very slowly, using two fingers, annabeth drew her dagger. instead of dropping it, she tossed it as far as she could into the water. [..] annabeth tried for a dumb-blonde smile, like: oh, silly me. nobody who knew her would have been fooled. but octavian seemed to buy it. [x,x]
“there are wolves in the night. my uncles and brothers in war. my friends, raising me in the battlefield because there was nowhere else to go. there are wolves, they would say. and there are stories about wolves and girls. girls in red. all alone in the woods. about to get eaten up. wolves and girls. both have sharp teeth.”
“boyd, what do you think will happen to us during on lunar eclipse. they last for hours, you know, because it’s just the earth’s shadow. i wonder what will happen to us. Maybe it’ll make us stronger? i hope it will make us stronger.”
Dean fell asleep an hour after you slipped three crushed Vicodin in his half-empty, piss warm beer. You only knew it was piss warm because the injured hunter had yelled at you for not getting him a cold one before throwing the bottle at the trash.
The bottle rolled into the bathroom. “Nice one, Dean.”
The thought was tempting, you weren’t gonna lie, but the truth was you knew he saw you like the kid sister he never wanted. And you knew that because he has told you more times than you cared to remember. That didn’t stop you from watching him out of the corner of your eye every chance you got. The man had shoulders as wide as a door frame and corded muscles that rippled under his skin. He stood on thick legs that were good for fighting, defending himself from every monster imaginable, and running either to or from danger; although he was more likely to run toward it. Years of turning a wrench, digging up graves, and ganking monsters had sure as hell done a body good.
But not tonight. Tonight, the poltergeist that was tormenting a family had gotten the better of him. Tonight, the poltergeist had gone on the defense and blitz attacked him. Dean fought hard, harder than most hunters, finally taking the piece of shit out, but not before the damage had been done; a gash on the back of his head and bruises that disappeared beneath his heather grey Henley.
Three stitches, a bucket of ice, and three secretly taken Vicodin later, Dean was finally asleep. He was sprawled out on the queen sized mattress, one arm hanging over the edge and both feet dangling off the other side. He snored softly as you tugged off his boots and lifted his thick, heavy legs onto the bed. The lamp cast its dull orange light across his face, highlighting the fan of thick lashes over freckled skin, and it took everything in you not to reach out and count his freckles.
Instead, you turned off the light and turned away, mentally preparing yourself to sleep on the couch. There had been only one room available when you checked in and as luck would have it, it had only one bed.
Dean shifted, sighing heavily as his hand flexed, grabbing at your denim clad legs. You stayed still for a moment, afraid of waking him. When he didn’t let go of your jeans, you scraped your nails gently through his hair, trying to get his attention just enough so he’d let go. What he did next, you didn’t expect.
Half-opened, glassy, emerald eyes stared up at you and a smirk tugged at his fuller than humanly possible lips. He tugged hard on your jeans before whispering your name.
You had to be imagining things because he wouldn’t say your name like that or try to sit up and ask you to lie with him. It had to be the Vicodin. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you raked your nails through his hair, careful to avoid the fresh wound.
“Dean, just lie down and go to sleep.” You fought the urge to call him baby.
Leaning into your touch, he latched a hand on your hip and tugged impatiently. Despite the fact that he was drugged and half-asleep, he was so much stronger than you. “I’ll sleep better with you next to me. C’mon, Y/N, please.” The oldest Winchester hardly ever said please.
Against your better judgement, you kicked off your shoes and slid in next to the hunter. He covered you with the blanket, wrapped an arm around your belly, and pulled you tight against him. Rough, calloused fingers found their way under the hem of your shirt as he curled around you, legs tucked behind yours, ankles crossed together. Wherever you ended, a part of Dean began. With a contented sigh, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and in no time his breathing slowed, blowing hot and heavy against your skin as he slept.
It took you longer to fall asleep, but that probably had something to do with the fact that your fingers played over his forearm or that if you turned your head just right, his slightly parted lips were right fucking there. You lay there, watching him sleep, feeling him sleep for hours until finally, your eyelids grew too heavy. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and steady breathing lulled you to sleep.
Summary: When Bucky finds out he’s going to be a father, he fears he may unintentionally hurt the baby. Reader Gender: Female Character: Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers Word Count: 1,205 Warnings: Daddy Bucky feels Author’s Note: If a URL is crossed out, it’s only because Tumblr is dumb and won’t let me tag everyone. Fic based off this fan art. If you know who created it, please let me know. It’s adorable and I frigging love it!
It was never of a question of Bucky wanting kids, he did. He loved everything about them; the richness of their laugh, the sparkle in their eyes, the indescribable scent on the top of their head. He couldn’t wait to have a few of them running around. But that was then, before the war and the super soldier serum, before he was an assassin under HYDRA’s control.
And then Y/N came along, bright-eyed, loving, and optimistic. She accepted him for who he was, metal arm and all. She made him feel safe and secure, like a human being and not someone… something to be used for an evil agenda. Despite all of that, Bucky didn’t feel exactly like he did before everything happened. So when Y/N told him she was pregnant, Bucky panicked. What if something happened and he ended up hurting the baby? What if he lost control of his arm and ended up doing more than just harming the child? It was enough to drive a sane man crazy.
“i almost died last night. [..] but when i thought it was over, i kept thinking that if- if i died, you would spend the rest of your life thinking that i hated you. and i wanna hate you. i really tried to. but i can’t. i can’t, mom!”
It was way too quiet in the bunker. Other than a simple salt and burn this morning, you and the boys had nothing to do. The three of you decided to go out for drinks, but soon into the night, Dean and his impeccable flirting skills had landed him with a fairly busty girl from across the bar. With a wink, he tossed you the keys to his car and left you with Sam.
Soon after, you and Sam decided to head back to the bunker. Sam immediately went to the library, reading for fun, so you just went to your room. Sitting down on your bed, you suddenly realized how much pent up energy you really had.
‘Just relax,’ you think to yourself.
But of course that wasn’t possible. So you had to settle with cleaning.
Anonymous requested: Can you write one where y/n is sam and deans sister. So when sam and dean go to the alternative universe (like in the french mistake) the actress that plays y/n is married to jensen ackles and shes kisses him and does couple stuff and its really awkward for sam and dean JUST REALLY FUNNY
Reader gender: female Characters: Dean, Sam, kind of Dean x Reader Warnings: swearing, sexual references (no smut) Word count: 2,611 (went a bit overboard :p)
Notes: sister is adopted. Also the reader and sam go into the alternate universe instead of dean and sam so it would be more inclusive for the audience! hope it’s still okay, anon (:
“Dean, you feel like coming to the diner with us?” Sam offered, throwing you the keys to the impala. Dean pulled the fluffy blanket up to his chin and yawned from the sofa where he laid. “Not tonight. I’m just gonna stay here and watch some Game Of Thrones. Bring me back a burger?” You sat on the couch, squashing his legs. “And a pie?” You tilted your head down at him. He clicked with his mouth, “You know it, babe.” You ruffled his hair and hopped up, but he grabbed hold of your calf as you were walking and pulled you to the floor. “Not so fast, sis,” the evil smirk on his face was enough to tell what he was about to do. He began shamelessly tickling you and you collapsed on the ground, laughing like a maniac. Between giggles, you told him how you’d whoop his sorry ass when you got the chance. “Okay, break it up you two.” Sam’s hands gripped your waist and pulled you back to your feet, tearing you from Dean’s deadly hand, “We need to go if we want to be back before midnight.” You gave Dean the best greasy you could muster up in the few seconds you had before going outside. “Don’t hurt my car!” Dean’s voice echoed through the hallway before you shut the door behind you.
“My God,” you threw your head back against the booth, “that was the best burger I’ve had in a while.” Sam sat licking his greasy fingers. “Yeah, it was definitely-” he paused and leaned in, his voice hushing, “[Y/N], look.” You followed his intent eyes to where they stared and saw what he saw. “Is that-?” “The time lord we’re after? Yep.” “Dammit, Sam, we’re not equipped right now. What if something happens?” “Nothing will happen. He hasn’t even seen us yet; we have the upper hand. Come on, this is the first chance we’ve had in weeks!” “I really don’t think we should…” “Just follow my lead, [Y/N].” Sam scooted out of the red booth and you did the same.
You trailed the time lord once you spotted it exiting out the back, bringing you into a secluded backstreet. It suddenly paused and went to turn around, and Sam pushed you to a near brick wall, arms pinned on either side of you, until you saw it turn back around and continue. You pushed at his chest, causing him to stumble a bit in surprise. “Was that necessary?” You quietly hissed at him. He shrugged and a corner of his mouth twitched up, “Sorry. Couldn’t blow our cover.” You rolled your eyes at him and continued to track the creature. You followed it into an abandoned building and snuck behind until you had it cornered. “You need to work on your subtlety.” It casually stated before spinning around and pushing you through a half broken window.
You rubbed your head and slowly opened your eyes, the blinding sunlight reaching your pupils. Sunlight?
You glanced at Sam who sat up beside you, looking around before slumping over in defeat. “Not again!” He whined and pouted. You got to your feet and helped your adoptive brother up, brushing off the shattered glass from your clothes. You peered at your surroundings, a sense of familiarity washing over you. “Sam,” you said, “I think we’re in the same place.” You pointed to the back of the diner in the distance. Sam led you back round to where the impala remained parked in the shade, unlocking when you turned the key you had. You and Sam looked at each other at the same time, confused. “This is too… Normal,” he said slowly. You both hopped in the car and looked to where Dean kept his cassettes. “Okay, no, scratch that,” Sam’s eyes widened as he held a CD up to you, “James Blunt. There is something seriously wrong going on here.” You shuddered and started the car up, turning out of the lot and onto the road. Sam didn’t need to ask where you were headed.
You rolled into that same road like you had a hundred times before, your mouth dropping at what you saw. A small, white Victorian weatherboard house sat in place of the bunker. You gave Sam a look of desperation.
"What do we do?” “I guess we go check it out.” You jumped out of the car and approached the front door, passing a wooden letter box with ‘Winchesters’ written on the side in cursive script. “I’m not gonna lie,” you said as you reached the door, “this is making me extremely uncomfortable.” Sam nodded and reluctantly knocked a few of times, and on the fourth knock, it swung open.
“Good to see you both finally decided to show up,” Dean stood in his usual attire of jeans and a plaid shirt. You exhaled at the usual sighting. “Hey, babe,” Dean quickly leaned down and gave you a kiss, leaving you as shocked as a fish out of water, “I thought you were never coming back from the store. Come in, Sammy, dinner’s almost ready.” And with that, Dean turned around and made his way to to what you assumed was the kitchen. You could hear Sam choke back what sounded like laughter and you hit his arm. “Shut up. What the fuck am I supposed to do about this exactly?” “I don’t know, [Y/N]! Go along with it I guess?” “Am I the only one feeling the complete and utter weirdness here?” You put your fingers to your lips, which still buzzed warm from touching Dean’s. "It’s not so bad,” Sam tried to calm you, “I mean, it’s not like we’re actually related to you, right? And it’s just a kiss.” “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to kiss him!” “Fair point.” Sam nodded his head toward to door, “But we have no other options. And the man’s made us dinner for God’s sake,” he giggled at himself, “you ready?” “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you walked in.
“[Y/N]? [Y/N]! Shit.” Dean called from the kitchen just as you entered, turning around and seeing you, “Oh, there you are. Come here and help me with the steak, would you?” Dean cooking steak? Dean cooking? “Sure thing, uh, babe,” you awkwardly smiled. Dean’s eyebrow plucked up but he didn’t question. You took the spatula from him and started flipping them on the stove’s grill. You felt warm hands gently come down on your hips and you tensed up. “Whoa, there,” you felt him breathe on you, “just relax.” He started places small, warm kisses down your neck and you caught yourself melting a little before remembering what was really going on. One of his hands ran over yours and he stopped for a moment. “Where’s your wedding ring?” He asked. ”Mywha- Oh, right, uh, that old thing,” you laughed anxiously, internally freaking out, “it’s just upstairs. Took it off so I could wash some dishes before.” “Good.” He smiled, resuming his kisses and mumbling into your skin: “That’s not the only thing you’ll be taking off tonight.”
You choked and started coughing.
“You know what?” You turned around, placing the spatula in Dean’s hand, “Maybe you should just do this for a while. I need to talk to Sam.” You stormed out of the room, leaving him dumbfounded, and went to the other brother who was sat in the living room, pawing through some photo albums. “Sam,” you got his attention. “[Y/N], you’ll never believe what I found,” Sam licked his thumb, flicking back a few pages, “you and Dean are-” “Married, I know.” “You do?” “Yeah. Dean just asked me where my wedding ring was before informing me that he has plans for us later on tonight.” “Oh, God,” Sam shut the album, “I want details.” “Sam- What? No- Gross! That’s not the point. I’m losing it here, okay, I can’t do this much longer. I was helping him cook and he held my hips, and started kissing down my…” You lazily pointed to your neck, trailing off. “Oh, yeah,” Sam’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “sounds like you’re having a real hard time.” “You are no help.” You shook your head and turned around, heading back to the kitchen. Dean bumped into you in the hallway.
“Hey there, you. Ready to eat now?” You nodded and he led you to the dining room with a casual hand in your back pocket, making you blush awkwardly. You sat down next to him with Sam across from you and started on the plate in front of you. “So, how’ve you two been lately?” Sam asked, trying to hide his cheeky smirk. “Great, Sammy,” Dean answered for you, “I’ve gained a few more clients at the garage lately, and [Y/N]’s been instructing her yoga classes twice a week now.” “Wow, twice a week? That’s something.” You stepped on Sam’s foot under the table. “Geez, Sam, thanks.” You said through your teeth. “But the real question is,” Dean continued, oblivious to the tension, “how’s the dog breeding business treating you, Sam?” You had to stop yourself from laughing out loud. Sam. A dog breeder. How conventional. “Yeah, Sam, how is it? I hear it’s a tough trade to be in these days,” it was now his turn to give you a kick under the table. “Actually, if you must know, it’s going just great.” Sam launched into a long, detailed and completely bull shitted explanation of what the job had consisted of in the past few weeks. You grinned, pretending to be amused by his story, gasping and laughing on queue, just as you felt a hand on your leg.
Your stomach dropped. You gave Dean a quick side glance which he didn’t return, still pretending to be interested in Sam’s fib himself. His hand slowly slid up your jeans and tightened around the top of your thigh. You didn’t know what to do. He dragged his thumb back and forth slowly on your outer leg. You covered your mouth with your hands and tried sending signals to Sam, but he was getting lost in his own story telling. You placed your hand on his to try and stop him, but he took this as encouragement, and his hand slid inwards. “Dean!” Your abrupt voice interrupted Sam’s talking, “Go get the wine, would you?” He looked at you for a moment but then smiled and kissed your forehead. “Sure thing,” his hand slipped from your leg and he exited the room. Your heart still raced. “You enjoy that?” Sam raised an eyebrow. Your jaw dropped. “You douchebag,” you cursed, “you knew all along?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, “I know the look of a girl getting played with under the table. I would’ve stopped him, but it was too damn funny to watch.” You buried your face in your hands and groaned, “How much longer do we have to do this?” “You’re right.” He sounded alarmed suddenly, “You stay and distract Dean. I’m gonna go find a way to get us back home.” “No. There is no way you’re leaving me alone with-” “I bring to you, some of the finest Pinot Noire of 2012,” Dean entered the room, sophisticatedly holding a bottle of red. He held a pretense snobbiness that your Dean would usually scoff at. “I’m sorry to eat and run, guys, but the breeding business calls. I’ll have you over later in the week?” He stood hastily and hugged and kissed goodbye, “I’ll show myself out.” And he did. “That was strange.” Dean shrugged, “More for us, I guess.” “Yeah, looks like it. Let’s clean up first.”
You procrastinated for a while, avoiding being alone with Dean at all costs. You cleaned dishes, wiped the table down, did the laundry and even changed the sheets — but when there was absolutely nothing to do, you had no choice but to sit on the couch and watch some TV with him. “Come over here,” Dean, who laid back on the couch, gestured for you to cuddle with him. “I’m fine here, thanks,” you replied. “What is up with you tonight, [Y/N]?” You turned your head, giving him your full attention, “You were all weird at dinner. Is there something going on that I should know about?” The emotion in his voice almost frightened you. The Dean that you’d known since your childhood rarely opened up to you like that — and this seemed so casual. “I’m just-” you started your sentence, but didn’t know how to finish it. You took a leap of faith and lurched forward, kissing him. You caught him by surprise and he didn’t move for a moment, but soon enough his hands were relaxed on your back, pulling your body onto his. His feet played with yours and you knew he was smirking under your lips. It was so unusual - and maybe a bit uncomfortable - but anything to shut him up would do. It’s not like this was the same Dean you’d grown up with. Yeah, they were kind of similar, and definitely looked the same, but they were totally different people.
The two of you were interrupted by a loud knock at the door, making you jump up and off the couch, leaving behind a flustered Dean below you. “I’ll get it,” you gave him a quick peck on the lips before half-running to the door and opening it to be greeted by Sam. He noticed your reddened lips and looked at you questioningly. “I took care of the time lord. Hope I’m not disappointing you by saying we have to be at that abandoned building in 30 minutes or we’ll never go back?” “Geez, that was quick,” “Yeah. Tell you ‘bout it in the car,” he peaked over your shoulder to Dean who confusingly waved from the end of the hall, seeking explanation. You called out to him: “We’re going to get some, uh, burgers,” you improvised, “be back soon.” “Burgers?” He spat back, “Ew. Don’t you know how unhealthy they are?” You turned back to Sam with wide eyes. "Let’s get the hell out of here.”
You walked back through the doors of the bunker, exhausted and relieved to be home. “Took you long enough! What happened to getting home before midnight?” Dean was still on the couch, in the same position as you’d left him. He got up and turned to look at you, an upset expression surfacing on his face, “And you forgot my burger and pie. Great.” “Sorry, Dean,” you laughed at him, realising you missed knowing him as a brotherly figure. “You’ll be sorry when I’m done tickling the shit out of you when you least expect it,” he sharpened his eyes at you, walking into the kitchen to make a sandwich. “Never thought I’d be so happy to see that lazy slob,” Sam said next to you, “I mean, seriously, dog breeder?” “Try yoga instructor. Now that is ridiculous,” “Hey; funny you say that,” Dean walked back into the room having overheard you, “I had the strangest dream before. You were a yoga instructor - and Sam, you were a dog breeder.” You looked up at Sam in disbelief. “That is weird,” you agreed slowly. “I know, right? And we were- We were married.” Sam made a noise that sounded between a laugh and a gag. "Crazy stuff,” your cheeks blazed and you tried to shut the conversation down before he remembered- “Yeah,” Dean munched on his sandwich and made a face, “the dinner we had was especially interesting.”
“your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. she had a way of seeing the beauty in others even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn’t see it in themselves.” [x][x]
You needed to get out of bed, but it was deliciously warm and cozy under the feather down comforter. Responsibilities rattled through your mind; there were groceries to buy, laundry to wash, dishes to do; the list went on and on… and on. The noise inside your head got to be too much, so you screwed your eyes shut and pulled the blanket over your head.
Sleep overtook you at one point, pulling you deep into the comfortable pitch. Nothing could get to you here; not the monsters that threatened to overcome you every day, not the noise that made you want to pull your hair out, not even the family that made you into the codependent, needy bitch you were today; nothing. And that’s how you liked it.
The voice of your boyfriend drifted into your cocoon, “babes, you coming out today?”
You don’t know how you got so lucky. Chuck was the most understanding, non-judgmental, caring, sweet, doting partner you could have asked for. No matter how many times you cried, how many times you berated yourself, how many days you didn’t emerge from your room; he was there.
He made sure you ate, drank, took your vitamins, took a fucking shower; he was always there for you. No matter how dark you got, how far you sank. No. Matter. What.
With a heavy sigh, you pushed the blanket away from your face, “I don’t know.”
Chuck smiled warmly, brushing the wayward hairs from your forehead before kissing it, “would you like some company?”
You didn’t have to answer, not like you really could. Your throat grew tight, strangling the words before they could tumble out.
He stepped out of his slippers before climbing behind you; the bed dipping, shifting with his weight, “come here.”
Rolling over, you slid across the bed and molded your body into his; sighing as his cool legs tangled with your much warmer ones. Rather than the washed-too-many-times t-shirt he always wore, Chuck was clad in boxers; which was a good thing. Skin to skin contact, and not the sexual kind, always worked best for you. It helped you cope, helped pull you out of the hole you found yourself in more and more; even if only for a day… sometimes less.
You breathed him in as fingers drug along your scalp and through your hair, again and again, until you were on the edge of falling asleep.
With his lips in your hair, he whispered, “I love you.”
Muffled into the crook of his neck, “and I love you,” was your response.