to break through with her, she only became resentful and you took the brunt of her anger.

You knew Sam viewed Spencer and Carly's apartment as a sanctuary, and rarely let the worlds cross, granting her that space she craved. When you took an extra shift at one of your jobs, you agreed to let Melanie go to a sleepover and stopped by Spencer's apartment to speak to Sam who hadn't answered your texts or when you tried to call.

You knocked on the door, sending Spencer a smile when he opened the door.

"Oh, look, it's the one person who actually knocks instead of just walking in." He looked at Freddie and Sam who were sitting at the dining table with Carly. "Unlike some people."

You thanked him when he gestured for you to enter and you sighed when Sam stood up from the table.

"What are you doing here?"

"You didn't answer my texts, or when I called you. So you left me no alternative."

"Did you ever think that I didn't care?"

You took a deep breath, licking your lips as you reached into your bag and took cash out of your purse, holding it out to the blonde. "For dinner. Try to order something filling like pizza." You tucked your purse back into your bag. "And Melanie's at a sleepover."

"Didn't I just say I didn't care?"

Used to her jabs, you didn't react, only raising an eyebrow. "Got your keys?"

Sam took her keys out of her pocket, dangling them in front of you. "Happy now?"

You nodded, looking at Carly and Freddie, "Bye, guys." You sent the two a smile which they returned, and you called goodbye to Spencer as you left the apartment.

"I don't understand why you're so mean to her all the time," Freddie spoke up as Sam pushed the money into her pocket and re-joined the table.

"She acts like she's my mom. I don't need someone watching over me."

"Yeah, 'cause you do fine on your own." He scoffed, shaking his head when Sam glared at him as he left the table. "I'm going to start setting up."

Despite her attempts to keep her anger in check, you always received the brunt of it even when you were trying to be supportive. Sam didn't want to be babied, so you gave her as much space as you could, but when you tried to treat her as if she was responsible she came close to biting your head off. There was so many things you kept your sisters sheltered from, wanting them to be normal teenagers without the worries you had, but the weight of it all was starting to become too much.

A week later, Sam returned back to her old ways, and you stopped by the apartment after the trio had returned home from school and were upstairs getting ready to begin their show. After Spencer let you in, you went upstairs to find Freddie at his computer, while Sam and Carly took a drink of water, getting ready to begin.

You knocked on the door and Freddie opened it, sending you a smile. "You don't have to knock." He stepped aside to let you in and you thanked him, looking at Sam when she approached.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to give you these." You took out keys from your jacket pocket. "The door was repaired. New locks."

"Great. Now go." Sam took the keys and you shook your head when she turned away.

"I'm working late tonight." You took out some cash from the pocket of your jeans, holding it out to her. She took it and walked away.

"Thank you. Now bye!"

You sighed, sending Carly and Freddie a small smile, "Good luck tonight."

As you turned to leave, Freddie saw the weight on your shoulders, only made worse by Sam's attitude. A frown formed on his lips when the door closed and pursed his lips when Sam clicked her fingers, yelling to get his attention.

He looked at the blonde, shaking his head as he walked to his computer.

"What's the matter with you?"

Freddie didn't speak as he ran a few checks to make sure everything was ready and Sam waved a hand in front of his face to gain his attention.

"I don't understand why you're always so mean to her."

Sam rolled her eyes, "Urgh, this again."

"You were pretty cold." Carly chimed in. "All she is trying to do is look out for you."

"Well, I don't need her to," Sam replied. "Now are we gonna do the show or not?"

Several hours later you returned to the apartment, covered in chilli, and wishing you could lie down and wake up believing the day had been a bad dream. Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. After knocking your bag into the fryer, your phone was broken and the keys didn't work on the lock.

You walked upstairs where the trio was relaxing after filming their show. Freddie looked up when you opened the door without knocking and heard Sam grumbling under her breath. His eyebrows raised when he saw the chilli sauce on your hat and shirt.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just give me your keys."

Sam raised an eyebrow at your tone, "What? No please?"

"Sam..." Carly quietly scolded.

You put a hand on your hip, sighing as you looked at Sam. "I've had a really crappy day, and I just need your keys to get into the house then I'll be out of your hair."

"What happened to your keys?" She took her keys out of her pocket and held them out to you.

"I dropped them in the fryer at work along with everything else that I own." You sighed, not wanting to take out your rough day on her, "I'll see you at home."

When you walked out, Sam followed and Freddie quickly chased after her, sharing a glance with Carly as they followed you both to the living room.

"Does this mean you can't check in on me every ten minutes?"

You paused with your hand on the door handle and heard Carly mutter, "Oh, no."

You turned to your sister who was grinning and shook your head. "You want me to leave you alone?"

"Yes! I'm not twelve years old."

Sam almost missed catching the keys you tossed her way.

"Fine." You walked out of the apartment, closing the door a little harsher than normal. Sam's eyebrows rose at your outburst, while small it was bigger than anything you had ever shown before.

"Why do you always push her away?" Freddie walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"I'm going after her."

You were leaving the building when he caught up to you and when you heard him call your name, you ducked your head to wipe a tear from your cheek before turning to him.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course." You sent him a smile that was not as believable as you hoped it would be. "Great show tonight."

"You watch it?" He asked with a smile.

"I can't always watch it live, but I've seen every episode." You sent him a genuine smile, "You're great at what you do." You took out your cell phone and held it up, "Since you're great at tech stuff, what do you recommend?"

"Whoa." He took your phone, examining it. "What happened to it?"

"I knocked it into the fryer. I had it propped up on my bag so I could watch the show, and when I turned, I hit the bag with the handle of the mop and, well," You took your phone when he held it out to you, "You get the picture."

"I'm sorry." He frowned.

"Why?" You tilted your head, "You weren't twirling like an idiot, were you?"

Freddie smiled softly, shaking his head. "No, but," He sighed heavily, "you had to grow up fast. And I know how hard you work to keep the three of you together."

You looked away, sitting on the wall and he took a seat beside you.

"She does care, you know. Even if she behaves differently - why do you have beans in your hair?" His chuckle elicited a smile from you.

"The guy I was working with tried to carry a pot and tripped over his shoelaces and next thing I knew I was drowning in chilli. Where is it?" You reached behind your ponytail trying to find it.

"Here I'll get it."

You turned your head, and Freddie removed the bean from your hair carefully and you turned around when he declared that he had found it.

"Thank you." You sent him a small smile. "For the bean, and trying to make me feel better."

"Did it work?"

"A little." You rose from the wall and met his gaze when he stood up. "Thanks, Freddie."

"You know, we're filming some scenes for the next episode tomorrow. You can stop by and watch if you want?" He put his hands in his pockets to hide that he was crossing his fingers, wishing you would agree.

"I don't know..."

"The world won't crumble if you let go once in a while."

"Sam doesn't like me in her space. Or anywhere." Seeing his features falter, you sent him a small smile, saying, "I'll think about it. Night."

"Goodnight." He sent you a smile and a wave which you returned when you glanced back over your shoulder as you walked away.

When you walked around the building out of view, Freddie grinned, walking into the building. "She'll think about it. Yes!"

When Sam returned home an hour later, you washed the sauce out of your hair and scrubbed your uniform while Melanie did her homework in her bedroom. You lifted your head when the door opened and Sam entered.

"Hey," You greeted softly.

"Hey," She replied.

You placed your shirt into the sink filled with warm water, "I'm sorry about earlier. I had a bad day and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry."

Sam put her hands in her pockets as she approached the kitchen. "Actually I want to apologise too. I have been giving you a hard time - more than usual - since you got this new job and I'm sorry. I know you're just trying to look out for me like you always do."

"What?" You asked, sensing her hesitation and leaned against the sink, crossing your arms.

"It feels like you don't trust me not to make a mess of things. Like I'm a screw-up, or you want me to be more like Melanie." She gestured to the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

You lowered your arms, frowning as you approached her. "What I want is for you to go to school and enjoy being a teenager. I don't think you are a screw-up. Look at you, you've got a web show with your friends that's really successful and, okay, you still get into trouble at school, but your grades are better. And that's all I want. For you to have options."

"Does it suck?" She asked. "Getting As and working in a place that sells chilli in little hats?"

You nodded slowly, "A little." You sighed, "But I get to be with you guys." You sent her a small smile, "And I'm really proud of you."

Sam looked away, trying to recall the conversations she had with Carly and Spencer. Carly encouraged her to try harder to get along with you, while Spencer helped her see things from your point of view because he understood it the most. He knew how hard you were working and keeping a clean house while raising twin teenagers seemed impossible, but he admired how you did it all without complaint but silently harboured resentment for your absent mother.

"Do we have any ice cream?" She asked.

You nodded, "Got some yesterday." You turned to continue scrubbing your shirt while she got the ice cream out of the freezer.

"Want to watch a movie?"

You looked at her for a moment, wondering where her new attitude had come from. Deciding to enjoy it while it lasted, you agreed and she handed you a spoon before heading to the sofa. You shared the ice cream as you watched a movie and for the first time when you showed interest in her life, she didn't shut you down. You felt the strain of the week fade away as you laughed together.

The next day you were more energetic as you walked into the studio quietly, sending Freddie a small smile when he looked at you while keeping the camera focused on Sam and Carly. You walked closer when they stopped filming and Sam grinned eagerly as she approached you.

"Did you bring it? Did you?"

You revealed the sandwich in your bag and the blonde took it, moving away to eat it. "Four ham sandwich." She cooed. "I've missed you."

"Do you need to be alone?" Carly asked.

"Yes."

The brunette shook her head, smiling as she looked at you. "You don't happen to have more of those, do you?"

You took out two more and she grinned as she took one, thanking you before sitting next to Sam. You smiled at Freddie when he thanked you, accepting the sandwich.

"You didn't have to."

"I know. But I wanted to thank you." You glanced at Carly who was engrossed in conversation with Sam, before meeting his gaze again. "I had an interesting conversation with Sam last night and I had a feeling it had something to do with the people in this apartment."

"You worked everything out?" Freddie walked away to place his camera down and you followed, nodding.

"I realized that I've never actually told her I was proud of her before." You sighed, "I was too busy running around trying to keep everything together and it never occurred to me that she didn't know." Shaking your head, you took a step back, "Anyway, you probably don't want to know all the details. I just wanted to thank you for yesterday."

"You're always looking after everyone else, I wanted to remind you that you need to look after yourself too." You smiled softly when he cleared his throat, "D-Do you want to stay and watch for a while?"

"I have work later, but I can stay for a while."

"Cool. You'll get to see me do my thing."

"You don't have a thing!" Sam called out.

Freddie glared at the grinning blonde and you suppressed a smile. You approach the bean bags and when you were about to sit on the floor so he could take the bean bag, Freddie told you to sit on the bean bag.

You shook your head, telling him to sit down and go back and forth until your sister yelled, "Will someone sit down?"

"We'll both sit." You shared the bean bag with Freddie and despite your efforts, the bean bag made you both lean into each other. You were soon distracted by your sister proclaiming her love for the sandwich you made and shook your head, missing the way Freddie glanced at you. But Carly didn't.

After luring him downstairs under the pretense of getting drinks for everyone, the brunette confronted him about his crush on you. While Melanie was known for being girly, and Sam was known for being the exact opposite, you were known for being responsible due to the years spent looking after them in your mother's absence. And for the past few months, Freddie had become more and more intrigued by you.

"Sam will freak out when she finds out!" Carly whispered.

"You can't tell her!" Freddie argued. "She'd kill me! For real this time!"

You looked at the two when they returned, seeing the strained smile on Carly's lips and the way they kept glancing at each other. Shrugging off their weird behavior, you thanked Freddie with a smile when he handed you a drink.

When the trio returned to filming for their show you occupied a barstool next to Freddie's computer and smiled when Carly and Sam put on their hats, getting into character. Your gaze drifted to Freddie as he fired up the camera, pressing his lips together as he pushed a button on both sides of the contraption he had built around it. Carly tried not to roll her eyes at the extra flair he put into it but quickly fell into her role for the sketch. Your eyes drifted to Freddie more than once as the two teenagers tried multiple times to make it seem more natural.

There was something different about him when he was working behind the scenes and a smile tugged at your lips, paying more attention to him than the sketch being acted out.

After thirty minutes Freddie switched off the camera and you clapped your hands, whistling as the girls removed their hats.

"If you're going to sit there could you act less like a soccer mom?"

You jokingly rolled your eyes at your sister as you stood up, "Just for that, I'm not going to tell you how great it was."

"Really? You think so?" Carly asked.

You nodded, "Definitely. I loved the little jig at the end."

"It's given me a craving for barbeque." Sam said.

"Really? I was getting salsa."

"How could you possibly crave salsa?"

Freddie glanced between you and Sam as you bickered back and forth and a smile tugged at his lips when she flicked your forehead and you retaliated.

"You know I miss the days when we didn't talk."

"You love me." You grinned, picking up the stool and pressing the button for the elevator with your elbow.

"It's hard not to." Freddie halted like a deer in headlights when all eyes turned to him, not realizing he said it out loud. "Because you're so much nicer than she is." He gestured to Sam who glared at him and he took the barstool from you, using it to keep distance between them.

You caught your sister before she could snatch the barstool and hurt Freddie, nodding for Carly and Freddie to take the elevator down. "We'll take the stairs."

After that day, you stopped by the apartment every week to watch them film the web show or give keys to Sam until you got a replacement set, and give her money for dinner when you wouldn't be home. When you missed a recording session due to work, Freddie knew he wouldn't survive until next week and suggested going for lunch at the sandwich shop where you worked during the hours they spent at high school.

"Finally a good idea comes from you. Free food!" Sam punched his shoulder and Freddie rolled it, wincing from the force.

Carly wanted to point out that he wanted to go there just to see you but kept it to herself knowing Sam wouldn't react well to finding out her friend was in love with her older sister.

Sam texted their orders and when they arrived you placed their drinks on the table before returning to the kitchen to get their food. You were arranging the tray when a waiter rushed into the kitchen and informed you that teenagers were arguing outside. You knew Sam was involved and walked out of the kitchen.

You recognized the older girl glaring down at Sam. She was two years older than you and you recognized her from high school. You stormed over when she knocked over their table and their drinks. Sam shot to her feet, demanding that she pick them up.

You stood next to your sister, crossing your arms. "You heard her. Pick them up."

"Y/N L/N?" She cackled. "What are you gonna do? Dance with little pompoms?"

You hit her hand away when she tried to grab your shirt, and pulled Sam aside when she swung her arm, causing her to miss. You felt someone grab your arms and glared as another held back Sam as the older girl stole someone's smoothie and approached you, ripping off the lid.

You kicked it out of her hand before she could pour it over you and elbowed the member of her crew holding you in the ribs, breaking free from their hold. You turned to your sister who was trying to stomp on the girl's foot but she didn't let her go and you grabbed her hair, and the back of her shirt, pulling her away from Sam.

"Leave her alone!" You pushed her towards the door and she stumbled, hitting the window and falling to the floor. You ducked when Sam shouted, and the blonde grabbed a tray, using it to knock another girl from the bully's crew to the floor.

You were lifted off the ground and squirmed to break free, groaning when the leader of the crew squeezed tightly, hurting your arms and ribs.

"Hey!" Sam jumped on her back and you broke free, helping Sam push her towards the door. She slid on the smoothie and fell on a member of her crew who was trying to stand.

"This isn't over Puckett!" She barked, before leaving the sandwich shop.

"You know, it's moments like this when I'm proud to say we're related." Sam put her arm around your shoulders as you watched the retreating bullies.

You looked at the smirking blonde, "It did feel good."

"Are you okay?" Freddie asked as he walked over with Carly.

Before you could answer, your boss called out your name and you sighed, leaving to speak with him in his office. When you walked out. you went to the kitchen to retrieve the sandwiches you had made for them and hid them under your jacket as you left the sandwich shop.

"There will be other jobs." You glanced at the three who were having different reactions. Freddie was concerned and Carly looked guilty that intervening had cost you your job while Sam looked thrilled.

"Hey, they had it comin'." She rubbed her hands together, "You brought the food, right?"

You rolled your eyes, revealing the sandwiches hidden under your jacket. "What is this my first day?"

"I knew there was something buried in you that proved we're related." Sam took her sandwich and you handed Freddie and Carly theirs, falling into step with Freddie who was less eager to tear open the packaging.

"Don't worry," You sent him a smile, "I left cash in the kitchen." You looked at Sam when he turned his head, "Don't tell her."

Freddie chuckled softly, nodding. "Deal."

"Hey, we're going to Carly's, want to come?" Sam asked, looking over her shoulder.

"I'm good." You smiled softly. "I'm a little tired."

The blonde nodded, accepting your answer, and continued walking with Carly. Freddie turned to you when you carried your jacket draped over your crossed arms. "What are you going to do now?"

You shrugged, "Find another job. There's always something."

You sent the trio a small smile, "I'll see you guys later."

Freddie frowned when you walked away. Carly stood next to him, "Does she seem okay to you?"

"She's fine. She released her inner Puckett." Sam mumbled between bites of food.

Freddie took out his cellphone and while he typed away, Sam noticed that he hadn't eaten his sandwich. Feeling her gaze, he gave it to her before walking away.

"Where are you going?" Sam called, shrugging when he didn't reply before walking with Carly to her apartment building.

You were nearly home when Freddie jogged, catching up with you. The door was jammed, and you tried kicking it, turning when he cleared his throat. An amused smile was on his lips at some of the similarities between you and Sam.

"Need some help?"

You stepped aside, eyebrows furrowing, "What are you doing here?"

"I felt bad about your job, so I thought I could help you find another. I-If you want?"

You covered your mouth with your hands when he tried to use his shoulder to bash the door open and rushed to his side when he groaned. You stifled a giggle when he clutched his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"What is that door made out of?"

"You're not supposed to do it like that." You took his hand, "Come on." You led him around the house and explained that Sam never closes the window when you ask and Freddie gave you a boost, watching as you climbed in, unlocking the back door. "Ta da!"

He chuckled as he entered the kitchen, closing the door.

"Here, this should help." You walked to the freezer, took out an ice pack, and held it against his shoulder.

"T-Thanks."

You sent him a smile as he held the ice pack, turning to take drinks out of the fridge, walking to the living room. "You really don't need to stay and help. I'm sure there's much more exciting things to do."

"Nope."

You looked at him, sitting on the sofa, placing the bottles on the coffee table. You shook your head when he smiled, unable to suppress a smile as he sat next to you.

"Okay, so, first, we need to find something that matches your skills." He said, taking out a notebook a pen from his backpack, opening to an empty page.

You thought for a moment, "I once hung someone by their shirt at the market when they tried to steal my ham."

Freddie raised an eyebrow, and you glanced at him as you took a sip from your soda, seeing the slight tilt of his head. "What?"

"I sometimes forget that you're related to Sam."

"In my defense, I'd already lost vegetables to a grandma, so I was pretty steamed."

Freddie shook his head, "Okay, so strong. That's an advantage. What else? You're kind, patient, and you're smart. Hard working. Good at solving problems."

You were surprised by how many good qualities he could list so easily and quickly. Freddie noticed the way you picked the label on the soda and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just...do you really think that?"

"Of course. I mean, taking into consideration everything you have accomplished over the years, growing up faster than you should have, you are all those things."

You smiled softly, thanking him. You looked at the growing list he was writing down.

"Is flexible a strength?"

"Uh,"

"I was a cheerleader in high school for a year. And I did gymnastics."

Freddie scrambled to say something when his mind could do nothing, but provide images of you practicing in a cheer uniform. "Flexible is good." He cleared his throat, taking a long sip of his soda, the pain in his shoulder long forgotten.

"Hey, thanks for doing this. I want you to know that I do appreciate it."

Freddie sent you a smile, "Anytime. You are always helping everyone else. I want to do something that helps you."

You mirrored his smile, "Did Sam ever tell you about the butter sock?"

He nodded slowly, "She said you came up with the idea."

"Pam was gone for a week. Sam and Melanie were five at the time. We were behind on rent. So the landlord came around. He tried to put his hand through the letterbox to reach a latch on the door. I took one of the socks out of the dryer, and when I was looking for something to put in it, I saw Sam licking the butter." Freddie shook his head, and you smiled at the memory. "I put the stick of butter in the sock and used it to hit the landlords hand when it got stuck in the letter box. He broke free and said he'd be back the next day. By that time, we were already gone. And the butter sock was born."

A frown formed on his lips when he realized how young you were and already looking after your siblings. "Were you scared?"

"If I was, I don't remember. I remember the way they hugged me afterward. I stayed with them all night when they were asleep to make sure the landlord didn't return." You looked away, shrugging softly, "I did what I had to do to protect them."

His cell phone rang and he groaned when he saw it was his mother. Freddie glanced around, worried she was watching as he reluctantly answered, grimacing when she shrieked in his ear.

"I expected you home over an hour ago! Where are you, Freddie?"

"Uh," He knew he couldn't tell her the truth. His mother didn't like the Puckett family as a whole thanks to Sam. "Out."

Deciding to give him privacy, you took the ice pack to the kitchen, returning it to the freezer. When you entered the living room, Freddie was arguing with his mother, gesturing with his hand. You bit the inside of your cheek when your eyes met, and he sighed as he ended the call.

"I better go before she sends the military to find me." He said, sliding his notebook and pen into his backpack, zipping it as he approached you.

"I get it." You smiled softly, "Thank you for helping me today." You walked to the front door and opened it.

"Sure, now it opens." He grumbled.

You shook your head, giggling, "Remember, don't talk to strangers, and if you get lost, use the maps on your phone."

Freddie laughed sarcastically, and you smiled as you leaned against the doorway. You bit your tongue to suppress the smile on your lips as you said goodbye and watched him walk away before closing the door.

A few hours later, while walking to clear your head, you saw Spencer in the street, and sensing you could use a break, he invited you to his apartment. As he let you inside, Spencer invited you to stay for dinner. You thanked him and offered to help, catching up with the eldest Shay. You found common ground with him easily as he had taken care of his sister for many years due to their mother leaving and their father's job that kept him away from home.

You looked over your shoulder when the trio came downstairs for a drink after their web show ended and greeted them with a smile. When Sam asked why you didn't go upstairs, you explained that you stopped by after spending an hour looking for a shirt Melanie wanted you to buy for her and met Spencer who invited you to dinner.

"Wait, you're having dinner here?" Freddie looked at Spencer when you nodded, "Can I have dinner here?"

"If your mom says it's okay, I don't see why not -" Freddie was running across the room by the word 'if' and out the door before he finished.

You looked at Sam when she spoke, "What are you doing to that boy?" You tilted your head in confusion, shaking it as you continued setting the table for dinner.

Freddie returned with a grin, announcing that he could stay for dinner as Spencer plated the spaghetti, and you turned to place the plates on the table.

"Uh-Uh, I am not sitting next to you. You will steal my food." You pulled Freddie into the chair beside you before Sam could sit down.

"You have more than me."

"No, I don't."

Freddie looked between you both as you bickered back and forth, mimicking each other. Sam took your plate, and you rolled your eyes as you took her plate that she argued had less spaghetti.

"Happy now?"

"Very."

"We're all relieved." You muttered under your breath, and Freddie coughed, covering his mouth with his arm as he tried not to laugh.

Sam glared at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He replied quickly.

You glanced at Freddie, a smile on your lips, and he mirrored it as he gathered spaghetti on his fork.

After dinner, you insisted on washing up, which led to Sam complaining that you were making her look bad as she never offered to help.

"I would help, but I'm so full." She slouched on the sofa, and you shook your head.

You gathered the plates, and Freddie stepped over to help. You cleaned the dishes while he dried, and you had a feeling he only did it to be next to you, not that you minded.

"Did you see the show today?" He spoke up.

"No, I was looking for a shirt for Melanie. Apparently, not having it would end the world as we know it." You smiled softly, "I spent an hour getting tips from a stylist about how to change my wardrobe. She even told me to cut my hair. Can you believe it?"

"Clearly, she can't be trusted because your hair is, well, it's..." Freddie trailed off when you turned your head to meet his gaze. "I like your hair."

"Thank you."

You wiped down the table as he put the plates away, and you smiled when he said you made a good team. "I can show you the episode if you want?"

You nodded, following him to the computer. He put on the show recorded earlier. Halfway through, he turned the camera after Sam interacted with him, and seeing his smile made you smile.

"The camera loves you." You bumped your shoulder with his and Freddie chuckled.

As the episode ended, the door opened and Mrs Benson entered. "Freddie!"

"Hello, Mrs Benson." You greeted politely.

"Y/N. You're here a lot lately." She commented before looking at her son. "It's time for your tick bath."

You raised an eyebrow, looking at Freddie when he stammered. "I-I don't need a tick bath." He met your gaze, "I don't."

"Come on, let's go." Mrs Benson walked away, pulling him out of the apartment.

For a few moments, the room was silent until you spoke, "She really is like that. I thought my memory was exaggerated."

"I know." Sam snorted, a grin on her lips, "She makes me glad that I've got you."

From Sam, it was the grandest declaration of love.

You smiled as you sipped your water. You moved to sit on the sofa as you caught up on the movie they were watching and halfway through, Freddie returned.

You suppressed a smile at his grouchy expression when Sam started teasing him. "I don't have ticks!"

You nudged your sister's shoulder gently as you stood up to put your glass in the sink. "I think he's suffered enough."

"Finally some compassion." Freddie typed on his phone, approaching the kitchen, standing next to you. "I think I found the perfect job for you." He glanced at you when you leaned in to look at his screen and realized it was similar to a dream he had. Except you were kissing. And in his bedroom. "It pays well. You won't need two jobs anymore."

"I don't know...I mean I didn't graduate."

"Doesn't matter. Training is provided. It's a great opportunity."

You bit your lip thoughtfully, not noticing the way it immediately captured his attention. "Okay.'

Freddie blinked out of his daze, "Good. Because I already sent in an application."

"You did what? When?"

"Yesterday." He smiled sheepishly. "But look, they want to interview you next week."

Your eyebrows raised when he showed you the confirmation message he received, and you threw your arms around his neck. Freddie placed his hands on your back, smiling when you thanked him, squeezing him tighter.

"You're welcome."

You pulled away, "I'll have to go shopping. Oh, what do I wear?" You mumbled as you walked to pick up your bag and jacket. You thanked Spencer for inviting you to dinner, saying goodnight before you left.

Sam stood up as Freddie tapped his phone against his hand, a smile on his lips that faltered when she approached him. "That was, uh, pretty nice of you. To help her out like that."

Freddie tried not to shrink back and kept his back straight. "She could use a little help."

Sam nodded in agreement. Freddie flinched when she patted his shoulder and the blonde left to catch up to you.

Later that night, she walked out of her bedroom, approaching your room when she saw the light was on, finding you were dumping clothes on the ground in pursuit of an outfit for your job interview.

"What are you doing?"

You turned, placing a hand on your chest when she spoke. You sighed as you gestured to the closet. "I have five outfits, and none of them are nice enough."

Sam looked around as she walked into the room. "There has to be something here."

You shook your head, "Maybe I should go back to the sandwich shop and ask for my job back."

"Those guys are jerks. Freddie said this job earned more than both of these jobs. Listen to the nerd."

You glanced at her with a smile, "Did you just compliment him?"

"Did I fall off a bull? Of course not."

Your smile grew when she approached the closet. Sam began to look through the clothes before deciding the answer was obvious. Melanie kept up to date with the latest fashion, and Sam recalled what Freddie told her earlier. It was time they stepped in to help more.

The twins returned, begrudgingly calling a truce for the night, and Melanie stepped forward with clothes she believed would work for your job interview.

You looked at the twins who had barely bickered all night and smiled softly, thankful that they were helping.

By the time the interview date rolled around, the group was more nervous than you were, and when you entered the Shays apartment, agreeing to meet Sam there afterward, you kept your smile small as you greeted them.

"What happened? Did you get it? Did you?" Sam was like a hurricane as she rushed over to you, and you glanced around before smiling brightly.

"I got it!"

You jumped up and down, smiling when she hugged you. When she stepped away, you looked at the group with a smile, "Dinner is on me tonight!"

You giggled when Spencer stepped forward to congratulate you, hugging you as he said, "I knew there was a reason you were my favourite."

Carly joined the hug, then Freddie and Sam. As you left the apartment, Sam looked at Freddie when he followed without going across the hall to speak to his mom. "Don't you need permission first?"

"Once we get there, I'll send her a text saying we're somewhere else."

"Livin' on the wild side." Carly teased.

You met Melanie at the restaurant and took a seat at the table, smiling softly as she congratulated you.

"Thanks. But I owe it all to Freddie, he got me the interview."

"All I did was tell them how great you are." He replied.

You sent him a smile across the table and picked up the menu. You bit the inside of your cheek, glancing at him as he looked at his menu. Sam looked between you both when you lowered your head, missing the way Freddie sneaked glances at you.

Later that night, you were approaching the point where you would go your separate ways with Spencer, Carly, and Freddie. Sam noticed the numerous glances you and Freddie stole at each other and brought Melanie into her conversation with Carly. You scooped your ice cream, looking at Freddie when he hung back slightly to walk beside you as Sam planned.

"They seem to be getting along," Freddie commented, nodding at the twins.

"For now, at least." You smiled, "Thank you again for getting me that interview. What did you tell them anyway?"

"I told them the truth." He shrugged, "I said you were hardworking, and you could do anything you set your mind to. I told them how kind, compassionate, and caring you are."

You smiled softly, placing a hand on his arm as you stopped walking. Freddie turned, and you kissed his cheek. "Thank you. It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Anytime."

"Ew! Don't kiss him, he has ticks!"

Freddie glared at Sam. "No, I don't!"

The two quickly fell into an argument, and you walked alongside him as they went back and forth. He glanced down when you looped your arm with his, continuing to eat your ice cream.

"Then why do you need baths, tick boy?"

"Because my mother is crazy!"

You shook your head, giggles leaving your lips. A short walk later, while the Shays went one way, the Puckett twins went another, you turned to Freddie and bit the inside of your cheek.

"Goodnight, tick boy." You kissed him briefly, lingering over for a few seconds before stepped back.

You sent him a smile before walking to catch up with your sisters. Freddie grinned as he watched you walk away. Carly noticed he was frozen in place, a broad grin on his lips, and walked over to pull him away.

"Come on!"

"How is she related to Sam?"

Spencer shook his head at the dazed smile he wore. "How many times has your mother called?"

Freddie quickly took out his phone and groaned when he saw the texts and calls. "Oh, man!"

"Welcome back, tick boy." Spencer patted his shoulder with a smirk as they approached their apartment building but the siblings noticed that the smile on Freddie's lips hadn't faltered since your kiss.

[withwritersblock]

the boy is mine

~the boy is mind by Ariana Grande~

Author's Note: requested Summary: Kirby's pregame before his first playoff game in Montreal Warnings: none Word Count: 1,062 Kirby Dach x fm!reader

It was the last regular season game for the entire NHL. All eyes were on the Canadiens and the Lightning. Both of them tied for points to get the final wildcard spot for the Eastern Conference. Currently, the Lightning held the spot from the other categories. The Canadiens needed to win the game to achieve the last spot. 

The game was tied at 1-1 as regulation ended. Tampa fans were being ruthless in the crowd as the boys skated to center ice. Cole, Nick, and Mike were all on the ice, prepared to start overtime. 

The wives and girlfriends were all sitting inside Caitlin’s apartment watching the game in dead silence. Which is usually impossible between the group of girls.

Y/N held her wine glass against her lips, too focused to even try and sip the drink. She watched as Tampa started wtih possession and began skating around their zone. After a monster save by Sam, the Canadiens get possession of the puck. Her heart was beating loud in her ear as she watched seventy-seven hop onto the ice. 

Mike passed Kirby the puck and Y/N watched as he skated through the offensive zone. He wrists a shot towards the net and the puck hits the back of the net. Kirby throws his hands up in the air as he skates towards the glass. The team starts heading towards the locker room as Cole, Kirby and Mike celebrate on the ice together.

The entire group of girls erupted into cheers. Y/N threw her hands up as she cheered. 

She received her jacket after the first game in Boston. It was the signature Canadiens red with different original six patches all over the front of it. On the back in white lettering it wrote Dach and his number, seventy-seven.

She was so excited to wear it because this was the first time she was experiencing it as a part of the wives and girlfriends. Tonight was game three, back in Montreal and none of the wives and girlfriends showed their boys the jackets until today. Kirby sat on the bed, his dark blue suit on his frame. His face slowly starting to get stubble as he shaved right before the end of the regular season. 

He kept his eyes shut as requested. She ran her fingers through her hair in the bathroom mirror as she adjusted the red jacket on her body. She walked through the small hallway that separated their bathroom and bedroom. She nervously moved her hands through the air and onto her hips before she decided to just let them hang at her side.

“Okay,” she mumbled. Kirby’s eyes opened quickly as he met her gaze. He smiled widely as he slowly scanned her frame, he nodded his head slowly in the process. 

“Spin,” he said as he bit his bottom lip, he spun his finger in a circle as she slowly obeyed him. She spun around showing off his name and his number. He smiled widely as he saw it. Love knowing that she proudly wore his name and number. She finished her spin as she met his gaze, a smile slowly forming to her lips.

“So what do you think?” she asked as she awkwardly threw her hands up in the hair. He stood up from the bed, walking towards her. He grazed his fingertips along the jean like fabric. 

“I think red is goregous on you,” he began as he met her gaze. He swallowed hard before he licked his lips nervously, “I like the ownership too,” he teased with raising his eyebrows. She laughed shyly. 

“I’ve never been to a playoff hockey game before,” she changed the subject as she began to run her fingers along his suit jacket. He nodded as he took a hold of her hips. 

“You’ll get to watch us take the series lead,” he said with a cocky smile. She rolled her eyes playfully as he leaned towards her, kissing her lips gently. She had red lipstick on, afraid he would smudge it. “Red is so hot on you,” he mumbled as he met her gaze. 

“Thank you,” she said with a small smile, “Can we take a photo? I don’t have to post it or-”

“Post it baby,” he said as he kissed her cheek before he guided her towards their bathroom. “Show off how hot you look in red,” he shouted. She rolled her eyes playfully as she followed after him.

Their relationship has not been entirely public, all of his social media active teammates follow her. So people are aware of her relation to the team but not because of who. 

She wrapped her arm around his back as he loosely tightened his grip around her waist. He puckered his lips out as he popped his hip to the side dramatically. She laughed as she took the photo. “What about this?” he asked as he frowned hard as he shifted his gaze towards her.

“At least look like you love me,” she let out dramatically pouting her lips. His mouth fell open as he let out a dramatic gasp.

“Oh really,” he asked teasingly, he took a hold of her chin delicately. “See I was being nice,” he mumbled, staring towards her red plump lips. “But now,” he muttered before he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. She froze for a second before she began to kiss him back with the same sense of urgency. 

After a few seconds she pulled away to see his mouth covered in red lipstick, as the lipstick on her face was smudge. She giggled and groaned as she realized the mistake. “See, I was trying to be the nice guy,” he mumbled as he poked his finger against her lips. 

“Yeah, sure, nice guy,” she mumbled as they looked back towards the mirror, posing for a few photos for their own private collection. She delicately placed her phone down onto the bathroom counter. She reached towards her makeup remover wips and handed it towards Kirby.

“I was actually thinking of rocking the red lip, what do you think?” he offered, meeting her gaze. She rolled her eyes playful as she began cleaning her mouth of the smudged lipstick. 

“I think it's a look,” she mumbled as she met his gaze through the mirror. He began wiping his face harshly.