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ellemj · 4 months

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Time & Temptation - Roommates w/ Benefits Pt. 3

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Read parts 1 and 2 first if you haven't!

Summary: Bucky took a bullet for you and your ungrateful attitude is exactly what will help end his unwanted attraction to you, his new roommate. Or at least he thought it would help, until he found out how pretty you look on your knees.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, alcohol consumption, mutual masturbation, hint of a size kink, blood, gunshot wounds, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: According to @littlemiss-yeehaw, this is the filthiest thing I've ever written. Idk if I agree but it's a lil tiny bit filthy. Sorry for the long wait but I did NOT want to risk half-assing this chapter when I was so focused on getting through the 12 Days of Smut in December. Hope you all enjoy!

Pissed. That’s what you are in this moment, beyond pissed. You’re in the backseat of Sam’s car as he drives you and Bucky through the city, heading back to your apartment complex. He should be heading toward the nearest hospital but of course, the stubborn ass super soldier who you now call your roommate adamantly refused to go to the hospital after being shot.

“If I see so much as one drop of blood on my leather seats...” Sam threatens coldly, shooting Bucky a side-eye from the driver’s seat. You don’t even have to see his face to know that Bucky’s returning the calloused look. You let out an annoyed sigh as you start unbuckling the strap of one of your heels, your shimmery body glitter reflecting the mix of moonlight and streetlights streaming in from the windows. “And you,” Sam says, casting a glance in the rearview mirror and catching your gaze, “don’t get glitter all over my damn car.”

“I’d be getting glitter all over Elias Leveaux’s car right now if Bucky hadn’t inserted himself into my op.” You put extra emphasis on the word my, using the rearview mirror to look at Bucky’s stoic expression. He keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead, refusing to dignify you with even a brief darting of his eyes in your direction. After kicking off your heels and stuffing them in your duffel bag, you reach behind yourself to start undoing the back of your lacey corset top. Though it looks hot as fuck on you, it’s also uncomfortable as fuck and you’re not wearing it for a moment longer than you have to. Your breasts are one more snap away from spilling out of the top when Sam catches Bucky’s gaze drifting to the rearview mirror so briefly that he’s surprised he even noticed it. Sam’s quick to reach a hand up and tilt the mirror to point at the ceiling, shooting Bucky a disapproving look. He would’ve expected a man from Steve’s era to behave a little better than that. “What the hell were the three of you even doing there tonight? This was meant to be a solo op, I didn’t need any more backup than I already had.”

“Right, you’d be safely on your way to Leveaux’s house right now, wouldn’t you? Without a bullet wound in your head or your chest or wherever else?” Bucky seethes, growing more and more tired of your stubbornness. Do you not realize that it was a planned shooting? Someone knew Leveaux was going to be at the club tonight and they plotted it all ahead of time, aiming to either scare him into staying off of the streets of the city or maybe even aiming to kill him. It was going to happen regardless of how much backup you did or didn’t have tonight.

“You know, Bucky, you can’t say shit. You got yourself shot tonight. You should’ve stayed in the club.” As soon as the words leave your lips you feel a tinge of regret settling in the pit of your stomach. He got himself shot protecting you. He shielded you with his own body. He was observant of your surroundings, he saw the dark car slowly coming down the street with its windows halfway down, and his first move was to shove you against the wall and put his body between yours and the danger behind. He likely saved your life, yet you can’t find it within yourself to offer him even a measly thank you. He’s actually a little bit thankful for everything that happened after you left the stage earlier, because he was really starting to wonder how the hell he was going to find enough to dislike about you to keep his cock from getting hard every time you cross paths, which is way too often when you live together. But you acting like this? Acting like he did you a disservice by not only saving you from a hail of gunfire but also by saving you from going home with the most notorious arms dealer in the northern U.S? He thinks this ungrateful attitude of yours might cure him.

When the sound of your last corset fastener snapping open disturbs the short-lived silence in the car, Bucky clenches his teeth together. He wishes you would wait until you were home to change, but he also couldn’t stand knowing that you were sitting there in that fucking black lingerie set with nothing but another man’s coat covering your skin. Maybe he isn’t as cured as he thought.

“You should’ve called me Sam, you should’ve told me that you guys were going to be there tonight.” Your tone is a little softer as you slip on a black Calvin Klein bra and then pull your black sweater from earlier over it.

“Fury didn’t brief us until the last minute, I had no idea it was your op until it was too late to call you. You were already onsite.” Sam explains, trying to diffuse your anger a bit more. You sigh as you slide your black jeans over your legs and begin zipping and buttoning them closed.

“I’ve been waiting to get him alone for months.” You’re sulking. You put so much time and effort into tracking Leveaux’s every move, every hobby, every place he frequents. You know the man inside and out, and you knew this night was your only chance to get what you needed from him. You lift your right hand and massage your temples with your middle finger and thumb, feeling the start of a stress headache coming on.

“You’ll get another chance. He was pretty damn interested in you and what you had to offer.” Sam points out, fixing the rearview mirror back into its proper position and using it to make eye contact with you. He knows you work hard and that you’re good at your job, and he hates to see you so frustrated over one op being blown for reasons that were out of your control. As much as you want to blame Bucky, it wasn’t even his fault. However, you plan to hold a bit of a grudge regardless.

“Answer this one for me, when you were briefed, did Fury tell you that my cover name was the same as my real first name?” You ask, perking up in your seat a bit as you fish around in your bag for your socks. It’s freezing outside and you can barely feel your feet after wearing your heels out in such a low temperature.

“You really think I would’ve blown your cover unintentionally?” Bucky questions, his blue eyes boring into yours in the mirror. Clearly he takes offense at your insinuation. He might’ve inserted himself into your moment with Leveaux on a whim, but he isn’t reckless like you, he knew what he was doing outside the club. He was saving your ass. You stare right back at him, malice lighting your gaze on fire.

“You’re telling me you meant to do it on purpose?”

“Calm down, we knew your cover name was the same as your real name. Your cover wasn’t blown.” Sam interjects, trying his best to stomp out the flames of the fight that’s brewing between you and Bucky. His eyes leave the road for a moment as he casts a glance between the two of you, unable to ignore the growing tension in the car. “What the hell is up with you two? I’ve barely ever seen you guys interact, much less be at each other’s throats like you are right now. Am I missing something?”

“No.” You and Bucky speak the word in unison. The last few minutes of the car ride are taken in silence, no one daring to say another word as you and Bucky stew in your own anger and Sam focuses on avoiding patches of black ice in the road. You’ve almost forgotten that Bucky’s been shot, until you get out of the car in the parking garage and see the sizable, dark red wet patch smeared across the fabric covering his torso. He’s keeping his flesh hand held tight over the area, in an attempt to abate the blood loss. It looks a lot worse than he’s been making it seem, but you’d expect no less from someone so damn stubborn.

It only takes a couple of minutes to make it to your floor of the complex, and as soon as the elevator doors begin sliding open to let you both out, you can feel that urge somewhere deep inside, tugging at your conscience. You’re going to end up breaking out your first aid kit and using it on him. You can’t even argue with yourself, it’s what’s going to happen. It’s inevitable. Fuck your medical background and inherent need to take care of everyone but yourself.

Bucky’s planning to shower the blood off of his skin and maybe throw a couple of bandages over the entrance and exit wounds that he knows he’s sporting. That’s the most that he thinks he’ll need. He’s barely ever needed any more than a little wound cleansing and maybe some gauze here and there, he heals so quickly that first aid always been an unnecessary comfort. As he trails behind you down the hallway, watching the way you fiddle with the set of keys in your right hand, he wonders what you’re thinking now. He imagines you’re probably picturing yourself leaving him standing on the curb as you ride off into the dark of night with Elias Leveaux. Would you really have made it all the way to Leveaux’s house and let him put his hands on you? Would you have let him have you? All for a little bit of intel that you could probably gain in a much safer way? God, Bucky can’t stand you or the way you operate in the field. The next time Fury calls him in on anything related to you, he’s waving a white flag of surrender and saying hell no. He isn’t going to be tasked with sitting on the sidelines to watch as you let some criminal touch your ass and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Fuck that.

You deftly slide your key into the lock, turning it to the right before pushing the door handle down. When the door swings open, the darkness of your apartment greets you, mingling with an eerie silence. That’s another thing that you and Bucky don’t have in common. You always leave a light on when you go out, whether it’s a table lamp or the light above the stovetop in the kitchen, you hate coming home to darkness. But Bucky never leaves a light on. It’s like he’s allergic to all things cozy and comforting. You’re acutely aware of his presence behind you as you step into the apartment and stop in your tracks when he shuts the door behind you both. It’s dark, too dark. Of course, when you freeze right in front of him, Bucky’s next step sends him crashing into your back, which sends you nearly sprawling to the floor. He reaches out with his vibranium hand and grabs you by the elbow, steadying you quickly before letting go. It only takes him a second to figure out why you’ve stopped short, and he turns around to feel along the wall by the door until he hears the way the scratchy sound of the rough painted wall gives way to the smooth plastic covering of the light switch panel under his metal fingers. When he flicks the living room light on, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

Bucky watches as you cross the living room and disappear down the hallway, making a left turn into your bedroom with your duffel bag in tow. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he swears he sees a trail of glitter and being sprinkled across the floor in your wake and cartoon-style steam billowing out of your ears. With you gone, he can finally think without a cloud of anger fogging up his thoughts. His first move is to turn on the lights in the kitchen and fish a cold beer out of the fridge. His second move is to lean back against the edge of the island and take a long sip of said beer as he gauges how much his gunshot wound hurts. Not that much. Listening to you give him shit over nothing was more painful than the bullet he took for you. God, you’re fucking infuriating. As much as he detests your presence here tonight, he still finds himself tuning an ear in your direction. He can hear you rummaging around in your room, presumably searching for something by the sounds of your sighs and various objects sliding across the carpet. For a second, his mind floats back to the first night you moved in. The soft moans and whimpers that fell from your mouth, quiet enough that he had to strain his ears to hear them but loud enough that he was able to fucking memorize them. His grip around the beer bottle tightens as he tries to focus on anything besides those sounds, anything besides the recurrent sighs traveling down the hall right now. What the hell are you even doing in there?

“Take off your shirt.” Your voice sounds out from down the hall, reaching Bucky’s ears and making him do a doubletake.

“Last time you saw me without one you asked why I never wear one.” Bucky points out, now he’s really wondering what you’re doing in your bedroom. He hears your socked feet pattering against the floor of the hallway just before you turn the corner and step into the kitchen. His eyes lock onto yours first, but then they quickly dart down to the compact, army green tactical bag in your hands. He recognizes it in an instant. “I think if I got myself shot, I can handle the wound care on my own, sweetheart.” Bucky throws your earlier words right back in your face. You narrow your eyes at him as you step up to the island and set the first aid bag just a few inches to his right. You’re silent as you unzip it and start pulling out a few supplies you’re sure you’ll need.

“Just take off your shirt and sit your ass on the island.” Your tone is really starting to convey how fed up you are with his shit. He thinks about arguing a little more, but he’s as ready to be done with you tonight as you are with him. He figures the fastest way to get this over with is to let you take a look at his wound and see how fast he’s already healing, and then you’ll leave him alone and you can go your separate ways for the night. So, Bucky turns and sets his now half-empty beer bottle on the island next to the first aid kit before grasping the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. He drops it on the floor by your feet, watching with poorly masked amusement as your eyes rake over his toned shoulders, his chest, the rippled muscles of his abs, and then… “God, you should’ve gone to the hospital, Bucky.”

Though the lighting in the kitchen is pretty good, Bucky being so tall casts a shadow over his lower body, making it hard to get an illuminated view of the bullet’s exit wound. Your hand lands on his vibranium shoulder without hesitation and you tug him forward and to the side, urging him to turn around. He complies, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your palm and fingertips brushing over the scars where vibranium meets tortured skin. It doesn’t hurt, in fact, he finds himself annoyed at how soothing your touch feels. He wants this whole thing over with. You lean over to examine the entrance wound on the side of his lower back as Bucky runs a hand through his hair and squeezes his eyes shut. It doesn’t look anywhere near as bad as the exit wound on his frontside, which is exactly what you’d expected. You don’t give Bucky any warning as you swipe a pre-soaked pad of iodine over his wound to clean it. You want to check for bullet fragments, to give him a few stitches and maybe even a shot of a local anesthetic, but you’re sure he’d rather take another bullet than let you do any of that. So, you simply clean the wound and fashion a secure, waterproof bandage over it. When you stand up again and tap his shoulder, he turns back around to face you, looking even more annoyed than before. He doesn’t make a move to sit on the island, so you let out a frustrated sigh as you do the only thing you can think to do, the thing that Bucky wishes you hadn’t done. You sink to your knees in front of him.

You notice the way he draws in a deep breath and casts a displeased glance down at you, his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, but he doesn’t move a muscle otherwise. You look up at him just for a moment, taking in his cold expression and everything below it…the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen, the way both of his hands are gripping the edge of the countertop, his beer long forgotten with you now on your knees. If you could hear his thoughts, you’d be hearing a chorus of not now, not now, not now as Bucky attempts to rationalize with his already-hardening cock. Bucky decides to give you thirty seconds to finish whatever the hell it is that you’re about to do down there before he pulls you up by your fucking hair. As if you can sense his short fuse, you get to work. Swiping the iodine pad over the significantly messier exit wound and then tearing open a packet of gauze with your teeth. You press a couple of the soft white squares against his still oozing wound and they quickly soak up the fresh blood, soaking through to your fingertips. Bucky’s wondering why you didn’t put on any gloves, aren’t people usually worried about catching some bloodborne illness when they do shit like this? The fact that his blood turning your fingertips red doesn’t even seem to bother you almost turns him on more. God, this is starting to feel a little bit too twisted. Bucky’s flesh hand moves on autopilot, his fingers coming to rest over yours as he applies more pressure to the wound and lets out a soft grunt at the pain. You let him hold your fingers there for a moment and you make the mistake of looking up at him again. Fuck. He can’t handle this. Bucky screws his eyes shut and tilts his head back a little, making sure when he opens his eyes again his only view will be of the ceiling above and not of you on your knees in front of him.

“Are you almost done?” He asks harshly, removing his hand from the top of yours and gripping the edge of the counter once more. You start fashioning another bandage out of gauze and medical tape as soon as his hand leaves yours.

“I would be if you’d sat on the island like I asked you to, you wanted to do this the hard way.” You retort. You can’t seem to get the tape in a good enough position, not with the waistband of his tactical pants in the way, so you take the initiative and curl two fingertips into them before tugging them down an inch. That one inch is enough to reveal the beginning of a v-line and your breath hitches in your throat. You’re suddenly all-too-aware of the compromising position you’re in. Even more than that, you’re aware of something you’d been completely oblivious to just a moment before: Bucky’s hard-on outlined through the fabric of his pants.

You’re frozen for a second too long and when you come to your senses once more, you look up to find Bucky staring down at you, his gaze a little less cold but every bit as intense. You decide that making eye contact with the man that you’re currently non-sexually on your knees for might not be the smartest move, so you’re quick to avert your gaze back to the task at hand. You’re able to get the bandage in the right place just fine after tugging his pants down an inch, and as soon as the tape sticks to his skin you rise to your feet. You’re the only thing standing between Bucky and the short walk to his bedroom door. You’re ready to collect your first aid kit and leave him standing in the kitchen to steep in his anger, but your mind can’t seem to get past the fact that he has a hard-on. He saw you staring at it too, and he simply stood there looking down at you, as if he was waiting to see how you’d respond to it. God, who the hell does he think he is? Crashing your solo op, taking a bullet for you like he’s some all-American hero, and then getting turned on by what? You giving him shit for it all?

Bucky’s waiting a bit impatiently for you to take your leave, for you to gather your medical supplies back into the little tactical bag and disappear into your bedroom for the rest of the night, leaving a trail of body glitter all over the kitchen and hallway. But instead of leaving, you’re standing in front of him, your eyes analyzing every twitch of the muscles along his jaw, every little move he makes with his eyes as he stares right back at you. Your boldness seems to intensify as you stand there taking in the sight of your roommate. You want the last word, and you want it to be something he’ll remember, so he doesn’t go screwing up your hard work ever again.

Leaning into Bucky’s space, you’re met with his intoxicatingly pleasant scent, he smells so uniquely like him. There isn’t any other way to describe it, it’s just Bucky. You brace your hands on the edge of the island on either side of him, your arms brushing against each of his as you rise up on your toes and position your lips so close to his ear that you could stick your tongue out and taste him if you wanted to. Fuck, you kind of want to. The thought only graces your mind for the briefest moment before you let your eyes flutter closed and focus on the anger you still feel bubbling up in your chest.

“Stay the fuck away from my solo ops.” You whisper softly but pointedly. Your bottom lip just barely grazes the shell of his ear as the last word leaves your mouth. That tiny, brief point of physical connection between the two of you is seemingly nothing, yet it sends a spark of electricity from your bottom lip all the way down to your toes.

Bucky’s form is rigid, trapped between you and the island, simultaneously hating and loving the position he’s been placed in. He wishes he only hated it. He wishes he could fist his hand in your hair and angle your head back until your neck is exposed to him like a blank canvas, ready for him to leave his mark. He wishes you would’ve locked yourself in your bedroom the moment you both got to the apartment, not even bothering to fish out your first aid kit and clean up his wounds. He wishes he’d never given you the idea to switch apartments with Vision, and yet, in this moment, his cock is harder than it’s ever been. That’s why when you let go of the island and turn away from Bucky, leaving your first aid kit on the countertop as you take the first step to leave the kitchen, Bucky reaches out and curls his hand tightly around your upper arm, stopping you in your tracks before using his grip to turn you back around to face him. In one swift motion, he tightens his hold even more and pulls you in until your chest is pressed against his and his warm breath is fanning across your face as he looks down at your widened eyes.

“I don’t take orders from people who don’t give a shit if they live or die.” Bucky spits, holding you against him for just a second after he’s spoken his piece, before dropping his hold on your arm and letting you stumble one step back. He expects you to maybe mutter something under your breath before stomping off to your room, annoyed that he didn’t let you have the last word, but you’re every bit as stubborn as he is. Every bit as stubborn and feeling like you have a leg up in the situation since you know what’s currently fighting to escape the confines of his tactical pants. A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes flit from his icy expression down to his waistband that sits right above the outline of his hard-on, and then back up to his eyes once more.

“Right, it’s probably bad form to take professional orders from someone you wanna fuck anyway.” When you say the word fuck, you let your eyes drift down to the front of his pants one final time, ensuring that he knows what led you to your choice of words. Now Bucky returns your smirk. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as he shakes his head at you.

“That’s all adrenaline, sweetheart, nothing else.” His denial is both enraging and laughable. You tsk, closing the distance between the two of you one more time before reaching out with your right hand and letting the tips of your fingers, still tinged red with his blood, tap lightly over the center of his chest. He’s looking down at you, completely unable to force himself to look anywhere else, as you drag those fingers down his bare torso, so lightly that he feels goosebumps forming across the expanse of his skin. Your hand travels lower and lower, over the hills and valleys of his abs, ghosting over his navel, and down the thin trail of hair that leads straight to the thing you can’t stop thinking about. You let your fingertips skim over the fabric of his waistband just barely, just enough to really piss him off, and that’s when Bucky snatches your wrist away, his grip so tight that you’re sure it’ll leave a mark.

“Watch it.” He warns, with his eyes dark and narrowed as he casts you a disapproving yet sinful glance. You feel your bloodflow splitting in two directions, half of it rushing up to color your cheeks and the other have rushing down to pool low in your stomach, sending heat swirling between your legs. You swallow thickly. What the hell? Your body is clearly loving the way he’s talking to you and it’s pissing you off. You’re learning that you’re attracted to men with the unhealthiest of attitudes, and Bucky’s currently rising to the top of the unhealthy-attitude-yet-hot-as-fuck mental list that you’re keeping. He’s actually the only person on it. He just invented the list for you, in this moment, when he told you to watch it.

“I think I heard a button snap there, soldier.” You tease, letting your eyes flit down to the waistband of his pants again. Bucky’s jaw ticks as he flicks your wrist away from him and tries to ignore the new nickname you’ve decided to test out. How do you make such a common, simple title sound so damn filthy? Bucky thinks you could’ve actually heard the button of his tactical pants snap open, considering the way his cock has been twitching every time you open your mouth. He decides the only way for him to get out of this is to let you have the last word, so he stands there in silence as you study his tense face. He so badly wants to say something back, to anger you every bit as much as you’ve angered him tonight, but he knows how stubborn you are and every word he breathes will only keep you here in front of him longer. His tactic works like a charm and he watches with bated breath as you step away from him and take a few steps toward the hallway. You stop short right before disappearing behind the wall, looking over your shoulder and making eye contact with Bucky one final time.

“Let me know if you need any help with all of that uh…” You wave your hand around in the air as you refer to Bucky’s hard-on, with a near-permanent smirk plastered on your face. “Adrenaline. It’s the least I can do.”

Bucky’s left alone in the kitchen at last. He thought he’d feel instant relief once you left, but he doesn’t. He feels like he has a damn loaded gun tucked in the front of his pants. Let me know if you need any help? It’s the least I can do? Bucky has no doubt that you were simply being a sarcastic pain in his ass, but still. Your words were laced with innuendo and the sexual tension in the room was so thick that he could barely breathe. He is so beyond fucked.

---

The softest, sweetest little hum escapes your lips as your right hand moves of its own volition. The back of your hand feels the fabric of your cotton panties, which are a little bit damp even after you showered and changed into a fresh pair. The pads of your fingers are sliding back and forth along your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it around, dragging closer and closer to your entrance with each downward sweep. When you let the tip of your middle finger dip down and inward, just barely entering where you’ve been feeling an empty sort of ache for the past hour, the steady string of hums and soft pants that were leaving your lips before become whispered moans. This is exactly what you needed.

Bucky’s fist is wrapped tightly around the shaft of his cock as he gives it torturously slow strokes from the base to the tip, prolonging his pleasure as long as he possibly can. He closes his eyes and instantly recalls the mental image of you on your knees at his feet, gazing up at him like you being in that position for him wasn’t at all out of the ordinary.

“Fuck.” Bucky groans lowly, speeding up the work of his right hand as his head presses back harder into his pillow. It’s burned into his eyelids, the image of you on your knees. It’s burned into his eyelids and he fears he’ll never be able to forget it. His brain takes the image and adds to it, evolving it to include your hands sliding up the fronts of his thighs and adding a flash of hunger behind your eyes. He gets far too close to finishing himself off too soon when he imagines you tugging on the waistband of his pants just like you did earlier, but enough to free his cock right there in front of you. God, he knows he’s well-endowed, but he can just picture how much bigger his dick would look if your hand was wrapped around it instead of his own. Another groan rumbles past his lips, louder this time, as he starts to lose a little bit of his self-control.

Bucky. His name is swirling around your mind for two reasons now. The first being that you’re touching yourself because of him. Because of the way he looked at you, talked to you, because of the way he pissed you off. You slowly pull two fingers out of your pussy and drag them upwards until you reach your clit, beginning to stimulate it a little too excitedly as the second reason presents itself again. He groans. Bucky Barnes groans for the second time. The first time that you heard it a few seconds ago you assumed he was rolling over in bed or maybe he accidentally laid in a way that aggravated his wounds from earlier tonight. But the second time you heard it you had no doubt about what he was doing. It has to be exactly what you’re doing, and you’re fucking thrilled. You know it isn’t the most honest or decent way to reach an orgasm, but hell, if he’s going to be so damn vocal with such thin walls, how can you resist? So, you rub circles against your clit, letting hushed pants and moans fall freely from your lips now, sure that Bucky’s too engaged in his own arousal to hear you.

You sound like a fucking goddess. Bucky doesn’t even take a moment to feel guilty, no, he only picks up the speed with which he’s desperately tugging on his cock to get to his release. A thin sheen of sweat has formed across his brow and his chest is burning with a mix of desire and near-hyperventilation as he touches himself and listens to the sinful sounds coming from across the hall. All cares have been thrown aside as yet another loud curse is torn out of him, and then an equally loud, provocative moan is returned from your room. That’s when Bucky’s eyes snap open and his thumb glides over the slit of his cock where precum has been steadily leaking out since your dangerous kitchen encounter earlier. If he’s being honest with himself, his dick has been leaking precum since you took the stage at the club earlier tonight. As the two of you exchange moans and broken swears through the walls, neither of you using an ounce of rational thinking, you race toward your separate releases simultaneously. When Bucky finally feels his balls tightening and his cock twitching against the palm of his tiring hand, his release comes at the sound of your final audible sentence of the night.

“Fuck, I’m cumming.”

You always get the last word.

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spiderlandry · 10 months

Text

Love Language — ethan landry

Description: You regularly hugged all of your friends besides Ethan. He wonders why.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Warnings: reader is shorter than ethan, some teasing, confessions, no ghostface, mention of a dead childhood pet once, lmk if theres anything i should add !!

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s note: is this very specific to me? yes.

BLACKMORE UNIVERSITY, FRESHMAN YEAR

When Ethan first met you, he thought you and Chad were dating.

The first time he met Chad’s friend group and inevitably became a part of it, there was talk amongst them of a link in their friendships currently studying a semester abroad, which he quickly found was you. They talked greatly of you, and Chad said you’d known them since freshman year of highschool besides Sam. The Woodsboro murders only brought you five closer together.

Safe to say Ethan had quite high expectations. There were photos he’d seen, and you were…attractive, to say the least. (If Ethan was honest, he’d say hot.) And by the way everyone talked about you like you were an angel, he wasn’t actually expecting you to be the closest thing to a deity he’d ever seen—but he was proven wrong.

You were introduced when you finally came back for the spring semester, and Quinn teased him afterward for being reduced to a bumbling idiot at the mere sight of you. (It was even worse when you talked to him.)

But after a week or so, your intimidation levels went down significantly. You weren’t just an angel by looks, you were an angel by character. Even if Ethan hadn’t known you for long, the thing that stood out most was your compassion. How you cared so deeply for others that it only inspired those around you, including him.

What made him contemplate your relationship with Chad were the hugs.

Ethan was there when they picked you up at the airport. You hugged your friends from Woodsboro and Anika (since you’d known her over Facetime), then waved an awkward introduction with Ethan as he desperately tried not to stutter out his name.

He thought, okay, that was normal. Hugging your friends you hadn’t seen in a long time.

But as time progressed he noticed that every time he happened to see you, either on campus or when some of them would grab a bite to eat and you were invited, you would always be hugging Chad.

Ethan’s data was only gathered during this short week after you arrived, and he realized he was completely wrong when he began to hang out more with the rest of the group, not just Chad.

You hugged everybody.

He put it together when he spotted you at a popular lunch spot with Tara, embracing her for a good minute or so. He also went to Quinn’s place of residence which happened to also be the Carpenter sisters’, and Sam was holding you in the kitchen while something was cooking.

He started noticing it every single time. There was Mindy and Anika, who you drunkenly hugged at a lame party (in which he’d never admit that he attended just to see you), then Quinn at some point when he ran into both of you on campus.

Throughout the next few weeks, he accepted that it was just your way of showing you loved your friends. And he wasn’t close to you yet, but he was looking forward to the day he would be.

SOPHOMORE YEAR

The diner a few blocks from your place became familiar with you and your friends constantly hanging out there, and even if it could get rowdy, the staff couldn’t help but appreciate that you all tipped well despite being college students.

Ethan didn’t put much thought into the hugs a year into knowing you, his thoughts were replaced by how much you spent time with him. You asked him to hang out. You texted him. You even did study calls over discord, and you’d be able to hear Chad teasing him in the background and you always laughed it off.

Soon enough, you consumed every corner of his mind, and every good thing he saw would come back to you. He saw the moon come out every night and was reminded of how much you loved it. Whenever he encountered a stray cat, he thought about stories you told of your childhood cat, a picture of her still in your wallet though she died years ago. At a store, he would remind himself to grab the chips you liked.

You occupied places in his psyche so much that it felt like he was drunk on you. He guessed that’s why he forgot about the hugs pretty quickly.

At least, he forgot about them until you were at the diner with him, Chad, and Tara. They were always the most available, often down to do whatever when you’d text to the groupchat if anyone was free.

Chad was frowning at his phone, brows furrowed.

You were sitting across from him, next to Ethan, when you noticed.

“What’s wrong, C?” You inquired, putting a piece of fry dipped in milkshake in your mouth.

Ethan was focused on his milkshake, and how you occasionally would dip your fries in—without double dipping, of course—it made his heart flutter even if it was the simplest of actions. The domesticity of it. He may as well be your boyfriend, he fantasized.

“This quiz is wrong.” Chad scowled.

Tara, right next to him, peeped at his screen. She laughed. “Why are you taking this?”

Chad shrugged exaggeratedly, almost reminiscent of a moody kid. “I was watching this video essay about love languages last night, so I got curious.”

You smiled, taking in the context. “Did you do a quiz on what your love language is?”

He nodded.

“Can I see?”

He handed you his phone, and it read Physical Touch. Ethan scooted closer next to you to read it and you tried to ignore the faster beat of your heart when you thighs began to touch.

“Y’know what? It’s kinda right,” Tara chimed in.

“Really?” Her boyfriend turned to her.

“You have your hand on my thigh right now.” She chuckled, a soft sound as she leaned in closer to him.

Reading further, it also said Words of Affirmation was a close second.

Ethan finally spoke, “You should listen to your girlfriend, Chad.”

You handed the phone to Tara when she motioned for it. “Words of affirmation also seems right,” she added.

“Seriously?” Chad asked, his tone lifting to showcase disbelief. “Does everybody know this but me?”

Ethan pulled a memory from his brain. “You always hype me up at parties. Remember when you kept calling me a snack at that Halloween party last year?”

His roommate gave it a moment, then responded, “Alright, fine. I guess you’re right.” He looked to Tara with an unsaid question that only she knew how to read. A question that was ‘are they actually right?’

“Well, I can’t exactly say it at the table.” She said it teasingly at Chad, but with a lilting tone that told you it was, to say the least, inappropriate.

Ethan put a hand on his face, “Please have some decorum, guys.”

“Yeah, come on.” You joked. “I’ve had enough of you two lovebirds.“

Chad glanced at you, feigning offence. “Don’t act like you’re not the same!”

“Woah, woah—“ You interrupted. “With whom?“

He pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes going to Ethan, who had a panicked look.

“What? What makes you think that? Why are you looking at me?” Ethan said a tad too quickly which made Tara almost snort.

“Let’s not…” You shook your head slowly, “start this.”

Now, what did you mean by that? Ethan thought.

Chad shrugged. “What about you, roomie? What’s your love language?” He asked, moving away from the subject of you and Ethan which you were eternally grateful for. But the question still plagued Ethan, unbeknownst to you.

“Um…” He thought for a second. “What are the love languages?” He asked when he realized he didn’t actually know the other ones.

“I think yours is acts of service,” You interjected. You were looking him up and down, as if you were scanning him for something. He couldn’t help but almost cower under your wandering eyes, but he stood his ground, a mental battle inside his head of which you were completely unaware.

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Tara agreed. “Yeah.” She reiterated, more sure of it.

“Listen to your partner in crime, roomie.” Chad smirked.

You tilted your head at the partner in crime part, you’d never heard yourself be referred to with that regarding Ethan. Not that you minded.

Ethan shot him a very stern look, as if they had a silent conversation. (To your obliviousness, it was because Ethan referred to you as his partner in crime to Chad a few days ago, giving his roommate more ammo to use.)

“Why do you guys think it’s acts of service?” Ethan shifted the topic back.

“Well,” you began. “You always bring me chips when you come back from a store.”

“He only does that to you, though.” Tara said.

“Does he?” You turned to him for an answer.

“Well—I do stuff for other people too.”

“Like what?”

“I do the dishes at our house. I mop the floor, I do stats homework for Anika.”

“That’s all true,” Chad agreed. “Okay, so yours is acts of service. Y/N, what about you?”

“Definitely physical touch.” Tara nodded, certain of it.

“Oh, for sure, for sure.” Her boyfriend concurred.

“Wait, what makes you guys so sure?” You smiled regardless of your questioning tone, appreciative of the way your friends paid attention to your actions.

“Do we even have to start?” Tara asked, “The hugs?”

“Yeah, you’ve been doing it since high school.”

“Within two days of knowing me, you hugged me in Ms. Thompson’s class,” She added.

“Okay, you’re right, but—“ You started.

“What else could there be?” Chad interrupted.

It was then that a quiet voice piped up from next to you, so quiet a whisper you could’ve missed it if the diner weren’t empty. “You’ve never hugged me.”

Ethan sounded so dejected, so…defeated?

It broke your heart.

He regretted it even before he said it, and judging from everyone’s faces apparently he needed to rid himself of the habit of saying things out of turn.

Tara’s eyes were a little wide, while Chad puffed air from his mouth.

He refused to look at you.

“Never—nevermind,” He waved it off.

“I was just getting to that,” You furthered. “My love language is different for certain people!” You exclaimed.

“Is it?” Tara questioned, eyes narrowing. (You’d realize later how much of a bait this was.)

“For you guys, I’ve known you for a while so I’m comfortable touching you.”

Chad had the same expression as his girlfriend, “But you do the same to Anika and Quinn.”

It dawned on Ethan that they were pretty much backing you both into a corner. “Guys—“

“But—that’s—that’s different,” you insisted.

A long pause. Nobody could decide if it was awkward.

“…Is it?” Ethan finally spoke, a piece of courage in exchange for dignity. He needed the answer.

You fidgeted in your seat, not knowing how to say it. But you wanted to, badly. The answer was etched into your bones, weaved into your DNA.

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Wanna know the truth? I was going to say, before you interrupted me, that my love language changes when it’s romantic, okay?”

The answer was Ethan.

You didn’t know what was going to happen next. At this point, your heart was in your feet and you’ve scooted away from Ethan.

He was breathing shallowly as if he’d just ran a marathon. “Can you…elaborate?”

You took a deep breath, “Do you seriously not know?”

He shook his head.

Then you did something he never expected.

You reached for his arm and guided him out of the booth, heading for the door and ignoring your friends’ looks when you exited the diner.

Chad and Tara were left to anticipate.

Right outside of the dimly lit diner, on sidewalk, you positioned yourself right in front of him.

You stared right into his brown doe eyes, and hugged him. You put your arms around his torso, under his arms, your head on his upper chest.

It took him a good second to reciprocate, but it was worth it. The warmth that radiated from his touch was one you never forgot, even if you couldn’t feel it again for a thousand years. (But you’d never let that happen.)

You were hugging him because you couldn’t face him while you said what you were about to say.

“I don’t hug you because if I did, it would mean different.” Your voice was muffled by his jacket. “I don’t love you the way I love my friends.”

With your head where it was, you felt his breath hitch. “What—what do you mean?”

You laughed, and Ethan revelled in the rumble of your joy in his chest.

“I mean…I spend my time with you differently because I love you differently. I hug my friends, but I spend time with you, because I…”

He didn’t know if he had the strength to keep himself upright.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

He was silent.

“And—and you don’t have to even…feel the same, but I didn’t want you to wonder if I loved you or not because I couldn’t let me being scared take that from you. Because you deserve to know. I think.”

Your voice was so unstable that it tapered off by the end, as quiet as Ethan was.

His embrace tightened, trying to pull you closer. He leaned down and put his head on your shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’d say that—that I don’t have to feel the same.”

Now he felt your breath hitch.

He continued, “I think I already loved you when we met. Is that weird?”

You laughed. And he memorized that sound.

“It’s not weird. I think it happened to me too.”

The biggest weight on both of your shoulders were lifted, something you thought wasn’t possible.

He breathed you in, memorizing the edges of your body as you kept talking.

“I’m sorry they kept teasing you because of me. Tara knew, so Chad probably knew, too.”

He pulled away slightly, looking at you.

“I thought they were teasing me because Chad knew.” His eyebrows were pinched, and you put two and two together at the same time.

Your eyes snapped to the window of the diner, seeing Chad and Tara’s heads disappear from the view when they ducked down, trying to avoid you from spotting their peeping. But you saw it anyway.

You focused back on Ethan, and while he was still looking at the window, you put a soft hand on his cheek and guided his head to face you again.

“It was a set up,” He sighed.

“It was.” You nodded.

“Should we be mad?”

“Are you?”

“Not when you’re in my arms.”

You grinned. “Since when did you have game?”

“I have you, don’t I?”

You playfully slapped his arm. “Wanna go back to my place?”

“If I ever say no to that, kill me.”

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #scream 6 x reader #scream x reader #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #jack champion

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flamingpudding · 7 months

Text

Fictober23 Prompt: 1 - "It's not too late, let's go."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

Danny frowned, his head resting on his arms as he sat in a café, staring at nothing in particular. Tucker was sitting next to him, typing away on his PDA and Sam was across from him glaring at his current state of dramatic pouting, frowning and sulking while ignoring his favorite coffee order she had especially ordered for him somehow even though the store did not even have it on their menu.

"Danny, how much longer are you going to sulk?"

"I don't know. How much longer until my next chance of ever meeting someone from outer space?"

"Danny."

"We missed the Hero Gala, Sam! That was our one and only chance!"

He looked away from her like a stubborn toddler. He knew he was being especially dramatic but his friends and him had planned this whole trip solely for meeting members of the Justice League in person. For one, to maybe meet the people that have been ignoring their cities' call for help for years now and request it personally if per call won't work and two, fulfill some of their own personal selfish desires to meet the hero's each one of them admired.

Though their trip clearly had been eventful considering how a lot of his ghost rogues tried to stop him from even leaving Amity Park, they also learned about the whole media black out surrounding Amity. Turns out, the reason the Justice League was ignoring them was entirely because they didn't even know they existed in the first place. It was a miracle that they even learned about a Hero Gala in Metropolis if it weren't for an invitation somehow making it to the Mansons Estate.

Fun fact. Even if the invitation made it to them. Once they did make it to the Gala location they learned that it had happened years ago. Well wasn't that just great, and here Danny had hoped to get some help and maybe meet Superman or better Martian Manhunter.

Slamming his head onto the table and gaining the attention of some other cafe visitors briefly. Danny only turned ever so slightly so that his cheek was squished against the cold table surface. Still refusing to look at Sam but instead watched Tucker who was by now frowning at his PDA.

"Guys, I think there is more to it than us being simple late a couple of years to a Gala." Blinking made a noise to ask him to elaborate while Sam verbally asked why.

"Things didn't add up when we first left Amity, aside from all your ghost rouges were even trying to make us stop leaving until the very last second. Look at this, this is a photocopy of our last news paper from home and this-" Tucker slit a paper across the table and pointed at a specific spot at the top of the paper so both Danny and Sam could see it clearly. "-is a news paper printed today from Metropolis."

"I don't get it." Danny honestly stated staring at the spot Tucker had pointed it. Sam proceeded to hit the back of his head lightly, apparently having seen what Tucker was pointing out to them.

"The dates are way too far apart." She stated and Danny blinked, looking back at the printed date and the date displayed in the image of Tuckers PDA. "Are you sure you didn't save up an older newspaper?"

Tucker gave him an unimpressed stare. "Look at the headline. That's the incident that happened right before we went on this trip."

"Okay but what does that mean?"

"From what it looks like. Amity Park lives in a time bubble. Our technology as well as date seems far behind from everything we saw ever since we left. Even my beloved PDA appears to be old technology here."

The tree sat in silence for a moment, mulling over what they had found out so far after leaving Amity for the first time. But now that they thought about that, Amity was a closed community. There were hardly any people coming in and out of their town. In addition the only one who had ever entered their city from the outside was Vlad and even he didn't talk much about any other cities or people he could possibly know outside of Amity.

"That's a pretty interesting topic you guys are talking about."

Startled, the three looked up to see a new face that had appeared out of nowhere and was spitting next to Sam. The boy with auburn hair and yellow eyes who looked only a bit older than them and was smiling brightly at them with a back of chips in his hands.

"So you guys lived in a time bubble? That sounds interesting, can you tell me more?"

A second later two black haired teens appeared next to the boy, one sheepish and in a punk style and the other frustrated and appearing to wear more formal clothing. The frustrated one eyed them for a moment and Danny caught his eyes, noticing the calculating look and couldn't help narrowing his own eyes on him.

"Sorry about my friend, he sometimes acts before he thinks."

"I have a friend like that too, don't worry." Tucker answered and Danny shot him a quick glare before turning his attention back to the three newcomers.

"We couldn't help but overhear what you guys were talking about. You missed your chance to go to a hero gala right?" The sheepish one said after exchanging a look with the other black haired teen and Danny couldn't help but feel like there was some silent communication going on. The same he had at times with Tucker.

"So what?" Sam huffed, not willing to talk about their woes and sharing information with strangers.

"We happened to be on our way to one that's not open to the public but we could help you get in. Granted, I would like to hear a little more about your situation and how you missed the one you originally wanted to go to." In other words, give us information and we will get you to somewhere where you can meet hero's. Danny narrowed his eyes further, there had to be more to this catch.

His distrust must have been visible as the formal clothing black haired teen let out a sigh. "Look we have experience with time shenanigans, so we might be able to get you into contact with people that can help, from Young Justice or maybe even the Justice League."

"No one just offers help like that, without getting something out of it." Sam huffed arms crossed and glaring at them. Tucker also eyed them with suspicion and Danny had yet to let up on his distrustful glare.

"Well we do. So common, the private gala is still going. We only escaped from it for a little bit to get this guy some coffee. It's not too late, let's go! We can figure out the whole time bubble thing on the way there!" The brightly smiling auburn haired answered instead bouncing in his seat next to Sam. Eager to have Danny and his friends come along.

Only way later did Danny learn that the three teens that snuck them into a privat Hero Gala were actual members of Young Justice but that was only after they figured out the whole Amity lives in a Time Bubble situation.

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months

Text

Triggers

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Sam does something that reminds you of your abusive stepfather, and your response scares both of your brothers.

Sam and Dean didn’t know much about your life before them, and you wanted to keep it that way.

You were John’s daughter, but Mary wasn’t your mother. John didn’t find out about you until your mother died, at which time he took you in. But there was something about your life that even he didn’t know.

You had a stepfather.

You hadn’t told John, because even when you first met him, you had sensed something. You had sensed that if he knew that you had any option other than him, he would be gone in an instant. You found out why soon after; his life was a very dangerous one.

But you had told him that you had no one else, so he’d taken you in. And you didn’t regret it. You’d take monsters with two big brothers and your real father over a “safe” nice home and your stepfather any day.

He’d abused you both emotionally and verbally as soon as he’d married your mother, and you were almost certain that it would’ve turned physical if he hadn’t known that your mother would leave him over that. As soon as your mother died, you knew you weren’t safe in that house anymore; your stepfather could do whatever he wanted to you.

So here you were, with the Winchesters, and it couldn’t be better. They were your real family, more than your stepfather and even your mother had ever been. As much as you’d loved your mother, she’d stood by and watched while your stepfather said whatever he wanted to you, even when he threatened you and terrified you to the point where you had nightmares about him going through with his threats. You could never go back to that kind of life.

Even if it meant this, what was happening now. You were wandering around a maze of boxes and crates in the middle of a warehouse, trying to find your brothers. You’d recklessly ran down a corridor to chase down a vampire, but once it was dead you realized you’d gotten yourself lost. It would’ve been fine, if not for a couple of key factors. 1: Your phone was dead, and 2: there wasn’t just one vamp in the warehouse, it was a nest.

You just hoped that Sam and Dean found you before the nest did.

“What do we have here?” You cringed at the unfamiliar voice. Of course you couldn’t be so lucky.

“I’d say it looks like dinner,” another vampire said from behind you.

“You don’t want to do this,” you warned as your fingers tightened around your machete.

“You have no idea how much I do,” he grinned at you.

You backed away from the two monsters until your back hit a stack of crates and your movement was stopped. You were semi-confident in your ability to take them both out, until you saw movement behind some boxes to your left, and three more joined the group. One of the first two had snuck up behind you while your attention was on the other vamps, and you didn’t notice him until his hand shot out, gripping your arm and twisting it until your machete clanked to the ground.

“See,” the first one spoke as he advanced on you. “Doesn’t matter that you’re a hunter.” The man moved, and before you could blink he had your arms pinned to your side, his fangs dangerously close to your neck. You felt your whole body shiver when you felt his next words as a breath against your throat. “You’re gonna die like every other brat we bleed dry.”

“You think so?”

The sound of that familiar voice almost made your knees go weak in relief. The pressure on your wrists disappeared as the vampire turned to charge at Dean, who deftly took his head off in one swing.

Sam was right beside him, taking out a couple of other vampires. Before long, all five lay dead on the ground, and you leaned heavily against the crate behind you, your legs feeling too shaky to hold you up.

“Are you ok?” Sam’s voice didn’t quite reach through your fogged mind, until he stepped forwards and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you until you looked at him. “Are you ok?”

“I-I’m…” you nodded feebly, and Sam’s demeanor changed.

“What were you thinking?” His sudden raise in volume made you flinch, your whole body tensing.

“I’m sor-sorry, I-“

“You could’ve been killed! Where were you? How could you be so-“

“Sam!”

You didn’t even hear when Dean interrupted Sam, pulling him away from you. You couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in your ears, and the voice that was so clearly not either of your brothers.

“What were you thinking?”

“How could you be so stupid?”

“If you pull anything like that again, I’ll kill you!”

“You’re lucky your mother is here, or I’d beat you until you couldn’t stand!”

All the different times, all the different threats just merged together, playing over and over in your head. You couldn’t hear anything but that voice, couldn’t see anything but that face.

You didn’t even feel it when your legs gave out and you sank to the floor. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, hands coming up to cover your ears as you rocked back and forth, back and forth.

“No…” you whimpered. “Stop, please stop.”

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Sam, what did you…”

“I-I didn’t…I don’t…” Sam couldn’t take his eyes off you as you shuddered and began to sob. “Hey, hey,” Sam spoke softly as he knelt next to you on the ground. “Sweetheart, look at me, it’s Sammy.”

Sam froze when you flinched away from his touch, but he didn’t back down.

“Hey, c’mon.” Sam took hold of your hands, gently prying them away from your ears.

“No!” You sobbed. “Don’t, don’t!”

“Commere,” Sam sighed as he pulled you into his arms, his chin resting on your head as he rocked you back and forth. “Come on sweetheart, come back to me.”

“S-Sam?” Sam breathed a sigh of relief when you opened your eyes and spoke to him.

“Hey, hey it’s me, it’s ok.”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed as you fisted his shirt, clinging to him.

“No, hey, don’t apologize. I-I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Dean spoke softly as he leaned down to look at you. “What was that?”

Sam felt you shift as you turned your head against his chest, unwilling to look at Dean.

“No,” you whimpered.

“What?” Dean reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s ok, you can talk to me.”

“No!” Sam’s heart ached at the sound of your sobbing as you burrowed closer to him.

“Ok, ok,” Dean said as he backed away. “I…I’m gonna go start the car,” Dean looked at Sam. “Just…bring her out when she’s ready.” Dean left, knowing he couldn’t help. This was something Sam had to fix.

“You have to talk to me,” Sam pleaded. “Kid, you’re scaring me.”

“Y-you have to promise me.” Sam felt you pull away from him, and he looked down into your eyes. “You can’t tell Dad or Dean. And-and you can’t make me go back.” Sam stiffened when you started to cry again. “I-I can’t go back.”

“Shh, shh,” Sam pulled you close again as he whispered. “Ok, ok I promise honey. What’s got you so scared?”

“You-you just…you reminded me of-of someone, and I got-I got scared.”

“Who?” Sam pulled away again to look at you. “Who did I remind you of? Did this person hurt you?”

“M-my…” Sam swallowed as you took a deep breath before speaking. “My stepfather.”

“You don’t have a…” Sam’s voice trailed off at the look on your face. “You have a stepfather? But I thought-“

“I didn’t want dad to know, because I-I had to get away.”

“You chose monsters over this guy?” Your silence was all the answer Sam needed. “And…and I reminded you…” Sam swallowed. “Honey, you-you know I wasn’t trying to scare you, right? I just…” Sam shook his head. “Sweetie you scared us so bad. I thought those vamps had…”

“No,” you insisted. “I-I know you didn’t mean it, I just-just got scared. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sam said as he shifted. “Are you ready to go?”

“Y-you won’t tell anyone, will you?” You looked up at Sam as the two of you stood, and his stomach twisted at the fear in your eyes.

“Commere,” he sighed, pulling you close. “You’re family, kid. We would never send you back to him, never. But I’ll keep it a secret, if that’s what you want.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, I promise,” Sam said as he pulled away. “Now c’mon.”

Sam kept his arm around your shoulders as he led you out towards the car.

“I’m sorry,” Sam spoke again just before you reached the Impala. “I never wanted to scare you.”

“It’s ok,” you leaned closer to your big brother as you spoke. “I-I know you’re not like him.”

“If you ever want to tell us about him…we’re here, kid. You can trust us, always.”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, sticking his head out the window of the Impala. “Are we all good?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “We’re all good.”

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happy74827 · 7 months

Text

No Ordinary Life

[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)

WC: 1,179

Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst

We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.

Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here

『••✎••』

As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.

All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.

His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.

Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.

It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.

If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.

He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.

Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.

“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.

But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.

Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.

“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”

“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”

Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.

Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.

After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.

Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.

The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.

“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.

Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.

Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.

You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.

Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.

Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.

“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”

You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.

The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.

You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.

You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.

Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.

Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.

Then it was just him that was left.

He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.

His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.

But he couldn’t.

So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.

You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.

He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.

The damage had been done.

Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.

But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.

No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.

Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.

The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.

Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.

It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.

Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.

The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.

You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.

"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"

Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.

Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.

Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.

Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.

Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.

Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.

Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.

It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.

Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.

The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.

They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.

Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.

Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.

Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.

"What the hell was that?"

719 notes · View notes

bet-on-me-13 · 6 months

Text

The New Gotham Rogue, Keeper Pt.1

So! When Danny was killed by the Portal, he was tossed into the Realms and the Portal collapsed behind him. All that was left was a small Spiral shaped Crack in Reality hanging in the Air, and a crater where the Portal had originally opened.

His Family and Friends assumed he was vaporized by the malfunctioning Portal and mourned his death, and Danny himself thought he was just Flat Out Killed by the Portal and became a normal Ghost.

Danny was stuck in the Ghost Zone for over a Month, coming to terms with his own Death, before something happened. The Portal Re-opened itself temporarily.

When Danny found it Open, he was Elated! He could finally go back home, explain what had happened to his Parents, maybe even find a way to live in the Human World as a Ghost!

Unfortunately, he wasn't the first one to find the Portal. Lunch Lady had reached it about an Hour before he did, and had begun attacking the students at his old school for changing the Lunch Menu she had concocted in her life.

Danny rushed to stop her, and eventually managed to beat her. Unfortunately, his Parents showed up and started attacking him too. Even after he explained that he was Danny, that he was their Son, they didn't stop. In fact, they got even more aggressive, saying that their son was dead and that he was just another Spook.

In the end, Danny had to run back into the Ghost Zone to escape his parents, dragging Lunch Lady with him.

After that, he decided that he had to become a Guardian of the Portal whenever it randomly Opened, to keep both the Humans and the Ghosts safe.

For over a year, he stopped almost every Ghost that attempted to pass through the Portal, fighting them back or stalling them until the Portal closed again. There were a few incidents where they managed to get passed him, like when Undergrowth mind controlled his old friend Sam, or when Hotep-Ra reawakened Tuckers memories from his pasts lives, but most of the time he had it under control.

Of course not all of them had to get past him, Natural Portals still existed after all, but every time they got to the Human Realm he would find them and drag them back.

Unfortunately, being the one thing standing between the Ghosts and the opportunity to fulfill their Obsessions earned him a lot of resentment.

Everybody he met hated him. He was seen as a Villain in the Zone, the one who prevented everybody from fulfilling their Purpose at every pass.

Danny was not in a good head space about it.

His mind was buckling under the pressure of it all. His duties as the Guardian of the Portal, the hatred the Denizens of the Realms held for him, the lonliness eating away at his Sanity, it was all too much. He felt his psyche cracking ever so slightly every day that passed like this.

It got better for a time in the 2nd year of his Afterlife. He had managed to befriend a few Ghosts, mainly the Leaders of certain Kingdoms who saw the necessity of his action, as well as a few others.

Frostbite, Pandora, and Dorathea were the Pillars upholding his sanity for that period of time. He finally had friends (or at least people who didn't harbor nothing but distain for him). But unfortunately, it couldn't last forever. They had Kingdoms to run, People to Lead, and they couldn't spend all their free time entertaining his selfish whims his need to talk to someone, anyone at all, so he forced himself to stop bothering them so much (they didn't think any of that)

And Guarding the Portal took most of his time as well. His Rouges had started attacking him between it's Openings, hoping to gain control of the Portal while it was inactive so they had first dibs when it did open. Danny was getting run ragged trying to keep them all away.

Eventually, he reached his second Death Day. It didn't really feel like 2 years had passed, in fact it felt like much, much longer than that, but he knew in his Core that it was his 2nd Death Day. Also, whenever he peeked through the Portal, it seemed like 2 years ago passed in the Living World, so he just went with that.

On that day, he discovered something. During a battle with Plasmius, (who was still enraged at him for blowing up his own, stable Portal), he felt something strange. A familiarity that he had never noticed before, which happened when Plasmius briefly turned Human to avoid his attacks.

After the Battle, Danny decided to investigate that feeling. It was a weird sensation, like pressure built up in his Chest that he had never noticed until that moment with Plasmius, the first time he had ever seen him Transform in person.

After focusing on it for a while, Danny felt it getting stronger and stronger until it Burst with a flash of light. And suddenly he was Human again. He was Alive again.

It was another few minutes of testing this ability out before he finally stopped and took it all in. He was a Human. even if he was half Ghost.

He was Human.

He was Alive.

A thought struck him. Did this mean he could go back home? Back to his Family? His friends? Mom and Dad? Jazz? Sam and Tucker?

In an instant he was up and running to the still Open Portal. It hadn't closed since he had beaten Plasmius, as it it felt his desire to return to the Human World.

It actually might have, considering it was a part of him. Clockwork had explained it after the whole, Dan situation. When he had first formed, a piece of his newly formed Core had broken off and become the Core of the Portal instead. It gave him a connection that allowed him to better Guard the Portal, knowing when it was Open or if somebody had used it.

Stopping at the edge of the Opening, Danny thought about all the things he would be able to do again. Hug his Parents, eat Human Food, talk to his friends. Oh God, it had been so long since he had actually talked to another person. None of his Rouges had bothered reciprocating his Quips in almost a year now, so he barely ever had anybody to talk to. Even somebody proclaiming their eternal hatred for him would be better than the endless silence.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the Portal with Hope in his Heart.

On the other side, he found un unfamiliar room.

It was much cleaner than his Parents Lab, with all the different Inventions placed perfectly in neat workstations. Multiple work stations. Had his parents hired some neat freak assistants? Why were there so many Work Stations?

Honestly that wasn't even the most eye catching detail he noticed. There was something else, something more noticeable.

It was the fact that everything in the entire Lab was White.

He heard a series of footsteps approaching the Lab, and before he knew it, the room was filled with GIW Agents and Scientists, all pointing their Weapons at him.

He tried to call out to them, to tell them that it was okay, that he was Human. But all that came out was the static sound of Ghost Speak. Why did that happen? He wanted to use Human Language! Why was he only using Ghost Speak? Had he...had be really forgotten how to speak?

Did he really forget the one thing basic for almost every human? How? Sure it had been a while since he spoke it, but were 2 years of not speaking English really enough for him to forget everything?

But, it hadn't been just 2 years, had it? Time moved strangely in the Ghost Zone, and it definitely felt like longer. How long had it actually been? How long had he been Dead?

Stuck in his own mind, he never saw the barage of attacks coming his way.

...

Danny was stuck in that Lab for over 6 months.

He was kept in that same room he was captured in, constantly being cut open and pulled apart before being left overnight to heal himself.

He tried to explain that he was human in any way possible, but without being able to talk it was hard. He tried writing out in his own blood at once point, but they just cut him opened even more after that, trying to figure out how the "Mindless Ghost" had managed to imitate human writing.

They never listened to him screaming in pain. In their eyes it was just a random Ghost trying to trick them into thinking he could Feel.

Every time he screamed in pain, they would berate him. "You can't feel, shut up!" "You aren't human, stop taking that form!" "You are a Ghost! You can't feel scared, get up!" "You are just a mindless blob of Ectoplasm!" "You would kill everybody here if given the chance!" "You aren't Human!" "You aren't real!" "You're just a Monster!"

"You aren't Alive!"

Even through all that Torment, he didn't stop fighting. He knew he was Human, that he was alive. There was nothing that would ever change that. Or so he thought.

Then they brought his Parents in.

They had previously mentioned them, praising them for their technical skills and cheering the fact that they had sold them the Portal, even if it had not turned back in since he came through. Then, they decided to bring them in to study the Ghost who kept imitating their dead son.

When they first walked in, Danny felt a spark of hope. Maybe they would save him, maybe they would see that he was alive, that he was real.

But they didn't. They just kept on with the same experiments as before, yelling the same things, but it hurt so much more coming from them.

He didn't last long under their study. He broke, and he didn't think he would ever put himself back together again.

...

It was at the 6 Month Mark that something new happened. As it turns out neither his, nor the Portal's absense had gone unnoticed in the Zone.

In his time trapped in that Lab, he had used his connection to the Portal to keep it from opening, using every ounce of his Willpower to force it to stay closed, no matter how much it struggled under his control.

When he was finally Broken by his Parents, he lost his grip on the Portal, and that night it opened for the first time in Months.

The first one to find him was, coincidentally, the Lunch Lady. The first ever Ghost he guarded the Portal from.

What she saw when she floated into that Room would forever Scar her memories. Danny in his Ghost Form laying strapped to an Operation Table, his organs out in the Air, his ribs spread out like an Eagle. At the center of his Chest sat his Core, exposed for the whole world to see, showing off all the damage it had received since the Scientists first found it all those months ago.

He looked up at her, and his eyes told her all she needed to know. Run.

She fled back through the Portal, horror stricken across her face. Danny managed to shut it down again after that.

Apparently news of what she had seen seen had spread around the Realms. Even when the Portal was active, nobody came through. The few times anybody did poke their head through, they saw him and left screaming in Terror.

Danny knew they would never save him. He was their Enemy, the Villain in their story, they would never risk themselves trying to help him.

And honestly he didn't know if he wanted to he helped. This was all his Fault. He was the one to open the Portal, he was the one who Guarded it for all that time, he was the one who got himself into this mess.

One time, he felt the Familiar Aura of Pandora approaching the Portal, and forced it closed before she could reach it. Her head managed to get through for a moment, but when she looked at him with those pleading eyes, begging to let her help him, he closed them as tight as he could and shut the Portal Closed, pushing her Back into the Realms.

She was trying to save him. But she didn't deserve to get hurt trying to help a waste of space like him.

He needed to get the Portal away from the Lab. It was only a matter of time before he lost any ability to close the Portal at all, before the Scientists managed to find a way to keep it open and invade the Realms. He needed to get it away from them, if only to protect the Ghosts on the other side.

He needed to do his Job, to guard the Portal. From either Side.

...

It took another month of conserving his strength before he managed to break out of his Shackles. It took a bit if trial and error, but eventually he found a way to draw the Portal into himself to transport it away.

It was technically a piece of his Core after all, he just had to slot it back into Place.

After that, he had to find a way out of the Lab. The Scientist he found wandering outside his room didn't have any Overshadowing Protection at the time, so he managed to get halfway to the Exits before the alarms sounded.

Then it was a mad dash of fighting off Guards and dodging the Security System to get to the Door. He dropped the Body when he reached the Doors.

It didn't get any easier after escaping the Building, but after several hours of chasing he eventually lost them.

He kept running though. He couldn't keep the Portal within him forever, and he needed a safe place to let it out. Hours of running eventually led him to somewhere that might work.

Gotham City.

...

Cass wasn't entirely sure that she was making the right call in this, but Croc's Body Language seemed to suggest that he was being genuine in his intentions, so she kept on following him.

In the past few Months, there had been a string of incidents where Government Agents in White Suits had incited fights and shootouts while "investigating" a supposed escaped Superpowered Prisoner. They had justified themselves by saying that the civilians they were attacking were actually Extra Dimensional Monsters known as Ecto-Entities, also known as Ghosts.

Of course a simple blood test always disproved them, but they were relentless in their "investigation". She used air quotes because they were some of the most Incompetent and Dimwitted morons the team had ever encountered, which was saying something. The only semi-competent ones where the pair of Scientists who commanded them, but even they were borderline insane, constantly ranting about how Evil Ghosts were and how they wanted to pull them apart molecule by molecule.

Unfortunately, there was nothing her Dad could do about them. They were a legitimate Government Agency, no matter how incompetent, and they hadn't been lucky enough to actually do any damage in their multitude of fights, so her Dad couldn't really force them to leave.

He had however started looking into the missing Ghost Prisoner they were chasing. If he could just find it, they could get the GIW out of the City and be done with them.

Her Dad and Tim's investigation had led him to a few short reports from a couple of months ago, describing a Humanoid figure covering in a glowing green liquid stalking the streets one night before disappearing all of a sudden. There wasn't much to work with, but the Team kept on the investigation in the hopes that they could get rid of the GIW sooner rather than later.

Unfortunately Cass, Damian, and Jason were exempt from the investigation, because for whatever reason whenever they came anywhere near the GIW, they started attacking them.

They had argued that they could take care of themselves, but Bruce had been adamant that they stay out of it. Damian had eventually relented, trusting the orders of his Father. Jason had flat out refused, but said that he would stay out of it just as long as the GIW stayed out of Crime Alley.

Cass however? She didn't want to be left out! She had more than proven that she could take care of herself, but her Dad was still too paranoid to even let her out of the House. She decided that she would undergo her own Investigation, and prove to her Dad that he shouldn't have ousted her from the Case like that.

She decided to take a different approach to the Investigation. Her Family was still combing through reports from the previous few months to see if there were any more mentions of the Figure, but she thought of something else.

After looking at the randomly reported sightings of the Entity that her family had collected, she noticed something. They were all set near Farners Markets, Grocery Stores, Restaurants.

The Entity was looking for Food.

She didn't think extra-dimensional Entities would be eating the same food as other Humans, but then again these things are supposedly impressions of Human Emotion that remain after death. Maybe it held onto the same Habits?

She decided to follow that potential lead.

Tracking stolen food across Gotham was tricky, because so many people were stealing food to survive. But eventually she got down a Pattern. It would strike at nighttime, stealing only Canned Food, and the Camera's would be covered in static for his duration in the store. Curiously, it would also take a few containers of Fudge whenever the store had it.

It was very steady for a while, and eventually she found that her list of locations matched up to the sightings the others had gathered had from the past few months.

On the day she was about to reveal the results of her investigation to her Dad, something changed.

The GIW had a major shootout, where they reported that they had found and injured the Prisoner, but it had Escaped.

The reports of stolen food matching it's M.O. stopped coming in after that. She thought that her Lead had been lost, and was mentally cursing the GIW in her head for days, before an offhand comment from one of her brother's caught her attention.

"Croc was seen stealing Canned Food recently. Didn't think he ate anything but Meat, but I guess he got a taste for Chocolate Fudge."

So, she investigated the Lead and found that Croc had taken up stealing the same type of food as the Entity did.

Quickly, she looked up the maps of every store that had been hit, as well as the Sewer Systems, and looked at them side by side. They matched up. At every single location where the Entity had stolen it's food, there was a Major Sewer Line.

And each of those Sewer Lines were in Killer Croc's territory. Killer Croc was harboring the Entity, he was feeding it.

She had solved it! The Ghost Entity was living in the Sewers!

She almost got up and ran to tell her father the news right then and there, but she paused. There were still unanswered questions, questions she wanted to figure out before telling her Dad.

Why was Croc feeding the Entity?

What connection did they have?

Why was the Entity in the City in the first place if the GIW was there as well, looking for it?

She needed all the answers before presenting it to her dad. She wanted to cover all of her Bases if she was going to admit that she went against her Dad's orders, not wanting to anger him. (She knew he wouldn't be mad at her, but old fears die hard.)

It took a while to find a way to sneak out of the House, but she managed it eventually. She roped Alfred into covering for her, saying she just needed some fresh air after being stuck in the house for almost a Month. Which was actually true.

After that it was just a matter of scoping out the spot where she had predicted Croc would be first, and waited.

It took a few tries to get the right location, but eventually she managed to find him. Croc was wary of her at first, and when she mentioned the food matching the MO of somebody else she was tracking, he flipped out!

He wouldn't let her get a word in, not that he was speaking very much, but still.

He calmed down after a few minutes of her not fighting back. She convinced him that she just wanted to talk to the one she was Tracking, whoever he was, so she could ask them for help in getting the GIW out of the City. Which was technically the truth.

After a bit more convincing, he caved and told her to follow him, before descending into the Sewers.

She was thankful that Croc was one of the more reasonable of the Rouges, and that she had a good enough reputation that he managed to trust her.

So here she was, following Croc through his Territory under Gotham, about to meet this Ghost Entity she had been tracking for over a Month now.

After a long walk, they emerged into a relatively large Room. It seemed to be an abandoned Sewer Reservoir, one of those large Rooms you see on TV that's like a giant Whirpool that characters are always getting sucked into (she hadn't had much to do while stuck in the house okay? She had been watching a lot of TV recently), except it was completely Dry.

There were a few places around that were obviously set up like different rooms in a house. A bedroom, a kitchen, an old couch and a box TV set up in front of it, and so on. This seemed to be one of Crocs more lived-in homes, which spoke to the trust he was placing in her not revealing this place to the other Bats. She felt slightly honored at that thought.

He led her to a section of the Base slightly off to the side, a room that wasn't entirely visible from the Enterance.

He stopped her at the door and called into it. "Hey Keeper, there's someone here to see you."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and ushered her into the Room.

It looked like a typical Bedroom, an old wardrobe was set off to the side, one of the door having fallen off. Inside there weren't that many items, just a few shirts and some pants. Closer to the center of the room, there was a Table covered with various empty cans and utensils. On three walls there were various posters and drawing featuring stars and constellations, seemingly placed haphazardly around the room with no real pattern. Most importantly, there was a Bed in the Corner.

And on that bed, was the Entity she had been tracking. And he was just a Kid.

He looked just like a normal teenager, about the same age as her, but he had White Hair and Green Eyes. He was sitting in an upright position, probably having sat up to get a better look at his visitor, and she could see the mess of bandages on his body.

The freshest ones were obviously for the wounds that had gotten him put on bed rest, a strip of clean bandages covering his stomach, with a bulge above his lower left stomach showing where he had gotten shot by the GIW.

But the rest of them, the older ones, they covered his entire main body. The bandages where old and slightly dirty, but it was obvious they had been placed in a hurry.

She was so busy studying his wounds that she almost missed Croc introducing her.

"Orphan, this is Keeper. Keeper, this is Orphan." He told the boy, "She says she wants to help get rid of the GIW."

The boy merely glanced at her before directing his gaze to Croc. A static-like sound seemed to Emit from his form, like a Trill, but against all logic she seemed to understand what it meant.

Discontent. Wariness.

Croc seemed to understand it too, and said, "Keeper, she can help get rid of the GIW. Don't you want them gone?"

Another Static Trill. Uninterest. Indifferent. Resigned.

"You can't just give up like that! If you won't fight back for yourself, at least fight back for the sake of protecting the P-", he was cut off by a wave of Static.

Anger. Displeasure. Stop.

Croc stuttered a bit. "I-sorry Keeper, I didn't mean to- I-" He was cut off again.

Displeasure. Leave.

They got the hint. Leaving the room, and walking to the exit.

Cass made one final glance behind her, meeting his eyes through the open doorway. They were cold and lifeless voids, as if he had cut himself off from all emotion.

"Sorry 'bout this Orphan. Keeper needs help, but he doesn't think he deserves it." He told her as they walked back to the surface. "He's not in a good head space right now, hasn't been since me n' Grundy found him wandering the Sewers all those months ago."

She made a questioning sound, and he picked up her meaning quickly. "Grundy is out finding more space themed stuff for his Room. Said somethin' about needing to fill an Obsession, but can't really explain it more than that."

She nodded in understanding as they reached the Sewer Drain where they had first decended into his Territory. She climbed out, but gave a final goodbye to Croc as she left.

She pointed at herself, and said, "I. Come. Back. Soon."

He gave her a slight Nod, and she leaped away.

By the time she got back to her Room in the Manor, her mind was a raving.

She was dumbfounded. Cass had originally tracked him down to make sure her theory was right before reporting it to her Dad, so that the GIW would take him before leaving and not coming back. She was dead set on getting the GIW out of the City by turning whatever entity they were chasing in.

But every intention of reporting him had left her the moment she had seem him in person. He was just a kid, a teenager like her. He was so hurt he couldn't get out of his Bed, his body was covered in bandages from presumably previous encounters with the GIW, and he was resigned to his fate.

He didn't care if he lived or died. He was just fine with letting the GIW capture him and injure him again, but there was something he was protecting that made him keep going on.

She wanted to help him.

But it wasn't because she pitied him. It was because Keeper had such a familair expression on his face when she left. One she had seen in the mirror a thousand times before her Dad had taken her in. And she swore she wouldn't let another kid keep that same expression as long as she could help it.

But there was also something else. When he was talking to Croc, and Croc mentioned that she wanted to help get rid of the GIW, she saw something flicker in his eyes. Just for a moment.

And she might be wrong, but she thought she saw a flicker of Hope.

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Guys in White #Giw #He acts as the Guardian of the Portal and prevents anybody from passing though to protect the people of Amity Park #Danny doesn't know that he's a Halfa for years and just thinks that he is the Ghost of Danny Fenton #He kind of distanced himself from his old identity as Danny Fenton because he believed that his parents were right and that he wasn't real #When he finds out that he is a Halfa he is extatic and acts before he can fully think through the consequences #Danny gets Captured by the GIW #The Portal is a piece of his Core that was broken off when he formed so he had some level of control over it #He keeps the Portal closed forcefully for months on end so the GIW can't invade the Ghost Zone #When he escapes the takes the Portal itself with him and runs away to Gotham #The GIW follow him #Cass Jason and Damian are too Liminal so the GIW can track them #Many citizens of Gotham are Liminal as well but those 3 are so Liminal that they are detected as Full On Ghosts (because of the Lazarus Pit #They are put on House Arrest for a bit and Cass does not like this so she does her own investigation #At first she wants to find the Entity that the GIW is Hunting and turn him in so they can finally leave #After she meets him she wants to wrap him up in a blanket and hug the trauma out of him #Cass can understand Ghost Speak #Just the basics but she can get the general idea of what they are saying #Danny is taken in by Croc and Grundy #Grundy gets Danny some Space Themed Objects so he can heal faster by fueling his Obsession

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fanfics-and-love · 1 year

Text

We Get Along Like Snow in New York

Sam Carpenter x reader

Not my gif

Warning(s): canon typical violence, mentions of death, mentions of blood, mostly fluff surprisingly

Word count: 4k words

Request: Sam and reader have gotten extremely close since moving to NYC and living in the same apartment, but when news of Ghostface attacks happening in New York. Sam pushes Reader away, thinking if she pushes her away, she'll be safe and alive. But, when reader is at Gale's apartment, (Dewey was her uncle) She's attacked by Ghostface instead of Gale, Sam and Tara show up to see reader bleeding out in Gale's arms. (She doesn't die) ask

A/N: I changed Dewey being Y/N’s uncle to father basically because it adds more drama to the story

masterlist

You had been living in New York with your mother ever since your parents’ divorce, having left behind the small town you had grown up in, and were ready to forget all about your father’s untimely death at the hands of a psychopath.

That was how you met Tara Carpenter, or more accurately, how you reunited with her.

Before your parents started arguing over the smallest thing, before your father quit his job, before you left town one day crying, you had been friends with Tara. You liked her because, unlike the rest of your classmates, she didn’t stare at you because you were Dewey and Gale’s daughter. She simply liked spending time with you, and you with her, which blossomed into a fast friendship that was sure enough cut short.

You were the best of friends, always hanging out. Sometimes, when your father came to pick you up from school, he would let you and Tara sit in the back of his police car and turn on the sirens, pretending you were dangerous criminals. You would cling onto Tara, giggling as your father joked around; you cherished those moments more than anything now that Dewey was simply a memory— a tombstone you couldn’t look at without crying.

That was exactly the reason why you reached out to Tara when your mother told you she had moved in with her sister, just like her wanting to leave behind that nightmare. She had happily agreed to meet with you, and you soon found yourself at a bar, drinking and talking, catching up with everything. She had pointedly left behind all that happened in Woodsboro, and you silently agreed, not wanting to remember your father, dead on the ground thanks to her friend. You had spent hours like that, phones on the table face-down so no one could interrupt you, and that was how you met Sam.

Sam was a blurry image to you. You could remember Tara mentioning her probably a little too much when you were young, always talking about how great her sister was at a certain sport, or how she had helped her defeat that big mean guy on a videogame because she couldn’t do it. You had never met her, however, because you barely went over to Tara’s, your mother prefering to keep a watchful eye on you just in case. You didn’t get much of a chance, however, because she left one day and suddenly all the loud praise was occupied by awkward silence.

Needless to say, you weren’t sure what to think of Sam, but she made up your mind for you pretty easily. She walked into the bar like she owned it, a tall figure clad in just a jacket that almost ran towards your table when her brown eyes landed on Tara.

“Sam?” Tara asked, leaving her glass of coke on the table to get up. “Did something happen?”

“Who are you?” Sam asked, not even looking at Tara to give her answer. You felt small under her intense stare.

“She’s Y/N,” Tara said, harsher than you expected. “An old friend.” Sam gave you another look, as if her eyes were enough to determine if you were a danger to her sister. You stayed still, as if you were being approached by a lion.

“We’re leaving,” Sam said. Tara gave you an apologetic look, and you simply nodded, watching as she got up and followed her sister. Outside, you saw them arguing, their screams almost sneaking in through the thick walls of the bars. You asked for the tab, thankful that your mother was rich.

What a bitch, you thought, shaking your head as you left the place, walking back towards your mother’s apartment.

A few hours later, Tara texted you to apologize, and once you replied she sent you her address, asking you to come over.

Having nothing better to do, you accepted.

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

“I’m so sorry,” Tara said, as soon as she closed the door. You took off your jacket, looking around before you sat down on the sofa Tara had pointed at.

“It’s okay,” you said, accepting the glass of water she handed you.

“God, I can’t stand her,” she said, throwing herself onto the sofa beside you. “She’s been like that ever since—” she gave you a small look before shaking her head. “You know. She’s so overbearing.”

“I get it,” you said, resting the glass on the coffee table. “I mean, you should’ve seen my mom when I was young. She barely let me go out when we moved here.”

Something like recognition crossed her eyes. “Right,” she said, sitting up. “Your mom’s Gale.”

“Yep,” you nodded, intertwining your hands together. “You guys killed the new ghostface together.” Something dark crossed over Tara’s face at the name, and you knew you had said the wrong thing.

“Yeah,” Tara said, voice sounding distant even though she was beside you. “Yeah, we did.”

“You know what?” You said, trying to cheer her up. “Forget about that. Tell me what’s your favorite artist.” Tara smiled, nodding as she turned to look at you. She opened her mouth at the same time the front door was opened.

“Oh.”

You turned to look at the woman, awkwardly standing by the door. For the looks of it, she was about to bolt from the apartment.

“You,” Tara said accusingly, rising from the sofa. She poked her sister in the chest with her index finger, and it was your time to wish you could leave this place. You couldn’t deal with family drama; you had had enough of it in your childhood.

“Me,” Sam said, allowing Tara to push her further into the apartment and close the door, leaving her no chance but to take the reprimand.

“Yes, you,” Tara said. You opened your eyes in surprise when she pointed at you. “You are going to apologize immediately to my friend for embarrassing her.”

“You’re the one embarrassing her now—”

“Samantha,” Tara said. It was funny to see the tall woman being bossed around by her sister, who was almost a head shorter. “You apologize right now.”

Sam looked into her sister’s eyes, and nodded. She turned to look at you, and you swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said, offhandedly. “Don’t worry. I get it. My mom is even worse with people she doesn’t know.”

Sam nodded, and made a noise of complaint when Tara slapped her arm. “Her mom’s Gale.”

She opened her eyes, understanding crossing her face. “Shit,” she said, looking defeated. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. “Really. My mom doesn’t mention me too much to strangers just in case. You couldn’t have known.”

“I’m going to my room,” Tara said. You gave her an indignant look. “Sam, apologize.”

“I already apologized!” Sam called. Tara didn’t look her way, instead turning and leaving, presumably towards her bedroom.

“Well, do it again!” She screamed as she slammed the door shut.

“As cheerful as I remember her,” you said, not sure how to fill the awkward silence.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Tara,” you clarified. “She used to be like that when she was young too. Good to know some things never change.”

“You— oh,” Sam said. You smiled at the look of recognition.

“Y/N Riley-Weathers,” you said, getting up. “I know, it’s a mouthful. My mom insisted I should have both last names.”

Sam smiled, nodding. “Right,” she said. “You mom is— interesting.”

“She’s a bit of a bitch,” you said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but when it comes to her job… I’m surprised she hasn’t interviewed you for her new book yet.”

“She’s writing another book?” Sam asked, sitting down on one of the chairs of the dining table.

“She’s always writing another book,” you said, reaching towards your jacket, which Tara had left on the table. “Well, apology accepted. I’ll leave now.”

“Wait,” Sam called, getting up. “I really don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

“Well, you sure have made quite the impression,” you said.

“I know,” Sam said. “It’s just… Tara wasn’t answering the phone, for hours, and I saw an ambulance on my way out from work and I just… I thought she was gone.”

You smiled softly, understanding washing over you. The image of Dewey crossed your mind, always watching over you, keeping you safe no matter what. You had hated it back then, but now he wasn’t here anymore, you missed him and his protective nature more than anything. “I get it,” you said. “Really. But you should approach it differently. Tara is kinda headstrong on being her own person.”

“I know,” Sam said, sighing. “I just can’t help it.”

“It’s something you have to work on,” you said. “You ought to be a little bit messed up after what happened.”

“You saw the news, then?”

“Please. I live with the news,” you chuckled. “And if I’m not home in half an hour she’s going to call the police and have them patrol every corner of New York until they find me.”

“You should leave, then,” Sam said as she got up, running a hand through her face. She looked stressed, and tired. You felt sorry she had to go through all that just because of who her father was. “I— I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I get it,” you said, putting on your jacket. “You’ve been through a lot. You just want to protect your sister.”

Sam looked at you, thankful that even though Tara seemed so focused on not understanding her, at least someone else did. “It’s still not an excuse.”

“No, it’s not,” you agreed, walking to stand in front of her. “How about this?” You moved closer to her, grabbing her jacket to stop her from pulling away. Her eyes were open in surprise at your boldness. “You take me out one day to compensate for your vile actions.”

Sam’s lips revealed a playful smirk as her hands grabbed your waist. The touch was soft, almost unsure since she didn’t know how much you would allow her. “I guess it’s my penitence.”

You hummed, eyes momentarily on her lips before looking up again at her eyes. “Pick me up tomorrow, six o’clock.”

Sam nodded, her hands dropping as soon as you moved away. “Wait!” She called when you began to open the front door. You turned around, giving her a questioning look. “I don’t have your number.”

You smiled, walking towards her. Sam pulled her phone out of her pocket, but you simply kissed her cheek and pulled away. “Ask your sister.”

You left her there, eyes on you as you disappeared through the door.

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

Shortly after that, you two began dating. Tara was a little taken aback at first, the thought of her childhood friend and her sister together disgusting her to the point she made a face whenever she saw the two of you kissing. Thankfully, she got over it quickly, her discomfort shortly turning into excitement. Her sister was happy with someone she approved of, and given that you two were dating, all of Sam’s overprotective tendencies had changed direction and were now aimed at you.

It was perfect, until it wasn’t.

You were staying over, having decided to sleep in Sam’s bedroom after she asked you to; something about it being too late and some news she had read about cabs in New York not being trustworthy (you had rolled your eyes at that because, really, what was trustworthy in New York?) You had barely needed convincing, the thought of her warm bed and her arms, firmly and protectively wrapped around you enough to convince you.

You woke up alone in bed, and went over to check your phone. 06:32. Sam would probably be getting ready for work, judging by the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, so you decided to get up and make breakfast for her and Tara, who would be leaving for college.

You had taken a year off after your father’s funeral, knowing that studying wasn’t exactly what you needed, especially because you were aware you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything. You needed to heal, and thankfully your mother was okay with your decision.

You made toast with eggs and bacon for Sam, and got out a bowl and cereal for when Tara woke up, since she had declared one day she was vegan and didn’t want to “eat murder anymore”, whatever that meant. You got it all ready and smiled when you heard Sam open the bathroom door, going to the kitchen when she smelled the food.

“God, you’re amazing,” Sam said, hugging you from behind. You turned off the stove, moving the food onto a plate. She smelled amazing, the shampoo she used fresh and still clinging to her skin. Though she had dried her hair, it was still a little wet where it connected with your neck, making you giggle.

“I know, right?” You said, leaning into her. You loved how warm she always was, in comparison to your cold skin. “I’m the best girlfriend ever.”

“Indeed,” Sam said against your head, biting your earlobe before kissing your neck. “The bestest of them all.” You giggled again, her breath tickling your skin pleasantly.

“God, it’s not even seven in the morning.”

Sam and you turned around to see Tara, standing in the kitchen with an angry look on her face. She was not a morning person.

“My apologies, Tara dear,” you said, pushing Sam into a chair and putting the plate in front of her. You handed her the cutlery with a kiss on the forehead, smirking when Tara groaned. “You want something with your cereal?”

“I want you to stop making out with my sister everywhere.”

“Hard pass,” you said, moving Sam’s hair to help it get dry faster. “Your sister is obsessed with me.”

“Ugh,” Tara said, pouring in the cereal before drowning it with soy milk. “I should’ve never introduced you two.”

“Our souls would’ve found a way back to each other without your intervention,” you said, resting your chin on top of Sam’s head. The girl smiled, abandoning her knife in favor of holding your hand.

“Gross.”

“You are gross,” Sam said.

“Look who’s talking,” Tara said, giving her sister a mocking look of disgust. “I know what you two get up to in that room of yours.”

“Jesus, Tara,” you said, pulling away to walk towards the living room. “Eat your breakfast and stop talking, will you?”

“Ah, so you don’t deny it.”

“Idiot,” you whispered. You sat down on the sofa, searching for the remote controller. Once you did, you turned the TV on, and sighed when you saw your mother on the screen. “She really doesn’t know what it means to take a break.”

You turned on the volume when you saw she was standing in front of an alley, police tape behind her. Your heart sunk into your stomach when you saw the headline.

“Ghostface is back.”

“Sam,” you called, urgently. You went to check your phone as Sam got up, probably alarmed by the tone of your voice. You finally saw all the notifications from your mother, calling you and asking where you were.

“Honey?” She asked, looking at you with concern. She lowered herself in front of you, eyes examining you to know what was wrong. You pointed at the TV, and once she read the headline she tensed, the hand on your thigh gripping you hard. “No,” she said, breathlessly.

“What is it?” Tara asked, picking up on the mood shift. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the TV, still going over the news.

“I—” Sam said. She looked out of it, face stoic as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. “I have to go to work.”

“College,” said Tara in the same tone. You watched with concern as the two moved around the house, almost on autopilot, gathering their things and getting ready to leave.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” You said to Sam when you saw her in her work clothes. She nodded, eyes not fully looking at you as she opened the front door Tara had just left through. She shook her head as if to get rid of a haze, and gave you a long kiss.

“I love you,” she said against your lips.

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

But you didn’t see her later, or the next day. When you went over to the apartment, Quinn told you they had gone over to meet with Chad and Mindy, so you went back over to your mother’s house.

She was pushing you away. You knew it, and you hated it. You hated how she was letting this new ghostface get in between you, but you mostly hated how she felt like being with you would put you in danger.

You almost laughed out loud at the thought, there in the middle of the street. As if. Your mother was Gale Weathers, your father Dewey Riley— this shit had been following you way before you met her. But of course, it was Sam. Sweet, caring Sam, who constantly put others first, who always did anything to protect those she loved, even if it meant putting her own life on the line.

Once you were inside the apartment, you sat down in your bed, looking at all the unanswered messages you had sent her the past few days.

Samantha, you wrote, and then deleted. It felt too formal. You typed in a final message before locking your phone, throwing yourself onto the bed.

You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep, but you were awakened by the sound of the phone line ringing. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you got up, cursing your mother for still owning one of those. It wasn’t the 90s anymore.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Y/N,” the sound of that voice made your skin run cold. “Wanna play a game?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m inside your house,” they said in a singsong voice. “Wanna play hot and cold?”

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

When Sam saw she had gotten a call from Gale, she knew something was wrong.

She had known early that morning when she woke up, something in the pit of her stomach telling her to go to you, to hold you and never let you go. But she couldn’t, not until she figured out who was behind those new attacks. She wouldn’t risk you— she wouldn’t lead that killer right to your doorstep and have you killed because of her. No, she would rather die than put you in that type of danger.

“It’s Y/N,” Gale said urgently, when she answered the phone. “I— I called an ambulance. They’re on their way, but— god.”

Sam had started running towards your apartment the moment your name fell out of your mother’s lips. She pushed people out of the way, barely noticing she was gasping for air, or that Gale was still talking.

“—so much blood,” she said. Sam ran into the gateway, pressing onto the elevator bottom a few times before cursing, deciding to take the stairs instead.

“Is she breathing?” Sam asked. One more floor, one more and she’d be there with you.

“I—” Gale was gasping for air. “I don’t know.”

Sam pushed the door open, thankful it had been left ajar. She didn’t see the blood on the floor, or your mother crying beside you— all she could see was your body, bloody and deadly still.

“Y/N,” she called in a whisper. Gale jumped at the sound of Sam’s phone falling to the ground, knife in hand ready to kill anyone who had dared hurt her daughter. She lowered it at the same time Sam lowered herself on the floor, hands shaking as she grabbed you and held you in her arms. Her fingers clumsily set on your neck, trying to find a pulse like a thirsty man searches for water in the desert. She gasped in relief when she felt it. Slow, a little too slow, but it didn’t matter; your heart was still beating.

“I can’t lose her,” Gale sobbed. “I already lost Dewey, I can’t… not her,” she looked at Sam with pleading eyes; she had never seen your mother so paralyzed with fear. It was an eerie sight.

“You won’t,” Sam said, voice firm. She took off her outer shirt, using it to press onto your biggest wound, which was located on the stomach. “She’s not dying. She’s not.”

Determination washed over, taking with it the leftovers of panic and distress. There would be time for lament and regret later, once you were safely in a hospital bed.

“God,” Gale said when Sam began to raise you. Blood splashed over the carpet, and she almost threw up at the sight.

“You called an ambulance?” Sam asked. She was holding you in her lap, your head falling limply into her shoulder.

“Yes.”

“I’m taking her downstairs,” Sam said. The pressure she was applying on the wound was helping, because it had stopped most of the bleeding. “I’m not fucking waiting until they get their fucking asses up the stairs.”

And so she got up, holding you in her arms. She carefully cradled your head in her neck, making sure it stayed secure so you wouldn’t accidentally hit something and got a concussion. It was the last thing you needed at that moment. She made sure your hands were on your stomach, pressing lightly onto the wound —it was better than nothing.

“You’re not dying on me,” Sam whispered. She was climbing down the stairs, Gale right behind her. “You’re not, okay, baby?” She felt herself getting choked up at the thought. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Shortly after, the ambulance showed up, and Sam ran towards them. She set you down onto the stretcher gently, and pressed onto the wound until one of the paramedics reached over, grabbing her hand and telling her she needed to leave.

She stood where she had been forced to stay, ignoring all the looks she received. It wasn’t until Gale grabbed her by the arm and moved her out of the way that she noticed she had been standing in the middle of the road.

“She’s being taken to the hospital,” she spoke softly. Sam looked at her arms, covered in blood— covered in your blood, and she almost broke down. Instead, she swallowed, putting her hands on her pockets. “I’ll take you there. I picked up your phone,” she pushed it into Sam’s chest, and she grabbed it. Great, the screen was completely broken. “Call your sister and tell her what’s happened. Tell her you’ll meet at the hospital.”

“Okay,” Sam said. Her dull tone almost scared her. She felt drained. “Okay,” she repeated, watching as Gale went to her car and got inside. It took her a few seconds to open the passenger door, and a few too many trying to unlock her phone to call her sister.

All she could think about was you, and getting revenge on what they had done to you.

#Sam carpenter #scream franchise #scream #sam carpenter x reader #scream 5 #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #tara carpenter #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #jenna ortega #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter fluff #We Get Along Like Snow in New York

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goodgirlofglory · 1 year

Text

Ambrosial / One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 7,1k

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit content, mutual pining, scent kink, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, barely-there-handjob (like, not really at all), coming on clothes, a little bit of sweat kink? Sort of filth kink (not scat or anything like that but like, Bucky likes it messy), Bucky worshiping reader.

Summary: With his heightened senses, Bucky knows no peace when it comes to his olfactory system. Sweat, rotting food and sewage – the smells of the world surrounds him day in and day out. His only reprieve is the carefully curated space of his private quarters – and you, the sweet, new member of the team. With your unique, mouth-watering scent, it’s all he can do to not lose control around you. What happens when you unexpectedly cross that line between the two of you, and Bucky gets an opportunity to do more than just smell?

Note: My first Bucky fic eyooooo. He's a simp. It's weird, I feel like I'm so stuck in 2016 mcu. All I can picture is newly liberated-from-Hydra Bucky at the compound post civil war. But I reeeally liked this concept, and scent kinks really get me going. Anyone agree?

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to interact if the contents of the warnings upset you.

Minors not welcome.

My work is not to be distributed outside my blog.

Replies, reblogs, likes and messages are amazing<3

Coffee, petrol, rusty iron, wet dog, shit, blood and old toothpaste. For as long as Bucky could remember, he could smell really well.

All his senses were heightened. The serum that made him a super soldier saw to that. But of all the senses, smell affected Bucky the most. Whether it made him think of a memory, alerted him to danger, gave him pleasure or was a bother. Most often it was the last one. Garbage, old sweat, farts and rotting food was a constant discomfort to him, assaulting his poor olfactory system wherever he went.

And no one, save for Steve, seemed to get why Bucky preferred to keep his rooms in the compound so clean. He feared Sam would never stop laughing that time he found the scented candle in Bucky's bathroom.

"You're killing me here, Buck! Lavender and rose petals," Sam had choked out between fits of laughter, wiping tears while clapping Bucky's shoulder.

"First of all, don't call me that, and second, fuck off," was all Bucky could say to his own defence. Steve had given him a look of understanding sympathy, while you had only chuckled at Sam's amusement. Bucky let Sam have his laugh and kept the candle.

You were the newest addition to the compound, and though you and Bucky hit it off in a polite and respectful tone, Bucky didn't really know you outside your skills and specialties in the field (which he had mostly learned from reading your file - not actually talking to you). The two of you didn't seem to have much in common besides a shared love for food. Your rooms were just near the kitchen, like Bucky's, so whenever something good was cooking, you both would come sniffing.

So, Bucky didn’t really know much about you, except that you had the sweetest scent he’d ever smelled. Rich, slightly spicy, a mix of dried herbs and honey mixed with warm skin. It made him think of lazy mornings in soft sheets, quiet, content walks in lush forests, and sex. It was so appealing to him, he’d started to guiltily look forward to every time he got to smell it. He couldn’t ever let you know that, though. Couldn’t let you know how deeply he subtly pulled your scent into his nostrils at times, and how much it sizzled within him. How it sometimes made his cock grow half hard and sensitive in his pants. You smelled so good.

He was horrified by his own reaction, how he couldn’t control it. Bucky could control everything, held himself so tightly leashed he sometimes didn’t remember how it felt to react naturally to something. The semis you gave him were a direct threat to that control.

Bucky could faintly remember being quite the ladies man back in the day. No more, though. He barely knew how to talk to people these days, let alone women. Let alone gorgeous, cute, good-smelling women like you.

He had most of the scents of the compound down by now. Natasha's caramel lattes in the morning, Steve's burnt toast and black roast. Wanda's paprika dishes and Clint's cheesy pizzas. At noon every day the hallway would smell with the fresh sweat of the joint training sessions. Sam would enjoy popcorn on Thursday’s movie night and a strong, musky cologne on Friday's club nights. There would always be the smell of liquor in the air when Tony was around, and more often than not, the smell of smoke as Steve went to cool off on his bike soon after.

Only Vision had no smell at all except a very faint hue of fresh, clinical rubber. Eerie, Bucky often thought to himself. Sometimes it was the only reminder that Vision wasn't human.

There were rarely any new smells for Bucky to note. Rarely something he didn't know what was, until one particular evening. The compound was quiet. A larger group were off on a mission, and the rest had scattered away, some leaving the grounds for a few days leave. Bucky had left his room to scavenge for snacks when he turned the corner into the kitchen and bumped straight into you.

“Oh gosh! Hi Barnes! You scared me,” you said with a surprised smile after giving a little yelp, nearly dropping the bag of chips and steaming cup of tea in your hands.

Bucky felt his body flush, partly embarrassed that he hadn’t sensed your presence before nearly tackling you off your feet, and partly because you were standing very close. Closer than he’d ever been.. Then your scent hit him, and a new wave of warmth spread in his body. It was…heavier than usual. Richer, with an overwhelming tangy note - the warm skin and lazy mornings in soft sheets he’d mentioned earlier - and it coursed through him like a comb through wet hair, leaving him momentarily stunned by sensation. He swallowed the sudden excess of saliva in his mouth and fought to not close his eyes. You were right there, for Christ's sake.

Don’t be a creep!

Bucky pointed to the items in your hands and said “snacks”.

Stupid!

You looked down to where he pointed, momentarily puzzled before smiling and raising your cup in a small toast as you seemingly understood what he meant.

“Way ahead of ya,” you said, then you sobered and when you met his eyes your cheeks had gained a strange hint of color. “You haven’t been out tonight? I thought I was all alone here,” you said, and Bucky was almost too distracted by your scent to realize you were nervous.

“Ah, no. Not for me,” he said, and then added “going out on town and stuff,' cause his communication skills were truly atrocious.

“Oh. Yeah, me neither,” you said, smiling softly at him, looking up through your lashes in a way that had him squirming in his skin. Bucky let his gaze track down to notice for the first time that you were only wearing a huge, oversized t-shirt and fuzzy blue socks. He could see your bare knees. So cute.

Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard…

And then, as Bucky tried to will his cock not to swell in his sweatpants, he realized what he was smelling. It was arousal - your arousal. Or rather, that which came after your arousal. The smell of you post arousal. Bucky swallowed thickly again. You’d been masturbating. Or maybe you had a visitor. No, those weren’t allowed in the compound.

You’d been self-pleasuring then, while you thought everyone was away. Which explained the rosy cheeks and nervous tone of voice - and the slip of control that had blood rushing to Bucky’s cock right before you. He resolutely fought the mental images away with a proverbial stick, shook himself quickly from his stupor and stepped past you, running for the fucking hills before you’d notice the tent forming in his pants and be forever creeped out by him. You didn’t deserve that, fucking hell.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your evening,” he called over his shoulders and didn’t look back as he entered the kitchen. A long moment later you stammered out a “y-you too” before Bucky’s advanced hearing caught your feet slipping on the floor as you made your way back to your rooms.

Later that night, hot with shame, Bucky laid in his bed, hard and aching as he remembered your smell, the way it had lingered in the hallway, and the way your cheeks looked with that adorable blush. But he didn’t touch himself - refused to be that way, knew he wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes again if he did.

That scent haunted him from that day forward. Each time he passed your room he would automatically look for it, each time he passed you he would scrutinize the nuances of your scent, trying to figure out if you’d been aroused recently or not. Not able to help himself, he would try and decipher if you were wet right then and there, if your scent changed during the brief time you were in a room with him. This was usually during mission briefings or the missions themselves, so it wasn’t often he ever caught your scent marinated and warm and potent like he had that day in the hallway.

But then the day came where Steve, your usual sparring partner, was on a mission, and out of nowhere you asked Bucky if he could step in.

“It’s just, with the serum and all, you might be the closest to Steve in terms of the level of challenge we’ve been working up to,” you said, looking down, hands behind your back as you stood before Bucky where he sat on the bench, having just finished a bench press set.

He’d been resolutely not looking at you from the moment you unexpectedly stepped into the gym. Because he was concentrating on his routine, and because he was giving you space to concentrate on yours. But also because it was hard enough to keep his eyes reigned in when you weren’t sweaty and flushed, your compression shirt clinging to your toned torso, your tights hugging your thighs and oh god, plump, rounded ass perfectly.

Bucky felt at home in the gym. It was a safe space for working out his surplus energy and jittering nerves, and fresh perspiration was a hundred times better than the stank of old socks and musty boxers he got elsewhere. He always felt a bit grimy, a bit uneasy in his own skin, with the way his bulky body and gait moved him through the delicate spaces of the compound. In the gym, he could just be loud and forceful in his grimy skin and everyone else was too.

But now, with you so polite and sweet and shy before him, Bucky felt at a loss. He couldn’t damn well say no to you when you gave such a good reason for asking him. He didn’t want to be an asshole. You were supposed to be teammates. Colleagues.

“What she means to say is that no one else is good enough for her,” Scott Lang chimed in from the bench next to Bucky when Bucky remained quiet a second too long.

A familiar, rosy blush stole across your cheeks as you batted a hand towards Lang.

“Maybe if you spent half as much time working your biceps as you do your mouth, I would’ve asked you,” you retorted, and Bucky didn’t bother to quell his snort of laughter. It wasn’t often he got to see your sassy side, though Steve had told him about it.

You looked back and smiled a little at Bucky as Lang exaggerated a shocked gasp and got up from his bench.

“You know, you shouldn’t be so nice all the time, Y/N. I would like to see you being a little mean,” he said as he grabbed his towel and headed for the gym exit, smiling all the while.

“Try me, Bug-man.”

“I just might, ordinary human woman,” Scott threw back as he pushed through the doors.

You looked back as Bucky, who was still recovering slightly from the smile you’d given him.

“So, what’s it gonna be, Barnes?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah, sure,” he heard himself say, and almost immediately his heart kicked into gear.

This is a stupid idea, he thought to himself as he joined you on the sparring mat. Your scent, alive with your fresh, warm sweat, wafted in a trail directly behind you where Bucky followed, trying not to take too noticeable pulls of air. You stretched for a bit and Bucky did the same so he wouldn’t end up staring.

“So,” he started as he raised himself from a forward hamstring stretch, “what have you and Steve been working o- oof!”

His words were cut off as you launched yourself on him, landing a kick to his midriff that had the breath momentarily stealing from his lungs. Then his mind slipped into combat mode, and he lunged for you.

It seemed like hours passed as you sparred. You’d come a long way in your training, and Bucky found himself receiving quick punches and efficient kicks unexpectedly several times. You’d already been sweaty when you started, and it didn’t take long for your mixed perspirations to clog Bucky’s nose, adding a layer of distraction to the mix.

You wrapped your thighs around his head in a move eerily reminiscent of Natasha, and Bucky nearly blacked out as he came face to face to the source of that intoxicating scent. He might be gross, but he didn’t care. It smelled so fucking good.

And then, as he grabbed you by the hips and flung you to the mat, catching your head from breaking against the floor and lowering himself to his knees between your legs to dampen the impact, you let out a surprised little squeal that had him flushing for entirely new reasons.

You stopped short, panting furiously and looking up at Bucky with wide eyes, face red, hair clinging to the sweat on your forehead. You were utterly gorgeous, and Bucky was powerless. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. You were a dream like this, alive and blinding, so beautiful and so close. It gave him a sort of reverent pleasure just to be allowed to look at a woman like this. A lucky reward he was completely undeserving of.

You stayed like that. You on your back, arms limp on the mat over your head, legs loosely draped over Bucky’s thighs as he sat on his knees between them, metal arm bracing on the mat by the side of your head, the other, softer one, cradled between the back of your head and the mat under it.

And then the unmistakable, elusive scent of lazy mornings in bed, sex and spice hit his nose. Your arousal, mixing with your sweat to a lethal potion. Bucky couldn’t for the life of him stop the instinctual indraw of breath, feeling himself instantly getting a little dizzy of it. The appreciative sigh escaped him a moment later.

Your mouth parted slightly like you understood what he was doing, your eyes momentarily going wide before your eyelids drooped, pupils expanding.

Then, in a move Bucky would never anticipate, your head lifted off his hand, and you slotted your mouth to his, warm lips meeting his in a hard kiss.

Wait, what?

Even as Bucky’s thoughts scrambled to keep up with what you’d done, his body responded in kind, lips returning your kiss after only a beat of stunned shock.

Muscles rippling with lightning bolt of unleashed need, his body surged forward, pressing your head back into the mat, dragging his flesh hand up to cradle your jaw as he deepened the kiss.

You’d kissed him. He’d kissed you back. You were kissing. No, making out now, he thought fervently as your mouth opened to not so shyly pry your tongue against his, swiping slick and hot in a way that had his breath catching in his lungs.

Lust rippled through him, making even his bulky frame shudder.

With the cutest, neediest whimper that made Bucky’s blood rush in his ears, you grabbed his wrist with both your hands and brought his hand, the one made of flesh, down to cup you between your legs.

The surprised grunt that escaped him was entirely unplanned, and the one that followed was downright unhinged, escaping his control. Before his mind had completely caught up to what had happened, his hand had started to move back and forth on it’s own, rubbing you over and over, and fuck – you were wet, so wet it had soaked through the fabric of your leggings, making his hand damp.

Bucky’s breath burst out of him, and you suddenly wrenched away from the kiss, your head falling back with a dull thud on the mat. Your hands let go of Bucky’s hand and you covered your face with them.

“Oh God, sorry! I’m sorry, that was so thoughtless of me, what if you don’t want to, and I…and, maybe we should stop, I mean you don’t have to if –“ you rambled, shrill voice muffled by your own hands, and Bucky had to refrain from screaming in protest to this stopping. He brought the hand he’d awkwardly stilled between your legs up and pried one of your hands off your face.

You had the most adorable, crimson flush high on your cheekbones, and your face was all scrunched up from embarrassment. The sight of you being so small and vulnerable beneath him had a surge of protectiveness welling so fast in Bucky’s chest it physically pained him for a moment. He suddenly felt entirely sure he wanted to do, would do, anything to stop you from fretting, from worrying about anything ever again.

You were still mumbling faintly about not wanting him to feel pressured and how inaprorpriate it was of you to come on to him like this. Bucky would have none of that. Emboldened by his newfound emotion and almost panicked by the notion of this ending before he could touch you and kiss you just a little bit more, he lowered his face to capture your lips again, if only to shut you up. You whimpered into his mouth, eagerly reciprocating in contrast to your attempt at rationality.

Fuck rationality. Bucky was starving, had been starving for months.

When he broke away, he leaned his forehead to yours, trying to catch his breath, to get order to his thoughts, but they were a jumbled mess of possessive, filthy wants that had his self control ripping at the seams. And your scent, God, your fucking scent was tinged with fucking ambrosia, like an aphrodisiac designed specifically to make Bucky’s vision go all loopy and his damn civility to shrivel to dust.

“I want…I…fuck, you have no idea how much I want,” he blurted inelegantly, and then words escaped him all together, for there were no words to describe the profound ache that settled deep in his loins, the sheer carnal need to feel your skin on his, to touch you, to be the provider of every moan and keen of pleasure he could - to keep you wet and shivering and wordless from pleasure.

His mind short circuited as he landed on the mental image of hearing you come with his cock deep inside your weeping cunt, and he pounced on you without really meaning to.

His mouth sought out the soft skin of your elegant neck, and he licked it before giving it an open-mouthed kiss, covering it in saliva. He felt your body twitch and writhe as he latched his teeth and tongue onto it, moving messily down to the collar of your compression shirt. He wanted to pry it off you, to tear it to shreds with his teeth, to lather the skin of your breasts with the attention of his tongue and lips, to nip and bite and suck on your nipples till they grew hard and red and puffy for him. But that would have to be later, for he had one goal he was working towards, that spot between your legs where he had already felt how much you already needed him. He would not let you go another minute unsatiated.

Unceremoniously and frenzied, he kissed over your clothed torso as he crawled down your body. Your hands were in his hair, tugging and gripping as he went, the most decadent, breathy moans spilling from you panting mouth as he (rougher than he intended) manhandled your legs over his shoulders and then your hips off the floor, wrenching your leggings and underwear down so hard your whole body jolted, and fuck, he was telling himself to be more gentle, to not scare you away when you had given him this fucking gift of letting him get this far.

But he needed it; was desperate for it. Desperate to bury his face between your legs, breath in your warm, sweet scent where it was most potent, to taste you and feel your pulsate on his tongue. He needed you to come in his mouth, all over his face, so he would smell you there for days, lingering like the most illicit secret. Fuck, all his blood was rushing south so fast he felt almost faint.

You let him do what he wanted, laid down again naked from the waist down, so small and fragile and beautiful and Bucky wanted to eat you alive.

And then he was on his stomach between your legs, pussy inches away and it was glistening with how wet you were, your patch of dark curls wet too. Your whole body was shivering slightly, and your hands flitted about the mat for something to do, something to hold on to, a nervous gesture, or an excited one. Fucking hell, Bucky hoped you were half as excited for this as he was, and promised he would do anything to have you as addicted to his mouth as he already was to your scent.

It was baffling how magnanimous the moment was to him, to have the absolute honor of being allowed this close to your sweet pussy, to have you trembling and flushed on your back, allowing him, socially stunted, unelegant and most of the time awkward as hell, between your glorious thighs, allowing him to touch you, to try and bring you the most pleasurable experience you could have.

It had been a long time since Bucky was a religious man, but -

“Christ,” he muttered as he saw your pussy clenching under his gaze, more of your slick seeping out under his watchful gaze.

In a moment of unexpected (and impressing) clarity, Bucky looked up to find your gaze on his face.

“Is this okay? C-can I?” he asked, or rather rasped, for his voice was all husky, more growl than anything else. His cock was so hard in his pants, throbbing, and he had to push his hips down into the mat to alleviate some of the ache as he watched your face avidly, fearing for his life that you would do anything but consent enthusiastically. Suddenly he wasn’t sure how he would survive if you said no and he would have to tear himself away from you.

To Bucky’s relief, a needy whimper escaped you and you bit your lips nodding before gasping.

“Yes, please, please Barnes, I -”

Bucky didn’t let you finish your sentence. The minute he heard you say yes and oh lord - plead for him to do it - he surged forward and sucked your pussy into his mouth. He heard the air catch in your throat as he licked his tongue flat against you from weeping hole to your clit, the nub swollen and hard already. He flicked it with the tip of his tongue and your body jolted, a small sound escaping you.

He did it again, flicking your clit teasingly, the little nub growing harder and bigger under his attention. He was ravenous, wanted to work you until your whole body felt like one big overstimulated nerve, contracting and throbbing with every touch. He wanted you soaked in pleasure, so hazy with it you could do nothing but come back to him for more.

You let your sounds spill freely as he went, pretty, needy whimpers and unashamed moans.

God, yes, Bucky thought, hoping you always were so reactive, vowing to drag more sweet sounds out of you, his blood sizzling with how downright nourishing they were to him.

You were writhing so hard on the mat you nearly squirmed away from his mouth, and Bucky hooked his metal arm around your thigh as he draped it over his shoulder, securing you firmly in place as he lavished your whole dripping pussy with his spit, letting it mingle with your own slick and coat his chin and lips in it, probably dripping down onto the mat. Bucky didn’t care, he couldn’t get enough. You tasted even better than you smelled, and his vision went blurry with how ecstatic he felt buried in the hot, soft flesh between your legs.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, bullying it with his tongue as he peeked up at your sweaty face. He drank in the almost reverent look on it, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, drool at one corner.

Your hands still flitted about looking for purchase, for something to grab. He grabbed you gently by the wrist and led your hands to his hair, still working your clit with his tongue in rhythmic swipes, up and down, up and down. You instantly grabbed fistfuls of his dark locks in tight clasps and your eyes, blown and glassy, met his as he lowered his head to lap at your hole again. You whined, lifting your hips slightly to grind against his mouth and Bucky hadn’t thought this could get any better but the feel of you smearing your juices on his face, riding your clit mindlessly on his tongue, using him to chase your own pleasure - Bucky nearly came in his gym shorts and he couldn’t even be bothered by it.

He fit his hands on your hips, just resting them there as you grinded on him, your brows drawn together in concentration. Bucky groaned into your flesh as more of your sweet slick dripped out of you onto his tongue, and you jolted against him, whimpering so adorably as your hips sped up to frantic bucking.

Bucky started flicking his tongue to help you out, to drive the movement higher, faster, and you gasped hoarsely.

“Yes, fuck, just like that, oh my god Bucky!,” you exclaimed, practically screaming into the empty gym. And hearing his name like that, so intimately and fervently, desperately as you praised him. Bucky downright snarled into your pussy, and that seemed to drive you that last bit off the edge.

You threw your head back on a choked whine, whole body seizing tight, trembling like a leaf in his arms. Bucky kept his flicking licks on your clit, feeling it jump and throb as the waves of your orgasm rode your body.

He kept licking until your voice returned to you in jolting little squeaks, and tried to keep going even as you pulled his face away from you by the roots of his hair.

Bucky wanted to protest. Wanted to shake your hands off him and push his face into your cunt again. He wasn’t ready for it to end. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough of your addicting, heavenly taste. He kissed and licked over your thighs, smearing your slick and his spit all over them, nibbling on the soft skin and making you all messy, a preening sort of satisfaction settling warm in his chest at the sight. He wanted to see you come again, hear you come again, feel the way your muscles seized as you reached that pinnacle of pleasure. He wanted to make you come again. So he did just that.

With renewed, almost feral fervor, Bucky shot to his knees and hunched over your lower body. Easily prying your hands off his head, he pinned them to your sides on the mat as he pushed his tongue against your hole, lapping up the gush your orgasm had created. A rational, though very small voice in the back of his mind told him he probably sounded and acted like an animal, but he didn’t care. He pushed his tongue as far inside you he could and felt your walls throb and clench around the muscle, driving his fervor higher.

He kept your hands pinned to your sides a while longer, though it didn’t take long for your squeaks of overstimulation to turn back to sweet, needy whimpers of “fuck, yes, more, please, yes, God”.

Bucky wanted to feel more of you from the inside, and when he felt more secure in the fact that you would allow him more time between your legs, he let go of your wrist and brought his flesh hand down to your hole. His fingers trembled slightly as he swiped through your messy folds, coating them thoroughly before resting them just on your opening.

Your hand returned to his hair, carding through and then tightening.

“Pleeease,” you whined above him, and Bucky’s breath went short and puffy at how completely and ardently you submitted to him, gave yourself over and begged him. He wanted to hear you beg more, but he was too impatient to get inside you, if only with his fingers.

His cock jumped at the thought of getting inside you, too, but he ignored it. He wanted you to come, right now.

He pushed two fingers into you and groaned at the tight, wet heat that enveloped him. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and if he used to do this sort of thing back in the day, he couldn’t remember it feeling like this.

Your back arched off the mat on a garbled gasp. Bucky took the opportunity to wrap his other arm under your back and practically drag you into his lap as he sat back on his haunches, getting his mouth back on your clit.

He flicked it fast, alternating with messy suckling, and curled his finger inside you to hook against the roof of your stretched cunt. He had no idea where all his moves came from. He hadn’t so much as seen a naked woman since coming to the compound and didn’t remember much other than fragments of his sexual escapades before the war. It must have been muscle memory, some hard attained skills locked deep in his mind. It seemed to be working well with you, and that was all that mattered to Bucky.

You were keening and whining under him, half in Bucky’s lap with your shoulders still on the mat. Your hands grabbed and scratched on his knees and thighs below you, and Bucky fucking loved it.

He was aware he was acting like a brute. No finesse, no manners, just a primal and instinctual need to get you off, to feel and hear and taste you fall apart from his touch and tongue. And have that heavenly scent of your arousal fresh in his mind for the rest of the day.

You came again quickly with Bucky’s fingers added to the mix, screaming his name as your legs went rod stiff, body spasming that same, incredible way it had done the first time. Bucky felt high on your juice, licking up the fresh gush with reverent licks.

He had the absurd urge to keep going when he felt your hand tap his thigh twice. Tapping out.

Bucky looked up your body, or rather down it where your bum was held up by his arm in his lap. You were panting, your eyes half-lidded and shining. You smiled at him, and his heart clenched weirdly in his chest. He was coming back to himself slightly, and suddenly wondered if he should prepare himself for embarrassment and horrified rejection after the unhinged way he’d just acted. But your hands, so gentle and elegant, reached for his face.

He bent forward to insinuate his jaw into the cradle of them, and slowly lowered your lower body back to the mat as you gently pulled his face to yours, kissing him on the mouth almost chastely after what he’d just done. He could feel himself tremble a little as he hovered over you, kissing you again and then again, deepening the kiss a little to slow swipes of your tongues. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his tongue, if you liked your own taste as much as he did.

Your head plumped back down on the mat and a trill of laughter flitted effortlessly from your mouth.

“Oh my fucking God, Barnes,” you said, eyes closed and a broad smile on your face. Bucky could feel himself blushing a little, though he liked it better when you’d called him Bucky.

Taking a purely selfish chance, Bucky quickly backed down your body to lay on his chest between your legs again, resting his head on one of your spread thighs. Your hand absentmindedly came to lay on his head, stroking his hair lightly. He stared at your pussy, swollen and pink and messy with the mix of his spit and your slick. He could stare at it for hours. He took another selfish chance and slowly leaned in to swipe his tongue over your slit.

You moaned, though a bit critically.

“If you don’t let me catch my breath, you’re gonna kill me,” you said, but you were still smiling.

“I don’t want that,” Bucky admitted honestly, and you laughed again.

“I’m glad.”

Bucky went back to staring at your messy pussy, taking in that perfect scent that had all his other thoughts muffling to a peaceful hum. He leaned forward, watching you to see if you would stop him, and took another slow, almost soothing swipe over your pussy. You jolted slightly, then hummed contently, eyes closing. He did it again, for he was an animal with no self-control, and this time, your thighs came up to bracket his face, stopping him half-way.

“Barnes,” you warned, and Bucky had to admit defeat. He crawled back up to hover over your body, hoping you would drag him back in for kisses, or just touches, or just some form of physical contact. His skin was prickling all over from the pleasantness of just feeling warm skin to his.

Luckily, you did, pulling him back down to kiss him again, and he let his body lower to lay splayed on top of you, making sure not to put too much of his bulk on you, but plastering himself to you all the same.

You gave a startled little noise and broke from the kiss, looking down with wide eyes.

Oh shit, Bucky was still sporting a raging hard-on, which he had unceremoniously pushed into your stomach as he laid down on top of you. About to jump away, Bucky again readied himself to reign himself back in when your hand snaked down, grabbing him over his gym shorts, keeping him put exactly where he was.

Your hand around him, even with the fabric between, drew a raspy gasp from him.

“Can I”? You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

Bucky swallowed thickly, looking down at your dainty hand barely reaching around the bulge in his gym shorts, and his cock gave a noticeable jerk as his mind flooded with images of all the things he wanted you to do to his cock. He could feel his balls tingling, drawing up, his sack tightening in warning. He was already on the edge.

“I won’t last long,” he admitted, barely daring to meet your gaze again.

You smiled, biting your lip slightly.

“That doesn’t matter, as long as you want to,” you said. Bringing your other hand to draw his face down, he shivered as your hot breath tickled his ear. He was so overworked on sensation, he was surprised his arms hadn’t given out yet for how weak and sensitive he felt all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whispered huskily in his ear, and Bucky bit his lip to try and stifle the embarrassing sound crawling its way up his throat at those words. He wasn’t successful, and he sounded almost like a wounded puppy before giving up and pressing his flushed face into the crook of your neck, nodding rapidly. He hadn’t even given a thought to you reciprocating anything. He’d been more than happy to just use the memory of this as masturbation fodder for a long, long time to come.

“Yeah?” you asked in a honey sweet voice, God, you were just so fucking sweet, and Bucky melted against you. “Roll over on your back,” you told him, and like a tamed beast eager to please, Bucky immediately obeyed, rolling off you to lay on his back on the mat. You followed, moving swiftly to get on your hands and knees between his spread legs, one hand moving teasingly up his thigh to wrap around his bulge again.

Not able to help himself, Bucky rose to a sitting position to claim your mouth as you held him by the cock. He wanted you closer, everywhere. You kissed him while lazily touching him over the fabric of his shorts, sliding the tip of your finger up his length to the tip and Bucky jolted, grunting uncontrollably into your mouth. His breathing was picking up, his nerve endings spiking and sizzling.

While thrusting your tongue into his mouth, Bucky’s hands cradling your face like the most precious jewel, you reached inside his shorts and took his cock out, wrapping your hand around it and letting it just sit, rock hard and leaking generously, between you.

You broke the kiss, gave Bucky the most devilish smirk he’d ever seen, and licked your lips before lowering yourself to take him into your mouth. The anticipation burned like a lightning bolt straight down his body to his cock.

Bucky exploded before you even got your lips to his tip. Cum spurted out of him, spraying his t-shirt, some going as high as his chin, and some getting on your shocked face. Bucky groaned as the orgasm wrecked through him, riding through him in wave after wave, the most intense one he could ever remember having - and you hadn’t so much as jerked him without his clothes on.

Mortified and still trembling slightly with aftershocks, Bucky gathered the courage to look at you, and found you staring at his cum-covered chest. Your hand was still wrapped around his twitching cock, your knuckles shining with his spunk, and despite how Bucky had no clue where to go from here, the sight had hot satisfaction spreading in his chest. It was like he was marking you with his cum the way you had marked him with your slick (though that had mostly been Bucky marking himself by literally rubbing his face in it).

He watched with rapid attention as you brought your wet hand up to your face and licked a stripe of cum off your knuckle, sucking your own thumb into your mouth. You met his gaze, and Bucky swore under his breath as his dick throbbed with renewed interest at the sight.

Your mouth ticked up at the corner before you leaned in and kissed Bucky softly on the mouth. He shivered with excitement as you pried his lips open with yours to swipe his own taste into his mouth. Fuck, he’d never done that before. It was filthy and possessive and dominating and Bucky had never thought he’d be so fucking turned on by it.

You broke the kiss with a content hum that had Bucky’s blood rushing in his ears.

“That was really fucking hot,” you murmured, going back in for another kiss. Bucky felt his nervousness dissipating, replaced by a sort of ecstatic elation. A laugh bubbled up and out of him, and he kissed you back. Pulling you closer with his hands on your face, neither of you cared about the mess on his shirt as you laid down on top of him, kissing again and again, slowly, exploringly.

There was a calm inside Bucky, a sort of sated comfort he could scarcely remember feeling, and he knew it was all because of you, the sweet, wonderful woman in his arms. He could lay like this forever, simply kissing you, holding you close, smelling your scent and feeling your warmth against him, your grounding weight on his chest. His cock had other thoughts though, already starting to fill, lodged between the two of you.

You raised your head and cocked a brow down at Bucky, and he could do nothing more than shrug and blush. And then, as he started thinking about dragging you up to sit on his face, a booming voice came from the door to the gym.

“Please, for the love of all things good and holy, vacate the gym room now! You’re keeping it hostage at this point!,” Sam shouted, and Bucky glanced over your shoulder to see him standing outside, facing the other way as he held the door open to shout through.

Oh. Right, you were still in the very public gym of the compound.

You squealed as you scrambled off Bucky to retrieve the leggings and underwear he’d ripped off you and thrown to the side. Bucky got on his feet and in between you and the view of the door, trying to shield you from view while you frantically redressed - he could at least try to be a gentleman after having devoured you like a hungry animal and then cum all over himself and you.

You turned to face him once you were fully dressed, and your eyes bulged as you glanced down. With frantic, fumbling hands, you reached forward and tucked his cock, hard and proud and still jutting out over his shorts, back inside. Bucky grunted at the touch, seeing the lovely crimson blush on your face, stretching to the tips of your ears and down your neck. He grunted again, appreciatively, when he noticed the splotches of his cum still drying on your chin and cheek from when he’d busted in your face.

Bringing his thumb up, he gently wiped his mess off your skin, wiping his hand on the back of his shorts.

“Sorry about Sam and…” Bucky trailed, gesturing awkwardly to the mat and around the room. His communication skills hadn’t improved by the earth-shattering orgasm, then…

“It’s fine. It was I who jumped your bones, after all,” you said sheepishly, but you were smiling. God, so sweet.

Bucky was about to lean in to kiss you once again when Sam’s voice cut in.

“Don’t you dare start up again, I don’t have all day! And bring that mat with you. Matter of fact, burn it!” he shouted.

Giggling like teenagers, you scrambled to get your belongings and exit the room. Bucky gave Sam an apologetic look as he passed him, and though Sam was clearly pissed off, Bucky saw the way his mouth was ticking up at the edges, approval shining in his eyes.

You grabbed Bucky’s hand once you’d left the gym, and Bucky happily let himself be dragged along down the hall. He was already working on his plan to lure you into his room, and subsequently rub your scent on everything he owned. For though the intensity of smells were mostly a nuisance for Bucky, having a strong sense of smell wasn’t so bad when it came to you.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes fanfic #james buchanan barnes smut #ambrosial

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writersblockedx · 7 months

Text

If it was a Preference

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary - You had your own history with the Winchester brothers, in particular, Dean. So when the two bumped into you, accompanied by a new hunter partner, jealousy can't help but grow. Warnings - Alcohol use, mentions of violence. Words - 2K

Masterlist

Dean didn't just like you because you were a hunter. Rather, he was much intrigued by your blunt, frankly reckless approach to hunting. You weren't afraid of the monsters you faced - or at least you certainly didn't show it. He had heard of your name before. He knew that not only his dad, but fellow hunters spoke highly of you. While he was doubtful at first, he came to realise that your approach was one he was envious of. And from the few times Dean had the privilege of working a job alongside you, he came to the conclusion that you were one of the few people he actually respected.

And so bumping into you while on a hunt was a pleasure rather than a burden. He and Sam and just rolled into town, following the trail of bodies across the state to a small town. It was that night as he wandered to the bar, his eyes caught sight of someone familiar. "I'd say it's funny seeing you here, but I think we must be chasing the same thing."

Dean was surprised to see two heads turn to him: you and one of whom he didn't recognise. A man, rough around the edges and drinking a beer. He was a hunter, Dean could guess that within a second. Your lips lifted into a smile, "Dean," You were already leaning over to give the man a welcoming hug. Yet he didn't ease into it, instead, his gaze was caught onto the hunter behind you. "It's good to see you."

You pulled from the boy, "Yeah, you too." His eyes had barely noticed you.

You followed his gaze and found the source, "Sorry, this is Jamie."

The fellow hunter held out his hand and Dean shook it cautiously, "Y/n has mentioned you before, Winchester, right?"

Dean nodded, "That would be the one." He settled by leaning onto the bar, a nagging feeling clawing at his which he could quite rationalise. "So erm, how do you two know each other?" He questioned.

"We've been working together," Jamie answered, glancing to you with a smile Dean wished he could slap off him; suddenly that nagging feeling was consuming him.

"Like a month now" You added so casually as if it were normal. "Just been helpful, fiances haven't been so easy this year so we've been travelling together."

Dean attempted to keep up his chill facade but it was breaking and you could start to see through the cracks. "Together?" He laughed at the word. "That's funny cause I thought you only ever worked alone." He was making a dig and you couldn't quite understand why.

You glanced to Jamie who was just as confused, "Like I said, money's been more difficult. Fuel and food costs less when you're splitting it."

"Well, when I last saw you, you swore you would neve-"

"Y/n?" The taller Winchester brother busted in, cutting Dean's snarky comment short. "What are you doing here?"

The two old friends embraced, smiles licking their lips as they retracted, "On the same job as you two it seems." She answered.

Sam shrugged and unlike Dean, when his eyes met Jamie, they didn't scowl, "And who's this?"

You never got the chance to answer Sam; "This is Jamie." Dean interjected, "These two-" His index finger wiggled between yourself and your partner. "-are working together. Because Y/n apparently doesn't just work alone anymore."

Dean's brother could tell something was itching him. As if it wasn't already written on his face, his tone had voiced his irritation. Rather let such continue, Sam sort to deescalate the situation. "Maybe it's best we head back to the motel?" His hands grasped his brother's shoulders. "Get an early night and regroup on Monday." He flashed a forgiving smile your way before pulling Dean away from the bar.

"Sounds like a plan." You nodded your head to Sam and he continued to drag his brother out of the bar.

Your eyes followed the siblings that you had grown ever so close to. Never had something like this occurred. Of course, Dean would flirt - sometimes recklessly - but you had gotten used to it. You had started to see every word that came from his lips as just his personality. He treated any woman (or sometimes man) with the very same cheeky smirk and quick pick-up lines. But this reaction, dare you admit it, but it was almost protective. Something Dean only showed when someone's life was on the line; not when bumping into an old friend at a bar.

Nothing changed the next day. In fact, things seemed to have heightened for Dean. His brain had latched onto his envy; to have someone stand where he had always wanted to be. To have you at his side, Sam at the other, partners. It begged the question; why did you pick someone random over him?

"There's been another one." You chucked the newspaper onto the booth the four of you had been seated in.

The morning had been spent in a rustic diner, comparing theories over coffee. When the daily newspaper came out, you made sure to be the first to purchase. And as to be expected, another dead body was printed across the pages. "They're not slowing down." Said Jamie as he observed the paper.

"We don't know if it's vampires yet." Dean warned with a stern tone littered over his tongue.

Sam shrugged, "It's our best bet." He took the newspaper, reading further into the local news. "We are, however, on the right track. Says here this happened to the town just over."

The paper dropped back to the table where you could all see it. The blood, the lifeless body, the monster that was calling out to you. "So what now?" Jamie asked, his eyes flickering between the other three.

"Get our fake IDs, get into this crime scene." You decided.

There followed nods of agreement before Sam added, "I'll stay here, do some research, see if I can find where they're heading next."

"I'll stick with you." Jamie offered. "I'm sure Y/n can tell you, I'm not the best at the lying and acting, especially not to authority." Such was true and had almost landed you in some bad, illegal places; and people wonder why you did all this alone.

"Well then," Your eyes caught Dean's like you were in a crossfire. "Looks like it's just us two, agent."

You crawled from the booth where you gathered the fake FBI badge from your coat pocket. "Agent Johnson, really? How imaginative." Dean read the name as he stood in front of you, ever so close your chests could have brushed against one another.

"Better than some random guitarist's second name." You grew a smirk which Dean didn't dare break.

Instead, he smirked back, "They are not just random." With that, the two of you started walking towards Baby, digging deep into Dean's facades on all his IDs.

The crime scene was as to be expected. Suburban house; police tape; nosy neighbours. You and Dean were used to wriggling your way into the scene. Pushing through with ease, dressed in the smartest clothes which couldn't say any lounder that you were someone of importance. And when you finally reached the front of the crowd, the officer noticed it too.

"Excuse me," You called to the cop who was already on her way over. "We're with the state, if you don't mind we'd like to take a look around, following up on some other leads." You explained as you had done numerous times before.

With a flash of your badges, the tape was moved for your entrance, "Thank you." Dean muttered to the cop before the two of you made a B-line for the porch. "So, you're certain this is vampires?"

He opened the door and you followed him, "I never said certain." With a scan of the hallway, you deemed it safe from any wondering eyes and grabbed the EMF reader. "We've still got some things to cross off the list."

A static noise was sounded from the small machine, but no beeping; you were safe for now. "Well I just thought that because Jamie said-"

"Jesus, Dean!" You weren't even halfway down the hallway before he was bringing up the subject. "Would you just drop it? I can form my own opinion and usually, my opinion is right about a hunt."

"I'm just checking miss 'I only ever work alone'." He made quotation marks as his feet stood firmly in the midst of the hallway. He did so on purpose, blocking your way further into the house. "Who knows, maybe having a partner will change how you work." He suggested.

Your expression moulded into one of offence, "You doubt me?"

Dean could have shivered, "No." He seemed sure of that. "I doubt him. I don't know who he is and I certainly doubt he's good enough for you...to be your partner I mean." The boy added in case there was room for misunderstanding.

A sigh fell from your lips and suddenly, in the face of Dean, you couldn't keep it in anymore. "Look, I'd be lying if I said Jamie was a good hunter. He isn't. He almost got us arrested because he forgot the name on his FBI badge. He can't aim for shit, he doesn't know lore about basic monsters. I was explaining vampires to him last night right until you bumped into us." The words started pouring and you weren't stopping them.

"So why work with him?"

"He's not just anyone Dean. He comes from a rich, very loaded, family. The only reason he knows anything supernatural is because one of their houses had a vengeful spirit which I got rid of for them." You explained. "Like I said, it's practical, not preference."

You watched in a passing moment as Dean's gaze faltered and the cogs in his brain started to turn. When he looked back at you, something seemed to be flickering within his pupils - you just couldn't work out what. "And if it was up to preference?" His voice was low as if whispering a secret.

You shrugged, suddenly unsure of where Dean was headed. "Alone, you know that."

"But if you had to?" He jumped in before you could take another breath.

Uncertain, you chuckled, "Dean, if you're wanting for me to say-"

He took a step closer, trapping you between himself and the wall. It was a small hallway, even smaller with Dean pressing your back against the wall. And it was safe to say your breaths were uneven, your heart was struggling to keep up with your thoughts and you couldn't break your stare with Dean. "I want you to mean it."

You attempted to take an easy breath in a way that didn't show Dean how obviously crumbled you were by his words. "Dean, if I had to pick anyone to work with, of course, it would be you." Never did you blink. "And I mean that so much so that I can't believe you have to question it."

Suddenly your eyes broke from one another. Only to flicker to the lips. You took a breath and before you realised, there was no more space in between you. Caught up against the wall, breathless, you were moulding your lips against Dean's; the only hunter you could ever see yourself working with.

"I thought you guys were checking the place out?"

You jumped and then froze. In the door way stood the policewoman; one way to ruin the moment.

Of course, Dean slurted out his usual, "Yeah, just checking out these walls here." His knuckles knocked against the wall by your head before the two of you sheepishly continued into the house.

Maybe the job wasn't over and maybe you had just come close to breaking your FBI facade, but you would never regret the words you spoke or the actions you made in that very moment.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfic #supernatural imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #x reader #fanfic #imagine #oneshot

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

Text

Love Language

➪the one where you’re all clay needs to keep himself calm before surgery (and after).

Warnings: sam does not exist here (sorry not sorry f that b), mentions of surgery, surgery topics, hospital themes, anxiety, clay's surgery is successful and his mother is still alive, heart transplants (you saw the movie, you know how it goes), heavy topics, 'what is the healing process of a heart transplant' was definitely googled more than once while writing this.

Word Count: 2.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

The sun peered into the room through the thin, white curtains - the same ones Clay has begged you to let him replace more than once now. It heated the room to the perfect temperature, not too cold while also not making you break out into a sweat.

Lying fast asleep beside you was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His face was pressed to the pillow, his arms lifted and hidden under said pillow as he often fell asleep on his stomach, the front of his body pressed to the mattress.

You reach over and gently trace your index finger over the various freckles that scattered his back before laying your palm flat against his skin, the faint beat of his heart bringing you a sense of comfort you never knew you needed.

The glow of the sun made his skin look golden, his face relaxed and his hair messy from moving in his sleep.

In other words, he was just perfect.

You lift your body, your elbow digging into the bed as you hold yourself up. Unable to stop your wandering lips, you lean over and press a kiss to his bicep, and another to his shoulder blade.

Though your touch was feather light, it still woke him up as though his body couldn’t help but react whenever you showed him any type of affection. His eyes opened in a squint due to the light that invaded the room, the corner of his lips turning upwards in a boyish grin. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you murmur back, trailing your hand further up his back before tangling it in his light hair.

He gives you a look that has your heart swelling before he lifts his head just to bury his face back in the pillow. You grin at his shyness, a personality trait you would’ve never imagined he had. With billions behind his name, a successful mother, a future set in stone, and a whole city that belonged to him; you expected him to be arrogant, spoiled, ruthless, even.

But no, he was none of those things.

He was kind, had the persona of an angel, something that prompted you to give him the nickname, your angel. He had a smile that could make any okay day an amazing one, the charm to sweep anyone off their feet, and a heart as big and sweet as anything in the entire world. Even though his heart was fragile and could betray him at any given moment, he still didn’t let that change his view on the world, the beautiful thing it was.

To put it simply; Clay Beresford was the embodiment of everything good in the world, a light so bright that he had no idea just how much he lit up the darkest corners of damn near everyone he’s ever met, a man so perfect you found yourself believing you were stuck in a dream every time you woke up next to him.

Massaging your fingers into his scalp, you fill with a sense of happiness at the content sigh that escapes him, silent in sound but evident in the way his shoulders raised and dropped slowly.

You move closer to him, brushing your nose against his arm. “Why are you hiding from me?” You ask quietly, your hand flattening out his messy hair.

He lifted his head just enough for him to be able to murmur, “I’m not hiding from you, baby,” the corners of his lips turned upwards as he continued, “Just from your awful excuse of a curtain.”

You gasp, taking your hand away from his head to give his shoulder a gentle push. “Hate them all you want,” you shrug, meeting his eyes when he turned his head to look at you. “I’m still not letting you buy me new ones.”

Clay laughed quietly, shifting so he was now on his back. His right hand came up to grab your left one, his eyes fixated on the large diamond that found home on your finger.

With your free hand, you reach over and gently press it against his shoulder, your fingers firmly poking against the few small knots you felt. “What are you thinking about?” You nearly whisper, afraid as though you would ruin the peaceful atmosphere if you were to talk at your usual pitch.

His blue eyes met yours once again. “You,” he simply answered and you felt a heat rush to your face. Keeping your hand locked in his, you lean down and press your lips to his mouth, an innocent kiss that grew heated when his left hand grabbed your hip and pulled your body on top of his.

Your upper body was covered by his white dress shirt he wore to the dinner party last night, the shirt being the first thing you grabbed once you woke up this morning, while your lower half was covered by a thin black lace.

Clay has told you many times now that he loves the way you look in his clothes and it brings out a possessive side he never knew he had. You were just so beautiful, and you looked past his family drama and his heart problem and chose him.

There weren’t words that are strong enough to describe his love for you or how much he adored you. You were one of the few things in his life that felt normal and right, and it was no surprise that he couldn’t hold back on asking you to be his forever just eight months into the relationship.

You started out as his mom’s assistant. Lilith was a sweetheart right at the start, showing you around her massive house with the patience of a new teacher, smiling at you and encouraging any questions you might have had.

You remembered exiting the kitchen and entering the front hall just as Clay returned home, his eyes tired and his form slouched. It was almost comical how quickly he straightened up and how wide his eyes opened. Lilith’s dismissal of his sudden appearance was one you’ll never forget. “Oh, that’s Clay, my son. Don’t worry, you won’t see much of him,”

How wrong she was.

From that day on, Clay did any and everything he could to see you, even for just a split second. He’d prolong quick conversations, give you a long answer instead of a short one to any question you had, and was always there to greet you when you arrived in the mornings.

You were kidding yourself when you made a promise that you wouldn’t fall for him. You fell for Clay hard and fast, and it seemed as though he fell for you just as bad. When you became official, you quit being Lilith’s assistant as you felt weird about it and didn’t want your source of income to be from his mom.

No matter how much money the Beresford name had, you still felt cheap whenever Clay or his mother offered to pay for something. You knew it wouldn’t faze them, and you appreciate their kindness, but you refused each and every time.

“You do realize that you’re entitled to my money once we’re married, right?” He’d ask you every time you refused to let him pay for you.

You always respond with, “Yeah, well, we’ll figure that out when we get there,”

His hands slide up your back when you break away from his mouth and begin placing kisses along his jaw. You move onto his neck and shoulders before moving further down and stopping right above where his heart was beating in his chest.

A small bit of sadness filled you as your mouth hovered over that place, your hands pressing into the sheets on either side of his body. Clay noticed this, but before he could ask you what was wrong, you leaned down and placed a kiss to the skin of his chest, just over where his heart is.

He held back a shiver as you placed another kiss and then another, your eyes closing when you felt his hands reach up to caress the sides of your face. Butterflies are set loose all over his body as you kiss him with a feather light touch, acting as if you’d break him if you were to be even the smallest bit rougher with him.

“Hey,” he quietly said, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that fell from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you rest it against his chest, the faint beating against your cheek making you smile slightly. “I just love you,” it was hardly audible, but he heard you as clear as day. “So much.”

“Baby,” he says quietly, brushing your hair away from your face as he tries to get you to meet his eye. “Now it’s your turn to tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You wipe away your tears and clear your throat. “It’s nothing,” you answer, looking up at him and caving at the look he gives you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you crawl over his body and move to lay on your side next to him. Your fingers trace over the skin you had just kissed while his rubbed soothing circles onto your shoulder. “I was just thinking about how much I will love your new heart, maybe even more than I love your current one.”

Clay grinned down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s no doubt in my mind that my new heart will love you just as much as the old one does now,” he says quietly before adding, “Thank you for never giving up on me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Clay spent a week in the hospital, his pager going off a few hours after you and him got out of bed after your heart to heart talk.

His surgery was a success, his body taking the new organ with no problems at all and rendering him a new man.

You were by his side throughout the whole process, your own heart beating rapidly during the five hours he was under. The sense of relief you felt when his doctor came to the waiting room to inform you and Lilith that it was a success was indescribable.

He woke up an hour or so after the surgery, and a couple more later you were finally allowed to briefly visit him. You instantly started crying, which caused him to cry as well, still a bit drowsy and high off the medication.

Despite the doctor’s request of not getting too close to him, you couldn’t help but press multiple kisses to his face, working carefully around the ventilator, before settling on holding his hand as gently as you could. He looked so tired and weak and worn out, making your heart break the smallest bit as you thought about the long road to recovery he had ahead of him.

Now, four weeks into his recovery process, he was doing well. He would have multiple pain sessions everyday where his chest would ache beyond anything he could ever describe. During those moments he would tightly hold your hand or wrap his arms around your middle while pressing his body to yours until the pain subsided and the quiet groans faded.

You grew closer than ever. You had taken an LOA from your job at the small café downtown to take care of him, looking after his every need with no hesitation. He was in bed for the most part, only getting up to walk the short distance to the bathroom attached to the bedroom or up and down the hallway outside the room to keep him somewhat active. Even then you were no more than a few feet away from him, a nervous look on your face and a crease in your brow

Secretly, the days you spent with him in bed was your favorite way to pass the time. Like right now, your chin resting gently on his shoulder while your index finger lightly ran up and down the scar on his chest. The bandage and stitches had long since been removed and all that was left was a long line from the start of his chest down to just above his lower abdomen.

Today was a good day as he hadn’t felt a single ounce of pain yet, his arm wrapped around you and his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bicep. His half lidded eyes stared at the ceiling, the only sounds filling the room being your breathing and the low hum of the air conditioning.

Breaking the silence, you keep your voice quiet as you ask, “How are you feeling today?”

Your head lifted slightly with every breath he took, his shoulder rising with every inhale. Just being able to feel him breathe made you fill with a sense of happiness, the stress of the whole thing fading away with every day that passed. “Good,” he answered, his lips turning upwards when he added, “Better than ever.”

You close your eyes at that, exhaling quietly. “Good,” your hand moves from his scar and rests on the skin above his heart, the faint but strong beat making you smile. “You’re still you.” You say quietly and lift yourself up, propping your upper half on your elbow.

Clay furrows his brows as he watches you lean down to press your lips over his heart. He was brought back to the morning of his surgery, just hours before he got the page that a transplant was available, where you did exactly what you were doing now, but on his old and weak heart.

“My angel….New heart, new life,” you continued, kissing his skin once more before meeting his eyes. “Still the same you.”

Clay lifted his hand to stroke your cheekbone with his thumb, the rest of his fingers curling under your jaw. “I’m still me,” he confirmed, matching your small grin with one of his own. “And my heart still loves you just the same.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen edit #clay beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #angst #fluff #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine

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imtryingbuck · 2 months

Text

Twenty Five

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 3,014

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names, smut but no smut – you know?. swearing

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“…I mean I’m in love with you, I’ve known since I was fourteen”

“I’m in love with you too James”

~~~

After being released from the hospital a few days after waking up the boys all but forced her to live with them until she found somewhere else, somewhere where she felt safe.

Brock had gone to prison for the attack done to Y/n and some other things he had done that had finally caught up to him.

Not that Y/n paid any attention to that.

As the months passed turning into years after that night in the hospital bed where she and Bucky had confessed their love for one another things had changed between them. And not necessarily for the better.

No they became distant despite Y/n living in the same apartment with him. Their conversations were short and curt, whenever one walked into the room the other walked out with a nod.

Nobody knew what happened, nobody understood why the two who had regained their friendship and became joined at the hip like they were when they were younger had now become distant.

Sam walked in the apartment after finishing work sighing deeply when he saw Bucky sat on the couch with some random woman on his lap kissing, her shirt on the floor. “Buck seriously?”

“What?”

“You’ve got a room for that and plus Y/n will be up in second” just as he finished his sentence Y/n walked behind him.

“Sammy move I’m dying for a wee”

At hearing her voice he knocked the girl whose name he had completely had forgotten off his lap, when she cried out Y/n looked around Sam’s body.

“Oh, hi”

The girl looked at Bucky then at Y/n rolling her eyes she picked up her shirt putting it back on “you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend James”

He didn’t answer the girl he just stood there staring at Y/n, her eyes were casted down. He felt guilty for some reason.

“Fuck you James” the girl huffed and stomped out of the apartment making sure she knocked her shoulder into Y/n’s.

“Ow, rude. Sam can you move please, still need a wee”

“Yeah yeah sorry” Waiting until Y/n shut the bathroom door behind her Sam’s eyes not moving away from Bucky.

“I know alright I know I’ve fucked up”

“Ever since she’s been back from her trip you’ve not brought a girl home always going to theirs so why now?”

“I don’t know”

“Bullshit you knew me and her were coming home together” Ever since Y/n had gotten Sam his new job at her workplace Sam was taking them both to work and though Sam always finished a little earlier he always waited for her so they could come home together. “Ever since she came here from the hospital you’ve both been acting strange around each other so what gives?”

“I-I told her I loved her” Bucky admitted quietly.

“That’s great-wait didn’t she say it back?”

“No Sam I told her I was in love with her”

“I got that like I said did she not say it back?”

“She did…”

“So what’s the problem then?”

“I don’t know”

“You two need to sort yourselves out, I’m serious Buck or it’s going to be too late and you’ll lose her for good.”

The thought of losing his Bunny for good terrified him, his father had to pin him down on the ground when Bucky was told that Y/n had left for boarding school. For months he keep begging and begging Howard and Maria to let him see her but each time with fruitless.

He knew in his heart, his soul and mind that he was in love with Y/n more than anything in this world. She was the first thing he thought of when he woke, the last thing on his mind as he fell asleep. Y/n was there for him just as much as he was for her, she helped him more than she ever and would ever know, in ways he could never explain. To him loving Y/n was nothing he ever had to think about to him it was as easy as breathing. Falling in love with his Bunny came so natural to him, when he dated Dot he did love her but it felt forced, unnatural.

Being with Dot and all the unnamed girls after always had Bucky pretending he was something that he wasn’t, his laugh was fake, his smile was forced, he was made to feel stupid whenever he said quotes either from films or books. But with his Y/n his laugh was always real and loud, his smile would be big enough to cause his cheeks to start aching and whenever he said quotes his Y/n always understood them, always there laughing along when he did his impressions and voices. Always there looking at him like he hung the stars in the dark sky as they camped in the backyard. Never once judged him when he cried, matter of a fact she would pull him into her arms and cry with him.

No one knew other than him that late at night he replayed their first encounter, over and over every night without fail. Maybe it was at seven years old Bucky had fell in love with Y/n, as he couldn’t remember or try and pinpoint the exact moment he had fall for his untameable curly haired best friend.

Bucky didn’t think much about marriage or having children and growing old, of course not he was young and good looking – he had other things to worry about such as not calling the girl he had under him the wrong name, he did that once and ended up with a black eye, Carly got him good-wait was it Carla? But whenever he was asked by his grandmother when he was going to get married he always thought ‘Whenever Bunny wants to’ or when his grandmother then would ask when he was going to give her great-grandbabies and once again his thoughts where ‘Whenever Bunny’s ready’.

His thoughts about his future always circled back to Y/n. Married – to Y/n. Having children – Y/n’s the mum. Growing old – right by Y/n’s side. Hell he knew he would be taking his last breath right next to her and there was nothing to change his mind and no one to change the future he had planned for himself.

Bucky had to second guess a lot in his life, but he never needed to second guess his love for Y/n.

Y/n’s voice brought him back to the present as she spoke from the kitchen asking him, Sam and Steve what they wanted for dinner, he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even register Steve coming home from work.

“Bunny go on a date with me on Saturday, please” He blurted out facing his love.

“W-what?”

“Go on a date with me?”

“Me?”

“No my other Bunny, of course you”

“But you literally had a girl on your lap not even thirty minutes ago…”

“I know and that was because I’m a scum bag but baby its always been you that I’ve always wanted, so…date…Saturday?”

Looking at Sam and Steve who both stand there with huge smiles on their faces, the blonde nodding encouragingly she looked back to her Ducky not believing it was really happening, she had been wishing that those words would come out of his mouth, even more since they confessed their love to each other. When he started being distant with her she thought that she heard wrong, that he never actually proclaimed his love for her but she had him and since he didn’t feel the same way he thought it was better to put distance between them both.

But standing in the middle of the kitchen her hand still on the freezer door she didn’t know what to think.

“Bun?”

“Saturday. Okay” she smiled, Bucky released a breath he wasn’t sure how long he had been holding in.

“Saturday” he echo’s.

It was finally Saturday and to say Y/n was nervous was the understatement of the century. Pacing a hole nearly on Sam’s bedroom floor she kept muttering to herself under her breath when a knock came from the door it startled her.

“Sunshine it’s me…Sam, can I come in?”

“Okay”

“Are you naked?”

“Yes and that’s why I said-“

“You’re a liar. You’re not naked.” Sam grumbled then smiling cheekily when Y/n rolls her eyes. “What’s up? And don’t say nothing because me and Steve can hear you stomping around like you’re in a marching band”

“I’m scared…”

“Of what?”

“The date, what if something goes wrong? What if Bucky realises that he doesn’t love me and he leaves me alone? Is he taking me to a restaurant? What do I order? How do I sit? Oh my God I-I-I forgot how to sit!”

Normally Sam loves it when she rambles on but seeing the tears in her eyes he wastes no time in crossing the room and pulling her into his arms.

“Sunny firstly nothing is going to go wrong, I promise you. Buck won’t realise that, babycakes he’s madly in love with you even a blind person can see that and you know for a fact that Buck will never leave you alone. I can’t say where he’s taking you but it’s going to be okay and I assure you that you will love it. And you haven’t forgotten how to sit numpty”

“B-b-but Sammy-“

“No buts Sunny, it’s going to be perfect and you’re going to have a wonderful time and you’ll come back here and tell me all about it, okay”

“Okay”

“Now show me what you’re going to be wearing, come on Sunshine don’t leave me hanging”

Pointing at his bed Sam sees the outfit. A black vest top, a nice black flowy skirt that he knew had a split down the side of the right side. The cardigan was long and dark green, flower patterns on the sleeves.

“I-I was thinking about wearing my dark green doc martens?”

“It sounds perfect, go and get changed before Buck comes back” Sam shoos her off into the bathroom.

Just less than ten minutes later Y/n re-enters the bedroom feeling slightly less nervous for her date. Sam whistled, spinning his finger around in the air signalling for her to spin around for him.

“Beautiful”

“Do you really think I look okay?”

“Yes”

“Should I leave my hair down or should I put it up?”

“Down. Oh and wear that cute little butterfly necklace”

“Okay” taking said necklace out of the jewellery box “Can you-“

“I got you Sunshine.”

“Thank you”

“Buck’s back by the way”

Nodding and spraying herself with her perfume one more time, Sam stands by the door with his arm held out so she could hold onto. Stepping over the threshold and walking down the corridor to where Bucky was waiting patiently.

It’s just Ducky. It’s just Ducky. It’s just Ducky.

She repeated in her head over and over as she watched him look up at her, the way his jaw dropped as his eyes raked up and down her figure but the silence was having her nerves skyrocketing.

“Buck” Steve whispered nudging his best friends’ shoulder when he noticed Y/n starting to twist her a strand of her hair, a thing she did when she was nervous.

“B-Bunny…your stunning”

“You think so?”

“I know so. God you are so beautiful”

Steve and Sam managed to get both of them out of the apartment after Steve sternly tells Bucky to have ‘his little princess back before midnight’ and Sam telling the blonde to cut them some slack, winking at Y/n who just rolls her eyes at the pair. Bucky leads her downstairs and helps her into the car.

The way he fidgeted in his seat was a dead giveaway that he was nervous just like she was.

“So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see as soon as you see it-I just hope you like it”

“Of course I’d like it Ducky”

Smiling bashfully he takes her hand in his and brought her hand to his lips, placing a delicate kiss among her knuckles all while his eyes concentrated on the road ahead of him.

The familiar street before her had her wondering where on earth he was taking her.

“Bun, close your eyes for me and keep them closed until I say it’s okay to open them, okay?”

“I’m nervous now” she laughs but complies with his instructions.

The car comes to a stop she hears him getting out of the car, keeping her eyes closed she flinches when the passenger door opens and Bucky leans over to unbuckle her seatbelt. He notices the movement and kisses her temple whispering “It’s okay”. Helping her out of the car he places his hand in hers and starts to guide her along the pathway.

“Duck...”

“I’m right here Bun. I’ve got you my love”

A few minutes later Bucky brings them both to a stop and moves to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and leaning his head on her shoulder. “You can now open your eyes Bun”

Doing so her eyes adjusting to the sight in front of her. She knew instantly where she was.

The large pond sat undisturbed in the middle of the woodland area she spent many days of her childhood exploring, her safe haven, her happy place.

Just to the right and a five minute walk stood the tree she first met her Ducky.

However it was different now thanks to Bucky, in between two trees hung fairy lights casting a beautiful glow in the darkening sky. On the ground was a large blanket with a picnic basket sat on top.

So simple. But so beautiful.

“Buck…”

“If you don’t like it I can book a tab-“ he started – scared of her reaction, more like lack of one.

“It’s perfect”

Guiding her over to the blanket he helped her sit. The food was eaten pretty quickly. They both unknown to each other felt silly for ever being nervous for their first date.

“It’s just Bunny”

“It’s just Ducky”

They told themselves. Though they did have to admit that this was different now, they were on a proper date and not like their friendship dates they always went on. This was a huge step for them.

“How did you get the lights up there?” Y/n asked as she leaned against Bucky.

“With my father and Steve's help, it was a lot harder than we expected”

“Well I appreciate what you three went through to do it”

“Anything for you Bunny, you know this”

Sitting up and looking at him her breath hitched when she saw that his blue eyes that seemed to shine under the bright fairy lights were already on her.

“Bun, when I told you that I’m in love with you I wasn’t lying. I can’t begin to explain why I started to be a dick towards you afterwards as I don’t even know myself, I’m sorry”

“I wasn’t lying either, honestly it’s always been you Buck. And none of that matters no more, just promise me you won’t do it again as I hate not talking to you”

“I promise”

The way his eyes kept darting from hers to her lips had her licking them nervously and before she could process the words in her mind they were spilling out.

“Kiss me Ducky”

“Are you sure?”

“More than anything”

Ever so slowly he moved closer towards her and even more gently he takes her face in his hands and places his lips against hers. Both sighing contently as the tingly sensation tickles their lips.

The kiss grew more heated as their tongues danced together, hands reaching and touching each part of each others bodies. A small squeal of surprise left her mouth when Bucky knocked her onto her back and climbed on top of her, his lips never leaving hers even when she pulled back needing air his kissed-swollen lips never left her skin.

“You are the most prettiest thing I have ever laid my eyes on” he stated, she heard no indication of a lie not like she would have because to him it was the truth. There was nothing in this world that would have him changing his mind.

“I’m…” Y/n started to say but trailed off, hoping that he would catch on to what not only was she trying to say but to hint also.

“Your what Bun?”

“You know…”

“I don’t I’m afraid”

“I still have my flower” she says hoping that would make him understand but all she got was him raising his eyebrow in confusion. “I’m a virgin” she blurted out, cheeks and neck flushing bright red with embarrassment.

“Oh. That’s okay-hey look at me Bunny- it is okay, there isn’t any need to rush it”

“But I want to-with you I mean-now-well that is if you’re okay with that”

“Bun-“

“Never mind it was silly-.”

“Baby I want to, God knows I do but-but what if you regret it?”

“I won’t”

Kissing her once, twice, thrice he nods and starts to lift up. “W-where are you going?” she asks, panicking that she’s overstepped and overthought this whole date.

“Taking you home so we can make love”

“No, here. Please Ducky”

“Here? Are you sure my love?”

“Yes Ducky”

He leans back over her and kisses her passionately and feverishly. His hands and lips explored every crevice of her body. Explored the one place nobody had done before him.

“Are you sure Bunny? We can stop if you want” he asked before taking her flower.

“Ducky please, you’re the one, please”

“You’re the one for me too baby. I promise to go slow, tell me to stop if it gets too much and I will, okay”

“Okay”

Underneath the fairy lights and the stars that shined brightly in the dark sky, the cold air sweeping past the two, as they made love.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01

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radiance1 · 6 months

Text

Mechanical eastern dragon.

Danny, ever since he was a wee little lad, about 5 or so. Really liked eastern dragons since he found out about them, so much so that he even tried to make his own little eastern dragons!

When Jack saw that, it seemed to strike something in him and suddenly Danny found himself having a more experienced hand aiding him in his crafts.

Jack started directing him towards something simpler than a dragon when he was first starting out, then over time gradually let him make certain parts of a dragon instead of all at once, then when they were all complete, they stuck them together and Danny? Well, he found out why his dad liked to build so much.

So, he started to build more and more little things, small yet complex that'll eventually come together to form his eastern dragon.

As he got older, and his parents became more and more focused on their portal project, he eventually decided that, hey, why doesn't he just make a giant version of his little crafts?

An actual dragon.

Of course, such a thing was no easy feat, so he started it just like his dad taught him too, little pieces over time that'll eventually come together to make what will essentially be his masterpiece.

However, he lacks the parts to do so.

Well, not exactly considering there's a lot of household things he could take apart for scrap, but his parents are already doing that, plus he wants way better materials that'll really shape this up to be his mastepiece.

So he took to instead drawing out how it'll look, and creating various minor pieces that'll go into powering it and stuff. He took some of the ectoplasmic batteries his parents' didn't have a use for anymore, and kinda just, fused them together?

Either way, he made a core that'll be the basis of power for his dragon when he completes! Of course, it'll have to go over multiple modifications over the years while he refines the design for his dragon, to make it able to hold more energy, more durable and far more powerful.

He won't lie, he was both extremely suspicious and immensely grateful when Sam gave him a diamond of all things to make a battery out of, because she obviously wanted something outta it. What did she want? Dibs on being one of the first too see his creation when its finished.

Very simple, plus she said her parents could buy another one anyways. Ah, the joys of being rich.

Then he heard from his parents about how their portal works, though he wasn't too interested since he was too busy building the skeleton of his dragon from the parts Sam gave him.

Tucker, who was dabbling in coding, decided that he was going to attempt to create a high level AI for Danny's project, which Danny was all for! Great materials provided by his friend, and then his other one wanted to make an AI specifically for his masterpiece?

Why would he ever say no?

Jazz has been acting pretty weird thought lately, he noticed a bit after the day he was made aware of how his parents' portal managed to work, how he still isn't sure, nor did he actually believe there was a realm of the dead but eh. He would admit, he wasn't terribly close with his sister, ever since he started up his master work, and became a fink, but he could tell something was different.

Really only because she seemed to be finally getting off his case about how much work he's putting into his dragon and less into taking care of himself properly, which she usually does by bossing him around. But he thinks she's just busy, and is too busy to even care at this point so it didn't really matter.

He was a bit blindsided by ghosts actually being real but easily accepted it to be honest. Like, he's been using stuff powered by ectoplasm that ghosts are supposedly made of, so it wasn't that much of a stretch.

Of course, a ghost fighting against another ghost was new, different from what his parents had told him, but it was nice to have someone protecting the town other than his parents at the very least.

As he got closer and closer to finishing his masterpiece, and as Tucker himself almost finishing with the AI, his grades weren't receiving that much attention, he would admit. He would look back at them when he completed it, alright? But not now.

Then came a day where he was saved from a ghost attack by Amity Park's hero, and while he was extremely tired, he recognized that bossiness, snobbish attitude and smothering from anywhere. Did he expect his sister to be the ghostly town hero? No, no he did not.

Was he going to tell anyone? Not really, he cared, but he didn't care that much about to go around talking about it. Also, wasn't his place to spill his sister's secret really.

Also, she didn't know he knew, and he planned to keep it that way for the foreseeable future.

Just as he was nearing his completion, only having just a few finishing touches before it was ready for the AI to be uploaded to it, a test popped that he apparently had to study for, with his sister already passing with flying colors (which just proves how much smarter she is than him, because she fights ghosts regularly, he doesn't, doing something much safer and what does he have to show for it?) and urging him to study. Which, with her attitude that got even worse, after becoming half-ghost and a hero, he just, couldn't take.

He's thankful that ghost came when they did, because he just couldn't stand her any longer than that. So he just popped over to Nasty Burger instead, removing himself far as he could from that fight, and of course, of course said fight had to end up there.

The universe just hates him, it seemed. On the plus side, he managed to snag the answer sheet to that C.A.T. test his sister was nagging him about, why would he study if he has this now? Besides, he has something more important to do anyways.

Then a while he's confronted by his sister's apparent alternate evil future self after he dropped his knowledge of her secret in attempts to stave off the conversation of him cheating, which, now that he thought of it, was probably better than finding out and subsequently being knocked out by his sister's alternate self.

Thankfully, when he next awoke, he found his project was perfectly untouched, and then had to leave to take the test. He'll figure out a way to deal with his sister's future self later. While later, he finished the test, and was finally glad to be able to add the last touches to his project.

Oh, right, his sister's evil self. He almost forgot about her if he was being honest. So, he took the Fenton Peeler, and was going to go find his sister before he had to be called to Nasty Burger by his parents and, well, his 'sister' was there, and his cheating was already revealed and decided it's literally whatever and shot her.

Weird that he was separated from everyone else, but it's whatever. Sure, the sauce was going to explode and kill everyone, but he believed in his sister to come and save the day, as she always did and will continue doing and he told his sister's evil self that, and was incredibly smug when it happened.

He watched the fight, cheering a bit from the sidelines because, well, c'mon. It's not everyday he watches his sister beat her future self the up, and he might not get this chance ever again so might as well enjoy it while he can.

Unfortunately, he never accounted for his sister being too weak after said fight to help their parents', Mr. Lancer, and his friends, and then he saw them explode.

Then his sister disappeared.

He, very obviously, did not take this well at all. So, after he got back home, feeling both like shit and nothing at all, he stared at the almost finished eastern dragon sitting to the side of his bedroom/workshop, the only component missing being the AI bead, and promptly broke down crying.

He didn't cry earlier, but he just, couldn't contain himself. His parents were dead, his teacher was dead, and his two only best friends were dead too, and his sister disappeared in front of him and he had no idea where she could be.

He then cried himself to sleep.

Then he woke up, took up the AI bead, and inserted it into the dragon sluggishly.

It's completion was a solemn affair, rather than the bright and happy thing he expected and wanted. No one was around to marvel at his genius, too see the end result of what he tried for years to achieve, and no sister that he could rub it in her face about either.

He had nothing. Nothing but the product created from the combined efforts from him and his friends.

So, what was he to do?

Modify it, of course!

He threw all his attention into it, installing weapons, fiddling around with the core (That he had to take out and put back in) and giving it a lot of ghost shields, and other Fenton tech.

And for what? He doesn't know, but this, giant thing, somehow capable of growing and shrinking to his choosing (he still doesn't know how, even though he made the thing), installed to the brim with Fenton tech, is his.

And he'll use it to find his goddamn sister. Sure, they didn't have the greatest relationship, and sure, she wasn't the best to get along with, but she was the only thing he had left, and whoever took her could pry her from his and his dragon's goddamn hands.

Also, who would he rub his genius in the face of, if he didn't find her?

So, he took off to the zone, got lost, fought a few ghosts with his dragon and Fenton tech, and then ended up in another dimension full of heroes and villains. Did he care about that?

Fuck no.

But apparently, being a 14-year-old and fighting people off with his mechanical dragon was not a normal thing. Sure, he may have overreacted by having said dragon through his aggressors, who were normal humans by the way, through multiple walls, but in his defense.

It was their fault for trying him when he wasn't in the best of moods.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #FINALLY DONE #Anyways #Jazz is completely unaware that the timeline where her parents Mr. Lancer and her brother's friends died still existed #So she's just living it up in the timeline Clockwork sent her too and avoided the explosion lol

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scoonsalicious · 1 month

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 11, Unsure - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Pocket not knowing how to navigate her emotions

Word Count: 1.9k

Previously On...: Jade just had to rub it in that she not only hears you and Bucky fighting about her, but that it brings her joy. So, you had to make sure you fucked your boyfriend extra loud.

A/N: My mom is coming up to visit after I get out of work today, so obviously, I cannot post while she is around (the contents of this story would stop her super-Catholic heart or, at the very least, have her send me out for an exorcism), so I'm scheduling this update.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @crist1216 @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows

Over the next few weeks, things between you and Bucky were technically better, in the sense that you hadn’t argued again, and he didn’t mention Jade to you, or answer her calls or texts in your presence, but they were so much worse in that she was taking up more of his time than ever before, and you saw each other less and less. You tried to rationalize it by telling yourself that the amount of time the two of you had spent together at the beginning of your relationship had been abnormal– nearly constant– and that the current situation was more on par with what regular couples experienced, but the truth of the matter was that you felt yourself pulling away from him, building a wall around your heart to protect yourself from what you saw as the inevitable heartache Bucky was going to inflict upon you.

He’d been right– you had been going around in circles, and every time you thought you’d made some progress, another event would transpire that would just end up leaving you feeling worse. Yes, he always had the sweetest words to say to you to bring you down from your anger, but at what point did they go from being the actual truth to just being something said just to placate you? More and more, you found yourself questioning the difference between the two, and as a result, your walls were going back up with a vengeance.

If he noticed, though, he didn’t say anything. He was preoccupied with preparing Jade for her first mission. She’d be going off to Malaysia with Sam and Rhodey (you may have begged Tony to ensure she was never partnered with either you or Bucky, and bless that man and his affection for you, he’d been more than willing to comply), and Bucky was working overtime to make sure she was ready.

And perhaps a small part of you was hoping she’d go MIA in the jungle. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud to anyone but FRIDAY.

The day before she was scheduled to depart, you were lounging on your couch, working on your laptop. Your crisis prediction algorithm project was finally ready, and you were putting the finishing touches on the presentation you were scheduled to give to the board in less than two weeks time. You were just adding some graphics when Bucky came in the door.

“You haven’t started getting ready yet?” he asked, kissing the crown of your head by way of greeting. He looked exceptionally handsome in a pair of tight black jeans and black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

You looked up at him in confusion. “Ready for what?” you asked, taking off your glasses and rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“Gino’s,” he said, as if that would clear it up. At your blank look, he prompted: “Vix’s first mission is tomorrow. We’re all going down to Gino’s for drinks. Come on, Pocket. I told you about this days ago.”

You scoffed at him. “You most certainly did not. I would have remembered because I would have laughed at you and said ‘hard pass.’”

Bucky rubbed his eyes. “Okay, maybe it slipped my mind, and I’m sorry for that, but you should have known. It’s tradition.”

“Tradition?” you asked him, surprised to find that the anger you had expected to feel, that you should have felt, just wasn’t coming. Instead, you were just sad. “There’s no tradition.”

“What are you talking about? We all went before my first mission.”

You closed your laptop and put it down on the coffee table before standing up to face him with a sigh. “Buck, that was something I did, just for you, because I wanted to. Because you were my best friend. I wanted you to have a night of fun before you went out, because I didn’t know what sort of shit you were going to see, or have to do, on that mission. I wanted to give you something good to hold on to.”

Bucky’s face softened at your words and he embraced you, holding you close. “God,” he said, rubbing his nose into your hair, “I had no idea. I’m the fucking luckiest man alive, you know that? To have a girl as special as you care so much about me. You’re more than I deserve, doll.”

A tiny voice in the back of your mind couldn’t help but think Maybe I am. You crushed the thought as soon as it came. You loved him, you truly did. He just… frustrated you a lot recently. Jade’s probationary period was going to be over soon, and you were hopeful that she wouldn’t get the votes to stay in. You knew that, despite the initial warm reception she’d received, she’d ended up rubbing almost everyone the wrong way with her attitude. You’d even heard Sam and Clint complaining about Jade refusing to participate when it was her turn for training room clean-up because ‘shouldn’t Stark have people for that?’.

It seemed like everyone was finally seeing what kind of person she really was. Well, everyone except for Bucky, anyway.

“So,” he said after a moment, “you gonna come?”

You thought about it for a second. A part of you was completely against the idea, not wanting the gesture you’d made for Bucky all those months ago to be tainted knowing he was making it now for her, but the prevailing part of you wasn’t about to offer Jade the opportunity of a night of drinking with Bucky, outside of your presence, on a silver platter. It concerned you that you were more motivated by thwarting any designs Jade might have than you were with spending time with your boyfriend, though. You tried to push your petty thoughts aside.

“Yeah,” you said, looking up into his eyes and allowing yourself to fall into them. God, they were beautiful. He was beautiful, inside and out. You needed to keep reminding yourself of that, of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place, and there were so, so many. “How much time do I have?” you asked.

Bucky pulled out his phone and glanced at the time. “About fifteen minutes,” he said.

“Fifteen minutes!” you shrieked, pulling away from him and heading over to your vanity. “Jesus, Buck! Give a girl some warning! It’s gonna take me twice that long just to do my hair and makeup!” You began pulling out all the accouterments you were going to need to prepare yourself.

Bucky came to stand behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist as he looked at you in the mirror. “You don’t need any of that stuff, doll,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You’re already going to be the sexiest girl there, but I’m not gonna complain about sitting around if you want to get even sexier.”

You smiled at Bucky through the mirror, and it felt like the first genuine smile you’d given him in ages. “That’s sweet of you, baby,” you said as you started putting on your moisturizer, “but I don’t want to make you late on my account.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing you for any trace of annoyance or anger in your words. Not finding any, he asked: “Are you sure, sweets? I don’t mind waiting for you.”

You nodded, moving on to fill in your eyebrows. “It’s fine, Buck. Go. I’ll meet up with you as soon as I’m ready.”

He lingered for several long moments, watching as you continued your makeup routine. You noticed him staring and paused contouring to turn to him. “What?” you asked with a small smile, expecting him to make some kind of comment about modern girls and all their makeup.

“Nothing,” he said, though there was a hint of sadness in his gaze. “You just seem… different, that’s all.”

You laughed. “You’ve seen me contour my face plenty of times, Buck. I swear, it’ll look great once I blend it out.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, “that’s not what I meant. You just seem… nevermind, it’s nothing.”

Shit. He could feel the distance you’d been building between the two of you. You didn’t want it to be there; you truly didn’t. You simply didn’t know how else to protect yourself. Closing yourself off had been your tried and true defense mechanism since you were eleven years old.

Making a vow to yourself to get back to where you once were, back to him, you turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Hey,” you said, kissing him softly, “I love you. So much.” You needed to reassure him, to reassure both of you, of the truth of it.

“Love you, too, sweets,” he said warmly, not letting go of you. You let him hold you, relishing in the feel of him in a way you hadn’t let yourself experience in a bit. Unfortunately, the moment was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, indicating he had a text. You pulled away and turned back to the mirror.

“What’s Jade need now?” you asked, feeling the wall building itself back up. There was no anger in your voice, just a kind of resigned acceptance. You glanced up from blending your contour as Bucky checked the screen, a look of annoyance crossing his face as he read her text.

“She wants to know if I can drive her to Gino’s on my bike,” he said. The way he looked back at you in the mirror almost made you feel ill, as though he were preparing for you to blow up at him. You felt the walls go higher around your heart.

“Well, you better head out then,” you said, focusing on your makeup. “Don’t want her being late for her own party.”

Bucky opened his mouth and then closed it again, as though not sure how to respond to you. Eventually, he said “It’s fine. Tony’s providing cars; she can hitch a ride with everyone else.”

“And deprive her the opportunity to wrap her arms around you?” you laughed. “Come on, Buck, you’re supposed to be giving her a night of good memories here. Don’t disappoint the girl.”

His brow furrowed at your words. In a single step, he was beside you, taking the contouring brush from your hand and turning your shoulders so you were facing him. “Pocket,” he said, licking his lips, “are we… are we okay?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Of course,” you said, taking the brush back from him and moving on to your bronzer and blush. “Why wouldn’t we be okay?”

“You’re just… you seem to be awfully relaxed about the idea of her being on the back of my bike.”

You arched a brow and looked over at him. “Should I not be?” you asked. “Is there a reason for me to be bothered by it?”

Bucky spluttered. “No! Of course not! It’s just…”

“Then I don’t understand what the problem is, Bucky,” you said, getting back to work on your face. His phone buzzed again. “You better go. Sounds like your ‘work wife’ is getting impatient.”

“My work wife? Doll, I don’t… I can’t…” he stammered, at a loss for words.

“Buck,” you said, patting his arm before applying your lip gloss, “it’s fine. Go give Jade a ride. I don’t care, honestly.”

“You… don’t care?” he asked slowly.

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ with your lips. “I really don’t.”

Bucky muttered his goodbyes, promising to see you at the party. As soon as he closed the door behind him, you closed your eyes, gripping the backrest of your vanity chair until your knuckles were white, your fingernails digging crescents into the palms of your hands.

You might have been able to lie to Bucky, but you couldn’t lie to yourself. You did care. You still cared very, very much.

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