#sam darkest minds

[daisychains111]

even though I'm a very avid reader, I have the horrible habit of skimming and it came back to bite me today bc I'm rereading darkest minds and I got to the part where ruby is telling liam about her parents/Sam and am sobbing bc I had never read the part where ruby says that she was "Sam's 'Chubs' until she wasn't" and for some reason I had never realized how close they had been(even though im also pretty sure they have a cute reunion scene in ITA but i need to reread the whole book too bc its been forever and tbh i dont remember how it ends) and it just broke my heart idk...anyway don't skim your books kids

[girlintheflesh]

i SWEAR by tombow markers at this point... anyways I drew some Guys!! hoping to get more into physical drawing again and finish this sketchbook with good drawings

(1st page is core cast of the magnus protocol podcast at this time, 2nd page are the main characters for the ij x tdm au i have with laika)

[theydontburnlikeus]

Nico should’ve gotten a bonus chapter at the end of tdl, all we got was him saying like a sentence to Zu.

[velvet4510]

Ok, time for a hot take.

It really bothers me that Rosie and Sam’s relationship is reduced and made so shallow in the films, with the implication that they’ve never even talked to each other, and Sam is pining for this girl he doesn’t really know….

Like …

… this actually misses the entire point of their relationship in the book.

In the book, Sam and Rosie grew up together. His warmest memories that bring him comfort in the darkest place are the memories of playing with her in the pool when they were kids.

The point of Tolkien’s Rosie is that she’s someone familiar to Sam, the face that comes into his mind when he thinks of home. He remembers an actual moment he spent with her, a moment of fun and bonding. Then when he comes home, it turns out she could somehow sense the moment the Ring was destroyed, and knew he was coming home. They have this special, deep bond that brings Sam a sense of comfort and stability.

She’s not supposed to be some distant, unknown figure that Sam has built up in his head but has never actually talked to or gotten to know. That’s literally the antithesis of Tolkien’s Rosie Cotton.

It’s like the films swap Sam’s initial relationships with Rosie and with Frodo. In the movies, he starts off more familiar and friendly with Frodo; they apparently go to the pub together frequently like typical buddies do, whereas Rosie is in another world, dancing and making drinks behind the bar, and Sam is just too unsure of himself to even make small talk with her.

But Tolkien’s portrait is the exact opposite. Rosie is the one who Sam spends a lot of time with and has known for a long while. Frodo is the one who Sam is distant from and doesn’t really have the nerve to make chit-chat with, because he is Frodo’s servant and thus he thinks it’s not his place to be too friendly with “his betters,” as his dad says. (And then the journey takes the two of them out of that restrictive class system and frees them to bond and get to know each other as people.)

Then when they come home, there’s an actual sense of coming home, because Rosie embodies everything that is familiar and safe for Sam. Not everything that is unknown and scary.

[winterarmyy]

A Fucking Treasure

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: A date gone wrong? Same old, same old. But, having Bucky pinning her against the wall, now that’s new.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 6.1k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, fingering, nipple play, marking kink(?), multiple orgasm, praise kink, dry wet humping, cum eating(?), p in v, going in raw, creampie and well you know me, i can’t write smut without some sort of angst or fluff, so yeah, body insecurities, super sweet bucky but also needy and insatiable bucky.

Inspiration: i was mentioned by @mercurial-chuckles in her Smutty September Fest post and some of the prompts fit nicely with one of my wip. Btw, thank you for tagging me! I feel included 💕

Prompt number: #5 body worshipping + #16 accidental i love you’s during sex

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Bucky’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way to the kitchen, but the quiet hum of the refrigerator was enough to mask the sound of his movements. The dim light from the hallway barely reached the living room, casting long shadows across the area.

It has been a routine for him to wake up in the middle of the night, the nightmares of his memories haunting his sleep, dragging him back into the darkest corners of his past. He was used to it. But tonight was different. There were no memories clawing at him, no ghosts whispering in his ear. Instead, his mind was consumed by thoughts of her.

He wished to hold her, to feel the warmth of her skin against his, to trace the curve of her cheek with his fingertips. He longed to pull her close, to bury his face in the crook of her neck and breathe in her scent, to hear the soft, steady rhythm of her breath as she slept beside him. The thought of it sent a shiver down his spine; a yearning so deep it bordered on desperation. 

So he decided to clear his head, avoiding letting his head stay in the gutter.

He let out a sigh, not one of sadness, but of suppressed desire, the kind that made his heart race and his cock stirred. As he reached for a glass, something caught his eye; a silhouette on the couch. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when he recognized the figure lying there, motionless, as if the day had been too much to bear.

It was Y/N.

Confusion clouded his mind. She wasn’t supposed to be here. 

A few hours ago, she’d been dressed to kill, draped in that black satin dress that clung to her in all the right places. The sweetheart neckline framed her delicate collarbones; the softness of her cleavage was bare for him, and the high slit teased him with every step she took. He had admired her silently, his gaze dark with something he didn’t dare voice. The way the fabric had caressed her skin, the soft curve of her shoulders, the way the dress accentuated her body; he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

She was breathtaking.

They had made eye contact, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. His gaze was feral, full of unspoken want, yet his lips remained sealed tight, trapping the words he wanted so desperately to say. If she had super hearing, she’d have heard the low, approving hum that rumbled deep in his throat. But then, the moment shattered. His heart broke a little when he heard her mention to Natasha that she was going on a date. The words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him.

He had been sitting at the kitchen counter at that time, listening as Sam and Natasha hyped her up, teasing her about how lucky her date was going to be. Bucky stayed quiet, forcing himself to look away, fighting the jealousy that gnawed at him. It wasn’t fair; he had no right to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of her with someone else, someone who could give her everything he couldn’t; it was unbearable.

But now, she was here. Alone.

Sleeping on the couch in the same sinful dress that had driven him to distraction earlier. But the sight of her now was different. Her face was tear-streaked, her eyes puffy and red. It was clear she had been crying, and the sight of it twisted something deep within him.

Gently, he knelt to her level. He knew she was a light sleeper, so he approached with care, his metal fingers brushing softly against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, and the moment they met his, they were filled with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

Bucky's voice was a low murmur, intimate and tender. “What are you doing sleeping here, babydoll?”

Her cheeks reddened, the flush deepening as she realised he was seeing her at her most unfiltered state. The thought made her heart race, and the way he spoke, so close and personal, only made it worse. The intimacy of the moment was too much.

She gathered herself, sitting up with a sigh. “I didn’t plan to… I was just…” Her voice trailed off, and her expression softened into one of sadness as the memories of the evening came flooding back.

It had started off well enough. They had connected online, his messages charming and full of wit, making her think that maybe, just maybe; this could be something. But the moment she met him in person, she noticed a shift. The easy smile he’d worn in his profile pictures seemed a little tighter, the warmth in his eyes dimmed.

As they sat across from each other at the restaurant, she couldn’t ignore how his gaze kept drifting downwards. His eyes lingered a little too long on the exposed parts of her chest, his attention fixating on the stretch marks that she usually tried so hard to ignore. She had seen the change in his expression; the way his gaze hardened, a slight frown creasing his brow, followed by a low scowl that he probably thought she couldn’t hear.

Then, out of nowhere, he just left. No explanation, no goodbye; just a curt excuse about needing to use the restroom, and then he was gone, leaving her alone at the table with a half-finished meal and a hollow ache in her chest.

She knew why he left. She had seen that look before, the way his eyes lingered on her stretch marks, the way his expression shifted from interest to disdain. It was the same with most of the guys she went on dates with. The moment they saw the imperfections, they would withdraw, their interest waning before her very eyes.

She knew they hated the stretch marks on her skin, found them hideous. It was in the way their eyes would momentarily widen in surprise, followed by a barely concealed grimace. She could see the discomfort in their expressions, the way they quickly looked away as if trying to erase the image from their minds.

At first she always thought stretch marks were normal. It was human nature, a part of life, a testament to growth and change. She had tried to embrace them, reminding herself that they were natural, that everyone had imperfections. But each time she saw that look of disgust, it chipped away at her resolve, making her question everything she’d tried so hard to believe. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t normal. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to have them. Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with her.

She didn’t even know how she got back home. The memory was a blur, a haze of tears and jumbled thoughts. She remembered crying, feeling the tears stream down her cheeks as she stumbled out of the restaurant. But the rest was an utter fog. Did she walk home? She couldn’t remember. The city lights and the sound of her own sobs were all that lingered in her mind. It was as if her body moved without her conscious thought, carrying her back to the one place where she didn’t have to pretend everything was okay.

Bucky waited, his eyes searching hers, but she remained silent, fidgeting with the fabric of her dress. He could see the sadness lingering in her expression, and it didn’t take much for him to piece together that the date hadn’t gone well. A part of him was furious; how could anyone make her feel like this? She deserved to be cherished, not hurt. If it were him… if only she were his… He clenched his jaw at the thought, forcing himself to stay calm.

But, he knew better than to push her to talk about it. Instead, he simply reached out and took her hand in his, his touch gentle yet reassuring. “You must be tired. How about we get you to bed, hmm?” he said softly, his voice filled with a warmth that made her heart ache.

She nodded, still too caught up in her thoughts to speak. They walked in silence, Bucky leading the way while she followed just a step behind. Her eyes drifted down to their hands; knitly intertwined. His hand felt warm, comforting in a way that made her wish she could stay like this forever. The truth was, she didn’t even know why she kept trying to go out and date other men when the one she truly craved was right here, holding her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

But then, the doubts crept in, as they always did. She was self-sabotaging, she knew that. She kept telling herself that she wasn’t good enough for him, that he could never truly want someone like her. Someone who didn’t have Natasha’s confidence, her grace, her perfect everything. Why would he look at her the way she longed for him to, when he could have someone like that?

Despite all her doubts, she couldn’t ignore the way his touch made her feel. 

Safe. 

Wanted.

Y/N almost bumped into Bucky’s back when he suddenly stopped. She blinked in surprise, realising they had already arrived at her room. “Oh, we’re here”, she thought to herself, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief. Bucky turned slightly, his gaze dropping to their still-intertwined hands before he gently led her to the door.

“Will you be alright, doll?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. His thumb moved in slow, comforting circles on the back of her hand, a gesture so natural it was almost as if he didn’t realise he was doing it.

She nodded, but her response was barely more than a whisper. “Yeah…”

She tried to sound convincing, but her voice wavered, betraying the turmoil swirling inside her. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, she was caught in the warmth of his gaze. Bucky looked at her with such tenderness, such genuine care, that it made the butterflies flutter wildly within her.

Bucky took a step closer, closing the small distance between them. His free hand reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face with pure adoration. As he touched her, his fingers lingered slightly, savouring the softness of her skin. 

He took in every detail: her eyes, even puffy and red from crying, held a beauty that made his heart go mushy. The tears that had streaked down her cheeks were a testament to the raw emotion she was feeling, a vulnerability he wished to protect. Her skin was delicate, and the way her lashes brushed against her flushed cheeks. Despite the distress she was experiencing, she was still incredibly beautiful in his eyes.

Bucky’s gaze finally settled on her pink, pouty lips, he felt an overwhelming urge to press his own lips against hers, if not to comfort her, then to taste the sweetness that he imagined was there. The thought of kissing her once, just once; seemed to consume him. He couldn’t hold back any longer. “You’re gorgeous, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincere admiration, hoping to convey just how deeply he felt about her.

But Y/N’s reaction was not what he expected. The words, rather than warming her, seemed to chill her further. She didn’t think he was insulting her by blatantly lying to her face; she just couldn’t bring herself to believe that he truly meant it. It sounded to her like a polite gesture, just another way of saying something nice in the face of her misery; a form of lip service.

Her lips twisted into a small, almost imperceptible frown, and she quickly looked away, her gaze falling to the floor. It was as if her brain refused to process the sincerity in his tone, unable to reconcile his words with the image she had of herself.

She scoffed, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Yeah, thanks,” she said, unable to fully accept the compliment.

Bucky’s hand stilled on hers, his thumb halting its comforting motion as her response sank in. He was taken aback, not by any notion of insult, but by the realisation that she didn’t seem to believe the sincerity of his words. His brows furrowed with concern, and he stepped even closer, his body nearly touching hers. His hands came back to gently hold her face, tilting it up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet tender. “You are beautiful. You always are.”

He searched her eyes, silently pleading with her to see herself through his eyes. His tone was unwavering, full of the affection he felt for her. 

But even as she looked into those blue eyes, the doubts that clouded her mind made it hard to fully accept his compliment. She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that Bucky’s words were anything more than a kind attempt to cheer her up. The sincerity in his eyes was almost too much to process. Even if his compliments were meant to lift her spirits without fully reflecting his true feelings, she appreciated his kindness more than she could express.

A soft, fond smile appeared on her lips as she took in his earnest expression. “You’re so sweet,” she murmured, her voice tender. Gently, she stood on tiptoe, reaching up to pull him closer. With a delicate touch, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. Her lips lingered there for a brief moment, and she whispered against his skin, her breath warm, “Thank you for saying that, Bucky.”

Bucky’s heart pounded wildly in his chest as Y/N’s lips brushed against his cheek. The soft, lingering touch of her kiss, combined with the faint, intoxicating scent of her perfume, overwhelmed his senses. But when she pulled away, he felt a rush of heat flood through him, his control slipping. 

Overcome by an intense wave of feelings, Bucky pulled her back to him with a force and urgency that surprised even him. As he did, he could feel the warmth of her soft body pressing against his own, her delicate form moulding perfectly against him. He snuggled into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, intoxicating scent, which seemed to envelop him entirely.

His lips found her neck, and he kissed her with a fervour that spoke of his overwhelming need. Each kiss was infused with a deep, desperate longing that he could no longer contain. Y/N didn’t push him away; instead, she clung to him, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, as if seeking comfort and reassurance in his embrace. The contact between them was electric, and the soft moans that escaped her lips only fueled his desire further.

When she leaned in closer, a low, guttural growl escaped Bucky. He responded eagerly as he sucked gently on her skin, enjoying the taste of her as his hands roamed over her back and sides, his touch possessive and desperate. His palms pawed at every curve he could reach, exploring her with a need that bordered on frantic.

Y/N’s moan was soft, a sound that almost drove him further into the depths of his desire. But as the sound of her pleasure reached his ears, reality hit him like a splash of cold water. He realised what he had done; his actions were driven by raw, sinful need rather than the tenderness he had intended; that she deserved. The realisation struck him hard, making him feel as though he had somehow taken something that wasn’t his to claim. 

So he pulled away abruptly, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he stammered, his voice heavy with contrition. “I didn’t mean—”

But then, it was as if time slowed, allowing him to savour every delicate moment. As he pulled away, the sight that greeted him was almost more than he could handle. The tiny strap of her dress had slipped from her shoulders, revealing even more of the gentle curve of her cleavage, her doe-like eyes were fixed on him; hazed and heavy with emotion, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps, “Bucky…?”

The rush of desire he was so desperately trying to hold off, surged back through him, intensified by the vulnerability displayed before him. Bucky was barely able to maintain control. His heart raced, and the urge to be close to her again, to touch her, became nearly unbearable. In a moment of desperation and need, he guided her into her room, almost too urgent, too needy.

Once inside, Bucky pinned her gently against the door, his body pressing close to hers as he closed it with a soft click. His arms braced on either side of her, trapping her in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and electrified. The intensity in his gaze was palpable as he looked down at her, the hunger in his eyes undeniable.

“Fuck, babydoll,” he growled, his voice low and raw with yearning. “Please, let me touch you.”

His plea was a mix of desperation and want, a testament to how deeply he felt for her, even as he grappled with the boundaries he had momentarily crossed. The room was filled with an electrifying silence, broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing and the lingering intensity of the moment.

The voice she let out was almost too quiet, her tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “You want to touch me?” The question was almost a whisper, her eyes searching his ocean blues for the truth.

Bucky’s response was immediate, driven by the urgent need that surged through him. When his body responded faster than his words. He pressed his hardened bulge against her thigh, the physical evidence of his desire unmistakable. “Hmm, I wanna touch you, kiss you… want you so bad,” he murmured, his voice thick with desperation and lust.

Y/N’s breath hitched at the feeling of him against her, and her own passion began to match his intensity. “Touch me, Bucky,” she breathed out, her voice trembling with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. “Want you too. Want you all over me.”

His response was immediate. Bucky crashed his lips onto hers in a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing together as moans and groans filled the space between them. He effortlessly lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and carried her to the bed. The heat between them was unfiltered, and as he laid her down, his hands were already working to strip himself of his clothes.

With a sensual precision, he unzipped her dress, whispering praises against her skin. But as the fabric slipped from her shoulders, revealing more of her body, she hesitated. Her hands moved to cover her breasts, instinctively hiding the marks she had always felt so self-conscious about. The events of the night had taken their toll, and though she wanted to believe him, doubt crept in.

Bucky noticed the shift in her eyes, the uncertainty that dimmed her earlier confidence. He paused, his gaze softening as he gently coaxed her. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, doll,” he murmured, his voice tender and reassuring. “You’re safe with me.” his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her skin as he waited for her to continue.

She hesitated, then took a deep breath, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “It’s just… the stretch marks,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “My date tonight, he left because of them. It’s happened before, and I—I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help feeling like they’re… ugly.”

Bucky’s heart twisted at her words, anger flaring briefly at the thought of anyone making her feel this way. But he forced himself to remain calm, to be the comfort she needed. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, sending shivers down her spine as he tried to ease her worries. “Well, aren’t I lucky to have these all to myself?” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

She whined softly, her tone serious. “I’m being serious, Bucky.”

His expression sobered, his brow furrowing with concern. “So am I.”

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft yet firm, “...there is nothing ugly about you. Not your stretch marks, not anything. I’m so sorry those idiots couldn’t see that. But I do. And I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

He watched as her defences slowly crumbled, her eyes searching his; for any sign of insincerity, but finding none. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice wavering.

Bucky’s lips curled into a tender smile, “I’m very sure, Y/N. You have no idea how obsessed I am with you. All of you.” his hands gently pried hers away from her chest, revealing the parts of her that she wanted to hide the most. The sight before him made his cock twitch, arousal leaking from the tip as he took her in, completely captivated. “And these stretch marks?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper as his fingers traced over the marks on her skin. 

Y/N’s body responded instinctively. A shiver ran through her, her breath hitching at the sensation of his touch. The warmth of his hand contrasted with the coolness of the air, making her skin tingle where he caressed her. 

“Fuck, I love them.” His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as he continued, “They’re proof of how your body adapts, changes, grows. It’s like your skin’s telling a story, and every line, every mark, is beautiful.” He pressed a kiss against one of the marks, his lips lingering as he added, “You’re a masterpiece, babydoll, every inch of you.” His words were heavy with pure hunger, his admiration clear as he looked up at her, eyes dark with passion.

Bucky's breath was warm against her skin, the contrast between his sweet words and the raw hunger in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. As he leaned in, his lips brushed softly over the stretch marks he had just praised, and then his kisses deepened, becoming more fervent. He trailed his mouth along the curve of her breast, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin before he began to suck, leaving his own mark on her as if staking a claim.

Her body responded instantly, arching toward him, a quiet whimper escaping her lips. The combination of his hot mouth on her breast and the cool metal of his fingers tracing circles on her other nipple sent shockwaves of pleasure through her. His metal thumb and index finger rolled the sensitive bud, each movement sending a jolt of sensation that made her gasp, her breaths coming in short, rapid bursts.

Bucky didn’t stop there. He switched sides, his tongue flicking over her other nipple before capturing it between his lips, sucking and nibbling in a way that made her toes curl. Every touch was deliberate, meant to drive her wild, and it was working. Her hands found their way into his hair, tugging gently as if to anchor herself to reality amid the whirlwind of pleasure he was creating.

As his mouth worshipped her breasts, his fleshed hand began a slow descent, sliding across her stomach and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he reached the edge of her panties, he paused, revelling in the moment before pressing his flesh fingers against the soaked fabric. A low, approving growl rumbled in his chest as he felt how wet she was for him, the sound vibrating against her skin and making her moan louder.

He started to rub her clothed pussy with agonising slowness, applying just enough pressure to make her hips buck toward him, seeking more. His thumb found her clit through the fabric, rubbing slow circles that had her whimpering his name, her body begging for more of his touch. 

The dual sensations of his mouth and metal hand on her breasts and his warm fingers rubbing her pussy were too much. She was on fire, her entire body trembling under his touch, her mind lost in the addicting pleasure. Every nerve ending was alive with sensation, her moans growing louder as he increased the pressure, her body responding instinctively to the pleasure he was giving her.

Bucky, too, was lost in the moment. He groaned against her skin, the taste of her driving him insane. The way she reacted to his touch, the way she moaned his name, only fueled his desire. He needed more of her, needed to make her feel just how much he wanted her.

With a growl of pure need, he slid his hand under the waistband of her panties, and pulled the last piece of fabric off her. His fingers find her wet folds, slipping between them. "Fuck, babydoll, you're so wet for me,"  he murmured, his voice rough with passion. The way she responded to his touch only made him more desperate to worship every inch of her.

As his fingers moved inside her, Bucky’s thumb continued to circle her clit, the sensations pushing her closer and closer to the edge. His mouth and metal hand never left her breasts, continuing to tease her nipples until she was writhing beneath him. Her moans were desperate now, her body begging for release, and Bucky was more than happy to give it to her.

He pulled back for a moment, looking up at her with dark, adoring eyes. "You're so beautiful, Y/N," he whispered, pressing kisses along her chest. "I love the way you feel. Every part of you is perfect." His praises were soft, sincere, each word filled with pure admiration.

When he curled his fingers just right inside her, she arched off the bed, and he couldn’t help but marvel at her reaction. "Fuck, you’re incredible" he groaned, adding a second finger and feeling her tighten around him. “Love the way you taste, how you feel... hmmm, I need you so bad, Y/N” He was relentless yet tender, his every movement calculated to bring her to the edge of pleasure.

His lips found her breast again, tongue flicking over her nipple as he sucked and kissed her sensitive skin. His free hand never stopped caressing her, moving from her breast down to her stomach, then back to her other nipple, never leaving her wanting. "I wanna hear you scream for me, wanna feel you cum all over my fingers,” he growled between kisses, his words thick with arousal. 

Bucky’s thick fingers worked inside her with deliberate intensity, each thrust pushing deeper into her soaked core. He pumped his fingers in and out of her, his movements rhythmic and forceful. With each thrust, her wet juices squirted out, dripping and mixing with his harsh movements. The slick sound of his fingers sliding in and out, combined with the feeling of her arousal, drove him feral. His pace grew faster, his fingers curling and stroking with expert precision, drawing out her moans and cries of pleasure.

Y/N’s body responded to every touch, every word, her hips grinding against his hand as she chased the pleasure he was giving her. She was so close, so desperately close, and when Bucky twisted his fingers inside her, in places she never was able to reach before, and her world exploded in a blinding rush of pleasure. 

Bucky kept hitting that right spot inside her in every deep plunge of his fingers, until he could feel her tightening around him, her body trembling with the approach of her orgasm. His own need was growing unbearable, the taste of her nipples, the feel of her wet hole, driving him to the brink. He moaned against her breast, his voice thick with arousal as he told her how beautiful she was, how much he needed her, how much he loved the way she felt around him.

As her moans turned into desperate whimpers, he groaned in response. "That’s it, babydoll, let go for me. Let me feel how much you need this, need me," he urged, his voice thick with arousal. His thumb pressed harder against her clit, and his fingers pumped faster, pushing her closer and closer. “Cum for me yeah, fucking cum for me that’s it angel.”

“Buckyyyy”, She cried out his name, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she rode out the waves of ecstasy. Bucky groaned in response, feeling her tighten around his fingers, her pleasure only increasing make his cock throbbed with need.

He continued to move his hand, "So perfect. So fucking perfect." drawing out her orgasm until she was left panting, trembling beneath him. Only then did he finally pull his fingers from her, his hand wet with her arousal, and brought them to his lips, tasting her with a deep, satisfied groan.

Bucky’s own need was reaching a fever pitch, the taste of her, the feel of her soaking wet pussy gripping his fingers was too much to bear any longer. "Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you, can’t wait to make you mine," he moaned, his lips trailing down her body, leaving a path of hot kisses.

Bucky’s cock was almost unbearable as he pressed himself against her, his hard cock sliding between her drenched folds. Every night, he had fantasized about this moment, dreaming of the warmth and wetness of her body. So many nights, he’d ended up frustrated; his cum laid there wasted on his abs as he jerked off to thoughts of her.

Now, finally feeling her hot and wet against him, he was nearly driven mad with raging lust. He groaned softly, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His cock, heavy and throbbing, glided between her folds with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Each stroke elicited a shiver from her, her body sensitive and responsive from their earlier intimacy.

Bucky’s movements were urgent and almost primal. He humped against her, his moans a testament to his pleasure. “Fuck babyyy, you feel so amazing," he rasped, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. "You’re so fucking wet, Y/N. I’ve wanted this for so long, and it feels so. fucking. good."

Y/N’s has been a moaning mess under him, her body still tingling from the previous orgasm. The lingering sensations of his thick fingers inside her made every touch feel electric. Now, with his big, thick cock rubbing against her, her pussy twitched and pulsed in response.Each stroke was a jolt of heat, his tip bumping against her clit with every movement. Her hips trembled under his tight grip, her body reacting intensely to the pleasure.

Bucky’s moans were guttural, full of raw need as he lost himself in the sensation. "I’m not even inside you yet, angel," his cock rubbing insistently against her sensitive flesh as he panted, his voice trembling with desperation. "But, you feel so good, I’m gonna cum."

“Hmmm, Bucky… Bucky, please,” she whined, her voice trembling with need. “Feels so good… oh fuck! Cum on me, cum on me please...” Her words were almost incoherent, her pleasure overflowed from within, her body quivering and almost drooling from the way his cock was rubbing against her needy cunt.

Lost in his own world of lust, Bucky couldn’t get enough of her. He worshipped her pussy with a passion that left him breathless, his dirty talk coming out in desperate, needy groans. "You’re so fucking perfect, Y/N. I can’t get enough of you," he rasped. "You’re driving me insane. I want to mark you, claim you completely."

Their pleasure reached higher, each thrust and touch sending them both spiraling towards their orgasms. Bucky’s thrusts grew harsher, more insistent, as he chanted, “I’m cumming, doll. I’m cumming so hard.” His voice was raw with need, his body moving with a frenzied desire.

She was pleading, her voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. “Please, please, please…” Her words were breathless, each plea a testament to the intensity of their shared ecstasy. “I’m cumming, cumming on you baby, ‘m cummingg fuckkk,,”Bucky whined in absolute pleasure.

As they both came together, Bucky’s release was intense and overwhelming. His cock throbbed and twitched with every spasm, cum spilling endlessly from his tip in hot, thick ropes. Each pulse of his orgasm sent more of his seed dripping down onto her, coating her skin with the evidence of their union.

Even in the throes of his orgasm, Bucky continued to rub desperately against her twitching pussy, his movements frantic and unrelenting. “Still cumming for you, baby, paint you so pretty with my cum,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. The heat and friction were almost too much, his need to feel her and mark her as his luring him to continue. His cum painted a path up to her breasts, the warmth of it a vivid testament to his desire and dominance. 

He marked her completely, his release a physical declaration of his claim.

As Bucky’s release subsided, he looked down at her with eyes still feral and full of desire. She lay beneath him, breathing heavily, her body still quivering from the intensity of their climax. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “So gorgeous, covered with my cream,” he murmured, his voice rough and slow. He lazily rubbed his still-hard cock against her swollen pussy, his movements deliberate and teasing. “Now I’m gonna paint your insides, then fill you to the brim.”

Her whimpers of need were barely coherent. “Please, wanna feel your cum inside me so bad,” she begged, her voice trembling with craving.

Bucky slipped inside her easily, his cock finding its way with a smooth, satisfying glide. “So fuckin’ tight, shittt,” he groaned, feeling the exquisite heat of her around him. His thrusts were powerful and deep, each movement sending waves of pleasure through them both. “Tight little pussy’s mine,” he growled. “You take me so perfect, baby.”

His filthy words gradually transformed into sincere praise, his voice softening with affection. “You’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands exploring her body with tender care. One hand played with her clit, rubbing it with a skilled touch that made her moan and writhe beneath him. The other hand teased her nipple, tugging it gently as he thrust harder and deeper.

And as Bucky continued to thrust into her, the sound of their bodies connecting was raw and unrestrained, each movement accompanied by the slick, wet noises of their joined pleasure. Despite the intensity, their dialogue remained tender and sweet. “I love you, Y/N,” Bucky whispered lovingly, his voice a mix of pleasure and adoration. “I love you so much, doll.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Normally, such words would be met with doubt, but the way his cock was filling her completely, the intense pleasure he was giving her, and the look in his eyes—filled with an earnest, almost desperate longing—made it impossible to ignore. 

She moaned in response, her own voice trembling with emotion. “I love you too, Bucky,” she gasped, her words mingling with the sounds of their physical connection. 

Bucky’s thrusts grew more deep and harsh as he neared his climax. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Y/N,” he groaned, his hands rubbing a tight circle on her clit and tugging at her nipple. “Now, take my fucking cum.”

When Bucky finally released inside her, the sensation was nothing he ever felt before. He felt so good his eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open. His cock pulsing and throbbing with each spasm of his orgasm. His endless cream was flooding her, and with every thrust, it leaked out, creating a hot, sticky mess. The warmth and thickness of his release filled her completely, and the sensation of it escaping with each of his movements made him groan in pleasure.

Even as Bucky reached his high, he continued to fuck her through it, each thrust pushing his cum deeper into her. “You take me so well,” he moaned, his voice thick with emotion and need. Her own pleasure was amplified by the sensation of his cum inside her, her body responding eagerly to each thrust.

Afterward, Bucky remained inside her, relishing the intimate connection. He carefully cleaned the traces of his cum from her skin, his tongue gently licking and slurping it clean. “You’re perfect, babydoll,” he praised between licks, his voice soft and affectionate. “So beautiful, so fucking amazing.” He took his time, his lips brushing against her with care. “I’ve never felt anything like this,” he murmured. “You feel so good, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

She responded with soft moans and shivers of pleasure, her body reacting eagerly to his touches. Each lick and gentle caress made her quiver, her breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts as she felt his adoration and need. Her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the sensation of being worshipped so completely.

Occasionally, Bucky would grind into her, savouring the way her pussy tightened around him, deepening his pleasure. “You’re such a fucking treasure,” he continued, his voice a blend of awe and desire. “I can’t get enough of you. You’re mine, and I’m never letting go.” She whimpered needily, her body responding to his movements with a mix of pleasure and longing.

He continued to move his hips against her, thrusting with a renewed sense of urgency and need. “It’s gonna be a long night ahead, baby,” he murmured, his voice filled with determination and passion. “I’m not gonna let you leave this bed until the only thing that leaks out of you is me.”

With that, he pressed into her once more, his movements both firm and tender, as he prepared for another round of intense, passionate connection.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Been collecting dust in my drafts for way too long. Now lemme hear your thoughts. Please? 🥹 And go send @mercurial-chuckles some love!

[lexabitxh]

D.W | Feelings

summary: dean winchester confesses his feelings towards y/n.

perspective: third person

word count: 1811

Dean had fallen madly in love with Y/n ever since he laid eyes on her. She was beautiful, not like the girls in the magazines. She was beautiful for the way she thought, for the way she spoke, and her ability to help those around her.

No, she wasn’t just beautiful as something temporary as her looks, but beautiful deep down in her soul.

She was his reason for why he kept pushing in life. She made his darkest days cheerful and full of light. She had changed his life completely.

The way she looked at him with that smile made him feel butterflies in his stomach. It was an odd sensation, but comforting in ways that couldn’t allow him to sleep at night.

However, he wasn’t one to express his feelings. It wasn’t easy to admit he loved her, but he knew those feelings he felt were true. He wanted to tell her, but the fear of rejection held him back.

So, Dean keep things mutual between the both for as long as he could, but each day it became harder to not wonder what it would be like to date her. Especially when there would times where he’d flirt with her and she’d flirt back. Did she mean it or was she just playing along?

Sometimes he’d envy Sam for how close the two were. She’d always go to Sam rather than him for help or for anything in general. He tried not to hate Sam for it, but he just wished to be in his place. To be the one he she’d run to for comfort.

He wishes he could be the one that kept her awake at nights and in despair, to be her cry, to be the one who she woke up excited for. But that fear always held him back from confessing his feelings.

It wasn’t until he finally had enough.

~

Sam and Y/n had been on the couch watching movies for hours with half a bucket of popcorn between them, and the other half all over them. “Sam! Stop throwing the popcorn!” She laughed, trying to sound upset but couldn’t.

“C’mon, this is more fun than actually eating it” he said, throwing a handful at her. Before she could say anything, Dean had came back from his trip. She looked towards his direction, sending him a smile only to not receive one back.

“Hey, Dean. Is everything okay?” She questioned, looking up at him as Sam had turned the volume down. “Yeah… just been thinking a lot while I was out” he said as he looked between the two.

Sam immediately got the hint and got up. “I’ll go make us some more popcorn.”

Y/n watched as Sam grabbed the container and awkwardly walked away, leaving the two alone. Once he was gone, she patted the empty spot, inviting him to take a seat besides her.

“What’s in your mind?” She asked.

Dean walked from behind the couch and around, sitting next to her. Being so close to her made him nervous- he couldn’t function. He kept quiet for a bit, trying to find the words he had been rehearsing over and over and over again, but it’s as if the words he’s been memorizing had slipped away.

“I just wanted to, um, talk to you about something” he swallowed nervously. He was starting to become flustered. The palm of his hands becoming sweaty and his heart pounding out off his chest. Being around her made him act like a fool.

Suddenly, Y/n felt a nervous. She had no idea if she has done something to upset him. Having a one-on-one conversation always made her uneasy and uncomfortable. She felt like she was in trouble.

“What is it?” She asked concerned. Dean took in a deep breath, trying so hard to just put his feelings out there. Y/n took notice of his struggle and took ahold of his hand. “Dean, you can tell me anything. What’s going on?”

Dean glance down at her hand resting above his. Her hand much smaller as it felt soft and warm. He felt a tingly sensation form inside his chest as she made it much more difficult to act upon.

“It’s about you.”

“What about me?”

Y/n had a million different thoughts running through her mind. He probably noticed the scratch I left on baby… or the tiny stain in the backseat. She became anxious.

“Is it about, baby? Cause I swear it wasn’t me! It’s Sam’s fault!” she blurted out, throwing Sam under the bus rather than taking the blame.

“What? No!” He said, only to wonder what trouble they might have caused. “What about baby?” He questioned, but she simply shook her head. “Nothing. Forget about it. What were you going to tell me?” She asked, hoping that he’d forget all about the impala and move on.

Dean shook the thought away before refocusing on the main reason why he wanted to speak to her. “Right” he mumbled.

“Do you remember how we met?” He said smiling softly. Y/n smiled at the memory. “You were running from the police and I helped hid you from them” she laughed a little.

“We sorta became partners in crime ever since” she smiled. That smile. It was that smile that made Dean weak to his knees. “Like Bonnie & Clyde. Except we hunt monsters” he said with a light chuckle.

“Exactly” she laughed, “You were an absolute mess that day, and yet somehow, you convinced me to help you” she said. “And two years later, here I am with you idiots” she teased.

“I happens to be adorable. I’ll try not to take offense to it” he laughed softly before he getting all serious again. “Meeting you has been one of the best things that has happened to us” he said.

Y/n smiled as she felt the same away about them. They’ve gave her a purpose in life and adventures she never imagined before. “Awe, someone’s getting soft” she teased.

Dean shook his head, “just let me finish” he said. He took ahold of her hand this time and looked deeply into her eyes. “You changed my life, Y/n. You changed me. And for the past two years, I’ve been in love with you” he said, finally being able to put his feelings out into the air.

He felt relieved being able to admit his feelings. A weight lifted off his shoulders as he didn’t have to hide them anymore.

Y/n froze to the sudden news. She never would have imagined Dean Winchester to be in love with a girl like her. She loved Dean. She always has. But Dean slept with multiple girls and so she never envision herself having a real relationship with him.

“Y/n… say something.” Dean grew anxious with every second gone by. “I- for two years?” Y/n was still taken aback by the fact he loved her for two freaking years.

“It was the first time I saw you that I discovered what love at first sight was” he confessed. “You made me feel things I never felt before, things I never imagined feeling” he added.

“And seeing you with Sam made me jealous cause I want to be the one to hold you, to make you smile, to make you laugh…” he continued. “But I understand if you like Sam. I just wanted to let you know how I felt because I can’t carry this feeling inside me any longer.”

Y/n stared up at him in complete awe. The way he had let his guard down to confess his love for her. How his cheeks grew red with embarrassment. The way he became all shy and timid. She has never seen Dean act so… so in love.

“S-Sam? You think I have a thing for, Sam?!” She laughed. “D-do you not?” She shook her head, “no dumbass, I don’t like Sam in that particular way” she paused, “I like you.” She placed her hand on his cheek.

As she caressed it, he simply melted into her touch. “I’ve always liked you, Dean. The moment you stumbled into my life with trouble, I knew that the universe had written you for me.” Her words caused his heart to race, a smile forming on his lips.

“You’re the one who keeps me up at night. The one who makes me smile and giggle like crazy. You drive me crazy, Dean Winchester” she told him.

“I just- I never wanted to tell you because I knew you weren’t one to settle down with anyone. So, I kept my feelings hidden. Though it didn’t took long for Sam to notice and tease me about it.” She sighed.

“Sam knew?!” Dean said baffled at the thought why his brother never told him. Could have saved him all the trouble. Y/n nodded, “I sorta made him promise not to tell a living soul” she said giggled.

“So does this means what I think it means?” He asked. “Well, are you going to take me out on an official date?” She questioned as she gently pushed some of his hair back.

Dean smiled like an idiot. “You could ask me to swim across the ocean and I’ll do it just for you” he said while gently cupping her face.

“If a date makes you happy, then a date it is” he slowly leaned closer to her face. “I’d give you the world and more” he said as his lips hover above hers.

“Dean Winchester being so sweet? Who would’ve thought I’d be the reason” Y/n teased as she placed her lips on his, smiling in-between the shared kiss. Dean smiled back, kissing her softly and slowly. He had dreams of this moment and finally it was happening. It was magical and anything he never imagined before.

As they pulled away, they both stared at each other like complete idiot. “Finally!” said Sam as he entered the room. “About damn time. I was getting tired hearing you both yap about each other” he said as he took a seat on the singular couch.

“Now if you excuse me, I got a movie to finish” he said while throwing some popcorn towards them before taking a handful into his mouth. “Bitch” said Dean as he placed his arm around Y/n’s shoulders.

“Jerk.” Sam replied with a mouthful while turning the volume up and resuming to watch the movie.

Dean simple smiled to himself as he had everything he’s ever wanted in life. He had his brother by his side and the girl of his dreams wrapped around him. He couldn’t be happier than in that moment.

[mj0702]

For me luv @rocketfoot28

“Come one mi neña” Mapí yelled in your ear next to you on the spanish bench where you were wedged between her and Misa Rodriguez “Cheer Alexia on”

“I rather shoot meself in me foot” you grumbled sinking deeper into the seat hoping no one would recognise you or even worse take pictures of you

“Por que?” Mapí asked hyped up

You didn't even bother to answer just threw a dirty look her way huffing annoyed

“What's wrong with mi neña?” the tattooed spaniard nudged you lightly

“Fuck off María” you exploded in her face before standing up moving to the end of the bench

“What did you do Mapí?” Misa asked confused as you pushed yourself past her quite aggressively

“Nothing... I don't know what's wrong with the neña... I swear she's normally very nice...” Mapí looked after you confused

“Can't believe they did that to me” you grumbled more to yourself than anyone sporting the darkest look you've ever did when your phone vibrated in your pocket and you took it out to find a message from your sister

“If you look any darker you could rule the death star”... very funny Lucy” you looked around just to find your face on the big stadium screen

“Oh fuck me” you groaned loudly as you threw up your arms annoyed which made several heads turn your way

“What?” you snapped aggressively towards the spanish bench and most players went back to mind their business – most. Next thing you know you were flanked by Ona and Mapí.

“Talk to me Bebita” Ona said softly

“You let them... go away... all of you” you sneered and your sisters girlfriend immediately saw that there was no use in trying to get you to talk

“Come on Maps...” the young spaniard said and pulled her teammate away which you were very thankful for

“Come on Kyra... get more into the 1v1” you yelled loudly from right next to the bench still wearing Jennis warm up shirt “Don't be scared of that lanky spaniard”

“I thought I was sexy spaniard” Jenni said confused a minute later as she came to pick up the ball for a throw in

“Right now you are I-hate-you-spaniard” you growled at her and to her sadness she didn't have time to clear out anything that was going on with you

“Hayley.... HAY.... to Sam!” you yelled again as you saw Sam Kerr running with Hayley completely open and seconds later there was a goal – for Australia.

The pure shock and horror and betrayal on the spanish faces where enough for you to sit back down on their bench smiling proudly

“Nena...” Mapí whimpered next to you looking at you like a kicked puppy

“Sí?” you sing-songed happily

“How... how could you??” the tattooed spaniard looked at you hurt

“Hurts when someone does something you don't like doesn't it??” you looked her straight in the eye until she looked away

“Cariño...” Alexia walked over to you smiling widely while you were occupied consoling the Australian players

“Go away Putellas” you barked and threw her a dirty look that made the blonde stop dead in her tracks staring at you lost

“You played amazing Ky...” you said softly as you crouching next to her squeezing the young Australians shoulder “... you really rocked that mids...”

“Y/n...” Alexia said sternly after Mapí quickly talked to her and walked off again “.... a word?”

“Not now” you looked at her darkly

“Oh but I mean now...” the blonde spaniard said and pulled you up and away from Kyra

“Hey!” you exclaimed getting pissed as the spanish captain

“No...” Alexia said sternly pulling you into the tunnel before stopping and turning to you “You tell me right now why you are so... unfair”

“Unfair??? You say I'm unfair?” you said bewildered

“Mapí told me the first goal from Australia was your doing?!” the blonde argued with you

“And? You won... congratulations.. Olympic Gold Medallist... woohoo... you did it again – another title under your belt” you said angrily

“What is this about Cari?” Alexia said softly after a second

“Did you even consider that I didn't wear that Australian Jersey to support Australia but to support a friend... a young player who played her first Olympics AND Final? That I wore that Jersey to just show SOME support to friends...?” you looked at Alexia getting thrown off by her softness

“Aren't we friends too?” the blonde asked smiling softly

“No you aren't” you said your voice strong as you turned around walking towards the pitch again letting a confused and hurt Alexia behind “... you are family”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Make Him Better Looking｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

Truth serum plus hidden feelings and a major amount of lust for your best friend is bound to end well

Warnings: truth serum, reader is hornee, implied smut, size kink, Sam is taller than the reader, explicit thoughts, mutual pining, mentions of a hunt

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Falling in love with Sam had been easy- not only was he stupidly handsome with those big hazel puppy dog eyes and a killer body, but he was kind and he was smart. He loved with his whole soul and would do anything for anyone, even after all the shit he had been through. 

What hadn’t been easy, however, was just how horny you got every time you even thought of the giant hunter let alone be around him. If he was tracing lines in a book to keep his place, you thought about what his fingers would feel like inside of you. If he was working out, you wondered if he would make those same noises in bed. And worst of all was when he was talking animatedly about something, his entire body came alive with passion and excitement. His eyes sparkled and his smile was always huge. And yet all you could think about was having his face between your thick thighs, talking into your cunt as he feasted. 

Needless to say, you had absolutely destroyed your scant collection of toys and taken more cold showers than warm. Eventually, you had to reach your breaking point.

It had been a witch hunt in Arkansas that went slightly wrong. People all around town were suddenly compelled to tell everyone around them their darkest secrets, ruining their lives in the process. It was a pretty simple cut and dry witch who had some vendetta against liars so she was forcing everyone to tell the truth. You and Jody picked up the hunt as some kind of demented girl’s trip and it mostly went off without a hitch. At least until the witch got you with a truth spell right before the sheriff dropped her.

You had arrived back home with your mouth practically sewn shut in an attempt to keep yourself from telling the boys your innermost thoughts until the spell wore off (which Jody assured you that it would be a couple days at most). Claire and Alex already had their fun asking you questions that you could no longer lie in response to, leading to them learning why there’s a bottle of deluded bleach and air freshener in the back of the Impala and the ‘no tequila after midnight’ rule. 

Dean quickly discovered your ailment after you bluntly told him that his new orange flannel and grown out hair made him look like an oversized carrot, and he was determined to break you. But unfortunately for him, you were a hell of a lot smarter than him and could find ways to easily distract him.

You and Dean sat across from each other at the library table, eyes locked to each other as you both desperately tried not to blink. A game born out of desperation not to reveal your darkest secrets and childish rivalry but with a month’s worth of laundry on the line, the game was a matter of life or death. Your eyes burned as you struggled to keep them open but you refused to back down now, especially when Dean’s face had begun to turn red with the strain, you knew he was close to breaking.

Then, disaster struck. Right as his eyelids began to twitch with the need to blink, Sam walked into the library wearing a tight white shirt and grey sweatpants and obviously not wearing briefs. Immediately your mouth went dry as your concentration was broken. You didn’t even hear Dean cheer that he won, you just kept looking at his  brother who was now browsing the many shelves for something to read.

Dean rubbed at his eyes while glancing at his younger brother before sarcastically remarking. “Looking good Sammy.” Sam responded with a scoff, returning to his search and letting you get a glimpse of his perky backside.

The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, spilling out of your dirty mind like an unstoppable river. “Goddamn, how about you bring that perfect ass over here and I’ll tell you how I can make you look even better.” Everyone froze, including you, and then you opened your mouth again. “You’d look hotter with me sitting on your face.”

Silence settled over the bunker, your veins filled with dread. “Oh god please ignore that I said that- well actually, I don’t want you to ignore it. I really do want to sit on your face but right now I really want to throw myself off a cliff. So I think I’m gonna go do that. Have a nice life boys.” You went to slip from your chair but suddenly your wide hips were pinned to the edge of the table but two huge hands.

Sam loomed over you, his eyes dark with lust as he smirked down at you. “Now why would you go and do that when we could test your little theory.” Your breath caught in your throat. He dipped down, bringing his face to yours until you were close enough to feel his breath on your lips. 

“I-“ You stammered. Wetness pooled between your thighs as he stepped even closer, pressing his hardening cock to your soft body. 

“Oh what is it baby? Can’t speak anymore? Don’t worry, you won’t be able to stop making sounds when my mouth is on your cunt.” He growled into your ear.

Neither you nor Sam noticed when Dean sprung to his feet and ran off into the depths of the bunker to escape the very obvious tension on the brink of exploding between you. Your fingers tentatively curled into his shirt, making his smile grow. “That’s a good girl, now how about you go to my room and get undressed. I wanna see if you get even more beautiful when you’re on top of me.” 

——————

Sam had always found you incredibly intoxicating but even more so now. You were dead asleep on his chest, your breaths even as you slumbered on. Sam took pride in your exhaustion considering he was the cause. He gently stroked the soft skin of your hip, tracing over the texture of your stretch marks delicately as to not wake you. 

You sighed in your sleep, nuzzling closer to his bare chest. He kissed the top of your head and with a great amount of care, slipped from your hold. You stirred only for a moment before settling once more. He dressed quietly and slipped out of his room.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen drawing him in like a siren. “Morning.” He muttered as he wandered in, shooting his brother a glance. Dean nodded at him from his place at the small table, drinking his coffee silently.

As Sam poured two mugs of the bitter drink, he spoke again. “She was right, you know.” Dean hummed and looked up at him curiously. “I do look better when she sits on my face.”

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[arjwrites]

In The Stillness (To Love is To Hurt)- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A glimpse into the ways you've impacted Dean.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief reference to sexual activity. Fem!Reader <3 (but like barely)

A/N: Hi!!! This story is a product of me wanting to try writing a one shot in the kind of writing style I use in my personal works! I write a lot of poetry and drabbley stuff outside of this blog and I felt like some of it would pair well in a one shot like this, based largely in narration rather than dialogue. I am worried it might veer a little bit too far into poetry territory in a few spots- I want to make sure it retains its clarity. Let me know what you think!

There were very few moments of true stillness in Dean’s life. Part of him was always moving somehow- legs carrying him to and from danger, hands absentmindedly cleaning guns and filling shotgun shells with salt, or perhaps the most restless of them all, his mind, always racing and always bearing the weight of the world. Dean’s brain was a machine, programmed all his life to carry out a list of simple tasks. Follow orders, protect Sammy, kill the monster, save the world. While the true meaning of these functions had changed wildly over the years, they always manifested in the worries that kept him up as he lay in bed at night, or ate at his soul during long, quiet stretches of the road.

There was nothing that could completely shut Dean’s thoughts off. Many of his younger years had been spent with a drink in his hand or a girl on his arm, picking his poison and hoping if he tried it often enough, it would become his antidote. Sure, these things sometimes helped, but only ever briefly- he would always wake in the morning, mind racing, head pounding, and searching for a quick getaway. These things were just another excuse to fill the gaps between cases, to keep from ever being still. 

Dean was always running from the quiet. When there wasn’t a task at hand, there needed to be something to fill the space. If he lingered in his own mind for too long, he would close his eyes and his thoughts would take off, always landing somewhere where Dean should have been better. Somewhere he should’ve cracked the case sooner or saved the day quicker or protected someone- usually Sam- better. And sometimes, he could swear he felt himself strung up in the pit again, all of the suffering ever inflicted upon him concentrated in the knot that formed in his stomach and pulsing through his body via the racing of his heart. But Dean could never let his mind wander that far, because that far was dangerous. So he kept busy, kept compacting the memories and tucking them away in unlabeled boxes in his head in hopes that he would misplace them. Besides, the wars of the world took precedence far above the violence waging in his own head. It made sense to keep busy. 

Dean had been a soldier for years, but the most difficult battle he ever fought was against his own feelings. When you stumbled into his life, magnetic and miraculous, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He knew if he kept you close, his heart would force him to love you, his duty would force him to protect you, and his fear would force him to bear you as yet another burden. Another person in his life for him to love and to lose. In a desperate act of preservation- both for himself and for you- Dean fought tooth and nail to keep you at bay. He holed himself away at the brink of the darkest corners of his mind. But your warmth and light radiated through the cold world he had made for himself, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. And he couldn’t help but fall. Like much of his life thus far, he had been given no choice in the matter. He felt like you were his destiny. 

Dean didn’t believe in much. He had no faith in religion or philosophy or science or himself. Nothing in his life thus far had ever made him feel at peace with his pain and his mortality. The world was chaotic and terrifying and there was no such true thing as heaven or holy or even good. But then there was you. Dean worshipped you, prayed to you, heard your word like gospel. You were the God he had always denied himself. You made sense of his suffering and lit the path to his salvation. It was always for you.

“To love, is to hurt,” you had told Dean one day, and he had looked back at you as if you had three heads. Though he hummed in tentative response, studying your words and the way your mouth moved to create them, he couldn’t bring himself to agree- and yet, he couldn't ask what you meant. He feared that he wouldn’t like the answer. 

You would say these things to Dean from time to time, sharing tidbits about love, life, things you had learned in your years and carried with you wherever you went. It felt nice to have something to offer to him in exchange for the labor of loving you. His responses were often full of praise and piety as he kissed down your body in a practiced map of places, rhythmically, as if speaking in a secret language that only you two could decode. 

Dean loved you during late nights and early mornings when you were your most peaceful and soft. In these moments he would look outside to see the silent moon or the rising sun, and smile to himself- as if it had been you who hung them there, just for him. Dean loved you on the drive home after finishing a hunt, when he kicked Sam to the back seat just to have you close, to feel your fingers bless his knuckles with your touch as he gripped the gear shift and hummed along with a melody. The lyrics never mattered anymore- to him, every piece of music was a love song he wrote to you. 

Dean would watch you. He took you in like a piece of art- one he had waited in line for years to catch a glimpse of, just to be told that he could take the exhibit home. All the velvet ropes had fallen and the warning signs were painted over. Please, do not touch the art. And so he would. His fingertips would trace over your brushstrokes and he would compliment the artistry, always grateful to have been given a closer look. 

Your gravity was enough to pull him in from wherever he wandered, though he never wandered far if he could help it. It felt as though you were what rooted him to time and space. Early in your relationship, silence was rare, but in times when the two of you would sit and share slices of it like an orange, he swore he could hear the buzzing of your life force. After a while, he could hear his own, too. And eventually, he would revel in the way your energies would harmonize and dance around each other in a well-rehearsed routine, swirling together and swaying to their own silent rhythm- two beings in love and intertwined in their own right. 

He was scared to lose you- of course he was. He would beg for you to stay behind on hunts, or fling himself between you and the monsters you’d encounter. But in some ways, Dean felt you were most likely invincible. You were made of sunlight and stardust, how could anything kill that? And he felt you were too tied into his life to ever lose you- as if he had already peered through a window into his future and seen you in it, waving back at him. You would be there, he didn’t have to worry. It was a feeling that was so strikingly out of his nature that it grabbed hold of him and didn’t let go. He told you about this feeling once, and it comforted and worried you all at the same time. But the next hunt rolled around and he remained your fierce protector, taking on many of the injuries that would’ve befallen you had he not stepped in. As you stitched him up in a peaceful quiet, he mused- 

“I think I’m starting to understand that whole “to love is to hurt” thing. You laughed. Dean beamed. The hunting, the fighting, the saving the world. All of it was worth it. He would do it all, just so you would patch him back up afterwards with a kiss and a smile. Sometimes you would play soft music and hum to him- in these moments, he would close his eyes and if he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought he was in heaven. If it was his heaven, why was he in pain? As he watched you work, he came to an easy decision. He would cut himself open, over and over again for eternity, just for the chance to see your eyes narrow in focus and your mouth purse in concentration as your nimble hands worked to stitch his wounds. Just to feel the vibrations of your lips as they planted a kiss to his cheek mid-melody. He felt his pain was an offering that you rewarded with your presence, and it was an exchange he would happily make throughout his life and far beyond his death. 

Dean cherished the moments when the world outside his door faded into insignificance. You were the master switch that shut off the chaos, leaving him to bask in the warmth of your body and soul. But it took a while for Dean to realize the indelible mark you had left on him. He hadn’t spent more than a moment without you since you had first met- a hunter’s life didn’t leave much room for privacy, but that worked to his advantage in the early days. But you had left for a night, having to take care of a family obligation, pressing him a tender kiss and a don’t miss me too much as you rolled out the door that afternoon. And that night, tucked into your side of the bed in an effort to feel closer to you, Dean couldn’t sleep. Things that hadn’t crossed his mind in years went racing back and forth, round and round on a track until he couldn’t breathe- as if they had been chasing him every lap. When he closed his eyes, all of the memories he had stuffed in the closet and under the bed had spilled into a great big room and he was buried in the rubble. And when he opened his eyes and looked out at the moon, it seemed distant and cold, like it belonged to someone else. So he picked up the phone and called you, his body softening at the sound of your voice and falling asleep to the murmur of your words. He woke early, busy researching a case with Sam, but in a brief moment of stillness in the morning, he realized this was what she really meant. I get it now. Thankfully, you were home by dinnertime with a slice of your grandmother’s pie and a few crazy family stories to tell. Dean practically floated to you and wrapped you in a hug you had to beg him to release you from. 

It hadn’t been until your absence that Dean realized how much still lurked below the surface. While your presence gilded every facet of Dean’s life with a warm, glowing gold, he still hurt, ached, withered when you were gone. And it wasn’t until this realization that Dean understood the labor it was to love him. And it made him want to be better. 

The first time Dean opened up to you was a rainy spring evening. Then again one summer afternoon. He spent August feeding you breadcrumbs from his childhood. And he told you about his time in Hell in late October. You remembered this because you had looked out the window and resonated with the way the leaves trembled and fell from the trees. You raised a shaky hand to his cheek and wiped a tear and swore to Dean that he would never go through that pain again. And Dean, who had just relived each excruciating moment all over again, just for her, spoke. 

“I- I get it now. To love is to hurt because it forces you to be better. And it hurts because you take on a whole second person’s pain, wanting to spare them from it. And to love is to hurt because-”

You raised a finger to his lips and then replaced it with a kiss. And you smiled. And you leaned into his chest. And you let things be still. And so did he. 

[deancashorrorfest]

We're Baaack... And Bigger than Ever

Come one, come all to the third year of Dean🔪Cas Horrorfest! We've got ghouls and gore, gays and theys! Cannibalism as far as the eye can see! Truly a feast for the senses.

This year I tasked these horrific creatures with a reverse round and they really ate the competition. Below the cut, you'll find things beyond any human comprehension.. Viewer beware, you're in for a scare.

Any Way That You Want Me | M | 10,455 It should have been a cake walk. Get in, investigate the haunted house, and figure out where to dig, salt and burn. But when Cas somehow gets cursed - trapped inside the house's mirrors - Dean finds himself in a race against time. Each day Cas' strength is fading. It's up to Dean to find a solution by digging through the house and the belongings of the former owner.

What he uncovers in the house may change everything. Link to Fic | Link to Art Wicked Muse | E | 15,673 Castiel Novak is a solitary creature. Corporate engineer by day, serial killer by night, and always by himself. Just the way he likes it. Until a new coworker's long, bowed legs, green eyes, and crooked smile catch his eye. He's certain he'll have to kill Dean, at first. He can't afford distractions, living the double life that he does. When the time comes, though, he just can't bring himself to do it. Artistic inspiration, long dormant in Castiel's life, replaces murderous intent.  As his obsession grows, so too does a newfound wish that he could share the deepest, darkest depths of himself with Dean. That Dean would understand, would accept, would even celebrate Castiel's bloody inclinations. But that's absurd. Unthinkable. Dean isn't like that. Is he? Link to Fic | Link to Art Herbicidal | T | 8,249 Dean is settled. His relationship with Cas is going strong, he has a place to call home, and his biggest problems are run-of-the-mill cases and unruly teenagers who think they know everything there is to hunting. Hell, he even plays with the thought of retiring. But then something starts killing people left and right in Lebanon, and Dean and Cas are faced with a case and a foe they have no idea what to do about. Link to Fic | Link to Art Oubliettes of Stone and Sky | T | 9,214 Dean is trying to sacrifice himself for his country like any good king would, and Cas has been sent to stop him. Cas has to keep Dean hostage while journeying through a dust storm and a castle with a mummy inside. Dean is waiting for the chance to escape--and Cas is ready to capture him again. Link to Fic | Link to Art Angel in the Ivory Castle | G | 20,074

Castiel's family is royalty in another world that has lived in peace for many years until recently a darkness has started to spread which has slowly overtaken the beautiful green fields they'd once walk through. Creatures have become corrupted, twisted and turned into something grotesque. Castiel was sent to the other world to find the being he is bonded to in which it's been rumored to save their world but in reality they know what's left doesn't look worth the risk. Link to Fic | Link to Art

Dean and Castiel vs. Evil | E | 31,451

Castiel is trying to survive a camping trip in the Appalachians with his annoying fraternity brothers. At a nearby cabin, Dean is trying to clean up the remains of his and Sam’s recent vamp hunt. Both Dean and Castiel wouldn’t mind exploring their mutual attraction.

But there’s a problem: due to a series of misunderstandings, Castiel’s friends are convinced that Dean and Sam are serial killers. The fact that Castiel's friends keep dying in increasingly grisly ways doesn't help matters. Is there really a killer on the loose? And will Dean and Cas ever manage to score some alone time? Link to Fic | Link to Art

Vacation Interrupted | M | 9,158 Dean can’t remember the last time he took a vacation. Fighting monsters is basically all he’s ever known. They’ve defeated Chuck and Dean finally grew a pair and confessed his feelings and Cas reciprocated. The two of them, along with Sam and Eileen, decide to dip their toes in the sand and take a vacation since the world is relatively monster free. Or at least they thought it was until a Kraken decided to ruin their vacation and start killing people, almost taking Dean for its next victim if Castiel didn’t rescue him in time. So much for a relaxing vacation. Link to Fic | Link to Art Communion | E | 53,639

Few areas in the world are subject to the polar night phenomenon, a period where the sun never rises above the horizon.

When Castiel Novak reaches out to the Winchesters for help, convinced that vampires are about to descend upon one such town during the upcoming polar night, the boys head up to Point Hollow, Alaska to clear the nest before night falls.

What was meant to be a three-day stay devolves into sixty-five days of bloodshed and darkness as resources dwindle and bodies start dropping. Overwhelmed by the calculated organization of the creatures and the size of their nest, it quickly becomes clear that there’s more to the ‘vampires’ than initially seemed.

They’re cunning, they’re ancient, and they’re powerful—and they’ll stop at nothing to be satisfied. But between the starving people and starving creatures, Dean manages to find solace in Castiel—who just might be holding a secret himself. A secret that is key to destroying the creatures and their master, once and for all. Link to Fic | Link to Art Romancing the Exit Sign | E | 125,370

A teenage boy is left to die in a shallow grave and something slithers into his bones. Devotees of an ancient god work to bring Her into the world, as with equivalent fanaticism, a man on a mission picks them off one by one. A lonesome drifter crosses paths with a mysterious stranger and finds himself inexorably drawn into the middle of it all.

Dean Winchester is adrift. All he has is his car, the next hunt, and a conversation he doesn’t want to have waiting for him in California. Then a case involving mangled bodies washing up on shore in an idyllic lakeside community puts him on the trail of a man calling himself Castiel, and the dangerous web he’s entangled in. Dean is used to living in a world of monsters, but the End of Days is a little out of his wheelhouse. Especially when his only ally is determined to keep his secrets behind his teeth, even as they draw closer together. Still, he intends to see things through, no matter how dark the path ahead gets.

It’s either that, or call his brother. Link to Fic | Link to Art Survivalism | E | 14,067

Genetic engineers Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are on the verge of a breakthrough in cancer treatment and possibly even a cure, using genetic manipulation and incredibly, shark DNA.

Following a devastating diagnosis of brain cancer, and amid growing pressure from his boss, Dick Roman, for results, Castiel is pushed to an act of desperation. He tests the cure on himself with disastrous and violent results.

He has never been so hungry. Link to Fic | Link to Art

These Hallways Echo | M | 10,290 Loneliness. Previously, Dean Winchester had thought he knew the definition of the word, the way it felt to be isolated. That was wishful thinking. It’s here and now, in these never-ending corridors of winding walls and this damn carpet with the nauseating pattern, where Dean discovers the true meaning of being alone. Solitary. Detached. The man hears ghosts, echoes of conversations long since over, but there’s nobody for him to speak to. Dean sees the phantoms of late vacationers stepping through doorways or occupying beds but he can never get anybody’s attention. No one stops to hear him. Not a single soul has looked him in the eye or acknowledged that he, too, is trapped here. Caught in this unending hallway where time means nothing and waiting for tomorrow is fruitless. Link to Fic | Link to Art Ground Control to Major Tom | E | 21,506 Dean Winchester dreamed of being a mechanic all his life, but he never thought he would end up working as a mechanic for NASA and going into space. He is thrust into his first ever space mission after a strange lunar body, dubbed Luna-b I, mysteriously appears in Earth’s sky. Teams of astronauts scramble up to the permanent lunar base and begin analysis to determine if the blue orb is any threat to mankind. Most of the first team is sent home after a few months, nearly all of them having fallen ill with devastating cases of space sickness. As time goes on, it becomes clear that something altogether unnatural is going on here. Dean feels like he’s losing his mind as he and his crewmates also begin to succumb to sickness. He races to figure out what could possibly be the root cause. Is Luna-b I really just some weird, deep space rock that got caught in the Moon’s orbit by chance? Or is it something much more sinister, watching and waiting for the opportune moment? Link to Fic | Link to Art The Forgotten Halls | T | 9,337 A long time from now — maybe decades, maybe centuries — there are only the Halls, and the Entity, and the Angel. They exist in harmony, mostly. When an outsider changes their routine, a routine so long-standing that the Angel remembers nothing that had come before it, the disturbance will threaten the fabric of their entire universe. Link to Fic | Link to Art It's Got A Death Curse | E | 19,101 Dean and his friends have been coming to Camp Garrison for years, first as campers, then as counselors. Their last summer together kicks off with a bang when a figure from their dark past reappears and buried secrets from a near-forgotten tragedy threaten to resurface. It only gets worse when a storm rolls in, and the night becomes a gory fight for survival. The camp may not have electricity, but it's got a death curse. Link to Fic | Link to Art ghost, zero, suitcase & the moon | M | 19,433

Dean has always known it was ending. The world, that is. He knew it when he was three, awake and screaming in the middle of the night with the image of fire leaving an afterburn behind his eyelids. He knew it while he learned to ride a bike, while he went to his first school dance, had his first kiss, tipped back his first beer with his dad. He knew it when dad left, too. When Sammy died. When it all began to crumble.

He has always known it was ending. Now he's alone in a cabin somewhere so far north and so far west that he thinks half the continent never knew it existed in the first place, and he's got the same damn nightmares, the same burn behind his eyes, and the sense that ending is a verb that goes on and on into eternity and outside of time. Link to Fic | Link to Art Rosewood | T | 5,099

Dean believes a lot of things.

He believes the manner of his death was decided by his father the very night that yellow-eyed demon ripped his mom away from him.

He believes he’ll die, broken and bloody and alone on a hunt, and anything Cas does only delays the inevitable.

He believes he doesn’t deserve to be saved.

Dean knows Cas will do it anyway.

Months after Mrs. Butters leaves the bunker, intent on finding a home of her own, a peaceful section of pines set deep into the American heartland becomes anything but. Haunted by Purgatory at every turn, and forced to confront the consequences of decades of torture and abandonment at the hands of his predecessors, Dean and Cas set off to solve a string of disappearances in the forest where they stumble across a familiar face -- and an all-too-familiar feeling. Link to Fic | Link to Art MAW | M | 8,575

The world is full of sorrow, of sadness, of pain. The people within it deserve better than what Castiel's father gave them. They deserve peace and contentment, security and love. They deserve a New World.

And there is no safer place than inside Castiel. Link to Fic | Link to Art hold my hand until it bleeds | E | TBD The five years that Alistair did nothing but beat him. The feeling of no longer having skin. The feeling of no longer having flesh. The feeling of being nothing but bone and blood. Link to Fic | Link to Art The Possession of Jimmy Novak | E | 16,952

Dean Winchester was surprised to learn that when his father died, he left behind a beautiful house in the suburbs of Illinois, complete with neighbors who welcomed the newly arrived Dean with casseroles and invitations to join them at church.

It all seemed so very normal.

But there was something about Jimmy Novak that Dean couldn’t put his finger on, something not normal, and when Dean became an unwitting accomplice to Jimmy’s crime he discovered the horrifying truth:

That wasn't Jimmy Novak. Link to Fic | Link to Art It Will Come Back | E | 13,164

Senior Special Agent Castiel Novak and Special Agent Dean Winchester are partners within the FBI's Criminal Investigation Division. For the past several months, they've been investigating a string of murders, all resulting in cold-cases from what they believe to be the same killer. Despite being one of the best minds in his division, Castiel can't find a link between cases, and it's driving him to his wits' end.

As the cases begin to pile up, Castiel's confidence plummets, the chances of catching the killer are growing smaller, and other members of the division are beginning to contribute to Castiel's decreasing faith in his detective skills. As time goes on, Dean is there to help Castiel, but a final case relating to a horror film might be the start of Castiel's unraveling. Link to Fic | Link to Art Someone to Punish Me | E | TBD

Dean's chasing another lead for his old man, this time ending up in Maine, searching for the town of Silent Hill. Residents of nearby Cushing tell him to stop looking, but he can't help it. He's got a job to do, after all. After a resident finally points him in the right direction, Dean finds his way up the mountain to Silent Hill. But there's so much more to the town than John let on. And so much more that Dean needs to learn about himself. Link to Fic (TBD) | Link to Art 1 | Link to Art 2 Night Shift | E | 67, 758

As far as job opportunities go, replacing the previous night guard of fifty years at the Nebraska Museum of Natural History wasn't Dean's first choice, but a job was a job. Especially considering he got fired from his last job and was in need of the money. However, said job proves to be more difficult than described.

Faced with strange events revolving around one of the exhibits he was tasked with guarding, an angel statue that was more than what it seemed to be, he must unravel the mysteries that arise as a result. Why did the angel statue come to life each night? Why did an unknown number keep messaging him the same sequence of numbers? It was a race against the clock and Dean's dwindling sanity to find answers to these mysteries. Link to Fic | Link to Art A Word in the Mists | M | 23,968

Mist as far as the eye can see. A gloomy ocean that seems to swallow up the sunlight like broken dreams. An old, rusty ship that creaks with every inch of movement. And a crew that could compete in an award for grumpiest people alive.

Dean really hates pretty much everything about this case, and would love nothing more than to call it quits and turn this ship around... if there wasn't the little issue of the disappearance of thousands of people across ten different ships on the open sea.

Saving lives is what he does. But he has to question if he isn't doing more harm than good when the disappearances begin on his own ship—and he still hasn't even figured out what kind of monster they're dealing with. Link to Fic | Link to Art Terror As Sharp As Pain | M | 10,815 After Jack brings Cas back from the Empty, everything almost returns to normal. Cas moves into The Bunker, they go back to hunting, and they do not talk about his confession. With the number of hunts dwindling, Team Free Will takes up a case in Derry, Maine, a town terrorized every 27 years by disappearances and violent deaths. Even though the cycle isn't due to repeat for another 19 years, they will have to face fear itself to free the town. Link to Fic | Link to Art no spill blood. | M | 7,217

A witch hunt becomes far more than that when Dean rescues an unassuming, innocent, harmless stranger. But Castiel is more than he seems, and as the lines of their unlikely connection blur, so does the truth. Revenge, plain and simple. Surviving to see it through, not so simple. Link to Fic | Link to Art You can find the complete collection over on Ao3! Happy Haunting, folks! See you next Halloween 👻🎃🤡

[anassemblageofpassions]

Sam and jack is just. God.

Sam is literally made FOR lucifer. He is not meant to be his own person. He is meant to be a vessel for the devil. He was groomed and violated and manipulated for it his entire life. And yet. His love is so strong that he overtakes him, throws his body containing both his own soul and the devil himself into the deepest, darkest place in hell, intending to stay there for all eternity.

Lucifer is his ultimate abuser. He tortured him unimaginably in ways the human mind cannot comprehend for centuries. He is responsible for practically every single bad thing to happen to sam for his entire life, and he emerges from the cage shell shocked and traumatized and with a brain that literally wants him to die to end his suffering. His soul is literally flayed to the raw nerve.

He still says no whenever he comes across Lucifer again. And yet still works with him when it’s believed to be needed to take on a common foe. And lucifer actively decides to create jack.

Jack is literally made BY lucifer. He is meant to be an extension of his father. Because whenever other people did the work to create someone for lucifer, they ended up with sam, who failed him and who he still can’t have. So he’ll take matters into his own hands this time.

And yet. His mother is kind, and she chooses castiel for his father. And in castiel’s absence, there is sam. Sam, who treats jack with the kindness and understanding and grace and compassion that he never got in his situation. He loves jack wholeheartedly, after everything that his father has done to him, because he sees another child whose life was created for lucifer. He is terrified of him and he loves him anyways. The child of his ultimate abuser.

And when Lucifer shows up again and attempts to groom and manipulate jack, jack ultimately chooses sam. He chooses how sam and cas and kelly raised him. This was Sam’s ultimate way of fighting back against the devil, yet again, still, after all those years. Sam’s love saves the world, save his brother, and saves an innocent child whose only crime was being created for the devil.

Sam wins. His love and his compassion, in spite of everything, always wins. So he wins.

[ririblogsss]

Ive been in a mood to write angst but I keep writing happy endings

So I read this fic ill link it when I remember the name, its basically a Suaci_al teen goes on a roadtrip before you know. But Damian escaped his mother and wanted to go meet his father, so he entered this teens van and accompanied her, and basically had a whole jurney together with each other so they could take Damian to gotham.

Anyways I got inspired by it, and thought what if the bat burger explosion still happened, but Danny decided he was more scared of becoming Dan. So he grabbed Sam's car and left Amity. During his drive he decided to honor Dani (who also passed) by going to each state before he went to the realms and locked himself in one of the darkest corners so he would never hurt anyone.

But when he was going through Philadelphia specifically he stumbles upon 2 teenagers fighting to the death arguing in front of a basically destroyed street. Danny mentally tells himself "not my crircus not my monkeys" over and over. But then he hears they are both child heroes, and he basically says 'FUCK IT WE BALL'.

Danny goes up to them and ask them if they need help with helping people out of the debris and the kids glare but relent. Cause they do need help in rescuing anyone that's in the debris.

As they finish rescuing everyone and taking them to the hospital if they need it or giving them to paramedics. They introduce each other. The younger being Billy batson (Aka Shazam) and Damian Wayne (AKA Robin) .The kids try to deny they are child heroes, but Danny just tells them he is also a hero and transforms, so they can trust him.

Apparently both Billy and Damian were sent to a nearby school to make sure nothing illegal was happening, but things got out of hand, as they always do. They bond over burgers (a veggie for Damian) and smoothies. The three fight about were the best burgers come from, Danny saying that the Best were from nasty (he gets a hazy look in his eyes when he mentions the joint). Damian argues that the bat burger are the most acceptable (high praise apparently). Billy argued for Big Belly.

In the end they parted ways, but Danny didn't know that both Billy and Damian snuck into his car. Look they didn't want to face the consequences of going against orders just yet. They had failed to tell Danny they hadn't actually been officially sent for the recon they sent themselfs.... oops

Look normally Danny would have been able to sense them or even notice the weird way his things were shifting every few minutes. But Danny wasn't in his right mind. He wasn't copping with his loss and grief as he should (not that there is a right way to grief) but Danny wasn't himself, so it wasn't until he got to savannah as a pit stop that he noticed the 2 extra passangers.

the interaction went something like this:

Billy: Can we stop now. I need to pee!

Danny: HOLy SHHH MaCaRONi!! (swearing the car almost causing a car accident)

Damian: Your spacial awareness skills need refining. But given your current position is understandable.

Danny: MY current position/?

Billy: Hahahaha about that you mutter and speak to yourself out loud a lot.

Damian: yes and clearly you are under no position to be making decision. So we are taking responsibility about your well being.

Billy: ahahahaha yeah no other reason, its not like our adopted father who is also our vigilante boss is currently hunting us down for disobeying not at all hahahahaha.

Danny: What the FU-dge stick

thus commences the road-trip of hell. Somehow Billy and Damian were able to convince Danny of bringing them along and trying to avoid the Big Bat.

[ampzura]

i’ll be there // Ch. 1

sam carpenter x fem!reader - masterlist

Samantha Carpenter struggles with her new life in NYC, not having much of a purpose other than to be the protector of her friends and family, and to attend therapy for feeling like an absolute psychopath and having the whole word view her as such. With all of her vices, will Sam be able to open her heart and let someone in?

wordcount: 2300

!! not proof-read, will edit. english isnt my first language haha

Sam had hoped moving to New York in an attempt to escape the trauma Woodsburo had brought, and so Tara and her friends could pursue their education would have lessened the constant paranoia and hateful looks she received, but if anything it only worsened.

News of the Woodsburo murders, and of Samantha Carpenter’s relations to the infamous Billy Loomis had spread all throughout the country, including stories of how the proclaimed “final girl” was the reason for the murders in the first place, and how she must carry the evil spirit of her father. Despite the constant speculation and sick rumors, Sam didn’t let any of it affect her.. atleast not publicly.

Afterall, the older Carpenter was preoccupied with keeping her younger sister, Tara safe, Something Tara personally hated. She understood Sams intentions, especially given the horrors they went through together back home, but all she wanted was freedom from all of this mess, and stubborn as ever, Tara would pull away from her sisters grasps whenever she could.

This once again led to Sam standing against the wall of some fraternity party swigging a bottle. Her eyes scanning the crowds of drunk college kids making sure Tara, aswell as her friends, Mindy, Chad, and Anika, weren’t making any stupid decisions. She’s incredibly focused, and any normal person would see her scowl and defensive stance and make the smart decision to back away. It’s what Sam expects, not opposed in the slightest as shes never been much of a social person. Thus, when she catches glimpse of a figure slip around her out of the corner of her eye, she startles, nearly dropping her drink.

Sam stands tall at around 5’9, so she barely notices when a shorter figure appears right beside her, looking up at her with a piercing gaze.

She looks down at the petite woman next to her. Normally, she wouldnt pay this person any mind, especially one this short and unthreatening looking, But she still stares, wondering how she even got there. she crosses her arms over her chest and takes a drink from her own bottle

“Watch where youre going”

Sam mutters, looking back up

The woman’s eyes narrow, but she masks a sly playful expression, contrasting sams gruff scowl.

“Why assume i didnt mean to come over here?”

Sam assumes this is just another person who had seen her on the news, eyeing her up and down, trying not to roll her eyes. This girl couldnt be the killer, but considering her size she seems too small to do any real damage. Sam grumbles.

“Why are you lookin at me?”

The other girl shrugs, leaning against the wall next to Sam and sipping on her own drink.

“Didn’t know it was illegal to stare at people scowling in a corner at a frat party”

Sam rolls her eyes

“Its not, i just don’t understand what you want from me”

The other girl shrugs again, speaking in a nonchalant tone

“To get to know you, you seem interesting”

Frowning little and tilting her head, Sams curiosity is getting the better of her, but not to the point shes gonna go and trust this girl and spill her darkest secrets. Shes always on edge, so even a slight tone change makes her suspicious. so she tries to keep her rough tone, but its not working.

“What about me?”

“i dont know.. why dont you tell me?”

The woman whispers, leaning against the wall next to sam, who is desperately trying to keep watching her friends and tara, but failing and getting distracted.

Sam eyes the short girl and swishes the alcohol in her bottle, suspicion spiking now and though she is trying not to, she is failing at trying to continue her grumpy attitude. Shes got her hand wrapped around the pepper spray on her keychain, just incase this girl tries anything, but she just stares, wondering why she even cares.

“I dont know? im.. just me”

The woman smiles shyly, shrugging

“thats oka-“

Before she finishes her sentence, some drunk guys rush past, pushing sam and her possible new friend aside roughly, Sam nearly drops her drink, and y/n is pushed right against sam. The taller woman groans in annoyance at the sudden impact, when she gets herself back together, she realizes the other stands fitting right under sams arm against her, seeming startled.

Sam hisses and looks down, noticing the woman stands right underneath her arm. if anything, shes startled as well. She cant help it though and her arms and hands instinctively wrap around y/n’s waist as she keeps her in place as well as protecting her from the crowd. Shes never protected someone before, other than her younger sister, but it was her instinct to grab this stranger by her waist. Sam doesnt know how she let this happen, but now this girl is pressed right up against her, and shes surprised that she didnt push her away yet. Normally she wouldnt be okay with someone touching her and would distance herself, but even though she seems annoyed and disgruntled, she doesnt move away. Instead Sam just keeps her arm around this girl, the pepper spray key chain hanging down as her hand rests on the shorter womans back. Shes a lot closer to her than she had anticipated.

The girls eyes widen slightly and she lets out a soft “oh-“ when sam grabs her to keep her standing. y/n sees the pepperspray out of the corner of her eye but seems not to react, instead getting distracted by sams toned biceps and overall upper body, a faint blush creeping onto her face. Sam is immediately confused with herself and gets the instinct to back away. sam didnt come here to make friends, shes here to watch and protect Tara and her existing friends.

She seems to snap out of her instincts and realized she held the girl a bit longer than she should have. She tries not to stare too hard at the smaller woman, though her curiosity and intrigue continues to grow. she doesnt push the girl away and looks away as she puts one hand on her drink and looks off to the side, clearing her throat

“you alright?”

Sam asks with a gentle voice she didnt expect to come out of her. shes usually loud, and rude, shes surprised by the softness to her tone.

“y-yeah..”

y/n mumbles, still blushing as she watches sams hand slowly leave her waist.

“thank you..”

Sam raises an eyebrow at y/n. She didnt know if she was actually okay, but shes not gonna ask again, Keeping one hand on her drink as she crosses her arms over her chest again. Shes still watching y/n, though in the corner of her eye, as shes back to keeping a close watch on her Tara, among other friends she’s looking out for.

“hm. youre welcome.”

“whats your name?”

y/n blurts out suddenly, unsure of a better time to ask

Sam looks back at the girl and narrows her eyes into slight suspicion again. She never really liked giving out her info, especially during this era. But.. for some reason she caves, shrugging and then leaning back against the wall.

“Sam. Your name?”

“y/n”

She responds, leaning against the wall next to sam, having to look up to talk to her

“Hi Sam..”

Sam just lets out a short hum as a response. Its unusual for sam to feel this way around someone, not so on edge as she usually is.

She just keeps a close eye on everything around her, mainly Tara and co, but y/n was slightly distracting.

y/n tilts her head, the playful glint returning to her hazel eyes

“What, am I not interesting enough for you to look at?”

Sam looks at y/n, raiseing an eyebrow with a flat look.

“I was watching everything, and youre included. So yes. youre interesting enough”

She just takes a sip from her drink, trying to keep her tone even.

“You seem distracted”

Sam mumbles something in response but y/n doesnt catch it, squinting at the tall girl instead.

“Okay.. so what are you doing here if you dont like parties? No ones forcing you to be here you know.. you dont seem like a party person.”

“..yeah. I have to watch my friends and sister.”

she takes another sip of her drink, not taking her eyes off the crowd as she does so.

y/n tilts her head

“You have to babysit your adult friends and sister?”

Sam just scoffs and rolls her eyes, her tone going back to being harsh. She never liked the “babysitter” word that some people like to use when talking about her. She crosses her arms over her chest again.

“If youre calling this babysitting, then yes i have to babysit my “adult friends” and sister.”

“Why?”

Sam scoffs again, her tone becoming harsher when y/n doesn’t even know the answer and has probably never been in her situation.

“Because they need me. Because someone in this world is always out to kill them.”

Sam eyes the shorter woman again, then glances back to the crowd. She doesn’t even know why she’s explaining this to a stranger.

“Oh.”

It clicks in y/n’s head that the taller woman is refferring to the recent ghostface killings. She had heard of them all over, and how they were starting to pop up around NYC.

Sam is surprised when it clicks for her. Usually people ask, “what do you mean someone’s out to kill them?” or “why do they need you?” or “you can’t be serious” but y/n didnt. She just put the pieces together. and sam didn’t know what to say further. She takes another sip from her drink as she glances around the party, now a bit more anxious

y/n looks somber when the killings are mentioned, an expression Sam barely notices

“What about your own enjoyment?”

The paranoid woman’s stomach drops at the mention of her own enjoyment. She actually hasn’t had any.. in a while. For a long time. Shes always on duty. Always keeping an eye on things and everyone else. she didn’t even think she deserved any own enjoyment. Sam was doing this for everyone else, not herself. She shakes her head and takes another sip from her drink, her tone a bit harsh

“im more concerned about their lives than my enioyment”

“mm..”

y/n’s change of voice is hard to hide as she says something that catches sam off guard entirely.

“You’re a really good person.. the kind people should appreciate more”

Samantha is taken back when she hears the compliment, and she stays silent for a moment. She didnt think she was a good person. She didnt think she was anything. Sam just shook her head, not knowing what to say. She was Billy Loomis’ daughter..

“no im not-“

She quickly argues. it wasnt true. she just did what she had to do, she had to protect. there was nothing else to it. Sam took another sip from her drink, hoping y/n would just move on, because she didnt want to talk about it

“hush”

The other woman cuts her off, glancing up at her and takes a sip of her own drink. Sam can see that her eyes seem to be slightly moist*

“youre perfect”

y/n whispers, barely able to be heard under the loud party music.

Sams eyes widen again. Her heart rate speeds up just from y/n calling her perfect. this isnt right. Sam wasnt perfect. she killed someone. Sam feels all her walls just break down at this point, which is incredibly out of character for her.

“im- im not perfect-“

Sam whispers, almost like a whimper. her harshness fades away and her gentle look comes in place as she stares down at y/n.

Sam blinks in complete shock. Was this girl about to cry? and why was she telling Sam she was perfect? therapy tall woman doesnt know what to do with this comment, and her cheeks had heated up a bit. Sam was about to speak when she notices those little tears in y/n’s eyes and stops herself. She cant say what she was about to say. she just watches her.

y/n smiles faintly, clearing her thoat

“i-i should go.. and leave you to your babysitting.”

Sam watches her, eyes soft as she sees her smile. She was hoping she didnt hear that right, but she couldnt get herself to stop her. Sam was about to speak again, but the harshness in her voice was completely gone. there was no more scowl, and she was just being soft like y/n was. As the short woman begins to walk away though, Sam stops her and grabs her hand. Startled, her head darts around and she looks up at Sam, a tear already threatening to fall.

..!

Sam freezes for a second, then realizes that she just grabbed y/n’s hand and is still holding onto her hand. In this moment, her mind is racing. She wants to say something but cant. She wants to ask something but feels this is just wrong. Sam watches as the tear runs down her cheek. She sees it and freezes. She cant help but feel guilty for making this girl almost cry. Normally, Sam would have let her go, and let the girl cry without even a care, but.. this was different. There was an urge to comfort her. So sam just takes a little step closer and gently grabs the girls chin, tilting her head up to look at her, all care about Tara and ghostface vanished.

“dont..”

[basilf1res]

Memento Mori - DPxDC

What was beyond death. Was there anything at all? Was there nothing?

That was what he always wondered.

When Clark was a child, he looked up to his fictional hero: Danny Phantom. A half-dead guy in a comic book series that led to the most bisexual awakenings in the century.

Clark liked to go back and reread the comic books from Issue #1 (they were fairly short, but all parts of an “episode”, almost like those ads on shows, but the wait time was every two weeks). He tended to read them all in one sitting, and yet oddly enough, never disturbed as he murmured the made-up summoning spell under his breath.

He could’ve sworn he had been going through them for over an hour and not twenty minutes.

It was Phantom who inspired him to continue being Superman in his darkest moments. He also considered himself physical proof that Danny’s palette swap was enough to hide his identity.

The glasses ARE enough.

When Clark found out he had a clone, he was ecstatic to be able to teach Conner anything everything, to answer any questions his little brother had.

Danielle “Dani” Phantom and her awaited return in “Issue #46 D-stabilized” caused him to become a mama bear to Conner out of the fear he would melt within a few weeks. But it wasn’t like anyone at the Watchtower had to know that small detail.

Getting married to Lois was the best day of his life, the day of Jon’s birth also fighting for that first place spot in his mind.

He had a clone brother, a wonderful wife, a beautiful son, and an amazing group of friends that work together to protect the planet he calls home.

But everything started to fall apart when a protest against metas took it too far, Jon’s powers started to develop and he was seen accidentally tripping, falling, and catching himself by hovering a few inches above the pavement.

Jon said he considered himself lucky nothing scarred. He laughed everything off when it came to the topic.

But it shook Clark, Lois, and Conner to the core.

Memento mori.

It reminded Superman that despite his impenetrable skin, Death can come at any moment. Even for him.

—————————

When Danny was a little boy, he dreamt of reaching the stars, he wanted to be able to touch the moon, explore Mars, and roam the galaxy he resides in and beyond.

He read these comic books of a league of heroes, a team with space cops, super powered humans, a man dressed in a bat suit that was more effective at capturing rogues and villains than some of the powered members, aliens, and so much more.

He flipped through the weekly published comics, learning to read better than most at a young age. He had two favorites, Superman and Martian Manhunter.

Danny wanted to explore the stars like his heroes. He wanted to be able to fight as well as the big Bat. He wanted superpowers. He wanted to help people. He wanted to fight his own set of supervillains. He wanted to be able to succeed and be loved.

Oh how he got everything he wanted but the last.

Tucker and Sam were the only reason he hadn’t broken yet, the reason he was still standing.

The anti-ecto acts, the GIW, Vlad, Pariah Dark, and his- Jack and Maddie’s sadistic comments about ghosts were the last straw.

The hero always wins… they don’t die to the evil they want to stop… right..?

Right..?

…

The sound of a scraping scalpel, the buzz of the lights, and the squeals of pleasure - as his ghostly heart was found again and again and prodded again and again - filled his ears for an unknown length of time.

His cries for help were never answered until a summoning pulled at his core, it was a personal calling, someone had managed to find his calling card.

The tears of relief stung his eyes as the dissection table with his body strapped down to it was sucked into a summons portal.

He was spat out in front of kids, most likely teenagers, due to the shrieks of horror and surprise.

Oh… oh how he prayed to the Ancients that he’d live to see another day as a tears slipped out of his eyes.

Memento mori.

——————————

Jon found out about his comic book collection and wanted to show Damian.

Clark hummed as he typed up an official report on a rogue attack to send to the Watchtower.

His blood ran cold when he heard his son scream from over in Gotham.

[jackles010378]

F**kin Perfect

Deans had enough of y/n putting herself down all the time, so he finds a very public way of telling her just how f**kin perfect she is in his eyes 💚

Dean Winchester x y/n

Y/n had always been aware that she looked different from other girls. Her curves, which she had inherited from her mother, were more pronounced. While some may consider this a blessing, she couldn't help but feel insecure about her body. Society's standards of beauty had been etched into her mind, leaving her constantly comparing herself to others.

Dean Winchester, her best friend, had always supported her. He loved her just the way she was and often tried to boost her self-confidence. But Y/n's constant self-deprecating comments about her body were beginning to wear on him.

One evening after hearing Y/n make yet another jab at herself whilst she was trying on outfit after outfit to wear to Sam and Eileen's engagement party, Dean couldn't take it anymore.

As they made it to the bar for the party he could see y/n fidgeting in the dress she had picked out. He could see her pulling it down to try and hide her thighs, he could see her trying to pull the sleeves further down her arms. He could see her trying to hide herself in the corner from everyone in the darkest part of the room. Dean sighed and decided he was going to do something, he was going to confront her. It leading to a heated argument about her appearance.

"Y/n, why do you insist on putting yourself down all the time?" Dean's frustration was evident in his voice. "You're beautiful, and it kills me to see you tear yourself apart like this."

Y/n looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes. "But Dean, I don't look like other girls. I don't fit into society's idea of what's attractive. I feel like I'll never be enough."

Dean's heart ached as he listened to her. He took a step closer, his voice softer, "Y/n, beauty has so many different forms. It's not about fitting into some mold. It's about being comfortable in your own skin. And trust me, you are more than enough."

Y/n's tears fell, her voice choked with emotion, "I wish I could see myself the way you see me, Dean." Dean sighed and looked around the room till his eyes landed on the stage in the centre of the bar. A small smirk played across his lips as he walked towards the dj and whispered something in his ear.

Dean tapped the mic a few times to grab everyone's attention, mainly y/n as he spoke. "OK guys, I just wanna say how happy I am you all could make it to celebrate the engagement of Eileen and Sammy, Eileen your gonna need alot of shampoo and conditioner because Sammy here uses a helluva lot" that earned a few laughs and a roll of eye from Sam.

When everyone thought Dean was finished he continued "now I don't do this very often, mainly only when I'm in my baby cruising down the highway or maybe when I'm in the shower. But I wanna sing a song for you all, mainly for one person in particular. I wanna let her now that she is amazing, beautiful and just perfect, just the way she is..........."

With that Dean nodded to the dj and the song started to play...

Made a wrong turn, once or twice

Dug my way out, blood and fire

Bad decisions, that's alright

Welcome to my silly life

Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood

Miss knowing it's all good, it didn't slow me down

Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated

Look, I'm still around

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel

Like you're less than fuckin' perfect

Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing

You're fuckin' perfect to me

You're so mean,

When you talk,

About yourself, you were wrong

Change the voices,

In your head,

Make them like you instead

So complicated, look happy, you'll make it

Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game

It's enough, I've done all I can think of

Chased down all my demons, I've seen you do the same, oh

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel

Like you're less than fuckin' perfect

Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing

You're fuckin' perfect to me

The whole world's scared, so I swallow the fear

The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer

So cool in line, and we try, try, try

But we try too hard and it's a waste of my time

Done looking for the critics 'cause they're everywhere

They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair

Exchange ourselves and we do it all the time

Why do we do that, why do I do that?

Why do I do that?

Yeah, oh, oh pretty, pretty please

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel

Like you're less than fuckin' perfect

Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing

You're fuckin' perfect to me, yeah

You're perfect, you're perfect

Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing

You're fuckin' perfect to me

Dean jumped off the stage after he finished singing and made a bee line for y/n who was still in tears and still hiding in the dark corner.

Dean gently cupped her face, his thumb wiping away her tears. He leaned in, his lips gently brushing against hers.

Y/n's breath caught as Dean's kiss enveloped her, melting away her insecurities. In that moment, their argument dissolved, and an intense passion ignited between them. The power of their connection was more than either of them could resist.

As they kissed, the weight of their emotions cascaded into a torrent of desire. Every touch was a declaration, every caress a promise. In that intimate moment, Y/n felt a surge of self-acceptance and love.

Their lips only broke apart when the need for air became undeniable, but their souls remained intertwined. They gazed at each other blocking out everyone and everything, realizing that this passionate exchange had opened a new chapter in their relationship.

Dean gently brushed a strand of hair behind Y/n's ear, his voice filled with sincerity, "You're fuckin perfect just the way you are, Y/n. Never forget that. And if you need a reminder, know that I'll always be there to show you."

Y/n smiled, the weight of her insecurities lifting a little bit "Thank you, Dean. I can't believe you got up there, just to sing that to me" her head dipped the next words struggling to find their way out "I love you."

Dean smiled back, his eyes twinkling. "I love you too, Y/n. And together, we'll face any challenge, including those aimed at your beautiful curves."

From that day forward, Y/n embarked on a journey of self-love and acceptance, supported by the unwavering love of Dean Winchester. Their passionate makeout session had become the turning point that transformed not only Y/n's perception of herself but also their friendship into something deeper and more profound.

Been a minute since I wrote something, I heard this song and thought of Dean 😂 hope you guys enjoyed it 🥰

I could totally see Dean rocking out to p!nk on the sly 😂🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻

TAGLIST: @happyfurylight @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @angelbabyyy99 @cheynovak @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33

[mikkeneko]

Samwise Gamgee and the song at the end of the world

I first read LOTR at a young age, continued to read it when I became an adult, but it's really only with some critical context that I can go back and finally see some parts of the story for the first time. When I was younger, while I loved the books, there were parts I always found baffling. The Tom Bombadil interlude is one. The conversation between Galadriel and Frodo at the Mirror is another. That conversation at time seems kind of baffling, and in the moment leads nowhere -- until Frodo enters Mordor, and starts testing the limits of his mastery of the Ring, which culminates in his confrontation with Gollum. The conversation with Galadriel in Book 1 was a direct set-up for that moment in book 3. And the interlude with Tom Bombadil in Book 1 is a direct set-up for this moment, in book 3, in Cirith Ungol.

You see, Tom Bombadil -- as @astronicht pointed out in their wonderful LOTR liveblog -- is very clearly a scop, a bard from the old anglic tradition that Tolkien was writing from. He uses galdor, spells made of song, to work his will on the world. Tolkien is spelling it out very clearly for us here: yes, this world runs on the same rules as the old traditions. Yes, in this world, spells can be made of song. And two books later in the tower of Cirith Ungol, in his moment of darkest despair, Sam... sings.

"....weary and feeling finally defeated, he sat on a step below the level of the passage-floor and bowed his head into his hands. It was quiet, horribly quiet. The torch, that was already burning low when he arrived, sputtered and went out; and he felt the darkness cover him like a tide. And then softly, to his own surprise, there at the vain end of his long journey and his grief, moved by what thought in his heart he could not tell, Sam began to sing.

In some ways this feels like the turning point of the whole Quest, of the whole book, as much as the moment in the heart of Mount Doom or the Battle of Pelennor fields; this feels like the culmination of Sam's character arc, as much as the choice to go on after Frodo's death or the moment he shakes off the Ring's thrall.

Frodo is a scholar; he's well-read and speaks several languages, he knows more of Middle-Earth than almost any hobbit alive save perhaps Bilbo. (And arguably a kind of seer, though I won't go into that now.) But it's Sam who is heir to Bilbo's love of poetry. It's been Sam, throughout the whole journey, who is the most interested in poetry and song. He wrote the song about the Trolls; he is thrilled by the dwarven song of Khazad-dum; he wrote a new verse on the spot for Gandalf's eulogy; he recites the Oliphaunt. Sam has been enamored of poetry and song as much as he has been enamored of Elves, of the old legends and songs of heroism. Sam, like Tom Bombadil, is a scop, one who can weave spells through song. And now, in the darkest night in the heart of the Enemy's lair, Sam weaves a song.

His voice sounded thin and quavering in the cold dark tower: the voice of a forlorn and weary hobbit that no listening orc could possibly mistake for the clear song of an Elven-lord. He murmured old childish tunes out of the Shire, and snatches of Mr. Bilbo's rhymes that came into his mind like fleeting glimpses of the country of his home. And then suddenly new strength rose in him, and his voice rang out, while words of his own came unbidden to fit the simple tune:

In this moment Sam reaches out for help, and something reaches back. Someone answers. Another voice joins his, and lifts his quavering song to something high and clear and strong, and Sam finds the strength to rise from his despair. And most of all, the song allows Sam to find Frodo in the dark.

 Though here at journey's end I lie in darkness buried deep, beyond all towers strong and high, beyond all mountains steep, above all shadows rides the Sun and Stars for ever dwell: I will not say the Day is done, nor bid the Stars farewell.

Who answered? Or perhaps the question should be, Who answered? I'm personally inclined to think that it is themselves the great elven heroes of old, the ones who have been through this darkness before and come out the other side through their own song, whom Sam always idolized and did not dare to dream that one day he might be counted among them, who reach back to Sam in that moment. It's already foreshadowed in his ascent through the Tower, where his form is overlaid by that of a greater power, one that makes the Orcs he encounters believe him to be an elf-lord. His tale is their tale, and their power, in this moment, becomes his power.

But one can't forget that this very world was created by a song, by the Lord of song, who exists in a place beyond all towers strong and high, a remote and clear power untainted by darkness. Did Tolkien's letters say that there was only one time, during Lord of the Rings, that this distant power interfered directly in the events of the War of the Rings? This has sometimes been proposed to be interference in Frodo and Gollum's struggle in Mount Doom, which led to Gollum's fall, but I never believed that; the geas accounts for that sequence well enough by itself. Maybe it wasn't in a battle at all. Maybe it was here, in darkness and despair, lending a little bit of his Song to his smallest singer.