#monkey man sam

[shredz91]

I'm on a whole nutha' level I'm geekin'

[k9effect]

Devoo

So, I watched Monkey Man! I am absolutely blown away by Dev and his seemingly endless talents

[click for better quality, reblogs and tags appreciated]

[britishsass]

I'm procrastinating, so that means it's time to post au fanart with no context outside of "no this isn't for the main au crossing over these properties, I'm making my own"

anyway. point and click games and psychonauts. because I felt like poking Guybrush Threepwood and thinking about his mental world post-MI2, and instead I got a bunch of ideas that aren't really related to much except for being fun to think about.

(no this isn't wild-card, sorry to the people who enjoy that au, I'm trying to avoid being in your tags, but it's really just me thinking about the same characters in the same vague setting)

[samuelyaboyy]

Sam Reunite Animation Domination!

[bobauthorman]

Sam & Max at their best

[cloud9v]

old art redraw yayy

(og version for comparison - https://cloud9v.tumblr.com/post/683635724655951872/why-hello-down-there-d-finished-an-aggie )

[thekylemeredith]

Tonight: The Handmaid’s Tale actor Sam Jaeger joins me to chat about the show’s final season, his time on Parenthood, and his recent turn in Wolf Man—because apparently family drama and werewolves pair surprisingly well.

Plus, visits from The Cactus Blossoms and Rain Phoenix (Only Cowgirls Get the Blues), and I’ll dust off one of my earliest interviews with Arctic Monkeys. 6p ET on WFPK—tune in, or risk feeling uncool later.

[evilminji]

Been Watching Weird Fruit Explorer(?)... and I just...

W-Who let Bored Danny have BooTube?

Sorry, YOU-Tube. He has TWO Apps now. BooTube is bigger. Way more random, yet... somehow more niche? Meh. It's what happens when you get billions of billions of people who all have their own Obsessions to rant over, on a site.

Ember's channel is pretty lit, tho, ngl.

He stopped using YOU-Tube almost overnight. Too many ads, weird algorithmic pushiness. No thanks. It was too small and too "trying to take my money". You know?

Buuuuut? See.... TUCKER is the Tech guy.

Coding and that sort of stuff. HE does hands on work. You want a toaster? He can MAKE you a toaster! With LAZERS! Runs off The Goo! But a program? Eeeeeeeh? Hit it with hammer maybe? Monkey make fire? Hit with stick? Blergh.

Yeah, he can SORTA push through.

But he suuuucks.

And like... he had a headache, okay? His project had just, quiet literally, exploded in his face. So when he looked at his phone? All the apps were blobs. He clicked the one that LOOKED kinda right. Shoved his arm in his phone and brute forced a channel set up.

He figured he could ramble about Space!

It's not like he cared is anyone LISTENS or not! It's a "for him" thing, you know? Like a diary. But more... putting on a ☆~show~☆?

So he rambles from the floor of his Lair's Lab, crashs and wails in the distance, green sky occasionally visible as he lazily floats by windows. Dropping... juuuust past human knowledge understanding of Space. Talking like he's STUDYING somewhere. Referencing PAPERS no human will ever be able to find.

But a few they WILL.

Some of which, are currently? Only half written.

But then? Oh YEAH... he should eat! You know... Sam keeps bringing him fruits and veggies and stuff from her internship at that Botanical Lair. Stuff never seen before of Earth. Or hasn't been seen in centuries.

Again, like, a FEW that? Randomly? Have???

He picks up something sharply purple, bright orange insides. Crisp crunch. He makes a face. And starts to ramble about it, distracted from Space. "Weirdly mushroom-y" he notes. "Kinda bubblegum sweet? But like... CHEAP bubblegum. Like it hits you all at once and is kinda chemically. But it disappears real fast? Huh. Spicy too..."

It's the first video on the Playlist. One of hundreds. Two of the green Lanterns RECONIZE that fruit ad HIGHLY toxic to humans, can't recognize what planet they're seeing. Or how this alien teen got himself on YouTube.

He seems... unaware of how incredibly famous he's become.

But his strange techno Pharoah friend has not. HE is both perfectly aware and apparently amused. Has taken to feeding him rare and hazardous flora and fauna, to see if it tastes good.

....there have been an alarming number of plants from dead planets.

And the comments the kid makes? Alarming as hell.

Sam's just pleased everybody's getting their greens. Danny's glad him n tuck get to hang and do "try weird foods and fuck around, bro time". They've made lazers! Talked about stuff! Debated why Martian Manhunter is THE superior Justice League member.

Danny understands. Wonder Woman is a BAMF. But he's biased, Tucker. He doesn't CARE if she has a sword and flowy, impressive locks! Shape-shifting telepath! From MARS!!! *imaginary mic drop*

And Tucker? Is conquering the YouTube scene with this charming, weird, relatable young alien. Who rambles about Space, debates nerd stuff, eats weird plants and describes them, and makes sci-fi technology! Theme? WHAT THEME? Phantom is a weird channel, man. You never know what you'll find!

And no one can get rid of it.

Believe them, governments have TRIED. Censorship? Not possible. Not without removing the whole SITE.

[buckystrutssogood]

Clint: I want what Cap and Bucky have

Natasha: what is that supposed to mean

Clint: they love each other, would die for each other

Sam: yeah, and also go against the world for each other *sighs*

Clint: it’s just so….pure

*the door bursts open*

Bucky: *walks in, furious* try that one more time Rogers I dare you

Steve: *follows* or what Buck??? You think you are so much smarter than me

Bucky:*stops, yells back* THATS BECAUSE I AM

Bucky: *turns towards the couch* hey guys *smiles*, show of hands how many of you have seen Steve here jump out of a plane without a parachute?

*Sam, Natasha and Clint raise their hands*

Peter: *mortified* what?

Bucky: exactly, spider-kid

Steve: that’s irrelevant!!! They are called tactics, don’t know if you have heard of them *growls back*

Peter: *mumbles* it’s spider-man

Bucky: oh *sarcastic laugh* tactics right, was it tactics when you delayed our mission because you tripped over getting into your monkey suit ??

Steve: ITS NOT A MONKEY SUIT*knocks Bucky over*

Bucky: *rolls to the top* it is because YOU ARE INSIDE IT

Steve: YOU SON OF A BITCH *rolls him back*

Peter: *blinks* what

Tony: *walks in, casually steps over the brawling pair* *looks at the 4 on the couch*

Tony: Bucky saw Caps footage from the battle of New York

Natasha: *confused*

Tony: Cap jumped onto one of the hydra whales from my roof

Everyone else: ohh

Clint: so pure

[supernotnatural2005]

Clowning Around

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You’ve got a crush on Dean, your best friend’s brother. The catch, he's only in town for a few more days. However, all it takes is a haunted house, a punch to the face and a surprising confession to know where you stand.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: Fluff! Eventual pairing. I love everyone involved. Mentions of unintentional assault.

AN: Okay, so I hadn't expected to get something out so quickly, but I guess I was just inspired and this is what came of this wonderful mood board and challenge from @chevroletdean ❤️ I've never written from a mood board inspo before, so I hope I did okay? 😅 I also took a bit of inspo from New Girl S2 Ep6. (gif not mine)

Congrats on 500 friend 🎉

Masterlist

The evening air was crisp, swirling with the scent of kettle corn, hot cider, and woodsmoke from the fire pits set up around the Stanford fall carnival. You stood just outside the haunted house, the multicoloured lights of the fairgrounds casting a warm glow on your torn and bloodied zombie costume.

Fog machines hissed faintly behind you, and a dark sinister voice echoed from the entrance speakers, adding atmosphere for the next wave of thrill-seekers waiting to be terrified.

You should’ve been hyped. Halloween was your absolute favourite time of year. Spooky costumes, haunted houses, candy, cozy sweaters—this was your season. You’d even signed up to volunteer as an extra for the haunted house this year, practically bouncing when Jess suggested it. But tonight, the buzz just wasn’t there.

Because Dean hadn’t shown.

A week and a half ago, Sam had introduced you to his older brother at your local bar just off campus. You’d heard stories about Dean Winchester—grease monkey, classic rock enthusiast, had practically raised Sam after their parents had passed. You expected to like him on principle alone. You just hadn’t expected how much.

And man, you were crushing hard.

You’d hit it off immediately—easy banter, shared love for horror movies and greasy diner food, the way he actually listened when you talked about your thesis like it was interesting and not soul-draining. And his eyes—God, those green eyes—had this way of locking onto yours like he saw you. Really saw you. 

He’d been in town for two weeks, crashing with Sam and Jess, and since you’d been the honorary third wheel long before Dean arrived, it was only natural that the four of you had spent a lot of time together. 

However, nothing had happened. Nothing beyond harmless flirting or the occasional teasing glance. Sure, there were moments—his thigh brushing yours when he sat too close, fingers grazing as you passed each other a drink or walked side-by-side—but it never led anywhere. 

Dean was leaving in a few days anyway, heading back to Kansas, back to a life you weren’t part of. Maybe that was why he’d kept his distance. Or maybe it was your own insecurities whispering that he just didn’t see you that way.

Jess swore up and down that he was into you.

“He asked me if you were seeing anyone. Twice,” she’d said just this morning, practically bouncing on her toes as she dabbed fake blood onto your cheek. Jess had clocked the chemistry from the start, maybe even before you had.

A part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that this had been her plan all along. That she’d hoped something like this would spark before Dean even got to campus.

Sam, of course, seemed blissfully unaware—just happy to have his brother around again—but even you had started to get suspicious of the hushed whispers between him and Jess whenever you and Dean were in the same room.

Still, despite yourself, you’d smiled—nervous, giddy, full of hope.

Tonight was your chance to find out for sure. You’d invited him to the carnival, hoping he’d show up. Maybe even join the haunted house with you. Your plan was to finally bite the bullet and just ask him out. Long-distance? You could try it. 

There was just something about Dean that made you want to throw caution to the wind—to be bold, reckless, brave. He was different. Special.

And maybe it was crazy to think that way from only knowing someone for such a short period of time, but there was something electric about Dean—like he was carved out of your daydreams and dropped straight into your life.

But then Jess and Sam arrived without him. She had tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice when she said he had to drive out of town for something work-related.

You’d played it cool. Nodded. Smiled. Shoved the disappointment down into the pit of your stomach as you took your place in the haunted house, ready to scare the ever-loving hell out of strangers.

But, your heart wasn’t in it. You did your job—jumped out of coffins, hissed from behind tombstones, chased a couple of high schoolers with a plastic axe—but your enthusiasm had taken a hit.

And then, just as you were leaning against a gravestone prop, waiting for the next group, you heard a noise behind you.

“BOO!”

A clown—huge mask, frizzy hair, red nose, and all—lunged out of the shadows right into your face.

You yelped and reacted on instinct.

CRACK.

Your fist collided with the clown’s face with a satisfying thud, and he stumbled back with a sharp groan.

“Shit—”

You blinked, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins, as the stranger pulled the mask away from their face.

“Dean?!”

Dean stood there, eyes wide, one hand clutched over his nose, which was rapidly turning red and beginning to swell.

“Oh my God!” You rushed forward. “I am so, so sorry—oh God.” You cupped his face in your hands without thinking, scanning his features with guilt.

He winced, but his grin was lopsided and teasing. “That was one hell of a right hook.”

You groaned and grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the carnival grounds, guiding him to a picnic bench beneath some newly lit orange lanterns. People milled around you, kids in costumes darting between booths and couples sharing funnel cake, but your world had narrowed to the man nursing his nose beside you.

“Sit. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You returned minutes later with a paper towel-turned-cloth from a nearby food stall and a small paper cup filled with ice. Dean took them both with a grateful grunt as you sat beside him.

“You really clocked me,” he said with a chuckle, pressing the ice to his face. “I’m gonna feel that tomorrow.”

“I feel it now,” you muttered, horrified. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“That was kind of the point,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Jess and Sam passed by just then, and Sam burst out laughing the moment he saw Dean’s face.

“Oh this is everything?” Sam wheezed. The kid was turning purple almost as he clutched his stomach, and Jess was no better as she giggled beside him. 

“Yeah, hold this jokester.” Dean threw his mask at Sam who caught it on reflex and then recoiled instantly, dropping it to the ground when he saw what it was. 

The two of you burst out laughing, Sam’s bitch-face in full bloom. His phobia of clowns clearly not lost on the pair of you. 

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” The brothers exchange before Jess looped her arm through Sam’s, tugging him back towards the line of stalls.

“Come, we’ll leave the zombie to nurse her victim, maybe even sample his flesh.” Jess shot you a sly wink despite your pointed look, before they wandered off, leaving the two of you alone once again.

Dean leaned back, ice still to his face, but he offered you a crooked smile. “So… Hi.”

You couldn’t help but huff a laugh and cover your face with your hands. “I can’t believe I punched you in the face.” You groaned.

He laughed, nudging you with his shoulder. “Yeah, but come on, at least it was memorable.” You laughed softly, and he smiled at the sound.

The moment stretched out, neither awkward or uncomfortable. The fading sun had cast the sky in a hue of deep oranges and purples and you found yourself admiring it before Dean spoke up again.

“I quit my job.”

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

He nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Told my boss to shove it. I’m done busting my ass for sixty hours a week just to get talked down to by a guy who thinks a compliment might kill him.” He huffed humourlessly and shook his head.

“I mean, I've been dreaming about opening my own garage for years—figured it was about time I stopped dreaming and actually did something about it. So… why the hell not, right?”

Your eyes softened. He’d told you about this dream one night while the two lightweights had passed out on the couch, leaving you and Dean to keep the party going, which essentially consisted of eating your weight in multipacks of halloween candy and watching b-movie horror films. 

You remembered the way his eyes lit up as he talked about it. Of wanting to be his own boss, about the freedom, about building something for himself. You’d been more than encouraging, having to refrain yourself from sounding like every positive, uplifting bumper sticker ever.

“But it’s more than just the job,” he went on, voice quieter now. “Kansas hasn’t felt like home in a long time.”

Your heart twisted at that. You already knew from Sam about their parents—how much they'd lost, how empty that place must feel without them. A ghost town full of memories.

Without thinking, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his and giving it a soft squeeze. He looked at you then—really looked. And for a moment, everything around you seemed to slow, like the world had paused to catch its breath.

“Now I’ve quit. There’s nothing keeping me there. But…” He trailed off, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze flickered between your eyes. “There’s a lot pulling me here.”

Your heart skipped, like it had hit a bump in the road. Hope bloomed fast and fierce in your chest.

“I found a shop,” he said, voice a little quieter now. “Small place, not far from here. Needs some work, but it’s got good bones. I’m thinking of buying it.”

You stared at him, mouth parting. “You want to move here?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost shy. “And I was kinda hoping that… if I’m gonna be sticking around, that maybe I could take you out sometime? If you’d be interested?”

He barely got the words out before you leaned in and kissed him.

It was fast, impulsive. One full of pent-up nerves and relief, but when he let out a soft grunt and you jerked away.

“Oh crap—sorry!”

Dean winced, but the crooked smile spreading across his face was pure mischief. “No, no—it’s good. Totally worth it.”

You snorted, but your laugh dissolved as he hooked a finger into the neckline of your torn costume and tugged you gently toward him. This kiss was much slower—sweeter. His lips brushed over yours with such softness it made your breath catch, his hand warm against your cheek.

You melted into him, smiling against his mouth as the carnival lights flickered behind your closed eyes like the very fireworks exploding in your stomach.

Halloween had always been your favourite holiday, but now you have one more reason why.

AN: I hope you all liked this one, it was a lot of fun to write 💗, feedback is always welcomed 😘

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @shadysoulangel @my-stories-vault

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith

@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse

@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @amberlthomas @illicithallways

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: sam monroe x vinnie

FLUFF ❦

SAM MONROE wasn't really a guy you'd see at the playgrounds. Well, maybe when he was young, without all those problems and addictions he was dealing with, you could catch a glimpse of him running around while his father tried to catch him. But now? He didn’t even like playgrounds.

It was easy; they were loud. Chaotic. Full of screaming, crazy kids, sticky hands, and parents who side-eyed him like he was definitely some teenage delinquent that had stolen a baby for the day.

Well, maybe that last part was just in his head.

But as a seventeen year old teenage dad, he was expected to entertain his child. Let him explore the areas; new textures, smells, tastes. And ever since Sam was wrapped around Vinnie's chubby bitty finger, he'd do anything to make sure Vinnie could have it all. Even if it meant dealing with all the shit that playground had

Trudging across wood chips, he held Vinnie’s tiny, chubby hand in his, letting those small fingers wrap around the inside of his palm. Occasionally he'd feel the soft, rather gentle squeeze of those baby fingers clutching at his own before Vinnie's lips would part in breathless little gasp everytime something new caught his attention.

Since his wobbly legs weren’t fast enough, he resorted to the only method he came up with: pointing dramatically and babbling complete nonsense Sam didn't understand like he was having the most important conversation of his very short life.

Sam watched, absolutely amused, as his son's tiny finger jabbed towards the jungle gym. Then the bluish slide. Then at the monkey bars, eyebrows furrowed like he was seriously considering them before stopping. Contemplating if it was really what he wanted. Just a single butterfly fluttering its wings was enough to corrupt his entire attention, causing Sam to gently coax Vinnie into not trying to eat the fly. No. At least not this time. Sam has no energy for dealing with his too-curious-of-world toddler

But then came the swings which made him actually gasp, as if they were some divine revelation vinnie was getting to know only now.

His whole body vibrated with excitement, pointing so hard it looked like he might fall over.

Sam huffed a laugh. “You sure?” to which vinnie’s babbles only turned into full-on, frantic syllables.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Relax, man, keep your diaper on.” without much effort, he scooped Vinnie up. He really tried to ignore the immediate wiggles of excitement his little boy was showing off. The way those short, chubby legs kicked like he was already swinging, occasionally kicking sam's lower body

“Dude, you haven’t even gotten there yet,” Sam muttered, but Vinnie was already laughing—wide, open-mouthed, ridiculously happy, head tipping back as Sam carefully, and finally, plopped him into the bucket swing.

Pudgy hands gripped the front of the seat. This innocent gaze moved up to look at Sam, as if waiting for him to do something. Because it surely doesn't end by just sitting in this weird bucket, right? Yet, Sam did nothing, of course. Just keeping this low-key small smirk in the corner of his mouth, causing Vinnie to think, to look around and figure it out. So when he saw the older kid swinging himself by just simply moving his legs back and forth, his baby brain really thought he had it all.

Except, he didn’t.

His little feet kicked. Body shifted. Hands gripped the sides—struggled—but the swing barely budged.

Sam snorted. “Yeah, dude, I dunno if you noticed, but your legs are like, two inches long.”

Vinnie whined, brows furrowing.

And, okay. The face he made, all determined yet so disappointed that it was not working, made Sam cave immediately. With a quiet sigh, he stepped closer, gripping the edge of the swing with careful hands before pushing—gently—but just enough for Vinnie to feel it.

Vinnie squealed, gripping the swing tighter, tiny legs kicking again—but this time in delight, not frustration.

Sam’s lips twitched.

Not a smile. Definitely not a smile.

He pushed again, watching as Vinnie’s laughter burst into the air—pure, open-mouthed, wildly happy, completely cutesy and so much like his ray of sunshine toddler.

And, damn. It was dumb. So, so dumb to admit it...but Sam could’ve watched this forever.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl

[k9effect]

Monkey Man studies

[Click for better quality, reblogs and tags appreciated]

Found a new brush and spent a while testing it out. The entire movie is visually stunning but there are specific scene I want to so redraws of, so I've got a few more of these in the can still!

[imtryingbuck]

Old As A Dinosaur

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: reader learns something about her boyfriend

Word count: 842

Warnings: fluff. short and sweet.

A/N: this idea came from the wonderful @buckys-wintersoldier❤️

Masterlist

The giggles coming from the living room greeted you the moment you stepped foot into the house, as you walked in to the room you saw your son Sebastian sitting on the couch tucked in to the side of your boyfriend Bucky.

Bucky didn’t bat an eye when you told him that you had a three year old son. When he met Seb for the first time it seemed that both your son and boyfriend forgot that you were even there. The first night Bucky stayed over Seb asked if Bucky could put him to bed, then when a nightmare involving monkeys that were trying to eat his toes woke him up he begged for Bucky to come and save him.

Six months after Bucky had met Sebastian the rest of the Avengers met him too. His squeals of pure joy had everyone laughing other than Bucky as Sam had Seb in his arms and flew the two around. Your boyfriend actually threatened Sam that he would end him if he dropped the three year old. Said three year old who tried to lift up Thor’s hammer, then was using Captain Americas shield as a sled.

You had actually been pulled aside by Seb’s teacher and was told that Seb had been lying all day by telling everyone he knew the Avengers, you just raised your eyebrow and laughed informing her that he was not lying at all.

“Hi pretty mama” Bucky greeted when he noticed you standing there.

“Hi pwetty mama” Seb repeated making the pair of you laugh.

“Hi my handsome men, what are you two doing?”

“Dinos��� pointing at the tv Sebastian sighed happily at seeing his favourite movie for what felt like the thousandth time.

“How was work babe?”

“It was alright, nothing exciting today. I’m going to get dinner started”

“No need pretty girl, me and little man here did it we was just waiting on you. Go and get changed and then we can eat” Bucky says before telling Seb that it was dinner time and promising the three year old that they could carry on watching as soon as they had finished eating. Doing as he says you head upstairs changing into comfier clothes.

“Follow me pwetty mama, dinner time” laughing you take your sons waiting hand letting him lead you into the dinning room as Bucky served the food.

Halfway through the meal Sebastian was trying to whisper to Bucky who kept responding with “I told you it’s a secret”

“But pwease it’s mama”

“Do you think we can trust her?” Bucky’s eyes squinted looking at you suspiciously.

“Yes! Its mama she not tell”

“Okay, but she has to do the secret pinky swear before we tell her” Your eyes moved between the pair with your eyebrow pinched together. “Pretty mama what we’re about to tell you is top secret, you have to pinky swear that you can never tell anyone what you’re about to hear”

“Pwomise mama”

“I promise” both of them hold up their pinky fingers up waiting for you to wrap yours around theirs you waited patiently to hear this top secret news.

“Okay little man, you-you can tell her” Bucky says with a nervous tone lacing his voice.

“Mama… Buck met dinos” Sebastian tells you in the most serious voice the three year old could muster.

“Ex-what?”

“Yep. He was fwends with them and-and had pet T-Rex’s”

Looking at Bucky with your eyebrow raised he nodded solemnly keeping his face void of emotion.

“I-I didn’t know that”

“Top secret mama uncle Stevie don’t know so no telling no one!”

“Buck your secret is safe with me, don’t worry” you tell him earnestly.

“Thank you pretty girl, it honestly feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that I’ve been able to tell my family the truth” he takes yours and Sebs hands in his and squeezes.

Honestly he deserves an Oscar for his performance.

Seb giggles and promises that he will never ever tell anyone then carries on eating his dinner as if he hadn’t just told you some life changing news about your partner. Bucky looks at you and smiles before doing the same as Seb.

Finishing your dinner, you tell Bucky that you’ll wash up - he did try and argue that he would do it but Seb begged him to watch the dinos. Walking into the living room once again, your eyebrow rosed for the umpteenth time that night as you watch Bucky with his arms pulled close to his chest, Seb coping him and both bouncing around.

“Look mama we’re dinos!” Seb giggled before roaring like a dinosaur.

“Come on pretty mama, be dinos with us” Bucky winked then roaring and chirping like Sebastian was doing.

If anyone had looked in your front windows that night they would have thought there was something wrong with all three of you.

The three of you were roaring and acting as dinosaurs. And honestly, it was the best way to end a stressful day at work.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Bad Week

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Jody & Winchester!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: you’re having a rough time of the month, and the boys need reinforcements

“You’re officially disgusting.”

“And you’re officially crazy if you don’t think—“ Dean’s cut off his own argument when he stepped into the motel room to see you buried under a mountain of pillows, in a position that even an Olympic gymnast would find uncomfortable.

“You ok?” Sam asked, which earned him a groan in return.

“Why are you laying like that?” Dean questioned.

“Because it’s comfy,” came your muffled reply.

“There’s no—“ Dean stopped, then groaned. “Oh man, it’s…it’s that again, isn’t it?”

“That?” You scoffed, popping your head up. “Samuel, can you please teach our brother something called manners? I’d do it, but it would mean I’d have to get up.”

“Hey now.” Sam held up his hands in surrender. “Not my circus, not my monkeys, sorry kid.”

“They don’t have monkeys at the circus,” you huffed, dropping your head back down.

“You seem particularly cranky this time around,” Dean grumbled.

“Just leave me alone.” Your reply came out about two octaves too high, and Dean was alert instantly.

“Hey, you ok?”

“Go away!” You insisted, half-heartedly tossing a pillow at him that missed by a mile.

“Are you crying?” He asked, stepping over the pillow to come stand by your bed. “Did you take anything?”

“Advil didn’t do anything,” you whimpered. “Now leave me alone to die.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Dean said. Sam smacked his arm. “Ow!”

You moved a pillow just enough to glare at your brother.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry.” Dean shrugged, backing away. “But I mean—you’ve had it for a few years—“ Dean ignored Sam’s continual arm-smacking. “So you’re used to it, right?”

“Oh, sure,” you groaned, pulling yourself up again. “Just like you get used to getting shot, or stabbed.” You dropped back down not a second later. “Besides, it’s worse this time.”

“Worse? Isn’t it just the same thing all the time?” Dean asked, and Sam gave up on smacking him.

“Samuel, if you don’t take him out of here I will kill him.”

“Alright, Sport.” Sam grabbed hold of Dean’s shoulder and started to drag him out. “Let’s go for a drive. Maybe on the road we’ll find a biology class.”

…

Sam and Dean returned an hour later, and for once Dean was actually quiet. When you heard the door opening, you tried to hide yourself under your blankets and pretend to be asleep, but it was too late.

“Are you crying?” This time when Dean asked, his voice was gentler. “Still feelin bad, huh?”

“Please go away.” You sniffled.

“I’m…I’ll be right back,” Dean said before stepping back out the door.

…

“I think I need your help.”

“What’s up?” Jody’s voice was tinged with worry. “Vamps? Demons?”

“Y/N,” Dean admitted. “She—uh—she’s having a bad day. Or week, I guess. Of the month.”

“She—“ Jody huffed. “And you’re calling me? It’s not her first, is it?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “But…it’s never been like this, I mean she’s yelling at everybody and she’s crying and—“

“Dean, that’s just being a teenager.”

“It’s not that,” Dean insisted. “She said it hurts more this month—I didn’t know that was even a thing—and I don’t know what to do. Look, it’s not an emergency, so if you can’t do this—“

“I’m not saying that,” Jody interrupted. “I just…it’s that bad?”

“Jody, I’ve stitched this kid up half a dozen times, I’ve watched her get a tattoo—she doesn’t even flinch! But she’s been in here crying for an hour—I don’t know what to do.”

“Ok. Then I’m coming.”

…

“Never fear, Mama Jody’s here.”

“Jody?” You rolled over in bed to see Jody stepping into the room bearing an armload of bags. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to visit my favorite Winchester,” Jody said, ignoring Dean’s affronted look. “And I brought some things for you.”

Your suspicious gaze went to Dean.

“You told her?!”

“Hey.” Dean shrugged. “You’re acting wack this time around, I needed backup.”

“You’re an idiot,” you grumbled.

“Yes he is,” Jody agreed. “Which is why I’m here. I’ve brought some things that might help and—“ Jody slowed her speech when she noticed the way you were glancing awkwardly from her to your brothers. “And your brothers—“ Jody looked right at Dean “—are going to leave us alone and go get you some…” Jody looked back at you.

“Wings?” You asked tentatively.

“Wings,” Jody demanded, turning back to Dean. “Go, shoo, bye.” She all but chased the boys out the door.

…

When the boys returned twenty minutes later, you were looking much more comfortable on your bed, set up with a water bottle and a heating blanket.

“Cassie called,” Jody told the boys. “So I’ve gotta be going. She’s all set up, the painkillers I gave her should kick in soon—“ Jody handed a bottle to Dean. “These are better for her than Advil right now. And if she has another week as bad as this one, you might want to take her to the doctor—sometimes months are worse than others, but it shouldn’t be this bad all the time.”

“Thank you, Jody.” Dean pulled the woman in for a hug, and she smiled and patted his back.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Hey! Are you guys gonna let me starve or what?”

Dean rolled his eyes, and Jody grinned as she gave one last wave, then left.

“I’m sorry I was a jerk,” you mumbled to Dean when he went to hand you your wings.

“Yeah…” Dean cringed. “Me too. But hey, we got food now. By the way, half of those are mine.”

At your glare, Dean laughed and pulled out another box.

“Just kidding, got my own. You think I’m sharing with you?”

You rolled your eyes, scooting over on your bed and patting the spot next to you.

“Join me, we gotta watch more Game of Thrones.”

“Not without me,” Sam insisted, jumping up on the empty bed.

“Hey De?” You mumbled as Dean grabbed for the remote.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Dean grinned.

“No problem, kid.”

Taglist:

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Can I Take Your Order?

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky pays you a surprise visit.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your work isn’t hard per se, but it can be chaotic. Still, your tips more than make up for all the running around, but not necessarily the ridiculous attire. You’re not entirely unhappy, it’s exciting even if it can be stressful. 

The diners always keep you on your feet. Literally. You run around, table to table, that night dressed as the infamous Dorothy who’s too far from Kansas. Somewhere around their, a lion, scarecrow, and tinman are taking orders and entertaining children at their seats. 

The themed restaurant isn’t really the place you would go, but it’s a family-friendly venue in a city overcrowded with more adult attractions. The money keeps a roof over your head. You won’t complain for that. 

The Oz room is overflowing and you can see more customers in the lobby. Please send them over to Mary Poppins’ Pop-In. You don’t have time to dread the new wave of diners as you bring a tray of desserts to a table with three blustering toddlers. You could never. 

“Anything else?” You ask as you put out the stemmed cups of banana pudding pie. 

“The check--” the father demands before he’s hit in the face with a stray straw. He grits back his agitation and forces a smile, “thanks.” 

You pick up the straw and leave him. As you do, you pass Graham, that night’s scarecrow. He lowers his voice as he follows you to the till. 

“Can you get the next table, please? I’m dying for a smoke. Any longer and I’m going to smack one of these brats,” he mutters. 

You smile at him. You find the nights go by quicker without breaks. “No problem! On it. I just need to get this bill printed out.” 

You toss the straw and tap the till. You pull up that table and print it out, tucking it into one of the little folders. You grab a handful of hard candies and sweep back across the dining room. 

“Here ya are, enjoy your desserts,” you say and carry on. 

You peer around, searching for the new diners. Right there in the corner. You head over in your pig-tailed wig and red shoes. As you near, your chest flickers. You think you know the back of that head. No, it’s not. He wouldn’t be here... 

You’re all but assured of your suspicions by the golden hair of the man across from him. A third to round out party. You cringe before you muster a smile and come to the side of the table. 

“Welcome to the Land of Oz,” you recite your mandatory introduction and avoid looking at Bucky, “don’t stray too far or you might find a wicked witch or flying monkey to carry you off. May I start you with some drinks?” 

“You got cocktails at a joint like this?” Bucky scoffs. 

You refuse to look at him, “the menu’s right there.” You point beside the centerpiece. He chuckles. 

“This is cute, how’d you find this place, Buck?” The blond asks. The man better known as Captain America. 

“Hmm, this place would be fun to you two geriatrics,” their other companion says. That’s the Falcon. 

You can feel Bucky watching you. He’s smirking. You know it. At least when you see him, you only ever have your stupid dress on. You take the wig and makeup off before you go home. It attracts less weirdos. 

“So, we do have beer, despite what you might think,” you offer. 

“Got prune juice? These two need it--” Falcon, rather Sam Wilson, chortles and receives an elbow to the ribs. 

“We have cranberry,” you suggest. 

“Where’s Toto?” Bucky asks. 

You hold back as sigh and finally meet his eyes, “no dogs allowed.” 

“Damn, sounds like you should go then, eh, Buck,” Sam adds. You grin as he cackles. 

“Hey,” Bucky sneers. “Just water for me.” 

“No milk to keep your bones strong?” The Captain, or Steve, kids. 

“You’re a year younger, shut up,” Bucky huffs. 

“I’ll get a water too,” Steve smirks. 

“Get me a Miller,” Sam says, “please.” 

“No problem. I’ll be back with that and some menus.” 

You spin and strut away. It feels good to see him getting teased because you know he only came here to mock you. You can’t exactly follow him to his work and make fun of his arm. Not that you would. 

You get the water and beer and return to the table with menus under your arm. You hand them all out and give them some time to look over it. You check in with your other tables before you go back again. 

“So, have we made up our minds?” You smile. 

Steve smiles at you, “uh, can I ask what kinda fish it is?” 

“Cod, sir,” you answer as you lean in to see where he points on the menu. 

“Ah, thanks.” 

“You got any recommendations?” Sam asks. 

“I usually go straight to dessert,” you smile, “but the spaghetti is yummy. And you can get it spicy.” 

“Oh, you like it spicy?” Bucky snickers. 

You look at him and Steve clears his throat, “Buck.” 

“Yikes, dude. You got lines, huh?” Sam teases. 

“No, I just--” he gets flustered and rolls his eyes. “Can I have the cheeseburger and fries?” 

“Sure thing,” you take out your notepad. 

“I’ll have the fish and chips,” Steve says, “is it possible to add an extra filet?” 

“Yeppers,” you nod and jot it down. 

“Think I’ll get the meatball sandwich,” Sam says, “apparently, I like meatballs.” 

Steve scowls again and Bucky sighs. You tap your pen on the pad, “alrighty. I’ll go put your order in.” 

“Thanks, doll.” Sam winks at you. 

You smile and as you turn, you hear Bucky hiss, “doll? Since when do you call anyone doll?” 

You make a face but don’t pay much mind to their arguing. He did mention his other friends could be a bit much. Based on that interaction, you’d say he’s just as bad. 

You put the ticket in the window and turn back. As you go back to the family to get the bill and your tip, your eyes snag on Bucky. He cranes around to see you and waves at you with two fingers. Oh, you have to get him back for this. 

[bettystonewell]

The Things He Carries, We Carry

Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

Sam Winchester x Reader Dean’s given up on a cure for the Mark, and Sam will stop at nothing to help him, including not taking care of himself. But that’s okay, because that’s where you come in. 2k words

Warnings: Smut - hand job MDNI 18+ Only

AN: This was intended to be part of my Couple Things series, a sweet make-out session during research, but things turned smutty/serious, and it became a nod to the reader in Perfect

The pen drops, rolls and whirls over the notepad. It’s the only sound louder than the general hum that comes from the bunker late at night. Whatever technological advances Gas-N-Sip has made on their top-notch, dollar ninety-nine pack of twenties clicks as it escapes to the depths of the wooden floorboards below. 

There’s no shattering of glass or cantankerous outbursts of metal. No jumps or leaps from its owner, Sam, who rather palms himself in the face. 

He drags his fingers over his flustered cheeks. Pulls his mug taut and streaks his complexion down the middle. 

He’s been at it for hours. A few after his run. A few more after breakfast. So on and so forth for coffee breaks, lunch and dinner. If Dean hadn’t lost to rock, paper scissors and thus forced to get that pizza himself, Sam would’ve starved. Or got drunk on the beer he’s drinking. 

It’s unlike him to binge so much, yet here he is, four empty bottles before him, and here you are watching him as he stresses over his brother and the mark; stressing, knowing he watches Cain’s gift leave more than one. It’s a vicious cycle.

He sounds more like Dean when he says, “Why’re you looking at me like that?” His fingers and thumb move to his temples, churning his forehead, making swirls of white, then red marks where the pressure has been. 

“I’m just worried, is all. You planning to go to bed anytime soon?” Your brow raises with thoughts of your shared room and the double entendre your boyfriend is always slow to understand.  

It’d be nice to climb in under the covers together for a change. Fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you and wake up with them still there. Hell, you’ll be the big spoon if you have to. A sloth, a koala, a spider-monkey? (Google that when you get the chance.) Right now, though, you’d do anything for the man sitting across the table from you. He’d do the same for you, too. Has done plenty. 

But he’s so rapt in finding a cure for Dean that he’s forgotten to take care of himself. The runs. The diet. They’re all pre-programmed. Habits. Healthy ones, but muscle-memorised just the same.

“You go,” he says with a throat-clear and a forced smile. The lick of his lips betrays him, though, and heat pools between your legs with no intention from him or you.

He scoops his lanky arm down for his pen, picks it up and brings his hands straight back to the keyboard and types. Swipes and taps the trackpad, again, again, and again.

“Sam.” You have a way of making his short name shorter. You force the chair legs backward, scrape the wood on wood, obnoxious and slow. 

Sam’s eyes flicker behind the computer. Light highlights the blue rims of the amber as you saunter between the gap, but he doesn’t move. His elbows keep his arms in L-shapes across the wooden table. Flannel rolled into their creases show smooth skin and lean muscle below, and yours sweep over them. Loop ‘round his shoulder and up past his side. 

Your chin swoops in, too. Down to capture his cheek. You’d focus on the screen before you, but you’d need to face the thoughts that gnaw away at you every passing hour. 

If Dean doesn’t care, why should you?  

“You’ve been at this all day,” you say. “At least give your eyes a break. Take a walk around. Eat something.” 

You lean further into him and reach for the bottle. Swirl what’s left of the brew and go in for a taste. 

You spit it right back out. It’s stale and warm, brings new meaning to “on the piss” and “tasteless”. 

Sam’s dimples bring a grin that spreads into his gaze. 

“I dunno how you drink this stuff.” The glass thunks down on the table. Your little finger skims the surface of the water ring and wets his other cheek.

“Yeah, well,” he says and grabs your hand. Pulls it down closer to his chest. “I don’t know why you keep trying it.” His fingers rap your palm. Thumb smooths over your knuckles. 

“They say you have to try something twenty times.” You chuckle. Something your mom once told you. ‘Course, it was a ploy to have you eating vegetables. She’d roll in her grave knowing you were using her principle for booze.

“You, ah, you wanna wine instead?” he offers, and you know he’ll get it for you. One simple look is all he needs.

“I’d rather get you to bed.” 

He huffs through his nose. Speckled amber flits between your eyes and lips.

But before he can argue or give an excuse for however many minutes more, your kiss takes those words away from him. 

His tongue. His taste. Yeast and fruity from the beer. Tart. Doughy. Fresh basil and a nip of garlic. A nip and a nibble from him, too. 

There’s an explosion. And a wet smack when you part for a split second, but then he dips and swipes further than he has of recent, and soon his chair is scraping, encouraged by your tug, and you’re squeezing into the gap he’s made between the table.

Your fingers tangle into his hair. Tips and nail scrape through his scalp, earning you another peck and then another. 

His expansive hands trace up your spine, anchoring you to him and him to his seat when you settle in his lap. His stomach muscles tighten next to yours when you scoot in closer again against his fly. 

He hums and spreads his legs. Slumps down and raises you further up till he’s arching and you’re hovering over him. 

“So, can I tempt you?” You cup his chin between finger and thumb; rolling your hips, making him groan. “Dean’s in his room. Don’t even have to leave this seat,” you further say, but you’re regretting the ambition in your tone when his grip on you loosens. Whatever flame you had built fizzles out as fast as it came. 

Sam’s head drops and your fingers do, too, smoothing the buttons of his flannel, ironing the creases like you’re ironing out any and every knot in his chain of thoughts.

“Guess I haven’t really been here, huh?” 

All movement, what lack there of, jerks to a stop. The last thing you want is to make him feel guilty. This is supposed to be about taking care of him and his needs. All work and no play make for an unhealthy little Sam who’s grown an inch or two and twitches with interest below you.

You were being considerate.

“You’re worried ‘bout him. We all are,” you say. It’s just not what you want to.

Not really.

Least not now.

“He isn’t.” And there’s the biggest knot. The penny dropping deep into the mangle of a mess Dean has created for himself this time. “He’s given up.”

Your gaze finds his amber again. Not only are they now surrounded by blue, they’d be swimming in an ocean if tears went deep enough, and shit. You’re a terrible person. One at a loss for what to do. 

He’s serious. Dean has given up, and it’s the real deal. No halfway house, no April Fool’s. No whiplash from a man who complains his own brother has the emotional range of a teenage girl. No. He’s sat himself in the electric chair, pulled the switch, and let the hairs on his head singe and smoke already. Yet Sam will try to save him. Dean believes he won’t. 

It’s confusing. It’s a mess. You’d roll your eyes at their stupidity, but seeing Sam defeated, hold them in place, and what do you say to all that?

You pull your lip between your teeth. It’s better than saying something you’ll definitely regret. And when Sam licks his again in return? Your vision flits around the space between you. Your core feels the heat and the hardness, and you’re dipping back to capture that now moistened pout.

Yeah, a terrible person, but you’re making him forget, even if it is seven minutes of heaven. Or two with how long it’s been.

You roll your hips again, and his muffled groan bubbles into the kiss. 

Heated. Intense. His hands grip your waist like one would a lifeboat, carrying him back to shore, grinding you down. They’re pulling you this way and that, and yours grips his shirt where you can, on your descent, holding on to him for fear of him or you floating away. You’re not sure which. 

“Sam.” Your lips curl against his between presses. “Big Boy.” Your fingers work his buckle, like the night you met. He needed distracting back then, too, but back then he was the one susceptible to the supernatural. You just didn’t know it. Could only feel it in the strain of his shoulders.

You shuffle backward, giving you the space to open him to you, and he doesn’t protest. Even when you wait for the two flares of his nostrils, his large palms land on your thighs and glide up to your hips and squeeze, and it’s all the encouragement you need. 

You take your prize and bring it to the surface, give a slow pump and release the kiss to spit into your free hand.

He’s already warm and heavy. Woken up to half mast, but your shallow movements stroke him to attention. 

“Baby,” he says. More like pants, huffs, and it’s delectable. Music to your ears. Perfect in the way he melts into your touch, twitching in your hand and below his shirt. “We—”

“Too late to move, Winchester.” Any further protest, you swallow down your throat. 

Your tongue sweeps his while your palm does similar down below to his tip, swirling the clear drizzle oozing from his slit, applying pressure. Doing the same to the base, scraping the snail trail that travels his lack of paunch with your pinky.

He needs this. Hell, you need him, but there’s just something about the soft grunts and continual squeezes that satiates any longing you feel for the man beneath you. 

There’s gonna be a mess. There’s gonna be real hell to pay if Dean decides to wander the bunkers halls anytime soon, but for all the grief he’s given Sam, he can suffer the lack of doors and socks around. 

The way Sam’s hardened flesh throbs and the way the velvety skin slides under your dainty hands. The sounds made as they reach the head and drop back down fuel you on. Ignites the same fire in your belly from before. Brings with it a simple pleasure that touch alone can’t grant.

Sam’s frustrations are your frustrations. His relief, his release — it’s yours. And when you feel the drawback, the tug, the way he pushes against your hand, you work him harder. Find his lips and stifle the groan. Take all the pain and torment, and will the few seconds of euphoria that pull him to you, and your name on his breath. 

Time stands still. The bunker is quiet, and even the buzzing of machines that line the war room are exempt from the space you’ve made between Sam and you. 

It’s electric. The hairs on your limbs stand tall. Static could crackle, and it does, when Sam looks into your eyes. It dives into your chest and warms you from within; his spend warms your knuckles on the outside.

It’s sticky, hot as fuck, and it only makes the tingles in your gut travel to your toes and fingertips.

“Thanks,” he says, in that way he does, like what you’ve done is a favour and not something out of love. 

It’s cute. It’s a little annoying, but the endearing quality overrides all else.

“I’ll let you return the favour.” You wag your brow and his grin spreads from ear to ear. 

You’re poking the dimple on his right side and tapping his cheek with your cleaner hand, pulling him back in for a kiss where you stay. 

A sloth? A koala? A spider-monkey? (You’ve still gotta Google it.) But for now, you’re his anchor. As he, yours.

Tags: @yeehawgiddyup13 @mostlymarvelgirl @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

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