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samdeancass · 3 years

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Going Solo

Requested by: ol1veralltheway on Wattpad.

Pairing: Sam x daughter!reader (platonic)

Genre: Fluff, slight Angst

Characters: Sam, Y/N, Jess, Dean, Cas

Description: Y/N is out on her first solo hunt and she has found a spirit in California. However, when she arrives to gank the spirit, she gets more than she bargained for.

“DAD! I’m going now!”

You were putting the final things in your duffel bag ready for your first solo hunt. You were feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness but you knew that you were more than ready to head out by yourself, especially when you’ve been trained by Sam and Dean Winchester, the two best hunters in the world.

You zipped up your duffel, slung it over your shoulder and headed out of your door towards the war room. Sounds of multiple footsteps started to head towards you and you braced yourself for an emotional goodbye. You placed the duffel on the table and turned around to face the three men who stood behind you.

Your uncle and Cas were standing on either side of Sam, proud but saddened smiles on their faces. Your dad, on the other hand, was taking it a little harder. Tears were already forming in the corners of his eyes as he took in your whole appearance: flannel shirt, jeans and a pair of sturdy boots, complete with the amulet that Dean wore all those years ago.

Sam gave a watery smile before walking towards you, engulfing you into a hug. He kissed the top of your head and looked you dead in the eyes, as if he was taking in your facial features for his lasting memory.

“Promise me, baby, you’ll be careful. I really can’t lose anybody else to this life.” You nodded slowly and gave your father one last hug before grabbing your duffel off the table and heading towards Dean and Cas. “Take care of him, please. He’s going to need you to lean on while I’m gone. And don’t let him worry too much. After all, I’ve had the two best hunters train me and I’ll always have an angel by my side.” You gave Cas a little wink which caused his cheeks to blush a little.

Walking back past your father, you gave him one last hug before entering the garage and heading towards your car, slinging the duffel into the backseat. You got into the car and placed both hands on the steering wheel, letting out a deep breath to calm your nerves. You knew that you’d be nervous about your first hunt, but you couldn’t let that get in the way of the job. You turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine before driving out of the garage and towards California, where your first case was situated.

You rolled into the motels parking lot and exited the car, unbuttoning the top button of your shirt. You had just questioned a witness who swore blind that they seen a blonde haired ghost in a university dorm room, but you just couldn’t see it. You needed advice and who better to turn to than your dad and uncle. You entered your hotel room and threw your belongings on the bed before sitting at the table and dialling your dads number.

Sams phone vibrated on the table and your name flashed on the screen. Immediately, Sam leaped forward and answered the call, placing you on loudspeaker. “Hello? Y/N, are you ok?” Dean leaned forward on the table, defensiveness taking over his posture. “I’m fine, I just need some advice.” Sam and Dean both fell back against their chairs with relief and let out breaths they hadn’t realised they were holding. “Ok, what have you got?”

Once you had explained the basics of the case to the brothers, Sam made sure to put your mind at rest. “It sounds like a simple salt and burn to me, Y/N. Where did you say your case was?” “In Cali, Stanford University to be exact. Isn’t that where you went for a while, dad?”

Sam and Deans heads both shot up to look at each other as realisation washed over their faces. “Yes, sweetheart. But listen...” “Ok, Dad. I’ve gotta go, I’m burning daylight.” Before Sam could respond, the line went dead. Sam looked up at Dean with a stern look on his face. “We have to go. NOW.”

After doing a little more research, you felt confident about the case you were on. You drove into the parking lot of the University before surveying your surroundings. There weren’t many students around which made it easier for you to slip in and out unnoticed. You got out of the car and headed into the building, anxiety starting to creep into your body. As you walked up the winding staircase, you could slowly feel the air getting colder which was a tell tale sign of a ghostly presence. Grabbing your iron knife in your palm, you slowly crept up the rest of the staircase towards the haunted dorm room.

Your hand wavered above the doorknob, your heart beating wildly in your chest. You let out a deep breath and opened the door, revealing an empty bedroom surrounded in darkness. You reached around the wall and switched on the light but your breath was took away by something in the corner of the room.

“Step on it, Dean! We’re gonna be too late if you keep driving like an old man!”

Dean shot Sam an angry look before pressing harder on the accelerator, pushing the car to go faster and faster down the winding highway with rain splashing against the windshield.

“Sam, do you really think it could be her? It’s been nearly 20 years. Surely it can’t be.”

Sam sighed and looked out of the window. “I don’t know, Dean. But every inch of my body is telling me that something isn’t right.”

Your mouth hung open in shock as the figure turned around to reveal somebody that you had only seen in photos with your dad. “Jessica? Jessica Moore?” The blonde hair gently cradled her features, even as she walked slowly towards you. Your hand gripped the knife tighter and your heart was hammering against your ribcage as Jess edged closer and closer towards you.

She was stood toe to toe with you as she narrowed her eyes at you, taking in every inch of your features. She lifted a hand to your cheek and rubbed her thumb across it, causing a sharp shiver to run down your spine. She smiled gently before stepping back slightly.

“You remind me of someone. Somebody I loved a long time ago. Sam Winchester. He was the best man I had ever known, but he didn’t tell me what was really going on in the world, in his life, which is what got me killed right in this room.” Jess looked up at the ceiling and grimaced slightly as the memories of that fateful night haunted her. “I was killed, by a demon that was out to get Sam. I was just in the way, so he just murdered me with the flick of his finger.”

She walked across the room and sat on the corner of the bed, her head hung low. Your face saddened as you seen her broken form slouched over. You slowly edged away from the wall and walked over to Jess, sitting right beside her.

“I know what happened to you, my father told me all about it. He told me about you. You were the most important person to him, he still thinks about you all the time.” Jess turned to look at you, confusion littering her features. “He regrets not telling you about his life because if he did, he knows that you would still be alive now.” Realisation slowly revealed itself on Jess’s face as you kept talking. “Jess, Sam Winchester is my father.”

Rage took over the confusion as Jess slammed you against the wall, knocking the blade out of your hand. You could feel your throat slowly closing up as Jess walked towards you, her hands magically squeezing. “Why did he get to live his life whilst I was stuck here, not able to do anything?! I’M DEAD BECAUSE OF HIM SO NOW I’M GOING TO MAKE HIM PAY! I’M GOING TO KILL THE ONE PERSON HE HOLDS DEAR!”

Your throat tightened some more as Jess squeezed tighter. You were struggling to breathe, your vision turning blurry. You were nearly dead when two large figures burst through the door and shots were fired.

Sam looked around the room and found you slumped on the floor, gasping for breath. He ran over and knelt down beside your shaking frame, placing his hand on your back.

“Hey, I’m here now. You’re ok.” You slowly sat up and engulfed your dad in a hug, crying into his chest. He kissed the top of your head and ran his fingers through your hair in an effort to calm you down.

“Guys, we really need to go before she comes back. We need to salt and burn her bones.” Sam nodded and slowly helped you to your feet, you leaning on him for support. As you were both walking towards the doorway, the air began to get colder and you knew that your dad had noticed the change to. He stiffened slightly and pushed you the rest of the distance towards the door.

“Go with Dean, Y/N. I’ll be fine.” You looked at him, wide-eyed and frightened as Dean gathered you in his arms. “You guys salt and burn her bones, I’ll keep her busy. It’s me that she wants.”

Dean hesitated slightly before nodding, running down the staircase with you in his arms. Sam let out a deep breath and turned around ready to face the one person he never wanted to see in this way.

Sam flinched as the door slammed shut behind him and the ghostly figure appeared before him. He let out a soft cry as he seen her walking towards him, her blonde hair flowing behind her. He was absolutely speechless, he never expected to see her again, let alone like this.

She walked towards him, smiling softly. Tears began to fall down Sams cheeks which she quickly wiped away. “My Sammy, I never thought I’d see you again.” She placed her hand against his cheek which he leaned in to, even though it was icy cold.

He placed his hand on top of hers and rubbed his thumb over the skin. “I wish it was under better circumstances. I never thought I’d be the one to kill you a second time.”

Jess’s soft expression soon turned to anger as Sam finished his sentence. She grabbed him by the throat and threw him against the wall, taking the breath out of him. She flew up to his crumpled form and forced him to look at her. “I was killed the first time because of you, and your lies. If you had told me what was really going on, I would still be alive. We could have had a life together, Sammy, just me and you. But you picked your brother over me and left me here alone to die.”

Sam shook his head as cries wracked his body. She was telling him everything that he already knew, the thoughts that had been plaguing him for years. “I’m sorry, Jess. I just wanted to protect you from that life, I wanted to live normally with the girl that I loved. You are the love of my life, Jess, and you always will be.”

He looked up at her through watery eyelashes and he seen her posture deflate a little. However, this didn’t last long as she began to attack again, the rage taking over her body. Pain soared through every inch of Sams body as Jess attacked him.

His vision was beginning to blacken when screams filled the room. Sam hesitantly looked up to find Jess’s spirit burning in flames, indicating that you and Dean had burned her bones. Sam let out a sigh of relief and got to his feet, limping out of the room.

The rumble of the Impala engine abruptly stopped when you and Dean both arrived back at the University. You immediately spotted your dads figure in the entrance of the building and flew out of the car towards him.

Your body collided with his, causing him to grunt in pain. You looked up at him with worry in your eyes but his small smile told you he was Ok. Dean ran up beside you and flung Sams arm over his shoulder.

“Boy, I never thought you would get beaten up by a girl.” You shot Dean a dirty look before whacking him upside the head. Sam and you both chuckled as Dean whispered something under his breath. You and your dad slid into the backseat as Dean sat in the front.

“So, you wanna tell us what happened in there?” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out shaky breaths. “No. There are some things that she said that have really messed me up. I need to think about them before I can tell either of you.”

Both you and Dean nodded in understanding. Music blasted out of the speakers as Dean turned the key in the ignition and drove out of the parking lot.

You never thought that your first solo hunt would end up with you meeting the ghost of your dads ex-girlfriend who was killed by the demon who hunted him down. You were thankful that your dad had called you when he did, otherwise you didn’t know what would have happened to you.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x daugher #sam winchester x daughter reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester imagine #dean winchester #castiel #jessica moore #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural family #supernatural fandom #spnfamily #spn #spn fandom #spn imagine #spn fanfiction

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marueonmain · 4 years

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WINDFLOWER

part eleven ~ wank material and how to get canceled ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight) (part nine) (part ten) (part eleven)

A/N: Back at it again. Thank you for 160 followers; do enjoy and take care of yourself! Send a Message/Ask to make my day!

Summary: Alex screws up a lot.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Lots of Language. Implied Domestic Abuse. Heavy Self-Deprecation.

Word Count: 2.9k BLUE TEXT = FLASHBACK

It is a small world. Or at least that is how the saying goes. For example: I happened to have dog-walked for a woman who turns out to be your aunt? Huh, small world.

The world is meant to be small, with everyone just six degrees of separation from one another.

A lot can happen between six degrees – an ice cube melts, a steak is cooked well done instead of medium, a person dies of an unexplained fever.

Sometimes Alex’s world did feel small, constrictingly small like it was caving in on him. But more often than not, it was he who felt small and the world a vast sea – an endless horizon. And he was stranded on a raft in the middle of it. Splashing along with the waves, going wherever the wind wished to take him. Wondering if he would ever be found (if anyone was even searching for him) or if he was destined to drown in the deep dark waters.

Alex shook his head, and he was back in the present moment. Sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Gripping a controller with his clammy hands, playing LEGO Star Wars with George. Although their characters appeared to be working together in perfect sync, Alex was not actually focusing on the screen. His eyes were, but his mind drifted like that raft on the sea, drifted to earlier that morning.

It rained briefly; when the early morning hours came, everything outside smelled of wet, and the scent seeped in through cracks in the sealing around the windows.

Y/N stirred in Alex’s arms, squirmed out of his gentle hold, and sat up. Shining through the glass door of the balcony was the pale blue of the moon illuminating her features – a pastel recolouring which further softened the curves and lines of her face.

Her unadjusted eyes appeared confused at her surroundings as she looked around. Planting her hands flat on the cushion on either side of her lap exposed her bruised forearm. Each circular mark was darker than it had been when she fell asleep. Alex noticed some quarter or half of the beads on her bracelet matched those bruises in colour – he was not sure how to feel about that.

A shy closed-mouth smile took Y/N’s lips as her eyes landed on Alex. If she were concerned about his contemplative somewhat doleful expression, she hid it well. “You’re warm.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked. It was dizzying, swimming in the lovesick haze of such an odd compliment

“Like sleeping on one of those blankets, you have to plug in – softer though.”

“Probably more lippy as well.”

“I think that’s fair,” her words fizzled out with a giggle.

Pupils dilated in the dim lighting; Alex had never more resembled the pleading puppy eyes emoji. High on that feeling, he got whenever Y/N looked deep into the depths of him. Like the last piece of his puzzling life was being set into place. Like it was them. Always meant to be them. Together.

He just wished he dared to speak more.

“Jump! What are you doing?” George burst out, bringing Alex back for a moment.

“Sorry.” He had felt it all over again – how anxious he was to speak; how dead his tongue was in his mouth. As if every moment with Y/N was it for him. His one shot. And if he did not say the right thing or if his voice wavered, then it would be over for him. Finished.

Or maybe he would not have to speak at all, and he would lose his chance before he even opened his mouth. His big mouth – his friends would add, and in truth, so would he.

George cleared his throat and asked, “Did you remember to message Simon about the party?”

“Yeah, yesterday. And Tobi got back to me, said he’s coming.”

“Would’ve been easier to have done a group message for them.”

Sighing a short but exhausted sounding sigh, Alex agreed, “Maybe.”

“And Sammy’s coming?” George looked over for a split-second to see his flatmate nod his head; a tight smile plastered on his face. “Good.”

Another moment of comfortable calm washed over Alex and Y/N when something in Y/N’s gaze pulled back – became hesitant – and moved down to her hands. She picked up a crumpled deliveroo receipt from off the coffee table and began fidgeting with it. “If you—”

Y/N stopped as her phone lit up; the notification was silent, but the light of the screen was visible through the pocket of her jeans. While pulling it out, she unmuted it to an eruption of DING. DING. DING. There were a lot of missed calls and texts, enough that she had to scroll twice up to see them all.

All Alex could read from his spot on the sofa (without wanting to appear as if he was reading over Y/N’s shoulder) was a text message in all caps reading ANSWER ME.

Thumbs hovered above the phone, not typing nor even moving to unlock to the home screen. Her back straightened, and her posture tensed. Eyes not leaving the screen, she said, “It’s Sam. I need to go.”

“That’s all Sammy? It’s a tad overkill, don’t you think?”

“No, he’s just worried.” Y/N took to her feet. Stepping around the coffee table, she beelined to where she left her shoes near the front door. “I don’t—I should have been checking in.”

Alex stood and followed. “Is he that upset? Genuinely?”

She flicked her hand dismissively before using it to pull on her shoes. Keeping her eyes down. “Of course not. It’s just frustrating when he can’t reach me is all.”

“Still…it’s a bit much.”

“And what? You’ve never been frustrated like that with someone?”

“No,” his projection of the word a startling thundercrack in the otherwise civil conversation.

It had not been confidence, though. Not real confidence. Alex had been scared, and he did not like being scared nor admitting to being scared, but he had been. Frightened because he did not know how to handle the situation. Terrified that he might have been losing himself.

Liking Y/N made him nervous; made him protective. And he could not control it.

Y/N looked to him, and he would have to have been blind to not see the bewilderment that came to her eyes at his change in tone. Alex was just so sick and tired of allowing himself and his concerns to be played off. Always feeling like he was screaming to be heard, but no one cared to listen.

He spoke stern and definite, “No. I’ve never been so agitated with someone that I screamed at them for a near hour. It’s not normal. I’ve certainly, never punched through—”

DING. DING. Before he could finish, Y/N dropped her head to her phone.

Alex sighed, exhausted, and asked, “He’s still going, isn’t he?”

“Like I said,” Y/N looked up, and coming back into the conversation as if nothing happened, reasoned in a gentle – borderline condescending – tone, “he’s worried about me.”

“No, he’s not. If he were worried, wouldn’t he have gone looking for you?”

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“Where else would you have gone, but here? Does he let you have other friends?”

Taking a step from him, Y/N shook her head like she could shake herself awake and out of the situation – like it was a dream. She asked, “Where is this coming from?”

“Am I wrong? Red?” he didn’t mean it to come out overly harsh; it had. Alex’s eyes begged for the slightest amount of understanding.

“I think I should go.” Contradicting the sharpness that came into her words were the tears that sprung to her eyes, building up, daring to fall. Y/N pushed right through Alex (not unlike her previous shoulder-check) towards the front door with a sudden heaviness in her steps.

Fuck. Think of something.

She’s leaving think of something.

Say something.

Anything!

“Are you still coming to the party Saturday?” Not that.

Stopping halfway out the door, Y/N whipped around with annoyance and anger burning in her eyes. “You’re serious? Is that all you care about? Padding your guest list?”

“No,” the whispered words fell graceless from his lips, “I care about you.”

“Don’t.” Y/N looked as if she were a second away from spitting in his face. “It was a mistake coming here. You can’t just say whatever shit you want, whenever you want. I’m sorry if you think I’ve been leading you on, but Sam is my boyfriend, alright? I love him.”

That was it. Alex did not know that would be it. He did not even know he was that close to the fucking edge. But he had been. And that? That was it. He wanted so bad to be a safe space for Y/N and to not start an argument or come off as if he were attacking her, but that was it.

“And does he love you?” Alex asked with a cruel scoff.

“Beg pardon?”

“Did he love you when he gave you that?” He pointed to her forearm – the five circular bruises.

“Fuck you, Alex.” Her lip curled into a snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She left. It was 2:01am.

It lingered in his head – the realization he came to when he was stood in the dark staring at his front door too confused to be shocked and too shocked to process the hurt. He lost; he was a loser. It was not a traditional emotion, but Alex felt it burning within even as he sat on the sofa with George.

Idiot. Since their first meeting, Alex dreamed and needed and worked so hard to be with Y/N, and he lost her. Gambled it all and lost. Useless. Weak. His thoughts took on their own intentions. Beginning to feel foreign as if coming from the outside and no longer sounding like him.

Spiraling. Alex was spiraling. He did not – could not – understand how he could ruin everything life ever offered, bin the good opportunities, and fail all the people important to him.

All at once, an intense feeling bubbled up from deep in his gut, perhaps the most classically masculine feeling he ever felt. Alex wanted to fight. Angry. Pained. He wanted nothing more than to scream out his voice and rid himself of the scorching torrent of blood that rushed through him, cauterizing his veins. Alex wanted to fight for Y/N. But he could not do that, could he? Fight. Not physically, at least.

“I need water.” George got up and moved to the kitchen, not knowing that his interruption of Alex’s internal monologue was like him saving the younger from drowning.

A light blush rushed to his cheeks as Alex pulled his head up. He inhaled deep and released it in a controlled exhale. Embarrassed with himself for falling victim to self-deprecation. It had to stop, and it was getting better. Alex just slipped up. He rerouted his focus to think neutral (as positive was a little out of reach), think solutions, think forward.

Life is not a fiction. Not a page-turning romantic thriller nor bafta-nominated melodrama. He was not a leading man. Y/N was not the Eurydice to his Orpheus. Alex was himself. A regular human – he did not have the liberty of being able to go on an epic quest or save the world to prove himself to her.

He could not win back her comfort in him with a grandiose gesture – even if he wanted to. It had to be words. It had to be realistic actions. Sincere. Genuine. And Alex did not care if it would be difficult or if Y/N was difficult to understand, to please, he would keep trying until she told him to stop.

There was no guarantee Y/N would ever again see him as a safe space. Still, he would do his all because…well because he missed her. Alex had never missed someone like he did Y/N.

He missed her more than he would miss his own heart if it lept from his chest. He missed her like they had spent their entire existence together up until that moment. He missed holding her close – brushing his fingers over her soft skin. He missed that blissful moment where he got to wake up with her there.

Most of all, he missed how stable she made him feel. He was more present with her than he had been all his twenty-odd years. When she was with him, Alex lived a lifetime in each individual second.

Y/N made him feel strong for the first time in a long time. He could not always carry himself, but he would always, always be there to carry her.

A minute later, George returned to the room with a water bottle in both hands; without warning, he chucked one towards the sofa. It struck Alex in the chest and landed in his lap before he doubled over.

“Ow!” he shouted into his knees.

Taking a swig from his bottle, the older sighed and asked, “You alright?”

“No!” Alex popped back up and shouted. “You just hit me with a water bottle, you fucking idiot.”

George dropped his then half-full bottle onto the coffee table and took an extra step toward the sofa but remained standing. Looking down on the younger – something George did not have much experience in – he jabbed his index finger into his flatmate’s temple, pushing his head to the side.

“I meant your head.” He repeated, “You alright?”

“Again, George? We’re doing this again? You’ve never checked up on me this much before. Are you alright, Mr. Authoritarian?” Alex stood up and pushed his chin forward, bringing their faces closer and exaggerating the centimetre or four he had over his flatmate in height.

Shrugging both his shoulder, not flustered in the slightest, George said, “I’ve seen you like this before.”

“Like what?”

“After a break-up, you’re fine and good for a few months, but then you get a crush, and you start doing this to yourself. Fixating and—and fanning all these feelings and hyping yourself up to be disappointed. Now with Red—”

“I don’t want to talk about Red.” Alex snapped and moved to step around the coffee table, uncomfortable with the closeness he created. “For fuck sake, my life doesn’t revolve around the woman.”

“I’m not saying that.” George followed him. “Just that with the health advisements and staying inside, maybe you clung onto the first attractive person you saw in reach. Sammy’s not the type you go for – too muscular or whatever – so it’s Red. You should recognize that it’s not real; it’s nothing to do with her as a person; it’s just your pattern.” His prepared sounding speech came to an end as he placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Disgust glazing over his eyes, Alex dropped his shoulder recoiling from the contact like it might burn him. His voice was not gentle, with the sound of his scowl in each syllable, “You really think I’m that pathetic, huh?”

“In a few days or weeks, it’ll go away, all this, and you will feel like a complete idiot for acting like you are.”

“If you know that it’s not going to last, then why are you being such a prick? Why don’t you let me have a little fun in my,” he raised his hands, putting air quotes on his last word, “delusion?”

“Is that what Red is to you? Entertainment?” George looked disappointed. “That’s not fair—”

“No.” Alex refused, folding his arms. “I was repeating what you were saying.”

It went quiet; a pin could drop, and the sound would reverberate like in an echo chamber. Sweat beaded up on both men’s foreheads. Tensions unfamiliar to their apartment seemed to raise the temperature beyond boiling. Alex hated arguing – hated arguing with George. It was not something that happened almost ever until…Y/N.

In the silence, George closed his eyes, squeezed them shut as he dipped his chin to his chest. He blew out a harsh breath before straightening up and again opening his mouth. “If you do not listen to me. If you do not listen to yourself – that logical bit that isn’t wank material and how to get canceled – you are going to do something you regret. People will get hurt. Sorry I’m such a massive prick, but I know you, Alex. I know you and you’ll be fine; you always are. You’ll laugh off this ridiculous crush like you did when you were done daydreaming about Tom Holland twenty-four-seven those two months straight after Homecoming came out. You’ll be fine, but Sammy and Red might not be. I don’t want you starting a fight you’re not able to finish.”

Despite standing still with firm feet, Alex backed off. He could not keep holding on in the intense staredown, and he looked away. Folded arms dropped. There would be no response from him, not to that.

“You not saying anything proves my point.” George finished though he was not triumphant sounding. He spoke like something was blocking his throat, “You know what you’ve been doing is wrong, and you know I’m right.”

Taglist: (message to join!) @angelbabyivy @eboysimp @trhtshonf @jaythegay92

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #Internet sensation #commentary crew #eboys #memeulous #george memeulous

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exdeotm · 4 years

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kian andrew mathis . beat up playing cards with odd symbols etched in black sharpie against dulled red backs splayed out on cracked & darkened wooden floorboards that smell of moss & sink heart - poundingly low when walked across with too heavy a foot , the slam of a hole - ridden back screen door of a house after a late evening screaming match , just to sit down in the middle of a field full of laundry hanging & the sound of cicadas & crickets harmonizing in the dark blue distance – pounding a fist on the ground under bloodshot eyes , & a body full of tattoos meant to harden the skin underneath that sings relieved songs above rigid - seeming muscles when it’s touched – every once in a blue moon – by love rather than malice .

rumor . his family – his mother , father & younger sister -- ditched town when kian was sixteen because they thought he was possessed & would hurt them .

out of character . aubs , twenty - one , she / her , est , & i would live & die for andy dufresne from shawshank redemption . i watch speed racer ( 2008 ) unironically & it’s one of my favorite films of all time , barbie in the nutcracker is unequivocally the best barbie film & i’ll take that statement with me to my mf grave , & sam giddings & josh washington deserve it all . idk what ‘ it ’ entails but . . . they deserve it .

✷ * ˚ 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 / 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑤 . ˚ *

nickname . ki .

character inspiration . stanley barber ( i am not okay with this ) , billy russo ( the punisher ) , poe dameron ( star wars -- except i would never ruin his character like d*sney & co did so jot that down ) , chris chambers / teddy duchamp lovechild ( stand by me ) , will hunting ( good will hunting ) , & kirby reed ( scream franchise ) .

age . twenty - five .

pronouns . he & him .

orientation . bisexual .

occupation . mechanic at pineview mechanical .

frequents . wheel - a - while roller rink . his family used to frequent the rink . he’s an expert rollerblader who goes to the rink to get lost in the nightlife & music scene . kian’s infamous for picking up dates there & never following through .

tattoos . he has tattoos all over his body -- up & down both arms , a few scattered along his legs , a tree facing upward along the right of his torso , and wings against his shoulder blades .

face claim . jordan fisher .

zodiac . gemini sun , leo moon , & aries rising .

alignment . chaotic neutral .

hogwarts house . ravenclaw .

demeanor . he’s incredibly independent & is angrily forthright whenever he feels like he needs to protect himself . you’ll usually find him smirking from across a room or smiling to himself -- minding his own business & enjoying his own company . he treats every room like he owns the place ; a bit of a jay gatsby meets tom buchanan type , sans the simping . he’s the type to down a drink , give someone a smile , & when they don’t return the sentiment he’s quick to throw the smile away , replace it with a bored expression , & throw the glass over his shoulder so he can get back to what he was doing before someone tried to ruin his mood ( which is always secretly poor to begin with -- he just pretends he’s happy because he doesn’t understand what real happiness that doesn’t rely on acceptance feels like anymore , so he’s gonna have to suffer ig ! LKSMDFL ) .

positive traits . beguiling / charming , indulgent , & quick - witted .

negative traits . trenchant / sharp - edged , irritable , & selfish .

phobias . enclosed spaces & being locked inside rooms , his limbs being tied together ( being cuffed to something , etc ) & being unable to move , not being able to remember things , & feeling like he’s about to be cornered .

drug use . frequently . he has experimented with plenty of things in the past , but secretly only does it because he feels like he remembers things / his childhood better when he’s high .

alcohol use . on occasion & in small increments . he drinks socially , but doesn’t enjoy getting plastered . he hates losing gaps of time & tends to panic in morning - after situations post - blackout .

diet . average but chaotic . he eats as clean as someone with a lack of money & time possibly can . he’s infamous for eating out , getting takeout , stopping at diners for a pick - up meal , flirting with waitresses while he waits , etc . but eating oats in the a.m. & keeping things simple with a salad by noon isn’t too off base for him .

birthplace . radisson , alberta , canada .

has he experienced strange radisson happenings ? absolutely . he considers himself a strange radisson happening , but he’ll get instantly irritable if someone tries to make smalltalk about anything like that -- talking about radisson transparently brings back memories & makes him anxious , which is a mood that turns sour far too quickly & seamlessly in kian’s book .

family .

andrew & deanna “ dee ” mathis : kian’s mother & father . they were kind , but religious to the point where it became a fault & paranoid people who attempted to keep kian extremely sheltered growing up . when kian began acting up in school , getting in fights , getting into it with his parents & inciting household scuffles , his parents began to fear for their son . things only grew worse when kian contracted appendicitis when he was sixteen & grew pale & sickly with the same attitude , but wasn’t audibly in pain . he can’t remember much that happened at home during his childhood / early teen years , but he knows he has the scars to prove that he eventually had surgery to remove his appendix . the most he can recall is being in bed a lot , being angry often , being spiteful & fiery whenever he could squeeze the sentiment in , not wanting to go to church , getting his first tattoo when he was fifteen & making sure it was visible just to spite his parents , etc . kian ran away from home after a large family fight that ended in what he remembers as a scuffle where his father pinned him on the floor & screamed for him to calm down while he urged his wife to take kian’s sister & wait in the car . funnily enough , kian recalls , during this memory , feeling completely calm & content beneath his father . the warring dichotomy between what he remembers feeling & how he remembers his father reacting haunts him to this day . when they left , kian was able to emancipate himself & prove that he was able to take care of himself instead of being forced into a foster home .

younger sibling whomst i might add a wanted connection for so i won’t name them : kian’s younger sibling probably was closer to kian than their parents were , but they ended up leaving town initially with their parents -- either by force or willfully , he never found out . kian being kian , though , attributed it all to his family ditching him without a second thought & hasn’t taken a moment to actively miss them since .

education . went to public school his entire life & left alberta about seven years ago to go to study theology for two years , only to wind up back in radisson , where he studied auto mechanics through a trades program & now works on cars for a living .

languages . english , asl , & spanish .

#outside.intro #✷ * ˚ 𝒌𝒊𝒂𝒏 . ˚ * ⤷ interior : mindfulness.#once more. big mouth is on the loose. anyway i love u all i'm abt to catch some zzzs mwah x #i'm a clown who also forgot to add an ooc section in the intro NLDFNLDNFSLDJNFL trash!

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sinfullystanning · 5 years

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V is for Voler Part 1: An American in Paris

Bucky Barnes x Darcy Lewis (Wintershock)

A/N: Welcome to the new, UPDATED, version of Part 1 or “V is for Voler.” IF you were here before, some things, but not many, have changed. The biggest change is that I’ve decided to change the fic from a Bucky x OC to a Wintershock fic. I recently discovered Wintershock and after some careful consideration and help from the lovely, @cchellacat I decided to take the fic back to the drawing board and turn it into a Wintershock fic as I could easily see Darcy as the character of V. While at the moment, V is still V, she will be revealed to be Darcy in the future. Thank you for all the support as I transitioned this fic and please continue to support the fic.

Bucky hated traveling. He’d seen the world many a time through the vacant eyes of the soldier that Hydra had created and that had been enough. He was content to stay in New York City for the rest of his life, the city was constantly changing anyway. Unfortunately, his job had other plans. Sure, being an Avenger came with a steady job that made use of his many skillsets, but it also came with zero control of where he’d be on any given day of the week. Add on the fact that thanks to his Winter Soldier days he now spoke over thirty different languages, and the UN was tossing him back and forth across the globe almost constantly.

Tonight he was in Paris, trapped in a constricting tuxedo and a room of foreign dignitaries he’d never met. He was supposed to be observing, and if anyone asked? He was the estranged nephew of some Russian dignitary he supposedly resembled who couldn’t attend due to illness. Somewhere about an hour ago, someone had discretely passed him an envelope. What was in it? None of his business according to the sharp-spoken man who had briefed him prior to the mission. Bucky was disgusted. He hadn’t joined the Avengers to be someone old crone’s glorified carrier pigeon.

Needing a change of scenery, Bucky wove his way through the crowd of black-tie individuals speaking in the silky smooth native tongue that slid over his ears as he combed through the conversations while he made his way to an open French door at the far side of the room. He stepped out onto a small balcony, clearly designed for clandestine midnight forays away from the prying eyes of partygoers. Alone, however, it was comfortably cozy and Bucky unbuttoned his jacket for the first time all night, leaning his forearms on the cool stone railing, gazing across the twinkling city lights leading to the iconic pinnacle of the city, glowing against the inky black sky.

Suddenly a clatter broke the silence and Bucky jerked around to see a sniper rifle laying on the ground beside him that had been previously unoccupied. He couldn’t help his curiosity as he squatted down to observe the weapon and was impressed by the workmanship of the clearly custom-made gun. As a sniper himself, he felt subconsciously jealous of the mysterious owner. Just as his brain caught up with his eyes and he realized that the owner must be nearby, he heard the click of the safety of a gun. A gun that was most definitely pointed at his head. It wasn’t like him to let his guard down like that. But then again, it wasn’t every day that a man’s dream weapon quite literally fell from the sky.

“I think you dropped something.” He said cooly, ears pricked to find out exactly where his invisible assailant was.

“Then why don’t you be a good boy and give it back. I’m sure your mother taught you not to touch other people’s toys.” The voice that answered made him start. It was distinctly feminine and he turned his head a barely perceptible fraction of an inch to see a pair of red heels come into view. If Steve and Sam could see him now, first distracted by a gun and now practically pinned to the ground by a classic femme fatale. His mind drew an image of his assailant as he answered,

“I’m going to need to be able to stand up to do that, Doll.” He heard her snort as the cold metal of the previously-invisible gun pressed against his temple.

“So stand up.” Her voice amused yet ice cold. He reached down, wrapping a hand around the barrel of the rifle, as she spoke again. “Try anything funny and I’ll blow your brains out.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Bucky tossed back teasingly as he slowly stood to his feet, the gun at his temple backing up, but clearly still pointed at him by the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. “I’m going to turn around, now.” He announced so she wouldn’t accidentally blow a hole in his head before slowly turning to face the mystery woman.

She was the definition of your mind deceiving you. Where his mind had pictured a tall, willowy woman straight out of a Bond film, she was short, almost laughably so for the femme fatale vibe she was clearly trying to exude. The red heels he’d glimpsed earlier added a few inches, but he still towered over her. Without them, she’d probably be a foot shorter than him. Angry blue inquisitive eyes hacked away at the ice of his own. The blood-red dress she wore hugged her body in all the right places and a tastefully placed slit up one side teased a glimpse at the thigh holster that was home to the gun that he was currently looking in the eye.

“Rifle.” She said through bright red lips that commanded attention that he was more than glad to give them. Ruefully, he extended the arm holding the beauty, and she jerked her head, motioning for him to lean it against the railing. He stepped closer as he did so, bending down to set the gun down, meeting her eyes as he straightened up again.

“Beautiful rifle.” He said, gesturing to the gun with his eyes. “More beautiful girl.” He added, eyes dancing with mischief as she didn’t even flinch at the flirtation. Instead, she rolled her eyes, returning the gun she was holding to the thigh holster, Bucky’s eyes drawn to the sliver of thigh that flashed by in the process. She turned away from him, attention clearly now on the larger weapon, inspecting it for damage or tampering before she squatted down, setting the rifle on the stone, eye at the scope, clearly looking for something or, more likely, someone.

Bucky leaned against the glass window, watching silently, assessing every small movement she was making until she finally turned to him, face finally showing early signs of irritation. “Get lost.” She snapped, eyes threatening to incinerate him on the spot.

“What’s the problem, Doll, I’m just watching.” He pushed his hands into his pockets, nonchalantly as he watched her brows twitch with frustration before she straightened, placing a hand on a device on her wrist resembling a smartwatch, she swiped across the screen several times before turning back to the scope of the rifle. Before Bucky could ask any questions, she pulled the trigger three times. Clean straight shots, three identical flexes of fingers crowned with perfectly manicured red nails. The loud music inside must have drowned out the sound since he didn’t hear any reactions to the gunshots coming from the balcony. She stood up, clicking the safety back on, swinging the strap of the rifle across her chest so the gun lay across her back.

Before she could do anything else, however, the door to the balcony swung open and a clearly drunken couple, absorbed in each other stumbled out into the night air. Bucky moved fast, grabbing her hand, and swinging her around, pinning her against the window, rifle hidden behind you as he pressed against her, doing his best to resemble a convincing couple. As the other couple broke apart, the woman noticed them and muttering something to her partner, headed back inside. The moment the door swung shut behind them, firm hands shoved his chest hard and he stumbled backward as the woman glared at him, clearly furious.

“What the hell was that?” She snapped, her voice trembling with rage.

“What, no thank you, Doll?” Bucky drawled back. The next moment his neck snapped suddenly as fire exploded on his cheek. She’d hit him. She’d HIT him. He reached out, grabbing her wrist as she drew her hand back, face red with rage as she struggled to free herself from his grip. “Listen, darling, I’ve been all over the world, and I’ve never been anywhere where a slap means thank you for saving my life, so what the hell was that for?” Bucky growled at her.

“Thank you for saving my life? That’s what you call what just happened?” She scoffed. “I can save myself just fine, thank you.”

“How? You just going to put a bullet in their heads?” It was Bucky’s turn to scoff. She glared at him, free hand going to her thigh but Bucky was faster, flipping their positions and pressing her back against the stone railing, metal hand gripping the wrist that had been holding the gun, as the sudden movement causing her to lose her grip and the weapon fell, clattering onto the roof of a smaller building below. “I think that’s enough shooting for one night, don’t you think?” She spat in his face and he swore, backing up, metal hand releasing her right one, to wipe at his face and she brought her legs up to kick him in the stomach, using the rail as leverage, freeing her other hand as Bucky stumbled backward from the unexpected blow. Then, she backflipped over the railing falling off the balcony.

Bucky caught his breath and raced to the edge just in time to see her disappear off the edge of the roof below where her gun had fallen before, into the darkness of the night. As he shoved a frustrated hand through his hair, he knew one thing for sure. He was looking forward to staying in Paris because now he had a new mission. He needed to see her again.

Taglist:

@gamorarogers @callie-bear15 @spacemansam @vulgarvalyrian @cchellacat

#wintershock #bucky barnes x darcy lewis #bucky x darcy #darcy lewis #bucky barnes #bucky #darcy #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #v is for voler #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction

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lemonsandstrawberries · 6 years

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The One Chance

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), post MCU Avengers Infinity War

warning: THIS CONTAINS MCU Infinity War spoilers, read at your own risk! also, it is totally self-indulgent and from a Stony shipper point of view, but I needed to write it.

summary: Once Tony got back from Titan, he and Steve have to resume their positions as team leaders and work things out, without private distractions.

length: 1 254 words

a/n: sooo Infinity War, right? Such a good movie. dunno what will happen in Avengers 4, but I have high hopes for Steve and Tony finally meeting.

—————

The One Chance

"Why haven't you called me?"

Tony kept stubbornly looking at the holographic map of the nine realms he had managed to quickly whip out thanks to Friday's help and Thor's guidelines. His eyes kept coming back to Titan, the planet where everything started. Where…

"He probably went back," Tony said in a steady voice, pointing to the holographic image of the sphere. "He already got what he wanted, I don't think he is interested in more. The planet was dead, but thanks to the stones he can restore it, we need to get there and---"

"TONY!"

His ramble was cut off when two strong hands were placed on his shoulders and forcefully turned him around. He could feel Steve's hot breath on his face and he stubbornly refused to look at him.

"Why haven't you called me?"

Ah, again. Of course, this was what kept going through Steve's head the whole time. Tony tensed, his throat clenching and chest heaving with something hot and ugly. The feelings he tried to suppress in the last two years were trying to get out. He was hoping that he could just bunch them inside of him, push deep into his mind and never again acknowledge. They started to rise up to the surface, bubbling with hot anger and desperation, until there was nothing else left.

"And why I should have called you?" Tony gritted out in a trembling voice, his chest heaving with every breath. It wasn't that he didn't need Steve. He needed him. Desperately so. He needed him every day, needed to hear his voice, to see his smile, to taste his lips. He needed him so much, that every day without him, he was in pain. Every day the scar on his chest hurt, remembering the impact, the sound of bones cracking, the taste of blood in his mouth. The anger and stubbornness in blue eyes.

"I shouldn't have to call you, because you were supposed to be here!" Tony couldn't stand this anymore and yelled, losing all composure he tried to maintain. He shook Steve's hands off himself and jabbed a finger repeatedly into the middle of the broad chest, in the place where once was a bright, white star. "You all were supposed to be here! Not scattered over the world!" he continued to yell, hating how empty and quiet the compound became.

Steve let Tony scream, tensing with every jab on his chest and squaring his shoulders as if getting ready for a fight. "You think it was easy for me, Tony?!" he yelled back, voice coming out rough and sharp on the edges. Watching Sam miss his family and not being able to contact them, Wanda closing in herself and Natasha opening her mouth, trying to ask when he planned on calling Tony, but never doing so, silenced by Steve's single look. He hated wandering around from place to place, never staying too long in the same spot, not risking losing what was left of his family. The family he helped to break apart.

"I wanted to go back! I really did! But---" Steve's voice dropped. He tried to make things right between them. He had reached his hand out to Tony. He hoped he could fix this, that they both could understand each other and work together again. He wanted to come back. "But… But you didn't call me!" that simple. One call and Steve would come back running. One call. One call that never came.

"News flash! Phones work both ways, Rogers!" Tony spat out unmercifully. He also waited, losing hope with each passing day. He wished he could stay angry, but when Steve looked at him, he saw only pain in the blue eyes. None of the stubbornness from before.

"Is this how you will call me now?" Steve asked quietly and Tony's breath stopped. Baby. Honey. Sweetheart. It seemed almost surreal that once he called Steve like that on daily basis. Every morning they woke up together and every evening they fell to sleep in each other's arms.

"Tony…"

Tony winced, feeling a warm hand wrapping around his, holding it in a delicate hold and splaying over the spot where the star used to be. As if trying to tell him something. He focused his eyes there for the time being, looking at what once was the symbol of Captain America.

"When… When Bruce called me," Steve started, needing to get this off his chest, "I saw the number, and really hoped it was you. And then in the news they said that you vanished and I thought I lost you forever---"

"Because you did lose me," Tony interrupted, his voice not showing any emotions, despite the twisting pain in his heart.

"No," Steve denied, shaking his head, "no, no, no," he kept repeating and the true desperation in his voice made Tony look up. "I didn't lose you, I left you, it's different---"

"It is worse," Tony cut in, his voice quiet and distant. Steve had walked away willingly. Tony still remembered snow marked with red blood in the place where he saw Steve for the last time. That's all that he had left from the shared years. An aching scar and memories of red blood on white snow, looking equally beautiful and frightening. Nothing else.

Steve didn't answer. He lowered his head down, smothered by the weight of so many feelings.

"Tony…"

No.

"Tony, I am---"

No. Not yet. It wasn't the time for that.

"Fourteen million six hundred five."

"What?" Steve lifted his head up, confused by the words.

"Fourteen million six hundred five. This is how many times we lost. And this is our only chance to win," Tony said, pulling his hand back and walking to the holographic screen, turning away from Steve. He didn't have time for this. He didn't have time for his own feelings, while he had people he had to get back. When he had a half of the universe to restore and the other half to keep safe.

'Tony. There was no other way.'

'I don't wanna go. Mr Stark, please, I don't wanna go.'

This. This was the place from where he had to take strength from. He looked at his left hand, the same Steve had held a minute ago, but all he was seeing were dark speckles on his skin. He didn't feel the warm embrace, but the trembling back under his palm. 'You are fine.' He hated that he lied.

"Once this will be fixed," Tony swallowed, tightening his fist, his voice getting stronger, "we will talk. About everything," he added, not elaborating.

"Okay," Steve agreed reluctantly, trying to mask his disappointment. Maybe it really wasn't the time. The half of their team waited for orders. And they had the other half to bring back. And once it all be fixed, Steve would stay. In his home, with his family. Enough of vagabonding.

"By the way, you look like a badger. With that beard and a weird shield."

"What?" Steve asked, lips curling into a smile at the comment. Tony didn't repeat, already working on the map, drawing glowing lines and putting numbers in the spaces between. Yet, the small smile that didn't belong in the current situation didn't leave Steve's lips.

Somehow, it already felt like being home.

#infinity war spoilers #spoiler #stony #steve x tony #superhusbands #tony stark #steve rogers #fanfic #fanfiction #no tickling

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