#and Sam gets to blame himself for it <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[quietwingsinthesky]

what if Dean killed Charlie himself for helping Sam with the book of the damned instead of immediately telling Dean what was happening. what if he still told Sam it was his fault for putting Charlie in harm’s way (in this scenario, anywhere near Dean with the mark on him, despite her and Sam trying to remove said mark?) what if Dean had actually killed someone important to him who trusted him and loved him?

[aliusfrater]

prev post begging you guys to stop uncritically adopting dean's (pretty surface level) irrational interpretations of sam's intent and actually ascribing it to your ideas of sam's motivations despite sam's succeeding expressed intent🙏

[j2archives]

What a shame

── - ˚.⋆ 𝜗𝜚˚.⋆ - pairing sam winchester x fem!hunter!reader

summary you joined the winchester boys a few months back and got close to the younger one, sam. after sam mentioned a run in with a hunter gordon, your heart sank. gordon was your ex, and you knew how crazy he got. but sam reassured you it was okay, he always did. now, there was a case in new york and it turned out your ex was in the same town hunting vamps. when gordon is turned, sam and dean go out to hunt him while you stay at the motel. when they come back, and dean starts describing how sam handled a super-charged vamp gordon — you started to think about about the image. your crush on sam didn’t help either.

content warnings based on 3x07, mentions of blood, gordon (he’s a tw), sam has a crush on reader, dirty thoughts, way too empathic sam, unprotected p!v, shower sex, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, sam’s oral fixation, mentions of dean, fingering, sweet sammy <3, reader gets the best head of her life and doesn’t know what to think, pure filth (trust), slight breeding if you squint really hard, if you squint it’s hinted that sam isn’t average

notes 3.7k words and the long awaited fic!! proofread, enjoy <3

sam knew you and gordon went way back. it wasn’t any of his business, but that didn’t mean he’d shut you out when you wanted to vent. he’s had a few run-ins with gordon himself. Mainly when gordon was trying to kill him — which was pretty much every single one. so he got an idea from that how much of a dick he was.

you’d been hunting with the Winchester boys for a few months now. running into them at some bar in chicago. dean took an interest in you and introduced you to sam. you’d heard of him, almost everyone has. there was no way that this guy is the antichrist and is supposed to doom the world? not with those puppy-dog eyes.

he was nervous meeting you, and you couldn’t blame him. dean told you how they never really ran into other hunters, and you were sure sam had bad experiences in the past. so you were cautious, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in anyway. he was shocked you knew his name, but once again, there was the whole demon thing. word travels fast, especially when it got out that sam was immune to the croatian virus, that was crafted by satan himself. but, you didn’t let that control your view of him, he was much more than that.

dean noticed how close you and sam got, he teased his brother relentlessly for his bright cheeks. sam always rolled his eyes, but deep down he knew his brother was right. he was utterly down bad for you. and he didn’t think you knew it.

it was in indiana when you last saw gordon again, on top of the roof with a sniper trying to take sam and a victim out. dean was the one who tackled gordon, you rushed inside to alert sam so he could get the girl out of there. he noticed how quiet you were afterwards when gordon was arrested and sentenced. He had no idea how much guilt you felt.

when you finally explained to the brothers what happened, sam comforted you afterwards. assuring you that it was okay, and he also apologized for how he fought gordon. you didn’t understand why he was, but it was something he did, he always did. So you thanked him, every time. wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace.

You were tracking a vamp currently in Albany, New york. it turned out a girl named lucy was turned, she had no idea what had happened to her. she didn’t know what she became overnight, she didn’t know that she killed people. your heart weighed heavy for her, and judging by sam — who left the room a few minutes ago, it did for him too. someone had to kill her before she’d lose control again. you stayed with sam in the kitchen, trying your best to comfort him while dean took care of the situation.

“you did what you could sam. at least she had answers.” he didn’t look you in the eyes, averting his gaze to the floor. his head tilted up at your voice, a sigh leaving him. he was grateful you were here with him, but he also didn’t want you to feel worse when he knew you felt a similar feeling as well. “i know.”

there was a lot on the man’s mind right now. you couldn’t even begin on how fucking horrible you felt seeing him like this. and now that gordon was back in town, he’d already shot a few bullets at the winchester. sam didn’t need anymore on his plate, and your stupid, son-of-a-bitch ex had to add more.

dean was going to hell. selling his soul to bring sam back had good intentions, but he still wouldn’t confront what was going on. he showed so little care about himself, and all his younger brother’s been doing is try to save him. dean’s been saving sam for years, since he was six months old — since the house fire. he hadn’t found an answer yet and the trail was getting colder every day. his brother said he did it because he couldn’t live without sam, but now his baby brother would have to live without him. and it pained him in ways you couldn’t imagine. just watching him made your heart ache. you felt so much for sam, and the main thing was empathy.

when dean found out gordon had turned, it changed things. he’d be more skilled, more reckless. he became the one thing he hated most, and now, he didn’t have anything left to care. his main motive has been to kill sam winchester. and now, he was invincible at night. he fed. you and sam found the bodies. the stakes were higher, sam was in danger. and fuck, it worried you. so damn much.

after luring sam and dean out, sam urged for you to stay home — not wanting you in harms way. despite every instinct telling you to go after the brothers, you respected sam’s decision. it tore you apart, that you didn’t know what was happening. you didn’t know if they were okay, if gordon somehow escaped, if sam was hurt, if he was turned. the different scenarios raced through your mind and it only served to make you panic, to worry you even more.

you stayed in the same place you had when they left. when the door opened, it revealed sam and dean. their clothes still bloody. you stood up instantly noticing the look on his face, nearly sprinting towards him. sam was caught off guard by your sudden rush, but he understood.

gordon was dead. and the way dean described it, it was pretty gruesome. sam fought back, wrapping barbed wire around his neck. he managed to over power gordon, slicing his head off within minutes. it explained the blood on his flannel.

dean’s hand grasped the door handle, “I’ll be back in a few, gonna look around to see if we missed anything or anyone.” before you or sam could say anything, the doorknob twisted and dean made his exit.

if you didn’t know any better, you’d say dean was trying to get you alone with his younger brother.

after a few moments of silence, he spoke up first — “I should probably go wash up,” his head tilted slightly towards the bathroom. you nodded, but before he went, he added on.

“about gordon…-“

“it was you or him, sam.”

his eyes widened, confusion painting his features. Sam would’ve assumed you’d be in grieving, mourning, that you might even blame him a bit but no. You replied with: ‘it was you or him, sam.’ to say he was shocked at that was an understatement. he was speechless. having no idea what to say. he just killed his crush’s ex boyfriend. and now you were looking at him with this look. he had a pretty good idea what that look meant, but he didn’t say anything about it. unsure if that’s what you really meant.

sam fumbled for words, “I- wow.” a chuckle left him. one of disbelief, nerves, and for some goddamn reason, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink like a schoolgirl.

“what?” now you’re the one who’s confused. “i thought you’d slap me or something. not defend me…?” the winchester was a damn idiot.

he really didn’t see it, did he?

ever since you met sam outside of the chicago bar, you had your eyes on him. hell, that practically told dean he had no chance. how you felt for sam went way beyond just close friends. you’d seen what it did to him when he talked about jessica. how much he denied or didn’t believe someone actually gave a fuck. now he was losing his brother? no one deserved that, especially not him.

all sam did was worry and care for everyone else. the one time you got your period, he let dean take a solo hunt because he wanted to make sure you were okay. he got you a damn heating pad, practically everything from the vending machine, and even sat through horrible rom-coms with you to try and make you feel better. when dean did something reckless, he’d talk his brother’s ear off about being more careful even though dean sometimes didn’t pay that much attention. he still tried. he still tried to stay positive even when a hunt went off the rails, even when he was pissed at something. he didn’t want to take it out on anyone and make the problem worse, so he tried to calm down.

he really didn’t have a clue.

“i’ll defend you when i want to, sam.” a smile curved up on his lips, shaking his head. “yes ma’am.”

the pet name he used made your cheeks flush, and his own to grow a deeper shade. for a moment you both stood there, sam avoided your eyes. but you kept your gaze trained on him, he was flustered now. when he finally met your gaze, his lips parted slightly.

“I should probably clean up,” another pause. “you can shower with me- I mean, shower before me!” your eyebrows raised, your lips curving up into a teasing grin. “you wanna see me naked, winchester?” he was a mess now, stuttering out anything he could to explain what he meant. despite the implication (that he didn’t mean to blurt out) being so obvious.

“i didn’t mean to blurt that out. it’s not like i’d mind- i don’t want to make you uncomfortable though, at all. Since a lot happened earli-“ sam’s words were muffled by your lips pressed against his. it took him a second, eyes fluttering shut as he melted into you. He kissed you. and the way his lips moved back against yours, you knew that was it— every time he chased your lips, your legs got weaker.

with a herculean effort, he pulled away. sam’s breaths spurred into pants, he was lost for words. you could barely suppress your nerves, the way he was looking at you. the way he kissed you so fierce, kissed you like he loved you too. it was the final straw.

he lightly stroked the side of your arms, it was an intimate gesture even though his touch was so feather-light. it took him a moment, his eyes flickering over your face then darting back to your lips. Still, sam’s eyes couldn’t shake yours; hunger swirling in the depths.

he sucked in a sharp shaky breath, “are you sure?”

—

You urged sam’s back flat against the shower wall, your tongue lapping at his. he was pliant for you as you did, his breath hitching whenever he felt your hands wander. your palms were seeking and appreciating. trying to figure out what made him tick. one of his hands steadied on your hip, while the other tangled in your damp-tousled hair. trying to pull you impossibly closer. there was only one word that could make it through your nerves: he was so damn beautiful. You uttered this to him without thinking, lost in a frenzy.

when you finally pulled away, you kept back open-mouthed breaths. he took you in, admiring how fucking wrecked you looked. he was sure he looked the same, but god. he did that to you. he kissed your lips swollen.

without a second thought, sam took you in his arms. spinning you around for your back to hit the shower wall, knocking the air from your chest once more. he ran his tongue across his lips, his eyes raking down your figure that he now had pinned beneath him. “fuck,” his chin dipped stealing a chaste kiss to your lips before kissing his way down to your jaw.

he nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, earning soft gasps from your throat. he already found your sweet spots, but he avoided them. biting around them before sealing the forming mark with a kiss. as he went, he pressed a burning, open-mouthed kiss to your quivering pulse. The sound his lips made as they kissed down your body was hot and sloppy in all ways that made your thighs tremble. it would’ve destroyed anyone with how he laved his tongue in a ridiculously passionate drag, and it crushed you in ways you couldn’t explain.

now, he kneeled before you. fingers splaying out on your womb as his breath caressed your sex, sam urged your thighs apart with his hands. the space between your legs ached so desperate it was sore. he was so close to where you wanted, it made you squirm.

“i want this to be good for you, baby. i wanna do this good for you…” his nails scraped against your hips and ass, holding you still. before you could even ask, he braced two hands on your thighs and placed them over his shoulder. he cursed at the sight, you were so fucking wet and it wasn’t from the shower. you let out a small whine at the exposure, the way he was looking up at you. as if he had been starving and you were the last item in the fridge.

sam sighed at the sight, “is this for me? don’t get shy on me, sweetheart. tell me.” he was in awe. he couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, i love it when you sound like that— ah.” his cheeks returned to its pink tint in full force. you could feel his breath fanning deliciously over your folds, a slight smirk curved up on his lips as pride flowed through his veins. this whole time you were soaked, holy shit.

he pushed your thighs apart wider, making room for him. he spread your pussy open with his thumbs, “even pretty down here, honey.” he praised. you kept your gaze on him the whole time— or at least tried to. his touch was electric, sending shockwaves through you every second. he was mapping out every inch of skin he could. his middle finger slid through your folds, collecting your arousal on the pad of his finger.

“jesus, sam.” you watched as he brought his fingers up to his lips, swirling his tongue around his digit. fuck, watching him taste you… the sight was painfully hot. sam groaned, “so fucking sweet, baby.” the way he watched you made you feel like you were being devoured whole. he could feel his cock throb but he ignored it, focusing on you.

the moment sam’s mouth was against your sobbing cunt, you broke apart.

his lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between flicking and sucking at the bud. he drowned in your body— in your taste, your cries, your reactions. it boosts his ego, even if he won’t say it out loud. you tangled your digits in his locks, tugging him closer. sam moans into your pussy, lifting his finger up to tease your entrance.

he’s so, so loud. not like you were doing any better. two thick fingers press against your entrance before he finally easing them in. he pulls away for a brief moment, relishing in how tight you felt just on his fingers.

“so good, honey. you’re doing so good. you’re perfect f’ me, y’know that?” his fingers are still lazily scissoring inside of you, but now his mouth is latched onto you again. this time, his tongue’s darting at your entrance where his fingers are nestled. you let out a broken sob, you were helpless. it was so easy for him to pin you down. his thumb moved to your clit next. pressing down on the pearl and rubbing it in tight circles.

your hips bucked against his hands, he was moaning messily in your cunt now. your fingers gripping his hair so tight as you braced yourself. you were so close, you knew it, and so did sam. he had already learned your weakest spots, finding your deepest place that your own fingers couldn’t reach. he had memorized every inch of you, and he was still eager to learn more.

“S-Sam…” your voice trembled, “i know, i can feel you, sweetheart. just let go, ‘s okay… i’ve got you baby, jus’ like that.” just hearing his words made you cry out. sam quickly moved a hand up to your waist, making sure you didn’t fall. watching the pleasure take over your features. he did that to you, he reduced one of the most badass hunters to a needy, begging mess all for him.

once your breathing started to steady, sam kissed his way back up to your face. pressing a soft kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, and lastly your lips.

“how’d that feel?” was he being serious right now? this man. “how the fuck are you so good at that?”

sam chuckled at your breathless response, a sly grin flowing on his lips. “naturally born with it.” you rolled your eyes, chasing his lips again. it was a quick peck at first but quickly turned heated again.

your fingers trailed down, wrapping around his length. he moaned into your mouth, parting from you momentarily to look at where you connected. “fuck,” sam knew what you were chasing after, his forehead pressed against yours as he watched every movement you made, guiding him closer and closer to your slit.

a shaky moan left you when he pressed closer to you, his tip brushed against your clit just once. he looked up at you, observing your reaction. “do you want me to?” god, the bastard knew that you did. You were already soaked again, coating his shaft with your juices. with the strength you had, you moved just enough for him to catch on your entrance. making his breath hitch. “sam, please.”

when he pushed into you, you felt the air get shoved out of your lungs like it had for the past half-hour. the stretch burned just a bit as he worked himself inside of you but feeling the warmth spread through you made you let out a moan. sam wasn’t doing any better. soft, guttural groans and moans escaped him.

“shit, baby..” he panted, his face was buried in your neck as he stilled. giving you a moment to adjust. the feel of your velvety walls squeezing around him fueled his pleasure. you could feel every inch of each other, he was reaching places inside of you that you hadn’t even dreamed of.

your fingernails dug into the skin of his back. “m-move, fuck — please.” your broken plea snapped sam out of his daze.

he pulled out, just the tip left in before he slammed back into you. he wasn’t rough but he wasn’t soft either, he was the fucking godsend of both. hitting your g-spot every single thrust he gave, drawing out pornographic cries and broken sobs.

you didn’t even think sam was supposed to be this deep. the room was so damn hot.

“you’re so . . . thrust . . . fucking . . . thrust . . . tight, fuck!” you were already so close, he was too. being connected like this, feeling each other like this was simply too much. the pleasure was overwhelming. he couldn’t get enough of you, of how well you felt around him, how good you were for him. he wanted to give you the world. fuck…and how you responded to him.

sam’s fingers snuck down to rub at your clit, his other hand still holding your hip. he pressed and circled your bundle, earning your pretty noises. the sounds that filled the bathroom were obscene. the way he had you, that he got to have you made him go harder. faster even. “sam, baby.. sa-sam,” you tried to tell him, but he was already ahead of you.

“i know, sweetheart. me too, god, me too. let go, give me one more. i know my girl’s got one more in her. give it to me, baby. all of it, all on me.” you were screaming out his name as he brought you towards bliss.

he wasn’t far behind, manhandling you enough to fuck up into you how he needed against the shower wall. curses left him as he came, warm spurts painting your gummy walls. he splayed his digits over your hipbone, moaning as his hips continued to stutter. “so good, so good, angel.”

the praise echoed in your mind before being consuming by his sloppy kiss against your lips, the shower still ran in the background. surprisingly still luke warm. “alright, let’s get you cleaned up, ‘kay?” he was careful the whole time, continuing to coo and coax to you. making you weak for the winchester all over again.

—

Tagged: @mostlymarvelgirl @theamuz @starzify @h8aaz @dulcescorderitas @bluemerakis @immodestly-marina @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No More

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, so much angst, hurt/comfort, small fluff at the end, pre-established relationship, past abusive/toxic relationship, soft Dean

Summary/Warnings: Some scars don't really fade. They just fester and rot, remaining unattended in your body because you can't really remember how to heal them.

And Dean can't fix this for you. But he can give you somewhere safe to fix yourself.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! This one's heavy guys. If you think that past abusive relationships might be a no go for you, make the right choice for yourself <3. If not, enjoy (?) the story.

Word Count: 4k

It had been a good hunt. An objectively good hunt. Done in two days, no bodies to burn or bury, an alright bar in the town, and Sam managing to get his own room because he’s sick of you trying to bang Dean in front of him.

“Hey, don’t blame my girl for how you’re always sticking your ass in our business-“

“We share a room, Dean!” Sam had said, half-throwing his hands in the air. “Where else am I supposed to stick my ass if not in our communal living space-“

Dean had snorted. “Communal living space? Dude, you sound like such a jackass-“

“Why, because I can use big words like space?”

“I- Watch it, Sammy-“

“I’ll watch it if you stop trying to fuck on my bed!”

They’d kept arguing. You’d remained silent, picking at the wood of the table and wondering if—should you actually attempt to—you could sink into Dean’s chest and just stay there for a while. It would be warm and solid, and probably not all that safe—that man got himself stabbed and shot a lot—but safer than being in you. Then your traitorous and useless body, made only to be snapped in half. It must have something written on it or in it, emit some kind of blacklight or stench that said weak. Dumb, weak little bitch, lucky to have this because you don’t deserve it. Couldn’t deserve it.

Better, you could turn to stone, right here in the booth. If you could do that, you’d never get another bruise on your throat or hear venomous words spat in your ear. Sam and Dean could leave you behind and never have to feel any guilt. Dean could stop having to pretend he likes you as more than a body, and pull away without beating himself up about abandoning you like a used and worn couch. 

Moth-eaten and stained, only still in the house because it feels wrong to throw it out. Because you have a little sentimentality for the couch when it was nice, before it had been beaten and abused and reduced to just a lumpen sack of feathers and cloth.

You don’t think that comparison is fair to the couch. 

At least the couch was once useful.

Because it had been a good hunt.

You were the problem.

You’d slipped and wavered and fallen. But the whole place had smelled like lavender soap, and it had carried you back to where that same smell had suffocated you. He had loved that smell, and said it made you seem prettier and softer than you were. 

This whole case had reeked of him. And you’d told yourself you’d be fine. That it was in the past, and he wasn’t supposed to have that kind of control over you anymore. That the world seems gray in that vamp nest, but it was winter, so that was to be expected. And when you’d been knocked flat on your back, you’d seen a crack in the ceiling—identical to the one that had been over his bed—but had been a coincidence. Ceilings cracked, and there were only so many patterns in the world.

And when a Vamp had wrapped its hand around your throat, that was just something that happened to hunters. You all got hurt and beaten and had close calls. That was the job. You’d faced worse than this. You’d faced blood coating your fingers and splattered on your face, guts pooling at your feet and long moments where you’d been sure no one would come and save you.

Dean had always saved you. Even before you’d started doing more—and then more and more and more, until it seemed pretty obvious you were dating and it was more exhausting to fight it than accept it—Dean had always been saving you. He’d had to do it today, yanking the Mare off your chest and cradling your head against his chest until you were breathing easily. 

Yet again, you’d been the problem. The hunt had been easy and simple, and you’d still fucked it because you sucked. You were dead-weight. You couldn’t stop feeling the hand around your throat—imprinted like a tattoo that made your words small and body smaller—and you couldn’t stop the weighed down feeling of hopelessness. Your brain stuck on a scratching loop around the Vamp’s hiss of dumb, annoying, weak little bitch, until you couldn’t manage to smile at anything at all.

It just made you feel worse, because Dean might be worried you don’t think he’s being funny. That whenever he makes truly horrible joke and you don’t giggle like a lovesick schoolgirl, it’s because he’s gone wrong.

He’s done nothing. You really hope he just gives up and tosses you aside, because he shouldn’t have to put up with worry about something so valueless. He’d find someone else. Someone better and more deserving. You’re just lucky he ever even looked at you, let alone bothered to try and stay. To try and be the hero that keeps rescuing the princess, even when the princess is just a peasant who can put on a show.

You’d tricked him into thinking you’re better than you are. Lied to him until you’d trapped him, and now he had to stay with you, because he’s a good man and you’re simply the fucking worst thing in the world to darken his path, and he’ll leave if he really saw you-

That’s not fair to Dean. He is a good man. Better than he was, by miles and stretches and eons, but that really just made it hurt more. Because Dean’s not him, but you’re still you. The same you who was weak, and stupid, and undeserving. That doesn’t change. It only grows now that you have someone you really don’t deserve. Someone who glows in the low light of the night, laughs in a way that fills the bar with life, and always touches you like he’d like to keep you.

You aren’t something that should be kept. But he’s doing it anyway.

And there’s some bile in your throat at the thought. And that’s just another way in which this—in which you—are horrible.

But the worst part was that things like this happened all the time, and you still weren’t strong enough to build an immunity. To just move on, like a big girl. To actually teach yourself that he was in the past, and this you—now, in the present, sitting with your smoking hot boyfriend’s arm around your shoulders—didn’t have any right to be afraid anymore.

“Are you feeling okay?” 

You blink at Dean as he guides you out of the bar, Sam walking a few feet ahead and the wind of the night is so cold-

Dean says your name, his brow furrowing in the way it does when he’s worried, and you give him your best, softest, most docile smile.

“Everything’s fine.” You say, and you can almost believe yourself. Your voice is gentle and small and doesn’t sound like you, but it’s the best way to end the questions. You’ll fold over. You’ll bend until you snap. And nobody needs to push you for that to happen. 

But Dean’s still frowning. “Are you sure? ‘Cause if you’re feeling well we can head back to the bunker tonight, and Sam won’t have to get his own room-“

“No, Dean, I’m-“

“Yeah, no, Dean.” Sam turns, shooting his brother a glare. “How would I get home?”

“You’re smart, Sammy, you’d figure it out-“

You tune out the rest of their fake-argument. You’re mostly listening to the wind. It’s loud, and strong, and cold. So cold, biting at your skin and making your joints stiff, but at least you can feel it. It’s not numbing, and it’s indifferent, and Sam and Dean don’t seem half as affected by it as you are, but they’re also not weak-

“C’mon,” Dean says your name, and you realize you’re moving again. That he’s guiding you into the shotgun seat, and a grumpy looking Sam is clambering into the back.

“Wait, why-“

“We’re dropping Sam off, then heading back.” Dean turns the engine on, his voice barely raising to match the rumble, and you’re not sure you heard him right.

“Why- I don’t-“

“I wanna go home.” Dean shrugs, and it’s too casual. “And Sammy’s a big boy, he’ll be fine without Mommy and Daddy watching him.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, built by Sam’s groan from behind you, and you can’t stop the words from slipping out. “I told you to stop calling us that.”

“Yeah, but you also told me that you were-“ Dean cuts himself off, shaking his head slightly and clearing his throat. “That you weren’t into car sex, and that ain’t ever stopped us-“

You cover his mouth with a hand—his shit-eating grin just as blinding in only his eyes—and Sam makes a fake gagging sound.

And you think Dean knows. That he’s realized that you’re just so tired and weak and useless, and he’s trying to work out if it’s worth keeping you around. If you’ll listen to him and do what he asks—and you will, you always will, not because of the threat of being left but because he’s Dean and he couldn’t lead you astray if he tried—or if he needs to leave you on the pavement to scrape yourself back together.

So you don’t fight him, or insist that Sam can have his privacy and sanity without getting another room or you and Dean leaving, because you don’t really want to be touched like that right now. You just drop Sam off at the motel, grab your bags, and slump back into the Impala’s bench as Sam and Dean exchange low words outside.

By the time Dean joins you, you’re half asleep. And you try to stay awake—to entertain him half as much as he entertains you—but he pulls you right into his side, lets your head rest on his shoulder, and Dean doesn’t smell like lavender. He smells like evergreen and apples, he’s warm when your ears are still a little numb from the cold, and when he starts to hum along to the low music, you’re gone. Everything fades, and it’s just the deep sound of Dean’s voice like a lullaby and a big, firm hand on your thigh that isn’t going to leave a bruise.

Maybe you don’t deserve a bruise. 

Maybe you don’t deserve anything. Maybe you’re lucky to be stuck in this bed with stinging marks around your throat, and a voice like nails on your ears sneering that you’re a weak little bitch. If you were stronger you’d fight back, but you’ve been broken in and can’t be put back together. If you were stronger, you’d scream for help, but you’re also so horribly you that you know nobody will ever come and save you.

Who would try to save you? Who could possibly care about something like you enough to bother and patch up you up, to take string to your skin and heart and organs and tie them back together? You’re not strong enough to make anything stick. You’re made of glass and linen, and any attempt to put you back together would be futile, because you’d probably just break further. Someone would have to be patient enough to pull you back together when you spooled apart, and warm enough to fuse and meld you in a way that wouldn’t shatter with one touch.

You don’t think a person like that would be real. And if they are, they wouldn’t want you.

Because they’d be strong, and you really are weak.

If you were strong, you would’ve left. But you’re still here in this freezing cold bed, staring at the crack on the ceiling.

And you don’t think you’ll ever be more than that. Not as another hand wraps around your throat—you don’t remember what you said, but you must have said something—and there’s a heavy weight on your chest and you can’t breathe-

“Breathe.” A deep voice that sounds like it cares says your name, and you listen. “It’s okay, you’re okay, just breathe for me.”

For him. There’s a hand on your head that’s combing through your hair and pressing you into a place that warm and solid and safe. You’re held steady by an arm around your waist, and it fits so well there. You don’t think it could hurt you if it tried.

He’d sounds kind and caring, and he’d said your name like you mattered, so you’ll try to breathe.

And you don’t remember how to do it for yourself yet, so—just for now, until you can teach yourself to do anything for you—you’ll breathe for him.

“There you go, baby,” the voice mutters, and when you make a weak, choked sound his body tenses, but he doesn’t push you away. “I know, but I’ve got you. Swear I’ve got you.”

He says he’s got you. Dean says he’sgot you.

And you believe him.

So you start to cry.

He’d never liked it when you cried. He’d said it was useless, and that the sound was annoying.

Dean just keeps holding you, and muttering soothing words in your ear until the tears stop flowing. He only keeps rubbing a circle on your back until your breathing slows, and you can lean back to meet his gaze.

He’s not angry. Just worried. 

You’re going to start crying again.

“Are,” you sniff, trying to pull yourself back together by force, and look around the dark space. “Are we still in the car?”

“Pulled over earlier.” He mutters, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone with a care you don’t deserve. “You started doing that tossing shit when you’re about to have a nightmare. Wanted to get ahead of it.”

You swallow. You’d made him pull over, and you had enough nightmares that he knew what one looked like, and you were just a burden and problem and he should just shove you out of the Impala and leave you to rot like carrion on the highway-

“Stop doin’ that.” Dean grunts, and you tense.

“I- I’m not-“

“You’re freakin’ out. You’re freakin’ me out.” Dean scans over your face, pulling you close until you’re half on his lap. “If you’re hurt, you know you gotta tell me, sweetheart. I’m not looking to do a zombie bite thing, where we get home and you start bleeding all over the floor. So tell me.” He takes a deep breath, and his exhale is warm over your lips. “Please tell me.”

You can’t tell him. You’re not ready for him to leave yet.

You drop your brow to Dean’s, taking low, slow breaths and shaking your head. “It’s okay-“

“It’s fucking not.” He snaps your name, his grip tightening slightly, and you flinch. “I- shit- did I hurt you-“

“No.” You mumble. “I’m just tired-“

“You’ve been sleeping for five hours. You’ll get another seven once we get goin’ again. But,” Dean narrows his eyes, even as his grip loosens once more. “We’re not getting back on the road until you answer me. What’s wrong.”

“I-“ You cut yourself off with a choked sound. He’s angry. You’d made him angry, and he won’t hurt you but if he did you’d deserve it-

You start crying again, and Dean’s eyes widen. This is it. He’s going to push you out the window and you’ll have to wander through the marshes until the mud just swallows you whole-

Dean pulls you fully into his lap, holding you there carefully and muttering in your ear with a care and reverence you don’t deserve.

“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry, fuck, please don’t cry-“

“No, it’s- I’m-“ You take a long, strangled breath, wrapping your arms around his torso until you’re sure you’re going to suffocate him. “It’s not you, Dean, I- It’s not your problem-“

“Fucking hell it’s not my problem.”

You shake your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Maybe you really could move in there, and nothing would ever hurt you again. “It’s- You don’t have to-“

“I do.” He mutters, guiding your head back to meet his gaze. He brushes the tears from your eyes. You don’t deserve this. “You’re hurtin’.”

It’s not a question, but you nod anyways. Holding a lie too long has never done you a favor before.

“Tell me how to fix it.”

“You- you can’t fix this,” you mumble, staring at the bridge of his nose. You aren’t worthy of looking him in the eyes. “It’s, it’s just me, Dean. I’m just like this.”

He frowns. “Like what?”

“Weak.” You whisper. “I- I risked the hunt, I always risk the hunt, and I’m not strong like you and Sam are, and I just wanna go home-“

“We’re going home, babygirl.” Dean’s voice is soft, and low, and cautious, and you let out another sob that shakes your whole body. “And you’re not weak, you ganked like three vamps-“

“Could’ve done more.”

“There were seven of them. Three is pretty awesome numbers.” He gives you a nervous small smile. “You’re awesome. I don’t know who’s been telling you otherwise, but you are.”

That’s what breaks you. The floodgates don’t open—they’d barely held anything to begin with—but something snaps along your spine, and you can’t stop the horrible, rotten truth from falling out of your mouth. 

“But he was right.” You whisper. “I’m weak, Dean, and I don’t know why you can’t see it.”

“There’s nothing to see, and I- Who’s he?”

You wish that you’d slept better. If you had, your tongue wouldn’t be loosened with pure exhaustion, and you could lie.

But you’re so tired. Unbelievably tired. Mind-numbingly and persistently tired, all the time, and it’s grow so intolerable you just want to be anything else. And if what you are is weak and alone, at least you’ll know that’s where you're supposed to be. 

And you’d never wanted Dean to know. He was never supposed to learn from your own mouth how foul you are. He was supposed to find out himself, and then leave you like everyone always has the right to do.

But you’re telling him that you’re weak and fearful, that you’d never been able to fight tooth and spit and leave. You waited so, so long to leave and even then, it had only been because he’d been gone for a while, and you were so tired, and you needed to be anywhere but there. 

And you stepped out, and never gone back.

There’s not going back now either. It all spills out, from how you met him to the day you left. And Dean’s so quiet. Only watching you as you speak and squeezing his hold on your hips when you trail off or cry.

But he doesn’t kick you out. And when you finished, you’re still in his lap. You can’t read the expression on his face. The highway lights are dim, and there’s nothing obviously hateful or disgusted written over his features, but you might just be too stupid to see it-

“I’m-“ Dean clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You blink at him, the tears still blurring your vision. “What.”

“That’s- I didn’t know, I never even fucking guessed- I should’ve guessed-“

“How would you have guessed?” You whisper, risking a drop of your brow back to his. He lets you stay. “I never told you-“

“But I know you. I should’ve seen it, you- I should’ve made you feel like you could tell me, I-“ His face hardens in his second, his grip tightening, but not to suffocated you. To protect you. To wrap his whole body around yours and keep it there safely. “I should fucking kill him. Cut off his arms and stuff them up his ass, get Cas to put the fear of god in him-“

“Dean, no-“

“He doesn’t just get to fucking do that to you and keep walking around-“

“He shouldn’t.” You mumble. “But he did. Men do all the time. And, I- I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-“

“Don’t apologize.” He grunts, dragging his thumb over your cheekbone. “You’ve never done anything wrong, baby, it’s just that son of a bitch, who’s gonna get a knock on his door soon-“

“No knocking on doors,” you wrap your arms around his neck, shaking your head against his brow. “Please, Dean, that’s- that’s not what I want-“

“What do you want?”

His question is immediate, and it crashes into you like a tidal wave. Numbing your whole body and kickstarting it in the same second, because you don’t know. You haven’t really known, haven’t had a direction, in years. You wandered and wandered and just tried to keep on breathing, to keep on your feet,  and never let yourself look back. 

You’d never been good at that last part. You kept on breathing because you didn’t have a choice. You’d kept on your feet because if you faltered, you’d fall over and it would be so painful to get back up. 

But you’d always looked back. On nights like this one, over and over and over until your eyes were sunken and your neck was craned to always make sure nothing was behind you. 

It might be nice to rest. To breathe not because it’s a labor, but because it feels nice to breathe the same air as Dean. 

It would be amazing to keep looking back—it’s a habit, and it will die a slow and withering death until it’s gone, and you never pinpoint the moment you lost it—but to also start looking forward. Looking for that place to rest, that you already seem to have found.

What do you want?

“I want some food.” You whisper, leaning back to scan over Dean’s face. “And a nap. Please.”

Dean gives you a small grin, and nods. “I think we can do that. And after, you’ll give me an address-“

“Please don’t kill him, Dean.” You drop your voice slightly, holding his gaze. “I just want to stay with you, and to never see him again. Please.”

Two more wants. You’re on a roll. 

“Just me?” Dean asks, and you don’t he believes you.

But it really is the truth.

“Just you.” You say, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, and humming when he grins against them.

“Lucky you,” he mutters your name against your lips, squeezing his arms around you “I think I know a dude who can swing that.”

You let out a soft giggle—barely a breath, but there—Dean squeezes his arms again, and you really like how he does that. It’s not because he’s trying to remind you where you belong, it’s because he trying to check that you’re there. Like he’s just as afraid that you’ll flee as you are that he’ll shove you aside, and he’s trying to hold you together with everything he has before you slip away.

“You’re really cheesy,” you say, and he chuckles.

“You like it. We start drivin’ again, you think you’ll be able to get some sleep?”

“Yeah, but food-“

“We’re only a few hours out from home.” Dean shrugs, really making no attempt to move you from his lap. “I’ll order whatever you’re feeling when we get back.”

You pause, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck as you think. “How about pizza?”

“Who’s cheesy now-“

You lean back to give him a mock glower. “Dean Winchester.”

“What did you not like that one-“

“It was horrible-“

“That’s not a no-“ 

You cut him off with a long, soft kiss, and you like it here. Wherever Dean is, you’ll like it there.

“Can we please get pizza?” You mumble, and he nods. It’s such a small, normal movement. 

It makes you feel a little more found.

“We can get anything you want, princess.”

End Note: Oof that was a sad one. Sorry squad.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[swarvey]

how they react to you getting hurt | sdv x g/n reader (part two)

part one

paper rings - harvey x reader

a/n: part two with the rest of the bachelors ! let me know if you guys want to see the bachelorettes <3

—

alex

this big softie starts to blame himself when he sees you with scratches and bruises

insists on following you on your adventures from that day forward

pretty much acts as a personal bodyguard for a week

you wince as you rub a disinfectant pad on the large scratch on the side of your arm, thankful your husband isn't due to be home for another couple of hours. he worries enough about you as is — the last thing he needs is something to feed his paranoia, as cute as it is. just as you're about to apply some ointment on your arm, you hear the front door open, alex's familiar voice ringing through the house.

"baby, i'm home!" he calls out, voice as bright as ever. you hear your pet pattering over to greet him. "aw, hey buddy! where's y/n, huh? have you seen 'em?" you swear under your breath as your pet betrays you, leading alex straight towards the bedroom. "are you in there, honey? grams didn't need as much help as i thought—"

you hear him suck in a sharp breath at the sight of you and the first aid kit spread out across the bed.

"i'm fine," you assure. he ignores you, eyes glued to your injured arm as he makes his way to the bed. "seriously, it's not even that bad."

"here, let me do it," he says, and you swear you've never heard him speak so softly. blinking in shock, you hand the bottle of ointment over to him, watching as he gently begins to apply it.

"alex, you're scaring me a bit," you half-joke. he's never been one to be so silent. "it's okay—"

"it's not, though!" your eyes widen as alex looks at you with gleamy eyes. "see, i knew you'd get hurt one day, and i still let you go off and do all these things alone. i should've been there to help you." his head bows in shame, and your heart breaks. "i'm sorry. i'll be by your side next time, i promise."

shaking your head, you wrap your unhurt arm around his neck and pull him into a hug. he gladly hides his face in your shoulder, his arms holding onto your midsection tightly.

"alex, there's nothing to be sorry for," you reassure, rubbing his back to provide some comfort. "this is part of my job, it's what i signed up for." he pulls away suddenly to look at you with serious eyes.

"then quit!" he exclaims. "i'll do it all, you can teach me."

you laugh. "as much as i love you, you are not taking over my grandfather's farm."

"well, i'll just do everything with you, then." alex nods to himself, grabbing the roll of bandages from the kit and beginning to wrap your arm. his eyes widen when he notices the bruises on your legs. "how did this even happen?"

"oh, i was gathering hardwood and some slimes snuck up on me. i fell, but i was able to fight them off." no response. "alex?" a dark look comes over your husband's face.

"get me a sword."

"what?!"

sebastian

seb is one of the bachelors i see respecting your strength the most, always subtly bragging about your fighting skills and the work you do on the farm (sam and abigail are thoroughly impressed)

that being said, he is all the more startled when he sees you limping home from the clinic after nearly passing out from exhaustion

tries to keep his cool, as he always does, but it's hard for him to see the person he cares about the most in pain

"wear the brace for a week, then stop by for another appointment with me so we can see how you're doing," harvey instructs, clasping the brace around your ankle. "drink plenty of water and eat something when you get back. and be mindful while you're working on the farm, i don't want this to be a regular occurrence," he chides.

the doctor had practically dragged you into his office after running into you in front of pierre's, half-conscious as you claimed you just needed some coffee.

"i will," you sigh, using his arm for support as you stand. "thanks, harvey. i owe you."

"no need to worry about that, just get some rest at home. i'm sure sebastian is wondering where you are."

shit. you chew your lip as you slowly make your way back to the farm, trying to find the right words to say to your husband. it's not like you to overwork yourself like this on the farm, but after waking up a bit too late in the morning, you'd found yourself rushing to get everything done. seb had been sound asleep as you worked, but with the sun beginning to set in the sky, you knew he had to be up and waiting for you at home.

sure enough, as you walk towards your front door, you see him already sitting on the front steps, a book in hand. his head quickly turns at the sound of your footsteps.

"you're back! did you have errands to run?" seb asks, setting his book down. "i thought you had a lot to do this morning?"

you hesitate, nodding slowly as you avoid his gaze. "i did," you answer, swallowing. "i was, ah, at the clinic."

"what? why—?" only then does he notice the bags under your eyes and the brace wrapped around your ankle. "hey, what happened?" he walks over to your side, slowly guiding you to the steps and helping you sit down.

"i'm alright," you say, though you unsuccessfully hide your discomfort as you stretch your hurt ankle out. "i twisted my ankle, is all."

"right." you know sebastian well enough to tell when he's worrying; his brow is furrowed, his eyes glued to the ground.

"come on, seb, don't be so dramatic," you joke, shoving him lightly with your shoulder. "it's not like i'm dying." he looks at you suddenly with squinted eyes, as if he's trying to decode your words. "what?"

"people tend to say that when things are worse than they are," he says, looking you up and down. "what really happened?"

"what are you talking about?"

"maybe i'll go talk to harvey." he begins to stand, but you grab his wrist and drag him back down.

"okay, okay!" the last thing you want is for him to take the doctor's words too seriously and put you on a house lockdown. "i just overworked myself in the heat, alright? seriously! harvey said i should be fine with some rest."

"really? that's all?"

"yes."

"all you hurt was your ankle?"

"yes."

"did you set up another appointment with him?"

"yes, seb, i'm fine!" you grab his arm and pull him closer, looking straight into his worried eyes. "look, see? i'm in one piece."

sebastian sighs, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly. "i know, you've always been strong," he says, smiling lightly. "just . . . don't overdo it, okay? i'm here to help you, too."

you smile back at him. "i know." you pause. "you know, harvey said i need to lay off the rest of my work today."

"yeah?" seb grins, helping you stand. "what are you thinking?"

you pretend to ponder for a moment. "maybe some dinner and TV? we still have that show we need to catch up on."

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you head inside.

"whatever you want, dear."

sam

he thinks you're invincible.

completely freaks out when he sees you actually hurt for the first time

makes you spend the rest of the day in bed and brings you some of his mom's food

(claims it has healing powers)

the sun is still high in the sky when you leave the mines. your plan had been to spend the whole day gathering resources, but after a rough tousle with some monsters, you don't have the energy to keep going. your head is throbbing, and you're mildly aware of the cut on your forehead that finally stopped bleeding.

you make your way across the farm and toward your house, and you can hear sam practicing on his skateboard. you hope you can avoid him, at least until you're able to clean up your injury.

as you open the front door, though, a loud creak fills the air, and you freeze. the sound of the skateboard stops.

"baby, is that you?" sam calls out, walking around to the front porch. you keep your back turned. "did you forget something?"

"uh, no! no, the mines were just a bit empty today, so . . ." you trail off. you turn your head away from him as sam tries to look at your face, but sigh in defeat when he cups your cheek and makes you face him.

immediately, his eyes widen. "you're hurt!"

"i'm fine—"

without another word, sam grabs your hand and drags you inside, bringing you into the bathroom. he spends the next few minutes tenderly cleaning the cut on your forehead, apologizing every time you flinch in pain. then, he brings you to your shared bedroom, covering you in the sheets and bringing you a mug of your favorite drink.

"stay here," he instructs, "i'll be right back." he turns to your pet, tail wagging as it sits at your bedside. "you're in charge while i'm gone, alright? make sure they stay put!" you laugh lightly as sam hurriedly leaves the house, hearing the sound of his skateboard rolling away. you let out a sigh, closing your eyes as you begin to fall asleep.

"baby, wake up."

your eyes open to the sound of your husband beside you once again, holding a bowl of steaming soup.

"i stopped by mom's to get some of her soup. you know i'm not the best cook," he admits, "but you need to eat something with lots of nutrients to get better."

you laugh lightly, gladly letting him feed you the first bite. the warmth of the soup makes you feel already a bit better.

"thank you, sam," you say, looking at him gratefully. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

"hey, shouldn't i be saying that?" he jokes, planting a kiss on your cheek. "here, eat up. you need all the strength you can get!"

after you finish eating, you begin to sit up, stretching your arms.

"hey, what are you doing?" sam questions, setting the bowl on your nightstand.

"i need to check on the animals one more time," you sigh, ignoring the ache in your arms. he scoffs, grabbing your arms and sitting you back down in bed.

"right, and just what kind of husband would i be if i let you do that?" he straightens his back and crosses his arms, smiling confidently. "leave it to me!"

"sam."

"yes, dear?"

"do you even know what you'd be checking for?"

he pauses, arms dropping. "right," he says, sighing. "i guess i don't." you laugh, standing back up but grabbing his hand.

"come on, you can be my assistant for tonight."

"yes!"

[waywardmaslow]

The Epic Codependency of Sam and Dean Winchester

• Dean went and got Sam from Stanford not because he needed Sam’s help finding John but simply because he wanted Sam with him 1.01

• Dean threw himself off a bridge just because that’s what Sam appeared to be doing 1.01

• Sam knew immediately when Dean was really a shifter 1.06

• “We accept homeowners of any race, religion, color… or sexuality.” -Larry and Lynda @ Sam & Dean 1.08

• Sam felt no guilt over someone having to die in order for Dean’s life to be saved 1.12

• “A king or two queens?” -Michael “Two queens.” -Dean “Yeah, I’ll bet.” -Michael 1.18

• Dean no longer wanted to hunt down the thing that killed Mary if it meant Sam dying 1.21

• Dean wasted one of the 3 remaining bullets for the colt on a low-level demon who was attacking Sam 1.22

• Sam blindly trusts Dean when he says John is possessed 1.22

• Sam and Dean coming up with identical cover stories and coming to the same conclusion re: “Dana Schulps” clue while separated during a hunt 2.07

• Dean gave Baby to a stranger and locked himself in with a Croatoan-infected Sam, ready to kill Sam then himself once Sam went rabid(or let rabid!Sam infect him too so they’d be monsters together) 2.09

• “So, uh, ..king-sized bed?” -Susan “No no, we’re uh.. 2 singles. We’re just brothers.” -Sam 2.11

• “Bonny to your Clyde” -Hendrickson @ Dean about Sam 2.12

• Dean was willing to cover up a murder Sam may have committed 2.14

• “You two are bickering like an old married couple.” -Bobby @ Sam & Dean 2.15

• Dean’s current relationship with Sam was more important to him than the normal life he could’ve had if Mary never died 2.20

• Dean cared more about Sam going to law school and marrying Jess than he did about any of what he had purely for himself(his job and gf) in his Djinn fantasy 2.20

• When Lily opened up to Sam about accidentally killing her girlfriend, Sam empathized with her by bringing up how Dean might be dead(for all he knew) instead of bringing up Jessica’s death(which he canonically blamed himself for) 2.21

• “Something big’s going down, Dean. End-of-the-world big.” -Bobby “Well then, let it end!” -Dean after Sam died 2.22

• Dean sold his soul to bring Sam back from the dead (which lead to him breaking the first seal kicking off the apocalypse) 2.22

• Ruby used Sam’s fear of losing Dean then grief after his death to manipulate him 3.02/3.16/4.09

• Sam was willing to bleed an innocent human dry in order to summon the trickster to bring Dean back 3.11

• Sam was willing to become an organ-harvesting immortal to keep Dean from dying and going to hell 3.15

• “Whatever the magic pill is, I’ll take it too!” -Sam “What is this, Sid and Nancy?” -Dean 3.15

• “Sammy, all I’m saying is you’re my weak spot. You are. And I’m yours.” -Dean 3.16

• Sam tried to open the gate to hell (risking letting more demons into the world) to save Dean 4.01

• Sam tried to sell his soul multiple times to get Dean back from hell 4.01/4.09

• “Are you two like…together?” -Ruby 4.01

• “You don’t need me. You and Ruby go hunt demons.” -Dean being more jealous of Ruby than suspicious 4.04

• Dean willingly handed Anna over to the angels who wanted to kill her because they threatened to send Sam to hell if he didn’t 4.10

• Dean’s siren was an idealized version of Sam 4.14

• Sam consumed more demon blood than normal to kill Alistair and save Dean (it’s likely that this was the turning point when Sam became addicted) 4.16

• Dean knows Sam’s habits so well that he’s able to track him down even when Sam’s trying to do the opposite of what he thinks Dean would expect him to do 4.21

• Sam hunted down Lilith to avenge Dean (which lead to breaking the final seal releasing Lucifer) 4.09/4.22

• “Whatever we have between us, love, family, whatever it is..” -Dean to Sam 5.04

• future!Dean was willing to sacrifice all his friends (including Cass) to avenge Sam 5.04

• Dean prevented the endverse future simply by reconnecting with Sam 5.04

• “We’re all we’ve got. More than that, we keep each other human.” -Dean to Sam 5.04

• “The relationship that you have with your brother seems dangerously codependent.” -Dr. Fuller to Dean 5.11

• Sam and Dean are soulmates with a shared heaven 5.16

• “Sam and Dean are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other” -Zachariah 5.18

• Dean decided against saying yes to Michael because he didn’t want to let Sam down 5.18

• Dean prioritized helping Sam over Adam in the beautiful room and it led to Michael taking Adam as his vessel 5.18

• Dean was ready to die with Sam/let Lucifer beat him to death if Sam couldn’t regain control of his body 5.22

• Sam’s love for Dean gave him the strength to overcome Lucifer 5.22

• “Dean didn't want Cas to save him. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back.” -Chuck voiceover 5.22

• Having a normal apple-pie life means nothing to Dean if Sam isn’t alive to be part of it. -> “I wanted my brother! Alive!” -Dean / “Had I shown up, Dean, you would have just run off(away from Lisa and Ben).” -Sam 6.01

• “That woman and that kid; I only went to them because you asked me too!” & “I showed up on their doorstep half out of my head with grief. God knows why they even let me in. I drank too much. I had nightmares. I looked everywhere. I collected hundreds of books, trying to find anything to bust you out.” -Dean to Sam 6.01

• Dean chose hunting full-time with Sam over staying with Lisa and Ben 6.02

• “The minute Sam walked through that door, I knew. It was over. You two have the most unhealthy, tangled-up, crazy thing I’ve ever seen.” -Lisa about Dean and Sam 6.06

• “Mallory to your Micky” -Veritas to Sam about Dean 6.06

• Dean died to make a deal with Death to save Sam’s soul from the cage and in doing so chose Sam over Adam 6.11

• Sam took on his cage memories so Dean wouldn’t be left alone 6.22

• Dean became Sam’s stone number 1 when he was having trouble telling what was real 7.02

• Sam and Dean each quickly recognized each others leviathan doppelgängers 7.06

• Sam’s grief over losing Dean is paralleled to Amelia’s grief over losing her husband, both believe their loved one is dead, both get their loved one back. s8 Flashbacks

• “Is it just me or are you getting a workplace-romance vibe from those two?” -Michael & “Dude, they just sat and talked about how they have been apart for a year. You were probably right about that whole office-romance thing.” -Brian about Sam and Dean 8.04

• Sam chooses Dean over Amelia 8.10

• Dean chooses to take on the 3 trials mainly because he doesn’t want Sam to do it and risk his life, he wants Sam to reap the benefits of a demon free world 8.14

• Dean’s perfect ending is simply for Sam to get out of hunting and lead a normal apple-pie life till he’s old and grey 8.14

• “Cass, you got your ears on? Listen, you know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's... it's the same as begging. But this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me.” -Dean 8.16

• Dean killed Benny so Sam could be saved from Purgatory 8.19

• “You two fight like an old married couple.” Charlie to Sam & Dean 8.20

• Dean chose a world with demons over a demon-free world without Sam 8.23

• “You know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It’s how many times I’ve let you down. I can’t do that again.” -Sam to Dean 8.23

• “Don’t you dare think that there’s anything past or present that I would put in front of you.” -Dean to Sam 8.23

• Dean violated Sam’s trust and autonomy via tricking him into an Angel possession to save his life 9.01

• “There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you!” -Dean to Sam 9.01

• Dean kicked human!Cass -who was being hunted by angels- out of the bunker rendering him homeless so his mere presence wouldn’t drive away the Angel keeping Sam alive 9.03

• Young!Dean gave up a chance at a normal life so he could continue being there for Sam 9.07

• Dean gave Crowley permission to use one of the brothers’ code words to warn Sam about Gadreel 9.10

• Dean didn’t regret letting an Angel into Sam, even though it had resulted in Kevin being killed 9.13

• Sam could break through the MOC hold on Dean like Collette was able to do for Cain 9.16/9.21/10.23

• “You’re lying to Sam like he’s your wife.” - Crowley 9.17

• Sam tricked a man into selling his soul so he could torture the demon for info on where demon!Dean was 10.02/10.03

• “Right now I’m doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out…with my teeth.” -Demon!Dean to Sam 10.02

• “What did Sam say? He wanna divorce?” -Dean 10.03

• “I tried to kill him, Cass.” -Dean “It would take a lot more than trying to kill your brother with a hammer to make Sam want to walk away.” -Cass 10.03

• “Homosexual murderers!” -Bev “Like Leopold and Loeb!” -Hetty 10.06

• “Then would come the murder you'd never survive, the one that would finally turn you into as much of a savage as it did me. Your brother, Sam.” -Cain to Dean 10.14

• Sam was willing to bleed himself to death to unlock the Werther Box to get the codex so a cure for Dean could be found in the Book of the Damned 10.19

• Death wanted Sam to be killed because he knew Sam would never stop looking for a way to free Dean from the MOC regardless of the consequences 10.23

• Sam was willing to let Dean kill him so Death would send Dean somewhere he wouldn’t be a danger to anyone due to the MOC 10.23

• Dean killed Death because he couldn’t go through with killing Sam and Death had threatened to do it if he couldn’t 10.23

• Sam’s efforts to get the MOC off Dean result in the Darkness being released 10.23

• “I unleashed a force on this world that could destroy it to save you. And I’d do it again, in a second I’d do it again.” -Sam to Dean 11.01

• Dean: “Where’s Sam?” Crowley: “Don’t worry about Sam.” Dean: “I’m sorry; have you met me?” 11.10

• Dean chose comforting/looking after Sam over helping Cass fight Lucifer in the cage 11.10

• Dean saw a manifestation of dead!Sam(part of his soul in distress) in the soul-eater’s nest 11.16

• Dean killed himself so he could bargain with a reaper to bring Sam back from the dead 11.17

• Because Dean thought Sam was dead, he was ready to let himself (and the couple they were trying to save) be killed by the werewolf pack they’d been hunting 11.17

• Michelle: “I just watched the man I love die; there’s no normal after that.” Dean: *thinking about how he’s just experienced the same thing with Sam except with a different outcome* 11.17

• “You fight like brothers; you’re almost as bad as [me and Sam].” -Dean “Actually, it’s more like an old married couple.” -Caesar 11.19

• Sam got infected by the Darkness fog and Dean abandoned the people they were trying to protect and instead tried to infect himself so he could die with Sam 11.20

• Dean used his relationship with Sam to relate to Amara and get her to reconcile with Chuck 11.23

• Amara in 11.09: *kisses Dean* -> Dean in 11.23 to Amara: “You simply need your brother. I mean, hell, maybe that’s why you wanted me. But deep down, you didn’t really want me…cuz I’m not him.”

• Sam and Mary: *trapped in Asa’s house by a demon* -> Dean: *stuck outside* “Sam! Sammy! Hey!” *after breaking in* “Where’s my brother?” 12.06

• “We’re like the American Oasis.” -Dean comparing himself & Sam to Liam & Noel Gallagher 12.07

• Sam and Dean were each willing to die so the other could escape the federal prison and live on 12.09

• “You know, sometimes me and Sam have got so much going on that…we forget about everyone else.” -Dean to Cass 12.23

• Dean began to warm up to Jack because he saved Sam’s life 13.04

• Sam and Dean were unfazed by being stuck in the Bad Place because they had each other 13.10

• “I don’t care what happens to me. I never really have. But I do care about what happens to my brother.” -Dean 13.20

• “And if we die? We’ll do that together too.” -Sam to Dean 13.20

• Dean went mute after Sam was killed and later set off on a suicide mission to retrieve Sam’s body or die trying 13.21

• Dean said yes to AU!Michael to save Sam from Lucifer 13.23

• Dean knows Bert and Ernie are gay 5.03 and suggests he and Sam dress as them for Halloween 14.04

• Though Dean was unable to take back control or cast Michael out, his resistance due to his attachment to Sam made him enough of a nuisance to Michael that he willingly let Dean go(temporarily) 14.09

• Sam was able to figure out where Michael had Dean trapped in his mind via knowing how Dean could be best subdued/distracted 14.10

• Sam broke through Michael’s hold on Dean with just one word: “Poughkeepsie” 14.10

• Sam was the only one who could talk Dean out of locking himself in the Ma’lak box with Michael for all eternity at the bottom of the ocean 14.12

• The thought of letting Dean down broke Sam free of Chip Harrington’s mind control 14.15

• “We have lost way, way too much. And it’s hard not to feel like just… cashing out. I felt like that. After Chuck, back at the crypt. But you know what brought me back? You did. By sayin’ that what we do still matters.” -Dean to Sam 15.04

• Dean was willing to abandon Cass in Purgatory, so he could get back home before the portal closed and save Sam from Chuck (that’s the only reason he sent up that prayer to Cass) 15.09

• Dean was willing to sacrifice Jack so he and Sam could have a life free of Chuck’s influence/control 15.17

• Dean was willing to trade everyone(who’d be collateral damage if Billie became the new god) except Sam for a shot at getting rid of Chuck 15.17

• Sam broke through Dean’s desperation to be rid of Chuck no matter what the cost, thwarting not just Billie’s plan but also Chuck’s brother-kills-brother endgame 15.17

• Dean stood outside Sam’s Stanford dorm for hours because he was so afraid of Sam possibly rejecting him, he didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have Sam 15.20

• “It’s always been you… and me.” “I love you so much..my baby brother.” -Dean to Sam 15.20

• Dean wouldn’t let go till Sam told him it was ok, he wanted to be sure Sam would be ok without him 15.20

• Sam spent the rest of his life mourning Dean and honoring his memory, named his son after him 15.20

• Dean’s heaven was not perfect till Sam got there 15.20

[mysterymachine67]

Concept.. grumpy!reader (male, obviously we don't have enough </3) and Dean ending up riding him 'n praising him a ton because it's the easiest way to calm down his pent-up, grouchy, boyfriend n make him feel better.

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x M!reader

SUMMARY: Dean riding you to calm you down.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

Apologies that this came out late. Also I’m trying different layouts until I find the one I like 👍🏻 So a few fic layouts probably will look different

It really wasn’t your day. You woke up in a bad mood—irritated that you didn’t get enough sleep and a lot more other reasons. They were good reasons, though. Not stupid ones. You thought it’d pass as the day progressed, but it only got worse.

Everything seemed to know you were having a bad day. You tripped on the door while coming into the bunker, missed putting your bag on the table which resulted in it falling to the ground (you swear the table moved), and that’s only two. Sam understood you were irritated, so he tried to be more patient and calm with you. Dean on the other hand still kept fucking with you, but only sometimes, not all the time. At the moment, you were unpacking your bag from a hunt from a week ago. You don’t blame yourself for not unpacking it straight away, the hunt was exhausting. Anyway, you reached for one of your T-shirts but failed to pick it up. Completely missing it. So you went to pick it up again, but failed a second time. Just as you were about to cuss out a fucking shirt, Dean walked in.

“Woah— wrong timing?” He said, with a hint of tease. You picked it up, obviously.

“Dean—“ You started, irritation clearly rising in your tone.

“Okay, okay. That one’s on me,” he said, raising his hands in the air as a sign of defeat and surrender. “What’s got you so angry anyway?” You then set your now half-full bag on the floor, and turned to face him. Starting to rant about why the day has gone so horribly. After your long conversation, Dean got closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. In an attempt for a huge. Then he kissed you, soft and gentle. “I know a way to help you calm down.” He smiled against your lips. You had a feeling of what it could be, and you were right.

—

Dean’s lips pressed against yours again. Capturing them in a kiss. His hips went down, slowly. Walls hugging your cock. You broke the kiss to look down, taking in the sight of him taking you. And once you were bottomed out the both of you took a moment. Letting each other’s hands roam while nearly making out. Dean moaned—best believe it went straight to your cock. It twitched and he felt it, letting out a small grunt. When you broke the kiss the both of you panted lightly, lips swollen and hands stopped somewhere. Yours were on his hips, helping guide him. His were on your shoulders.

“Alright— c’mon, move,” you grunted. If anything getting impatient more than feeling better. But the truth? This was in fact going to calm you down a lot more than you think.

“Be patient,” Dean whispered while slowly starting to move himself up. He kissed you again. This time more light and gentle than the previous ones. “You,” he started and pushed his hips down. “Need to really calm down.” Focusing on his face, you notice his slight smile and a small laugh. Which you rolled your eyes to.

“Yeah, well, it’s kinda hard to when you—“

“Ah, ah, ah!” He said quickly. His goal being to silence you and it worked. “This is what I’m talking about. Just be quiet and let me work my magic. Okay?” You agreed with a quiet hum, but bucked your hips.

Minutes into it, he rode you nice ‘n slow. Praises pulled from his mouth and into your ears. Was this helping you? Of course. You loved it. Rubbing your thumb at his side, and kissing him every so often. You’d try to assist him but every time he’d tell you otherwise.

Dean slowly worked you up to the edge. Lips pressing against yours; eventually to your jaw, near your ear, and your neck. With him moving up and down on your cock, the feel of him hugging you perfectly, and the praise that left his mouth, you’re sure you’re gonna have to return the favor at some point. Maybe not. Who knows?

“Watcha thinkin’ ‘bout?”

“Nothin’.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

A groan pulled from his throat when your cock prodded at his prostate. Hands gripping some place on your body to stabilize himself. You tipped your head back, sucking in a shaky breath. Eyes shutting and letting yourself relax a bit. You cursed under your breath, hips bucking up instinctively and tightening your grip on his hips. “‘M gonna cum,” you breathed out. Speaking of breathing, yours quickened and so did his. Though he kept his more controlled than you did. So, with the information that Dean was just given, he worked quicker. He leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours. It was passionate, sweet. But only lasted for a few seconds. Though he made up for it by whispering words of praise.

“Doing so good, keep focusing on me, alright? Non of that angry stuff.” The more he kept doing it the more closer you got. In only a matter of minutes did you buck your hips up, and came with a moan. Painting his walls white with your cum. Dean whimpered from the feeling. The both of your breathing soon becoming louder. He kept moving till it overwhelmed the both of you.

“Feel better?”

“A lot better.”

[ririblogsss]

Danny the park crazy guy

Ok this follows Danny with him deciding he needs to get out of Amity Park cause he's parents are getting more and more obsessed with catching Phantom. And the plans he'd over heard were sending him into panic attacks. Not only that a new management was placed for the GIW, and with that they had become more brutal and accurate with their capturing. Danny couldn't make sure ghosts were safe and protect civilians, so Danny made a deal with Technus in exchange for most of the tech Danny has made in the past 6 months Technus has to hack into the portals that his parents and Vlad owned and permanently destroy them. Technus also made sure to wipe all the information on how to re-build the portal and planted a bug that will corrupt any file trying to mimic the portals code/mechanics. 

At first Dannys plan was to play the part of the defenseless boy who just witnessed his parents whole life work go down the drain, and pretend that ghost never happened. He's parents were sad (understatement of the century) but they soon found something to hyper focus on, before becoming ecto-biologist, they were trying to find ways to make liquid that would dissolve plastic in a non-lethal and non-toxic way. So after 2 months of not doing anything and only staying in bed eating ice-cream and fudge its like a light bulb turned on onto of their heads, and Madeline and Jack went back to their old selves. They still had moments were they would gaze back at their projects with heartbroken eyes, and Danny could help but blame himself for his parents suffering. 

Its like one day everything was close to normality (as normal as amity park could be) people weren't mentioning ghost in fear that one would appear out of spite. Classes went uninterrupted people were actually happy for that. 

But then the GIW started making moves, as they were getting more and more restless with no ghost sightings in the last 6 months. 

Then 3 months ago everything went to shit......

Danny could only explain it as if the Salem witch trials had started. But instead it was the 21st century and people were being accused of being / cooperating / aiding ghosts. The GIW had stormed into the town hall and had claimed that Amity park was in full quarantine. No one in no one out. Vlad was taken in for 'investigation' accused of working with the ghost because he never helped the GIW or offered funds, hence committing treason the US government. 

After that People would be taken out of their homes and obligated to take tests to prove they weren't with the enemy, if they passed they went back to their homes traumatized. if they failed.... Well no one really knows, but one might guess from all the screaming. 

Ironically. Dannys parents were the fist accused of cooperating with the enemy. The GIW stated that they seemed suspicious from the start as they never truly caught anything. he hadn't seen them since they were drugged and stuffed into the back of a van. Danny was thankful that Jazz (for collage) and Dani (traveling in Bangladesh) were out of Amity, but it wasn't like he could contact them and tell them what was happening. 

The GIW had cut all contact to the rest of the word from Amity Park probably because what they were doing was considered illegal and definitely were crossing human rights. 

Luckily Sams and Tuckers family were able to come to an agreement with the GIW so they could be exempted from the quarentine (buy themselves a way out). Unluckily Danny like most families didn't have those types of resources. 

But Danny isn't a Fenton for nothing, craziness, gull and genius ran through his veins. So every morning when they were obligated out of their homes and made to sit on the grass of the park square while the agents searched for any 'evidence' in their homes. Danny would use his core to emit a frequency that only other ghost and some metas could hear. But that wasn't what Danny was communicating to no. 

He was sending commands to all the animals he had befriended the last 15 years of his life. You see ever since Danny was a kid he loved how one could be able to domesticate any animal as long as you had food. So Danny when he was a kid applied The Operant conditioning to all the animals he crossed paths with. 

A few weeks after his accident (death) when Danny was making his daily feeding times for the animals in exchange for trinkets and money he realized something. He could understand what the animals 'spoke' and the animals could understand him through the vibrations of his core. When he asked CW about it he only told him that ghost speak allowed him to communicate with anything and anyone if he had a close enough relationship towards them. 

Basically this meant that Danny had hundreds if not thousands of animals (rats, street dogs and cats, pigeons, squirrels ect.. ) at his disposal. The only reason he never used them when fighting Ghosts was obvious he wasn't going to risk the life of his friends. 

And right now his friends were making underground escape routes for all of the Amity Parkers. The plan was already being set in motion. Everyone knew their part. 

One group would be distraction, a group of kids would scream and point in the opposite direction of the escape route and say they had seen a ghost and it was trying to hurt them. The GIW would be guided into a wooded area were they would be attacked by the more predatorial animals. Making them call for back up. 

One group would composed of the most athletic adults / young adults would go into the main base of the GIW (check for survivors and help them get out). 

Another group (the elderly) was in charge of checking that everyone was accounted for. 

Mothers, would be evacuated first with their children, they would be the get away drivers. Different drivers would take different routs. Some left the country other the continent itself. Some when to larger cities for hiding amongst the crowd. But the main goal was stick to your family and preferably if you can go alone. The less people the less likely you are to getting caught. 

And the teenagers from casper high, would ensure all their traces were lost making sure all phones and gadgets were left behind, as to avoid getting tracked down. 

And that's how Amity Park became a dead town (pun intended) in less than 60 minutes. 

This leads us to the present. 

It had been 7 months since Danny had left Amity park. he hadn't seen anyone or contacted anyone from there since. The over all consensus was that everyone had to go no contact with one another as to not raise awareness as to why so many people from different places were constantly calling one another. Danny was certain that Jazz and Dani had been contacted by Sam and Tucker about the situation in Amity. What he wasn't sure of is if they knew he was out of Amity or even alive for that matter. 

Danny was not dealing with what happened well. One of the guys who went into the Town Hall pulled him a aside for a second when they were evacuating to tell him. That he had seen both his parents bodies. They had not survived. Not many who were taken against their will into the Hall came out spared. 

Danny was devastated with his parent untimely death, he only hoped they had a humane one. 

So no Danny was not ok. he knew Jazz would criticize his copping methods. But if taking over a park in the middle of a crime riddled city was sooooo bad then why did he have the support of the Bats. (not the vigilantes the actual cave bats). 

Danny had gotten to Gotham not too long ago (about 4 1/2) months, and decided that the GIW wouldn't dare on their life go into a city were the 'wolds greatest detective and most feared man live'. Danny made an abandoned building overlooking the park his own. he quickly became allies with the fauna there and soon his rein over the part began. 

---

It started slowly, honest to god not a single local though anything of the bony kid laughing his ass off as he oversaw birds and other critters alike help him build what looked like a greenhouse. They did what any Gothamite would do mind their own damn business and go on with their day. 

It wasn't unlit the trees and torn plants started to build a wall like structure around the park that they started to think that the kid was going to be the next Poison Ivy. Worst of all they some have speculated seeing Pamela and Harley go in and out of the park... both smiling like proud parents. Some say that the kid was an ex Wayne kid that was sent into an asylum, and was kept quiet. Some speculate that the kids a meta that controls all animals. Some state they saw the kid talk to the animals and the animals actually listened and did word for word what he asked. 

But Gothamites weren't that worried if they were honest. The kid (Danny as he was now known) brought more entertainment (of the good kind) to Gotham he fit right in. The only thing that made him stand out was his mid-western accent. When asked where he was from he would only stare at you while an animal (different every time mostly racoons) would chase you away. Other than that the kid was a sweetheart he would often bring the veggies and fruits he cultivates in the park to homeless shelters so that the residents would have a 'more nutritious and full diet'. 

The kid would send animals to keep watch on kids and be alerted if any were at risk he would drop in and help in a very unusual way. And he always traded money for little things and bottle caps anything handmade (especially by kids) was infinitely rewarded with money and an automatic meal. 

Danny was known as the Gotham parks crazy. But he was their crazy and no government (illegal) agency of a brigade of bats and birds was going to take him away from them. 

(waaa this was way longer that expected I only wanted to write a sentence of local crazy Danny, and I just ended up writting mostly art other stuff)

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat 10 part 1/2

Chapter 10 : Calling from Hell just to say the demons are suspiciously absent, is that fine?

masterpost

“Fucking Batman,” Val said under her breath. Her Red Huntress mask muffled the words and made them come out even meaner than she probably meant them. “Years late and too little, even if he’s not working with the GIW.”

Sam hefted her requisitioned Fenton bazooka and pressed her lips even further together. None of them liked this at all. It stank. It was suspicious. Danny hadn’t sounded distressed, but he’d been out of contact too long for such a short conversation to put her at ease. There hadn’t even been time to update him on what had gone on in Amity Park.

“There.” Sam followed Val’s pointer finger to see the nearly invisible outline of a jet in the faint light. It was landing in the right field. 

“It’s them or it’s a trap,” Sam muttered.

Val let out a mean laugh. “If it’s someone we don’t expect, they’re the ones in trouble.”

Sam huffed and said nothing. She couldn’t disagree, but Val seemed too confident for her comfort. They waited in tense silence to see the jet come to a landing. Not long after, a hatch popped open and the distinctive ears of Batman himself were the first out into the cold night air of a January night in Amity Park. 

He was quickly followed by smaller figures- 1, 2, 3 of them. Sam felt nerves churning in her gut. She tried to channel them into aggression. She had to be tough, tougher than usual. There was no cavalry waiting to help out.

Well, there was Tucker, but he was probably going to be more useful in the wings to feed them information. He was pretty good aim with a thermos but that wouldn’t do jack about Batman and a small flock of, what, junior associates?

“Does Batman work with children?” Sam asked under her breath. One of them was genuinely small.

Tucker snickered on the other end of the line. “Uh,  there’s supposed to be a Robin. Guy in yellow, green, and red I guess? Aside from that, there’s debatably like, 6 former Robins associated with him. But there’s also the Justice League’s junior varsity team, so it’s hard to say.”

She frowned at the lineup. She saw purple, black, and red. There was- yeah, okay, there was quite a bit of yellow when the little guy faced them, but she didn’t see any green.

“Showtime,” Val said. Sam crouched further behind cover as the other girl zoomed out on her hoverboard, effortlessly drawing Batman’s eye. She adjusted the dial on her sound settings to hear Val’s feed just a little louder.

“Batman.”

“You have me at a disadvantage.” Sam cringed at the gravely voice over her sound system. Batman sounded like he smoked a pack a day. She turned the volume down just a hint.

“Not really, there’s four of you,” Val said breezily. Sam suppressed a snort at the dodge. “You wanna meet Jazz Fenton? You’re going to have to prove that you’re not a plant. There’s a GIW facility-”

“Two miles west of here, yes,” Batman interrupted. “I researched.”

“Great. Do you have ground transport?”

“Of course. What is it that you expect me to prove?”

“That you’re not with them.” The subtle whine of Valerie’s weapons started up. Sam only heard it because she was hooked up to the helmet. “They do experimentation and keep prisoners. Show me that you’re not a cop.”

“The police would not support the capture and abuse of people.”

Valerie made a skeptical sound in the back of her throat. Sam couldn’t blame her. “Yeah, but they do.” Her hoverboard’s jet whooshed up in power. “Meet me there, outside the main gate.” She was off like a shot in the dark. 

The four out of towners didn’t take long to get four silent motorcycles out and dash down the lane. Sam thought about what she’d heard as she cut a more direct route on Valerie’s spare hoverboard, taken from Vlad’s deserted mechanics lab. 

Either Batman was a liar, naive, or he was exactly what they were worried he might be. The Justice League was famously affiliated with governments. Wonder Woman was even a member of the United Nations! If someone accepted the claim that Infinite Realms Residents weren’t really people, then they’d say just what Batman had. It wasn’t lying if you didn’t think the people you were hurting were really people.

Sam watched from a distance as the group reached the gated facility. One of Batman's people did something that unlatched the electronic security system. It swung open. 

“Not shabby,” Tucker said quietly. “I coulda done it faster.”

“Not unless it goes off the rails,” Sam reminded him. She clenched a fist against her thigh. They needed to see Batman's real colors before they risked him knowing about their group. It was hard to outplan what you didn't know about, and they'd need every advantage they could get. 

She let them all go ahead before she followed onto the property. It was eerily deserted, tire tracks where dozens of white Vans ought to have been. 

The GIW had deserted Amity Park weeks ago. They were pretty sure there was a skeleton crew stationed out here, but no one came and left anymore. They only occasionally saw an agent wander across the path of a security camera, which were sparse inside the building.

But that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous to be here. Even now, a camera swiveled over the lawn, blinking a clear light that was easy to miss during the day. There was a reason that they hadn't risked a second raid after Danny had barely made it out last time. 

Sam swallowed, hard. The bitterness in her mouth felt a lot like guilt. Who knew what the GIW had been doing? They could have someone else held captive. It was a big building. Danny might have missed someone when he was breaking Vlad out. 

‘We did what we could, and we are making a move now.’ 

She repositioned her weapon and waited, tense with nerves. All she was meant to do now was follow along via what she heard on Val's comms and be in the wings to facilitate an escape, if needed. 

“Left,” said Batman quietly. The comms were quiet for a long moment, then- “clear. Clear. Clear.” 

Sam shifted her weight from one foot to the other. 

“Red Robin.” 

“Got it,” came a response, barely audible. Val must have been hanging close to Batman, then. 

“You think now's a good time to try their computers?” Val said helpfully. 

Tucker snorted. “Could just ask,” he sang to himself, cocky as hell. “I know all.”

Sam rolled her eyes. He didn't know all. About half of the property was disconnected from the security system, meaning they had no eyes on whatever was down there. 

“Six stationed here.” 

That had to be Red Robin’s voice. Sam cocked her head and focused on it, frowning slightly. Did it sound young?

Tucker's computer chair made a click when he sat up too fast. “Wait, what? How'd-” His end of the line devolved into rapid typing. 

“Did you find a schedule?” 

“No, it's not in the system. They're on paper, I suppose.” Seconds passed. “My bet is that labs would be in this wing.” 

“Be my guest,” Val drawled. Sam could all but see her crossing her arms across her chest. 

The line went silent for a while. Then, faintly, there came the sound of a metal door opening. 

“Fu-” A GIW blaster went off. “Intru-”

The alarm was cut off before the GIW goon got out a full word, but odds were good he'd been heard anyway. Sam flexed her hands. Sitting this out sucked. She wanted to see what was happening. How many agents were there?

“Robin!” Batman snapped. 

‘The little one?’

Sam felt vaguely ill. They had to be okay. This was Batman’s team.

[sashiavi]

Thirst idea:

Shane catching you and Sam fucking in the Joja Mart Storage. At first, he's disgusted. At work, seriously? Have some decency. But as Sam pauses his thrusts, Shane decides fuck it, he doesn't get paid enough anyways.

This results in Shane pulling Sam out of you and taking his place from behind, groaning at the feeling of your sweet heat around him. He wastes no time in setting a steady pace, all while mocking Sam for how amateur he is. See how he's making you feel? How his hands pinch and twist your nipples, drawing such sweet sounds out of you? How his cock hits the perfect spot inside of you, making you squirm and clench around him?

Sam better get his act together. Otherwise, Shane just might take his place, and all he'll get is his sloppy seconds. Would that really be such a bad thing though?

Sam and Shane are my absolute favourite poly pair and I will die on this hill </3 I need to write a nice yummy fic for them-

Ty for inspiring me ♡♡ drabble ahead

Joja backroom endeavours with Sammy were always a little tricky.

His cock is thick, bullyingly so; With an impressive length to pair, Yoba its hard to take him easily sometimes.

You whine and keen, your pitiful sounds echoing around the back room, uncomfy with the chilly fridge air biting at your skin and the achy stretch of Sam's cock making an attempt at a quickie.

Of course Shane hears it- He always fucken' does. Those whimpery whines and huffy little begs for Sam to settle down, gasps and choked up hiccups chirped out with each rough fuck of the blonde’s hips.

Always so annoying- Sam being that dirty little exhibitionist that can't keep it wrapped up in his pants, practically dragging Shane into your shared shenanigans.

Of course, you can't blame him for it. For huffing a curse and barking a rough insult towards the blonde, curses dribbling off of his tongue while his lips twitch into an unimpressed scowl.

Look at how he has you.

Bent over a frosty box of product, pathetically clinging to the edges while Sam rails you from behind, large and long fingers twisted into your hair, purposely pressing your face into the cardboard. It's uninspiring if you ask Shane. No wonder you're struggling to take the younger man, heck, you're probably dryer than the fucken' Calico Desert. Boys and their eagerness, right? Skipping all the Prep to get to the goods.

You can't blame him for rolling his eyes and pulling Sam off by the scruff like a mutt, situating himself against your bare ass all while Sam watches with an obedient gulp.

Shane easily leans over you, soft tummy pressing into your back, all warm compared to the chilly fridge air. His hand soothes between your legs, two fingers easily slipping between the wet of your folds, circling that sweet bud of yours, smearing the growing mess of slick all over your cunt. He barks a soft grumble in your ear, filthy words shaming Sam, praising you for being so kind to even help the boy in the first place.

"Sucha' Good n' helpful girl aren'tcha? Hmm? Takin' that idiot all sweet like that-" His prickly jaw grazes the back of your neck, teasing at your ear causing a hot shiver to run down your spine. His thick fingers dare to sink into your supple hole, more than wet than before, practically drooling for the other man. "S'okay.. Gonan make you nice n' ready f'him.. Yeah?" Mockingly soft and yet laced in truth.

Poor Sammy has to watch from the side- See you take the fat of Shane's Cock, a little shorter but far thicker than his own, stretching the taught walls of your cunt wide. That paw of his finds itself cupping the supple mound of your cunt, wet fingers toying and circling the bud of your clit while his hips begin their rolling fucks.

Your sounds are something else- Less of a whining choke, strung along and keening, bottom lip bitten by your teeth stuck in a horny frown. Yoba, the gasp of your throat and roll of your eyes when Shane dares to manhandle you.

His other hand weasels its way between the valley of your breasts, palm laying flat to pull you in, forcing you to half stand while the older man snaps his hips in mean little fucks. He fiddles with your chest, groping and teasing, twisting your pert nipples between his fingers in tandem with the circling of your sticky clit.

You hold yourself up with your hands, back arched perfectly, taking Shane from behind, pushing yourself back into the girth of his cock. Sam can only stare, eyes coming in contact with Shane's, feeling blood rush to his cock with the quirk of the older man's eyebrow, with the insults he throws at the Blonde.

"Can only dream of takin' her like this hmm? Listen- Fuck.. Listen to her-" Was he talking about those moany chirps from your throat or the gush of your cunt- Yoba, Sam didn't care. Not when you looked so good like this.

Nor when you finally cream, stuttering a hiccup while your milky cunt finished Shane off, suckling the man until he spurt his last thick rope of cum into your cunt.

Sam should be embarrassed, beat red in the face for being so put down, feeble in the eyes of the older man- Unable to properly ready his girl and please you like he needed to- But how could he care?

Despite it all, Sammy loves his sloppy seconds.

•·············°·············•♡•·············°·············•

Whoops I wrote a drabble

[artinventor]

I was wondering when they’d bring in the cain & abel story since it’s kinda the most well known story about brothers, as well as a well known bible story. I find it cool how they paralleled sam & dean to cain & abel, referencing how cain went to hell for his brother, how abel was approached by lucifer just like sam was. Then it showed a whole flashback of cain’s wife, a character that was not in the biblical story.

cain says “She knew who I was, what I was. She loved me unconditionally. She forgave me” they also show him praying to her grave, saying she’s always watching over him.

Is this supposed to be a parallel to castiel? Just the episode before, cas calms down dean when he spiraled about his guilt over gadreel, he always says the right things to dean when he makes self loathing comments or blames himself for everything because he knows exactly who dean is and accepts it “unconditionally”. And the episode before that, he’d forgiven dean for kicking him out of the bunker when he was human. The praying part is obvious, dean always prays to cas when he needs help, he prayed every night for a year in purgatory. The watching over him part is also obvious, dean’s mother always told him that angels were watching over him, and cas has always called himself or been called the winchesters’ guardian or protector.

If you want to get even more deep into it, think of how cain’s wife is not in the real bible story. cas was only supposed to be in 3 episodes originally, and chuck says to him “you’re not in this story” when he tried to help dean stop lucifer from being freed. Kind of a reach and definitely not intentional by the writers for that one but still, it was a thought I had

why did they make up a wife for cain while directly drawing parallels between him and dean’s lives and not expect me to come to this conclusion.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |8|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 6.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Sam wiped away her tears as she left Tara’s hospital room. She jumped as the door slammed closed behind her. Tara didn’t need her, she had you now, maybe Tara never needed her. She left, she didn’t have a right to tell Tara what to do or judge the decisions she made. Sam left and her little sister grew up without her, she was an adult who had no need for her big sister anymore.

Sam once again jumped back when she turned away from the door and right into Richie. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s me,” Richie said softly, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “It’s okay.”

“Were you listening at the door?” Sam asked, staring at Richie. It was kind of obvious he was listening at the door, just as you probably were, given how quickly you ran into the room. She needed to hear Richie confirm it himself though.

“No, no, of course not,” Richie tried to wave it off. “Okay, yeah, I was listening at the door,” he just as quickly caved, admitting he in fact was eavesdropping.

“It doesn’t freak you out, that my real father was a serial killer?”

Sam searched his face, wondering why he hadn’t run the second he learned the truth. Sam hated her birth father, she hated herself, she hated being related to him, as much as she loved her sister, she couldn’t blame Tara for hating her now as well, she fully expected the same from Richie. You already weren’t a fan of hers, learning this would probably make you officially hate her even more. Sam couldn’t see how anyone could like her, let alone love her, knowing who her father was and what he did. 

“I mean, yeah,” Richie nodded, giving her an awkward smile. “A great deal.” 

“Okay, go, I get it,” Sam shook her head, trying to keep control of her breathing and not breakdown. She had met an awesome guy, a nice guy, and now she had ruined that relationship, just like every other relationship in her life, all because of who her father was. “I just got to stay and figure it out.” Sam didn’t care if Tara hated her, she didn’t care if her sister never wanted to see her again, this was all her fault and she wasn’t leaving until she learned who attacked her sister, she wouldn’t rest until she knew her sister was safe. 

“I’m not leaving you here Sam.” He said it so simply, as if leaving her there alone never even crossed his mind. Sam couldn’t see how that was a possibility, if Richie were smart, he’d leave her, anyone else would have. 

“If you were smart, you’d get the fuck out.” 

“Well, then maybe I’m not smart,” Richie said softly, stepping forward and taking Sam’s hands in his own. “Because I’m staying.” Sam looked up at him in disbelief, she truly couldn’t believe the words she was hearing, she couldn’t fathom why any sane person would stay when all this was going on, why anyone would stay with her knowing how messed up she was. 

Richie looked down, opening a closing his mouth slightly as if he were nervous to say what he wanted to say before looking back up, looking Sam directly in the eye. “I love you,” he said, his voice shaking with each word. Sam’s eyes darted around, searching his face, she truly couldn’t believe he said that. It was the first time Richie had ever said those words to her, she wasn’t sure if him choosing this moment proved how much he loved her or proved how crazy he was for being willing to stay during this insanity. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Sam said. She wasn’t ready to say those words back yet, she wasn’t sure what was keeping her from it, she had known Richie for six months and they had gotten along right away, becoming friends long before they started dating. Sam just couldn’t bring herself to say ‘I love you’ back. 

“So, your sister won’t talk to you,” Richie caressed Sam’s face, then began running his hands through her hair. “The police aren’t going to help, what’s our next move?” 

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as she realized what Richie said was true. She knew Judy had an officer on Tara’s room and others in the hospital, but they still weren’t anywhere close to actually figuring out who Ghostface was, so they were truly on their own in trying to catch this psycho. “We go talk to an expert.” 

Sam approached the trailer of Dewey Riley, with Richie right behind her, one of the perks of living in a small town was it was pretty easy to find someone, it took her less than a minute to get Dewey’s address. She didn’t know what to do, the only thing that made sense was talking to someone who was there at the beginning, who had survived this kind of stuff before. Technically Sheriff Hicks also survived but she didn’t like Sam and she barely counted as being apart of the whole thing. Therefore, it left Dewey, he was also the only one still in town, everyone else was either dead or had some sense and got out of town. 

Dewey was still sheriff before she left town, he was sheriff during all the trouble she caused. She had remembered seeing Dewey around the station, but she had never interacted with him. It was always deputy Hicks she had the displeasure of interacting with. Sam was also never officially arrested, Judy usually brought her home, occasionally when she was feeling petty, she’d cuff Sam, throw her in the back of the cruiser, and bring her down to the station until her mom could pick her up. No, the only person Sam saw Dewey regularly interact with was you. 

“Go away!” a voice shouted from inside the trailer as soon as Sam knocked on the door. 

“Sorry to bother you Mr. Riley,” she yelled back. “We just want to ask you a few questions.” She really needed Dewey to open the door, if he didn’t talk to them, she wasn’t sure what she would do, she had no idea how to prepare for a psycho coming after her and her sister. 

“I don’t give interviews.” Dewey sounded more irritated. Sam couldn’t blame him, she couldn’t imagine what his life has been like, surviving all those attacks and being good friends with Sidney Prescott. Dewey’s life was probably filled with nonstop questions, people and reports asking him to describe what happened to himself and to his friends. It couldn’t have been easy being constantly asked to relive probably some of the worst days of your life. 

“We’re not looking for an interview.” 

Dewey’s face suddenly appeared in the little window of the door to his trailer. “Give me one good reason I should talk to you.” 

“I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam said, staring Dewey right in the eyes. This was the first time she said she was Billy’s daughter and didn’t hesitate, she didn’t question the words leaving her mouth. 

The next thing she knew Dewey was opening the door. “That’s a terrible reason for me to talk to you.” Dewey was no longer yelling, Sam wasn’t sure if that was a plus though, he just seemed exhausted now. 

“My name is Samantha Carpenter,” Sam continued, Dewey at least opened the door, and she didn’t intend to back down now. “I was attacked last night at the hospital. The night before that my sister was stabbed seven times. I know you know what that’s like,” she said the last part softly. She might have wanted Dewey’s help, but she didn’t want to seem unsympathetic. “I’m just trying to protect my family,” Sam sighed. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.” 

“I’ll give you two minutes,” Dewey agreed, though he sounded firm in only giving them two minutes. Sam wished it had been more, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, this could be the only chance to get some advice from someone who survived not one attack but multiple. “I’m missing a show I like.” Dewey went back into his trailer, leaving the door open for Sam and Richie to enter. 

“Gale Weathers,” Richie said as he and Sam walked into the trailer. Dewey had her morning show on but quickly turned it off as the three of them sat down. “Weren’t you two…” Sam held in a sigh; she was starting to regret bringing Richie along with her. 

“Yeah,” Dewey said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it. Dewey took an aggressive sip of his coffee, flicking a glare at Richie before focusing his attention on Sam. “Who’s he?” he nodded to Richie. 

“This is Richie,” Sam said. “My boyfriend.” 

Richie smiled, readjusting in his seat as if he were about to offer his hand to Dewey and introduce himself. “How long have you known him?” Dewey never gave him a chance to introduce himself, he never even looked at him again, he just got right down to business. 

Sam was a little taken aback by the question. “Six months,” she answered anyway, though she was a little confused as to why Dewey was asking. 

“Did he know who your dad was when you met? Express any interest in Woodsboro or the Ghostface killings?” 

Sam gave an awkward smile, turning to look at Richie, she wasn’t sure if Dewey was actually serious. She came to him for advice not to be questioned about her relationship. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Richie asked awkwardly. He kept glancing at Sam as if wanting her to confirm if Dewey was serious. 

“Your killer is obsessed with the Stab movies, right?” Dewey asked, leaning back in his chair. Sam nodded, hesitant but curious as to where he was going with this. “Well, there’s certain rules to surviving a Stab movie. Believe me, I know.” Dewey looked off to the side, looking out the window as if his mind went to another place for a second. “Rule number one, never trust the love interest,” he shook his head, looking right at Richie. “They seem sweet, caring, supportive, but then welcome to act three, where they’re trying to rip your head off.” 

“I was with Sam in Modesto when Tara was attacked,” Richie said, instantly defending himself. Sam was looking at Richie, nodding her head to confirm what he was saying. They were together that whole night, she didn’t even get the call about Tara until the next morning. 

“And let me guess,” Dewey continued, sounding more cynical as he went on. “You were just in the other room, conveniently unaccounted for when she was attacked at the hospital.” 

“Okay, do I have to take this from shitty Sam Elliot over here, or what?” 

“Rule number two.” Sam slowly looked from Richie back to Dewey. “The killer’s motive,” he was still glaring at Richie as he spoke. “Is always connected to something in the past.” 

“I’m related to Billy,” Sam said. She already knew Tara was most likely attacked because of her; she knew even before Ghostface said he knew her secret; she knew the moment Wes said Tara was attacked by someone in a Ghostface mask. Hearing Dewey practically confirm it though wasn’t easy, Tara was basically attacked all because Sam was the daughter of a serial killer. 

“Right,” Richie said, nodding along. “But then why kill that random Vince guy?” 

Sam nodded at that; Vince seemed like a random victim. Tara was the first victim, then she herself was attacked at the hospital but it didn’t seem like Ghostface actually wanted to kill her, more like just scare her. You and Tara’s friends were all at that bar, you worked at the bar, you had been outside seconds after Vince was attacked, meaning Ghostface wanted Vince for some reason, no one else. 

“That’s for you to figure out,” Dewey said. “And rule number three, and this is the most important rule.” Sam turned in her seat so she could give Dewey her full attention. “The first victim always has a friend group, that the killer is apart of.” Sam nodded along, she remembered that being a theme in all the movies from the one time she saw them, and hearing about the real-life stories. “Does your sister have a closeknit group of friends?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding, Tara had exactly that. “She does.” 

“Then look for the killer there.” 

She knew Dewey’s logic; she knew from his experience that this was always how it went down. Sam couldn’t imagine it though; she couldn’t picture any of Tara’s friends attacking her. Tara knew all of her friends since she was a little kid, Sam baby sat all of them, they literally grew up together, Sam watched them grow up. The only person who was new to the group, or she guessed more so, new to Tara’s life, was you. 

“If you can find out why they’re doing this,” Dewey continued. “You can figure out who’s next.” That made sense as well; despite never understanding why someone would dress up and kill all their friends, the killer always had some sort of twisted motive and that motive tended to explain who their victims were and would be. 

“So, help us,” Sam tried pleading. She knew it was a long shot. Dewey hadn’t even wanted to let them in his trailer to talk, the odds of him agreeing to get involved were zero to none. “Help us figure out who’s behind this.” 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dewey sighed, sounding more exhausted than he had since opening the door. “I’ve been stabbed nine times, I’ve got permanent nerve damage, and a fun little limp. You think I want to do that again?” he let out a humorless chuckle. 

“You just said it always goes back to the past.” Sam still intended to try her hardest to convince Dewey to help, she didn’t think she could figure this out on her own, she needed help. “Right?” Dewey reluctantly nodded, seeming to know where she was about to go with this. “So, if I’m in danger, that means you’re in danger.” Dewey seemed to take in her words as he was suddenly unable to meet her gaze. “Come on, let’s do this, together.” 

There was a split second that it almost seemed like Dewey was going to agree to help them. “Your time’s up,” he said instead. He quickly stood up, walking to his door and holding it open for them. 

Sam rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the couch and stomped out of the trailer, Richie following close behind her. As soon as they were out the door Dewey slammed the door closed. Sam couldn’t blame him for not wanting to get involved, it was insane for someone to willingly get involved in this mess, she had just told Richie that before coming to see Dewey. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still annoyed that Dewey wouldn’t help them. She figured out of everyone else in the world the person most likely to help would be someone who had survived what they’re going through now, Dewey knew quite literally what they were going through, and he still refused to help. 

“Okay, what’s next?” Richie asked as they made their way back to the car. 

“The friends,” Sam said, easily catching the keys as Richie tossed them to her. She didn’t want to suspect Tara’s friends, but they were the only ones that made sense. 

Before starting the car, she shot a quick text to Wes, asking him to gather the others. Wes quickly texted back saying he’d do it. Sam sat there for a few minutes when another text from Wes came through. Wes had said the others all agreed to meet at Mindy and Chad’s, since they were the niece and nephew of one of the victims of the second killings it made sense to meet at their house. Sam started the car and quickly pulled out of the trailer park, not carrying if she was speeding on her way to Mindy and Chad’s. 

Sam pulled into Mindy and Chad’s driveway, seeing a few more cars there as well. As they were walking up to the door Sam heard another car door closing. She turned around and couldn’t help but smile when she saw Dewey walking up to them. 

“You came,” she said when he was close enough. She truly thought he wasn’t going to help them, that she was completely on her own in trying to figure this out. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Dewey sighed, leading the way to the door. 

Mindy opened the door, leading them to the family room and telling them the others were already there. Sam had only been in the Meeks-Martin household a handful of times when babysitting the twins, but it hadn’t seemed to change much over the years. 

Sam stood in front of the others, she had just opened her mouth, ready to tell them that she was the daughter of Billy Loomis, when there was a knock at the door. Martha Meeks quickly ran to the door, happily greeting whoever it was. Sam glanced back and had to do a double take when she saw you walking into the room. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She asked them to gather everyone, she didn’t realize that meant you as well. She was honestly surprised you left Tara’s side for something like this, considering you refused to go to work until Tara basically ordered you to. 

“Tara asked me to come,” you said. Sam let out a hum, now that made sense. She wondered how much convincing it took to get you to leave Tara’s side. “You all have exactly one hour,” you pulled out your phone, quickly typing off a text to someone. “So, let’s get this over with.” You pushed past Sam and took a seat on the far end of the couch, putting yourself as far away from everyone else as you could get. 

“Why are you here?” Dewey asked. He squinted his eyes, watching you carefully even though you hadn’t so much as glanced at him. 

“Tara’s my girlfriend,” you said. “Going to arrest me for that? Sheriff,” you made sure to say that last part with all the sarcasm. 

Dewey narrowed his eyes at you. “How long have you been together?” 

You rolled your eyes, clearly not enjoying yet another person questioning your relationship. Sam would bet money that it also didn’t help that the one questioning your relationship is the cop who used to always deal with you. 

“It will be two years in December,” you sighed, obviously getting more irritated. “Can we move this along, please,” you looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I would like to get back to Tara.” 

Sam nodded, she didn’t want to shift the attention back to herself but you and Dewey arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere, especially if you ended up storming out before they even got started. “Alright,” Sam said nervously. She glanced back to see Richie giving her an encouraging smile. “I’m the daughter of Billy Loomis.” 

Everyone’s mouths fell open. Sam could practically see their brains trying to process the information. Sam quickly ran to take her seat on the couch, not wanting to be the center of attention anymore. She spared a glance at you, seeing you weren’t shocked, she figured you overheard her conversation with Tara or Tara told you herself. Your jaw was clenched as you stared off across the room, your hands balled into fists, and you refused to look at Sam. 

Mindy was the first to break out of her shock by instantly jumping to her feet and running to the closet they had filled with movies. Sam furrowed her brow as she watched Mindy shuffle around the movies, until finally finding what she was looking for and popping it into the DVD player. Sam suppressed a sigh when she saw it wasn’t Stab Mindy had put on but Stab: The True Story. It was basically a documentary of the true story, though no one who actually survived what happened was involved in the making of it or was interviewed. Sam was pretty sure Gale Weathers was involved in some way, but the documentary was mostly made up of pictures and found footage, with a ‘expert’ who had done their research and talked about what happened. 

“So, you’re saying that you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis,” Chad said, being the first to break the silence. “And that, what, one of us is the killer?” he gestured at himself and his friends. 

“The killer told me he knew my secret,” Sam said. It was clear Chad didn’t appreciate him and his friends being accused of being a killer but based on the history, it was always someone in the friend group. “He attacked Tara to lure me back here.” Sam caught you clenching your fists tighter as her words, she assumed you had already figured that part out as well. 

“But then why immediately go and murder some douche-nozzle that was stalking Liv?” 

“And why does it have to be one of us?” Wes asked. “What about deputy Dewey here? Maybe he’s the killer.” Wes shrugged. “No offense.” 

“None taken,” Dewey said. “But what’s my motive?” 

“You got stabbed a billion times, got dumped by your famous wife, and crawled into a bottle,” Wes listed off. “I think it’s safe to say you’re on the suspect list.” 

Sam let out a small sigh, she had gone to Dewey for help but what Wes said made sense. As hard for her as it was to admit it still seemed one of the friends was more likely involved than Dewey. Wes’s argument was good but Dewey suddenly snapping after all these years and going after some random kids didn’t make much sense. 

“Well, maybe you’re the killer,” Dewey said. “Cause that cut deep.” 

“That douche-nozzle is connected,” Amber said. “I googled him. His mom is Leslie Macher. Stu Macher’s sister.” 

“Who’s Stu Macher?” Liv asked. 

“He’s Billy Loomis’s accomplice,” Dewey answered, leaning forward in his seat again. 

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, nodding along, everything was finally starting to make sense. “So, the first three attacks are all on people related to the original killers.” 

“Oh my god,” Mindy said, shooting up from her seat. “He’s making a requel.” 

Everyone looked at Mindy like she had grown two head. “A what?” Sam decided to be the one to ask. 

“Like a sequel, fans are confused or torn on the terminology.” 

“God,” Chad sighed. “Please speak English.” Sam couldn’t help but agree, she understood what a sequel was, but she had no idea what the hell a requel was or what the hell Mindy was talking about. 

“Okay,” Mindy sighed, sitting up straight as she got serious about this topic. “Do you remember the Stab movie that came out last year?” 

“Oh, yeah, the one the Knives Out guy directed,” Liv said, seeming to know exactly what Mindy was talking about. Sam was still lost but decided to just wait and see where they were going with this. “You know, I actually really liked that one.” 

“Of course you did, you have terrible taste.” Sam rolled her eyes as Liv and Mindy had their little argument, even when she was a kid Mindy the habit of being a bit of a movie snob. “The point is the hardcore Stab fans hated it.” 

Sam sighed, beginning to tune Mindy out as she rambled on and on about why the fans hated the movie. She didn’t really care about a shitty sequel to a relatively basic franchise. She was hoping Mindy actually had a point to all this and her random movie knowledge about Stab would actually be useful. 

“What’s wrong with elevated horror?” Amber asked, joining in on the conversation. 

Mindy then went on to rant about how elevated horror was great, but it wasn’t Stab. The only reason Sam had some semblance of an idea as to what elevated horror was because even as a kid Tara loved that stuff. As Mindy said, Stab was a typical slasher whodunit type of movie, Stab wasn’t elevated horror. 

“Come on, it’s just a movie,” Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. She had to speak up, she couldn’t stand listening to them argue about movies and their deeper meaning, they were just movies, they were in the real world where her sister was really attacked. 

“No, it’s not,” Mindy said instantly. “To some people the original is their favorite thing in the world.” Sam couldn’t wrap her head around that, she got liking movies, but not loving one so much someone would begin to blur a movie with real life. “The movie that made them love horror. The movie that mom or dad showed them when they were ten and bonded them together.” Once again, Sam got that, she understood bonding with someone over a movie and both enjoying that. “And god help anyone who fucks with that special memory, who makes a movie that disrespects it.” 

Sam could sort of understand that as well. She truly understood loving a movie growing up and then a few years later someone deciding to cash in on that love by making a sequel or spin-off or something involving those characters and that world. It rarely worked out, it was usually made as a cash grab and not for the fans, then the new fans had a habit of hating it. Being pissed about a bunch of shitty sequel movies to your childhood favorite didn’t give someone the right to go around dressed up like the killer from the movies. That’s where Mindy was losing Sam. Sam didn’t get how someone could take a simple movie so far. 

“It sounds like,” Mindy continued, getting up from her seat before Sam could even think about interrupting her again. “Our killer is writing his own version of Stab Eight but doing it as a requel.” Mindy raised her hands, nodding to herself, clearly proud of her theory. 

Sam would admit, it was a good theory, that didn’t answer her original question though. “Which is?” Dewey asked. Sam was glad he still didn’t get it; she didn’t want to ask Mindy again. 

Mindy sighed, clapping her hands together as she tried to contain her clear irritation at them not getting it. “See, you can’t just reboot a franchise from scratch anymore, the fans won’t stand for it. Black Christmas, Childs Play, Flatliners,” she began gesturing around the room at her friends. “That shit doesn’t work! But you can’t just do a straight sequel either. You got to build something new but not too new or the internet goes bug fucking nuts,” she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s got to be a part of an ongoing storyline, even if the storyline shouldn’t have been ongoing in the first place. New main characters, yes,” she gestured around the room as if all of them were the new main characters. “But supported by and related to legacy characters,” she pointed at Dewey. “Not quite a reboot, not quite a sequel. Like, the new Halloween, Saw, Terminator, Jurassic Park, Ghostbusters, fuck, even Star Wars! It always, always, goes back to the original,” she picked up the first Stab movie to help emphasize what she meant. 

Sam was beginning to fully understand what Mindy was trying to say. “Are you telling me,” Sam started. “That I’m caught in the middle of fan fucking fiction?” she couldn’t believe this, it was even more insane than she ever imagined. She figured someone was pissed because she was Billy’s daughter not because they were hurt that the sequel to their favorite movie was total garbage. 

“Not just in the middle Sam,” Mindy said, a lot calmer than she had been than when she was rambling about the movies. “You’re the star.” Sam could only stare at Mindy, her mouth slightly agape. She knew she was the reason Tara was attacked but she didn’t think she was the reason all this was happening. 

“So, not to put like to fine a point on it,” Liv said. “But according to requel rules, who’s next?” Sam looked at Liv, her eyes coasting across everyone else. She wanted to figure out who the killer was but knowing who the next victim might be was just as important. 

“Going by the pattern,” Mindy said slowly. “Whoever it is has to be connected to someone that came before.” 

They all slowly turned to look at Dewey, he was the only one connected to the original killings. “I’m starting to regret coming,” Dewey said. Sam knew she told Dewey he was probably a target as well, but she didn’t realize how true her words might have been. 

“Jesus, my mom is a character in one of them,” Wes said, sitting up a little straighter. 

“No one cares about the shitty inferior sequels Wes,” Minday said with an eyeroll. “You’re safe.” She turned her attention to her brother. “With Randy as our uncle though, you and I are probably screwed. 

“Wait, what?” Chad asked. Despite literally being Mindy’s twin, he didn’t share the same passion for horror and movies that she did. It seemed as though he didn’t realize that being the nephew of one of the only survivors of the original attacks put a target on his back. 

“Or you’re the killer,” Richie began, laughing Mindy’s theories off. “And this whole elaborate monologue is just to cover your tracks. 

“I think it’s pretty clear who the killer is at this point,” Mindy said, laughing off Richie’s accusation. 

“Who?” Sam asked.  She was staring at Mindy, she had no idea who the killer could be, she didn’t know how Mindy could figure it out so quickly. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Amber said, interrupting whatever Mindy was about to say. Everyone looked at Amber, but her glare was solely focused on you. 

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. You didn’t seem happy that you were being accused but you certainly didn’t seem surprised. “Are you serious? What’s my motive?” you shrugged. 

Amber shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re dating Tara.” 

“Never trust the love interest,” Mindy mumbled. 

You snapped your gaze from Amber to Mindy, you actually seemed hurt that she was agreeing with Amber. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” you gestured, looking around the room. Sam did the same, seeing everyone staying silent, all of them either looking at the floor or at you like you were the prime suspect, the only one who looked the slightest bit guilty was Liv, she refused to look at you, opting to keep her eyes on the floor. 

“If I can’t have her, no one will,” Amber said. “Classic motive.” 

“The thing is,” you leaned forward, glaring back at Amber just as intently. “I already have her.” Despite Sam’s feelings on you she had to side with you there, you were already dating Tara, had been for a while now. There was no reason for you to attack Tara, there was no one for you to be jealous of and this wasn’t some twisted version of unrequited love. 

“Maybe you’re threatened.” 

“By who? You?” you scoffed, literally laughing at the idea of being threatened by Amber “Please! As if.” 

“Tara knows you’re not good enough.” Amber smirked, her eyes taking on a dangerous look. Sam had no idea what happened to warrant the animosity between you and Amber, but it was very clear where Amber stood regarding you. 

“That’s not true.” You shook your head, but Sam could swear she caught a glimmer of doubt in your eye. She didn’t think you necessarily believe Amber’s words but there was probably a part of you that truly didn’t think you were good enough for Tara, that she deserved better than anything you could offer her. 

“What could you possibly offer her?” 

“You’re trying to get me to doubt my relationship,” you kept your voice low as you pointed at Amber. “I don’t know why,” you shook your head. “It won’t work though. Tara’s love is the one thing I have never doubted.” Sam hated to admit it, but she admired your devotion to Tara and your commitment to each other. 

“Why are you still here?” Amber continued to poke. “You always talk about how much you hate this place, you literally despise this town.” Amber leaned forward, staring right into your eyes. So why are you still here?” 

“For Tara!” you shot to your feet. “I stayed for her,” your voice cracked. Everyone got silent, all of them dropping their eyes to the floor, except for Amber; Sam seemed to be the only other one willing to still look at you. 

“I was actually going to say Sam was the prime suspect,” Mindy was the first to speak up. Sam’s eyes widened; her mouth dropped open as she stared at Mindy. “Daughter of the original mastermind,” Mindy looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “It makes sense,” she shrugged.  

“But you,” she shifted her gaze to you. “You have nothing and no one, your parents abandoned you, you were a troubled teen, hated this small town, until magically you got your shit together, turning your life around, then began dating Tara, who just happens to be Sam’s sister. You knew Sam before, no?” you only acknowledged her with a glare. “The perfect suspect, one that’s seemingly unsuspecting.” 

You let out a humorless chuckle. Sam watched as you looked around the room, seeing how no one argued with Amber’s accusation or Mindy’s logic. “Fuck you,” you spit out before storming out of the house, making sure to slam the door behind you. 

“Yeah, because that doesn’t scream guilty,” Amber mumbled under her breath. “Well, this has been fun.” Amber stood up from her seat. 

“Where are you going?” Sam asked. 

Amber rolled her eyes. “Home. Unless you want to accuse anymore of us?” Amber gestured around before making her way out of the house without a goodbye. 

Wes was the next to go but unlike Amber he actually gave a short goodbye to everyone before quickly running out the door. Last was Liv, she gave Chas a quick kiss, saying something about having to go to work and then she left as well. 

Sam sighed, figuring it was time they left as well, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome after basically accusing the entire friend group of murder and after sort of being accused by Mindy. “Well, that went well,” Sam said, as she, Richie, and Dewey stepped outside. 

Dewey gave a small shrug. “Now, what’s your plan?” Dewey asked. 

“Hopefully food,” Richie mumbled. 

Sam ran a hand through her hair. Gathering everyone together had been simultaneously useful and not. They now had a theory on what the killer was doing, they knew his victims were those related to legacy characters, but they still weren’t any closer to knowing who the killer was. 

“I need to get back to the hospital,” Sam sighed. Even if Tara didn’t want to talk to her, she needed to try. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Tara alone in the hospital too long, especially overnight, even if that meant sleeping in a chair outside her room or in the waiting room. 

“I was hoping for something besides hospital food,” Richie groaned. 

Sam sighed, she really didn’t want to waste time going to get food. “I can give you a ride to the hospital,” Dewey offered. 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. 

Dewey nodded. “Yeah, it’ll give me the chance to ask some questions anyway.” 

Sam tossed her keys to Richie. Richie didn’t waste time, giving Sam a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off towards the car. Richie had started and pulled away before Sam and Dewey had even started walking to Dewey’s truck. 

“A text!” someone yelled, stopping Dewey in his tracks as he started to walk towards his truck. Dewey turned around and Sam peered over his shoulder seeing a woman in a colorful business suit approaching him. “You let me know in a text!” she continued, walking right up to Dewey and slapping him. 

“You were on air,” Dewey weakly defended. That’s when Sam realized who this was, Gale Weathers. 

“How do you know that?” 

Dewey opened his mouth, then suddenly paused. It seemed like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit he still watched his ex-wife’s morning show. Sam couldn’t fault him for that it was either really sweet or really depressing, she was starting to think maybe a bit of both. 

“How did you find me?” Dewey settled on, crossing his arms. 

“I tracked your phone,” Gale said without shame. 

“You tracked my-are you insane?” 

Gale rolled her eyes. “I needed to find you and it was the quickest way,” she shrugged. “Who’s this?” Gale turned to Sam, seeming to finally notice her for the first time. 

“Sam Carpenter,” Sam introduced herself. “My sister was attacked. 

Gale tilted her head, her eyes instantly softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry. Do we know anything yet? What about the second victim?” 

“Vince Schnieder,” Dewey said. “He’s Stu Macher’s nephew.” 

“He attacked my sister because I’m Billy Loomis’s daughter,” Sam added. Gale’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head at hearing this information. Sam hated the fact that she was getting used to revealing that information. “Somehow the killer knows and now he’s going after those related to the original killings.” 

“What did you just say?” Gale whispered, her eyes taking on what Sam could only describe as a look of fear. 

Sam couldn’t blame her for being scared, Gale probably didn’t come back to town and expect to be even more in danger. “This psycho seems to be obsessed with the original movie and so disappointed in the ones that have followed, he’s decided to make his own,” Sam rolled her eyes. She still thought it was ridiculous someone was doing all this because of a movie. 

“She’s related to Billy,” Dewey said, pointing at Sam. “So, he went after her sister. Then Stu’s nephew,” he shook his head. “He’s going after anyone related to the legacy characters, anyone related to us.” 

Sam watched curiously as Gale pulled out her phone, furrowing her brow at whoever was calling her. Sam couldn’t make out who it was before Gale declined the call. Not a second later her phone buzzing again. Gale once again declined the call, rolling her eyes. 

Gale let out a frustrated sigh when her phone vibrated again, but this time it didn’t seem to be a phone call. Gale furrowed her brow as she tapped her phone. She furrowed her brow as she stared down at the screen, then her eyes quickly widened as if she realized something. “Oh, god,” Gale whispered. 

“What is it?” Dewey asked. 

“Oh god, oh god,” Gale continued to whisper under her breath. She quickly typed on her phone, dialing a number. Sam furrowed her brow; she had a feeling she didn’t want to know who had been trying to call Gale and what they sent her. “Dammit!” Gale screamed at her phone when whoever she was calling didn’t answer. 

“What? What’s going on?” 

“We need to go.” 

“What? Where?” 

Gale ignored Dewey’s questions as she dialed 911. Sam’s eyes widened; she didn’t know what was happening but clearly it wasn’t good. Gale began speaking quickly, rattling off an address Sam didn’t recognize it seemed as soon as someone answered. “Yes, it’s an emergency!” Gale yelled into the phone. “Tell the sheriff it’s about Ghostface! The next victim is Y/N Y/L/N.” 

Sam’s eyes widened at hearing your name. “We need to go,” Gale said. “Now!” Dewey seemed just as confused as Sam felt but he didn’t question it as he took off towards his truck, Gale right behind him. Sam followed their lead, running off after them. She jumped in the backseat, just barely getting the door closed before Dewey took off, his wheels squealing against the pavement. Sam gripped the sides of the front seat, staring out the windshield, silently hoping they’d get to you in time. 

[sacr1ficialang3l]

Written in blood𖤐

DEAN WINCHESTER X GOTH!READER (meet her)

SUMMARY: Reader is taking her usual late-night cemetery walk when she finds two guys burning up a grave. They expect her to run away screaming, but they don't know that she is not that easily scared. 3.8k

WARNINGS: none really. first meeting. fem!reader.

NOTES: goth!reader is here, and she's here to stay! I can't wait for Dean and her to get closer. If you find the She Wants Revenge reference in this you get a gold star. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

You had seen some weird things happen in this cemetery. 

You simply couldn’t make a habit of taking midnight walks through the graveyard behind the town’s famous abandoned house without encountering some questionable acts. 

From high schoolers messing around with a Ouija, to a drunk man pissing against a mausoleum, to a couple of teenagers hooking up behind a tree. 

You thought you had seen it all, until tonight.

Your eyes are focused on the old walkman on your hands, desperately trying to make it work, when a sudden heat wave makes you look up. Your wine-painted lips part slightly when your eyes find two guys standing in front of a digged up grave, seemingly having lit the corpse on fire.

You must have made a noise, because both guys quickly turn to you with equally wide eyes. 

Funnily, the first thought that registers on your mind is: damn, they’re hot.

You don’t freak out, and you don’t run for your life like you probably were supposed to. After all, you had always loved all things creepy.

You decide to step closer, the chunky platform of your boots digging into the mushy soil under them. You stop a few feet away from the burning pit as both guys still stare at you with freaked out expressions.

“Not an expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure digging up graves is illegal.” You say, crossing your arms. You half-register that you should probably not be talking to these guys like that. Maybe they were the bad type of devil worshipers, or psychopaths. Or both.

But before you can even start to feel afraid, they both start to ramble. The two huge, muscular men in front of you start to stutter and trip over their words. They spit half-assed explanations, contradicting each other every two sentences. It makes you laugh, which in consequence makes them stare at you as if you were insane.

How the tables have turned. 

Noticing that the men were very probably not dangerous, you take another step closer. This wasn’t the first time you had dealt with people making rituals of some sort in this cemetery. Satanists and pagans alike showed up occasionally to do their thing, and contrary to common belief, they were usually pretty friendly if you approached their practices with respect.

You pull out a cigarette from the pocket of your skirt, looking up at them with a smirk.

“I’m guessing you have a lighter?”

The taller one of the guys simply stares at you like you grew a second head, but you can distinguish a smirk on the face of the other one in the irregular light of the still going flames. You study him. Brown leather jacket, necklace around his neck, a ring that caught the light of the moon in his hand holding the matches. Oh, he was really hot.

“Look, sweetheart, you should probably leave.” He says, apparently having composed himself from the initial shock. There was a cocky undertone in his voice, but he didn’t seem mean, more like… trying to keep you out of something dangerous.

With a simple shake of your head, you refuse. What was life without a little danger anyways?

They end up introducing themselves after many failed attempts of making you leave. Sam and Dean, as you learned, were brothers. What you also learned, as you stared at them across the burning hole in the ground, is that they were both insanely attractive. But there was something about the older one, a sharpness in his eyes that made a shiver run through your spine. You blamed it on the cold breeze of the night.

(it was a specially warm day of early fall, there was no cold breeze.)

“Wait, wait.” you raise your palm, trying to process the information. “you’re telling me you’re… monster hunters?”

The brothers nod, going a little more into detail about their job and the ghost they were hunting in your town. Both of them stare at you like they’re expecting you to run away screaming, but you simply stare at them with calculating, black-rimmed eyes.

“So either I finally went full-on psychotic” you start “or you two are. Or this is real, and there’s something actually in that house.”

“you know something about the thing in the house?” Dean asks immediately. Deciding that they were indeed not a threat, you walk around the burning grave carefully and stand next to the two brothers, who –even as you wore your platform boots– still towered over you. 

You explain to the brothers that you had heard the myth about the old house being haunted, and when people started dying in its perimeters, you started to question it too. 

“But I stay in that house all the time.” You explain calmly, leaning back against the tombstone like you were in your natural habitat. “I go to read there when it is raining or too hot to be outside in the cemetery. I’ve even spent whole nights sleeping on the old couch in the living room. Nothing ever happened to me.”

But if you were to be honest, you did noticed some things. The way an inexplicable wave of warmth wrapped around you after you got trapped in the house in the middle of a snow storm with nothing but a thin leather jacket. The way there seemed to always be candles and matches restocked for you to light your way through the house even if you had already used a whole box of them. The way the house felt safe that night when you cried, sitting in a little ball in the corner of the living room, the night you ran away from home. 

“Why the hell would you stay in an abandoned house said to be haunted?” Dean’s expression was confused, but he seemed to almost admire how unafraid you were of the paranormal.

The truth was, anywhere was better than the house you grew up in.

“Sometimes ‘haunted’ and ‘scary’ things are just in need of some love.” You say instead, shrugging. 

Your words seem to touch a nerve in both brothers, and they nod, eyes darting down to the completely burned bones. 

“Well, apparently this thing was evil.” Dean retorts, and it makes you frown.

“I don’t know. If there was something actually in that house, it took care of me all this time.” You cross your arms, suddenly defensive of the spirit. “Most of the victims were disrespectful college kids that loved to come to the house and break stuff. At the very least, they shouldn’t have fucked around a haunted place if they can’t be respectful.”

Dean stares at you for just another second before he turns around to start filling the grave back with dirt. 

“It was still killing people, and we needed to get rid of it.” Dean refutes. You want to argue, but Sam turns to you, kind expression on his face.

“Spirits that stay back as ghosts can turn vengeful. Not being dead but not being alive, it drives them insane.” That makes the frown melt off your face, feeling a pang of sadness for the spirit in the house. “If the ghost was actually taking care of you, you should be happy they can finally rest in peace.”

You stay quiet for the rest of the time the brothers fill the grave. You notice the way it is barely noticeable that it was even touched. They must really be professionals.

“Well, it was nice to meet you here.” Dean wipes the sweat off his forehead with his shirt, leaving you with a clear view of his abdomen and a glimpse of the tattoo on his chest. You swallow harshly.

Oh, he had tattoos.

“Now we need to go back to the house and make sure the spirit is actually gone.” Sam finishes off. They both seemed more relaxed once the bones were already burned, and it seems like Dean finally takes the time to look at you.

You feel his piercing eyes all over your body, and when you finally look at him again, there is a small smirk on his face.

This guy is trouble.

But you always loved a good train wreck. 

The brothers are already walking away when you run towards them, expertly moving in your high platform boots.

“Wait!” your voice was loud in the dead silence of the cemetery. Both brothers turn to you, eyebrows raised. “I’ll come with you.”

Sam looked about to argue, probably ready to tell you a hundred reasons why it would be dangerous for you to tag along. 

“Sure.” Dean says, and you send him a pleased smile that makes his smirk grow. Sam turns to him in disbelief, and he simply shrugs. “What? The spirit clearly likes her. If it is still there, she will keep it from attacking us.”

Sam clearly doesn’t buy his excuse, but you’re just happy to go with them.

“I just want to make sure they’re gone, and thank them.” You throw Sam a pleading look, and he simply sighs and shakes his head. 

You end up tagging along.

You get to the house in a few minutes. It was clearly old, Victorian style and everything. There was ivy covering big parts of the outside, windows broken from times when people would break in, gloomy clouds of fog seemed to loom around it.

“And you like to spend time here because…?” Dean teases you. You throw a playful glare at him that makes him chuckle. 

“So you hunt demons and ghosts and whatnot but I can’t enjoy hanging out in an old house?”

Both brothers snort, but as you approach the front door, they both pull out guns. You jump at the sight, stopping in your tracks from the shock.

Dean notices, and he takes a step closer.

“These are filled with rock salt. They won’t kill a human, but they will keep ghosts at bay.” You nod, feeling a little more calm. You were always anti-gun, but you had to admit that the sight of Dean with the gun in his hand, his focused eyes, and his dark expression was definitely an attractive one. 

In a second, Dean was turning around and grabbing a metal bar from god knows where. He hands it to you, and you grab it with a confused look on your face. 

“Do… ghosts hate metal?” You ask with a small smile, making Dean chuckle.

“Iron, specifically.” He corrects, and you store the information carefully. You were trying to act normal, but the little girl in you who would spend hours reading Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and watching gothic horror movies at a way too early age is screeching inside of you. “Stay behind me, I will protect you. But if something goes wrong, swing this at the spirit and you’ll be fine.”

Dean’s reassurance was sweet, so you take a deep breath and follow them inside the house.

Everything seemed to be just as you left it a week ago, the last time you had stayed in there, before any of the killing had happened. The house was dark, lonely, peaceful. There was dust and spiderwebs everywhere that you never cleaned up, because this place was just as yours as it was the spiders’. 

When the door closes behind you, you are left in pure darkness. Dean is still in front of you, arm extended up in protection. You huff out a laugh, shaking your head and walking around him. 

As soon as you walked into the house, that same warmth and familiar feeling enveloped you. Dean lets out a little sound of protest as you walk forward into the darkness, but you know exactly where you’re going. 

You let your instincts lead you to the drawer where the candlesticks and matches were always stored. By the time you light one of the candles and start walking back to the brothers, Sam already had grabbed a flashlight from his backpack. 

“You shouldn’t wander off like that.” Dean nags at you. On any other occasion, you would’ve rolled your eyes at it. Men trying to be all alpha and thinking you can’t defend yourself was the worst. But you can tell that Dean is different. He wasn’t protective because he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. Instead, he looked like he was just… too used to people around him getting hurt.

You could see that glimpse in his eyes, one that you recognized too well. The one that only came when you lost one too many people. 

“It’s okay.” You reassure him in a gentle voice, which he looks slightly surprised by. Seriously, how bad do these guys have it? “I know this house, it won’t hurt me.”

The brothers simply throw you an unsure look before all three of you continue to walk around the house. 

“I think we’re good, we burned the right bones.” Dean decides after you walk all throughout the house. There was no sign of anything weird, but that warm feeling was still draped around your shoulders. 

You frown, and while Sam and Dean are distracted looking down at what they called a “EMF”, you slip away into one of the rooms. The iron rod is still in your hand, the other one holding the candlestick in front of you. 

“You need to get out of here.” You almost jump out of your skin at that. Turning around immediately, you’re met with the gentle face of a beautiful woman. She was wearing a long, white slip dress. It looked old, a gothic style to it. Her eyes were wide and hollow, skin pale and feet bare. But the most important part was the fact that she was translucid and glitchy. 

And also the very clear bullet wound on her forehead.

You don’t even gasp, just freeze in your place. The one thing that keeps you from lunging the rod on your hands through her head was the fact that the blanket of warmth and safety around you had only gotten stronger the moment she appeared.

She continues to say something else, but her voice is choppy and she appears and disappears multiple times. 

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t understand what you’re saying.” You try talking to her gently.

She disappears and a second later she is standing right next to you. This time you do gasp. 

“Th… k-ngs… husb… lock of h…” She tried again, but it looked like she couldn’t stay corporeal for too long. You frown, trying to understand. 

“A lock? There’s a lock… in the house?” She appears once again in front of you, pouting in disappointment and shaking her head. You open your mouth, trying to guess again, but then something happens. Something that you had never experienced before and hope to never experience again. 

The ghost suddenly surges forward, right into you. For a moment, you feel nothing but icy cold all around you. And then, nothing. You can’t feel anything, and it is as if you’re riding shotgun in your own body. It takes you a second to process that you had just been possessed, and you have to admit, you don’t like it.

You still can see through your eyes, but your body is moving by itself. You don’t feel your hands, or legs, or anything really. You can’t even feel the way the iron bar in your hand very clearly burns the ghost, making her drop it to the floor with a loud ringing sound. 

There was a distant icy feeling, but it was mostly numb. You couldn’t move, or talk, or scream like you so desperately wanted. Instead, you could only watch as your body walked out of the room and towards where the brothers were calling your name.

“Jesus Christ.” Dean sighs in relief when you –or the ghost in your body– walks into the living room. “We’ve been calling for you like crazy. I told you you should–”

“Dean.” Sam interrupts, looking at you with wide eyes. In a mirror right behind his head, you notice how your eyes are empty, hollow, just like how the ghost’s had been. “She- I think she’s possessed.” 

Dean immediately turns towards you with a worried expression, and he points his gun at you. But his eyes show hesitation, and the ghost simply extends one of your hands forward, asking him to wait.

At a slow pace, your body makes its way around the living room to a bookshelf, the brothers’ eyes and barrels never leaving your direction. The ghost grabs a book– no, a journal, and opens it to a specific page.

She takes a step closer to Dean, who keeps his gun up but doesn’t pull the trigger. You watch as you- she- your body? God, this was confusing. 

You watch as your body turns the journal around so Dean can see what’s written in there. You catch a glimpse of the words “husband” and “funeral” and “Mrs. Taylor”. You try to recall where you saw that last name recently, and then it comes back to you. The tombstone you were leaning against, the corpse Sam and Dean had burned. 

Mr. Alexander Taylor.

But most importantly, you find a lock of hair carefully tied with a ribbon at the bottom of the page. 

Oh, you think, that is what she was trying to tell me. The killing spirit is her husband and she has a lock of his hair.

Sam and Dean seem to understand it at the exact same time as you, and Sam quickly grabs the journal and starts to look through his backpack for something, probably his matches.

“Uhm, thank you, I guess.” Mutters Dean while scratching his head, and you wish you could glare at him. 

Really, that’s it?

“We read that you died in a fire soon after your husband’s death.” He continues, looking into your eyes that weren’t your eyes. “So how are you here?”

You can feel the spirit inside of you hesitate, scared.

They’re just trying to help you, so you can finally rest, you think as hard as you can. You’ve taken care of me for years, and I will always be thankful, but it is time you go in peace.

You don’t even know if she can hear you, but it seems to do the trick. She moves her– or your hand and slips something out of your finger. For a moment, you think it is one of your rings, and you are about to protest.

It took a lot of time to find good quality gothic rings in thrift stores just for a ghost to steal one of them. 

But instead, in your hand there’s a ring you had never seen before. You don’t know how it made its way into your finger, but it was beautiful. Silver, with delicate details all around, and three beautiful red gems. 

A wedding ring. 

She hands it to Dean, and you feel your lips twist into a devastatingly resigned smile before the icy cold sensation comes back.

In less than a second, you’re falling to the floor. Your body is shaking, and you’re so, so, so cold. 

Dean quickly throws the ring towards his brother and kneels next to you, hand moving up to rest on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He says your name in urgency, and even in between all the freezing, you can’t help but appreciate how nice it sounds. “Hey, look at me. What happened?”

You turn to him shakily, trying to speak but shivering too hard.

“S-she’s gone… the r-room… she-” You try, but your teeth are chattering harshly. Dean quickly slips off his leather jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. 

You are immediately enveloped by the smell of whiskey, and motor oil, and something so dark and musky and somehow sweet that could only be Dean. 

His hands rub up and down your arms, pulling you closer to his chest as you drown in his jacket and shake like a freezing puppy.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He murmurs against the top of your head. His arms feel good around you, even as you feel like you’re submerged in ice water. “You can explain it to us later, for now just concentrate on getting warm.”

“I-I don’t wanna get po-possessed ever a-gain.” You somehow manage to get out, making Dean laugh, his chest rumbling against your side.

“Yeah, let’s hope you never do.” You can hear the smile on his words, and it makes you smile too. 

“We should take her to the Impala, Dean.” Sam suggests once he finishes burning the objects. “The house is still cold from the spirits, and we can use the car heater.”

Dean looks down at you as you tremble, pale and still bitterly cold. He nods, leaning back, and you immediately miss his warmth.

“Can you get up, sweetheart?” He asks, hands hovering around you but still letting you try to stand up for yourself. You appreciate it.

You start by kneeling on the floor, and it works out fine. Then Sam offers you a hand in support. You take it, plant your feet on the floor, and try straightening up.

You stay up for about two seconds before your knees give up and you’re falling forward. It is thanks to Dean’s hunter reflexes that you don’t end up face-planting the floor. 

His arms are back around you in a second, and you cling to him for dear life.

“I’m s-sorry.” You mutter as your teeth still chatter. “I-I can’t-”

“It’s okay” Dean says gently, holding you against him with just one arm as he secures his jacket around your shoulders. Before you can get another word out, he’s already picking you up.

You let out a loud shriek as one of his arms wrap around your middle and the other one rests under your knees. Soon enough, Dean is holding you bride-style. And the worst part is, he doesn’t look to struggle at all. His arms are huge under you, and he walks back to his car with you in arms without breaking a sweat. 

The night outside is warm enough that your teeth stop chattering once you reach the parking lot, but you are still shivering and shaking. 

Dean leaves you sitting comfortably in the backseat of his car before sliding into the driver’s seat and turning on the heater as hot as possible. You are sure him and Sam will end up sweating from the warm air, but you appreciate it. 

You sit there in the back of the Impala, brown leather jacket still swallowing you and head resting against the window as Sam and Dean discuss the details of the case, all without knowing that you would spend many more nights just like this in the future. 

And there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

NOTES: I am still figuring this whole Tumblr thing out, but comment or inbox me if you wanna be on my taglist! (did I do that right?).

[ailoda]

ᯓ★ favourite writers

@luveline

@whirlybirbs

@pellucid-constellations

@aquaticmercy

@wkemeup

@intrepidacious

ᯓ★ favourite fics

Undisclosed - @pellucid-constellations

Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.

I remember this being one of the first series I read after coming back to Tumblr. I wasn't one for Marvel AU’s at the time, as I preferred to read canon or adjacent fics, but I took a chance on this one and it completely changed everything. I absolutely loved it. It has the perfect amount of fluff and angst, and a plot to rival some of my favourite published work. The story and background are so well-placed and developed that it was too easy to fall in. I devoured this in I think two days - non-stop reading until I finished. It completely opened me up to AU’s. I come back so often as a sort of comfort read, and no matter how many times I’ve read it, I still get excited and devour it like I’ve never read it before. One of the first fics I thought of when compiling my 2024 favourites.

Just One Kiss - @sarahwroteathing

Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

This was the first 40s!Bucky fic that I read and is to blame for my 40s!Bucky obsession that has lasted all these months. I was completely enthralled from the first paragraph, and it stands as my favourite 40s!Bucky fic and easy my top 3 series overall. I religiously come back when looking for a comfort read or for getting my 40s!Bucky fix. It's amazing how well the characters (both canon and not) have been interpreted and developed, and as simple as the plot feels, it just works so well. There's no need for any plot twists or big moments to push the story along; the characters and the way they all naturally feed and contribute to the overall plot are more than enough. It's written so well that, despite reading it well over 10 times, I still feel all the emotions and feel just as empty finishing it as I did when I first read it. I really wish this was a printed book that I could have on my shelf; that I can always reach for and never be deleted (pls don't ever delete it!). It’s the cutest fic that has me laughing, crying, and kicking my feet no matter how many times I read it.

Twin Flames / Two Sides of The Same Coin - @anonymityisfunwriter

Grumpy x Sunshine Series

I couldn't decide on one - they both HAD to be included. These are to blame for my falling completely in love with fan fiction after a decade away. I hadn’t had Tumblr in so many years and decided to re-download during my Masters for some escapism, and boy did this deliver. The dynamic is amazing - the way they bounce off each other is a testament to the amazing writing and character development. The way they manage to create a sunshine!reader with so much backstory without it feeling childish or forced is, again, a testament to the amazing writing and planning, and just…*chef’s kiss*. Despite taking some plot points from canon films, I really enjoyed how these scenes didn't feel boring or repetitive. Similarly, I love how the reader is able to fit in seamlessly into scenes that we had already seen and bounce off an already established dynamic between Sam and Bucky. The thought and effort that must have gone into the reader's character development, never mind the series as a whole, is so evident. I have re-read and re-read these for months and will continue to do so until the end of time.

By Any Other Name - @wkemeup

When Agent Barnes is assigned undercover within Hydra, he finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife to the head of Hydra… you. 

I re-read this quite recently and it felt like finding an old song that you loved hidden in your playlist. I've now re-read it twice in the span of a week, it's just so good. This fic stood out to me partly because of its writing and interesting and well-thought-out plot, but also because of how well-written I feel the reader is. The reader is multi-faceted and far from one dimensional, which I've found is a barrier for me reading these types of fics. While the reader embodies typical traits associated with feminine protagonists in this genre - such as submissiveness and other conventionally 'feminine' attributes - these are not portrayed as weaknesses in the typical sense. What I mean is that they are reframed to be strategic strengths. She wields her femininity and perceived lack of power in a wholly make-dominated environment to her advantage. At the same time, her 'true' strengths compliment these qualities, creating a balanced and complex character that also has room for the development we see throughout the fic. A defining aspect of the reader's personality that I really enjoy is her self-awareness; they know when and how to act, and when to hold back, making her a compelling and empowered figure in a story and genre where that is so difficult to achieve.

From the Void, with Love - @whirlybirbs

Watch two forever-lovers fall in love again. 

This was my first Loki series, and boy was it a good one to start with. I'm not one to read Loki fics usually as I can never usually find ones that entice me, but I was so happy to have stumbled upon this! A testament to the planning and writing ability was the way the reader’s involvement in the TVA storyline was interweaved without it feeling unnatural or forced. I love how the inner-workings of the reader's mind is included, and how their thoughts and feelings are so seamlessly interwoven into scenes without it feeling clunky or taking away from what's going on. I also really enjoyed the comedic elements, particularly the thoughts and reactions the reader had to things happening and how they bounced off Loki's dialogue so well. I found myself laughing so many times. It's one of those fics where you wish you could go back and read it for the first time again.

When It All Falls Apart - @bucky-bucket-barnes

The fate of the universe was in your hands. Bucky and you had been sent to retrieve the soul stone, a seemingly simple task. Unbeknownst to you, there was a hefty price to pay for such an exchange. You’re able to return to Earth, but it’s soon apparent part of you was left in Vormir.

This has to be one of my favourite fics of all time, but I also hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. It feeds my deepest, most love-deprived soul. I personally feel that angst is so challenging to write and write well. Part of why I feel that way is because I feel that good angst needs to convey emotions and feelings effectively because it's about expressing the character's inner world and guiding how they feel to drive and guide the plot forward. A difficult aspect of this is ensuring the reader feels and understands the character's emotions rather than letting their own feelings cloud their perception and misinterpret the character's rationale and journey - keeping the story's emotional trajectory clear and true to the characterisation you have set. This is something that this writer can do so so very well. I cried the first time reading it, and the emotions still hit me after reading it over and over again. If anyone watches K-Drama’s, this has Uncontrollably Fond vibes. Such a good read if you’re looking for that heart-ripping angst.

My Own Soul’s Warning - @aquaticmercy

You, an immortal being, fall in love with the very mortal Bucky Barnes. You would do anything for him, even if it meant you had to strike a deal with Death herself.

This is another fic that I wish I could go back and read it again for the first time. I fell in love immediately. It's the fic that cemented @aquaticmercy one of my favourite writers. Well, that and the fact that they have some of the most intriguing and well-thought-out plot ideas that I've seen. It's difficult to choose a single fic really, but I cannot not choose 'My Own Soul's Warning' - it's a difficult one to compete with for me. The writing is one of the best I’ve read and the flow and feel of the story is second to none. It seems that with every new addition to this story, it just gets better and better (which I thought was impossible). They are able to narrate feelings and emotions so beautifully that it's impossible to not feel what the reader is experiencing. One of my favourite aspects is how they are able to think of things I would never have even thought of, and how they are able to write and explain these things and communicate feelings so well. Another aspect as to why this is so beautifully written, and why @aquaticmercy is a favourite, is when a writer can - without being explicit in their writings - craft a story where the depth of emotions is palpable without needing to be spelt out, leaving readers to grasp and feel them on their own. Where the reader is feeling more than their own emotions and feelings in response to the story, but also what the writer has curated and intended them to feel. Being able to do this without explicit writing is so difficult, and part of the reason why they are one of my favourite writers in general. I've tried to explain my deep feelings for this fic in a way that hopefully makes sense, but it's difficult to write everything I love because there is just so much to say. I am in love and we are married.

[sanesaviour]

Omg can’t believe I finished drawing all of them (at least ones I’ve planed)

MJ🌹

Headcanons:

1. She is super popular, everyone knows her, everyone wants to be friends with her, she is invited to every party… but still she likes to spend most of the time with Peter and Harry

2. She lowkey roasts Flash Thompson every chance she gets, especially when he tries to act tough

3. She figured out Peter was Spiderman way before he told her - his excuses were just too bad. She just waited for him to admit it himself… she knows like everything about Spiderman, if she ever got web shooters she’d use them way better than Peter did his first time and she keeps a hidden stash of spidey photos she’s too embarrassed to admit she takes for fun, despite being a serious journalist

4. She and Peter are childhood best friends, they went through lot together and their friendship is most valuable thing for both of them and even if they argue they always make up quickly, they know each other too well to stay mad for long

5. I think Harrys and MJs relationship is bit complicated, they went through fighting for Peters attention (Harry was 2nd friend of Peter ever so MJ was naturally jealous about it), to being “friends” just to make Peter happy, to secretly crushing on each other, to being real friends… but after Venom incident Harrys and Peters friendship strained and so did his friendship with MJ, she still wants to help him tho

6. Luke & MJ - Luke is one of the team who gets along with MJ best (besides Peter), he sees MJ as Peter’s anchor and keeps an eye on her whenever things get too dangerous

7. She always admired Ava’s no nonsense attitude but on the other side Ava at first did not like MJs party girl vibes at all… but after she get to know her better, bc of Peter, they actually make quite good duo and they start spending lot of their free time together

8. Sam is really impressed by her from beginning, he tries to be friends with her so hard, he just can’t keep eyes of her (she is naturally really beautiful) and she knows it! She randomly drops lines like “you are such an amazing FRIEND” just to make sure he doesn’t get any wrong ideas. But she likes him tho but only as friend… also after some time MJ has theory that Sam is way too invested in pages dedicated to make fun of Spiderman or just mocking Spiderman in general. She has notebook labeled “Nova (?)” where she gathers evidence (after finding out that Peter is Spiderman it’s pretty easy to find out who are the other members of spidey team lol, also when they find out she knows they immediately starts to blame each other for telling her and she just hit them with “you really think it was that hard to guess”)

9. MJ thinks Danny is weird and his calm zen wisdoms sometimes gets on her nerves… she respect him, but still thinks he’s weirdest person in their circle

10. Even tho she is not superhero, she saved the team before - usually by using her investigative skills or just quick thinking.

[missmarveledsblog]

What best friends are for (Bucky Barnes x Reader ) 18+

SUMMARY : When john walker makes off handed remarks about the newest female avenger not taking into the account she is the female best friend of bucky , well it snaps something in the former assassin , when he goes to confess his feeling he catches reader in a situation of her own .

warnings : yes this bitch is a smut so if under 18 do not read . it's a bucky barnes smut that should be warning enough, goofy fluffy smutty fun

"STANK DID YOU EAT THE LAST OF THE POPTART " YN voice called through the compound .

"Ok first of stank really .... that was good but uncalled for second of all before you go blaming me remember point break is the pop tart addict in this household baby avenger " Tony grinned thinking he got away with it little did he know the evidence was all over his black sabbath t-shirt.

" For a genius mind stark you sure are dumb thor's been in new asgard for last 3 months and you've pop tart all over your stupid face and shirt " her foot tapped the floor increasingly annoyed. After her long as mission she just wanted to burrito herself in a blanket eat pop tarts and binge a series or two . Tony praying for a miracle and looking for an exit strategy when his miracle walked in with Steve and nat .

" hey Yn what's wrong " Nat being Nat making sure one Y/N was ok and two well any reason to slap start was welcome .

"Stink ate the last of my poptart " she pouted breaking not only nats heart but Tony miracle escape plan bucky opening his mouth and saving the day .

" come on малышка ( baby girl) . I hid some for you " bucky grinned as her face lit up . Ever since y/n came to the compound he swore life gotten a million times better , this woman who was sarcastic ball of sunshine . It also helped that she's most beautiful woman he's ever seen , spent most of his time making sure he could make that smile happen .

He never believed in love and first sight til she walked into meeting two years ago asking fury " aye nicky where can a girl get some good food around here " . The room went silent Tony being the first to break out laughing the rest following suit some agent paled at the words being so chill with one of the scariest men in the world in their eyes .

......

As now sat in a Burrito cocooned blanket , her eyes couldn't help stealing glances at the beautiful specimen she called a bestfriend the light of life itself and the supplier of a poptart habit that could rival the god of thunder himself .

" I've to tell you something buckshot it kinda of important .... you saved dipshits ass today I could be on the raft by now " he chuckled thinking it was her sense of humour when in fact it was a confession changed because she chickened out midway through , common problem she had around the man .

" yeah I just couldn't deal with the headlines imagine iron man dies due to poptart issue , fellow avenger charged " he tried to hold his laughter .

"Well well well who do we have here " her whole body cringed at the voice behind, there stood John walker America's wish version of Steve Rogers stood his eyes draping over her body , making her want to bathe in a volcano alone .

"Ah the poster child for Chad's everywhere is gracing us with his presence what do we owe the dishonour " y/n smiled so sweetly .

"Yn be nice he only here to collect something for fury " Sam quipped as he walked into the room .

" well buckshot , birdbrain I'm off to soak my troubles away enjoy wannabe cap " they watch her flip john the bird and skipped off not wanting to be in the room any longer making bucky want to pout at the loss of her company ... or at least he thought he wasn't but .....

" you got it bad my man I'd skip a girl like that she nothing but trouble, I could take her for you I'm sure I could handle her better since i am more this time " John stupid mouth began to move while Sam was texting nat to get John size for casket .

" A dame like her doesn't need a dipshit like you and son you couldn't handle her, she would kill you quicker than you could draw you a breath out of your measly body " he snarled as his body stiffened at thought of this man even trying to get her attention .

" FURYS BITCH MR STANK WOULD LIKE YOU TO COME TO THE LAB " .

"YN STOP HACKING F.R.I.D.A.Y BUT ALSO NICE ONE ON THE FURY'S BITCH " Tony voice echoed through the intercom .

"Fucking bitch , nevermind she's lost her chance " John snarled leaving Sam and bucky laughing til the cried .

"Language " .

" really steve " Sam laughing harder than he was before .

"It just slips out but I will admit Yn hacking F.r.i.d.a.y was hilarious I wish I was here to see John or Tony's face " steve couldn't hold the chuckle coming out . Bucky head moving in different direction, that direction was to her , for two years she was in his head non stop and if she wasn't in his head , the two were doing everything together and the countless night he thought of her under him didn't help either .

" I gotta go tell her " suddenly braved he ran to find her , his own thoughts not wanting to waste anymore time . He couldn't think straight knowing john walker or any man could try stake their claim .

As she lay in the tub overjoyed at latest achievement wishing she'd seen John stupid face falter when F.r.i.d.a.y called him furys bitch but also knowing she could get the footage later in the evening . Yet her mind kept wandering to her best friend , how he would cheer her up , make her days brighter and how he made her clenched your thighs . past the point of feeling guilty and becoming wetter as her mind thought about him fucking little pussy hard . nor she couldn't help the hand slipping down between her legs like it had a mind of it own , running it through her folds as thoughts about bucky thrusting in her pussy while a firm grasp lost in her hair , the sickening sound of skin slapping against each other .

"Oh fuck. Fuck yes just like that sarge " she whimpered circling now puffy Clit . moans drowning out the noise of the bedroom door opening as bucky made his way in .

He didn't want to stay but hearing those moans fuck it he felt like he died and went to heaven , angels singing just for him . His body betraying his mind as he opened the bathroom door the sight nearly killed him alone beautiful soaking wet body arched and sweet moans filling the room .

" yess just like that sarge fuck " those moans and sloshing water like a sweet melody to his ears . The sentence that stop her dead in your tracks a deep growl making her eyes flying open " FUCK doll you make a lot of pretty sound but I can make you scream them " . Before she could react bucky kissed as he stripped not wanting to waste a second more . It felt right, like it was normal for them ,something in it it that made sense . Moaning into the kiss she rose from the bath pulling back baring herself for her best friend .

" please bucky " she cried as her lips hit his again .

The clash of tongues and teeth the raw passion hitting both. Knowing the border between bestfriend's was so far away , would need to flight to reach it again . None of it mattered the feelings clear enough in the kiss alone knew this was real .

" please sarge I need you " sweet little kisses down his neck . There and then bucky knew he was never letting go .

" so needy my little baby doll " grinning as he took her nipple in his mouth wanting to hear those moans coming from her mouth like he was addicted to them , fuck he was addicted to her and he was finally getting his fill. Dreams becoming reality kissing down this body, one he dreamt of most nights to keep the nightmares at bay . Each touch giving him the clear sign he was one causing it. her body was his to have and he wasn't giving that up . The smell of her arousal taunting and teasing to send him almost primitively feral . It was sweetest smell that ever filled his nostrils . Jesus he knew it would be sweeter than anything he could or would ever taste , almost like the apple that tempted eve . Kissing soft plush thighs as he took in the vision of her bare pussy staring right at him . It was better than any dream or thought he could ever have .

" please James stop teasing me " .

"What do you want baby doll use your words " he wanted to hear those sweet lips tell him .

" I need to feel you ... touch me, fuck me please sarge " .

That was it he was gone eye so dark with lust as he licked teasingly long stripes of your folds.

" Oh fuck baby doll you taste heavenly " his tongue exploring her folds like it was his sole mission , before his mouth greedily sucked her clit. too good she was sure she drowned in the tub and this was heaven . Crying out in pleasure as the man she was undisputedly in love with devoured her like it was his last meal and first meal all at one . the feeling of his tongue alone had the coil tighten with each movement but when he began to slip a finger in it felt like heaven on earth .

" oh fuck bucky i'm going to ... .hey what the fuck" she cried at the lost of contact , brows furrowed in such confusion .

" im sorry baby but when you cum i wanna feel you on my cock " he chuckled at her desperate whines ." you ready doll i need your words " he beautiful ocean filled eyes stared into her soul and telling him with a little nod.

" please bucky i want you to you to fuck me " pussy clenching at nothing desperately hoping for for some release . the pornagraphic moan that came out of her mouth bucky could of came at that alone, she really didn't understand it , how much of a hold on the man she had from the first time he ever saw her and yet she was gonna find out .

" fuck baby your pussy was made for me so tight you're mine baby no one can fuck this pussy i'm gonna make sure shes ruined for anyone else " he groaned each thrust getting harder and deeper .

" fuck bucky i'm your only yours , i've only ever been yours " she cried in pleasure never feeling something so perfect ,the coil tightening more and more, .

" cum for me baby be my good girl ".

the dirty filth coming from his mouth was enough to push over the edge walls clenching around his cock and screams of pleasure filling the room was enough to send bucky over edge his seed hitting her cervix and painting the walls of her cunt .

the room filled with panting both in their own pleasure filled states as bucky lay beside laying her on his chest so tenderly a completely different contrast in his movement before . he couldn't love her anymore than he did and yet it felt like it was .

" i meant what i said buckshot im yours i dont think i could be with anyone else " she said nuzzling herself further into his neck.

" and i'm yours baby doll i always was that day you walked into the meeting i was a goner " kissing her head then her lips . both hearts feeling complete of love as they both dosed off clung together in perfect bliss .

bonus :

"remind me to add sound proof to her room " a scarred tony walked out out the room .

" so furys bitch i see you were wrong it seems our soldier can indeed handle our little spit fire "nat smirked walking to her room .

" as much as i love that they proved him wrong i am traumatised and steve's been a tomato i think they broke him " sam wince joking as his super soldier friend was blushing beat red .

both following the widows lead and leaving a defeated walker to collect his ego and files wanting to leave as soon as possible.