#sam adams x you

[padfootagain]

To Guard Our Hearts

Hello !! Today, we’re answering a request from my friend @wolfbrideinhiding for my 6k event: “Oh my, congrats for 6k again! That’s a huge milestone 🤍 The celebration provided some delicious options 👀 It was very difficult to choose only one but how about: Sam Adams + Bodyguard AU + fake dating?”

Haven’t written for Sam in a while, hope you’ll like what I’ve done with your request!

Hope you all like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sam Adams x reader

Warning: none

Summary: you and Sam have an argument when your safety is at risk, and your brilliant plan to pretend to be his fiancée backfires.

Word Count: 1118

Sam Adam’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It’s snowing again on Boston. Nothing surprising for the early days of February. The air is crisp, it almost feels solid as it penetrates your lungs. You draw patterns in the empty space before you as you breathe. The stars are quiet tonight, barely there at all, even though there are no clouds. They’re quiet, like the city.

So strange that the world had come to a stand-still, when everything in the secret room where Sam was hiding was trembling.

This was a terrible, terrible idea to begin with, but what else could you do? Sam was in danger, and a deadly one: red coats were looking for him, and the best thing you had come up with, on the spot, when trying to find him an excuse to explain why he was in the streets of Boston at an ungodly hour was… that the two of you had a secret affair.

You didn’t think of the consequences as you lied to the soldiers who had cornered the two of you in a dark alley the day before. You looked for an excuse, and preferably something that the soldiers would not question further. So, you had stood your ground, looked at them in the eyes and proclaimed that Sam and you were heading to your house to spend the night together.

Of course, you had not thought of the consequences this declaration would have on your reputation, but rumours were spreading already across town. And you had not predicted Sam’s reaction to your lie either, and yet… there you were, listening to his growling voice as he struggled to be quiet, afraid that his words could get caught by eavesdropping ears, and yet fury alit in his eyes and tone.

“What happened into your stupid head?!” he hissed. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m sorry that I’ve saved your arse!”

“I did not need saving!”

“No, of course not! You would have taken these five soldiers all on your own and then disappeared into the night like a magician!”

“I did not ask for your help!”

“And I did not ask for you to recklessly walk the streets of Boston when every soldier in town is looking for an excuse to arrest you, and yet, there you were! What were you even doing there last night, Sam?!”

“I was protecting you!”

You huffed, clearly annoyed as your hands came to your hips.

“I don’t need you to protect me! You’re the source of all my troubles, in case you haven’t noticed!”

He winced at that, and you were surprised by it.

“No need to remind me,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. “You shouldn’t have come here tonight, it isn’t safe for you…”

“Well, then stop getting into so much trouble!”

“Why can’t you just stay away from me?!”

It took you an extra second to recover, pull up your mask once again. You couldn’t let out the way you felt, the way you wanted him, the way you wished the lie you had told the soldiers the day before could be the truth, no matter how outrageous it would be. If only you could control your stupid heart as easily as you could your expression…

“Because someone has to keep you alive, you idiot!”

He rolled his eyes at that, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers in annoyance.

“Besides, yesterday night, you were the one following me across town!” you went on, reminding him of the circumstances that had led to this mess you were now struggling in.

He clenched his jaw, but nodded.

“So, you would have preferred that I let you get killed?”

“Get killed? No one has tried to hurt me yesterday!”

“There are words on the street. You’re in as much trouble as I am. Boston isn’t safe for you either.”

“So, you’re playing bodyguard now?”

“As your stubbornness in remaining in Boston paints a target on your back… yes, I am!”

“You’re so bloody annoying!”

“I’m just getting started.”

You both heaved a sigh in unison, and you shook your head. On the table, the lantern’s light was trembling, as if it could feel the cold in the room and was shivering as well.

“This is ridiculous. We only have to deny that I ever said that we were having an affair. It’s the words of Red Coats against mine, after all…”

“Our friends might believe us, but no one else will. Every respectable person in town will shun you away. You will lose your reputation, you could lose everything… But I guess… there is nothing else we can do.”

“If we deny our excuse, you will be arrested… we can’t do that…”

“You can’t lose your reputation.”

“A reputation is not as vital as an unbroken neck.”

“I will not be executed, they don’t have anything to charge me with, or I would already be in jail.”

“And you want to go to jail?”

“No…”

“You want to leave Boston?”

“No…”

“Then we pretend to be together, until things calm down.”

“Things will not calm down. Nothing will calm down. On the contrary, things will only get worse. You cannot be caught into this.”

“It’s my choice to make.”

“I won’t always be around to protect you.”

“I was never asking for your protection in the first place.”

“Y/N…”

“Is that so unbearable to you, that people might think you fell for me?”

He laughed at that, so taken aback that all he could do was stare at you with wide eyes and let out a breathy laugh.

“You are the one who should not be associated with me.”

“Sam…”

“I am nothing. I know perfectly well that there is nothing I could give you but shame. You cannot associate your name with mine.”

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

“I was once. I don’t know if I have that in me anymore.”

He heaved another sigh.

“Just… go home, Y/N. Go home and deny everything. With a bit of luck, people will believe you.”

“But Sam…”

“If you care at all about me, you’ll do as I say. It’s hard enough to keep myself alive, I can’t be worrying about you all the time too.”

You didn’t know what to answer to such a statement. Instead, you headed towards the door.

Your hand on the doorknob, you turned one last time towards him, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I wouldn’t be ashamed to have my name associated with yours, Sam.”

His back was to you, and he didn’t turn to see you leave, to see you walk out the door and close it behind you. Good. He didn’t want you to see the longing in his eyes…

[supernaturals-fav-witch]

Hello, can you do dating adam milligan headcannons please?

Dating Adam milligan headcannons

(I'm gonna try to not mention micheal and focus on Adam for ya)

A/n: AAAAAAAAAAHHHH IM A SLUT FOR MICHAEL/ADAM/JAKE JUST AAAHHHHHH ok so this first part is how you met him, the next part is dating him, so if you don't like the meeting of him and you just skip to the nest part <3

Meeting baby <3

So you met him whilst he was in the cage so he looked like this

You walked in the area and walked around the cage you talked with luci and Michael then you talked with Adam, he was making jokes and was kinda happy you were there talking to him.

You flirted with him and Michael, they flirted back. You made a deal with them that you'd get them out and they would behave and not fight.

Micheal tried to say that they literally had to do this and that, and bs but you said "the fuck you do, either you listen and you don't pull shit or yall rot hear for eternity with eachothers bs" and thar scared them so they listened

They thought you where hot af, so they wanted to date you.

So they thought I'd they'd agree they would be able to date you

Of course they'd want to date you but not together they didn't talk about how much they liked you

You got them out they followed the deal and didn't use any loopholes

Inorder to respect you and to win you over,

Adam/micheal loved you, trying to win you over.

They flirted alot

Listened to you

Loged everything you said and did, and every movement.

They wanted you badly and were going to get you

Here's the headcannons for when yall are actually dating!

Dating Adam you're also dating Michael.

But it's like dating a two puppy's one second them the next phycos that would do anything for you

He loves you deeply

He's so gentle and kind with you

He loves kissing you and usually kisses you like the gif below

He loves holding you gently to his chest

His hands are always on yoh no matter where when or how.

He likes to sleep on you're boobs/chest so he can hear you're heart beat but also likes you to sleep on his chest so he knows you're there with him the whole time

Is always looking at you in awe like you are his everything bc you are

Loves carrying you around like a teddy

Would put you in air jail

Mans the size of sam so he loves picking you up and just holding you or fucking you

He moves twords you in his sleep and holds you close

He kisses you in his sleep, like you're shoulder or you're cheek

He loves going infront of you like a guard dog

Or if you're talking to someone he will just walk up behind you and put his arms around you're waist and nuzzle his head to you're neck kissing you

He will hold your hand even when you're hand gets sweaty he won't let go until he has to

Like cooking with you and kissing you whilst you cook

If you get tired or lazy he will either A. Cuddle you all day or B. Do everything you were planning on and them arrange flowers for you and cook you some pasta then will watch disney movies with you.

[cowboy-deamons-bf]

My Sexuality Headcanons

Dean Winchester is Transmasc and Bisexual

Castiel is Gay (as confirmed by Misha) and non binary (preferences are He/Him or They/Them)

Sam Winchester is Pansexual and uses He/They pronouns

Jack Kline is Pansexual and uses all pronouns (he’s just a happy little nephilim :D)

Gabriel is Pansexual and Gender Fluid

Lucifer is bisexual and doesn’t care what pronouns people use

Michael is Gay and uses He/They

Adam is Gay and a cis male

Crowley is Bisexual (apparently confirmed???) and Transmasc (it’s canon that he kisses men when they make deals)

Bobby is a straight cis male but he’s probably one of the biggest allys

Chuck is bisexual (as confirmed? in the show with him saying he’s had both boyfriends and girlfriends) and uses any and/or all pronouns

[fallingforel]

So sorry i’ve been MIA.

Over new years I suddenly lost my nan and i’ve been having to help my mum sort some bits out so sorry i’ve been M.I.A. I know I promised to get the rest of the christmas prompts out but I don’t think i’ll be continuing with them. however if somebody wants them to come out/ requests them i’ll be more than happy to write them for you 🫶 I’ll be focusing on my WIP’s and the next Arabella chapter to come out soon! Love you all and don’t forget i still take requests! so please keep leaving me messages because i’ll always be floating about somewhere.

anyway lots of love el xx

[boundsoffateandfamily]

dean + john // All of me wants all of you, Sufjan Stevens (1)

[egipci]

director's cut for "the world tilting spinning fizzing inside your chest his name, buddy, baby"

oh man, someone who actually read this story! hello! welcome! very kind of you to assume any complex thought process happened here (though the prompt did hang around in my inbox for over two months while I thought the last word had to be "blue," for some reason)--- ok, so:

That fic was a prompt, as I'm sure you've noticed, that set 1. a word count, 2. that the last word starts with B, and 3. that some jerking off goes down. Turns out jerking off is pretty difficult (for me) to write in any compelling way in such few words (hence the cheating in the title, for one), so most of the story is really about the mental/internal component of the jerking off rather than the mechanics --- but you can't really stay there the entire time. For the purpose of fulfilling the prompt, there has to be a climax (ahem), and the verbs here track that, a tilting off the axis that turns into spinning, and then a third rhyming verb that relates back to the original subject and a second subsequent subject that shifts and blurs into a third and a fourth, but fizzing also functions independently as a gerund in itself, etc. The other thing I think I was doing here is overcompensating for rhythm-- in my ideal world where I have just a little more space I try to always do four or more of a part of speech because it creates this syncopation I really like (we always tend to expect three's), so the construction here is slightly asymmetrical in a (hopefully) fun way: [subject/noun][verb][verb][verb/noun][inside your chest][subject/noun][subject/noun][subject/noun].

Outside formal considerations, "his name, buddy, baby" as a phrase really matters to me for how it conveys my vision of the characters and this relationship--- it's important that it's "his name." It's not Mary, significantly (ughh i wish this trend would die lol), but also it's not just Dean, though of course we know it's him--- "his name" suggests a certain awareness/reflexiveness, and then "buddy" is an attempt to reassert self-control, to name the emotional dimension in... a less damning term? Which of course immediately fails and turns to "baby," in a way the only word that fully captures the ambiguity and *nuance* of the relationship. (A horny-brain aside: I have such a love/hate relationship with baby as an endearment-- like it can never be a part of my personal life because I find it deeply humiliating, but!! with fake people it's incredibly sexy and deeply humiliating, which in turn makes it even sexier! And if anyone can pull it off, it's my very favorite, most complicated little dudes! (Also I think Dean would agree with me, which is why it *works*))

[timeguardians]

@palaceofmuses

[proserpinewrites]

Pairing Adam du Mortain with a smartass flirt of a detective who speaks fluent French due to his father’s French heritage and is despicably pretty is probably the kind of egregious cruelty banned in the Geneva Convention but here I am, doing that to him. And enjoying it.

[woaza]

Skully J. graves X Yuu!reader

Contains : Head cannons (Mostly J. Graves coming back to live with Yuu in ramshackle)!

Word count : 460 (super short!)

Warnings : None!

A/n : I want to make a fic about him soon and post (more) Twst content! I’m definitely gonna do multiple fandoms on this account but I’m just trying to write more! So if you have any Twst request please lmk!

Also more Delico Nursery fics for sure, just trying to post shorter fics while I’m still busy.

— He retains confusing knowledge, and is strangely thoughtful. He won’t know how to do some basic things sometimes. Yet you’ll be struggling on an advanced assignment from professor Crewel and he’ll somehow know the answer???

“Skully! This assignment is so confusing? Magic theory is confusing, it hardly seems fair to give me a an assignment on advanced magic theory when I can’t even use magic!” He simply Nods his head and leans over your shoulder and glances at the paper. “Oh this is rather simple (then gives an in depth explanation)” which has you stunned for a moment “Skully you didn’t know what a casserole was yesterday? How do you know this?”

— Yet he will never forget facts about you. From your birthday to your preferences on certain foods. Especially if you’re picky he has all your icks memorized.

You and Skully were growing bored on a weekend. Normally time that would be spent with your friends was unfortunately taken from you. Everyone seemed to have plans. Including Grim which is strange (he had detention). So you two walked down to Sam’s shop. You and him stand in an isle looking at various different options. “Skully which ones should we get?” You say turning slightly to look at him. Without a beat of his hesitation, he instantly reaches for your favorite ones. “These ones.” Holding out the bag to you. “Those are my favorites! Good choice.” You smile happily and he quickly responds. “I know.”

— Adores grim! Despite Grims attitude towards him. Grim was neutral towards the man until it he decided to “Get to close to his henchmen”. Alarms went off in Grims head when he was told that Skully would be coming back to NRC with Yuu. He was extremely unhappy, but then he was told he would be staying in ramshackle? Grim practically lost it and pouted for weeks. Though Skully just thinks it’s amusing and earns his trust through tuna cans. (As you had instructed him to do.)

— I literally imagine life with this man as the Adam’s family. If you choose to marry him you all are going to be different in the best way possible. The whole nine yards, cutting off the head of the flowers and only giving you the stems. Your children sharing their father’s obsession with Halloween.

— Best friends with the ghosts in ramshackle. Often times you can overhear them gossiping through the thin walls. He compliments them on their abilities to scare people.

— Major Gentleman! He pulls out all your chairs and opens every door for you. Seven forbid you ever take off your coat without his help. He is simply so deeply Enraptured with you. When he takes off your coat he always takes a couple of moments to admire you. Always having to ground himself.

Another A/N: I’m so excited for Halloween!!

[munsster]

hell-bent

A/N: basically… give me beefy bucky or give me death (gif creds: @vader-anakin)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: All you want is attention from your boyfriend. Though, during a life/death mission may not be the best time to crave it. 2.6k words

Warnings: smut, man handling, dirty talk, degrading, knife play/kink, blood play!!!!!, uh very mild exhibitionism, pet names (babydoll, doll, princess, minx, baby)

"Babydoll, toss my knife over." A crouching Bucky fiddles with the steel door's padlock before catching your ankle in his left palm, wrapping cooly into your exposed skin.

"Can I have a kiss first?" you coo and bat your lashes to get his blood pumping, the susurration booming in his ears and rushing between his legs. 

He barks out a laugh, face scrunched as he falls back onto his tailbone, abandoning the Fort Knox knockoff before you kick your calf from his grip and shuffle away. His breath finally catches in his windpipe when you scoff, tugging his knife from your belt. Bird-like in your grace, you flit away with a tune tumbling from your lips in a hum. Footsteps thud hard and fast until his hands clasp your abdomen. With the tip of his nose pressed to your ear, his hips shoved up against your back, and in a mumble:

"Listen, the second we're done with this, I'll fuck you until you can't walk, but right now, I need the goddamn knife." His mouth trails to the crook of your jaw as his fingers curl into your taut leather neckline. A hot puff of air fans over your skin when you spin in his arms, spine sinuous and molding into his grasp. Then the edge of his own knife meets his bust, poking at the center of his vest as he frowns.

"And I need a kiss," you say, very matter-of-fact in your own silver-tongued way. The tip of the blade glides up and over his adam's apple until he's forced to tilt his head back, stubbly jaw exposed to your hungry eyes. A blushing pink line rises in the knife's wake, pricking at his skin with ease.

Bucky likes it that way. 'That way' meaning sharp. And 'it' being his knife and his girl.

"Doll?"

Lip tucked between your teeth, you savor the flutter of his lashes when he plucks at the hip of your catsuit, grinning wide like a predator. The spandex snaps against your skin with a biting pain. "Yes, James?"

"Give me the knife. Now." The gravel in his voice has you withdrawing the blade from his skin and pouting like you're innocent. Like his hard-on isn't already strained against your thigh. He meets your gaze then, pupils blown as he sighs. Out of relief or disappointment, he does not know.

"Give me a kiss. Now," you mimic.

"Fuckin— you know what? Fine." Vibranium clamps onto your jaw, tugging you close as his lips meet your own in a searing kiss. The burning cold of his fingertips brings a certain warmth to your cheeks, spreading, curling over your bones and flooding your senses. He groans into you as he licks at your mouth and draws your breath over his tongue. His hands roam your waist, and he lets out a muffled protest when you reach for his belt.

It's worse that he hasn't had a moment alone with you for a week. Libido going haywire at your touch, he revels in it, his low moan pouring down your throat. And his hands. God, his hands. They dip into your waist like cupped palms dip into the fountain of youth after years of wear and tear. His thumbs press hard against rib until you purr into him with the heat of several suns beating down on a forgotten beach.

Then, right fingers drag down your wrist, coiling around the handle of the knife and wiggling it from your loosened grasp. You pull back with a scowl, lips chafed under the wet pressure of his own, and he winks.

"Thank you, princess," he whispers against your temple with a smirk, clapping his palm onto your ass and chuckling when you squeal and back hand his bicep.

"Bastard."

…

"You. Out," Bucky barks, ducking into the stuffy tent and squeezing your hand as he glares at a pissed Sam.

"There's no way in hell you're hogging our only shelter for sex!" Sam snaps.

"Funny, 'cause that's exactly what I'm doing. Now, get out before I strip, and you get to watch me in all my naked glory fuck my gorgeous girlfriend." You drop your forehead to the center of his back, and your face goes hot. Sam shuffles past you, grumbling about ‘horny goddamn rabbits’.

"Little much, don't you think?" But Bucky's not really listening as he zips the hatch shut and pounces on you like a frenzied jaguar, lurching with the smooth coil of his stamina.

"Minx," he growls against the hot skin of your exposed clavicle, "'m gonna go into cardiac arrest with how excited you get me." He tugs the zipper of your suit further, marking the skin with wet kisses down your navel. You clutch the seam of the bedroll beneath you in your restless grip because his teeth pinch your delicate skin and the humid tent nearly drowns you.

"You bring out the knife fiend in me." Off his tongue like a moan, like he's holding back, and when he ruts into you, it's clear he is.

The super soldier's heartbeat pumps in your ears, and you gasp when it picks up, pressing your palm to his chest. He fumbles an eager hand for his thigh pocket, pupils blown at the sound of a steel click. Dopamine floods his senses, the fading light glaring across his switchblade that he finds reflects in your gaze nicely.

"Is this payback?" you whisper. His grin is nothing but cheshire then, scheming with a racing mind as he brings the needle-sharp point to the crest of your cheekbone.

"You know I would never hurt you, princess." He trips the blade low, down your throat to the valley of your breasts where he pauses in thought. His lips hover a breath over yours, and Bucky likes the way you go soft and doe-eyed and maleable in his embrace. "D'you trust me?"

"With my life."

A flash of arrogance crosses his expression, the glint in his eye shining through his god complex. The chill of the blade scrapes over the plump of your breast as he keeps his crystal eyes trained on you. You and your ragged breathing and your fingers curling into his bicep. He just has that effect on you. The corners of his lips rise wickedly at the idea.

"Dunno if I'd be so willing, babydoll," he grumbles, pressing the serrated edge to your sternum, the skin swelling on either side; it starts to sting. "But I guess that's the epitome of trust, isn't it?"

A hiss through your bared frown when the flesh breaks for crimson. He's quick to lap at the wound, driving the blade of his knife through the base of the tent and into the dirt beside your shoulder. His palm flattens against your rib cage as he jerks your zipper fully open and peels the suit from your torso.

"Now, that wasn't so bad," he says, feeling your lungs flood with air beneath his shaking hands. Your head lulls to the side, and if he didn't know better, he would think you were pissed. He thumbs over your fresh cut, hushing you when you squirm. "What happened to my poor girl?"

"Fuck you."

"Doll," he warns.

"I hate you."

"Take it back," he huffs, kneeling between your thighs with his fingertips tweaking your pebbled nipples. While concerned, he's been turned on since noon, no thanks to you. Desperate fingers go to rake your scalp as he leans down to pepper ever present kisses over your jaw. "C'mon, lemme kiss it better."

You look to him like he's the prime suspect in your own murder, and it shatters his poor heart to nothing but ash in his sunken chest. Anger feeds your fire until you flip him off with a smirk that makes his brain do a spine-twisting somersault. Without a second thought, your wrists are pinned to the ground, tight enough to fracture, and yet he still handles you like you're porcelain.

"If you don't ease up, I'll have no choice but to fuck the attitude right outta you. Hmm? Hard to complain when you're busy moaning for me." Sweat flecks down his temple, saliva pooling in his mouth when you blink up at him, jaw unhinged, fingers ticking. He's an animal in this light.

"It's like being a douchebag is second nature to you," you mumble, and you feel him snap with a shift of his weight. An inner gearshift from benign victim to the apex predator. Or maybe he was never benign, just lying in wait.

"Oh, you've earned it now, babydoll."

He strips you of your uniform with a yank, palming for your feverish skin as he licks at your bottom lip. Some volatile form of submission. Like he's teasing you out of your husk just to rip you to shreds. But God be damned if you wouldn't offer him the very weapon of your own demise.

His tac-gear clatters to the ground while he takes your fist to curl around his cock, coated slick with precum. He huffs out a breathy chuckle against your neck when you slowly stroke him. Then his hips buck into your grip as his teeth sink into your jugular.

"See what you do to me? Been hard as a fuckin' rock since the second I saw you. Couldn't help but remember how you taste. Let alone how you feel." And nothing satisfies a super soldier's cravings like the real thing.

He hoists your thigh up and over his hip, 'round his lower back. Like a belt. Like you're his consolation prize. You push the pad of your thumb across his frenulum, tearing something gargled and ragged from his throat. Something almost sentient as he tosses his head back in earnest. Yet all you can do it stare: his eyelids drifting shut, fingers strangling the sheets beneath you, his every muscle tensed like his life depends on it. Not a bad view. Not bad at all.

Then, your fingers tighten with the pulsing vein along his cock, and he has to slip from your hold to compose his sex drive. His eyes blink open to a zig-zag scene that he can't quite register until his eyes uncross.

"Christ, woman, give your poor lover a break. I'm still recovering from just lookin' at you," Bucky sighs. And he falls head over heels for the way you thumb over his dimpled chin and kiss him like an angel, soft and sweet and ethereal like no other.

The illusion shatters, however, when you bring your hips to meet his in one single thrust. Relentless woman with the face of a goddess. It brings him to his knees—or in this case, elbows.

You giggle at his pinched expression, wiggling your pelvis as his tip presses deeper into you cunt. Then it's payback when your back arches and your nails dig into his flanks, baring your neck to his gaze.

"Yeah, right there, princess," he mumbles, "I know you missed me inside this pretty pussy." And the cocky bastard is right. He feels it in the way you stretch to fit his girth, the supple elasticity of your cunt clenching in unfamiliarity. The subtle rotation of his hips is evil in principle but so damn perfect when everything is so warm, so wet, how can either of you resist.

You grasp for his shoulders when he hooks your ankles around his lower back. And oh, does he know how to work at this angle. His tip drives deeper just so he can drag back out again, slow in every roll of his hips. Any protest flies out the door in heavy breaths across skin and fingertips

The dark closes in around you, suffocating as it drenches your skin and renders you undiluted beauty in his arms. With every moan, he picks up speed just to hear you against his throat.

"Bucky." It bubbles from your throat as an ode to his warm body and restless mind. “Love you.”

"I gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, too." His muscles twist around you, and he's close with the stutter of his hips, digging deeper while his metal palm flattens against your tummy. Your fingers comb his hair from his eyes; you look like an angel, blissed out, half-lidded eyes, and he smiles down at you, still so focused despite his unraveling.

The tent's zipper hisses when Sam peeks in with an awfully disgruntled, "what the hell, cyborg? A warning?"

"I think you had enough of a warning," Bucky growls, continuing his thrusts when your head tilts to the side, an embarrassed squeal from your lips.

"Jesus Christ, I thought you'd be done, old man," Sam chuckles.

"Get the fuck out!"

"Fine, fine, just try not to break your girlfriend." A loud sigh from Sam before the zipper shuts with a metallic grinding noise that echoes in your ears as static.

"Sorry, pretty baby, 'pparently someone's common sense left 'im," Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to the broken flesh of your sternum, lashes batting as a sufficient apology. A harsh thrust then, punching the air from his chest as every fiber in his body coils and snaps to the beat of your heart, filling you with wet heat. He rubs his middle finger over your clit with a vengeful smirk when your back curls with the weight of your release.

…

"D'you always go commando under these things?" he coos, tentative and quiet while the pads of his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your damp skin. Your snug uniform and the way it hugs you hasn't left his mind. Fact, it never really does.

"Yeah, I mean kevlar is surprisingly breathable, so what's the point."

"Noted." Bucky drapes his forearm across your navel, shifting onto his palm and grinning above you like the cat that got the cream: mischievous and pleased out of his mind. "I'm one lucky sonuvabitch, huh?"

"Yeah, you are," you tease, hooking your thighs around his hips as he settles into your body with a chuckle, chest erupting with delight taut against yours. He tucks the hair plastered across your forehead to your hairline with a knuckle, lips puckered against your temple in a kiss sweet enough to give you cavities.

Your hands dive into the sleeping bag, trailing the sweat-slicked sinew in his back, dipping with the tightly-wound muscle before sinking your fingertips into the plump of his ass with a cheeky smile. 

"Little minx." Bucky hangs his head with a grin, nipping for your cupid's bow then pecking lower at your baby-soft lips. Though he knows he went far enough with the tip of his blade, he would never admit it to you. The same way you would never admit that you liked the sting of it. But now that he's left a scar on your chest—an unspoken promise of his and hers, a permanent mark in your complexion—there's truly no turning back.

And he proves it with another kiss that renders you breathless, taking in his solace with wavering consciousness. The line between asleep and awake and Bucky's hands blurr to something more than reality. Though, the noise he makes against your mouth is nothing short of sinful.

From the opposite side of the tent, Sam grumbles, "mind shutting the fuck up? Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Sammy!" you whisper.

"No, you're not."

marvel masterlist

[lokisgoodgirl]

Be Mine [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A morning meeting has an unexpected twist. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smutty. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Questionable flirting techniques. (w/c 2.8k)

The muscle at the side of Loki’s jaw flexed. He swallowed; an achingly glacial bob of his Adam’s apple making you want to claw your eyes out.

For some inexplicable reason he had opted to wear full leathers to today’s briefing.

It was seven nineteen in the AM. Thor was sporting a muscle vest boasting not one but three stains of varying complexity and a pair of shorts which left little to the imagination. Scott was wearing his dressing gown.

The rest of the team hung off chairs and flopped on the table in various states of undress. Steve stood at the head of the room as usual; prim and fresh in a crisp button-down and perfectly creased chinos.

“So what we’re seeing here,” Steve said, turning to the group from the Powerpoint, “is an up-tick in biological experiments-”

His eyes narrowed while they roamed over the doodling, distracted and hungover band sprawled around the table. “Lang.” he snapped. “Close your legs; there are ladies present.’

Scott shuffled up his seat, drawing the dressing gown down over his knees while mumbling apologies. A low rumble of mirth circled the room, but Loki’s gaze never left the Captain’s.

The curve of his dark lashes swept upward, features set in performative rapture. Loki's facial expression hadn’t changed as the scene unfolded, but for a miniscule twitch of his lip. Usually the two of you would exchange a few eye rolls; a few knowing smiles during a particularly turgid monologue about shoe storage post-mission...but not today. Today he hadn't even looked at you.

Steve sighed. He extended a finger and pushed his retractable pointer down to a stub. Pacing to the table, he dropped his head, laying his palms flat. When he looked up, disappointed-dad energy was thick in his eyes. “Folks, this just won’t do.” he said.

Natasha’s sunglasses slid down her nose. Scott crossed his legs making the swivel chair knock into Wilson and waking him up. The Falcon’s arms flew wide on instinct, whacking Tony in the chest. “Jesus Christmas-” Tony snorted, blinking wildly. “It was a party.” Natasha drawled, pushing the sunglasses back in place with disdain. “Maybe if you’d stayed after the cake you’d have those tight panties of yours in less of a spick, Rogers.”

“That’s Captain Rogers.” he snapped. “We’re on the clock.” “Calm down, Rogers.” Tony said, cresting his fingers. He was remarkably chipper for a man with whipped cream crusted in his hairline. “You’re all sitting on my clock. Remember that.”

Steve flushed scarlet. His eyes narrowed as Tony’s smirk grew.

“All I’m saying is it’s a sorry day when Laufeyson is the star pupil. Look at him!” Steve said, gesturing incredulously at Loki who remained in position; back straight, chin up. But now, one eyebrow arched. “All of you lot in your skivvies and Laufeyson’s in full dress?” Steve shook his head. “I fail to see the humour, Rogers.” Loki said. “Why is it so surprising that I come to our daily summons dressed thus? Certainly I have never presented myself in a tragic towelling monstrosity like Lang here.” “There was that one time with the silk nightie.” Sam whispered to Scott. Scott covered his mouth.

“A silk robe.” Loki snapped.

“Usually you only bring out the Asgardian shit when you’re brown-nosing. Or when you’ve done something shifty.” Natasha said, propping her chin up with a fist. You bet her eyes are closed. Wanda nodded behind her Starbucks.

“Or trying to impress someone,” the witch said. Natasha waved a finger in agreement. “Sexually.” Wanda added.

Loki released a scandalised snort. “How dare you.” he said. Leather creaked against his biceps as he folded his arms.

Beneath the table, your thighs squeezed together. The only thing hotter than Loki in leather, was an indignant Loki in leather. You suddenly became very aware of your quickened breaths making the buttons of your blouse strain. The god’s eyes darted to the side, meeting yours. “What?” he snarled. “Nothing.” you squeaked, swallowing. An awkward silence hung in the room. The scent of stale vodka suddenly seemed very strong. Steve sighed.

“Let’s call it for this morning-” he said, immediately met with muted hisses of celebration around the table. He patted down the air. “Rescheduled for this afternoon. Thirteen-hundred sharp. Wear clothes.” Approval turned to whines and hushed curses as chairs were swivelled and aching bodies shifted. “Unbelievable.” Loki snarled under his breath.

You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood; the flat of his iron stomach inches from your face. The scent of rich leather filled your nostrils while Loki’s fingers nipped beneath the hem of his tunic, tugging it down. He flipped the length of his cape with a sniff. You saw it swirl around his boots briefly as he stepped towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

Taking your time, you picked up each piece of carefully laid stationary at your seat. One by one, the rest of the team left the room. Steve was last, his hand hovering on the door handle while he shot you a wary look. As a parting gift, he opened the door wider. “You didn’t stay late?” Loki’s voice was a thick hum in the growing silence. His tone, inscrutable. “Huh?” “At the party.” he said. “You didn’t stay late.”

This time it wasn’t a question. “I usually head off when Thor starts making passes at everyone. I didn’t see you. Were you there?” “He did that?” Loki bristled. “To you?” There was a pause. “To everyone.” you repeated quietly. Loki’s shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched, thumb digging into one exposed palm behind his back. He was still staring out the window.

“I’ll see you later.” you said, nerves fluttering in your belly. The god’s hair shortened as his chin dipped. You wondered how it would feel to wind those dark strands through your fingers as you rode him. Wondered how the grunts and signs and pretty curses from his lips would sound wet in your ear.

“No.” Loki said. “Excuse me?” “No,” he repeated.

You steadied against the table-top with the pads of your fingertips. Small stars began to burst in your field of vision. “I think the leather looks goo-good,” you stammered. And you didn’t know why.

The thought of him barring the exit of enemies in far flung realms using only that voice barged through the doors of your imagination with the force of a horny caveman. If that was the last sarcastic quip they heard, by god, you imagined they may just have died happy. And hard.

“It looks good.” you repeated, no more than a whisper. Loki turned his head. The sharp profile came into view at a glacial pace. First the peaked tip of his chin, then the slant of his regal nose, then the harsh peak of his cheekbone, then his eyes. Your ass met the table-top with a stumble. There was a small crease between his eyebrows. “Bold of you to make another jest without your compatriots around you, Agent.” he said. Across the short distance between you, venom dripped from his tongue; his hackles raised. “I wasn’t joking,” you said quietly as his gaze fell to your feet with a sneer. The quick breaths that made your buttons strain were back. Loki’s rising stare lingered on your breasts, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his mouth. Words tripped from your lips, forcing their way from behind your teeth. “I like it.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. He turned fully with a ceremonial flourish, the hands clasped behind his back moving to the front and rippling his leather and silken cloak. It fluttered.

“Is that so?” he purred darkly. He didn’t believe you.

You imagined how this is how a rabbit felt in the eyeline of a fox. To look away was to admit weakness, vulnerability. It meant death. And yet – it was the only chance to escape. But did you want to escape? Not really. You wanted to feel the sharp of his teeth fasten to your neck as he sucked and bit and made violent love to every inch of you.

You nodded, not breaking eye-contact. Loki inhaled sharply, chin tilting up as he did so.

His eyes wandered over grim foam tiles as though an enemy lurked beyond the suspended ceiling. They narrowed, darting back and forth. With a thundering heart, you noted one of his heavy boots rise from the floor. He paced forwards slowly, ceremonially, stopping inches from you. Your fingers curled tight around the table’s edge, the messy in your panties beneath the skirt becoming intolerable. Loki cleared his throat. “Am I to understand, contrary to common rhetoric, that you find my Asgardian leathers enticing; Agent?” “I think ‘enticing’ is a little grandiose, is it not?” you laughed, cringing at the way you so easily mirrored his speech. Loki noticed it too. He tilted his head. “I am nothing if not grandiose, Agent.” Loki said. “Am I not impressive? Am I not imposing?”

He trailed a long finger down your bicep, his touch light as a feather. “So often, you mortals use such words as insult.” he mused.

“It is merely a reflection on your own feelings of inferiority. This morning is a perfect example. An attempt at ridicule to deflect from their own pathetic presentation. Each one more bedraggled and an abject embarrassment to their purpose than the last.” Heat began to rise in your cheeks as his finger drifted along your collarbone. There was a pause, his eyes dropping to your lips before the finger brushed the skin at the hollow of your neck. It graced upwards, tracing the curve and stopping beneath the tip of your chin. “But not you.” he said.

The god’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheekbones hollowed under fluorescent lights, mischief glowing from the depths of his irises and painted in every light wrinkle on his brow.

“What else do you like, Agent?” he goaded softly. “Do you like the idea of what lies beneath these leathers?” You swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Loki-” you said, glancing towards the open door. He followed your eyes, rolling his own. With a flick of his hand the door slammed shut. “I want you,” he breathed, leaning closer so that the heat of his cheek warmed your own, “to tell me what else you like.”

You bit your lip, watching his beautiful face come back into view. With a prang, the thought occurred that perhaps you were not the rabbit after all. Perhaps you were the fox. Loki’s gaze lingered on your face, searching it.

Emboldened, you found the words. “Why should I?”

His brows peaked softly. He released a muted sigh, pursing his lips. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Romanoff was right.” he said. The hand tilting your chin upwards returned to its mate, clasped against the leather tunic. “I was trying to impress someone, but not that insufferable Rogers.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Excitement blossomed deep in your belly; rising like shaken soda and fizzing around your chest. Loki bit his bottom lip.

“You see, Agent, I like you very much. And I’m afraid that now it has reached the juncture where I must know if you like anything about me...beyond my exquisite taste in battle armour.”

The change in his demeanour was so dramatic that you could only gape. But when it came to Loki, could you expect anything less? Without thinking you reached forward and grasped the belt slung over his chest, pulling him forward.

Loki’s mouth clashed with yours, the heat of his lips giving way to the thrust of his tongue. Your hands slid over his metal epaulettes, tangling in ebony waves that cascaded around his shoulders. He tasted like heaven, the scent of him deep and dangerously delicious in a way you’d never known. A scent a girl could lose herself in forever; gladly.

In seconds your back was flat against the table, its cool wood harsh against the heat of your skin through the blouse. Loki’s ravenous kiss consumed you, licking and dancing inside your mouth like a man possessed. His shallow moans ricocheted between slurps of his lips, wetness coating them.

“Tell me, you infuriating woman,” he panted as a thick forearm landed on the wood beside your head. The metal vambrace clanged against cheap wood. Saliva hung between your mouths as he stared deep into your soul; blue eyes darkening. “Tell me what you like.”

“About you?” you panted. Loki didn’t nod, only lowered his chin.

His nose nudged at your lips, dragging upwards, tongue tracing around the bottom one. He had begun to smile. One of his legs nudged your thighs wider. The god straightened and you felt a thrill run from your scalp to the tips of your dangling toes. He towered above like a monolith, leather tight to his rectangular body. Hair fell around his jaw, perfectly imperfectly wolfish curls flirting against his skin. His cape brushed against your bare calves as he shifted his stance, palms sliding up your thighs and pushing your skirt higher. “Yes; I like the idea of what’s beneath all this,” you whined as you pawed at his leather-clad stomach. It was so hard. Loki smirked, watching beneath half-lidded eyes. “I think about fucking you in the showers after training,” you whispered bashfully as your hips thrust up against your will. Loki raised an eyebrow. “More...” he rumbled. “I think about you all the time. All the awful things I want to do to you, y-you do to me- Loki, uhh-”

His hands crept higher as you spoke, fingers hooking around the hips of your panties. “If I pull these down, darling” he said with an air of reprimand, “will they be wet?” You let out a gasping moan, back arching against the table.

“Excellent.” Loki snickered, pulling the panties down the length of your legs before stepping back between them.

A hand flew to your mouth as you watched one long finger dip between your thighs, running lightly between your folds. He brought it to his lips, sucking gently. His cheekbones hollowed, finger slipping out. He swallowed with a groan of appreciation.

Loki settled himself between your legs, pushing them wider. The height of the table pressed your dripping centre against his crotch. You thought you might explode. His palms slid up your waist, exploring the curves of your body while your legs wrapped around his hips. The god’s cock pressed eagerly against the leather, strong and thick up the centre. His forearms came down at either side of your head, metal wrist-guards clinking.

“I will show you what it is to be mine,” he murmured in your ear.

Loki’s cock settled against your sex, rubbing in perfect gyration. “Oh...god,” you gasped as the weight of his body pressed against your own.

Fingers combed up from the base of his neck, tangling in his hair. The next moment, they grasped around his back, pulling him closer, catching in the folds of his cloak which draped across your bodies. The god grunted filthy praises in your ear as his bound manhood sent electric currents of pleasure deeper than you’d ever known. His searching lips found their way to your neck, your jaw. Every utterance from his throat more disgustingly sensual than the last. Hot leather filled your nostrils, the scent of him strong and intoxicating. Mounting orgasm bubbled in waves, a dream-like trance broken only with whispered groans of pleasure from your throats. Loki Laufeyson was about to make you cum. The thought was unbelievable. And yet, your pussy being tugged and massaged and owned by his leather-bound cock into the throes of heaven knew it to be true. Dry-humped like a teenager in the back of a pick-up.

“Be mine...” Loki mumbled breathlessly, a strangled choke gasping from deep in his chest. He immediately dove for a perishing kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a wet suck. He smouldered down.

Against the bright lights, his dark halo shone; tendrils curling against your cheek and brushing with every calculated roll of his hips. Every muscle in your body tensed. Your legs tightened against his hips.

“Be mine,” he echoed. His face was twisted, and you suddenly wondered how close he was to cumming in those beautiful leather pants. “Loki-” you gasped, clutching at his cape. Back arching, the last thing you heard as climax stormed your brain were the matching pants of the god. The last thing you saw were his peaked brows above dilated pupils so deep you could drown in them.

In the afterglow, all you could manage were garbled phrases as your forearm draped over your eyes. “That was...unexpected.” you panted when the god’s weight lifted from your chest. “Perhaps for you.” Loki winked. “It was very carefully calculated on my part,” You watched in dazed disbelief as Loki sank to his knees, leather creaking, and hoisted your hips higher. He lapped at your soaking pussy, muffled moans seeping from his throat as he buried himself in your fresh pleasure. The flat of his tongue licked a thick stripe from the base to your swollen clit, placing a gentle suck on the tip. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours.

“Immaculate, as expected.” he breathed. His chin glistened.

You groaned as he withdrew; grasping at the air as he went. That small caress of him against your sex was everything you could ever have dreamed. Loki let you reluctantly arrange yourself before offering his hand for the short hop off the table. “Not exactly how I imagined our first time,” you said with a sheepish smile. Loki scanned your face.

“Agent don’t be insulting. That was merely a sample,” he scoffed. “It barely counts.” He stepped forward, pulling you flush against him with a flat palm at the base of your spine. “We must ensure you have eaten something before more intimate activities are indulged in; lest you faint. Or worse.” “Or worse?” “You are only mortal, after all.” Loki smiled slyly. “And this,” he gestured to his cock; hard and straining against the leather, “can be rather a handful. As well can his Master.” You slapped him on the shoulder. Loki smirked. Remembering the unexpected schedule change, you frowned. “You think we have time before the meeting later?”

Loki snorted. “We’re not attending. The two of us fulfilled our obligations, unlike the more cretinous members of our party.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to get me in trouble, I can tell.” Loki’s fingers danced up your back, a light thrust of his hips making your body keen. His dirty exhale flooded your ear, the warm scent of him overloading your senses.

“Oh Agent,” he purred against the skin; his eyes darting covertly to the pair of panties discarded on the floor. “As if you expected anything less.”

Taglist (continued in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog

[elixirfromthestars]

Tulip

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: On a night when the past weighs heavy on Bucky, fate brings him to you.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): established nickname -> tulip / fluff / mentions of grief

a/n: After seeing how much people loved Biker Bucky in Usual I decided to share more of their story with you all 💕 This is going to be a bigger collection of fics, so I will have an official taglist for it and there's more info on that here. That taglist in this fic is not related to the tags on here. The tags on here were for just for fun!! Hope you enjoy!! Likes, comments, & reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

next in their story ♡ // the whole collection ♡

It was one of those nights where Bucky was irritated without reason. His face was etched into an intimidating scowl as he looked at nothing in particular in his bar. The laughter was too loud, the clinking of glasses irked his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, and his heart felt heavy. Almost as if one of the men in his bar were pressing down on it with their heavy boot. 

Bucky was getting tired of this. Of having these moments where his body thrummed with discomfort and his fingers found the familiar grooves in the wooden table he sat at—etching the oak with erratic lines until his nails were chipped and uneven. He could already hear the shit Sam would say as soon as he saw the added marks. 

Bucky was getting restless—reluctantly so.

“Hey, Buck, one of the—”

“‘m goin’ out for a ride.”

As soon as Steve came over to give Bucky an update on the business, Bucky stood up from the table and dismissed himself. Steve held back a sigh, his lips forming a tight line as his best friend blew him off. He didn’t take it personally, at least not tonight. More than anything Steve was worried for Bucky. It was never easy seeing him fall into this state once a year. 

Bucky always got like this around the anniversary of his father’s death. 

Steve and the rest of the crew exchanged wary glances as Bucky pushed through the bar in a rush. His hands at his sides flexed as he sought out the comfort of his bike. He took out his leather gloves from his jacket—dark and weathered from years of wear—and slipped them on before mounting his Harley. It thundered to life underneath him, the deep rumble easing the tension in his shoulders. 

He pulled out of his parking space, the blacked-out engine chrome gleaming under the streetlights. Bucky had no set destination, just a familiar path he had taken hundreds of times while on patrol. One that transgressed the entirety of the small town he lived in. 

The small town he and his gang protected. 

Bucky twisted the throttle, the Harley's roar echoing through the quiet streets as if warning the town of his presence. He drove down the roads at a steady speed, letting the breeze brush through his hair like a soothing balm. Hoping the night and his Harley would take away the hollow ache in his chest. 

He couldn’t keep thinking of his dad. Not right now. There was too much going on in his life. 

Bucky wouldn’t allow himself to be swept by the bittersweet memories. There were dozens of problems at the bar he needed to solve, rival gangs were stirring up trouble in neighboring towns so his people depended on him now more than ever, and his Ma and Becca relied on him as the sole provider.

Giving himself a moment to grieve—to feel—was a luxury he couldn’t afford. 

After a full loop around the town, Bucky decided to survey the downtown area once again. It was nearing ten at night and the majority of the businesses were closed, and yet he was still adamant about getting a good last look before he returned to the bar. 

He witnessed the usual: Yori and his son closing up their family-owned restaurant for the night, Mr. and Mrs. Fury bickering on their walk home, the savory aroma of Stark’s Pizzeria wafting through the air as he drove by, and a stack of wooden crates dancing in mid-air. 

Hold up. 

Wait a minute.

What?

Bucky had to do a double and then a triple take to make sure his eyes weren’t tricking him. He hadn’t had an ounce of alcohol tonight, and yet he began to gaslight himself into thinking maybe he had. 

That was until you appeared from behind the wooden crates. Huffing out in annoyance and setting them down on the bed of an old pickup truck. Glaring at them as if the fury behind your eyes would suddenly make them ten pounds lighter. 

Bucky stared at you from afar perplexed and yet with a ghost of a smile on his face. He had never seen you in town before, meaning you must have moved here not too long ago. A faint memory of Sam telling him a new shop owner was coming into town crosses his mind, but Bucky couldn’t remember all the details.

With a multitude of other things on his mind, he hadn’t been paying attention at the time. 

The Harley’s rumble softens until it comes to a still as Bucky parks it on the street opposite you. He sits on it for a moment watching you, searching his brain for the finer details of what Sam had mentioned, but nothing comes to him. He’s left to find out more about you in the here and now. 

Bucky suddenly catches the determined expression on your face as you go to pick up three of the wooden crates again. His eyes widen and before he even registers what he’s doing he swings off his bike and jogs over to you.

“Here let me help,” Bucky doesn’t ask or wait for a response as he easily takes the crates from your arms, lifting them as if they weighed nothing. You watch him in startled awe, wondering where this incredibly strong stranger had come from. Hand on your heart to calm yourself down from the sudden intrusion on your solitude. 

“Oh! Um…you really don’t have to—” 

“‘m already carrying ‘em, dollface. Jus’ tell me where to put ‘em.”

Bucky’s voice was calm and collected, but on the inside he wanted to ask you what the hell were in these crates. He’s used to carrying heavy boxes of supplies for his bar, but even then he’d use a hand truck to haul everything in. To think you were trying to carry all of this by yourself…he didn’t know whether to be impressed by your determination or laugh at your stubbornness. 

The wooden crates obstructed your view of each other—and he’d never admit it—but they covered enough of his eye sight to where he had to tilt his head to watch his step.

“Here, let me guide you,” you placed a tentative hand on his arm, trying to ignore the way his bicep flexed under it. There was fragile cargo in those crates and you needed to make sure they got into your shop safe and sound. Bucky showed no signs of rejecting your guidance. 

You carefully led him inside, sliding away any obstacles from his path with your feet. You were still adding the last touches to the decor so there were tools, supplies, and different sized cardboard boxes scattered across the floor. You were able to direct him to a spot in front of the main counter where he could put the crates down—the one area clear of anything.

He placed them down gently before turning to face you. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat the moment his eyes met yours. Your pretty irises glimmered with sincere appreciation coupled with a soft smile that caused an unfamiliar warmth to spread through his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him like that. His brain has gone fuzzy, words evading him. Almost like a part of him that had been dormant for far too long was yearning for him to not break this gentle moment with you.  

You on the other hand were enchanted by the color of his eyes. A rich blue you tried to pinpoint through the catalog of flowers in your mind. Could the color be matched to a morning glory? A harvestbell? A brunnera? Forget-me-nots? Delphiniums? Hydrangeas?

The longer you thought the more you concluded no flower seemed close enough to the particular shade of blue that was looking right at you.  

“Thank you,” your voice was far too quiet for your liking when you broke the silence. You brought Bucky back to the present, yet not from the trance you had him in. He was particularly invested in the curve of your lips when you spoke and the way your eyes held his like you had known him all your life. 

Bucky cleared his throat, propping his arm on the counter in a nonchalant manner, “Not a problem—looked like you could use the help.” He topped his cool reply with a casual shrug and smirk that made it seem like he did this all the time. 

“Was it that obvious?”

“For a second there I thought those things would crush you.” 

Your sheepishness melts away into a laugh. The sound leaving your lips before you could stop it. You imagine what you must have looked like struggling with those heavy crates. The mental image of it is enough to fill you with mortified mirth. 

Your laugh elicits a soft chuckle from him—the first proper laugh he’s had in about a week or two. 

“‘m gonna go get the rest for ya…” he pushes himself off from the counter, but his voice trails off by the end when he realizes he never asked for your name. A heartbeat passes and with one quick lookover your frame a nickname falls effortlessly from his lips. 

“Tulip.”

Your heart does a little flip in your chest. You know exactly why he called you that. You were wearing denim overalls self embroidered with a multitude of small tulips adorning it in a range of colors. As if that weren’t enough tulips, you had two small pink tulip hair clips on either side of your head, pinning your hair away from your face. 

“I-It’s Y/n, actually.”

“Pretty thing like you—Tulip suits ya.” 

The nickname already had your heart fluttering, but the wink that followed his compliment had you weak in the knees. This man was handsome—deadly handsome. You had sworn off men for a whole year and counting—and now this man presented himself into your life tempting you to throw that oath away until it was nonexistent. 

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to help with the rest um…”

“Bucky. The name's Bucky. And I don’t have to, but I want to, so don’t worry ‘bout it, Tulip.”

With an emphasis on the nickname he’s chosen for you, he makes a smooth exit, the smirk never leaving his face as he saunters back and forth from the pickup truck and carries in crate after crate for you. You distract yourself with miscellaneous tasks around your shop. Yet, your eyes drift to his form here and there greedily taking in his display of strength. 

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky notices, and every time he does he unknowingly straightens up his posture. Trying to make it seem as though the crates were as light as a feather.

When’s he’s all done—after ten crates in total—you’re behind the main counter, arranging a small basket of goods as he approaches you. 

“That’s all of ‘em. Mind me askin’ what’s in ‘em?” Bucky motions over to the crates at his feet with a nod of his head. You present him with a basket of sweet spreads encased in decorated mason jars—the covers all distinctly patterned with different florals. 

“They’re my homemade jams and honeys. As a thank you for helping me carry all those crates in here, I’m giving you one of each,” you hand him the basket and his features soften. His fingers hovering over the rim of the basket like he doesn’t believe he deserved such kindness.  

“Tulip, ya really don’t have to thank me for helpin’.” 

“I don’t have to, but I want to, so don’t worry about it, Bucky.”

When you echo his words from earlier and use them on him he lets out a breath of a laugh, a grin of disbelief on his face. He didn’t expect that. Having his words used against him in a good way.

He was used to the opposite of that.

You were something else and Bucky liked that. He liked that a lot. Especially the way you said his name, it sounded sweeter falling from your lips. As if his name were made out of the same sugary sweetness the goods in the basket were. It caused a stutter within his chest he wasn’t used to. 

No one’s ever given Bucky butterflies this quickly–or maybe ever like this in his life.

For the next twenty minutes you both dove into small talk to get to know each other better. It started off as a pretext of a friendly conversation between two business owners, but it quickly became something more. You confirmed Bucky’s assumptions about you being a florist when you chatted away about your shop. Your outfit and the floral mosaic that decorated one of the walls—the one you told him your aunt had hand painted—was enough for him to put the pieces together. You learned that Bucky owned a bar a few blocks down, one that he ran with his childhood friends. He had served the military with a lot of them and even knew some of them since he was a young boy.

As if the leather jacket, the leather gloves, and the motorcycle parked outside wasn’t enough to tell you—he clearly was a biker. You knew as much when he had this passionate look in his eyes as he went on and on about him and his bestfriend Steve fixing up motorcycles since their high school years. He saw the same passion in your eyes when you told him the story of how your aunt had awakened your love for gardening. The very catalyst of events that led you to move into town and end up on this night here with him.

Both of you offered a part of yourselves in that conversation. An exchange that might seem small to others, but that to the both of you meant so much more. For you both had closed a part of yourselves off for quite some time. 

For entirely different reasons, but with a similar outcome nonetheless.

“Let’s make a deal. I get to keep callin’ ya Tulip and you can call me for help anytime ya need it,” Bucky offers this after you explain to him that your aunt had only been visiting you and left a few days ago. Leaving you to finish up the preparations for the grand opening of your shop in a few days time.

“Tempting offer…” you start, pretending to think about it and hiding your delight at the thought. In reality, you could use the help, and seeing more of Bucky was an added bonus that was hard to refuse. You wanted to get to know him better—you couldn’t deny that—and this seemed like a perfect place to start. 

Plus who were you kidding, you enjoyed being called Tulip. 

“Alright deal,” your smile matches his when you agree. Bucky was in the same boat as you. Not knowing where this could go, not dwelling on what the future may hold, but certain that he wanted to spend more time with you. 

Reluctantly, Bucky pulled away from the counter,“Well I gotta hit the road, the guys’ll be wonderin’ where I’ve been.” The vibrations in his pocket from his phone notifications told him as much. 

You hid your disappointment behind a grateful expression,“Of course. I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks again for the help, Bucky. Let me know what you think of the spreads!” 

Bucky grabbed a hold of the basket of sweets, and slowly walked backwards towards the exit as he wanted to keep his eyes on you for as long as he could. Every fiber of his being fighting to stay.

“Anytime, Tulip—and I’ll let ya know. Have a good night.”

“You too, Bucky. Drive safe!”

Bucky walked back to his Harley smiling like a teenager with a crush. His every step feeling lighter than earlier in the night. Whether he recognized it or not that day, it was all because of you. There was just something about you that was refreshing to Bucky, like the morning air after a night of heavy rain. The first rays of sunlight after a cold winter’s night. The cool breeze that brings you back to life on a hot summer’s day. 

That was you. 

You were the morning air, the sunlight, and the cool breeze. 

He didn’t know it yet, but in due time he would. 

In due time, you would be his Tulip. 

tagging some lovelies who asked to be tagged & others who seemed eager to read more ♡ ♡ ♡

@fanfictionreaderfan @nicksolemnlyswears @tilltheendofthelinebuckaroo @princessjellyfishlove @thewritergremlin-rae

(these tags were only for this fic and not for the full collection, so if you'd like to be tagged for the full thing let me know!!)

[walkinthrudaisies]

Don’t Delete The Kisses

dean winchester x fem!reader

1.2k | fluff

summary: dean couldn’t bare to leave you when him and sam went on hunts. but the thought of kissing you when he got back home kept him going.

the memory of dean’s kisses were all you had when he would leave for long hunts.

every time, you would wait by the bunker door as sam loaded up the impala, holding onto dean as he assured you that him and his brother were going to be okay.

you had faith in them, they had been doing this for a long time after all. but with all the times they’ve died, been brought back to life, and even sent to hell, you were bound to worry a little.

before he’d get in the impala, dean would always press a lingering kiss to your cheek, telling you that he would kiss your lips when he got home. you didn’t understand why at first, but dean finally admitted that if he were to kiss your lips before a hunt, he’d never want to leave.

the eldest winchester always was a protecter. being accustomed at such a young age when watching sam. so even though he knew you were more than capable to handle yourself, the feeling of leaving you alone in a massive underground bunker where he was too far to keep you safe always had him worried.

you never wanted to be on the battlefield, always wanting to stay at home with bobby, read lore books, and give tips and advice to other hunters when needed.

but bobby had passed away, leaving you in the hands of the infamous winchester brothers.

not wanting to leave the only home you knew at first, you were adamant on not leaving with sam and dean and living a life on the road. but after the bunker came into the picture, and dean crawled his way into your heart, the past two years had gone by in a blur.

sitting and waiting for the boys to call was all you did at first, but after realizing some alone time would benefit you, the copious amounts of books moving into the bunker became something sam and dean got used to.

before the phone would ring with sam and dean on the other line, you’d be found in your room, book in hand as you absorbed new worlds and forms of literature. when that got too much for you, you’d find yourself sat in front of a tv, a new show playing every other week as you went through them pretty quickly to sam’s concern.

but you would still have that nagging feeling of dean’s absence. it settled deep into your bones, having you miss him so dearly it almost hurt sometimes.

he was the first boy you ever truly loved, and you’d be damned if he was torn away from you.

so you waited. waited for the fateful moment when the roar of the impala could be heard. when dean would come down the stairs and instantly go and try to find you. for when he did, dean would not waste a second in crushing his lips to yours; finally getting the feeling of you close to him again.

today was no different. sam and dean had been on a case in missouri for the past week tracking a vampires nest, and you couldn’t wait until they came home.

castiel had stopped by a couple days ago, but he had to leave quickly when the angels in heaven needed his assistance. you were left alone, reading the lore books that you hadn’t picked up in the bunker while playing online sudoku with charlie.

you had ventured into the kitchen only a half hour ago, grabbing a small snack before finding comfort in your bed. a new book was opened on your lap while an episode of your favourite tv show quietly played in the background.

the calming atmosphere you had created was quickly broken as the door to the bunker opened, the sound of boots clambering down the stairs as sam and dean’s voices flooded through the air.

you smiled to yourself, sitting up in bed and patiently waiting for dean to find his way to your room. when the door creaked open, you couldn’t help a wider grin breaking out onto your face as dean’s tall frame stood in your doorway.

he didn’t waste a second. coming to you in two long strides as he pushed you back onto the bed and smashed his lips onto yours. his hands found a home on your face as yours quickly went to his hair, threading your fingers through the strands as his moved from your cheeks down to your shoulders.

breathing in heavily as you pulled away, dean moved off of you so he could lean against the head rest of your bed. moving to pull you forward until you were attached to his side.

dean’s lips instantly went to your forehead, placing a delicate kiss before resting his head on yours. “god baby, i missed you so fucking much.” he all but breathed out, allowing you to curl deeper into his side.

placing a kiss on the inside of his arm, which was wrapped around your shoulder, you lifted your head so you could properly look into his eyes. “i missed you too. far too much than i should’ve actually.”

all dean did was laugh, shaking his head as he moved his chin to rest on top of your head. “thought sam was going to punch me for how much i was talking about you.” all you could do was lean up to place a quick kiss on his lips, slightly leaning back so your faces were close. “that makes us even then.”

for the next couple of hours, you and dean just calmly rested in your bed, quietly talking to each other about the case and what you had been doing for the past week.

the two of you could’ve stayed there forever if it wasn’t for sam peaking his head in and asking what you two wanted for dinner. when you all agreed on something, sam offered to go pick it up, promptly leaving as you moved to get off of dean’s chest.

“thinking of making some cookies for dessert, wanna join me?” you sat on the edge of the bed, dean reaching over to wrap his arm around your waist. only moving to rest his chin on your shoulder after your proposal of a sweet treat. “i’d be stupid to say no. cmon sweetheart, sam will be back soon.”

that’s how you spent the rest of your evening. baking with dean as you waited for sam to come back with dinner. ending the night as you and dean watched a movie to help you fall asleep.

dean looked down at your sleeping frame, stroking his fingertips up and down your arm as he wondered how he got so lucky.

he had a place to stay, his brother helping him fight the supernatural, and his girl by his side. what more could dean possibly want in life?

dean sometimes found himself thinking back to all those years ago, when he broke into sam’s apartment at stanford to bring him back into the hunting life. he was a 26 year old who spent his time with meaningless one night stands, leaving them in the morning and spending his energy on finding his dad. back then, dean didn’t think his life would get this good.

brushing your hair back from your face, dean realized he wanted to cherish each moment he got to kiss your lips. he wanted to remember what it was like to kiss your forehead, or even the small section of your palm. for forgetting what it was like to feel your love seeping into his pores through your delicate kisses would possibly be the worst thing to ever happen to dean winchester

[caprisunnydays]

Stardew Valley x Reader Bachelor Headcanons

Alex

Before you and Alex got together, you probably became long time friends

He was def like "damn they hot" but then when it became more than just that he was like "DAMN THEY'RE HOT"

It's been a bit since he's felt those silly little butterflies, it genuinely makes him nervous

Que him leaning against a wall like "Hey bbg" but he's sweating bullets

After his confession, he feels much better, and the nervous air that only you could really pick up on has disappeared

Very PDA, arm is always around you, probably not in the back pocket but if he's tipsy enough then boom it appears

Insists on going in the mines with you but saw a slime and wanted to dip so bad but you protected him <3

"Heh...I totally wasn't scared. Don't worry babe I'll protect you" nah boy

He feels his heart melt every time he sees you and Evelyn baking together, or her just acting like your grandma

Even George has become a grandpa figure, giving advice with alex or general things

Alex is secretly insecure about himself, but with you, he finds room to grow as a person and find that those worries are unwarranted

Though he doesn't say it often, you make him feel seen, and he truly appreciates that

Elliot

(Personal fav right now so I'm about to go OFF)

If you picked romance for his book he's imagining you both as the main characters

Not a complete parallel because he's like "can't be creepy" but a teensy bit

Speaking of "can't be creepy" he has written multiple sonnets about you since realizing his feelings

Unlike some of the other bachelors, he embraces his feelings more, using his passion to inspire his writing and other endeavors

Heavy on the gifts and courting stuff

Gives you love poems at least once a week he has so many piled up but he doesn't wanna go overboard

Says the sappiest things all the time with this love struck look in his eyes

PRETTIEST MANNNNN

Words of affirmation kinda guy, he's poetic like that

Leah pokes at him for being a simp but mans could not care less he's proud

Picks out pretty sea shells that wash up on the shore and gives them to you, and they're always intact!

Big fan of the flower dance and looks forward to getting to dance with you in front of the entire town! maybe your worst nightmare but he's just happy to show you off (and his dancing skills lol)

Speaking of which, mans is gonna teach you how to waltz and a bunch of other old timey dances

At some point he WILL show up in the pouring rain to profess his love, or give you flowers, or both

You're like "Elliot we're literally dating was this necessary and he's like "OF COURSE MY DEAR"

He'd love heartstopper

Harvey

Insert too sweet by Hozier

Silly little doctor guy tries to avoid you but can't help but be drawn to you

He sees you running around doing your daily tasks, and just watches you from afar from the window of the doctor's office

Maru notices and tells you to come in sometime cuz her boss ain't gonna get nowhere by himself

When you start coming in more often he can feel himself die of embarrassment when he fails to make interesting conversation

Is very worried about your health though and fusses when you pass out in the mines/street

He gets even more adamant about you taking care of yourself once he's confessed

Way less nervous though!

Looks at you with adoration eyes when you do anything

Tipsy Harvey is a cute Harvey because he starts spilling his guts on how often he thinks of you

Whenever you're not busy with work he appreciates you stopping by the office, just to talk about both of your days

He yaps to everyone about you btw

Doesn't mean to but when someone brings you up he's like "oh yes me and my partner love to-" or "my partner loves-" etc etc

I used to not be a fan but he's such a sweetiepie

Sam

"I just love a guy who plays guitar <3" - u @Sam

That's it

I JEST

Originally he's like "hey come and hang out with me, Sebastian, and Abigail"

Then you start coming over and it's just you both alone

He's not creepy about it, just wants to spend time with you one on one

Loves showing you the songs he works on and if you want he'll show you how to play guitar too!

He's also happy with how well you get along with Jodi, always trying to get you both to bond, it makes him feel nice that you feel like you're apart of the family

Once y'all are together he does sneak you in anytime he gets the chance

He'll text you like "come over" You : I've gotta be up at 6am Him : "PLZPLZPLZPLZ-"

OG golden retriever bf

You both go shopping at Joja at 3am for fun and goof off

Or go run around in the forest taking aesthetically pleasing pintrest photos

Sebastian

You can't tell me he's not an arctic monkeys kinda guy so insert R U Mine? By Arctic Monkeys

It took him time to warm up to you

When he did you became one of the few people he could hang out with after a long day of socializing and not feel drained around

I can see him doing things that aren't always super platonic and thinking he wants to do them because

"Platonically" holding your hand, cuddling, etc

At town events he stands all close to you, complaining about how much he hates it, but showing disappointment when you mention leaving

Everyone's like are y'all dating and he goes NO way too fast

When you both finally ARE together though he's actually much less affectionate and public, but it doubles when you're in the comfort of his basement room

Finds the most joy in keeping you trapped in his bed with him until noon when you say you should be working on your farm

Especially in the colder months, then you can also share his mom's pumpkin soup

He's almost catlike with his affection

Another guy you run around and take aesthetically pleasing pintrest photos with, but his are more grunge esk

"Accidentally" leaves his hoodies at your place but he likes seeing you in em

I imagine that the characters have those closets filled with the same outfit, so when you try and give him his stuff back he goes "nah" and whips out his 100th hoodie

Shane

PACK IT UP SAVIOUR COMPLEX I mean what who said that

After you rescue him from the depths of his depressive alcoholism, he feels guilty for having feelings for you

Part of it is because he's like "fuck do I actually like them or is it just cuz they basically saved my life" and partly because it feels painfully stereotypical

Not a lot changes, though he is a lot more open to you then he is with other people, even with Marnie

Helps out with your chickens when he has free time

Talks to them about his problems and once you almost walked in on him ranting about his feelings for you (bro was shook)

But once he's confessed, well, he's still insecure about some things, but accepts your help with stride

Jealous easily, but tries not to show it

Acts of service kinda guy, so if you need him to run an errand while you're swamped with farm work? He's on it

Pulls up to your farm with a bunch of snacks and a bag full of movies for you to pick from

He sets it up while you take a shower to wash all the grime and dirt off from a days work so you can just come and cozy up on the couch with him

You're also basically besties with Jas, such a sweet girl, always asks you to play jump rope with her

You both go "say no to drugs" to her l o l

Marnie is also now your bestie so even when she's not working you can get stuff from the shop #WIN

I loooooove stardew valley it's so cool so great

[fallingforel]

hhehehe

what do you say requests 2nite???

I have nothing better to do???

send em in loves

[caplanbuckybarnes]

In The Lonely Shadows (2/2) Dean W.

Summary: Crowely's always there to help convince you everything's going to be okay after Dean leaves with Lisa & Ben.

the first part of this was requested by my beloved wife @midnight-moonlight-and-mars sometime back in March.

Request: I've got a Crowley request! It can be platonic or romantic. It takes place the year Sam is resurrected and dean is living with Lisa. The reader was close with the Winchesters but after the fight with Lucifer dean abandoned the reader to be with Lisa and cas never answers ( unrequited love maybe?) so the reader teams up with Crowley and becomes like a bounty hunter for him for Lucifer loyalists. 

A/N: It's technically not Crowley x reader since she's pining for Dean. Oops, but I hope you enjoy this all the same, my love.

A/N #2: people were rabid about asking me for a part two. So please, enjoy!

WC: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, and blood, the reader feels abandoned and unloved, crowley’s nice, dean returns. sassy & protective crowley

[READ PART ONE HERE]

Read on Ao3!

--

Dean watched as your chest heaved up and down with every breath you took. The wind was howling outside, with rain pouring down. He was only partially soaked, having run for cover under teh pitiful awning above your hotel door. A suitcase was tucked into one hand and a backpack filled with supplies slung over the shoulder. He'd wanted to say goodbye before he left. But he couldn't. He was a coward, after all. He'd had a few visits from Castiel and Crowley, neither of them saying a word about you.

Though, he asked. He hasn’t spoken a word about Sam, either. The horror of watching Sam fall into the pits of Hell with Adam devastated him. So he ran away. He ran away to the person who would get him away from the hunter’s life, Lisa and Ben. He played pretend for as long as he possibly could.

Until he couldn’t keep up with the facade anymore. All he did was think about you, and the life the pair of you could have had. He’d find himself hovering over your name in his cellphone but never pressing the call button. Oftentimes, he’s stay up late at night, while Lisa laid peacefully next to him sleeping.  He knew he couldn’t lie to her forever about what - or who - truly had his heart.

Oftentimes, when he dreamed, it was about you, your face and your hands wrapped tightly in his as you started behind him on hunts. Thats what he loved about you the most, how much you trusted him to protect you.

So months after he departed, he located you in this dingy motel, where rodents and garbage littered the parking lot, and a few street lamps flickered dangerously in this damned storm. He’d gotten a replacement key to your room, claiming to the sketchy old man at the kiosk that he was your husband and you didn’t leave the key outside for him. So, on the threshold of the hotel room is where he stood, his fight or flight response kicking in the moment he laid eyes on you again.

He hadn’t seen you in months, far too long. But not long enough to forget the way your cheeks puffed out while you were embarrassed or the way your hair always fell into your face when you’d laugh at his stupid jokes. He couldn’t forget the way you would shuffle into his warmth at night, either.

God, did he miss the way you infected all of his clothing with your perfumes. 

He hesitantly stepped into the room, only to stop midway through in almost a panic. What if you moved on? What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you shot him? He wondered at that moment if you held any protection on you, or if you’d thrown all of it away.

But he took the chance anyway and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him quietly. He quietly toed out of his shoes and turned around before fully surveying the room. He couldn’t see any other person’s belongings in the room, so he assumed you were indeed alone.

Nervously, he tiptoed to the bed and studied your face for a long moment. He remembered everything about you-- your eyelashes, the dimple on your cheek. He wanted to reach out to you, nearly stopping himself as he felt his arm move without his command. He brushed his fingers against your cheek before he knew what he was doing and stepped back as your eyes had flung open in terror.

“Y/N,Y/N, it’s me, it’s Dean,” he said, reaching behind him for the pistol he always carried with him, though, he would never attempt to hurt you in any sort of way. “Hey, hey.”

“Dean?” you blinked through the darkness of the room. You must have been sleeping. Because you thought you heard Dean’s voice. And you thought you seen him standing mere inches away from where you slept on the bed.

Before he could get the chance to respond, another voice filled the room, a voice you’d come to recognize and acknowledge throughout these last few months.

“She doesn’t need you, Squirrel. She’s doing great without you.” Crowley’s voice echoed in the small room. 

Pulling yourself into a sitting position on the bed, you wiped at your eyes before switching your gaze between the pair in front of you. Crowley had been watching you over the weeks, which you had grown weirdly accustomed to, so it was no surprise that he had appeared out of the blue. What had startle you, was the other man standing mere inches away from you. If you just lifted your arm a few inches, you would be able to clasp your hands together.

“You left her high and dry after Moose had fallen into the depths of Hell, where, mind you, he’s been shacking it up with Lucifer. You should hear the agonies and woes from him.”

You could see the agitated twitch in Dean’s cheekbones, even in the poor excuse of light shining through the cracked window curtains.

“But now, back to the matter at hand, hmm?” Crowley snapped his fingers, and the two-night lamps turned on, casting the room in sudden brightness that none of you was prepared for.

“How’s Lisa and Ben?” Crowley smirked as Dean looked entirely uncomfortable at the jabs. “Didn’t want to be a family man anymore, huh? Did she decide she didn’t want your baggage?”

“It’s none of your business, Crowley,” Dean quipped. He snuck a look towards you and almost melted at the sight of tears in your eyelids. He wanted to erase the heartbreak he had caused you. He wanted to erase the pain away from you.

He only wanted you to forgive him. He wanted you and only you. He wished he hadn’t run off after Sam had gone to Hell, but he was broken and insecure. He was scared that you would leave him as well, so he did the only thing he could think of doing at the time: He ran away.

He begged for Lisa to forgive him, and she did. She took him in immediately, even after he explained all that went down with Lucifer and Adam and Sam. She took care of him. And for a while, he could forget all the pain. He could mourn the loss of his brother in peace. But there had always been a hole in his heart that Lisa nor ben would veer be able to fill.

He hadn’t known it at the time until he had sat up the night before and wallowed in misery after having nothing but dreams and nightmares about you for months.

“No harsh words, Not Moose?” Crowley taunted as he took a step toward you, causing Dean to nearly topple backwards onto the bed you were still sitting on. “No quips? Nothing? What do you have to say for yourself? Because while you were playing house, I was left to pick up the piece of her broken heart! How noble of you.  Leave her behind to wallow in misery, and now what? You expect her to swoon because you're back? Pathetic."”

You never thought you would see the day when the king of hell would be red in the face at the Winchesters. But here he was, pointing a threatening finger in Dean’s direction while the other man looked like a kicked puppy. 

You wanted Crowley to stop the insults at Dean. But the fact that he was protecting you in this way meant so much to you. You never knew how much Crowley actually cared about you. 

"I bet she’s just thrilled to have you back. Nothing says 'I care' like a good old-fashioned abandonment, right?" Crowley scoffed.

“Crowley, enough,” you sighed as you finally pushed the duvet away from your body and stood up, causing Dean to look at you with hope. With your request, Crowley quieted down, though he didn’t cease the glare or scowl on his features. Ignoring him, you took a breath, taking Dean’s height in stride. “So, what? You show up at my doorstep and nearly scare me to death, for what?”

“I was wrong,” Dean swallowed, blinking slowly as tears piled against his eyelids. “I never should have left you the way i had. You were mourning Sam as well, and I was a coward for leaving you. I never once stopped thinking about you. I never once let you out of my mind. Lisa knew it, Ben knew it.’

“I’m not forgiving you, Dean.” you held your ground, even as you had to wipe the tears away from your cheeks. “How could I forgive you? Do you know what the hell I’ve been through? You weren’t the only one to lose a brother, you know? Sam was my family as well.”

He opened his mouth, only for you to cut him off.

“It’s been fourteen months, Dean—fourteen long, terrible months. I celebrated Sam’s birthday without you. I celebrated your birthday without you. Crowley was the only one to check with me. Do you know he saved me from death on numerous occasions? That could have been you.”

He looked utterly defeated at the mention of the birthday celebrations. He could only imagine you singing to yourself with some cheap cake and a gas station lighter, wishing for the family you once held as you blew out the candles.

“Dean, I don’t know whether to hit you, kiss you, or put a bullet in you.” you scowled, pushing past him to walk over to the bathroom to wash your face. Leaving the door open, you heard Dean shuffle around Crowley to get to you again. 

“I can’t leave you, not again. Never again,” he watched your reflection as you grabbed for a hand towel and wiped the water from your face. 

Glaring at him momentarily, you sighed heavily before turning around and leaning against the counter. “Crowley will kill me for this. But I can’t help but think that I’m still in love with you. We can talk more about this in the morning. I had a long few weeks, and I’m absolutely exhausted.” 

Eagerly, Dean followed you out of the bathroom, barely noticing Crowley’s absence as he tucked you into the bed before he climbed in himself.

--

**totally up for a part three IF people want it. So please, please, please, if you enjoyed this reblog this & leave comments.