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oitommothetease · 4 years ago

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Invisible String (12/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 1.9k words

Warning : angst, violence

Getting kidnapped sucked. Majorly. The most important three things that one should keep in mind before getting kidnapped; 1) Call the cops 2) Keep your doors locked 3) Don't leave the safety of your powerful and hot boyfriend. The last one might seem absurd, it's the one you regret the most because it had been two hours since you were abducted from the confines of your apartment and the only person you could think about was James. Maybe you were scared, or maybe it was the drugs that made you a little fuzzy, all you knew was that you couldn't think right. Your mind was reminiscing the image of your boyfriend in your bed to distract you from the man standing in front of you. This strange man was asking you several questions you didn't have answers to and hitting you whenever you told him the truth. The truth being you didn't know anything.

“I'm going to ask you this last time,” He seethed, “Where is Barnes hiding his mother and sister?”

You inhaled sharply, waiting for the inevitable as you answered honestly, “I don't know.”

Although your body was heavily drugged, you still felt the impact of his slap on your face. Blood was trickling down your cheek, some of it seeping through your lips, making you realize the severity of the situation. You were sure his hand's imprint was already formed on your face, and it made you shiver with fear.

It had been hours since a man kidnapped you from your apartment. He was already in your home when you entered, and one syringe at the back of your neck was enough to confirm your compliance. Not that you were strong enough to put much of a fight in front of this large man anyway, but you were strong; you could have at least injured him a little to feel some sense of pride and not this helplessness.

The only thing you knew was that your kidnappers were behind James's family and not money. They probably wanted to hurt them, but since James and his friends never talked about their loved ones or even mentioned them, it was evident that they were being kept far away from their life. A part of you wondered if maybe you hadn't been with James, then you wouldn't have been in this mess either. But another part of you was thankful for James, for making you feel loved and cherished in a way you've never felt before. So, the bigger part of you would be fine if you died tonight because you got to experience that kind of love. The kind of love you never thought you would endure in your life, the kind that people don’t get to feel in a lifetime — which you had the opportunity to feel in a couple of days.

***

Bucky was distraught. After a few drinks with his friends, finally, he fetched his phone to call you, only to find out what had happened. Sam was leaning over Bucky’s shoulder to get a look at your text so that he could tease him, but the picture left him shocked.

Bucky kept staring at the image, hoping this was a sick nightmare, and he would wake up in your bed.

“Buck,” Steve called for his friend. Gently, placing his palm on Bucky's shoulder. “She must be in one of Rumlow’s warehouses. We will get her.”

But no, Bucky couldn’t hear anything that his friends were saying. He couldn't look up from his phone, couldn't shake his eyes to focus on anything except your distressed figure. All Bucky could think about was you — you were held in a foreign environment forcefully because of him. You had been with him for a day, and you were already being hunted by his enemies. He felt so selfish about dragging you in his life.

He couldn't stop thinking about all the wretched outcomes. What if he loses you? What if you never forgive him? What if he never gets to tell you how much he loved you?

“Clint contacted our source,” Sam informed him, “Wanda Pietro will go and check out the possible places where she could be kept, while the rest will lay low till then.”

Bucky finally looked up, he placed the phone down on the table and met the concerned gaze of his friends. He thought about how no one knew about Sam and Steve's daughter, Wanda's girlfriend - Natasha, Peter's aunt, Clint's wife - Laura and their kids. He thought about how no one knew about his own mother and sister. The only reason their families were safe was because no one knew that they were related to them or even existed.

Bucky wasn't naïve, the only reason you were attacked was simply because you meant something to him. He was aware that he needed to protect you from his life, he didn’t think it would be necessary this early. He just got you, and you were already slipping away from his grip.

Furthermore, he knew what needed to be done to keep you safe; he could hide you forever. Bucky wasn’t a selfish man and as much as he wanted you in his arms every second, he couldn't put you in harm's way, and hiding you would be like taking away a part of you. Everything you've worked hard for would be lost, you would not be able to publish your work, you would not be able to leave the house. It would rip any sense of freedom from your life. He couldn’t take all those things away from you just so he could hold you close to his heart. He couldn't do that to you, so he would have to let you go.

***

The plan was simple. They had located the warehouse. Steve and Sam would attack from the back entrance. Pietro, Wanda, and Peter would keep a watch outside and Clint and Bucky would strike from the front entrance. They didn’t need to bring many men because Clint’s source had confirmed that there were only 4 guards with Bucky’s girl. Bucky could have taken down all four of them on his own, but Steve insisted that they should assist him for safety measures. Bucky didn't want Peter out in the field. He was still very young, the only reason he got involved in this was because of his uncle’s murder. He needed the money to gather for his college tuition and help his aunt financially. Peter was hired because he wouldn't take no for an answer and Bucky agreed to his assistance with the club, but barely on the field.

Stealthily, Bucky made his way inside the warehouse with his companions, only to find it empty.

“We gotta check all the floors,” Sam advised, “Steve and I will take the basement, you both take the floors.”

Bucky nodded and made his way to the stairs, clutching his gun tightly in his hold. Clint followed him, mimicking the actions of his friend. The first floor was also empty.

Each empty corridor felt like a wound being pressed over and over for Bucky. He needed to find you, he needed you. He pointed his gun in hopes of finding Rumlow’s men, but was met with vacant rooms. Not only that, but he could hear his heartbeat getting faster. What if you weren’t here at all? What if Rumlow had already hurt you and he was too late? No, he can't think like that. He would get you back safe no matter what.

“Let's check out the second one,” Clint said, and Bucky almost flinched. He forgot that he wasn’t alone.

The second floor wasn't as eerily quiet as the first one, they could hear shuffling of shoes and muffled noises. You were here. Cautiously, they made their way towards the sounds and noticed two of Rumlow’s men. Carefully, Bucky tackled one of them to the ground, covering your captor's throat tight enough for him to pass out. Clint took care of the second one. Two more to go, Bucky thought. Two more and then you'll be safe with him in his arms.

The man that Clint hit made a noise, indicating to the other men about the breach. That was good for Bucky, he didn't want you to see this side of him. He reserved all of his sweet touches for you, and he didn't want you to see those same hands hurt someone. Expectedly, the other two captors made their way towards Bucky and Clint, and both men easily took them out.

Bucky finally made his way inside the room, where you were kept — after being taken away from him. His face fell when he caught sight of the bruises running along your cheek, the fingerprints on your face. You couldn't stifle the fear and the relief as you burst into tears at the sight of him.

You wanted to be strong for him, but you just weren't. Likewise, you were scared and exhausted. All you wanted was for Bucky to tread towards you and hold you.

And that he did.

In three long strides, he knelt in front of you, he took a bloodied knife out of his pocket and started cutting the restraint surrounding your hands. Under any other circumstances, a bloodied knife would have made you nauseated — scared even, but this was James — your James. He wouldn't hurt you.

Softly, he took your left restraint-free wrist in his hand, gently running circles to soothe the pain. He hadn't looked at you yet, he was so focused on your injuries that he didn't see you. You wanted to shout and make him hold you, but only a trembled sob came out of your throat.

You could speak, you didn't have anything covering your mouth. Why weren’t you speaking? Why was he so focused on your wounds and not looking at you?

“Bucky,” you whispered, his eyes snapped up to meet yours and you could see the tears welled up in his eyes. Under any other state of affairs, he would have had a different reaction to you calling him Bucky instead of James for the first time. He was so vulnerable that your words caught him off guard. His eyes were scanning your face for any discomfort or pain.

“Bucky,” you exhaled again, and that broke him out of his trance. His palms instinctively came for your face and you closed your eyes. Carefully, he pressed a kiss on your forehead, eyes, cheeks, nose, and finally to your lips. The kiss was so gentle, soothing even, as if he was scared that his kiss would hurt you. “I’m fine,” you assured him. Without saying a word, he nodded and continued to free your right hand.

It was so easy to get lost in his concerned gaze — to get lost in him.

Bucky was focused, too focused on your wounds and comfort, that he didn’t feel the movement behind him. It wasn't until you felt another prick at your nape and you hissed in pain. But it was too late and by the time Bucky looked up to inspect your uneasiness, the butt of a gun hit him in the head, knocking him unconscious on the floor.

Clint put the gun back in his waistband and made a call to his brother, Brock Rumlow.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407 @mybuck @priii @coffeebooksandfandom @ladydmalfoy @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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astro-rain · 4 years ago

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delicate; b.barnes

chapter one - “to wakanda”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: reader works for what used to be shield as a highly skilled neuropsychologist. after the events in vienna involving the sokovia accords and a bombing, she gets an interesting request from friend and coworker sharon carter...a request involving none other than steve rogers and james barnes.

warnings: brief and indirect mentions of abuse/trauma

pairings: bucky x fem!reader

"I don't know Sharon. Are you sure I'm really the right person for this? I'm not, like, an Avengers level tech. Are you sure they don't want a genius or someone like Stark to do it?"

"Well, Stark is pretty busy right now, and honestly, no one knows psych like you. Not who I've met anyway."

"That is so not true. I'm willing to bet there's tons of other people you guys got somewhere who are ten times what I am."

"Agent (Y/L/N), in case you missed it, SHIELD isn't what it used to be. Sure we have old agents who aren't formally 'SHIELD agents,' anymore, but we don't have the expendability we used to. You're our best bet at the moment."

"Damn. I'm your best bet. I'm sorry," she almost chuckled, but then she thought for a brief moment. "Are you sure this is completely necessary? I mean, I saw the photo on the news. The quality's poor at best, and..."

She leaned in, discretely, and whispered.

"...not to seem like a conspiracy theorist commie or anything, but it kinda seems like people are jumping to conclusions here. Are we even sure it was Barnes who set off the bomb?"

Sharon looked around them, cautiously. No one seemed to be listening, but she scanned the room like her life as she knew it was hanging in the balance. She weighed her words in her head, making sure she picked the right ones, then formulated a response appropriate.

"Regardless of if it was him or not, Barnes still escaped. and before that, Ste-we'd been looking for him for almost two years. This analysis is necessary," Sharon brought her voice down even lower. "At least that's what I keep being told. Of course I'd like there to be more solid proof, but I'm not in charge here. He's gone, and they want to be able to find him and 'sort things out.'"

"'Sort things out,'" (Y/N) repeated, questioning the genuineness of whomever told Sharon that. "Unless they have hard evidence that it was him who set off the bomb in Vienna, shouldn't they leave that to uh...Captain America?"

She wondered how Barnes was able to escape in the first place. She saw the containment module he was in; there's no way he could've gotten out without a fight. ...But maybe it wasn't a fight. Perhaps it was a trigger word induced rage. (Y/N) understood a basic layout of the "Winter Soldier." SHIELD would've kept any information they had classified. However, after the fiasco in Washington, d.c. with Hydra and the whole releasing of all files predicament, she was able, with Sharon's help, to put together a simple outline. With that being said, he couldn't have broken out without going Winter Soldier mode. But doesn't someone need the trigger words for that?

“That's what a reasonable person would think, but once again, I'm not in charge," Sharon shrugged. "Things would probably be going a lot smoother if I was, but you can't have everything."

(Y/N) cracked a smile. Sharon was a friend, and a good one too. They'd known each other since before SHIELD was shattered in 2014. In fact, Sharon helped train her.

The only thing was: Sharon was a higher ranking agent and often withheld certain information from (Y/N). It frustrated her. This was where their personal boundaries got in the way of their professional ones.

She could tell there was something Sharon wasn't telling her, but she wasn't about to compromise either of their positions by pushing for information she wasn't supposed to know. Hell, maybe even Sharon knows something she isn't supposed to. Or maybe she knows something that Everett Ross wouldn't like. What if she was keeping something from him? Defying him? What if she was working with Steve Rogers? Now that would be interesting.

(Y/N) was used to secrets around her all the time. She knew Sharon had her fair share, and trying to figure them out wouldn't really get her anywhere.

"Right. Okay. Well, I'll get on this then. Thanks, Agent Carter," she teased in late response to Sharon's 'Agent (Y/N).’

Sharon offered a quick smile before walking off to attend to other business.

- - -

Pain. That was all it was. In every sense of the word. As she strenously made her way through the densely packed file of one James Buchanan Barnes, pain was all she could see. All she could read. It leaked out of the page and seeped into her skin like poison.

It was horrific what they did to him. She knew he had his memory wiped, had someone pull him out and stick someone else in. But it was more than just that. They took his past, his memories, his thoughts; and they ripped them from his mind, leaving an empty space to mold into their own. It was after this when Hydra, in every way they could, dehumanized him, made him less than. He was striped of his freedom, his control, his choice, his humanity, of everything that made him him. They beat and bruised and broke it out this empty human shell until he was nothing but a shadow of faded morality and consciousness.

But hell, she couldn't look away. She was glued to the aftershock of this horrible wreckage. All the years of studying Psychology and Neuroscience couldn't have possibly prepared her for the absolute horror that was his past, his abuse, his torture. It was heinous. Frankly, she questioned how he was still alive. How he still had the will and the drive to be alive. How do you live after that?

"Fuck," she breathed after eons of silence.

She seemed to lose her sense of time whilst she was immersed in the harrowing nightmare of Hydra's cruelty. 'Cruelty' doesn't even come close to doing it justice. When she came to, her desk looked like a bomb went off. Papers were bursting out of manilla folders, littering the linoleum surface with classified files and secret information. She leaned back in her chair, and gave herself a minute to debrief.

(Y/N) almost felt guilty, like she things she looked at were so vile, so violating that she didn't have the right to see them. Sure, she had read and analyzed all sorts of trauma and psychological profiles. But he was different. Something about James Barnes was different. It tangled her mind the fact that a person could endure all that. She could only imagine the effect that would have on the human brain. The possibilities are endless. Suddenly bombing the UN didn't seem so far fetched.

- - -

"Jesus Christ," (Y/N) murmured, staring at her office floor as Sharon finished explaining to her what happened at the Leipzig Halle Airport.

She sat mostly in silence as she pondered over the information just fed to her. Apparently Tony Stark gathered a 'team' to try and intercept Captain America - sorry - Steve Rogers and his (supposed) fugitive friend. It was chaos.

"What is this? Fuckin' Avengers Fight Night?" she wondered aloud. "How many people did you say were there?"

"Twelve total," Sharon clarified. "Five with Stark and five with Steve."

The psychologist shook her head, dumbfounded. "How did it end?"

"Steve and Barnes got out, but everyone else with them were captured and sent to the Raft."

"The Raft?!" (Y/N) exclaimed. "That's for, like, super humans! Not people like Sam Wilson or Clint Barton!"

"You're telling me."

Sharon seemed in agreement with everything she was saying. However, there was something she couldn't quite place. Like she was holding back. But holding back what?

"So what of Rogers and Barnes?" (Y/N) pushed.

Sharon got up and closed the office door before returning to her seat, leaning in, and lowering her voice. This secretive woman, god damn it.

"Well... That's what I came to talk to you about."

Oh boy. She didn't have a semblance of a single idea of what to expect. Apparently Sharon noticed.

"We're the only ones that know this. They're fine..." the agent trailed off, "They're in Wakanda, but they need a little help."

"Are you leaving?!" (Y/N) all but yelled before quickly slapping a hand over her mouth and uncovering it only to whisper, "Do you and Rogers have a thing or something? Cause' I don't know how else you would know all of this when I'm sure that no one else does considering he's now an enemy of several governments!"

"My relations with Steve Rogers are not the focus here." She could've sworn Sharon flushed. "But we have been in contact; I'm one of the few people he can trust right now, and I don't plan on letting him down anytime soon."

They totally have a thing.

"Noted," said (Y/N) with a nod, "but why are you telling me this? Does he want the profile analysis or something? I don't see how he would need it if he's known Barnes for however long."

"Not exactly..." Sharon fidgeted with her hands. "We need you to go to Wakanda.”

[A/N:] this is a repost of chapter 1 because my masterlist is being fucky

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bicycle4two · 4 years ago

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say you wanna, say you wanna be || Sam Drake x Reader || Chapter 4

Summary: Sam isn't looking for a girlfriend and, frankly, you don't think you'd be a good one anyway, but you two aren't some one-night stand and it's been a long time since either of you thought of each other as a convenient booty call. This is something more, something the two of you didn't realize would be. It's uncharted territory. And there is no other choice but to figure out how to navigate through it together.

Pairing: Sam Drake x Fem!Reader

Tags(ish): developing relationship, implied/non-explicit sexual content, romance/fluff/hurt/comfort, age difference (though reader’s age is not stated), switching povs (second person reader, third person sam), no y/n but reader has a nickname

C.1 || C.2 || C.3

Chapter Four:

Here’s the thing.

Sam always knew that he and his brother were destined for something great. And, well, he can’t say that greatness didn’t fall on them. Yeah, sure, he spent thirteen years in jail. Who hasn’t? But despite that little hiccup in his life, Sam thinks that he’s done pretty well for himself. He’s discovered a lost city or two, with and without his brother, held some artifacts that were rumored to only be from stories, and tried one of the cigars from Sully’s collection. He even has a place to call his own now, his name on the mailbox downstairs, a doorman who greets him.

Honestly, it’s all he’s ever wanted growing up. More, even. Back in Panama, all he thought he wanted, besides, well, getting out, was to find Avery’s treasure with Nathan. It was that thought that kept him going most days. The idea of finding four hundred million worth of treasure! That was the dream. He and Nathan could finally settle down, or, rather, their version of it. Because they weren’t going to have a normal life. That was never in the cards for them growing up, but it was a nice thought, not having to worry about food or a place to stay.

And Sam hasn’t had to worry about that for a long time. He felt empty after Libertalia, that his story was only just beginning while Nathan’s was coming to a close. There are still things he wants to see, to do.

Time, he realized long ago, was something that he could lose so easily and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

So he went on more adventures, climbed higher mountains, picked up little trinkets (a habit he got from his little brother, starting his own little collection) along the way to bigger, better things. (It’s just a shame that some things were destroyed along the way, like statues and buildings, but what can he say? It runs in the family.)

But tonight, after a long flight and an uncomfortable chair, all Sam wants to do is go to her and crash on her bed.

Because although Sam has a place to call home, a big apartment that’s filled with his stuff, clothes, souvenirs, a fish…it feels empty. Cold. Even if he had all the money in the world, Sam can’t shake off that feeling that he shouldn’t have too much. That in just a blink of an eye, all this could be gone. Because that has happened before—moving from place to place, packing what you can immediately get your hands on.

Sam wants riches, searches for them all over the world, but deep down he knows he doesn’t know what to do with them. That even if he dreams of more, he only knows how to live with enough.

So, he only has one pillow, a blanket. A towel and an extra, shampoo (the kind that has body soap mixed with it. 2 in 1! What a deal) and deodorant. Clothes, he knows to get the sturdy kind, the kind that won’t rip easily, that stains won’t be too obvious on. Shoes, too. He gets the ones that have good traction, that won’t chafe his feet, won’t deteriorate when wet.

The fish, Jim Hawkins—Jimmy was an attempt to liven up the place. To make it seem homey, to keep him company. But there’s only so much you can do with a fish and Sam can’t deck out Jim’s aquarium any more than he already has. He’s afraid that something would fall on the poor thing, that maybe there’s more inside Jimmy’s castle than meets the eye.

“Welcome home.”

“I’m ho…ome?” Sam drops his bag to the floor, more from being too tired to carry it than shock. He’d resigned to seeing her tomorrow, that it was too late to go over now, but there she is, curled up on his couch, toes peeking out from under a throw blanket. It’s hers. Sam recognizes it easily. It’s the same one she has thrown over her arm chair, the same chair Sam likes to lounge on when he’s found a good book to read.

“How was your trip?” She looks so cozy on his couch. Hands wrapped around an orange mug he’s never seen before, book on her lap. She doesn’t look like she going to get up and Sam can’t blame her. He sort of wants to curl up next to her, somehow squeeze his large frame in the remaining space. “Get me anything nice?”

“I, uh,” Sam’s swallows, blinking. “I’m not dreaming, right? Like, I didn’t get knocked out when I fell off the mountain?”

“You fell off what?” She’s moving to stand up, mug thankfully placed back on the table despite her haste, and Sam doesn’t want her to do that.

“No. No, don’t get up.”

She gets up anyway, blanket falling to the floor, and, oh god, she’s wearing pajamas, oranges printed all over her cotton shorts. She’s by his side in seconds, hands reaching up to his face, bringing him down to her height so she can get a better look at him.

“Ouch,” Sam says, the movement too fast for his aching body. His muscles are sore and the trip home didn’t do them any favors. But she thinks that it’s her fault, that she’s hurt him and her hands are in the air, her eyes wide with both surprise and concern. “It’s not you. It’s just…,” Sam hates to say it, makes him feel old, but, “My back. I hit the ground pretty hard.”

“I feel dumb for asking…but are you okay?” Her hands are back on him, her touch gentle and giving comfort Sam didn’t know he needed. She doesn’t seem to know what to do first, how to check for injuries, but the thought is enough, her being here is enough, makes him feel better.

“Well, I’m alive,” Sam brings up his hand to push her hair away from her face. It’s soft, slightly damp from a shower. Oh. He probably needs one of those. “Nothing a hot shower can’t fix.”

“Can you…,” she hesitates, sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and Sam bends down on reflex, damn his back, and kisses her. She relaxes, sighs, and pulls away, blushing. “Uhm, I, huh?”

“Can I…?” Sam prompts, smirking.

“Now I’m embarrassed to ask.”

“C’mon, princess, don’t leave me hanging. What is it?”

“Can you, uh, do you need help?”

“Do I need help?” Sam grins. “In the shower? Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

…

Sam mentioned it to Nathan before, when they were in Italy, trying to find their way into the Rossi Estate. When you’re locked up with no hope of being let out, it’s the little things you miss the most.

And Sam didn’t think that there was much to miss anymore now that he was out. He can ride his motorcycle anywhere he wants, go to his own bathroom any damn time he pleases, shower, eat, sleep, drink without permission. He can call Nathan and Sully and Elena without request, without reason. He can stay indoors or go outside without a schedule. He can live. The simple joys of being alive, Sam is able to enjoy them now, in much a greater magnitude than he has ever before.

Citrus, he remembers telling Nathan, he had missed the smell of citrus. The novelty of fresh fruit. The refreshing scent, the taste. The sweetness on his tongue.

“Clementine,” Sam gasps out without thinking, his mind stuck on things he missed and maybe this last trip had gone on longer than he liked.

He’s brought back to earth when the movement stops, even when he adjusts his grip, tries to get her going again, to move her hips the way he knows they both like. He opens his eyes to look at her when she doesn’t budge and she’s frowning at him, there’s a wrinkle between her eyebrows. An angry look.

“That’s not my name,” she says and it looks like she’s going to get off of him and, goddammit, why does she keep doing that?

“What?” Sam’s confused, blood not quite in his head.

“You called me Clementine.” Her tone is upset. Hurt. Sam’s never heard her speak like this before. “Who the hell is that?”

“Shit,” Sam breathes out. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Yeah. No shit.” And there she goes, lifting herself off of him as quickly as she had sunk onto him half an hour ago. Sam lets out a grunt. His ribs are bruised yet she flattens her hands on his chest to support herself. She’s doing it on purpose. She was careful before. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to do this, but I guess I was wrong.”

Sam’s cold without her, for more reasons than one, and he knows that if he doesn’t say something, anything, now, she’s going to be out that door before he can even finish saying Hail Mary. And no amount of prayer, to any sort of god out there, is going to bring her back.

So, Sam swallows down his pride, and says, “It’s you.”

“Yeah, I heard you say that before. ‘Just you.’ How can I-I be so stu-stupid?” Her voice wavers and shit she’s crying, isn’t she? He made her cry.

“And I mean that. Hey, come here.” Sam doesn’t want to hold her too tightly, afraid to hurt her, but he has to know that she isn’t going to leave, that she’s going to stay and listen to him. She turns to look at him, tears flowing down her cheeks, nose red, lips quivering, and Sam’s heart just about breaks. He did that. He’s never felt more like an asshole. “It is just you. It has been since the start. I promise.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just waits. And Sam feels like he’s back in school, standing in front of his class, giving a presentation.

“I, uh, did I ever tell you that I was in prison once?” Sam manages to get out. He always knew he was going to have this conversation with her, knew that with how their relationship was going, he couldn’t keep her in the dark much longer, but he had hoped that he would at least be wearing pants for this.

“No,” she breathes out, wiping her nose with a tissue she got from his bedside table. Huh. Was that tissue box always there? Anyway. “But I figured.”

“The tattoos?”

“No,” she says again and by some miracle there’s a smile on her lips. It’s small, gone with a blink of an eye, but Sam knows what he saw, has all of her smiles memorized. “Someone like you just has the talent of getting into trouble.”

And Sam can’t help it. He lets out a laugh because it’s true. She knows him.

“Well, I can’t deny that. But anyway,” He clears his throat. Was talking always this hard? “When I was in prison. In Panama—that’s important. This was when I was in Panama. I was there for thirteen years and, Jesus, time moves differently there. It’s like the days can’t go by fast enough but next thing you know a year has passed by, two, three, and you’ve lost your youth because some asshole decided to get all stabby with the guard.”

The words are spilling out, like he can’t get them out of him fast enough. Because he needs her to know, to understand.

“It wasn’t my fault. Well, okay, I was there on purpose at first, but those thirteen years were like a punishment for what that asshole did. I was supposed to die there. We were escaping, we were almost there, almost free, but I got shot and I fell. The guards found me and got some ‘doctors’ to patch me up. They made sure that if I was going to die, I was going to die because I rotted in that hellhole.”

Sam can see that she’s listening, that she’s hanging onto every word so he continues, because now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

“I was only in my twenties. There was so much I wanted to see, to do. Nathan and I had plans, dreams. We were going to go all over the world. But I was stuck there. Alone. And no one knew that I was alive. It’s like I stopped existing. Sometimes.” The words are stuck. But Sam forces them out. “Sometimes I, uh, I wished it were true, that it would be better if I was just gone. That I had just died back there.”

She’s crying again and Sam wipes her tears for her, brings her closer to him. Because these tears aren’t because of him anymore, but for him. And isn’t that something? Having someone cry for you.

“You don’t realize how much you have until everything is practically ripped away from you. I didn’t have any privacy. I…I couldn’t take a leak when I needed to. You just end up thinking, cuz there really isn’t much to do but think, about what you had. How life was good. And I, I just missed everything. I missed Nathan, of course, he’s my little brother. But, it’s the small things, too. Like riding my bike into the sunset. Grass beneath my feet. A glass of cold water. And…”

“And?” She asks, eyes focused on the gunshot scars on his abdomen, fingers tracing their shape. It tickles.

“And the smell of citrus.” He makes her look at him because this is important. The most important thing. “I missed the smell of citrus. The taste. And when I was in Japan, I thought about it again. The things I missed back here, back at home. And it’s citrus—you. I missed you so much, you wouldn’t believe it. I could have called Nathan. Elena, even. To come over here but I called you because,” Sam clears his throat once more. “Because I wanted you here. I had hoped you would be here when I came back. And you were.”

She’s quiet, eyes searching. And Sam’s poured out his heart and soul and now he’s got nothing else to do but wait and see what she does with it. Is this what being honest is like? Being vulnerable? It’s torture. Sam hates it. But he can also think of worse things and that keeps him rooted in his spot, trying to keep his face as honest as he can. Years of hiding is finally coming to bite him in the ass.

“You must have been so lonely.” Is what she says, hands back on his gunshot wounds. She’s transfixed. Almost like she’s been wondering about them forever. And maybe she has. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Eh. It’s all in the past,” Sam says with a shrug. Because it is in the past. He’s made his peace with it. Mostly. Some things are harder to shake off than others but he’s okay now. He’s built from strong stuff, a sturdy breed. “But, y’know. You’re, uh, killing me here.”

“Killing you?”

“Cuz I don’t know what you’re going to do,” Sam admits. It’s all truth from here on out, huh? “I can’t read you right now. Are you gonna leave? Punch me in the face? Report me? Please don’t report me. I’d really hate to go back to jail. Nathan would kill me. And I still have a few years left to go, y’know?”

She smiles and Sam realizes that he was rambling. He takes a breath, feels himself calm down. Damn. He needs a cigarette. Maybe two. Are his hands shaking? They’re definitely shaking.

“I think you have more than a ‘few years,’” she says, fingers tracing scars. Sam twitches from her touch. Is this what it feels like when he touches her back? “Especially if you stop smoking.”

“I’ve heard it all before.”

“You should start listening.”

“Ah. Someday.” Sam takes her hand in his, mostly to stop her stop her from tickling him, but also to bring them back on topic. Because she still hasn’t said anything. Nothing to give him an idea where they go from here, if there is somewhere to go from here. “So?”

“So…” She leans close, talks in a whisper, like if she speaks any louder, something might shift, break this bubble that they’re in. “So, you have to tell me what you want, Sam.” It’s an echo of what he said to her months ago, a vulnerable, fragile moment just like this. “So I know what to give you.”

But this time is different because she’s always been more generous than him, always been willing to give.

And Sam’s always been someone to take what he wants and he’ll be damned if this time is any different.

“It would be nice if you stayed.”

“Stay? I can do that.”

...

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

...

Sam’s apartment was inspired by @missdictatorme ‘s post

#samuel drake #sam drake #samuel drake x reader #sam drake x reader #sam drake fanfiction #fanfic #uncharted fanfiction #uncharted #uncharted 4 #a thief's end #self indulgent writing

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norahastuff · 5 years ago

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the unrequited love thing just bothers me so much. No-one had any issues seeing Cas/Hannah as a valid ship in the show when Cas wasn't even really interested in her. We've had a decade worth of romantic signals from Dean, but somehow destiel is unrequited. such a goddamn tragedy that they couldn't find their way back to each other one last time when that is their whole ~dynamic~

Yes, all of this. Exactly. Honestly, it’s been so frustrating to keep hearing the word unrequited thrown around so much lately. What about this dynamic has ever seemed unrequited? I’ve done this before but I’ve been really annoyed about it lately so should we make a list?

What about Dean feeling so personally betrayed by Cas in The Man Who Would Be King? Or Sam and Bobby walking on eggshells around Dean and taking care to very delicately approach bringing up the possibility of Cas doing something shady because they knew how hard Dean was going to take it? They knew it would be different for him than it would be for both of them.

Or how about Dean keeping Cas’ trenchcoat, and not only keeping it - he could have stashed it at Bobby’s or left it in the trunk of the Impala - but no he kept it with him, moved it from car to car. And this isn’t a last-minute development that they decided to throw into 7x17 when Cas returned, we see glimpses of the coat in other episodes before this, a consistent reminder that Dean’s carrying it around with him. That losing Cas is weighing on him.

How about Dean wondering why he could usually get over things but for some reason with Cas he couldn’t and he just didn’t know why.

For that matter...do you think there is anybody else that Dean would forgive for hurting Sam? For betraying him? Sure Dean is mad at Cas but more than anything he wanted to fix things. Despite everything, he needed Cas to be a part of his life.

How about that time Dean spent a year in purgatory looking for Cas, praying to him every night? In Dean’s mind, Sam is out there alone doing God knows what trying to get him back. I mean Sam didn’t, he’d let Dean go, but Dean assumed he was still looking. And yet Dean didn’t go back to Sam even though he could. He stayed for a year looking for Cas. Because he needed to. He needed him. Purgatory was pure remember? Dean had clarity there. He understood his wants, needs, and emotions.

Or you know just that one little thing about how Dean changed his own memories of what happened when he got separated from Cas because the thought of failing Cas was less painful than the idea that Cas would choose to stay in purgatory instead of leaving with him.

“We need you. I need you.” You know all about this one, I don’t need to say more.

The angels knowing exactly what would hurt Dean, knowing how much he cared about Cas and using that against him:

“The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost!”

“I know you’re hoping Castiel will return to you. I only wish that he felt the same way.”

Miriam: Bieber in there he can do almost anything. Dean: Anything? (and for the first time since Cas died we see Dean experience a moment of hope...and then...) Miriam: Oh sweetie, almost anything. Castiel he’s dead, all the way dead, because of you.

Dean staring wistfully at Cas through a Gas n Sip window for god knows how long. Actually you know what, that whole episode.

Cas being Dean’s Colette. That’s not subtext. You can argue with the execution, but the parallel was spelled out. And actually for that matter in Chuck’s drafts or alternate futures/ timelines or whatever that he was showing Sam, Dean was the one who was broken after losing Cas to the Mark of Cain, Dean was the one who had to bury him in Ma’lak box. Dean was the one who had to stop him. So I mean not only was Cas Dean’s Colette, but Dean was Cas’ Colette too.

Dean reacting very differently than Sam to Cas’ decision to say yes to Lucifer. Dean’s worry. Dean desperately calling out to Cas over and over again to try reach him and get him to eject Lucifer. Dean resisting Amara for Cas. Lucifer and Amara being very surprised by this. Amara using Cas to try to get to Dean.

Dean’s very different reactions to all things Cas in s12. This one would need it’s own post, but let’s just say there was a lot of focus on Dean and Cas in s12 and most of it was on how intensely Dean felt for Cas.

Dean made him a Led Zeppelin mixtape. And then proceeded to get mad at himself for letting Cas use it to come into his room and play him. Which isn’t exactly what happened (though it sort of is) but that’s exactly what went down from Dean’s perspective, and that kind of move would only work if Dean truly cared about Cas. Going into someone’s room and playing on their feelings for you by using a romantic gift they gave you, only works if that person has feelings for you that can be played with.

12x23. Sam having to pull Dean away from Cas at the rift because Dean was intent on chasing after Cas. Dean falling to his knees by Cas’ body unable and unwilling to think about anything else and leaving Sam to face the nephilim. Sam knowing better than to even try to move Dean.

Widower arc. I would elaborate but do I need to?

And finally all of their arc in s15. No part of that was one sided.

I actually can’t believe we have to keep having this conversation. Before it seemed like we kept having to somehow “prove” there was a romantic element to Dean and Cas’ relationship. Now that they have explicitly stated in canon that there is, the conversation seems to have shifted to how it’s one sided. Look I’m as frustrated as anyone that Dean didn’t get to say anything, but we never considered their relationship one sided before. That’s certainly not what I saw in the show. Dude pines after his totes str8 bro friend who’s not into him is not a story I would have had any interest in. Looking at that long list above does it seem like it was one sided?

Whatever Cas felt for Dean, Dean felt it too. This has never seemed like a one sided narrative. Like you said just because the last page of the story was ripped out/wasn’t written (ie whatever you think went down) it doesn’t invalidate years upon years of consistent relationship building and emotional growth. Their story is incomplete not erased.

(And in relation to the Cas and Hannah of it all, a while back I did get curious and look that up, and you’re right. People had no problem with thinking of Cas and Hannah as romantic - when she was played by Erica Carroll. When Hannah returned in a male vessel, both Misha and the new actor Lee Majdoub played their relationship exactly the same way, the same heart eyes, the same gentle touches and soft spoken appreciation, but no one seemed to want to discuss Cas and Hannah’s romantic connection anymore. For reasons. Whatever could they be? I’m putting this in brackets though because I don’t have the sources on that and I have no intention of trawling through reddit/entertainment review sites/wherever I checked last time to find them. I do not have that in me. So there’s a chance I could be mistaken and people did discuss it, in which case I’d love to be proven wrong. Anyway that’s why this point is just at the end in brackets)

#asks #destiel #anon trust me I'm in complete agreement #we're on the same wavelength #my spn thoughts #i got a little carried away #this has just been bothering me lately #love and...love #long post

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samwontshare · 4 years ago

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Okay so I rewatched parts of Endgame to write a Sambucky fic. I haven’t seen this movie since the theaters and then S8 ep 3 Game of Thrones destroyed my life.

-The fact that The Snap took Hawkeye’s entire family way outsides the odds proves how much the universe just hates Hawkeye.

-I forgot how much I fucking love Nebula. I want more Nebula and Rhodey. Bucky and Nebula would get on, too. Disabled superheroes club unite.

-I did like the beginning of Endgame. Everyone was just so wrecked and they played it so well. Thanos living his best life in his cottage. That was great.

-I still genuinely do not understand why Steve looks at Peggy’s picture when he’s talking about bringing everyone back from the Snap because he ‘doesn’t know what he’ll do otherwise.’ Like does she represent everyone he’s lost, like Sam and Bucky, his closest connections that are actually dead from the Snap? It doesn’t make sense.

-Is that Steve running a support group because he asked himself, “What would Sam do?”

-This was actually the best scene dealing w the fallout of the Snap. The MCU was definitely not ready to address the full scope of what The Blip means and you see that lack of follow through in every movie/series post Endgame.

-Steve Rogers: “You gotta move on.” UNLESS

-“...Thanos should’ve killed all of us.” I think this is the reason Steve goes back in time, honestly. The Snap just broke him. Without Sam and Bucky, with the enormity of this failure, Steve just lost his ability to cope. Steve has always needed someone to save him from himself but they’re gone. Even though they get most people back, they still lost Tony and Nat and 5 years. Steve can’t win. And Steve Rogers cannot cope with losing. So he rewrites a history where he wins. I don’t even think it’s about not being able to get over Peggy (though they did try to shoehorn that in hard), it was about Steve needing to be in control of his life again.

-It’s one of those situations where I can understand the character’s individual choice, but from a storytelling and narrative perspective, it doesn’t make sense with the story they were telling in the Captain America movies and it’s deeply unsatisfying and confusing. It leaves so many questions and potential consequences. I wasn’t even in this fandom at the time and had zero opinions on any ships, and I was like “this makes no sense.” It still doesn’t. But you know what good for Steggy shippers, ya’ll really won. Stucky fandom, as someone who had to watch Game of Thrones S8 wreck my fandom life, I feel you. My deepest sympathies.

Anyway I skipped to the end after the support group scene. Dammit here we go:

Had to watch the final battle. Cause I had to hear Sam say on your left.

I still lowkey ship Tony/Strange

What you don’t see in the finale battle is where Sam and Bucky keep saving each other. That happened.

The backflips they had to go through to explain why Carol Danvers doesn’t end this movie in 5 minutes. Lol

Tony Stark takes no prisoners. RIP coerced alien soldiers. I have a hard time believing they couldn’t have saved Tony between a portal to Wakanda and magic but fine heroic moving death it is.

Sam didn’t have to go that hard and put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. But he did.

Okay the finale scene with Sam, Steve and Bucky. The whole reason I watched this lol. So it looks like they’re at the wreck of the Avengers compound. It’s unclear how much time passes between final battle, funeral, old man Steve and the stones. I still theorize Sam and Bucky get arrested after this because they’re fugitives and need to be pardoned.

It’s clear Steve told Bucky and fans were right about this for ages, but why not tell Sam??????? Like seriously wtf??? Couldn’t have said HEY Sam any interest in becoming the new Captain America??? 😂

That last look Steve shares with Bucky; right in my fucking heart.

So when Steve leaves he has no shield because it was destroyed by Thanos. When Steve comes back, he brings a shield to Sam. This seems to confirm the separate branch theory. The shield Sam has comes from a different timeline. Which means Steve came from a different timeline, maybe using the same tech. So it’s possible he rescued Bucky from HYDRA and he, Peggy and Bucky lived a great polyamorous life in that verse. Aw.

But that begs the question of how Steve got the shield in a different timeline. Like WHAT. Did he go find it in the Arctic? Did he convince Wakanda to make another one somehow? Like wtf? Again this ending makes no sense.

Poor Sam. He seriously has to deal with one last mindfuck, losing his best friend that he gave up everything for, and Sam being stalwart and true, just rolls with it. At least Bucky knew. Bucky had the chance to go back with Steve (but for a million reasons Bucky could never go back, that’s what this fic is going to be about lol). But Sam is just left to deal with one more loss.

Can we talk about how Bucky 100% supported Sam getting the shield from the start. Bucky was READY for Cap Sam Wilson. Bucky was like nope this shit is written.

You can see that imposter syndrome revving up to 1000% on Sam’s face. And he turns to Bucky for confirmation this is really happening.

I think this also explains why Bucky is so defensive about the shield. It really is the only thing left of his past. It’s his only tie to the Howling Commandos, to Steve, to the person he was before HYDRA took everything. And the only hope he has in staying behind is the certainty that Sam will be Cap, and that’s the hope that makes him stay. The thin vague tie to Sam and the possibility of their future. So for Sam to reject the shield, oof, I bet that felt like a rejection of Bucky himself. Because Bucky stays for Sam.

(None of this explains why Bucky then ghosts Sam. That is the biggest mystery but there are many delicious possibilities. It’s also possible that Bucky didn’t really ghost Sam - we know his flip phone is just something he has for show. He could be talking to Sam on his smart phone. And they had another falling out.)

Dear God the emotion in Sam’s face as he processes that he’s being given the shield. Cue existential crisis!!!!!

And on to TFATWS.

#endgame #sam wilson #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sambucky adjacent #I can’t handle watching Nat die again #kind of anti endgame #it’s a mixed bag #don’t make me watch the whole thing again I don’t wanna be pissed #Kat rambles about Endgame

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cajunquandary · 5 years ago

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Denim and Demon Blood

Pairing | Dean x Reader

Summary | When Dean fails to back up the Reader on a hunt, she almost pays the price.

Warnings | Canon-level violence, Drinking, Smut, Fluff, Slow burn? Constant burn? There’s definitely some burning in here.

Wordcount | 4200

A/N | This was written for @supernatural-jackles SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge, @herstarburststories Follower Celebration and @waywardsistershy Daily Imagine Prompt Two. Prompts used are in bold and all kind of smashed into each other in my head, leading me to create this. It’s is my very first time writing anything smutty and one of my first creations back from hiatus, unbeta’d as usual so any mistakes belong to yours truly. Thank you for those who cheered me on through the process! @negans-lucille-tblr @icecream-and-gadreel @thinkinghardhardlythinking @carryonmywaywardcaptain Your advice helped make this happen. FEEDBACK IS LIFE. *enjoy the bonus gif*

Y/N was nothing short of pissed. Foul blood and remnants of demon dripped from her jeans. Still heart still pounding with the raw adrenaline of the fight, she stormed out of the back alley and towards the slick black Impala idling patiently in the street. What she couldn’t decide on was what was worse? The demon catching her with her guard down, her partner not having her back, or that she’d had to rely on him anyway. For years she’d hunted alone. Why had this time been different?

Of course, she knew the reason, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

There was a very large, very handsome and charming distraction. One that nearly cost her life. If nothing else, this could not be allowed to happen again. Y/N hunted with the Winchester men from time to time when they needed backup. She knew them as nothing more than twisted monster-killing versions of coworkers. Instead of standing at a coffee pot on a midday break, she would share a round of drinks at a bar, covered in God-knows what.

She reached the car and yanked open the trunk, searching for a change of clothes in her bag. Dean advanced quickly to her side, reminding her to “be easy with the goddam car.”

Y/N ignored him, and there in the middle of the dark, empty street, pulled off her blood-soaked clothes and slipped into a spare set of pants and wool pullover. The chill of the night raised goosebumps until they covered her skin, and Dean was mesmerized by them.

“Just gonna stand there and stare, Winchester? Or are you gonna be useful and get in the car?” She snapped, feeling his eyes on her.

This broke the spell, and Dean clenched his jaw and sulked towards the driver’s door, moaning as if in pain when she slammed the trunk shut. Begrudgingly, Y/N slid into the front seat, ready for the trip back home to be over already.

Typically, Dean would turn on the radio or put in his personal cassette mix; tonight, the air of the cab was thick and heavy and all too quiet. Y/N knew that he was waiting for her to talk, to yell or at least something, but she just sat there, legs crossed and arms folded, eyes staring into nothing. She was positioned as far away from him as she could possibly be.

Dean sighed, knowing that he should have been there sooner. He should have called to tell her there were two demons rather than one. He gripped the steering wheel as tightly as possible, until his nails dug into his palms and the skin over his knuckles grew whiter than an apple core, skin protesting under the stretch. All of this could have been avoided if he’d just made the damn call instead of using it as an excuse to come see her. In his defense, he begged her to wait for him, but the hardened huntress was headstrong. Once she got a lead, she chased it like a bloodhound until it was over, one way or another.

Y/N heard his sigh and saw him tense, but she was still too upset with him. Would a phone call have really been that much of an inconvenience? Or did Dean just not give a crap? She sensed him open his mouth in an effort to speak, but no words came and his mouth clamped shut again, temple throbbing with frustration.

“Unless that’s an apology coming out of your mouth, Winchester, I don’t want to hear it.” Y/N diverted her eyes from the road towards Dean, locking onto his gaze.

Man, if her eyes were daggers, I’d be dead, Dean thought.

Her sharp, stony regard froze him for a moment, just long enough for her to break it and reach towards the radio. His hand slapped hers away in reflex, used to forcefully at times reminding Sam that driver picks the music. That was the match that lit the powder keg. Y/N punched him in the arm just hard enough to make him understand how much she was done with his bullshit.

The whole time she was seething at him, though, it was all she could do to keep her eyes off of him. It was bad enough that the whole car smelled like him—leathery and woodsy and just the right level of musk. It was intoxicating and threatened to undo her from the inside out. She struggled to hold it together, knowing she had every right to be furious with the man, but feeling the anger fade away to… something new. Something warm and growing within her core, radiating through her whole being in gentle electric waves that mirror the steady rumble of Baby’s engine.

When his hand had knocked hers away from the dash, the touch felt like a sip of cool water after wandering parched and dying through the desert for an unknown amount of time; when she’d punched him, she tried to not only make a statement, but to send the unwanted feeling back to where it came from. The attempt was unsuccessful however, and only made her want more. She was quickly losing control.

“You seem angry.”

“No shit, Dean.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘Dean’ now is it?”

“Shut up, Winchester.” She scowled, now unable to pull her eyes away from him. The sparse light of the cab lit the angles of his face beautifully. As he moved and fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, different bits of him illuminated: the edge and twitch of his jaw, clenching and unclenching, his brows furrowed, dark eyes trained on the road ahead, a thin line of sweat running from his hairline downwards, tracing his throbbing carotid down to the valley of his collarbone, pausing for a moment before continuing its journey down his chest until it disappeared behind the flannel. Y/N shook her head in a frustrated attempt to withdraw her attention from the handsome jerk.

Dean took notice of her lingering, now much kinder, eyes. He watched out of the corner of his own as her pupils dilated, giving her away. His face lifted a little in a contented smirk, shoulders rising as he adjusted his posture once more with a new found confidence.

“Why are you so angry?”

Y/N grimaced, again ripped back to the present and away from her fantasies. “You know what, I’m not anymore.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. There’s a reason I hunt alone. You can’t trust anybody but yourself,” she spat.

Dean nodded, understanding his mistake and honestly wanting to make up for it. He just didn’t know how. Talking things through always worked on Sam, so he thought he might give it a shot. “Well you still seem pissed.”

“You know what, Winchester?” Y/N pivoted in her seat so that she was completely facing him, so he could feel the full force of what she was about to unleash. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, sweetheart, and when you say I seem angry, I get angrier. And there's nothing like a mad woman. So, if you know what’s good for your pighead, stop making it worse. Besides, I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

The old car pulled into her drive, taking the bumps and dips like a champ. Y/N couldn’t wait to be far away from Dean—to see his taillights flying back out towards the road. Before Dean could even pull to a stop in front of the small cabin, Y/N leapt from the car. As fast as he could, Dean threw it in park and took out the key, discarding it on the front seat. Y/N had already retrieved her bag from the trunk and was making the short trek up to the front door. Dean bounded behind her, not wanting to lose his shot with the huntress he’d secretly grown so fond of in the last years.

Y/N reached for the doorknob, but Dean’s hand covered it first, blocking her and coming dangerously close. She could feel herself straining to touch him, to feel that electricity surge through her again, but she fought it with everything she had. She wasn’t that kind of girl. If Dean Winchester wanted a one-night stand, he would have to find it elsewhere.

The two hunters stood there, squared off at each other yet close enough to share breaths. Their eyes were locked, each determined to win against the other.

Dean broke first, slowly lifting his hand to stroke the side of Y/N’s face then cupped it tenderly. Although the touch sent shockwaves through her, expending her resolve, Y/N didn’t flinch. She caught and held her breath, steeling herself against him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know I should have called. I…” Dean’s face fell, bringing it dangerously more close to hers. “I just wanted to see you again. I missed you, and if anything had happened to you tonight I never—” His voice broke, tears gathering along his closed lashes. When he opened his eyes, the deep green of them, floodlit by the full moon above, forced the withheld breath from Y/N.

She began to tremble lightly, choking out a quiet, “Really?”

Y/N dropped the bag to the porch deck, searching his eyes deeply for answers, her mind racing miles a minute. Was this another dream? She loved and could appreciate both of the brothers, but here was Dean, standing before her, close enough to exchange body heat, asking for her. Wanting her.

He released a strained chuckle, a single tear flowing free down his cheek now. “Of course, Y/N. If I could leave all this shit behind, if it all finally ended, all I’d want to do is come home to you.”

She reached an unsteady hand to wipe it away, leaning in closer. He met her the rest of the way and let out a shaky sigh of relief when their foreheads met, lips close, parted and ready. Y/N wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, drawing her body in closer to feel every inch of him.

She whispered with closed eyes, completely enraptured in him, “I dare you to kiss me, then.”

Without hesitation, Dean scooped her even tighter in his arms, stumbling backwards into the wall of the cabin. When their lips met, Y/N shuddered. They were so warm and needy, Dean’s tongue teasing hers, making her want—no, need—more. She lifted her leg up slightly, wrapping her ankle around his, the growing bulge under his jeans so deliciously close to her raging hearth. She moaned into his mouth, dizzy and starting to lose balance.

He played on the shift and spun them around, pinning her up against the wall. With one arm braced above her, the other still around her waist, Dean pressed into her, grinning as she gasped, her mouth falling open.

“You know,” He growled playfully in her ear, teeth grazing the soft spot just behind it. “I kinda like when you’re angry.”

Y/N panted as he gently sucked and nipped along the side of her neck, desperately reaching for the words. “Oh yeah?”

He drew back, giving her a chance to catch her breath. If it weren’t for his knee between her legs, she would be a puddle on the ground. Dean took a moment to etch the image in his mind: her face flushed and shoulders relaxed, mouth slack and eyes blown, mouth slightly ajar and silently begging for more of him. He sported a large, toothy smile—the kind that made his eyes crinkle and her heart swell.

Up until this moment, Y/N had no idea the extent of her feelings. Like everything else, she stifled them, burying them deep down. For the first time, she acknowledged to herself through woozy thoughts that she had been in love with the Winchesters. Though unlike Sam, this love was different, and right now it devoured her.

Dean elaborated, taking his hand off of her waist and moving it up to the nape of her neck and grabbing a fistful of her hair. “Yeah. You’re so hot when you’re angry. I love to watch you fight.”

She tensed against his utter hold over her and gripped the front of his shirt, stretching it tightly across his chest. “You want to watch me fight, Winchester? Then let’s fight,” She dared him, lowering her eyes in defiance.

A look of pure sin drifted over his face, reminding her of the days when he wore the mark of Cain. Finding her strength again, Y/N shoved him backwards with just enough force to create a few feet of distance, then grounded her feet, ready to spar.

Dean lunged forward, hoping his shear size would be able to get her to the ground. She dodged his advance expertly, though, sending the over-excited man into the wall. Before he could turn, she leapt onto his back, arms locked around his throat, providing only enough pressure to distract him. She pressed her heel into the back of his knee, causing him to stumble and catch himself just as he approached the ground. In defense, he rolled out of the fall, releasing her grip on him.

She lay face up, considering her next move when Dean flipped back on top of her, pinning her legs down with his and securing her wrists in his hands.

“Hey!” Y/N protested. In one smooth move, Dean gripped both of her wrists in one of his against the hard wood of the deck and withdrew a set of handcuffs.

Y/N gave in to his spell, completely consumed as she gazed up at his silhouette against the starlit blanket of night, moon still casting long shadows across his determined face.

Without another word, he stood up and pulled her by the cuffs with him before tossing her over his shoulder with ease. With every step, Y/N whimpered from the heat and force of his shoulder into her lower stomach. It was a wonderful discomfort. As Dean gently opened the front door and slowly closed it behind them, she grabbed at the back of his shirt, digging hungrily for skin contact.

Dean let out a low chuckle and turned his head to kiss her hip through the thick material of her sweater, drawing a giggle from her as well. His tone changed a little, and Dean supported her gently as he laid her on the bed and fumbled for the lamp he knew was there.

With a twist and a click, warm light flooded the room, revealing puffs of cold breath in the air. Dean look over her lovingly, taking in her curves and the revisiting goosebumps present on her arms. “Would you like me to start a fire?” He asked.

“I think you already have, Dean.”

He raised his brow playfully at hearing his first name leave her lips again, loving the way it rolled out of her perfect, breathless mouth. He shook his head, a pink tint spreading over freckle-dusted cheeks. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced the key, leaning over to unlock the cuffs.

Her hands, though released, lingered on his with a strong grip. As he straightened back up, she followed, her eyes never leaving his. Y/N licked and bit at her bottom lip, struggling between needing his weight back upon her to ease the growing ache inside and knowing that this—them—couldn’t last forever.

Dean leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna go make that fire.”

As he turned to walk away, Y/N found her voice, though it was riddled with want. “Dean.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder, legs bowed more than normal to accommodate for the lack of extra room in his pants. “Do you not want to...” She trailed, worry growing in her chest that she let it go to far.

“I do if you do. I’ve wanted you for so long.” He left with an easy smile to the next room, where he began loudly tossing logs into the old fireplace.

Y/N looked down at the nightstand to her side and reached to gingerly touch the handcuffs. It was all so surreal, and her head swam. She moved to lift off her sweater, but paused when the fabric touched her nose and she accidentally breathed in his lingering and intoxicating scent. With arms suspended and sweater halfway over her head, she didn’t see him come back in.

“Need some help?” He offered. She nodded. With one hand, he lifted it away and tossed it behind him on the chair. With the other, Dean set a bottle and two glasses down next to the handcuffs. “My turn.” He shrugged out of the flannel jacket and lifted the bottom of his shirt slowly, making sure that her eyes followed the hem, taking in every muscle and scar.

Unable to stop herself, Y/N looped her fingers in his belt and yanked him closer, her lips finding the first scar and moving to the next. Dean’s skin drew tight as he flexed against the touch, and he ripped his shirt off the rest of the way impatiently. Head falling back and mouth open as her kisses grew stronger and travelled lower. The subtle grunts falling from him drove her, letting her know when she was hitting all the right spots. Her hands followed the line of his belt, barely brushing and tickling his skin as they worked closer to the clasp. When she released it, Dean snapped his head back down, hunger in his eyes. He took a faltering step back and lifted the bottle of Johnny Walker to his lips, forgoing the glass and swallowing leisurely. Y/N stood on her tip toes to reach his exposed neck and pepper it with kisses.

After a few swallows, the bottle produced a small pop as his lips released it. He let out a long, contented sigh and pressed the bottle into Y/N’s hand. She withdrew from his neck and reveled at the desire in his eyes. Wrapping her hand around to the back of his head, Y/N grasped his hair and pulled him in for a kiss. He moaned involuntarily into her mouth; brows drawn and face twisted in yearning. She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and sucked, driving him so close that she began to lose balance. Her legs grew weaker from his clothed erection pressed against the bare skin of her belly.

When she broke away, the scent of the fire wafted into the room. With the bottle in her hand already, she swallowed a draught from it before exchanging the bottle for the cuffs on the nightstand. “Can we still use these?” She asked, biting the corner of her mouth.

Dean traced his fingers from her shoulders down her arms, lifting the one still resting behind his head and combining it with the other. In a blink, the cuffs were back on her.

“Well, Winchester, what are you waiting for?” She purred, bound hands pawing at the puzzle of his pants button.

“That’s Dean to you, darlin’.” He took a step forward and guided her down with him to the bed, the coolness of the blankets sending chills through them both.

Y/N ran her fingers through his hair as he wrestled out of his jeans, fingertips tingling as they lifted it the opposite direction than it always lay. She pouted when he moved too far out of reach while kicking his pants off of the last ankle. She lifted her arms above her head and angled to get a better view of him and drew in a sharp breath at the sight. Dean was fully exposed now, his erection long and heavy resting in his hand.

He felt her reaction and whipped his eyes up to study her face, brows stitching together again and clenching his teeth, lips parted slightly.

Y/N was squirming, lids blinking heavily at the glorious sight of him. Her hands flew to her own jeans and she fought with them desperately and lamenting at the sudden difficulty. “Fuck,” she prayed aloud.

Dean’s tongue flicked between his teeth and he pulled at his bottom lip as he teased her, his hand slowly caressing the length of him.

“Fuck, Dean! Please!”

“That’s better, Y/N. Please what?”

“Dean, please, help me out of these!”

Dean obliged, but pulled her bottoms and underwear down tantalizingly slow. She writhed in need, starved of his touch. When she moved too much, Dean would stop and wait for her to calm, until her arms were again outstretched above her head. By the time she was finally bare, tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes and her little moans had grown almost constant.

He began his kisses at her navel and worked his way down to the hollow of her hips. Before reaching the part she so urgently needed release from, he stopped and crawled on top of her, resting his legs up against hers and pulling a loose blanket up and over them.

Dean then relaxed so that his dick settled right in between the outside of her folds and seized the resulting cry from her lips with his. She balled her fists and tried to wrap her restricted arms around him, but the sharp metal bit into her wrists. In an effort to assuage the tight coil within her, Y/N began to push and rub her soft skin against his.

Dean whined and gasped from the friction and the heat of them quickly filling the blanket. He began to knead her back. He nipped along her collarbone, letting his head lay on her chest. Her heartbeat echoed loudly into his ear, her chest rising and falling quickly with shallow breaths. He tracked his hand down the valley of her breasts, stopping just a moment on each one to lift and massage deeply, then down the midline of her stomach to her waiting pussy. “Oh, fuck. You’re so wet!”

Y/N shook at the stroke of his perfectly calloused hands on the delicate skin. She garbled out, “D-dean… Please, I… I need you inside me.”

Unable to hold out any longer, Dean guided his tip to her entrance and thrust himself into her, taking several attempts before bottoming out because she was so tight. She spread her knees apart father until her legs held him firmly in place, her ankles anchoring the vice grip. The symphony of moans, whimpers and pleading coming from Dean filled her just as much as his cock did, stretching her to her absolute limits. Just as they’d practiced on the porch, Y/N rolled him onto his back and began to grind back and forth, occasionally shifting her position, paying special attention to the angles when each new sound came out of him. His head was pressed back into the pillow and he arched his back slightly to correct the angle of his public bone, making beautiful sounds as she moved.

As the bone hit and bore down on her clit, every cell in her body began to unravel. She stammered out his name as she clenched tighter and tighter, growing louder all the while. Just as he felt her about to come, Dean pulled her flat to his chest by the handcuffs so when she broke, he felt every bit of it. The shock waves hit her like a tsunami; she barely noticed when they rolled back over so he was on top and back in control.

Dean drove into her at a solid pace—not too fast, not too slow. He wanted to savor every moment. As Y/N slowly regained power over herself, she countered his thrusts. As he continued his pace, his shaft reached deeper and harder with every move. Dean began to quake and opened his eyes to finds hers.

“God I’m gonna… I’m close, Y/N.”

“Keep going baby, come inside me, it’s okay.” Her words pushed him to the edge. He tried so hard to draw it out longer, but when she locked her lips with his passionately, sucking and pulling, he tremored and released. Y/N jolted at the pulsing quiver of his dick within her, eyes closed tightly as her walls clenched around him, extracting every bit of him before he crumpled into her.

Chasing their breaths together, it was a while before either of them moved. Dean reached for the key, unlocked the cuffs, causing them to clatter loudly to the floor, then took her small, capable hands in his. He propped his head up on his elbow, enjoying the spent look on her face.

All Y/N could focus on were the deep green folds of his eyes, getting lost in the emerald lakes in the warm light of the cabin.

Dean gave a closed-lip smile as he leaned forward a bit to lay a kiss on her forehead. “Do you want to share a shower?”

She nodded, still drowning in those deep waters. “Will you stay?” She whispered.

“As long as I can, Y/N.”

“Then can I go with you?”

Dean paused for a moment thoughtfully. “Well, that may be for the best. By now, I bet neighbors know my name.”

She laughed and snuggled into him, her head resting on his arm. Maybe we do have a chance at a future after all.

Forevers:

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby

All about that Dean:

@akshi8278

#chris writes #herstarburststories #supernaturaljackles #biweekly writing challenge #SPN #supernatural #denim and demon blood #dean x reader #smut #i hope combing everything is okay #because i swear i had like four different fics going and then they all turned into this #mushy madness

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lexiepiper · 5 years ago

Text

Reflection

Hey @danthectoman, I was your backup Truce gifter! I hope you enjoy this bitter(sweet) Dan thermos fic!

I know my blog’s formatting sucks, I haven’t been able to change it yet, but you can read it on Ao3 or ff if you’d prefer.

There wasn’t much else to do but seethe.

His body, compressed down to mist, strained against the smooth metal walls. He pressed, and prodded, and tried again and again to pop the seal, but it held eternally firm, and he was left with nothing but thoughts in the darkness.

So he softly settled, like low-lying fog across fields, and sulked.

His anger pulsed at first, and every time he thought about things, his core would flare and he would pound himself against the lid once more. Still, it never budged, and he always ended up sinking back into simmering stillness before his thoughts caught up with him and his fury inevitably swelled again.

It was a dark, stagnant cycle, and he didn’t know how long it had been going on until a tiny thought wormed its way through the haze of agitation. Jazz would be disappointed.

It caught him off-guard, and he paused in yet another attempt to break the seal.

She would be, wouldn’t she?

The thought held a bite of anger, and he coiled in readiness to throw himself against the lid again, but before he could lose himself in his rage he managed to picture her. Time had worn her smooth, and she was little more than long red hair pulled away from her face with a teal headband, and fragments of smiles and hugs that always carried more love than he ever felt from anyone else. He pooled again at the bottom of the thermos, trying to fit the glimpses of memory back together. He couldn’t picture her fully, but the more he tried, the more she slid into place in his mind.

His parents followed quickly, and sorrow pricked his core when he realised that he couldn’t remember what his mother’s smile looked like, or the scent of the aftershave that his dad had worn. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to think about them, and now this tiny effort was far too late.

The deep, hollow ache in his core flared up, like an old wound that never really went away, and he curled in on himself. He wanted to stop thinking about them, to make the yawning emptiness fade into the background once again, but he just couldn’t stop himself… His family sprang back to the forefront, whose faces were blurred by time, and who had never known the truth about him. He wondered if things would have been different, had they known. He tried to picture it — ghost hunting with his parents, or making ectocookies, or trying to dodge Jazz when she ruffled his hair after he had easily caught The Box Ghost yet again.

The imagined scenes brought a fresh wave of pain. He’d never told them, and now they’d never know, because they were dead. They were dead, and it was his fault.

He had no physical body to cry with in the thermos, but he burned with the thick heat of grief, and Dan wrapped his misty form tighter around his core. He stayed there, pressed against the cold circular floor of his prison, while his core trembled and his mind dwelt on the little things that made up the people he’d lost. If he thought about it, he could almost smell Sam’s shampoo, or picture the shape and colour of Tucker’s glasses. He didn’t remember if Jazz’s shirt had been black or white that day, or if his parents had been holding hands when they walked into the meeting. He spared a small thought for Mr Lancer too, but then returned to trying to recall what his mother’s perfume smelled like.

He dug deeper into his memory, and every resurfacing detail felt like pulling out a splinter. It was painful in the moment, but once he stopped fighting the memory, and allowed the thoughts to linger, the pain was not so much that of continual hurt, but more akin to the ache of healing.

Sam’s shampoo had been a vegan one that smelled like roses, and Tucker’s glasses were large half-moons with black frames. Jazz’s shirt was also black, his mother smelled like orange blossoms, and right there at the end, they had been holding hands.

He missed them.

He missed them, and there, coiled as compressed ectoplasmic mist, he realised that he still loved them.

He had no mouth or throat, but Dan’s amorphous body clenched and spasmed in the closest thing to a cry, and he tried to remember as much as he could.

He reached for old memories, of the sound of screeching locker doors, and that his mother would always fold his socks so that the edges lined up perfectly, and how sand felt when it crunched and squeezed between his toes, and Dan realised that his family and friends weren’t the only people he missed.

He missed rain on his skin, and the taste of lime, and the way it felt to sleep in jeans after a long day, and a million other little things that made up the sum of life.

He missed Danny.

He missed himself.

He’d never thought that before, so swept up in the rage of abandonment, and then… then the rage of bloodlust. His core shivered, and he tried not to think about it. He tried to dredge up those nicer, softer memories, of picnics and sunsets and life, but every attempt was swept away by the sheer force of blood-drenched gloves and dying, screaming souls.

He’d started with himself, and then had never stopped… but now that he’d been stopped, and left in a soup can to rot? Now, he had time to think, and the more he thought, the more he remembered.

People had been so easy to kill. At the time, it gave him a rush of excitement, of winning the hunt… but now, if he’d had a stomach, it would have been rolling with bile. Unlike the hazy memories of happier times, he could picture every person he’d killed in crystal clear detail.

They rushed him, breaking through the mental walls that he tried to throw up, until all he could do was cower at the bottom of the thermos and face how each of them had looked in their final moments. Each terrified expression drove shards of revulsion deeper into his core, and these visions continued in an unrelenting wave until he had revisited every single victim, and felt the horror and guilt that had been so absent when their lives had ebbed away beneath his cruel fingers. He didn’t know how long it took, but when it was over, all he could do was lie there and steep in the blood that stained his soul.

He wished he had never done it.

He would do anything to have never done it.

As soon as the thought presented itself, Dan felt a vibration stutter through his prison. The thermos shuddered, and then the compression was gone, and Dan burst out of the darkness into a light that burned his eyes with its sudden intensity after so long in the darkness. He curled in mid-air, pressing the heels of newly-formed palms against freshly-made eyes and hissing in discomfort.

When he finally came to himself, the first thing he noticed was a soft, repetitive ticking. It was strangely familiar but misplaced, like the wrong lyrics being sung to a familiar tune. Dan shuddered, dropping his hands and squinting in the light. His core fluttered with the strain of his unrelenting emotional storm, and if he were a weaker being he might have worried about it collapsing due to stress.

He glanced around, frowning at the sight of a ghost screwing the cap back onto the thermos.

“Who are you?”

The ghost regarded him with red eyes, one of which was struck through by an impressive scar. “You know who I am.”

Its voice rasped like sand shifting, and brought to mind the endless dunes of a desert, eternally changing with the ravages of time.

He did know. “Why now?” Dan snapped, but the snippiness was somewhat lost from his tone as his core heaved with fresh guilt. “When I first learned of your existence, and searched the Ghost Zone, I could never find you.”

The ghost didn’t respond, and Dan shook his head as anger finally began to trickle back into his core. It pushed the guilt aside in its demand to be felt. “You… you hid from me!” he shouted, flinging out an arm for emphasis. “You knew what I would do, but when I came to find you, to… to fix this,” he gestured to himself, “you left me on my own! What did that other Danny have that I wasn’t good enough for, Old Man?!”

The ghost of time rippled, and his form changed into a younger man. “Come,” he said, and floated through an open archway set in the wall.

Dan paused. The room he’d been released into was nothing more than a small alcove, with a pedestal that must have housed the thermos up until now. Frustration bloomed in him, but it was quickly overcome with a spark of disbelief.

He was free?

After so long, it felt impossible. He immediately yearned for open spaces, whether the expanse of the Zone or the wide blue sky of Earth, it didn’t matter. He just had to get out of here.

He could run, but if that strange cloaked ghost with the ticking clock in its chest really was who Dan suspected, then he doubted that he’d get very far. Besides, it’s not like he had anywhere that he could run to, anyway.

Loneliness ripped through him, and Dan clenched his teeth and flew through the archway before the crushing grief could come pouring back. “Hey!” he shouted, speeding to catch up with the figure that was floating leisurely down a long, narrow corridor lined with large clock faces that all displayed different times.

The other ghost reached a door recessed between two massive clock faces just as Dan caught up. “Come, Daniel.”

The simple address struck him like a blow, and Dan recoiled, his hand flying to his chest to clutch at the HAZMAT. “That’s not my name,” he choked. “I’m not… him.”

The time ghost paused with a hand on the ornate doorknob. “Maybe not the way you used to be,” he demurred, “but in many ways, Daniel, you’re still you.”

Dan’s core clenched, and the shadows behind the clocks deepened as his hair flared in an inferno of white flames. “Don’t you get it, Clockwork?” he shrieked, the slight tether of self-control crumbling away. “I killed people! Millions and millions of innocent people! I murdered children, and can still see their faces, and feel their blood dripping off my hands! I am not your precious Daniel!”

Clockwork’s hand dropped back to his side, and he turned so that they were facing each other. His gaze was soft and achingly sad, and the ticking of the clock inlaid in his chest sparked a pang of longing that Dan didn’t even know he could still feel.

He shoved it away. “Why didn’t you save me?” he choked, and his core felt like it would smother him. “You saved him, with your time travel and your second chances. What was so special about him, anyway? Why did he get them back, while I became his lesson?”

Clockwork folded his arms across his chest. The watches lining his wrists flashed in the brilliant light of Dan’s hair. “Saving comes in many ways, Daniel. If I wasn’t going to help you then you’d still be in that thermos.”

“I don’t need your help,” he snapped.

Sad red eyes bored into his. “Don’t you wish that you could take it all back?”

The question pierced him to his soul, and Dan faltered, sinking so that his feet hit the tiles. His knees buckled and he sagged, leaning against the wall and grasping his chest as a half-forgotten sound squeezed where his ribs should have been and wormed its way up his throat and out through gritted teeth. It took a moment to recognise the sob for what it was, and by then, another one had broken out as well.

He tamped down on the emotion, blinking burning eyes and leaning heavily against the wall. “Yes,” he choked. “I… I want nothing more.”

The ancient ghost sighed, and it sounded like the faraway chime of a forgotten clock. “Come,” he said again, reaching for the handle once more and swinging the door open. “You are my ward, Daniel, no matter what form you take. I would fight all powers in the realms to give you peace.”

Dan blinked as an undeniable warmth wrapped itself around his core. “Oh,” he breathed, and for a moment, the pain melted away and he felt like Danny Fenton for the first time in what could have easily been a thousand years. It was nice, but overwhelming in its abruptness, and he sank to his knees. “But… but I’m still half Plasmius,” he managed to say past the swelling comfort that cocooned him like a blanket.

Clockwork shrank until he was in the form of a child, his eyes once again level with Dan’s kneeling form. “Without that half, you’re not stable,” he said, and laid a tiny hand on Dan’s shoulder. “You were stronger, and absorbed him. You have his powers, and his temper, but beneath that, you’re still Daniel Fenton.”

The comforting warmth continued to thicken around him, and Dan screwed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against Clockwork’s shoulder. “Are you adopting me?” he choked as he recognised the bonds forming between their cores.

He felt the other ghost nod. “Technically, you’ve been my ward for over a thousand years now. I just had to leave you in that thermos until you came to your senses.”

“What, you left me in time out for a thousand years?” Dan retorted, but the words lacked any bite.

Small fingers brushed through his flaming hair, and he forced down a shudder at how unexpectedly nice it felt.

“You needed to experience regret,” Clockwork explained, and gently pulled back from the hug. “You had to want to change the past so badly that you’d do anything. You weren’t going to change until you were ready to.”

Dan leaned against the wall again. He still felt wonderfully warm and cared for in a way that he never had, not even during his distant, fleeting time alive. “I do,” he said, and tried not to think about how cheesy this all was, “and I will.”

Clockwork smiled then, and the scar that slashed through his eye crinkled with the expression. He reached out a hand and Dan grasped it. “Come,” he said, shifting into the form of a young adult and pulling Dan off the floor with the change. “You have some time travelling to do.”

#Danny Phantom #Christmas Truce 2020 #holiday truce 2020 #lexiepiper #dantheectoman

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amythedvdhoarder · 5 years ago

Text

Memories to Keep

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You discover Bucky keeps diaries about his life, who knew they would change yours?

Warnings: Some swearing, little bit of angst and a whole load of fluff

Word count: 3K

A/N: (gif not mine) Ahhh the return to Bucky fluff. This is for the lovely @angelinathebook and her 300 challenge. I had the prompt “The memories I have with you, are the best memories I have.” I tried to be a little more creative with this one so I hope you like it.

Not beta read, any mistakes are my own.

Reblogs and feedback are most welcome, so let me know what you think x

Masterlist

xxx

An odd scratching noise woke you from your slumber. You squinted across the bed to see the bedside lamp on and your boyfriend still sat up in bed.

“Buck, what’s going on?” you murmured, still half asleep.

“Sorry doll, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Buck reached across and gently swiped his thumb across your cheek.

“ ‘s okay.” You pushed yourself up so that you leaning against the headboard, drawing your knees up so that you were mimicking Bucky. After rubbing your eyes and blinking a couple of times you looked across at him and spotted a notebook resting against his thighs and a pencil in his hand.

“So that was what the scratching sound was. I thought we had mice,” your voice wavering slightly as you stretched your arms out in front of you.

“Nope no mice doll, just writing,” he chuckled softly.

“We’ve been going out for 6 months and known you for 2 years. I don’t think I have ever seen you writing before.”

“I’m not surprised, you sleep like a log. I normally wait ‘til your asleep doll,” you elbowed him gently and he clutched his arm in mock hurt.

“Hey you know what I’m like if I don’t get my 8 hours.” Bucky rolled his eyes at you and grinned.

“Yeah I learnt that the hard way. I remember trying to get you up for breakfast after one of Tony’s parties, I was actually terrified you were going to murder me,” Bucky couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

“In my defence I was hungover and it was 8 in the morning, to be honest that was entirely your fault,” you yawned and leaned over to snuggle up against Bucky who lifted up his arm to let you get closer.

“What you writing anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You can ask me whatever you want doll, it’s um-” he scratched his head with the end of the pencil as he tried to find the right word “- a diary I guess, just stuff I don’t want to forget.”

Your brows furrowed together and you tilted your head up to look at him properly. “What do you mean forget?”

A sadness filled his eyes as he looked at you. “Um I know what it’s like not to remember things, if I keep a diary then if, you know the soldier ever got activated then –“ his words tailed off and he sighed heavily, “-it’s like an insurance policy. It took ages for me to remember everything before. There is stuff that’s happened recently that I can’t afford to forget.” There were tears in his eyes now, lips pressed into tight line.

You nuzzled into his chest, arm tightening around his stomach squeezing him gently. He leaned down and placed a kiss to the top of your head. “You know that’s not going to happen Buck, don’t you? Shuri made sure that would never happen.”

“I just can’t run the risk doll,” he placed another quick kiss and closed his notebook, the pencil marking his the page and put it on the bedside table. “I’m gonna get a drink, you want one?” You untangled yourself from his so he could get off the bed. You smiled and shook your head.

As Bucky expected you were asleep again. He picked up his notepad from where he had left it, gingerly clambered back into bed as to not wake you. After his finished writing his entry for the day he clicked of the lamp and curled himself around your body. Even in your sleep you instinctively moved, pushing your body against him and gripping onto the arm he had thrown over your waist.

Bucky knew he couldn’t live without you. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would ever meet someone like you, that would let him in, treat him as normal person. He had never felt a love like it. Steve cared about him deeply and showed him every day. But you. He didn’t deserve you, the looks of adoration you aimed at him every time he walked into a room. He treasured every second he had ever spent with you even before you were together as a couple.

From the moment he had met you he knew there could never be anyone else. He had resigned himself to being your friend but when you had asked him out he could have exploded with joy. The thought of losing you made his chest tighten but he knew that one day something could come between you, that was part of the reason behind the diaries. He needed evidence that his time with you wasn’t just a dream but something real. Bucky had never imagined himself with a wife or kids or even a proper future until he met you. As he listened to your soft sighs as you slept he knew exactly what he had to do.

xxx

The other side of the bed was empty when you woke. As you stretched out like a starfish your fingers brushed up against a piece of paper. You took hold of it to see Bucky’s distinctive cursive writing on it.

‘Sorry doll, didn’t want to wake you. Gone on an emergency mission should be back later tonight. Can you do something for me Y/N? (I’m gonna assume you’re going to agree J ) Please open my bedside cabinet?”

Quickly you climbed off the bed and knelt down in front of his bedside table and pulled open the door. Inside there was a small pile of leather-bound notebooks, similar to the one Bucky had been writing in last night. On top of these was another note.

‘These are all my journals from the last couple of years. Please read them and hopefully you will understand. I love you, B xxx”

So that is exactly what you did. You got yourself settled with a cup of tea and some snacks and hid yourself away in yours and Bucky’s room, knowing that it was the best place to avoid interruptions. The oldest of the books were written during Bucky’s time in Wakanda. It detailed the joy of having Steve back, making friends with Shuri and finding some acceptance of what he had been through and the reality of starting over again. He even hinted that birdbrain (Sam) didn’t seem too bad, he appreciated how loyal he had been to Steve and how he had sacrificed his own freedom for him.

When you got to the second book you found yourself reading about the first time you met Bucky.

Wakanda - August 2018

Steve showed up and said the world is about to end. Surprisingly not the most interesting thing to happen today. A woman showed up with Steve, Y/N. No words would adequately describe her. She’s breath-taking and her smile lit up the room. I can still feel her hand in mine from when she shook me hand. There was no trace of fear when she introduced herself. Maybe she doesn’t know about me. All I know is before she showed up the end of the world didn’t seem too bad but now all I want is a chance to get to know her a little better. Steve better be wrong about tomorrow.

New York - August 2022

5 years. I’ve lost 5 years of my life but on the upside the world didn’t actually end. Steve looks different; tired and there is a sadness to him. Y/N came and found me, turns out she wasn’t ‘dusted’. She said that the last five years had been awful. The world had changed and tried to move on as no one ever expected the team to succeed. But they hadn’t given up. She looks exactly the same as she did when I met her, which oddly was only yesterday for me but 5 years for her. Even covered in dirt and blood she was still the most beautiful person I have laid eyes on.

We sat and talked for hours whilst Steve was busy with the aftermath. I don’t think I have met anyone so easy to talk to, despite the day that she’d had she still managed to smile and laugh. Even though not much had happened to me in the grand scheme of things, she checked that I was alright and showed little concern for herself. When she left to find somewhere to sleep for the night she promised to catch me up on everything that had happened over the last 75 years. I never planned on re-joining the real world, I was just going to be a recluse and farm in Wakanda. Y/N makes me want more than that, is it possible that I can have a ‘normal’ life. Do I deserve it? All I know is that I haven’t been excited about anything for a long time, probably not since going to Coney Island with Steve. Now I am excited to start living again with Y/N as my guide.

You took a break at this point overwhelmed by what you were feeling. You could remember meeting Bucky for the first time; you had been so nervous. Steve had told you so much about him that you felt like you already knew him. Immediately you had been distracted by his eyes, they were impossibly blue and you could have spent hours looking into them. You had felt an immediate connection with him. But then of course Thanos happened and Bucky was ripped from your life before you even had chance to get to know him. All of the pain and challenges of those five years felt worth it the moment you saw Bucky again. You felt hopeful again. You had never known that he felt exactly the same way so early on.

For the next few hours you poured over Bucky’s journals, each page you turned your heart melting even more. As the diary entries moved on the content shifted. Most of what Bucky wrote was about the time he spent with you as you reintroduced him to the modern world. He outlined the moments where he realised he wanted more that friendship with you, the moments he started falling more and more in love with you. The first time you watched a film with him, the first time you ate lunch together, the first time you hugged him, your first date, your first kiss, the first time you admitted you loved each other. Each first was described in such detail you could see it all from his perspective. You had never felt so loved or in love with him. To anyone else this may seem a little obsessive or creepy but to you it made perfect sense. Bucky was afraid that one day he wouldn’t have his memories anymore, the thought of forgetting all the time he had spent with you terrified him. So, he wrote it all down to preserve it, that way he couldn’t forget everything, forget you.

The fourth journal was the most recent. Bucky last entry was clearly the one he had started last night; the writing stopping midway through a sentence when you had clearly woken up and interrupted him. You flopped back onto the bed, your head landing on Bucky’s pillow, his diary clutched to your chest. Inhaling you took in that scent that was distinctly Bucky, a serene calmness washing over you. You weren’t sure why you did it but you turned to the next page. There was some writing there. Maybe Bucky had missed a page a while ago? You moved the page closer to your face so you could read it better. It was dated with today’s date.

Today is the day. I can’t wait any longer. You are the reason I still exist, you’re my everything. I realise that until I had you in my life I wasn’t living, simply existing. There is nothing in this world that I value more than the time we have spent together. The memories I have with you, are the best memories I have. With this in mind there’s one more thing I need to ask you to do doll.

Your eyes blurred with tears as you read the next line. Climbing off the bed, you quickly freshened up in the bathroom, pulled on some proper clothes and grabbed you bag before heading out the door. Bucky’s diary abandoned on the bed, open the last page he had written on.

xxx

Bucky headed straight for your room when he got back. He realised he had missed his time frame with it just having crept past midnight. This meant that you were likely in your room, curled up fast asleep in one of his t-shirts. He opened the door and noticed the light on, his diaries on the bed but worryingly you weren’t there. He glanced on the page that his diary had been left open and and immediately felt a wave of nausea.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N?” he said quietly.

“Miss Y/N is on the roof terrace Sargent Barnes.” He was already out of the door as FRIDAY finished her response.

He pushed open the doors and immediately spotted you leaning against the railings looking out over the city. Bucky’s heart was in his throat but as you turned and smiled at him, he felt instantly relieved.

“You’re late,” you teased.

Bucky covered the distance between you in a couple of long steps and went to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away. “Doll, come on. I missed you,” he pouted.

“I know, I missed you too but I have something to give you first,” you pulled the small leather-bound book out of the pocket of your trench coat and offered it to Bucky.

He took the book from your hand and inspected it with a look of utter confusion. “Doll isn’t this one of my books?”

“Nope, it’s new. I went out and bought it today,” you rolled your eyes at him. “Why don’t you open it?”

On the inside cover her spotted an inscription.

To the love of my life,

From the first day I met you I knew I wanted to be in your life, whether that was as a friend, a lover or even a wife. Don’t ask me how I knew back then, maybe I didn’t, but every minute I spend with you just affirms what I know with all my heart. I can’t live without you James Barnes. I will spend every day showing you that because you are the best man I know. Today is the day you asked me to marry you and today is the day I say yes.

This book is for you to write down our memories, the ones created as husband and wife. Love always Y/N xxx

“Not factually correct anymore as you’re late,” you wiped away the tears that had slipped from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his own tears falling and his signature lopsided grin plastered to his face. “Doll, do you mean it?”

“Yes Bucky, I want to marry you. I’ve loved you for years, but reading your diaries-“ you sniffed as your emotions started to overwhelm you. “I love you, you’re –“ Your words were cut off when Bucky swept you up in his arms and swung you around, all the while peppering your face with butterfly kisses.

He finally put you down, one hand cupping your cheek and tilting your head up so that your watery eyes met his. “I love you. You’re my everything. I know I should have got on one knee and had a ring but I just couldn’t wait,” he was rambling now. “Shit, I shouldn’t have asked you by writing the question in a diary. I’m so-“

You stood up on your tiptoes and crashed you lips to his in an attempt to shut him up.

“Buck, it was perfect ok? I don’t care about a ring or a fancy proposal. I’m yours. I don’t need a piece of jewellery to know that. Plus, your way was a lot more romantic” He leaned his forehead against yours and sighed. “But, if it makes you feel better then ask me again,” you grinned.

He pulled away, placed the notebook carefully on the floor and got on one knee. “Y/N will you-“

“Yes” you blurted out. Bucky shook his head.

“You’re supposed to let me finish the question,” he chuckled. You mouthed sorry at him and pretended to zip up your lips.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Easiest question I have ever been asked. Yes, I will marry you Bucky Barnes.”

As soon as he stood again his mouth was on yours, his hands lightly gripping the side of your face keeping you close. Instinctively your hand went up to rest on his chest as you sighed into the kiss. His lips were soft, and gentle. There was no sense urgency in the way your lips moved against each other’s. There was no need. You had all the time in the world.

Taglist is open so let me know if you want in or out

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 , @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog, @angrythingstarlight, @drabblewithfranny, @rogueheretic555, @rebekahdawkins

#lenas300challenge #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky x you #bucky fluff #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #marvel #marvel fanfics #marvel imagine #writing challenge

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fanfictiongalore · 4 years ago

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College Monsters - Part 2

Chapter 2:

The group leaves the library, curious and in suspense of what information they’re going to find on their old friend.

Back in Luis and Joel’s dorm, all huddled around Luis and his laptop. They go through every single result pertaining to Sam and Dean, including news articles from different states about the brothers being wanted for everything under the sun including credit card fraud, breaking, and entering, grave desecration and murder. Surprised by what they’re reading, Gabe accidentally blurts ‘What great lives they’ve led’. They exit that page and click on the next one, which shows a video of a man in a weird pig mask, talking to a camera in front of another man, laying and strapped down to a metal table. The man in the mask explains that he’s got something special, a new item. ‘Introducing, Mr. Sam Winchester!’. They’re dumbfounded. They’re left speechless in regard to what they’re watching.

‘That’s Sam? He looks so much different from the last time we saw him.’ Sarah accounts. ‘What is this, some kind of stupid sketch?’ Joel asks, but no one answers. ‘He looks scared, this doesn’t feel right.’ Luis remarks as the masked man starts listing off numbers and exclaims ‘SOLD! And now, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s begin the auction for Sam Winchesters heart!’, he points to Sam strapped down and struggling on the table ‘Can we stop this?’ Sarah asks as the man points a gun to Sam’s head and as soon as the bullet fires, they all look away. Scared to look back at the screen, they hear ‘show’s over’ from a man they don’t recognize. Joel slowly turns back, expecting to see his old friend dead. ‘Guys he’s okay.’ The other three, terrified of what they might see on the screen, peer suspensefully at the screen but to their surprise, they see Sam, still alive on the table, breathing heavily and a man in a long black coat, untying the brown leather straps that held his brother down.

The group, all except for Luis, move back from the screen. Luis keeps his hunched position in front of the screen, he doesn’t move. ‘What is wrong with those guys’ Gabe asks, with no answer from the others. Sarah hesitates, ‘Do you think… they’re still alive?’, Luis’ hand shakes in fear as he exits that tab and clicks another link, this time finding a forum called “The Lose-chesters”… ‘That’s a… that’s a great name’, Sarah remarks, clearly laughing at the name opposite to their last names. Some of the posts are recounting experiences the anonymous people have had with the brothers; other posts show photos taken of the boys to alert other “monsters”, as they’re called on the site, to their locations. “The big tree and the meerkat are in Baltimore Maryland, watch out.”, Gabe reads the username of the person that posted it, ‘What kind of name is “Vamp_1ady” anyway?’ They shuffle against each other, clearly uncomfortable and unable to say anything. Time passes as the others sit down on Joel and Luis’ bed, slowly pulling out books to read and passing out on their beds. Luis, still sitting at the computer hours later clicking on different links over and over, doesn’t even realise that it’s now 6am. He should get some sleep. His butt is numb from not moving all night, his legs are shaky, and his back is burning from hunching. With his stuttering legs, he stands up and slowly stumbles over to his bed where he finds Sarah, with her glasses falling off her face and a book in front of her. He looks over to his roommate’s bed and finds his friends Gabe and Joel inching ever so closely to each other, asleep. ‘Cute.’ He thinks as he flops onto his bed and instantly, his eyes fall shut as if they’re being weighed down by a ships anchor.

The next day

The boys parked outside an older diner just outside , waiting to leave. ‘Dean, I don’t understand why you insist on getting pie now when we’re a few miles away from the college. They have perfectly fine pie there.’ Sam, sitting and waiting impatiently in Baby reading about the case they’re headed towards. ‘You don’t know that Sammy’, Dean remarks but doesn’t register Sam’s confused expression. ‘I went to school there, does your old-man-brain remember that? I’ve tried every single mediocre college food and pie they have there.’ Sam, with a prideful expression plastered on his face, becomes intimidated as his brothers turns from happiness and pure pie-induced bliss to frustration. ‘You know, if I didn’t love pie and Baby, I would have thrown this at you right about now. Watch yourself’.

‘’Yeah, sure. Ok so about the case it’s obviously at Stanford and students have reported a giant rat creature chasing them down the streets during at around 12-2am every night. One sophomore student, Lily Franchi, barely escaped it and got away with a fractured forearm. She says the creature held her down, bit and began twisting it around probably trying to tear it off, it’s a miracle that her elbow didn’t explode.’ Dean finishes his pie and interrupts, ‘She was pinned to the ground, and it was trying to rip off her arm? How did she even get away?’, Sam, still troubled by this himself answers ‘No one knows, according to other students and a professor, it just up and left. One student caught a video of it too, here’, Sam pulls out his phone and plays the video for Dean, a blood-curdling scream coming from Lily and other sounds like car horns and shouting from the people behind the camera can be heard.

‘Man, Splinter really let himself go huh?’ Sam, pulling his confused puppy face ‘The rat from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?’ Dean says, probably even more confused that Sam doesn’t understand his reference. ‘Whatever’ He starts the car and they’re off to Stanford, once again. After a while of driving, they get closer to the school, the former student becomes more anxious by the second just by the thought of going back there and seeing his old friends and being unable to answer the questions they’d have, his heartrate fastens and it feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest, he begins to shake, ‘Where did you go? Where have you been these past few years? Why didn’t you come back?”, he feels a pit grow in his stomach and grabs Dean’s jacket sleeve without realising.

Dean looks at him and instantly pulls the car over ‘Sam? Sammy, you, ok?’ Sam opens the door, jumps out and hunches over waiting, eyes closed hesitantly for something to come up from his stomach. Dean follows and rushes around the car to his side ‘Sam? What’s wrong?’ Sam looks up at Dean with a small river of tears in his eyes, still trying to calm down ‘Nothing, nothing. I’m fine. I was just- just overthinking.’ Dean reaches into the car and pulls out a bottle of water, handing it to Sam, now crouching on the ground like a scared dog with its tail between its legs. ‘Thanks’ Dean sits next to Sam and waits for him to calm down so they can get back on the road. ‘No problem.’ They sit there for ten minutes. ‘You wanna tell me what that was about?’ Dean questions him. Sam, whose hair is covering his face, doesn’t even look up. ‘I was thinking about someone there.’ Dean notices a tear fall from his face onto the dirt below ‘Jess?’ Sam looks up at Dean ‘No. Someone else, still alive.’ Dean’s surprised, someone other than Jess?

Who could have triggered such a strong reaction from Sam.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #fanfiction #winchester

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f1ct1onalplaces · 4 years ago

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New to You

a/n: Hello everyone! This fic is a reader insert and takes place in Caption America: Civil War. It follows you and your significant other, Wanda. She has no romantic interest in Vision in this fic, but I leave hints that Vis likes her. I did this because I may or may not make this a series. We’ll see. Anyway, this is gender neutral so if you see anything that assumes a specific gender please let me know. Enjoy!

Summary: You try to cheer Wanda up but end up burning something in the process and when you try again you're interrupted by an unexpected guest.

TW: little bit of violence, mention of death, language, angst, self-doubt, kissing

"Oh m'god, oh m'god, oh m'god," I say as smoke seeps out from the oven. Quickly, I grab the oven mitts, open the oven, and grab the pan of burnt brownies while my eyes water from the intoxicating fumes. I drop them on the counter before using the mitts as a fan to try and disperse the smokey air before the smoke detector picks it up.

"What the hell is going on here," I hear a thick Sokovian accent say from down the hall. I pay little attention to her chuckles as I continue to fight the smoke. My peripheral vision makes out her outline leaning against the door frame. From just that I know she's dressed in a black long sleeve, a black jacket, a skirt that stops mid-thigh, knee-high socks, chunky black heel boots, and her layered jewelry. Wanda's usual style. I give a sheepish grin and shrug as she pushes off the wall to make her way towards me.

"Babe, you know cooking isn't your best skill." I laugh.

"You don't have to tell me twice," I respond continuing to fan the gray air around us. "I just thought I could do something nice. Guess not." Wanda rolls her eyes at my obvious attempt for pity. She grabs the makeshift fans from my hands, ignoring my grumbling protests, and proceeds to do her own thing. Her hands raise as red power flows throughout the room, gathering the smoke together. Once it's all encased within her power she releases it through an open window.

"Now that wasn't so hard." She croons to me. I huff and stare at my charred brownies.

"Say's the enhanced superhuman." Footsteps thud against the concrete and stop directly behind me. Hands slip around my waist, loosely grabbing my hips as a kiss is planted to the back of my neck.

"Your also an enhanced superhuman," She says with chin resting atop my shoulder. I shrug.

"Yeah, but all I can manage to do is turn invisible and conjure healing abilities." I place all my body weight on Wanda as I lean into her. She presses another kiss to my neck.

"Yes, that may be true but that doesn't mean your useless. Y/n your a valuable member of this team, plus you train with Nat and Cap, making you pretty skilled in combat." Her attempt to cheer me up does the exact opposite when she uses the word team. Since the UN meeting in Vienna, the "team" has divided, resulting in Cap, Sam, and Bucky being made fugitives. I decide to change the subject.

"How are you?" I ask my girlfriend. I feel the movement of her shoulders slump as she lets out a sigh.

"Guilty, horrified, ashamed." She doesn't need to say why. My body turns until our eyes meet.

"It wasn't your fault." Her head shoves into the crook of my neck.

"Yes, it was. Y/n, people are dead because of me" I shake my head and run my fingers through her hair, doing my best to comfort her.

"No, it was Cap's fault. I'm not saying it was on purpose, but he froze and didn't act quick enough. You were just cleaning up his mess." Wanda groans in my shoulder before looking back at me.

"What would I do without you." I glance over at my brownies.

"Well, you definitely wouldn't have to deal with burnt food all the time." At this, she giggles, a sound that makes me weak in the knees, before resting her forehead against mine.

"But actually, what would I do." Her green eyes peer into mine and my answer is simple.

"I could ask the same thing." Wanda smiles and leans in as close as possible without our lips touching.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" Warm air caresses my face, mixing our breaths. A smile spreads

across my face and then I'm rewarded with a smile of her own.

"Of course." Her lips press to mine. I tilt my head back, gasping at the feather-light contact. Our bodies press together, desperate to fill our minds with each other, riding the presence of our ghosts. My fingers weave into her soft locks and give a light tug, pulling a sigh from her lips. Wanda leans closer to my body, hands firmly grasping my back, causing the both of us to stumble back. We both come up for air before diving back in, rougher and heavier. My skin is searing with each touch, every graze of a fingertip against my neck or her nails following the shape of my spine are coals being thrown into a furnace. Hot and smokey. Soon her lips aren't on mine but on my neck. Her teeth skim the smooth skin below my ear, followed by kisses to soothe the sensitive area. I grip the hem of her shirt to ground my buckling knees and it isn't until my back hits the wall that I realize we never stopped moving. My hands finally loosen and slip beneath her shirt, digging into her waist. I'm not sure how far we would have gone if it weren't for the explosion. Jumping back from each other we peer out the window to see fire. Instantly, Vision appears behind us.

"What is it?" I ask, still breathless from a moment ago.

"Stay here please." Vision then goes right through the glass with his strange ghost abilities.

"Cool." I mummer under my breath as we watch him shrink with distance. Wanda tilts her head with a troubled expression.

"It's probably nothing," I say, "And if it is there's nothing Vision can't handle." Her expression stays the same. Browse furrowed, her swollen lips in a line, and blank eyes that show she isn't listening to me.

"Babe," I start but it's interrupted when Wanda spins on her heels, hands in motion with a knife. The knife is ripped from its original position by magic and shoots at a man. It stops mere inches from their face once we both recognize him. Barton flicks the knife to the ground, not a flinch insight.

“Guess I should have knocked” Wanda walks up to him with me right behind.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” His elbow bends behind him grabbing an arrow.

“Disappointing my kids,” he says as he shoots one arrow to the right, spinning around and then one to the left. “I’m supposed to go water skiing.” Quickly, Barton grabs both our hands leading us out. “Cap needs our help.” He gives a tug to my arm, properly sensing my hesitation. “Come on.” I glance over at Wanda, raising my eyebrows in question. Suddenly a voice behind us speaks.

“Clint.” We all freeze. “You should not be here.” Slowly, we all turn around to see Vision, who looks as intimidating as I’ve ever seen him. My mind races to find a way to convince Vis on letting us leave and a way to do it without anything getting physical. Barton though goes a completely different route.

“Really? I retire what, for like five minutes and it all goes to shit.” My mouth makes an O shape as I watch carefully. Though Vision would never severely hurt us I can’t help but think of what he’s capable of. To be fair, I’m dating maybe the one person that can overpower Vision.

“Please consider the consequences of your actions.” Barton doesn’t even think about his response.

“Okay, there considered.” Then from the two arrows, he shot electricity comes out, holding Vision in his grasp, for the time being. “Okay, we gotta go.” Barton and I start jogging away, but it only takes seconds for us to realize Wanda isn’t following. “It’s this way.” She stands there looking down at her feet and tugging at the sleeve of her jacket.

“I’ve caused enough problems.” My heart breaks, remembering our previous conversation. We both turn back and I’m prepared to beg her to come with us. Even if she decides not to fight, just to get out of here. But, once Barton decides to speak I leave it to him to do all the talking and instead decide to grab her hand, letting her decide.

“You gotta help me, Wanda. You wanna mope you can go to high school. You wanna make amend you get off your ass.” Then it goes to hell. His face goes blank as we both look back to see Vision our of the electricity. I pull Wanda and me out of the way as Vis goes for Clint. I grab her shoulders, making her look me in the eyes.

“Wand, you have to make a decision. I don’t want you to feel pressured, but I’m going. You need to know that whatever you decide I’ll support you, but I can’t stay here and do nothing.” Her eyes are on me though I don’t think she sees me. The look that occupies her face has changed from doubtful to perfectly poised and I don’t think it was me who got to her. I finally turn my attention back to the other two and am not surprised to see Barton in a headlock.

“Clint, you can’t overpower me,” says Vision, and that’s when I realize the plan.

"I know," he pronounces, pausing to look at Wanda. "But she can." Wanda circles in front of Vision.

“Vision that’s enough, let him go, I’m leaving” Her magic is a sphere in between her hands, fingers constantly moving to keep it alive.

“I can’t let you,” he responds. Then, vision lets go of Barton As he loses control of his ghost abilities and is forced to his knees by red magic. Vision struggles to get up and the eye contact they hold leaves an ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“I’m sorry.” He sinks closer and closer to the floor.

"If you do this they will never stop being afraid of you." The words come out in between breaths that betray how close he is to losing. His words cause my fists to ball up, angry at the way Vision chooses to say this to Wanda. Trying to insert fear within her bones in order to keep her locked up. The only reason my fist doesn't find a place in his face is partially due to his impenetrable skin, but mostly because of the way Wanda responds.

"I can't control their fear, only my own." She pushes her hands down and with that motion goes Vision. Vision’s shoved down multiple floors, creating giant holes throughout the compound. Once she stops the house is silent with the eagerness to escape before Vision recovers.

“Oh.” Barton looks down. “Come on, we got one more stop.” I grab Wanda's hand, tugging her away from what she just did, and peck her on the lips.

"You did the right thing, no one is going to blame you." I decide to leave out the part about how skeptical I am about everything, but I know Cap would never start something he knew was wrong. So, if he needs help that's what I'll do. She nods in understanding and kisses me again to show she's with me. Our little bubble is popped when we both catch Barton staring.

"So, you two are, umm." I let out a snicker at his helpless confusion. Wanda smiles before answering his incomplete sentence.

"Dating. Yes." This time he laughs.

"Good for you guys. I presume it's pretty new?" We start to jog our way out of the building and to a van pulled just outside the gates.

"New to you," I say elongating the last word.

"Shit," I hear as we get into the van and buckle ourselves in. "I owe Nat twenty bucks."

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 5 years ago

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Dean Winchester x Reader

// Anon request: Hi could I get a Dean×reader where her and the boys grew up togehter and the reader could also be a hunter, hunting with them and kinda always flirting with Dean (and him flirting back, also Sam ships them lowkey). Anyway, my point is could you write like how they finally get togehter and what lead to them admitting their fellings to eachother. Thanks! xx ///

A/N: I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting :) xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural: (I’m only up to season 2 at the moment, so please don’t give requests with spoilers)***

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNER

You’d met the Winchester boys when you were only 13. Your parents were killed by a demon and the Winchesters were the ones who found you huddled in a corner of an old abandoned warehouse. Well, it was actually a 15-year-old boy named Dean who was the one that had found you. For some reason, the demon kept you alive, carrying you to the abandoned warehouse after slaughtering your parents. You had no other family. Your Grandparents were gone, both of your parents were only children so no aunts and uncles you could live with. The Winchester men became your family.

John wasn’t too sure on how to take care of a girl but luckily you were already old enough to basically care for yourself. He taught you how to fight and hunt demons just like he did his boys, treating you as family. It never felt you were an outsider, the three welcomed you with open arms. You had to admit, living in hotel after hotel and driving city to city got old after a while, but you learned to love it.

You and Dean were always close. You believed you connected with him right off the bat because after suffering such a tragedy, he was your knight and shining armor. He was the first person you saw when you opened your eyes in that warehouse. He was the first person that you spoke too after days of not saying a word. He was also your first kiss. However, that is not spoken about anymore.

After you grew comfortable with the boys, John sat you and his boys down for a discussion. The boys were to treat you as if you were their blood sister and you treat the boys as your blood brothers. There would be no kissing, no feelings, nothing like that. The three of you were siblings now and that would not be tolerated. So, that’s what you believed for years, however, there was always that little spark between you and Dean.

You were 16 and Dean was 18 at the time. Living on the road, never gave you a chance to interact with other boys which meant you were 16 when you finally had your first kiss. During a innocent game of truth or dare with Dean one night. “Truth or dare,” Dean had smirked, sitting across from you on the bed. Sam and John left to grab dinner and you didn’t feel like going, so Dean offered to keep you company in a brotherly matter of course.

“Truth,” You sighed, picking at your fingers. You didn’t really want to play this but Dean insisted it would be fun. The beginning was at first. He’d been dared to prank call people, run down the hall way in his boxers and to knock on the doors of peoples rooms before running away. You’d chose truth every round.

“Oh come on y/n,” He groans, “You’ve chosen truth every time!”

You shrugged, looking up from your fingers, “I didn’t want to play in the first place.”

He sighs, nodding, “Fine. Okay, have you ever…been kissed?”

Your eyes went wide and you quickly shook your head, embarrassed that he would ever ask a question like that, “No gosh… never.”

“Well, do you want to be?” He’d asked. He hadn’t meant anything by it, however secretly he’d hoped you say yes.

You gave a small shrug, “I mean yeah.. if it was the right guy.” Your eyes meet his and the way he was looking at you made you blush.

He nods, before clearing his throat, “Your turn..”

“Truth or dare?” You whispered quietly.

“Dare.”

You gulped, “I dare you to kiss me.”

His eyes were wide as they looked at you. You didn’t have to tell him twice. He scooted closer to you, his hands going to your cheeks, “Are you sure?” He whispers against your lips, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

Your eyes glance from his lips to his eyes before nodding.

“I need you to say it baby girl.” The nickname he’d always called you. It made your heart melt every time he said it.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Then his lips softly met yours. He couldn’t believe it at first, he was actually kissing you. This was what his dad ordered to never happen, but right now all he could think about was the feeling of your soft lips against his and how good you were. He wanted your first kiss to be memorable, so he was soft and gentle, making sure he wasn’t needy with the kiss. Oh, how he wanted to be though.

It was the sound of a key in the door that made you two pull away, quickly scurrying to separate beds. You’d grabbed a magazine and opened it, Dean grabbing the TV remote. The two of you never spoke about that night again. That didn’t stop you two from flirting though.

You stood in the motel bathroom, fixing your hair. The three of you were getting ready to leave on a hunt, but first would be impersonating agents to find out information.

“Can you help me with this?” Dean walked in, his shirt buttoned but his tie hung loosely around his neck. He stood behind you, looking at you in the mirror.

“Why can’t Sam help? I’m still trying to get ready.”

“Sam stepped out to take a phone call. And maybe I wanted you to do it.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, before turning to face the older Winchester brother, “Sam’s too rough when he ties it, isn’t he?”

He nods, “Your much more gentle.”

You blush a little and shake your head, beginning to tie the tie.

Dean watches you in admiration, your tongue on your lip in concentration. He was close enough to kiss you right now and he couldn’t lie, he was tempted. So tempted.

“You look good.” He whispers.

You roll your eyes again, “Stop it.”

“You do.” He clears his throat, “Your hair looks good like that.”

You glance up at him, patting his tie after finishing, “you don’t look so bad yourself.”

He fixes his collar over the tie, giving him his famous smirk, “I know I do sweet cheeks.” He gives you a wink before stepping out of the bathroom.

“You’re so conceited!”

After the hunt was over, Dean of course wanted to go for a round of drinks at the local bar.

“You guys go find a table, I’ll go get drinks.” Sam announces, pointing to the bar. You nod before following Dean through the crowd of people. He leads you to the table, his hand at your lower back.

Sam watches the two of you from the bar. He figures Dean said something funny because the two of you bursted into laughter, your hand going to his arm. Sam smiled and shook his head. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Dean liked you and he figured you felt the same way. The way you two flirted, it wasn’t like siblings. It was more. In all honesty, Sam was for it. He could see a difference when you around Dean. Dean was happier, smiling and laughing and he was respectful. Dean was a completely different guy with you. He wishes the two of you would just admit it already. Dad was dead, so nothing was holding the two of you back.

The hunt went bad. Dean and Sam had been captured by vampires. They’d told you to wait in the car while they handled it but they underestimated the number of vampires inside, resulting in their capture. You had run in, using yourself as an offering, more of a distraction while Dean cut himself lose. It was a dangerous move on your part and Dean almost didn’t cut himself lose in time. Luckily, you’d managed to walk away with only a bite on your shoulder.

“Are you an idiot?!” Dean had screamed at you as soon as you stepped outside. The three of you managed to kill all the vampires, but now it was time for a lecture.

You rolled your eyes, hand over your wound, “I saved your ass, Dean. Both of you!” You defend, looking between the brothers.

Dean tosses the machete in the trunk, slamming it shut, “Yeah and you almost got yourself killed in the process! I almost didn’t make it in time.” Quietly, Sam had slipped into baby, this wasn’t his argument. He wouldn’t get a word out anyways. When the two of you went at it, there was no interrupting.

“I was fine, Dean. I had it handled.”

“Yeah? You had it handled?” He stalks over to you, pointing to your shoulder, “That’s what you call having it handled?! He could have killed you!”

“It was only one bite! I’m fine!” You begin to turn away from him and get into the car, but he grabs your arm, pulling you back to him.

“Don’t walk away from me. I’m not done talking.”

You rip your arm out of his grasp, “I’m not a fucking child, Dean! I can handle myself just fine. Why are you being like this!”

“Because I love you, y/n! That’s why!” It slipped out before he could stop it. No take backsies now. It was out on the table. The truth was out. You gasp, your eyes wide as you stand across from him.

You shake your head, “Dean. You better mean as in brotherly love.”

He takes a step closer to you. Now or nothing. “You know damn well I don’t mean brotherly love.”

You look up at him, eyes on the brink of tears, “Dean…”

“That night I kissed you for the first time, it meant something to me. You’ve always meant something to me, y/n. I know, dad always said we’re supposed to treat each other like siblings, but I say screw it.” His hands cup your cheeks, his thumb wiping a tear from your eye.

“Dean.” You whisper, your hand coming up to his cheek.

His lips are within inches of yours, “I need you to say it baby girl.” That one sentence.

“Kiss me Dean Winchester.” His lips come at you fast and hard, but the kiss is tender, just like that night in the hotel room.

“Finally!” Sam cheers from the impala, causing you two to pull away. You look at Sam, blushing and giggling.

Dean groans, “Way to ruin it, Sammy.”

“Sorry!” He winces, giving a sheepish smile.

Your hands go to his shirt at his side, giving a small tug, “I love you, Dean Winchester…” He presses his forehead against yours, his hands on your hips, pulling you close as you smile, “My knight and shining armor.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagines #imagines #imagine #x reader #winchester x reader

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deans-mind-palace · 5 years ago

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Masterlist

So, welcome to my master list. It will be updated every few days. Gifs are not mine, they belong to their creator!

Dean Winchester

Ripped at every edge - Dean x Neutral!Reader. After a hunt gone wrong, Sam and Dean fight. As soon as Sam leaves the room you have to pick up the broken pieces of Dean Winchester. Based on ‘Colors’ by Halsey.

Two little letters - Dean x Fem!Reader. With Dean’s help you manage to escape an abusive and unhealthy relationship. You live a happy life until your past catches up with you. A chain of unfortunate coincidences leads to a heartbroken Dean. Will you be able to save your relationship? (requested)

Stitches - Dean x Fem!Reader. Y/N is in love with Dean, unbeknownst to him. During a hunt he saves her and risks his own life. He nearly died and now you have a grumpy, on the floor bleeding hunter sitting on your bed and you are just about to explode. (requested)

Sweet as marshmallows - Dean x Male!Reader. Things get heated between you and the elder hunter after a dangerous Wendigo hunt. (requested)

Icarus - Dean x Reader. You‘re an unworried person who is always optimistic and such a sharp contrast to your secret crush Dean. You have to show Dean that he mustn’t carry the world‘s pain on his own shoulders. Sometimes you just gotta live a little. Skinny dipping is the solution.

Verity - Dean x Neu!Reader. During her last breath, the witch had taken revenge. Things get interesting when Dean’s hit by a truth spell. Unfortunately, it is not easy to hide a secret if you always have to tell the truth. But that doesn't explain why Dean is avoiding you all the time, does it?

Sam Winchester

You’re a hooker, sweetheart - Sam x Reader. You’ve always had a thing for the younger Winchester brother. Ever since you first met Sam and his cute smile. But you were always too afraid of confessing your crush to him. One day he hooks up with a random girl after a hunt. That’s when you’re having it! You’re tired of suppressing. What will Sam have to say? (requested)

Suspirium - Prof!Sam x Fem!Reader. You’re in your last year of your Classics and Modern Languages studies and you’re majoring in Latin and English. Then you get assigned to a different Latin teacher. And damn, he loves his subject. Too bad that he’s also hot. What is just a childish crush soon develops into something way more complicated.

Castiel

That’s the thing with nightmares - Cas x Neutral!Reader. Sweet Castiel comforts you after a terrible nightmare which leads to lots of cuddles.

Heavenly touch - Cas x Fem!Reader. You’re in your last year of high school. But nothing goes according to plan. While your older brothers are hunting demons down you have to attend school in whatever forsaken town they drag you to. You are bullied because you have no boyfriend, no sexual experience and you not even have had your first kiss yet. Dean doesn’t get your problem and Castiel is curious. That won’t end well.

Forget me not - Cas x Fem!Reader series. Cas was your guardian angel and best friend. He protected from everything that tried to harm you as a child. But a terrible accident caused him losing you. Years later, you’re still determined to find your guardian angel again. What happens when you meet him under unexpected circumstances?

Glooming hearts - Cas x Fem!Reader. The one time Dean plays matchmaker for his socially awkward friend and an angel who is just as worse. It’s funny and maybe he gets a lot more involved than he wanted to. Both have no experience with dating and Dean likes watching how the chaos he caused envolves around him. What could possibly go wrong? (requested)

Conversations in the dark - Cas x Neu!Reader. Nothing’s real if it happens in the dark. That’s what your mother told you about nightmares. But you’re hunter and you know that nightmares exist in the daylight, too. Your relationship with Cas isn’t always easy. However, in moments of doubt it’s good you have each other. Because that’s all that really matters.

Other SPN characters

Another love - John x Fem!Reader. You had a wonderful thing with John Winchester. One night he leaves without coming back.

Beware of the daddy - John x Fem!Reader. The reader gets drunk in a bar and doesn’t want to be alone at night so she is searching for an one-night stand. She finds a good-looking guy, but suddenly she ends up in a dicey situation. John comes to the rescue. (requested)

SPN Actors

Lullabies - Jensen x Fem!Reader. Jared x Fem!Reader. You're pregnant. Every couple would be happy to hear these news. Don't get me wrong, you're happy. Only problem is you have no idea who the father is... It‘s either Jensen Ackles' baby or the one of Jared Padalecki. The two men don't know about the big news yet. How will they react? Part 2 here. (requested)

Adorkably - Jensen x Neu!Reader. After you had a stunt accident on the Supernatural set, your leg is broken and you have to stay in bed while being on some high painkillers. Good thing, Jensen takes care of you. Well, in his own dork way anyways… (requested)

Nightcrawler - Jensen x Neu!Reader. Jensen and you never got along well. But when a stunt accident almost caused him losing you, everything changes. What will Jensen have to say if you wake up? (requested)

Cloudbursts - Jared x Neu!Reader. You were determined to do it. You never told anyone about your fear and you wouldn’t let it bring you down to your knees now! Not in front of all these people! Well, the anxiety attacks were an obstacle you didn’t think of... (requested)

Rock 'n' Roll, baby - Jensen x Male!Reader. Jensen has always been such a flirt. There has always been a chemistry between you that neither of you can deny. But no-one makes the next step. What is only a flirt for fun soon turns out to be more. (requested)

Love and hair - Jensen x Daughter!Reader x Jared. Part 2 to Lullabies. Set 18 years in the future. Reader wants to know who her biological dad is. (requested)

An apple a day - Doctor!Jensen x Fem!Reader. You were just having a bad day, that’s it. I mean, dislocating an arm while carrying cartons into your new apartment? That could happen to everyone. But intentionally miss three vaccination appointments? That could only happen to you. If only the doctor wasn't so cute... (requested)

Skies are different in Vancouver - Jensen x Neu!Reader. You have a hard time while your finance is in Vancouver for three months. However, you know that Jensen will always return to you in the end. (requested)

Hot as hell heaven - Misha x Neu!Reader. Filming can be quite dangerous sometimes. Good thing you have your personal doctor. (requested)

#masterlist #supernatural #spn #reader insert #dean winchester #dean x reader #sam winchester #sam x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jared x jensen #jared paladecki #jared x y/n #misha collins #misha collins x reader #requests

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dotthings · 6 years ago

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So let’s talk about Cas’s issues, and how they hit that nerve of Dean’s insecurities.

I feel like Dean’s personal issues get discussed a lot (by myself included), both from a Dean-positive take and from the pressure placed on this character in a more negative way. There’s a lot of expectation placed on Dean as a character and ironically enough, in that process I feel like even Cas fans don’t do enough digging into what makes Cas tick, what his weak points are, his fears, his cyclical dysfunctional hang-ups. Cas is a layered, complicated, well-developed character with a now 12 season history on the show, as a main character, even if he is less prominent than Sam and Dean, and as such this means there are flaws as well as goodness in him. It does Cas a disservice to paint him as never wrong, as never causing hurt to those he loves. I’m not speaking as a Dean fan here, but as a Cas fan, this just isn’t about fairness to Dean, I feel there is an actual imbalance in how these discussions tend to go and it’s kind of a habitual tendency in the fandom. In part fueled by the fact that Dean is so open with his feelings, shows that he feels things SO hard and so deeply, that’s the character, and that kind of makes Dean a lightning rod to talk about Dean feelings, good or bad.

Canonically, Cas tends to get less pov due to structure, when Cas isn’t in every ep of a season and where SPN structurally puts Sam and Dean as the center spokes of the wheel, no matter how near the center Cas is of that show wheel. Cas has become another core pillar--Dabb referred to Cas along with Dean as a “core character” in his pre 15.09 interview. But because logistically, Dean still carries more pov on the show, we get more looks into Dean’s mind than into Cas’s. Which isn’t as great for Dean fans as you might think because by SPN not giving more Cas pov, it’s putting more and more of the responsibility for making the profound bond work onto Dean and Dean’s pov. While Cas has contributed plenty to this rift that developed.

There’s also the thing about the fandom default perception is that Dean is repressed emotionally. Which, sure, in many respects, yeah. But not in the way it’s popularized in fandom. Dean is actually the more facile, open, raw, vulnerable in expression of his emotions, with big outbursts, of hurt/anger or softness. He goes big. He expresses. He cries easily. He doesn’t exactly hide. He wears his heart on his sleeve. But because Dean is also a character who constructed facades to survive, he puts on facades and one facade is "no chick flick moments.” A facade I’ve pointed out again and again he’s terrible at maintaining, nonetheless it is real and he can be gruff and he does at times try to hide from his own feelings, and avoid, and struggles not to say stuff and then it gets out anyway. But he’s also very openly emotional.

While Cas is actually far more locked up emotionally as a character. Far more repressed than Dean. Look at his background. Millennia as an angel. Shoved back through the angel reprogramming machine every time he displayed an independent thought. Angels have emotions. They are not unfeeling. But they are taught emotions are weaknesses. They are a taint. They are dangerous. A lot of Cas’s arcing over the past 11 years has been about learning what emotions are and how to manage them. Even if we remove that factor, Cas also has a personality of his own, as a character, and is a survivor of trauma and abuse, as Dean is. Cas, like Dean, carries a lot of anger.

Cas is impulsive. Sometimes heedless. Ironically, he often pulls Dean back from heedlessness. But he has that tendency and Cas’s heedlessness tends to result in cosmic level events (leviathans unleashed, angels falling). He has a temper. He will end you if you hurt those he loves. Cas in the past has shown a hubris about how he has to fix all the things because these frail humans he loves can’t, Dean’s “just a man,” and while Cas definitely outgrew that, there are remnants still there. Which isn’t JUST hubris. Cas, being an abuse and torture survivor, being a survivor of emotional neglect, similarly to Dean, also has, similarly to Dean, this thing about needing a mission, a purpose. He needs to be needed. And if he isn’t serving a purpose, if he feels he isn’t being useful, then he feels worthless. The Dean corollary to that is Dean’s lack of self worth in what his father instilled in him--that he has no purpose, no mission, outside of protect Sam, and the hunt.

This need for purpose and Cas’s insecurities powered a lot of his arc with Jack. Cas’s relationship with Dean evolved over time. They didn’t stay just the same. In some ways the bond equalized in good ways, but as part of that, Cas was no longer the “Winchesters’ guardian” of early Cas seasons. That role gave Cas purpose. As Cas drew deeper and deeper into the family, as his character developed and he increasingly got his own arcs, which are all good things, that also meant Cas wondered what his purpose is.

Protecting Jack gave him purpose. A mission. Someone to look after. His relationship with Dean isn’t that. That hit a height with “draped yourself in the flag of Heaven” at the end of S9. By S11 the focus shifted to Dean’s drive to save Cas. Dean and Cas’s relationship is that of peers, fellow soldiers, friends, and yes, on a coded level that’s been harder and harder to ignore in later seasons, lovers/husbands.

Cas devoting himself all to Dean wasn’t sustainable. Just as Dean couldn’t perpetually be all about Sam, but while Dean and Cas are more peers/husbands role, Dean is Sam’s stand-in parent. Dean was parentified at the age of four. Sam as recently in 15.09 says Dean raised him. Sam knows his actual father figure is Dean, not Bobby, not John. There’s a whole lot about Sam and Dean’s relationship that made a lot more sense to me once I kept that in mind, that symbolically they were parent/child not just siblings/hunting partners. (Their codependency added another complication into the mix) That is not the relationship Dean and Cas have ever had. They are protective of each other. But it’s not a pseudo parent-child relationship. Nor are they codependent. But Dean always had a Sam, while Cas...did not have a Sam. Dean wasn’t his Sam, once he found a Dean. Dean was something else entirely. Not less, but different.

Enter Jack and while I was resistant to that arc initially, in the long game I can see multiple overarching purposes for the story. One of them is Cas’s character development. While the Cas and Jack bond isn’t just like Sam and Dean’s, and I’m not suggesting it is, it has that similar pseudo parent-child aspect. Jack is all of Team Free Will’s kid, but I think the way Jack impacted Cas’s arc made the most seismic shifts.

The thing about this S15 rift with Dean and Cas is that it’s not really about Dean’s existential crisis about “realness.” It’s not actual about Mary or Jack or that freakin’ snake. Well, it is...I’m not suggesting Dean had no valid reason to be hurt and upset with Cas. That is real. But this was ramped up as a culmination of years of issues. It mashed Dean’s buttons so hard because these are reflective of cyclical behaviors that come from Cas and it hurts Dean every time. Underlying all that, maybe subtextually, Dean’s doubts about realness played into it here as well. But the doubts, fears, insecurities, and hurts Dean feels about Cas are there regardless. Chuck applied pressure points to hasten the rift. To rip them apart because that serves his purpose but all he did was play on their actual insecurities and feelings and then watch them dance to his tune.

One of Dean and Cas’s issues has been things that have been there a long time, in the relationship, where Dean’s chronic issues play on Cas’s insecurities and Cas’s chronic issues play on Dean’s insecurities. There’s a bunch I could reel off. Dean’s abandonment issues vs. Cas’s tendency to keep things from Dean, not turn to Dean, not trust Dean, for one. This is something Cas has done for years, long before Jack, and it hurt Dean then and it hurt Dean now. Just for example.

I feel like what happened late S14/early S15 is that all these long running issues they never addressed came crashing down on the bond at once.

The things that are Cas’s issues, Cas hasn’t talked much about. Cas doesn’t talk about his innermost emotional landscape the way Dean does. Sometimes he does speak his feelings, but I wish he’d do it more often.

The things Cas has done in the past that hit on Dean’s abandonment issues all got ramped up with Jack. And it happened more than once. Why is Dean so hurt. Look at how he responds to Cas keeping things from him, or to losing Cas, or to Cas not reaching out to Dean, trusting Dean enough to go to him in the past. How hard that has been on Dean. Take your pick of plots. Cas teaming up with Crowley. Cas and the monster souls. Cas running off with the angel tablet.

With Jack there was a string of events. It wasn’t just the one thing. This isn’t my condemnation of Cas or because I don’t get Cas’s motivations and good intentions. Or about Cas being right/wrong. Right or wrong, his actions still hurt Dean. Being a parent added such a completely new layer into Team Free Will bonds, the TFW familial unit shifted. Change can be hard on a relationship anyway.

Quick recap of the sequence of events with Cas and Jack: it was Cas slipping away from Dean as Cas devoted himself to a nephilim in embryo. When Cas bonded with Jack’s grace in the womb. When Dean said he didn’t recognize Cas. There was Cas’s belief in the vision Jack showed him. It was Kelly giving Cas a mission to protect her son. Cas, like Dean, feels a strong sense of duty. Remember Dean’s S2 speech when Sam died? How Dean expressed the depth of his sense of failure? “I had one job, to keep you safe.” And by the end of S14, Cas lost Jack. He had one job. To keep Jack safe.

Cas pretty much thinks he’s worthless without that, same as Dean.

So there’s Cas, taken by Kelly after Dean was begging him--begging him--to return to the bunker with them so they could talk. While Kelly effectively prevented Cas from taking the action he might have done of his own volition since she drove off in the Impala with Cas still inside it and he couldn’t stop the car without hurting her and her unborn child, the element of choice there is murky. But Cas did choose to protect Jack. He did choose to knock out Sam and Dean at the playground. There’s Dean, as he has in prior seasons, seeing Cas walking away again.

Then it happens again. Cas heedlessly goes after Lucifer, when he should have waited, Cas was so focused on his Jack mission, and as a result, Lucifer stabs Cas dead, right in front of Dean’s eyes. So Dean loses Cas again, and audience gets to see Dean is utterly devastated (but Cas doesn’t).

But then Dean gets Cas back! His big win...which Dean confesses to Sam but again, Cas doesn’t get to hear it. And then right after getting Cas back, Cas is running off again, due to Jack. Dean begs Cas--BEGS HIM--let me come along, you need backup and Cas says no. Because Cas has to fix all the things himself. So Cas gets kidnapped and locked in an angel proof cell. Dean doesn’t even know he’s lost Cas this time due to voice mimicky plot, but there it is again, Dean loses Cas, again for Jack. Then Cas keeps that detail about Felix the snake from Dean, which wasn’t right for Cas to do, to be so secretive. Whatever his intentions, no that wasn’t right, and it goes right back to Cas’s tendencies shown in earlier seasons. To fix the thing himself. Anael calls Cas on it, even. His fears. Which leads to Cas finally going to Sam and Dean with the information. Cas apologizes and confesses, explains in a rare moment of us actually getting to see inside Cas’s emotional landscape that he was scared what Jack losing his soul would do to tear this TFW family apart. What Cas would lose because of that. A hella lot of that is about Dean, not just TFW or Jack.

None of this has ever been Cas not caring about Dean. Cas was there for Dean in S14. He fought to save Dean, first from Michael, then the Ma’lek box. But Dean and Cas don’t exist in a profound bond bubble.

Dean doesn’t even know yet that Cas sold himself to The Empty to save Jack midway through S14. Should we start screaming now?

So after Cas’s confession and apology late in S14 about what Jack did to the snake that Cas didn’t clue in Sam and Dean about, Mary is dead, because of soulless Jack, and all hell breaks loose with Jack, and Dean believes the only way out of this with soulless Jack is to kill soulless Jack. Cas doesn’t agree. Dean delivers an ultimatum, my way or the highway and who cares what you think (bad move, Dean). So to save Jack and Dean, because if Dean shot Jack with Chuck’s gun, it would kill Dean too, Cas runs off to get to Jack first.

From Dean’s perspective he’s seing Cas’s back again, leaving him again. Losing Cas again.

Think about how this steps on the same nerves as Cas’s vanishing acts in earlier seasons, or Cas walking into the lake, or Cas staying behind in Purgatory when Dean did everything he could to save him. Think about Dean’s abandonment issues. Think about how Dean’s abandonment issues and this repeat cycle of Cas’s inherent tendency to not get that he should loop his family into things, that he can’t fix it all on his own, of leaving, even if he always comes back. And no we can’t blame Cas for the times he left when he didn’t want to, when something happened to Cas, but when he vanished into the lake in 7.01, when he insisted on staying behind in Purgatory in S8, when he heedlessly went pell mell after Lucifer--Dean losing Cas was a direct result of Cas’s choices. Where Cas put himself into a position where Dean lost him.

This has happened again...and again. Imagine the heart-crushing heartbreaking panic for Dean during their Purgatory revisit when Cas disappeared. It’s Dean having to relive his Cas trauma. Because guess what, Dean loves Cas a lot. I don’t know how this even became in question in fandom, it continues to utterly baffle me.

So it’s not really about Jack though. I’m not blaming the Jack storyline for this. What happened was the Jack storyline brought those issues to a boiling point. Cas’s insecurities and drive to have a mission. Dean’s abandonment issues clashing with Cas’s running off again. Repeatedly.

What’s going to happen when Dean finds out about The Empty deal, and not just the deal itself but the fact Cas kept that, too, from him. I don’t think it will be rage this time. Not after 15.09. It will however, I suspect, be utterly devastating for Dean...maybe this time he won’t snap at Cas, he’ll just say how devastating it is, before he and Sam get to work on a solution. And Cas will have to witness how devastating it is. Cas hearing Dean’s prayer in 15.09 is such a big deal and I really really hope this hit Cas hard and woke him up to some things. Because with all of Cas’s particular insecurities, despite the fact that Dean has repeatedly shown Cas directly how much he matters, there’s also been plenty audience gets to see (Cas is family/Dean’s grief arc/Cas is a big win) that Cas hasn’t. Cas hearing Dean’s prayer here I think will change things. Cas won’t be the same. Dean won’t be the same. The bond won’t be the same. In a good way.

15.09 didn’t feel like resolution to me, and I’m glad Dabb confirmed that in his pre ep interview. It felt like ice melting, barriers crumbling. That’s good. It’s a start. That will help them with what’s next. But they have so much to work through still. Because their problems aren’t just from recent plot events, or Chuck. These tap into some fundamental things about them each that affects their bond. I’ve been saying this since before the end of S14, this isn’t hear to destroy their bond, it’s to level it up. It’s to deepen it, to fix what’s been amiss at the root and realize it into something even more powerful.

I need Cas to speak, not just Dean. Not just for my ship but for the character, I need more looks into Cas’s inner emotional landscape and how he feels about his own insecurities and I’d love to see an equally big confession about his Dean feelings.

#Dean Winchester #Castiel #Destiel #Dean and Cas #Team Free Will #Jack Kline #Supernatural #spn #supernatural spoilers #meta

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beautifuljetblackheart · 5 years ago

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Fight - Sam Holland

A/N: I am back... I had a BIG writers block and COVID really fucked me up, but hopefully I actually update more stories. This was a request from a while ago, I am sorry that it took a while to get it done Summary: Sam was away for about a month and after a while of not hearing from him you began to worry, especially when a big event was coming up and you wanted him there. Warnings: None, just an argument Words: 1894

I played with my thumbs as I waited until it struck seven. The studio had chosen my pictures to present, I looked around to see if Sam had shown up, but nothing, maybe he would show up late. I really want him to show up since he wasn’t able to attend the last two days and today was the last day. Besides that they will leave the pictures up for another week and take them down.

As I presented each picture and what is the meaning behind it. Every chance I got I would search for Sam but nothing. I kept sending him messages if he was going to be dropping by anytime soon but nothing. He hasn't been texting me for almost two weeks. Maybe he lost his phone and forgot my phone number.

A few friends of mine showed up and congratulated me for being lucky to have my pictures shown in the studio. Nikki showed up with Paddy, Tuwaine showed up with Harrison and Tom, the three guys approached me, “these pictures are amazing!” Tuwaine smiled and hugged me

“Thanks, I’m happy you guys came by for my last introduction”

“Is Sam here?” Tom questioned

“No, has he not returned from the trip?”

“Yeah, he got here two days ago,” my heart sunk down

“What? He- got here two days ago?” I started to feel embarrassed, my own boyfriend not telling me he was already here

“He didn’t tell you,” I shook my head no. I felt water filling up my eyes

“I thought he lost his phone because he hasn’t answered any of my text”

“I can call him,” I shook my head again. Does he have his phone?

“No, it's whatever. He wants to be like that let him,” I walked away and to the back room and started to cry. How can he do this to me? Does he want to finish things? Did he find someone else? Why didn’t he just tell me he wanted to end things. I walked to the bathroom to clean myself up.

I took deep breaths before I could walk out of the bathroom. When I got out I walked towards my pictures, “Y/N,” I turned to the side and saw a guy smiling, I would be lying if I said he wasn’t good looking, “I hope those are tears of happiness”

“I wish I could say that,” I let out a forced chuckle, god I hate myself right now

“I really liked your introduction and what the meaning behind each picture meant to you. The stories were quite interesting”

“Thank you”

“I would like to buy five of your pictures,” I was surprised

“You, would? Sorry, yeah, of course, I’ll bring the papers over, I’ll be right back,” I started to walk away but ran into a person, “sorry,” I walked to the back and grabbed the paperwork and went back out to the guy.

“I’m Ivan Goodsman, these pictures will be a good collection for my wife. She loves pictures. She loves to know what the mood was and why you took it, a picture can tell you a million words,” I gave him a nod

“I can also email you why I took it in case she actually wants to know”

“That will be perfect,” he handed me the papers back and I wrote down on top of each paper

“2B, 7B, 1C, 4C, and 5C”

“Those are actually my favorite, anyways, I’ll have them sent to the address you write down. You can do the payment either when they arrive or pay now”

“I’ll pay now”

“Cool,” the guy pulled out his checkbook and started to write down the amount. He ripped the check out of the book and handed it to me. “Thank you Mr.Goodsman,” I smiled

“Call me Ivan, I hope to see more of your work”

“Thank you for buying,” he smiled and walked away. I can’t wait to tell- no,I can be petty too. I let out a deep breath and continued walking around. By the end of the night I didn’t see Sam. I went back to my apartment, I took my shoes off and sat on the couch. I grabbed my phone and dialed Harry, as he shared the same interest.

“Hello”

“Hey Harry”

“Dude I saw that you sold some pictures that’s amazing! Who bought it?”

“A guy name Ivan Goodsman”

“Goodsman? As in the Ivan Goodsman? Holy shit they are very well known”

“He told me that his wife enjoyed looking at the pictures because they have many different meanings and stuff”

“Their kids are talented. One is in the soccer team, one is a good golf player, the other one is a popular well known photographer and the last one is a designer”

“Wow. Talented people”

“The mother, she’s also a designer, photography pictures help her get inspired. Maybe her next collection will be inspired by you. The father, he’s the manager of a hotel or something, I don’t know much of him”

“Holy crap”

“Lucky you”

“Anyways, Tom mentioned that Sam arrived a few days ago”

“Oh, yeah”

“I just need to talk to him, can I stop by?”

“He is going to hate me for this but at this moment I don’t care. Come on over,” my heart started to race, I was somewhat hoping he would’ve said no but it’s now or never. I grabbed the keys and out the door I went.

I stood in front of the Holland's house, I rang the doorbell hearing Tessa barking. The door went wide open and I saw Nikki, she smiled widely as she stepped aside, “Harry told me that you met Ivan Goodsman, how was that?”

“He’s an attractive man”

“Common Nikki she came to see Sam, stop hogging her, that was a very beautiful collection,” Dom went next to Nikki

“Thank you, is Sam in his room?”

“Yes, go right up,” I excused myself and went upstairs to Sam’s room, I let out a sigh and knocked on the door hearing a faint ‘come in,’ I opened the door and stepped inside. Sam’s back was facing me probably on his computer.

“Hi,” he turned around, finally seeing him after three weeks

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” I looked at him confused

“What am I doing here? Seeing my boyfriend that I haven’t seen in three weeks and Tom told me you arrived two days ago. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you lose your phone?

“I needed time to think”

“Sam, what is going on. You have been avoiding me for almost two weeks, you couldn’t send me a message telling me that you arrived or that you needed time to think. You went awol on me, are you mad at me?” I tried staying calm but I was getting furious towards him.

“I just need time to think and figure things out okay, I don’t need to tell you what I’m doing every single time”

“I’m not asking you to, all I wanted you to do was to tell me that you were doing okay and that you arrived home safely”

“Well I arrived safely home”

“I know. Your brother told me and thanks for coming to my opening. Your family was there, even Tuwaine and Harrison, but you weren’t. I wanted you there, since my parents weren’t able to make it”

“Opening for what?” I scoffed

“My gallery, I texted you two weeks before my presentation and you said that you will make it for the last day, I even texted you if you were on your way, thanks for showing up”

“I needed to think okay, what part do you not understand”

“I understand, I just don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me. Just forget about it. I’m going home,” I opened the door and walked downstairs saying a quick goodbye before leaving. Does this mean that we are done? I went back home. I didn’t know what to do or think.

---

I woke up on the couch, I looked at my phone to check the time and hoping Sam would’ve texted me. The only notification I had was an email on Spotify’s newest music release. I guess this means it is over between us. I grabbed my sweater and saw the check, maybe a trip to the bank will be good for me. I got ready and off I went.

After a walk to the bank I walked to the store to buy ice cream, I grabbed my favorite ice cream and headed to the check out. When I was paying I saw the one person I wasn’t expecting to see, Sam smiling with his ex girlfriend, Erica. I grabbed my ice cream and quickly left, the way back home I felt tears streaming down my face.

I ate my ice cream in silence, the tv was off my phone was on do not disturb mode. Half way through my ice cream there was a knock on the door. I got up and opened the door, it was Sam holding flowers. He had a sad face on. “What do you want Sam”

“Can we talk,” I stepped aside. He handed me the flowers and we walked to the living room and set the flowers on the coffee table.

“Y/N, I am sorry. I know what I did was wrong. I was just stressed out and we didn’t have enough time to be on our phones. I know it’s not an excuse. I saw a picture of you and a guy together and you seemed so happy”

“What guy, I haven’t been out. I’ve been working on my pictures for a month”

“I don’t know, someone sent me a picture of you and a guy,” Sam showed me a picture

“I don’t even know who that guy is, and that dress, I haven’t worn that dress for a year. I would never cheat on you”

“I am sorry. My mom came to my room after you left. She knew something was wrong. She told me how you've been working extra hard to have your pictures up and going over on what you would be saying. This morning I stopped by the studio and saw the pictures. I am proud of you and I am so sorry”

“I saw you and Erica at the store”

“I ran into her, she asked how you were doing and I told her that you were doing great since you presented your pictures and had a well known guy buy a few pictures from you. I was smiling because I was happy that you achieved a goal that you’ve had for so long. I honestly believe she was the one that sent me that photo. Y/N, please forgive me,” I let out a sigh.

“You saw my pictures?”

“Yes, they were amazing. My mom even showed me a video she took and showed it to me”

“Okay, I forgive you, but next time you are gone for a month and don’t text me back we are done. Got it?”

“Loud and clear, can we cuddle because I really missed you,” I kissed him and got up, “are we moving this to your room?”

“I am putting my ice cream in the freezer, but let’s go take a nap in my room”

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