#Sam is torn between being loving and exasperated

[angelaofwhite800]

Supernatural x sister!reader (Bring It) Chapter 3 - Sammy's gone

Fluff + angst

TW: Abandonment, angst

Word count: 1,298

Songs: "Waste" -kxllswxtch

"Young" -Vacations

"Softcore" -The neighborhood 

"Bubblegum" -Clario

7 hours later

Y/n and Dean sat in the Impala at a rest stop. Dean was scarfing down a gas station burrito, but Y/n didn't feel like eating. Her stomach was turning and her mind was racing, thinking about seeing her brother again after years. Y/n was only 9 when Sam left for Stanford, but she remembered that day like it was yesterday

Flashback

Y/n was sitting outside the motel room with Dean, sat on the sidewalk in the rain. It was cold and dark out as the rain poured down from the sky. The two of them were sent outside and pretending like they weren't listening to the yelling match that was happening between Sam and their dad, but anyone within the motel complex who said they couldn't hear what was going on would be lying. Y/n didn't know the backstory for the argument, but she didn't need to. from listening she gathered one thing. Sam was leaving... And he wanted to take her with him

"You're insane! You think im going to just let you take my daughter away from me?!" John shouted at the top of his lungs. Despite what anyone might try and say about John Winchester and his parenting the one thing nobody could deny was that he loved his kids, and the idea of one of them leaving, let alone two, was unbearable

"Dad I don't want to abandon you guys! I'm just going to college! I just want to give her a normal life!" Sam tried to argue back. The truth was Sam had no intention of abandoning or cutting out his family, nor did he want to separate Y/n from John or Dean. But that wasn't how it felt. This felt like the end of the world. Like life was being torn apart. in the eye's of John, Sam was abandoning ship

"Then why go at all, huh?! You said you wanted to "Get out", Right?!" John kept raising his voice at Sam. This fighting had been going on for quite some time. Y/n and Dean, sitting outside just sat silently, sharing a diet coke can between the two of them. Y/n glanced over at her older brother, but he kept his gaze forward, zoning out 

John put his foot down one last time "Well you aren't taking her!" Sam threw his arms up exasperation, starting to give up. "You know what, if you wanna leave so bad, go ahead! We don't need traitors around!" As he spoke he started pulling Sam's things out and packing them up for him. Hurt and angry Sam spat back

"You know what, fine! I will!" He started packing his things too. the two of them kept yelling for the duration of Sam packing his things. Minutes passed when suddenly the door to the motel room flew open and Sam stormed out, John following behind him, the two of them still arguing. Sam stormed passed his siblings, who stood up expecting him to say something to them, but he didn't even look at them. Y/n, panicked, tied to follow after her brother to ask him what was happening, but was quickly stopped by her father. He grabbed her arm harshly in fear that she was trying to leave him too. Accidentally redirecting his anger at his daughter he yelled at her

"NO! You aren't going with him!!" Y/n stopped in her tracks, looking up at John who was squeezing her arm, tears started to fill her eyes. All she could see in her fathers eye's was rage, leading her to believe she'd done something wrong, though she didn't know what. Little did she know that sat right behind the expression of rage was a scared hurt man, who's world was falling apart once again. Dean tried to calm his father and break him out of the daze he was in

"Ow! Daddy! You're hurting me!" Y/n cried out as she tried to pull her arm out of Johns grasp. Sam's attention snapped back to his family from where he was in the parking lot. He dropped his bag and ran back to them on the doorstep. He and Dean pushed him away from Y/n as she fell to the ground, tears silently pouring out of her eyes. Sam screamed at John more than before, angry at what he'd done. John tried to defend himself, already realizing what he'd done. Dean knelt down beside Y/n gently checking her arm, seeing the bruise that their dad had just left on her. Dean was angry. Angry at Sam for leaving them, angry at his dad for hurting Y/n, angry at himself for not being able to stop it from happening. angry at the world that it had lead them to this point in the first place. One last verbal punch was thrown by John before slamming the door shut in Sam's face

"If you leave don't you dare come back!" And with that Sam was stood on the doorstep of a motel. he things in a duffel bag, his bruised sister on the ground, his brother knelt next to her. Sam knelt down beside her as well, trying to check out her bruise, before Dean spoke up

"I think you've done enough, just leave us alone Sam" Sam looked at Dean, shocked, hurt. He slowly stood up and Dean did the same

"So that's how it is huh?" Sam scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Dean nodded his head slightly before adding on

"Yea, looks like it is" And walking inside the motel room, also slamming the door shut behind him. And then there were two. Sam and Y/n, sat on the doorstep, alone. Y/n and Sam had always been close, due to often being left just the two of them while Dean and their dad were on hunts. Sam sat down next to Y/n and she looked at him, tears in her eyes. 

"Sammy I don't want you to stay done..." She choked out, and Sam's heart broke inside his chest. Was this really right? Was this really what he wanted? 

"I don't want to either." He put his hand on Y/n's shoulder trying to comfort her. she immediately threw herself into Sam hugging her big brother so tightly it hurt both of them. He hugged her back almost as tightly. After upwards of 5 minutes of Y/n crying in Sam's arms, and Sam silently letting tears roll down his face, she pulled back and looked at him, saying

"If you're going to go, you should do it soon, before dad comes back out to get you to stay." Sam looked at her shocked. She stood up and offered Sam her hand. He smiled at his little sister, chuckling a little bit. He stood her hand and stood up. Looking down at her he promised

"I'll call you. every chance I get I'll call you. Okay Y/n?" She nodded. and with one last hug, Sam walked away, grabbing his things, and disappearing around the street corner. Y/n walked back into the motel and sat on the floor of the bathroom, with the door locked, silently crying. she didn't come out until 5pm the next day.

End of flashback 

"Y/n You have to eat something" Dean said trying to hand her a bag of salted peanuts. She looked at it as she was pulled out of her thoughts

"I'm really not hungry" She said. she wasn't lying. it wasn't because she didn't need to eat, but because she was so distracted but her own thoughts to remember that she was actually starving. Dean rolled his eyes and tossed the bag into her lap before starting up the car

"Well eat something anyways. We'll be at Stanford in 4 hours, so we aren't stopping unless it's an emergency 

'Great' Y/n thought '4 hours until we see him...'

To Be Continued...

[perlukafarinn]

(ao3)

The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again. 

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less. 

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago. 

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to. 

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should  long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

Only years of experience behind the wheel prevent Dean’s hands from twitching wildly and veering them into oncoming traffic.

“What.”

Cas looks over, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Is there any reason for us not to get married? We’re already planning on staying together for the rest of our lives.”

“Is there any reason-” Dean wheezes. “What the fuck, Cas? Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Are you saying no?” Cas asks, mildly curious, as if they’re talking about the fucking weather and not getting married. “Because we don’t have to.”

Dean stares ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you actually asking?”

“I suppose I am.”

“You ‘suppose’,” Dean mocks. “Gee, Cas, that’s real romantic.”

“Will you marry me?”

Dean pulls over. It’s far too sudden, probably leaving tire tracks in the concrete, and the driver behind them honks his horn loudly as he passes. Dean ignores him, taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face Cas. 

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t really have to ask - Cas wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure - but he needs to hear it. 

Thankfully, Cas seems to get that. “I want to marry you, Dean. Do you want to marry me?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I mean - yes. Yeah, I do.”

Cas nods decisively. “Alright then. Now?”

“Now?”

It’s not exactly how Dean imagined this scenario would go (not that he - shut up) but it’s somehow the most romantic fucking thing that’s ever happened to him since Cas first told him he loved him. And hey, this time no one had to die!

They turn around, since there’s no point in going in without (forged) birth certificates. Once they get to the town hall, shortly before closing, they find out that it’s a three-day mandatory waiting period between applying for a marriage license and them actually being allowed to get married.

Cas suggests they use the interim time to pick up wedding rings. They wind up spending the next day driving to Topeka, where they find a couple of silver rings in a pawn shop. They’re tarnished but otherwise in good condition and once they get home, Dean spends the rest of the evening cleaning them while trying very hard not to think about just what they’re for.

The second day, Cas spends out back tending to his garden while Dean almost dials Sam’s number repeatedly before hanging up, torn between wanting to let his brother know that he’s getting married and not wanting to jinx it.

The third day, they head back into town. They arrive at the town hall just after it opens and it’s not until they’re standing in front of the clerk that Dean realizes they don’t have any witnesses. The clerk assures him that they don’t need one for civil ceremonies and the next ten minutes pass in a blur until Dean is being prompted to place the ring on Cas’ finger.

He does so with shaking hands, stilled only once Cas places one of his own on top and gives Dean a patient smile. He’s this calm for a reason, Dean finally realizes.

This doesn’t change anything.

Married or not, they’ve already promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Til death do them part doesn’t even begin to describe it, and in sickness and in health is almost laughable at this point.

This really doesn’t change anything.

Dean’s own hand is still as Cas takes his turn, sliding the silver ring upon Dean’s finger. They say their “I do”s when prompted by the clerk, exchange a short, firm kiss, and just like that it’s over.

They’re married. 

*

When Jody invites them to dinner about a week later, they still haven’t told anyone. Sam and Eileen will be there as well as Jack and the girls - it’s a regular family reunion and the perfect chance to announce the big news to everyone.

Dean has a better idea.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” he says. “At least, not before dessert. Let’s see if they notice first.”

They’re in the Impala, about half an hour away from Jody’s place. 

Cas shoots him an amused look. “Is this because Sam claimed he always knew we’d get together when we first told him we were involved?”

“No,” Dean lies. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, seeing Cas still giving him that look from the corner of his eye. “Fine, yes. But he didn’t know, for the record. He just likes to pretend he’s always on top of this shit.”

“He doesn’t like to admit when you’ve surprised him,” Cas agrees.

The conversation ends there but Dean’s plan is apparently agreed upon since once they arrive at Jody’s, Cas doesn’t say a word about their recent relationship upgrade. Jody doesn’t seem to notice anything different, but then Dean didn’t expect her to. She’s not the one they spend most of their time around. Neither do Donna, Alex, Claire or Kaia, none of them surprises. Patience, Dean is less sure about, but she at least doesn’t say anything. Her eyes do linger unusually long but that could mean anything.

Damn psychics.

Sam and Eileen arrive half an hour after Dean and Cas, Jack in tow. This is the real test; Sam and Dean may not spend as much time together in the past few months as they did in the years before but he’s still the person who knows Dean best and would be the most likely to notice a difference.

And yet, nothing.

Dean tries not to feel too smug.

They go through dinner without anyone mentioning it. Dean makes a point of reaching across the table as many times as he can, showing off the ring glinting on his finger. Cas must notice him doing it, judging by the fond exasperation on his face, but he’s the only one.

It isn’t until dessert that Patience breaks, patience (hah) clearly run out:

“Is no one going to mention that Dean and Castiel are wearing wedding rings?”

And all hell breaks loose.

Sam is wounded - mostly over Dean and Cas not telling him before they got married, though Dean can tell some part of it is his pride at not seeing this coming - but he’s over it soon enough, once they explain that it wasn’t a big deal, not some proper ceremony, just a quick affirmation of what they already knew.

“See if I make you Best Man at my wedding after this, jerk,” Sam tells Dean.

“Your wedding?” Eileen asks pointedly. 

Jody and Donna offer their congratulations before the conversation can get awkward, and Kaia, Alex, and Patience chime in with theirs as well. Jack looks confused at the whole proceeding, finally asking whether this means there won’t be any bouquet to catch, which only means Dean has gravely failed him in his pop culture education (oh, who’s he kidding, as if half the romcoms Jack has watched didn’t come directly from the recommended tab on Dean’s Netflix account). 

Finally, with a pointed elbow from Kaia and a hangdog expression from Cas, Claire mumbles that she’s happy for them. While Dean doesn’t doubt that’s true he also knows that this is more complicated for her than the rest of them, and for the first time he kind of feels guilty about springing this news on everyone. 

It doesn’t last long, not after Donna cheerfully raises her glass and proposes a toast to the happy couple and everyone else follows suit. They chant for them to kiss and, blushing outrageously, Dean complies, leaning over to press a quick kiss against Cas’ lips. 

“So, who proposed?” Sam asks once the hooting and hollering has calmed.

“Cas did,” Dean says, slinging an arm around his husband’s - his husband’s - shoulders. “And it was the least romantic proposal of all time, you should’ve heard him.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I had left it up to you, we never would have gotten married.”

“He didn’t even give me time to pick out flowers,” Dean informs Sam gravely. 

“There’s always the vow renewal,” Cas says, the casual statement managing to sound like a threat, and Dean shuts up. 

The conversation moves on, the mood noticeably cheerier. As Jack and Sam launch into a story of their most recent hunt, Dean leans against Cas.

“We could have flowers, if you want,” he mutters. 

Cas smiles at him, so bright and easy that it makes Dean’s heart stutter. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the cool silver of Dean’s ring.

“That’s not necessary,” he says. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

[hacash]

ted lasso 2x06 thoughts

OK FANDOM HOW ARE WE FEELING

Rebecca texting her 'mystery lightning man' in bed while her hot stupid side piece makes her breakfast is just...that is a power move on a whole other level. I am in awe. Queen. Goddess.

Between Jamie's dad, Rebecca's parents, and the ongoing mystery of Ted's father...does anyone on this show have a good relationship with their parents besides Sam?? Is Higgins going to have to adopt the entire cast?

He'd do a good job of it, to be certain - it was an easily overlooked plot line, but I love that while fan-favourites Ted, Nate and Rebecca all straight away bottle doing the right thing and telling Beard that his relationship is an unhealthy one, Higgins makes the call to step up and do good. Last season one of the core aspects of Higgins' arc was not telling the truth that needed to be told and we saw how much it bothered him, and I love how that's such a key part of his character. He's such a good dad.

And on that note: avoidance of difficult issues was such a part of this episode, from Ted's phone call about Henry to Beard's relationship, to Rebecca and her delightfully batty mum. I do think this is one of those arcs that would probably have landed better if we saw the whole season as a binge-watch, because we'd be able to see it playing out a lot easier, but it's so clear to see that our heroes are dealing with a lot of emotional repression (we're in England, after all) and I am loving this train wreck it's becoming.

The pub regulars were on fire in this episode. Between Baz backing down from his rather...enthusiastic fanboying and their heckling of GBBO (we've all done it, right?) I'm really glad we got them on our screens again.

I loved the little scene of Ted strolling about the grounds saying hi to the non-football employees of Richmond - it's a nice reminder that he's done so much for the club morale beyond the actual team members.

‘I am a strong and capable man. I am not a piece of shit.’ Ok, who the fuck has been hurting Colin?

Jamie was spot-on perfect this episode. I'm amazed at how smoothly Phil Dunphy passed from 'obnoxious little weasel' to 'himbo comedy gold' in the space of one season; he is a really underrated comedy character and I hope the showrunners make the most of it. I'm torn between 'bad hair' and 'so I can go back to being a prick?' as the funniest moment, but honestly it was all good. I also love how he and Roy are clearly settling into the fond exasperation of best frenemies - we got a sliver of it at the gala episode last season and I'm looking forward to more.

Also the first signs that the Gospel of Ted isn't always 100%: it was good to see Roy correcting Ted's coaching of Jamie and arranging that delightfully spiteful foul-and-goal. And Nate! Nate arranging the final play when Beard and Roy were spiralling!!

I'm still so worried about Nate and obviously there's more drama and pain in store, but for now I'm just buzzing about him actually getting the recognition he deserves. Nate the Great!

I'm always excited about the little team moments, because we never get enough of them, but seeing the happiness of the team after the win, inviting Sharon out for a drink, even just the moments of Isaac and Colin goofing around in the taxi (I miss their broship!) all warmed my heart.

And now onto the main event:

SAM IS THE MYSTERY BANTR MAN. Apart from my bemusement about twenty-one year olds who casually quote poets on dating apps (this...does not happen in my universe at all) I am both so worried and so intrigued. I really find the idea of a proper thing between him and Rebecca leaving a bit of a bad taste in the mouth - the age gap is significant, she's his boss, they're so nice as friends - but the show-writers have handled other difficult issues really well, so I trust they can handle this too.

I've already said that the parallels that would emerge between Rebecca 'n Sam (Rebecca dating a much younger man with such a notable power imbalance) and Rupert's own dating history...would be an interesting one. If she does pursue something with Sam I kinda hope this gets brought up? Because honestly if we had a male boss in his forties dating his twenty-one year old female employee on the show we would all be kicking off about it, and it's pretty skeevy not to at least acknowledge that when the genders are swapped.

AND TED. OH TED. I have so many feels about this that I can't all get down - I'm not quite sure why he was hearing replays of Jamie's dad in his head, but the 'father issues' klaxon is blaring loud and clear - but I'm just so glad it ended the way it did, with him finally asking Sharon for help. Roll on next Friday.

ETA: I just realised Sam’s the one who helps Jamie up after his foul and then stops the Spurs player from clobbering him. Oh. My. Heart.

[i-am-dead-inside-666]

On his knees.

Please don’t post this on any other sites without my consent.

Pairing: Bucky/Zemo

Minors dni. 18+ only please. Nsfw.

Warnings: Dubious consent, brief disassociation, face fucking, boot grinding, getting stepped on, kinda violent, rough, no actual sex though.

This is my first published story please be kind, reblog and like if you want. I would love it if you came and talked to me about it. I think this is going to part of a series.

“It doesn’t really matter what my opinions on Steve Rogers are, he’s not here anymore.” The smugness that shone in the barons eyes, and the casual shrug of his shoulders made Bucky’s blood boil. How dare he talk about Steve that way.

Grinding his teeth together, he forced himself to loosen his grip on his glass when he felt it begin to splinter.

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation, glancing between the two like a tired parent. Placing a gentle hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he felt the coiled tension in his muscles. Just as he opened his mouth to try and defuse the situation, his phone rang.

A quick look at the name and he sighed, “Can you watch him for a moment?” Sam asked, covering the bottom of his phone as he glanced from Bucky to Zemo.

The super soldier nodded, forcing himself not to flinch as Sam patted him on the shoulder before leaving. Bucky listened to the faint sound of Sam laughing at something Sarah had said, waiting until his voice had faded away before he moved.

He stalked past Zemo to the kitchen, dropping his glass in the sink and watching the expensive alcohol slip down the drain. Bucky struggled to refrain from smirking as he did, he could almost feel the pain in Zemo’s expression.

He never asked to become a super soldier, but sometimes his unparalleled sense were useful, Bucky didn’t need to check to know that Zemo had followed him to the kitchen.

“I apologise, if my earlier comment was.. insensitive.” Bucky pressed his palms against the counter, concentrating on keeping his breathing level, even as his fingers ached to choke Zemo until he passed out.

Bucky turned to face Zemo, temper flaring at how calmly he was leaning against the counter, “I understand how much Steve meant to you.”

That was it.

Bucky moved faster than any normal human could even dream of.

In a split second, he was on top of Zemo, his lower body pressing Zemo’s hips into the counter to trap him.

His vibranium hand curled around the shorter mans throat, cold, unyielding fingers digging into the soft skin.

Bucky used his grip to shove Zemo backwards until his back was pressed against the counter, the back of his head slamming into the marble surface.

Zemo groaned beneath the metal, his vision swimming. If you’d have told him that he’d cracked his head open and his brains were currently spilling out, he’d probably have believed you.

“You don’t know a damn thing about what it feels like to lose someone.” Bucky snarled, satisfaction flaring in his chest as he watched Zemo writhe under his hold, fingers scratching uselessly at the metal.

Rage blinded him, and for a moment, he considered tightening his fist. How easy it would be to crush Zemo’s windpipe. He’d torn metal in half with ease, it would take barely any effort to end this mans life.

Shame flooded him as he realised what he was doing. He uncurled his hand, stepping back to watch Zemo cough and gasp for air, tears running down his face.

He’d slipped back into violence so easily, they said he was free, but was he? Would his mind ever truly be his own. He wasn’t The Winter Soldier anymore, but he wasn’t Bucky either..

He was drifting, losing himself in his own mind.

A low thud snapped him back to reality, Zemo’s knees had buckled, and he’d slid off the counter and onto the floor where he knelt, massaging the dark, finger shaped bruises around his neck. “Hmm, being on your knees suits you.”

“You-“ Zemo’s voice was barely audible, he shifted uncomfortably on his knees and cleared his throat slightly before trying again.

“You are unused to having this level of control over your own life. Yes?”

Bucky scowled, reaching down to thread his fingers through Zemo’s hair, guilt swirling in stomach as he felt warm blood coat his fingers, “Sorry.” He murmured.

Zemo grimaced as Bucky pressed down on the wound, “no you aren’t.”

The super soldier smiled wryly, “no, I’m not.” He pulled his hand away, examining the crimson liquid staining his fingers. “I have control over my life… I want control over you.” Bucky whispered, his voice low, a dark edge creeping into it, sending shivers down Zemo’s spine.

He didn’t give the baron chance to respond, moving his bloody fingers to rest on Zemo’s lower lip, pushing insistently until they parted. Bucky’s fingers slipped into Zemo’s mouth, coating his tongue with the coppery taste of his own blood.

Bucky’s left hand moved to cup Zemo’s face, the action seemed gentle at first, the cool metal sliding over his jaw. Then Bucky’s fingers pushed right to the back of Zemo’s throat and he gagged, trying to pull away only to be stopped as Bucky’s hand wrapped further around his head, holding him in place.

Narrowing his eyes, Zemo bit down hard on Bucky’s fingers, breaking the skin with ease. Bucky snarled, moving his hand back to Zemo’s jaw, pressing his fingers into the weak point just in front of his ears.

The pressure slowly increases until Zemo’s finally forced to open his jaw wide, Bucky’s hand releasing its grip and slipping back to its previous position. Despite the intrusive fingers in his mouth, Zemo manages to pant around them, pain ricocheting through his jaw as Bucky’s fingers delved deeper.

Bucky smiled lightly, watching Zemo choke on his fingers, tilting his head in curiosity, he pressed them further down Zemo’s throat, and watching as he gagged wetly around them, desperately trying to break Bucky’s iron grip on his head as he fought to breathe.

Just as Zemo looked like he might faint, Bucky pulled his fingers back, allowing Zemo to fall forwards at his feet gasping for air.

Bucky ignored his coughing, turning his attention back towards the door, straining his ears, he could barely make out Sam’s voice.

“chto ty delayesh' soldat?” Zemo panted, trying to smirk, but ending up grimacing at how much it hurt his throat to talk.

Bucky slapped him.

Not hard enough to hurt him badly, but enough to make his head snap to the side, and his dick twitch up against the confines of his pants.

Bucky let his fingers ghost over the fresh, purple bruise on Zemo’s temple, courtesy of John Walker, he pushed a stray strand of hair out of his way and hummed quietly, wondering whether two concussions in under 24 hours would make the baron less of an asshole.

Bucky frowned, slipping his hand back through Zemo’s hair to jerk his head back, exposing the pale column of his throat. Zemo’s pupils were blown wide, his deep brown irises nearly invisible. “Soldat?”

“Shut up.” Bucky rolled his eyes, plunging his fingers back into Zemo’s hot mouth without restraint. This time however, he didn’t hold them still, but set about fucking Zemo’s throat with his fingers.

By now, Zemo had lost all of his usual composure, he gagged and whined unashamedly around Bucky’s fingers, spit dripping down his chin every time they withdrew.

Hearing Zemo’s panicked breaths and soft moans accompanied by the wet squelch of his fingers made Bucky grin. This man had manipulated and lied and killed, and here he was, on his knees, choking on Bucky’s fingers. The thought made his dick press against the denim of his jeans, achingly hard and leaking precome against the inside of his pants.

Finally, he pulled his fingers sharply from Zemo’s mouth, admiring how fucked out the baron already looked, held up only by Bucky’s firm grip of his hair.

His cheeks were flushed pink, and the hair that wasn’t trapped in a vibranium fist, was no longer neatly parted and combed, instead it fell in strands in front of his face, moving slightly with every breath.

Silent and stony faced, Bucky wiped his slick fingers across Zemo’s cheek, leaving a trail of glistening spit across his skin. Bucky could have grinned at the shudder he felt pass through Zemo’s body at the degrading act, but he refrained, schooling his face into an emotionless mask.

He then moved his hand to his belt, unbuckling it with nimble fingers and shoving his jeans down along with his boxers. Zemo whimpered at the sight of Bucky’s hard cock, trying to pull away, but unable to due to the tight, unrelenting grip on his hair.

“Soldat?” He desperately choked out, reaching a hand up to encircle the vibranium one, trying to loosen its grip. Bucky moved his now free hand to curl back around Zemo’s throat, the gap between his thumb and finger fitting just beneath his Adam’s apple.

He growled low in his throat, pulling Zemo’s head back further so that their eyes met, “Call me soldat again, and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t remember how to breathe, never mind speak.” He felt Zemo swallow beneath his grip, eyes wide with fear, before he nodded as much as he was able to with Bucky’s hand restricting his airflow.

Giving one last warning squeeze, Bucky removed his hand, using it to leisurely stroke his cock. He glares down at Zemo as he does so, watching his already shiny eyes fill with tears when he tightened his fist in the barons soft hair.

A small groan escapes his lips when he glides his palm over the head of his dick, coating his hand in the slick precome that’s gathered there. He drags his hand down to the base of his thick cock, and then quickly back up to the sensitive tip.

Zemo stared up at him with bated breath, fear and curiosity warring across his face. Bucky sneered, using his grip to force Zemo’s head forward, close enough to nudge the tip of his dick against Zemo’s spit slicked lips.

“Open up.” He ordered, a chill rushing through his body as he did so. Somewhere, deep in the darkest part of his mind, a voice was screaming at him. He’s your handler! He’s going to punish you! You’re disobeying orders! You’re just a weapon. Just an asset, meant to be used. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

He ground his teeth together, silencing the voice by pushing abruptly into Zemo’s hot, perfect mouth, even as the baron frantically tried to pull away.

Bucky hunched forward his hand shooting out to clutch at the counter. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of Zemo’s tongue working against the vein on the underside of his dick.

“God. Your mouth is heaven.” He sighed, bracing himself with the hand on the counter and the one entangled in Zemo’s hair, before he started rocking his hips.

Bucky moaned softly watching his cock sink further into Zemo’s mouth, feeling it bump against the back of his tight throat. He painstakingly unclenched his hand from the edge of the counter, ignoring the fact that he’d left dents in it. He slid that hand against the other side of Zemo’s head, holding him completely still.

With the shorter man rendered completely immobile beneath him, Bucky took the opportunity to push all the way down the wet slide of Zemo’s throat.

“Well, this... this isn’t how I expected- today to go..” Bucky panted, hand pushing against the still bleeding wound on Zemo’s head, pressing the barons nose into the wiry hair at the base of his cock.

Zemo gagged around the dick, so deep in his throat that Bucky could see the shape of it beneath the barons bruised neck. There’s already a dull ache spreading from Zemo’s jaw, joining the throbbing pain in his head and making his vision foggy.

His throat convulsed in waves that made Bucky growl, fingers digging deeper into the Sokovian’s already blood stained skin.

Zemo’s previously idle hands came up to desperately claw at Bucky’s thighs, his lips stretched painfully wide around the thick base of the soldiers cock. Scowling, Bucky pulled back just enough to let Zemo inhale a quick, panicked breath, a rush of saliva spilling out and dripping down his chin.

The soldier watched Zemo gasp for air, long lines of spit connecting his sore, abused mouth to Bucky’s cockhead in thick, silvery strands.

Deciding that the baron had had a long enough reprieve, Bucky shoved forwards again, barely noticing Zemo’s grip tighten around his thighs. Gradually, Bucky increased his pace, building up to short, powerful thrusts as he fucked Zemo’s mouth.

Tears streamed down the smaller mans face, his cheeks going from flushed pink to a concerning shade of red. “I’m not gonna stop even if you pass out.” Bucky warned, smirking at the scared whimper that his threat prompted.

Despite the two, very painful, head injuries that currently made his thoughts feel like maple syrup, Zemo couldn’t help the rush of arousal that accompanied being used as a fucktoy by The Winter Soldier. His hips moved automatically, humping the air as much as he could whilst stuck on his knees.

Bucky feels his grip tighten around Zemo’s head, fingers digging deeper into the injury he’d caused earlier, feeling the vibrations through his cock as Zemo groaned around his length. Glancing down, he noticed the tent in the war criminals slacks, and the desperate bucking motion of his hips.

Grinning despite himself, Bucky used the tip of his boot to nudge Zemo’s legs wider apart before wedging his boot in the gap between Zemo’s throbbing dick and the floor.

“Grind down on my boot like the desperate slut you are.” The pathetic mewl that slipped from Zemo made Bucky bite down on his bottom lip, stifling a moan.

Zemo whines, the noise almost immediately cut off as Bucky forces his length even further down the barons throat, his thrusts getting slower, but harder, cutting Zemo’s oxygen off entirely. His balls slapped against Zemo’s chin with every smooth push forwards, dripping wet with the spit that spills out from around his dick.

Bucky used the grip he had, with one hand in Zemo’s hair, and the other wrapped around his head, he pulled Zemo down onto his cock each time he thrust forward, smirking at the loud gurgling noise the baron made when he choked.

Zemo’s hips rocked carefully against Bucky’s boot, he desperately sought to chase the friction against his painfully hard member, pushing tightly against its constraints.

Yet shame settled deep in his gut at how easily he’d submitted to someone, it had been so long since Heike- and it wasn’t just someone, it was a super soldier. The very beings he’d sworn to himself that he’d destroy, for Heike, for Carl.

The soldier in question decided that Zemo wasn’t moving fast enough. Pulling his boot away, he rocks back into his heel before pressing down, the tread of his boot pushing down on the hard line of Zemo’s cock through his pants.

Zemo’s moans as loud as he’s able to with his mouth stuffed full of cock, pleasure burning through his veins even as he resents how wonderful being stepped on feels.

“Figures you’d get off on this.” Bucky growls, relishing in the fact that his mind feels more like his own than it has in months. “Slut.” He snarls, and before he even considers his actions, he presses Zemo’s head all the way down in one quick, possibly too fast motion.

Bucky heard the sharp pop of cartilage being torn away from bone, over the sound of his light groans, and the wet smack of his balls against Zemo’s chin. A small, pathetic cry works it’s way out of Zemo’s throat as his jaw dislocated.

Pain shot through Zemo’s body, white hot and warring with the pleasure as Bucky leans forward to press more weight down on him, rocking the thick sole along the very visible bulge in his pants.

The agony of his head and jaw, mingling with the intense pleasure is too much, tipping him towards his climax.

Suddenly he’s cumming in his pants, his vision going completely white and his entire body thrumming with a searing heat.

Zemo sees stars behind his eyelids, his injured head pounding in time with his frantic heartbeat. His jaw screams at him in pain every time Bucky forces himself back down his throat.

It’s all too much.

Zemo’s eyes roll into the back of his head, his body going completely limp and pliant. The only thing stopping him from slumping to the floor is Bucky’s iron grip of his hair.

Bucky barely notices that the baron has passed out, his head tipped back towards the ceiling and his mind is blissfully blank as he continued to use Zemo’s mouth.

He finally looked down, when he realised that he could no longer here Zemo’s sweet little whimpers over the blood rushing in his ears.

The smaller mans face was sheet white, contrasting starkly with how red his swollen lips looked. Dark hair framed his face where it wasn’t fisted in Bucky’s vibranium hand, and the bruises around his neck in the rough shape of a hand looked sore.

The thought of using Zemo whilst he wasn’t even conscious pushed Bucky over the edge, his mind going completely blank. The lingering voice in the back of his head going silent, and for the first time since Steve left, his mind feels truly his own.

His hot seed spills down Zemo’s throat, pleasure washing over him in waves that threaten to drown him. He feels almost every muscle in his body tense at the same time, his thrusts no longer steady, but erratic and rough.

He’s brought back to Earth by Zemo’s throat constricting around his sensitive cock. The barons arms flailing wildly as he’s brought abruptly back to consciousness, unable to breathe.

Gripped by panic at the thought of Zemo actually choking to death on his cock, Bucky hurriedly withdrew from Zemo’s mouth. He unclenches the hand fisted in his hair, but stooping down quickly to hook an elbow under each arm and stop him from face planting on the ground.

“Oh god- I’m sorry- I-“ he rambled quietly in his stress, wincing as he fit his fingers into the bruises around his jaw and as gently as possible, pushed it back into place.

A strained gasp escaped Zemo’s rough throat, his eyes still slightly glazed from both the pain, and the intensity of his orgasm. It took a moment for him to focus, but when he did, a flicker of fear crossed his face.

“I’m sorry..” Bucky repeated, gently rubbing his cold fingers along Zemo’s jawline as he sank to the floor beside him. He pulled Zemo into his lap, resting the barons head against his shoulder and stroking sweat damp locks of hair behind his ear.

“It’s fine-“ Zemo groaned, his voice almost as wrecked as he looked, his head lolled back against the crook of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky’s soft smile faded as he heard Sam’s footsteps approaching the door. He shot to his feet, pulling Zemo up with him and shoving him towards the counter when he looked as though he was going to collapse again.

Sam pushed the door open, tucking his phone into his pocket, the smile on his face quickly replaced by a frown when he remembered the high tension in the room. “Everything alright in here?” He ventured, casting a worried look at Zemo.

“Yes.” Bucky replied curtly, hoping his face wasn’t as flushed as it felt. Zemo had his eyes squeezed shut, thankful that his back was to Sam as he tried to ignore the lingering taste of Bucky’s cum that coated the back of his throat.

“…ok… well, I’m going to get food. Can you- keep an eye on Master Criminal over there?” Bucky chuckled darkly, nodding, “yeah, could you pick me up a sandwich?”

Sam flashed him a quick thumbs up on his way out the door. The minute it was closed, Zemo let himself slide down onto the floor, head pounding. When he’d finally managed to blink his eyes open, the first thing he saw were Bucky’s boots, his face going bright red at the thought of what those boots had done to him.

Bucky stared down at him, “You want to talk?”

[babyboibucky]

Babysitting Bucky - Part 5

Pairing: FATWS!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,368

Summary: You’ve been assigned by the government to keep an eye on the Winter Soldier to ensure that he was no longer a threat to the world.

A/N: It has begun lmfao, check out the link at the end of this post if you’d like to be tagged in the next updates! Would love to receive feedbacks! 

MASTERLIST

-

You found yourself in the conference room of the Avengers compound, together with Sam, Bucky, Sharon and Fury discussing about an upcoming mission.

Sharon went over the brief of the mission with everyone. There was an intel about a certain drug cartel that decided to expand their business and venture into the trade of biological weapons as well. Grabbing the folder on the desk, you skimmed through the information and frowned when your eyes landed on a familiar name.

“Black Sparrow? I thought the entire organization was taken down during the raid years ago?” You asked.

Bucky turned to you, “You know these guys?”

“One of my first missions, I was the assigned liaison officer to check up on the whistleblower who was placed under the witness protection program.” You explained.

Sharon sighed, “Apparently, not everyone was imprisoned. Whoever decided to keep the organization going, we have no idea.”

The mission required all of you to find out about the illegal trades. There wasn’t much information provided, except for the tip that an important trade might be taking place soon.

“Black Sparrow’s nest is said to be hidden within a fruit shop downtown.” Sharon added.

Fury let Sam takeover the strategizing, with him deciding to do a stakeout to see how the organization operates. Once the trade takes place, raid the nest, find out the other groups involved and most importantly the source of biological weapons.

“You up for a stakeout, Buck?” Sam asked.

Bucky shrugged and glanced at you, “Only if the babysitter agrees to do so.”

You let out an exasperated breath, “Mister Barnes, I would appreciate it if you’d address me properly.” You scolded.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright. Sharon and I will try to research on the potential groups involved in the trades. Stakeout starts tonight so pack your things.”

-

All your things have been packed and you were about to leave your room when you received a call from none other than Secretary Ross.

“Ugh, what does he want now?” You complained to yourself before accepting the call.

“I heard about the stakeout, Agent. Isn’t it convenient?”

You rolled your eyes; the secretary’s voice was too chirpy, as if he was excited. He was definitely up to something, what it was, you still didn’t know. Something about the mission you were tasked to do was off. They didn’t even tell you for how long you needed to tag along the Winter Soldier.

“Yes, sir. I will make sure to keep an eye on the subject and report whatever it is that I find out of place.” You reassured, hoping that the secretary would simply hum in agreement and end the call.

“Good. But wouldn’t it be better if you stir things up a bit?” He asked.

You frowned, “I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”

Secretary Ross chuckled, “Push his buttons, Agent. See how he reacts to certain triggers.”

God, he really wants you to dig some dirt on Bucky. You were supposed to tell him that you already tried doing so and that nothing bad happened, but the Secretary reminded you that he wanted to see a detailed report about it and ended the call.

You didn’t want to push Bucky’s buttons anymore. Bringing up the Soldat seemed too much already and he had already proven how much in control he was of himself. However, you felt conflicted as well since you needed to file a report. You could easily fake it though, but you were afraid that the secretary might have eyes and ears lurking around.

You were too deep into your thoughts, almost losing track of the time. Thankfully, FRIDAY interrupted and informed you that Bucky and Sam were already outside the compound, waiting for you.

-

“You’re eight minutes late, Agent.” Sam reprimanded as you approached them.

“Did you have a hard time packing Bucky’s diapers and feeding bottles?” He teased.

Bucky grunted in dismay, “Jesus, Sam.”

“Sorry, had to take a phone call from the secretary.” You responded and began placing your things inside the trunk of the car.

Bucky stiffened at the mention of Secretary Ross, his hands tightened into fists at his side. You eyed his stance and noticed that he seemed uncomfortable. Who wouldn’t be if the government had their eyes on you?

“Nothing to worry about, Mister Barnes. You’re all good. I made sure of that.” You told him reassuringly before sliding into the passenger’s seat.

Bucky drove to the stakeout location with an uncomfortable silence in the air with the occassional directions coming from the GPS. You were slightly nervous about being on a week-long stakeout. It wasn’t because you were afraid of Bucky, but being with him by yourself was intimidating.

Seven days with the Winter Soldier. With no one else around.

You and the Winter Soldier. On a stakeout. For an entire week.

The more you thought about it, the more it was beginning to sink in. You’ve had your fair share of stakeouts in the past, but you were either by yourself or paired someone you closely worked with. But a stakeout with Bucky Barnes? How the fuck were you going to keep calm the entire week and maintain your calm persona?

“So...” Bucky trailed, tone unsure as if he too was uncomfortable with the silence and decided to break it but not knowing how to proceed.

“Do you want to turn on the radio?” He asked and cleared his throat, keeping his gaze on the road.

You looked out the window, “Yeah, why not.” You said with faux nonchalance.

Bucky quickly turned it on and adjusted the volume. He skimmed through various radio stations before settling on one.

Despite having the radio playing in the background, the atmosphere between you and Bucky remained awkward and uncomfortable. You could tell that Bucky could feel it too, so you decided to start a conversation.

“How has it been being an Avenger?”

You didn’t know why you chose that question, but it was the first thing that popped into your mind.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, “Is that part of your research on me or are you actually trying to start a conversation?” He asked, glancing at you with amusement.

“You know what, forget about it, Mister Barnes.” You waved off.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was genuinely curious.” He sheepishly responded, “But to answer your question, it’s been...weird so to speak. Especially having someone watch my every move.”

You shrugged, “Well, I apologize but I don’t have a choice. This is my job and I have to—“

“I know, Agent. You don’t need to explain, I completely understand. I’m really trying not to make it hard for you to do your job.” He explained.

You were actually surprised at how easy it was to talk to Bucky. You were expecting him to be completely broody and tight-lipped, considering all the things he went through. There were times when he’d be moody of course, but for the most part, he was friendly. And very kind.

“Well then I appreciate it, Mister Barnes.” You stated.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, “I’m still looking forward to the day when you’d call me, Bucky.” He said and gave you a smile.

You felt your face heat up from the way he smiled at you and how his eyes crinkled at the sides. He almost looked the same as he did in his photos dated back to the 40’s, when he was oozing with that boyish charm and innocence before he was drafted for the war.

You immediately looked away and bit your lip.

-

The two of you arrived at the cheap motel that was situated a few blocks away from the fruit shop. The building was old and almost looked dilapidated. It was known to be the number one spot for illegal transactions. It was the perfect place for a stakeout.

“The old lady at the reception seemed suspicious of us, I saw how she eyed the both of us when we checked in.” You said upon entering the motel room, groaning at the stench that welcomed your nostrils.

Obviously, the room was far from decent given the quality of the motel itself. There were two beds separated by a night desk and a small coffee table; the cream curtains were splotchy and dusty, some parts of the wallpaper were torn apart and the flooring creaked with every single step.

“I think she was merely judging us, thinking we’re one of those couples.” Bucky said as he placed his bags on the bed.

“Those couples?” You asked, walking over to the other bed and inspecting the bedding.

“Well, I heard this motel is a popular location for shooting x-rated videos.” Bucky explained casually as he walked towards the window, pushing the curtains aside, revealing the perfect view of Black Sparrow’s nest.

You almost choke on your own spit, “You mean to say...that old lady thought we were going to shoot porn?!”

Bucky hummed, “Maybe. It’s probably for the best, that way we’ll remain unsuspicious. Less chances of being interrupted as well.” he replied casually, as if it was no big deal but you also noticed that the corner of his lips curved into a slight smirk.

Clearing your throat, you regained your composure and went to unpack your things instead, starting with some of the weapons you brought. A stakeout often resulted to a raid so you had to make sure that you were prepared in case of an attack. Bucky moved away from the window and closed the curtains again before sitting on his bed.

“Those all yours?” he asked with interest as he watched you arrange your knives and guns on top of your bed.

You glanced at him for a quick second and saw the glint in his eyes as he observed your arsenal, you just hummed in response and started cleaning your guns while Bucky watched in silence.

“When we sparred...” he trailed and you froze, expecting him to confront you when you brought up the Soldat to trigger him.

“You used Romanoff’s technique. Where did you learn that?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Mister Barnes, it’s not that hard to learn that move. I’m just as trained as you and Mister Wilson, I know a lot of moves.” you explained but Bucky didn’t seem to buy it.

“It’s actually kinda hard to execute that move. Not a lot of trained agents can do that easily.” he pressed.

You pursed your lips before looking up at him, “Sounds to me like you’re trying to compliment my skills, Mister Barnes.”

Bucky ended up letting go of the topic.

-

The first few hours of the stakeout was uneventful; you and Bucky simply kept watch to see whether there were suspicious movements in the fruit shop. It seemed to be a regular fruit shop but there were certain people walking in and out of it that looked pretty shady.

This was going to be a difficult task.

There were small conversations between you and Bucky, mostly formal and about the mission. Everything seemed to be going well but you knew that the longer the both of you would stakeout together, the more it was going to be uncomfortable. You figured that you’d cross that bridge when you get there.

It was past six when you felt a pang of hunger; the last time you had a meal was during lunch. You needed to get food before your stomach could even embarrass you in front of Bucky who remained staring out of the window, keeping watch.

“I’m getting us food for dinner, would you like anything?” you asked.

Bucky shook his head, “Anything is fine.” he offered a small smile.

You left the motel and thankfully, there was a nearby Mcdonald’s a couple blocks away. On your way back, you decided to casually pass by the fruit shop to get a closer look. You didn’t want to linger around but you did notice that there were certain people who kept on going in and out of the store throughout the day. You rushed back to your room to inform Bucky about it and upon stepping inside, you were welcomed by the sight of the Winter Soldier fresh out of the shower wearing only a towel that was wrapped around his waist while he was drying his hair with another towel.

Your eyes immediately zoomed in on the droplets of water that was running from Bucky’s neck down to his pecs, sliding lower to his chiseled abs. Your eyes remained on his abdomen, even when the water had disappeared into the towel around his waist. By the time you snapped out of your trance, you shifted your gaze back to Bucky’s face hoping that he didn’t catch you staring at his body.

Oh, but it was too late because your eyes were immediately met by a pair of baby blues.

“I...b-bought...” you stammered and wanted to slap yourself for sounding like an idiot. “...dinner from uh...Burger King.” you continued, unable to look away from Bucky’s piercing gaze.

“Mcdonald’s.” he said.

“What?”

“You bought from Mcdonald’s...not Burger King.” Bucky corrected you, pointing towards the brown paper bag in your hands.

You coughed and finally managed to look away from Bucky’s half-naked figure, “Yes, I meant Mcdonald’s. Sorry.” you softly said and pre-occupied yourself by taking out the food from the paper bag and placing them on the small table.

As you focused your attention on arranging the food on the desk, you felt Bucky hover behind you. His bare chest slightly pressing against your back as he reached for the french fries that was still inside the paper bag. You stood still and tried to keep your cool despite the closeness between you and Bucky. He pulled away just as quickly and grinned when you looked back at him with a frown.

“You smell good, Agent.” he said before grabbing his clothes from his bed and walking back into the bathroom to get dressed.

You blinked a couple of times before you realized what had just happened.

“Fuck!” you whispered under your breath.

This was going to be one hell of a stakeout.

-

Babysitting Bucky Tag List:

@chipilerendi @procrastinationinawriter @supraveng @sammypotato67 @grace-writes-shit @tanyaherondale @dev-loves-siri @ahahafudge @nerdgirl0824 @thomasthetankson @its-yasbxtch

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14

Sign up on my tag list here - https://forms.gle/b5haFXewSKqnXxxh7

[katymacsupernatural]

Not My Reality Part 2

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Story Summary: Y/N wakes up in a nightmare. Is it her new reality, or can she figure out how to fix it. How can she get pack to her husband Jensen?

READ PART 1 HERE

“Yeah, you’re married to me,” You retorted, angrily wiping away a tear. This day was completely destroying you, and you knew it was nowhere close to being finished. “We’ve been married for two years now. Living in Vancouver. Jared and I met when he was filming Gilmore Girls. Why can’t any of you remember this?”

Jared roughly took you by your shoulders, pushing you through the hallway until he forced you to sit down on the couch. Jensen followed along cautiously, perching on one of the arm chairs. “Jared, what the hell is going on?” He asked, and you wish you had an answer. 

Hastily wiping away another tear as it fell, you wrapped your arms around yourself, wishing they were the comforting arms of your husband. But he was looking at you as if you were crazy, and you knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. 

“I have no freaking idea,” Jared answered, sitting down in the other chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was on my morning run, and found her standing in the park. She has no idea how she got here, or why. No money, no phone, anything.”

“Y/N, what drugs are you on this time?” Jensen asked, his green eyes searching your face.

“I’m not on drugs!” You exclaimed. “You of all people should know why I’d never do drugs!”

Both men looked at each other, completely exasperated. “Y/N, I really don’t know what’s going on. But Jared and I are so freaking tired of you and your escapades. You know very well that you’ve only been out of rehab for a couple of months. I was really hoping you would stay clean this time.”

This sentence was the final nail in the coffin. You were so lost, and alone, and had no idea what to do next. Your face crumpled as your chest constricted with fear and anxiety. Tears streamed down your face. “No, this isn’t real,” you whispered. 

With tears streaking down your face, you peered back up at Jensen, pleading for help. “I don’t know what’s going on, but that’s not me. Not the real me anyways. I would never touch drugs! You should know that. Not after Felicity had overdosed in college. I just want to wake up and this all be over.”

The two men stood up and headed into the kitchen, leaving you alone. You could hear their hurried whispering, but it was too soft to make out any of the words. Jared’s laptop was sitting on the coffee table, and you opened it. Quickly searching your name, you were dismayed at what you saw.

There were so many stories of you. About your guest appearances on Supernatural and other shows. But more than that, it was the stories about the rehab visits, and crazy stunts that you always seemed to pull. It was you, but at the same time it wasn’t. This you had shorter hair, and multiple tattoos. While Jared and Jensen continued to argue, you typed in Jensen’s name. Your heart shattered at what you saw. Jensen was smiling at a gorgeous woman, their arms wrapped around three beautiful children. 

“He has kids,” you whispered. In your reality, or whatever the hell it was, the two of you had just started trying for a baby. Which you think you had already succeeded, and had planned on taking a test that morning. Holding your hand to your belly, you scrolled through more pictures, trying to wrap your mind around this. 

Jensen came over then, closing the laptop and sitting down on the edge of the coffee table. “Listen, no more lies. Jared and I only want to help you. So please, tell me. Are you back on drugs?”

Shaking your head, your eyes filled up with tears once again. “No. I promise I’m not.”

He searched your face for a moment. “Jared, I believe her.”

“Then how the hell can we explain what’s going on now?” Jared asked, standing behind Jensen, eyeing you as if you were completely crazy.

“Listen, I know you’re not going to believe me, but I need to say this.” Taking a deep breath, you knew this was going to make you look crazier than before. “Please just listen. Give me a chance to explain.”

“Of course,” they both answered, but you could see the sceptisism on their faces, and you knew that no matter what you said now, they probably wouldn’t believe it. 

“I don’t know how I got here. I live in Vancouver, full time. With my husband, who happens to be Jensen Ackles,” you could see the raised eyebrow, but you continued. “Not this Jensen. My Jensen. We’ve been married for two years. I’m a regular on Supernatural now. Jared is my best friend, who introduced us. I haven’t had a glass of alcohol since college. No drugs. I was laying in bed with my husband this morning, and when I closed my eyes, everything changed. Now I’m here, confused out of my mind, and I just want to get home.”

“You’re acting as if this is an episode of Supernatural,” Jensen sighed. “But things like that don’t happen. Not in real life. Maybe you didn’t take drugs knowingly. Maybe it was a prank.”

“Look!” You exclaimed. “No tattoos. No piercings. I noticed a scar on my...her face. Do I have that?”

They looked you over closely, their eyes widing as your word sunk in. “Well, there...there has to be a reason behind that.”

“Yeah, and if you can figure that out, please let me know. I’d like to get back to my real life.”

Jensen and Jared continued to talk while you excused yourself to find the bathroom. You passed by photos. Photos of Jared and his family, photos of Jared and Jensen together. Not a single picture of you. 

Wiping away the tears that you couldn’t seem to stop from falling, you quickly did your business before joining the two men back in the living room. “Listen, we’re going to go to Jensen’s house. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

Anxiety had your knee tapping as you sat in the back of Jensen’s SUV. You nervously picked at the loose thread on your sweatshirt, having no idea what you were going to find there. If his wife was home. How could you just stand there and watch as she interacted with her husband. It should be you, getting ready to find out your news. Sharing what you knew was going to be good news with Jensen later that evening. 

The house was huge. Parking in the garage, Jared and Jensen quickly led the way, letting you follow behind. Pictures filled the bookshelves and walls as you passed. So many pictures of Jensen with his beautiful wife. His adorable kids. So much love between everyone. It created this large knot in your belly. “Y/N, come on,” Jensen muttered, leading the way into his office. “Dee and the kids won’t be home until this evening so we have some time to figure things out. What is the last thing you remember before the park bench?”

“Being in bed with my Jensen. Spending an intimate moment together,” You said, ignoring the raised eyebrow of Jared.

“So, wait,” Jared held up his hand. “Our Y/N has never seen you naked. Maybe there’s a mole, or scar. Something that would just prove she’s not lying.”

Jensen thought carefully, but you answered first. “Well, I don’t have the scar that this Y/N does. But my Jensen has a scar. It’s his inner thigh. About an inch long, and ragged. He got it from a barbed wire fence when he was 15.”

Jensen’s mouth gaped open. “I have that scar,” he mumbled. “And there is no way our Y/N would have known that. 

Read Part 2

Dean/Jensen Tags:  @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278   @bi-danvers0  @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk  @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420  @screechingartisancashbailiff   @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @thoughts-and-funnies @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666 @beabutterfly987 @pink-sparkly-witch @sexyvixen7 @alwaysananglophile

My Reality Tags: @alwaysananglophile @deans-baby-momma 

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23​ @algudaodoce03-blog @amanda-teaches​ @andreaaalove​   @artisticpoet​ @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000​ @cpag7 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl​ @deanwanddamons​ @docharleythegeekqueen​ @emoryhemsworth​ @ericaprice2008​  @esoltis280​   @tatted-trina6​ @foxyjwls007​ @gh0stgurl​ @goldenolaf25​ @growningupgeek​  @heartislubbingdubbing​ @heyitscam99​ @hobby27​ @horsegirly99blog​ @imsuperawkward​ @internationalmusicteacher​ @iwriteaboutdean​  @jayankles​ @jensen-gal​ @justsomedreaming​ @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​ @linki-locks11​ @littleblue5mcdork​  @lowlyapprentice​   @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ @mogaruke​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @musiclovinchic93​  @nanie5​   @percussiongirl2017​ @plaid-lover-bay25​   @roonyxx​ @ronja-uebrick​ @roxyspearing​  @samanddeanmyheroes​ @sandlee44​ @shamelesslydean​ @simonsbluee​ @sillesworldofwriting​ @sgarrett49​ @spnbaby-67​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @spnwoman​   @superbadassnatural​ @thatcrazybookwormgeek​   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @vvinch3st3r​  @whimsicalrobots​ @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen​

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [1]

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean, OCs

Words: 1,550

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.

Chapter Summary: Dean asks you to flirt with a cop for info. Sam is not pleased.

Warnings: jealous!sam, protective!sam, huffy!sam, badass!reader, exasperated squirrel, mutual pining, idiots in love, tropesss

A/N: this is part one of a six-part mini series that is essentially an amalgamation of all the jealous/protective tropes. sorry not sorry?

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The first time was an impromptu experiment. Of course, Dean already knew Sam had a crush on you; he raised the kid for crying out loud. That and the way Sam had stumbled over his own tongue and feet the first time they encountered you (and nearly every time thereafter) made it quite obvious to everyone… well, except you, apparently. Regardless, Dean figured it was just the case of a simple crush and poor Sammy being unable to match his finesse with the ladies.

So when the three of you came across a sleazy police captain, who was in no way shy about having the hots for you, during a rugaru hunt in Nebraska, Dean was rather taken aback by his brother’s unusual reaction.

Strolling into the Omaha police department with you and Sam on either side, the older Winchester had identified the captain immediately from his picture online.

“Captain Anderson,” Dean addressed the man directly in a low, authoritative tone, “I’m Agent Parker, and these are my partners Agents Stan and Lee.” He motioned to his right and left side as he introduced you, accordingly, pausing as you flashed your fake badges in unison.

The captain was a tall, slightly rotund fellow, with a mustache to rival an 80’s porn star’s, and he scoffed haughtily at your entrance. “What the hell do the feds want with us? And did they really hafta send three of ya?” He gestured pointedly at you with a patronizing raise of his chin and your blood began to boil at the implicitly misogynistic remark.

“Well no offense, Captain,” you spoke up; your FBI get-up always gave you an extra boost of confidence (something about the power suit vibes you supposed), plus men like him really pissed you off, “but there have been five deaths here within the last week, and from what I understand, your team has a grand total of zero working theories and just as many leads, so perhaps you can understand why the government would show some concern.”

“Mm, mm, mm!” Captain Anderson chanted obnoxiously in response. He gave you a painfully slow once-over, eyes filled with a crude and unrestrained lechery that forced a shiver down your spine. “A woman who knows how to take charge… I like that,” he licked his lips lasciviously.

Dean was torn between awaiting your likely ruthless and epic comeback or telling the douchebag off himself when he heard Sam clear his throat forcedly beside him. Looking over, he was surprised to find his giant of a little brother to be a picture of rage. Strained jaw, clenched fists, distended chest, and a murderous glare directed unwaveringly at the Omaha police captain.

Meanwhile, you were finding it difficult to resist the urge to roll your eyes and repress your temper to maintain a professional front. “We need information and clearance,” you stated firmly, ignoring the cop’s inappropriate and debaucherous display, “Are you going to hand it over or not?”

“Sorry little miss, no can do! You’re prolly gonna hafta talk to the chief if you want in on a big boy case like this one… but, you know, I can think of some ways you might be able to convince me otherwise,” he finished with a lewd wink before taking off.

Sam looked like he was about to lunge at the captain, but Dean put a hand on his arm to ground him. He was starting to suspect Sam’s behavior might have more to do with you than the fact that the captain was a regular dickhead. After all, Sam was usually the calmer and more rational of the brothers, especially during hunts.

You were too busy holding yourself back to notice though, staring daggers into Anderson’s back as you watched him walk away.

“What an asshole. I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dean began. An idea was forming in his head, one that could help him test his theory. “Look, you know I wouldn’t ask this if there was a better way, but dyou think, maybe, just this once, you could… you know? Turn on the charm a bit? Just so we can get in?”

Sam had not been fully engaged in the conversation until just then, too focused on trying to mollify the inexplicable rage that Captain Anderson had incited within him, but Dean’s request certainly caught his attention.

“What?! Dean! You can’t be serious. No. We’ll find another way. Just- No.” Sam’s voice was harder and deeper than usual and for a moment you lost yourself in it, daydreaming that perhaps he was exhibiting a sense of jealously. But who were you kidding? Sam was just a nice guy who detested sexist pricks like Anderson; this had nothing to do with you.

“No, it’s fine. Dean’s right. This is the easiest way. I’ll do it,” you stated quietly before adding with a small smile, “I can suck it up on account of saving some lives.”

Dean grinned and you walked away before Sam could protest any further. When you reached the captain’s office, you didn’t bother knocking on the open door, “Alright, Captain Anderson-“

“Please, call me Frank.” He looked up at you with such a smug and revolting expression, you decided there was no way you could follow through with Dean’s plan.

“Listen, Frank,” you crossed your arms in what you hoped was an ‘I mean business’ stance, but quickly dropped them when you realized the action had unwittingly highlighted your cleavage in the button-down blouse you were wearing and spurred yet another round of gratuitous leering from Frank. “What’s it gonna take for you to hand over the case files and grant us full access to the evidence and crime scenes?”

“Well, since I like you, I’ll make it easy for ya. How about we start with a smile?” He had leaned forward in his seated position behind his desk as he spoke, and you almost smacked him right then.

As you turned to leave, however, it was Anderson who smacked you, open palmed and right on the ass. You forced yourself to take a deep breath before slowly turning back around. Keeping your movements deliberate and unhurried, you bent over his desk, ignoring the impulse to gag at the greasy, utterly unholy scent that filled your nostrils as you got close enough to whisper in his ear, “You know what, I’ll make it easy for you too. How about, if you give my partners and I complete authorization on this case, I won’t report you to the feds for sexual harassment? See, I know people in the upper ranks and I’ve got a lawyer who wipes the floor with guys like you on the daily.” It was all lies, of course, but you figured it was for a good cause.

“So what’s it gonna be, Captain?” You asked after straightening yourself back up.

As you’d hoped, the bastard was looking a little worse for wear, though you could tell he was trying to retain what little he could of his arrogant persona. “You little bitch.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine. You can have it,” he pointed at a stack of file folders on his desk, and then sighed as he produced three security passes, “Go crazy! Go fuck yourself.”

“Gladly,” you sassed, ready to strut out of there with everything you came for in hand.

Behind you, things had not gone so smoothly. When Sam saw Anderson slapping your butt, he was fully prepared to march over and break the captain’s nose, but Dean again held him back, “Woah, hey, you know Y/N can handle herself. What’s up with you?”

Then when he was forced to watch you lean in tantalizingly close and whisper something in Anderson’s ear, Sam experienced an entirely foreign sensation. He was still burning with fury, but that anger was joined by a peculiar ache. His heart had risen to his throat as he stood there, completely transfixed, a look of dejection and longing written across his face.

‘Huh,’ Dean had thought with an internal smirk, ‘Sammy’s got it ba-ad!’ he sing-song-ed in his own head, storing the information away for later, when he could find an opportune moment to tease his baby brother about it.

For now, Dean gave you two thumbs up as he watched you return with a triumphant grin, holding up three official passes by their lanyards.

“Got it all. We’re completely in,” you supplied each brother a security pass when you reached them.

“Damn. You are good, woman! What did you even say to him?” Dean chuckled as the three of you left the station.

“Oh nothing, just a bit of light threatening.”

Sam stopped to look at you quizzically. “Wait, what? You mean you didn’t- you weren’t… flirting with him?”

“Nah, I was too appalled by the thought to go down that route.”

“Oh,” he huffed out, looking down with drooped shoulders and an awkward twitch of a smile. You could have sworn he looked somewhat relieved, but decided not to read too much into it, too pleased with yourself to allow the ever-growing gloom of your unrequited love dampen your spirits.

The whole time Dean was staring back at the two of you in disbelief. ‘These goddamn idiots,’ he thought with an exasperated yet slightly amused shake of his head.

→ CARRY ON

thanks so much for reading! feedback always appreciated 💞

[bookerlausanne]

Now That I’m Free

A Destiel Secret Santa gift for @i-like-to-think-i-am-cool via this year’s @destielsecretsanta2020 ;)

I hope you have a wonderful holiday and that you can enjoy this fluffy, ridiculous mess I typed after 5 glasses of wine.

Summary: Dean finally has the words if he can only give them voice.

Warnings: I just had a breakup this week #2020, so this is the schmoopyiest, melodramatic, harlequinesque, most ridiculous thing I’ve ever written. I’m sorry it’s so short.  Post season 15. In no way canon compliant.

 “Now that I’m free to be

Myself, who am I?”

Mary Oliver, Blue Iris

 It was Christmas Eve and Dean Winchester was alone.

He sat in front of a beautiful tree filled with generic ornaments – nothing saved from his and Sammy’s childhood, nothing much to speak of on the road with their- with John. He wore his Star Wars ugly Christmas Sweater and sat staring at the lights with shitty cooking Bourbon in a chipped coffee mug sitting untouched and sweating next to him.

Sammy and Eileen are headed his way tomorrow, plans adjusted to accommodate Eileen’s eight-month pregnant body having trouble sleeping in anything other than her own bed. Dean would have been more than happy to drive to them, but the change of plans came too late to reach their house in time and the concern on Sam’s face begrudgingly prevented him from any teasing or complaints. Jack will be (Dean’s willing to bet) in pj’s and drinking hot cocoa in this very spot just waiting at 4:30 in the freaking morning for the rest of their family to arrive.

And Cas-

Well, Cas might show up, might not. Not like Dean’s his keeper or his bosom sister or his confidant or possibly even his friend, certainly not his lover-

Dean eyed the mug full of Bourbon and breathed out slowly. His jaw clenched and unbidden the last two years flashed before his eyes: Cas getting pulled into the Empty, defeating Chuck, Jack becoming the new Big Man Above, and Cas – fuck – Cas alive and standing in the middle of the Bunker with nothing more than a “Hello, Dean.” a perfunctory hug and an adios back to Heaven. Yet, again.

Dean knows he’s not being fair. Cas still half lives with him in the bunker. Well, not lives lives. Ok, so he does technically live here but in his own room and with barely any contact with Dean. Not really, not anymore. And Dean knows it’s been a rough time coming off something like what happened, what he endured – yet again – what he said. Confessed.

Dean shifts in his chair, closes his eyes, and tilts his head against the wall behind him.

“Fuck.”

It’s his fault and he knows it. He has always known. It’s always him. The air between him and Cas is nothing less than intense. Fraught. Cut it with a stone thick. Because for all that Cas found the courage to say everything he did that night, Dean has felt thick tongued and uncomfortable ever since. Which, of course, Cas has noticed and tried to give him space for. Which, of course, has hurt Cas’s feelings and created a seemingly vast distance of space between them. Which, of course, as previously mentioned, is all Dean’s fault.

But be it Kismet or Karma or just Jack, tonight that is going to change. It has too.

Because Dean isn’t getting any younger. It’s not like he’s unaware but it’s something he thinks about much more frequently than he used too – especially while working on fixing up the bunker to accommodate the next round of Hunters. A Bunch of Badass Bitches as Claire likes to say. Dean smiles at the memory of the exasperated look on Cas’s face hearing her say that.

“Suck it up, Buttercup.” He mumbles to himself before taking a moment to just breathe. He gets up and clears his small amount of dinner dishes and the mug to the kitchen before coming back to the tree. He stands there half transfixed, grits his teeth for a moment and begins.

“I pray to the angel Castiel – uh, hey Cas, look, I don’t know if you’re busy but I just need you to listen for a minute and uh yeah,” Dean clears his throat and takes a moment. “Back when, when you said what you said – look, I- I know things are strained right now and I take the blame for that, ok? You deserved a response then and after and now and I –“

The unmistakable sound of Cas appearing behind him makes him pause. And he knows, god knows Dean can sense Cas around him like they’re tethered heart to heart in any plane of existence. There is a brief silence filled with so much expectation it’s almost unbearable and Dean knows – as sure as he’s ever known anything – that this is the most important moment of his entire life. He feels sick. He feels a bead of terrified, anxious sweat roll down the side of his face. He continues.

“I- I don’t have to tell you some sob story about an unloving parent who heaped a bunch of homophobic shit onto his too-pretty son. At this point it’s hardly a secret that my dad was an ass. But that kind of fear that you develop…” Dean stops and shakes head. “Look, what matters is that I couldn’t respond to you that night. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know and – yeah maybe that makes me the biggest asshole in the world to be so blind but I – I didn’t know. And I didn’t know what to say. And, when you came back, I still didn’t know what to say. I was frozen.”

Dean feels the tension behind him wind tight and he knows – god he knows he’s fucking this up but he has to try. He opens his eyes to the lights of the tree in front of him and fights to hold it together.

“I was frozen in the eye of a storm – because, Cas, I’m not the hero in this story. I’m not the good guy – no matter how hard I try. I-I’m not worthy. I’m not – fuck – I’m selfish.” Dean’s terrified but he must turn around. He must face this. He turns with tears in his eyes and sees Cas standing there just as wide eyed and teary as he imagined he would be. He’s hanging onto Dean’s every word because it doesn’t matter if he knows every piece of Dean’s heart, he still needs to hear it. Dean walks over to Cas until their positions are a perfect match for that night. Cas sees the struggle and determination on Dean’s face – still beautiful – and begins to hope.

“Cas, I love you.”

There is one moment where both men feel as though caught in the eye of a storm. The shock of Dean’s confession stills both until suddenly –

“I love you, too. I should have said it then, that night. I should have said it then. I should have torn down the walls of the deepest pit of Hell, torn down the foundations of Heaven myself to find you and tell you that I love you, Cas. Because I do – fuck – Cas.” Dean’s hands are cupping the sides of Cas’s face, thumbs trailing through tears of joy and shock and awe streaming from his too-blue eyes. The sight of his tears cuts into the marrow of his bones and Dean realizes that he has never, will never love anyone like he loves Cas.

And then Dean kisses him. Soft and sweet and so full of love he feels like he could die with it because  despite every negative, horrible, shameful thought that tries to break loose and tear up his mind Dean finally understands. He finally has processed and internalized and begun to believe. As Cas laughs and pulls him close murmuring his own words of love before making Dean’s breath catch at the passion of his kiss – how he slides a hand in Dean’s hair and tilts him as he likes, tasting the sweetness of his hot, wet mouth. And when Cas breaks their kiss to sweep Dean in his arms – making them both laugh at how ridiculous they must look - just to spin him around and shout with joy… that belief within Dean grows even stronger.

He is worthy. Worthy of love.

And he’s finally ready to fall.

[xplrvibes]

Sprung | Sam and Colby Story

Title: Sprung

Summary: They had never been torn apart like that before.  Nobody had ever dared try it. 

Pairing: None 

Warnings: Sam and Colby’s arrest rehashed, brief talk of the jail system, mentions of anxiety 

Author’s Note: This is based on an ask someone sent me last night, about how Sam being one who bottles his emotions up until they explode in these sweeping declarations of love and tears.  Also, since it’s the jailaversary, and I always wanted to hear more about that saga from Sam’s POV, I just went ahead and did...this. I’m not a writer, so don’t judge me too harshly-but I’d love to know if you liked!

A/N 2: Now on AO3!

***

Sam has never seen a better sight than a disheveled, tired Colby Brock waiting for him outside of the police station.

The preceding 14 hours since Sam had last watched Colby disappear behind an ominous steel door with a painful smirk forced across his face and a tremor in his handcuffed hands had been some of the worst he had ever experienced in his life.  He had stood outside the police station in the muggy Florida air with no cell phone, no car, no idea of where he was or how to get to where he needed to be.

No Colby at his side.

They had never been torn apart like that before.  Nobody had ever dared try it.  Sam felt like a piece of him had been taken; a fundamental piece, like his liver or some shit.  He felt wrong in his skin without Colby by his side; especially knowing where he had left him, and that all of the responsibility of getting him out of there rested on his shoulders.

To say Sam was stressed, would be an understatement.

But Sam was nothing if not determined, and he made it work.  He sucked in a breath, steeled his spine, and made his way to a gas station pay phone to call the Irelands.

He had work to do.

***

Fourteen hours and multiple phone calls to worried parents and terrified friends and one extremely exasperated lawyer (”On a construction site in Florida? Sam...”) and management team later, Sam was finally told that Colby’s bail had been posted and he was being released.  Sam could go and get him.

He was never planning on letting anyone separate them like that again.

“Hey,” Colby muttered as Sam walked up to where he sat with a couple of fans outside the doors to the precinct, bail paperwork and a bag of his possessions in his shaking hand.  He looked distinctly un-Colby like at the moment; rattled, definitely and it showed.  He was pale, his hair was in a state of disarray, his Justin Bieber shirt-and God, who else but Colby would go to jail in a Justin Bieber fit?-was wrinkled and stretched at the collar.  He had a smile plastered to his face, but his eyes were shining bright with barely concealed anxiety.  He wanted out of this place, asap.

Sam let out the breath he had been holding since Colby had first been walked away from him by those damn guards.  He felt the missing piece of his soul settle back in to place.  His world realigned itself. 

Colby was back with him.

“Hey,” he responded back, and held out a hand to take Colby’s possession bag for him.  “Ready to head out?”

“Totally.”

***

After saying goodbye and taking a photo with the fans who had waited outside the police station with Colby, they got back in the rental car that Sam had gone to pick up from the abandoned school a few hours earlier and headed back towards the hotel.

“So, the fans said that everyone knows?” Colby asked quietly from the passenger seat.  His ring-less hands were flexing in his lap.  His voice was shaking.

Sam gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and cleared his throat.  “Um, yea,” he responded slowly.  “Yea, they found out and made it trend on twitter for like, a whole day.  Number one trending topic,” he added.

Colby whistled.  “Shit.”  He reached up to play with his earring-a nervous habit he had developed since getting his ears pierced the year prior-and winced when he realized the earring was no longer there.  His hand fell back to his lap, trembling.

“Yea,” Sam replied.  “By the time I got out last night, word was already everywhere.”  He swallowed and briefly glanced over at Colby.  “Our parents already knew.”

Colby glanced back.  “Did you talk to them?” He whispered.

Sam nodded.  “I talked to your mom, too.  Told her I wasn’t gonna let you rot in a jail cell.  She made me promise to get you out,” he smiled.  Colby didn’t smile back. “Dude, she’s ok, I promise.  Just worried about you.”

“She’s not mad?” Colby asked in a small voice.

“I mean, probably, but...” Sam shrugged.  Colby said nothing else.  What else was there to say?

The rest of the drive was in silence.

***

Although Sam had stayed with the Irelands while working tirelessly on getting Colby back, he didn’t think Colby would be up to going there and seeing everyone right now.  So, he took them back to their original hotel, which had thankfully been paid up for another day before the arrest.

Colby hadn’t questioned it.  He walked into their room and looked around at the mess they had left behind 30 hours prior before dropping his jail paperwork in a heap on the hotel table and heading over to his bed.  He slumped down on the bed with a tired sigh, turning to lean himself against the headboard and drawing his knees up in front of him. 

Sam sighed, and came to sit down next to Colby.  He bumped his shoulder into Colby’s in solidarity, and Colby huffed and leaned his head onto Sam’s shoulder.

The silence stretched out between them for a moment, comfortable and sure.  They didn’t need words.  They both always just knew.  It was a thing that their friends and even family would tease them for sometimes, their ability to just sit and be together, with no words, and draw some kind of silent strength from one another.  They didn’t care what anyone had to say about it, really.  It gave them both peace and reassurance, and that was what mattered.

“What do we do now?” Colby asked after a moment, exhaustion threaded in his voice.

Sam shifted slightly, and bumped his knee again Colby’s.  “Our lawyer’s working on it,” he replied quietly.  “She yelled at me for a while, but she’s gonna make it so we can go back home until the court date.”

“Oh, good,” Colby responded.  “Cause like, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

Sam reached out a hand, and clasped Colby’s shaking one in his.  “You’re ok, though...right?” He asked in a quiet voice.

Colby nodded.  “Just like, it was scary, you know?” He responded.  “I didn’t like being alone, and everyone in there was nice to me and shit, but...”

Sam smiled.  Trust Colby to declare that everyone he shared jail space with was nice.  

“Dude, you are never allowed to go to jail without me again,” Sam declared, squeezing Colby’s hand.

Colby squeezed back.  “Don’t pay your bail next time, and join me,” he responded.  

He was joking, Sam knew, but he felt the panic and fear and guilt of the last 14 hours bubble up his throat anyway, and tears began to prick at his eyes. “Dude,” he gasped, “I’m never going to let anyone separate us like that ever again.”

Colby lifted his head to look in Sam’s eyes.  “I know, brother,” he replied slowly.

Sam shook his head.  The tears were brimming now, he could feel it.  The dam was bursting.  “No,” he sniffled, “Like, they walked you into the back and I saw how scared you were, brother, like I felt it and there was nothing I could do about it!  And then I had to go out there, alone, and leave you there!  Like, I never wanted that-”

“I know, Sam-”

“-Like, leaving you behind, or losing you, is my worst nightmare, dude!  Like, I can’t do it again, I don’t ever want anyone to do that to us again-”

“-Sam, they won’t-”

“-And like, I just love you so much, brother, you know that, right?”  Sam’s mini-tirade ended on a sob, as Sam turned and pulled Colby into his arms.  He didn’t hug Colby near enough, or articulate into words how much he loved him.  It wasn’t Sam’s style; he was never good with outward displays of emotions.  Of the two of them, Colby was always the one who wore his heart on his sleeve, and did so effortlessly.  Sam struggled with displays of affection and emotion.

He knew, in his more rational moments, that Colby knew him better than anyone else on the planet.  That Colby understand how much he meant to Sam, that Colby knew how much Sam loved him.  That words weren’t needed between them; that his actions were felt and deciphered and understood. 

But sometimes, it all just came bubbling out, spilling all over the place like a volcano.  When Sam got emotional, he went all in with said emotion, and Colby understood that, too.

Colby understood everything, when it came to Sam.

“I know, Sam,” Colby responded, arms wrapped tightly around Sam’s shoulders.  Sam turned his head into Colby’s neck and breathed deep.  He smelled like sweat, and jail, and fear...but underneath all of that was the distinctive smell of Colby Brock.  The smell Sam had come to associate with home, many years ago.

“They’ll never take you away from me again,” Sam whispered, and Colby chuckled.

“I’d like to see ‘em try,” He responded.

[cevans16]

Choosing Between Two Loves Part 2 - Civil War~2 (The Fight)

Summary: You were a Goddess named Elara, who had powers similar to Thor and even stronger, you joined the Avengers back when Loki had tried to take over New York. You were great friends with most of them. Tony Stark was someone you were always in love with even though you knew you could never have him. However that all changes when you get to know a certain super soldier....

You were running after Bucky and Sam in the airport with the new kid Peter Parker above you to aid. You weren’t sure where Tony pulled this kid out from but he seemed like he was going to be that annoying little brother you would always love no matter what. You were on Bucky’s heel when you spotted a rope on the side, you quickly went to grab it and attempted to lasso in Bucky to stop him from running. You were able to get ahold of his right foot, you yanked the rope towards you, pulling Bucky towards your feet. His face was stunned at who was looking down at him, he thought you were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen in his long life, yet he was trying to understand how someone like you was strong enough to take him down. “Sargent Barnes....now I can see why Steve would protect you” you smirked at him, “I’m sorry but you’re going to have to let him go” you heard Sam warn you, “Let me guess a super soldier and a regular soldier against a Goddess, I know the odds and they’re not in your favor Sam” you teased. What you didn’t expect was to get hit by a stun gun specialized for you, you felt paralyzed for a few minutes while you heard Peter attempt to take them down and failed. You couldn’t erase the memory of Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes from your mind.

You heard Nat say where Steve and Bucky were headed, you heard through Tony that the original doctor had been murdered and the man who had committed the murder had framed it on Bucky. You felt guilty that you had chased after an innocent man even though your gut had told you otherwise. You hitched a ride with Tony, although you had been in love with him for many years, you knew he belonged to Pepper. “SO when are you and Pepper going to get married Tony?” you asked, “Ehhh we are kind of on a break” he said, “What?! Okay what did YOU do now?” you exasperated, he gasped looking at you, almost denying it, “Well whatever it is FIX it..... You know we messed up against Barnes” you said changing the subject, “Yeah, I know, Sam told me what happened” he replied, “we’re here, suit up” he said. There was a blizzard outside so you threw on a coat to cover most of your uniform, you both walked into the chamber looking around for any sign of Barnes or Steve. You walked up to a metal door that was closed down, Tony was going to open it but you held your hand to hold him back, “I got this Stark” you bent down to grab the bottom of the heavy door pushing it up with some extra strength, you looked up to see Steve holding his shield in front of him and Bucky aiming a gun towards you, you had to admit, they looked adorable scared. “Elara?” Steve said shocked to see you. You turned back towards Tony, “Look what I found” you joked. You guys walked towards them, Tony explaining that you had learned the truth. “Steve....I’m so sorry about this” you said genuinely, you then turned to look directly at Bucky, “I’m sorry Sargent Barnes” you added, “Call me Bucky” he said. You looked to Tony waiting for him to apologize, when he didn’t you playfully smacked him on his shoulder, he scoffed and then finally faced the other two, “We messed up.....hey this means its a truce Manchurian candidate” he teased Bucky, “Hahaha Manchurian candidate good one Tony.... come on Bucky I’m unarmed so I’m practically useless” you giggled, “I beg to differ on that Elara” Bucky joked back hinting that he would lay his guard down.

You guys walked further into the building looking at the frozen super soldiers, you walked a bit ahead when you heard Bucky call you, “Yes?”, “Be careful” he advised, “I appreciate it but I can take care of myself” you assured him walking away from the group. You took a closer look at one of the super soldiers when you noticed a wound on their forehead, “They’re.....dead?” you said sadly. The guys walked up quicker to look at each one and confirm they had all been killed in their sleep. You heard a boom to your left and someone else appear through a window. You and Steve walked up to the man on the other side of the bunker. The man spoke about some nonsense on Steve not being perfect and about Sokovia....he was up to something. “You know hiding behind a bunker doesn’t make you brave” you said to him, he turned to look at you, “the righteous Goddess who’s always been fighting a war whether its with the world or in her own mind....I will tear the Avengers apart” he threatened, “Exactly how do you plan on doing that?” you asked, raising your eyebrow. 

You heard something click behind you like a video playing, “I know that road” you heard Tony say....”What’s this?” he asked the man. You walked towards him to face the screen, Bucky was on your right, Tony and Steve on your left. You looked slightly down to watch what was on the screen, in Russian lettering you could see the date, “December 16, 1991″ you said. You felt Bucky shift beside you, you looked at him to see fear in his eyes again, he looked at you ashamed, you didn’t know what was going on but your gut said something very bad was about to happen. You saw Howard Stark in the video, the crash, you looked at Tony, his eyes showed the same realization as yours, “Is it your...” you didn’t bother finishing as Tony nodded his head to confirm, it was his parents crash. You saw a motorcycle pull up next to the Stark’s vehicle, a man got off and walked towards Howard Stark, the face surprised you, it was the face of.... Bucky. You blinked a few more times trying to make sure you weren’t imagining it, you looked at Bucky again who was now almost shaking, he couldn’t even look at you in the eye this time. You could feel Tony looking back at Bucky and the video playing, hearing Tony’s mom say “Howard” over and over, in the video Bucky walked over to Maria’s side, choking her until you couldn’t hear anything, he then walked to look at the camera and shot at it. You stood looking at the blank screen feeling your breath shake, Tony next to you in disbelief, so many emotions running through his mind, stunned at what he saw, his parents killed and the person who had murdered them was right there in the building. Tony shifted towards Bucky but you stopped him with a hand on his chest, “Tony” Steve said, clearly a shake in his voice as well. “Did you know?” Tony asked him, “I didn’t know it was him” Steve replied, “Don’t BULLSHIT me Rogers, did YOU KNOW?”.....”Yes”. Your heart sank, you knew that one word changed everything. Tony took a step back and looked directly at you, “How about YOU, Elara, did YOU know?” he pleaded, “No Tony I didn’t” you replied. You had never seen Tony looked so hurt in his life, anger, betrayal, everything all at once. 

The air was thick between the four of you, you could hear the wind blowing outside. Suddenly you felt Tony grab you by your waist and throwing you away from Bucky, you looked up to see him charging towards Bucky, Steve behind him. You quickly took off your coat and ran towards the men, you knew what Bucky did wasn’t right but you couldn’t let Tony kill the man and you also had to make sure no one killed Tony. He blew a wall between you and Steve to buy time to catch up to Bucky, Steve plowed through it grabbing Tony’s foot and destroyed part of his flight system. You pushed Steve back, “Are you serious Elara!!” Steve yelled at you, “I won’t let you kill him” you said, “I can’t let him kill Buck” he fought with you pushing you back onto your butt. You chased after them seeing when they fell deeper into the bunker. 

You fought against Steve while Bucky and Tony went at it, somehow the four of you switched, Tony and Steve, you and Bucky, “Are you going to kill me Bucky” you yelled at him while he held your neck, “Are YOU going to kill me?” he returned the question, “No but this will hurt” you said landing a strong kick to his thigh causing him to kneel, you were about to run towards Steve when you felt Bucky’s hand grab your foot, throwing you onto the ground, pulling you to him, you gritted in anger, pushing him onto the floor, shoving his face on the concrete. You felt a sharp pain in your ribs, you looked down to see that he had stabbed you! “Oh this is how we’re playing” you said, taking out the knife from your ribs and throwing it on the other side. The pain hit you hard weakening you, allowing Bucky to take advantage, Tony saw Bucky was about to attack you again, he charged towards Bucky, knocking him out. Steve then took it as a chance to hit Tony on his back, throwing him onto the floor, Steve grabbed his shield and began banging it against Tony’s arc reactor. You could feel the tears in your eyes; tears of pain, anger, betrayal, and most of all sadness seeing you all being torn apart exactly like the man had said. You tried your best to gather your strength, pushing yourself up you ran towards Steve, “Stop it! You’re going to kill him!!” he tried to fight you back but you placed your forearm against his neck, “I am NOT going to ask again ROGERS!” you yelled furiously, Steve had never seen you so infuriated, he didn’t want to hurt you, he squeezed your arm to push you back, he walked away towards Bucky, “Don’t do this Rogers, you are giving that man exactly what he wanted!” you yelled at him, he didn’t listen, “Steve, I am.... begging you, don’t do this” you pleaded, tears running down your face, “He’s my friend” he replied looking at you sorrowfully, “So was I” you heard Tony say behind you. You looked at Steve pick up an injured Bucky, to be fair all four of you were injured, he then picked up his shield. “You don’t deserve that shield! My father made it!” Tony yelled furiously, you wiped away your tears and moved to help Tony, “You don’t deserve it!” Tony yelled, your back was facing Steve but you heard the metal shield clank loudly on the floor. This was it you said to yourself, you would never forgive Steve Rogers for this. 

You and Tony had returned to the compound, the place was eerily silent, you could feel the different energy around the place, the Avengers were scattered. You were helping Rhodey try to walk, he had taken a nasty fall at the airport causing him to be mostly paralyzed. Tony had gotten a package, he walked into his office, after a few minutes he called you in, “How are you doing?” he asked you. You had cuts and bruises around your face, a big gash on your lip, your body was healing quicker than Tony’s due to you being a Goddess, but you had a scar left from where Bucky had gotten you on your ribs. Mentally you were drained. “I’m hanging in there Tony” you faintly smiled at him, “You?”, “Ehhh could be worse....Rogers sent the package” he said showing you a phone and a letter, “Ohhhh the famous love letter” you teased, causing Tony to chuckle, “Don’t do that, my entire body hurts by laughing” he said, “And MINE doesn’t?”, “Oh come on you’re a strong....woman” he said, you were both silent for a few moments looking at each other, “I appreciate you having my back” Tony shared, “Any time Tony”, “He wrote you a ‘love’ letter too” he added, you rolled your eyes thinking he was kidding but he then handed you an enveloped with your name on it. You looked at Tony grabbing the letter from his hand, you opened it slightly but stopped yourself, “You know what, I don’t care. I will never accept his apology because no matter what his actions showed otherwise, I will never forget that” you said to him while ripping the letter into two pieces. Tony nodded, “Look Tony, you need to fix this with Pepper, I gotta go” you said, “Europe?” he asked, “Yes, I’ll be waiting for my invitation in the mail” you replied, you walked up to Tony giving him a kiss on his cheek, “If you need me, you know where I’ll be” you said and with that you walked out the door to find a new adventure. You didn’t think you would see Bucky or Steve ever again, or so you thought.

[angelaofwhite800]

Supernatural x Sister!reader (Bring it) Chapter 4 - Sammy's gone

TW: Angst, fighting, abandonment

fluff + angst

word count: 1,298

Songs: "Waste" -kxllswxtch

"Young" -Vacations

"Softcore" -The neighborhood 

"Bubblegum" -Clario

7 hours later

Y/n and Dean sat in the Impala at a rest stop. Dean was scarfing down a gas station burrito, but Y/n didn't feel like eating. Her stomach was turning and her mind was racing, thinking about seeing her brother again after years. Y/n was only 9 when Sam left for Stanford, but she remembered that day like it was yesterday

Flashback

Y/n was sitting outside the motel room with Dean, sat on the sidewalk in the rain. It was cold and dark out as the rain poured down from the sky. The two of them were sent outside and pretending like they weren't listening to the yelling match that was happening between Sam and their dad, but anyone within the motel complex who said they couldn't hear what was going on would be lying. Y/n didn't know the backstory for the argument, but she didn't need to. from listening she gathered one thing. Sam was leaving... And he wanted to take her with him

"You're insane! You think im going to just let you take my daughter away from me?!" John shouted at the top of his lungs. Despite what anyone might try and say about John Winchester and his parenting the one thing nobody could deny was that he loved his kids, and the idea of one of them leaving, let alone two, was unbearable

"Dad I don't want to abandon you guys! I'm just going to college! I just want to give her a normal life!" Sam tried to argue back. The truth was Sam had no intention of abandoning or cutting out his family, nor did he want to separate Y/n from John or Dean. But that wasn't how it felt. This felt like the end of the world. Like life was being torn apart. in the eye's of John, Sam was abandoning ship

"Then why go at all, huh?! You said you wanted to "Get out", Right?!" John kept raising his voice at Sam. This fighting had been going on for quite some time. Y/n and Dean, sitting outside just sat silently, sharing a diet coke can between the two of them. Y/n glanced over at her older brother, but he kept his gaze forward, zoning out 

John put his foot down one last time "Well you aren't taking her!" Sam threw his arms up exasperation, starting to give up. "You know what, if you wanna leave so bad, go ahead! We don't need traitors around!" As he spoke he started pulling Sam's things out and packing them up for him. Hurt and angry Sam spat back

"You know what, fine! I will!" He started packing his things too. the two of them kept yelling for the duration of Sam packing his things. Minutes passed when suddenly the door to the motel room flew open and Sam stormed out, John following behind him, the two of them still arguing. Sam stormed passed his siblings, who stood up expecting him to say something to them, but he didn't even look at them. Y/n, panicked, tied to follow after her brother to ask him what was happening, but was quickly stopped by her father. He grabbed her arm harshly in fear that she was trying to leave him too. Accidentally redirecting his anger at his daughter he yelled at her

"NO! You aren't going with him!!" Y/n stopped in her tracks, looking up at John who was squeezing her arm, tears started to fill her eyes. All she could see in her fathers eye's was rage, leading her to believe she'd done something wrong, though she didn't know what. Little did she know that sat right behind the expression of rage was a scared hurt man, who's world was falling apart once again. Dean tried to calm his father and break him out of the daze he was in

"Ow! Daddy! You're hurting me!" Y/n cried out as she tried to pull her arm out of Johns grasp. Sam's attention snapped back to his family from where he was in the parking lot. He dropped his bag and ran back to them on the doorstep. He and Dean pushed him away from Y/n as she fell to the ground, tears silently pouring out of her eyes. Sam screamed at John more than before, angry at what he'd done. John tried to defend himself, already realizing what he'd done. Dean knelt down beside Y/n gently checking her arm, seeing the bruise that their dad had just left on her. Dean was angry. Angry at Sam for leaving them, angry at his dad for hurting Y/n, angry at himself for not being able to stop it from happening. angry at the world that it had lead them to this point in the first place. One last verbal punch was thrown by John before slamming the door shut in Sam's face

"If you leave don't you dare come back!" And with that Sam was stood on the doorstep of a motel. he things in a duffel bag, his bruised sister on the ground, his brother knelt next to her. Sam knelt down beside her as well, trying to check out her bruise, before Dean spoke up

"I think you've done enough, just leave us alone Sam" Sam looked at Dean, shocked, hurt. He slowly stood up and Dean did the same

"So that's how it is huh?" Sam scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Dean nodded his head slightly before adding on

"Yea, looks like it is" And walking inside the motel room, also slamming the door shut behind him. And then there were two. Sam and Y/n, sat on the doorstep, alone. Y/n and Sam had always been close, due to often being left just the two of them while Dean and their dad were on hunts. Sam sat down next to Y/n and she looked at him, tears in her eyes. 

"Sammy I don't want you to stay done..." She choked out, and Sam's heart broke inside his chest. Was this really right? Was this really what he wanted? 

"I don't want to either." He put his hand on Y/n's shoulder trying to comfort her. she immediately threw herself into Sam hugging her big brother so tightly it hurt both of them. He hugged her back almost as tightly. After upwards of 5 minutes of Y/n crying in Sam's arms, and Sam silently letting tears roll down his face, she pulled back and looked at him, saying

"If you're going to go, you should do it soon, before dad comes back out to get you to stay." Sam looked at her shocked. She stood up and offered Sam her hand. He smiled at his little sister, chuckling a little bit. He stood her hand and stood up. Looking down at her he promised

"I'll call you. every chance I get I'll call you. Okay Y/n?" She nodded. and with one last hug, Sam walked away, grabbing his things, and disappearing around the street corner. Y/n walked back into the motel and sat on the floor of the bathroom, with the door locked, silently crying. she didn't come out until 5pm the next day.

End of flashback 

"Y/n You have to eat something" Dean said trying to hand her a bag of salted peanuts. She looked at it as she was pulled out of her thoughts

"I'm really not hungry" She said. she wasn't lying. it wasn't because she didn't need to eat, but because she was so distracted but her own thoughts to remember that she was actually starving. Dean rolled his eyes and tossed the bag into her lap before starting up the car

"Well eat something anyways. We'll be at Stanford in 4 hours, so we aren't stopping unless it's an emergency 

'Great' Y/n thought '4 hours until we see him...'

To Be Continued…

[pictureofsirgalahad]

Shooting Stars and Satellites

I finished it! Thank you to @apsychicmoosewithflannelforfur​ for beta reading, and for everyone who liked the snippet I posted yesterday.

Summary: Jody’s house is full of damn good food, and damn good people. There’s nowhere better to spend thanksgiving.

Read on Ao3

“Dean! Will you please sit still!” 

Sam ran a hand down his exhausted face as his son once again jumped off his chair to go bother the dog, ruining the shirt that Sam had just finished tucking in.

“Why?” Dean asked, pulling on Miracle’s ear. Miracle, to his credit, was being very calm about the whole situation. 

“Because we’re going over to Auntie Jody’s house for Thanksgiving, remember? It’s a special day, so you should wear special clothes.” 

“Why?” Dean asked again. Honestly, the kid had a point. Sam sighed, giving Dean one more once over, before deciding that the shirt was a lost cause and leaving it be. 

“Good question, why don’t you ask Auntie Jody when we get there. Now come here so I can do your hair.” Sam grabbed a comb and got one pull through Dean’s mess of hair before the three year old shrieked and ran from the room. 

“Dean!” Sam chased the boy into the hallway to find him caught in Eileen’s arms, struggling to get free.

“What happened?” she asked, exasperated.

‘Didn’t want me to brush his hair,’ Sam signed back. Eileen grinned.

“Sounds like somebody else I know,” she replied, giving Sam a knowing look. He rolled his eyes. Eileen let Dean go, silencing him with a look. Their son hung his head and allowed his father to quickly brush through his hair, which turned out to be pointless anyway. At this point they were already running late, so there was a mad dash to get the Winchester Surprise out of the oven and strap Dean into his car seat. 

When they arrived, Patience met them in the front yard. She gave Dean a big hug then ushered him towards the house. He ran ahead while she helped Sam and Eileen carry some of their dishes in. 

“Sorry we’re late, things were a little chaotic,” Sam apologized hurriedly. Patience turned toward them. 

“Don’t worry about it! We haven’t gotten up to much yet, though Gertie and the boys have been so excited for Dean to get here.”

Sam chuckled fondly, remembering how ecstatic Dean had been when he had told him Sammy and Cas were going to be there. Garth’s twins were six, three years older than Dean, but they all played together like they were the same age, ever since Dean learned how to walk. Someone had once made a joke that it was meant to be, Team Free Will 3.0, but people stopped saying stuff like that after Eileen threatened to break their wrists. Gertie liked to play with them too, but she’d recently hit that awkward age where she’s torn between wanting to sit at the adults table, wanting to prove she can be a good babysitter, and wanting to just run around with her brothers. Luckily that meant she tried to hang out with everyone at family dinners, which all the guests always appreciated. 

Upon walking through the door they were greeted by Gertie and the twins running through the foyer, Claire following closely behind to make sure they didn’t break anything. Jody noticed them enter and straightened up, closing the oven door. 

“Sam! Eileen! Happy Thanksgiving!” She made her way over to the pair and gave each of them a tight hug. She grabbed Sam by the jaw and looked him in the eyes. “How are you doin’ Sam?” 

He gave her a somewhat forced smile. The five year anniversary of Dean’s death had been just a few days ago, and it had been rough on all of them. Jody sighed and patted his face, then turned around to head back into the kitchen. “Everyone’s in the living room, they’re excited to see y’all. I’ll catch up in a few minutes, I’ve just gotta finish checking this damn turkey.” 

Sam translated this information to Eileen, who was looking at him expectantly. Their friends tried their best, but it was difficult to lipread so many people, sometimes people forgot they had to be looking directly at her to be understood. 

They entered the living room and were greeted by a lot of women. And Garth. Bess and Donna were watching the game with rapt attention, while Garth and Kaia sat off to the side, drinking beer and chatting quietly. Patience and Alex were helping in the kitchen, and Sam hoped to God that wherever Claire and the kids were, she was keeping them out of trouble rather than enabling it, but he sincerely doubted it. 

Sam cleared his throat and everyone’s eyes turned to them. Then the room erupted in a cacophony of greetings. Donna got up and gave the both of them a bear hug, squeezing the air out of their lungs. Everyone was talking to them at once, and Sam couldn’t even think about trying to help Eileen, because he couldn’t figure out who to focus on. He just tried to say hey to everyone, and Eileen did the same. They all exchanged how are you’s, good to see you’s, it’s been a while’s. It was nice, seeing all of them, but it wasn’t long before he found himself putting a hand on Eileen’s shoulder to get her attention.

‘I’m going to help Jody and the girls. You stay and visit,’ he signed, getting up. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand, then turned back to the story Donna was telling about the nice young hunter she’d met recently, who had asked her to dinner and a movie, but don’t be goofball Eileen, he wasn’t interested in her! Sam huffed a laugh at Donna’s obliviousness. 

“Need a hand?” he asked as he entered the kitchen. Jody looked over at him as she washed a potato, nodding over at the cutting board that was currently occupied by Patience. 

“Sure! How about you take over for Patience over there, she’s been helping me all day long.” She moved out of the way of the sink to let him wash his hands, then went back to the potatoes. Patience gave him a grateful smile as she handed over the knife she was using to chop carrots. They worked in silence for a few minutes, the only conversation coming from Alex telling Sam to get the hell out of the way of the cutlery drawer, which he did hastily, worried about what she would do once she got the knife she wanted from it. After a while though, the overwhelmed feeling that he had been trying to escape before died down, and he felt up for some small talk.

“So, how have things been over here?” he asked, scooping up the celery pieces and throwing them in a bowl.

“Well, it’s been a little bit lonely around here with Patience in school and Claire and Kaia out of the nest. I’m just happy to have them home for the holidays.” Jody replied, and Sam nodded, drying his hands on a dish towel. The house had been so busy for so long, but now most of the girls had moved on. “At least I still have Alex, but she’s not home as much, because she got a new job.”

“Jody!” Alex squeaked, embarrassed. 

“What?! That’s amazing!” Sam cheered. She had been having trouble finding work after finishing school, and had been waiting for a job to come up for a few months. “Where are you working?” 

“I got hired as a nurse practitioner here at Sioux Falls General,” she replied nonchalantly, and Sam’s jaw dropped. 

“Alex! That’s incredible! I’m so proud of you.” 

“Thanks,” she said quietly, blushing at the praise. They quickly finished up the last of the work that needed to be done in the kitchen, and everything was in the oven. All they needed to do was wait. The three of them started to make their way back into the living room, but before they crossed the threshold, Sam caught Jody by the elbow.

“You did a really good job with them,” he told her. They both watched as Alex sat down on the couch next to Patience, stealing one of the crackers she was holding. 

“I barely did anything,” Jody replied, leaning against the doorframe.

“You know that’s not true,” Sam scolded, “They’re good kids, but you’re the one that led them down the right path. You gave them the love and acceptance they needed most. You’re a hero Jody. And a good mom.” 

“Well then,” Jody whispered, taking a sip of her beer. They both ignored the shine of tears in her eyes. “Thank you for bringing them to me.” 

They stood in silence for a few more moments before Jody cleared her throat. 

“Speaking of good parents, where’s your son?” Sam laughed out loud.

 “Hell if I know.” 

“Well, find him, and get washed up. We’re goin’ to eat soon.”

They went their separate ways, and Sam eventually found Dean in the backyard, covered in mud and showing a worm to Cas. Claire was nearby, trying to get Sammy to stop pulling on her hair. She looked so worn out that he almost felt bad for her, but instead he just laughed at her predicament and helped peel Sammy off of her. He gave her a beer as a form of thanks, which she took gratefully. 

“Cas, Sammy, it’s time for dinner.” At the mention of food, the twins perked up and immediately started running back inside. Dean made no move to get up from his spot in the dirt, tearing out handfuls of grass. “Dean, c’mon bud. Let's go get washed up.” When Dean didn’t answer, Sam crouched down to his level. “What’s wrong dude? You not hungry?” Dean crawled into Sam’s lap, and quietly started playing with the buttons on his dad’s shirt.

“Daddy?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yeah Dean?”

“There’s only one me.” Sam looked down at his son, confused.

“What do you mean bud? Of course there’s only one of you.”

“I heard Cousin Claire say I’m just like other Dean.” Sam froze. “What does that mean? There’s only on me, right?” Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and rubbed Dean’s back. 

“Yeah, there’s only one you. Don’t worry, I’m not hiding another one somewhere.” Sam told the boy, knowing that was what he was worried about. Dean nodded, and uncurled himself from Sam’s lap, now confident in his own uniqueness. 

“Then who’s other Dean?” he asked, going back to shredding up clumps of grass. Jody was going to kill them. Sam took a shaky breath. 

“Have I ever told you the story of how you got your name?” Sam asked, knowing he hadn’t. Dean shook his head. “Well, before you were born, I had a big brother.”

“Like my big brother?”

“Kind of, but it was more like how Sammy and Cas are brothers. His name was Dean, just like you,” Dean looked up at Sam, his dark eyes full of curiosity. He looked more like Eileen than he would ever look like Sam. “But he died. Just like how Mr. Water the fish died, remember?” Dean frowned at the mention of his dead goldfish, but looked like he understood. “So we named you after him, because he was really awesome, and we knew you were gonna be really awesome too.”

“Oh.” Dean said, then looked contemplative for a moment. “Am I just like other Dean?” Sam sighed.

“In some ways. Like how cool you are, and how much you love Miracle. But you’re different in a lot of ways too. And that’s a good thing. Because that means you are your own person, and we love that person so, so much. Do you hear me?” Sam took Dean by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes to make sure he understood. 

When it was clear he did, Sam decided the serious moment was over. “Come on, let’s get washed up.” he announced, trying to grab Dean by the midsection.

“No!! I don’t want to!” Dean giggled, trying to escape his father’s grasp. 

“I guess if you won’t listen to me, you’ll have to listen to… the tickle monster!” Dean squealed with breathless laughter as Sam attacked him, and was quickly begging him to stop. Sam did, and got up, reaching out a hand for Dean to take. 

Together they went inside and washed their hands for dinner. As they entered the dining room, Sam passed Dean onto Eileen, who watched with amused attention as her son excitedly started signing about the bugs he found outside. Garth and Donna finished setting the table, and everyone sat down. Sam started reaching for a roll, but Jody slapped his hand away from across the table. 

“Sam Winchester, I swear!” She scolded, with no real heat behind the words.

“Sorry Jody!” She shook her head at him, then stood up to address the group. 

“Since this is Thanksgiving, I wanted to be stereotypical for a second and tell all of you just how grateful I am that we have each other, and that everyone could make it up this year. And of course, we should remember that those who couldn’t be here, are here in spirit, and we miss them every day,” Everyone bowed their heads. It was a hunter gathering, after all. They had to acknowledge the ones they lost. 

“We’re all so lucky to be with each other and eat this food together, this food that we slaved over, so you better damn well enjoy it! Dig in.” Everyone cheered as Jody finished her speech and sat back down. 

All of them started loading their plates with delicious smelling food, and the whole room was full of laughter. Sam got Dean some strips of turkey breast, some mashed potatoes, and roasted broccoli, which was the only part of the meal he ate. Eileen had to force him to eat two bites of turkey before he could have desert. There were three kinds of pie, and a dozen chocolate chip cookies that Jody had made specifically for Dean, because Dean didn’t like pie. He never had.  

The night started to die down after desert. Jody recruited Claire and Kaia to help with the dishes, as they hadn’t helped with cooking earlier. The Fitzgeralds headed out first, because the kids all had school tomorrow. The stragglers were all lounging in the living room, trying to recover from the meal. Sam had an arm around Eileen’s shoulder, Dean curled up in between them. Eileen exchanged hunting stories with Donna, but Sam could see her yawning, and he felt about the same. Dean looked like he was going to be out for good if they stayed any longer. He patted her on the back, and she looked at him. He removed his arm from her shoulder and straightened his posture. 

‘Ready to head home?’ he asked. She nodded, and they moved to get up. Sam scooped Dean into his arms, and they said their last goodbyes to Donna, Alex, and Patience. They made their way into the kitchen to let Jody and the girls know they were heading out. Kaia waved from her spot on the counter. Claire gave an enthusiastic goodbye to them, and gave Dean a high-five to send him off. 

They grabbed the dishes they had brought along, and their coats to protect against the November chill. Jody followed them out to the front porch. 

“Bye Jody! Thank you so much for dinner.” Eileen said, and Jody gave her a hug. 

“Have a nice night Eileen,” she said once they had broken the embrace. Eileen nodded, and turned to Sam.

‘I’ll wait in the car,’ she signed, and put a hand on his shoulder as a way to tell him to take as long as he needed. Sam nodded, and turned back to say one last goodbye to Jody. Dean was half-asleep in his arms, his head rolling around on Sam’s shoulder. 

The warm light and far-off clatter of dishes inside poured through the still-open door, fading softly into the quiet night air as calming background noise. 

“Thanks for havin’ us today Jody,” Sam said quietly, hoisting his son higher up in his arms.

“Of course Sam. You know you’re welcome anytime.” She gave Sam a tight one-armed hug and kissed Dean on the top of his head. “You take care of yourself, okay Sam?” Sam smiled.

“Always do,” he replied. Jody chuckled.

“Uh huh. Dean?” Dean lifted his head to look at Jody, his tiny hand letting go of Sam’s neck to rub at his bleary eyes, “Take care of your daddy for me, will you?” 

“Kay Auntie Jody,” Dean mumbled. Sam grip on him tightened minutely. He sounded like Dean.  

“Good boy.” Jody whispered, and ruffled his hair. Dean batted her hand away, grumbling. Jody laughed and switched to ruining Sam’s hair, and he made a very indignant noise, which made Dean giggle. They all took a deep breath, inhaling in the scent of the damp grass that surrounded them. “Good night Sam,” 

He nodded, and Jody gave them one last look before turning around and heading back into the house, closing the door behind her. They were left in a gentle silence.

“Did you have fun?” Sam asked as they made their way towards the car. Dean nodded against his chest, his thumb in his mouth. They were trying to break him out of that habit, worried about the long term effect on his jaw, but Sam decided to let him be tonight. They leaned against the car door for a moment. 

“Let’s say goodnight to your brother.” 

Dean looked up at the moon, then raised his hand to give a small wave.

“Night Jack,”

A breeze came through the trees, the stars seemed to shine a little brighter, and Sam felt every blade of grass reach out to them in recognition. He sighed.

Goodnight.

[wwwafflewrites]

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 11—Bugs (Part 2)

The Winchesters had been generous compared to this guy. If you had been cramped before, this was suffocating. You were in the passenger seat, with a gag pulling tight on your lips.

To even consider fighting against him was a joke.

Your nose flared as you breathed heavily—as it was taking all your focus not to puke all over yourself and the van (considering you had a gag in your mouth—gross). 

You grimaced, tteeth grinding against the wet rag. Your headache was killer, and even though this was supposed to be a traumatizing event, you could feel yourself on the verge of passing out. 

You sure put the nap in 'kidnapped'.

The Winchesters had probably found your little crime scene already. They both were as quick as a whip, so it wouldn't be long until they figured it all out and came for you. That is, if you were important enough to look for.

You'd like to believe you were a little more valuable than a map to find John, now. You had planted your little hints—little bits of the future for them to digest. That had to be enough to intrigue anyone. Especially the Winchesters.

It would be stupid on their end to just let you go.

The van lurched to a stop and you threw your eyes open, not even realizing they'd drifted shut.

You were so tired.

Your vision was fuzzy and it hurt your head to squint into the night. You were miserable. But you watched as the demon left, and you did a double take as he walked over to a familiar vehicle, instead.

That's my car.

It was enough to get you to press your face closer to the window. A figure emerged from behind the car. 

Meg.

You watched, dumbfounded, as she approached the demon. Didn’t she first appear in Scarecrow? That was at least a few episodes away.

You tensed as she pointed in your direction. The other demon nodded, approaching the van again.

What are they saying about me? 

When he threw open the car door, you fell with it, falling down onto the gravel without any way to break your fall.

“Well,” Meg scoffed, kicking at you, "this is disappointing. This is supposed to be 'the one'? She’s a twig.”

Other Demon™ wrenched you upward—seriously, could we please stop with all the sudden movements?—and ripped the gag from your mouth. It left a line of saliva down your chin, but you were too miserable to care. 

You snorted. “Angels tell you that? Because they never lie.”

Other threw your back into the van, and your vision grayed out.

Shit.

You blacked out—only long enough for your knees to buckle, and for you to choke under Other's iron hold—and then you were back. You were barely able to shuffle back on your feet, sputtering.

The ringing in your ears was gradually drowned out by a buzzing, and everyone paused. 

“You,” you coughed wetly, “hear that too?”

Everyone turned to watch as a great swarm blocked out the moon and stars, and you barely had enough conscience to feel fear.

Bugs.

You slid down the side of the van, alone.

Light swam over the area. The buzzing faded.

Was it them?

Shouting. Shouting and light.

Had they come for you?

You felt your eyelids flutter.

You shuddered, sobbing into the dirt when you couldn’t move.

Your panic attack still crushed your lungs as you were forcefully shaken, and, terrified, you gawked into the green eyes of a cross Dean Winchester.

You tried to push him away, but he just pinned you down, scowling and shouting some more.

“—drove—?”

"—what else—?—is there—"

“—her—all we know—”

"—did you—left—should have—"

They were talking about you, but you couldn’t give a damn.

You were so so tired.

"—concuss—"

"—don't let—"

"—know!"

"—dead?"

"—!—"

Without warning, the light around you brightened to become one blindingly white abyss. When you blinked, Dean's face was all but gone, replaced by Castiel.

"Where am I?" you asked. There was no pain. Where had your pain gone?

"Heaven," he said. He left you no time for questions before his hand reached up, caressing—

You woke abruptly to a hard slap on your face.

You gasped—you could breathe!—and your eyes shot open. 

Your headache had melted away, your aches were no more, and the rings of torn flesh around your wrists were gone, as well as your handcuffs.

You were healed.

You blinked, feeling weirdly refreshed as you looked past Dean, as if to catch a glimpse of Castiel behind him. But there was nothing. Meg was gone. Other was gone. There was just a wash of light over gravel where they had all been.

“Whatcha' looking at?”

You looked him dead in the eyes and answered, “A bitch.”

Dean frowned. “Funny,” he said, wrenching you up by the arm and pulling you away from the van. “Thought you were dead for a good minute there." 

“Not dead,” you replied, "but that was horrible."

“I don’t know, it looked like fun.”

You rolled your eyes. Asshole.

Dean still had you by the arm, pulling you toward Sam, who emerged from behind your car.

"Entire car was invested," said Sam as he approached, your bag in his hands. "Got us some weapons, though."

Sam dropped the bag and out rolled the jar of peanut butter and your loaf of bread, which was crawling with bugs.

The last of my food.

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Peanut butter and bread? You live like this?" He kicked the bag away like it was repulsive.

Well, screw you too, Dean.

"Also…" Sam trailed off as he grabbed a weapon. The angel blade. "What is this?"

"It's a knife," you said innocently.

Sam's expression pinched. "Yeah, I can see that," he said. "I mean, what does it do? What is it made of? And can it kill you?"

How ironic, considering you'd died a minute ago (or… you were pretty sure, anyway). It clearly didn't take much to kill you, and that blade wouldn't be an exception.

But they didn't need to know that.

"We could always just see for ourselves." Dean shrugged when you didn't reply.

You snapped at him, "If you wanted to, you'd have done it already. You need me alive." Man, you were beginning to sound like the typical monster. That was depressing. "And it's just a fancy knife. I stole it, okay?"

"You stole our gun too," Sam said as he pulled out their gun from your backpack. "And our dad's journal. You’re quite the thief."

You scoffed. "You're one to talk, Mr.CreditCardFraud. You both love to judge me for everything you guys do daily."

Sam's expression hardened. "Oh, right, because we kill innocents and work with demons."

You gaped at him. "Are you kidding me? You thought that entire kidnapping was me working with them?!" You were on the verge of hysteria. "And I'm sure you thought all those restraints were just funhousing, right? Good times with my demonic pals?"

"Not sure what you're talking about."

You frowned. "I mean just now. Big, burly guy? Ring any bells?" You didn't feel like mentioning Meg.

"Uh… no. Nobody was here but you."

You blinked.

What.

You glanced between the two of them. “But… there was sulfur left behind, wasn’t there?”

“Doesn’t mean anything," Dean denied.

"Because you think I'm a demon. Then why haven't you tested me with holy water yet?"

"We did. Earlier. When I knocked you out. But just because it didn't burn you, doesn't mean you're not something else."

"Either I left the sulfur, or I didn't. You can't simultaneously believe I'm a demon and something else," you said, exasperated.

"Watch me."

"The van, then. The demon drove the van.”

"You hotwired it," he said easily. "See, you left a ton of blood behind—definitely enough to kill a person, mind you. When we found you, you still had blood pooling out of your stomach. And then, magically, you healed. Not a scratch on you."

Blood pooling from your..? What were they talking about? He was exaggerating, probably.

You could see where he was going. And it wasn't helping your case. "Do a blood test, then. That blood on the sidewalk won’t match with mine."

Dean leaned back, tilting his head in consideration before nodding to Sam. "Fine." 

Sam reached over, slammed the handcuffs back on your wrists, and lifted you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. 

“Kinky," you wheezed.

Sam ignored you.

You couldn’t deny that you kinda had a good view of that booty though… and his toned back and broad shoulders.

Not the time, brain. Shut up. 

Sam threw you in the Impala, and it was deja vu. Back at square one.

Slumping into the seat, you took some time to reflect.

Had you hallucinated Meg and Other?

No, you couldn't have. How else could you explain finding your car? How else could you explain the hallucinations, other than from the brain damage you got from Other repeatedly bashing your poor head on walls and sidewalks?

Your memories were a garbled mess. Like a dream confused with reality.

Then there was the whole heaven thing. Had he interfered? Was the light—instead of headlights—actually Heaven saving you? You lingered on the idea. That meant Castiel was looking out for you, at least.

There were so many things you couldn't explain yourself, much less to the Winchesters.

And Sam… Sam was going to be a hassle.

Older Sam would have tried to understand you by now. He was more level-headed. Monsters weren't all black and white in his eyes—mostly because he knew what being the monster was like.

But this Sam? He was so freaking young. Naive, grieving, and angry. Not to mention, he blamed you for the death of his girlfriend, which was setting him back on his ability to empathize with you. He absolutely hated you.

After all, instead of evidence to prove your innocence, the Winchesters instead kept finding the complete opposite. Every good deed you did was tainted by either the heaven's bloodthirsty intervention, or just your own naiveté. 

Your guilt was climbing so high that you were beginning to agree with the Winchesters. You were the monster—I mean, look at all the times I'd screwed up!

Your presence was killing people. Whether it was your intention or not.

You sighed.

Sam was twirling the angel blade in the car, getting a feel for the weapon. He said, “You know, when I said you were 'working with demons', I actually meant the one from a few weeks ago—the Bloody Mary case."

"You mean the demon I killed? Because that totally sounds like I was scheming with demons.”

Sam paused. "You killed it with this knife, right?"

You went quiet. Damn.

He twirled it again. "Thought so. So it is more than a 'fancy knife'. Makes me wonder what else you're lying about."

"As if you wouldn't be lying your head off if you were in my position. I forgot how honest you two are." You snorted. "You two have no problem lying to each other. Like, seriously? Dean, you lied to Sam about the demon knowing about Jessica's death. On your, what, fourth hunt with him since he'd gone to college?"

Hypocrites. Both of them.

The statement made Sam squint. "How the hell would you ever know?"

"Uh, I was with you? On the plane?" Anxiety pooled in your stomach.

"No, you vanished into thin air before that conversation ever happened," Dean accused. "Another reason to believe you aren't human."

"I have my sources." Sources. Right. What sources?

"And what the hell are your sources?"

Supernatural, you wanted to say, the television show that ruined my life. But how could you tell them that?

You couldn't tell them you were a demon, either. Not only because you weren't—but that would just spell out a whole lot of trouble for you. Not to mention they now possessed your angel blade.

And you most definitely couldn't tell them the truth.

So you did the insane.

"I'm psychic."

///

Tags: @megamindsdespondentcousin​ @depressedunicorn43​ , @rosaren2498​ , @pillowjj​ , @busy-bee-angel-misska​ , @elliotts-world​ , @dagnylokisdottir​ , @omg-we-really-doo​ , @millieccino​ , @regainedworld , @badgal-jackie​ , @postcardsfromliterallynowhere​ , @super-calithehamm​ , @teresa-67​ , @ofthedewthesunlight​ , @dream-believe-and-love​ 

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 10

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1856

Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​ , and @cracksinthewalls​ for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do. 

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”

“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says. 

“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”

She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee. 

“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”

“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”

“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”

 “Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?” 

She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.

“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”

Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.

“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.” 

Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.

“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.

“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”

“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers. 

“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”

“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”

“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.

The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.

“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.” 

She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.

“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”

Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”

Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”

Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.

“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.

“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.

“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.

“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy. 

“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”

She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”

“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile. 

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”

...

In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.

“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long. 

For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.

Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”

And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.

…

The end.

[anika-ann]

Nothing but the Truth - Pt.8

The Resolution

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader        Word count: 4070

Summary: A fake dating AU.  You’ve been moping for two days now; despite some surprising visitors in your hospital room, there was one person who haven’t made it yet. It’s just your dumb luck it was the one person that mattered very much.

Warnings: swearing, light angst, brief mentions of violence, fluff, extra dialogue-heavy chapter

Story Masterlist

The first thing your foggy brain registered as you woke up was that you must have a flu. There was no other explanation for how you felt.

Every single muscle, every single joint in your body, simply everything hurt and was so, so heavy… confusing images flickered through your mind, images of a dark room and the burning blue of irises, the pain and the poor attempt at a smile, the ring and leather straps, the maniacal grin on the vendor’s face—it was all adding to the splitting headache that was keeping you from opening your eyes; because no, no sharp light, thank you very much-

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” a velvety voice caressed your ears, gentle fingers lightly squeezing your hand. “You had us worried.”

Mind still fuzzy, you groaned, attempting to squeeze the warm hand back, but with zero result.

God, why is it so, so hard to move--

“I’ll call a doctor, yeah?”

Grunting something incomprehensible in disagreement, because fuck it, I just want to sleep, you drifted back into blissful ignorance, not having a care for the world.

When you woke up again, it was to Sam’s concerned gaze and you did not like that expression on his face one bit.

To your utter shock, he was soon replaced by Tony Stark; though Sam still stayed in your corner while the billionaire gushed about how you had led them right to the bad guy.

“He was crazy, alright. His brain was a like bag of cats and that coming from me? Real deal. Anyway… we couldn’t save anyone else. He was… eh, systematic. Putting trackers into the rings, stalking the couples and then he moved onto his mission of testing the true love bullshit and everyone failed, so he had the shocks to-“

Sam cleared his throat meaningfully as you winced, the ghost of the very unpleasant sensation running through your nerve endings, biting chill curling at the base of your spine, flashes of Steve’s face, the mask, the vendor, the chairs and the electricity crackling-

“Sorry. Just wanted to say… you did really great. You saved a lot of lives by helping us to lock him away. You basically entered the hero kindergarten,” Stark announced almost brightly, earning another ahem from your friend.

You smiled at the genius tiredly. “I’m not planning on joining your superhero group, Mr-“ you faltered when he made a face, “-Tony. And… I’d feel better if we could have—if the people who were taken-“

“Hey. Not your fault,” Sam interrupted you swiftly, voice as serious as his face. “You did amazing and I hope you’re never getting into this kind of shit ever again.”

Now he looked like a father torn between being proud of his kid punching a bully to their face and being exasperated because the said kid had earned an exclusion from school for it. To be fair, he possibly felt exactly like that.

“Yeaaaah, I guess that’s my cue,” Tony backed out with an awkward grin, stopping in the doorway to toss few more words over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry for the delay. The deactivated trackers took us a while. Get better, hon!”

You couldn’t but grin at his demeanor, but your mood instantly shifted back to grim when you saw the look on Sam’s face. The air of an overexcited genius which Stark was carrying around was sucked out of the room, suddenly making it hard for you to breathe as the horror images filled your mind once more.

You shook your head and gulped, trying to push them back to the corner, focusing on something else entirely; namely on the black eye which Tony was nursing, one of which had a good idea how happened.

“You gave him the black eye, didn’t you?”

Sam’s furrowed brows rose at the probably unexpected remark, but he didn’t bother lying. “Damn right, I did.”

Who would have guessed that two days, only 48 hours, could last an eternity?

You would.

You knew; you had your fair share of experiencing that. Still, every hour crushed your chest as Tony Stark visited once more, Sam was at your bedside at nearly all times, Irma came to see you, hell, even Natasha freaking Romanoff stopped by and yet, yet, no Steve in sight.

Sam had told you he was busy; you could imagine. He must have probably been filling out mission reports, recovering himself, had to answer to authorities, to reporters-- and your eyes filled with stupid and pathetic tears when you thought of the reporters every single time.

Recalling your own encounter with the sensation-hungry sharks, the intrusive memory of the interview wormed its way to your brain and more importantly, to your heart; a memory of the time when everything had seemed alright, better even, almost as if there could be something more —and then Steve had said yes--- and then-

Then all you had was a hazy memory of his voice at your ear when you had been pulled out of unconsciousness, a wistful dream, a fata-morgana which you made up to console your mind when your body couldn’t quite comprehend the exhaustion and pain tearing you from your sleep only to slip back again.

He hadn’t come.

For two full days, he wouldn’t as much as shoot you a text, send flowers or something awfully sweet and Steve-like and you were starting to question just how much of what had happened down there you only imagined.

You were almost certain he had said he loved you, you would swear on it even; but if it truly happened and Steve was still not showing up, well… then it opened a whole new number of possibilities of what his motivation could be.

You refused to believe he didn’t care at all. However, you had met Steve a while ago and if you understood something about him, it was that his sense of duty was just a tiny bit inferior to his sense of loyalty. In other words, he would look out for his friends, as much as they would look out for him – more even.

So, even when Steve was supposedly busy – unless he was out of the country, naturally – he would let himself to be dragged out of the gym, out of his office, dragged away from anything that seemed urgent, yet not urgent enough for him to refuse Sam or anyone else who was concerned and insistent enough.

Hence you coming to the conclusion that he simply didn’t want to spent a single second in your presence, because he had in fact figured out that you had been about to confess your feelings to him and now he was doing everything to avoid you, because he had somehow tricked the machine when saying that stupid ‘yes’ and he had no clue how to turn you down gently now-- because Steve was nothing short of gentle.

Yep, that was your elaborate theory.

Say yay for your super-inventive brain, you thought darkly. And try not to choke at the thought of Steve ghosting you for the rest of your life.

Burying your face in the pillow and letting it soak up with your tears, you lulled yourself to sleep, grateful there was no one in your room at the moment to witness your break-down.

You were woken up from your slumber by three swift knocks on your door. It snapped you to full consciousness at instant, mostly because there weren’t many people who bothered to knock; it was quite common for them – and that included the doctors – to simply enter.

That difference in approach was essential, because your mind traitorously drifted towards the idea of Steve finally paying you a visit and it was both exciting and mortifying.

Also, it gave you hope of which you were certain would be crashed the moment the door open, so there was that.

The knocks echoed in the room once more, this time softer, as if the person behind the door worried about intruding your sleep.

Huh. Cute and considerate. How could you not get your hopes up at that?

“Uhm… come in,” you encouraged the mystery person cautiously, your heart nearly giving out when a blond head hesitantly poked in.

Yep, it’s Steve.

Or maybe I’m just high and I’m imagining him.

Hard to tell.

He offered you the weakest of smiles as if he could hear your thoughts and whispered a very shy ‘hi’.

You felt your heartbeat pounding in your temples in panic and excitement.

“Steve… uhm. H-hey. What-eh- what are you doing here?”

You would have been ashamed for stuttering like an idiot, except you were too busy freaking out over looking like a hobo, having red-rimmed eyes and chest filled with dread at this encounter, feelings spoken and unspoken sitting heavily in your ribcage—and well, generally just losing your mind.

Also, Steve was unable to speak like a normal person as well, so that helped. “I-uhm… came to check up on you.”

He stepped fully into the doorway and you expected him to come all the way in. Instead, he wavered there, not quite entering and it only caused your chest to tighten. You swallowed against the lump in your throat, trying your best to seem collected and not like desperately looking for a clue, anything to give away a single of his thoughts.

Was he hesitating because he wasn’t sure if he was welcomed after ghosting you or was it because he wanted to have an escape route open? He was a strategist, after all; it would be wise to have a chance at escaping the moment he sensed the situation going off rails.

A somewhat torn expression crossed over his face, followed by an expectant one, and you realized he must have been waiting for you to lead.

Again.

Ever the gentleman.

You would have appreciated it and possibly melt into a puddle of sappy goo, because Steve was a sweetheart always… except you hadn’t a clue what you wanted and where you wanted this to lead—well, you did know, but you doubted that would happen.

Your heart ached, a reminder of his confession possibly not being sincere and you being left on your own in your pining.

Shaking your head to free yourself from the cage of your own mind, you attempted a small smile, one that probably came off as super-awkward.

But he needed to cut you some slack, alright.

“Oh. I’m fine,” you finally said, answering the question not quite asked. “I mean… my head spins a little-“ And you’re not helping. “-but mostly I’m here because Tony Stark is being an overbearing ass. I don’t think he would admit that, but he probably feels guilty.”

It was another conclusion your brilliant mind had come to. You know, apart from the fact Steve was ghosting you because he was waking up in cold sweat dreaming about you being interested in him and all that.

But why were you telling him about Tony? Were you really that desperate to see him for a bit longer that you babbled? So desperately trying to postpone the inevitable conversation for later, because once it happened… God only knew what the outcome would be?

Your ears might have been playing tricks on you, but you would swear you heard him murmur ‘I know how that feels’ under his breath.

Hm.

“Good,” he stated, nodding his head as if he needed to assure himself that it was indeed good. “Uhm… it’s good that you’re almost fine.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

He was still standing in the doorway and your eyes started burning with unshed tears.

Small talk. Awkwardness. Things unsaid, hanging in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Was this how it was going to be between the two of you now?

And what else did you expect it would be like after you pretended to be a couple? After you kissed? And got tortured together, just in the case you forgot about that?

“What about you?” you forced yourself to ask, willing your voice not to crack. “How you’ve been?”

“Huh? Oh, uhm. Good. Yeah, good. Busy.”

“Right. I-- uhm… I bet-“

“No, actually… that’s a lie.”

You blinked, utterly taken aback at the blatant admission. It was so unlike Steve to be this cruelly honest that you barely registered that his words felt like a punch to your face.

Not that you had ever been punched to your face. Only nearly electrocuted. Which you guessed wasn’t any better.

“Oh.”

Steve shook his head, chuckling bitterly, still not moving from the fucking doorway and you wished you were in his place, so you could just flee.

“I spent half of the time staring at a wall in my office.”

“Oh… uhm.” And like an idiot, because you were one and you had no clue how to react besides bursting into tears, because he hadn’t come to see you and had been staring at a wall instead, you said: “I mean… I guess Stark Tower has some pretty interesting walls.”

This time when he chuckled, the sound was just as breathless, but lighter. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and gestured towards the chair by your bed.

“May I?”

No. Nope. You let him in here and the more you look at him and do small talk, the more you’ll want to cry. Tell him no-

“Sure.”

Idiot.

Closing the door and finding his seat, he spoke again.

“Thank you. I… I should have visited. But… I spent hours and hours wondering how to apologize, and I know that it isn’t the best excuse, but I- you--“

You tried to blink away your tears, grateful for Steve staring at the bedsheets and not watching your face when talking. That would be pretty humiliating if he saw your awe-struck, humiliated and entirely confused face; this already was enough.

Apologize? For what? For lying and getting away with it? For telling the truth and then ignoring you? For pretending to care? For caring and suddenly not caring enough? Or for what?

What, what, what-  

“-what happened in that basement-“ he continued and the tone he spoke with was already too much to bear— you knew at instant that you didn’t want the answers to your questions.

Not if it meant that you‘d have your heart broken, a wedge driven into the already wide enough raw crack in it.

“Steve-“

“I got you hurt. And I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, leaning his elbows onto his thighs, fingers interlacing as his hands hang loosely between his knees. Wait, what? “I am so, so sorry. That never should have happened-“

Your heart skipped a pleased and relieved beat.

You shouldn’t be getting your hopes up just yet – this wasn’t about what you thought it was, he wasn’t telling you he hadn’t been lying down there, but this possibility hadn’t even crossed your mind. It should have, it made perfect sense that he was feeling guilty, because he was the captain of the team, responsible for them—

You were so wrapped up in your own head, clinging to the fact he admitted he loved you (or not, who the fuck knew), that you hadn’t even considered this.

The revelation explained so much and sounded much more like him than you could imagine and your mind started racing with new possibilities. Maybe… maybe he didn’t—or did he- this was far from him denying that he never wanted to talk to you again and had literally nothing to do with your little truth-or-lie issue, yet you felt an enormous weight fell from your shoulders, a blanket of lead that had been lying on your chest for a while now lift.

You wiggled up so you could sit straighter in the bed.

“Steve, that guy was insane. He drugged you with god knows what, he had you-- wired to something-“

“We shouldn’t have been there in the first place.“

Oh. Oh.

You gulped, your head pounding all over again, ribcage constricting.

Yeah. You supposed that was true. It didn’t mean that it hurt less; no, hearing him to say it out loud hurt more, actually, however, you tried your best to focus on the problem at hand, which was giving Steve whatever forgiveness he craved, no matter it wasn’t his fault in the first place.

“Well. I was the first to agree, if I remember correctly and you were radically against. So if anything, I kinda got us into that mess, so-…”

His cerulean eyes bored into yours, sorrow, self-torment and stubbornness incarnated, as he interrupted you.

“Maybe, but I agreed then and I promised to protect you. You trusted me and I failed you,” he accented, anger lacing his voice. He sighed then when he took a note of that and slowly breathed in and out, sounding much softer when he spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

It was as if you hadn’t said a word in the past minute.

“Steve, you’re… you’re just human. Serum or not, you’re- hell, even superman had his kryptonite and he’s fictional. You’re just— what--what he did to me--- after which I’ll be alright, by the way – that happening doesn’t make you any less of a hero,” you explained sincerely, minutely forgetting your weeping uncertain heart. “I know that you did everything you could. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

The implication that there was something else he should apologize for hang heavy in the air.

“I… about what I said down there-“

“Steve, don’t. You don’t need to explain anything. Whatever happened, however you managed to do that-“

“You think I lied,” he stated dully and you avoided his gaze at that.

You didn’t respond.

If you were being honest, you weren’t sure what to think anymore. Everything was just so damn confusing; his yes, his apology, his sorrow, him avoiding you… it was making you dizzy and it all the wondering had you honestly exhausted.

“I’m a coward.”

That got you snap your head back to him, hundreds of question marks in your eyes. “What?”

A humorless chuckle was the answer.

“I didn’t lie. I mean, I did lie down there once, and the machine caught that. And I got you hurt-“

You wanted to protest, because you’d been over this, but his previous words rang in your ears, confusing and disgustingly hopeful.

He hesitantly reached for your hand, gingerly taking it between both of his own, thumbs tenderly caressing its back. You swallowed the choked noise threatening to escape your throat at the soft touch; deliberate, yet seemingly not uncomfortable to him.

“I was forced to admit how I felt right after I got you hurt and I had no single clue what to do with that. Still don’t. I-I spend hours just sitting here and staring, trying to figure out-“

You successfully – ha, you wished – tuned out the first part, focusing on the latter one, not any less surprising.

“You’ve been here?”

He seemed distracted by that question. “Yeah, uhm-“

“Were… were you here when I woke up?” you asked, another foggy memory flickering in front of your eyes, a memory of him in the chair, the concerned frown on his face, dark circles under his dry eyes, raspy voice-

“You… you remember that? You weren’t even conscious for a full minute. You were out again before the doctor arrived, both times.”

‘Both times.’ He had witnessed you conscious twice.

Just how long had he spent here by your sleeping form?

“I thought-“ I though that I dreamed that up. Apparently, you hadn’t. He… he had been there with you. Oh. “I—so you- oh.”

He waited patiently before all of his words registered in your brain; including the ones about-

“You… weren’t lying?” you asked breathlessly, astonished and warmed from inside out for the second time in the past few days as the realization took roots in your brain, finding the remnants of your previous belief and euphoria.

“No. Not when I- when I said-”

“-yes,” you finished for him, your lips parting in amazement, your heart fluttering in joy.

There was no need to specify which question you were talking about – it was clear as day; about the only one that truly mattered.

“And I’m an idiot. I hurt you again, letting you think that I didn’t care at all and I should have come here, but I had no idea what to do next and if you-- what did you think about it- and I got you hurt-“

“We’ve been over this. Not your fault,” you chastised his distractedly, staring at his face because he was breathtaking and he… he-

His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously and you couldn’t but give him the reassurance he was no doubt seeking; you knew you would in his place.

“I… I was about to say yes. And it wouldn’t have been a lie either,” you offered quietly, a slow smile spreading on your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He gave you a watery smile, tears still crinkling in the corners of his eyes as he carefully raised your hand, watching every micro-expression on your face, searching for the tinniest trace of disapproval; finding none, his lips brushed your knuckles with the gentlest kiss.

You melted into the pillow, feeling warm all over, your smile turning goofy as you finally, finally got your answer and wanted to scream it at the top of your lungs, because it was delightful.

Steve loved you.

Steve loves me.

And you loved him.

There was a mess for you to deal with for sure, a lot of explaining ahead, but… what else than the fact that you loved each other was important here?

Nothing. Not really, not at the moment at least.

Something told you this might be the true start of a beautiful relationship.

The non-faked kind.

--and you hunch turned out to be true.

The next day, the very hour of your discharge from the med-wing, Steve was waiting for you; all ready with a car to drive you home, a bouquet of cream-colored tulips in his hand to make your day downright wonderful and for some reason, also with daggers in his glare whenever he sized up the nice doctor who had been keeping you company until Steve arrived.

It earned Steve a kiss on his cheek as he led you to the car with his palm lightly resting on your lower back and if your lips brushed his before you got in, well, no one needed to know.

“Mr. Wilson, you wished me to tell you when the confessions would be made. They were just now.”

Sam glanced up from the screen and stopped scrolling mindlessly through his phone, letting out a long exhale.

Judging by the not-so-ominous tone of the AI – nope, he would never get over the fact that an artificial intelligence could speak in different ways and be sassy on top of everything – the talk didn’t end up tragically. At least Sam hoped; he didn’t think there had been much space for messing it up worse, to be honest.

“Thanks, Friday. It was about damn time. How did it go?”

A record of the infamous interview, showing his two friends making out on live TV lighted up his phone—fucking rude to hack his phone like this, especially showing him that.

“About like this, Mr. Wilson,” Friday explained nonchalantly as if that fucking thing wasn’t in control of his phone.

Sam breathed through the shock caused by the intrusive AI, focusing on the good news before planning on giving Stark another black eye because what the hell, SOME privacy left would be nice and very much appreciated-

“Didn’t exactly need the visual,” he muttered, adding a louder ’but thanks.’

His screen returned to normal and he found himself too tired to get up and find Stark right now; he could always throw it to his face later.

Speaking of planning on throwing words and things at someone’s faces…

Sam realized he had to stand up anyway, because he had a different job to do, now that the two idiot friends of his finally made it past the mutual pining phase and actually got together.

Shoving his phone to the pocket of his jeans, he went to polish his guns; just in case that the big blond dumbass planned on making Sam’s favorite almost-sister cry again.

Note: White Tulips – representing purity, innocence, forgiveness and respect, they would be a great flower for a wedding or to give with an apology. (Cream-colored tulips are closely related and have also a meaning of commitment.)

Tags:

@mermaidxatxheart​ @bobertswagert​ @kakakatey​ @ccolz88-blog​ @joeyrumlow​ @lovemeterwrites​ @jessyballet​ @bellaireland1981​

Thank you for reading and leaving likes! You’ve all been amazing :-* Special thanks for commenting and/or spreading my work, it is greatly appreciated ❤️

If you enjoyed, check out my other works and if you by any change wanted to be added to my S.R. fanfic taglist, let me know and I happily will :-*  

[psyleedee]

Sweet, Spice and Everything Not Nice.

(Inspired by the iconic™ hot chilli Jen/Danneel/Misha moment but Destiel).

dean/castiel, secret relationship, accidental coming out, crack, humor, implied blowjobs, poor sammy.

-2k words.

-psyleedee.

There's a new diner opened up just a mile away from the Bunker, and already, Dean has heard so much about it. Last Tuesday, when he went for a milk run and stumbled into Ms. Davey, she was strangely keen about the new chilli poppers the diner was serving. Dean had smiled and brushed her off with a sure, I'll try it out, and he'd gone his way. Come Thursday, he'd stumbled into Chris, the local pawn shop owner, and they'd fallen into easy conversation, before Chris had spoken up about the diner. Said they had the best damn chilli poppers he'd ever seen. Dean didn't need anymore convincing.

Turns out Sam did.

And after weeks of goading Sam and riling him up to the point where he slammed a fist on the table and said Jesus Christ, Dean, you say the word chilli poppers again and I'll shove one right up your ass, Dean had succeeded. So what if it meant his dignity had crumbled to ash? At least he'd get to eat some good, greasy food, the one he's been craving for so long.

Besides, he oughta' take Cas out on a date too.

Ever since they ended up drunk in bed one long, fateful night ago, things have been slightly different between the two of them. For starters, they smile at each other a lot. Even when they're not looking at each other in tandem. They always end up on the same side of the couch or the dining table, thighs pressed together, hands brushing. They argue a lot, over the most mundane things, like washing the dishes or doing the laundry, but sometimes, after a hunt, when Dean is gushing blood, there will be this one broken glint in Castiel's eyes when he tries to heal him. And that night, they'll make slow, gentle love in Dean's car, away from the rest of the world.

However, there's a slight catch.

Sam doesn't know. He knows nothing. At least Dean hopes so.

And hey, not like they're trying to hide stuff from Sam, 'cause come on, they're practically breathing up each other's neck with only the three of them in the bunker, but it's just that Dean has a specific plan in his mind.

A plan about coming out to his brother. And it'll be heartfelt, of course, 'cause this is not just him establishing his relationship with Castiel, but also him coming out as bisexual. Sure, forty's a little late to figure out your sexuality, but better late than never, yeah?

So that's how it goes.

Maybe they can have a nice, brotherly chat over beer and chilli poppers.

"So, here we are. At last," Castiel says, as they stand against the Impala, all three of them, studying the creaky wooden sign which reads: Donny's Diner– home to the famous Habanero Chilli Poppers.

Okay. They're at the right place then.

"Habanero? Is that like, hotter than jalapeños or somethin'?"

Dean asks, as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jacket, and glances at his brother.

"I don't know," Sam says, so Dean turns to Cas, who almost passes as a rugged, buff lumberjack with the way Dean's flannel and AC/DC shirt hug his chest. He has his arms folded across him, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes as he studies the diner.

"I was too busy leading armies in Heaven to really pay attention to the chillies on earth."

"God," Dean sighs, exasperated, "-just say no."

Castiel's lips twitch in the slightest of amusement, and Dean hates the smug look spread across Castiel's face.

Okay, fine, he loves it.

Whatever.

"Let's go eat some fucking chilli poppers," Sam sighs, and Dean, ever ready, follows behind him. Castiel joins them, and all three men enter the diner, which in truth, is a normal, rustic style place. The tables are wooden, the chairs quite simple, a single order station at the front, and a few women, dressed in black shirts and jeans, running around with trays in their hands. It seems casual and laid-back, just the way Dean likes a diner to be, and at once, he quirks his bottom lip, already impressed by the minimal decor and the light chatter in the diner.

"Hi!"

Both Cas and Dean jump a little at the loud, enthusiastic, squeaky voice from in front of them, and standing before them is a young, short woman, with a pixie cut and cute, black-rimmed glasses on her nose. She reminds Dean of a high schooler. Maybe she is.

"Erm, hey."

"I'm Dana, and I'll be your server today. Follow me please, I'll grab you guys a seat."

Dean smiles at her, and the trio follows her along to a booth at the corner of the room. Sam slides in one side, while Castiel and Dean slip in across him. Dana allows them to settle for a moment before piping up again. Seriously this girl has got some real hard enthusiasm for a waitress.

"So, do you guys have anything in mind already? Since a lot of people come in here for the poppers, but if you want, I can get you the menu."

Dean shares a look with Sam. Dean shares a look with Cas.

We'll have the poppers. Oh, and uh, Dana, are the poppers uh, spicy? Like, reeealll spicy? Or spicy spicy?"

Dana chuckles, and shrugs.

"On a scale of one to ten, I'd say a solid eight. But you don't need to try them if you don't want to. We have normal jalapeño poppers. Those aren't as spicy."

"We'll have the really spicy ones, since Dean has been so insistent about them," Castiel says, and the waitress nods. He turns to Dean with a challenging spark in his eyes, "-or are you scared, Dean? I mean, you haven't been known to be quite tolerant towards chillies."

"Shaddup," Dean grumbles, and watches as Sam sends him a silly look, before turning to the waitress.

"The habanero poppers, please."

Sam smiles, and the waitress walks away with a brief nod.

Dean turns back to Sam, who fixes him a dry glare, before turning to Cas.

"Alright, I'm gonna' go use the restroom for a minute," He says, and glances at Dean, after which he proceeds to slide out of the booth and walk away.

Alone at last.

Dean shifts his weight onto a single thigh and turns in his seat to face Castiel. Castiel looks at him with a soft, tender expression, before reaching out to twine their fingers together.

"Are you happy, Dean?"

"'Course I am, Cas. Are you?"

"With you I always am."

"Sap."

"I prefer the term honest."

A smile spreads across both of their faces, before Dean leans in, and presses his lips to Castiel's, who melts at once, giving in to Dean, hands grazing Dean's jaw as they kiss, tender, longing, passionate, hot... Okay too hot, abort, abort.

Dean clears his throat and backs away, glancing around the diner to find a few curious pair of eyes on them, and he sends each one a glare, linking his arm around Castiel's back to show them what's theirs. Castiel shakes bis head with a hopeless smile, and steals a peck off Dean's lips, just in time, since Sam returns not a moment later.

Dean jerks his hand away. Castiel seems a bit hurt.

"So, what'd I miss?"

"Nothing," Castiel scoffs, and looks away, setting his chin on his fists on the table.

Sam looks between Dean and Castiel, and as much as Dean hates the way Sam is suspicious, he doesn't say much.

Patience, Sammy, patience. Dean's going to come out soon. He promises. Or something.

Dana returns just in time to soothe the rising tension at the table, and at once, the prominent scent of spices, oil, and chilli wafts around them, tickling Dean's nostrils in the best of ways, and he follows his nose to find a steaming, hot plate of sizzling habanero poppers held in Dana's hand. There's almost eight to nine poppers on the plate, and each one looks downright delectable.

"Alright, I would advise you to grab yourself some water, because these can be very spicy, and we don't want another paramedic in this diner."

"You have a paramedic in this diner?"

Dean asks, incredulous as he stares at the plate of poppers.

Dana laughs. "Uh-huh, over there, that's Kenny, he's the medic."

"Woah."

Castiel sighs, and watches as the waitress sets the tray down before them.

"Anything else I can get you? Besides a huge jug of water?"

Dana smirks, and all three men gulp at once, eyes fixed to the plate of poppers.

Man up, Winchester.

"Nothing, honey."

Dean smiles, and Dana returns it before walking away.

Now.

The poppers.

Before Dean can even speak, both Sam and Castiel are swiping their hands at one, holding it up and staring down at it.

"Guys, I don't think that's it's a good idea to–"

Gone. The poppers are gone. The ones in Sam's and Castiel's hand? Gone. In their mouths.

Dean stares, wide eyed, awestruck, torn between looking at Sam and Castiel, but then–

"Oh my god," Castiel gasps, mouth stuffed full, chewing on the popper, and Dean watches as his fists clench on the table.

Yup. Dean is not touching those poppers with a ten-foot pole.

"Jesus," Sam mutters, and holy shit, the guy's actually red, and fuck, so is Cas, they're literally burning red at the cheeks and the nose, and Sam's drooling, wiping his nose, there's tears at his eyes, Castiel is swatting the table, groaning, tears streaming down his face as he chews on the popper–

This is a fuckfest.

"Dude, what's happening?"

Dean yelps, shrinking away from his brother and boyfriend, as they pant, gasp and cry.

"Hot, hot, hot– too hot," Sam cries out, and Dean almost feels bad for the bugger. Serves them for being impatient.

"Dean, oh my god, argh, hot, hot, this is the hottest thing I've ever put in my mouth?!"

Castiel screams out, banging his fist on the table, and yes, Dean knows the time isn't right, but obviously Castiel has had hotter things in his mouth before, and those things are sitting right next to him, so how dare he.

"Excuse me?" Dean scoffs, to which Castiel sends him a dry, enraged glare.

"Food, Dean! Food."

Castiel squawks, and slaps the table, but a loud, deafening yelp catches both of their attention.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

Sam bellows, and oh. Oops.

"I don't wanna' listen to you talk about your sex life when I'm literally dying?! Dean, what the fuck are you sitting for, ask for some water?!"

Wow. This Sam is... Not nice.

Dean falters, trapped between two impatient, burning, overreacting men, and he rises up from his seat, watching as Dana scurries towards them with a water jug, but she doesn't even have a moment to react before Castiel is snatching it out of her hands and oh, oh god.

Castiel holds the jug above his face, and Dean jumps away from the table as the water gushes out, pouring into his mouth, over his shirt, everywhere, and before Castiel can even quench his thirst, Sam is grabbing the jug, pouring it over his face just like Castiel, the water drizzling every where, and a horrified, stricken Dean simply glances up at Dana, who seems... Strangely calm.

"Oh, it's more common than you think. I'm used to it," She says, and Dean wonders vaguely, if they're paying her enough for this, before providing help in the most menial form ever, by tossing his handkerchief to Castiel.

"You, Dean, are not getting away with this. You're the reason we almost died?!"

He growls, and yanks Dean onto the chair.

"Dude, I didn't ask you to pop it into your mouth literally a second after it came out."

Dean yells, shrugging away in defense, when a loud gasp draws their attention to Sam.

"You guys are fucking each other?"

Oh. Uhm. Cat's out.

"Yes, we're fucking each other, Sam, now could you pass that jug over here?"

Dean stares at the two of them, completely normal, going about passing the between the two of them.

That was... Not how he planned on coming out. Nope.

"Yeah, uh, Sam, Cas and I are dating. And uhm, I'm bi."

Sam shrugs, and holds the jug above his face, when it seems to click him.

"Wait. Was I not supposed to know that?"

Dean rolls his eyes.

"No, you weren't. How'd you know?"

Sam laughs.

"I don't know, maybe the oh my god, faster Dean, or the oh, you feel so good, coming from your room each night might have something do with it."

Dean blushes. Hard. Too hard. Castiel doesn't seem the slightest bit bothered. I mean, well, save for the water he's practically guzzling down.

"Whatever."

Dean grunts, and slides back in next to Castiel, who pushes the jug away, and slumps back against the booth.

Silence follows both Sam and Castiel's heavy pants.

Only for Castiel to grin again.

"That was awesome, I'm trying another."