#and i like to think Sam's eyes are naturally brown and turned purple after the ritual

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 3

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: After a thorough interrogation from Abby, you and Sebastian get to know each other better.

Author’s Note: n/a

Table of Contents + Work Summary

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The four of us grab some drinks and a pizza to share, and proceed to the back room, where there’s a few games to play. Abby and I plop down on a couch each in the back corner while Sam and Sebastian play pool. Seb is kicking Sam’s ass. I wonder how I’d hold up against them?

“If I could give the cue ball a bit of a top spin, maybe I could… ” the poor guy mutters to himself. At least he’s trying his best.

“So, are you up for a game of 20 questions while those weirdos do their thing?”

“The word guessing one, or the truth-or-dare-but-without-the-dare one?”

“Uhh, the second.”

“What is this, Tinder?”

She snorts, “Are you in or not?”

I shrug, chug a few swigs of my beer, and get cozy.

“You first, then.”

She thinks for a moment.

I go for another sip while I wait, when suddenly she blurts out, “What’s your type?” 

I nearly choke, holding back a laugh. “God, this really does feel like Tinder, I dunno. I haven’t been with that many people.” 

“Welllll, what do you look for in a person then?” 

“Nothing in particular.”

“Not even a little bit of a preference?”

“Nope.”

“What do the people you’ve been with look like then?”

She’s very intense. It’s a little uncomfortable — no, very uncomfortable. But now that my lightweight ass has had the whole 2 drops of alcohol that it takes for me to feel bolder, I might as well have fun with it.

Giving her a diabolical grin, I ask, “Are you hitting on me, Abigail?” 

This brings Seb and Sam’s attention to us. They continue playing, but I can feel their eyes boring into us. Abby’s cheeks turn beet red and she laughs, shoving down some more beer. She doesn’t answer, so I’m unsure if she’s actually been called out, or if she’s just embarrassed by my question. 

Based on our subpar interaction involving Sebastian earlier, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to figure out if I’d be into him. It’s more fun to assume differently, though.

I think briefly, trying to remember something that everyone I’ve dated – or, you know, canoodled with – had in common.

“They were all taller than me.” Not like that’s hard to do. “Does that work?”

All three of them nod. Abby shrugs and mutters a grumpy “I suppose” with a mouthful of pizza, while the guys resume concentration on their own game.

“Alright, you’re up,” she urges, popping some emphasis onto the “p” sound.

I nod towards her hair. 

“Why purple?”

“What’s wrong with purple?” A fair response.

“Nothing, it looks pretty! I’m just curious.”

Abby explains something about amethysts, hair dye, and ~magic~. I don’t entirely understand, but I do my best to follow along. 

Basically, she dyed it purple in high school, because amethysts are her favorite mineral. She described them as delicious, and I genuinely cannot tell if she’s just the type that uses that word casually, or if she just… eats rocks. 

After dying it in what Abby thought was a simple act of self-care combined with teenage rebellion, her hair remained purple. Like, the roots literally just never grew back in with the natural light brown she was apparently born with. 

It sounds like a load of bullshit, but for some reason, I believe her. Something does seem magical about this place.

“You know,” I say following her story, “The first thing that came to mind when I first saw you outside was that your hair reminds me of amethysts.”

“Oh!” She’s completely gleaming. “That’s really cool actually. Thanks!” We had a rough start, had me sweatin’ for sure, so hopefully that got me some brownie points. I just want friends, man. “I have more questions for you, lady.” 

__________________

Once a few more beers are in all of us and Sam has had enough losses for the night, Abby finally eases up on the interrogation (who in the western world asks a stranger for their blood type?!) and summons Sam to dance with her by the jukebox across the bar. 

By “summon,” I mean she pulls Sam up from his seat on the cushion next to me, and starts preemptively dancing in an attempt to convince him. It doesn’t take much effort — Sam said a second ago that he just wants to chill, but the smile and light shimmying of his shoulders says otherwise.

Abby seems to know better than to try and make Sebastian dance, and after I profusely decline, she leaves me alone too. She calls me boring, but I shrug and accept the defeat, as she takes Sam’s hand and leads him to the source of the music.

I look around, people-watching a bit. There’s a gorgeous redheaded girl at the opposite corner of the place, eyeballing me while talking to a man with the absolute most luscious strawberry-blonde hair I’ve ever seen. I smile, and so does she — then her friend turns and grins too, and I return it with a wave. He seems gentlemanly, and the girl’s the outdoorsy type if I had to guess. I love it. I gotta meet them properly, but definitely not tonight. I’d make a fool out of myself.

I look over at Sebastian. He seems to be doing the same thing as me — just sorta people-watching — so I won’t bug him. I do want to get to know him, being that I’m practically obsessed with him for some fucking reason lord help me, but I’d rather save that stuff for when he’s ready. If he ever is. There’s always the possibility that we simply never hang out again after this.

As if he read my mind, Sebastian gets up and strolls over to the couch that I’m thoroughly draped across, investigating me with curious eyes the whole way over. Can’t help but get a little flustered under his gaze like that…

I scoot over a bit to make room, but in my drunken state, I accidentally let my whole upper body flop onto his arm. He doesn’t move away. Right when I’m wondering if I should give him some space, he almost seems to lean into the contact. Fine by me, handsome.

“Out of all the places y’could live,” he slurs a bit, “you chose Pelican Town?”

I look at his face ready to answer, but as I realize our proximity I can feel my cheeks burning. His own cheeks are pretty rosy from the alcohol, and it’s a cute look on him. 

I have the urge to cup his face with my hand and kiss his stupid pink cheeks, but I resist. 

Sober me will thank me for that. 

I move over a bit. Now that there’s adequate room between us, I can answer him without getting my panties in a twist.

“I had no direction in life, a miserable desk job, and no friends to keep me grounded,” I say in one long exhale.

He looks confused. Before I can inquire why, he asks, “Didn’t you come from the city?” I nod. “There’s tons of jobs and people there. Why waste that here?”

“I’m too anxious to have just changed my shit around while I was there,” I can feel my voice lowering, as I pour my heart out to a practical stranger. This is terrible — I’m sober enough to know what’s going on, but drunk enough that I can’t hold back. Gotta ease up next time I’m here. “And people are frickin’ scary. I’ve just gotten kinda good at pretending I don’t think so when I’m around them, I guess… I could only pretend for so long, you know?” 

Seb’s eyes linger on me, and he nods slowly, probably knowing how I feel if Robin’s spiel on him was any indication. I inhale the last of my beer. I chase it with some water, offering him some from my glass, which he accepts.

“I was only coming here in the first place with the intent to,” I pause and wave a hand in the direction of Lewis, who’s sitting at a table with Marnie on the other side of the saloon — “Fulfill the duty Mayor Lewis bestowed upon me. Usually I can’t stand crowded places like this.” 

“Oh yeah? What happened to that?”

“You guys did,” I laugh.

He chuckles with a lazy, smug grin plastered on his face. 

I reposition myself to face him. I prop up my crossed arms onto my left side, where the back cushion of the sofa starts to sink down, and I lean my chin on my forearms. My knees are tucked to my chest, but I have bike shorts on under my skirt, so I'm not exactly in a scandalous position. 

From here, I do a little more inspecting. I found it surprising that Sebastian willingly talked to me, given his introvertedness and generally cold demeanor, but even more so when he came and sat next to me. What’s up with this guy?

I stare a little too long again, and he notices. Oh no, my sappy drunk is kicking in! Before I can yield, I word-vomit, “Y’know, you’re really cool.” 

For fuck’s sake, lady!

A dark blush dusts my face and my eyes widen as I look down at the couch – why the fuck would I say that after he caught me trying to scope him out again? I look back up, in an attempt to assess the situation.

His neatly groomed eyebrows are furrowed, and his mouth’s barely ajar, but curving into a smirk nonetheless. I feel the blush spreading to my ears, rather than dissipating, because of course! So I shove my face into my arms.

“What makes you say that?” Sebastian asks after a moment. I can hear a smile lingering in his voice.

I just shrug and answer with a muffled “Fuck, I dunno,” hoping he’ll hear. I know I’ll say something stupid about how nice, and hot, and whatever I think he is if I look up or open my big mouth again. 

“Well,” he continues, which I assume means he saw the shrug, “you’re pretty neat too, I guess. For a farmer.”

I giggle, with another muffled “Fuck.” He can’t see it, but I’m smiling like an absolute madlad right now.

I peer up after a bit, still refusing to look at the gorgeous man sitting next to me, and see Sam and Abby watching us as they dance. Sam looks intrigued, but happy, as he often seems to.

Abby seems… annoyed? Angry? I can’t put my finger on it. I wonder why she’s grilling the shit out of me, until I realize how close Seb and I have drifted to each other — ah, that’s why.  I look up at him, and he’s watching Abby menacingly stare at me. He looks tense .

I’m about to ask if he’s alright, but he stands up. Seb offers me a hand – I’m assuming he either knows I’m worried, or he knows there’s a possibility of me struggling to get up on my own right now if I tried. Or maybe he’s just sweet and feelin’ handsy.

“Let’s ditch ‘em for a bit. I need air.”

As we stumble out, I lock eyes with Robin, who’s dancing with, I’m assuming, Demetrius. She gives me a wave as she’s spun around, I toss up a peace sign in return. Her eyes widen when she sees that I’m leaving with her son, and she waggles her eyebrows at me. I try to ignore her in the most polite possible way, by ducking my head as I exit. 

The moment we step outside, Sebastian leans on the wall, lets out a huge, sexy mmmmm, breathy groan he seemed to be holding in, and promptly begins to smoke. 

“You alright?” I quietly inquire, stopping mid-sentence to swallow a hiccup.

“I’d rather not get into it.”

“You got it, sir,” I salute him and lean against (or, more likely, fall into) the wall as well.

It’s still drizzling, but not pouring like earlier, and it’s just a tad windy. This is nice. I love the rain, when I don’t have to be moving around so much underneath it. I slide down the wall to sit on the wet ground, and to my surprise, Seb joins me.

I ask him for a smoke. He asks if I smoke. I say no. He lightly scolds me for even thinking to do that to myself. I scold him for doing it too, although I make sure to boldly emphasize how edgy and cool he looks doing it. He rolls his eyes and lets me take a puff of his cigarette, which I promptly give back, having taken too big of a hit for my poor virgin lungs.

Once my coughing fit dies down, we have a few minutes of comfortable silence. In the midst of it, I’m overcome with sleepiness. Our silly, brief conversations are revved up again, saving me from dozing off. Lotta friendly banter, while also getting to know each other:

Seb’s naturally a ginger, like Robin, who I just learned was in her late teen years when she had him. Similarly to Abigail, his hair stopped coming in his natural color at some point. 

He got homeschooled until Sam moved here. They became friends on the playground one day, and that same day they both managed to convince Robin to let Seb go to Sam’s public school out of town.

He was bullied by most people there — called homophobic slurs because he wore eyeliner and nail polish, shoved around in the hallway, had his clean clothes stolen after gym class once, all that fun stuff. God, teenagers suck.

I share some of my story too. Nothing special, pretty similar to his in some ways. Got bullied a lot, not because I “looked gay,” but because I just looked like a stereotypical nerd.

I moved around a bit, had a hard time fitting in partially because of that and partially due to a constant ongoing identity crisis that only started to dwindle down, like, when I was free from corporate Ferngill. So, this week.

I had dyed my hair a few times here and there, but unlike my new neighbors, it grew back naturally. We unanimously declare that it’s gotta be something in the water here, fucking with people’s biological makeup.

Once I feel sober enough to walk, I begin my farewell of sorts. “I gotta get going, I’m wiped.”

Sebastian nods in response. I’m about to leave, but I stop myself, turning back to him.

“This was a lot of fun. Tell Sam I said thanks for roping me into it. And,” I shoot him some corny ass finger guns, “thank you for dealin’ with me.”

He shoots me a genuine, sleepy-eyed smile, “You got it, (y/n).”

Hearing Seb say my name for the first time gives me chills. He sure is having an affect on me, but I can’t pinpoint why. Maybe it’s just because he looks really good, and I’m still very tipsy, and it’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid.

It’s gotta be that. Like, totally is.

“Get home safe,” he adds, stomping out his cigarette and heading back inside.

“You too, emo boy.”

#stardew sebastian #sebastian stardew #sebastian x reader #sebastian #sebastian headcanons #stardew valley #stardew #sve #sdv #sebsatian sdv #sdv wizard #stardew wizard #magnus rasmodius #sve magnus #magnus rasmodius x reader #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x reader #wizard x reader #sdv wizard x reader

[hopeless-astronaut]

Dannymay 2021 - Candlelight

"I'll get you back Danny. No matter what."

Danny got his ghost powers a little differently this time.

#danny phantom #sam manson #dp #phanart #dannymay 2021 #my art #ooh I'm very happy with this #and i like to think Sam's eyes are naturally brown and turned purple after the ritual #she told everyone that it was because she got new contacts and everyone just went Oh weird goth girl being weird nothing going on here #if you're a nerd who's about to say something like BuT thATs Not WHaT tHE BoOK oF tHe DamNEd DoEs #please remain calm as i pour this shut the fuck up juice down your throat 🙃 #and personally i like the first version better but my friend liked the second so i just put both

[melwilson]

neighbors | b.b

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

rating: fluff, kinda angsty tho

a/n: this gif was made by the wonderful @buckysbarnes thank you for allowing me to use your work, luv.

Not that you’ve been counting, but it’s been exactly four weeks and two days since you’ve seen your handsome neighbor. Four weeks and two days where the sun didn’t seem to shine as bright and the roses on your kitchen table didn’t smell as good.

Bucky Barnes had simply disappeared without a word as to where he was going. You didn’t think much of it at first. It wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to hibernate in his apartment for a few days at a time, but then those few days turned into a week. And so, with the key he had given you, you unlocked the door to his apartment to find it empty. A small layer of dust had settled on the kitchen counter and the blankets that usually inhabited the floor were folded and left neatly on the couch. You assumed that Bucky wouldn’t be gone for too long, considering he was a homebody, but boy were you wrong.

He hadn’t answered a single phone call or text and after two weeks, you just stopped trying. Some would say you were worried, but you opted for anxious and confused. You weren’t Bucky’s babysitter, but you were his friend and you cared for him. You knew who Bucky was and what he did for a living from the moment you laid eyes on him. So naturally, you just wanted to make sure he was okay.

And that leads to now.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard of your laptop. You had...something due. Something important. Something for work.

A report.

You had a report due at the end of the day, but your mind was focused on something else. Someone else. You let out a frustrated groan, shutting the laptop closed.

He’s probably in Europe with Sam.

I don’t blame him. Europe is so much cooler than New York.

He couldn’t have invited me though?

The thought of Bucky had completely and utterly consumed you. Maybe it was those eyes that were bluer than the Mediterranean or the warmth he brought to the small apartment. Or it could have been that for once you had an actual friend. Someone who listened and made you feel wanted. Bucky Barnes was all you wanted and all you needed. But he was gone and apparently, had no intent on returning to New York soon.

You’re pathetic, Y/n. Get it together.

You rolled your shoulders back before deciding that a trip to the market would help ease your mind. And you were right. It was a beautiful and unusually warm day in downtown Brooklyn. You shuffled through the mass of people; men, women, and children who desired to enjoy the weather. The brief sound of laughing children filled your ears causing a small smile to turn your cheeks. You had always wanted a few of your own- a couple of boys and a little girl. Your family was extremely close. You were the oldest of four. Family was something you valued more than anything.

“I didn’t know you liked plums, Y/n.”

You glanced up at Douglas Simmons or Doug as he told many to call him. He had been running the produce stand since you were a kid. He knew what you came for before you got their each weekend and would always have it ready for you. “I- yeah,” you paused. “It’s new. A friend urged me to try them. They’re actually more for him than for me.”

“Him?” the fair man asked, eyebrows perking up.

You rolled your eyes, a small laugh covering up the heat crawling up your neck. “Yes. Him. Why? You worried about someone stealing me away?”

He scoffed grabbing the package of fresh strawberries for you. “I was actually hoping so. It’s about time you find someone and settle down.”

“I’m twenty-five, Doug. I’ve got time. Plus, he’s...we’re complicated.”

The older man handed you your bag with a small smile. “Complicated or running from each other?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, the cracked concrete beneath you, seemingly more interesting. He had always been too wise for his own good. Doug was someone you confided in a lot during your teenage years. He was easy to talk to and a great listener. He also had an uncanny ability to tell you what you needed to hear when you needed to hear it. “I’ll see you next weekend, Doug. Thanks for this.”

“Anytime, Y/n.” There was a hint of pity laced in his warm, brown eyes and you hated it. You hated how people looked at you when you talked about finding someone else. The way they would all say they were proud of you and how far you’d come since the accident.

Swallowing thickly, your eyes landed on the flower stand a few feet away. A bouquet of blue, white, and purple hydrangeas caused a smile to tug at your cheeks. He used to buy you hydrangeas. A fresh bouquet in front of your apartment door each month. You hadn’t worked up enough courage to buy anymore. Passing them, you waved to the owner of the stand before making your way back home. Doug’s words rang heavy in your mind. Complicated or running from each other. It would be three years to date in a week. Maybe it was time.

Bucky was nervous. He hadn’t seen you in over a month, not to mention not answering your phone calls or texts. He felt awful. He had called you earlier today, but you hadn’t answered, your phone going immediately to voicemail. He could imagine the disappointment that would be laced in your eyes. You were never mad at him. You were never mad at anyone, just disappointed. You could always see the good in people and would never fail to show them their worth. It was one of the things Bucky loved about you. Ignoring the pounding in his chest, he knocked three times on your apartment door. A few moments later, he heard a soft shuffling before his eyes met yours. Your eyes lit up though Bucky could tell something was wrong. Your usually bright eyes were rimmed red and brimmed with tears.

“Bucky, hey.” Your voice was soft, yet scratchy like you hadn’t spoken in awhile. “Come in.”

The taller man stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the warmth your presence brought. “Um, I got these for you.” He held out a bouquet of hydrangeas, the same ones you had a seen a week prior.

You let out a quiet gasp taking the flowers from his hand. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“I was hoping you would like them,” Bucky said nervously, “I wasn’t sure what flowers you liked. I got those because they reminded me of you.”

You sent him a small smile as you went around to the kitchen to grab a vase. The sound of tap water filled the silence between you. You could feel Bucky’s lingering stare, and though you didn’t mind, it made you nervous.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I-“

“You don’t have to explain, Buck,” you muttered. “I understand. I’m just glad you’re here. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” his voice was soft as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. His jacket was long forgotten, arms crossed over his chest, bottom lip tugged between his teeth. “How are you?”

You shrugged grabbing two glasses from the cabinet next to the microwave. “You want something to drink?”

“Y/n.” Bucky’s voice was stern.

You glanced over at him. “Bucky.” There was a look in your eyes that told him you didn’t want to talk about it.

There was a beat of silence. Bucky wanted to question you further, but he didn’t want to ruin what he had with you. “Water...with ice, please.” His blue eyes followed your frame as you shifted around the kitchen. Your body was stiff and rigid, a few sniffles filling the silence. Bucky noticed the way you ducked your head away from his as you handed him his water. As you attempted to slide past him, he gently wrapped his hand around your forearm. A shaky breath fell from your lips as your gaze stayed fixed on the floor beneath you. “Y/n, talk to me, doll. Please. I don’t like seeing you like this. And don’t tell me you’re okay because I know that you’re not.”

When you met his gaze, the tears started to fall faster. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

The break in your voice made Bucky’s heart ache. “Like what, doll?”

“Like you pity me. I don’t- I don’t want your pity.” You shook yourself from Bucky’s grasp, your knees buckling. Before you could meet the ground, Bucky’s hands found themselves weaved around your waist. He eased you to the ground, your sobs breaking his heart piece by piece. He had lived next door to you for nearly a year and had never seen you like this. He had never seen you so vulnerable. So broken. You always carried yourself with such poise and grace, it was hard to believe that anything was able to break and crack you at the seams. But here you were, falling apart in Bucky’s arms proving that you were just as broken and human as he was.

Bucky, feeling the way your body racked with sobs, said, “You gotta breathe for me, darling.” He waited a few moments and after showing no improvement, he took one of your hands and placed it on his chest. His metal hand came to cup your cheek wiping away the tears that fell rapidly and bringing a coolness to your face. “Y/n, you gotta breathe.” Bucky took in deep breath and motioned for you to do the same. It took a few hiccups, but you soon followed after him. With every deep breath he took, you would do the same. Once your breathing was slowed and your tears weren’t falling as fast, you allowed your head to rest on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. You gently pulled away from Bucky’s grasp so that you were sitting next to him knees pulled to your chest. You were beyond embarrassed. You hated crying in front of people. It made you feel weak, but more than that you were always the person to offer their shoulder. It didn’t feel right for it to be the other way around.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, doll.” Bucky’s voice was soft. Warm even. He watched as you fidgeted in your spot, your brain racking with what to say.

“I, um, this is the anniversary of my ex’s death.” Bucky swallowed, his hand reaching out to grab yours in a reassuring squeeze. You sent a weak squeeze back, bringing your intertwined hands to rest on your knee. “He was in the army. We started dating a couple months before he went to basic. We did long distance during basic. After, he was stationed in New York for about three months before we found out he was being deployed to Iraq. The day before he left, he uh, broke up with me. He told me that he didn’t want me to wait for him. A month into his deployment a man from the army showed up at my door with a bouquet of hydrangeas.” Your voice cracked. “He was killed in action. IED. I guess I’m not over it.” You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth turning to face Bucky. “I just wanna be able to get through this day without feeling torn apart. I wanna move on.”

“You can’t just push away your emotions, doll. What you’re feeling right now will pass, but you gotta let it run its course. You lost someone you loved and I don’t know if that pain will ever truly go away. Not like you want it to.”

You exhaled shakily using the back of your hand to wipe away a few stray tears. “Thank you for being here, Buck.”

“I’m always gonna be here for ya’ doll.” He tugged you closer throwing his arm over your shoulders. “Anything you need me to do?”

“I just wanna be held for a little while.”

You allowed your eyes to flutter shut at the soft trail of kisses that Bucky left on your forehead. You’re not sure how long the two of you sat on your kitchen floor, but when Bucky gently shook you awake the sun was making it’s decent along the New York horizon.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed, doll.” The brunette’s voice was barely above a whisper.

You groaned in protest as he tugged you off the ground. You immediately wrapped your arms around his waist and Bucky visibly shivered at the heat of your breath against the base of his neck. “No. Stay. We can eat the plums I bought for you.”

A surprised chuckle fell from Bucky’s lips, his hands running up and down the length of your back. “You got me plums?”

“Us,” you corrected, “I got us plums and we can eat them if you stay.”

“Okay fine,” Bucky sighed, “But just so you know, I’m only staying for the plums not because I wanna spend time with my favorite girl.”

You raised an eyebrow an amused look covering your features. “Favorite, huh?”

“Always will be,” Bucky said casually. “Now, where are those plums?”

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #fatws bucky #the winter solider x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine

[killmebythebeach]

A bunch of head cannons (Maybe too much). Also in talking about the characters.

I think Dream is that one design where his skin is just the static tv screen. He just constantly emits that fuzzy noise, Sam crafted him the smile mask that he can see through so he doesn't scare people.

George is just kind of the server itself. He's the same species as Hannah, but a mushroom and more powerful. If he stays awake too long, the server just kind of freezes. This is also a reason XD keeps him sleeping, it's his way of talking to George and he thinks the server is like his soap opera of mortals.

Callahan is sort of like the person who makes sure George doesn't get killed or dies while asleep, making sure he's surrounded by mushrooms and such. Deer hybrid <3

Alyssa joined the server because she knew all her friends were idiots and didn't want them to die immediately. But once the elections rolled around, she felt the pressure of choosing sides and ran away to the desert, only keeping contact with Ponk. She actually lives just a couple miles from Foolish's summer home. Her communicator actually died after a couple months and she had no way of charging it, so she lost contact with everyone.

Sapnap is a magma cube hybrid and can jump higher than most, his natural temperature runs hotter, and is fire proof. Bad found him in the nether when he was maybe 10-15 years old.

Sam was actually a normal creeper, but gained player like sentience from being struck by lightning. Instead of becoming charged, he gained intelligence and met the others on the server. Callahan taught him some Redstone, but from there he figured out a lot on his own. He's also a creeper centaur.

Ponk is actually a descendant of a fairy, a lemon tree. Their mask was also a gift from Sam because after the second or third time their tree was burnt, their immune system was weakened a considerable amount. Alyssa also wore her mask for them.

Bad is a size shifting demon from the nether, more specifically soul sand desert. He uses soul fire to gain strength, so because the egg died when near it, he was just a little weaker than normal. Because he's a demon he needs a tie to the overworld to stay there, he tied his soul and lives to Skeppy.

Tommy was grown in a lab to be a hero, project: THESEUS. The lab gave him small enhancements, like slightly stronger and just a bit more resilient, to make the Above Average Boy (TM). He then ran away to meet Wilbur. When Dream asked Wilbur if he wanted to come to the server, he asked if Tommy could go first to see what it was like. He also actually really likes gardening and making up funny songs to Wilbur playing guitar. He also made funny lyrics for his discs, but he's still a bit scared to take them out of his ender chest. Other than bringing attachment, Dream also exiled Tommy to see what his lab enhancements could do.

Tubbo is an adaptive hybrid! His hair was blond, shifting to brown when Wilbur found him, getting blue eyes from Tommy, growing small horns under Schlatt, parts of his skin being static when Dream was "helping" him with his presidency, and parts of his scars tinging black and green from Ranboo and Micheal. Tubbo also helped Wilbur write part of the anthem. He likes living in the snow because the Manberg flag had magma blocks on it, casting a heatwave over the country, and after L'Manburg blew up it got really hot from the exposed stone in direct sun.

Fundy can actually hold his breath for a very long time and swim very well because of Sally teaching him and his salmon genes. The yellow things on his hat are actually shells, and the stripes on his jacket are trans colors. Also with his dreams, he saw Eret was going to betray them but didn't think it was real, or didn't want to. He also saw Wilbur blow up L'Manburg but chose not to believe it, thinking his father could still be saved. He actually saw pretty much everything, but didn't quite understand what they were until after doomsday.

The necklace Punz wears is one of those picture lockets, but he lost the picture and can't remember what it was. The first time Dream paid him was when Dream asked for help and Punz made an off hand joke about getting money, and then Dream thought he was being serious. Him, Dream, and Sapnap were like brothers, and Punz got sadder every time he saw Dream pushing people away and diving deeper into darkness.

Purpled is an aliensent to see if the planet was colonizable, but then crashed and was stranded, all his communications down and his ship barely able to hover fifty feet off the ground. When Quackity blew it up, he essentially got rid of his chance of ever going home. Purpled's species can shapeshift, so he turned himself into the first person he saw, Punz. Eventually before trying to communicate with the native life forms, he edited his form a little so they weren't identical, keeping purple eyes and antennae, changing the colors slightly, and changing the voice up. When he moves away from the main SMP, Ponk makes sure to check up on him and that he has a way to check his communicator.

Wilbur came a month after sending Tommy. His father being a patron of life and his mother the goddess of death, he met in the middle being born as a human. The only reason Ghostbur was as active and present as he was was because he was so connected to both life and death. Since his corpse was decaying for as long as it was, Wilbur is now super weak, his flesh is thin and his eyes are rotted and gone. Much like Ghostbur, Wilbur in limbo saw what people said about him, and Ghostbur could hear that from the back of his head. Now Wilbur can hear what people say about Ghostbur and he hates it, not wanting to be connected to what he thinks like a shell of himself.

Schlatt is a ram (duh) and actually does the fainting goat thing. So when he died of a heart attack, no one knew at first if he was actually dead or not. His alcoholism stems from the revive book, as the possibility of tampering with death made him existential and scared, so to cope he drank. There are also a ton of other stuff other than revival in the book, but it's in galactic.

Skeppy was just a normal human, but after making the pact with Bad, Bad put a spell on him. Parts of him turned into diamond, protecting both his and Bad's lives. He however, is unaware of this. With the egg, he would just sit on it, the diamonds chipping away to make room for the vines.

Eret was cursed by the Wither Cult, giving them white eyes and a slowly deteriorating memory. Not sure what to do, Foolish dropped them off at the SMP. Sometimes they would dream about old memories from before the curse, but it was just glimpses so he could never tell what they meant. Once they were king, they made the Herobrine shrine subconsciously, not really sure what it was after. They also had a strange affinity of beacons and resurrection, some of their memories resurfacing when they tried to help Phil and Ghostbur revive Wilbur after doomsday. The reason people are more scared of their eyes than any other wierd eyes was because he generally looks like a normal human, but the wither along with their Herobrine origins creates an uncanny valley that people are shocked by.

Jack had red and blue irises before crawling out of hell, but after coming back the whites of his eyes also turned red and blue. He always wears 3d glasses so no one noticed, but he just thought no one cared enough to mention it. He also has a bunch of scars and burn marks that no one but him can see, therefore no one asks about them or thinks something is wrong, cementing the idea that no one cares about him.

Niki is a blaze hybrid (stole this from @/420technoblazeit) whose fire hair color changes based on strong emotion, something she bond with Tubbo for as a fellow shifter. A soft yellow in L'Manburg, brighter orange in Manburg, hot pink on Doomsday, a soul fire blue with the syndicate (which Techno hates), and a dead grey when she found out Wilbur was alive. She was also old child hood friends with Ranboo and Eret, leaving Ranboo for the SMP. Ranboo, unfortunatly, doesn't remember much more than her name. She also knows galactic from Ranboo, so she talks about her troubles to Shy the Enderman. She doesn't really know how to talk to Puffy anymore after Doomsday or finding out how she wants to protect Tommy.

Quackity can perfectly replicate someone's voice and, with a lot of effort, can completely change his form to another player. He also has very small yellow wings, too small to fly, so he almost always hides them. He used to constantly change his voice for jokes with Karl, Sapnap, and George, but he doesn't like doing it now in Las Nevadas, as he sees it as unprofessional. However, sometimes he uses when he visits Dream, changing his voice to people like George and Sapnap to make torture more effective.

In the In Between and Other Side, Karl actually looks like his old skin, or his natural state (the big purple one that inspired his sweater). But most of the time in the normal world, he looks human. With effort he can bring out the interdemential being thing, something only Quackity and Sapnap know about. The more he time travels, the easier it becomes to change, and he's even started defaulting to the other form.

HBomb is actually just a normal news reporter, sent to interview and record what's going on in the server, his first big story being the election. Upon Doomsday, the stress of seeing everyone alone, fighting, and disconnected, he ran away from the world, essentially becoming a cat lady. His undercover reporter persona is actually the cat maid. He eventually came back to the server to see how he could help after Doomsday, befriending Niki again and living with her in the underground city.

Techno is a piglin, so he's scared of soul fire. He forgot to tell Phil before he decorated the syndicate room, so he just suffers in silence. He also does better when around a lot of gold, like in the nether, and he feels drained and slightly weaker without it. Instead of just putting gold around the area (it would ruin his property value), he just hibernates. He has an emerald earing, like all of the syndicate, but his is a locket that unfolds into pictures of the syndicate.

Ant always wears a red hoodie, now ruined by the egg, that used to be Red's. On Red's death anniversary, him, Bad, Skeppy, and Sam would make cake and put flowers on his grave. He missed the last one because it was during the egg, but for a brief moment after Puffy killed him he saw Red. Red then promptly and bluntly told him to stop being a pussy (haha, cat) and that he shouldn't do all this just to get him back, one of Ant's motivators to make amends with the people he hurt while with the egg. Ant is also a shapeshifter, but can only turn into a cat.

Phil actually used to work under Foolish as a patron of life but then he had a son with the goddess of death, so his title was removed so he could be with her and he became an Angel of Death. Kristin noticed how sad he was after being released, so she gifted him wings. They were however, destroyed on November 16th. His chat also serves as messenger pigeons, which were used to send letters to Wilbur.

Connor is actually just a hedgehog who somehow befriended Schlatt. Even before the haunted mansion, Karl vented to him about his time travel troubles, not knowing he was a sentient player. As a hedgehog, no one really cares where he goes, so he goes outside the server limits to meet his friends from the haunted mansion.

Puffy is a distant relative of Schlatt, but instead of politics she went into piracy. With her mom, she went travelling the seas. One say, a storm came and wiped out her ship, her crew, her mom, everything but her. The reason she survived was because Foolish saw her and saved her. Unfortunately, Puffy hit hee head in the crash and doesn't remember anything.

Vikkstar is the equivalent of a big time celebrity, so of course his endorsement of POG2020 was a big deal.

Lazarbeam is literally just a ginger bread cookie.

Ranboo has actually met a lot of the smp before actually joining. He's met Niki, Fundy, Eret, Punz, and Dream at least. He also sees the inverted colors Enderman see. His suit was actually a gift from Eret before they forgot how to tailor. He got the crown from Techno after joining the syndicate, claiming he didn't want any syndicate members to look like trash.

Foolish came to the server most recently to check up on Eret, but he couldn't bring himself to leave again. When Puffy adopts him, he can't say no because he remembers saving her. His initial goal was to kill an ender dragon to claim the XD title and become a full god like DreamXD, but after realising someone already killed it he went into his totem if death phase. Upon meeting Eret, he got over it and they went on some silly adventures, Foolish now taking a more peaceful route.

Hannah is essentially a weaker George, as her power is tied to the plants themselves and not the entire server. She however has a lot more physical power because rose dryads like to fight because they have thorns. Since roses can be taken out a lot easier, she is essentially a glass canon. Also when around any plant, she can make it grow faster than normal.

Any guest on the server? Corpse, Pokimane, Lil Nas? They were all Slimecicle. That's how he knows where everyone is from, even outside of Las Nevadas. No one else knows this. He's also ancient, if he met Phil they would probably recognise eachother. There was an actual Charlie Slimecicle who was not a slime, but after being launched into orbit this Slimecicle decided to impersonate him.

Michael Mcchill is a sort of bounty hunter. He came to the server after hearing of all the crime, assuming there'd be a lot of bounties to collect. However, he soon learned that no one really cares if you commit a crime. He then took to reading news articles made by HBomb to see if there were any past open bounties. But after reading for a while about the server's wronguns, mostly Dream, he began to sympathise with them. And he's also a speedrunner, so maybe he could help with some bounties across other servers!

This was a very long post and i apologize, but it was so fun to finally write all these thoughts down! I hope you liked them! I can't even fit all the tags I want.

#dream smp #c!sapnap #awesamdude #dropsbyponk #badboyhalo #tommyinnit #tubbo live #fundy #c!punz #purpled #wilbur soot #skeppy #schlatt #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #eret live #jack manifold #niki nihachu #quackity #karl jacobs #hbomb dream smp #antfrost #technoblr #philza #captain puffy #connoreatspants #ranboo #dsmp foolish #hannahxxrose #slimecicle

[l4verq]

fight back | b.b

bucky barnes x enhanced!reader

in which bucky won’t lay a hand on you no matter what :(

tags : a little brawl, fluff cause icanthelpmyself, mentions of blood, john walker (idk if we're supposed to like him now ??) bucky is a cat lady okk

fic : one shot

a/n : inspired by that scene in the final ep of tfatws when karli is screaming at sam to fight back lol😳

|| gif by @unearthlydust ||

-

one world, one people.

you repeat it in your head one more time, when he comes into view, vibranium gleaming onyx with loops of gold.

you know that he knows you’re here, back to the wall a few feet away, peeking at him.

he doesn’t know that you let him know.

doesn’t know that you laid out a trap and just like the foolish mouse, he walked right into the lion’s den.

although you’re not sure who the fool actually is, when you meet his eyes, knees almost buckling at the sight just cause of how long it’s been without them.

“y/n.” he breathes out, almost in disbelief.

it’s been fourteen months since he woke up to an empty bed and a handwritten goodbye letter folded in a clean white envelope, tucked under a pillow still marked by the soft indentation of your head.

fourteen months since you took off in the dead of night, pulling your- his hood over your head, the cold wind nipping at your skin, almost like it was punishing you.

maybe, it saw what you did.

oh, but fred definitely saw what you did, that damn cat always followed you two around even though it’s owner was the blonde next door. her name wasn’t even fred, bucky came up with it after the third time it snuck into the apartment.

he swore he hated it but always seemed to have a treat lying around in case it did come.

and it did, a lot. neglected by it’s owner, it chose to seek comfort in the couple next door, and sometimes a meal or two.

“sorry, no treat today bub.”

fred scowled - honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if an actual human was living in it - mewling as it came up to you for the usual chin rubs and cooes.

you sighed, caving into it’s antics, squatting to pet it.

cradling it’s head into your palm, she was purring, a very uncommon sight. fred doesn’t purr, she scratches and hisses at anything and everything that moves.

“you’re particularly nice today.” you commented, getting up. it mewled even louder this time but you turned on your heels and headed for the stairs.

you were already late.

your legs picked up pace quickly, easily crossing multiple blocks over in a few long strides owing to the blue serum coursing through your veins.

though your mind remained stationary, fixated on a single face, how it’d crumble at the sight of the letter, how he’d probably end up hating you.

“took you long enough.”

her auburn locks were tied into a loose braid that curved around her neck, the tip sat just below her collarbone, a piss poor job held together by a thin maroon colored band.

it was quintessentially her, the lack of utter patience to spend two minutes looping three knots of hair one over the other.

you jogged over to the other side of the black suv, noticing a stark white rectangle where a liscence plate should be.

“he’s knocked out cold,” you asked as soon as you grabbed the door handle open, “how?”

lazropthalein.

it came in the mail in a brown package, no return address. bucky wasn’t home, he had a scheduled therapy session down the block.

just a pinch is enough.

the text from the unknown number read.

it had no odour, a clean, white colour to it that blended in seamlessly with the flour.

“you baked without me?” bucky gasped, dramatically, hand covering his gaping mouth. his other hand carried two plastic bags, filled to the brim, a purple razor was poking out the top.

he even had to drop the poor bags on the floor, just to emphasize the utter shock he felt.

“i got bored.” you giggled, wiping the countertop with a wet cloth, remnants of flour on the sleek marble turning goopy under it.

“traitor.”

“it’s just cupcakes.”

“still a cake.”

you sighed, “you’re a five year old.”

he huffed, trudging towards the living room, shoulders hunched to really hone in on just how devastating this was for him.

“don’t i get a hug?” you held your arms out, making grabby hands, following him.

apparently, the devastation was to the point where he had to bring out the big guns, the sad baby blues.

the act lasted for another minute? at best. hours later, he was happily munching away.

“i know why it tastes so good.” he moaned, smacking his lips.

your smile faltered a little, did he kn- no, there’s no way he could have known. you burned that little plastic bag as soon as you dumped a pinch in.

“yea?”

he grinned, popping the last bit left in “it was made with your love.”

“how did it work?” your voice rose several octaves higher, amplified further by the cool, silent night.

drugs and sedatives don’t work on supersoldiers yet a certain blue eyed one was back home, unmoving even if you screamed right into his ears.

“dr wilfred, he invented it. the power broker wanted something to balance out our,” she flared her hands at both of you, “super-soldierness, so that we don’t have an upper hand when all’s said and done.”

would the either of you even be alive when all was said and done?

“look, i know you didn’t want to do this but james, he won’t understand. he’s not one o-..”

“yea, can we jus- let’s just get out of here.” you get in beside her, whipping the seatbelt over your torso.

the car was stuffy, felt like a choke around your neck that only seemed to tighten more and more.

“if we go now, there’s no coming back.” she glances at you, hand curled over the gearstick ready to position it in place.

she was giving you an out, one last chance. karli was a lot of things and having a heart inside that cold, bitchy exterior was one.

“i know.”

you sunk deeper into your seat, the hoodie had a faint smell of burnt toast and that cologne which was on sale, almost half off if you cut out the taxes.

it smelled like him, too much like him.

until it didn’t after a few days. but you still slept with it, just outright refusing to wash it despite karli’s snarky remarks about hygiene.

hygiene could go fuck herself, for all you know.

compared to the motels and basements you guys shifted around in, that hoodie was a doctor’s scrubs.

when the moon hung low on the black sky, you tried not to think about him too much. the silence didn’t help, you needed something to drown out your thoughts. that’s when the ‘socialising’ with the other flag smashers started. they were nice.

nice cause you were the leader’s little sister. but also a huge fucking liability because of a certain supersoldier hot on their heels in search of you, ruining every goddamn plan so their niceness was.. limited.

karli was a natural when it came to it, all of it. the talking, rallying of supporters - fuck, she just had a way with words. she could make you believe she hung up the stars in the sky.

probably how she convinced you that holding a room chock full of council members hostage right smack in the middle of nyc was a good idea.

the only idea, more precisely.

you guys had the upper hand, more than a handful supersoldiers at your disposal, capable of taking down the entire military force if you so pleased.

the only playing card they had was one supersoldier, who was better off distracted, kept off the field.

so who better to send to do the deed than the love of his life.

“fred had a baby. multiple babies, spawn of the devil if you ask me. always running around, thrashing the place up.” he takes small steps towards you, slow and calculated, as if a lion stalking around a prey.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you lie through your teeth, a tiny white compared to the ones that’ve rolled off your tongue before.

“i think the neighbours call me a cat lady now,” his eyes shift around and he leans in to whisper, “they haven’t even seen my knitting skills yet.”

“stop.” you think you said it or much rather whispered it, your voice was failing you. he’s getting close, too close for your liking so why aren’t you backing away from him?

“fred misses you, you know. she wonders where you went.” he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the hairs on your neck shoot up, a slight twitch of your brow. the way bucky’s ear perk up, you realise it’s not just you and him here anymore.

someone else has arrived.

“i’ve got it handled, john.” bucky turns around, plants him directly infront of you, blocking john’s view of you.

sure enough, it’s john limping in, a nasty gash across his chest.

your blood runs cold because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

john isn’t supposed to be here, he’s supposed to be fighting.. oh god. you notice the various splatters of blood on his cowl, on his boot, on his shield.

it’s too much blood from a guy who’s barely bleeding.

“really? i was thinking you should do more than just talk.” he spits on the ground and wipes his mouth.

you notice, the spit’s all blood too.

“i’m giving you a chance to walk away, right now.”

john snorts, leaning sideways to get a view of you, neck craned out.

“and leave this prize all to yourself?” he grins, “i’d be an idiot.”

“you have a death wish then.” you lift your chin a little higher, praying your quickening heartbeat doesn’t give away your calm exterior.

john whistles, grimacing as he straightens, “so, she does talk.”

you scowl, crossing your arms.

he’s in bad shape. he has no chance, not that he ever did even in his best shape. he knows that too yet he’s still here. that sends a chill up your spine.

“go, i got this.” bucky tips his head, glancing at you.

“i don’t need you to save me.” you hiss at him, which comes out a little harsher than you intended. an apology dies in your throat as he flinches just the slightest.

“trouble in paradise?” john’s barely finished saying it before he’s reached behind his back and swinging the vibranium

you hear it before you see it stopped mid air by a gloved hand. then you charge.

it’s all a hazy mix of blue and red until your fist connects with his jaw, sound of something breaking ringing in your ear.

something pulls your waist back, a grip far too strong to be just flesh.

“go, i’ll ta-..” bucky’s barely said anything before an upward cut from john connects to his neck, violent coughs ensuing.

you grip john’s arm before he’s even retracted it back, jump up his back, settling around his neck and twist until you hear a crack and a bloodcurling scream following suit.

he whips his head back right into your stomach, seizes that moment when the wind knocks out of you to pull you by your hair off him.

“i told you to go.” bucky growls, kicking john right in the shin that makes him kneel and you almost fall off but you keep your fingers tightly looped around john’s hair, pulling as hard you can.

but he’s relentless.

your head hits something hard and you realise you’re on the ground now, legs loosely around john’s shoulders, him also on the ground.

it’s like the both of you realise at the same time but you’re quicker. your legs tighten around his neck, against the spot where a thick neck muscle throbs. he claws desperately around, straining for oxygen

soon, his hands lull down, the dull thud on the ground confirming his unconsciousness.

“are you hurt?” bucky’s hovering over you, seemingly unfazed by john’s neck in a chokehold by your legs right now.

you reject his hand he extends and push yourself off the gravelly concrete on to your feet.

“this was a mistake.” you trail off, saying it more to your own self.

you weren’t the lion, you were the stupid fox who thought it was.

stupid enough to believe you were over bucky and that everything wouldn’t come rushing back as soon as you laid eyes on him.

he whips you around by your hand and before you know it, he’s already caught your other fist heading for his sternum. you barely feel the grip, it’s soft, just so incredibly soft and fits so right.

you hate it.

rage bubbles inside you, mostly at yourself. partly at him because he’s not screaming at you or slamming you against the wall or jus- anything.

you wrench your hand away, land a swing which he does nothing to block. his grip on your other hand loosens and he still does nothing when another hit to the jaw leaves him staggering,

instead, he looks at you softly as if resigning himself to your anger, to let it simmer off.

“fight back!” you scream, outstretched palms pushing him back.

he stumbles a few steps back, hands reaching out to yours resting on his chest, fingers intertwining yours tightly.

“stop.” it’s a soft plead, tears spiking the corners of his eyes.

“hit me!” you’re practically begging at this point, thrashing your arms around.

his hands grapple at your shoulders, bringing you to his chest, “it’s okay.”

he smells so sweet, just so sweet that you almost believe him.

“i drugged you and i left you and i-,” you inhale sharply, “i killed so many people, bucky.”

the last fourteen months had escalated quickly from doing what’s right to doing what’s needed, lines blurred between moral ethics and survival.

“it’s okay.” he repeats, hand patting your hair, gentle and soothing. your body betrays you, sinking into his touch, his warmth.

“you should hate me.” you whimper.

you wouldn’t blame him if he did. you doubt he could hate you more than you already did yourself.

he pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i couldn’t if i tried.”

god, why does he have to be so.. bucky?

frustated, you spit out, “this? this was a distraction to separate you and sam.”

you don’t say it but it’s understood, understood that you wouldn’t have met him if not for it.

the inner corners of his brows angle up slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “i know.”

your breath hitches, if he knows then wh-

“then, why..?”

you finally look up at him, vision blurry because of the stupid tears pooling at your eyes.

his thumb wipes away a tear dribbling down your cheek, the coldness of the metal a clear contrast to the warm moisture, “you know why.”

-

a/n : this one’s been sitting pretty, collecting cobwebs in my drafts so thought i’d take it out lol, also haven’t been posting fics in a whileeee cause im dumb and i’ve been working on multiple things all at once lol yea this is me rambling and also i just wanna say that i. love. folklore. sm. that whole album has me crying and sad and just :((

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #fatws bucky #fatws #flag smashers #marvel #mcu

[ninyard]

i want to know ANYTHING and EVERYTHING about the andrew meets neil as stefan au

YES PLS OKAY

(holy shit this was supposed to be a HC ramble/snippets from the fic but uhhh….here’s a mini fic instead????? The actual fic I wrote isn’t even set back in California it’s set in PSU??? This was supposed to be short backstory!!!!!! Anyways lmk if u want the foxes stuff lol Enjoy <3)

Neil had natural looking ashy blonde with green eyes at the time, no older than 14 years old, going by the name Stefan Montgomery. Him and Mary ended up in a motel in Oakland for a couple weeks, regaining their footing after a close-call somewhere in Oregon.

Mary had hit Neil a gnarly heavy-handed blow after he forgot which name he was using in Eugene. Was it Sam? Or Dylan? Or had it been Joseph? A nice inch wide cut sat where his perfect court tattoo would sit, just on the turn of his cheekbone below the corner of his eye, bordered by a healing purple-brown bruise. Stefan was born on the border between California and oregon, stolen from a waiter at a pit stop diner, who didn’t let their coffee cups go empty as they mapped out where to go next.

He had met Andrew by chance; Stefan had been sitting on the bottom of the metal stairs that led up to the floor they were staying at. Mary was having a shower, dying her hair, becoming Georgia, perfect mother, a beautiful, average woman. He was people watching, looking at the cars pulling in and out of the car park, making up his own stories about who was who, what their names were and if they were worth stealing when they inevitably moved on. Andrew hung around the motel because just behind the building was an old, decrepit playground that’s should’ve been foreclosed years ago. Nobody ever used it, so it was a quiet place for him to be alone. He’d been walking through the parking lot after having just grabbed a chocolate bar or two from the vending machine when he stopped in front of Neil.

“What happened to your face?” It was quiet, barely a sentence, not big enough of a question to be intrusive or over-stepping.

“I’m a boxer.” That was the lie he’d been using for a few days. “I had a fight a couple days ago.”

You see, Stefan was a name Neil didn’t want to remember, like a bitter memory he forced himself to forget. It was just before Mary’s paranoia began to spiral even worse that it had already been. Stefan was keep your head down, we won’t be here long, give it a week, give it a week. Stefan was sleepless nights, watching his mother sat upright almost all night, eyes on the door, a knife under her pillow. Stefan was you don’t need friends, they’ll drag you down.

Mary didn’t know until the end that they’d been friends, Neil teaching Andrew the little boxing he knew, Andrew teaching Stefan how to keep yourself busy when you needed something to do. There was something about Andrew that made it impossible for him to stay away; he wasn’t a particularly happy kid, but the way he spoke, the way he cared about the fake life Neil had made up, the way he saw Stefan’s life as something he could never have.

“Have you ever thought about kissing a boy your age?” They’d been in Oakland for three weeks, and the two kids had made plans to meet every time Mary was occupied and Andrew was around. Neil didn’t really think to wonder why Andrew was always around. Didn’t he have a family who would miss him being gone all this time? Didn’t he have a home to go to?

“No,” Neil answered honestly. There wasn’t time for thoughts like that. Kisses weren’t signs of affection; kisses were lies, kisses were dangerous, kisses occupied a space in the mind that could be filled with run, run, run.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” Andrew had been swinging on the swing set, his feet dangling from the chipped plastic seat, the creaky chains holding him up. The question was loaded. Behind it was a conversation he’d had with his foster-mom, a slur from his foster-siblings, another hit from his foster-father.

“No,” that was an honest answer too. In his head his answer sounded like I’ve been told all kissing was wrong. But he couldn’t say that. Normal teenagers thought about kissing, and boyfriends, and girlfriends, and worried about how they looked in front of their crush. “Do you?”

“I don’t know.” His words were a sigh. Andrew trusted Stefan in this weird, out of character way. He’d never met anyone who’d been more interested to hear about his life than talk about their own. Of course, half of it was a half-truth, lies weaved into the story of Andrew.

Andrew was the first person who made Neil smile in a very long time. It was foreign hearing himself laugh, a sound reserved for fake interactions with strangers who couldn’t help but prying. Neil trusted him. His honest eyes often burning a hole in his face, on the days when Neil couldn’t bare eye contact. Andrew was a rock that Neil could feel himself becoming more and more attached to, more and more…attracted to? He didn’t know what that feeling felt like, but when he caught himself thinking about what a long hug from him would feel like, or a kiss on the forehead, the cheeks, the nose, the….

It was an impossible thought that Neil kept buried. Until Andrew had a bad day. Until Neil met him in the playground and he was sat underneath the slide, face buried in his knees that were pulled to his chest. Black hood pulled so far forward it almost covered the wet cheeks and puffy eyes he tried to hide. Stefan sat just across from him, the tips of their shoes not quite touching, but Neil rested his open palms on his shoes for Andrew to hold if he needed. He didn’t ask what was wrong.

“You’re my friend?” Andrew asked, half statement, half question. There was no hesitation in Neil’s “Of course.”

Andrew gently weeped, babbling on about wishing he could feel normal, or have a normal family. He wished he could understand himself. He wished he didn’t have to hurt so much. He’d looked up at Neil with his red eyes and wiped the tears from his face with the cuff of his sleeve. “Can I trust you?”

The statement hurt Neil far more than he thought it would. He hated that words spilled out of his mouth, his eyes stinging at the thought of saying what he really wanted to say. His mouth said “You can tell me anything,” when his brain said “I think Stefan dies in a week”.

Andrew told him about how he thought he was gay, and how embarrassed, alone, and ugly he felt to think that way. He didn’t know what normal feelings felt like. He didn’t know what it felt like to kiss someone he actually wanted to kiss. The statement hung in the air like a floating question. Did he…? Andrew had brushed away the thought almost as quickly as Neil did, but not without both their cheeks flushing pink at the unspoken idea. Neil watched as Andrew messed with the strings on his hoodie. Andrew cheered up after a little while, but when Neil realised how long he’d been gone for, he panicked. Instinctively, he pulled Andrew into a hug before running back to the motel room.

Stefan was bad memories, he’d always had to remind himself. Stefan was a mistake, a fuck-up, a vulnerability he would never, ever show again. Stefan was a slap across the face when he came back late. “Where the hell have you been?” Followed by a lie, then another, then another. Neil had only lied to his mother a handful of times in his life, but when it came to Andrew they seemed to slip out of his mouth at an alarming rate. The next time he seen Andrew, his swollen, burst lip barely hidden, Andrew had brushed his fingers across it and sarcastically asked if it was the product of another boxing match. Neil shushed him when he asked if his mother had done it. That was too personal. He was letting Andrew in too far and he was rotting Neil from the inside out. His hardened exterior fell away when he was around Andrew, and boy, was that dangerous. It shattered into a million pieces when they sat at at the top of the jungle-gym and Andrew asked so gently if he could kiss him.

No, no, no. The ghost of his mother’s hands in his hair told him to walk away. The phantom pain of a slap, and a hit, and a deafening lecture about his safety told him to stop letting Andrew in. He knew it was dangerous. He knew it, he knew it, he knew it. So why did his lips automatically curl around the word yes and his heart start pumping a hundred miles a minute? They looked each other in the eyes for a few seconds, minutes, hours, days, until they were both so close they couldn’t see each other anymore. It was only a peck, a playground kiss, but Neil’s stomach flipped. Andrew pulled away as quickly as he’d leaned in. He didn’t look at Neil for the rest of the hour they spent together, but Neil didn’t look at him. That wasn’t to say they each didn’t have to constantly fight a love-struck smile off their faces every few minutes.

Their meetings started to get less frequent after that. Andrew stopped showing up, but instead left little notes carved into the yellow plastic of the slide. ‘R u grossed out? -A’ was the first one he left after their moment’s kiss. All Neil wrote back was ‘Never’. The next time they seen each other in person they sat hidden again in the top of the jungle gym. Neil knew Mary was planning on them moving on in the following days. He couldn’t tell Andrew. Even the thought of it broke his heart. Regardless of the kiss, or kisses, they shared, Andrew had become the closest friend Neil had ever had. Neil had to remind himself more than once that everything Andrew thought he knew about Stefan was a fabrication. They spoke about sexuality again, hands brushing off each other, sometimes intertwined, sometimes resting on the others leg or arm. Andrew asked if Neil was gay, and his face fell when Neil said no, I don’t think so. It took him a moment to add on “I don’t know what I am”. They left kisses on each other’s lips that lingered for hours, for days. The more Neil let Andrew in, the harder it was for him to keep lying to his mother. She began to get suspicious of where he was going when she left him alone.

Even still, Neil didn’t hear when Mary came into the playground the last time he seen Andrew. Andrew had his head rested on his shoulder, their hands intertwined and hidden between their outstretched legs. They’d been talking about something and nothing at the same time. Neil’s stomached bottomed out when he saw her brunette hair and tiny figure step around the rusted green fence. He let go of Andrew’s hand as quickly and as subtly as he could, but he knew it was no use. He didn’t know how long she’d been standing there. Andrew looked into Stefan’s green eyes as Neil stood up, searching, scared. Neil sent him a weak smile. This was the last time he would ever look into those hazel eyes, his light eyebrows furrowed as he watched Neil begin to walk away. Neil had nodded his way, and whispered a frightened ‘See you around’ before he walked over to join Mary. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards their motel room, already mentally packing their bags. Not before she beat him harder than she ever had before. Neil expected it. But every blow reminded him of Andrew until Andrew was no longer gentle touches and honesty and kisses. Andrew was a kick to the back of the knees as he walked through the motel room door. Andrew was a slap, and another, and another. He was a screaming, crying, angry mother, shoving whatever belongings they owned into their single duffel bag. Andrew was leaving their key at reception at midnight and starting their journey to another town. Andrew wasn’t worth it. Andrew was the swollen ankle he walked on for miles. Andrew was Mary pulling roughly at his blonde hair to dye it black in some random gas station that night. He wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it. Neil left Stefan with Andrew in Oakland. He tried to leave the memories there too. Oh, how badly he tried.

The worst part was, Andrew didn’t know that was the last time he would ever see Stefan again. He waited every day for him to come back. Every day came and went and every day he never showed up. Neil didn’t know about that part, you see. Neil thought Andrew would forget about Stefan like a childhood crush, thrown away, moved on to the next cute boy who listened to him talk. They shared a thought, though, drilling the regret and shame into their minds. He wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

(Part 2)

#forgive me if my geography is shit #u might be able to tell I’m Not American #but damn I’m sad now #love those boys #andreil #andreil au #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #tfc #aftg #txt #rambles #also sorry if the names are confusing as hell #Stefan v Neil death match #tfc fic #aftg fic

[entishramblings]

It’s Not That Bad [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: I’m so sorry I have not been writing as often. I’ve had zero time. But anyWaYS...here is a fic that has been requested by someone who has always been into my writing so thank you for supporting me and here is a fic for you! Additionally, I did some research on herbs and stuff so I could make this at least a little accurate!

Request: @quilledinkpen — Hellooo i hope you're having a good day ^-^ I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader? Something like she's travelling with the fellowship and is kinda the unspoken "mom" of the group, like she's always doing her best to make sure everyone's safe, and reminding Pippin and Merry to be careful and stuff like that. Just an all-around motherly person lol (mainly to the Hobbits bc they're her babies but she looks after the other guys too) I think it'd be cute ^^ Thank you!

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N), a healer, travels with the fellowship. She takes care of everyone and is basically “the mom friend.”

Word Count: 2, 510

Warnings: battle wounds that are kinda graphicish?

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) was a well known healer throughout all of Arda. Many traveled to her for treatment for life threatening ailments. But now, now it was her time to travel throughout the lands of Middle Earth in search of a salvation for all. A gruesome quest to destroy the evil ring of power had begun and someone well versed in natural apothecary was needed. (Y/N), of course, volunteered for this role for there was no one better suited than her. Besides, it was her duty to contribute to the survival of this world as she was one in it and relied heavily on what the earth produced. And if Sauron was to rule.....well, we all know where that would lead: no earth, no life, just darkness.

(Y/N) ruffled through her dark-brown leather satchel as she sifted through her healing herbs. Little pouches filled with athelas leaves, echinacea stalks, alder bark, valerian roots, and more piled inside the confinements of the fabric.

“Sam,” She called out. “Would you mind making hot tea for Frodo while I take care of Strider’s cut?”

The little hobbit ran over instantly and she passed him a couple pouches naming each one out loud, “Valerian root, dried chamomile pedals, and sycamore bark.” She then lowered her voice and leaned it, for it wasn’t anyone else’s business to hear. “It will help him sleep and deter the anxieties the ring bestows upon him.”

Sam nodded quickly and set to work as (Y/N) moved towards Aragorn who sat upon a large rock.

“Let me have a look.”

The dunedain rolled his eyes, “(Y/N), it is not that bad. Just a scratch.”

The young women sighed in annoyance and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a slash across his bicep. He was right—to an extent—it wasn’t terrible. He would not need stitches. However, it did need to be cleaned and wrapped for infections were nasty things.

(Y/N) started by pouring some alcohol over the wound; receiving a harsh hiss from the dunedain in response. She muttered a quick apology before continuing. The young woman ground athelas leaves into a fine paste and expertly smeared it onto the cut. She then unrolled gauze and placed it upon the wound. Lastly, she pulled white dressings from her satchel. She gingerly wrapped it around his arm, yet she was careful to still pull it taught as the goal was to keep the athelas paste in and bacteria out.

She stood up and brushed her hands off before placing them firmly on her hips. “See Strider, it takes only a couple minute.”

He grumbled at her comment but thanked her for the medical attention.

(Y/N) nodded quickly and went to check on the rest of the fellowship. She made her way to Boromir who was also sitting in rest. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Boromir, how are you doing? Any wounds?”

He seemed slightly startled at first for his mind had been elsewhere, but he looked up at her with a soft smile.

“I’m quite alright, My Lady.”

A light chuckled escaped her lips. “My friend, how many times must I tell you? It’s (Y/N), no lady of any sorts!”

He shook his head and grinned at her, “Well, my lady, I am doing quite fine.”

She let her eyes circle into the back of her head as the corner of her lip pulled into a smirk.

The healer turned and made her way to Gimli who was sharpening his axe.

“Gimli, I trust you are alright as I see you are already preparing for the next battle even though we just endured one.”

His gruff voice answered immediately, “Aye lassie! Those orcs can’t ensnare a dwarf that easily!!”

She laughed at his comment as Merry and Pippin came rushing up to her. As soon as she saw their faces she knew that the two mischievous hobbits wanted to claim her attention. She lowered herself down to their height as they flung themselves into her arms.

“Ahh my two hobbits! How did you fare in the battle?”

They pulled from her hug and began speaking at the same time.

“It was intensely scary but we were fierce!”

“Merry had hit one with a tree branch! It was quite magnificent!”

“Yes it was, I would have to admit! And Pip tripped another and he fell flat on his face!”

(Y/N) beamed at the two and giggled at their attempt to tell the story. As much as she was focused on caring for everyone, the hobbits cared for her—in another way that is. The four of them brought joy to her heart and glee to her spirit. Their innocence and appreciation of the simplest things brought happiness to her soul. They had offered her a welcomed visit to the shire at any time; telling her of the grand tour they would take her on. She had grown to look upon them as children for their smallness and way of perceiving life was similar so.

The two scampered off quickly, most likely to share their adrenaline filled story with Boromir, while (Y/N) did a final scan of the fellowship.

Her eyes soon rested on the elf. Legolas was off to a distance standing upon the rocky tundra. Something about his posture made her frown. His back was to her and his head seemed bowed, as if he was looking down at something. Furthermore, his one arm was pulled up at an awkward angle—strange, even for the elf. As the healer that she was, she was compelled to check on him.

(Y/N) weaved through the rocks until she was only a short distance from him.

“Legolas?” She questioned softly.

He immediately whipped around. His shirt fell to cover his form, but not before (Y/N) caught a glimpse of bright purple, red, and black. The young woman’s lips instantly parted in shock. She had seen many wounds in her life, on many people of many different races. However, it was not often that she had an elven patient with a wound like that. To state it simply, (Y/N) was worried—that looked bad, very bad. Legolas on the other hand was only flustered for he, an elf, had gotten snuck up on. He did not have great concern for the injury given that there were far more important things to worry about.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated firmly. “Lift your shirt.”

He sighed, “(Y/N), it’s not—“

She interrupted him, “Let me guess, ‘It’s not that bad?’” She shook her head, “You and Strider.”

She stepped forward and took the hem of his shirt in her hand. She cautiously lifted the fabric, not caring about the socially deemed scandalousness of the action—she was a healer after all.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath. A relatively large bruise stretched across his torso with a sizable cut in the center of it.

“By the Valar, Legolas!” She exclaimed with exasperation. “You should have come to me straight away!”

“(YN)—“

She cut him off again, “No. don’t ‘(Y/N)’ me. This is serious. It could be internal bleeding. I don’t care that you are an immortal elf, you can still die from this.”

The healer gently let her fingertips brush against his skin, tracing and examining the injury. He winced in pain at the contact and that did not escape (Y/N)’s attention.

“How did this happen exactly? I need every detail.”

Legolas groaned again when she grazed over the cut; and when he spoke it was with heavy breaths, “A harsh kick to the side into another orc....” (Y/N) hand pressed on the bleeding laceration and he hissed in pain before continuing to speak. “...who—who slashed downward.....with a jagged-edged blade that had a—a curved tip.

(Y/N) looked up at him with concern, his breathing was getting labored and that was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

“Alright, come on.” She ordered. The young woman practically dragged the reluctant elf back towards the group and pushed him down on a rock.

She knelt in front of him and, once again, ruffled through her satchel.

“Take your tunic off,” she commanded while pulling out various pouches and gauze dressings.

(Y/N) could feel all of the fellowships’ gazes on the two, which only intensified when Legolas removed his tunic. She could hear the hobbit’s hushed whispers and concerned tones for the wound was gruesome and ugly—probably the worst they have ever seen considering their simple lives.

Once she had all her supplies ready, she set to work.

(Y/N) was kneeling in-between Legolas’s legs while she studied the torn up, bloody, and bruised fresh for yet another time; it was imperative that she made a plan before starting.

During this examination, the young woman could not help but let her eyes wander across his chest and rippling muscles. The bends and curves of his form looked perfect against his pale complexion. He was incredibly toned and well built, even more so than humans. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him.

Additionally, battle scars of various shapes and sizes littered his body—which was expected given he was over 2,000 years old. Here, she took a moment to study them for if one really looked at a warriors scars their fighting style would be revealed. Many stretched across his being—specifically on his ribcage, sides, pecs, and abs—it was clear that he was way more reckless than he would like people to think. He was fast with his moves, going for the quickest way to an oppenent’s death, but that often left him exposed. No wonder he ended up with this terrible bruising gash. He lived up to the Mirkwood elf expectation—less wise and more fierce.

As (Y/N) realized that her mind had wandered too far off task, she cleared her throat and reached for the flask of liquor.

“This will sting,” she stated before pouring it over the broken flesh. As expected, a loud groan escaped his lips and his fists clenched around nothingness.

Carefully she dabbed the area with a cloth. (Y/N) then threaded a needle and began to sew his skin back together. The elf was stiff as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles—a natural reflex in this kind of situation. She continued to pull his skin taught so their was no more breakthrough bleeding. It seemed that he had gotten used to the sensation as she went given he began to relax. Next, she made a paste for the wound, much like Strider’s. However, she decided to use more than athelas leaves because this cut was more severe than the Ranger’s. (Y/N) ground up echinacea stalks and mixed in alder bark to soothe inflammation and fight infection. Gently she applied the blended mixture into his torso. Lastly, she wound gauze and dressings around his midsection in order to keep everything in place.

Much time had past given stitches took long; luckily, the fellowships’ concerned glances faded.

(Y/N) stood up from her position and it was then when she released just how close the two were. She stood between his legs, their faces inches apart. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared for she often had to be in such proximities with others as she was a healer. But this wasn’t anyone else, it was him.

“You—you should be fine now,” (Y/N) whispered. She cleared her throat and stepped backwards. “I will have to check on it every day and redo the bandages. And I advise you: no sudden movements, and no lifting heavy objects—like the hobbits.”

Legolas cracked a smile at that last comment. “Thank you, (Y/N). I truly appreciate your skill.”

“That is what I’m here for, is it not?” She adverted her eyes and kept her hands busy by gathering her supplies for she feared her expression would betray her.

Legolas put his tunic back on as he spoke, “I suppose it is, but nethertheless I thank you.”

......

As the days went on she continued to check Legolas’s wound. (Y/N) tried to make it more private by dragging him off to the side or away from the group, given that she suspected it was uncomfortable for him to undress everyday in front of inquiring eyes (aka the hobbits).

It was dusk when she crouched down to examine it once again.

“It is healing nicely,” She said. “A lot faster than I suspected, but I suppose that is because you are elven.” Her nervousness caused her to continue speaking when she did not wish to do so. “I mainly treat men....and dwarves. It is not often that I have a wounded elf at my door. Do you know an elf named Feren? I recall he said he was of Mirkwood Kin. I treated him once years ago for a busted leg when he strayed into northern territories.”

A small smirk crossed Legolas’s face, “Ahh so you are the beautiful healer who patched him up so well?”

(Y/N) felt heat creep up her face, “I—I would not say that—“

“Nonsense! He spoke of your beauty and skill many times, and he was not mistaken. I am just surprised that I have been lucky enough to gaze upon you and have you heal me.”

These words made (Y/N)’s gauze wrapping motions falter. “It—it is my job, Legolas.”

“Yet you go beyond your assignment and duty everyday. I see how you take care of us all, especially the hobbits. You truly have a noble heart.”

(Y/N) smiled softly and spoke in a teasing tone, “Well I suppose you are right—all you boys would be lost without me.”

A deep chuckled hummed in Legolas’s chest and the healer joined in with a bright laugh.

The giggles settled soon enough and Legolas spoke, his sentence quite abrupt. “How would you feel about coming to Mirkwood and living there as a healer once the ring is destroyed?”

Shocked, (Y/N) stuttered. “I—I am unsure. I don’t know if—“

“(Y/N)...” He interrupted. “I do not wish for the end of this journey to be the end of our acquaintance.”

The young woman looked down, “As I agree, but—“

“(Y/N),” he whispered.

Something about his tone made her freeze.

Ever so gently, he lifted her chin to force her to look at him. His voice was quiet as he spoke, “I—I don’t think you understand what I am trying to convey.”

Oh....

Now she understood.

The healer glanced at his lips which hovered near her own before biting her bottom one and locking gazes with him. Legolas of course noticed this and waisted no time. He pressed his mouth against hers and she instantly responded. Her hands slid up his bare chest, careful to avoid the wound on his torso, and then tangled themselves in his blonde locks. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist tightly as he focused on the taste of mint tea and fresh honey. The two moved their lips in sync and the world around them melted away. Suddenly, there was no quest, no fellowship, no responsibilities—only the two of them and the thudding of their hearts.

.......

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @wellfuckmyexistence

Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back

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#lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit #legolas #Legolas x reader #Legolas x you #Legolas x (y/n) #Mirkwood #LOTR fanfic #Legolas fanfic #Legolas fic #Aragorn #merry and pippin #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #hobbits #lotr fanfic #boromir #the fellowship #legolas drabble #legolas imagine #legolas imagines

[ifmywishescametrue]

WAIT I DIDNT KNOW YOU SHIPPED SAMTONY TOO!!! another oneeee #13 "I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you." for samtony

samtony is a very pure ship 😌 thank you for sending a prompt, and I hope you like it!

It starts on a perfectly average Tuesday morning.

“Why do I do this to myself?” Sam pants out, folding himself in half with his hands on his knees. “Every damn time I say it's the last time, and every damn time here we are again.”

Bucky claps a hand on his back and almost knocks him over with one touch. “Maybe you're a masochist, Sammy.”

Sam feebly flips him off, walking off the elevator on jelly legs. “I told you not to call me that.”

“You let Tony call you that,” Bucky points out, following him towards the kitchen.

"I actually like him. We're friends."

“That's offensive. I'm literally your best friend. Your favorite person. The Abbott to your Costello. The Tom to your Jerry. The Lucy to your Ethel.”

Sam snorts, “You're not even my favorite hundred year old man in this building. Also, if anyone’s the Lucy here, it’s me.”

Bucky scoffs, but whatever retort he had coming cuts off when they enter the kitchen. “Oh, damn, are those banana pancakes?”

He reaches for one on the top of the stack, and Tony slaps his hand away with the spatula. “Where are your manners, Barnes?”

“You’ve got like ten there,” Bucky whines. “Why can’t I have one?”

“You can have one when it’s your turn.”

Bucky gives him a dramatic pout that has no effect, and Sam laughs at the scene as he collapses into the stool next to Nat at the peninsula. She gives him a raised eyebrow and a quirked lip at the complete lack of grace.

Tony flits through the kitchen, exchanging lighthearted quips with Bucky as he goes. He has on an apron that Clint gave him at Christmas last year, covered in snowflakes and purple hearts with arrows through them in a mimicry of an ugly Christmas sweater pattern. Underneath it is a t-shirt dotted with Captain America shields, and the sweatpants have a cartoon version of the War Machine suit on the thigh. As usual, all of the colors clash.

A mug of coffee is placed in front of Sam with a small smile before Tony returns to the stove, and Sam is still drinking the first sip when he comes back with a plate of pancakes for him, topped with just the right amount of syrup and a dollop of whipped cream. Tony’s gone again before he can even finish saying thank you.

“Why is it his turn before me?” Bucky complains, and Sam laughs again through his first mouthful at how petulant he sounds.

“I like him the best,” Tony says, sending a wink Sam’s way. “And they’re for him, anyway. Your favorite, right?”

Sam’s eyes widen a bit in surprise. He doesn’t remember telling him that. “Uh, yeah, they are. How’d you know that?”

Tony shrugs, “I pay attention.”

He hands Bucky a plate of pancakes with another jab at his lack of patience, and the moment passes as quickly as it came, but it keeps happening after that.

Tony pays attention to him.

Maybe it was happening all along, before that morning with the pancakes, but just too subtle for Sam to take notice at first. Now that he has, though, he sees it all the time.

The next is just a few days later, when Tony knocks on his door holding a small, nondescript black box.

“What’s this for?” Sam asks, taking it from Tony’s hand. He doesn’t get an answer before he opens the lid to a simple, leather-banded watch. It’s nothing overtly expensive, nothing that screams ‘gift from a billionaire,’ but it is exactly something Sam would have chosen for himself.

“I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you,” Tony says simply. “Figured it would go well with that suit Pepper picked for you for the gala tomorrow night.”

Later, Sam will realize that Pepper had nothing to do with the suit choice that fit him perfectly, but for now he runs a thumb over the dark brown leather and says, “Yeah, it will. Thanks, Tony.”

“No problem,” Tony replies, and he lingers in the doorway for a while longer, lower lip between his teeth. Sam is about to ask if there was something else he came here for when Tony claps his hands together and says, “Well, I should get going. Workshop things to do and all that. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He disappears quickly, and that becomes part of it, too. Never dwelling on it when he does something just for Sam. Fleeing if he can, but sometimes staying when that’s what Sam needs instead.

“You look exhausted,” Tony says, and Sam manages a grumble from where he’s slumped on the living room couch, rubbing a hand over his bruised abdomen.

The mission took longer than either him or Bucky expected, and the fights were more intense. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out type of deal. Infiltrate the base, take out the lower level minions, and apprehend the leaders. But the intel wasn’t as accurate as they were hoping, and there were nearly double the number of enemies than predicted. No major injuries for either of them, but he’ll be sore for at least a few days. Bucky’s cuts and bruises healed on the way home.

Sam doesn’t notice that Tony left until he comes back with ice wrapped in a kitchen towel. He places the ice right on the worst spot over his ribs, holding it there until Sam replaces his hand with his own.

“It’s getting pretty late,” Tony remarks. “You should probably head up to bed. You’ll feel even worse if you fall asleep here, trust me on that one.”

It’s somewhere past midnight, Sam knows, but even with how tired his body is, his mind is still wide awake. The mission replays in his mind. Every faulty move, every chance to do better, every little detail both good and bad.

Sam shakes his head, “Not ready for bed yet.”

Tony takes the seat next to him, leaving an inch of space between them. “J, turn on the Saints game from yesterday.”

Sam smiles a little and asks, “Do you even like football?”

“It’s not the worst sport,” Tony replies vaguely. He settles back into the cushions and pulls the blanket off the back of the couch to cover them both.

“Yeah, what’s the best?”

Completely serious, Tony says, “Ping pong.”

Sam laughs, “That’s not a real sport. Pick something else.”

“Of course it’s real. It’s in the Olympics and everything,” Tony grins. “Give me one good reason it’s not a sport.”

“Alright, fine, maybe it’s real, but there’s no way it’s your favorite.”

Tony shrugs, “It’s entertaining sometimes. The professionals get really into it. There’s an awful lot of grunting involved.”

They stay up for a while longer, talking about nothing of importance, and Tony slowly shifts closer to him until that bit of distance is gone. His arm presses up against him, and Sam starts to have a hard time keeping his eyes open, it seems only natural to rest his head against Tony’s shoulder.

“You can go to bed,” Sam murmurs. “You don’t have to stay here with me.”

“I don’t mind,” Tony whispers back.

Sam does regret it a bit when he wakes up on the couch in the morning with a sore back, but there’s a fresh mug of coffee already waiting for him on the table, still warm and exactly how he likes it, and he smiles to himself anyway. That night is a shift to something different, and he knows it right away.

He starts to pay more attention to Tony’s interactions with everyone else, just in case he’s part of the rule and not the exception. Generosity is one of Tony’s best traits, but even so it tends to extend even further to him. More personal and frequent.

“So there’s this place in Brooklyn that claims to have the most authentic cajun cuisine outside of New Orleans. Want to come with me? Tell me if it’s true?”

It isn’t true, and Tony comes to him the next day with another one, until they’re on a quest together to find one that doesn’t make Sam miss home after just one bite. It takes them all over the city and into Jersey once or twice, and Sam doesn’t point out that Tony doesn’t even seem to like crawfish, no matter where it comes from. He doesn’t want it to be over if he does.

“This is pretty close,” Sam says. He thinks it might be place number eleven, but he lost count a while back. “Could use a little more spice, but at least they didn’t try to add their own spin to it.”

Tony’s watery eyes widen. “This isn’t spicy enough for you?”

Sam grins and shakes his head. “Remind me to bring you with me the next time I go home. You won’t know what hit you.”

Tony’s face does something complicated at that, before it settles on a soft smile. “Yeah, that would be fun.”

Sam fully gets it then, what exactly it all means, but he doesn’t quite know what he wants to do about it yet. Tony has taken up residence in a place in his heart that he wasn’t sure was capable of opening up anymore. He did it so easily, sneaking in like a thief in the night and catching Sam unaware.

Now the sound of Tony’s laugh makes his stomach flip. He seeks it out, telling him stupid stories and jokes to make it happen more. He stares a little too much to catch glimpses of his smile, and now he can see just how often Tony looks back.

It isn’t subtle anymore, this thing between them. Lingering looks, too long touches, and every quiet gesture all build up. Bucky teases him and Natasha gives him knowing looks. Steve tells him that he hopes they make each other happy, and Sam doesn’t tell him that nothing has happened between them like that. They’re still just friends, and they don’t talk about what any of it means.

“Do you want to see a movie with me tonight? There’s that weird one with the killer robots playing downtown,” Sam suggests, and neither of them say anything when Tony slips his hand into his in the darkness of the theater. It goes unmentioned, too, when Sam holds tight after Tony almost lets go when they reach the sidewalk afterwards.

It’s another late night when the last piece finally falls into place.

Sam is nursing bruised ribs again after another mission that turned a little sideways through no one’s fault. He’s still sweaty, dirt under his fingernails and dried blood caked around a shallow cut on his cheek, but Sam still asks JARVIS in the elevator to take him to wherever Tony is. It isn’t as surprising as it should be that Tony is waiting for him on the edge of Sam’s bed.

He stands there patiently while Tony looks him over, and he looks his fill in return. It’s strange how days away from him feel longer now. His balance is off center until Tony is around to set him right again.

“I missed you,” Sam murmurs, and Tony smiles softly.

“You were only gone a couple of days,” he points out, but Sam knows now that it’s his way of saying that he missed him just as much.

Normally, Sam would let it move on from here. Tony would lead him into the bathroom, gently clean up his scrapes, and click his tongue at every bruise. It would end with them on the couch, Sam’s head in Tony’s lap or vice versa, depending on what mood it takes. Sometimes he wants to hold Tony and remember that he survived another fight so he could come home to this, and sometimes he needs to be held to forget about everything else that was lost along the way.

But tonight he reaches out to grasp Tony’s hip, and he draws him in a little closer. The room is dimly lit, and each shadow on Tony’s face is accentuated. Sam can’t remember quite the first time he looked at him and thought the word ‘beautiful,’ but it’s all he’s thinking now.

“You love me,” Sam says. “For a long time now, right?”

Tony nods, and he wraps his arms around Sam’s waist, careful not to hold too tight. “You caught up eventually. Didn’t take as long as I thought it would.”

Sam smiles, cupping Tony’s face in one palm and stroking his thumb across his cheekbone. “How long were you expecting?”

“Maybe never,” Tony admits. “I would’ve kept trying, though.”

“Stay with me tonight?” Sam asks, because nothing more needs to be said for now. They both already know.

“How about every night?”

Sam leans in slowly, murmuring against his lips, “Sounds like a plan.”

#samtony #ironfalcon #ironfalcon fic #my writing #my fic #prompt fill #tony stark #sam wilson #warmachinesocks

[moon-light-jukebox]

The Pretty Boy and the Purple Scarf - [Reid x Fem!OC]

masterlist

Summary: Sam is very surprised when she gets hand picked to join the BAU. She’s even more surprised to meet Dr. Spencer Reid. It’s not surprising that she would develop feelings for him...but he can’t feel the same way. Can he? 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Original Character

Word Count: 7.9k

Rating: Explicit 

Genre: Fluff/Smut

Content Warning: Unprotected sex, Dom!Spencer, light bondage, oral sex (female receiving), language.

A/n: This fic was a commission I did for @imjusthereformggcontent‘s birthday. She told me last night that it was “so good” and it “deserved to see the light of day.” She was being overly kind as usual, but here it is. I wrote this in second person which is a bit ooc for me. I hope y’all like it. 😊

--The Pretty Boy and the Purple Scarf-- 

Everything about the day you transferred from the 4th floor to the 6th floor was unexpected. You had only heard of Aaron Hotchner by reputation, but you’d never actually seen the man.

Which is why you were very surprised when he came down to the 4th floor and personally requested you be reassigned to the 6th floor; truth be told, that requested sounded more like a demand. You barely had time to gather your things before you were on the elevator upstairs.

You had been greeted by a very bubbly blonde woman in hot pink high heels. She had squealed with joy when the doors slid open and she caught sight of you.

“I knew you were the right choice!” She had chirped, teetering towards you. “Your work record is phenomenal, you passed all the background checks, and you’ve technically already taken the required psych courses to be a profiler.” She was positively shaking with excitement. “And you’re as cute a stinking button and look at your hair!”

Several minutes later the woman introduced herself as Penelope Garcia. Not only was she the technical analyst for the BAU, but she also split the responsible of communications liaison with the unit chief.

She then informed you that these duties would now be split between three people, SSA Hotchner, herself…and you.

Once the initial shock had worn off, you were thrilled. You had taken the psychology courses because you had always been fascinated by the behaviors of others. You had joined the FBI because you wanted to help people.

This was your dream job!

But you’d be lying if you said that those were the only reasons that working with the behavioral analysis unit was your dream job.

When Garcia had introduced you to the team that very first day, you clicked with every member right away. David Rossi always offered you a fatherly smile whenever he saw you, Prentiss and Garcia had invited you out to their girl’s night multiple times. Derek Morgan had taken to calling you “pretty girl” which never failed to make you smile. Even Aaron Hotchner was friendly towards you…well, as friendly as he could be. Occasionally you saw his mouth twitch whenever you made a sarcastic comment; you took that to mean that he probably liked you at least a little bit.

While that was also wonderful…it wasn’t why this was your dream job.

During that very first meeting, Garcia had introduced you to everyone in the conference room. They all smiled warmly at you and offered a handshake.

“And this is our resident genius Dr. Spencer Reid,” Garcia had introduced with a wave of her hand.

Dr. Spencer Reid was easily the most unexpected part of the day. He looked at least a few years older than you, so you were surprised that he had the doctor honorific, but the most startling thing was what he looked like. He was tall, possibly the tallest person in the room, with a slim build and unruly curly brown hair. His straight white teeth were dug into his bottom lip while he fidgeted nervously. And then there were his eyes. You now knew that they were brown with flecks of gold near the center, but in that light, they had actually looked like honey.

You offered him your hand, anticipating that he would greet you the way the others had; but nothing about Spencer Reid was ordinary.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead while he stared at your hand.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering,” he informed you, much to the amusement of everyone else in the room. “It’s actually safer to kiss.”

Out of all the things you could have said in that moment, you decided to tease him. “I mean, you’re cute. I wouldn’t say no if that’s how you wanna introduce yourself.”

A choked laugh exploded out of SSA Morgan at your comment. “Oh shit!” He threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Watch out, she’s got your number, Pretty Boy!”

Pretty Boy, you thought. It definitely fits.

The rest of the team had shared in Morgan’s amusement. Even Spencer had seemed amused; amused and thoroughly embarrassed. The apples of his cheeks had turned bright red.

You just shot him a slightly awkward smile because holy fuck he was cute, especially when he was embarrassed.

Later after the rest of the team had left the conference room and returned to the bullpen, you saw Reid standing in front of the coffee station in the kitchenette.

“Hey,” you called, coming up to his side. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in there. I’m Sam.”

He offered a small smile in your direction while he poured an ungodly amount of sugar in his coffee. “Oh, you didn’t. I was 12 years old when I graduated from a Las Vegas public high school. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Dr. Reid is tougher than he looks,” you joked, crossing your arms over your chest. “Got it. I can’t promise I won’t tease you again.”

He just laughed. “If you’re going to tease me then you can just call me Spencer.”

--

Things had started to change about 3 weeks after that. You had finally gotten more comfortable around the team, Spencer included. True to his word, he didn’t seem to mind that you had teased him a few times over the weeks. It was all harmless stuff, of course.

“Cute tie, pretty boy” or “sweater vests are an odd choice, but I’m into it.”

Derek was thoroughly amused, telling you more than once that your remarks to Spencer were the highlight of his day and that he wished you had joined the team sooner.

Throughout all those comments, Spencer never teased you back. He’d duck his head, trying to hide the blush on his face, or he’d just smile at you.

That all changed one morning while you were standing at the coffee station. Garcia had joked that she never drank coffee before working here, but it was like the machine had some sort of hold over everyone. After almost a month here, you were starting to believe it.

You liked coffee, sure, but only if it didn’t taste too much like coffee. You were honestly concerned about people like Hotch who drank black coffee; it just seemed like they must have been through something.

“And you tease me for how much sugar I put in my coffee,” a voice said from beside you, barely able to conceal a chuckle that followed their words. “Jesus Christ, Samantha.”

You turned to smile up at him, your green eyes meeting his warm brown ones. “Nice try, pretty boy. I’m putting a perfectly reasonable amount of sugar in my coffee. I don’t use nearly as much sugar as you do.”

“Probably not,” he conceded, propping his hip up against the counter. “You’re sweet enough anyway.”

Your eyes went impossibly wide at his words, you were stunned. So stunned that you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of your throat.

Dr. Spencer Reid looked just as surprised at his words as you did, two bright pink spots appearing on the apples of his cheeks. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” he squeaked out, his voice laced with embarrassment.

“You’re never going to hear me complain about you flirting with me, Dr. Reid.”

“You can call me Spencer, Samantha,” he reminded.

His words were so soft you were afraid you’d misheard him. Based on the slightly awkward look on his face, you could tell you didn’t. “Okay Spencer,” you breathed out, testing how his name felt in your mouth.

He started to turn to walk away before you found your voice again. “Oh, and you can just call me Sam. Everybody else does.”

The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile. “I know, but if it’s okay with you, I think I’d like to keep calling you Samantha.”

The tension in the air seemed to thicken at his words. How did Spencer just saying your name have this sort of effect on you? Trying to keep your composure, you just nodded. “S-sure, Spencer. You can call me Samantha if you want.”

His nervous demeanor melted away. “Good.” He had turned back around and crossed the room before you even realized what had happened.

--

After that day, a sort of odd friendship had started between you and Spencer Reid. What had begun as awkward flirting attempts every once in a while from him were becoming more and more frequent, and a little bit bolder in nature. You loved that he was getting more comfortable with you.

But you couldn’t ignore how things had started to shift inside you over the past few months.

Talking to Spencer was the highlight of your day. Every time he called you Samantha when the rest of the world called you Sam, you felt butterflies in your stomach. Your mood always lifted whenever you listened to him talk about something he was passionate about.

One of your favorite things was how his cheeks would turn just a bit red whenever he stopped by your desk on one of his many trips to the coffee pot.

“Hey, can I get you a cup?” He’d offer, tapping his fingers against the desk.

You’d always smirk at him. “This is a weird flirting strategy, Pretty Boy,” you’d say, your voice teasing. “Not that I mind watching you walk away.”

The first time you had made that joke it took Spencer a second to get your meaning; the moment he did he flushed beet red.

Even though he acted embarrassed by your comments, he still stopped by your desk multiple times a day. Whenever he did bring you back a cup of coffee it was always made perfectly, just the way you liked it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when you realized what these shifting feelings had meant. You all were working a difficult case in South Dakota that was really getting to you. During a coffee run, Spencer brought you back a white chocolate mocha. When you’d looked up at him, your brows drawn together in confusion, he’d just smiled at you before he shuffled away.

Spencer Reid was becoming one of your best friends…and you were not so slowly falling for him.

--

The day after you got back to Quantico from Sioux Falls, you were back in the kitchenette, only this time you were getting your lunch. You normally ate lunch with either Spencer or Penelope, but you hadn’t seen the Pretty Boy since this morning.  

You were so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t even realize the very person you were thinking about had snuck up on you.

“What’s that?” His voice asked from beside you, causing you to jump slightly.

“Jesus, Spence,” you mumbled, embarrassed for your reaction. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

He just smiled at you, causing your heart to beat a bit faster. “You’ve never called me Spence before,” he said softly, his eyes searching your face. “Plus, I like scaring you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

It was hard to remember anything when he smiled like that. “Oh,” you said, shaking your head slightly in an attempt to clear it. “What’s what?”

He took a step closer to you. “You have something on your wrist.”

You were taken aback at first, because how the fuck did he see that? Nobody had ever seen that tattoo unless they knew it was there. It’s impossible, Garcia must have told him about it, you had reassured yourself.

His warm hands touched your arm, pulling it closer to him while his thumb traced over the almost invisible ink on your wrist.

“Is this a tattoo?” he asked softly, bending his head down to inspect it further. “I knew about the one on the back of your neck, but I didn’t know you had this one.”

You felt your stomach flutter. He had noticed the one on the nape of your neck too?

“Y-yeah,” you managed to get out. “It’s an anchor.”

Spencer made a noise of acknowledgment, his thumb still softly rubbing over the skin of your wrist. "It's interesting. You know, originally the anchor was a symbol of safety. It wasn't until years later that it got a newer meaning."

It was so hard for you to focus when he was near you, but now he was touching you too?

"Now it's a symbol of hope," he mumbled, his head lifting, his warm brown eyes locking on to your own. "It suits you, Samantha." With that, he dropped your arm and turned to get a mug for his coffee.

Now that he wasn’t invading your senses with his presence, you could gather your thoughts slightly. “How did you know about my tattoo, Spencer?”

He didn’t look up from his caffeine driven task. “A good magician never reveals his secrets,” he said cryptically.

You scoffed, earning a chuckle from him. Spencer turned; his amber-colored eyes were swirling with mischief, but also something a bit deeper. It didn't just feel like he was looking at you; it felt like he was looking into you. It felt like he really wanted to see you in the way that all people crave to be seen. He wanted to understand you.

He took a small step closer, his hand reaching up to brush over one of the green pieces in your long brown hair. “Maybe I just pay more attention to you than you think,” he whispered before he pulled away, leaving you stunned.

He was already back at his desk before you collected your thoughts.

Spencer Reid…couldn’t feel that way about you, could he?

--

Your feelings about Spencer were starting to seep into the front of your mind, no matter what you did to try and keep them at bay. What made matters worse is that you worked with profilers, the best profilers. How were you supposed to keep your feelings hidden from them?

You decided the best thing to do was try to put some distance between yourself and Spencer. It was extremely hard to do, considering all you wanted to do was be near him; but he just kept making these teasing little comments.

Of course, like most things in life, your plan didn’t go work out. You had been avoiding Spencer for exactly 3 and a half hours before he made his move.

You were coming out of Garcia’s lair when you felt a hand clap around your forearm, jerking you to a stop.

Now, you were normally not an overly clumsy person, but when your momentum gets shifted so quickly, it’s only natural to stumble a bit. You turned and tripped over your feet, causing you to tumble into a very warm person.

One of his large hands caught your shoulder, steading you. Your eyes traveled up, up, up, to meet the beautiful eyes of the one and only, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Why do you insist on scaring the shit out of me?” you scolded, swatting at his chest with the back of your hand.

He looked completely unbothered. “I wouldn’t have had to scare you if you weren’t avoiding me.”

Your mouth popped open in surprise. “I’m not avoiding you!” you protested.

Spencer’s eyebrows pulled together. “Then why haven’t I seen you in the last three hours, thirty-five minutes and seventeen seconds?”

You couldn’t control your snort at his comment. “You’re so weird, do you know that?”

Something happened to Spencer's face just then; his whole expression seemed to soften somehow. "You don't mind that I'm weird though, do you, Samantha?"

Those pesky butterflies erupted in your stomach again, reminding you of your complicated feelings. You took a step back, plastering a friendly smile on your face…at least you hoped.

“You’re a weirdo, but you’re my weirdo, Spence.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s weirdo,” he quipped, shifting closer to you. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes.

“Good, because you’re stuck with me.”

His face turned thoughtfully before he spoke again. “You know,” Spencer said quietly, taking a step closer to you. “Your eyes have some yellow in them around the center. It’s almost like they’re sunflowers.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. “Spence…you-you can’t…you can’t just say shit like that to me.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it makes me feel…It just makes me feel.”

“Is that bad?”

I don’t know. “No,” you decided. “I don’t guess it is.”

Those warm brown eyes continued to scan over your face. “No more avoiding me,” he ordered, pointing his index finger at you.

“I wasn’t avoiding you!”

He stepped away then, but not before he reached out and tugged on one of the green strands in your hair. “You’re a terrible liar, Samantha,” he informed you, before walking down the hall towards the bullpen.

“I really hope I’m not,” you muttered under your breath. You had to be a good liar right now…because what if how you were feeling made you lose your best friend?

--

“I need the BAU team in the conference room,” Hotch’s voice boomed out across the bullpen. “Now.”

You wrinkled your nose slightly; no cases had come in today…So why are we meeting in the conference room?

“Come on, Pretty Girl,” Morgan said when he walked by your desk. “You better hustle or else I’m gonna be the one that sits beside your Pretty Boy.”

“No, you’re not,” Spencer called out. He was already walking into the conference room, his eyes fixed on your face until the moment he entered the room.

“Uh-oooohhh,” Morgan teased, his mouth in a wide smile. “Pretty Boy is getting a little territorial, miss thing. It won’t be long now.”

Your face scrunched in confusion. “Won’t be long until what?” you asked but he was already running into the conference room. “Morgan!”

--

No matter how much you told yourself otherwise, you couldn’t help but feel like things were slightly different with Spencer. He had never been overly affectionate with people, but you were his friend, it wasn’t all that uncommon for him to hug you or brush up against you.

It was just that he seemed to be doing it so much more often. He was always sitting beside you on the jet, at the round table, he was even coming by your desk more than usual.

What’s more, he seemed to have a bit more confidence than normal.

You were almost positive you weren’t imagining it or letting your feelings influence your judgment.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer asked, his leg extending so he could poke your shin with the tip of his converse. You had decided to sit in one of the seats at the back of the plane; you were thinking of it as an experiment to test your theory. There was no seat directly beside of you, making the closest one the seat in front of you that was faced in your direction. In all the time you had known him, Spencer had never sat back here if other seats were available.  

When he boarded the jet an hour ago his eyes had sought you out immediately, making his way to that set before flopping down into it.

Well, you had thought. I’m not totally crazy.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” you insisted, your eyes never lifting from your kindle. Spencer detested that you used an e-reader, but unlike him, you didn’t exactly feel like stuffing your go bag with heavy ass books.

He huffed. “One day I’m going to punish you for lying to me, Samantha.”

Your head flew up. “What!?” you hissed out in a loud whisper.

Spencer just lowered his eyes back to his book. “You heard me.”

--

The case had been a quick one to solve, thankfully. You hadn’t even been in town for 2 full days and the Tulsa police had already processed the unsub’s arrest, leaving your team free to go.

You probably could have gone home tonight if it wasn’t for the storm. There wasn’t actually a storm here that was the problem, it was the one that is Quantico. No matter how homesick anyone felt, it seemed like a unanimous decision to stay here one more night.

The team had arrived back at the hotel about 15 minutes ago, meaning you had only been in your room for 5 minutes when there was a knock on the door.

You had a sinking feeling in your gut that when you opened that door, you'd be met by a pair of warm brown eyes and wild light brown curly hair. It's not that you didn't want to see Spencer; the problem was how much you did want to see Spencer. No matter how many times you told yourself that the flirting was harmless, and he didn't feel the way you did, it didn't seem like your heart had gotten the message.

Maybe it’s not him, you thought. Maybe…maybe it’s a murderer.

No such luck was to be had, of course. You opened up the door to see the smiling, painfully handsome face of Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Spencer,” you laughed out. “We’ve only been here for like 10 minutes.”

The man just nodded, stepping around you and striding into your hotel room like he had a right to be there. "Can't I come to see my best friend?"

You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at him calling you his best friend. “You just saw me.”

“No,” he argued. “I last saw you 8 minutes and 13 seconds before you opened your door.”

Heaving out a loud sigh, you just shook your head and continued pulling things out of your go-bag.

“You don’t mind that I’m here, do you?”

That gave you pause. He didn’t sound like the confident Spencer you’d been seeing the past few weeks. He seemed like the awkward Dr. Spencer Reid who had blushed to the roots of his hair when you made a joke about kissing him.

You shot him a soft smile. “Of course I don’t mind, Spencer. You know I just like to tease you.” He seemed relieved at your answer as he went to sit on the edge of your bed. “And you seem to like teasing me too.”

“Who said I’m teasing?”

You rolled your eyes. “If you’re gonna be in here, make yourself useful.” You handed him your phone charger. “Put that in my go bag.”

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered, not trying to hide his smile at your bossy tone. “Why am I putting this…what’s this?”

You turned your head to see the purple fabric in his hands. “A scarf? Have you never seen a scarf before?” you teased. “Some genius you are.”

His face pulled a sour look at your words that made you smile harder. “I just haven’t seen it before. I like it.” Spencer started wrapping the scarf around his neck.

“Wow, Dr. Reid,” you called out, your eyes running over his form. “Very sexy. You’re gonna drive the girls wild.”

"There's only one person I'm interested in driving wild," he said softly before he snapped back into his teasing tone. "Purple is my favorite color, you know."

You weren’t even thinking when you said, “I know, that’s why I picked it.” Spencer’s head swung in your direction, clearly surprised by your words. “Anyway,” you hurried out. “Maybe you should keep it; you look adorable Spencie.”

He hated it when anyone called him Spencie and you knew that. You had made the comment to hopefully throw him off from your confession that you picked out that scarf because it reminded you of him.

“What happened to sexy?!” he demanded. “I do not look adorable.” His beautiful face was marred by a scowl.

You put your hands on your hips, giving him an exaggerated once over. “I don’t know, you look pretty adorable to me, Spencie.”

Spencer’s eyes had taken on a different look than you weren’t used to seeing directed at you. It was the same look he always had when he was trying to solve a problem. “You really think I’m just adorable, don’t you?”

Now it was your turn to look at him oddly. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” He took a step closer to you as soon as the words left your mouth, causing you to take a step back. “What are you doing?”

“Proving I’m not adorable,” he said, his words quiet but harsh.

"How-" You never got to finish your question; before you could even realize that he was moving his right hand wrapped around your throat, using his momentum to push you back one final step until you were pressed between the wall and his body.

You blinked up at him, trying to ignore how all of this made you feel. Even in this situation, you still couldn’t believe that Spencer was actually attracted to you the way you were to him. This is probably just like his Eastwood impression, you thought.

His head was bent down, bringing his face much closer to yours than you were used to. You could see the perpetual shadows he had under his remarkable eyes, the small crease in his skin between his eyebrows.

"Is this how you prove you're not adorable?" You had tried to make your tone sound light like your heart wasn't about to beat out of your chest, but it hadn't worked. Your voice sounded breathy and curious even in your own ears.

He looked over your face one final time, looking for some sort of emotion that he must have found because the next instant his grip on your throat got slightly tighter. His face moving so much closer to yours that your noses almost brushed.

“No,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips. “This is.”

Before you could process his words, his lips finally brushed against yours. He was hesitant at first, but he grew bolder when you gasped against his mouth.

How many times had you imagined this moment? Yearned for it? And somehow the feeling of his body against yours was more than you had ever imagined. He was more than you ever imagined.

He took advantage of the gasp you let out, his kiss growing more hungry, more frantic. His body pushed into yours, his thigh coming forward to wedge between both of yours. You were vaguely aware of his hand leaving your throat, but all thought left your head when you felt both of his hands cradled your face. His thumb rubbed against your cheek while he tilted your head where he wanted it.

Spencer Reid was in complete control of this kiss, and you were getting swept away.

His tongue brushed over your bottom lip, seeking entrance to the heat of your mouth. He groaned low in his throat when you immediately opened for him, the movements of your tongue just as bold as his. When your hands came up to grip his sides, one of his hands slid to the back of your head, his long fingers tangling in your hair.

There wasn't a moment of unsureness in this kiss; Spencer kissed you like he had done it a thousand times before. Eventually, the need for air became too great, causing you to break apart. You whimpered slightly when his teeth caught your bottom lips, tugging at it while he pulled his mouth away.

“I’m not adorable,” he panted out against your mouth.

You couldn’t do anything but stare at him in wonder. “I got that.”

His thumb moved over to run against your bottom lip. “No,” he whispered, his eyes scanning yours. “I don’t think you do.”

Those words seemed to hold a greater meaning that you couldn't quite put your finger on. How was anyone's mind supposed to work correctly when this man was standing so close?

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

"Yes." Because of course, you did.

For that moment he looked unsure like he was battling with something he wanted so desperately but was too afraid to reach out and grab. "If you tell me to stop, I will."

You didn’t get to ask him what he meant before he was on you again. This kiss was filled with the same passion as the last, but his hands had begun to roam around your body. Down to your throat, over your shoulders, brushing against the sides of your breast, and the sides of your waist, until they came to the bottom of your shirt.

He pressed his thigh more firmly against the part of you that ached for this man. When you groaned into his mouth, he broke away, his mouth trailing kisses across your cheek, then down to your neck.

Spencer gripped the bottom of your shirt, his thumbs ghosting against your skin before he started pushing it up your body.

Through the fog of lust in your brain, you realized what he was doing, causing you to tense slightly. He must have felt the shift in your body because he pulled his head up from its place against your skin, his eyes searching your face.

“We don’t have to do this, Samantha,” he whispered.

“No!” Your voice came out in a rush. “No, Spence I want to. I really want to.” He smirked at your words, one of his hands coming up to brush over the green streaks in your hair, his eyes still filled with fire, but somehow so incredibly soft.

“Spence, it’s just…I don’t know…I’m not…and you’re so…you’re so hot!”

He huffed out a laugh at your words, bringing the hand that had been touching your hair over to cradle the left side of your face. “You have to know that I think you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”

But how could you have known that?

“Samantha, you have no idea how I feel every fucking time I look at you.” He brought his mouth down again, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to both of your cheeks. “You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

You felt your breath catch. “Do it then.”

Spencer looked unsure for just a moment before he looked into your eyes again. "They really do look like sunflowers," he muttered to himself. "If you want me to stop, just tell me to stop."

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

He just smirked down at you before his entire demeanor changed. “We’ll see. Take off your shirt, Samantha.”

You were shocked at the sudden amount of authority in his tone.

“I won’t ask again, Pretty Girl.”

You were still slightly nervous, but the pull inside of you to obey his words was so much stronger than any sort of insecurity you felt. It was if your hands moved automatically, gripping the bottom of your shirt before tugging it over your head.

Spencer’s eyes ran over your newly exposed skin, lingering over your breasts. He reached his hand out towards you, his fingers brushing from your collarbones down to the tops of your breasts. Once they reached the edge of your bra, he paused, looking at you again.

“Your skin is soft, it’s like you were made to be touched,” he mused, unwinding the scarf from his neck. “Take this off. I’ve waited long enough to see your tits.”

Shocked at his words, you once again complied immediately. When your upper body was completely bared to him, he released another groan. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You felt yourself almost blush at his words.

“Hold your hands out.” Both of your arms extended in front of you. Your eyes went impossibly wide when he brought both off your wrists together before winding your scarf around them, binding you.

“I’d prefer to tie you to the bed, but this will have to do for now.” The scarf was secured now, but you knew you could break out of it if you needed to. “I want you to lay on the bed, raise your arms over your head.”

Once you had reached the position he had instructed, you turned to watch him. He had taken his tie off before he came to your room, leaving him in just a button-down shirt and his slacks. The placement of your arms brought your breasts higher; a sight Spencer must have enjoyed based on how long his gaze stayed there.

Before you were ready, he started removing his shirt. He looked so slim in his clothes; you hadn’t expected his body to look so well defined. Spencer Reid without a shirt was quite a sight to behold.

He joined you on the bed, his face hovering over your own. “I left my pants on because if I don’t have anything to stop me, I’m not going to be able to hold back. I’ll fuck you until you scream.”

You whimpered at his words. “Don’t worry my pretty girl, we’ll get there. But I want to savor you first. Keep your hands where they are, if you move them, I will punish you. Do you understand?”

You were struggling to think, his hands were moving over your skin again, those long fingers finally touching your breast, moving closer to your nipple.

“I asked you a question, Samantha.”

“Yes,” you responded, licking your lips.

Suddenly his fingers reached your nipple, he ghosted his thumb against the bud before he gave it a sharp pinch. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

He groaned at the sound of his honorific leaving your lips before he gave you a smile that was almost predatory. Spencer shoved your thighs apart, bringing his body to settle against you. You could feel how hard he was against you, even though all of your clothes.

He only gave you a brief, soft kiss before he started moving down your body. He wasted no time now. His lips closed over the tip of one breast while his hand cupped the other.

“Oh my god,” you moaned out, already trying to rock your body against his. That feeling got more frantic when you felt his teeth graze against you before he started to suck you into his mouth hard. His hand left your breast, moving down your stomach until he found the fastenings of your pants.

With a pop, the button sprang free; the sound of the zipper lowering was so loud in the otherwise silent room. The shifting of your hips got more and more desperate when you felt his fingertips run across the elastic band of your panties.

With one final nip of his teeth, he lifted his head, staring down at you. “Such a needy girl.” He pushed his body off of yours, coming to rest on his knees between your thighs.

His hand both moved to your sides, just above your pants. He raked his fingers down the skin until he caught the waistbands of your pants and panties. Spencer revealed you to his gaze slowly; so slowly you were afraid you would spontaneously combust.

Once he had you completely naked on the bed, he ran his hands over your legs, admiring you.

“I was right to leave my pants on,” he chuckled. “It’s taking everything I have not to wrap your thighs around me and finally fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimpered out when his hand ghosted over the skin of on the inside of your knee.

“Soon, pretty girl. But first, I’d rather find out how those thighs feel wrapped around my head.”

You forgot how to breathe at his words. He leaned down, shifting farthing down the bed. Spencer's mouth moved over the skin of your inner thighs with a trail of wet, open mouth kisses.

When he finally reached his destination, he turned his head to the side pressing one finally kiss against your thigh before his teeth caught the skin. The sensation caused you to buck your hips.

“Hold still, Samantha,” he breathed against you. “I want you to hold still while I make you cum with my mouth. Can you do that?”

You weren’t sure if you could, but you bit your lip and nodded anyway.

“That’s my good girl.” That was the last thing he said before he pressed a kiss to your pussy.

His tongue ran against the entirety of your slit once before he parted you with his thumbs. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re so wet, pretty girl. You’re absolutely soaked for me.”

Even if you had wanted to respond to his words, you couldn’t have, because right after he finished speaking his tongue tapped against your clit. Using all the willpower you had, you tried to keep your hips still while his tongue made slow circles around your clit before moving down to your entrance.

He ran his tongue around it before he speared it inside of you, his thumb coming up to rub your clit while he fucked you with his tongue.

“You taste so good,” he moaned against you. The sensation making your legs shake.

“Please, please Doctor.” Your voice was a whine. Seeing Spencer Reid’s head between your thighs was the sexiest thing on the planet.  

You could feel his mouth turn up in a smirk. His thumb kept its tortuously slow pace. “Please what, Samantha?”

“Please make me cum, please.”

You felt his other hand move over to your opening, two fingers entering you without warning, causing you to arch your back.

He withdrew them immediately at your movement, raising his upper body to look at you. You were not expecting it when his hand came down against your pussy in a sharp slap.

“Fuck!”

“I told you to hold still, Samantha.”

Your thighs were shaking in your efforts. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m trying.”

He smiled, running his tongue over his lips. “I know, Pretty Girl.”

His fingers pushed back inside of you, curling up. He shifted his hand slightly until he brushed again the spot inside of you that caused you to moan out a broken plea.

Your eyes had closed in both pleasure and as a show of self-control. If you saw what Spencer was doing to your body right now there was no way you’d be able to stop yourself from moving.

When you felt his mouth close around your clit, you were unable to keep your eyes shut. You had to look at him. His eyes were closed in bliss, his arm moving at a faster past.

His eyes snapped open and his mouth lifted when you moaned out his name. “Are you gonna cum, Pretty Girl?” he teased. “I can feel your tight little pussy squeezing my fingers. Fuck. I’m so fucking hard just thinking about what it will feel like when you cum all over my cock.”

“Spencer, please. I’m so close Please.”

He moved his mouth back down to the seam of your body. “You’ve been such a good girl, Samantha. You can move now, but your arms stay where they are. I want you to fuck this pretty pussy on my face. Can you do that?”

You nodded, your hips already moving to grind against him, seeking out your own pleasure. When his lips took your clit into his mouth, sucking softly, while his fingers curled into you, you were unable to control the loud moan that came out of your mouth as your orgasm washed over you.

Spencer’s fingers still moved inside of you, bringing you through your orgasm. He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh as he removed his fingers when you finally started to come down from your orgasm, he then put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before he spoke. “I’ve thought about how you’d look after you came for me so many times,” he said quietly, moving up your body. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “This is better than I imagined.”

You tried to deepen the kiss, but you knew you couldn’t move your arms yet.

“You’re not done, are you baby?” He laughed when you frantically shook your head “no.” You didn’t think you’d ever be done with this man.

His hand shot up to wrap around your throat; he applied pressure to the sides to restrict the blood flow. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, Samantha."

You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of his hand against you.

“Still such a needy girl,” he teased. “Now, you’re not done, are you?”

“No Doctor,” you rasped out.

Spencer smiled before he brought his mouth to yours again. He didn’t remove his hand from your throat while his tongue slicked into your mouth. It twirled against your own until he sucked the tip of your tongue into his mouth.

He pulled away with a groan. “I can’t fucking stand this anymore.” His hands moved to his pants, undoing them in a flash. You caught sight of him inside of his underwear. He palmed himself, his eyes on your face before he finally peeled those down too.

Spencer was well above average in everything else, it wasn’t surprising that he was here too. His hand wrapped around his cock, giving a few pumps while his eyes ran over your body.

“Turn over.”

You moved onto your stomach; Spencer pulling you up on to your knees. You felt both of his hands run over your ass until his right one lifted.

He gripped his cock in his hand, bringing it to your dripping center. Even that powerful orgasm hadn’t satisfied your desire for this man.

You felt the head of his cock slip into you, causing you both to groan. “Fucking Christ,” he moaned. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He started to slowly fuck himself into you, going deeper with every thrust. Your upper body was propped up on your elbows, your head hanging between them. You had never felt so overwhelmed by a man like this before.

With one final thrust, his hips slapped against your ass as he filled you completely.

Your face dropped into the pillow when he started to move; you were unable to control how loud you were moaning.

Those long fingers tangled in your hair again, pulling your head up. “No,” he growled, his rhythm never faltering. “I’ve thought about fucking you for too long. I want to hear you, do you understand.”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip while your hips pushed back against him. "Yes, Doctor."

“Good girl,” was all he said but he didn’t release your hair.

This was a torture of the sweetest kind. Your hands were bound, both of his hands were holding you in place while he fucked you in an almost primal way, but you need to touch your clit so badly you could cry. You were already so close again.

Spencer must have realized it then too. He pulled out of your body, causing a whine to slip from your throat, your hips pushing back to seek him out again.

“On your back, Pretty Girl.” He helped you roll, settling himself between your thighs again. His fingers ran over the bindings on your wrists before he brushed his mouth against yours.

He gripped his cock again, lining it up with your entrance before he slowly started to sink into you. He pulled your legs up higher around his waist, pulling him deeper. You both groaned at the sensation.

Spencer started rocking against you, his pelvis grinding against your clit. He kissed you again, both of his lips covering your top lip.

You let out another whimper when his pace quickened.

“I should be so mad at you, Samantha,” he rasped against your lips. “You’ve kept this perfect pussy away from me for too long.”

His words caused you to clench around him. He lifted his upper body again, only this time one hand when to your throat, the other moving between your bodies.

You felt his thumb circle your clit while his fingers choked you again. “Come on, Samantha. I want you to cum for me, pretty girl.” Your head was thrashing against his hold, your body moving against his desperately. “I can feel it; cum on my cock baby.”

You might have screamed when the orgasm broke inside of you but you lost all sense of time and space when you came for him. Spencer's pace never slowed, his hands lifting from you to grab onto the headboard. His thrusts were brutal and seemed to extend your own orgasm.

With one final thrust, he groaned out “Samantha”, a look that you would remember for the rest of his life on his face while he found his release inside of you.

He quickly reached up and undid the bindings around your wrist with one movement. You brought your arms down, wincing at the pins and needles feeling.

“Sore?” he asked, his thumbs rubbing over your wrists.

“It was worth it,” you teased.

He smirked up at you. “So, am I still adorable?”

“I don’t know,” you pretended to consider him. “There isn’t enough data to reach a conclusion. You’re a man of science, you should know that.”

“Only you would make a science joke at a time like this.”

“It’s why you like me.”

His gaze softened, his hand cradling your face again. “It’s one of the reasons.”

--

You hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk to Spencer since that night in Oklahoma. He had slept in your room, causing both of you to rush around frantically the following morning so you wouldn’t miss the plane.

Then you had a full day of paperwork before Penelope insisted that everyone needed to unwind and have fun. So, against everyone’s will, she had dragged us to a bar nearby.

Now it was the next day and you had a nervous sort of excitement fluttering in your stomach.

“It’s a bit warm for a scarf, Pretty Boy,” Morgan called out, startling you.

You had noticed your purple scarf was missing from your go bag but you just assumed you left it in the hotel room.

That was evidently not the case as Dr. Spencer Reid walked into the BAU bullpen with it wrapped around his neck.

“My neck gets cold,” he defended. “I’m not used to short hair yet.”

That seemed to satisfy everyone else, but you didn’t miss the smirk he sent your way, or how he placed the scarf on his desk where you could see it.

It wasn’t until after 10 am that you could finally get a chance to speak to him alone. He didn’t look at all surprised when you started walking towards his desk, he just turned his chair to face you, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“Are you going to give me my scarf back?” you questioned, your tone both amused and expectant.

Spencer just smiled at you, his cockiness seeming to have vanished. He looked almost nervous when he asked, “Are you going to go on a date with me?”

Despite all you had done, you couldn’t control the rush of surprise at his request. “Yes,” you informed him with a huge smile on your face.

His smile was just as earnest. “Finally,” he muttered, turning his chair back towards his desk. “And since you said ‘yes’, I think I’ll hang on to the scarf for a bit longer.”

-- The end.

--

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[migilini]

What The Heart Wants - Charlie Gillespie

Request: The reader is madly in love with Charlie who is her best friend but he’s dating and in love with her sister yk? Make it angst and sadcharlie

a/n: Sorry it took me so long! I’m so stressed with school atm so i bearly had time to write at all. I still hope you like it and that I went into the right direction. Don’t know how angsty it is.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: a little angst

MASTERLIST

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As a teenager you spent a lot of your free time watching pretty much every rom-com that was out there, the thought of true love ignited a spark of hope in your heart. You loved the way that the characters on screen always were meant to be together, the way their love just seemed to be or else life isn't worth living.

Maybe your image of love was flawed and unrealistic. Maybe you always fell in love with the idea of a person rather than the person itself. Maybe your standards were too high and maybe that's why all your previous relationships didn't seem to work out.

And then you met him. Kinda ironic really, love, at first sight, was always your least favourite trope. But there he was, sitting alone at the table in the otherwise crowded cafeteria. His brown hair fell into his eyes while he played with the mashed potatoes on his plate, he was bopping his head to something. You took a big breath, collected all your courage that you didn't use growing up and sat down across from him.

The stranger looked up with furrowed eyebrows "S-sorry there isn't another free table." you stuttered and sent him a small, flustered smile. The boy took out an earbud "Sorry?" you started to blush, your eyes wide "Oh I- sorry I- was uhm... is it okay if I sit here?"

"Yeah yeah sure." the stranger answered and shot you a smile and gosh was that smile beautiful. If this was your way to die then so be it. "I'm Asher by the way."

"Y/N. Nice to meet you." you waved with three fingers.

After that Asher took you under his wings, introduced you to all his friends, took you to parties and most importantly helped to grow your self-confidence. You always knew who you were but with him, it was the first time where you could actually show off the real you, there wasn't a part of you that you had to hide to fit in.

Nevertheless, he wasn't your best friend. You two spent a lot of time together yes, but you didn't share a lot of secrets, your topics always being superficial. Yet, the crush on him only grew. The two of you were picture book perfect. Asher threw you into the water at the beach, screamed to lyrics in the car with you or even went shopping with you.

"Just this one party I promise," he whined one day, shoving more dresses in your chest. You huffed "Is this why you agreed to come thrifting with me? To get on my good side?" Asher smiled cheekily "Guilty. I know you don't know the people there but I really want you to go." he tried to persuade.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, trying to hide the smirk on your lips. You liked to see him throw a little tantrum. "Fine. But you'll pay for my dress."

The host of the party seemed nice enough and you hoped to god that the guests were the same. LED Lights illuminated the living room in a dark purple. The music blaring so loud, that you could feel the beat in your heart. "Y/N this is my good buddy Charlie. Charlie this is Y/N one of the baddest people I know." Asher screamed over the music, one of his arms draped over your figure. The party just getting started as more people walked through the front door.

You gave Charlie a hug and smiled up at him. "Hi!"

"Hello." he smiled back and your breath got stuck in your throat for a good second. Suddenly Asher had competition for the prettiest smile in the world. The boy with the mischievous spark in his eye really challenged your rankings.

You didn't intend to spend the night practically glued to Charlies hip. Asher was nowhere to be found, probably smoking somewhere with his buddies and the two of you were just naturally drawn to each other. He goes to get a new drink and a minute later, without discussing it beforehand, you do the exact same thing. Or you go on the small balcony to get some fresh air and Charlie joins you a couple of minutes later, casually leaning against the railing next to you.

"I figured that I would find you out here." he nearly whispered into the night. "Yeah it seems like you've been stalking me the whole night." you teased with raised eyebrows, a slight smirk playing on your lips. Charlie's hand immediately covered his heart. "I would never! And there I was, thinking I had the honour of you stalking me."

"Alright, Teds. If it makes you happy yes of course I was chasing after your pretty ass." you winked and he let out a heartful laugh.

"Teds?" he asked.

You shrugged your shoulders and slid down the railing, your front, facing the glass doors. The party inside was raging, with people dancing, kissing, talking and laughing. Only the faint noise of the newest pop song carried its way out to you.

"You're wearing a shirt with many teddy bears on it. It only made sense."

You and Charlie spent the rest of the night outside, the conversation flowing naturally and if there was a quick silence it wasn't awkward at all. Lucky for you, the party was in the middle of the summer so you didn't mind that much that you forgot to bring a jacket outside.

After the party you and Charlie spent a lot of time together, going to museums, road trips, camping or even just hanging out in one of your apartments. Inert weeks he was your best friend and over the years of friendship, you started to develop feelings for the Canadian.

He had helped you calm down right before your first date with Asher, who finally had the guts to ask you out and picked up the pieces after you got broken up with. Asher's last words before he left, never leaving your mind: "Truthfully I think you're in love with someone else Y/N. You just haven't figured it out yet but I know. I look at you the way you look at them."

Several months later, on a trip with your family and Charlie, you realised that Asher was indeed telling you the truth and you had been slowly falling for someone else.

It was late evening, the stars started to creep up on the sky, while the sun sank lower and lower behind the trees, illuminating the world in a pretty blend of oranges and pinks. The group sat around a small fire that cracked every now and then, filling the air with warmth. Everybody was exhausted from the big hike. Trees rustled somewhere in the background. A soft melody caught you off guard, completely ripping you out of your own thoughts.

Charlie sat a couple of feet away from you, across from your sister and mother. He was playing his guitar with no special song in mind. He settled on a melody that you didn't seem to recognize but you didn't care. Charlie looked beautiful.

Over the last year, he grew out his hair, which was now in a loose bun in the crook of his neck, some stray hairs falling in his face. The warm light from the fire highlighted his features in the exact right way. His eyes sparkled with joy. Before he started to sing the song, he looked over at you and smiled. It was the same smile that haunted you since then. The one that made your heart beat faster, the one that still took your breath away, the thing you couldn't shake off and also the one thing you couldn't live without.

While you stared at Charlie during the duration of the song, your heart swelling at the sight of him. He did the same to your sister. His eyes memorising every crook of her face from her arched eyebrows down to the roundness of her lips.

It didn't surprise you at all. Growing up everybody either wanted to be her or be with her. She was naturally gorgeous with long, luscious hair and an amazing body. She had decent grades and was always nice to everybody. The embodiment of the girl next door. It was hard to build a reputation that wasn't ‘Sam’s little sister’.

Looking back, that was probably why you liked Asher's attention so much. It was the first time someone saw you for yourself.

But what did shock you was that eventually, the two became a couple. Looks-wise they fit perfectly together that much was true but you couldn't wrap your head around them when it came to personality. From your romcoms, you knew that opposites attract yet Sam and Charlie are more than opposites. Not to say that you didn't love your sister, you really did, that was the main reason why the news shocked you so much. He liked to travel the world, not to be tied to one place for a long time. He was spontaneous and carefree, always down for a new adventure or a new adrenaline kick. Sam on the other hand wanted to take over dad's business in her hometown where she already went to school and college. Ever since she was little, she dreamed of a big family that was gonna grow up in the house she grew up in. Sam didn't like leaving her little bubble, her days always planned down to the second.

Neither of them noticed your heart breaking a little more every time they kissed right in front of you or the longing looks you gave Charlie. Both tried to include you in their adventures, taking you to the cinema with them, to IKEA and Disneyland. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't quite meant for each other. However, you kept your mouth shut just, always smiling their way, not mentioning that Charlie never went on Road Trips anymore or that Sam seemed to smile less.

“I think I want to marry her.”

You nearly spat out your drink, the fist in front of your mouth only holding back a little. The water dripped down your arm and onto the couch.

“What now?” you coughed and turned to the other person chilling at your apartment.

“You heard me right. My acting career is taking off and all the travelling made me realise that she is the one.” he smiled with a lopsided grin.

You furrowed your eyebrows, desperately trying to hide the hurt that flashed in your eyes. After trying, again and again, to get over Charlie you lost all hope. No other man even slightly compared to him, you tried to forget about him you really did. However, your heart believes that he was the man for you.

“Don’t the two of you want completely different things?” you switched into the best-friend mode, locking the jealous side away.

Now it was Charlie's turn to be confused, “What do you mean? We’ve been together for nearly two years now.”

“I just mean that she never expressed the desire to travel the world. She wants to have a big family and be a mom. Is she gonna travel to your jobs with you? Are you giving up your career to be at home with her? I just think there are so many things the two of you need to discuss before you take this step.” you expressed your concern while playing with the hem of the blanket covering you.

He stared at you for moments. Neither of you was speaking, the gears in his brain working in overload.

“Look I’m not saying that you shouldn't ask her to marry you. If that's what makes you happy, be happy. It's what I care about. I’m just saying you have a completely different view of the world.” you rambled, your eyes not meeting his anymore.

Was he mad? He normally spoke his thoughts out loud.

He lets out a sigh as he rubbed his hands over his face “Yes I know that you're right...but my gut is telling me that she's the one...” your heart cracked “and I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't ask, even if it ends up not working and you were right with your concerns. But knowing us, we will make it work. Compromise a lot, build a worldview together as a married couple.”

He smiled at you and your heartbeat quickened “I also kinda need your blessing.” he sheepishly said, slightly biting his lip.

You tried to keep your thoughts clear. “My blessing?”

Charlie nodded excitedly “Yes! I figured since you’re my best friend and she's also your sister I would ask you if you would be okay with that… I know we never asked if you're comfortable with us dating in the first place.”

“Oh, Teds," you whined, using the old nickname you had for him. "No need to ask me! As I said your happiness is my priority.” you smiled so wide that it hurt your cheeks, blinking rapidly to dissolve the tears that formed in your eyes.

He tackled you in a bone-crushing hug, placing wet and sloppy kisses all over your forehead. “Thank you. thank you. thank you! You don't know how much this means to me!”

Growing up, watching the Notebook, About Time, 10 things to hate about you, PS: I love you and many others, love always seemed inevitable, somehow it would work out. You would've never thought that you would be jealous of your sister's engagement. Who would have predicted that both sisters were gonna fall for the same guy, that one sister was happy while the other hated herself for yearning for him as well?

The 25-year-old version of you despised the 15-year-old version for loving these goddamn rooms, for believing in a soulmate, one true love, love for everyone but mostly for believing in an own happy ending.

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Taglist: @alluringworld

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie angst #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie one shot

[imaginesofharrypotter]

Asgardian ale

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Thor brought some Asgardian booze to the party. Surely, nothing can go wrong.

Warnings: a little bit of angst I guess, but mostly fluffy Bucky

Last night, it was one of Tony Stark's notorious parties but only including the Avengers. Everyone was dragged there as it was mandatory, "team-building fun" as Tony liked to put it. Surprisingly enough Thor showed up and brought something with him that made the party all the more exciting: Asgardian ale.

You see, the two super soldiers were so enhanced that they could never get drunk and let loose, with human alcohol that is. It was truly a sight to behold. Pre-serum Steve had so many ill conditions that alcohol was off-limit and boy, did he enjoy the calm feeling of the booze. The always polite Captain America ran around the tower shouting nonsense, swearing while he tried to lift Thor's hammer and cutely but miserably flirting with Natasha (but given the unlikely situation, it made the assassin blush nonetheless)

You were laughing your ass off on the couch with Wanda when two strong arms draped around your shoulder making you look up.

"Hi Soldier" - you greeted your boyfriend who had an adorable cheeky grin on his face

"Hi, Beautiful" - he planted a sloppy kiss on your mouth that made all eyes wander from Steve towards the two of you

You see, Bucky never was a fan of PDA, rarely showing affection when the others were around. That was fine with you, you understood that he was a private person, and it made his love for you even more precious, knowing he would make it up when in your shared room alone. He was a big, sentimental, clingy, and handsy person and you wouldn't have it any other way. It was so sweet that you were the only one seeing this affectionate side of him... Up until last night.

"I miss youuuu" he purred in your ear, tone slightly slurred by the alcohol

"But I'm right here, Buck" - you cocked an eyebrow and smiled sweetly at him

"I miss your warmth" - he cornered the couch and sat down next to you, instantly wrapping his arms around you in a side hug, nuzzling your neck.

"Better?" - you asked in a whisper as you started stroking his hair, just the way he likes it

"Soooo much" - he purred again, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent - "You smell so gooood"

You chuckled lightly and yelped as you felt yourself being lifted. You landed on Bucky's lap, him pulling you flesh to him and tightly wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on one of your shoulders. You laid back and let yourself relax in your boyfriend's embrace, closing your eyes, and feeling utterly content. That is until a flash went off.

"Hey" - you exclaimed as you saw Sam holding his phone and showing the photo that he just took to everyone

"Oh, calm down Snowflake, it's not every day that we get to see Mr. Grumpy so kind and calm." - he shrugged his shoulders

"At least send it to me then." - you asked him, already knowing what your new phone wallpaper will be

You lightly turned your head to see Bucky's reaction, only to find him still in the same position, contently sitting with closed eyes and a little smile plastered on his face.

The rest of the night mostly contained talking and laughing as everyone gathered around you. During the late hours, slowly, everyone went back to their rooms. You haven't failed to see Steve following Nat out and to her room. You smiled to yourself then you tried to think about a way to get you and Bucky into a comfortable position to sleep. You assumed that he had fallen asleep a long time ago as he never said a word all night, nor did he move after snuggling up with you. You slowly loosened his arms around you.

"Wanna go to sleep, doll?" - he asked and you jumped a little bit on his lap - "Sorry to startle you" - he chuckled lightly and hugged you tightly again

"It's okay, I just thought you were asleep" - you turned halfway and smiled down lovingly at him

"Nope" - he popped the p in it - "Was just too comfortable to move or say anything" - Bucky smiled goofily up at you while your heart melted

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself" - you caressed one of his cheeks, basking in the feeling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch - "Are you feeling sleepy yet?"

"I could sleep" - he mumbled tiredly while picking you up bridal style and carrying you to your shared bedroom

He put you on the floor and kissed you sweetly. It was a gentle and loved filled kiss, not hungry, nor rushing, just full of passion. He pulled away and undressed you slowly, trailing little wet kisses on your skin as he exposed it. After you were only standing in your panties he walked to the closet, picked out one of his T-shirts, and pulled it over you. Bucky loved it when you wore his clothes, it was a sense of pride that you were his and his alone. You started to undress him too, focusing on his clothing but you knew his gaze never left you as he followed your every movement with an expression filled with adoration. You pulled out a drawer and picked out a fresh boxer for him and panties for you. You both changed and got under the covers, Bucky instantly nuzzling your stomach and wrapping his arms around you the best he could. You reflexively started to card your fingers through his luscious brown locks and felt him hum against your skin while planting a soft kiss on it.

"I love it so much when you are this affectionate" - you laid your head on the soft pillow

"I can't help it, you are so soft and warm, the best feeling ever" - he mumbled softly and you heard his breath even out

"Sweet dreams, my love" - you kissed the crown of his head gently and drifted to sleep yourself

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A loud crash woke you up from your slumber. You turned around, wanting nothing more than to nuzzle into your boyfriend's warm body, but you found his spot empty and cold.

You yawned and walked to the kitchen to get some breakfast for yourself. Steve was already there, making coffee for himself, his back to you.

"Well, well, I didn't know purple was on the new Captain America color palette" - you commented with an obvious smirk as you saw the not so little love bites around his neck"

"Thor should definitely not bring that ale on a party again" - he laughed nervously while turning around and sipping his coffee

"Ohhh, on the contrary, Stevie. I will personally ask him to do so if it makes you finally admit your feelings" - your smiled turned more soft - "How much do you remember?"

"Everything" - he face-palmed himself - "The strength of the alcohol was enough to set me loose but not enough to make me forget things or even to have a hangover"

With that, you took out your phone to check social media. The first pic that came up nearly made you drop the device. Before you could ask Steve about it, Sam came running into the room, screaming, while a very angry looking Bucky followed him with heavy steps.

"Take it down" - your boyfriend demanded with a growl, the authority in his voice making your legs week

"No way man, where is the fun in it, there are already thousands of view on it" - Sam retorted while trying to hide behind you, knowing Bucky would never hurt you

"Oh, no, you are not getting me into this" - you stepped away, but towards your love - "Sweatheart, what got you this mad?"

"Oh, why not ask Birdie here?" - he still threw daggers with his eyes towards Sam

You thought about the post with the caption "The big bad Winter Soldier is actually a big softie #BuckyBear" that Wilson made and uploaded.

"Is this about the picture from last night? Do you not like it?" - you asked softly

"Of course I do, you are on it" - he smiled lovingly at you, his voice softened - "But other people aren't supposed to see and like it" - he mumbled and pouted like an adorable child

"Oh, honey, but we look so good. We've been together for almost two years, it's only natural that we love being affectionate towards each other" - you put your hands on his cheeks, lightly caressing them

"So it wouldn't bother you if I hold your hand or kiss you in front of others?" - he asked shyly, avoiding eye contact

"Of course not. I would really love that. But I respect your choice of privacy if it's not okay with you." - you reassured him

He didn't answer verbally, just bent down and captured your lips in a passionate, deep kiss.

"Ewww, get a room" - Sam exclaimed loudly, making you break the kiss

"You cooked yourself a meal, now you're gonna eat it" - and with that, you went back kissing Bucky

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From that moment on, Bucky always kept an arm around you and was never afraid to show his love for you. It turned out that he was a real sucker for PDA, knowing you loved his attention. You were also able to finally shower him with love anytime you wanted, to cuddle up to him and relax, and to go to long walks, holding hands. You two were never overdoing it though, but the team never minded it anyway. Everyone knew how happy and calm moments are so rare in the field of work you were doing, they were truly happy for you. Maybe Sam not so much, especially when Bucky randomly grabbed you and kissed you deeply whenever he walked in, pissing him off and reminding him that he never should invade your privacy again. Oh, and Bucky never admitted it, but he actually was grateful for Sam to take the photo that now served as his wallpaper too.

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Author's note: I have a bunch of ideas of Bucky, so most probably I'm gonna post about him for a while. But also really wanna write something sweet for Tj Hammond. What are your thoughts? Have a lovely day ^^

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky #james buchanan barnes #x reader #marvel #avengers #tony stark #sam wilson #thor #bucky bear #fluff #asgardian #Sebastian Stan #love #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #bucky x reader

[simp4sam22]

Title: Unexpected

Summary: A hunt goes wrong and John is forced to watch his sons make love, something they’d been doing already, right under his nose.

Pairings: Sam and Dean, then Sam x John x Dean.

Warnings: incest, slight daddy kink, forced voyerism and then a consensual threesome.

~*~

When John woke up that morning, he hadn’t expected to be dealing with.. this. He’d dealt with witches before, okay? He knew what the hell he was doing.

But this witch.. she knew what she was doing, too. She was older than she looked, probably a century old. John was, admittedly, out of his element with this. Which was why he found himself against a pole, wrists tied together on the other side of it. In an abandoned building, of course.

His boys were on their knees in front of the witch, her spell keeping them from moving. John felt helpless as he watched her hand cradle Sam’s face.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch him!” Dean hissed before John could even say anything. Dean had a fire in his eyes, something John had seen before in the past. Dean was always protective of his little brother, it was the way John raised him after all.

The witch just smirked, nonplussed by Dean’s outburst. She turned to look at John, her deep brown eyes turning a shade of purple. Sam’s eyes rolled back as her hand rested against his forehead.

“What are you doing to him?!” John screamed. He wrestled against his restraints, but it was no use. The rope was enchanted. They were trapped and he could only blame himself.

“Sammy-“ Dean had tried to call out, but cut himself off once Sam finally looked at him. “..Sam..” His voice was tight as the youngest Winchester was finally able to move. His hand landed right on Dean’s thigh. The eighteen year old’s cheeks were flushed red, pupils blown as he slowly trailed his hand upwards.

Dean’s eyes flashed from Sam’s to John’s, and the older man couldn’t exactly explain the emotion in them. “Sam, get a hold of yourself. This.. this is a spell. She’s got, What, Sam-“ Dean‘s words cut off with a gasp as his brother gripped at his clothed cock.

“You’re fucking sick!” John yelled out to the witch, who merely laughed in response. “Stop, Sam. Now!” John ordered but to no avail. Sam seemed miles away, lost in the feeling of his brother’s jean clad cock in his hand.

“He can’t hear you, Johnny.” She pointed out uselessly. She neared Dean then, who was still begging, pretty weakly by that point, for Sam to get a hold of himself. He’d barely noticed when she came by, too distracted by Sam’s hands. He didn’t have enough time to react to her touch finding his temple, and just as Sam, his eyes rolled back. And when they returned to their natural place, they were lust blown and hooded.

“Oh, no, not-Damnit! Come on, boys, you can fight this! Stop-oh god-“ John’s voice caught in his throat as his sons started to kiss deeply, their hands working together to get their clothes off.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? The way lovers come together so naturally.” She commented from beside John. He sneered at her, which only made her grin more.

“This is the opposite of natural, you bitch. You’re manipulating them!” John pulled at the rope around his wrists in one last attempt at escape. Of course it didn’t work.

Her laugh, though pretty, felt like daggers to his ears. “You really think this is the first time? You must be blind.. because I saw what was in Samuel’s head, Winchester. He and his brother.. well.” She trailed off, motioning towards the scene unfolding in front of him.

They were naked already, clothes in a heap beside them. Dean had Sam in his lap, kissing him hotly as his hands gripped at his little brother’s ass.

John turned away, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t watch anymore. He refused to believe what the bitch was saying. It was ridiculous. Not only that, he would have noticed right away if something like that was going on.

“No, Winchester, you need to see this.” Without touching him, she used her magic to force his head to face them, his boys. Sam was leaning against Dean, his head in the crook of the older man’s shoulder. Dean had.. oh god.. Dean had his spit slick fingers inside his little brother’s ass. Two of them.

And Sam, he was.. he was moaning, his voice small and sweet. He was begging for it, begging for Dean’s cock to split him open and John wanted to cry. He wanted to cry because what he was seeing was wrong, unnatural, and was most likely going to scar his boys for life.

And above all, he could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes because he could also feel the heat of arousal pooling in his gut. He could feel himself chubbing up behind his jeans and it was just so wrong.

“Daddy’s watching, Sammy.” Dean said out of nowhere, his voice gruff with lust. Sam moaned weakly, hips pushing back against three fingers. John’s eyes widened at the sound of the words, his cock at full mast because of it.

“You gonna let daddy see you like this, all stretched out and begging for your brother’s cock?” Dean kept going, but still made no effort to look up at John. Which was probably a good thing. John didn’t know if he could handle their eye contact right then.

“Heh.. what an interesting development.” The witch bitch murmured to herself.

“By the way, my name is Evanora. Not Witch Bitch. Thought you big bad hunters would have figured that out already.”

John chuckled weakly with a shake of his head. “Naw, we know your name. We just don’t give a damn about a washed up old hag like yourself.”

She was in his view in seconds, covering up the sight of his sons. Her brown eyes flickered a deep shade of purple, her full lips pulled up in a feral grin.

“Those are big words coming from a man who’s getting hard looking at his own kids.”

His lips turned into a flat line, his face hot with embarrassment. There was no use hiding it. His cock was hard and straining against his jeans, and no matter how depraved it all was, what she was saying was true.

“Not that I can blame you. They really are beautiful, aren’t they? You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed that.” Evanora whispered against John’s ear, the sound sending shivers down the hunter’s spine and down to his length.

“The older one and his pretty plump lips? His bright green eyes? Oh, and the younger one.. such a puppy dog look those hazel, right? The sweet tilt to his voice?”

John wanted nothing more than to shut her up. He didn’t want to hear that, didn’t want to hear how true it was. Thankfully, or not, her tormenting words were cut off by a loud grunt from Sam.

She got out of his line of sight and right there in front of him, Sam was sitting straight on Dean’s thick cock, stretching his spit slick hole.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Sammy.. always so tight..” and damnit, he looked tight. John couldn’t help but imagine how warm Sam would be, how he’d feel around his own-

Stop.

John forced his eyes closed and sucked in a deep breath. What was left of his sanity was screaming at him to get a grip. These were his children. And they were.. they had been..doing this for awhile, apparently.

Dean had his arms wrapped around Sam’s waist as the boy bounced, his head in the crook of his little brother’s neck. Sam was babbling about how good it was, how big Dean was, and then he turned his head slightly, just so he could look at his father. John’s breath caught in his throat at just how beautiful Sam looked right then, with his long hair sticking to his face and sweat prickling his shoulders and back-

“Daddy.” Sam gasped for John, and Dean groaned, finally looking over his brother’s shoulder to look at the older Winchester.

“Sammy is so tight, dad. So warm. Wish you-wish you could feel it, too.” And with that, he pushed Sam onto his back, his long legs over Dean’s shoulders, and fucked into him at an almost too rough pace. Sam’s red tipped cock leaked onto his own tummy as his moans reached a higher pitch.

John’s head slumped back. He was unable to look away. The worst part was that he wasn’t under any spell. He could look away if he wanted. He wasn’t even sure if the witch was still there. John couldn’t even bring himself to care.

He licked his lips as Dean gripped at the back of Sam’s thighs and pushed them down to his chest. From that angle, John was once again able to see Dean’s thick cock disappear and then reappear from Sam’s ass. Dean’s amulet hung low between them.

“Gonna come, Sammy baby. Want me to fill you up?” Dean ground out, his eyes just on Sam. The youngest Winchester nodded, his grip tight on Dean’s shoulders.

“Please, De. Want it.” Sam gasped, and Dean rammed all the way in as he came, filling Sam’s ass to the brim. And then Sam was right there with him, his back arching as he came, untouched, just from the feeling of Dean spilling his load inside of him.

John watched as they rode out their orgasms with slow, lazy kisses. Dean cradled his brother’s red cheeks, whispering out his love for Sam, and the younger brother was doing the same. For awhile, they just held each other.

John could see how much they loved each other then. It filled his chest with joy despite everything, his own erection long forgotten.

That was until his boys finally sat up and made their way over to him. “Boys-“ John tried, but the words caught in his throat when they both fell to their knees in front of him.

They each had a hand on his thighs, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Can we, Daddy?” Sam asked sweetly. Dean toyed with John’s belt, looking up at him through long lashes.

“Please, dad.” Dean blushed deeply as he begged, like he wasn’t used to being in that position. Somehow John could tell he still liked it though, and he wasn’t sure if that was real or because of the witch’s spell.

That thought alone sobered him enough to make him shake his head. “You don’t really want me, boys. The spell-“

“She’s been gone for awhile now. It’s just us. No more spell.” Dean pointed out as he reached around to remove the rope around his father’s wrists.

John rubbed at the bruises around his wrists and took in a deep breath. His cock was still rock hard and straining behind his jeans, and it was starting to hurt with how much he needed to come. And Sam and Dean, they were offering to help, without the coercion of the witch’s spell.

John didn’t know what to do. It should be easy just to say no. To just tell them to get dressed so they could leave and forget that this ever happened.

But as he opened his eyes and was brought back to the sight of his boys on their knees for him, he knew there was no way he’d be able to deny them this.

John brought his hands down to their heads, ran his fingers through their hair as he nodded. Without a moment of hesitation, Dean worked the belt through the loops and dropped it to the floor. Then Sam was unbuttoning John’s jeans, and then unzipping them. His boys both worked together to pull it down, until it and his boxers were at his ankles.

“Daddy-“ Sam gasped, followed by Dean’s gruff, “Fuck, dad.” John couldn’t help but feel bashful as they held his heavy cock in their hands.

Sam went in first, licking up the shaft greedily. John bit his lip, his grip already tight in Sam’s hair. Dean was shy with his movements, his tongue gently lapping at the leaking head. That was just as hot to John, his fingers carding through Dean’s light brown hair.

Sam’s tongue traced back to the tip, right along side Dean. The both traced the head until their tongues met, both slick with spit and pre and the sight almost made John come on the spot.

And if that wasn’t enough, Sam actually took him into his mouth, all the way. John could feel Sam’s throat spasm around his cock as he tried his best not to gag and he couldn’t hold back the groan that spilled from his lips. Dean smirked up at him.

“Sammy’s really good at this, dad.” Dean murmured as he stood up. It was somehow different having him in his face. More intimate somehow.

“Warm little mouth,” Dean whispered hotly into John’s ear just as Sam pulled back just to hollow his cheeks as he bobbed his head. “Go ahead and pull his hair. He likes that.” And then Dean was kissing his father’s neck, his hands trailing up John’s shirt.

“Shit, boys. That’s.. fuck.” John cursed, his voice gruff as he tugged at Sam’s hair just as Dean suggested. Sammy moaned around the length and looked up at John with wet, lust blown eyes.

“Daddy..” Dean murmured shyly, the sound of it made John’s hips sputter slightly. “Can I kiss you?” Dean asked, his fingers brushing gently against John’s hard nipple.

John used his free hand to take Dean by the nape of his neck. He looked his oldest over, at his freckles cheeks, flushed with heat. He was so beautiful.

Without a word, John pressed his lips against Dean’s plump ones. The hand that was up shirt moved to John’s bearded cheek as the kiss deepened.

Sam pulled off his cock then, but still used his hands to jack John off. “You two look so good.” He said through a happy sigh. John ran his fingers through his hair, the motion tender as his tongue met Dean’s.

Dean moaned hotly into John’s mouth just as Sam took him back in. John was so close. He could feel it pool in his abdomen, the heat of it threatening to boil over. He couldn’t find the words to express this. He hadn’t felt that good in so long.

His grip tightened on both his boys as he came, right down Sammy’s throat. Dean kissed him through it as Sam swallowed every drop.

Soon enough, he was done. His head fell back against the pole as he tried his best to catch his breath. Sam made his way to his feet, and he towered over both Dean and John by three good inches.

He made sure to swoop down to kiss John, not even bothering to ask like Dean had. John could taste himself on Sam’s tongue and that alone caused his soft length to twitch pathetically.

Sam had pulled away then, a satisfied smirk on his face. Dean smiled up at him and ruffled a hand through his baby brother’s hair. Sam leaned into the touch, his hazel eyes soft. Dean pulled him down and kissed him gingerly.

“You boys really do love each other.” John breathed out after he shakily pulled up his pants. His kids were still just as naked as the day they were born, not a care in the world.

Dean intertwined his fingers with Sam’s. “Well.. yeah. We have for awhile now.” He looked up at Sam then, his smile warm. The younger Winchester returned the gesture, and then reached out to take John’s hand in his.

“And we love you, too, dad.” Sam said, his voice so sweet that it made John’s chest feel nothing but warmth.

John tightened his grip but his eyes fell the floor. “Are you two sure...?” John asked. He couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t deserve their love. Not after all he’d done as a person and as their father.

They both leaned in and kissed John on the cheek. “We love you. We want you.” They whispered in unison. It made John feel happy, happier than he’d felt in a long time. After awhile, the boys finally got dressed and they all left together.

When John had woken up that morning, he hadn’t expected to deal what he’d been presented with. Somehow, though, it seemed to work exactly in his favor.

#wincest #Sam x Dean #Sam x John x Dean #bottom Sam #twink Sam #daddycest #Sam/John/Dean #Sam/Dean

[archived-gtronpa-account]

I just,,, wanna offer my contribution to @sam-cant-function 's borrower Makoto AU so,,,

Borrower!Ultimate hope !!

Word count: 2100

Summary: Naegiri, but Makoto is a borrower and Kyoko isn't easy to fool.

(based on this post)

___

Pins, needles, paperclips; it was hard not to notice those missing for someone as sharp as Kyoko.

The mysterious crumbs on spotless countertops were also a giveaway. She would have thought of vermins and pests running in her walls had it only been for the crumbs and missing foods, but the odd ustensiles and knick-knacks that frequently went missing eventually lead the detective girl to an odd conclusion; there was a small, intelligent being swiping from her.

She considered investigating the place to see if she could understand what kind of being she was being faced with, but decided against it as the creature might see her in the act and flee off, so she opted for a more sublte approach.

Everyday, she kept a drawer cracked open, an unfinished plate out, some pencil leads carefully scattered on the floor; any small thing she'd notice were it to disappear. Later at the academy, where the creature couldn't spy on her, she would take out her notebook and make a list of what had been taken that day.

Looking at her notes had her more and more impressed every time. The little creature seemed to have a concept of habit and schedule; taking necessities weekly to bi-weekly according to its needs rather than stealing whatever was available. Kyoko also started to make tests to try to understand the nature of the creature, leaving animal foods out now and then, small mechanical parts, crafting materials, fabric, seeds...

Gradually, it became clear that the little being had a tendency to steal the more humane things she left out. That piqued her curiosity, and lead her to notice things she hadn't seen before, like bits of soap missing, or a small trail of shampoo under her closed bottle.

Kyoko found herself amused and eager to investigate about the small humane being. Everyday, she was so excited to see what had gone missing that she found it hard to keep the smile off her face.

After school, she went to her room and knelt down, feigning to pick up a discarded paper when she was only counting the paperclips on the floor.

"...four, five..." She muttered under her breath. There was one missing. Usually, that also meant some yarn would be missing as well.

She stood up and headed to where the roll of yarn was left, when she heard shuffling.

Her eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. There was a lone can of white paint on a shelf, but nothing unusual about it.

She kept her gaze fixated on the can, silent and motionless. There was no mistaking that sound, something was hiding behind that container.

Kyoko saw something, a flicker of movement or her eyes tricking her. It was so small she would have missed it had she blinked, but she was certain it was movement.

Runts and pests don't hide and stay silent. Chances were, the little thief was hiding behind the paint can. It seemed like it didn't have anywhere to flee from there. Kyoko bit her lip, uncertain about the situation. She had done her best for weeks to stay out of the creature's business, only investigating from the shadows, but at that moment she had the perfect opportunity to finally get a good look at it and confirm some of her suspicions. Still, she risked scaring it off and never seeing it again. She could leave the room, and keep watching from the shadows forever.

But she wanted more than that.

Kyoko shook her head, stood on her tip toes and made her way to the shelf, quiet as a mouse. Thankfully, the lamp at the end of the room played in her favor, as her shadow wouldn't give her away if she looked from above at the right angle.

She stood still and listened for any movement, any shifting, breathing. She thought she had heard something, but she couldn't place it.

Kyoko leaned above the can, and her eyes widened at the sight. Maybe she had expected some animalistic creature, with some sort of anthropomorphic characteristic at most. She had not expected the creature to look so unsettlingly human.

Two hands and two feet, a human face and head with a tuft of brown messy hair on top, clothing, shoes and a bag. It looked exactly like a human boy, aside from some small furry tail on its back.

It jumped in surprise and it's head shot up in her direction. Dammit, she must have lost her focus and breathed out.

Purple eyes locked onto brown ones. The detective noticed the small boy's face contorted in fear, it's whole body shaking and it's arms clinging onto its bag. He looked so human, and it radiated off terror. Kyoko felt a pang of guilt at the sight. Her curiosity had lead to that outcome, and who knew what would happen after that encounter?

Kyoko turned around and left the room, eyes fixated on the ground. Hopefully, if she left fast and let the tiny boy escape, he would come back again and not run away to where she would never see him again.

____

The boy must have understood her trick

For days, she didn't find her stuff missing anymore. The pins and needles didn't bother her as much as the crumbs remaining on her counter every morning. Either he had found a new source of food, or the tiny boy had left for good.

Turned out, it was the former. Kyoko eventually started to find small dents in her food packages and boxes. The relief of that discovery was short lived however, as she realized there was much less food missing than ever, and times and times again, she didn't find crumbs missing from the same package after she found dents on it.

To think that the tiny boy must have been keeping tabs on her to see if she would trick him again, change food sources all the time not to get caught, and the worryingly small amount of food missing... Kyoko felt sick with guilt. Her curiosity had lead her to starving the tiny boy, and she had no idea on how to go about fixing her mistake.

Eventually, she decided to leave a simple note out and some food in a bottle cap, some attempt at an apology. But that didn't work. However, when she got her note back, she took time to examine it at the academy and traced footprints on it. The best result she got from that was that the boy had opened the note and stood at the bottom of the text, strongly suggesting he had read the note or at least knew the placement of Latin letters.

Given the intellect that much required, she hypothesised that the tiny boy may be able to understand her English to some extent. She considered trying to communicate with him, but decided against it for the longest time.

That option came back to mind when her belongings started being brought back.

It had been such a long time since she found the number of pins on her desk decreasing, so it came as a shock when she found it increasing, at eight instead of seven.

Later that same day, she found a paperclip in her bag that she was sure she hadn't placed.

That much was odd, and admittedly, worrying for the detective. She wasn't sure what the implications of her stuff being gradually bought back were, but in any case, she feared she might be harming the tiny boy badly. She needed to act soon.

If he decided to leave for good, then be it, but Kyoko wouldn't let him live in hunger and fear. He'd either stay and live well or leave for his own good.

Kyoko stayed up that same night and awaited his arrival. When the clock struck four, she thought the tiny boy wouldn't come that night, but her worry vanished when she heard shuffling in the kitchen.

She waited a moment and listened to the small pitter-patter of tiny feet. Once she heard it had gotten far enough from its initial source, she got up and made her way to the kitchen.

Turning the lights on could give the impression that she had an advantage, so she kept them off and carfully stepped in the dark room.

"Hello?" Her eyes scanned the counters and floor, but she didn't find anything, or anyone.

"Please, don't be afraid. I'm only here to talk," she did her best to keep her voice soft.

Kyoko was met with deafening silence. She had expected no less though, so she was fine with keeping the dialogue up on her own.

"I'm sorry if I startled you the other day," the girl took a couple steps forward and held her hands up, but after consideration, brought them behind her back. "I don't mean to interfer with your, err, business..."

She saw a flicker of movement behind a chair. Instinctively, her eyes darted there and locked onto the tiny form that had emerged, making him flinch. She cursed herself, wishing she had ignored it.

On the other hand, she was glad she was making eye contact with the little boy, at least he was willing to communicate to some extent.

"Can you understand me?" She spoke in a clear, articulate voice.

The tiny boy shook his head vigorously, but tensed up when he realized his mistake. Had the atmosphere not been so tense, Kyoko would have found the slip-up kind of cute and funny.

"Alright then." The girl took a step back, and carefully knelt down to be more at eye-level with the tiny boy. "Again, I'm sorry for bothering you, that wasn't my intention. Please, rest assured I have no intention of ever harming you in any way. I don't want you to get hurt or feel hungry or anything of the sort. So, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to come take it, and I won't interact with you if it makes you uncomfortable."

"S-seriously...?" He squeaked out, voice cracking a bit. The answer startled the detective. She hadn't even thought he would want to listen to her, let alone want answer and have the capacity to. She gave a small, solemn nod.

"Like, really, th-this isn't a trick or anything though, right...?" He was surprisingly talkative. Things were going even better than Kyoko could have hoped, she almost wanted to pinch herself in fear she had fallen asleep in the night and was just dreaming. But she kept her head clear and herself composed.

"Even though I'm only a stranger, and this might mean nothing to you, I do promise that I'm only speaking the truth," she kept her eyes on him, fiery with determination.

"Oh- I know you're the kinda person who keeps their promises though, h-hah..." He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. His mannerisms were exactly like those of any human; he was even more expressive than Kyoko herself. Her heart pounded against her ribcage in excitement, everything about the strange small person was bizzare and impressive. "Uhm, so, thanks. A-anyway, can I go now?" The tiny boy stumbled a few steps back, eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit.

He'd been so talkative for a few seconds, Kyoko had forgotten how scared he must be in her presence and how he would eventually have to go.

"Of course." And Kyoko thought that would be the last time she'd see the tiny boy.

How wrong she had been.

The next morning, she almost dropped the mug in her hands when she found the boy on her counter, feet dangling off the edge in a casual pose.

"A-ah, heya, just thought I'd... drop by!" He'd squeaked out, nervous but still present and not fleeing. Kyoko was startled, to say the least, but she was definitely intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. So she quietly took a seat and nodded, waiting for the boy's next move.

"And, uh, about yesterday! It was pretty cool of you, so... thanks," he radiated off nervousness, yet he'd had the courage to come back, talk to her, and even force a small, polite smile. The detective girl was impressed and, admittedly, honoured. The brave gesture warmed her heart.

"It's alright. I'm glad you're confident enough to come now," a small smile made its way on her face. "My name is Kyoko." She looked away, and took a sip of her coffee.

"Kyoko, huh... Well, I-Im Makoto, nice to meetcha. So... Uh, wanna be friends?"

____

Heck yea! And now Makoto drops by now and then to chat and keep the detective girl from staying up too late brainstorming a case, and she sometimes spots him and drops a few words maybe even invites him to hangout sometimes and all in all they vibin. such good buddies!

Makoto dude you're so silly even a clumsy girl like Komaru wouldn't have gotten caught like that,, haha,, right,,,?

Hmm anyway I have a feeling I made them a lil too ooc n the end was rushed, but honestly I tried my best to fix what k could and I have no clue how to save the rest so I'll just leave it at this. I'm just happy bout borrower purest boo :ppp

#gtronpa #gt #tiny!Makoto #borrower!Makoto #human!Kyoko #giant!Kyoko #? #honestly idk #naegiri #writing #dr1 #danganronpa #Makoto naegi #Kyoko Kirigiri

[butiaintgonnaloveem]

Presents and Prizes and Sweets and Surprises

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader, Jack Kline, Mrs. Butters

Word Count: approx 1600

Warnings: Spoilers for episode “Last Holiday” and language

A/N: This is just my way of venting my frustration with the episode. I was going to do a kind of fix-it fic, but this turned more into a reader insert as concerned spectator kind of thing. No one edited this, so sorry for any errors. This is frustration and crack.

Poking holes, making fun, wishing they were doing better things with the last few episodes - you know, the fangirl business.

“There’s a what living here? And what does it have to do with your underwear?”

Dean rolls his eyes, “A wood nymph. She was folding them for me.”

“Since when do you fold your underwear?”

“Since Mrs. B. started doing it for me,” he shrugs.

Speak of the devil, or nymph - she scurries in from the hall.

Her eyes are wide as she looks you over, a disapproving scowl on her face.

“Dean, we do not bring lady guests into the Men of Letters bunker. Ms. Sands was an exception, but it should not be the rule.”

“Lady guests? I live here,” you glare as you over-enunciate each word.

Clearly caught off-guard, she splutters, unable to reply more than a few cut-off words as she looks helplessly at Dean. “A-a woman? IN the Men of Letters bunker?”

“Times have changed, lady. And I don’t know if you’re aware, but you are also a female.”

“I am a wood nymph,” she says haughtily, “Friend of the goddess Artemis, and not subject to the problems a woman may bring to this bunker.”

You start to move on her, but Dean steps in, gently keeping you back with a hand on your shoulder, “Okay, I think this could be going better. Mrs. B., she does live here. We don’t really subscribe to the whole ‘fairer sex’ thing. I was just getting ready to find you for introductions when you walked in. Now, I think we can all get along, right?”

He looks between you with a shit-eating grin as though he just solved the easiest riddle, even though he didn’t do shit. Mrs. B. stands there wringing her hands and staring at you with trepidation, while you eye her up, looking for any signs of malice.

“I know!” Dean says with all the excitement of a ten year-old, “Mrs. B. how about you bring out some of those butter cookies you whipped up earlier and we kick this off right?”

She turns to fulfill his request just as you answer, “No, thanks. I don’t mind fending for myself. In fact, I prefer it. Dean, can I speak with you? Alone?”

He shakes his head and looks at her apologetically. She just waves him off and leaves.

“What the hell?”

“Yeah!” you throw your hands up, “What the hell?! You need to tell me everything that happened since she showed up.”

Days pass. Once Dean had told you what happened to make Mrs. Doubtfire appear, you went to Sam, hoping for some reason unfortunately, it seemed to be a lost cause. Once she highlighted the monster radar, they were constantly on the run. A quick vampire nest here, a coven there. In between Dean nestled himself in his purple huggy nightgown and drowned himself not in alcohol, but in mashed potatoes and pie. She even had Jack drawn out of his new soul-based depression thanks to her smoothies.

_____

“Won’t you join us, dear?” her sickly sweet voice invites you as the guys line up pumpkins for carving. She wears a forced smile as she clasps her hands in front of her, still uncomfortable with your presence.

“Nope,” you pop with an obnoxious ‘p’ sound, “I’m super right here.” You wave your deli-bought sandwich in the air and look back to your laptop.

“C’mon!” Dean groans. He looks up from the face he’s drawing on the huge, out-of-season monstrosity. “Relax a little, Mrs. B is even gonna roast up some pumpkin seeds - salty and sweet!” He looks at her with an excited and expectant nod.

She looks back like a proud grandmother, “Of course, dear!” As though there were no other option, making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Like I said, I’m good. You guys enjoy your...whatever over there.”

They shrug and ignore you, laughing like children and throwing pumpkin goop at each other until she scolds them. Until now, Halloween was despised by Sam, and only an excuse for slutty costumes for Dean. Not that it hadn’t been tried. There were attempts at parties, birthdays, Christmas; Jody invited you all over plenty, especially after the mess with Mary. But no. Suddenly Stepford Granny appears and it’s all hands on deck for celebrations. Something wasn’t right, and for some stupid reason, the guys didn’t notice or care.

_____

Your research on wood nymphs doesn’t offer a whole lot, they are pretty rare. More kindly disposed toward men according to a source, which explains her reaction to you, and summoned to attend the gods on Olympus, which also explains her service kink apparently. Other than that, it was a whole lot of crap.

On occasion you find her in the library, staring wistfully at the photo of the Men of Letters who previously occupied the bunker, but once she notices your presence, she shakes herself from her reverie and starts puttering about, lamenting the state of things around her.

Dean is blissful. Sam had been reluctant, but even he seems to be walking around without his usual dark cloud. You want them to be happy, to have the memories others take for granted, but the way she side-eyes Jack, the way she passive-aggressively speaks about you even when you are in the room, it won’t stop nagging at you.

“What do you miss most about them?” you ask her one day after she sends the boys off with their crustless sandwiches.

“Oh, well, it’s hard to miss them much when they’ve just left,” she laughs, stiff with discomfort.

“Not Sam and Dean, I mean them,” you tip your head in the direction of the photo on the wall.

“Oh.” She takes a half step toward it, but stops. “It’s - they gave me purpose, a home, and a family.”

“What about your real family? The other nymphs?”

She straightens out her stupid, festive apron then, looking at you dead on, “Mr. Sinclair and those gentlemen were no less a real family to me than my natural brethren,” she pauses for a deep breath, then for a moment longer until a tight smile pulls across her lips. “Now, have you eaten? Are you sure I can’t get you...”

“No,” you cut her off for the millionth time she’s asked. 

“Well then, I best get back to work,” she mutters and wanders off.

_____

When you finally get the chance to corner Sam, he’s rushing while getting ready for his date and really only half-listening.

“And I just think that it’s really telling that Cuthbert Sinclair was the one to bring her on, I mean, he wasn’t always on the level with his magic and acquisitions and what the hell are you wearing?”

He turns around, smoothing down the brown sweater vest, “What? Mrs. Butters set it out for me. Said it makes me look dashing.” He smiles and shyly tips his head to the side, the way he does before giving his puppy eyes. All lost on you.

“You look like a sitcom dad. You’re just going out with Eileen, right?”

“Nothing wrong with looking your best.”

“Sure,” you agree with uncertainty, “But Sam, didn’t you look into this?”

“She was right about the first vamp case, she’s powered up the radar, and the bunker is on full blast, what’s wrong with that?”

“Because Sam! Magic also comes with a price, and when has a monster ever really been so thrilled to live in servitude? Or anyone for that matter? You think this is all out of the goodness of her heart?”

He looks at you, confused, “Yes?”

You throw your hands up, just as Sam checks his watch and curses under his breath before hastily leaving the room.

“What the fuck. Fine, you guys don’t care? I don’t care. I am fucking out of here.” No one stops you.

_____

Two days later, you’re called back to the bunker and very apologetic Winchesters, and cake.

“So she was a Nazi murder monster who also liked serving milk and cookies? Cool. Cool, cool. And Jack found this out? Jack?! I mean, no offense buddy, but Sam! You’re the lore genius! You’ve got this place set up with your own fucking Sammy decimal system, and you missed this!”

“I mean, if she was doping up all our food, like she was doing to Jack - “

“And you wondered why I didn’t want to eat her turkish delights! She had you guys running around with sack lunches like fricken four year-olds, all dopey smiles and rice krispy treats. I mean, I can’t believe you even knew how to spell ‘happy birthday’ all on your own and didn’t pull a Hagrid with how high you were flying on her nymph edibles!” You throw your hands up, nearly throwing your slice of birthday cake right off the plate, as Sam laughs.

“And you,” you point to him, “Mjolnir! Where did she pull that from? You weren’t thrown off with that? And don’t think I am letting you live down that sweater vest or birthday tiara. If all it took to make you guys so docile were a few parties and home-cooked meals and giving in to some praise kinks you seem to hae, then someone would have locked you both down already, it’s not like they haven’t tried. I cringed, you guys, cringed. My shoulders are still sore from it.  In fact, I think you guys really owe me for having to put up with watching all that crap go down. For being so right, right from the start.”

They both roll their eyes, Jack for his part just sits and smiles while eating his own birthday cake. Dean flicks his fingers in a ‘bring it on’ motion while pursing his lips in displeasure.

“I want a party. With drinks and store-bought cake with that really good frosting, and a banner that says ‘you were so right and we were so stupid and we’re sorry and we will do better next tim-’”

“Alright, Veruca we get it,” Dean groans.

“Just do better, and don’t forget my golden goose,” you smirk.

#spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn s15 #spn crack #spn last holiday #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #my writing #in case you can't tell #i hated the episode

[justreadingfics]

Looking For a Heartbeat (17/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left.  It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Chapter Summary: New bonds.  

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings for this chapter: fluff again (don’t get used to it), children, mutual pining.  

 A/N: @suz-123 is my angel and I love her. Here I am writing fluff again. I suspect this is why I’ve taken longer than most times to write this chapter, lol. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.  Links are ruining posts, you can find the masterlist link on my description.

 It´s been four weeks since Bucky has shown up unannounced to the ultrasound appointment- that he discovered by himself after some private research, he told you- and you still can’t shake off a stupid smile from your face.  Without a doubt, these have been the best weeks of your pregnancy so far. Everything seems to be great with the baby, who, according to Doctor Nadine and her team, is healthier than normal, developing better than expected. It seems to be so because the serum Hydra has used on Bucky altered his genetics system and its goodies have passed to the baby.

Bucky has been present in all of the appointments, right at your side the entire time, listening carefully and asking every single question he had.  His presence, soothing and grounding, keeping you steady throughout the whole thing. You know he had been worried to death about the possibility of being responsible for any complications to the baby. The news that everything was ok was a huge relief for him too, despite you still sensing in him a deep worry about how the enhancement on its system would affect the baby's life in general.  A concern you both share.

However, for now, you both have been trying to stay positive and focusing on finding a pace – the right one- to reconnect and shape your relationship as parents of your child. Aside from the appointments and some occasional times he drops by to see how’s everything with you and the peanut, you have also been talking on the phone, whether through voice calls or text messages.  Not a day goes by without you talking to each other.

You’re not gonna lie, it still feels awkward at times. You’ve never been friends to Bucky. Before your intense and passionate relationship, you two were nothing but acquainted co-workers. And after that, you’re not sure what the two of you have become. Now, on top of that, it’s not like you two can just turn into friends. You’re going to have a kid together, for God's sake. Yeah, it’s still awkward.

The conversations have been centered exclusively on the baby and anything that concerns them. That's why you don’t know if something has changed between him and Anna, if they have talked or anything. You prefer it that way. It’s a sensitive topic to him, but it’s the same for you. You’ve taken the part of trying and being the bigger person, saying you didn't blame her, that you understood her point of view, giving him advice about his relationship with her… and it was in good nature, but… thinking about him and her together has never been easy and you suspect it never will be.

Oh, well… It's hard. Something you should discuss more with Heloise in therapy. She gave you a strawberry lollipop saying it was positive reinforcement for your civilized conversation with Bucky. You wonder what she would have in store for you when you truly become able to talk about and live through the jealousy that takes over you every time a thought of him and Anna together pops into your mind. 

You continued going to the support group encounters, you feel like you’re not completely alone anymore, but the group, giving justice to its name, has truly become an important support system for you. Plus, it’s an easy way for you to see Harry regularly, who was pleased to know about things taking a turn to a better path with you and Bucky. You and Harry ended up going to the Hot-Dog trailer next to the group’s place - the one you missed because of the car accident - and then you scheduled for you to finally meet his kids, which you were excited and anxious about, you had heard so much about them you felt like you already knew each one of his little chipmunks, like he called them affectionately.  

You had planned for a picnic in their favorite park, but the rainy day forced you to move the party over to the common room at the Tower’s living quarters. Wanda has helped you set everything up, moving the furniture to place the big cloth in the center of the room, spreading pillows to accommodate everyone as you prepared the snacks with all the goodies Harry had told you the kids liked. You also put some toys and games for the kids – and for the adults, who are you kidding? You live amongst children.

That’s where you are now, along with Harry and the vivacious Luna and Jon, the three year olds that make sure to remind you every five minutes that they are turning four in a week. Luna is the spitting image of her father with her dark curls falling graciously over her big brown eyes laced with curiosity as she keeps them glued on you. Jon must’ve taken his looks from his mother, with a lighter tone on his straight short hair and his eyes are green with shades of blue. He seems quieter than Luna, who takes the lead and asks all the questions and tells all the stories, allowing her brother to make a comment or two. In his shyness, he reminds you of his father.

Wanda joins you, and soon so do Steve and Sam, who had arrived from a mission the day before. Tony’s absent on a solo mission of his own, much to the kids' disappointment, which is reinforced by the Iron Man images on both of their shirts. Crazy for kids as much as she is, Nat is there, but she has mostly been giving you the silent treatment lately, as a result of your decision of making the baby’s sex a secret. You can only wonder what she’s been putting Bucky into.

You keep a huge smile on your face as, right in front of you, across the picnic cloth, Wanda uses her powers and the red mist to make moving drawings in the air, prompted by all sorts of excited and loud requests from the kids, whether it’s a dog, a sheep- no, a bigger sheep, an elephant, Iron Man fighting that big purple monster, or daddy with those colored swords he likes…

“They’re called lightsabers. God, how many times do I have to tell you this, guys? Show some respect…” He sighs at your side, looking at you and shaking his head in frustration as he’s completely ignored by his kids, who keep the row of requests to Wanda. 

You chuckle; prompting him to smile at you, “They’re really awesome,” you whisper, bumping his sides with your elbow, as everyone else around the cloth seems drawn by the kids energy and interested in Wanda’s little performance.

“They are, aren’t they?” He beams at you, “Thanks for this by the way, they’re having so much fun.”

“Oh, no. I’ve been wanting to meet them for so long,” You dismiss him with a wave, before grabbing a handful of popcorn. Chewing on it, you cackle at Wanda’s latest art:  a Chihuahua pulling The Falcon by the wings while Captain America tries to catch them. Sam shots some protests, but the burst of belly laughs from the kids is undeniably contagious.

When you look back at Harry, you’re still laughing as the others, but he is not. Instead, he’s observing you while holding a half smile on his lips, “What?” You frown at him.

“You look happier. I like it. It’s a great look on you.”

You offer him a wide grin as you feel a wave of warmth overcoming your chest… and rushing to your cheeks.

“Daddy,” the high-pitched, but sweet voice makes you both turn to Luna, now directing her narrowed eyes and full attention to both of you as she stands on her knees over the pillow.

“Yes, chipmunk?” He says, bringing a plastic cup of orange juice to his mouth. 

“Is Y/N the girl you’ve been talking to on your phone all the time and then stay with that funny smile on your face and does like this?” She exaggerates a deep and long sigh to show what she’s talking about.

Harry chokes on the juice, as all eyes snap to the direction where you two are seated. Wanda hides a laugh with her hand and Nat sips on her coffee, but you glimpse the devilish smirk on her lips. Sam and Steve pretend to focus on the little checkers board they’ve been playing with when you glance at them.   

“Luna!” Harry shrieks, trying to glare at the little girl between coughs.

You frown at his embarrassment, a disproportionate reaction on your opinion.

“What? What have I said wrong?” Luna pouts adorably and stands on her feet, crossing her arms in front of her little body.

“Daddy didn’t want us to know, yet, Luna.” Little Jon whispers loudly, pulling the hem of his sister’s shirt.

Wanda laughs fully and loudly while Nat sports a proud smirk at the two siblings, probably pleased by the spying skills the kids are showing.

“Jon!” Harry exasperates, eyes roaming around everyone in the circle, before turning to you, dumbfounded and red as a pepper, “That’s not-this isn’t-”

“Calm down, Harry.” You laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder.

You’re sure you’re not the girl the kids are referring to, that’s not what your relationship with Harry is about, but he hasn’t told you anything about someone that makes him sigh and now you’re curious, especially because he’s acting like a deer caught in the headlights. Before you can torture him with teasing you hear someone cleaning their throat, catching your look. 

Bucky stands by the door, with a bag in his hands and an unreadable expression on his face.

“Bucky,” you exclaim, feeling the inevitable tug at the corner of your lips, but trying to ignore your heart skipping a beat. How long has he been there? Has he heard anything? As happy as you are to see him, you can’t help the hint of apprehension at the  pit of your stomach that makes your heart falter, you know he still has reservations towards Harry and you really don’t want him to assume anything, which is bullshit, of course, you and Bucky have nothing and if you wanted you could date whoever, of course, that’s definitely settled between the two of you. Was the room this hot before?  

Bucky nods timidly at you and at the others, who chant their greetings all at once:  “Hey, Buck,” “Hey, Man,” “Barnes”. 

“Come on in, we ́re having a picnic,” You wave him in from your spot, swallowing down any trepidation and kicking the inner rambling off of your mind, focusing on his presence only.

“Oh no, it's ok. I can come another time,” He answers in a small voice. Recoiling his shoulders, he presses his lips in a tense line. 

The protests from everybody – except from Harry, who seems to be trying to make himself invisible at your side- resound around the place while the kids fasten their curious eyes on the new person in the room.

Knowing damn well how uncomfortable Bucky is capable of feeling when he’s in the spotlight, you raise your brows at Wanda, which is enough to make her promptly go back to entertaining the kids, now lifting the food over the cloth to the air. The sounds of bewilderment coming from the tiny little creatures distract everyone else as you get up, using the sofa behind you as a support for your growing body.

“Come on, Barnes, you made a pregnant woman get up from the floor just to drag you by the ear. I’m a mom now, I can do that,” You taunt, getting closer to him, twisting your expression into a mocked scowl.

Letting out a heart-fluttering smile that ignites one of your own, he relents, stepping into the room and shooting that fondly look at your growing belly, like he does every time he sees you.

“Hi,” you softly say when he stands inches from you.

“Hey, I called you a couple of times, and you didn't answer my messages, I got worried,” He cringes.

“I must’ve left my phone in my room, but it's ok, Bucky, you don't need an excuse to drop by,” You assure in a teasing manner, before your eyes drop to the bag in his hand, “What do we have here?”

“Oh, on my way over, I saw this and I couldn't help it.” With a broad smile on his face, he pulls the object from the bag.

Your eyes go round and you practically squeal, grabbing the little colorful unicorn, “This is amazing, Bucky, so damn cute. And fluffy.” You squeeze the soft little stuffy against your chest.

He chuckles, brushing a lock of his own hair behind his ear, “I bought it for the peanut, but I suppose you can play with it, too.”

You roll your eyes and pull your tongue out playfully.

“Hello.”

At the tiny voice who takes you and him out of your little bubble, you see his eyes going comically round, before he lowers his head to follow the sound. Luna stands beside him, with her hands laced behind her back and mischievous interest plastered on her sweet features.  

“Hi.” His stumpy answer is a bit more than a whisper.

“I’m Luna,” the girl says her name proudly to him, “I’ll be four years old in a week. What’s your name?”

“Bucky.” He replies shortly.

As little Jon runs to stand beside his sister, you choose to remain a silent observant of the scene with great curiosity, and from the corner of your eyes you catch the rest of the adults in the room doing the exact same thing. 

“This is Jon. He's my brother.”

“We’re twins,” Jon announces.

“But I’m older,” Luna reminds him.

“And that’s daddy.” The boy points at Harry, who quickly and shamelessly looks up to the ceiling, trying to cover up the fact he’s been watching them.

“Ok.” Bucky purses his lips and nods, seeming ready to bolt away from the interaction.

In fact, you can’t recall having seen him talking to a kid before, except for maybe Clint’s and Scott’s kids, but he always preferred to remain at least one arm’s length away from them. You know this has everything to do with the fact he still struggles to think children would want anything to do with him...   

“Your hand is shiny.” Luna states straightforwardly. 

As you feel Bucky freezing beside you decide to step in, but probably not in the way he would want you to, “His whole arm is shiny, Luna.” You whisper, leaning down and half covering your mouth like you were telling her a secret. You choose to ignore the betrayed look you receive from Bucky.  

The information makes the little girl gasp and stare longingly at said arm, covered by the long sleeve of his Henley.

“Oh, you ́re the Winter Soldier,” Jon yells, pointing at Bucky with astonishment  as  his jaw drops.

The nickname Bucky used to dread so much, but which in time - as he formed his name as an avenger - got a different and more positive meaning to everyone else, sounds nothing but adorable in the kid’s soft voice when said in such an enthusiastic way. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you the phantom of a smile that threatens to curl Bucky's lips.

“Oooo, I know you,” Luna grins, bouncing on her little legs, “You're Captain America ́s boyfriend.”

 “Oh, my God! Luna!” Harry mortified attempt of reprimanding his daughter is muffled by the thunder of loud laughs filling the room, including one of your own.  Horror twists Harry’s features as Bucky and Steve share widened staggered looks.

“Don ́t laugh,” Luna turns to the party, putting her hands on each side of her waist and stomping her little foot to the ground as the laughs are swiftly held back at the respect the small figure imposes, “Daddy said it’s ok that boys date. And girls, too.” Her features turn into a scowl.

You glance at Harry and you glimpse the pride which his daughter’s words brings to his expression being swiftly replaced by apprehension when he spots Steve.

“And your daddy is right,” Steve straightens up his posture for Harry’s relief and then putting on his Captain voice, he turns to Luna again, “But Bucky and I are not boyfriends, we’re buddies.”

You think Sam will explode when he puts his hand over his mouth to hold back the laugh even harder.

“Maybe it's a secret, Luna. Just like dad ́s.” Jon innocently shrugs and that's what kills everybody’s strong will and the sound of multiple laughs bubbles into the room again.

Even Bucky has given in and sports a small but beautiful smile on his face as his head shakes slowly and warm heartedly. You smile right back at him when your eyes meet and you notice how much more at ease he seems.

“Aright, alright. You two get back here.” Harry commands.

“Ok,” Luna answers and starts to move towards the party again, but not before she laces her chubby little hand with Bucky’s metal one to pull him with her, being followed close by her brother.

When he looks back at you, being pulled by the girl, there’s no plea for help or embarrassment on his face; he only keeps smiling and shrugs. Your stomach flutters inside you as you take a deep breath in. 

Luna makes Bucky sit in the middle of her and Jon, as you sit where you were before, beside Harry, placing the little unicorn between you and him. Everyone catches on conversations or eating and drinking.

“Oh, Bucky. Have you met Harry, already?” You ask, trying to act cool, especially about the fact he has seen him before at Steve’s party and not mentioning all the times Bucky has asked you about your relationship with Harry.

“Hey,” Bucky nods and extends a hand, leaning over to catch Harry’s from across the cloth, “We’ve seen each other before, but I think we haven’t been introduced yet.” He says, pressing his lips in a polite smile.

“Hi, yeah, that’s right,” Harry answers in a matching polite tone, “It’s such a pleasure, I’m a huge fan, of course. I’m sorry for my chipmunks-”

“Ugh, daddy.” Luna, huffs.

Before any of the grown-ups could add anything else both the kids launch on Bucky. Leave it to kids to dissipate any kind of awkward situations… 

“Is your arm heavy?” Luna leans on Bucky’s shoulder, resting her chin over her hands there.

“A bit, yes.”

“Are you strong, Mr. Bucky?” This time Jon asks from Bucky’s other side.

“Of course I am.”

“Stronger than him?” Luna cocks her head towards Steve, who snaps his look up from the checkers board.

“Sure, he’s all jacked now, but deep down he’s nothing but a skinny little angry man…”

The super soldiers make a face to each other and you chuckle.

“What about him?” Jon points at Sam.

“Kids, please…” Bucky’s eyes roll as he lets out a smug snort.

“You wish, tin can,” Sam shots a handful of pop-corn on his direction.

“And them?” Luna points at Wanda and Nat.

“Well…”

Attentive to the scene so far, you spot the red mist Wanda casually pours from her elegant hands as Nat cracks her fingers, staring blankly at Bucky.

“Definitely not.” He turns widened eyes at Luna, enticing a little giggle to come out of her lips and a laugh of you.  

“You’re not stronger than Iron Man.” Jon affirms, rather than ask.

“Hey!” Bucky playfully yelps, as the boy places his little hand on his chin, furrowing his eyebrows as if he’s concentrating real hard to come up with Bucky’s next challenger.

“Oh! Are you stronger than daddy?” He finally yells, partnering up with his sister as the two people who made her father choke on his juice that day. 

“Ahm… I don’t know-I,” Bucky fumbles with his answer as Harry keeps struggling for air.

“I know how we can find out,” Luna swiftly raises her hand, looking excitedly at Jon.

You pat Harry’s back as he coughs harder.

“Daddy can lift me and Jon on each arm, I bet you can’t.” She cocks a daring eyebrow at Bucky as Jon eagerly nods his head and gets up.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky raises his eyebrow back at her, before turning his eyes at Harry asking for permission, which is granted with a nod and a smile. Now that the latter knows Luna’s idea doesn’t involve him getting his ass kicked he seems a lot more relaxed.

Then, with an exaggerated grunt, Bucky grabs and lifts the two little creatures by their feet using only his metal hand. The squeaks and giggles bubbling out of their lungs mingle with Bucky’s groans as he tosses the twins around as if they weigh nothing.

“Who’s the strongest person in this room, huh?” He challenges, as he holds them by their behinds and presses them into the air as a couple of dumbbells in each hand. 

“You, Mr. Bucky,” They both yell in unison between little screams and loud giggles.

Your heart melts and the smile on your face is wide when you realize that, just like that, he also becomes their favorite person in the room. You totally get it, who can be better judges of character than kids? Besides, falling in love with Bucky is that easy and inevitable, you're one to talk...

The kids keep themselves glued on Bucky’s side all the time, asking questions, proposing games that he promptly accepts, offering him food, telling him stories about themselves and about their father – to Harry’s very dismay… They even get him to show them part of his arm, gaining claps of admiration from Luna.

At some point you reach for the jar of juice to find it empty, but before you even think of standing up to go grab some more, you feel the jar being promptly stolen from your hand.

“I got this,” Bucky winks, getting up, as Sam and Nat finally get a bit of the kids attention, doing some magic trick with a few cards for them as Harry watches.

“It’s ok, Bucky-”

“Na-ha. You stay comfortably there.” He gets up, glaring at you to show he means business.

You let out an annoyed huff – only a stunt to hide how you’re secretly loving the attention coming from him. Wanda calls on your bullshit aiming you a teasing smile that you choose to not indulge.

“Steve, get your lazy ass here and help,” Bucky calls, walking inside the kitchen, as the kids giggle at his choice of words.

~~~

Bucky places the jar on the sink and, before he could walk to the fridge to grab more oranges to squeeze, a wall of enhanced muscles captures him in an impossibly tight hug.

“Ugh, what’s that for, punk?” He grunts, but promptly hugs his friend back.

“You’re gonna be a dad,” Steve croaks out.  

Bucky lets out  a quiet laughter. He hadn’t seen Steve yet, not after the ultrasound when Bucky’s real feelings towards the news became clear. He guesses his friend wasn’t really sure of what his decision would be to actually congratulate him and express his emotions about it before, “And you're gonna be an uncle.” Bucky beams.

Steve only whimpers and tightens the hold around his friend.  

“Alright, alright,” Bucky pats his back and let goes. “This is why everybody thinks we're a couple.” He adds, without taking the smile off his face.

Steve chuckles and shakes Bucky by his shoulder, with his eyes clearly red, the Captain wipes a tear with the back of his hand “You deserve this,'' he says.

No more words need to be said as Bucky’s smile falls but his eyes remain soft and he only nods as an answer. The two friends exchange meaningful and watery gazes before they move to go grabbing the oranges and the necessary utensils, forming a team side by side by the sink to slice the fruits and squeeze the juice using the squeezer. 

“I know Y/N has banned you from telling anyone what you two are having, but you won't deny this information to your oldest pal here, are you?” Steve nudges Bucky as he slices the oranges.

“By the image on the screen, it sure looked like a kid.” Bucky keeps squeezing the oranges, unaffected.

“Ah, come on, Buck.”

“Not a chance, pal. If I didn´t give in to Nat, you won’t make me talk, either.” He turns to Steve, “And stop with the damn puppy eyes, you’ll have to wait, like everyone else.”

“Spoilsport,” Steve grunts his displeasure of being kept in the shadows about the baby’s sex before the smile comes back to his face, “You´re happy, aren´t you?” He softly asked after taking a good look at his friend.

“Like I’ve never thought I would be. Not even back in our days. It’s funny…” Bucky’s eyebrows furrow as a small breathy laugh comes out of his lips, “A couple of days ago I had no idea this kind of feeling, this sweet agonizing happiness, existed. Now it’s all I feel, all the time.”

“Sounds intense,” Steve chuckles, clearly pleased, “You and Y/N? What’s the deal with the two of you now?”

Bucky clears his throat and bites the insides of his cheeks, “We agreed we should focus on the baby. Let go of what happened before in the past.” He keeps his eye focused on the task of squeezing oranges.

“Oh…and how ́s that working out for you?”

“Good”

Steve stops what he’s doing altogether and turns to face Bucky, placing the hand holding the knife on his side, “Are you lying? Is this something we do now? Lie to each other?” He waves the knife on the space between them, “You couldn’t even be around her before, it can ́t be changed all of a sudden.”

Bucky shakes his head as he huffs. The damn punk…  “It’s… I don´t know,” He turns to face Steve as well, “A mix of heaven and hell. Fighting with her was easier, to be honest.” He snickers, “I could handle that. And now, we talk, actually talk without fighting or anything… I get to be around her without jumping on each other’s throat and now I can really, really see her. She’s still her but, I don’t know…different,” He turns back to the sink, grabbing another half orange to squeeze as he talks, “She seems more content, level headed, elegant…” He sighs, “She looks even more beautiful each day that passes… fucking sexier…” His whisper is barely audible as his eyelids close for a moment, “It must be the pregnancy, I don ́t know, haven't you noticed it?” He looks back at Steve to find the latter holding back a smile.

“Seems the same good old Y/N for me,” Steve shrugs, “Maybe a little more… joyful?” He asks himself, “Yeah, but what do I know, I ́m not in love with her.” He resumes slicing the oranges, acting nonchalantly.

“Stop it.” Bucky glares at him.

Steve throws his arms to the air and scrunches up his chin as a sign of resignation.

After a few moments more of silence as they work together, Bucky briskly stops and turns to his friend again, “It's just, it's complicated,” His eyes shut as he scratches his eyebrow, “With the baby, and all.” He sighs, looking down, “I don´t wanna ruin the peace we’re finally achieving between us by trying again with her, but God…” He looks up to the ceiling before and his eyes close before he looks down at Steve, who has stopped his work to pay attention on the man beside him, “I have to physically restrain myself from kissing the fuck out of her every time I lay my eyes on her, every time she comes closer and I smell her perfume...goddammit…” He confesses for the first time out loud, before turning to the sink to lean his hands on the marble taking in a deep breath, “She said we didn ́t work as a couple, and she’s right, isn’t she…” He murmurs.  

Steve places a kind hand on his shoulder, “I know the way it ended was rough and then everything else that happened after that, but everyone could see how you two loved each other, Bucky…” He softly says as Bucky remains silent, staring down, “And I don ́t know, you both seem like growing from the place you’ve been, when you’ve hurt each other…”

Silence lingers between them as Bucky feels his jaw clenching. He loves you. Of course he does, he always has and everything he did to try and deny this only resulted in pain.  And that’s what scares the shit out of him. He knows you two agreed on trying to not focus on each other as anything more than parents, and as much as he agreed on it, the all-consuming love he feels for you only grows each day he stays at your side, each time he talks to you and he watches you becoming the mother of his child…

Fuck, he doesn’t want to ruin everything. Not again.  

“Buck, everything will be alright, I’m sure,” Steve seems to hear his thoughts as he tries to comfort him.

Bucky forces a smile at his effort and squeezes the last orange, before wiping his hand with a knapping hung on the wall. Giggles coming from the living room catches their attention.

“Do you think there's something there,” Bucky tentatively asks, eyes stuck on the door that leads to the living room, “With Harry, I mean.” He clarifies in a low voice, when his eyes meet Steve’s.  

Steve sighs before shrugging, his forehead creasing, “They seem close.”            

Bucky nods slowly, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, “I heard his little girl,  Luna, asking if Y/N was the girl he’s been-” He sulks down a harsh intake of breath, “I wouldn't blame him…” His lips form a taut line.

When Steve presents him with silence and something that resembles empathy in his eyes for him – old Steve Rogers’s style- Bucky clears his throat and moves to pour the juice on the Jar.

“Come on, I’m gonna say goodbye to them, I have to go.” He adds, turning  towards the door with the Jar in his hand.

“Where to?” Steve cocks his head, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m gonna meet Anna in a few.” Bucky mutters as his shoulders round downwards, “I called her yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“You think I shouldn’t.” Bucky states.  

“No, not at all.” Steve shakes his head. “I just wasn’t expecting to hear this now after-” Steve licks his lips and nods once, “I do think you should talk to her, though, Bucky. Set things straight. I know how important she’s been to you and I know it hurts you how things played out between the two of you. Now that you cleared your head a bit, maybe it’s the right time to really listen to her and tell her how you feel, too.”

Steve… always the voice of reason. Of his reason.

“I know.” Bucky nods. He needs to set things straight once and for all.  

~~~

Chapter 18 coming soon. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky series #bucky fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #angst

[deans-mind-palace]

Conversations in the Dark

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Summary: Nothing’s real what happens in the dark. That’s what your mother told you about nightmares. But you’re hunter and you know that nightmares exist in the daylight, too. Your relationship with Cas isn’t always easy. However, in moments of doubt it’s good you have each other. Because that’s all that really matters.

Word Count: 2,496

Warnings: A lot of angst, fluff and some snoring Winchesters

Author’s Note: This fic is based on the new song ‚Conversations in the dark‘ by John Legend. It is a present for the 200 followers celebration. Show it some love. <3

Like always, my tag lists are OPEN!!!

Wanna read more? Have a look here:��Masterlist

"So guys, that's it. We're all exhausted and there's no motel the next few miles. Guess, we have to stop here." Dean announced as he drove the Impala off the road and into a parking lot. The gravel crunched under the tires as soon as the car came to a halt and the engine purred until Dean pulled the key out of the ignition hole and ran over his eyes in exhaustion. The radio died down and for a moment there was silence in the car. Sam yawned and tried to fold his long legs comfortably in the passenger seat. Another night he had to spend sitting. Alone at the thought of the back pain he pulled a face. Dean stretched out his legs and leaned back in his seat as best he could. Cas sat with you in the back seat. You were as exhausted as the two brothers and could only keep your eyes open with difficulty. Your head rested on Cas' shoulder for some time. Gently his deep voice reached you.

"Come on, Y/N. You're tired, let's get some sleep." When he said "us", he really meant you, because the angel did not sleep. But since your relationship he had gotten into the habit of spending the nights with you, even if that meant he had to fold up with three other people in a car just to be at your side. You gave him a tired smile when you finally lay on the seats. The bench was not very broad and Cas held you tightly wrapped so you wouldn't slide into the footwell. Soon you had found a more or less comfortable position. Your legs were entangled and his hand rested on your back, while he pressed you against his chest. His chin rested against your forehead and your hands lay on his chest. He smiled at you through the darkness and his stubble scratched your skin. His teeth shone bright in the darkness. From the front seats you could already hear the brothers' steady breathing. They were fast asleep.

Talk Let's have conversations in the dark World is sleeping, I'm awake with you With you Watch Movies that we've both already seen I ain't even looking at the screen, it's true I got my eyes on you

You sighed contentedly and your gaze slipped out of the window of the Impala. While lying down, you could see the bright stars in the night-black sky. You were so far away from the nearest town that the sky was perfectly clear. Purple, pink and blue blended into a single work of art, interwoven with small white stars. "Cas. Look! Look at the stars! Aren't they beautiful?" you breathed happily and he could clearly hear the admiration in your voice. You beamed at the sight of the stars. Cas hummed. He had not even looked out the window. His eyes were only on you. How beautiful you looked. How the moon cast a shadow over your face and made your skin shine silvery. How your eyes sparkled in the dark and you bit your lip. "Hm, right." he muttered, but his gaze never left your face.

And you say that you're not worth it You get hung up on your flaws Well, in my eyes you are perfect As you are

"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful than the night sky? Anything more magical?" you asked as you continued to dreamily look up at the stars. Cas knew God's creation by heart. He had seen the stars countless times before, he was there when they were created. They were beautiful, but they could not keep up with you. You were the most beautiful thing God had ever created and he was grateful for every day he was allowed to spend at your side. You cast a spell over Cas with your very own magic. "Nothing is more beautiful than the stars," you whispered into the silence with fascination. "Yes, you," he replied honestly and his voice rumbled deep in his chest. You looked at the angel and smiled. "Charmeur." Your fingers gently stroked his cheek before kissing him. Your hand found his and you crossed your fingers while you looked up into the stars together and hung on to your thoughts.

I will never try to change you, change you I will always want the same you, same you Swear on everything I pray to That I won't break your heart I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely Keep the secrets that you told me, told me And your love is all you owe me And I won't break your heart

He loved your fascination, even for the little things. With such devotion you did the things you loved. Your selflessness. You would die for him or the brothers without hesitation. Your silence. You could sit for hours during a thunderstorm in a rundown hotel room, staring out the window, lost in thought, with his head in your lap and your fingers gently combing through his brown hair, while a pleasant silence reigned and you listened to nature. After a failed hunt you would tell him stories from your childhood until he would lie calmly with you in his arms. Even if that meant you had to make up stories. Castiel loved so many little things about you. How you would always let Dean pick the television channel to avoid a fight. How you always sang or whistled in the shower. How your nose turned up when you bit into a slice of your favorite pizza.

You were perfect. And Castiel loved you for who you were. "What's your greatest secret, Cas?" you asked, turning your head so your beautiful eyes met him. You looked at him questioningly. Cas didn't have to think long. "That I love you." And with a smile on his face, he watched you frown at that answer. "But it's no secret. Dean and Sam know." you muttered, and your eyes looked at him big and innocent. He laughed softly at your amazement. "That's right. But only I will ever know how much I really love you, because words don't even begin to describe it." The angel gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. You loved it when Cas was like that. It was a side of Castiel that was reserved for you, that he showed only to you. Only with you was this quiet angel so open and soulful. Only with him did you feel complete.

Suddenly a shooting star was streaming across the dark night sky. You closed your eyes and made a wish. "What is your greatest wish, sweetheart?" mumbled Cas near your ear and a pleasant shiver ran down your spine. You embarrassingly bit your lip and avoided his gaze. "I - no, it's silly. It was a stupid wish I shouldn't have made. Forget it." You shook your head and looked ahead at your sleeping brothers as you felt Cas's fingers gently lift your chin and turn it towards him. "If this is your wish, it can't be stupid, Y/N." His blue eyes searching for yours and you saw the seriousness in them. You swallowed nervously and nodded slightly. You'd never told anybody about your biggest dream. Not even the person you loved most on this earth.

On Sunday mornings we sleep-in 'til noon Well, I can sleep forever next to you Next to you And we We got places we both gotta be But there ain't nothing I would rather do Then blow off all my plans for you

"I wish the apple pie life for us, Cas. I wish it so much. We could travel the country like normal people and stay in a place we like. We'll look for a little house in a beautiful area where the neighbours have barbecues and celebrate the Fourth of July together. We could make the house cosy and I could grow yellow tea roses in the front garden. Maybe we would have a dog. And a spacious kitchen where we could cook together. Maybe we could plant tomatoes in the garden. And never motel beds again! We'd have our own cozy bedroom. On rainy days we wouldn't even get up, but just listen to the rain pattering against the windows while I'm in your arms. On Sundays, we'd sleep in and I'd make us pancakes." As you talked, Cas closed his eyes and imagined every single scene you described.

How Cas carried you over the threshold of a small house and your eyes sparkled with joy. How your face and hands were encrusted with dirt, yet you grinned at him broadly. How you lay in his arms and his gaze followed the raindrops running down the window. How you stood in his shirt in the kitchen in the morning, making a mess to make pancakes.

There were scenes that put a smile on his face and he felt his heart longed for this life. It was a life you could never have, but with you at his side he dared to dream. He dared for a moment to give himself to the illusion of a normal life.

When Cas opened his eyes again, he saw other stars fall from the sky. Shooting stars were speeding across the sky. It was a night of the wishes.

And you say that you're not worth it And get hung up on your flaws But in my eyes you are perfect As you are As you are

If you were honest, you didn't know what you were wishing for. Like so many hunters of the supernatural, you had never led a normal life and had no idea what you were talking about. You noticed that Cas' smile slipped a little when you first made your wish. Of course it was bullshit. That's why you kept your wish to yourself. You swallowed. It was just one of your nonsense, that's all.

It wasn't the first time that you realized that you would never be married or have children. On some days the thought of spending the rest of your life with salt and corpses seemed unbearable. There would never be a normal life for you. Your boyfriend was an angel. A powerful, superhuman being who could end your life with a snap of his fingers if he wanted to. Cas would never be able to live like a human being. He was immortal, you just a human. You would not grow old together. His body would age, but his spirit could not decompose. One day, you would die, and Castiel would be left behind alone. The thought would make your heart contracted in pain. Cas read your mind, and he pulled you closer.

I will never try to change you, change you I will always want the same you, same you Swear on everything I pray to That I won't break your heart I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely Keep the secrets that you told me, told me And your love is all you owe me And I won't break your heart

"I'm sorry I can't be the one you want me to be. That I can't give you the life you want to live." You looked at him with those big eyes. "And if you want me to go, I will, Y/N. All you have to do is send me away because I'm not strong enough. But it's selfish to take away your chance at a normal life." His voice trembled. "Cas, don't you ever say that again, do you hear me?" you said startled. "But-" You gently put your finger on his lips, and he looked at you insecurely as he fell silent. "My life is not normal, Castiel. Never has been, never will be. But, Cas, any life is a good life as long as you're by my side. I love you, and I would never want to change anything about you. You are my angel. Literally. Don't let them tell you different." He nodded hesitantly.

"All these things. They mean nothing to me if it means you're not by my side. That we have moments like this." Your hand was on Cas' chest above his heart and you felt the excited pounding beneath. He pressed a kiss against your temple and together you looked up at the stars again. "I wouldn't trade this moment of lying here with you, philosophizing about life as we contemplate the stars, for anything in the world. You are what matters, Cas. You make my life worth living, Castiel. Don't break my heart," you whispered softly into the darkness of the night, as if the stars could hear your words and carry them out into the world, until the last man knew that you and the angel were one.

When no one seems to notice And your days, they seem so hard My darling, you should know this My love is everywhere you are

"You know I'll always be with you and go with you every step of the way. I will follow you wherever you go. I'll look at the stars with you until the end of time if that's what you want." Suddenly he looked embarrassed and your fingers were combing through his brown hair. For a moment there was silence between you, while you waited for Cas' next words. From the front seats still sounded faint breathing and Dean murmured softly as he turned.

"I'm happy as long as you are." He finally said. His warm breath brushed across your ear and made you shiver. His deep voice echoing in your mind. "And I am happy when you are by my side. Until the end of time." "Until the end of time," the angel repeated, intertwining your fingers over his heart with his.

I will never try to change you, change you I will always want the same you, same you Swear on everything I pray to That I won't break your heart I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely Keep the secrets that you told me, told me And your love is all you owe me And I won't break your heart

For some time you remained lying there in the silence and enjoyed the closeness of the other. Until dawn you looked at the stars shooting across the sky. You made wishes for the well-being of Cas, Dean and Sam. It was night of the wishes, after all, and tonight everything seemed to be possible. Maybe your wishes would be heard. You watched the sky change from deep black to stormy blue to dreamy purple to soft pink to fiery orange. It was the image of your feelings. The light of the stars faded as a new day began. And it was a good day because Castiel was with you and every day with Castiel was a good day. Because it had been a silent promise.

I won't break your heart

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#castiel x reader #castiel #castiel x y/n #cas #angel of the lord #castiel appreciation #spn #supernatural #misha collins x reader #misha collins #dean winchester #sam winchester #misha #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fandom #supernatural cast #spn fanfic series #spnfamily #spn fandom #spn fanfiction