#poor sam can't catch a break

[yoursleepyass]

No one:

Absolutely nobody:

Gabriel at 3AM: do you think fish feel wet?

Sam,tired of his shit and half asleep: Omg Gabe I will slap you. Shut up and sleep

[deanscutiepiesam]

Idk if y'all remember the 2016 killer clown sightings or whatever tf that was, but do y'all think Sam was freaking the fuck out everytime he left the bunker, because I do. 💀 And you know Dean was definitely fucking with him about it, too 😭

[sarcasticratsims]

Sam runs his parents market stall on weekends. Roy visits the night market a lot. He's currently working on restarting his marble collection after his Dad threw out his last one...

SEASICK

[z4ync]

This is EXACTLY how Tank fell in love with Sam.

When a Character is Falling in Love but Doesn’t Trust It

Love is terrifying. Especially for characters who’ve been hurt, shut down, or raised to believe vulnerability is weakness. So when they start falling? It doesn’t look like a Disney montage. It looks like panic in slow motion.

✧ They start noticing everything and it unsettles them. The way their voice cracks when they laugh. The way their fingers tap when they’re thinking. These little details burrow in and refuse to leave. And that awareness makes the character feel exposed.

✧ They become hyperaware of their own body. Where their hands are. How close they’re standing. If they’re blushing. It’s like being inside a body that’s betraying them constantly.

✧ They act a little mean. Not because they are mean. But because being cold is safer than being real. Sarcasm, distance, teasing, they use it like armor.

✧ They hate how much they want to share things. They’ll see a funny meme and instinctively want to send it. Then stop. No. Don’t get attached. They want to tell them about a childhood memory, then bite it back. Too personal.

✧ They become inconsistent. Warm one moment, distant the next. Showing up, then pulling away. They’re testing how much of themselves they can reveal before it feels like too much.

✧ They assume the worst. They know it won’t last. That this person will leave. That they’re misreading everything. Love doesn’t feel safe, it feels like a countdown to pain.

✧ They self-sabotage. Pick fights. Flake on plans. Pull away emotionally just to “protect themselves” before it goes wrong. It’s tragic and messy and real.

✧ They notice silence more. What wasn’t said. A delayed reply. A joke that didn’t land. Everything becomes a sign that maybe this love thing was a mistake.

✧ They want to run, but never do. The desire to bolt is constant. But they don’t. Because something about this person is pulling them back, despite every warning bell going off in their head.

✧ They don’t trust the feeling, but they keep falling anyway. And that’s what makes it beautiful. And heartbreaking. Because they don’t want to fall. But they do. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the bravest thing they’ve ever done.

[samsblades]

✶ natural — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluff & smut, sorta sunshine!reader, post-hunting!au, passing mentions of monsters hunting and guns, nightmares, illness/fever (reader gets sick), consensual somnophilia, oral (r!recieving), swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, love), mostly unedited, 5.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : five times that you and sam are woken in the middle of the night, and one time you get to sleep in.

when you moved into this apartment with sam, you were both worried about having neighbors. you have the middle complex, so there's people upstairs and downstairs. overall, it's actually been pleasant. it feels nice and normal, and you're pretty sure that no one suspects that you and sam were previously monster hunters. mostly because none of your neighbors know that they exist. maybe it's a bit strange that you're a little older now, and just starting your lives, but you've just told everyone that you and sam didn't like what you were doing before, and have decided to start over.

the downstairs neighbors are delightful. lina and isa are just a bit younger than you and sam, brought you homemade bean and rice as a welcome, and told you about the fantastic panadería just a few blocks away. your only complaint might be that their music gets a little loud, and their luckily infrequent yelling matches in furious spanish are even louder.

it's the upstairs neighbors who bother you more. riya is nice, but you think they're too hot and too cool for their boyfriend nate. of course, that's not the problem, nor is it any of your business. for the record, though, sam agrees. it's more so about the middle of the night sex and the poor quality of whatever bed frame they made the awful choice of purchasing.

the first time they woke you up, it had been less than a week since you'd moved in, and none of the paranoia from your previous life had even begun to wear off for you or sam.

your heart is thundering at the first loud bump that wakes you. sam's hand finds yours just as yours looks for his. your other hand is searching blindly for a gun on your beside table that isn't there. it's in the drawer, still nearby, but hidden now and less accessible than you used to have it. you and sam sit up, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark and ears tuned for any other noises that might be out of place.

another thump nearly makes you open that drawer, but your now sharpened senses register that it's coming from the apartment above you. the next realization is that the sounds are rhythmic, and you just barely catch the sound of a muffled moan.

with that, you collapse back onto your pillow with a light laugh, eyes still bleary with sleep.

"goodness," you say through a breathy laugh, the headboard of their bed banging against the wall with complete insistence. it sounds unstable, honestly. "i think they're actually going to break the bed."

sam laughs with you, laying back down as well and turning on his side. his arm wraps around your waist and he buries his face into the side of your neck, nuzzling your warm skin with the tip of his perfect nose. this is followed with a soft kiss, as usual. you grin. sam can't see or feel it, but he knows it's there. that smile of yours and another soft laugh when the wall receives a particularly harsh bang.

"think this'll happen often?" you lament. "will we have to tell them to get a new bed frame? or have quieter sex?" it's sam's turn to laugh, a sleepy sound that suits him much better than anything loud or bloody.

"might," he murmurs into your skin, all soft and tired now that he knows there's no threat. for a few awful seconds, he thought some monster or hunter or whatever possible enemy had come to ruin your attempt at normalcy together before you'd even finished setting up all the furniture. he's happy that it's just the neighbors with a wobbly bed frame.

almost abruptly, the noise stops. you wait in quiet for a few moments to be sure that you're really being granted silence.

"they're done already?" you tease with a whispery laugh. it's not that sam doesn't have the skill to get you off quickly, or you him, but you tend to last much longer together. quickies aren't your go-to, even if they're required sometimes. now that you have your own place and are starting to settle down, you don't imagine things starting and ending that fast. as for last night, it felt like forever, in the best of ways.

you and sam are courteous enough to have a sturdy, quiet bed, though.

꩜｡⋆

you sleep light when you're feeling poorly. little things like the soreness of your throat or the movements of your upstairs neighbors wake you easily. so a sharp gasp from sam and the tensing of his muscles certainly pulls you out of your sleep. your eyelids seem to stick shut for a moment before fluttering open, and you shift in his arms. his slightly labored breathing goes silence as if he's holding his breath, likely worried that he's woken you and hoping that if he's quiet enough now you'll fall right back asleep.

"nightmare?" you whisper, voice course and barely audible. you resist curling your arm around his middle in case it's one of those dreams that makes touch difficult for him.

"sorry," he murmurs, answering your question with the tone of his voice rather than his words. he sounds tense and tired, and you know definitively now that his dreams have been unkind to him. you wish he'd never apologize for accidentally waking you. it's not as if you don't do the same sometimes.

"don't be sorry," you insist, as usual. his arms tighten around you, and you take it as a sign that you can do the same if you like. instead of slipping around his waist, your hand reaches up to settle into the soft hairs at the base of his neck. you pull his head close, pressing a kiss to his forehead, lingering long. he's still all tense and closed off. "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want. but talking about it won't… it won't make everything come back. talking about it won't change what we have now, you know that. we're allowed to talk about it. any of it."

"i know," he says, sounding like he doesn't really know it. you give a soft sigh, but don't push it. maybe you'll talk about it later, when he's ready. it's hard to focus on learning to live again when you're still haunted by the past. sometimes it's easier to just let the past be, to know that there are monsters in the closet, but keep the doors shut anyway. the understanding you have of each other has to be enough, and you've found so far that it is.

"you okay?" you decide to ask instead, voice as soft as it can be while your throat hurts like this.

he nods, then tilts his head up. "i'm okay." his lips find your chin as a reassurance, a promise. "it wasn't… as bad as it could've been." he's calming slowly, melting into your hold, so you suppose he's not lying. it's true that you've seen him worse.

"doesn't mean it wasn't bad at all," you murmur in protest, but not with any force. you follow it with another kiss to his hairline. "think you'll be able to fall back asleep?"

he hums in confirmation. "i'll be fine. but what about you? your throat still bothering you? do you need some tea?"

you give him a hum of your own, but it's not really an answer, just a little noise in response to how sweet he is, always more concerned for you than anyone else. your voice comes out as a grumble, "i think it's getting worse," you admit, "some tea might be a good idea, since i'm awake. i'll get it myself though, you go back to sleep. i'll be quiet."

a huff of air leaves his nose, tickling your neck. "you're funny," is all he says, like it's preposterous to suggest that he go to bed while you make yourself tea. he's too much of a gentleman to let you do that, but you also feel his hold on you tighten, just a bit. he doesn't want to be alone, even just for a few minutes. there is no comfort in being alone in the dark.

you retort with a gentle, "you're right, i'm hilarious. c'mon. since i'm letting you make me tea, it had better be good." he sits up with you, one of his hands still on your waist. his fingers slide to your lower back as you untangle yourself from him and the sheets, and he follows suit right after. he pads through the hallway behind you, overtaking you in the doorway into the kitchen with his hand brushing over the small of your back again before opening the cupboards for a mug.

he doesn't need to flip on a light because the blinds are open and the moon is bright tonight. so you watch him move through the shadowy room, preparing the tea that he knows you'll like the most right now. he makes a cup for himself too, liking the feeling on your eyes on him, never leaving.

the tea does a fine job of soothing your throat for the time being, and calms sweet sam's frayed nerves. he's had awful nightmares for as long as he can remember, but sometimes they're even more haunting now that his days are full of nice things. last week, you took a free ceramics class at the community center together. there's a few plant pots with herbs on the tiny fire escape balcony, and when you're not busy working to get better jobs, you sit and read novels that have nothing to do with hunting monsters.

your pinkies are linked across the little dining room table as steam rises from your mismatched mugs. the table is only outfitted for two, because you could only afford two chairs. that's alright, though, because you don't have anyone to invite over besides maybe the downstairs neighbors. but sam's starting to make friends with someone he volunteers at the library with, and unbeknownst to you, your bright friendliness is making your coworker want to hang out with you after your shared shifts. maybe you'll get a set of plastic chairs to use when there's guests.

꩜｡⋆

sometimes, loads of tea and vitamin supplements aren't enough to keep a nasty cold at bay. despite how nicely sam makes you several cups of tea a day, you're truly and fully ill now.

you're woken in a fit of fever, head fuzzy and cream-colored sheets sticking to you with sweat. for once, your body heat permeates more thickly than sam's, who always runs warm. an achy sigh leaves your parted lips, and your clumsy hands fight to push the plush comforter off your tired limbs.

your restless stirring wakes sam after a few moments, who props himself up on one elbow and runs a hand through his hair, immediately searching for the reason you're awake. his eyes adjust to the dark quickly to catch sight of the light, involuntary pout on your lips. before that even, his hand brushes over your upper arm and he feels the heightened heat of your skin.

"oh, baby," he whispers, reaching over to drape his palm carefully over your forehead. he doesn't have to say anything cliche, like 'you're burning up.' it's quite obvious on its own. he just pulls the thicker blanket from your body, but settles the sheet over you to prevent any chills. his thumb lightly brushes over your cheek. "that any better? i'm gonna get you some tylenol."

you only give a noncommittal hum, but he takes it as permission to leave you for just a moment. if you weren't so uncomfortable, you'd fall back asleep before he even got back. instead, you lay there, senselessly missing him and too exhausted to move.

he returns with tylenol as promised, along with a glass of water and a cool, damp rag. he sets the pills and glass down and carefully settles the rag over your forehead, earning a soft sigh of satisfaction from you. underneath the fabric, the furrow between your brows lessens just a bit. with all the gentleness in the world, he slips his hands under your head to tilt it up and brings the lip of the glass to your mouth. you drink as wordlessly instructed. he sets the water down for a moment and replaces it with one of the two pills. your lips part when he brings it to your mouth, then the cool glass is touching your skin again. both pills go down just fine, and he's settling your head back onto the pillows.

you fail to notice that he's brought the thermometer with him too until he asks you to open your mouth again. "just gonna take your temperature, honey," he murmurs softly. you give him no hassle, letting him tuck it underneath your tongue. when he pulls it out, he gives a little sigh. "definitely a fever, but it's not so bad," he tells you, taking your hand in his before pulling it up to his lips for a kiss to your knuckles.

"come back to bed," you grumble, giving him a weak tug.

"i think you'll get too warm," he protests kindly, "i'll just sit with you."

"there's no chair," you tell him, as if he doesn't know, "and i want you in bed with me. please?" you manage a little smile to try and convince him, looking sweet and tired and a little pitiful too, in the way that's so endearing it makes his heart hurt.

"i'm sorry, but i don't want to make your fever worse," he insists, voice still as gentle as it ever gets. "i'll bring a chair from the kitchen, okay?"

"but it's the middle of the night," you sigh, your smile slipping. it's too much effort to keep it there. "sleep with me."

"honey. it's already five in the morning. you know that's not too early for me," he says. it's true. in the past, sleeping until five would be a luxury for him. but you don't really care, and it's not the past anymore.

"you're crazy," you tell him, a little furrow settling between your brows.

"i know," he murmurs sympathetically, unfazed by your feverish accusation.

"it's too early for me," you complain. "won't you come back to bed with me? please?" of course, sam has known this entire time that he'd never beat you. it's just a matter of how many times he can deny you before he inevitably caves to your pretty eyes and hoarse voice. your soft 'please' has him ready to wave the white flag for peace; you're going to tear out his heart at this rate. but then your voice quiets even further, like you don't quite want to be heard despite the fact that you need to be understood. "i want you to hold me."

in the blink of an eye, he's kissing your cheek with a soft sort of determination. he doesn't even move a full inch away before he's whispering, "okay. alright, it's alright. i'll hold you. don't worry." then, his long limbs are slipping back under the covers and curling around you until you're settled on his chest, one hand still holding the cool rag over your forehead and your head carefully tilted so you can breathe easier.

he soaks up your heat, and the bottom sheet grows practically damp with your combined sweat. but he doesn't mind one bit, because you fall back asleep, looking far more comfortable and contented than before, for a while.

eventually, he does have to untangle himself from you because a frown settles on your lips and you turn restless in his arms again. he refreshes the cool compress to dab away your sweat and press to your hot skin. after a moment, he decides to prepare a second one for the back of your neck, and maneuvers everything so gently that you never wake until your body decides it must have water.

you wake with a little moan that he'd find sweet were it not an indication of your discomfort. he gets you more water, then lulls you back to sleep with his touch until it's time for another dose of tylenol.

꩜｡⋆

this moan is sweet, still hoarse and quiet, but only from sleep rather than sickness. your sounds start as little huffs of breath, a sigh here or there as his hands trace down your body and tug at your underwear, soft and quiet as to not wake you right away. he wants you to wake to the feeling on his lips on your hot, wet skin.

you most certainly do wake to that, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body gains awareness and your mind catches up to it. sam hums into your sensitive pussy as he feels you rouse, his hands gently holding your legs apart. he gives your thighs a sweet squeeze, then wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, softly at first to pull another noise from your lips.

he's easily successful, a quiet grunt leaving your lips as your tired arms reach down for some sort of contact with him. aside from his face buried in your cunt, of course. one hand finds purchase in his hair and the other curls around three of his fingers, holding his hand there against your thigh. your hips squirm as his tongue laves over you, your movements sluggish with sleep.

"sam," you sigh, out extra sensitive after just waking up and too tired to have complete control of your body. you're not loud, but you're noisy, letting out sweet and unfiltered sounds almost every time you breathe out. he gets more insistent the longer you're awake, letting his hunger and desperation show. his grip on you tightens, and his nose bumps relentlessly against your clit as he eats you out like he'd swallow you whole if he could.

the pleasure is overwhelming, overpowering, and you can't seem to keep a steady grip on him. your hands are still weak with sleep, so you continuously tangle and untangle your fingers in his hair, torn between pushing him away so you can breathe and pulling him closer so that the feeling will never stop.

"jesus," you groan, "please!"

"i got you," he mumbles, quickly so he doesn't have to stray from his task for long at all. "so good. so good for me, you taste so good."

"y-you couldn't.. hahh, help yourself, could you?" you pant out, eyes squeezed shut.

"never," he agrees before giving your clit a suck that tugs your back from the bed and pulls an extra pretty whine out of you.

"fuck," you sigh, "mmm, feels so good. please, sammy." really, you're not begging for anything other than for him to keep going exactly as he is, and and you know he has no plans to do anything but that. he loves this just as much as you do, possibly more. he's a damn addict, so much so that it wakes him up in the middle of the night.

the way he sweetly strokes the inside of your thigh with his fingertips is an easy contrast to the way his mouth moves against you, shameless and ravishing. your hips buck up into his face and your feet scramble for purchase on his hips to try and stay grounded. your thighs tremble with the effort, and sam moans right into you, beyond obsessed with the way you sound when you're sleepy and desperate and overwhelmed like this. it's no wonder he can't help but wake you like this sometimes, you sound like heaven, look like heaven as his eyes adjust to the dark and a sliver of moonlight finds its way into the room.

he gives you everything you need and takes everything he wants all at once, sending you over the edge with a sweet hum and relentless tongue. you clutch him close for a moment of hot ecstasy that may have lasted forever, then sag like a rag doll into the sheets. like always, he can't resist breathing you in, deep and long, and giving one last swipe of his tongue that sends a shudder up your spine.

your eyes flutter open and closed, exhausted by the pleasure and an already tired body. you swear you're still half-asleep, but in the way that you feel like you're floating, mind and body all fuzzy, soft, and satisfied. he stays tucked between your legs, sleepy too, despite being the one who was so ravenous in the first place. his head rests on your thigh, one hand still holding yours, and the other drawing stars over your hip bone.

he presses a kiss to your sweaty skin, his lips as soft as ever and wet with your slick. "i love you," he whispers, "sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night." it's not the first time he's woken you like this, and you certainly hope it's not the last.

"i love you too," you murmur back, voice still raspy. "it's okay. love it when you wake me up like that. feels so good, every time. you're so pretty." you say that last part for no reason at all, other than it being true.

sam feels like blushing. "you're so pretty," he retorts quietly.

"thanks," you smile softly. to him, you shine like the sun, even in the dead of night. you're such a wonderful accompaniment to the moon, he thinks.

꩜｡⋆

neither the moon nor the sun show themselves much during the winter months. it tends to be quite cloudy here. the cold, on the other hand, is pervasive. and you and sam have discovered the horrors of having a landlord who's doing everything he can to avoid paying to fix your unreliable heating system. since it's not completely dysfunctional, he is most definitely stalling.

until it is completely dysfunctional, an issue that is made known to you at about 3:47 in the morning. the first thing you think is that sam must've accidentally stolen all of the blankets like he does sometimes. they'll get wrapped around his long legs, he'll roll over, and the whole plush comforter will go with him, leaving you exposed to the night air. but when you blindly reach for the blanket, you find that it's still snugly laid over you. that's when you begrudgingly open your eyes in confusion. your fingers are cold. the tip of your nose is honest-to-god freezing. and your feet. your poor, poor feet that have slipped out from the blankets and been left for dead in the cold air.

you're not the type to get grumpy. but you are now. you tuck your feet in and curl up against sam's back, seeking out his warmth. but it's too cold to ignore, so you shake sam's shoulder.

"sam, wake up," you groan, cursing his inconsistent sleeping style. sometimes he's the lightest, worst sleeper out there. other nights, he's impossible to wake. as he grows more accustomed to living a safer life, he gets more of those nights where he sleeps like a fallen log. you shake him again and he wakes with a grumble.

"what is it?" he asks as soon as he's awake enough to speak, voice gravelly. "god, it's freezing." he sits up groggily and immediately regrets it. you regret it too, because it leaves more of you exposed too. you chase after him, tucking yourself under his arm and against his chest.

"i think the heating gave out, like really gave out," you complain, trying to steal his body heat. he wraps his arms around you without any qualm, rubbing up and down your arms in attempts to warm you. he knows you get colder than he does most of the time.

"no kidding," he mumbles, pressing an absentminded kiss to the top of your head. "i'll get the space heater and hopefully that'll be enough until the morning." the light annoyance in his voice is indicative of what he plans to do in the morning. that is, call the landlord and demand he gets the heating fixed right away. it's not like the two of you have anywhere else to go without traveling farther than you'd like to. it pains you to let sam untangle himself from you, but the promise of more warmth is enough for you suffer without him for just a few minutes.

he returns with the space heater that you keep in the living room. the bedroom is usually warmer when you keep the door shut, but tonight, that makes no difference. he plugs the heater in, as close to the bed as he can at a safe distance, then wraps the blanket from the couch around your shoulders before climbing back onto the mattress.

despite the cold, you smile at him sweetly and contentedly as he gives you the extra blanket. he's so easy to be in love with.

he anticipates the way that you tuck yourself into him the moment he's laying down with you. and it's not as if he doesn't want you in his arms as much as you do, so he most certainly welcomes it. he settles one hand on the back of your head and pulls you close until your nose brushes against the soft skin of his neck. one of your legs sneaks between his, and he hooks his ankle with yours.

"i guess this is what it's like to have normal people problems, huh?" you whisper, your breath fanning over his neck. he'd love to kiss you senseless right now, but he's too tired and he's pretty sure you are too.

"yeah," he sighs, sounding relieved. "yeah. beats… beats the other stuff."

"even though it's really, really cold," you agree, smiling. he can hear the smile in your voice.

"even though it's really, really cold," he echoes. "it'll warm up."

he's right. this sort of thing passes. it gets better. the space heater serves its purpose, eventually warming the little bedroom enough that you can fall back asleep. the tile floor of the kitchen is hell in the morning, of course, and you spend the rest of the day in the library together after convincing the landlord to have everything fixed.

꩜｡⋆

the weather warms too, and the relentless cloudiness fades into bright blue spring mornings. the blinds are always left closed on friday nights so that the rising sun won't wake you early on saturday mornings. it's been a blessing. sam still wakes up early sometimes, but sometimes he sleeps in late with you.

no alarms go off this morning; you and sam were up late last night watching a movie you found at the library. he really prefers vhs movies, but he'll settle pretty easily for cds. vhs is too hard to find these days, which is a shame. after the movie, you stayed up much later than intended, sprawled in bed while discussing the movie in depth. it was the sort of movie that was easy to watch, entertaining and pretty, but thought-provoking all the same. maybe it's because the mundane is something so special to you and sam that you could talk about it forever.

the blinds don't block out all the light, especially when it's so sunny like it is now. but it makes waking gentler and kinder while still letting you love the light of the morning.

gentle really is the right way to describe how you wake this morning. there's nothing particularly special about it, but that's what's so lovely. it's just a breath in, then a breath out and the fluttering of eyelids. it's a moment of peace, but the moment never ends. there's no threat of monsters or a hunt or the end of the world.

there's just sam and his heavy arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you, keeping you near him. there's sunlight on the white wall and a green plant in the corner of the room. pillows and blankets you call your own, a stuffed armchair, and a closet of clothes. sam wears sweaters and tshirts and sometimes even slacks rather than jeans these days. you can't stop telling him how handsome he looks when he's comfortable.

you don't move for a little while, and you let your eyes fall closed again. maybe you fall back asleep, maybe not. it doesn't really matter. nothing really matters, nothing but this. even if there's things like rent and jobs and a leaky sink. they don't have to matter until later.

then, because you're hopelessly in love, you open your eyes when they start to feel less heavy with sleep and turn to look at sam. there's no slight frown on his lips, no furrow to his pretty brows. he's content, he's safe, he's not so afraid anymore. if you were to count your blessings, his happiness would be the first thing to come to mind.

his body lets him rest without worry. staying up to talk about movies for fun is allowed now. it has no consequence, outside of a yawn or two while washing the dishes. but he gets to sleep in for as long as he'd like today.

maybe it's your staring that finally wakes him. the weight of your gaze, heavy with affection. the first thing he does when roused back into consciousness is smile. soft and sleepy and delighted to see you. then he kisses you. it would be without warning if he weren't moving so slowly. but you're ready for him, happy to have him.

this morning, he is insistent on having you close, so the moment his lips are no longer on yours, his arms are wrapping around your middle and holding you tight. he pulls you into him with a quiet grunt.

"good morning, sweetheart," he rumbles softly, lips brushing over the skin of your temple.

"good morning, love," you murmur back, voice just as sweet as his.

"i love you so much," he tells you, hand rubbing up and down the expanse of your back.

of course, you answer, "i love you, too. so much." his hand slips under your shirt, like you'll never be close enough, and touching your skin will make it better. you huff in protest and arch against him just a bit. his fingers are cold, but only for a moment. then you're melting into him and sighing in contentment.

"the weather's supposed to be nice. like yesterday. we could walk to the park," you whisper.

"later," he answers simply, ducking his head to press his nose to yours, then kiss the skin under your eye. "let's just lay here a while.

you can't help but grin. "okay. later." you kiss his cheek and he smiles back, then closes his eyes again. the smile stays on his face and you think that maybe he's never looked more beautiful than he does now.

"i love you," you say again, because you just have to.

he hums softly and his other hand slips under your shirt, his fingertips pushing gently into the plush of your lower back. "i love you," he echoes.

nothing aches, not right now. there's growing pains and old scars and sores that will never really go away. but in this moment, nothing aches save for the kind of ache that love gives. and it's a lovely sort of ache. the kind that could make your eyes all misty in the happy way. like you're so grateful to be where you are that it almost hurts.

magic is real. so are monsters and gods and demons and angels. but this moment is a miracle in a way that it has nothing to do with that sort of thing. it's simple and normal and maybe you've romanticized it because of the way you lived before. but you don't think that's such a bad thing. living like this with sam… it's natural.

[poly-alt-partner]

Hide and Seek - Colby Brock X Fem!Reader - Part 2

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You join Sam, Colby, and The Boys on an investigation of Geelong Gaol in Australia. After the intro of the video, Sam and Colby set up their first 'challenge' of the night - Hide and Seek! What happens when Colby finds you first?

Info: The rest of the Hide and Seek challenge AND being alone with Colby! Poor guy is getting antsy to have you to himself ;)

Warnings: Cussing, unexplained noises, kissing, making out, fondling

______________________________________________________________

Suddenly Colby rounds the corner. "Hello?"

You nearly jump out of your skin and scream as you see him walk into the tiny room. Colby laughs a little as you pout and huff in disappointment, knowing you were found first.

"Well looky here, I found (y/n)," He boasts to the camera before turning it back around. You carefully stand up and dust yourself off with your free hand. He turns off his camera momentarily so you do the same with your little handheld.

"What's up?" You ask, glancing at the camera in his hand. Colby doesn't respond and instead moves in closer, a playful smile on his lips.

"I was hoping I would find you first, actually." He whispered as if someone would hear him. You feel your face heat up a little and bite your lip anxiously.

"And why is that, Brock? Is it just fun to watch me lose?"

"What? No.... I just wanted to have the chance to get you alone."

You giggle a bit and roll your eyes. Colby had been a lot more flirty since before the trip to Australia. Of course you didn't mind at all seeing as you had quite the crush on him.

"Now why would you want me all by my lonesome?" You ask, carefully wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer. You watch as Colby glances down at your lips and meets your eyes once more.

"Not sure if you've noticed but it has been hard to get some alone time. Especially to do this."

Colby leans down and kisses you gently while resting a hand on your waist. Both of you try to be mindful of the equipment as you hold onto each other. Before long the kiss deepens and Colby has your back against the wall behind you. You can feel the coldness of the bricks through your shirt.

You break away for a moment to take both of the cameras and set them on the floor away from you. Colby doesn't object and eagerly pulls you into him again to continue making out. This time he gently cups your cheek in his hand and snakes an arm around your waist. You sigh and sink into him as your surroundings seem to melt away.

A sudden sound outside of the cell catches your attention and you reluctantly pull away. Colby sighs and rests his forehead against yours.

"Fuck. I'm sorry for doing this here. I was getting impatient."

You smile and plant a small kiss on his nose. "It's fine, I get it. Maybe later."

Colby nods and lets go of you to pick up the cameras, handing you the handheld from earlier. You smile at him before turning on your cameras and continuing to film.

"There was a sound outside just now but we didn't catch it."

You nod in agreement and glance past Colby through the door way. "It sounded like a footstep, I think."

"Alright, we still need to find everyone. Help me find people," Colby says as he turns around. You follow him with your handheld looking every which way to illuminate the hallways and cells. Eventually you both find Narrator standing in the corner of a room behind the door.

"You were found first, (y/n)," Narrator asks as you both follow behind Colby.

You shrug and give a small laugh. "I didn't get very far, honestly. I was hoping he would run past me to find you guys." Of course you don't mention what happened while the cameras were off. You can't help but smile a little and touch your lips with your fingers. Now you had to find a way to make time for Colby while on this trip.

Once the three of you had gone upstairs you managed to find Juicy and Eddie back to back. You heard Eddie accuse Juicy of betrayal and you remember seeing them earlier before hiding.

"Maybe you two shouldn't have hid in the rooms right beside each other," you point out jokingly.

"Why did you hide in the room next to me?"

Eddie just shook his head as the five of you continued your search for the last three group members. Taking a moment to recoup you all discussed where the other guys might be in the Gaol. Narrator mentioned seeing Sam early on but wasn't sure where you went from there. The only information you had concerned Eddie and Juicy who you already found.

Everyone agreed to split up to look in different spots and of course you chose to go with Colby. Narrator and Eddie looked at you and exchanged glances before going to the first floor. I guess we're more obvious than I thought.

The two of you continued to look into the cells and rooms on the second floor, leaving Juicy to look in the kitchen. Having no luck on finding anyone you all reconvened by the main stairs.

"I checked the kitchen," Juicy told you and Colby. "No one was there."

"Okay so then third floor has to be where they are."

Eddie led Colby and you to the third floor while Narrator and Juicy went back towards the kitchen to reinvestigate. Before long they rejoined and talked about strange sounds like feet shuffling.

It took a little longer to find Josh and Mully but then Sam was the last one still hiding. You and the rest of the group returned to the circle as Colby yelled out for Sam. With no response, Mully and Josh asked Colby if this was a part of the plan. You couldn't be sure yourself considering you didn't even know about this hide and seek challenge to begin with.

Suddenly you all heard a whistle ring out and everyone started looking around to pinpoint where it came from.

"Sam, whistle again."

Another whistle but no one was sure where it came from. Everything was echoey in this place. Eventually Mully spotted Sam upstairs on the second floor.

"We didn't check the other side, he was over here!" Colby explained. It seemed pretty dumb to have missed a whole section of the prison while seeking.

Finally everyone was back together and ready for the tour before the full investigation.

*-*-*

You were exhausted and ready to head to the hotel once filming was done and equipment was gathered for the night. The adrenaline had worn off when each person was being saged to prevent any form of attachments from Geelong Gaol. You were glad to have a few days to relax before the next investigation with The Boys.

"That was really fun," you said before yawning. Colby smiled at you gently and kissed your temple before loading some things in the back of the rental vehicle.

"I had fun, too. Although it seemed like things were amping up when I was under."

"Yeah. There was a lot of activity before we called it a night. You'll have to watch the footage to see what you missed out on."

"That can wait until we get back to the states." Colby closed the trunk and walked towards the driver's side. "In the meantime, let's get back so we can rest up."

After the three of you loaded into the car, Colby drove to the hotel you guys were staying at. You had your own room while the boys shared a room a little further down the hall. Although you three were close you preferred your own sleeping space, especially on longer trips like this one.

You had changed into your pajamas and set out your outfit for the next day when there was a knock at your door. Considering how late it was you know it could only be Colby. Your heart fluttered a bit as you quickly moved across the room to open your door.

Colby was wearing pajama pants and an old band shirt. "Hey."

"Hey," you greeted, feeling a little shy. "Were you coming to say good night?"

"Something like that." Colby smiled and stepped closer, causing you to step back and let go of the door. Before it even latched Colby had pulled you flush against him, not breaking eye contact. You quickly inhaled from being caught a little off guard.

There was a short pause as his eyes glanced between your lips and your eyes. You couldn't stand to wait any longer so you pulled him closer by his shirt and kissed him. Colby groaned and held onto you tighter. Both of you were tired of waiting for this moment and it showed in how you clung to one another during the kiss.

Colby gently held the side of your head and tilted his own to kiss you deeper, gaining a small whimper from you. That was all it took for him to lose his cool. Colby grabbed your ass and lifted you up, carrying you over to the hotel bed. You laughed into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck for stability before he set you down.

He looked down at you with a hungry look in his eyes and you felt a shiver run up your spine in a good way. All you could do was smile and pull him back into you as you laid back. Colby happily obliged and careful hovered with his hand on the bed to keep himself up.

"I should have done this sooner," he whispers against your lips before kissing you gently a few times. "Fuck, why did I wait so long?"

"We've been busy, Colby," you assure him, returning his kisses. "I'm surprised you held out this long. You were being pretty obvious with your flirting."

"Yeah? I thought I was being subtle."

"Considering some of The Boys could tell, I wouldn't say you were subtle."

Colby chuckles and continues to kiss you, not wanting to waste time talking anymore. His free hand begins to slide up your thigh slowly, making way under your shirt. You shiver from the cold feeling of his rings but only pull him closer, wanting to be held. Eventually his knee is positioned by your hip to help Colby balance a little better.

He pulls away so his lips are just barely touching yours, his blue eyes looking down at you. You meet his gaze and smile as you brush some hair out of his eyes.

"You'll be mine, won't you (y/n)?" Colby's breath tickles your lips as he whispers to you.

"A little late to ask, don't ya think?"

He rolls his eyes and smiles, giving you a few more kisses before standing up. Offering his hand, he helps you sit up on the bed.

"I should get back before Sam locks the door on me."

"You didn't bring your hotel key?"

"Well," Colby chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was just kind of going with the flow. You know, since I couldn't wait to kiss you again."

You shake your head and laugh. "Yeah, yeah. Good night, Colby."

He walks to the door, turning back to smile at you and wink. "Good night, (y/n)."

______________________________________________________________

This was a lot longer than part 1 but I HAD to make the end worth it! I hope you enjoy! I'll try working on the Sam version of this soon when I have time (I've been writing a fanfic recently so that's been my main focus with writing.)

[bel1ewrites]

Light Weight (Samantha Carpenter x Reader)

a/n: giggling

Description: Sam seems to have formed a bad habit.

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: drugs, consumption of drugs, high sex, top!Sam, bottom!reader, Tara can never catch a damn break

IT'S not like Sam had meant to make it a habit. In fact, she'd attempted the opposite, trying her very best to keep it to a minimum. A once in a blue moon type of thing. A rare, yet not unwelcome occasion. Something to look forward to after a stressful day of trying to appear put together. 

She hadn't expected those stressful days to be a common occurrence. 

"Sam," Tara calls from outside the bedroom door, voice laced with annoyance, "it fucking reeks and I have a guest over! Do that shit outside."

The clock in the corner ticks quietly, the bed creaks beneath Sam as she shifts, blunt held carefully in her fingers. She lays on her back, limbs sprawled and loose, smoke slowly escaping her lungs. 

"Fuck off Tara," She shoots back lazily, bringing the object of her relaxed state back up to her mouth. Each inhale makes her feel lighter, a little less coherent and a little less... herself.

"Dude, I'm sick of-"

"Just leave it alone, Tara," a different voice interjects, one that's very familiar and makes Sam smile around the blunt. It's muffled by the shut door. She moves to stand up, the fabric of her tank top crinkling a little, loose plaid boxers falling comfortably to her mid-thigh. 

It takes her a second to walk to the door, opening it to find Tara turning to leave, spotting you in the living room with your arms crossed over your chest and clad in a sweatshirt that seemed to be a number of sizes too big on you.

Her lips turn downward as she thinks about the possibility of you wearing someone else's clothes. She doesn't like that at all.

"Just go back in your room Sam," Tara sighs, grabbing her coat from the back of the couch, "we're gonna head out."

Her eyes still haven't left you, drooping lids lowering as her stare drops to your bare legs. 

"You leaving too?" She asks, head tilted and eyes still glued to your skin. She thinks she sees you shiver a little. Her fingers grip the blunt a little tighter.

"Not sure I wanna stay," you shrug, catching her gaze. 

A low laugh filters through her throat, "Why?" She lilts, "Mad I'm not sharing?"

Tara can't help but roll her eyes, watching as Sam stalks forward slowly, like she's trying not to scare you off.

She's aware that there's not much left in the tightly wrapped bundle, maybe enough for one or two more hits, but she's feeling generous when she stops about a foot away from you.

She smiles wider when your eyebrow quirks up in defiance, looking down at you and watching the light flush that falls over your face. Your eyes track the movement of her arm as she moves to hold it out to you, caught on the shift of her muscles.

She doesn't really think you'll take it. It's fun, messing with you, making you blush and squirm. 

Unexpectedly, you grab it, bringing it up and placing it between your lips where Sam's eyes linger, seemingly fascinated by the way they wrap around it. Your cheeks hollow a little when you inhale, and she has to suck in a deep breath when your eyes meet hers from under your lashes. She hums.

"Oh for fucks sake," Tara groans, breaking Sam's attention. "I'm leaving. You two have fun." 

You're too focused on the burn in your lungs to register the door opening and closing, but Sam is all too aware of the lack of company.

When you exhale, you can't stop the coughing that follows. It's a little amusing to Sam who simply steps closer to you and rubs slow circles on your back.

"Poor baby," She pouts, pulling the blunt from your hand and taking the last drag before walking to toss it in the sink.

You're still struggling a little when she gets back, face screwed up in disgust. 

"That was awful," you complain with a groan. 

Sam just rolls her eyes, wrapping her arms around your neck limply and scanning your face. "Was that your first time?"

The room is quiet, save for the sounds that filter in from the city outside. You nod, then blink a few times. The hit you took was big, and you'd even held it in your lungs for a few seconds.

She watches your pretty eyes grow heavy, lids falling half mass and straining to look up at her. 

Light weight.

She giggles a little at the thought. Then you giggle because she's giggling and everything's funny at the moment, but then she looks at your mouth and stops giggling, so you look at hers and do the same because her lips are so pretty and her solid body is suddenly really close, but not close enough at the same time and there's a clock ticking somewhere.  

"Whose hoodie is this?" Sam asks, tone low and husky. She's pressed against you, her arms around your neck and her eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips to your neck that's tilted to look up at her.

"Mmm..." you think, heavy arms wrapping around her waist like they belong there. "Chad gave it to me. I was cold."

Sam sighs. 

"I don't like it," She admits. Tugs at the hood.

"Okay." 

"Yeah."

"Yeah, okay."

"Mhm."

"Take it off then." 

"Yea- wait what?" 

Your focus is drifting, eyes skating around her face, her neck, her shoulders that tense. All she can do is try not to lose her mind. 

"Take it off," you smile dopily. Fingers moving over the fabric of her tank top, over her shoulders and settling on the warm skin of her triceps before dropping to your sides. 

She moves slowly, like the air is holding her down and it takes all of her effort to remove herself from you and grip the hem of the hoodie. 

The gray fabric bunches as she pulls it up one slow centimeter at a time, revealing the hem of your shorts, then the waistband. The skin right above it. The skin right above that. Your tensed stomach and more smooth skin and more skin and ribs and lace and Sam's heart should probably slow down. 

She watches your chest rise and fall, pushing against the fabric of your bra when she gets past it. "Lift your arms," she trembles, and you do it before the words even leave her mouth. It's agonizingly slow, but inexplicably fast. 

When it's finally, finally off, she drops it to the floor like it's a dirty rag, grabs you by the waist, and kisses you so hard you see stars.

It's hot and needy, the way your lips move over hers. She nips and tugs, squeezes the skin of your hips and pulls you closer. Every sound you make washes over her like cold rain and clogs up her mind until all she can think about is you. 

You pull back, light headed and desperate for air, and Sam seems to take that as an invitation to shift her attention to your neck. 

"Shit," you pant, "Sam-" She hums, teeth scraping your jugular. "What... jesus- what about Tara?"

"Shh."

Images of you flushed and lying beneath her flash behind her eyes. You're so pretty. You're so fucking pretty. You're still half clothed -which is more clothed than Sam would like- and the idea of you in a bra and too short shorts is even better in real life than in her fantasies. Lace and bare skin and messy hair and-

"Do you want this?" She asks desperately, forehead buried in the crook of your neck. "Because I really want this."

You don't answer. Well, not verbally. Instead, you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and to the floor.

Sam forgets to breathe.

Then she spurs into action, backing the both of you up until the back of your legs hit the arm of the couch. She pushes you back onto it, smirking at the shocked little squeal that you let out before you catch yourself and lean back on your elbows.

Sam attempts to speak, but nothing comes out so she just gives up and trails her eyes down your body, pausing at your bare chest.

She's still barely breathing, mind fuzzy as she tracks your hands that move down your body, hooking on the fabric of your shorts. Then she's moving again, climbing on top of you and shifting you up the couch. Her red eyes find yours, looking for any trace of doubt. When she finds none she practically tears off the rest of your clothes, settling between your legs.

"I've thought about this before," She admits, folding her arms over your pelvis and resting her chin on top of them.

"Thought about what?" Your hands tangle in her hair. 

She shrugs. "Fucking you."

She feels your hips twitch up from beneath her, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

"Yeah?" You shiver.

"Every time I see you." She moves her hands up your waist, runs her thumbs over your nipples. You're trembling a little. "I've thought about how you'd feel," you gasp when she squeezes your breasts in the palms of her hands, "what sounds you'd make, how good you would be for me."

Her mouth hovers right above where you need her the most, heavy breaths hitting you and shocking your system. 

“Ask me for it,” she orders, voice low and gravelly. 

The room is buzzing, it’s alive and full of need. Every sound is tuned out by your own mind running wild, filling with static as she tells you to beg her. You’ve only ever heard her say things like this in your mind, late at night with your hand between your legs and a pillow trapping your sounds. 

“Please,” you mumble, throat dry and voice crackly. You know what she’ll say next.

“Please what?” This time, when she speaks, her lower lip brushes against the top of your cunt.

You have to bite your lip for a second, refocus on the task at hand. “Please make me feel good,” you finally push out, words shy and unsure.

It happens in slow motion. The way she finally gives you what you want, mouth immediately pressing against you like she needs you more than oxygen. You struggle to process that, holy shit, Samantha Carpenter is actually totally fucking you right now. Her tongue is pressing just above your entrance, flat and strong and sure and Samantha Carpenter is fucking you like she’s imagined it before. 

You reach down with shaking hands, tangling your fingers in the roots of her dark hair and anchoring yourself to her. There’s no use in trying to stop the needy little moans and gasps that have her grasping at your thighs and humming into you. 

When she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks, running her tongue underneath it, you arch into her and make a noise you never knew you could make. “Just like that,” you pant out in between curses and moans. “So good.”

She takes your encouragement and doubles her efforts, shifting around while remaining attached to her new favorite spot. Suddenly, you feel her mouth leave you, and when you look down to see what’s wrong she shoves two steady fingers inside of you.

Your head falls back against the couch, neck straining and mouth open with your brows pinched together. Everything is heightened with the weed coursing through your system, your senses are blending together and blurring and muting and you're not sure what to call what you’re feeling but you hope it never stops. 

She fucks you slow for a few minutes, soaking in the light of you. When she can't be patient anymore she gives up.

Sam watches you with hungry eyes. Her bicep flexes with each movement of her arm, her fingers hooking up and pressing to find the perfect spot. She never could’ve imagined this; the real thing. 

“You’re so pretty, baby,” she mutters, eyes soaking in the sight of you like it's the last time she’ll ever see it.

The praise only makes you hotter. It makes your muscles tense and your lower stomach fills with heat as she moves inside of you. It’s never felt like this before. It’s all consuming. 

You can’t tell where you end and she begins when she moves her free hand to rub tight circles on your clit. You feel as though you’re transcending, but your body is anchored by her touch. 

“Fuck,” you whine out. 

She hums in response. “So good for me.”

Pressure builds within you, a forest fire spreading throughout your entire being. At some point your lips form the word please and you begin chanting it like it’s the only thing you know. 

Please, please, please, please Sam, please, pl-

She pushes down on your clit and pulls up roughly inside of you, whispers a sweet, “Come on, let me see you,” and suddenly you’re thrown off of the edge. 

It’s a violent pleasure. The kind where you forget who you are momentarily, and all you know is that you feel good. The kind that is over too soon, no matter how long it lasts. The kind that has waves that push you, and pull you, and push, and pull, and stop. 

When you come down, your mind is still a little fuzzy. It feels like you’re imagining everything that just happened, but you’re not and Sam is right there and she’s somehow gotten the both of you into a position where you have your head in her lap and her fingers thread through your hair. 

You stay like that for a while. Neither of you talk, she just looks at you while you look at her. 

Then the door opens.

[cancelforcipe]

So much violence and cruelty in the world of worms...

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?" Yes. Behold, the Worm AU's humble beginnings. All thanks to a silly convo with @valthecircusclown. Thanks for the brainworms, they live in my skull rent free now.

Basically, in the Worm AU, the creator is a science teacher who happens to have a fishtank full of dirt and a single worm. A kid breaks this worm, so now we have Sunworm and Moonworm

I think you see where this is going.

The worms get peace for a bit, then a kid breaks Moonworm again after he grows back, creating Eclipseworm. Again, further down the line, this horrid kid gets into the worm tank again and breaks Eclipseworm again, creating BloodMoonworm. BloodMoonworm is immediately broken in two, so now we have Bloodworm1 and Bloodworm

Poor Eclipseworm gets very little time to grow back before he's broken again, this time bringing us Lunarworm, but then Moonworm gets broken again, giving us KCworm

Earthworm is a worm a student dug up on the playground and brought in to class that got put in with the rest of the worm fam

The tank has to be cleaned at some point and fresh dirt given, but while the worms are being removed, our poor Eclipseworm gets broken yet again, and now we have Flareworm

At this point, I imagine Creator/Teacher finally puts some kind of lid on the worm tank to keep kids from being cruel to his worms lol

Ruinworm just happens to be a half dried up after-the-rain sidewalk worm one of his coworkers brought in for Creator lmao

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

sorry for spamming your inbox a bit. but I've just replayed for the 4th time, and every damn time the second conversation with Farrah makes me cry. that's not just mc's baby sister, that's now MY baby sister 😭

and while I'm talking about my mc, I'll describe them a little. they were trouble as a kid, but the war and the grief has turned them into a slave to duty; if they're using their head for a decision (which they often are) then their first priority is upholding their family's honor and serving their people. very much a cold, imperious demeanor with a hidden playful side. leaving what's left of their family to save nour is going to kill them once their feelings catch up with them. I can't wait

also, I'm STILL undecided on who I want to romance between the. all of them. woe is me, I'll just have to do multiple playthroughs.. the tragedy. however will I recover 😔 for my first playthrough, though, I'm leaning towards L and Aurynn, bc I think the two sillies will be a fun juxtaposition against my little blorbo mc. like, good luck overworking yourself, mc, the dog is going to eat your homework (metaphorically.. I hope).

No need to apologize at all! ❤️❤️ I enjoy reading your guys’ asks :) 👍 (Also I’m honored you’ve enjoyed the game so much as to replay it that many times ashshsj?! ❤️ And that it made you cry… 🥹💔)

Farah is certified Baby Sis 👍👍💕 I was working on writing her convo with mc for the next update and admittedly did make myself emotional writing the hug between them. 😥💔

And ahhh yes, the dutiful dignified mc 🫡🫡🫡 All ‘duty-comes-first’ this and ‘rest-is-for-the-weary (of which I am not) (lies—you are)’ that. The feels will definitely catch up to them eventually I fear 👍👍👌 Gotta make that mc nice n stoic so it’s so much more delicious when they finally break down later 👌👌🤝

And as for the different romance routes—what a predicament 💔 you poor thing 😔✌️

lol I am really excited to write all the characters’ platonic/romantic arcs and the poly routes etc. All of them will have fun dynamics to explore. I was just thinking about Sam/Aurynn earlier today and dang. The feels. I’m pretty excited for their whole arc in relationship :3 ❤️

But L and Aurynn will be super fun to write too lol! They’re funny together but also there’s a lot of deeper tension and insecurities etc to explore between them 👌 Plenty to work with

like, good luck overworking yourself, mc, the dog is going to eat your homework (metaphorically.. I hope).

And oh they can do it literally too like don’t even worry about it. :3 👍👍 (you should probably be worried about it) They’ll eat fuckin whatever man (stop 😰📄🐕)

Thank you again for the ask and for reading!! Take care! ❤️💕❤️ :D

[winchestermysterymachine]

how hard do you make it for the winchesters?

pt.2 of 'busy woman'

Dean Winchester

getting late, just something that keeps him from getting into your pants. and although you would've let him hit months ago, now you're just having fun fucking with him, waiting for him to break and beg. you've denied the poor boy six times now, and it doesn't look like thing's are going to happen any time soon. you like the way he whimpers when you tell him to wait a moment. you like when his lips are pressed against your neck, but your hands push back on his chest and you murmur 'not now dean', and so he pulls back, his head falling back, adams apple bobbing as he swallows, trying to regain some sense of self control. six times, he's thinking that to himself. you've denied him six times in a row, and he's fucking loving it. he flirts with other girls when he's away, you know that, but you can also tell he hasn't gotten laid with the way he's already hard when he picks you up. it makes you smile to yourself. you haven't seen him since last weekend and his body is already begging for you. makes you wonder what he's done when he's alone with himself. but you can't really let this go on any longer. you're reeling in power, it's the weekend once again, and dean's been trying hard not to grind into your thigh, but the thickness of him is making your head dizzy. oh, what it'd feel like if he was inside you for once. but, he's got to do something else first. you don't tell dean to stop, you tell him to keep going, to grind into you cause you know he needs it so bad. his hips press against you, his head dips down in between your neck and shoulder blade and he's begging you not to make him stop, he's almost there. almost there. his breath stutters the longer his moves his hips against yours. the way his jeans catch against him, against you, takes away his breath. his hands slide under your shirt, but your hands are quicker and tear them away. he can't touch you yet, he hasn't earned it. and then, you tell him to stop. he stops. i think he might have even cried, and so you call it a night and dean leaves, he respects you too much and if you want to stop he'll stop. but he'll come back next weekend, hoping for more, begging for more. maybe you'll give in. maybe you won't, either way, he won't stop coming back for more.

"I was easier than I am now, would've folded but I can't now."

Sam Winchester

it's been a month and a half. a month and a half of receiving texts and calls from sam, checking in to make sure you're still on for the date, checking in to see how you're doing. he keeps showing up at bobby's house to check in on you, but you told him you were busy for a month and a half, and can't exactly just show up during one of the days you're not meant to be there. so eventually the day comes when sam is supposed to be taking you out for your first date together. you had suggested something lowkey and casual, just to catch up after not seeing each other for almost two months. you've searched high and low for the perfect outfit. it's a cute low rise pair of jean shorts, a red and white gingham halter top. it falls just above the top of the shorts leaving just a little sliver of skin. a pair of white cowboy boots and you were all set. you felt cute, real cute. the kind of cute that's sexy, not not too sexy where you look like you're trying really hard, and that's what makes it perfect. so he picks you up, not in the impala, dean doesn't want to get his baby dirty. he does not trust either you or sam. so anyway, he picks you up in a random car, just as shiny as dean's but it lacks the scent of the winchesters. gun powder, sweat, sex, rain, greasy burgers. but it's fine. the bar isn't too far from when your house is, and it's not too packed either. you did that on purpose so he couldn't get distracted by the girls, not that you think he'd go off with someone else, but it lessens the chance. sam still has those puppy dog eyes, shaggy hair, he's so much taller than you, even with the additional wedge of your boots. so you sit down at a booth, away from the dance floor, away from the speakers by the bar, and you two get a beer, talk. it's a great date honestly, and only gets better when you suggest a dance. sam doesn't dance. he's tall, and awkward, and nerdy he doesn't dance at parties, his own, or at bars. you knew that of course. after suggesting it, he tells you how it is, he doesn't dance. so you shrug and go off to dance on your own. since the bar isn't too packed, guys flock you like ants to sugar. your beer in one hand, other sliding across your body slowly, like you don't even notice you're doing it. but sam knows. his body knows too. the way your silver rings and bracelets catch in the light keeps him hypnotized on your wrists. your hands trail across your waist, ass, tits. sam isn't submissive, but he's teetering on the edge of it. he's had enough though, enough of having to stand back while you do your thing, gyrating your hips against every poor sap in the building. when sam says it's time to go, you know he means business. you let him drag you out to the car and the ride home is silent. you get home and you drunkenly tear off your boots, you're feeling floaty while sam barely took a sip of his beer, too focused on your dancing skills to think about drinking. plus, he had to drive you both home anyway, he really only took the beer so he wasn't sitting there watching you drink the whole night. now back at home, he helps you to the couch. you're not that drunk, should you drive a vehicle now? probably not, but you're more drunk on the fact that sam had gotten possessive over you. you kiss him, and even when sam tries to tell you to stop, that you're drunk, you just keep kissing him. you climb onto his lap, grinding down against his lap like there's no tomorrow. you want him to cum in his pants, just for you. all for you. sams head tilts back when you start whispering in his ear, telling him exactly what you want for him to do. finish. and he does. but you don't take it any further, you don't even let him touch any higher or lower than your hips. and then after he's done, you kick him out, tell him to go home and that you'll see each other again soon. no date yet, but sometime soon and sam will make sure of that.

"You say you can take it, but you don't know how hard I can make it."

Castiel

castiel is the most difficult person to make beg. he doesn't understand dates, and although he likes the courtship feeling of it all. he's very... old timey like that. he loves a good waiting game and so do you. but it's the feeling that he hasn't really felt before, or in a very long time. it's stronger than he thinks it's supposed to be. probably because it was a feeling he had ignore in the beginning. but today is your first date. there aren't any hunts today, and you looked. i mean looked. nothing that looked interesting or had enough information that sam and dean would want to look into. but it's fine. you could still get other thing's done. like make dinner for the three of you (minus cas who doesn't need to eat of course). you're on the way to the impala, probably for the third time that day when castiel appears beside you. he wants to go. so you take him around to the store, to pick out food to eat for as cheap as possible. pie too, can't even forget pie. and it's in the bakery section when castiel asks for a date. you're flabbergasted (lol) that it's taken him almost two months since he said he was interested in you for him to finally ask you out on a date. you agree to something that night. you can't say you're busy with other thing's anyway, he knows that's not true, tonight is perfect anyway. you two discuss what to do. you can't go to dinner cause he doesn't need to eat, so anything involving food is off the table. so, you suggest a museum, or art gallery. he probably knew the painters or had some random story on it. he agrees, and you both head back to the motel where you get started on dinner, and cas searches around for a nice museum or art gallery to go to. he doesn't worry about purchasing tickets, he'll just.. fly you in. perks of being an angel. you're getting ready in the bathroom, sam and dean are hovering over cas like helicopter parents. this is the first date cas has ever gone on. he's a bit worried of course, what if he says the wrong thing? makes the wrong move? but dean's certain that you're well accustomed to the angels antics and weird phrases. so you come out of the bathroom, in a simple white dress, strappy on the shoulders, sweetheart necklace, satin material, and it drops to just above your knees. castiel likes white. you've noticed. a pair of simple brown sandals you've had for ages. you don't really own "art gallery appropriate" high heels. cas is at a loss for words. he just stands up, already decided on a place to take you.  you connect hands and in the blink of an eye, you're no longer in a dingy motel but instead in a grand art gallery and museum combo in new york city. you hadn't been to new york before. you walk around hand in hand. you're being touchy, he realizes it right off the bat. your hands are connected, your other arm wrapped around his bicep, holding the both of you together. he thinks it's cause you're nervous to be in a whole other city, or maybe feeling sick from his angel powers, but no, you two walk around staring at paintings. cas doesn't really care about the paintings, but he likes your reactions to them. slowly, your arm unwraps from around his bicep so you're just holding hands. then you begin leading him toward statues. kind of quick, he wasn't expecting that. he talks about the art and artist if he knows them, the year they were from, if it's the real image of a replica or not. you don't care about the art either, you like hearing him talk. he looks like art. like a god and if you told him that he'd just furrow his eyebrows and say he's not a god he's an angel, and there's only one true god. after looking at the statues, you go to the section about new england's history, how that little section came to be with europeans taking the land to escape. he notices then that you're no longer holding onto his bicep, just his hand. this goes on a little while longer, you just hold his hand.

he's missing your extra touch, but he likes that you're feeling more comfortable, he thinks you are anyway, but really you're just getting started. little by little, your grasp on his hand becomes less tight. he notices right away. he's the one mainly holding you now, but then you excuse yourself to the restroom and come back a few minutes later. he's expecting you to take his hand again but you don't and that shocks him a little. you hadn't stopped touching him all night until now? he follows after you, seeking the warmth of your touch. he doesn't really know why you're not touching him anymore. had he done something wrong? or maybe he had done something right and you were very comfortable just walking around on your own. but that doesn't make him feel any less like a kicked puppy following around their owner. you're confusing him, but he kinda likes that he doesn't know what you're going to do next. when it's time to go back to the motel, you connect hands for the first time that night and it sends a shock through him. if he hadn't thought about how much he missed your fingers intertwined with his, then he sure thought about it now. meanwhile, you're loving how he's acting a little different. you walk, he walks. his hand had pressed against the small of your back at some point, just wanting to feel you close to him again. it was adorable how much he wanted your attention on him. it's just too cute how bad he wants your touch.

“your arms are reachin’, and your eager heart is throbbin’.”

So, are you gonna let their eager hearts throb?

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Twin Flame - Epilogue: "The Great War"

"My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War. Always remember, we're burned for better. I vowed I would always be yours, because we survived the Great War..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes The Twin Flame Chapter List | The Grumpy x Sunshine Universe

"You can do this. It's fine. You're being silly."

He forces himself to take another deep breath. Anticipation thrums in his veins. It rolls off of him, he almost feels sorry for the poor person he sat next to on the plane.

He's practically shaking with excitement - and has been since he left his apartment back in New York. He can't really remember the last time he felt this excited. 

The freshness of the Louisiana air fills his lungs as he drives with the windows down. Back to you. Back to you for the first time in months.

That's what the feeling is, he realizes.

It's the feeling of coming home. 

You're right about the sky. It is really blue. 

By the time he pulls up to Sarah's home, Bucky can hardly sit still. He hardly has the state of mind to remember to grab his store bought cake from the passenger seat of his rental car. 

"Hey!" A familiar voice greets him. Bucky turns away from the car to see Sam's familiar grin beckoning over to him. "You made it!"

"Of course," Bucky breezily replies, the grocery store cake in his hand making it slightly easier to hide his fidgety hands. He tries not to crane his neck around Sam. He tries not to be rude and focus on what Sam's telling him.

In this moment, it's impossible for him. He can feel that inexplicable pull all over again. The ache in his chest slowly subsiding with every step closer to you. 

It's almost funny to him. The disciplined solider, the highly trained assassin, the notoriously stoic Bucky Barnes, can hardly keep the giddiness of his face. He can hardly pay attention to his friend.

As Sam talks with his beaming grin and animated gestures, Bucky is sure he's at least faking it well, that Sam has no idea there's only one person Bucky is looking for at this moment. 

It's clear that Bucky failed when Sam starts waving his hand in his face. "Um, Bucky?"

Bucky's head snaps back toward Sam. "Huh?"

Sam quirks a brow at Bucky, an unimpressed purse tugging at his lips, "I asked how's it going in New York."

"Oh," Bucky sheepishly exhales with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "It's fine. Same old, same old."

"You are literally not paying attention to a word I'm saying."

"Of course, I am," Bucky promises, once again, craning his neck to look around Sam. "I always listen to what you're saying."

"I think you should shave your head."

Bucky nods, still looking around the party. Still no sign of you. "Good idea."

"And can I have your arm?"

"Mhm..." Bucky hums, his eyes flickering to the house to see if there's any sign of you. "Sure, no problem."

"Stop it," Sarah scoffs, swatting Sam's shoulder. 

Bucky takes a momentary break of searching for you, offering a gentle smile to Sarah. "Oh, hey, Sarah, how are you?"

"Good. Keeping busy."

"This is a great turnout. You should be proud of yourselves." He extends the store bought cake he brought to the party, "I almost forgot, I brought this for you guys."

Sam narrows his eyes, "Who are you and what have you done with Bucky?"

"Thanks, Bucky." Sarah nudges her head towards her house. "Hey, would you mind putting this in the kitchen? I wouldn't want it to melt."

"I got -" Sam begins to offer. 

"Bucky," Sarah pointedly repeats, nudging her head toward the house again. 

"Oh, yeah, sure!" Bucky blurts, still only half catching on to Sarah's innuendo. "I'll just - I'll be right back."

Sarah smiles widely. "Great. Thank you." 

He stumbles towards the house before Sam can object again.

And the moment he starts towards that house, he can feel it. He swears he can. He can feel himself being pulled towards the house. Each step makes the ache lessen and lessen. Each step feels like his rib cage is expanding and allowing him his first real breath in months. 

He looks at the roof, the night spent holding you in his arms. The flowers that create a gentle waft through the warm summer breeze. Everything feels brighter. Like for the first time, he sees all the hope the world has to offer.

There is no thought to it. His feet carry him up the steps, past the living room, past the dining room, straight to you.

You sigh as you hear the screen door slam shut and footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"Sam, for the last time, the cake will be ready when -" Your words stop dead in their tracks when you turn away from the counter to see who waits in the doorway. Those blue eyes that kept you staring at the sky day in and out. "James..."

A breath lodges in his throat as he takes in the sight of you for the first time in months. The cuts and scrapes, the knuckles bruised like violets, were all but gone. Still, he knew better than most that some scars would never heal.

And yet, you're here. Standing before him. Standing tall. With a smile that could light up this whole town. "Hi."

"Hi." 

"Hi."

You chuckle, "You said that already."

"Right," he giggles. He couldn't believe he'd just giggled. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed, let alone giggled like an unburdened spirit. His hand anxiously rubs the back of his neck, "Hi - I mean - it's good to see you. Sorry, I just - I thought about this moment so damn much and I thought I knew what I was gonna say but - It's just - God, I missed you."

Your grin grows even wider. "I missed you too, so, so much."

"How have you - "

You don't wait for him to finish his question. You rush forward, pulling him down towards you. Your lips meet his in pure desperation, you need this like you need to breathe. Your fingers twist around the hair at the nape of his neck as his find your waist. He pulls you flush against him, his fingertips digging into your hips.

Despite how desperate and frenzied the kiss is, there's a sense of relief, of calm, of peace that accompanies it. It feels like you can breathe, a full deep breath after months of treading water.

After months of rebuilding, you've finally found your way back home.

"What a great way of telling me to shut up," Bucky chuckles against your lips. "You should do it again."

"Hold that thought," you sigh against Bucky's mouth.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow at you. "What?"

"AJ, Cass, Get out here..." You look over Bucky's shoulder to just beyond the doorway. "What are you guys doing?"

Sure enough, the two boys appear, meekly shuffling into the kitchen. "Nothing..."

"You're doing nothing? Really?"

"Uh..." Cass stutters out. 

You lower yourself to each of the boys, your eyes playfully flickering between the two of them, "So who's gonna tell me what you two are up to?"

"Uncle Sam said he'd give us twenty bucks if we came to bother you," Cass blurts.

"He told us not to tell them!" AJ scolds his brother. 

"Oh," you smirk, crossing your arms over your chest. "Did he?"

The boys both look down at their shoes with an apologetic, pouting expression. "We're sorry."

"Oh no, don't be sorry," you assure them. "Did he give you guys 20 dollars each?"

The boys shake their heads. "No."

"How about this? I'll give you guys 20 dollars each if you tell Sam that you saw Bucky going upstairs."

"Each?" they marvel.

"Each."

"Why'd you do that?" Bucky asks as the two boys scurry off to find Sam.

"You'll see."

Sam runs in only moments later, skidding to a halt when he sees you and Bucky standing in the kitchen. "Oh... hey, guys. What's up?"

You cross your arms over you chest, your lips pursing in distaste. "Nothing, just had an interesting conversation with AJ and Cass."

"Oh, okay," Sam excessively nods, feigning innocence.

"Sending children to spy on us," you admonish, tsking once. "That's low."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sam lies, defiantly lifting his chin.

"They sold you out, Sam."

Sam's mouth gapes slightly. "For how much?"

"20 bucks each."

"Damn it," Sam hisses. "You know, I used to be able to bribe the both of them with a 5."

You point to the front door. "Get out."

Sam narrows his eyes, flicking two fingers between his gaze and Bucky's. "Fine... but I'm watching you."

"You know, I'm starting to get why you don't like Sam," you joke.

Bucky groans in relief, resting a hand on your waist. "It's about time."

You pat his chest once, your hand sliding down his arm to his hand. You lace your fingers with his and jut your chin in toward the back door. "Come on, let's go out back. I wanna show you something."

 "What do you wanna show me?"

"You'll see," you coyly reply.

You lead him out the back door, following a path of carefully paved stone lined with wildflowers of all kinds. The smell of the flowers waft through the summer breeze once more. And just like before, the day seems brighter with you by his side.

As the path comes to an end, it splays out into an open circular garden brimming with vibrant colors, brimming with life.

In the very center, a willow tree with full, cascading leaves, standing tall surrounded by the most striking flowers he's ever seen.

You'd spent months working on it. A way to forgive. A way to say goodbye. A way to honor those fallen. And then finally, a way to move forward carrying the love and grief of your found family. "They're-"

"Poppies," Bucky finishes for you. The most strikingly red poppies he'd ever seen. The flower of remembrance, if Bucky remembers correctly. 

He wasn't sure if it was the sun or simply the high of being so close to you after so long, but they almost looked like they were glowing in the afternoon light.

His breath catches in his throat. The stones beneath his feet merge into a singular path. Still holding his hand, you guide him around the garden.

While he wasn't by any stretch of the imagination a flower person, he was struck by the vivid blues of the small path of flowers at the very end of the path.

The same color of that bright blue afternoon sky. The sky that reminded you of your twin flame. No matter how far apart, no matter how much time passed, he'd always be there. As unwavering, as bright eyed as the vast blue sky. "Those are forget me nots."

"It's beautiful," he whispers.

"It's a memory garden."

"You did all this?"

"Well, Sam helped with the stones and that little table over there, but I - I wanted to do it alone. I wanted to mourn them. I even picked different flowers for all them."

"You took the bad and turned it into something good."

It felt like a lifetime ago that you said those words to him. Your silent vow to your caretaker - that you would leave the world better than you entered it, that you would take the bad and turn it into something good.

It was the same vow you made to each and every member of your family, whether they were gone or simply lost, that you would turn the ache of grief into something good.

"You remember that?"

"Of course I did. I remember everything about you."

The words leave his lips so casually, like there is no other choice, all roads lead back to you. 

You find yourself momentarily at a loss for words, struck by Bucky's words. He really did remember. Those little, fleeting, stolen moments really meant as much to him as it did to you.

"We can sit here," you manage to rasp out, gesturing to the wooden picnic table at the end of the cobblestone path. "It'll be at least a few minutes before Sam finds us out here."

His hand rests on the center of the picnic table as he takes a seat across from you. "So?"

Your hand slides towards his, but you don't hold his hand. You stroke his fingers, circling and toying with his middle finger until you move onto the next finger. It's your habit, Bucky knows from seeing you twiddle and twist your fingers for years, but instead of reaching for your hand, you reach for his. You use him to ground yourself.

You smile up at him with a small shrug of your shoulders, "So?"

"I guess I'm a little curious," Bucky wonders. Sure, you hadn't completely lost touch with Bucky in these months, but you both gave each other the space to work things out. "Things seem like they're really working out."

"I'm hopeful."

"Me too." He can't remember the last time he said that word: hopeful. He doesn't remember the last time he truly, genuinely felt that either. Sitting here, with you, basking in the sun, that's exactly the feeling that swells in his ribcage. Hope. Hope with more on the horizon.

"Yeah... that lawyer, Matt, is great. He really helped us out. I know it's not over yet, but I think we're finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. They called me to testify in front of the Senate next week."

His shoulders tense as he hears the words leave your mouth in such a casual tone. "Wait, what?"

"Matt thinks it'll work in our favor," you explain. "He says it's no good hiding anymore. That - that people think I'm a hero, that they'll take my side."

Bucky's eyebrows furrow, his jaw squaring as he takes it all in. "You're putting a lot of trust into this guy, aren't you?"

"Sounds like someone is a little jealous," Sam sarcastically mutters from behind Bucky.

"Guess he found us again," Bucky grumbles. 

You reach across the table to grab Bucky's hand. "Don't be jealous. Matt's a good guy, but I won't lie, there was something a little off about him."

Bucky's eyebrows pull in. "Like what?"

You shrug. "I don't know."

"Maybe it's the fact that he's a blind vigilante that wanders around Hell's Kitchen on his off time," Sam deadpans, taking a seat beside you.

"No..." You shake your head, your mouth twisting as you try to place what exactly you found so strange about Matt Murdock. "I don't think that was it. I think it was his friend. He was nice, but what kind of name is Foggy?"

"What kind of name is Bucky?" Sam counters.

"I like his name, thank you very much," you retort.

Bucky can barely appreciate your defense of name as he tries to process everything that you and Sam have just thrown at him. "So you're telling me that you two have spent all this time with some vigilante-slash-lawyer and a guy named Foggy?"

"Exactly," you and Sam simultaneously reply. 

Bucky takes a deep breath in, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I forgot how exhausting it is keeping up with you guys."

Sam snorts, "And that's not even the half of it."

"What more could there possibly be?"

"You're forgetting about Karli," Sam points out.

"Right," Bucky nods. "So where is she these days?"

"That's what Joaquin was doing after everything that happened in New York," Sam replies. "Apparently, it's not easy to find a safe place for one of the world's most wanted fugitive."

Bucky scoffs, "No kidding."

"She's somewhere safe. Somewhere we they can help her, teach her."

"I've visited her a few times. It's pretty cool. They call it a school for gifted kids, and it's actually like a real school," you explain, a look of wonder and awe shining in your eye. "They've got teachers to help with the powers. There's other kids that are like her. It's - it's the kind of place I would've really liked to grow up in."

That only leads him to yet another one of your many loose ends left to tie up. "Speaking of, no word from Fury?"

You take a large gulp of air. "Sorta."

"Really?" Bucky gapes.

"Well, we still have no idea where he is or how to get in touch with him. Plus, he's as cryptic as ever."

--

You sit on the dock, palms turned over in your lap, timing your breathing with the lapping waves below your feet. Sam clears his throat, "I have something for you."

Your shut eyes furrow at him, "Sam, I swear if it's another self help book-"

"Will you just look?"

You creak an eye open to see a thick, white envelope in Sam's hands, "What is that?"

"I don't know. It just showed up here, but look." You take the envelope from Sam, looking closely at the crisp white paper. On the corner, emblazoned on the envelope were the initials N.J.F.

"Do you think..?"

"I wouldn't put it past him. He was always a cryptic asshole," Sam shrugs. "I'll just give you a minute."

"No," you stop him. Though you were both at fault for Sam's absence on the day you returned to the place from before, you wanted him here for this. You wanted him here with you. You were ready to rebuild your found family once more. "Stay with me, please."

He smiles down at you, "I'll stay."

Both you and Sam wait with bated breath as you carefully tear the envelope open. On the inside resides a manila envelope with hundreds of pages neatly tucked inside.

"What is that?"

"I think it's your file," Sam replies. "I recognize it from when Fury first asked me to be your handler. It was a hell of a lot thinner back then."

"Do you know what's in it?"

"No idea. He showed me the first few pages and that's it. The rest was top secret."

You flip through pages and pages. You immediately recognize the handwriting occupying most of the pages, the handwriting of Nick Fury himself.

Pages and pages of his writings. All of them marked with his own thoughts, things he never told you, things you never knew.

'Intelligent... lacks even the most basic social skills.'

'Eager to learn. Even more eager to help.' 

'Pierce has dubbed her SHIELD's greatest asset. The antithesis to the fist of HYDRA...'

"The fist of HYDRA?" you ask.

"The Winter Solider - they called him the fist of HYDRA. Funny how that worked out."

The next line that catches your eye, you read aloud, "I fear for her. I fear she's too soft for it all. Every day, I come to the realization that she is not built for this line of work. Every day, I fear she has less and less of a choice."

There's something about that line in particular that hurts more than anything else. Nick was the one person that believed in you from the moment he met you. And even he doubted you could handle it all. "He didn't think I could handle it."

"No, he just thought you were meant for more," Sam objects.

You offer a small smile at Sam as you continue flipping to through the file. "Why do you think he sent this? Why now?"

"Look at that, on the last page," Sam points out.

"It's a note," you whisper.

"I'm still rooting for you. Even from afar." - Nicholas J. Fury.

--

"So you haven't talked to him."

"Not exactly," you admit. "He sent some old files over."

"He made contact by sending you his old junk," Bucky surmises. 

"I think it was his way of reminding me that I'm not alone, that he's still here, somewhere."

At least, that's what you believed. You believed that in his own Nick Fury way, he cared about you. In his own way, he might've seen you as a daughter as much as you saw him as a father.

And someday, you hoped you could tell him that. 

That only reminded you of yet another thing you had yet to fill Bucky in. You weren't even sure how to tell him, or if he'd look at you and think you were crazy.

In the days after coming home, you spent hours ruminating over those flashes of memories. Memories of Tony, Natasha, and Steve. A moment in the Compound that you were sure never actually happened, but felt so intimately real.

It was Steve's words reminding you that Nick Fury cared about you that made receiving that package from Nick easier.

You decided that it was real. Every part of it. Somehow. Some way. The universe had gifted you one final goodbye, one last moment with those you held so dear.

It was as real as the friendship you and Tony had despite those dark moments. It was as real as Steve's familiar scent filling your nose as he apologized for hurting you. As real as the way Natasha held you while telling you that you changed Karli's story.

You didn't know how or why, but you were gifted one last moment with each of them. And there was nothing more real than the love you would always have for your found family. 

You decide that's a story for another time. 

You smile at Sam, then at Bucky, "Things really worked out for us, didn't they?"

"It's about damn time," Bucky grunts.  

The Louisiana air fills your lungs as you look up to the sun, basking in the feeling of the warmth and sunshine bathing you. "I'll never get tired of the Sunshine."

Bucky watches you for a long moment. It was a sight to behold. Watching you stare up at the sky once more. He couldn't count how many times he'd prayed to anyone who would listen that he would get to witness that one last time.

All the times he saw you stare at the floor, bogged down by everything that tried to dim your brightness. He always wished you would stare up at the sky just one more time.

In his experience, people always looked worse in the light. People shied away from the light for fear of seeing all the cracks in the foundation, all the darkness that lurked beneath. You didn't have that problem.

And for someone like him, someone deprived of light for so long, he was glad that he could finally bask in the warmth. He was glad he finally stepped into the daylight.

As you sat before him, head thrown back, a smile planted on your face, he swears he's never seen you look more free, more at peace. He would never get tired of Sunshine either. "Me neither."

Sam gently pats your shoulder, rising from his seat, "Well, now that we're all caught up, we should head back before Sarah starts a search party."

"Why don't you go and we'll be right behind you?" Bucky sarcastically offers.

"Ha, ha," Sam stiltedly laughs, shooting Bucky a glare. "Not a chance."

"Come on, James." You extend a hand to Bucky, nudging your chin towards the house. "That way we can tell Sarah that Sam was using AJ and Cass to spy on us."

Bucky takes your hand, smirking at Sam, "That's a great idea."

"So this is how it's gonna be now? You and Bucky... and Sam?" Sam calls as you and Bucky start walking back to the house. "You guys are terrible friends!"

"Did you hear something?" you sarcastically ask Bucky.

He smirks over his shoulder. "No, not a thing."

"You guys could at least wait for me!" Sam calls as you three walk back through the house. "You know, I thought it would take longer for you two to forget about me."

"There you guys are," Sarah playfully exclaims as walk down the porch steps. "I was about to send a search party for you."

"Told you so," Sam smugly remarks.

"Would it be morally wrong to push him off the dock?" Bucky audibly wonders.

"Hmm..." You rest your hand on his arm, guiding him away from Sam and the dock, "I want to say no, but I'm leaning towards yes."

The day passes with a lightness that none of you have felt in quite some time. And while you all know that all of your problems hadn't been solved quite yet, there is no foreboding sense of doom building along the horizon. It feels right.

For the first time in a long time, you feel whole.

Sitting across from Sam, beside Bucky, gorging on food, the smell of the fresh water and the sounds of kids running around, it feels like you're finally in the right place at the right time. And perhaps most importantly, with people you could call yours.

You rest your head on Bucky's shoulder. "So what about you?"

Though he'd deny it for the rest of his life, Sam smiles at the sight of peace that flashes on Bucky's face as you curl against him.

Bucky hums thoughtfully, "Honestly, it's been quiet. Mostly therapy. I told Yuri about his son."

"How did he take it?"

"About as well as you'd expect," Bucky solemnly responds, his mouth twisting as he recalls the heartbroken look on Yuri's face when he told him about his son's death. "But he knows, he doesn't have to wonder anymore."

You lace your fingers with his, gently squeezing his hand, "I knew you would do the right thing. You always do."

You end the day sitting beside Bucky on the dock you'd spent so many days sitting and staring up at the sky wishing for this very moment. The moment that brought you back to him, finally back to him.

While flashes of the battle may always come back to you in a blur, you could also see all the light the future held for you. At last, all of you, all of him intertwined.

And in this moment in time, your little found family, you had all finally found your peace.

As the sun sets over the horizon, you rest your head on Bucky's shoulder, melted into his embrace. "Sometimes, I can't believe it."

Bucky looks down at you. "What?"

"That we survived. That we're here. Together. For a long time, I thought I'd lost you. I really thought I'd lost you."

"You couldn't lose me," he promises. He stares at you in awe as you watch the sun sink beneath the horizon. And in that moment, he knows, he's finally found his way back to you. His soul, his heart had found its rightful place in this world. And whatever the future might hold, at least he'd have you by his side. "Not then. Not now. Not ever. It's you and me."

"Ahem..." Sam clears his throat from behind where you and Bucky sit.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "And Sam too."

"If you insist," Bucky grunts.

"It's me and you." It's more than a promise, it's an unspoken vow. A vow to always find your way back to him. A vow to reach for his hand even in times of darkness. A vow to always be his. 

You intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing his hand three times, "It's me and you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist Inspired by Taylor Swift Series

And that's (officially) a wrap on The Twin Flame. Thank you all so much for joining me on this journey. I love you all. 💛 (Stay tuned, dear readers, I've got some extras coming your way…)

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE AVENGERS WITH AN ESCAPED READER

Bold of you to even assume that you'd be escaping from them since well... they are the Avengers. If you managed to escape them (LIKE FR HOW DA HECK DID YOU DO THAT!!?) the Avengers like Peter, Bucky and Tony and Bruce would search for you here and there and they'd break down after you escaped. Needless to say... they'll become unhinged and they won't chill till they have you back. They'd be so worried of you like what if you were lying hurt in a dark alleyway or something? What if someone tried kidnapping you? Their heart clenches and it reforms into something more... fiery and steely filled with determination to have you back. They won't let go of you that easily no matter what part of the world you went to. And if you were able to get away from them, it would take a very long time for them to find you unless you're really good at hiding and haven't left a trace of your hiding spot. And besides they might be a little delusional and they'll just think you were confused and you weren't loved enough by them and that's why you did something like that. I think they'll just be numb and miserable and broken if they can't have you back and drown or wallow in their grief, but yes like I said, they will get you back

Now as for Thor and Sam and Clint, they'll have to calm their nerves down at first and after they finish storming and raging around here and there that you've escaped they won't think of HOW you've escaped since that was already done, they prefer to focus on HOW they're gonna get you back. These people have amazing tracking skills and when it comes to Thor, he'll of course have messengers to keep him informed of your whereabouts. They'll be thinking of why you even wanted to escape them in the first place. Was their love not good enough for you? Were they making you watch too much of cartoons? Were you feeling unloved and underappreciated? You better be good at hiding and pray you have Lady Luck on your side because once these guys catch you.... say goodbye to your freedom yet again. After lots of yelling and tears of course. But if you DID manage to get escape them for good, they'll be angry, hurt and maybe feel a little guilty that they shouldn't have been so... selfish and they'll repent for their actions. They still want you back though under any cost

When it comes to Natasha, Steve, Stephen and Scott and Wanda, they'll be having an emotional range of an OCEAN with feelings of hurt, betrayal, anger, and sadness surging trough them. They'll mostly be pissed and livid or heartbroken and devastated. Either way, their feelings won't enable them to think rationally. And after they're done taking their anger out on various poor inanimate objects, they'll be trying to track you down or in Stephen and Wanda's case, use magic. I'd say Stephen or Wanda as a yandere would be really hard to hide from since they have magic and they can track you down even if you're hiding in a forest or something. As for Natasha and Steve and Scott, well... they might take a little time with their hunting you down but when they do you better hope that karma is in a good mood and the universe doesn't want to make a fool of you cuz you most certainly will NOT be spared by any of them at all. They'll punish you and maybe tie and chain you up if they have to. If you escape them for good, they'll just be feeling hella angry and pissed but like I said, they will not rest till they get you back under any cost

[fandomfluffandfuck]

So i reread your pussy steve ask and HOLY SHIT i didn’t realise what i was missing out on. i had so many ideas about what new experiences steve has to go through, not just fucking but can you imagine the desperation when bucky eats him out? poor boy would be in pieces

So that idea was from the 1940s with steve and bucky, steve in his new body and only just getting used to all the sensations and upgrades- what about in the modern era? Buckys gone and steve doesn’t have a partner, and pleasuring himself only brings back memories of the war which he’d rather avoid. So, presumably, by the time bucky gets back, steve is REPRESSED.

But bucky needs help, steve doesn’t even know how to navigate friendship let alone anything else, what can he do?

So he doesn’t mention anything, doesn’t initiate anything, until bucky, being bucky, corners him in the kitchen late one night in the floor they share.

Not speaking, just slowly crowding him into the corner between the sink and the coffee maker, slowly, slowly moving his hands to steve’s hips and his nose to steve’s throat.

“uhh… buck? you okay?” steve can already feel a blush, which means bucky, being buried in his neck, can feel it to, because we all know how steve has a full body blush.

“yeah, hon, just missed you”

steve tenses, bucky doesn’t move. he hasn’t used a nickname for him other than ‘stevie’ or ‘punk’

“yeah i… missed you too buck” still, bucky doesn’t move

“god, missed you so much y’dont even know. you always been in my mind, somewhere. always been thinking about you even if i didn’t know it”

“you… remember?” bucky seems to freeze slightly, gripping steve’s hips tighter and pulling his head back just enough to give steve a smirk

“how could anyone forget you, stevie”

*insert dirty talk about steve being so desperate and keeping himself occupied with someone else, sam or tony or nat, which steve obviously denies and only gets more flustered, leaving to Bucky fucking him over the kitchen counter and making sure the whole tower can hear what’s his* (maybe bucky invites sam up to get a taste)

This is incredible!!

I can viscerally feel how heartbreaking and how hot this would be--expanding on this idea, I mean, thinking deeper about how Steve has walled himself off from pleasure in this instance. It just hurt too fucking much to remember Bucky before he came back from the dead, walking through Hell to find him again, so... he's entirely forgotten. He couldn't think about Bucky without breaking down. There was nothing to do, but know a piece of himself died with Bucky and try to drag his bruised and bloodied body forward because death did not swallow him. It evaded him and did worse than destroy him, it tore him from his world and placed him in another.

So, of course, he knows, intellectually, that Bucky did that to him; he knows it feels good, but he's not let himself remember just how good it was. His body has become numb at the accordance of his mind being saturated with pain and panic and heart-splitting trauma. And with a crash-course in modernity with its overt sexualization of him as an "icon"... Steve's quietly divorced himself more of pleasure. The slang of new sexual aggression and desire intertwined is too confusing. He doesn't think he'll ever catch up. So. He doesn't try.

Until...

Exactly, Bucky plasters himself all over him, and Steve discovers--hips jerking uncontrollably, squeezing his thighs around Bucky's soaked face, locking him there where he's making him see God, it's fucking Heaven, holding onto his thick, dark hair between his legs with a trembling fist, Steve's hot, red mouth hanging open as he moans with guttural abandon, eyes rolling back into his head, feeling obscenely wet and puffy and swollen and achy set on Bucky's hot mouth--that the serum can't always keep up enough. He's moaning enough, his pussy suffocating Bucky's wicked, knowing mouth, that he can go hoarse.

Their poor neighbor's because Bucky isn't stopping until Steve is thoroughly reminded of how it feels to be eaten out until he can't see see any more because his head is spinning, until his chest is heaving, until his throat doesn't work, and until he can't fucking move, no longer propped up, quivering, over Bucky's face, riding it, but spread out on his back with his trembling legs thrown haphazardly over Bucky's broad shoulders as he keeps fucking going to town on him. Steve doesn't feel like he can cum anymore. Steve feels like he's stuck in perpetual orgasm. Steve, Steve--Steve doesn't know. He can't.

Itfeelssogood.

Yeahhhhh. I'm so fucking down for that thought 👀

[tiggymalvern]

Burn Noticed 5x01 - Company Man

This is a short podcast episode, because the podcasters don't have a lot of complaints or questions about the plot, so that always reduces the discussion points.

They start with some directorial criticism, as the cold open ends with Micheal saying, ‘No. I NEED answers,’ with a dramatic zoom. Which is definitely too much 🤪

Bri is frustrated that Michael won’t tell Fi anything about where he’s been. “He’s so professional in a way that I find unbelievable frankly. “

Chris: This is Michael Westen, Bri.

Bri: I know. Ugh. He’s such a... (there's a word in there, but I can't catch it, because Chris starts talking too. It is obviously not flattering LOL)

Chris: I don’t know why you’re surprised.

Bri: It’s so annoying though. Because next episode he throws all this out the window and is like, ‘Fi, can you do my CIA job for me?’  It just seems wild that he can’t even tell her which country they’ve been to. What is she going to do with that information? (That point about going from telling her nothing to telling her everything is very valid 🤣🤣🤣)

Chris: Bri, you have to understand that now Michael is a Company Man.

Bri: He’s not even, he’s just an asset. He’s still technically burned.

Chris: But he wants to not think that he’s burned. (I think Chris has a valid point here. Michael is over-compensating hard for the fact that they're letting him back in and he does not want to screw this up from the start.)

Sam’s showing off his post Fall of Sam Axe weight loss.

Chris: I love that they feel the need to comment on this.

Bri: The thing is, if they hadn’t brought attention to it, I wouldn’t have noticed. He wears the same clothes as always that make him look bigger.

Chris: Yeah, he’s always wearing these long drapy shirts.

(It is hard to tell unless you’re actively paying attention. When they put him in a T-shirt, that’s when you can tell.)

And the other thing coming out of this scene…

Bri: Jesse is now living the life that Fi has been begging Michael to live for years. (Go, Jesse! Such a smart man ❤️)

They comment, as I have in the past, on Michael’s exclusion of Jesse from ‘my team’ for the trip to Caracas. Poor Jesse – he’s completely bonded with these people now, but Michael is very slow to buy into new friends!

The podcasters have forgotten what happened at the end of the last episode (they take a lengthy break between seasons), because they’re wondering why Michael is going after Kessler and not Vaughn. They have to stop and look up the wiki to remind themselves that Vaughn was arrested and they didn't miss anything 😁

They’re not sure about Michael’s longer hair.

Chris: They’re trying to do the same style they always do and it’s too big. You need to do something else or cut his hair.

(The new hair makes him look younger and softer, which I think isn’t the image Michael Westen is going for. It suits Jeffrey Donovan, but it’s wrong for the character IMO.)

They’re delighted that Michael still doesn’t speak Spanish, and has to say so in Russian 🤣🤣🤣

The episode ends with Michael having a conversation with his mother about lack of closure. 'Sometimes you don’t get everything wrapped up neatly and it sucks,' she tells him.

Bri: I enjoy when media unpacks that.

Chris: I do like that.

Bri: However, I don’t trust Burn Notice. I think that someone’s still out there and Michael will still get answers.

Chris: See, I don’t think so. I think the reason that Kessler is a nobody and they’re doing this episode about not getting closure is Matt Nix and co saying, ‘We’re done with this plot. We stretched it out for four seasons. Maybe we’ll do it again in the final season, but we don’t want to talk about Michael being burned any more.'

Bri: That’s something that you and I would do. I’m on high alert. I would love for that to be true, because I really do like this scene and this moment, and I think that in some ways it’s a weirdly satisfying ending to four seasons of conspiracy nonsense. I like that it ends with a whimper and not a bang, but I don’t trust them.

Chris: I think it’s the right choice narratively, but it’s also the lazier choice.

Bri: I still think Max is a bad guy, though. I’m saying it now. I think Max is going to cause them some kind of strife.

Chris: Max might cause strife. I don’t know if he’s a bad guy.

Bri: I want to have wild predictions at the beginning of seasons now, and this is mine. I think Max is bad. What’s your wild prediction.

Chris: Fi’s gonna get a pixie cut 🤣🤣🤣

(I do like it when they start to speculate. Sometimes they're very right and sometimes they're very wrong XD)

This gets tagged a great episode of Burn Notice - barely, because it doesn't fit the standard formula, but Madeline gets some good moments and that compensates for the absence of Jesse now that they're including her as a main character. Not a great episode of television, which is also fair. This is very much a 'Get the old plot tidied up so we can get on to the new season plot' episode.

[caprisunnydays]

Stardew Valley Head canons : What instrument they'd play in marching band

Personal head canons on what I think the characters would play if they were in band, and small explanations (From an author in band)~

Abigail : Pit, specifically marimbas

We've seen her go ham on the drum set, but I think that she would be good on marimbas

Section leader material for sure, goofs off when the band director isn't looking and can blame it on the freshman

Serious about those comps tho

Alex : Battery, specifically base drum

Another percussionist!

"Bro ur on my dot" "Alex, you're on the wrong side of the field"

Gets yelled at a lot by the director

Has to sprint off the football field during half time to go change into his uniform, preform, then get back onto the field

Elliot : Base Clarinet

So elegant, so fun

He would so have a solo

Straightest legs on the field

Hardest side eye when other people miss a note

Actually, I think he'd be a drum major, everyone's favorite too

Emily : Color guard

She loves the dancing aspect most

Another section leader, very kind and encouraging towards her section

Freshman : "Em I dropped my flag during the football game :(" "That's okay, it happens, you'll do better next time! She goes on a long story about her mistakes as a freshman"

Tries to convince Haley to do winter guard

Haley : Flute

Definition of a flutist (from a flute player)

Doesn't speak with anyone outside her section (barley her sister, mostly to Alex)

Does NOT practice, like at all

"I swear to god I'm gonna quit"

Does end up doing winter guard with Emily

Harvey : Clarinet

Barely survives band camp

Very good at his instrument, knows all his scales

Late on his visuals sometimes but he tries his best

Loves his section, likes to organize activities them to bond outside of rehearsals and performances

Leah : Trombone

Took me a sec to think but I think she'd be good on this

Also plays Sousa and Baritone, no woodwind instruments though

Finds music a fun way to express herself, another form of art if you will

Not a fan of the band director, thinks they're evil (cuz all of them lowkey are...)

Maru : Mellophone

One of the hardest instruments

Obviously plays french horn during concert season and is a BEAST

She's got hella awards, Demetirus is so proud

Tattles to the band director if someone pisses her off and it actually works out for her

Penny : Drum major

Couldn't think of what she'd be for a second but then I figured she'd be perfect for the role

Loves to guide the band, and loves seeing everything come together as the show progresses

Maybe not head drum major, but amazing none the less

Has major sympathy for the freshman and is patient when showing them the ropes (she's the actual favorite)

Sam : Saxophone

Got super close to playing the trombone, but wanted to play things like Careless Whisper and Tequila

Another definition of his instrument stereotype, this silly silly guy

"Yo I can't find my dot, we're at set 20 right?" "Sam, we've just started learning this movement?? this is set 3??"

He does try out for section leader though, whether he gets it or not, I'm not too sure

Sebastian : Synth

We ain't finna catch this man marching, he would die

Skips rehearsals half the time and has almost been kicked out for trying to take a smoke break

Randomly tried for drum major (did not get it)

Tries to go out in 100 degree whether in his black hoodie and gets sent back inside once a week

Shane : Sousa

The only one that genuinely almost quit

Band is his escape, poor depressed man, but it takes a lot of work that he didn't know if he wanted to put up with

Bonds with the section though, and is living his best life

Competitions are his favorite

Got put on props and was NOT happy about it

[ubiquitousunanimity]

The idea of the One Ring, and the journey it faced through the story is... wildly amusing to me

This ring, this key to accessing a world beyond the mortal realm, this wellspring of power, absolute, corrupting power, goes from one of the most powerful entities in Middle Earth, to Isildur, to a riverbed for countless years.

Imagine it all from the Ring's perspective.

You know you're the bomb. You know you can get what you want, how you want it. You can corrupt anyone.

Then a Hobbit comes along and picks you up. And you end up stuck in a cave for 600 years.

There are perfectly viable goblins next door, but no. You're stuck with Gollum. For centuries. Dammit.

FINALLY, some poor unsuspecting fellow tricks Gollum, and the ring swaps hands. Good, because those hobbits are nasty things, hard to corrupt. Fortunately, there are plenty of other mortals, and this land is far from any Hobbits.

EXCEPT IT'S ANOTHER HOBBIT.

What the fuck is your luck? This is bullshit. You can't deal with this crap. Bilbo hardly ever uses you, and he's resilient as is, so you're shit out of luck if you're trying to use him to bring around the rise of Sauron. Well fuck.

Fast forward nearly 60 years, and finally, /finally/, he hands you off to someone else. Even letting go of you is a feat in itself, but whatever. You're sick of these damn hobbits.

What the fuck, why are you in ANOTHER Hobbit's hands now? This is absurd now. Who are these people, and why are they so difficult?

Frodo is a pain in your ass, working on him will take a while.

Tom fucking Bombadil isn't even /fazed/ by you, which pissed you off even more.

And finally, when you're nearly winning, fucking Sam comes along and picks your ass up.

Another Hobbit, by the way. You'd think the world was full of them, at this point. But no, some folk think they're a fucking myth.

And then, it all comes full circle as Gollum takes you to your fiery grave.

This poor ring, man... Can't catch a break.