#continue to save that hug for Sam | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buckyalpine · 2 years ago

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Hello Shay ! I’ve been loving the civilian!reader fics, and I had an idea for a fic like that, but with a twist 🫣 reader is bucky’s sweet civilian gf, literal definition of sunshine, basically a lover, not a fighter. She’s a ballet teacher at a local studio (hint hint wink wink). And she lives with him and the team at the tower. One night, while the team is out on a mission, Hydra ambushes the tower and tries to take the reader hostage. And when they learn about it, they rush back home in order to save her. Meanwhile, Bucky and Tony check the footage just to see his precious sweet girl absolutely kicking ass. And I mean hardcore, like she even does the entire widow thigh-neck move. And everyone is like??? And Bucky’s just absolutely fucking HORNY bc “hell I’ve been in between those thighs so many times, you’re telling me I could’ve DIED???”

okay YESSSSS we live for a badass gf who appears to be nothing but sweet sunshine and killer on the inside. Fluffy fluffy and smutty smutty

"Be back soon, darling" Bucky cooed, kissing you again and again while everyone boarded the jet, getting in a few more pecks before having to leave on a mission.

"C'mon lover boy, the faster we get going, the faster you get back to your sweetheart!" Tony yelled, shaking his head watching Bucky look a you with puppy eyes, not wanting to leave his sunshine behind. "He's so down bad, I swear"

"Can you blame him, she's so cute" Sam smiled, watching the two of you cling onto each other for a few extra seconds, your form hidden, engulphed in Bucky's thick arms. "Look, you can't even see her when tin man hugs her"

"I'll miss you baby" you kissed Bucky's pouty lips, caressing his scruffy cheek before letting him run off, your cheeks heating up when he blew you another kiss before the doors closed.

"You're a little sap" Nat teased while Bucky blushed, strapping on his gear as the engine roared to life, rumbling as they took off. Bucky had 0 shame in everyone knowing how much he loved you and it started from the day he met you. He got called out immediately, questioned over the dopey smile he had on his face, the blush on his cheeks instantly giving him away.

Soon after you'd started dating, Bucky wanted you closer to him and he didn't have to ask Tony twice; his room was moved to a floor above so you'd have more space to live together. The last thing Bucky wanted was for you to get hurt because of his job. He felt more relaxed knowing you were in he safety of the compound on days where he was away.

"Who would've thought Bucky would be the romantic type"

"I did" Steve groaned, having seen Bucky's flirty side for years but he knew this was different. He hadn't seen his bestfriend like this before, clearly in utterly and desperately in love with you.

"It's adorable" Sam laughed while Bucky continued to smile, scrolling through his phone looking at pictures of you. His camera rolled was filled with various images of you baking, cuddling, sleeping, doing the most mundane things in the world, each making his heart flutter. He felt a pang in his chest, momentarily worried about if you were safe without him, the same anxiety he always felt whenever he had to leave you.

You stretched across the sofa, sipping on some hot chocolate and putting on your favorite comfort movie, deciding to have a relaxing night to yourself since the compound was empty. You didn't like when Bucky had to leave but you knew it was part of his job, slipping the fuzzy throw blanket over you shoulders before hitting play.

It had hardly been a few minutes before the screen went black making you blink, wondering if you'd sat on the remote by accident. Suddenly the rest of the lights turned off, a blasting sound coming from the entrance before you heard rushed footsteps nearing you.

Your heart started to race, having no time to hide or think, coming face to face with a number of masked men all towering over you. One grabbed you, pulling out a camera and hitting record, shoving it close to your face with a sinister smile.

"Look who we have, soldat"

The jet hadn't been flying for long, a sudden beeping alarm from the security system alerting Tony to check the cameras. His eyes grew wide, seeing the Hydra logo take over the screen before switching the live footage from the hacked system.

"Guys! There's been an attack on the compound!" Tony shouted from the computer, everyone rushing to see what came on screen, billows of smoke emitting from the main wing. Suddenly the screen went black, replaced with a man swearing a black mask, walking around the common room.

"Welcome Mr. Stark" His voice was thick with a Russian accent, the video panning to show the other agents infiltrating the tower. "Where is our soldat"

"You stay the fuck away from my girl" Bucky growled, his heart hammering in his chest, nearly crying when he saw someone grab you and shove you into a chair.

"She's precious to you, isn't she. We'll see you soon" he laughed, before the stream cut off leaving Bucky wanting to scream in frustrating, anxiety clouding all his thoughts, just wanting to get back to you to protect you.

"We have to go help her!" Bucky paced up and down while Tony rerouted the jet, speeding back to save you. "How the fuck do I know what's going on, there has to be something" He pleaded, hating that he no longer had eyes on you.

"Hold on, let me get into the back up feed" Tony tapped away at different keys, getting into the security system, selecting the camera for the common room where you were being held. "Here, I got it! I-Holy shit..."

The sound of screaming screeched through the speaker but it wasn't coming from you.

No.

"B-Barnes, you're girl just killed someone with her thighs" Tony stared at the footage with wide eyes while Bucky and the others watching in awe as your legs wrapped around one of the agents' heads, snapping his neck before flipping over and attacking another one of your assailants.

Bucky nearly choked, watching the men drop to the floor like flies, your arms and legs holding onto the men with a vice like grip until they fell, hardly breaking a sweat each time.

"Do you understand how many time's I've been in between those thighs, you're telling me she could've killed me?!!" Bucky practically moaned, seeing you fight, all his anxiety melting into lust, his cock straining against the thick material of his tac suit.

"Jesus Bucky, you're gonna poke an eye out" Sam's face scrunched up while Bucky adjusted himself, biting his lip to keep from making a sound, his tip leaking, breathing out a sigh of relief seeing you perfectly safe.

"Can't help me, look at her. Better count me out for movie night, m'gonna spent the whole night fuckin'-

"Okay, got it, you're a ridiculous, horny, pervert, and y/n probably won't walk for a week, will you please put that away" Sam shook his head, walking away when he tent in Bucky's pants got worse.

"I'm sorry, we've been housing a Hydra killer all this time?" Tony shook his head as the jet landed, still in disbelief over what everyone had just seen, both impressed and 100% scared of what else you were capable of. "You sure know how to pick em' Barnes"

As soon as the jet hit the floor, Bucky was sprinting off into he compound, running to find you, relief flooding his veins when he saw you sipping on your tea, seated on the couch again. You jumped up from your spot, jumping into your boyfriends arms, clinging onto him while the others also entered, glad to see you were okay. They got to work, clearing up the room, rounding up the few agents that were knocked out for questioning while also giving you and Bucky some privacy.

"Babygirl" Bucky hugged you tightly in his arms, burying his face into your neck, inhaling your soft scent, hoisting you up so your legs were wrapped around his waist. "Are you okay doll, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine Bucky" you reassured him, pecking his soft lips, letting him check you over before feeling satisfied you were okay, not finding a scratch on your body.

"Everything okay Buck?" you cocked your head noticing your boyfriends shift in demeanor, his soft baby blue eyes darkening into something else, biting his lip.

"Baby, I had to hold back from pulling my cock out on the jet and touching myself, you know how much that hurt? How hard I was the entire time, struggling not to jet my dick off watching how sexy you looked" He walked you up to your shared bedroom, his erection shamelessly pushing against your clothed core, not bothering to hide it one bit. "Where have you been hiding all that princess"

"Not hiding Bucky, just-never needed to do that" You shrugged shyly, squeezing your thigs around his waist playfully, making him groan as he dropped you on the bed.

"Can't wait to keep my face between these pretty legs that could kill me" He groaned, slicing your clothes off with his pocket knife before diving in without a care in the world, eating you like a man starved, tapping your thighs to wrap around his head.

"C'mon doll, squeeze em'" he moaned, humping against the bed feeling your muscles flex, his eyes rolling back, nearly cumming against the mattress at the strength he could feel, knowing you were holding back from hurting him.

you could kill him if you want.

Fuck, he was going to cum so fast.

"Oh god! Bucky!! PLease! D-DOn't STOP"

"That's it gorgeous, so good to me, so fuckin' pretty. won't last baby, gonna cum for you!"

"They're going at it like rabbits, didn't you sound proof their room after the first incident?"

"I did. This is after the sound proofing"

"Gonna fuck your thighs next baby, you got my cock so hard, almost creamed my pants like a teenager watching, you, oh shit-shit-m'so sensitive, keep clenching around my dick, that's it-fuckkk"

"Jesus christ, it's been an hour"

"Did you forget he has the super soldier serum? They're not gonna stop any time soon"

"I'M CUMMING JAMES"

"Gonna fucking cum for you y/n, OH FUCK YESSS you're so sexy when you fight baby, m'gonna fuckin' cum again, I can't stop"

"He's really gonna go all night, isn't he"

"Can you blame him?"

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bettystonewell · 3 months ago

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TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 7

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k words

Chapter Warnings: SMUT including knotting, claiming, and marking; language, references to past sexual abuse, fluff, Dean being an overprotective alpha, soulmate bonding

A/N: *Holdsbreathandhitspost*

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over, arms leaning on his thighs, Dean twisted the small pill bottle in his hands, listening as each tablet fell to the bottom. There weren’t many, six at most, and they rattled around in there, waiting for him to open the lid and take one out.

Or man up and throw them in the trash like he’d planned.

The problem was, he knew how his body would react to not taking the daily suppressant. He’d experienced it before. And if his inner alpha was overprotective of you now, it was about to turn into a possessive dick the second the drug’s effects wore off in T minus twenty-four hours, if he…

No.

Not if.

He was doing this. He was gonna claim you and make you his.

Which is why even though the trashcan was only three feet in front of him, he still sat there unmoving from the memory-foam cushioning his ass…

Fuck. Why was this so hard?

He put the pills down on his bedside table and leant back into the mattress, fishing his phone out from his jean pocket. The denim hugging his hips was too tight, and he had to lift himself up a few inches to yank the device free, unlocking it with a couple of taps and a swipe up.

His fingers continued to work the touch screen, locating contacts, flicking down to the letter J, and hitting the green call button. At least there was one thing he wasn’t hesitating over.

He heard the click and a familiar voice fondly speak his name before he’d even brought it up to his ear.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Hey, Jody. How’s it going?” Dean stood up off the bed and moved to the closet.

“Good. Although I’m a little surprised to hear you ask me that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The door creaked in protest, as did his back, though it cracked more than creaked when he arched over to reach his green duffle he’d thrown on the floor after the hunt in Iowa. The couple of weapons he hadn’t bothered to put away hit against each other as the bag swayed and gravity played with their weight.

“Just that you don’t call me unless you need something or someone’s dead. Oh god. Is Sam okay? What have you boys gotten into now?”

“Alright, first off, that’s insulting.” He emptied the contents onto the bed, pulling out a shirt that had wound its way around his shotgun. “And second.” He brought the fabric up to his nose for a sniff test. It needed washing, or burning with added salt. The remnants of nameless monster guts clung to the collar, and he didn’t hesitate to throw it out. Those pills though... “Everything’s fine. Sammy’s alive last time I checked.

“I wanted to know how you were. What’s wrong with that?” He caught the phone between his neck and shoulder, freeing his hands up to open the chamber of his prized weapon. The racking was rather loud when he closed it back again, and he grimaced. Jody was going to notice that.

“Nothing,” she said. “But that’s not why you’re calling.”

Why did he attract people who could see right through him? “Well, ah, to be honest, I need a favour.” He took a long breath in, preparing himself to deliver his news. “I met my soulmate and—”

“What?” Her high-pitched squeal had him dropping his shoulder and her. “Are you sure?”

Seriously! It’s like she was trying to cut him deep. “What do you mean, am I sure? I know my own damn initials,” he shouted down at his phone. Luckily, it had only landed on the bed. He did not have the patience or time to get a new one.

He ditched the shotgun and picked up Jody, bringing her back to his ear.

“So you’re no longer running solo, huh? Finally claimed someone! What are they? An omega, a beta? Or another alpha like you?” She chuckled. “I’d love to see that.”

‘Bitch.’

‘Dude. This is Jody.’

‘She’s insulting our mate.’

‘No, she’s insulting you, you dick.’

“Ah, an omega, and I haven’t claimed her yet,” Dean said, cringing when his inner alpha interrupted him again. His eyes searched for the pill bottle and gave it a once over. No, no. This was gonna be hell, but he’d grin and bear it. “That’s why I was calling—”

It was mid-afternoon when he pulled up in the expansive car park the next day. Dean had chosen a space at the back of the lot, leaving at least two free ones in between the Impala, and nowhere near the return bays. The last thing he needed was some asshole being careless with their cart and scratching Baby’s sleek paint job.

He shifted the stick into P, shut her engine off, and released a loud, drawn-out sigh, before turning to you and your smiling face. It was the only thing making the inevitable onslaught of other people and his first ever venture into Walmart worthwhile.

If he had his way, you’d be sitting out front of a secluded Gas n Sip. There was nothing wrong with gas station snacks and take out. At least that’s the argument he’d used against you. Needless to say, he’d failed. You had the doe-eyed look down pat and gave even Sammy a run for his money.

The leather squeaked beneath him as he reached over you and opened the glove box. He dug through the fake IDs and old maps that had no hope of leaving the small compartment anytime soon and retrieved his 1911, tucking it into the waistband of his pants like usual. When he sat back up, he found you staring at him in disbelief. “What?” he asked.

“You’re taking that?”

His jaw tightened. “I always carry it with me. You know that.”

“Yeah, but…we’re getting groceries. What are you expecting to happen in a grocery store?”

“Nothing.” Try everything. “But you can never be too careful.” Wolves like Garth had to buy their raw steaks from somewhere. Not that the ordinary bullets he’d pre-loaded into the gun would kill anything other than a human. They’d slow the rest down, though. That was enough for him, and he’d keep telling himself that.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled, searching for the door handle.

Before he could squeeze his fingers against the cool metal, however, you had reached for his right and tugged at his arm. “You can wait here if you don’t want to go inside. I’m happy to—”

“Nope.” He gave one very forceful shake of his head. “Absolutely not.” There was no way he was letting you out of his sight with your impending heat. Screw his rut.

Your pheromones had been changing by the hour, making you smell the sweetest and most enticing you’d ever been. His inner alpha was driving him crazy, and had done the entire drive, chanting, ‘Mine,’ ‘My omega,’ and now it told him to ‘Bring the machete.’

If only he could.

‘I can’t hide a blade that big under my clothes,’ he reasoned. Although the demon knife wouldn’t hurt. It was a shame opening the trunk, with the devil’s trap on display in a place like this was bound to raise a few eyebrows. He did not want to draw any more attention to you.

Fuck. This was gonna be worse than hell. The rearview mirror was full of bodies and cars coming and going, and that was just the outside of the gigantic building.

Who knew how many more people were still inside? Plenty by the stench of it.

It was too late to change his mind, though. He looked at you, holding your purse all ready to go on your lap. Frowning when it finally dawned on him that of all the things you had to wear today, you’d chosen a dress that accentuated your curves.

He’d appreciated the view at lunch, but that was at a small town diner, somewhere off of route eighty-one. Now it was a different story, but you were clearly excited and while he didn’t for the life of him know why, he couldn’t just demand you waited here instead. That was as bad as you going in alone.

“C’mon,” he said, and climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him with the usual creak and groan.

Dean would rather chow down on burgers than run for ‘fun’ like Sam. He wasn’t afraid to admit it. But on that day, in the middle of the Sioux Falls Walmart’s parking lot, he jogged even though he wasn’t being chased for the first time in his adult life, scooting across the gravel to intercept you before you crossed the safety of the meaningless lines.

Your eyes traced over him, studying him with a wry smile, your scent spiking along with it, as did his interest.

He could hear your heartbeat if he listened carefully. It thrummed in his ears as quick as his was, but unlike him, you seemed to contain it well.

“Just think of it this way.” You patted his chest. “The more we buy, the longer we won’t have to leave Jody’s cabin.”

Now that was something he could get on board with, and though he thought it impossible in a place like this, his own mouth grew wide, drawing his blood back up and away from the conspicuous semi he was sporting.

The change didn’t last long.

“Woah.” He gripped your hand tighter and yanked it, making you stop. That fucking douche in the station wagon had come way too close to the curb for his liking. “Watch where you’re going, jackass!” he spat. His head following the rear bumper, oblivious to the other “dangers” the car park held.

‘She was almost hit.’

‘She’s fine.’

Your thumb moved to stroke the tops of his knuckles. “It was nowhere near us, Alpha.”

He turned to you with a furrowed brow at first, only picking up on your discomfort from his death grip when your other fingers started squirming under his. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said.

Your arm retreated with a shake of your wrist and he went for your lower back instead, guiding you with a gentle nudge and an extra look left for any more assholes who didn’t know how to drive.

The automatic doors opened as you both stepped onto the oversized mats and Dean beelined for the shopping carts grouped together on the side. Naturally, he needed to push yours. He’d be a purse-bitch if he had to, too. Anything to stop himself from acting rash and ripping your arm off again.

He let go of you, and yanked one out, swinging the steel trolley around with ease as if he were figure skating with it and reached for your waist when he had the thing facing in the direction of a second set of automated doors. The place was like airport security.

“Are they gonna let us leave when we’re done?” he whispered to you.

“Not if you break something with that.” Your hand came up to his shoulder and tugged on his flannel, veering to the right while pointing to a large sign that said fresh produce. “Come on. I wanna go here first”

Great. Vegetables. Not to mention the abundance of people wandering around there and the just as many aisles and fruit he’d never seen before.

How many apples did you need?

Because you passed by red and green ones, mountains of them, and even then, they were apparently all different. Grandmas. Mount Fuji’s. What the hell did golden delicious mean and would it go into a pie?

You stepped away from him to look at a display that was labelled Pink.

They weren’t like any ladies he’d ever seen. The colour didn’t come close to anyone’s, including yours.

In each subsequent aisle after, Dean was both awestruck and dumbstruck at the amount of variety the place had.

You led him past an entire rack of peanut butter, through a row of refrigerators that had him breathing out cold air from his nose, and he was still in doubt over what was in those cans that claimed to have a whole chicken in them. He was thankful you hadn’t stopped there to find out.

Soon enough though, your cart filled up to the point he found himself playing Tetris with its contents after discovering Walmart also sold booze.

Even if he didn’t drink it all on account of his rut, the case of his favourite beer he’d selected was coming with you and he was determined to make it work, with only a single banana being harmed in the process as he rearranged it all for a third time. He ditched the fruit on a shelf displaying margarita mixes and the two of you headed for the cashiers, his arm still wrapped around your waist.

He’d become a pro at steering the metal cage, though honestly, he could drive anything, and he was proud to say, you could leave the store as he’d had no accidents and no alpha had been harmed for looking at you.

Yet.

“Are you sure we need all this stuff?” he asked as you passed another couple with only half the things you had.

“This coming from the guy who had two slices of pie on top of his burger at lunch?”

Point taken, he supposed, but you’d eaten just as much. You’d had more than him, come to think of it. Lunch, breakfast, the night before. So when you patted his stomach, and he looked down at you grinning at him, he couldn’t help but return a knowing smile.

“You’ll thank me later,” you said.

He knew he would. In more ways than one.

Still on your way to the front, you passed the nesting department located opposite the cash registers. Of course, it was just another convenient ploy to gain some extra impulse buys from naïve omegas who hadn’t realised they needed that new blanket or another stuffy until they saw the giant pile of fluff.

To Dean’s distaste, you were also won over by the gimmick and he was pulled along for the ride.

Yes, he was annoyed. He wanted to get you home, maybe taste your pink lady before things really started, and definitely not add more crap to your cart. But he couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your hands glide over every piece of fabric that piqued your fancy.

Your fingers preened the threads. They stroked the tassels and the weird little fuzzy balls that stuck out like skin tags on an old person. Everything was falling into place, and he pushed all his grumbles aside.

Soon. Tomorrow at the latest, you would be his officially.

But while your inner omega delved into the world of fuzz and all things fluffy and he stood back contented with watching you, an elderly alpha whose back would snap if the wind blew at him too hard was also eyeing you as you picked up a certain colourful blanket that looked very familiar to Dean.

The fucking perv was hanging around, preying on omegas such as you. He had to be. And he had the nerve to walk up to you and ask your opinions on the thing, as if he was interested in buying one.

You humoured him, but Dean? He saw right through him.

So did the dick in his head. It was sending messages to his pants and his fingers flexed over the plastic handle of your cart, pulling his knuckles in and out of focus under his taut skin.

“I’ve had this before, but I used it in the living room when I wasn’t nesting too,” you said. “I find it holds scents better—”

As the old guy’s arm reached over to touch the blanket you were holding, Dean stepped in. That was too close for his liking and his inner alpha snarled, “She’s mine,” leading to the more sane version of himself, regretting not bringing the cart closer so he could push him with it. The floor was waxed enough for the wheels to slip and be blamed for any accident.

“This is your alpha?” the Master Roshi wannabe asked, looking Dean up and down. “But you haven’t—”

“Your nose works just fine, asshole,” Dean said through his teeth. “We’re here to get supplies for it, so fuck off.”

Dean turned his back on him and focused on you. His blood was boiling and had he been anywhere else, and that dick been any younger, he would’ve clipped him one.

As it was, he could feel the old guy still hanging behind him and he dared not turn around for fear of really doing something.

He took the blanket you were holding from your hands and inspected it before placing it on the edge of the pile. It wouldn’t do now that he’d put his mitts on it.

Your mouth opened, about to protest, but Dean flashed you a grin, picked up another that he pulled from the very centre. “It holds people’s scents, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then this is the one. Only touched you and me,” he said.

He was about to place the bundle on your piled shopping cart when he saw you pout. His hesitation, giving you the chance to pluck it out of his hands and into your arms where it stayed as he paid and drove, taking you to your final destination. A little cabin about thirty minutes north of the small city.

The first thing Dean noticed when he opened the door to Jody’s cabin was the pungent smell. “Is that…lavender?” he asked. His arm balancing the precious case of beer he’d found at Walmart.

“I’m surprised you know what it is.” You chuckled.

So did he, but it wasn’t like he selected the shampoo Sam bought. He just used whatever was on the shower shelf at the time and now recognised the word along with the purple packaging that meant the same flavour old folks and museums liked to spray in their bathrooms was contained inside.

This didn’t suit Jody, though. She was a badass, and sure she enjoyed chick flicks and bubble baths (he assumed, because who didn’t), but… “She’s too young for this crap,” he muttered as he ran his free hand over the wall, searching for the light switch.

At first, nothing besides the place smelling like grandma seemed out of the ordinary, but as he readjusted his load and stretched his bow legs over the threshold, it wasn’t the moaning of the floorboards underneath him from the weight of the glass bottles and their contents that caught his attention. It was the spots of something on the floor further inside.

Blood is what his mind went to. What else would a hunter with his skills think?

Jody had become rather renowned for her side profession and could’ve pissed off a few dicks. Plus, this far into the woods would be an ideal location for wolves or even a nest to squat, and this town had seen its fair share.

Of course, that wouldn’t explain the stench, or the fact she’d left the key for him under the mat and would’ve noticed something was amiss already, so unless whatever potential threat who was presumably squatting liked pot-pourri and hoodoo, it was a far stretch.

Then again, witches? Maybe. But also, fuck, not again. Especially when he was this close to going into rut.

Dean looked over his shoulder and, “Wait here,” he said, moving only when your head acknowledged the instruction.

Those same bow legs carried him down the wide hallway, his free arm kept right next to his side, ready and waiting to draw his gun. If it came down to it, he’d risk the booze, but he soon realised he didn’t have to. Whatever was scattered on the floor cast shadows over the wood grain and smelt just as nasty as the lavender.

The light from the entry wasn’t enough to see clearly even with his keen eyesight, so he lunged the case onto the small dining table with a thump and a tinkling from the glass and searched for another light switch.

Click.

The exposed bulb overhead flickered on, and Dean’s eyes went straight to the ground to be met with… petals? Red ones?

Huh.

“S’okay, sweetheart. You can come in now. It’s just a bunch of flowers.”

Your steps across the floorboards barely made a noise over the crinkle of plastic from the shopping bags you carried.

Dean strode over to you, pried the handles from your fingers, and lifted them up beside the casing of beer.

“Flowers and wine,” you said, and Dean flicked his head in the direction you were now headed.

On a small coffee table in the centre of a brilliant brick fireplace and a couple of old couches, two bottles of the stuff and what looked like a card had been placed.

You picked the piece of folded paper up and read it aloud. “Congratulations, and enjoy your time alone together, J.” You handed the note to him as he approached with a sly smile. “We should buy her a gift before we leave town as a thankyou.”

“More shopping? We got all that stuff so we wouldn’t have to go anywhere.”

While he was snarking, he scoped out your home for the next week, maybe two, noting the floofy pillows that would suit your needs for a few scenarios.

“Later. Not now,” you said, and his arm pulled you close, wrapping tightly around your waist.

“It’s a nice idea.” The other scooped between you and shucked up your dress. “Enough about Jody. How’re ya feeling?” he asked against your mating gland, inhaling your scent. Sweet apple, spicy cinnamon, and a touch of whisky nipped at the edge of his throat. “Any changes?”

Dick’s marks had completely gone. As had any traces of what he’d done to you and Dean was met with options. The right side, or the left for his claim. Maybe even both.

You leaned back with a quirked brow as his fingers ran over your underwear. “Not yet.”

“But you’re wet.” He brought you closer. You weren’t the only one excited. He found the elastic of your panties and slipped inside, skimming through your folds and your warm channel.

“Shouldn’t we get the groceries,” you said, but there was a hitch in your voice at the end when he dipped his middle finger further again.

“Can wait.” He breathed into your ear, pulling you closer to the fireplace and his lap on the couch.

Soon one touch led to another, and despite the many things that still needed to be done around the place before you settled in for the night, they were long forgotten, along with the rest of your groceries in the Impala. It was cold enough out in the woods that an hour wouldn’t hurt, and he would deal with the sigils and logs for a fire later.

Dean wasted no more time sinking into you, meeting each rock of your hips for a thrust on the worn sofa by the fireplace, clothes still on.

Best. Decision. Ever.

Even though the wooden frame creaked under your weight and he felt the need to plant his boots firmly into the shaggy rug beneath them to keep the thing upright.

His hands snuck up your dress and cast aside the cups of your bra to knead your slick covered tits. Your panties, pulled to the side, created an extra layer of friction as the elastic caught on his growing knot.

An ever better decision than he thought, and he sat back, enjoying the show and the little gasps of pleasure you gave him when your clit hit his pubic bone at the perfect angle and ground against it.

“Dean, fuck.” Your hips buckled with one forceful slam.

“Feel good, baby?” He knew you were close. Your muscles fluttering around him and the fresh wave of your juices coating his twitching balls kinda gave it away. “You gonna come on my cock? Let me knot you?”

You were too lost in the moment to answer him. He didn’t care. He revelled in your grinding, how you were growing desperate, and by the way your eyes sparkled when he spoke of his knot.

“Alpha. Need your—” But you didn’t finish your sentence because your body finished on him.

The climax ripped through you, drawing tremors from your legs, tickling his thighs and lower stomach.

His hands took yours and pulled them to his neck, soothing your taut arms from your wrists to shoulders, grounding himself in the process.

His balls were heavy, his sack on fire. Your cunt had sucked his knot inside and the pulses and trickles of your release had his instincts screaming to plough into you. But he wouldn’t. Not yet.

When his fingers moved to your hips and raised them up so that only the tip penetrated your core, your forehead dropped to his. Sweat mixing with sweat. Panted breaths warming his cheeks and lips.

“Think you can give me one more?” he rasped.

Your laugh was airy. It came out as a shudder. Your skull rocked against his as you shook your head with it, and your hair tangled into his short brown tufts.

“Yeah, you can.” His eyes stared into yours, bouncing emerald green off of the pearly white that surrounded your own vibrant irises.

His hand moved to stroke your clit with the rough pad of his thumb.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, and Dean’s chest swelled with pride.

“Yeah?” he asked with an air of confidence and pressed harder over the sensitive nub.

Your walls clamped around him again, just as he’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you cried.

As much as he loved the idea of you begging him for it, the pressure down below was reaching boiling point, and he knew a couple of thrusts would do it for him.

He lifted his ass off the cushion, and sunk halfway into you, tipping the sofa by the weight of his shoulders alone. His fingers on your hip gripped tighter, bruising the flesh below, as he steadied himself and in one fluid motion slammed you and him back down into the seat.

The furniture groaned in protest.

Your moan was more of a high-pitched cry, and when he raised you up and down again and again in a vicious pace, and his thumb continued to press into your overstimulated clit, it turned into the best version of his name he’d ever heard.

“Omega,” he grunted.

Your pussy was an inferno. That heat, the friction from your panties and your folds rubbing against him, and the vice-like crush from your inner walls on his shaft soon had him seeing white behind the eyes, leaving his other senses to pick up the slack. He felt each drop of blood pump through his body, from his ears to his knot.

When it popped and thick, creamy waves of his release flooded your insides, dousing the flames, he swooped in for a searing kiss.

Your lips were tart and sweet. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you’d been sipping that wine already or chowing down on strawberries, but he’d sat across from you at every meal that day and watched you like a hawk at Walmart so he knew exactly what you’d done and eaten. “Tell me that’s your heat coming on,” he said when he slumped backwards to look at you.

“Likewise.” Your fingers twisted through his hair. “You feel warm, Alpha.”

Dean’s boyish chuckle was breathy. “Sweetheart. It’s a house fire down there and that ain’t on me. I already tried putting it out.”

You didn’t let him down. Your snort was adorable, and he gave you his best cheesy grin in return.

His inner alpha was not so light-hearted, however, and even after it had gotten its fix and his knot was still very much stuck inside of you, it continued to grumble in the far reaches of his mind, wanting more.

The chant that he should claim you was growing old. He fucking knew that, but while your heat was close, it just hadn’t set in yet, and chomping down on your mating gland now was gonna hurt you unnecessarily. No. Dean would wait, focusing on what you needed in the moment, like any good mate would.

His hands moved to your thighs, grazing his fingers over your sweat lined skin. It was heated, and you shivered at the new sensation, but he wasn’t surrounded by copious amounts of slick and you seemed to have no discomfort. That was part of it, right?

“How’re you feeling?” he said again, and your whole body tensed. Even your inner walls, that had relaxed some, squeezed him tight once more.

“You really wanna know all the nitty-gritty details?” Your eyes narrowed on him. Your frown only deepened the intense gaze you were pulling, and Dean swallowed.

“You’re my mate.” He flashed a grin. “Claim and paperwork pending.” And when you shook your head and sunk into his chest, his lips brushed over your hair, moving his arms to wrap around you and pull you in tighter. “Tell me.”

“Fevers coming,” you mumbled. “Probably smell different?”

He sniffed the air. The usual cinnamon, a touch of vanilla, plus the apple and whisky, sex, and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on infiltrated his nostrils. Your scent was still as intoxicating to him as it had been the very first day you met. “You smell good,” he said, realising how terrible that sounded only after it had spewed from his mouth.

“I should hope so.” You swatted at him, and he hummed in amusement.

“What else?”

“Back aches. My whole lower half, actually.”

On that, Dean moved his hands and began kneading your heated flesh where he could only guess the worst discomfort was. He may not not have claimed someone, but he’d helped the odd omega through their heat, and he knew a thing or two.

“Here?” he asked, but your purr and a contented sigh answered him, and he smiled with reverie.

You fell asleep on him after that, allowing the impending fever to take over your body. He’d have preferred you to have eaten something or even made a trip to the bathroom, but he reminded his inner alpha that you both knew what you were doing.

Not that it was listening.

As he dead locked the back door and drew the last of the salt lines at the base of the wooden frame, it whined, and had Dean looking down.

“You scratched the circle.”

Yes, he was standing on the devil’s trap he’d drawn earlier, but there was not a scratch in sight.

“It’s fine,” he said, not bothering with internal thoughts, though his ears did prick for any hint he’d disturbed you in your sleep. He turned himself around to peer at your form on the other side of the room, but you were still on the couch where he’d left you.

Even from here in the kitchen, he could see the sheen of sweat on your forehead and your cheeks, now a different hue. Your oncoming heat had indeed brought on a fever and he knew when you awoke it would be game time.

The groceries had been brought in, beers sat in the fridge, and he’d even moved the mattress from the master bedroom and set it down before the roaring fire he’d started in the fireplace.

His body and mind were prepped, too. He just wished things would hurry along because you and the flames weren’t the only things heating up the room.

The tip of his cock was a painful red. It was swollen and oozing pre-cum, and though he’d emptied himself into you a couple of hours earlier, as he opened the fridge door and leant down to retrieve a beer, a few drops left his slit and dribbled down his shaft to pool at the dip above his knot.

Fuck. He was overflowing now.

He’d almost come twice in his pants from your scent alone, and after the second occurrence, he ditched them, choosing to wear just his boxers and undershirt.

He reached down and wiped his hand over the soiled underwear, hissing from pleasure and pain as his palm swiped over the sensitive head. But when more leaked from his slit, he gave up and removed them instead, leaving them on the floor to clean up later with the spill.

He grabbed his drink and shut the door, turning back around to find you sitting up, staring at him, and time stopped.

You were awake…

And he was…

“Omega.”

The switch somewhere deep inside of him flicked, and he found himself falling into a familiar place in the backseat of his mind.

Dean was no longer in control of his body, but he still saw, heard and felt everything. His heartbeat, his feet padding across the floor, and the irises in your eyes as he drew closer, sparkling from the flicker of light in the fireplace.

And when your voice said, “Alpha”, just as his had been replaced by the low rumble he knew as well as the back of his hand, yours had changed to a softer, more melodic version of the one he recognised as yours.

You were on him the second he stepped up to you. Your fingers wrapped around his agitated cock, and Dean’s growl reverberated low in his chest as the sweet flavour of apple flooded his senses. “Omega. Mine,” his alpha rasped.

He could practically taste you on his tongue. He could certainly feel your heated skin on him as you worked his length, but the massaging did little to douse the flames in his pulsing sack, and his slit continued to weep.

“Alpha,” you purred, as his seed created a trail down onto your hands.

‘Fuck.’

Dean licked his lips and grabbed at your dress, yanking at the fabric to get you free. He wanted to see you. To feast his eyes on your breasts and, more importantly, bury himself in your dripping cunt again and again.

His hands pawed at your neckline, growing flustered when it didn’t budge, and red marks from the edging cutting into your skin from his tugs appeared.

“Let me.” You touched his cheek, nodding your head with assurance when his alpha glowered with his pride.

The thought of needing assistance and less friction on his hardened flesh had his temper rising. “Fine,” he spat. “But hurry up.”

Your breasts pushed towards him as you reached behind yourself to undo the zip. Each click of the metal prongs being pulled apart met his ears, but it was far too slow for his alpha’s liking and soon Dean was pawing at the garment again.

Once it was loose enough, he plucked it from your body and threw it along with your bra and panties over his head, corralling you where he saw fit.

He planted your chin, chest and calves into the mattress. He forced your rear into the air, presenting your glistening folds, much to his delight. The copious amounts of fluid Dean had imagined earlier engulfed your entrance and laced the inner creases of your thighs.

His nose honed into your centre, breathing in the tangy slick as he ran his lips through yours. The pad of his thumb found your clit, and it flicked against the small bud, eliciting moans, whimpers, and gasps, all stroking his ego. All urging him to continue.

When you shuddered, his mouth curved at the sides. His alpha taking everything it wanted from you, pulling more and more of your release from deep within your body. His dick throbbed at the sight.

If you were making a mess, he’d created an oil spill. Pre-cum continued to leak from his tip, and soon even he was begging the beast in control to do something about it.

‘Claim her. Make her ours.’

He’d agonised over claiming you since you’d met and now that the opportunity presented itself, he didn’t wanna draw it out any longer. He needed you in more ways than one, and the alpha obliged.

With a feral smirk, his fingers ran back over your folds, earning another whimper from your lungs and another wave of slick to surge from your body. The same hand came up and took hold of himself, pumping once, twice, three times, before lining up and ramming into you.

Your hips buckled at the intrusion. Yet when he pulled out again so that only his head sat warm and snug inside, you inched back onto him, demanding his attention.

“There’s my beautiful omega.” He chuckled, as you continued to drag your pussy over him. “So perfect, and still hungry for more.” His fingers dug into your hips and he pushed into you again, giving you what you both wanted. “You need your alpha to knot you, baby girl?”

Your response was to moan, and the sound urged him on. “Yeah, you do,” he grunted. His thrusts, hard and fast. “You need your alpha to put out the fire.”

Every piece of him enjoyed the view of you taking him in, from the tip to his swelling knot. Your walls kept squeezing and pulling him in deeper. “So fucking good ‘mega. Gonna fill you up and make you mine.”

He relaxed his grip on you and crawled up your spine, pushing your body down further into the mattress, and himself further into you. “Say it. Tell me you wanna be mine.”

“I wanna be yours,” you said between pants, and Dean groaned against the edge of your hairline. He was so close to your mating gland, he could taste the sweet blood below the surface.

He pulled your hair to the side and traced his tongue over the delicate skin of your neck, licking and sucking a path to his goal. He inhaled your scent when he found the pulse point and rubbed whiskey and leather and a hint of buttery pastry onto you before his teeth moved to scrape over the sensitive flesh. His body froze above you.

The canines broke the thin barrier first, and when his incisors sunk into you next, the metallic warmth of your lifeblood rushed into his mouth and trickled down his throat.

As he swallowed, and continued to press his bite into you, a wave of electricity spread over him. Every nerve, every hair, every drop of sweat tingled and while his arms and legs grew heavy, his head lightened and memories long forgotten climbed to the surface and flashed before his eyes.

Amongst them, Bobby’s death, and his time in hell before it. The agony of losing Sammy to the cage when Dean knew what awaited him. The mark taking over his life and losing people because of it. Their screams. Their cries. The hatred as his own weapon carved into them. The Steins, Abbadon, Randy.

But then the voice of a female overtook them. One so familiar, yet one he couldn’t quite place. Her pleas cut him deep, churning his insides as if each organ were drowning in a sea of acid.

“No, no. Please don’t.”

“I swear, I’ve never seen him before.”

“He just helped me, that’s all.”

“Baby, please.”

The more he heard her words, the more his face cut into Dean’s memories, and “Ritchie, stop! Please!” stood out amongst all else.

That’s when he realised who the cries belonged to. The tears, the pain, the dread. They weren’t his, they were…

…yours.

Brilliant green eyes stared back at you as your alpha licked at the wound on your mating gland. He’d started thrusting again, and while the pressure deep in your gut begged for his knot and his essence, your mind was more focused on those eyes.

Their sparkle that you’d come to know was lost, faded, and full of pain. He was being tortured. Fire and chains reflected in them and on his freckled skin, marred by blood and scars so fresh, you couldn’t place them from what was before you now.

Dean was hurt. He was—

“Sammy!” he yelled.

“The mark isn’t gonna kill me,” he spat.

But when you tried to call out to him and soothe the ache you felt, he couldn’t hear you because your inner omega was in the driver’s seat. And while she cared for you as much as you did for her, for Dean, she was more concerned with the alpha’s thrusts. With mewling. With encouraging him. With drawing his knot in.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

And there we are ✌️

I've been agonisingly waiting for this one, and I do hope you were surprised. I’m rather proud of the POV switch up. We will still get in Dean’s head, but we’ll also be in hers which is perfect for what’s about to come.

Remember how I keep mentioning not to get too comfortable, well, here we are. Do you think they'll pull through all this new information?

The next chapter will potentially be triggering for some readers. Mentions of pregnancy loss is included amongst what we've already seen and explored, but things are going to come out in more details including how extensive Dick’s abuse was.

Chapter 8: Disconcerting 11/04

You.

You weren’t supposed to be a part of that chapter in his life. He’d planned to keep you at a distance from all of it. He…

He.

He looked up so that he wouldn’t see your face through the kaleidoscope of colours that his wet eyes brought with them. “I—” All he could do was squeeze you tighter.

“Dean. It’s okay.”

He still didn’t have the words to continue his apology. Nothing could ever make up for what you’d seen, and his voice caught in the lump that had manifested in his throat. By the time it did reach the surface, it sounded more like that of a small child, then that of a grown man.

“No, it’s not.”

“It is.”

“S’not. This is what I was trying to keep ya from.”

He was dangerous. He was a grunt. He was mud on the sole of his boot, and you? He’d brought you into this shitty life of his. “It’s bad enough you had to go through what Dick did to you. But he did it ‘cause of me. I’m poison, and if you hadn’t met me, you—”

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thefusioncelestial · 7 months ago

Text

Mix 12: From Bros to Man

If you live any amount of time in America, you know of its college & university system. So many dreams go, come, and are crushed there.

To facilitate the attainment & fulfillment of such, students have huddled together in groups, and those groups became fraternities & sororities. And for those who hate the light: secret societies.

In a particular university, there is a secret society, formed from the best of each fraternity & sorority.

There is a secret ritual used on the second year at this university for each cohort.

In two rounds of voting, the two chosen as two best of their cohort are merged together to create a stronger being. In the second round, the winner will assimilate the loser.

Choice one is Craig:

Top grades, always active in his fraternity, and gets a long with everybody. Thinking of declaring a major in Biology.

His popularity comes from being a non-drinker, so he has saved many a drunken brother from destroying their lives, and saved many in return from being their victims. Because he is always looking out for everyone, his house is allowed to not have a house mother, facilitating more fun.

And when his brothers do get into trouble, he is there to bail them out or lessen the punishment.

And then there is Sam who is the second choice:

Here he is checking himself out before doing his best prank yet. The professor for human anatomy was had poor eyesight & is known to be exhausted quite often. Overnight, Sam replaced the human body dummy with himself. It worked, the professor did an entire class without realizing that his replica of an human body was a real one. And to top it off, Sam ran out of the class at the end giving the professor a fright.

It helped that he was on the track team, and strangely fencing as well.

It was also a coincidence that this particular class had a 4 to 1 girl to guy ratio. Let's just say that the next party was a paradise for some people.

And yet for all the fun he brings to others lives, his was a little disorganized. He had yet to think about what major to choose & didn't think of his future after university. A life of riches will do that to person. He funds the parties for multiple fraternities, so no ever pushed him to start making up his mind. His grades are good, so any program would love to have him...and the donation dollars he could bring.

You would think that Craig & Sam hated each other. but they got along well. Part of that is using the society meetings to hash out & fix their issues. Plus they loved to plan the parties together.

This combo was known as the Serious Dad & Fun Uncle. You went to Craig to get out of trouble, and you went to Sam to get into it.

This strange balance & high level of maturity between the two is how they got into the society & how the society deemed they must become one.

The day of the merger arrives, and the only one who knows who will be assimilating is the upper echelons. Both men are brought into a dark room with their faces covered, and then sat each in chairs.

Both had no shirt on, Sam didn't take the ritual seriously, and was in his underwear as a joke.

Everyone else but the pair leaves. They take off their covers. It's pitch black. They are confused. Normally, whoever sits on the chair has won the right to continue and drive the life of the fused being, but then Craig realized.

There is a rare occurrence where both selectees win. They will walk together as equals, a true blending. Neither will be devouring the other.

Craig explains this to Sam. He is relieved. As a joyous reflex, he hugs Craig but when he tries to break the hug, he can't. Their skin is stuck like two pieces of duct tape stuck together.

Both understood what this meant, it was time. Goodbye Craig & Sam. Hello to whoever they are about to become.

They adjusted themselves the best they could to make the next stage more comfortable, Sam somehow fit in Craig's jeans, everything now pressing up against each other except their arms that were wrapped around each other's backs. There was a lot of grunting trying to do this.

Then hugged each other harder.

"Ugh, mmm"

Their skin gave way, their insides liquefied. Their bones broke down. They were a humanoid blob with jeans now. Without a skeletal structure, one wondered how the being stood upright.

It stood there, silently, as if wondering what to do. All one could hear was pulsating sounds.

Mentally, Craig & Sam stood in front of each other. A few moments later they smiled and then walked into each other. Their forms shimmered and became wispy & mixed into one. Then they settled into a new form, their new being.

The moment the became one mentally, so did their dna. A new double helix structure, no going back. Whoever they were before didn't exist anymore.

Almost immediately, the nervous, skeletal, & cardiovascular systems formed. Followed by the muscles, organs, and skin.

Initially the being looked like a bald but taller Craig, but Sam's features came in as well.

"Mmphf"

At the shoulders, arms, legs, and chest, there was a series of pops. Each pop heralded the arrival of new muscle.

"Ah"

Sam completely took over in the abdominal region. The beings abs reshaped themselves to have Sam's insertions. And then the skin squeezed a little tighter, making him more cut and his abs stronger and harder.

He began to breathe hard.

There was another pop. A bigger ass.

Craig won out in the family rod & jewels. Long & girthy. Big sacks to match. If anything changed, they got bigger proportional to his new height and musculature.

The new being began to move his neck back and forth as if straining against something. With each movement his neck grew longer and longer. He stopped after another pop, his neck now thicker.

Hair began to grow from his head and face. He had Sam's hair color. His eyebrows, noise, & skin tone were Sam's as well. The eyes were Craig's but a little rounder. The mouth, ears, jawline, and chin were a combination of both. Initially, the hair was Sam's, but thanks to Craig, the hair became wilder, more shaggier, but somehow more controlled than what Craid had.

He let out a deep breathe & opened his eyes. Craig & Sam were reborn as one. They, no he is Hunter.

He was led into another room, a bathroom, to go wash up and change if needed. But before taking a shower, he took a look of himself in the mirror:

He liked what he saw.

Hunter was a Biology major, a track star, & on the fencing team. Rich. And he understood the need for both work and play.

From Craig & Sam was born a more balanced man.

#male merge #thefusioncelestial #musclegrowth #muscle #muscular #male body merge #absorption #male fusion #male pred #male body transformation #Fusion #merge #merging #body merging #merging tf #male transformation #transformation

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wendichester · 5 months ago

Text

୭ ˚. stormy hunt,

summary. tracking down a wendigo is always a difficult task. specially during a storm.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 497

The storm rolls in fast, catching both of you off guard. One moment, the forest is eerily quiet, save for the crunch of leaves beneath your boots and the distant rustle of branches. The next, the wind howls through the trees, icy and unrelenting. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, and you know it’s only a matter of time before the rain hits.

“Damn it,” Sam mutters, glancing up at the darkening sky. He adjusts the strap of his pack over his shoulder and scans the area, his jaw set in frustration. “We need to find shelter, now.”

You nod, hugging your jacket tighter around you. “You think the Wendigo’s out in this weather?”

“Doubt it,” he says, his tone clipped. His eyes dart to you, softening when he sees you shiver. “But I’m not risking it. Come on.”

He leads you to a rocky overhang he’d spotted earlier during your hike, a crude but sufficient shelter. The space is tight, just big enough for the two of you to hunker down side by side. Sam drops his pack and pulls out a blanket, shaking it out before gesturing for you to sit.

“Here,” he says, his voice gentler now. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” you protest, though your teeth chatter.

“Humor me,” he insists, draping the blanket around your shoulders before settling beside you. The storm picks up, raindrops splattering against the rocks, and you instinctively scoot closer to him for warmth.

Sam doesn’t hesitate. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you snug against his side. His body radiates heat, and you let out a small sigh of relief as the chill begins to fade.

“This isn’t exactly how I pictured our stakeout going,” you joke, tilting your head up to look at him.

He huffs a quiet laugh, his breath warm against your temple. “Yeah, me neither. But at least we’re dry. For now.”

The two of you sit in companionable silence, the storm raging just beyond your little haven. Sam’s hand rubs slow, soothing circles against your arm, and you feel yourself relax despite the situation.

“You okay?” he asks after a while, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning into him. “Thanks for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says, his tone laced with something deeper—something protective. “I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

You glance up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. His hazel eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the storm outside feels miles away.

“You’re not so bad to have around in a crisis,” you tease softly, your lips quirking into a small smile.

Sam chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Glad to hear it.”

As the rain continues to pour, you snuggle closer, the blanket cocooning you both. Sam tightens his hold, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. And for the first time that night, you're washed by a sense of safeness that only Sam can provide.

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#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #supernatural #.docx

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tortillamastersblog · 7 months ago

Text

Back To You - Part 2 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

Sam’s words die in the back of her throat when she sees me and for a moment we just stare at each other.

It’s been five years since we last saw each other, and even though I would still recognize her anywhere, she’s changed a lot.

She’s no longer a troubled teenager who relies on drugs and petty crime to feel good. No, she’s all grown up now, like me, and despite her tired and worry filled eyes she looks healthy. She looks good in her green jacket and with her hair up in a claw clip.

A wave of bitterness washes over me and I have half a mind to turn back around and walk out of the room again.

She came back for Tara, but she didn’t come back for me when I needed her the most.

I know it’s unfair to compare the two situations, I wasn’t attacked by a psycho, but I did almost die along with my parents.

“Y/N.” Her voice is soft, unlike the last time I heard it when she screamed at me to stop calling her.

I swallow harshly and try to keep any emotions off my face. “Hello, Sam.”

The twins share a confused look, and Wes and Amber watch Tara to see how she’s reacting to this unexpected reunion.

“You’re hurt.” She gets up from my chair next to the bed and takes a hesitant step toward me. “Tara said you were stabbed saving her.” I nod and when she takes another step forward, I instinctively take a step back. She freezes and something like hurt flits across her face.

It makes my insides clench up because I never thought I’d ever be the reason for that look on her face, but then again, she’s hurt me so much in the past, I think stepping back because I don’t want to be hugged or touched by her seems like a normal reaction.

She goes to say something, her brown eyes soft and pleading, but then the door opens and in steps a guy I don’t recognize.

“Sam do you want anything from the— Oh, hello,” he smiles when he sees me, oblivious to the tension in the room. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Richie, Sam’s boyfriend.”

My heart drops. Boyfriend. Right.

I force myself not to look at Sam and shake his hand when he offers it to me. “Y/N. I’m. . .” Sam’s best friend? No, not anymore. “I’m Tara’s friend.”

His smile brightens and he says, “Ah yes, you’re the one who saved her, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say quietly, shifting my arm in the sling.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he continues. “What you did is very impressive. Not many people would have tackled a psychotic killer with a knife.”

My gaze darts to Sam for a split second. She’s sat back down next to Tara again, but her eyes haven’t left me. There’s now a guilty look on her face and when she realizes I’m looking at her, she quickly averts her eyes and buries her hands in her lap.

“Yes, well, it’s not like I had a choice,” I snap. I acted because I knew if I didn’t, Tara would get killed. I didn’t do it to come off as braver or heroic, and something about being praised for it rubs me the wrong way.

Richie’s eyes widen and he quickly tries to back-pedal. “No, of course not. I understand. I’m just saying—“

I clench my jaw and lift a hand to stop him “Save it. I don’t care.”

Technically, he’s done nothing wrong, but I already don’t like him and it’s not because he’s Sam’s boyfriend. No, that’s not the reason. Not at all.

“Y/N!”

Oh hell no.

“What, Sam?” I ask, pinning her down with a challenging glare.

She flinches and frowns. I’ve never, never, talked to her like this before.

“I—“

She’s once again interrupted just like when Richie entered the room. This time, however, it’s by Amber who speaks up with a sheepish smile on her face. “Guys, Tara is really tired. Maybe we should give her some space.”

I stop glaring at Sam and look at Tara. She does look pretty tired. Her eyes are glassy and it looks like every breath she takes is exhausting.

The twins and Wes agree, leaving with Amber after Amber gives Tara a hug. Sam gets up as well, but Tara asks her to stay and since I promised I wouldn’t leave until Ghostface is caught, I stay as well.

Richie looks back and forth between Sam and me, now no longer oblivious to the tension, before taking a seat on the chair in the corner.

Of course he’s staying, too. For fuck’s sake. . .

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I ignore Sam who’s once again looking at me, and focus on Tara.

“Do you still have my inhaler?” she asks and I shake my head.

“No, I’m sorry. I dropped it in your driveway, but I can go and get it if you want,” I offer.

No matter what terms Sam and I are on, I know she won’t let anything happen to Tara if I’m not here, and if Tara wants me to go and get it, I’ll go.

Leaving will also give them a chance to catch up properly and while I’m out, I can go home and take a quick shower.

There’s still some dried blood in my hair that I want to get rid of and I’m itching to get out of the shirt the hospital gave me after they cut mine off me.

“Please. . .”

I smile reassuringly and squeeze Tara’s uninjured leg over the comforter. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” My face hardens and I look at Sam, shooting her a pointed look.

You better keep her safe. . .

She nods and straightens up a little. I turn and leave before she can try and start another conversation. On my way out, I spare one last glance at Richie who smiles tentatively and waves.

Moron.

Eleven years ago

I jump on my bed, face first, and groan into the pillow. Today’s been a long day.

I didn’t have school because we’re on winter break, but hockey practice is still being held and today’s practice was particularly long and grueling.

My dad even laughed at how tired I looked after picking me up, and my mom made sure I had an extra large serving of dinner.

Now, I just want to sleep. I’ve eaten and showered, and I’m too tired to watch a movie on my laptop like I normally would. So, I wiggle around in an attempt to get under the comforter without getting up.

A moment later though, I stop at the familiar sound of someone tapping on my window. There’s only one person who climbs the tree outside my window to sneak into my room.

“It’s open,” I mumble with a smile on my face. I don’t bother getting up, or even turning around because I know she’ll join me on the bed in a few seconds anyway.

The window slides open and there’s some shuffling before her feet land on my floor. She shuts the window again, and my smile widens because any moment now she’ll jump on the bed.

I wait, and wait, but nothing happens.

“Sam?”

No answer.

My smile dims and when I hear a sniffle, I frown. I finally turn around and the sight that greets me makes me curse myself for not turning around earlier.

Standing in the middle of my room in nothing but a tank top and sweatpants is Sam. She’s shivering and has goosebumps all over her body, but that’s not what concerns me the most. No, what concerns me the most are the tears that are streaming down her face.

“Sam?” Alarmed, I shuffle off the bed and cup her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. “What’s wrong?”

Her brown eyes are red rimmed and her bottom lip quivers. Once again though, she doesn’t answer. Instead, she rushes forward and wraps her arms around my waist.

“Hey. . .” I return the hug and bring one hand up to the back of her head when she pushes her face against the side of my neck. “What’s wrong?”

She still doesn’t answer, so I figure she doesn’t want to talk about it.

What going on? Did she have a fight with Tara, or her mom?

We continue hugging without saying anything, just basking in each other’s company until Sam starts shivering.

“Sammy,” I try to break our hug, but she whines and claws at my back to keep me close. “You’re freezing.”

“I don’t care,” she whispers, and the defeat in her voices makes my heart hurt.

“But I do,” I argue softly, reaching behind me to unclasp her arms from around me. “Here, take this.” I take off my hoodie and slip it over her head. “There, much better.” I make sure it fits properly, un-bunching the bottom and fidgeting with the too-long sleeves before pulling her over to the bed.

She wordlessly slips under the covers and drags me down with her, cuddling up to me as soon as I’m within reach.

She stopped crying a while ago, but she’s obviously still feeling vulnerable, so I pull her closer and run my hand up and down her back.

This isn’t the first time we’ve found ourselves in this position, but it feels different than any other times before. Something has changed and I have yet to find out what it is.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next time I open my eyes, it’s seven in the morning. I stretch and turn to maybe get some more sleep, but then I realize the bed next to me is empty.

“Sam?” I ask, but Sam is gone. The window is open and the spot next to me is still warm, so it can’t have been long since she left.

Present

I step out of the elevator and greet Deputy Vinson and a nurse who are chatting at the nurses’ station.

They nod and smile in greeting before getting back to their conversation, and I make my way to Tara’s room.

I feel much better now, having showered and changed into a new set of clothes. I took a cab from the hospital to Tara’s, grabbed her inhaler, and then drove my car back to my own apartment.

I also called Liam and Paige, updating them on the situation and telling them about Sam’s unexpected appearance.

They know how I felt about her in high school since the three of us have been friends since middle school. They offered to come to the hospital and act as a kind of buffer between Sam and me, but I obviously declined.

I’m more than capable of dealing with Sam’s presence, even if dealing with it is simply ignoring her or interacting with her as little as possible. She broke my heart a long time ago and even though I’d be lying if I said I was over it, I know it’s best to just stay away from her.

Someone rounding the corner and crashing into me at full speed rips me out of my thoughts. I stumble slightly and grasp at the wall to stop us from going down together.

“Hey! Watch where—“ Crap. So much for staying away.

My mouth snaps shut when I realize who ran into me, and then my eyes widen when I see the panicked look on her face.

“What’s going on?”

Sam clings to me and tries to push me back, away from where she just came from, and for a moment all the hurt, anger, and despair she’s caused is forgotten.

“Somebody tried to kill me in the break room!” she cries and without thinking, I wrap my arm that is not in the sling around her and pull her closer.

“What?!”

Our shouting alerts Deputy Vinson, who comes running over with his gun in hand.

“In the break room you say?” he asks, and Sam nods frantically. Without another word, he dashes off, gun raised and shoulders tense.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, breathless even though Sam’s the one who literally just fought off the killer. Her panicked eyes dart around the place, still sensing danger in every shadow, so I tighten my grip on her and repeat myself. “Sam, are you hurt?”

She finally looks at me and shakes her head, panting. “N-No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” I look her over but she seems to be telling the truth because I can’t spot anything amiss except maybe her disheveled hair which is no longer in its claw clip. She’s also taken her jacket off and is now only wearing a white t shirt.

She nods again which causes a few strands of hair to fall in her face. I instinctively reach up and tuck a piece behind her ear only to freeze a heartbeat later when my knuckles brush against her cheek.

What am I doing?

Sam is frozen as well and her brown eyes are darting all over my face, a storm of emotions raging in their depths.

I clear my throat and blink rapidly, stepping back. It makes her hands drop off my chest and I hate how I miss the warmth of her palms through my sweater.

“Y/N. . .”

“Sam!” Richie comes rushing around the corner and when he spots us he’s quick to pull Sam into a hug. “Oh my God, are you okay? Deputy Vinson just told me what happened.”

“I— Yeah, I’m okay.” Sam eyes linger on me and for a moment an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint flickers across her face. Then, however, she turns her attention to Richie and I look away when she lets him kiss her softly.

“Good. I was so worried,” he mumbles and if the kiss wasn’t too much for me already, his sickeningly sweet tone definitely is. I clench my jaw and brush past them, absolutely hating the hurt that settles on my chest and makes it hard for me to breathe.

Focus, Y/N. Tara needs you.

________________________________________________

This one’s a little bit shorter than the last, but I had to get some of the backstory stuff out of the way before the story picks up properly.

(Not proofread yet)

Tag list:

#x reader #scream #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #angst

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world-of-wales · 24 days ago

Text

THE 'DUCHY DAY' WITH THE 25TH DUKE OF CORNWALL! [2/2]

The continuation of Telegraph's exclusive Duchy Day with The Prince of Wales (Duke of Cornwall) :

DOWN TO BUISNESS

At its Bath office, William says with approval that the Duchy serves as a “glue” to bring charities, local authorities and government departments together, to make things happen.

There are a few small tasks to do: signing the certificate for the Prince of Wales Award at the upcoming Devon County Show, and taking a new team photo. “Let’s whizz round and say hello,” he decides, nipping into each of the offices to catch up with the staff he already knows and welcome the new starters.

In each one, he asks for feedback – a quick-fire fact-finding mission from the people who get out and about directly with local farmers.

He tells them it is “crucial” they feel they can always ask him questions too. “In kind of modernising and reforming a bit, there’s always going to be some changes,” he says, in relation to an upcoming office move. “We need to make sure it’s gentle and considerate.”

Of an upcoming Dartmoor meeting, which he will attend, he asks Morris to “please give [everyone] proper authority to say what’s really going on. Not being polite because I’m in the room.”

A cork board in the staff room has the orders of service for several recent Duchy tenant funerals; testament to the local relationships that see land stewards greet farmers with a hug as often as a handshake.

“It’s a family feeling,” says Sarah Bird, a land steward who has worked at the Duchy for 18 years. “The tenants care as much about us as we do about them.”

That mantra is at the centre of William’s approach. “The core part of the Duchy works on its people... what it stands for,” he explains. “The key point of the Duchy for me is about social impact. People, places and planet, those are the key things we’re working on.”

PIES AND PINTS

The Prince of Wales has inherited an estate with a solid track record of helping its farmers in practical ways. In-house experts assist them with paperwork, navigating the ever-changing legislation and reduced funding in the sector. The Duchy puts on free masterclasses from agricultural experts, and supports farms to branch out (“diversify”) into new ways to remain viable – shepherd’s huts for tourists to stay in, say.

“It’s friendly faces coming up the driveway from the Duchy,” says Heather Webb, the head of future farming.

But Prince William is painfully aware, having spent years talking about mental health and hearing some hard truths from farmers, of how isolating, worrying and pressured the lifestyle can be. “In the past, the farmers have been supported in farming ways, but where’s the holistic approach to their life?” he says now. “That’s what we’re trying to patch in. It’s not just, ‘How are your sheep, how is your cattle going?’ It’s not just that. It’s also, ‘How do we look after you as a community?’”

Tenants rhapsodise over “pie and pint” evenings, regular walks and small parties to get neighbours talking.

William recently became patron of the charity We Are Farming Minds, co-founded by Sam Stables, a 45-year-old farmer who once came close to ending his own life and, with his wife, has applied himself to saving others from a similar rock bottom. It now runs a 24/7 support line, and offers funding for counselling, mental health training, social meet-ups and a minibus to get people there.

The Prince “wanted to make sure that his tenants had the support through a service. He’s a family man and loves the country. They [the Duchy] are incredibly caring, they’ve been incredibly kind to us as a family.”

Stuart Rogers, a fifth-generation farmer whose family became Duchy tenants in 2000, called the focus on well-being “pretty unique, it ’s pretty progressive”.

“Farming has been hit by a lot of different things recently. Funding cuts, regulations... There’s a lot of pressure and lone working. Farmers, we carry a lot of weight. It’s funny how it takes the Duchy to get together and meet up.”

Prince William has appointed a new “family farming ambassador”, Sue Padfield, to be a roving “listening ear”.

“An excuse to drag people off the farm and have a pie and a pint together with no agenda,” as Heather Webb puts it. “As a large landowner, we have convening power.”

The Duchy is hosting more events for young farmers, with advice on facilitating tricky questions about succession and taking over the family firm, a topic with which the Prince is presumably familiar.

It is surprising, even to a royal editor, to learn how much William manages to do without the wider world noticing. He films and sends regular video messages for Duchy-related events – a river conservation meeting this month, a charity boxing night. When a tenant suggested he might be interested in the agricultural festival Groundswell, he duly popped up there.

Shortly after Queen Elizabeth II’s death, the King hosted a previously unreported private gathering at St James’s Palace for tenants, appearing tearful as he told them how some of his happiest times had been sitting at their kitchen tables. Prince William, by his side, paid tribute to his father and promised guests he was excited about his future with them.

THE DISPATCHES

It has not always been smooth sailing. At the end of last year, after this day out was first agreed, the Duchy of Cornwall and the Duchy of Lancaster (now the King’s estate) were made the focus of a Channel 4 Dispatches documentary.

There is some defensiveness about it from tenants. “Load of twaddle,” snorts one farmer I ask about it. The suggestion that the Duke or the Duchy don’t care about tenants is “really frustrating, it couldn’t be further from the truth”, says Stuart Rogers. “It’s one of the best things that could have happened to us. Would we still be dairy farming if we hadn’t been bought by the Duchy? Probably not. There’s no better landlord.”

Within the Duchy of Cornwall team, though, there is a willingness to confront it head on. Bax points out some technicalities: the financial status of the Duchy is enshrined in an Act of Parliament; it is obliged to let property at a full and fair annual rent; there are legal safeguards including that the Duke is not about to sell off the capital assets.

That said, there has been some reflection. “The Duchy needs to use that moment as an opportunity to step back and reflect on how we communicate. I don’t think we’ve communicated our mission and particularly all the brilliant work we do very well, to be honest. And as a result I think we are largely misunderstood – or have been by the public at large – in terms of why we exist and our purpose.

“And as a result there’s this extraordinary disconnect between the Dispatches view of the world and the view of the world of people who do work with the Duchy, who almost uniformly see us as a force for good in the world.”

He concludes, “What do we learn from it? The biggest thing we learn is to talk about the brilliant work we do.”

THE PLAN FOR THE FUTURE

Lunch, on Duchy days, is taken on the go – a selection of neat sandwiches and wraps for the team, with a chocolate brownie for the road. As we walk along the quiet winding road through the picturesque Newton St Loe – in the middle of the road, because there is no traffic – Matthew Morris’s wife and mother-in-law pop out of a cottage to say hello to William, who stops to pass the time of day.

The final visit is to Grow for Life, a therapeutic gardening charity that aims to help anyone with low confidence, anxiety, depression or feelings of isolation by getting their hands dirty and developing their green fingers.

Among the catmint, alliums, phacelia and forget-me-nots, as bees buzz around them, volunteers are beavering away and doing a good job of pretending they aren’t sneaking a glance at their royal visitor. “Hard at work!” William calls over, keen – with four decades of royal visits under his belt – not to miss anyone out. “I hope you get a cup of tea too.”

The agenda includes digging a bed for runner beans, planting out sweet peas and admiring the first nectarines of the year. Eleanor Carr, horticultural therapy lead, describes how the site was just brambles not long ago, and tells the Prince about the charity’s sessions bringing secondary school boys in to learn by doing. “Do you see a change in them, a difference?” William wants to know. “Is it confidence and calmness?”

The project’s work, he says, is “very professional”: “Chelsea Flower Show, here we come!”

In the orchard, where he is given a bottle of apple juice to take home, one of the gardeners shows the Prince a picture his young daughter has drawn of him on a postcard. “She’s given me more hair, so I love her for that,” says William. He tends to make at least one self-deprecating joke about his hairline with every public appearance.

As he leaves, he asks Duchy staff whether he can arrange to donate damson trees to add to the orchard. By coincidence, volunteers had been talking about getting some just that morning.

There are thank yous and handshakes all round, a wave out of the Land Rover Defender window, and the Duchy day is over.

The Prince will take the train home with his private secretary and small security detail, ready to catch up with Prince George, Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis after school.

George will one day inherit the Duchy, with his father acting as guardian if he is under 18, and will have ideas of his own.

For now, the Prince’s message is quite simple really.

“I’m trying to make sure I’m prioritising stuff that’s going to make people’s lives, living in those areas, better. This is what we’re going to do to make people’s lives in Cornwall better. That, I feel as Duke of Cornwall, is something I should be doing. It’s about responsibility, it’s about leadership, and doing what’s right on the social issues of our time.”

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/royal-family/2025/05/30/prince-william-exclusive-duchy-cornwall-bring-real-change/

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sonnycampbellsmith · 25 days ago

Text

Pairing: Bucky x Male Reader

Synopsis: Finding Bucky at the Wilson Family Home during the events of Falcon and The Winter Soldier

Warning(s): slight smut? allusion to smut. cursing. slight angst

*******

“Come on doll, you can’t be mad at me forever.” Bucky sighed.

You scoffed before turning away from him and walking off.

“Actually, James, I think I absolutely can.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows at that.

“James? Okay, now I know I definitely fucked up.”

Bucky takes a careful step towards you, your arms crossed as you look out at the beautiful lake that stretched across the Wilson family home.

You feel Bucky’s arms envelope you, his chin resting on your shoulder. The heat of his front covering your back, a familiar touch.

Yes, you’re mad at him but it doesn’t change the fact that he was comfortable to lean back on. You sighed in exhaustion as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder, exposing your neck.

Bucky took advantage of the position and started leaving kisses, a small apology for not telling you about what was happening.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky sighed into the exposed skin of your neck, making you shiver slightly.

“The mission was supposed to be simple but it went completely sideways and now we’re recuperating here.”

Bucky sighed and closed his eyes as he hears you scoff and pull away from him. The comforting warmth gone, a warmth that he’s craved for the past few days after leaving you to go start this mission with Sam.

“Doll, please.” He begged. “I knew if I told you, you would’ve come running down to help and you would’ve gotten hurt or worse.”

Bucky always did this.

After everything that happened during the “Civil War”, Thanos, the snap, coming back and then losing Steve, Bucky was broken.

He’d wake up every night, drenched in sweat from his nightmares as The Winter Soldier.

How he’s maimed and killed so many people under Hydra.

How he almost killed you in the streets when you tagged along with Steve, Sam and Natasha and you saving Nat when she tried to subdue him but failed when he threw her over his shoulder and letting her land on a nearby car.

He remembered flying a few feet away and landing hard on the road after you used your powers on him to help Nat.

He remembered pulling out his gun and shooting you in the side as you and Nat tried to run away, he was glad that Steve managed to save the both of you that day.

The guilt, the memories, were shrouding his thoughts again before he felt you grabbed his wrist and leaned the side of your face in the palm of his hand.

“I’m here. James, I’m here. Breathe with me.” You whispered to him, soothing him out of his thoughts. His shallow breaths calming down, his eyes finally meeting yours.

Realising where he was, he quickly grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a hug before looking down at your body, his eyes trained directly at the spot where he shot you all those years ago.

You grabbed his face and gently turned his head to look at you, his hands tight around your waist as if you were going to vanish at any second.

“Look at me, James. I’m here, I’m alive. Hydra hurt me, not you.” As Bucky tried to speak, you shushed him knowing that he was going to say that it was his fault. It was always the same.

When he finally makes eye contact with you, you smiled at him. As grumpy as he portrays himself to be, only you get to see the gentle soul he truly was.

“James, I love you so much-“

“Can we drop the James?”

“I’m not done baby, please let me finish.” You chuckled at his kicked puppy expression but he nods, so you continued. “I love you truly but I can take care of myself too. I mean, come on, my sonic scream can literally level buildings so what’s a bunch of wannabe super soldiers?”

When Bucky stayed silent, you continued.

“I’m not mad that you wanted to protect me. I’m mad that my boyfriend went dark for days with no updates until a little birdie named Torres mentioned it in passing. In passing, James! Do you know how worried I was? I thought you had died somewhere in some random ditch and that I had lost you, you can’t just-“

Bucky interrupts your rant by kissing you deeply, making you groan into the kiss. The couple of days of being separated finally fell apart around the both of you. The frustration and anxiety dissipated with each and every kiss exchanged.

You feel Bucky’s hands wander. The fleshed out hand grabbing your ass while the metal arm lifted your right leg to wrap around his waist, letting both of your crotches rub against each other.

You gasped feeling his hard-on pressed against yours and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, completely overpowering you as the both of you continue to basically dry hump each other.

Although it felt amazing, you used every single ounce of your willpower to gently push him away. The both of you breaking apart, breathing heavily from the heavy contact but your heads still touching.

“Why’d you stop, doll? I thought we were just getting into it.” Bucky panted heavily, his eyelids heavy as he stares at your mouth and wanting nothing more than to ravage you but knew to stop when you said so.

You shake your head and chuckled in disbelief. “James, not here. Not in front of someone else’s home.”

“But they’re not home right now and could you please drop the James, doll? I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

You feel his arms snake around your waist again while he buries his face in the side of your neck, breathing you in. His light. His perfect person. His home.

You giggled. “Baby, your beard’s tickling me and I’m still mad at you. So don’t think a little make-out session’s gonna save your ass mister.”

“Alright,” he lifts head up to face you, licking his lips knowing that you were gonna get distracted by this tiny action. “How about I do the thing with my tongue that you love so much, imagine me eating you out until you-“

You quickly covered his mouth, your eyes wide in shock. You blush furiously as you stared at his face. Though covered, you could tell he was smirking with the way his eyes were dancing mischievously.

“Okay! Okay! Bucky, you won. I’m not mad anymore, please don’t say all that out loud for anyone to walk by and possibly hear us.”

“You were pretty okay with giving them a show earlier on.”

“Stop it Bucky, it was just the heat of the moment.” You whimpered quietly at him, dropping your hand from his mouth, making him grin victoriously.

Bucky chuckled, his handsome face shining back at yours. “I love you so much. You’re my soulmate, doll. I never meant to hurt you. I’m so happy you’re here with me and one day, I’m hoping to make you Mr. Barnes.”

Your face turns bright red and you laughed nervously, taking a step back from his grip. The both of you haven’t discussed the possibility of marriage properly and you definitely were not gonna be discussing something like this after all that heavy petting.

You looked back at Bucky, and he was smiling gently at you. He knew when not to push but he just wanted to make sure you knew where you stood in his life.

Bucky stretches out his hand for you and you immediately took it, the both of you walking away from the lake.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Quite sure he’s at the docks with Sarah and the kids. Why?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Well, I’m gonna need flying lessons soon.” You stopped walking to show him your new pendant. It was a purple crystal, a new type of technology that was a gift from the Wakandans.

“Shuri, gave this to me. It was something about a run in with a guy named Ulyssess Klaue, that let her tinker around with sound waves. So, she made this device specifically for me.” Bucky examined the pendant closely and frowned as you kept explaining its uses about turning sound waves into actual physical constructs and you now being able to fly. Sure, you didn’t really get into the specifics like Shuri did but you’re not the scientist here.

You chuckled, noticing his frown get deeper. “What’s wrong baby? Mad that you’re not the only one that got an upgrade from Shuri?”

Bucky looks straight into your eyes, practically piercing you with his stare. You shuddered, not knowing what he was gonna say next especially when he does his cute little cheek bump with his tongue. An indication of his brewing thoughts.

“No, doll. Not jealous of your upgrade.” He reaches out to you and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you in again. “It’s just Shuri, Torres and now Sam? I’m jealous that you’re not needing me anymore doll.”

“What?!” You exclaimed, your voice a little pitchy as you stared at Bucky who was pouting his lips. Not fair, he’s a grown ass man. He can’t be cute too.

You tried to pull back from him but your hips were firm in his hands, not letting you move away from his space and his accusatory stare.

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s jealousness because of course he’d focus on that instead of the very cool upgrade to your powers. You forgot how much a giant teddy bear he is, and you love him so much more because of it.

He was yours and you were his.

You looked up at the sky and let out a sigh. You raised your arms to rest them on his shoulders, feeling him pulling you in again.

You looked at him and kissed him deeply, making the pout leave his face. As you both separated, he stared at your lips again, making you chuckle.

“Alright, how about this,” you say to him. “We go see Sam and his family. Enjoy our time here, let me train with Sam because god knows I need flight training with my new abilities and then we take a drive to the nearby hotel that I’m staying at so I can do the thing with my mouth that you love so much,” Bucky raised his eyebrows at that, “before you and Sam eventually leave and go to save the day.”

Bucky smiled sweetly at that, despite the both of you having extraordinary abilities, you knew not to overstep your boundaries with each other especially for missions.

He may have lost a whole life behind and lost his best friend but he found you, a light in the endless darkness he used to call a life.

You even convinced him to start therapy and it wasn’t easy but you were always on his mind, anchoring him to reality.

You were his songbird that sang the melody to his new life that he’ll follow till the end of time.

“I love you so much sweetheart.” He leans in to give you a peck on the cheek before whispering in your ear. “I can’t wait to bend you over and eat you out until you’re crying for me to fuck you.”

“Bucky!”

*****************

My first fic and I was craving for more Bucky x male reader

My favourite superpower in the whole goddamn fictional world is a sonic scream.

I laid out who I’d eventually be if I were in the MCU 👀

#male reader #male!reader #xmale reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky x male reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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milkb0nny · 5 months ago

Text

Ethereal Vulnerability

... Dean and Sam on their way to save you

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader

Summary: You grew up poor and alone, forcing you into the horrible red light district. However, your services were darker than the usual stuff, and lately your colleagues went missing. It only took a booking for two men to save you from being next.

Note: I was heavily inspired by the movie „Sleeping Beauty“. It has such an interesting plot and I loved the eerie vibe. This might not be everyone’s cup of tea. Still, I hope the few of you will enjoy this! If this gets a good reception, I’ll write a 2nd chapter.

Content: reader being sex worker, sleeping pills, getting drugged, spn violence, angst, disturbing content

Word count: 1,2k

Another day, another forced shift.

Another day where men exploited women’s bodies, wielding their money as a weapon of control. You despised the system, but there was no room to complain as you depended on that same system for survival. For money, which you needed so desperately.

This here was a cruel structure that demanded obedience from young souls, only to discard them when they were used up or gone entirely. And worst: no one cared about them.

No one cared about you.

You stepped into the motel, offering a polite nod to the secretary while avoiding the missing persons flyers plastered on the reception desk. Six women. Six lives snuffed out, their bodies never found. As if they had simply vanished into thin air. The media ignored it, and the authorities seemed indifferent.

Who cared, after all? They were only prostitutes in the eyes of the world.

And you were stuck in this helpless situation with no one to guide you into safety or a usual life.

Despite the fear that you could be next, you continued working. Rent was due. Food was scarce. Death seemed inevitable either way, so you clung to the fragile hope that you’d survive just one more day. Maybe a rich man would adopt you - or maybe you’d get a big tip for your extraordinary “work“.

“Here you go,” the secretary said, sliding something under the glass partition. “Two men booked you for the whole night.”

You nodded, pocketing the room keys and picking up the small cup containing two familiar pills. The bitterness of the sleeping tablets didn’t faze you anymore. You were used to the dreamless nights, to the numb void that came with them.

Still, it never stopped being unsettling.

You’d sleep through it all.

But maybe it was a blessing: not seeing their faces, not feeling their hands on your sorry body and not hearing the things they would say about you. This was the only business letting women sleep through, advertising to a certain masculine fetish.

“Thank you,” you replied with a small smile, taking the items.

The secretary hesitated, her expression tinged with guilt. “Be careful, love.”

“I will.” You forced another smile before heading to the changing room.

The other women were already there, each one stunning in their own way. No flaws, no imperfections. The only requirement to work here was to embody an impossible ideal: flawless beauty, free of scars, blemishes, or even a stray hair. You were all gems, polished to perfection in the dirtiest setting imaginable.

You changed into the white lingerie, adjusting it to hug your curves just right. After fixing your makeup and offering yourself a final look in the mirror, you sighed deeply. Fear clawed at the edges of your mind, but you steeled yourself with a faint hope… you just had to make it through the night.

The room was surprisingly luxurious, a contrast to the grim reality outside. Warm lights bathed the space in a soft glow, and the bed was adorned with blankets that felt like clouds. This level of comfort was a cruel irony, considering the cost that came with it.

You sat on the edge of the bed, swallowed the pills in one go, and slipped under the covers. It wasn’t long before the drugs pulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The door opened quietly sometime later, two figures slipping inside. They moved with practiced precision, shutting the door softly behind them.

“Man, this is one hell of a weird gig,” Dean muttered, glancing around the room with a mixture of unease and frustration.

„You’re not wrong,” Sam agreed, his gaze settling on your sleeping form. “She’s completely out of it. Has no idea what’s going on.”

A heavy silence hung between them, tinged with disgust - not at you, but at the circumstances.

“We’ll take this bastard down without her even knowing,” Dean said, circling the bed to get a better look at you. “After this, the girls around here should be safe… well, from monsters, anyway.”

He stared down at you, his jaw tightening. How could someone so beautiful, so full of life, end up in a situation like this? He hated the world that had left you with no other choice. It felt as if he was glancing at a doll, not a human.

An hour passed as they waited, watching the shadows lengthen across the room. They pitied your job and chatted a little about it, while Dean didn’t even to bother touching you in any way. Your soul had been tarnished enough.

After another five minutes, Dean sat tensely by the bed, while Sam stepped out to execute their plan. He told the secretary he was grabbing something from the car, leaving Dean to hold down the fort.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the soft rhythm of your breathing. Dean’s mind churned, his eyes flicking to the door every few seconds. They didn’t even know what they were hunting yet, only that it was dangerous and starving.

The door creaked open, breaking the silence. Dean’s hand went to his weapon instinctively, but what stepped inside wasn’t Sam. It was a woman or at least, it appeared to be.

But the way she moved was wrong, her presence too eerie to be human. The lights stayed off as she glided toward the bed, her gaze fixed on you.

Either it was a vampire, or one of the rather rarer creatures - Pishtaco. Creatures that were as gruesome and cruel as vampires but they feasted on fat, not blood.

Just as she reached for you, the door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place. Sam stood behind her, his expression grim.

“No way you’re getting out of here,” Sam said, his voice low.

Dean rose from his seat, his silver knife in his hand. “You picked the wrong motel, sweetheart.”

The creature hissed, its facade slipping to reveal its true form; its grotesque hunger evident in its hollow eyes.

Meanwhile the haze of unconsciousness began to lift, pulling you back to reality. The pills were too weak, it seems your body got used to them. Your eyelids felt heavy. Slowly, you stirred, your body sluggish and weighed down, as if you were moving through quicksand.

"Hey, she's waking up," Dean’s voice reached you, rough and laced with concern. Shit, that’s couldn’t be happening. You woke up during the wrong time.

Your eyes opened, the dim moonlight shining through the room. Dean was leaning over you, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the room.

Sam stood nearby, his posture tense but his expression kind. "How is she feeling?"

Your voice came out as a rasp. "Tired… sore." You tried to push yourself up, but Dean’s firm hand on your shoulder kept you grounded.

What was going on? And why where they holding weapons?

"Easy," he murmured. "Just rest."

You nodded weakly, your head still pounding, but a creeping unease was beginning to gnaw at the back of your mind. Something felt... off.

Dean stiffened instantly, moving between you and the woman. "Stay there," he ordered.

The pishtaco stepped closer, her movements slow, and unnervingly graceful. Her gaze locked onto you, and a chill ran down your spine.

"You shouldn’t have interfered," the beast said, her voice smooth as silk but dripping with malice. Her eyes flicked to Dean and Sam. "You have no idea what you're up against."

Dean scoffed, his stance widening. "Lady, we’ve taken down worse than you. You’re not walking out of here."

The Pishtaco laughed softly, the sound unnervingly melodic. "You don’t understand. I was only taking what I needed. She’s just another meal. But you… you’re getting in the way of nature."

"Nature?" Sam said, stepping to the side to cut off her retreat. "You’re murdering innocent women to feed your appetite. That’s not nature… that’s a monster."

Her expression darkened, “No one cares about those prostitutes. So why not taking them?“

Before anyone could react, she lunged toward the bed. Her speed was unnatural, a blur of movement that sent your heart racing.

Dean grabbed her mid-lunge, shoving her back with a grunt of effort. "Get out of here now!" he screamed at you, but your body was frozen in fear, unable to move.

You weren’t just bodily restricted but also high from the pills, making it hard to grasp what’s happening.

The Pishtaco hissed, her face twisting into something grotesque. She clawed at Dean, her nails slashing dangerously close to his face.

Sam dove in, wielding a silver blade, slashing at her side. The Pishtaco roared, spinning around to swat him away like he weighed nothing. He crashed into the dresser, yelling but alive.

Dean didn’t hesitate. He tackled the monster, slamming her against the wall.

"You’re not touching her," he insisted, his green eyes blazing with fury.

But the Pishtaco was stronger than she looked. With a growl, she twisted out of Dean’s grip and darted toward you. Her claws dug into your arm as she yanked you towards her, dragging you toward the door.

You felt so vulnerable and weak. Like a play toy.

"You want her? Come and get her!" she spat, her voice venomous.

You cried out in pain as her grip tightened, her nails digging into your skin. Crimson blood run down your revealed body, soaking your lingerie into a rich red.

"Fuck," you mumbled, your head spinning terribly.

Dean‘s head snapped toward you, his expression a mixture of rage and terror. "Let her go!"

The Pishtaco laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "Oh, I don’t think so. She’s mine now. And I will feast on her beautiful fat. You’ll just have to find another way to play hero."

But Dean was already moving. In one swift motion, he grabbed the silver blade Sam had dropped and hurled it with deadly precision.

The blade struck the Pishtaco in the shoulder, and she howled in pain, her grip on you faltering. Dean surged forward, grabbing you and pulling you out of her grasp just as Sam regained his footing.

Again, Pishtaco lunged at you, but Sam interrupted her, driving a second silver blade into her chest. She screamed, her body convulsing from her wounds.

Dean held you tightly against his chest, shielding you from the sight as the Pishtaco let out one final cry before collapsing into ash.

The room fell silent, the only sound your guys ragged breathing and the pounding of your heart.

"You okay?" Dean asked, his voice low and steady, his arms still wrapped protectively around you.

You nodded shakily, unable to find your voice. Your entire body was trembling, but Dean’s presence was grounding. His warmth, his strength… it was enough to keep you from falling apart. As if your life hadn’t been difficult enough.

But what the hell was that?!

"She’s gone," Sam said, his voice weary but certain. "It’s over."

Dean pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cupping your face as his eyes scanned for any injuries. "She didn’t hurt you, did she?"

You shook your head. "No, just my arms… what the hell. This shit was mental. Thank you for…saving me?"

Dean’s lips quirked into a faint, reassuring smile. "Right, we did."

His thumb brushed against your cheek. The intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. A man rarely gazed your way without lust, but admiration.

"You’re safe now," he murmured, his voice softer.

"Well… whatever you define as safe," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dean’s smile vanished, his eyes remained serious. "Don’t mention it."

Sam cleared his throat, stepping back from the scene. "We should… probably get out of here before anyone notices what happened."

Dean nodded but didn’t let go of you right away. His hands lingered on your arms for a moment longer before he finally stepped back, his gaze never leaving yours.

„Alright, we‘ll patch you up…“

The three of you made your way out of the room. Dean gave you his leather jacket to cover your bare body, and you couldn’t help but glance at Dean. Perhaps there were men who didn’t abuse your vulnerable position.

The way both had protected you, the way Dean had looked at you… it stirred something deep inside you. He didn’t view you as a mere prostitute but as a woman worth saving.

For a moment, you didn’t feel dirty and used.

And judging by the way his hand brushed yours as you walked, it seemed like he wanted you out of that business.

#supernatural dean #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam and dean #dean winchester #supernatural #spnfandom #spn fanfic #spn

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deja-you · 7 days ago

Text

Starling: Epilogue

bucky barnes x reader

masterlist | series masterlist | previous part

word count: 2.3k

summary: You know what it's like to stay somewhere and be safe.

Bucky was right about one thing, the new apartment did have more natural light.

Golden hour filters softly through the windows, but the excess of light didn’t stop you from hanging warm-toned string lights all around the new apartment. It feels lived-in. Alpine has made her approval known as she has already found her new favorite spot, sprawled out under the sun on the window sill.

A knock at the door.

Torres is the first to arrive, grinning as you open the door, a bottle of wine in hand.

“Hey, you. Congrats–place looks great.”

He’s grinning and leans in to greet you with a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“Alright, Torres,” Bucky’s voice cuts in from behind you. “Don’t get fresh with my girl.”

You turn back toward him slowly, eyebrow raised.

“‘Get fresh’? Bucky, I know you’re from the 40s, but you sound like you just stepped out of a war bonds poster,” you tease.

He shrugs unbothered. “Just keeping the classics alive.”

“Careful, old man,” Torres joins in, “next thing we know you’ll be calling her your ‘best gal’ and offering me a malted.”

Bucky smirks.

“Well, Birdie is my best gal.”

“This what you signed up for?” Torres asks you.

“I have no regrets,” you shrug. “He bakes. Cleans out the cat litter. Uses slang he probably learned from FDR. It’s charming.”

Bucky’s pouring the wine now and flashes you a smile like he’s won something.

“Damn right it is.”

Soraya arrives next, dramatically, with a Tupperware of iced cookies and the unmistakable intention to take over your kitchen and use it as a set for her instagram story. She hugs you, pressing a kiss to both cheeks like you’re a European diplomat.

“Everyone hold still, I need this place to look candidly magical.” Soraya glances around the apartment. “Where’s the cat?”

Alpine is naturally in the middle of the kitchen table. Soraya insists that she needs Alpine, that she’s “the aesthetic anchor.” Soraya attempts to arrange cookies around Alpine like an anchor. Alpine tries to bite her. Twice.

Sam and Sarah arrive next. Sarah walks in with a beautiful handmade quilt, a tote bag of home-canned goods, and immediate suspicion. She hugs you tightly, then heads to the kitchen and begins looking through your cabinets.

“Are you conducting a background check?” You ask.

“You don’t know someone until you’ve seen their spice rack.”

She seems satisfied with your spice selection, but continues surveying the apartment like a mom on a mission.

“Where are your smoke detectors? Do the windows lock properly? Where is your emergency evacuation plan?”

You and Bucky only blink at each other.

Sarah sets down the quilt on the back of the couch and pulls Bucky aside.

“How’s she sleeping? Is she eating enough? What’s your credit score?”

Bucky just stares at her, mouth slightly open. Luckily, he’s saved by Sam who has store-bought brownies and shades he refuses to take off indoors.

“Sarah stop interrogating him,” Sam says, narrowing his eyes at a sign that's up near the door. “A ‘Home is Where the Cat is’ sign? You two let the cat decorate now? You two need an intervention.”

He sets the brownies on the counter.

“Alpine’s very persuasive,” Bucky shrugs.

“She insisted it go next to the door,” you add in. “Feng shui or something like that.”

“She’s plotting something.” Sam squints at Alpine. “I don’t trust her.”

Alpine blinks slowly, keeping eye contact with Sam as she lifts her paw and knocks one of the brownies off the counter.

“Case in point,” Sam says, feeling justified.

(The next time Sam visits, he arrives unannounced and produces a handcrafted wooden sign. It’s clearly a DIY project, a glitter-glue mess, crooked lettering in patriotic colors. It reads: “Home is Where the Falcon is.” Bucky tells him he’s got too much time on his hands. Sam replies that “the cat could use some competition.” You hang it up next to the other sign. Alpine immediately knocks it over.)

Everyone has a glass of wine in hand when Mr. Keller appears in the doorway with a casserole dish wrapped in a faded dish towel and a legal pad tucked under his arm. You and Bucky lock eyes. No one invited him, the door was left cracked open and he took it as a sign.

“You didn’t have to bring anything!” You say to Mr. Keller.

His voice is tinged with his usual grumpiness.

“It was this or I throw the casserole away. And that’s wasteful.”

Mr. Keller makes his way to Bucky and thrusts the casserole into his hands. Mr. Keller glances to you, then back at Bucky.

“You better make an honest woman out of her, Barnes.”

Bucky chokes on air.

“She’s already honest enough,” he manages after he’s recovered from shock.

“I tell him when he’s wrong hourly,” you add in.

Mr. Keller nods. “Good. Man needs supervision.”

Mr. Keller wanders off to strike up a conversation with someone else, and you take the casserole from Bucky, nudging him slightly with your hip.

“You know, he’s growing on me,” you say.

Bucky scoffs. “Like a fungus.”

Mr. Keller has settled at the kitchen table with Sarah, both of them acting like seasoned detectives with decades of unresolved cases between them. Mr. Keller is showing Sarah his legal pad filled with scribbles and diagrams. Sarah is on her second glass of wine, arms crossed, leaning in like they’re on a stakeout.

“I’m telling, she’s not just a cat,” Sarah says in a hushed tone. “She’s watching us. That blank stare? That’s surveillance mode.”

Mr. Keller nods solemnly. “She opened my screen door last week. I locked it. Locked. It.”

Alpine is sprawled upside down on the floor like a croissant, gently batting at Sarah’s ankle with one paw, purring softly.

You pass by the table briefly, watching them with vague amusement. Then, you lean in conspiratorily.

“She’s part of the Weapon X program. The whiskers are antennae.”

They both freeze and stare at you like you just confirmed every theory they’ve ever had. You take a long sip of wine.

“I’m kidding.”

A beat.

“Probably.”

Sarah turns back to Mr. Keller. “That’s exactly what a handler would say.”

“Didn’t flinch,” Mr. Keller is making notes on his pad. “Classic obfuscation technique.”

Bucky passes by on his way to grab something from the fridge and sees the three of you.

“What’s going on here?”

“Oh, nothing,” you respond, “just confirming our cat’s a genetically enhanced murder weapon.”

“Right. Okay. I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

He walks out, Alpine following.

“He didn’t deny it,” Sarah says, taking a sip of her wine.

“We need more data,” Mr. Keller insists.

You stifle a laugh and leave them to it.

In the living room throw pillows and half-empty glasses are scattered. Music plays low in the background, one of your playlists with a good amount of selections from an older era.

Torres is sitting cross-legged on the rug, scrolling through his phone with an intense look.

“Okay, so apparently my moon is in Scorpio…” he reads, “but that conflicts with my sun sign?”

Soraya is seated on the arm of the couch. She rolls her eyes and grabs a nearby plate.

“Your moon is in chaos. And Sam’s about to be in danger if he doesn’t stop double-dipping in the hummus. I have a hex just for situations like this,” Soraya threatens.

Sam sits on the opposite side of the coffee table, looking completely unapologetic as he dips another pita chip.

Torres reaches for a shrimp from his plate… but it’s mysteriously gone. Alpine is crouched suspiciously by the edge of the couch. She disappears underneath it with something in her mouth.

“Your daughter’s a thief,” Sam tells you.

“She’s a menace,” Torres agrees.

You shrug. “She’s a Scorpio.”

This earns a laugh from the room. Soraya nods like that explains everything.

The housewarming party progresses. A few more plates are stacked on the counter. Music is slightly lower, lighting a little dimmer now.

Sam enters the kitchen rummaging through your cabinets for snacks and more booze like he owns the place. He pauses.

“Hey Barnes, tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

Sam lifts the compost bin like it personally offended him.

“This is not the Bucky Barnes I know.”

Bucky glances over.

“It’s called environmental responsibility, Sam. And it was a gift.”

“It’s a bin of rotting vegetables.”

“Still rude to throw it away.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “What’s next? Rain barrels? Organic loofahs?”

“Birdie just ordered us a biodegradable soap set. Sea salt and sage.”

“Who are you?”

Bucky shrugs. “It’s character development.”

“This is what love does to a man,” Sam bemoans. “It starts with the compost. Next thing you know, you’ll be buying throw pillows and clipping coupons.”

“Not only do I already own throw pillows,” Bucky informs him, “but I fluff them as well.”

Sam staggers back like he’s been shot, and Bucky only rolls his eyes at the dramatics. Eventually Sam sets the bin down and leans against the counter beside Bucky. The teasing smile still lingers, but there’s something softer behind it now.

“You really moved to be closer to her, huh?” Sam’s voice lowers slightly.

“I moved for the light fixtures,” Bucky says.

“Uh-huh. And I joined the Air Force for complimentary peanuts.”

“Are they really complimentary?”

“Barnes.”

Bucky hesitates. He glances toward the living room where you’re laughing with Soraya and Torres. His eyes soften almost involuntarily.

“I wanted more windows,” Bucky says. “And maybe… I wanted to show her what staying could look like.”

Sam lets that sink in for a bit. Then grins.

“You’re so in love it’s gross.”

“Shut up.”

“No seriously. It’s disgusting. I’m thrilled. I hate it. I knew something was going on.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“There wasn’t anything going on.”

Sam ignores him.

“I knew it.”

“No. No you didn’t.”

“I sensed it,” Sam insists.

“You’re literally guessing in retrospect.”

Sam bumps Bucky’s shoulder and the teasing drops away for a beat.

“I really am happy for you, man. She gets you,” Sam says. “And the way you look at her? You’ve never looked at anyone like that before.”

Bucky watches as you encourage Alpine to climb into someone’s purse in the other room. A smile pulls at his lips.

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly, “She’s it.”

Sam claps a hand on his shoulder and steals a beer from the fridge.

“Don’t screw it up, Romeo.”

Eventually the party comes to an end and all your friends filter out of the apartment. The dishes are stacked in the sink. A candle is flickering on the kitchen table below the window.

Bucky quietly leads you up to the rooftop to have a quiet moment between the two of you. The air outside is still warm and smells of summer. Peace, finally. Hard-won, but real.

You sit shoulder to shoulder with Bucky on the ledge of the roof, your bare feet are curled up under you. He sits beside you, sleeves rolled to his forearms. You glance at him.

“You know, for someone who grumbled through an entire Pinterest board, you throw a hell of a housewarming.”

“I didn’t grumble.”

“You definitely groaned. Audibly. At the cheese board.”

“It was shaped like a cat,” he mutters.

You smirk.

“Exactly. On theme.”

He chuckles lowly and shakes his head. For a moment it’s quiet again.

You reach out and gently trace a faint scar on the inside of his wrist. He watches you, breathing steady.

Then he takes your hand in his, brings it to his lips, and kisses the matching scar on your own wrist, the one left from a long-ago escape.

“Thank you for staying,” he says softly.

“Thank you for not running,” you respond.

“I ran upstairs. Does that count?” He asks with a small smile.

You laugh.

“Would’ve chased you.”

He grins.

“I was hoping you would.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence again. One that feels like a warm blanket.

Eventually you speak again.

“You really think we’re gonna be okay?”

He looks out over the city, then back at you.

“I think we already are.”

You nod, slow. Thoughtful.

“I ever tell you what I thought the first time I saw you?” He asks.

“That I was a criminal breaking into a washing machine?”

“Well, no,” he pauses. “That was the second thought. The first was don’t stare, don’t stare. She’s gonna know you’re staring.”

You laugh, tucking your face into his shoulder.

“You were staring.”

He nods.

“Like an idiot. You were in that baggy t-shirt and had a bobby pin in your mouth. I thought you were the most dangerous thing I’d ever seen,” he admits.

“I was sure you hated me.”

“Never. Not for a second.”

When you turn to look at him, he’s already watching you. And he’s got that look–the one he only gives you when you’re not looking. You know what it means.

“I love you, Bucky,” you whisper.

He lets out a slow breath like he’s been holding it forever.

“Birdie, I love you more than I know what to do with.”

You tilt your head.

“You gonna short-circuit on me, Barnes?”

He grins. “It’s possible.”

Bucky leans in slowly. Sure.

This kiss is not a question, it’s a promise.

Soft, deep, steady. His hands tangle gently in your hair, yours slide up to rest at his neck, feeling the way he exhales into the moment.

When you part, you stay close, foreheads nearly touching.

Behind you, a thud.

Alpine appears, tail curling in a slow loop as she settles behind the both of you. You glance over your shoulder.

“She’s eavesdropping again.”

“She likes the view,” Bucky rationalizes.

He rests his chin on your shoulder. His arm drapes behind you. His hand lazily rests at your side.

The quiet doesn’t feel like the end. It feels like a beginning.

You close your eyes for a second. Breath in the night air. Let yourself feel free.

Bucky shifts slightly beside you, his voice certain.

“You made it home.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #marvel fanfic #thunderbolts fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #starling

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stargazedwinchester · 2 months ago

Text

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `make it stop, sam winchester ༘♡

summary: you're both grieving, but sam needs you more than ever. word count: 1197 pairing: sam winchester x reader now playing;｡･:*♫♪ make it stop (septembers children) - rise against

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

The bunker is eerily quiet.

Too quiet. In fact, it’s almost like you can hear him sometimes. Metallica playing through his record player, his snarky, sarcastic comments followed by his heartiful laugh.

A month has passed since Dean’s death. You’re not taking it well, and hell, neither is Sam. You see him maybe once a day if you’re lucky. Sam barely leaves his room, tangled earphones plugged into his phone, dark circles molded to his pretty face. It breaks your heart knowing that he’s suffering so much — and there’s barely anything you can do.

Family don’t end in blood. That’s what Dean would tell you when he wanted to prove that your bond means more than what’s on the outside. You know he took it from Bobby, but it’s a hell of a good precept.

You loved that man like a brother. His courage and pride were contagious, unwavering. Without him, you feel lost.

Completely and utterly lost.

Sam’s bedroom door is open ajar, he’s laid across his bed in a white t-shirt, grey joggers and dark navy blue socks. His hair is wild and long. It’s probably the longest he’s had in a long time. Sam is glued to his phone, with earphones plugged in, as usual. Whilst you’re at the door, you knock gently, and he looks up for a mere second, before backing down at his phone. “Can I talk to you?” You ask him, padding over to his bed. You sit gently by his thighs.

“Sure.”

He is still staring at his phone, and you gingerly move his phone out of his way. “I don’t think we should sit at home and sulk,” you attempt to pick your words carefully, “how about we get out of town for a little while? The bunker isn’t going anywhere.” You chuckle lightly, and Sam looks at you, almost completely deadpan. Your lips purse slightly at his response.

“I know you’re hurting right now, Sammy, but Dean wouldn’t want you to. He would want you to celebrate his life, continue the family business, right? Saving people, hunting things.”

“I can’t do that right now when I can barely save myself.” He mutters, his glazed hazel eyes meet yours, whispers of anguish begin to show through the colour of his iris, his once bright eyes now dull.

“Sam…” You tut, noticing tears form and well across his waterline, threatening to spill. “C’mere,” you pull him into a hug, and his vast arms wrap latch around you as you tenderly stroke his hair.

It’s been a couple of hours, and you have a couple of bags packed. You assisted Sam in packing his bags, too, as he’s taking this much harder than you originally thought. You called a couple of air b&b’s and rental homes and found one a state over, a good 5 hour drive away. At this rate, you’re just happy attempting to help Sam, help him feel better.

Sam lifts the bags into the Impala, luggage covering the back seat completely. You’re only away for a couple of weeks, but it feels like you’re moving out.

You offered to drive there, allowing Sam some time to rest. He finds solace in the Impala. Many, many years of driving around the country with his brother surely brings him the comfort he’s been needing.

It still slightly smells of him. A musk of expensive cologne has sunken into the leather seats, one that you’ve come to know and love throughout the years. You know he’s there with you in spirit, probably complaining that you’re driving Baby and not him.

When you arrive, you take a little bit of time unpacking, placing your things in your designated bedrooms and folding your clothes and placing them in the drawers. Although you’re there for two weeks, you feel the need to make it like it’s your home. A fresh start with no memory of your old life at the bunker.

The sun begins to set, a purple and pink sunset graces the horizon with light orange clouds. The trees create a silhouette outside of the window, creating the perfect picture. You yawn, exhaustion finally catching up to you. Rubbing your eyes, you exit your bedroom and prepare to get ready for bed. You use your usual skincare, brush your teeth and pad over to your room, shutting your door behind you. It’s early, but you know sleeping now will refresh you completely for the morning.

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

There’s a knock at your door. A light one that shocks you awake. Back at the bunker, you never have anyone knock at your door. You’ve come prepared, though. Just in case.

Stepping over to your door, you open it quietly, only to reveal Sam on the other side.

“What’s up?” You yawn, squinting your eyes slightly. “I can’t sleep.” He mutters, his voice low and gruff. Sam’s clearly been in and out of sleep, his hair tousled and he has a habit of keeping his eyes mostly shut when he’s tired. You grin at him, widening your door. “Do you want company?” You ask, and he nods. Stepping to the side, you let him in.

He crawls into your bed, and you follow suit. Surprisingly, he’s not brought his earphones or his phone with him. You can’t help but feel awful for the guy. He’s lost every family member and everyone he’s ever loved. They’re gone.

Except for you.

As you’re sitting up, he’s beginning to get comfy. He lies on his back, then turns over to his side, facing away from you. The silence between you both is comfortable, peaceful. But there’s something lingering in the air. You turn to face him, tapping him tenderly on his upper arm.

“Sam,” you begin, and he hums.

“Yeah?”

It takes you a second to collect your thoughts, knowing that saying the wrong thing can set him off. You keep your hand placed on his bicep, attempting to keep that connection and ensure he’s listening.

“I know you feel like you have to carry all this shit alone. But you don’t. Like moving forward is the only way to make the pain stop. You don’t have to. It’s okay to grieve and feel sorry and all of the above. It’s normal, but you’re not alone. You’ve got me.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you can hear the shaky breath he exhales.

“I miss and love him so much too,” you continue, your voice quieter, softer. “There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think about him. I know nothing I can say will fix anything, but I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallow as his body stiffens. Sam remains quiet, his hand settling over yours. Sam’s hesitant, unsure that if he lets go, he’ll lose you too. Nothing in the world right now will bring as much solace than the comfort of one another.

“We’ve lost such a huge part of our lives… but we still have each other. And that’s something.”

Sam lies there, absorbing your words like a sponge. He responds with a small hum in agreement. He squeezes your hand tiredly, so you know he’s got you too.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural imagines #spn imagines #sam winchester #supernatural imagine #sam winchester imagines #spn imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam x reader #sam x you #sam x y/n #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #sam winchester fluff

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thekingwhereitallends · 4 months ago

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You know back when it was just released, i had no interest in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier because of the premise and the look of Captain America attire on John Walker. Never did i ever know i would be watching for the same John Walker that killed my excitement.

I found out he is hated and seen as a prick, but when i watch the series i figure that John actually is nothing like that. He is humble about his accomplishments and comes to rescue Bucky and Sam numerous times. Hell, the first time John and Lemar come to assist Sam and Bucky, the veteran duo never return back to support them considering the possiblity that they might get killed by Super Soldier Terrorist Group. Even then, John offers them a ride and they still do not trust him at all. John gets Bucky out of the prison and asks for his (and Sam's) guidance, but they continue to stomp on his nerves. Bucky has the audacity to bring up the fact John that "things are getting a little intense for you."

I am like "f*** you, man. I would be pissed off if everyone treats me like i am a scum while i try my best to help them and keep manners.", and I am a huge fan of Bucky but all this mini-series does is character assassination. Realistically, you would expect at least Sam to reason with and try to support John (it is his job to treat soldiers dealing with PTSD), but no.

And when he is mourning the murder of his friend and going through an inner turmoil?

Sam and Bucky arrive.

John tells them they must go to hospital to have their injuries treated.

HE IS STILL GIVING THEM BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT AND WORRIES ABOUT THEM😭

Do they try to comfort him?

Hell no.

They just say they want the shield.

And that makes John go berserk.

Bucky surely was dreaming to beat John into a pulp for no sane reason.

Bucky and Sam go all out against him. They never look so strong against flagsmashers at all.

Yes, shatter the arm of the man who saved you multiples times because heroes do that. Sam and Bucky acted like petty, immature adults throughout the show whenever they were around John.

People then use this scene:

And mention how it exists to serve the purpose of the beginning of a redemption arc for John Walker. What the hell did John ever do to need that? Executing a goddamn villain whose hands was stained with blood of innocent citizens that he blew up with help of Carli? John has always strives to save people and make them feel safe, and in the last episode he throws away the shield to do that. Never give up and do not listen to politicians, even after that they stripped him of his rank and forced him to a retirement in spite of all his sacrifices. This is what they reward a hero who earned three badges of excellence, which is an impossible in the modern era if you think about how the most one would get in a world war was two.

The protagonists instead focus on Flagsmasher who have no problem with taking innocent lives as long as they deem it "important" and helpful in fulfilling their goal which was so vague yet sounded like death for half the population of earth.

In the end, John benefits the most from this show as he has a nearly-complete character arc. He feels real, and is complex enough to deserve a solo movie of his own. He proves himself worthy as a hero who is capable of overcoming his demons, and make the best decision in heat of battle just as his late friend said. Even after the whole world discriminated against him and oppressed him.

I would give him a hug. But lord knows he deserves so much better than that.

Nothing but love and respect for John Walker.

The Best Phase 4 Character.

I am looking forward to watch Thunderbolts primarily for him, and then Bucky.

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beybaldes · 2 years ago

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It hits different cause it's you

summer sleepover masterlist

jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary : “passionate kissing, pressed up against a wall.” Requested by anon.

contebt warning: one use of yn, throw up, Jamie being insanely jealous, Roy being a big brother figure, angst In the form of Jamie being self deprecating to fluff, allusions to smut but non written.

There was not a square inch of the Crown and Anchor that wasn't buzzing with life; the whole Richmond team, players and otherwise, were crammed into the tiny, town centre pub.

"Hey, who's that?" Jamie didn't recognise the tall blonde that had his arm around your shoulders, prompting him to sharply nudge Sam in his side, attempting to gain some insight as to who he was. Obviously, he wasn't a member of the team or the staff, he knew that much, but if someone had brought him as their plus one, it was rude of him to try and make moves on his friends friend. Jamie nearly spat his drink out at Sam's words. "They have a boyfriend?"

"Well, boyfriend is a strong word really, they've just seen each other a few times." Roy added, now suddenly beside Jamie and Sam with a frown firmly on his face. Even though it was a familiar sight, it had an even darker twinge to it then usual.

"And how would you know that?" Jamie scoffed, arms folding tighter across his chest as he watched the guy pull you over to the bar, his arm wrapped around you, guiding you through the crowd.

"They told me." Roy answered shortly with a shrug of his shoulders. "Though they also told me the guys a fucking prick." Now that had caught Jamie's attention. With each word that slipped past Roy's lips, Jamie could recognise the look of disproval more and more. "Forgot to show up for one of their dates and they had to run home in the fucking rain."

"Fucking prick." Jamie half expected some comment from Roy about how he, himself, was a prick, but it never came, him so focused on burning a hole into the head of the blonde who had his best friend - though Roy would never admit to you being his best friend - entranced.

"You should go and save them Jamie." Sam suggested, a smile pulling at his lips as he nudged Jamie's side teasingly. "They deserve better than him."

"What? And they deserve me? Right." Jamie scoffed, taking a swig of his drink as he continued to stare at the scene before him, unease filling his stomach as he dwelled on the way your smile filled your face and the way your shirt defined everything perfectly.

"Cut that shit out." Surprisingly, that came from Roy. "You're...well...you're a fucking half decent guy, Tartt. Y/n would be lucky to have you."

"Aw, Roy." Jamie cooed, reaching up to pinch at Roy's cheeks like you would a cute baby. Though before he could make contact, Roy had slapped his hand away, a scowl settling on his lips "You're so kind."

"Fuck off." Roy left at that, walking across the room to meet you and your date for the night at the bar.

"Hey, Angel." Roy saddled up next to you at the bar, slipping a hand around your waist and pulling you into a side hug. When you pulled him into a proper one, he took the opportunity to glare daggers at your date, who, in great shock to Roy, just glared right back. There was no way he was letting you date this guy.

"Roy, you know Jake." When you pulled away from the hug, Jake was quick to put his arm around your waist in a way that screamed controlling to Roy.

Jake. Jamie. Jamie. Jake. There was no way you'd picked the blonde on coincidence; and though Roy would rather bubble wrap you up and put you in a cupboard so no one and nothing could ever get to you, if you were going to be with anyone, he'd rather you be with Jamie. The thought knocked him sick. "Yeah. I do."

"I can't fucking believe this shit man." Jamie couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene before him. Roy seemed to be being more amicable with this random guy you were seeing then he'd ever been with him, and he'd just quite loudly proclaimed how much of a dickhead he thought he was. He just couldn't wrap his head around it.

What was there to this guy that Jamie didn't have? Why couldn’t you like Jamie the way he liked you? Why did you have to look so good in that shirt? Why hadn’t you told him but had seemed to tell Sam and Roy? Too many unanswered questions were swarming around his head. Roy clearly approved more of this stranger then he did of Jamie - and even though he'd blatantly told him otherwise seconds ago, the fact he was even entertaining a conversation with him made Jamie quickly forget it. Never once did it cross his mind that maybe Roy was entertaining the conversation because he cared about you.

Jamie felt like he couldn't breath more and more with each second that passed that he watched the three of you converse. It was all too much for one night. Roy liked him less then the dick who didn't show up for your date and made you walk home in the rain, he'd confirmed you didn't feel the same way about him that he felt about you, Mae had put up some disco lights that were stopping him from seeing straight, and the vanilla vodka he'd consumed was making his stomach churn. "I'm gonna be sick."

Jamie didn't hear Sam call after him when he sprinted from his side in the direction of the pubs door, he didn't hear Roy call after him when he barged past the three of you to get out of the pub, and he didn't see your concerned gaze that followed him until he'd disappeared from your vision.

Roy made a promise to be right back, taking a step away from you and Jake after calling down Mae for a glass of water. When you pieced together where he was going, you took the glass from his hand, appreciating the way the condensation cooled the palm of your hand. "No, it's okay Roy. I'll go check on him."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, course. Be right back Jake." You didn't wait for his response, turning for the door almost instantly. Thankfully, Jamie's actions and your want to see him had given Roy the opportunity that he'd been waiting for.

"Let's have a chat Jake, yeah?"

"Jamie!" You called out when you stepped outside of the pub. When you didn't immediately see him, you went to call out his name again, only stopping at a loud wrenching sound that was coming from the side of the building. "Holy shit, are you okay?"

Jamie pulled his shirt sleeve over his hand, wiping at his mouth then retuning it to his side. His other arm rested above his head, allowing him to balance himself against the wall as he hunched over. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine babe, go back inside."

Taking steps closer to Jamie's side, you made sure to avoid the mess he'd made on the floor, rubbing one hand in circles against his back. When his heaving had finally stopped, you wrapped an arm around him, slowly guiding him to sit on the step of the door that led into the kitchens. "C'mon."

Silently, you handed him the glass of water, letting him drink it before speaking. “What's wrong Jamie?"

"What do you meant what's wrong I'm-" Jamie's words fell short as he looked at you. Clearly, you didn't plan on taking any bullshit from him tonight. At his failure to provide a response fast enough, you nudged your knee against his, keeping the side of your leg pressed tightly against his after. Jamie let out a sigh, running a hand down his face. "I just got in my own head. That's all. And then with the vanilla vodka, and the lights, and so many people talking, it went to shit."

Jamie's heart nearly stopped as you threaded your fingers into his hair, pushing it back for him and readjusting his headband. Even when you'd fixed his hair for him, your hand remained in it, resting against the back of his neck and scratching at the hair there. "What did you get in your head about Jay?"

This wasn't real. The vodka had clearly got to him and he was experiencing some kind of deluded, fever ridden, dream. A too hard tug on his hair ground him back in the moment; this was definitely real and you were definitely playing with his hair. He was so fucking in love with you. "Nothing important, don't worry about it, go have a good night with your boyfriend."

"It's important to you, so it's important to me." Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How you had no idea what you were doing to him, he was clueless. Jamie could've sworn up and down that right then his heart was beating a metre out of his chest - how could you not see it too? "And, also, he's not my boyfriend."

"He's not?"

"No." A weight had been lifted from Jamie's shoulders that he hadn't realised was there. For the first time since he'd noticed you under the arm of whoever it had been, he felt like he could breathe. "We've been out a few times but, honestly, I'm not really feeling it, he's a bit of a dick."

"I know. Roy told me."

"Oh did he?” You asked, your head titling in a way that made the dim street light accentuate all your features. It made your eyes glimmer and Jamie had to resist the urge to kiss you. “Fucker doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut."

A laugh rumbled through Jamie’s chest and he was certain your presence alone had made everything better. God, if you’d let him, he’d never leave your side. "I’m all good now, if you want to go back in, I think im just gonna head home."

"Let's go." Your hand moved down from his hair and slotted into his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing. Jamie took your action as a sign, allowing you to lead him to your car without a thought spared as to how your date would get home, what Roy was doing to him right now, or what anyone would think of your shared absence. All he cared about was the fact his hand was in yours and that it remained that way the whole ride to his house.

He opened the door for you and then made a bee line for the bathroom with you hot on his heels. As he brushed his teeth several times over, forcing the taste of vomit out of his mouth, you took a seat on his counter. When Jamie spat out his final lot of toothpaste, he turned to you with a minty fresh smile. “So, your ‘not boyfriend,’ that’s definitely not going anywhere?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely not.” You answered honestly, jumping down from the counter and walking in step with Jamie down his hallway. “Besides, I kind of have a thing for someone else. He was the BTEC version, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” Jamie asked casually, as though his heart hadn’t been crushed for a second time tonight, this time in what should’ve been the safety of his own home. “So, what was he like? Aside from being a huge dick, obviously.”

“Obviously.” You confirmed, a laugh slipping past your lips as your lingered in Jamie’s doorway, not quite ready to go home yourself yet. “Oh, well, you know. He plays a lot of football, not too bad at it too, he’s from somewhere up north so he’s got this sexy twinge of an accent.” If Jamie didn’t know better, he’d think you were describing him. “And get this. His name? Jake Heart.”

Jamie had never been sure if heaven was real, but if must’ve been, because he knew if it was, this would be his idea of it. When you said you were going out with the worse version of who you really liked, he never in a million years would’ve thought you really wanted to be with him - even as much as he hoped it. It was like all of his dreams were coming true and his life was finally, fully, piecing together.

“Me.” Jamie gasped, taking a step closer to you. “You like me. I’m the one you like.”

“Yeah, doofus.” You took a step closer to him, sliding your arms up his chest and over his shoulder, placing your hands in his hair like they had been on the doorstep of the pub. He was still fully convinced this was one of those good dreams that make you regret setting an alarm the night before. “Was kind of hoping you’d have caught on by now, but, it is what it is.”

Jamie slipped his arms around your waist, connecting his hands over the small of your back. “So, if you like me, does that mean we can, like, be a couple and stuff?”

“Depends what you have in mind when you say ‘and stuff.’” The coy smile on your lips had a smirk pulling on Jamie’s. God, he couldn’t fucking contain himself around you, and he hoped he would never have to again after today.

Jamie pulled you flush against him, pressing his lips firmly to yours, and squeezing your hips, slipping his tongue into your mouth at the gasp that he pulled out of you. Carefully, he manoeuvred you away from his doorway, kicking it closed behind you, and pushing you against his hallway wall. One of his hands quickly moved to cup the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair to keep you from knocking against the cold plaster and to kiss you even more firmly. He didn’t hold back on his actions, squeezing and rubbing and nipping and sucking on every bit of skin he could reach as he pulled himself away from your lips and made his way down your neck.

As he pulled away for air, his forehead resting against your own and his chest heaving, he suddenly became nervous again. “Something like that, I don’t know, only if you’d like it.”

You pressed a fervent kiss to his lips, knocking the air from his lungs before he’d even had the chance to regain it. “I’d like that very much, Jay.” Jamie stared at you dreamily, so in love with you and you didn’t even know it yet. He couldn’t wait for the day that’d come when he’d finally, fully, tell you. “Couldn’t help but notice you closed the door though Jay, you wanting to figure out what more of that ‘stuff’ looks like, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that very much.” Jamie used your position against the wall to his benefit, moving his hands to hold your waist as he dropped to his knees before you, ready to sing praises between your legs. “Think you’ll like it very much too.”

While the walls of Jamie’s hallway were permanently scarred by the whimpers from your lips and the scratches of your nails against the wall, Roy and Jake sat in the crown and anchor.

“- and you’re not fucking good enough for them. So, you’re going to disappear from their phone, and from the face of the fucking earth for all I care, and not be a fucking duck about it either, yeah.”

Jake was shaking in his seat, and even though Sam had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to butt in the conversation for the past 30 minutes, he never got the chance to. Jake had stood from his seat and left the pub without so much as a goodbye or a sip from his drink taken.

“Roy, do you really think all that was necessary?” Sam asked, sliding into Jakes now empty seat and sliding his untouched beer over to Roy.

“Abso-fucking-lutley.”

Hope you enjoyed this Jamie fic!!! Let me know what you think <33 more to come as I get up to date on the summer sleepover prompts x

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt oneshot #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso x reader #beybaldes summer sleepover !!

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anonymityisfunwriter · 3 months ago

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in honor of bucky's birthday...

someone asked me a few months ago if i would write another story as a continuation of twin flames once cap 4 and thunderbolts came out... i didn't even think you guys would want that, but having seen cap 4 i wanted to give you guys a little glimpse of what i think sunshine would be doing in cap 4!

cap 4 spoilers below the cut!

in my head, there's really only two options, either sunshine would be with sam or with bucky:

if sunshine stays with sam...

i think Sunshine would end up being the one weaponized against General Ross.

you look down at your hands, only now gaining awareness of where you are. the bright lights of the sirens and the helicopters beating above you blind you.

"don't do this."

"sam? sam, what happened?"

"you tried to kill the president..."

a shocked breath lodges itself in your throat, "no, no, i wouldn't - i didn't."

sam reaches out an appeasing hand to you, "just stay calm. we'll figure this out. it's going to be okay."

"you can't let them send me back there. i don't want to go back. please." you shake your head over and over, tears streaming down your face, "please, sam. i don't - i don't want to go. don't let them take me. i didn't - i didn't want to hurt anyone."

"i know, i know, but you have to. i'm going to get you out, but you have to go with them."

you can't help the sob that escapes you as you feel the cold metal clamp down on your wrists.

"hey, easy," sam barks.

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry," you repeat over and over again. "i didn't mean to."

if sunshine is with bucky:

"this is a private room," sam grits out. "go away."

"i won't lie, i was expecting a warmer welcome."

sam sucks in a breath, tearing his eyes away from joaquin for the first time in hours. he turns on his heels, throwing his heavy arms around you, engulfing you in a warm embrace. "god, how did you - you have the best timing, you know that?"

you smile into his shoulder, "hi, sammy."

"i'm here too, in case anyone cares."

sam playfully groans, "you brought bucky?"

"we're sort of a package deal now, remember?"

"ugh... don't remind me. joaquin framed the save the date."

the reminder of joaquin quiets the room again. bucky grips sam's shoulder in a comforting grip, "he's going to be okay, sam."

"no, steve made a mistake... and i don't know why i thought i could do this."

"no, he didn't."

sam shakes his head, gesturing towards joaquin, "you saw what happened out there?"

bucky nods, "you did your best. you did what you could."

"exactly, i did what i could. i mean, how many alien invasions did steve stop?"

"3."

"and i couldn't even stop this from happening."

"steve didn't pick you because you're the strongest, he picked you because you're you. he gave people something to believe in. you give them something to aspire to."

sam's eyes narrow slightly, "did your speechwriters help you with that?"

bucky shrugs, "maybe the ending a little bit."

"he's right though," you chime in. "you're doing your best and you're doing great."

sam looks on at joaquin, "it doesn't feel like it."

"it's going to be okay, sam. he's going to be okay," you promise. "let me know if you need a hand, you know where to find me."

sam playfully scoffs. "i can't be dragging in a future congressman's girlfriend into the front lines, now can i?"

you shrug, "i mean, i won't tell them if you don't."

"you know i'm still right here, right?" bucky incredulously huffs, his hand resting on his hips. "and it's fiancee, not girlfriend."

"yes, we know already," sam groans.

"anyway, we should get going, james."

bucky nods, jutting his head toward the door, "we've got a plane to catch. stupid fundraising thing."

"thanks for coming. both of you."

"anytime." bucky hugs sam as he heads toward the door, "love you, buddy."

"love you, sam." you hug sam tightly one last time. with one last squeeze, you murmur in his ear, "but seriously, if you need a hand-"

"i heard that," bucky calls over his shoulder.

sam chuckles, nodding and mouthing, "i'll call you."

but anyway that was just a very rough idea of where i think our trio would be in cap 4. i suppose we'll get a better idea once we get thunderbolts.

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarnes @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan @marvelatthem @capswife @1-akira-2 @generalmoonpolice

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winchestersisterimaginessss · 7 months ago

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Request: If you want can you write one about shapeshifters confusing the sister? She doesn't know who is real and breaks down not knowing who she should trust and who to kill?

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

A/N: I just kept writing and writing about this one lol oops. I also didn’t proofread so my bad. Requests are open and I’m working hard on getting to everyone’s! Hope you like this:))

Lately, you were on edge and completely weighed down by the constant pressure of trying to save the world. It felt like the world was resting on your shoulders, and in many ways, it was. It left you anxious and overwhelmed, constantly worrying, no matter what you were doing. Your brothers could see how much it was affecting you, especially since you were only 16, and they wanted to do everything they could to protect you from the mental toll it was taking on you. You had just woken up when you heard a gentle knock on your door.

“Yeah?” You asked groggily, rubbing your eyes.

Sam pushed the door open and sent you a soft smile before walking to sit on the edge of your bed. You immediatly pushed yourself up in a sitting position and looked at him with worry.

“What?” You asked slightly panicking, hoping nothing bad happened. You knew he was about to get touchy feely and you were anxious to know why. Did something happen? Is someone hurt? Did someone die? Where’s Dean? Your thoughts were cut off by Sam placing a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s alright, everything’s okay.” He reassured, examining your worried face. He knew how anxious you’ve been lately so he sent you a pained smile before he continued, “Dean and I were talking and we thought it would be best if you stayed back instead of going on the hunt today.” He said, already knowing this conversation could go one of two ways.

“But-“ You started before he cut you off.

“Take a rest day bug, it’s okay. We can see the toll this has been taking on you and you need a mental reset.” He said softly.

“But, I-I’m okay.” You smiled, but your voice cracked and betrayed you.

“No, you’re not bug and that’s alright. I know it feels heavy right now and it’s okay to not be okay. Me and Dean have been through it, but you’re so young and no one should have to carry the weight of what you've been through. It’s important to take a day off to take care of yourself alright?” Sam said with his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Okay, yeah.” You said softly, nodding. Sam got up and pulled you into a hug.

“Love you bud.” He said before he kissed you on the side of the head.

“Love you too, be safe please.” You said, already feeling stressed out at the fact that your brothers are throwing themselves at danger once again and you won’t be there to immediately know the outcome of it.

“Always.” Sam reassured, sending out a wink and walking out of your room. You had five minutes of peace before you heard another knock on the door.

“Yeah?” You asked.

Dean stuck his head into the room and sent you a smile.

“Hey kid, I got you a bagel and a chocolate chip muffin and I already have Legally Blonde up on the tv for you.” He said already knowing how to start your self care day off right.

“Thank you!” You smiled and started to get out of bed to start your day.

“Call me if you need anything. We’re heading out now, okay?” He asked.

“Yes, please be careful.” You said shooting him a concerned look.

“Uh I am always careful.” He said matter of factly.

“Mhm.” You chuckled, going in to hug him.

“Love you kid, we should be back by tonight.” He said and ruffled your hair.

“Okay, love you.” You said, pulling away and watching him walk out.

It was around 7pm when you heard some noise outside of your room. You quietly opened the door and saw Dean in the hallway. He didn’t notice you as he walked into his own room. You decided to go to the kitchen to grab one of the cookies you baked earlier to give him one to try. As you walked towards the kitchen the front door opened and in walked Dean.

“Hey Y/N/N!” He said when he saw you. He was making his way down the steps as you froze.

“I-I-I-“ You were confused for about 15 seconds before your heart dropped. This wasn’t Dean. Dean was just down the hall. But what if that wasn’t Dean and this is actually the real Dean. Your thoughts were wild and your heart was pounding.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, seeming concerned.

“No.” You whispered and began to back up away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” He asked, now on high alert.

“Get away from me!” You shouted in fear.

“What the fuck?” He said to himself as he put his hands up in defense.

“Where’s Sam?” You asked forcibly, still back away from Dean.

“He’s picking up some food. What’s going on kid?” He asked.

“You were just in your room.” You stated aggressively.

“No I wasn’t.” He responded, confused.

“Exactly.” You sucked in a breath of terror before you bolted out of the room, ready to fight for your life.

“What the hell?” You heard him say as you sprinted into your room. You grabbed your gun and bolted back out towards Dean’s room where you saw him enter just moments before the other Dean walked through the front door. Just as you were about to reach his room, he walked out. You jumped in fear and put the gun behind your back.

“Oh hey kiddo I was just about to come check on you. Sammy ran out to grab us some food.” He finished just as the other Dean rounded the corner to the hallway to find out what was going on with you.

“What the fuck?” They both said at the same time. You brought your gun out from behind your back and shakily held it in front of you, frantically switching between the two Dean’s unsure of who was who.

“Hey Y/N, I need you to trust me and walk towards me right now.” Dean 2, the one that just walked up, said calmly, but urgently. You immediately turned the gun to Dean 1.

“Alright, hey, take it easy, okay?” Dean 1 said with his hands out in front of him, his eyes not leaving yours. “I need you to be smart about this kid. You know me. Shoot him!” He shouted.

You let out a frustrated cry and turned the gun onto Dean 2. You didn’t know who was who and you were freaking out.

“I’m Dean alright?! I’m Dean. You’ve gotta help me out here kid and walk towards me because that’s the shapeshifter, not me.” He said urgently. You were so overwhelmed and tears started to pour down your cheeks as you flipped the gun back onto Dean 1.

“SHOOT HIM Y/N!” Dean 1 yelled at you, but you didn’t falter your gun. “SHOOT HIM!” He screamed at you again. You jumped in freight, but continued to point the gun at him. Dean 1 was so persistent on you killing Dean 2 while Dean 2 seemed like his only goal was to protect you. Your thoughts were interrupted by Dean 1 shouting once more.

“SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM!” His demand boomed through the halls making you panic and freeze. He started charging towards you and thats all it took to for you to snap out of it and shoot him twice. He fell to the floor dead.

“Oh thank God.” You heard the real Dean sigh in relief from behind you, but you felt anything but relief. You were left in a trance staring at dead fake Dean, but he looked so real to you. All of your emotions were threatening to spill over. You were so worked up over saving the world while also worrying about your brothers safety. You were scared that you could lose one of them in an instant and now seeing dead fake Dean was too much for you to handle. He was identical to your brother and though he wasn’t really your brother it didn’t leave much up to the imagination if you ever really did lose him. You sunk to the floor staring at the shapeshifter with tears now trailing down your cheeks.

“Dean?” You whispered weakly staring at your brother’s lifeless body knowing that it wasn’t actually him, but not able to shake the emotions you felt. Suddenly your vision was cut off by someone standing in front of you.

“Hey, it’s me, it Dean. It’s okay.” Dean said kneeling down in front of you, but you couldn’t focus on anything as you stared blankly ahead stuck in your own mind. It felt as though nothing around you was real and you were unable to move or speak.

“Hey kiddo you with me?” He asked getting increasingly more worried as he lightly tapped your face with no reaction from you.

“Alright you’re in shock, that’s alright, that’s okay, just know I’m here sweetheart, alright? You’re safe, I’m okay. Everything’s okay, I promise.” He soothed trying to get you to a safe mental space. He started rubbing his hands up and down your arms to try and ground you which worked. You blinked hard before opening your eyes again. Your eyes met Dean’s who were already boring into yours and your flood gates opened. You started sobbing and felt Dean take you into his arms. You gripped onto his shirt tight and clung to him.

“De.” You whimpered into his chest.

“Hey, yeah, I got you. It’s me, I’m alright, I’m here.” He said softly understanding that with your recent emotions seeing him lifeless was too much for you to handle. He gripped you tighter as sobs wracked through your body.

“Shhhh, shh, shh, everything’s alright kid.” He said.

“I’m just so scared to lose you.” You whimpered, feeling your body start to shake.

“You’re not ever going to lose me.” He reassured you and rubbed your back to calm your trembles.

“I- just- the body looks identical to you.” You stuttered trying to find the words to get it out. You felt Dean nod.

“I know kid, I know. It’s alright.” He said softly, understanding exactly where your mental breakdown came from. You pulled away and wiped your tears.

“Okay we should um we should probably do something about this body then.” You mumbled glancing at the shapeshifter, still feeling uneasy.

“Don’t worry about it, I got it. Sam should be here any minute with dinner so go wait for him in the other room alright?” Dean asked, staring down at you.

“Um yeah alright.” You said and walked towards the kitchen. Just as you sat down, Sam walked through the door with bags in hand.

“Hey bug!” He smiled. “How was your day?” He asked before setting the food on the table and getting a good look at you. As soon as he did his face fell.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly seeing your tear stained face. You immediately got up and hugged him, still slightly shaking from earlier.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You felt his chest rumble as he asked you.

“There was a shapeshifter.” You mumbled, gripping onto his shirt tighter.

“What?” Sam asked in confusion pulling you away from him to look you in the eyes.

“There was a shapeshifter who looked like Dean and I couldn’t tell who was who, but I killed the shapeshifter and it just scared me.” You spoke slowly.

“Okay.” Sam shook his head, but still was in absolute confusion on what happened and how it had happened.

“Where’s Dean now?” He asked, trying to understand more.

“Dealing with the body.” You said and went back into his arms, needing comfort once more.

“Okay, alright.” He said and held you close to him.

“Just freaked me out a little bit.” You whispered.

“l understand bug, it’s alright.” He reassured you, rubbing your back. After a couple minutes you pulled away from him and sent him a soft smile.

“You okay?” He asked, still concerned with your mental state.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.” You responded and sent him one of your cheesy thumbs up. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Alright do you wanna get our dinner out of the bag and put it on the table while I go talk to Dean?” He asked, motioning to the diner bags he had placed on the table.

“Yeah sure.” You responded as he sent you a quick nod and left the room.

You got the table ready and put the food out on the table. Your eyes caught the cookies you totally forgot you baked and got them ready to put on the table also for your brothers to try. As you were walking towards the table with the plate your brothers both walked in.

“I baked cookies today!” You said enthusiastically.

“Your scrumptious secret recipe cookies?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Duh.” You chuckled and shook your head yes. He immediately snagged one off the plate. You looked back at him after you placed the rest on the table and noticed it was already gone.

“Damn you’re the real Dean all right.” You laughed. He sent you a wink and you all sat down at the table to eat. As you opened up your to go box you couldn’t help, but notice the exchanges your brothers were making.

“What?” You asked.

“How was your day?” Sam asked.

“It was actually pretty good!” You said before looking down at the table. “The shapeshifter stuff just threw me off a little bit, but other than that I had a really good day.” You finished.

“Alright well tomorrow we’re all having an off day together kiddo just me you and Sammy.” Dean grinned, knowing you needed to spend time with them.

“Good thing I have three face masks left still.” You smirked, looking between your brothers.

“Good thing Sammy loves to be pampered.” Dean smirked.

“Dean give me a break, you pamper yourself more than Y/N pampers herself.” Sam scoffed.

“That’s actually true.” You laughed.

“Oh be quiet you two.” Dean said in a high pitched girly voice making you all laugh.

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