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butter-cream33 · 5 months

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"Yeah... I hope so."

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Reader x Dean Winchester

SUMMARY: You're caught when hunting a vampire nest with Sam and Dean, but... They get there too late. You were hopeful... until you saw the reaper sitting in the back seat.

WORD & CHAR COUNT: 3,293 - 13,774

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Reader x Dean Winchester

TAGS: Blood / Death / Wounds

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been a while since I've uploaded! I hope you guys cry when reading this(but in a good way ,yk?).

I could barely keep my eyes open. Everything was sore, and I was cold…

We’d been hunting this vampire nest for two weeks. We thought we had it under control, that it was just a tiny, well-hidden nest that we could empty in one swoop. However, we couldn’t have been more wrong. Despite these vampires all looking young, they were very, very old. They were experienced, they were skilled, and they were smart. By the time I realized what we were really dealing with, it was too late.

I had picked up my phone to call Sam and Dean, but just as they answered the phone, a rag was shoved against my mouth. It wasn’t long at all before I found myself losing consciousness.

I’d been tied up in their nest for hours, my wrists bound together and keeping me suspended by a hook mounted on a beam.

By now, my hands were numb. My feet were a few inches off of the ground, just enough to make me feel like this rope was going to rip my hands off. I had cuts and bites all over my body. Some of these wounds, they didn’t even use… They just hurt me for fun. They’d watch my blood drip on the floor only to laugh in my face. It took hours for me to finally get myself to stop crying. I didn’t want to give them a reaction anymore, despite how hard it was. It was so hard.

I was stuck there for ages. I couldn’t tell how long, I just knew it was long enough for it to get dark, then light again… A whole night in this disgusting basement.

Thankfully, they got… bored of me.

They left the basement, now hanging out upstairs. I could hear them talking, but I wasn’t able to make out the words. All I could do was wait.

But what was I waiting for?

For Sam and Dean to bust in?

Those vampires to come back?

To bleed out?

I was wasting my time with the hopeful wish that they’d save me. I knew what was happening. My hands and feet had gone numb, my skin was white, and I felt cold. I felt so, so cold. My mouth was so dry and my lips were chapped and bleeding. They had almost bled me dry. All I could do now was stare at the bloody, dirty floor.

I finally raised my head as I heard a loud crash upstairs. It was followed by shouting, a few gunshots, and more crashes.

My eyes drooped, shutting for a few seconds. It was getting harder to keep them open. Although, my hope rose alongside the volume of the fighting upstairs. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hopeless about the possibility of Sam and Dean not showing up. They were here. We were going to be okay.

“...S-Sam…!” I called out, but it was barely audible. My voice was raspy, nothing more than a coarse whisper.

“Sam! D-De–” I burst into a coughing fit, splattering more blood on the floor. “Dean!”

I could feel the tears start running down my face. The relief of their arrival washed over me, my chest aching as I sobbed their names.

“Y/N!”

I heard them calling from upstairs. It wasn’t much longer— I saw the door to the basement come flying down the stairs. They knocked it clean off of its hinges. Their boots made loud thuds against the wooden boards of the stairs, the two of them nearly toppling over each other to get down.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted as he got to me first.

I let out a heavy sigh of relief as his large hands cupped my face by my jaw, my head resting in his palms. I couldn’t stop myself from sobbing, giving him a weak smile through my tears. He pulled my eyelid up, checking me. I knew he was just checking to see if I was turning— but I just wanted to leave as soon as possible. Dean raised his knife, cutting the rope on my wrists. I dropped, but Sam quickly caught me.

“The hell are we waiting for? Let’s fucking go–” Dean barked the order, gesturing for us to get out. “–She needs a damn hospital.”

Both of their faces twisted with worry as I groaned in pain, my hands cramping as the blood was able to flow through them again.

After seeing this, Sam didn’t waste another second. He scooped me up, holding me against his body with my legs on his hips and my arms over his shoulders. He didn’t care how much blood got him— Not that I had much left, anyway. One of his hands supported me, the other firmly holding the back of my head as my chin rested on his shoulder. As the three of us left the house, I watched over his shoulder, seeing a dozen dead vampires all over the floor. I simply closed my eyes, gritting my teeth.

The two rushed me to the Impala, Sam still clutching me as he got in the car. Dean didn’t wait one second more, revving the engine as he sped out of the driveway.

“Y/N?” Sam croaked, “Hey-hey-hey—” He sheepishly repeated the word as he looked at my face, gently patting the side of my face. “Stay with us– Okay? Keep your eyes open. Dean!” He shouted at Dean, the worry in his voice becoming one of rage. Rather than snapping back at Sam for shouting, the engine roared as Dean gassed it. The Impala raced down the road as fast as it could go. It was hard to hear the two of them talking over the engine with the way my head was spinning.

“Sam…?” I took a breath.

“Give her some water.” Dean shoved a water bottle against Sam, not taking his eyes off of the road.

“Tilt your head back, okay?” Sam spoke softly to me. Even then, I could still hear the pain in his voice. He was afraid, his eyes glistening as tears welled in his eyes. “Drink this.” Sam carefully held the water bottle to my lips, slowly tilting it so as not to give me too much at one time. I eagerly drank it, raising my blood-soaked hand to hold the bottle. He shook his head as I did.

“Don’t worry about that– I’ve got you.”

Once he pulled the bottle away, I took a deep breath. “I’m—” I gritted my teeth, “–I’m sorry… I was going to call–”

“Don’t worry about that.” Dean shook his head as he drove.

“I was— was going to call you.” I cried, “I f-found out where they w-were– I– I was going to call you, but they f-found me… I’m sorry.”

“I said don’t worry about that, you understand me?” Dean raised his voice. “We’re getting you to the hospital. They’re gonna fix you.”

I drew in a shaky breath, but it turned into a coughing fit. I could only watch as my blood hit Sam’s face. He didn’t even flinch, he just carefully pushed my hair out of my face, still choking back tears. I knew what was happening. I was never going to make it to the hospital— Not with that reaper sitting in the back seat, her eyes on me with a sorrowful expression.

“…Pull over.”

The silence that came was… tense. I could cut through glass with it. Both of them stared at me in shock, but I could see it in their eyes. They knew. They could tell. With how many times they watched someone die, this was nothing new.

The Impala slowed down a bit as Dean glared at me. He followed my gaze, seeing that I was looking in the back of the car.

He’d had his own experience with reapers, or at least enough to know there was one waiting for me.

“You leave her the hell alone!” He screamed, hopelessly swinging his gun into the backseat and firing off useless shots.

“Dean!” Sam shouted at him, pulling me tighter against him as he watched Dean snap.

Dean’s gun clicked as he ended up emptying the clip. He threw it into the floor of the car, turning to face the wheel again. He was gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white, revving the engine again as he swerved around a corner. Of course, the Reaper hadn’t moved an inch. She was still sitting there, the bullets had gone through her like mist.

“Dean… Please p-pull over.” I sucked air through my teeth, fighting to keep my eyes open.

“We’re getting you to the hospital, that’s it.” He argued, not wanting to stop the car. My pleas for him to pull over went in one ear and out the other. Meanwhile, Sam just did his best to comfort me, desperately finding anything he could to stop the bleeding. Napkins from the glove box, gauze from the first aid kit, and t-shirts from his bag. Although… none of it was enough. By now, Sam’s large hands were stained red with my blood. The seat was soaked and sticky, along with his clothes.

“De… Dean, I–” Sam’s voice cracked as he tried not to cry, staring down at me, “I can’t… It won’t–”

He rambled through broken whispers, trying to form sentences. It was hard to even make out his words anymore as my head was spinning.

I slowly looked at the reaper again. This time, she was leaning forward, her hands gently holding the backside of the front seat.

“…Are you staying? Or are you coming with me?” Her voice was sad. She didn’t sound like she wanted to take me with her, but it was her job. She had to. “I’m sure you’ve dealt with enough ghosts to know what happens if you stay, but… it’s your choice. I’ll understand.”

I gasped as I tried not to burst into tears– not that I had the energy to do it anyway.

“I…” I croaked, “Do I have time to say goodbye?’

The reaper slowly nodded, “Yes, but… Only goodbye.”

I nodded as I took in what she was saying. There was no way I was getting out of this. As I looked away from her, I could see Sam looking down at me with wide eyes, glaring like a deer in headlights. Dean was doing the same, the car slowing down. Even though they couldn’t hear or see the reaper, all they had to do was hear what I said to realize that it was time for me to go.

The Impala slowly pulled to a stop on the side of the road as we parked.

“S-Sam?”

Sam sniffled, pushing his hair out of his face as he tried to hold his composure together, “Yeah? What is it?” His voice cracked as he spoke. His face was soaked, shiny from the tears that ran down and dripped onto his clothes.

“Can… Can we sit on the hood? I don’t want the last thing I see to be the ceiling of the car.” I gave a weak laugh which came out as more of a wheeze.

Both of them nodded, agreeing as they hurried out of the car. Dean got out first, coming around to open the door while Sam did his best to pick me up without hurting me anymore. He carefully climbed out of the car, cradling me as he steadied himself in the tall grass beside the road. Sam then took slow steps to the hood of the car, gently laying me in the middle of it, his jacket hanging around me like a blanket. The two of them just stood beside the car, staring at me beside one another, mournful looks on their faces.

“Hey, D-Dean?”

He didn’t say anything, but he raised his chin a bit as I spoke to him.

“Can you put our song on the r-radio?”

Sam sputtered as he choked up a smile, looking off to the side as he put his bloody hand over his mouth. Dean kept up his usual stoic expression, trying to detach himself as he nodded his head and got back in the car.

“S-Sam— Come on…”

“…What?” He looked a bit confused, struggling to think straight.

I patted the hood of the car, leaving a red handprint on the black paint. His lip trembled as he tried to keep his smile, taking a reluctant step to the car. He carefully climbed onto the hood of the car with me, lying next to me. The car rocked a bit, tilting with his weight. His hand then planted on my leg, making sure I didn’t slide at all. I gave a weary smile and placed my hand over his. Sam could hardly look at me, just looking up at the sky as we interlocked our fingers.

It wasn’t long before the radio kicked on, “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd playing. While Sam, Dean, and I all had very different tastes in music, we all had one song we liked— and this was it. We’d all sing along in the car, laughing as we couldn’t hit notes and lacked any sense of melody, just three idiots screaming lyrics in a car with smiles on our faces.

Dean got out of the car, closing the door as he then climbed onto the hood with us. I reached my other hand over, holding his hand as well.

We all just laid there, Sam on my right, Dean on my left, and nothing but the stars to keep us company. Given that we were out in the countryside, there was hardly any light pollution. We could see the moon and stars for miles and miles… I took it in for a moment, closing my eyes and letting out a deep breath. As I did, I felt both of them flinch. Without opening my eyes, I just smiled and croaked again,

“Not— Not dead yet.”

I could feel the relief from them as their grip on my hands tightened.

“D-Dean?”

“Yeah?” He spoke quietly, not moving.

“Stop… Stop being a statue for five minutes, g-got it? Y-You’re making your brother look like a b-baby.”

We all gave a soft chuckle as I spoke, Dean finally cracking.

“I just—” He sucked air through his teeth, “We don’t want you to go.”

“I know.” I choked on my words. By now, I knew the reaper was pushing it for me. This was taking more time than just a goodbye.

“Can I tell you something?” The words grated out of Sam’s throat.

“Yeah, what?” I turned to look at him.

“I… I love you.”

We all laid there in silence for a moment, taking in what Sam said. A few seconds went by before Dean slowly pulled his hand away from mine, seeming he wanted to distance himself afterward.

“I wasn’t sure for a while, I… I thought I was just being stupid, but… I’m sure now, and I wish I knew before this happened.”

I gave Sam a tearful smile, squeezing his hand tightly. “I… I love you too, Sam.”

We both gave weary laughs, Sam rolling on his side to face me. He leaned over me, gently placing his hand on my cheek. I looked at him through droopy eyes, eventually closing them as he leaned in and kissed me. It was short… but sweet. I was happy that he’d decided to actually tell me, rather than leaving me wondering.

Although, I didn’t want to leave Dean alone like that.

“Dean?” I looked over at him. He was just staring at the sky, his hands balled into tight fists over his stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” He shook his head with a weary smirk, “No point.”

“It does matter, Dean.” I reached over, placing my hand over the top of his fist. He still wouldn’t look at me. “Now is absolutely the time, I mean… There won’t be a later.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as he finally coughed up the words. “Sammy beat me to it.”

It took me a second, but I eventually pieced together what he meant. Sam had just confessed to me, but Dean… He did too. They were both in love with me. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I didn’t have the time to think about it, so… I might as well go out with a bang.

“I… Dean, look at me.”

Dean begrudgingly opened his eyes, looking over at me. His eyes were glazed over with tears, one finally rolling down his cheek. It was getting harder for him to hold it in.

“I love you, too.” I squeezed his hand a bit.

He looked a bit confused, but… He slowly took the same action as Sam, partially rolling on his side.

“But… You just said—”

“I know.”

“Then wh–”

“F… Fuck being normal, right?” I coughed as I laughed, “If I’m— If I’m going out, I–I’m going happy.”

I expected them to bicker, get angry, maybe cry, but… They didn’t. Sam squeezed my hand, Dean interlocking fingers with my other hand once again. He followed Sam’s steps, leaning in as he kissed me. I was happy that they didn’t question it, seeming to understand what I meant about not being normal. For all the years we’d been hunting together, I was stuck in the middle. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to pursue Sam, or whether I wanted to go for Dean… I felt selfish to want both of them like this, but right now, I felt like I had the right to be a little bit selfish.

As Dean pulled away, he put his forehead to mine, taking a sharp breath. His hand was shaking.

We all slowly laid back down, just looking up at the sky, hand in hand, smiles and blood on our faces, and tears running down our cheeks.

“S-Sam, you get my necklace, okay?”

“Are you sure…?”

“Yeah… I’m sure.” I nodded, sighing. “And— And Dean, you get my b-bracelet.”

“Y-You both have to promise me something.” I knew I was running out of time. The reaper was out of the car now. She was standing beside the car, her hands across as she looked at me. I took in a deep breath, “No deals. No crossroads demons, no witchcraft, no summoning… None of it. Okay…?”

I thought my hands were going to break as they both squeezed them, taking sharp breaths of their own.

“I promise.” Sam’s voice shattered as he gasped, putting his other hand over his mouth again.

“Promise.” Dean tightened his fist, pressing it against the car.

We all took in a deep breath, our hands shaking. I closed my eyes, a weak smile on my face. By now, I couldn’t hold out any longer. I wasn’t even sure I had legs at this point, they were cold and I couldn’t move them anymore.

When I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t lying on the hood of the car. I was standing in front of it, looking at myself. The reaper had her hand on my shoulder, gently squeezing it.

“I… So…” I didn’t know what to say. “I’m ready to go.”

The reaper gave me a mournful smile, “I’m glad you chose to come with me. I don’t think they could bear seeing you as a spirit.”

“Yeah… I just– Are they going to be okay?” I looked at her.

She sighed, “…No. They won’t be, but they’ll manage. They always do, huh?”

I glanced back at them. By now they were sitting up, looking down at my lifeless body, still clutching my hands as they did their best not to break down.

“Yeah… I hope so.”

Do NOT copy/paste this work anywhere. I wrote this, it is my own work. If you want to reblog it, that's perfectly fine.

Thanks for reading! <3

#Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #fanfic #fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader x dean winchester #sam x you x dean #sam x reader x dean #sam x y/n x dean #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

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Darkest night

Dean x reader.

Word count: 1,083

Trigger warning: grief, death

Synopsis: the reader finds out someone she loves passed away, Dean comforts her. Masterlist

AN: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

I have always been able to tell when my walls are creeping up. I always know when I am starting to shut down and returning to the darkness that I’m all too comfortable to reside in when it overwhelms my senses.

I glance down at my phone, laying haphazardly on the floor, where I had dropped it after receiving the call that changed the course of my night. Hours had passed since that call ended. Yet, here I am, sitting on the cold tile floor. Pins and needles ran up my legs and all through my toes. Yet moving, was not a priority.

I was alone. Sam and Dean were gone on a hunt, not set to return any time soon. I had stayed behind this trip, in order to try to catch up on some sleep and recover from the nightmare of the last hunt.

Ping

I jump, snapped out of my thoughts as Deans name popped up on my phone, he had texted me. I try to gather the energy to just unlock my phone and read what he had sent, however, it did not come. I close my eyes, embracing the burning feeling that follows. Tears. So many tears have fallen in the last few hours. The sleeves of the shirt I’m wearing, soaked through with my tears, my cheeks raw, from wiping those tears away.

I’m almost grateful to be alone, not wanting anyone to see me in this place of utter weakness and sorrow. Dean would certainly poke fun, or think less of me. We have all lost people that we love, yet when it happens to Dean or Sam, I would not find them slumped on the floor of the bathroom. For hours at a time. Sobs rack my body, I don’t bother to try and keep them in. What’s the point?

I am so wrapped up in my thoughts I do not hear the impala pull up to the bunker. I miss the sounds of the boys making their way inside, dropping their gear and calling out my name. In fact, if it had been a demon or something less friendly, then it probably would’ve gotten the jump on me.

As it is, the door to the bedroom creaks open and I freeze. Unaware of who is making their way towards the bathroom.

“Y/N?”

Dean, it’s Dean. He knocks before calling my name again.

“I’ll be out in a bit, I’m okay.” I say, having to clear my throat a few times in order to get the words out. My voice raw and quiet.

“Y/N, let me in. I know you’re not really okay sweetheart. I could hear your sniffles from a mile away.” I can hear the concern in his voice, the way he calls me sweetheart. The name he saves for me when he’s worried about me.

“It’s unlocked, De.” I say, my voice barely a whisper. The door slowly creaks open and I hear him sigh as I keep my eyes trained on the floor. I can hear him move towards me shortly before his boots come into my line of sight.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He questions as he squats down in front of me, placing a hand on my knee.

I shake my head, the words failing me as the tears continue to stream down my face. I shudder, biting my lip as his hand cups my face and pulls my chin up, making me look at him.

“I got a call, they’re gone De.” I whisper, communicating the message that had caused me to spiral hours before. All of these years, all of the things that I know how to stop. Yet death, still something out of my control.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here for you.” He sits down next to me now, tugging me into his embrace. He guides my head into the crook of his neck while his hand works its way into my hair.

My body ached when he moved me, my muscles cramping after sitting on the floor for as long as I did. Completely overwhelmed and shutting down to my surroundings.

“I don’t know what to do De.” I mutter, my tears finally slowing. I try to tune out every thought and emotion and just focus on the embrace of my best friend. The smell of his cologne, the way his hand gently works it’s way through my hair.

“Just breathe sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you. ‘M here.” His grip on me never loosening.

The next few hours are a blur. I’m not sure when he got me up off the floor of the bathroom. Or when he tucked me into bed.

But here I am, hours later staring at the ceiling, having awoken a little while ago from a nightmare.

I pull the covers back, snagging a blanket from the end of my bed and wrapping it around my shoulders before walking down the bunker hallway. I wander to Sam’s room, planning to ask him how the hunt went and to just talk for a bit to get my mind off of my thoughts. My plan changes once I see his lights are all off and I can hear quiet snores from the other side of his door. I silently tip toe my way back to my room, not wanting to disturb either of the boys rest.

“Y/N, you okay?”

I jump, almost losing my balance, caught off guard by Dean standing in the doorway to his room, sleep marks still covering his face as he gazes at me with tired eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good Dean. Just couldn’t sleep.”

He yawns, opening his door the rest of the way and extending his hand towards me.

“C‘mere, my beds too big for just me anyways.” I begin to protest but he shoots me a look. “You can either walk yourself to my bed or I can carry you there, your choice sweetheart.” He winks at me, gesturing for me to come towards him.

I oblige, and quickly cross the threshold into his room and climb under the warm sheets that I’ve come to love more than my own.

He climbs in next to me, quickly pulling me into his embrace. I allow my senses to be overwhelmed by his being once again.

“Thank you.” I whisper, almost too quiet for him to make out.

“Always, Y/N.” He yawns, his eyes fluttering shut as he cradles me against his chest.

#deanwinchesterxreader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #deanwinchesterblurb #sam winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean x you #dean winchester comfort

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deathclassic · 20 days

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some sentences sunday

i saw some other people in other fandoms doing this and i thought it was fun and hadn't seen anyone from this one do it yet so ignoring the fact it's a monday where i am,,,,,

post a few sentences from a wip

Colin has Ryan over and they’re playing a racing game on the stolen PlayStation 2. Mickey wants to hang out with them, wants to talk to Ryan and show him the bug he found outside but Colin keeps telling him to get lost and that babies don’t get to play games like this. Mickey’s not a baby, he’s seven years old.

It makes Mickey want to kick him so he does and then Colin is throwing down the controller and standing up. Mickey runs and he can hear Ryan’s laughter as Mickey lets out a yelp when Colin grabs him around the waist and picks him up. Mickey wriggles in his grip but then Colin plops him on the couch in between him and Ryan and he shuts up.

Ryan has reddish hair and when he catches Mickey staring, he sticks his tongue out at him and laughs.

tagging

@creepkinginc @mybrainismelted @jrooc @transmurderbug @stocious @spacerockwriting @roryonic @energievie @blue-disco-lights @rayrayor @bawlbrayker @ms-moonlight-inn @look-i-love-u @heymacy @sam-loves-seb @callivich @palepinkgoat

#tag game #mutuals #m does fics

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atonalginger · 3 months

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Snippet Sunday

Thanks for the tag @fangbangerghoul I think everyone has been tagged so I'm extending it to anyone who sees this and thinks "aww neat I want to try that."

Today's snippet is from Reclaiming Home (I've been trying to focus on my boy Sam again).

This snippet contain Lillian Hart slander (:

----

“I caused it!” she squeaked, “I told her where we were.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Sam assured her, kneeling next to Cora and brushing her curls out of her face, “Gumdrop, you did nothing wrong.”

“She didn’t even mention me!” Cora sobbed, “she’s not here for me, she’s just here to fight.”

Cora crumpled onto the floor, her loud, painful cries filling the hab. Sam pulled her in and hugged her close, his eyes a mix of rage and anguish. He rubbed her back and rocked back and forth, whispering soothing words into her hair.

Jamie turned back to her computer and pulled up the transmissions from the core. She opened the newest message from Ranger Lillian Hart and instantly saw red.

I heard you were running around with that tramp that ghosted you all those years ago. Thought you were smarter than that, Sam, but since you aren’t I will be there soon to straighten things out. Better not be zoned out again or it won’t be cargo I jettison this time.

“How dare,” Jamie muttered before catching her words. No, contain it. Cora needs us calm. She needs pillars right now. She closed the message and looked back to Cora in time to catch her as the girl threw her arms around her neck. Jamie squeezed back tight, “We got you, gumdrop.”

The ship rocked hard, throwing them all off balance, the cacophony of metal scraping and crashing together before several loud clicks all they heard. Sam pushed himself up off the floor and tapped keys on the computer while Jamie continued to hug Cora, grumbling, “no hail, no ping, no nothing.”

“Sam go lock the floor hatch, we don’t know if it’s her,” Jamie said quickly. She let go of Cora and cupped the little girl’s face, “let’s get you to the back of the lab in case we need to lock the door.”

“You don’t think she’d…?” Cora asked, her eyes wide and red.

“It’s possible but I want to play it safe.” Jamie kissed her forehead and stood up, leading Cora back to the couch.

Sam locked the floor hatch and dragged one of the heavy crates in the research hab over the square to block the path. Jamie stopped moving, raising an eye brow at his decision but he waved her back further into the hab. As Cora settled in, accepting a big plush blanket from Jamie, the sound of the docking hatch sliding open called out to them. Still no human voices.

Sam moved for the computer on Jamie’s desk and hammered at the keys, the cockpit hinge singing as it swung shut, “just going to lock down controls in case it’s not her. And while I’m here I’ll just look at this-“

“NO!” both girls called out from the back of the hab. Jamie and Cora looked at one other, a small nervous chuckle from them both before Jamie gave Cora’s head a pat and continued, “just leave it, honey. We’ve got enough to worry about.”

“I want to know what she said that made Cora cry,” Sam argued back, the keys clicking away as he pulled up the received transmissions. There was a long silence and then several hard key strikes from Sam backing out of the message.

“What do we do?” Cora asked softly to Jamie, hugging her middle with her head on Jamie’s arm, “I’d think if it was mom she’d have hollered or something by now. But if it was spacers or pirates they’d have hailed us, taunted us, or at least tried to bust open the hatch.”

“I don’t know, gumdrop,” Jamie fixed one of Cora’s stray curls, “this is unnerving.”

“Maybe we should sent a distress call?” Cora asked, “since we don’t know? Fox might still be in the system, we could try him?”

“Sam? What do you think?” Jamie called over.

He was knelt down, his hat off, ear to the floor. He held up a finger and closed his eyes. Jamie noticed in his other hand was his personal comms, his finger over the call button. Clever, darlin’, Jamie thought as she sat there comforting Cora. His eyes shot open, rage burning bright, before he squeezed them shut and closed his comms.

“So it is her?” Jamie asked.

#starfield #sam coe #starfield fanfiction #fanfic #coemancer #atonalginger writes #the coemancer crew #snippet sunday #lillian slander within #I think I might have shared some of this already but only the back half...I think #everything is blurring together #DocCoe #Doc Melody #Cora Coe

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eridanidreams · 4 months

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Snippet Sunday

Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon@violenceandviolets, and @artemis-crimson

from stars through my fingers like grains of sand

Sam was already at the Rock when Cait got there; he was deep in conversation with the dark-haired senior Ranger she'd passed a few times. She didn't interrupt, just headed up the stairs to the Marshal's office. He wasn't one to waste words or time. "Welcome back. Any luck finding out who stole the ship from HopeTech?"

Blake's crisp efficiency cut through any lingering haze from the morning, and Cait could almost feel her spine straighten a bit more in reaction. "With Ranger Pryce's help, we tracked it back to a known ship-jacker name of Grace Early. From what she said, I still think it was an inside job, but I've asked Ranger Kalu for assistance with that aspect. She's better positioned to follow up in HopeTech itself. She had some physical evidence—an encrypted slate—which I've handed over to Ranger Hadid. He's asked me to keep an eye out for more of them."

"Good," he said. "I'm glad to see you know how to work as part of a team. And, it sounds like you're making real progress."

"Not as much as I'd like," she said grimly. "I have a couple names, but shutting down the First won't help unless we can get a tie to whoever hired them." Blake nodded, and she sensed agreement and approval in his tightly-controlled emotions. "Since you have personal knowledge of the First, sir, I was hoping you could give me some intel on these names: Maya Cruz and Marco… something. Marco's a money man. Cruz was the go-between."

Blake grunted. "I served with Maya Cruz. Technical genius and expert hacker. Arrogant. Not a people person. Marco… about the time he got out of jail, we started hearing his name in connection with a smuggling racket. Based on what you've learned, I'd presume he's funneling his ill-gotten gains to the First. Autumn MacMillan's looking into that operation out at the Red Mile, but…" He frowned. "He runs a tight ship, but one of his suppliers isn't quite as careful. Sonny di Falco. He's got a little estate on Maheo I. If you want my advice, I'd follow up there first before jogging Autumn's elbow."

Cait nodded. "As for Cruz, she was suffering from some kind of serious illness; I thought I'd start looking at the Clinic."

"Best medical services money can buy," Blake nodded again. "Good call. With their privacy guarantees, it's ideal for someone trying to keep a low profile. Ranger Ben Armistead is posted there; I'll send him an update on the situation. He'll be expecting you."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

"You're welcome. Just remember, your priority is to gather more intel on the First. What are they planning? Who are they working for? Where are they headquartered?" Blake fired out the questions like bullets.

"Whatever they're planning," she replied, "it's going to be something meant to hurt the Collective. They believe that the Collective betrayed them."

"That's right," he agreed. "Your targets were locked up because they were loyal to their unit and Major Hull. They won't take kindly to you sticking your nose in, so watch your back." He gave her a stiff nod of dismissal. "Good hunting, Deputy."

Cait echoed his nod and made her way back downstairs, thinking hard. All in all, she was inclined to take the Marshal's advice, start with the easiest nut to crack. Sam was sipping a Boom!Pop while chatting with Helga; he gave Cait a casual little wave of acknowledgment when she entered the bar. Despite her best efforts to keep his feelings at bay, she couldn't help but pick up fragments of his good mood. Cora's visit must have gone well, then. She paused a moment at the jobs console, giving Sam time to wrap up his conversation.

He caught up with her just outside the Rock. "Mornin'," he said cheerfully, handing her a Boom!Pop Cherry. "Sleep well?"

The question made her damn near fall on her face—How could he know?!—before she realized how impossible it was that he'd be referring to—that. "Fine," she said hurriedly, trying to fight down the flush she felt creeping up her neck. "Just fine, thanks." She took a deep, determined breath. "Um. You?"

"Oh," he chuckled, "I slept juuuuuuuuust fine." Cait didn't have to see Sam's grin to know it was there, an air of lazy satisfaction that thrummed down that weird little connection she had to him, sent a tingle down her spine and made her insides tighten. With an effort, she shoved it down, but she couldn't help but be hyper-aware of his presence next to her, warm and solid, and all she had to do was turn around and bring her lips to his—

Dammit! What the hell was wrong with her? She shivered, running her hands up and down her arms. Sam—of course—noticed, but fortunately he chalked it up to the cool of the morning. "You know," he said affectionately, "you wouldn't be so cold if you grabbed a jacket. Why don't you take mine until we reach the ship?"

He was already starting to shrug out of it when she blurted, "No—!" That no was the hardest thing she'd ever had to say; she desperately wanted to say yes, to surround herself in his warmth and his scent… and she was terrified of what might happen if she did. Had to remind herself that they were just friends. That he loved someone else. "No," she managed to repeat more normally, even smiling a little to soften it. "I appreciate the offer, but a little cool won't kill me."

"A'right," Sam said, settling it back on his shoulders. "So what's the plan?" He seemed different today—his emotions seemed more—muted—than usual, like he was holding something in. Cait should have been happy about that, given the trouble she'd been having tuning him out—but instead she felt bereft. Again—what the hell was wrong with her? "Cait—?" He sounded concerned, and she shook herself out of her thoughts.

"Sorry." She gave him an apologetic smile. "Um, Maheo I. Marco's got a smuggling contact by the name of Sonny di Falco; he's got an estate there. Marshal thinks we're more likely to be able to squeeze something out of him." Sam's emotions flared cold hatred, and when Cait chanced a look at him, his face was set in stone.

"I know him," he said, and his voice was as flat and hard as his expression. "He's a slimy bastard. Big shot on Neon, 'til he did something to cross Ben Bayu. Couldn't have been too bad—he got out with his skin in one piece—and he's still got his fingers in a lot of pies. If he's working with Marco, that's bad news all around." He looked at her, a strange, almost desperate intensity in his gaze. "You watch yourself with him. He has a lot of charm, he knows how to use it, and he's good at getting his hooks into the innocent and naive and—twisting them all up."

"And which am I?" she asked sarcastically.

He exhaled harshly. "That first one. Cait—" he held up a hand to forestall her protests "—when it comes to dealing with people like him… you are. He likes to think of himself as a collector of people, and you? You're—you're unique. He's gonna take one look at you and—" He shook his head, and something dark and savage surfaced for a moment in his eyes. "Just trust me on this one, okay? Do not agree to anything. Do not take anything he offers. 'Specially not Aurora. He'll get you hooked on that shit faster than a grav jump to nowhere." He was holding in his feelings so hard it had to hurt—all she got was a vague sense of mingled anger, hatred, and fear that burned like acid.

"I trust you," she told him softly. "If you say he's bad news, I will be extra careful." She hesitated. "Are you going to be okay going in there with me?"

"Don't even think of going in with someone else," Sam growled, shifting his rifle a little on his back.

"Okay." Cait didn't hesitate to give him her agreement. "I'll make sure you're carrying a couple extra junk flushes, then. I… don't react well to Aurora, so if he does manage to slip me some, you might need it."

"If he does, he's dead." Sam's voice cracked like a gunshot. Mood he was in, she wasn't going to argue.

#snippet sunday #sam coe #fanfic #eridani writes #starfield #caitlyn lynch #stars through my fingers like grains of sand #coemancer

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writethelifeyouwant · 1 year

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Wait For Me

Summary: Dean wants to blow off a bit of steam on his own, so he leaves Sam to his research and hits up the local watering hole.

Pairing: Dean x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: one night stand, bar hookup, semi-public sex, attentive lover, mutual comfort, touch starved, volume control, dirty talk, praise kink, orgasm control, teensy bit of breath play Word Count: 4,030

Commissioned by: @pink-sparkly-witch

Bingo Square: @j3bingo - “You better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.” / @anyfandomkinkbingo - Beggin’ for Thread, Banks

“Don’t wait up,” Dean waves at Sam absentmindedly as he shuts Baby’s door behind him, slapping her on the hood in farewell as he heads into the bar while his brother is still rifling around in the trunk of the car, looking for the library books he needs to return. They’ve been on the road for a few days now and Dean has been feeling a bit too cooped up with Sam the past few nights. Stopping over in this town to look into a case had been more of a whim so they could stretch their legs, and after a day of fake fed interviews and local library research this wasn’t looking like their kind of thing after all, but Dean would be damned if he was just gonna pack up and drive another ten hours with nothing but Sam’s weird serial killer podcasts to keep his mind occupied.

He pushes into the dive bar he’s picked out and breathes in deeply, his frayed nerves immediately settling as his lungs filled with the familiar scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke. He’d never been hooked on smokes, but the smell always takes Dean back to the rebellious excitement of his high school days when he’d been too bored to stay in class and too concerned with looking cool, spending hours under rusty bleachers lighting up with the local stoners and ne’er-do-wells.

Eyeing up a stool that has a healthy amount of empty seats on either side of it, Dean sidles up to the bar and signals to the server, who flashes him a friendly smile as she finishes pulling a pint for another customer. Dean shucks his jacket and tosses it on the seat beside him, getting comfortable as he eyes up the available liquor and debates just how quickly he wants to make himself forget why he’s drinking in the first place. It’s not like he’s got any specific baggage he’s looking to shed, just the standard supernatural crap that they wade through on a weekly basis and the persistent sound of his little brother’s bossy voice in his head telling him he needs to loosen up a bit. Well, Sammy, wish granted, Dean muses as he decides he’ll dive right in with the whiskey and skip the beer altogether tonight.

“What can I get ‘ya, handsome?” the bartender interrupts his thoughts and Dean switches his gaze to inspecting her instead of the whiskey. She has warm, welcoming eyes and a wide smile that feel flirtatious on the surface but Dean’s been in enough bars and hit on enough bartenders to recognise the distance behind her expression. He knows the difference between flirting for tips and flirting for a quickie on their shift break, but Dean’s happy to accept the friendly attention nonetheless.

“Whiskey, rocks on the side–” Dean clears his throat and pulls on his most disarming grin, “–and your name, gorgeous?”

“Any particular label?” She gives him a wry smile as she reaches for two glasses, dipping one into the ice cooler and setting it on a napkin in front of him.

“Dealer’s choice,” he shrugs, popping an ice cube into his mouth while he waits. “But I will be judging your taste behind your back, just FYI,” Dean chuckles as she turns towards the liquor shelf, giving her ass an appreciative once over while he has the chance to do so unobtrusively. He’s not disappointed with the view, but in his distraction, he misses which bottle she selects to pour from.

“Getcha anything else?” the bartender smiles as she slips his drink onto another napkin in front of him.

“Still waitin’ on that name,” Dean raises a brow hopefully but tries to keep his expression neutral and non-lecherous. He doesn’t want to come across as a dickbag. “I’m Dean,” he offers when she keeps her silence for a beat longer.

“Well, Dean,” she leans forward seductively over the bar and Dean has to make a concerted effort not to look down her top at the very nice pair of tits she’s displaying to him. “I don’t usually give my name out before you’ve had enough drinks that I know you’ll forget it in the morning,” she winks, her tongue tucked mischievously between her teeth as she smirks at him. Quick to take the bait, because it now seems like she’s graduated from tip-flirting to actual-flirting, Dean picks up his whiskey and knocks back the double shot in one go, letting the empty glass thunk down onto the bartop and then sliding it back towards her.

“I’ll take another.”

Your eyes flick back over your shoulder for the millionth time since he’d arrived at the bar. Dean. Once again, his golden-green eyes meet yours over the rim of his whiskey glass, his brow furrowed deeply in concentration as he studies you, and you feel a flush burning hotly across your cheeks before you duck your gaze and turn away again. He’s been flirting with you all night, and you’ve been indulging him more than you normally would with most new customers. Typically you only flirted back with your regulars to keep them coming and keep the tips high. You wish that Dean would become one of those regulars, but he’d told you he was just passing through; road trip with his little brother, he needed a night to himself for once, he’d said. You wonder if he would object to alternative company…

The way he was still staring at you so openly suggests that he might be up for it, and god knows you could use a one night stand. Your last boyfriend had been so selfish in bed, hardly ever bothering to make sure you were enjoying yourself as long as he was getting his rocks off. You have a feeling that Dean would be much more…generous. You can’t say why, but the way he carries himself, the way he keeps his eyes on your face when you’re talking and seems to actually pay attention to what you’re saying, even if it’s inconsequential small talk–you just have a good feeling about him. You aren’t looking for a relationship by any means, the last one was still too fresh a wound, but you wouldn’t say no to a decent fuck for once.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean calls from down the bar, and you turn to see him smirking at you with his empty glass raised, indicating he’d like another refill. Typically you would object to strangers calling you sweetheart but you still haven’t given Dean your name, so you suppose he has to call you something. And the way the word sounds in his mouth shoots shivers over your skin. It rumbles out of his chest, sitting low in his register and balancing on the back of his tongue, which flicks out to wet his lips as he keeps his gaze trained on you while you walk towards him to freshen his drink.

You grab the whiskey and pour him another double, setting down the now considerably lighter bottle and turning around to add it to his tab.

“You can go ahead and cash me out,” Dean says from behind you, and your head snaps around to look at him embarrassingly quickly.

“You sure?” Your voice sounds pathetic even to your ears. You don’t want him to go, not yet. Your shift isn’t over for another two hours, and you’d hoped… stupid, you berate yourself. Gorgeous men don’t just drop out of the sky to fuck you and then disappear, you should have known better than to hope.

“Yeah, I know my limits,” Dean chuckles, swirling the amber liquor around his glass and dropping a single shard of ice into it to open up the nose. You can smell the smoky caramel scent wafting towards you as the ice melts. “I want to be able to walk outta here on my own two feet, callin’ Sam to get me defeats the purpose of a night to myself,” he smiles at you with mirth lighting up his eyes, and you’re once again struck by how mesmerizingly gorgeous this man is as you slide him his bill across the counter. He barely glances at the total before grabbing a wad of cash out of his pocket and flipping down a handful of twenties that more than cover the tab.

“Are you always this bad at math, or is that because of the drinks?” You giggle as you pick up enough cash for the bill and turn to put it in the register and retrieve his change.

“Are we not supposed to tip our bartenders anymore?” Dean cocks his head curiously, eyes sweeping up and down your figure as a smirk spreads languorously over his full, whiskey-pinked lips.

Raising a challenging brow at him, you look pointedly at the nearly two hundred dollars still sitting on the bar–the amount of his total all over again–and you carefully pull two twenty dollar bills from the haphazard pile, tucking the bills into your apron pocket. “That’s my twenty percent tip, put the rest back in your pocket before Sam finds me in the morning and has me arrested for robbery.” You let your lips turn up in a smirk as you give Dean your best authoritative stare, which probably neutralizes the effect a bit too much because he shakes his head in amusement, downs the rest of his whiskey, and sets the heavy-bottomed glass on top of the cash with the finality of someone who is used to getting his way.

“My math is fine, sweetheart,” he insists, picking himself up from his barstool and leaning across the counter, close enough that you can clearly smell the whiskey on his breath when he speaks. “And the rest of me is still working just fine, too, if you follow,” Dean’s eyes narrow seductively.

You’re instantly outraged, realizing that he’s hoping the big tip will sway you to sleep with him. Even though you’ve been hoping to do just that, being offered money for it makes you feel disgusting.

“I’m not a prostitute,” you hiss angrily, turning away to leave Dean and check in with your other customers, but a strong hand shoots out and grabs your wrist holding you back. His fingers are long enough to wrap entirely around your arm and still overlap on the other side, and the feel of his skin on yours makes you freeze, your heart speeding up in your chest.

“I wasn’t sayin’ you are,” Dean assures you seriously. “The tip is for your excellent taste in whiskey and the good service.” He pauses, waiting for your eyes to meet his, and you swallow heavily when they do as the heat of his gaze seems to bore straight into your bones and warm you from the inside out. “I don’t pay cash for the other thing, more into a quid pro quo arrangement.”

Slightly puzzled, your head tilts to the side as you consider his words until their meaning hits you. Orgasms. That’s how he pays for sex, making sure it’s reciprocal.

“My shift isn’t over until midnight,” you mumble lamely. It’s all you can think to say, your throat suddenly tight and your tongue dry.

“I haven’t seen you take a single break all night,” Dean counters with a quirk in his brow, lips pursed. You feel your mouth open and close as you search for a flirty answer, something that won’t make Dean think you’re a complete idiot, or worse–a complete prude. You’re not. You like sex. You want to have sex with him. You’re just having a bit of trouble functioning right now because he’s staring at you in a way that makes you feel like your stomach is melting out of your body.

Dean releases his grip on your arm and the skin where his fingers were wrapped around you suddenly feels ice cold without his touch. “I’m gonna go find the restroom,” he clears his throat and gives you a meaningful look. “Seems to me even bartenders should be allowed bathroom breaks.”

“I…” your mouth continues to cockblock you as you can’t think of any words to respond with. You see Dean’s face drop and his mouth draw tight in defeat. He raps his knuckles against the bar in farewell and turns towards the back of the bar in the direction of the restrooms–obviously actually planning to use them before he leaves. As he takes a few steps away, the prospect of letting him slip through your fingers like this spurs you to speak. “Dean!” you call after him, and he turns hopefully, but just as he does someone else calls for your attention from the other end of the bar. Caught between the two men looking at you, your glance back at the customer, then towards Dean again.

“Wait for me?” you say to Dean pleadingly, glancing over your shoulder towards the man calling for you again, and you see a sly smile spread over Dean’s face as he nods and then spins on his heel and heads to the bathroom.

You serve the new customers and check in with the other couple of people scattered around the bar to see if anyone needs anything before you slip away. Looking to one of your regulars–Kyle–you ask him to make sure no one burns down the place while you go around back to get some fresh bottles of liquor, and he agrees amiably with an entirely unsuspecting smile. You thank him and scurry away, hoping that the ten minutes or so you’d left Dean to wait wasn’t long enough for him to change his mind.

As soon as Y/N–that’s what Dean had heard someone at the bar calling her, and he tells himself it’s not that creepy that he was paying attention, it’s perfectly natural considering his line of work that he likes to be aware of his surroundings–gingerly opens the door to the men’s restroom, Dean pulls her inside and slams the door behind her, pushing her body against it as he presses in the button of the lock. There’s no talking, there’s no need, he just dips his head down and kisses her, his hand coming up to the nape of her neck and tangling her hair between his fingers as his other hand settles rather chastely on her hip. Y/N’s arms wind themselves eagerly around his shoulders, pulling him even closer, and Dean takes the hint and presses the bartender into the door with the entire length of his body, his hips grinding against her and probably giving away the fact that he’s already got a semi hiding in his jeans.

Pulling her lower lip between his teeth, Dean bites down experimentally and is pleased when she rewards him with a groan of excitement. Y/N’s chest heaves against his, crushing her tits against him, and at the reminder of their existence, Dean drops one hand to cup around the swell of one of her breasts, kneading it appreciatively beneath expert fingers. When Y/N arches into his touch encouragingly, Dean brings his second hand up under her shirt, pulling down the cups of her bra so he can play with her nipples while he sucks her tongue between his lips. There’s a muffled groan, and Dean realizes after a moment that it’s coming from him–a desperate effort to restrain himself from simply dry humping this girl to his climax. He’s established her willingness at this point, it’s time to move on to why they’re both really here.

Sliding his hands around her waist and down the soft skin of her back, Dean bends at the knee to hook his large hands around the backs of her thighs and hoists her into his arms, whirling them around so he can set her down on the edge of the counter holding the sink. Y/N emits a squeal of surprise at the move, and as soon as he’s got her safely settled, Dean claps a hand across her mouth and makes a shushing sound, holding a finger to his lips.

“You better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught,” he whispers heatedly, and his voice sounds rougher than usual to his own ears. “Can you be nice and quiet for me, sweetheart?”

Y/N nods quickly, her lips pressed together in the universal expression of promised silence, and Dean grins at her, trying to hide his anticipation behind a veil of charm and seduction when he remembers to.

“I know you’re gonna be a good girl for me,” Dean leans in to whisper against the woman’s ear, letting his breath ghost over her skin as he drags his lips teasingly down the column of her throat. Lower down, his hands are undoing the button and zipper on her jeans and helping her lift up so she can wiggle the tight denim down her thighs. He skims his fingertips between her legs and finds the damp fabric he was hoping to, pulling back to watch Y/N’s face as he begins to touch her. “I can feel how good you’re being for me already,” Dean smirks, rubbing the whole length of his hand across the crotch of her panties, using the fabric to add to the friction on her clit. Y/N’s head drops back against the mirror behind her and her eyes slide closed, her bottom lip sucked into her mouth as she tries to hold in whatever sounds she’s desperately wanting to make in response to the sensations Dean is drawing out of her.

When he slides her panties to the side and slips a finger inside her for the first time, Y/N’s composure breaks and she swears loudly. “Fuck, Dean,” she groans, her hips thrusting back against his finger as he brings his thumb up to pet gently over her clit, teasing her as good as he knows how.

“Tch, tch, tch,” he shakes his head in mock disappointment, the tip of his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “That wasn’t very quiet, was it, baby girl?” Dean furrows his brow in a teasing pout and the bartender rolls her eyes at him with a look he finds far too Sam-like.

“How about you do something to shut me up then?” Y/N quips, raising her own brows in a challenge, and Dean has to suppress a chuckle.

“Alright, but just remember you asked for it,” he grunts roughly, pulling her down off the counter with an abrupt yank on her hips and spinning her around so her ass is sticking out towards him, at the perfect height for his cock to sink straight into. With one hand pressing down on the center of her back, Dean rids himself of his jeans with the other, remembering to grab a condom from his pocket at the last moment and releasing the girl in front of him momentarily so he could roll the rubber down his aching erection. He gives himself a few strokes while he presses two fingers back between Y/N’s legs roughly, fucking into her and with a specific target, and Dean is satisfied with himself when he feels her cunt slick up around his hand even more as he massages her g-spot. He wonders if he’ll get her to squirt when she comes on his cock.

Y/N buries her whines of pleasure against her forearms, and when Dean is satisfied with how wet he’s gotten her, he drags his fingers out and uses his other hand to line his cock up with the inviting hole, pushing himself in easily with a stifled groan. Y/N’s sounds of pleasure become a little too loud again and Dean tugs on her hair to force her head up and back, straining her throat and hopefully making it a little harder to get in a breath.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a cock in here? You feel like a fucking virgin, I swear,” Dean growls softly, his words almost getting lost beneath the sound of his hips slapping against her ass every time he thrusts in.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Y/N pants, keeping her volume down more successfully. “Make me forget about him, Dean, please,” she begs, a high, keening whine getting caught in her throat as he directs his next ingress downwards so he’d rub the head of his cock over her g-spot.

“No problem,” Dean groans, loving the way Y/N is squeezing his cock inside her with every thrust. He can see the muscles in her back straining where he has her shirt pushed up, and he’s pretty certain he’s gonna make her cum any minute. “Think about how good I feel inside you, how close you are already,” he leans further over her back so he can growl against her ear as he grinds against her ass, pushing in as deeply as possible and losing his breath as she flutters around him in a way that’s clearly involuntary–Dean’s been around the block enough to feel the difference.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he asks roughly, biting her earlobe and drawing a squeak out of her. It gives him a good excuse to bring a hand up to her mouth and slip his fingers inside to stifle her noises. She sucks greedily on his hand and Dean smirks to himself as he realizes she’s licking the taste of her own cunt off his skin. “God, you’re somethin’,” he moans, smacking his hips against her sharply. “Good fucking girl, cleaning your mess up for me.”

“Mmphm,” Y/N moans by way of response, unable to say more with Dean’s fingers practically down her throat. “‘M, mm-onna umm,” she tries to warn him, and Dean decides that he wants to draw this out just a little bit longer.

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, his forehead resting on her shoulder as he picks up the pace of his thrusts but changes the angle a little, trying to get his cock in deeper. “No you're not,” Dean pants. “You’re gonna wait for me like a good girl, ‘kay?” A groan of anguish is her only answer, but Dean feels her take a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself and draw back from the edge of her climax. “That’s it baby girl, so good for me, aren’t you?” he croons. “You took my fuckin’ breath away the second I saw this ass, and your cunt is even better than I could have imagined,” Dean babbles, he tends to start running his mouth when he’s about to cum.

“D-eee,” the girl beneath him chokes out around his fingers, her volume climbing to discoverable heights once again, and Dean wraps the hand that isn’t finger-fucking her mouth over her nose, blocking out her air roughly.

“Shh,” he commands. “I’m almost there baby, just let me use this cunt for what it’s fucking made for and we’ll both feel so good. Gonna make you see stars, sweetheart, can feel how good you’re squeezing me, I know you’re so close. You’re being such a good girl, waiting for me like I told you. You don’t have to wait anymore Y/N, but you still gotta stay quiet. I’m gonna take my hands away and rub that little clit because you’ve earned it and I want you to cum on my cock while I fill you up.”

Dean yanks his fingers out of Y/N’s mouth and digs them between her legs, her spit making it easy to speed his fingers over her bundle of nerves, coaxing her orgasm out of her forcefully as the muscles in his thighs seize up and his balls draw tight. When Y/N’s cunt spasms around him Dean finally lets himself go, muffling his groan by biting down on her shoulder as he stills inside of her, his cock twitching as it empties into the condom.

“Fuck,” the bartender swears under him, her mouth pressed against her forearm to stifle her own sounds.

“Worth the wait?” Dean asks breathlessly, a grin already spreading across his face because he knows the answer.

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whysamwhy123 · 6 months

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.........................................................................do I really want to write Ricky/Christian??

#What is wrong with you Sam you should not be allowed to write #What can I say I guess I collect rarepairs like Pokemon cards #I have one very specific fic to thank for this newfound obsession of mine #(You know who are you *winks*)#But I...I can't get it out of my head??#And I'm so surprised by it? Like not the Ricky part because he's always been my fave #And he always gets neglected by the fandom so I'll take any pairing with him in it that I can get #But I'm really not a Christian Cage enjoyer?#I respect him as a performer and stuff but like #I think he's in the same camp as MJF for me #Where I don't particularly enjoy him in the product itself #But I enjoy him in fic form because fic writers tend to pick up on what actually interests me about those characters #And run with it in a way that can't really happen in canon #So yeah I have hardcore brainrot because of this now #And more specifically...it's Sugar Baby Ricky #With Christian as his meal ticket #And each of them thinks they're playing the other #But really they're playing themselves #Jesus Sam these tags are out of control shut the fuck up dude!

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thesugarclubs-blog · 1 year

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The Volunteer - Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: none, pure nervous, post-CA: CW Bucky fluff

word count: 7.2k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1284102965-the-volunteer-maude

Masterlist

Bucky leaned against his motorcycle, studying the way his titanium fingers glinted under the sun rays that peeked through doing little to warm up the crisp November morning.

He contemplated whether he should keep his hands gloved today or not. Despite the team’s many encouraging words, he worried that the kids would be frightened by his arm and that’s the last thing he wanted. He had been looking forward to doing this since Pepper had announced their involvement.

It’s nice to think of doing something that isn’t just fighting. To make an impact on someone else’s life. A positive one. He wanted to add more of those now that he was free, make up for everything he had done or at least try to.

The sound of shoes crunching gravel interrupted his thoughts and when he looked up Sam shook his head as he made his way toward him.

“I thought we said no gloves.”

“I thought you said you’d beat me here because ‘of course, I can fly faster than that bike of yours’” He mocked.

He narrowed his eyes at Bucky and snatched his gloves from his right hand.

“Man shut up, I ran into the spider kid on the way and he kept talking to me.”

Bucky bit back a smirk and made a mental note to thank Peter later for distracting Sam so he’d get here first. The kid’s ok sometimes.

“Hey robocop, birdman. Let’s go, they’re waiting for us.” Tony called to them from where he was waiting with the rest of the team and they made their way over to the entrance.

Once inside, Bucky scanned the room. He took in all of his surroundings, studied all points of entry just in case. Force of habit. He let his shoulders relax and smiled fondly when he saw a group of kids running around playing tag.

“Here they are!” He shifted his eyes to Pepper’s voice at her declaration and suddenly he felt as if the air had been punched out of his lungs.

A woman with long dark waves falling over her shoulders stood beside her and looked back at them. Her big chestnut eyes shimmered under the white lights of the auditorium as she smiled in greeting. Bucky could feel his heart thump against his chest and he swallowed trying to collect his bearings. She was absolutely breathtaking.

“Everyone, this is Maude.”

She gave them a soft wave, the bracelets on her arm tinkling with the movement as she said hello. The rest of the group returned the sentiment, but Bucky couldn't find the words. He just stood there, lips slightly parted, practically tasting the sweetness of her perfume as she moved to shake Steve's hand. Her eyes flitted to his and he earned another soft smile that melted him to the floor.

A sharp pinch to his side made Bucky yelp, looking down to meet the pointed stare of Natasha. What the hell are you doing? was written all over her face.

Turning back, Maude was still studying him, her rosy lips turned at the corners.

"Hi," Bucky breathed, ignoring Sam's snort of amusement at his speechless state.

Her eyes the color of molten chocolate fixed on his as if she was trying to figure out what he was thinking.

"Hi." Her voice sounded like an enchanting melody in his ears.

“Maude, you wanna show this rowdy bunch what they’ll be doing?”

The moment was gone with Tony’s question and Bucky’s shoulders slumped as Maude turned her attention elsewhere, not without shooting him a small smile first.

“We’re here all afternoon, pal,” Steve murmured, clapping Bucky on the shoulder before he joined the others. The brawny super-soldier kicked himself, momentarily embarrassed that he was being so obvious. But it had been a while… well, decades, since someone had knocked the breath from his lungs with a smile like that.

Maude looked so comfortable, with her big, beaming smile as she gently guided the kids - and Tony, who was already trying to control the whole damn thing much to Steve's chagrin and eye-rolling. Bucky wished that he could just say something, anything cool, charming, or even funny. He used to be sort of funny.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Maude's voice rang through the air like a bell.

His eyes snapped up and went wide. She was talking to him? She knew his name? She smiled, biting her lip. There was an open seat next to hers at the table, right beside a little girl dressed in a soft purple sweater sitting in front of a pumpkin that was bigger than she was.

"Y-- yeah," he stammered. "That's-- that's me. I'm Sergeant-- yep."

He cut himself off before he could sound like any more of an idiot. Maude didn't bat an eyelash as Steve and Sam grinned at him. Instead, she just gestured softly to the seat beside her.

"Come and sit."

"Okay," Bucky squeaked, his cheeks flaming. He sat down beside the little girl who gazed up at him like he was a human skyscraper. Bucky smiled at her and Maude giggled, causing him to blush. He listened intently as she explained what they were going to be doing.

Help the kid to carve a pumpkin. Right. He could do that. He nodded along as Maude finished her explanation, getting distracted by the way the fall sunlight shone through the waves of her dark hair.

“So do you think you can handle it, Sergeant?” She asked sweetly, handing him the pumpkin carving tools.

“I…umm…y-yeah. Yeah!” he stammered as she laid her hand on his shoulder with a tinkling chuckle.

He watched as she turned and moved away towards another child, leaning down to speak to them, and let out a sigh. Bucky plastered a smile on his face that he hoped wasn’t too intimidating and looked over at the girl sat next to him, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

“You’d better not mess this up Mister,” she lisped.

Bucky shook his head once, "I won't" He sounded way more defensive and childish than he intended but the little girl just giggled and sat up on her knees to get a better view of her pumpkin.

He hesitated a moment, before grasping the small carving knife in his metal fingers, bringing it to the top of the pumpkin and carving out a circle around the stem. When he was done, his eyes glanced over at the little girl who was staring at his hand in amazement.

"Are you a robot?" She asked, curiously.

Bucky glanced at his hand too, staring at the metal for a beat too long. He cleared his suddenly dry throat and looked back at the little girl.

“Sorry, not a robot. Just a guy with a metal arm.”

She nodded as if that made perfect sense and asked, “Can I touch it?”

His breath hitched in his chest. He felt the panic rising in his throat- bubbling up and up, threatening to spill over, as he contemplated the weight of letting this innocent little girl touch the piece of metal that had caused so much hurt, so much pain-

“It’s okay if you say no,” the little girl offered.

Bucky’s heart melted in his chest. She was so kind and he was trying to believe that he deserved it. In the next split second, he reckoned with decades of guilt and violence and decided to try and be vulnerable. What’s the worst that could happen?

“It’s okay,” he managed to say, his voice gentle. “you can. Thanks for asking.” He offered a small smile, along with his outstretched left palm.

Her beaming smile took him by surprise. She immediately reached for his hand, her palm so small in comparison to his own.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as she ran her fingers over his shiny hand, he tried to take a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down.

Clear awe was written on the little girl's face as she watched the plates intricately shift as Bucky turned his palm around for her.

"It's so cool!" She exclaimed, squeezing his thumb between her hands before letting go and turning back to her pumpkin.

"Thank you for letting me touch it," she told him sweetly, a cute blush on her chubby cheeks.

Bucky cleared his throat, sticky with worry and what he was learning was anxiety. His therapist had been helping him manage it among other things but it seemed to creep up on him when he least expected it. "You wanna see a trick?" He asked her.

Her eyes lit up with interest, wonder and curiosity dancing across her innocent features as she nodded. Bucky looked around, taking into account his audience, a few of the little boys across the table whose arms and shirts were covered in pumpkin guts and seeds had started to stare.

Bucky pulled back the cuff of his jacket to expose the forearm of his metal extension, "watch close," he whispered, leaning into her enthusiasm, letting himself feel good about doing something for the first time in a long time. That was the whole point of volunteering after all. He flexed his fingers slowly, one at a time, causing the metal to shift in a more dramatic fashion than when she had first touched him. They clicked back into place like a tiny set of waves over the arm. The shiny metal caught the light of the room and the little girl gasped with excitement.

"That was cool I guess," she said, sitting up straight and pretending not to be impressed.

A smile played on his lips, his nerves fading into a background hum.

Bucky watched her push back the sleeves of her sweater, readying herself to gut the pumpkin. He mimicked her movements and pulled the top off gesturing for her to go first.

They took turns fishing out the guts and seeds and each time it was her turn she'd throw them to his side, giggling as he scrunched his nose up feigning disgust. Just as they were finishing up, Maude's voice sounded from behind them.

"How are you guys doing over here?"

Bucky looked up and his heart fluttered when his eyes met hers. He smiled at her but furrowed his brows a bit when she tilted her head, biting the corner of her lip. Time all but stopped when he saw her hand making its way to his face.

Goosebumps erupted all over Bucky's skin and he fought the urge to close his eyes as her fingers skimmed his cheekbone, capturing a strand of dark hair. She laced it around his ear, eyes shining in the afternoon light and Bucky swore everything else around them disappeared.

"Sorry, it looked like it was in the way. I’d hate for you to get pumpkin in your hair."

"Are you done now? I wanna cut the eyes out," The little, slightly angry voice beside Bucky snapped him from his reverie as Maude giggled.

"Sorry, little one. Be right with ya."

He produced a half-smile to the little girl as his eyes travelled over Maude one more time, marvelling over her effortless beauty. She had something so magnetic about her that it proved difficult for him to not crave her presence.

Bucky and his new friend spent the next thirty minutes carving away at the pumpkin, her small hand gripping his as he helped with the tougher parts.

He perked up when he heard Maude clap, addressing the room.

“Okay, everyone! Bring your finished pumpkins up to the table here, we’ll play some fun games with the Avengers before judging your creations!” “You want some help carrying this over?” Bucky asked. The little girl nodded, taking one side of their pumpkin as they made their way over and placed it on the table. “Amazing carving skills, sweetheart.” Maude beamed as she appeared next to them. “Thanks,” Bucky replied without thinking. Beside him, his tiny partner in crime tugged at his sleeve. “I think she was talking to me,” she whispered, giggling as Bucky blushed.

Maude giggled and put her hand on Bucky's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"But you did a pretty good job too, Sergeant."

Butterflies swarmed his stomach. Even though he stood 6'4" and weighed well over 200 pounds of muscle and metal, the gesture made him feel like a teenager again. The blush was creeping into the back of his neck and he felt like his mouth was made of sandpaper.

"It's Bucky," he rasped softly, his voice getting drowned in a sea of laughter as Tony made some stupid joke while Pepper rolled her eyes.

Maude leaned in closer, which forced Bucky's heart to jump into his throat. He could smell her perfume and her shampoo. He could see the little light brown flecks in her brown eyes. She dragged her tongue across her bottom lip and he nearly collapsed.

"Sorry. They're so loud, sometimes I think they're going to blow out my eardrums."

"M-- my-- my name is Bucky-- or... my friends call me Bucky." His voice was a little more commanding this time.

Maude let out a soft laugh. She didn't seem nervous at all, at least not that he could tell. Bucky just wished he still had some of that '40s charm. But that man felt so far away from who he had become.

"Well, I'm glad we became friends so fast, Bucky," she whispered, her hand still lingering on his shoulder.

“He’s my friend too!” came the small, indignant voice and a tiny hand snaked its way into his giant metal palm.

He looked down in surprise, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as his pumpkin partner pouted determinedly back up at him.

“Don’t worry Rebecca, I’m sure Bucky can be friends with us both, right?” Maude said, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

A soft smile appeared on Bucky's face as he nodded his head, "Y-yeah! Of course, I can"

Maude giggled and shot Bucky a wink as she moved on to look at everyone else's pumpkins. Her laugh was like music to his ears and as he got lost in the sound of her voice as she spoke to the other kids, a small dramatic throat clear came from beside him.

"Can you just kiss her already so we can all move on?" Rebecca demanded.

Bucky's eyes widened and a blush crept up his neck, hearing a snicker coming from behind him on behalf of Sam and Steve. "N-no, that's not... Why don't you go play with the other kids? I-I'll catch up" He tried to smile at her, as she rolled her eyes and took off to join a group of kids.

"Man, you got it bad" Sam smirked, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Lay off him. Sam!" Steve interjected, "You should go talk to her though... I've seen the way she's been looking at you, I think she likes you too"

Bucky gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes flickered over to Maude. Her head was thrown back, a gorgeous laugh filled the room as a little boy tried to give himself a mustache with pumpkin guts. He watched as she used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe the remaining strings from the little guy's face.

She radiated warmth and everything good that Bucky didn't see in himself.

"Buck?" Steve's voice cut through the thick layer of thoughts that wandered their way back in. Bucky looked back to his friend, a hard-pressed smile adorned his face. "You deserve to be happy, pal. Try to get to know her, huh?"

Bucky nodded, the nervousness returning as a heavy ball in his gut.

Sam nudged him, "Go over there and try not to be weird and stop staring at her. You don't want to freak her out before you even get a chance to ask her out."

A loud sigh came from his side as Steve shook his head, "Not helping, Sam."

Sam chuckled, nudging him again, "Come on, big guy! Take a chance." Before he and Steve left him to gather his thoughts.

Maybe it would be good for him, to make connections and feel more human rather than a programmed killing machine. He just has to believe in himself, and believe that he deserves good things as his therapist and Steve always reminded him.

With slow steps, Bucky approached her while she was kneeling on the floor trying to pick up fallen crayons while keeping the conversation with a little girl who was showing her a drawing of Thor.

He kneeled beside Maude, her sweet scent immediately filling his lungs and calming him a little.

"Do you-- do you need any help?"

Bucky hesitantly asked the brown-eyed beauty who turned to him with a glowing smile.

"Hold these," she asked and without looking down she took his metal hand into her palm and filled it with crayons.

Bucky flexed from her touch, wishing he could feel how soft her hand was. The cool metal of his arm offered no feeling and well his heart fluttered that she didn't flinch away from him or the weapon he concealed, he ached for the contact. His cheek still tingled from her fingertips making him crave her delicate touch like an addict.

"Do you like my Thor?" The kid shoved the paper two inches from Bucky's face. Studying the vibrating piece of paper he tried not to laugh at the hideous stick figure of Thor riding what appeared to be a horse.

"Nice horse," he swallowed, using his free hand to push the paper out his eyeline so he could see Maude's rosy pink lips again.

"It's a unicorn," the kid scowled, turning the drawing back so he could look at it, "Rebecca is always lying, you're not cool, you're weird and scary." The kid stuck his tongue out at Bucky and walked away from the two of them in a huff.

"Kids are mean," he mumbled, looking over at Rebecca who was proudly showing off her pumpkin to everyone.

Maude held out a bucket for him to drop the loose crayons into, "don't listen to him. You made Rebecca's day, she doesn't have anyone around to do this kind of stuff with. And look at her, I haven't seen her smile in months." Maude nudged him with her elbow. "You did that."

Bucky felt a pang in his chest at her words.

He knows what it's like not to have anyone but he can't even imagine having to go through that as a child. He felt his eyes begin to water and lowered his gaze, focusing on the bucket in her hand.

"I just helped her carve a pumpkin, it's nothin'."

Maude curved her finger under his chin, lifting it up slightly to meet his eyes.

"It's everything, Bucky. Thank you." she voiced with a soft smile before removing her finger, her touch lingering on his skin.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say to that?

His heart was hammering in his chest at her smile, at her touch - the touch he had been craving moments before, and badly wanted back again.

He swallowed as they both stood, trying to will himself to say something.

Sam had told him to take a chance, right?

"Hey, do you wanna maybe -" he stopped, sighing. She was already walking away to help some of the other kids.

Bucky closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. This used to be so easy for him. He'd see a pretty girl and the words would just flow out of him, effortlessly charming. The familiar fog of despair started rolling in the moment Maude's sunshine wasn't by his side.

"You like Miss Maude, don't ya?"

Rebecca's voice might have made him jump if he couldn't hear her tiny hummingbird heartbeat the moment she walked up. Bucky looked down at her, her owlish eyes gazing at him with intent.

"Yeah...I guess I do," he murmured softly, watching the brunette across the room.

There was the squeaking of rubber on the tile as Rebecca took off toward where Maude stood talking to the other kids.

"Shit, I mean, don't-" Bucky exclaimed, kicking himself as he watched Rebecca stand on her tiptoes.

The little girl whispered something in Maude's ear and the woman's soft eyes met his, only to widen in shock before smiling. Bucky looked down, suddenly becoming very interested in a scuff mark on the shiny floor.

Rebecca walked back with the biggest grin spreading on her tiny face like she was the fucking Chesire Cat.

"There you go, old man. I helped you." Rebecca's voice was laced with the tiniest bit of mischief.

Maude was inching closer to them and Bucky felt like his heart was about to drop out of his chest and plop right to her feet.

“She really likes hot chocolate from the drink station,” Rebecca adds, “with cream and the special sprinkles. They’re shaped like snowflakes. Hint, hint.”

The small girl attempts to wink, blinking instead and Bucky snorts as he chuckles with her. She’s adorable. A troublemaker, but anyone who knows Bucky knows he attracts troublemakers like moths to a flame.

“Looks like I’m missing out on all the fun over here.” Maude laughs softly.

“Oh, I uh…” Bucky fumbles, glancing at Rebecca for backup.

“Bucky was wondering if you would like a hot chocolate, Miss Maude.” She kicks Bucky’s shin, hard and he hops, not expecting such violence from such a small child.

“Yeah. Hot chocolate? If— um, if you wanted? With me?”

“We’re about to play a game and then the pumpkin judging,“ Bucky’s face fell at her words, he should have expected rejection, “but I would love a hot chocolate after the event.” Maude smiled, her eyes lighting up, “if you’re willing to stick around?”

His heart was pounding. Did he hear that right?

"Told ya," Rebecca whispered as she giggled, looking across the room as if something captured her attention.

Bucky followed her gaze and saw Sam and Steve waving dollar bills, but the second they spotted him, they stopped and tried to hide them miserably. Rebecca bounced toward them and swiftly collected them while Natasha stared at Bucky with her hand over her mouth. He blushed furiously as Maude chuckled.

"So, Sarge?" She asked hopefully, putting her hand on his forearm and making his heart jump. "You feel like sticking around for some games and then we can break off from these hooligans?"

"Wh-- Oh, yeah, I don't know how you deal with all these kids," he laughed awkwardly.

"Oh, I was talking about those two troublemakers," she replied as she pointed to Sam and Steve, both of whom hid their faces and looked away.

"I'm sorry about them," Bucky whispered. "Maybe we can swap babysitting tactics."

Maude let out a musical laugh, her eyes crinkling as she laughed.

"You're very funny."

“I am? I mean…thanks!”

He wanted to smack himself upside the head. With his metal hand.

“Buckyyyy,” came the cutest whine he’d ever heard. “You’re gonna be my partner in the three-legged race, right?!”

He almost said no, almost, but when he saw Steve, Sam, and Tony tying their ankles to their own mini partners in crime he grabbed Rebecca’s hand with a devious grin.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s show these punks how it’s done!”

A mischievous giggle came from the little girl who did a little hop of excitement, pulling Bucky towards the starting line and grabbing a piece of rope from Maude. He took the rope and bent down, tying his thick leg to Rebecca's small calf. The sight itself was enough for Bucky to let out a breathy chuckle.

"Good luck you two" Maude whispered, as she moved past them and continued telling everyone the rules.

As Bucky watched her moving down the lineup of people, a snapping noise came from beside him, "Hey lover boy! Eyes on me!" Her stern face in full gear. "I need your head in the game here, got it? Listen to me. I'll call out which leg. Okay?"

Bucky couldn't help but laugh and scrunch up his nose as he gave her a short salute, "Yes ma'am"

She huffed at him and settled into a little crouch that he recognized was her starting stance. He hurried into his own crouch as Maude called out “On your mark…Get set…Go!”

Instantly Rebecca was pulling on Bucky, chanting “Left, left, left right left” like the world's smallest drill sergeant.

Bucky couldn't help the burst of giggles that spilled from his lips as Rebecca's brows furrowed further, determination spread across her face as she called out to him. He could hear the sweet sound of Maude laughing from the sidelines and it took everything in him not to look over and admire the way her features glow when she smiles.

"Come'on dinosaur! We're almost there!" Rebecca taunted, elbowing his thigh. If he wasn't made of pure muscle, he probably would have flinched, but instead, another laugh fell from his chest as he continued their rhythm.

Within two hobbled steps Bucky and Rebecca crossed the finish line, tumbling through the paper streamer. Sam groaned behind him followed by Tony yelling about how being enhanced doesn't count. All that mattered to Bucky was the biggest grin he had ever seen plastered over Rebecca's face.

"I did it!" She yelled, pumping her fists into the air. He knelt down next to her, untying the string with a raised brow. Her little eyes found his, "We did it!" She smirked.

Without thinking, he picked her up, swinging her around with a chuckle, "Couldn't have done it without ya, little one."

Rebecca started to giggle as Bucky spun her around, her tiny hands grasping the collar of his jacket. He felt warmth flood his cheeks as he paraded his new best friend around the finish line, soaking in the cheers from everyone around them. His smile was wider than ever before, and there was a small scratching at the back of his throat. He felt like he almost- yeah, those were definitely tears filling his eyes.

This was nothing compared to winning a fight. This felt a million times better.

He placed Rebecca back on the ground and gently ruffled her hair. “You’re a good partner in crime,” he said with a smirk.

Rebecca scowled and flattened her hair with her hands.

“I know, old man.” She jumped back and tried to curtsy, but tripped slightly on her own little feet. She giggled again, reaching into her pocket.

“Now go get Maude some hot chocolate. I have money to spend,” she sang. She waved three, folded-up dollar bills in his face - the blood money from Sam and Steve - and took off running into a group of other kids.

"Wish me luck," he muttered to himself, a smile plastered on his face as he watched the little girl run to her friends showing off her small wad of cash.

He got up and turned, immediately finding Maude standing a little to the side, her gentle eyes already on him. He gave her a small, shy grin as he came to stop in front of her as his hands fidgeted together.

"You're very good with the kids, Sergeant," Maude whispered to him, her eyes drifted to Rebecca as her laughter echoed across the room before returning back to look up at him.

Bucky felt the blush cover his face and the tips of his ears as he swept a hand through his hair to pull it away from his face, noticing how her eyes followed the movement.

"Tha-- thank you. I don't want them to be afraid of me," he stammered, not knowing how best to express his gratitude for her delicate way of handling the kids and him.

"And, Rebecca is a sweetheart. Reminds me of my baby sister." He finished, looking back at the kid playing with her friends, fighting back tears.

"So, how 'bout that hot chocolate, Miss Maude?" Bucky gathered himself enough to throw a grin her way, offering her his flesh hand only to be surprised when she linked her hand through the metal one, squeezing it gently.

Bucky walked her to the cart, ordering the drink just the way Rebecca had instructed. Cream, and the special sprinkles, shaped like snowflakes. He handed her the cup gently and reaching for his own too late he watched the cart girl pile whipped cream atop it. He scowled, taking the cup. The temperature scalding against his palm from the thin paper cup was nothing compared to the heat that formed in his chest as he listened to the sound of an approving giggle leaving Maude's lips.

He sipped on his, letting it burn his tongue in a pitiful attempt to bring himself back to reality.

"What?" He asked, nervously as she looked up at him through her soft, thick lashes.

"You have," she giggled, pausing to set her hot chocolate down on the table. She pushed herself precariously onto her tiptoes, leaning against him for stability and brushed her hand against the corner of his scowling mouth. "Whipped cream on your face, Sergeant."

Bucky stopped breathing as her face came within inches of his, unsure what to do as she cleaned his lips with the delicate pad of her thumb. "All better," she whispered, her warm, sweet breathing rolling across his cheek as she settled back on the floor.

A collective chime of oooo's and hushed cheering came from just beyond the doors in the hall. Steve, Sam and Rebecca were hovering by the door watching them with rosy cheeks and big smiles on their faces. Rebecca was giving him two thumbs up and raising her eyebrows up and down.

"Why don't we go somewhere without an audience?" She asked, picking her cup back up and tugging on his arm.

Once they were outside, Maude linked their free arms together and looked up at him with a smile. Bucky returned it, immediately getting lost in her eyes.

He studied her for a moment. Admiring the way the orange and yellow hues of the late autumn sunset accentuated her features, how slight golden flecks shone in her deep brown eyes under this light.

"You're eyes a-" he stopped himself, taking a small breath willing his thumping heart to finish the sentence, "You are beautiful, Maude."

Maude's cheeks turned pink, a delighted smile popping up, "Oh - you are so sweet."

"I..." He laughed nervously, "Sheesh, I used to be good at all this," he scratched the back of his neck.

"But you really are beautiful - I couldn't get you outta my head all afternoon."

They came to a stop in front of a park a short distance from the community center, turning to face each other.

Maude reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face again, "You're pretty good looking yourself you know?"

Bucky's skin could have started a fire with his blush alone, a soft smile coming across his face that scrunched his nose. Maude's returning smile was blinding as they walked further down the block, the sounds of the city slightly muffled by the brick buildings around them.

"What?" she asked. "You can't tell me that there's not a line out the door waiting for a chance with someone like you."

He took a sip of his drink, using it as a shield to hide the flicker of sorrow across his face.

"Not surprisingly, not many people are interested in a century old basket case on a government watch list."

Maude hummed in acknowledgement of his self-deprecating comment. She stopped suddenly, turning his body slightly toward her. Her hand travelled down the length of his arm before tangling her fingers in his hand. Bucky's breath caught in his throat as she looked up at him, soft and glowing in the dimming autumn sunlight.

"Well, I guess that makes me the exception," she murmured, squeezing his fingers gently.

It took him a few heartbeats to even realize she was holding his left hand, warming the cool metal and leaving him even more desperate to feel her skin on his.

His heart was beating in his throat as he felt Maude inching closer to him. He could hear her fluttering heartbeat as his eyes travelled over her beautiful face under his lashes.

He knew exactly what he wanted to do next. Something he wanted to do ever since he laid eyes on her.

Closing the last inches between them, his hot breath fanning over her as he gently placed his lips onto hers. Softly, she sighed as she pressed her body closer to his.

Slowly, Bucky brought his right hand to Maude’s waist. Her cardigan was soft under his palm, grounding him as he moved his lips in a kiss so delicate he wasn’t sure it could even be classed as a kiss.

His nose brushed hers as he pulled away slightly and huffed out a gentle laugh.

“Sorry, it’s… uh, it’s been a while. I’m not sure if—“ his words died abruptly as Maude's mouth captured his again, warm and dizzying as she ran her tongue over his bottom lip.

He groaned softly. She tasted like whipped cream and chocolate that was perfectly sweet. Bucky's stomach was in knots, wondering if he was going to screw this up, but instinct seemed to take over as he tilted his head slightly to the side and she deepened the kiss.

He pulled her close, her body warm and flush against his. Bucky wanted her as close to her as possible. She smelled so good, and she was so soft. Her lips felt like silk as they massaged his. He could feel her hand slide along his left shoulder, up his neck and into his hair, playing with the strands at the back of his neck as her tongue flicked gently against his.

She pulled back slowly and he felt his cheeks flush. Maude took a deep breath and bit her lip.

"Sorry, I'm not usually so forward." She paused, obviously seeing the nervousness in his eyes. "That was great, by the way."

Bucky grinned as she giggled.

"S'okay. I appreciate you taking the initiative, darlin'."

“Anytime Sarge,” she winked at him, sliding her hands back down his neck to rest on his broad chest.

Bucky kept his metal hand gentle on Maude’s waist as he picked up one of her hands and pressed his lips to the palm.

“Thank you,” Bucky murmured against her skin, his clear blue eyes meeting her dark ones, soft with understanding. She turned his face and pressed her lips to his again.

“Like I said, anytime,” Maude smiled softly, Bucky pulled her close before releasing her, the two resuming their walk.

Her fingers intertwined with his metal ones once more, a part of him floating at finally feeling a semblance of happiness and another part of him wishing he could feel his hand in her own.

Bucky cleared his throat softly, glancing down at her. "Maude?," dark eyes raised to his with that same warm smile that made his giant frame melt, "Would...uh--can we..." He stammered, unsure of how to ask and even more unsure if she would even understand why, "would you mind if, uhm we changed hands?" He asked as their walk came to a stop.

Her brows knitted for a moment, her fingers dropping from his with his heart in his chest.

"I just don't feel a lot with this hand," He said flexing his metal fingers and glancing down at the one part of him he still had trouble accepting, "and I'd really like to feel you." Bucky's eyes lifted to hers once more.

The corners of her plush lips turned upwards as she took a step towards him, pressing them to the corner of his mouth. "Of course, Bucky."

The butterflies in his stomach exploded into a whirlwind of flutters as she rounded him, linking her hand to his. Her skin was warm and soft against his calloused hands making it that much harder not to spend the rest of the afternoon kissing her.

His heart fluttered in a way he didn’t recognize. For a second, he panicked. This is it. Of course. I finally find a girl I like and I have a goddamn heart attack. They started walking again, and as Maude slowly traced along his thumb with hers, he realized the flutter was something else entirely.

“I like you,” he blurted out.

He immediately sucked a deep breath in and held it in his lungs. He didn’t even realize he had said it out loud. Maybe she didn’t hear! They had another few blocks before they were back at the hall, and he was sure she was about to drop his hand, turn and run.

But then Maude giggled- the sweetest, lightest giggle he had ever heard. He exhaled a sigh of relief. And he swore that his eyeballs had been ripped out and replaced with giant cartoon hearts.

“I like you too, Sergeant” she whispered, continuing their pace. She wrapped her warm hand a little tighter around his.

His blush deepened while his grin grew wide, almost hurting his cheeks, and his heart stuttered before beating fast like a hummingbird. They walked hand in hand for the few blocks left, the closer they got, the more reluctant Bucky was about having to share her attention again with the rest of his teammates.

By the time they got to the entrance, Bucky was concentrating very hard on not closing his hand too tightly around Maude's because he didn't want to let go just yet.

"We're back…" he whispered hesitantly, not making a move to go inside.

She turned and smiled sweetly up at him, her lovely eyes captivating him to the point he almost lost focus and didn't hear her.

"It'll just be a few more minutes. I'll announce the winners and bid everyone goodbye and then," she stood on her tiptoes bringing herself closer to his cheek to press a quick, soft kiss on it, "I'm all yours, Sergeant."

She pulled on his hand and walked ahead of him while he followed her, stupidly looking after the woman who already had his heart in the palm of her hand, the ghost of her lips rendering him speechless.

As they entered the busy hall Maude pulled him over to the front table where all the pumpkins had been lined up. Bucky's jaw tensed, his chest filled with what felt like lightning as he watched her interact with one of the more impatient children behind her.

"Don't go anywhere," she smiled at him.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he smiled back at her, wondering when he had found himself. The version of him that had been beaten, abused and locked away for the last seventy years. The Bucky that loved the future, dancing and chasing after pretty girls. But as quickly as he found that innocent, flirty boy, his feelings were overcome by a familiar sense of dread and guilt.

"Don't worry," Rebecca linked her hand to his and looked up at him. "I know you're geriatric and lacking people skills, but your pumpkin carving skills are pretty good, we'll definitely win the contest."

Bucky looked down at her, confusion knitted into his heavy brows.

"Mr. Wilson said you had good knife skills. It's why I picked you," she whispered. "Don't tell the other kids I rigged the system, they already hate me. They say I'm loud and weird."

"I can see why," Bucky mumbled but laughed as her face turned angry, "don't ever let their words change you. Keep being funny and kind. It suits you. I needed a friend today and you were the only one brave enough to be mine." He smiled at her watching her tone change again, softness flooding her features as she nodded and straightened her shoulders. "Now let's win this contest."

"I hope you kissed Miss Maude, maybe it'll swing the contest in our favor..." Rebecca whispered.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he said softly, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.

Bucky saw her eyes slowly get impossibly wide, her jaw agape in surprise.

"You totally did, we're SO winning." she whisper-yelled squeezing his hand and bouncing slightly on her tiptoes.

He brought his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, holding back a smile.

"Of course, we're gonna win Becs. Cause our pumpkin is the coolest up there. Not because of me and Miss Maude, that's our secret, okay?"

Rebecca pressed her lips together in a tight smile and brought her free hand up to Bucky's metal one, motioning for a pinky promise. Bucky's heart swelled as he carefully wrapped his finger in hers.

When they straightened back up to await the judging, he quickly found Maude's gaze and threw her a wink. He smiled, watching the soft pink flush gather at her cheeks.

Bucky took Rebecca's hand, grinning down at her while Maude, Pepper and Happy walked up and down the table. If it was anyone but Pepper, he would have questioned why the girlfriend of an Avenger was judging them - but the redhead had proven to be a voice of reason dozens of times in the past, so he trusted her.

Time seemed to tick by, and Rebecca quickly grew impatient with the wait.

"What's taking them so long?" She asked in a loud whisper.

Bucky shrugged but nodded to the front as Maude clapped her hands to get the group's attention.

"Alright everyone - after some careful consideration, we've picked the winners!" She looked around the room, pausing for a second to give Bucky a large, cheerful smile. The third and second-place pumpkins were announced, by Happy and Pepper, before Maude moved down the table to the end. She stopped in front of Bucky and Rebecca's pumpkin, "In first place - Rebecca and Bucky!"

Rebecca squealed and grabbed Bucky's arm, nearly shaking his entire body with the force of her overjoyed jumping. Bucky couldn't help but laugh out loud, ruffling her hair with his free arm.

"Oh, alright! I see how it is!" Sam exclaimed, pushing his chair back in semi-mock outrage as Steve put his face in his hand. "It's easy to win when you make goo-goo eyes at the judge all day, Barnes!"

"You can't win 'em all, Wilson!" Bucky shouted back as Rebecca pulled him to the front of the room for their prize.

"Yeah, Wilson!" Rebecca exclaimed, sticking her tongue out at him as Maude gave the little girl a large ribbon.

Maude stood on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on Bucky's cheek and fixed him with a broad smile as Sam continued to halfheartedly grumble. Bucky looked down at Rebecca and her ribbon, mischief glinting in his icy blue eyes.

"Wait, so if she gets a ribbon...what's my prize?" he asked Maude softly.

Maude tapped her chin, eyes up at the ceiling as she pretended to contemplate her answer.

"Would my number work? Then maybe a date?" she replied cheekily before blushing just as furiously as Bucky.

"He's gotta learn how to use a phone first!" Sam yelled across the room with a ferocity that made even Steve laugh out loud.

Bucky covered Rebecca's eyes before flipping him off behind Maude's back, grinning like a madman even though for once he didn't feel crazy at all. He brushed a strand of her thick hair behind her ear, returning the favor she had given him all afternoon.

"Sounds like a plan, doll."

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 1 year

Note

Your SAMS family/ SAMS family (including evil family) reacting to a transphobic pos

🩸🌜

KC straight up kills them. Blood Moon is usually disposing of the bodies, taking them apart and shoving them in a hole (because he doesn't want their nasty person blood). Tag-team murders for the dad-son duo win.

Harvest just stares at them completely straight-faced until they get uncomfortable talking to what is essentially a wall. Now, he's not tuning them out or offline or sleeping, he's fully aware of them and what they're saying. But the moment they get uncomfortable and stop talking, Harvest Moon snaps their neck and tells Bloody there's a body and tosses them to him like a chewtoy.

Sun gets upset, ungodly upset. And he bottles it up and explodes about it later to Moon. But if it's about someone he knows or a patron of the daycare, or even a staff member, Sun will scream at them to get out of his daycare and the entire PizzaPlex while they're at it and call security.

Lunar punches transphobes, no other provocation needed. Just *punch in the face* *acts like nothing happened*. Moon leers at them and backs them into a corner and takes access of his voice mods to make his voice as threatening as possible to growl at them the 'Shut. The fuck. Up. Out of my daycare. Now!' and makes them run for their lives. If they don't, he lets KC out.

Eclipse isn't good at threats, he knows this, everyone who knows him knows this. But he has a taser function, that unfortunately backfires on him as well. So he tases transphobes when they don't go away and then his brothers and dad will take care of him after he gets what's essentially a controlled shock from the taser function and Blood Moon will take his new chew toy after KC kills them.

Solar Flare brings them to KC like a present, all tied up with a pretty ribbon in a bow over their mouth. Good Eclipse tries the nice approach in telling them to stop three times in a row like a strike system. If they don't either shut up or leave by then, he takes out a kneecap because Fazbear isn't liable for injuries on premises.

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boykingofhellsam · 7 months

Text

PROMPT 1 OF WHUMPTER IS POSTED! YAY.

Title: This Blood Burns Through My Veins

Characters: Sam Winchester, Lindsay, Tim Jacklow, Reggie Hull

Ratings/Warnings: Mature. Violence.

Tags: Whumptober 2023, Ai-Less Whumptober, Episode: S05E03 Free To Be You And Me, Demon Blood, Forced To Take Drugs, Sam Winchester On Demon Blood, Drugged Sam Winchester, Violent Thoughts, Violent Sam Winchester, Self-Hatred, Guilt, Shame, Side Effects, Loss Of Control, One Shot.

Summary: Sam is forced to drink Demon Blood against his will. He hates how much he missed the power.

Link to the whole series HERE (its day 1 so only 1 fic is up)

Or you can read it below!

When he felt the blood touch his tongue, he wanted to scream. He wanted to spit out. To cleanse his mouth out, to remove the disgusting taste that it would leave in his mouth of sulphur and copper. He never wanted to be reminded of the taste of the metallic elixir again. He didn't want to be locked up in the panic room again, to know the familiar feeling of being locked up and forced to be delirious and out of his mind. Those days were utter hell. He didn't want to succumb to the addiction again. He was better than it.

With the pressure against his nose, sealing it shut and preventing all air from getting in or out, Reggie's palm pressed over his mouth, his other hand squeezing his nose shut. Tim held his mouth shut, clamping his jaw hard against his skull. Tim's heavy weight pins him to the ground.

Effectively pinning him to the ground and preventing him from moving or even breathing until he downs the rich, dark, poisonous crimson nectar he craved.

His lungs burned. They itched. They screamed. They begged for air.

But he refused. He wasn't going to drink.

He longed to swallow, to devour the vial, the contents. But the image of Dean seeing him addicted to Demon Blood mere days after their separation was unbearable because he couldn't handle looking at him. He didnt want to see the look of disappointment on Dean or Bobby’s face. He couldn't handle it. Not again.

He was better than that.

The pressure was building in his chest. He tried to flail his limbs, but Reggie's knees pinned his arms, and his legs were weighed down by Tim's body. But he refused to sit still. He forced himself to kick, scratch, claw, worm and wiggle himself out of their hold long enough to get some air or have them loosen their grip long enough to spit it out.

But it was hopeless. He couldn't do anything. Their grip was a vice, and it was absolute. He wasn't going to be able to get out alone.

A nagging voice in his head was growing louder and louder.

Just drink, and it will be over, it yelled. If you drink, you can end it all.

He feels the hot pinprick of tears escaping, betraying his fear despite the look of rage and anger he was projecting.

The need to breathe was overwhelming. He knew he could not hold on forever, but he was going to make sure it wasn't easy.

It was only when his vision started to darken when stars started to appear in his sight, the blurred mess happening around him before he was on the verge of fainting, that he gave in.

He submitted.

He swallowed.

The blood was like lead. It was heavy with the weight of his guilt.

It was heavy with the sense of power and control it gave him. He hated himself so much.

He is finally released from the hold, and Tim and Reggie release him.

Sam takes deep swallows of air, gasping greedily, downing every breath. He wants to cry. To weep, to succumb to the brewing inferno growing in his stomach. The itch under his skin became unbearable.

After being clean, this vial was nothing after all the blood he consumed to kill Lilith. He was already hungry for more. The withdrawals are already beginning.

The deep pit of shame was like a black hole, infinite and ripping apart anything that came too close, swallowing everything inside as the blood ignited every nerve, every cell in his body, into wakefulness. He was full and powerful due to the evil contents that were resting within his gut.

“See, was that so bad?” Tim asked, a sly and dark grin on his face, and he wanted to rip it off.

The anger, the rage, and the hatred consume Sam. The putrid emotions that dwelled deep within him that he never allowed to surface. He lunged at Tim, knocking him to the ground. Punching him again and again. He watched with delight as the man's skin split open, his mouth turning red as Sam knocked his jaw. Loving as the skin darkens, he lands each blow.

His heart is pounding in his chest so strongly that he would be surprised to find that it was still within his ribcage.

He feels a weight knock into him from his left, but he barely feels it as Reggie rams into him, pushing him off Tim. Tim has the knife in his hand and attempts to cut him, but he doesn't care. The blood is clouding his pain, clouding his nerves. He feels nothing but the full potential of his muscles. It takes nothing to roll them until Reggie is on his back and Sam has weaselled the knife out of his hand.

He doesn't hesitate to raise the knife and plunge it deep into Reggie's stomach. Once. Twice. Thrice.

The deep, rich, wine-red colour of blood blossoms his shirt and pools around them. Blood splattered on his face.

His hand is dripping in blood. He stares at it, but it is not the subject of the burning desire in his body, so he ignores it.

It is not demonic. It is not his philosopher's stone. It's not his poison.

He leaves Reggie wheezing on the ground, Tim looking white-eyed and terrified. He grabs the man's knife in one hand, the blade pressed against the crock of his neck, right above his jugular.

"Sam, stop," Tim begs, and despite the deepest part that is relishing this moment, a part of him is screaming and crying. "This isn't-"

"If you wake the dragon, be prepared for a fight," he whispers, mirroring Tim's prior tone and grin. He presses the knife deeper into Tim's skin, watching a steady stream of blood pour out. He stabs the knife into the bench by going through Tim's shoulder, pinning him to the table. "Be prepared to lose."

There was a scream that was not either Reggie or Tim. He looks up and sees Lindsay a few metres down the bar, still handcuffed to the sink. The horrified look on Lindsay's face wakes him up from his rage, pulling him out of his delirium of hatred.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the haze of anger fade, and the blazing rage of hatred diminish to smoke. He feels like he has just been dumped in an ice bath.

It just now dawns on him what he has done and planned to do. And he's disgusted. He's horrified. He truly is a monster. Dean was right to abandon him. He was beyond hope. He was demonic to the core. He was evil. He was monstrous. Dean was just unable to kill him.

He was a rabid dog. He had bit his master, and now he was on his own. He had succumbed to the desires of the demon blood. He was never good at controlling the emotions that dwelled deep within him.

But he was moments away from murder.

He was a freak.

He pulls the knife out of Tim's shoulder, swallowing the lump of coal that had grown in his throat.

He exhales, snarling at him, "If you ever take one step back here, I will kill you."

He tries not to show just how off-kilter he is, but seeing just how unhinged he was moments ago, the white ashen face that showed utter fear didnt need convincing. Tim ran over to Reggie, who groaned and limped alongside Tim out the door.

After they both leave the building, he frees Lindsay from the shackles. He didnt look her in the eye the entire time. He couldn't bear to see the terror that would be there. Once she was free, he fled.

He finds himself in the shower of his motel, staring at his bloodstained hands, scrubbing his hands to get the evidence of the blood off desperately. But whether the blood had soaked into his skin or his mind would not allow him to forget, they remained red.

He was ashamed. He had drunk the blood. He gave in to the power. He gave into his darkest emotions. He deserved the pain. He deserved the anguish. He deserved nothing. John was right. He was a monster.

His heart pounded, and he knew he was not going to get a wink of sleep, but he stayed in his bed, crying.

But fate had different plans for him that night.

#spn #sam winchester #supernatural #Writing #ailesswhumptober #ailess whumptober #my fics #my writing #ailesswhumptober2023 #ai less whumptober 2023 #ai less whumptober

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daughterofthereaper02 · 2 years

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I have more angsty thoughts based on your phoenix x bob x reader soulmate au! What if reader did die during the mission and bob and phoenix grieving their soulmate. While they have had a few years together it’s still devestating. (Song inspo was ghost of you by 5SOS) (I’m apologizing in advance for the angst and all the hurt that this might cause)

A/N: ............ Pain. That is what you caused. I think I'm reading this right though, that they were all together for a few years and then reader died? Especially because of the song? If not, it will still happen because I’m in a angsty mood now. I hope this was sad enough for you.

Warning: Death.

You gripped the controls as your F-18 shook after taking a hit. You tried to eject but the systems failed and you looked at the photo of you and your soulmates that sat on the dashboard. It was Robert putting bunny ears behind Natashas head while she put devil horns on you when you sat on the beach, taking a selfie of you all, a bright smile on all your faces.

Your systems were blaring and everyone was panicking "EVERYONE SHUT UP!" You yelled as they yelled for you to eject. You were buying yourself prescious seconds "My systems aren't working. Natasha, Robert I love you both so much. Don't do anything stupid. Jake, Bradley, Mav, keep them in line. I trust you three." You cried as your plane got closer to the trees "I love you both so much! You were the best part of my life" You said, your voice growing calmer. In that second everyone knew you knew you were going to die and you accepted it.

Your voice suddenly cut out as you hit the tree line. They all had to continue with the mission but saw the smoke and explosion. Phoenix cried out as your name on her wrist blackened and scarred over a minute after the crash, you were dead. "Nat, Nat" Robert said, his voice full of the same pain as your name did the same on his wrist. "We have to keep going. For her" he said. She nodded and her face hardened, they finished the dogfight despite Maverick going down and Bradley going after him. They weren't losing anyone else.

When they got back, they had to show your brother in everything but blood your scarred over name. Jake just stared at it for a minute before nodding and turned away.

They were numb until Maverick and Rooster came back and people cheered. Neither of them could tell how they did it, they couldn't focus on anything after they came back. They clutched each other's hands as they walked to Bradley and Pete. Maverick swallowed thickly and pulled them both into a hug, you were like a daughter to him and Bradley did the same, you were like his little sister. They held both your soulmates close as everyone began to quiet down. That was when everyone seemed to remember they lost a sister in arms and she would never be coming back.

There was a retrieval team sent to get your body once it was clear. It was extremely numbing until they were handed your dog tags. One was blasted in half, the other in near perfect condition. On the chain rested a simple silver band with your birthstone, the ring they both gave you for your birthday last year, a promise to marry soon.

Bob took the dog tags when Phoenix refused to grab them at first and he clutched them close. They quietly planned the funeral for you, you were being honored for your heroic actions and dying in the line of duty. The only reason you went down was you were blocking a SAM and went to send flares but your flares wouldn't release, you were protecting your soulmate. Luckily people were there ti help you along the way so the two weren’t completely overwhelmed.

The funeral came quickly, it always did when it was honoring a veteran. Natasha was the one who accepted your folded up flag and Robert was the one to slam the wings into your coffin, saluting it as jets flew overhead and one broke formation. It was clear both were trying to not fall apart in that moment as they realized you would never fly with them again, you were forever grounded.

Once back in place next to each other, they stared at the coffin and their knees gave out simultaneously as the pain ripped through them as the coffin was being moved to be lowered into the ground. Jake caught Robert and Bradley caught Natasha as they both fell. No one gave them nasty looks, they all knew the reason. What no one did know was they could have sworn they saw you standing by the trees in your uniform, a smile on your face. When they blinked you were gone though.

The two seemed a little more alive at the wake, moving through people. You always said you wanted your life to be celebrated and not mourned. You told them they could take the first year to mourn but after they were only to take one day to hate the world that you were gone. It was how you wanted to be remembered, happy.

Stories were being passed around about your life, singing on bar tops, buzzing the tower, stunts you pulled in the air, how you always made people laugh, the hand you were always holding out to help others, and how protective you were of everyone. Childhood friends came and shared photos of you when you were all younger and told stories with them. They talked about all the trouble you would get into and would manage to talk your way out of. It gave Natasha and Robert a little more of you to hold onto. Others stepped up with academy stories and basic training stories about how you needed to learn to keep your mouth shut and you had quickly became a pain in the navy's side. This kept them both laughing and crying as they could see it from how you had been a pain in the navy's side up until you died but you were too good of a pilot. You kept your nose clean enough that they wouldn’t kick you out.

Soon they were going back home and both stood at the front door. They hadn't been back home since you died, they had others getting their uniforms for the funeral. Neither of them wanted to open it, there were so many memories waiting for them and they didn’t know if they could handle it.

Natasha eventually opened the door and looked around, her eyes welling up with tears. It was exactly how you all left it. There was one of your old band shirts on the floor from when you threw it off as Bob kissed you. There was your favorite book open to your favorite section, you read it for comfort right before you left to go for the mission. They both made their way through the house, looking at the pictures on the walls and on surfaces. There were pictures of all of you, your younger ages, your graduations, memories with friends, memories together. There were ones that had you looking at the sunset, no one would know it was you besides them because they took the picture. Another one was that Maverick took of you three as you played dogfight football recently.Memory after memory filled the walls, you all kissing, dancing, and looking playfully serious for medals.

It was taking everything in Robert to not break down crying there and Natasha had to walk away before she started smashing the photos. She went upstairs and took off her uniform but when she opened the closet, all she smelt was your perfume. You both shared a big walk in closet and she finally broke down sobbing, pulling your favorite hoodie off a hanger. She brought it to her nose and it smelt like you were right there. She could hear you laugh and say "It's my favorite because I've had it since I was 17, it's been through everything with me. Plus we met while I wore it. I can't wear it out anymore because it's falling apart buts it's apart of our family!" She gripped it close "You were always too damn stubborn and too good of a pilot. If those systems didn't fail I would still have you. We would still have you" she said to the hoodie before burying her nose in your scent again.

Downstairs Robert was clutching your book and favorite photo of you, and sat on the couch as he stared at it "Thank you for saying goodbye" was all he said. Then he just kept sitting there, memorizing your face, he dreaded the day they would start to forget your voice from memory but he was glad he had some recording of your voice. It still wouldn’t be the same to them though, you weren’t there.

They both tried to go to sleep in the bed that night, avoiding your side. You always took the right, Bob center, and Nat had the left side of the bed. Neither could fall asleep due to the complete silence and Bob jumped up and turned the ceiling fan on. It drove them both crazy at first when you had to sleep with it on because it got too hot but now they needed it.

Neither of them slept well, they were plagued with nightmares that had them screaming out for you. They would see your F-18 go down or you would be dancing in a bar with them before saying the same last words you spoke and you would disappear. Every time they woke up to find you gone, they would bury their noses in your pillow, breathing in the scent of you that would fade over time.

They eventually got up and made coffee for themselves. Nat was grabbing the container and grabbed your favorite flavor on accident, she smiled at it and put one scoop in before two regular scoops. Robert wrapped his arms around her from behind. "This might sound crazy but I can hear her when I look at things. I can hear the bickers between you two in the morning about the coffee. God she loved to bicker with you" he laughed quietly as he remembered that. She grinned "God, the little arguments you two would have over a t.v. show" she said, shaking her head. "She told me she purposely picked a fight so she could watch your eyes light up about whatever topic" she admitted. His eyes widened "Really?" He asked and she nodded.

They spent the next week in the house, finding everything you had around the house. They both spent the time crying into each other or helping the other after they broke something in anger. Sometimes they could swear they could see you dancing down the hall or laying in bed, Other times they could hear you singing in the shower and they would run there to find the bathroom empty. Your ghost was haunting them more and more as they stayed holed up in the house surrounded by the scent of you.

After a week of hearing nothing, Jake, Bradley, and Pete all came to get them out of the house. They kept pulling them out everyday, let them take the anger out on them. The two would never be the same, a piece of their whole had died, there was no fixing that.

Three months in they were packing some of your personal stuff away to keep safe and kept all the pictures out. They stored it in the attic and slowly came to terms that you were really gone. Natasha kept finding little notes you left, just stupid things like grocery lists but others would be old notes you left saying that you loved them. What made them pack was they realized they no longer could smell you on anything, your scent was gone. They kept your favorite perfume out though, they could smell you there still.

One year came around and they chose your birthday to mourn you every year. The rest of the time the would live how you wanted them too, making sure your memory was honored. They always took a shot of your favorite drink despite hating the taste. Every time they lived their lives and were truly happy, they could swear they saw you from a distance as you watched with a big smile. At first it hurt but now it was comforting because they went about life how they were told to.

#top gun #top gun: maverick #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #pete 'maverick' mitchell #maverick #natasha trace x reader #natasha phoenix trace #natasha 'phoenix' trace #natasha trace #natasha phoenix trace x reader #phoenix #phoenix x reader #robert 'bob' floyd #robert floyd #robert 'bob' floyd x reader

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writing-all-over-the-place · 10 months

Text

Continuing with the untitled-ness of my story

this one is not connected to the other one other than the characters. there’s now six characters which idk if that’s overwhelming or if it’s fun but i tried to keep it as clear as possible

this doesn’t really have a plot to it. it does in my head but not in the actual writing is how it seems. let me know what you think.

(just to warn you the margins are a little weird bc i copied and pasted from google docs)

continuing off of this post

and tagging some wonderful mutuals

@dysphoria-things @allnaturalgenderfluid @scarafrisbee @emreadsbooks17 @maia-isnt-real @bylerloveswaffles @webboygirl @queers-of-marybelltownship @moiistdirts @giant-clown @weirdandabsurd42 @veescorneroftheworld

if you no longer want to be tagged lemme know i will not be offended don’t feel bad at all.

Arden POV

Ding dong. I open the door and Sammy rushes past me. “Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee!” He yells as he’s running past me.

“God! Sammy! Have a little self respect!” Gigi yells, running from the bathroom, mascara in hand.

I walk down the hall to them. “I’m with Gigi on this, Sam. Love you, though.”

“Oh, shut up.” He says, coming out of the bathroom. “Did Roar make snacks?”

“Working on it!” They call from the kitchen.

“Is Ellie in the bedroom?” Sam asks me.

“Yep. Seems to find getting her nails done very exhausting.” I respond.

“Oh yeah! You guys did that. Lemme see!” He grabs my hand, “Awww they’re so cute! It’s all green, with those little brown stars. And dots! They’re so little and cute!”

“Okay, that’s enough.” I pull my hand away. “Did you bring your clothes?”

“Yup!” He shows me his canvas bag with green material sprawling out of it. “Good color, right? And it’s got these little daisies.”

“Shoes?”

“Yep,” He holds up his foot to show me his dirty converse. I shake my head.

“Art, do you guys have extra bobby pins?” Gigi calls.

“In the bottom drawer, in that little container,” Rory responds for me.

Ding dong.

“Curt’s here!” Rory yells. I open the door.

“Hi Art, Hi Sam. I didn’t uh, bring clothes because I couldn’t figure out to wear. I can always go back down and get stuff, I just couldn’t decide. I honestly wear too much casual clothing.”

“Just don’t ask Oreo for help.” Elle tells him, emerging from the bedroom in her gorgeous green dress and bedhead hair.

“Nice look.” Curt tells her.

“Thanks,” she grins.

“Your hair needs help, babe,” Gigi grabs her wrist and drags her to the bathroom.

“Ugh, you’re so controlling.”

“You know you love me.” I hear Gigi say as she shuts the bathroom door.

“Omelettes!” Rory yells from the kitchen. I hop in a seat next to Curt, who’s next to Sammy.

“Thanks, bestie,” I say as she hands me a plate.

#writing #writeblr #short prompt #short fiction #oc story #oc stuff #funny maybe?#i definitely don’t know how to write #but it’s fun so i still do

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quietwings-fics · 6 months

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Overextension

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Andy & Sam & Dean & Max) Additional Tags: Azazel's Special Children (Supernatural), Psychic Abilities, Whump, Headaches & Migraines, Psychic Sam Winchester, Mind Control, Post-Episode: s02e12 Nightshifter (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cold Wordcount: 1463 Summary:

The events of Nightshifter were a lot less stressful with Andy there to keep everyone under control, but he's never done anything like that before. And from the way his head is killing him, he really hopes he never has to do it again.

The Impala’s window thumps against Andy’s head with each revolution of the tires, a constant rhythm that may have been painful if it wasn’t vastly overshadowed by the migraine already digging into his gray matter. Not looking out the window as they speed down the highway is making him nauseous, but the sunlight burns into his retinas like needles whenever a ray of it gets past his eyelids. The lesser of two evils is curling against the door with his head ducked and his eyes shut. Sam’s jacket is too big on him, but by the time Andy had realized it wasn’t his own, there hadn’t been time to change, and after the fiasco at the bank, Dean hadn’t stopped slamming the pedal, eager to get them out of the state.

Andy is trying very hard not to think about the bank. Or about anything. Using his brain at all makes him want to scream.

Dean and Sam are arguing about something, and the music is blaring like it always does, and the car is growling against Andy’s ear no matter which position he presses his head against the door. Even the window is too cold to lay his head against. Andy shivers and draws Sam’s coat tighter.

The only respite here is Max because he tends to zone out in the backseat, silent and staring listlessly out his window. For the first time, Andy’s appreciating the silence, for what little good it does when every other sound in the car is turned up to eleven. He promises himself he’s never going to bug Max into talking with him again, just for this. A promise he will probably only manage to keep until he gets too fidgety on a six hour drive. No one on Earth has the insane tolerance for road trips that Sam and Dean have developed, and Andy is especially bad at them.

He chose this life. He doesn’t get to complain now. It’s better than going it alone.

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter like that will block out the light better than his own hand over his face. He almost feels hungover, except it’s so much colder. He can’t stop shivering, no matter how much he tucks into Sam’s jacket. The sun on his skin provides barely any relief.

There’s a pause in the conversation in the front seat. It stretches out. Another jumble of words Andy doesn’t bother to put together. A pause. The third time, he hears his name in the middle of whatever Sam is saying something-something-Andy-something, and though every part of him protests, he raises his head and opens his eyes. He cringes from the light, wanting nothing more than to curl back into a ball and wait out the pain.

“What?” he croaks, his dry throat heaving out the word. His eyes adjust so that he isn’t blinded, and he can put Sam’s expression together into one of concern.

“He said, how’re you holding up?” Dean tosses back, eyes on the road and hands on the wheel. They haven’t even stopped to get him and Sam out of their disguises. They must be hot in all-black, and Andy wishes for a moment that he’d gone ahead and convinced another guy to strip his uniform off so that he could wear it. He’s not sure if he could have. At that point, after trying to keep the entire situation under control with a few words for every hostage, even talking the two agents Sam and Dean stole from made him nearly keel over. He and Max weren’t wanted, so they limped (on account of Andy’s legs not wanting to stay under him and leaning on Max to keep them moving forward) their way out of the bank, and Andy talked their way out of the custody of an officer, and then the Winchesters picked them up.

“Shitty,” Andy answers, and now that he has an opening, “Could you turn the music down?”

“Just this once,” Dean says, but he’s joking and he reaches for the dial without another word. The tape pops itself out of the player before he even touches anything, falling neatly into the waiting box. Andy glances over at Max at the same time Sam does, and Max shrugs. Andy forces a smile to his face anyway in thanks.

“What you did back there was really amazing,” Sam continues, “but it was a lot. You have a migraine?” Andy nods, and Sam makes a face in sympathy. “Yeah, we get those. Uh, what about a nosebleed?” Sam’s eyes dart down Andy’s front and Andy squints at him.

“No?” He’s never gotten a nosebleed from pushing himself, but then, he hadn’t done this much since he set his mind to getting on T and had to talk his way through a whole clinic and a pharmacy. “I’m just freezing.” As if to prove his point, Andy’s body gives a huge, involuntary shudder.

“That’s a new one,” Sam says. Andy shuts his eyes. Looking at things is too much for him to handle right now.

“You don’t get cold when you’re…” Max’s voice trails off.

“No,” Sam says, “actually, one time I started running a fever.”

They’re both quiet for a second, and then Max says, “You must be some kind of freak.” It makes Sam chuckle weakly.

“We’ll find a place to stop at,” Dean says. Andy’s whole body aches for it, somewhere to lay down and pass out in peace. He misses his van.

But instead, he says, “And wake up to the FBI arresting us? I’m fine. Keep going.” Dean snorts. The car lurches to avoid something in the road, and Andy nearly rolls across the seat into Max.

“I wasn’t asking you. We’re stopping,” Dean says.

“Keep driving,” Andy insists, too strongly. He can feel the rebelling screech of pain in his head before the words have even finished leaving his mouth. He curls in on himself, panting and shaking. Cold sweeps up his spine and into his head, making his teeth clatter against each other when he can’t make himself stop shivering. He hears Dean curse.

“Son of a-“

“Andy, reverse it,” Sam says, and Andy wants to, he really does, but he’s done. That was the limit and he broke it and now he can barely keep himself upright. His fingers feel numb, and no amount of rubbing them together brings the sensation back. Max touches the back of his neck, but his hand jumps away the moment it makes contact with Andy’s skin. “Andy-“

“He can’t,” Max says, and his voice cuts right through Sam’s.

He very rarely speaks over any of them, but when he does, he gets listened to. Usually because that’s when they all remember he doesn’t need to be touching a knife to use it. Sam takes a deep breath. Max’s hand folds over the back of Andy’s neck again. It’s not as firm as Andy would like, but Max doesn’t like being touched and this is practically a bear hug for how much contact Andy’s getting. It doesn’t help with the cold, unfortunately. Max is warmer than Andy is right now, but any given day, they’re two chilly peas in a pod, and Sam really is the freak running a few degrees hotter than anyone should.

“Okay,” Sam says, more to himself than anyone, “okay, Dean.”

“Still can’t take my hands off the wheel.”

“I know. But. Pull over.”

“Did you not just hear me?”

“Pull. Over.” Sam slows his words down, and it doesn’t help. Andy would give him pointers if anything at all would fit inside his head but the pain spilling out the edges.

“Sam-“

“Pull over!” It reaches into frustration the third time, and Andy can feel the tug of the suggestion without even being the one it’s directed at. Max’s hand stiffens against his neck. The car swerves and rolls to a stop. For a minute, all Andy can hear is their breathing and the upset rumble of a car stopped too quickly. “Holy shit,” Sam whispers.

“Don’t do that to me again,” Dean tells him, sounding more scared than angry.

“I won’t,” Sam promises. He sounds scared, too. Neither of them have ever sounded like that about Andy, even when he slips up or pulls out the persuasion for a harmless prank. “You’re good to drive?”

“I’m fine.” Dean is, obviously, lying, but out of the three of them, none of them are going to point it out. He cranks the car back into drive, and as they get down the road again, he says, “Next motel I see, we’re stopping.”

It’s not like Andy can argue. He does his best to just focus on Max’s hand and not how numb and sick he feels.

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