#sam with dogs is always a win

[all-4-wincest]

Ahh… @samwinchestersgirl83 GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!! 🧠🧠

One of my current WIP’s is about the very type of conversation!! Want to know the title?

Do worry either way, I want to tell you. 🧠😂🔥

BROTHERS

DON’T DO THAT…(insert name here, or don’t insert name here? I know, let’s take a poll to find out if the Winchester Brothers, DO INSERT or DO THEY NOT INSERT?

So you’re telling me…..

*checks notes*

that this is normal sibling behavior?

LOOK AT THEM

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Game Night

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Steve’s mandatory game night takes a turn when you and Bucky are paired up.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, banter, friendly competition, implied threats, destroying property (Bucky and Sam), romantic tension everyone can feel, and some overprotective Bucky because that man does not play about his sunshine.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay; I was helping my friend with a research project. Ugh, it feels choppy, but I hope this is to your liking, babes ;)

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

The living room buzzed with energy as the Avengers tried to recover from the chaos of their most recent mission; the munching of chips and clinking of drinks in glasses filled the space.

Peter and you were talking animatedly about the mission, with Peter recounting how he flipped mid-air, webbing a bad guy to a nearby wall.

“I mean, I swear, the guy didn’t see it coming. I was way higher up than I thought, and then BAM!” Peter dramatically mimicked the motion with his arms, sending you into fits of laughter.

“It’s honestly kind of unfair that you can just flip your way out of everything, Pete,” you teased, elbowing him.

He shrugged, all smugness. “I mean, someone’s gotta make the web-swinging look good, right?”

Before you could reply, Steve stood up from his spot, clapping his hands for attention. “Alright, team! Time for some mandatory bonding!”

A chorus of groans erupted from the group, each one from someone hoping to escape Steve’s relentless enthusiasm for ‘team-building’ nights.

“Tonight is Charades.” Steve declared.

That’s when Steve decided to assign the partners. He glanced around the room with a twinkle in his eye and paired you with Bucky, clearly anticipating the fun to come.

You gave Bucky your signature puppy dog eyes, and he looked away with a scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to give in and show that he was happy to be partnered with you.

“Oh, great,” Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You didn’t let his grumpiness throw you off. “Bucky, come on!” you said, plopping beside him on the couch. “We’ve got this! We’re unstoppable!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and shot you a skeptical look. “Sure, sure. We’ll see about that.”

He didn’t seem convinced, and as Sam overheard, he couldn’t resist adding his two cents.

"Oh, this is gonna be easy," Sam declared loudly, rolling his eyes. "Grumpy Barnes can’t even smile, let alone act."

"You’re gonna regret that," Bucky shot back, his tone thick with warning. 

His words weren’t loud, but they were laced with enough warning that Sam quickly leaned back into his seat, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Sam laughed, but you caught the wariness in his eyes. "But not holding my breath, this will be easy."

Then, leaning in toward you, he whispered, “If we lose to that clown, I’m never letting it go.”

You gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief, pretending to be shocked. "Who knew you cared so much about winning?"

Bucky’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. "Don’t mess this up," he teased.

You winked at him. “You’re with me. How could we lose?”

As the game started, it quickly became clear that Bucky treated charades less like a fun group activity and more like a tactical mission. His intense focus was almost comical, but you fell into an unspoken rhythm. 

When it was your turn to act, Bucky’s sharp eyes locked onto you, and after a few gestures, he almost always guessed your clues. When it was his turn, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it all, whether miming a gorilla or pretending to be a ballerina, just to keep your laughter ringing through the room.

By the end of the game, the scoreboard showed a landslide victory in your favor. Bucky allowed himself a small, smug grin as you squealed in delight and launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“We’re the dream team!” you exclaimed, giggling as you clung to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, though his grip on you was secure, his metal arm effortlessly supporting you. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Much to everyone's amusement, he carried you back to the couch, where he promptly plopped you into his lap. “You’re comfy,” you declared with a grin, making yourself home. 

Sam, clearly displeased, waved a hand in your direction. “This has to be rigged. There’s no way those two didn’t cheat.”

Natasha snorted, leaning back in her chair. “They didn’t cheat, Wilson. They’re just disgustingly in sync.”

Sam grabbed a pillow and chucked it at you. “Sync this!”

The pillow hit you square in the face, and you burst out laughing, holding it in your lap. “It’s just a pillow!”

But Bucky didn’t see it that way. His gaze turned sharp as he caught the second pillow Sam threw mid-air. “If you throw another one at her...”

Sam, of course, took that as a challenge. “What are you gonna do, Barnes?” he quipped, hurling another pillow that you easily dodged.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you a five-second head start.”

Sam’s smirk faltered. “Wait, what?”

Without a word, Bucky carefully brushed your hair out of your face, placed you gently on the couch, and stood up. The room went silent as he walked purposefully toward the hallway. 

“What’s he doing?” you asked, looking to Steve for answers.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, hiding a smile. “He’s going to smash Redwing.”

Sam’s eyes widened in panic. 

“Barnes, you touch Redwing, I swear-” He bolted after Bucky, and the two disappeared down the hall. 

Moments later, a loud crash echoed through the compound, followed by Sam’s yelling and Bucky’s retorts.

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head as she leaned back on the couch. “This happens all the time.”

You glanced between her and Steve, bewildered. “Doesn’t anyone stop them?”

Steve shrugged. “Nope. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

From a distance, the team could hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Sam bickering echoing through the compound. 

“Touch Redwing, and you’re paying for a whole new one!” Sam’s voice was laced with fear.

“Oh, don’t worry, Wilson,” Bucky shot back, his tone mockingly calm. “I’ll make sure to recycle the pieces. I hear it’s good for the environment.”

A loud thud followed as if Bucky had knocked something over or thrown something against the wall. 

“Man, what is your problem?” Sam hollered. “You act like I threw a brick at her!”

“You hit her in the face!” Bucky retorted.

“It was a pillow!” Sam defended himself. “It probably felt like a marshmallow.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky countered. “You don’t throw things at her. Ever.”

Back in the living room, you stifled a laugh as Natasha shook her head in amused disbelief. “It’s always like this,” she said, smirking. “I don’t know why Sam keeps testing him.”

Steve folded his arms, looking like the exasperated dad of the group. “Because Sam likes pushing buttons. And Bucky…well, Bucky only has so much patience.”

Another crash echoed from down the hallway, followed by Sam’s yell. “Oh, come on! That wasn’t even Redwing! That was my lamp!”

“You’ve got terrible taste in decor, Wilson,” Bucky said, completely unfazed.

“YOU OWE ME A NEW LAMP!” Sam shouted.

“I did you a favor.” Bucky said dryly. “So say ‘thank you,’ it's polite.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggles any longer. “Should we...I don’t know, step in?” you asked, looking at Steve.

Steve shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Let them hash it out. Bucky’s not actually going to break Redwing. Probably.”

“Probably?” Natasha echoed. “You’re really putting a lot of faith in him.”

From the hallway, Sam yelled again. “THAT’S IT, BARNES. YOU AND ME. SPARRING MATCH TOMORROW.”

“Fine,” Bucky fired back. “But don’t be mad when I wipe the floor with you, bird brain.”

Natasha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You know he’s only this protective because it’s you, right? He doesn’t care this much when we get hit with stuff.”

You blushed, glancing down at your hands. “He’s just…looking out for me. Like a guardian.”

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Steve smiled knowingly but didn’t say anything. 

The sounds of Sam and Bucky’s argument gradually faded as they came back.

Sam was glaring, his hair disheveled, and he muttered under his breath about never forgiving Bucky. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was smug, like he had just won a personal victory.

Sam threw himself back down on the couch, muttering something about "not talking to Barnes for the rest of the week," to which Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug.

He sat down beside you, his arm casually draped across the back of the couch. His eyes flicked down to you, and without a word, he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly over your knee.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asked quietly, only for you to hear.

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky’s lips quirked upward, just slightly. “Good,” he said softly. “No one messes with you. Not even Sam.”

The others shared amused looks, but neither of you paid them any mind. Bucky’s protective side made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand, and you sank further into the couch, curling into his side.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist or just ask me, and I'll update it!

Much love x

- Maeve

[proneterror204]

Few people know this, but Danny is a great cook.

He had to be. He was living with neglectful parents who sometimes forget about their children and forget to eat themselves. Sam and Tucker love his cooking as he cooks both meat and vegan dishes.

Amity Park has a yearly cooking competition and technically Danny's won it 4 years in a row.

The first year Jack and Danny entered the competition. Danny did the cooking and Jack added a "Fenton secret ingredient". That secret ingredient being ectoplasm. That day the food tasted the judges just as much as the judges tasted the food. The Fenton family was banned from the cooking competitions from that day forth.

The second year Danny entered the competition under a fake name. Unfortunately Dash had heard about him entering the competition and stole Danny's food for his own and winning the competition. Fortunately Sam stole the ribbon from Dash and gave it to Danny.

The third year Danny made sure that Dash couldn't steal his food but Cujo had also followed Danny into the competition and the bully had spread rumors about Danny putting dog in his food. And again Danny was disqualified. Sam bought him his own trophy because she knows he'd win, but it wasn't the same.

The fourth year Danny entered again, but this time so did the lunch lady and when the food was being judged people ran due to the lunch lady being a ghost the competition was canceled and no one won.

This year Danny was going to win. He had always used the recipes provided to him by his pen pal Alfred pennyworth and he was going to win fair and square and prove he was a good cook.

[fangisms]

lady may

A/N: something ab writing for an angry hufflepuff really saved my soul. she is SO valid. maybe i’m her. (also this song eats away at my brain, so i had to write ab it… naturally) gif creds: @frodo-sam

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Grumpy!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Well, he’s not the toughest hickory that your axe has ever felled // But he’s a hickory just as well 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, cursing, two idiots very much in love, pining, angry hufflepuff, dumb/embarassed reader (lovingly), golden retriever cedric, quidditch injury mention

How could you look so beautiful drenched by the pouring rain, hovering ten meters in the air, goggles suctioned to your face, barking orders at the rest of the team like a drill sergeant? It’d always make him wonder. And midgame, that’s a silly thing to do. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.

You’re the angriest girl Cedric’s ever met. World class beater and a great captain, but you’ve got serious anger issues. The guys have started calling you boxer because you’re always on the verge of a scrap. Cedric has seen you chew out almost every position on the team. Except him. You’ve never yelled at him, you barely even look in his direction on a good day. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wants you to yell at him.

Well, not entirely inexplicable. Now would be the best time to mention he’s got a huge crush on you. In fact, he’s had a crush on you since you became team captain. You’ve always been pretty, but something about the title and the power really commanded his attention.

Which is precisely why he needs you to yell at him. He craves it. He’s been waiting all year for you to tell him he’s an idiot and that he’s doing everything wrong. But you won’t. And desperate times call for very desperate measures.

He’s barely dodging bludgers, not even trying for the snitch, doing party tricks in front of the stands, anything for you to glance his way. And then he goes and gets knocked off his broom. Luckily, he wasn’t too high in the air and he wasn’t flying too fast. The worst that happened was he got the wind knocked out of him. The best? You marching toward him like a sicced dog.

You kneel at his side, goggles loose around your neck as you coo, “are you okay?”

What? No, this is all wrong, you’re supposed to call him stupid, say that next time he’s off the team. Not ask if he’s okay.

Cedric nods and you help him sit up, signalling to the stadium that he’s alright. A cheer rips through the crowd.

“Can you play?” you huff, patting his back softly. He’s got butterflies.

“Yeah,” he says. When you get him on his feet, he almost wishes you won’t let go. And he suddenly remembers you’re much prettier up close, and his heart nearly gives out.

“Good sport, Diggory,” you tease, hopping back on your broom, “Back to work!”

It’d take a brain injury to get your attention.

The game goes off without a hitch: Cedric goes back to actually trying for the snitch and wins Hufflepuff the game. He’s a little disappointed he hsan’t given you anything else to be upset about. So once the celebration is over, he catches you outside of the locker rooms.

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” Cedric asks, jogging to catch you as you head back towards the dorms. You don’t respond, but he’s sure you heard him. So he nudges your shoulder. “Come on, boxer, I’ve seen you angry, I’m prepared.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he slows to a stop just behind you. Then you turn to face him, and he’s never seen your glare so intense.

“Listen, Diggory, you’re smart, you’ve got talent, and I trust you to perform well on this team. So I can’t for the life of me understand why you go out on that field just to dick around.”

You’re serious. Not angry, just serious. You’ve got this calm and collected tone that drives him absolutely up-the-wall insane. But he wants you to yell.

“You have plenty of adoring fans tracking your every move, you don’t have to pull dumb shit to get people to like you. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed, understand? So I advise you put your team and your safety before your reputation,” you say, storming off with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And it gets him kind of worked up because obviously, he wouldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for you. You and your stupidly selective anger issues. And your stupid smile.

“Hold on,” he hollers, still half drunk on the idea of being subject to your rage, “you think I don’t put this team at the top of all of my lists? Clearly, I love this stupid sport or I wouldn’t put so much damn time and effort into it!”

“If you love this sport, act like it.” Your jaw ticks before you march through the doorway, leaving him flustered in the mist of the courtyard.

…

He’s giving it one last go. If you won’t get angry with him, maybe he ought to just confess his feelings outright. This feels like the most rational he’s ever been. He even combed his hair extra carefully in hopes of you noticing.

Your friends quiet down when he approaches you in the mess hall, small flower pinched between his fingers, grin plastered across his face. You look a little annoyed but he’s pretty sure it’s just shock. And suddenly it feels like grade school when they all burst into giggles.

“This is for you—”

“Diggory.”

He cocks a brow. “Yeah?”

You grab the sleeve of his robes and drag him out into the hall, near slamming him into the stone wall. So much for his combed hair.

“What was that back there?” you hiss, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well. I brought you a flower. It’s from the field—”

“I can see that!”—you’re frenzied searhcing for any possible explanation other than he has a head injury from falling—“Explain to me why.”

He looks confused and presents the flower again.“Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at the flower. It’s small and white and looks so delicate in his hand. And you look at him. You suppose his pupils are a little extra dilated. “Are you poisoned? Or drunk?”

“No!”

You finally let go of him to gesture wildly. “Then what, Cedric—Merlin’s beard—What???”

“I brought you a flower,” he coos, tilting his head. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah, I got that part—”

“Hold on—hasn’t anyone ever given you something nice because… they like you?” Cedric hums, shuffling closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the tiny flower, but you won’t take it. Then you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke? Did the twins put you up to it?”

“No, just take the flower! I like you!” He sounds dastardly jovial, taking your wrist in one hand and presisng the flower to your palm with the other.

“What?” you scoff. Still staring down at the flower, making him wish his face was made of them so you’d look at him like that.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

And then you look at him. In the eyes. Perplexed, brows knitted, but you’re looking right at him and he could faint. Maybe it is a head injury.

“But I’m not… I’m not like…”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just—I’m confused because… you like pretty girls, and I’m not… that’s not what I do—am. What I am.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he huffs.

“Cho is pretty,” you state.

“You’re pretty.”

“No, Cedric, I play quidditch. If I was pretty, I’d have a boyfriend,” you reason, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a real run for his money.

“And those things are connected… how?”

You scoff and relax a little when he puts his hands on his hips. So what if he’s incredibly handsome. So what if your friends want to see you together. So what if he’s the one person you don’t want to rip to shreds. It’s not like any of that matters. Right?

“It makes sense!” you say.

“No, it doesn’t. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Diggory, don’t—”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, no! But you’re being rash! You’ll change your mind, and you’ll want your flower back!”

He shakes his head. “No. I gave you a flower because I think you’re very wonderful and very beautiful and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“But…”—he’s very amused by the fact that he’s made you flustered—“I sweat a lot!”

“So do I,” he chuckles, “we do play quidditch together, I hope you know.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We… argue!” you chirp.

“And you’re almost always right! Problem solved,” he says, “Now, would you be my girlfriend or do I have to get down on my knees?”

“No! I mean, yes! No, no, no knees, just… yes. I will be your girlfriend.”

Cedric smirks, taking the flower from your still open palm and tucking it behind your ear. Yesterday, he could barely say hello to you, and now he’s pulling you closer and tilting your chin up. His heart flutters when you palm his waist, and you smile when he leans a little closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you hum. He chuckles.

“Only if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Naturally.”

masterlist

[bunni-v1]

Could I ask for your headcanons on how the staff would take care of/look after the reader? I’m a sucker for the fics where they take a parental role

How The Staff Takes Care of You

TW: None!

Info: Crowley, Crewel, Trein, Vargas and Sam x Reader (Platonic)

🍓This one is short but sweet. I’ve spent a lot of time on the event, but I want to start on other requests outside of it too. This one looked fun and easy so I got it out within about an hour or so. I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck

Crowley

-Lets get one thing straight, Crowley does not take care of you

-It’s hard to even say that Crowley cares for you. It’s hard to say he cares for anyone other than himself.

-Still… he does do some things correctly.

-He gives you a place to live (which he threatened to take away), food (which he threatened to take away), and funding (which he… threatened to take away).

-He DOES come to ACTUALLY care for you, just… not in the traditional sense, I suppose. 

-He has frequent check ins with you to ensure that you are doing well.

-Occasionally he stops by ramshackle just to chat with you and ensure you have company.

-Believe it or not, he set up a lot of the things you do specifically so that he can ensure you are getting along with other students and have a support system here.

-He lets you keep grim around — even though he has cause countless issues for student and staff alike.

-He’s like your weird uncle. You hardly ever actually see Crowley around, but you know that he is looking out for you in his own way. 

-Thats all that matters, right?

Crewel

-Crewel is also anther oddball when it comes to how he shows that he cares.

-He is… aware that Crowley does not do a very good job at caring for you, and he’s a bit easier on you because of that.

-He’s probably harder on you homework-wise than most other students though.

-He wants to see you excel and succeed in his class.

-It would be the biggest fuck you to Crowley ever, so he works hard to make sure that you prove yourself to everyone.

-He makes sure that you’re sleeping and eating well, and if he sees that you are not, he makes you stay ofter class to talk to him so you both can find a way to solve this issue.

-If it’s money issues keeping you from eating, don’t worry. He’s now making you a lunch — or at least he gives you some money to eat.

-The nicest thing he does for you, however, is he gets you clothes.

-Your uniform is pretty… bad, and he feels bad for you.

-So, he takes matters into his own hands and gets you a nice new one that actually fits you.

-He and Trein have a rivalry over who treats you better and who you like more. (Trein is winning by like one point and it drives Crewel crazy).

-Crewel very much is the one to tell you “Boys are stupid, don’t date — especially not the ones here.” Lol

-Again, more like a very ambitious uncle who just really loves his family but never wants kids of his own.

-Oh, also, his dogs love you. So that’s a plus.

Trein

-He has two girls of his own, and he really does love kids, he’s just… jaded from years of being a teacher for snotty kids like Ace.

-You though? He likes you a lot.

-You’re a troublemaker, sure, but you always try your best in classes and have been making the best of your situation.

-Speaking of, Trein hates the way Crowley is so lackadaisical about your position and treatment.

-You are a living person? How could he just leave you to almost starve or freeze in your rickety old dorm?

-Trein visits your dorm frequently after his school day is done, just to ensure you have food and are able to stay warm/cool in the respective seasons.

-If he finds that you do not have enough food or cannot afford it, he talks to both Sam and Crowley and scolds them into lowering prices for you and raising your passive income.

-He still buys you things with his own money.

-If you fall asleep in class and you look like you need it, he won’t bother you. 

-Tells you that you can always come to him if you’re having trouble with anyone, and he will most definitely deal with them.

-Do you need extra help with homework, he’ll stay late just to ensure you’re understanding the material. 

-Seriously the number one dad at NRC, and he’s really happy to have you around since you remind him so much of his girls.

Vargas

-The resident promoter of a healthy lifestyle and great workout routine at NRC.

-You don’t really spend that much time around Vargas, so you two aren’t close, but he knows about you through the other members of staff.

-He knows how Crowley treats you, and while he isn’t one to play favorites… he can make an exception.

-Especially since he knows you aren’y always eating enough thanks to your limited budget.

-The last thing he needs is a student passing out in his class.

-He still pushes you to work out and participate, but if you’re looking like a ghost when you walk into class he’s going to make you go change and get some rest.

-He’s a gym nut, not a monster.

-He’s good with dieting though, so he’s able to tell Trein and Crewel and Same what would be best for you to eat in your condition.

-So yeah, he’s likely the least involved in your life, but he does help you from behind the scenes.

-It’s better than Crowley, so that’s a win in his books.

Sam

-Other than Trein, Sam probably sees you the most frequently out of everyone.

-You come into his shop at least once a day for something.

-At first he treated you the same as every other student, charing you ridiculously hight prices for typically cheap stuff.

-Then one day you came in looking for something to eat, cause you’d run out of what little Crowley gave you, but you didn’t have enough money.

-He nearly cried at how heartbroken you looked when you realized you couldn’t get anything.

-He gave you the whole meal for free, didn’t even ask for what you had.

-Trein is also on his ass about how high his prices are, so he purposefully has a “discount” every time you’re there to buy something.

-He also gets to know you through your shopping and makes and effort to talk to you to feel out where you are physically and mentally.

-He reports what he notices back to Trein and Crowley, just to make sure someone who has the power to is taking care of you.

-You’ve got a friend in Sam, that’s for sure.

[ysrjune]

TWINS!SCOTT & SAM MONROE ‹𝟹

the twinsies are back by request 🥹 no smut it's just them being silly brothers. 🥰 they use modern slang cause they're just so teenage boy I hate them..

dedicated to @alealuvshayden my babe 🥀

@samonroe @alealuvshayden @zapernz @dollfilmz mentioned..

"Hey, my mom says to throw out the trash." Sam opens Scott's bedroom door as his gaze is focused on his phone. "Oh my fucking God, Sam. How many times have I told you to knock before coming in?!" Scott groans, pausing his game. "Like, deadass you're so fucking annoying dude." He keeps going and rolls his eyes. "Okay, I didn't ask. Just take out the damn trash." Sam gives attitude. "Like, now." He says after staring at his brother who was staring at him.

"ASAP BROCHACHO, NOWWWUHH!!!" Sam snaps his fingers. Scott HATES when people snap at him like he's a dog. "SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!!" Scott throws one of his pillows at Sam.

Sam laughs and throws it back. "You're so easy to annoy." He walks away, leaving the door wide open. "OH MY GOD YOU LITTLE BITCH IM GONNA FUCK YOU UP." Scott screams and chases after Sam. Sam screamed and ran off to the living room.

Scott and Sam were tackling each other on the couch, and their father unfazed as he watched TV. This was genuinely a normal thing. Sam annoying Scott and then getting beaten up. Scott wasn't really throwing punches so he could hurt Sam. He was mostly just yelling in his face and pushing him far into the cushions. "HEY!" Their mom yells. Both teenagers look over at her and stop fighting. "Sorry momma." Scott purses his lips. "Yeah, you better be. Take out that trash."

That made Scott tweak out. He choked himself out, even being dramatic and making choking noises when she looked away. He stopped after a moment, acting like he hadn't done anything. He took out the trash.

Sam was now talking to his dad (annoying him with band knowledge) and once Scott came back in, Sam shut up and stared. "Hey, mom said to STOP fighting with me. Don't even think about it, blondie."

"SHUT—" Scott cuts himself off as soon as he sees his dad's side eye. "Would you shut your mouth, you irksome twerp."

"I don't know what that means."

"You look like you wouldn't know what it means."

And there they were again, at each other's throats. Their dad was laughing at them wrestling on the floor. He was even recording it. Scott has more muscle than his brother, so it's not a shocker that he's always the one winning these matches. Sam then bit Scott.

"AYE YOU CANT DO THAT. ITS CHEATING!" Scott smacks Sam's mouth. "DONT SMACK ME." Sam yells and pulls Scott's hair. That whole fight was so dumb. They were slapping each other around, and their dad was just laughing his ass off. But then there came their little brothers..

"You guys are so gay. Why are you always on top of each other?" Ryan asks. And you could guess.. their dad was losing it. Oh how he loved having sons with no filter.

"Alright buddy boy, that wasn't funny." Sam shakes his head. "Too far, dork. Even if I were gay and we weren't related, I would NEVER let Sam try anything on me." "Who says I'd even try y—WHY ARE YOU EVEN PUTTING THOUGHT INTO IT?!" Sam realizes. "EEEWWW you're so.. EEWWW." Sam shoves Scott away, gagging exaggeratedly. "Okay calm down, morticia." Scott rolls his eyes.

"Morticia? I think he's more like Thing." Kevin, their other brother says. "But together, they're Wednesday and Pugsley." Ryan laughs. (they both ended up getting chased around the house and into the backyard where they got tackled.)

dickdownyamomma48: mind if a white boy speaks a little espanyol this afternoon?

monroe.scott: God damn fatty. Is that all for you?

monroe.scott: ts don't even look good 😭💔

monroe.scott: aye my momma says to bring ice cream home or else she's gonna whoop you

coreythedude: bro wants us to think he's on a date 😭😭

alealuvstwinks: omg is this a soft launch 😛😛

zapernz: this made me mad delete it

—

monroe.scott: 🥊💯

dickdownyamomma48: woah ok timmy tuff knuckles

dollfilmz: MEOWWW

zapernz: 😕.

coreythedude: sybau 💔

alealuvstwinks: wait lowkey.. 👅

—

monroe.scott: 💪🏼 something my bitch ass brother doesn't have

dickdownyamomma48: wtf are you dissing me at 3:43pm on a Tuesday for?

dickdownyamomma48: I know this post was just to have that pinky girl see 🥀

coreythedude: aura farming..

alealuvstwinks: this one gave me the ick I can't lie. this is NOT a banger.

dollfilmz: 👅

—

dickdownyamomma48: oh yea

monroe.scott: motherfucker is that MY dope 😐

dickdownyamomma48 replied: do something about it pussy

zapernz: why didn't you invite me ho

coreythedude: lungs blacker than your hair 💔

alealuvstwinks: ok

–———

ok guys I didn't rly fw this but here's um here it is

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs@valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaasxo @anakinca @dollfilmz @alexlovesysrjune @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira

[padmesweetheart]

Fireworks and Flags

Pairing: Sam Monroe x Marching Band!Reader (Color Guard)

Genre: High School AU, Fluff, Soft Boyfriend Sam, Light Angst Turned to Sweetness

Sam Monroe didn’t do school spirit.

He didn’t do pep rallies or football games, and he definitely didn’t do bleachers full of screaming teenagers decked out in blue and gold.

He’d once told his dad that he’d rather eat a box of nails than spend his Friday night at a high school football game.

And yet.

There he was.

Second row from the top of the bleachers, hood up, earbuds shoved in even though there was no music playing, combat boots planted wide on the cold metal. He looked like a Halloween decoration someone forgot to take down—black hoodie, ripped jeans, a permanent scowl etched across his face.

The girl next to him, some sophomore cheerleader, gave him a wide berth. He was used to it. Preferred it, honestly. But if she’d looked closer, she would’ve noticed his eyes weren’t scanning the field.

They were locked on the sideline, just behind the bleachers.

On you.

Dressed in your uniform—deep navy and silver with sequins that sparkled under the stadium lights—you were standing at attention, your flag upright at your side, waiting for the halftime cue. Hair tied back, cheeks slightly flushed from the chilly air, you still managed to look like the sun to him.

Bright. Warm. Untouchable.

And somehow his.

Sam was still getting used to the idea that you had chosen him—the guy who wore fishnets under his jeans and got sent to the principal’s office for drawing a skull on his desk in Sharpie. You, who smiled at strangers and waved at teachers and actually did your homework. You who spun your flag like it was a dance and art and a battle all in one.

He thought about you constantly. Way more than he’d ever admit.

So yeah, he hated football games. But he loved you more.

And if that meant sitting through three hours of sweaty jocks and badly lip-synced cheer routines and the smell of undercooked hot dogs, so be it.

When the whistle blew and the marching band began its pre-halftime cadence, Sam sat up a little straighter. You jogged onto the field with the rest of the color guard, flag held high. Your face was calm, focused, but he could tell—he always could—that you were scanning the bleachers for him.

Then you saw him.

And you lit up.

You didn’t break formation, but your smile was unmistakable—quick, soft, just for him. A subtle wink followed, so fast no one else would’ve caught it, but he did.

Sam’s stomach flipped. He ducked his head, suddenly glad for the hoodie shadowing his face because he could feel the tips of his ears going red.

God, he was so gone for you.

He watched every second of your performance. Your movements were fluid, flag catching the wind just right, glittering under the lights. You looked effortless—spinning and dancing, the music wrapping around you like a second skin.

And Sam, the boy who hated crowds, who hated noise and school and football and everything, found himself smiling like a total idiot.

For you. Only you.

When halftime ended and the band marched off the field, the game resumed, and Sam returned to his neutral, vaguely homicidal expression.

He didn’t care about the game. Didn’t know who was winning. Didn’t even know who we were playing.

He stayed because you were still there, sitting with your team in the band section now, laughing, breathless, hair wind-tousled. He watched you from a distance, arms crossed, earbuds back in. The crowd surged around him—cheering, screaming, rising for touchdowns—but he stayed planted like a rock, completely still.

Until the final whistle blew.

Then he stood, stretching his long limbs, and made his way through the crowd toward the band room, where you always went after games to pack up.

The hallway smelled like brass polish and sweat, and the clatter of percussion cases echoed off the linoleum. Sam leaned against the lockers, hands in his pockets, and waited. He didn’t try to make small talk. Didn’t smile at anyone. Just waited.

And then—there you were. His Pretty And Talented Girl

Your duffel was slung over one shoulder, your face still glowing from exertion, curls sticking to your forehead, and Sam’s breath caught in his throat.

“You waited,” you said, slightly surprised even though he always did.

Sam just shrugged. “Had nothing better to do.”

You smirked and stepped into his space, your free hand curling into the fabric of his hoodie near his ribs. “You hate football games.”

“I hate most things,” he muttered, but he was already ducking his head toward you, the edge of his mouth twitching. “You’re the exception.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile too wide. “You’re such a sap when no one’s looking.”

“Shut up,” he whispered, nose brushing yours. “I have a reputation.”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, just soft enough to make him flinch a little. Not because he didn’t like it—but because he did. Too much.

“Let me make it worse,” you teased, pulling him down by the hoodie strings and kissing him properly.

Sam kissed like he lived—slow, intense, a little bit messy. His fingers curled into the back of your jacket, grounding himself, pulling you in like he couldn’t stand the space between you. When you broke apart, you rested your forehead against his chest.

“Next week’s a home game too,” you murmured. “You coming?”

Sam sighed dramatically, but his hand slid down your back, resting just above your waist. “Guess I’m a band boyfriend now.”

“Color guard,” you corrected.

“Right. Sharp flags and glitter bombs.”

You swatted his arm, and he grinned—actually grinned—as you both made your way to his beat-up car. He held the door open for you and waited until you were buckled in before starting the engine. The radio crackled to life with a low grunge song, and Sam tapped the steering wheel like he did when he was thinking about something but didn’t know how to say it.

After a moment, he glanced over at you.

“You’re really good, you know.”

You blinked. “At what?”

“The whole… flag twirly… ninja thing,” he mumbled, eyes on the road. “You make it look easy.”

Your heart squeezed. Compliments from Sam weren’t rare—but they always felt like gold, like secret treasures he only handed out to you.

“Thanks,” you said, reaching over to take his hand. He didn’t pull away. Just laced your fingers together, resting your joined hands on the gearshift.

Outside, the stadium lights faded in the rearview mirror. But inside the car, there was nothing but warmth.

And in that moment, Sam -resident brooding misfit, hater of all things loud and popular—decided that if you were performing at every game for the rest of the year, then yeah… maybe football season wasn’t so bad after all.

[doc-pickles]

where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me (a waking up in vegas blurb)

series masterlist

summary: matthew wins the stanley cup

warnings: just fluff!!

a/n: of course I HAD to write this! it’s short and sweet but i’m filled with so many emotions about matty that I can’t quite put anything else properly into words. enjoy!

xoxo nina

the buzzer counts down, the stadium silent for a single second before it erupts into the loudest cheers you’ve ever heard. brady’s arms are wrapped around your shoulders, blake is cheering in taryn’s arms, and confetti is streaming from the ceiling. you watch as blurs of white and red streak across the ice to form a dog pile behind the home goal, the cameras panning over the players as they cheer.

they won.

your husband won the stanley cup.

reality crashes back into you as you hug brady back, both of you laughing and smiling brightly as you watch matthew and his team celebrate their win. keith, chantal, and taryn all give you hugs as you celebrate together, none of you able to stop the happy tears trailing your cheeks.

“mama cry?” blake asks as she leans over to you from her perch in keith’s hold. “don’t be sad, daddy won!”

“i’m not sad, they’re happy tears” you laugh again as blake sports a confused look. “i’m very happy daddy won. promise baby.”

before you can blink you’re all heading down to the ice. a huge grin spreads across your face as you watch the boys take turns lifting the cup and doing a lap with it held high above their heads. taryn and brady are chatting loudly behind you but as soon as you spot matthew their voices are white noise.

matthew is smiling widely, talking with sasha and sam as the cup goes around. he turns at the sound of lomberg shouting his name to take the cup but stops short when his eyes meet yours. even from 50 feet away you can feel the excitement and happiness radiating from him, the way your minds are always on the same page.

instead of turning towards ryan and the waiting cup matthew beelines for you, his arms outstretched to grab you as he skates through the crowds of people. he has you wrapped up in an instant, his arms squeezing you tightly as he spins you around. you let out a string of laughter as he brings you down and peppers your face with kisses, his hold on you remaining firm.

“matthew! the cup!” you giggle as you look up at him, his hands gently cupping your face.

“since that buzzer rang this is all i’ve wanted to do.” matthew leans in and kisses you soundly, cheers erupting around you. “I wouldn’t be here without you. I love you so much baby.”

“I love you too.” you echo the words and smile up at him with tears in your eyes. “now go lift the cup baby!”

with a chuckle matthew turns and takes the stanley cup, holding it above his head as he circles the ice. everyone around you is cheering and clapping but the only thing you’re focused on is your husband who gave his blood, sweat and tears to be here today.

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Dawg gone-it!

Summary: Dean isn’t too keen on how close you and a stray have been getting lately

Word count: 0.6k

A/n: NO HATE AGAINST ANY DOGS!!! We love dogs, and Dean loves dogs, just not the one you’ve been getting close to

A/a/n: Y’all I just got done with the first set of workouts this summer, for school. And OMG it literally killed me, I don’t know if I can do this all summer.

༺═────────────═༻

Dean had always loved dogs. Ever since he was a little boy all the way to the burly man that he currently was, his heart had always had a special spot for the canines. 

Until, you had rescued one from a hunt. 

A week. Minimum. That’s how long you and the brothers had agreed to keep the animal until you found a rightful shelter. Seven days with man’s best friend, living and traveling in the back of the impala with them. 

A simple week, Dean would’ve loved that.

Yes, he would’ve loved it, if all your attention hadn’t stayed solely on the dog. 

It was everyday that you’d get up early and walk the animal, Sam often joining in his jogs before he would take a different route. And, Dean was fine with you getting the dog some exercise, what he didn’t like was you leaving the warmth of the motel bed to do so. Leaving Dean yearning for the feel of your body in the early mornings. 

And it wasn’t even just that. No, no, no. You’d had given the dog your leftovers one afternoon. Right in front of Dean too. Knowing well enough that whatever you didn’t eat, you’d always hand over to Dean. 

But, it shouldn’t bother him, no. Dean could go with out your morning embrace, your leftover Chinese that Dean tried his hardest not to tell you that he was waiting patiently for. 

No, what really bothered him more than anything, was when you called that dog your ‘pretty boy’.

Dean was your pretty boy. It was the nickname that you’d donned him with, he loved that special little name that you’d picked out for him. 

And out of all the names that’s what you’d called that slobbery animal, that’s what you called him. That dog, who’d slowly been taking you away from Dean ever since he was found out in the streets. Who’d been stealing you away from him for the past few days right under his nose the whole time. 

Dean couldn’t prove it, but he knew that the dog was doing it on purpose. 

He knew that the dog would give him a satisfied smirk, every time he’d turn his back on you and the animal. He knew what he was doing and he was playing you like a damn fiddle. 

You currently sat on your and Deans motel bed, an old hay brush passing through the dogs tangled fur as you gave him sweet praises. Dean sat behind you against the headboard, muttering under his breath all the things you’d say in a mocking tone. 

Not that he was trying to mock you, but you’d fallen so easily in the dogs trap that you could no longer get out. It was kinda hard not to. 

“Good boy.” You whispered to the dog, placing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “The goodest boy.”

Dean could see his tail wagging from his position, body moving with each sharp wag. 

Suck up. Dean wanted to say to the dog, not that he won’t when you leave the room. But, for now he’s happy with the one sided argument that he’s winning against an animal. 

You then placed the hairbrush on the side of the bed, hands coming to pet the dogs now soft fur. Gentle praises leaving your mouth as you then began to scratch behind his ears. 

Dean stared at the sight before him, wishing that he’d be the one that you’d run your fingers through his hair. Telling him how pretty and handsome he was. “You never do that to me.” Dean muttered softly.

“What?” Thankfully, what he said never truly meeting your ears. 

“I said he’s very obidient.” Dean replied louder, watching as a small smile formed on your face as you agreed. Your attention returning back to the animal, completely missing the sour look he gave the dog. 

God, he couldn’t wait til this dog was gone. 

[transjess]

“Crowley,” Sam says. “I am not marrying you.”

“Just hear me out,” Crowley says, holding his hands up. “This could be good for both of us, right? Just sit your giant arse down and listen to me for a minute.”

Sam glowers, but he’s always been curious, and the desire to know what the hell Crowley is on about wins over his instant dismissal. “You have a minute,” he says, lowering himself into a bunker chair. “One minute.”

“How generous,” Crowley says, but he doesn’t waste any time. “Look, Sam, neither of us wants Abaddon in charge, right? Alone you can’t defeat her, Cassie over there’s about as much use as a dodo, and as much as I hate to say it I’m not entirely confident I can beat her either. Wherever Dean’s buggered off to, he's not helping right now. But united, together, we have a chance.”

“Where the hell does marriage come into this?” Sam interrupts.

Crowley holds up a hand. “Patience, Moose,” he says. “I was getting to that.”

“Get to it faster,” Cas says.

“Down, boy,” Crowley says, unbothered. “Marriage comes into it because a lot of demons are sticklers for tradition, right? The only reason Abaddon has so many dogs in her corner is because they think that because she’s got the better claim to the throne, she’s more powerful - the Lucifer loyalists switched over to her, because she’s the closest they’ve got to him. A Knight is higher up the traditionalist food chain than a crossroads demon, no matter how efficiently Hell runs under my rule. Now, who else has a claim to the throne? Say, one directly related to Lucifer?”

“Me,” Sam says, starting to understand.

“Bingo. The demons loyal to me like the way Hell’s run, and the rest think I don’t have a claim to the throne strong enough to go against Abaddon. Even if they’re not traditionalists themselves, they think Hell will fall back to a more traditional rule, and they don’t want to be on the old girl’s bad side when that happens. But if I was allied with, say, the Boy King of Hell, true vessel of Lucifer? A lot of them would switch sides. And that would be huge.”

“Why marriage?” Cas asks. “Just sign a- a truce, or something.”

“What is marriage if not a contract?” Crowley says, spreading his arms a little and grinning. “A truce that isn’t binding isn’t worth the paper it’s written on, Feathers. And we can’t just be allies in this - full offense, Moose, but you’ve got quite the history of trying to kill me the moment I stop being completely useful to you. I’m not trusting your good word as far as I can throw it, mate. With a contract, I can make it a little more… binding. Historically, marriages have been uniting political allies for hundreds of years - what better nod to the traditionalists among the demon populace than a marriage between the current King of Hell and the destined Boyking? It’s a contract that goes off with a bang. I get to strengthen my position, you get to cash in a little of that Devil clout with any demons you come across - wouldn’t it be easier if they had to obey you? Skip past all that recitation and stabbing and whatnot? Quick and easy exorcisms, all for the low, low price of marrying me. Best of all, this contract wouldn’t even touch your soul. Not that I’d want it, mind you; the thing’s a mess. But regardless, all you have to hand over is… well, your hand. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re insane,” Sam says flatly. Cas hums in consideration.

“You wouldn’t have to take any interest in Hell itself, by the way,” Crowley adds. “I’ll run the whole shebang. Contracts, demon management, soul counts, all of that. You won’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing. Just keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing - without the threat of demon usurpation and Abaddon takeover quite so weightily on my mind - and all that’ll be different is a ring on your finger and a ‘til death do us part. I’ll even let you read over the vows before the day. Just so you can make sure I’m not up to anything sinister.”

“You’re always up to something sinister,” Sam says, ignoring Crowley pretending to blush and bat his eyelashes. “I just don’t get your angle on this one. Marriage, of all things.”

“Well it’s not exactly ideal for me either,” Crowley says, rolling his eyes. “As much as I love to rile you up, I’m after a quiet life, no nagging wife telling me to clean up entrails after myself when I get home from work after a long day, etc etc. Though I suppose you’d make a decent little housewife, Samantha, all things considered.”

“Shut up,” Cas says before Sam can. Glad we’re on the same page, Sam thinks wryly.

“Look, Sam,” Crowley says, and he looks so completely serious for a moment that it’s almost startling after the faux-flirty banter. “Just think about it, alright? This could be good for both of us. And don’t worry,” he adds, switching back to flirty, lips curling up at the corner. “I won’t even expect you to consummate the marriage.” He winks, grinning, and then disappears. Cas scowls.

[axelsagewrites]

Roy Kent*Charitiy

Pairing: Roy Kent x reader

Word count: 1535

Warnings: Rupert existing and Roy being Roy

Masterlist here

Ever since last year when Rupert crashed annual charity ball and donated a butt load of money to steal her thunder, she was determined to make this year's even better. It was odd to you that someone donating so much to a good cause was grounds for revenge but then again, you'd met Rupert. He really was the worst. 

She'd gone all out this year, making sure she lined up at least 3 famous performers that equally hated Rupert and inviting everyone who was anyone. You were automatically on the list as her assistant but and also as Roy's plus one. It was at last year’s ball that Roy ended up walking you home from and kissing you in your doorway. Cut to this year and you were now in a semi-secret committed relationship with Richmond’s newest coach. You had both decided not to share to the press and after much convincing Roy let you tell Rebecca and the team.

One of the nights biggest earners was of course the charity auction. Roy had refused at least 19 times to do it but eventually with enough eyelash batting and promises of favours you'd convinced him to sign up. All the boys had signed up, even Will was forced to sign up.

To make things even more bizarre Rebecca herself was being auctioned. Though you as her assistant had also hired someone to come bid on her so she'd never have to have the date but still she was technically on the roster. What you hadn't expected was for her to turn to you with puppy dog eyes. 

"We need more women on the list. Cmon, you know how it is. Think of the children,"

Roy was more outrage you had said yes than the fact he had been convinced to do it as well. You however were sure that it would be fine. After all people were there to bet on the footballers to play a game with their kid or show off to their friends or whatever other questionable activities they had planned. Not some assistant. 

What you hadn't accounted for was that you were no longer just an assistant. Not only did you often appear in pictures with the team, but rumours floated around that you were dating at least one if not multiple of the boys. Between always being around famous footballers or the fact Keeley Jones was your best friend you’d forgotten people actually knew who you were now.

The night was fine to begin and halfway through the auction Rebecca had already hit the same record as last year but that was not going to stop her. Danni had gone for £5000, Sam for £6000, Keeley for £10,000. Yes, even Keeley had donated one of her Friday nights to Rebecca's cause.

Roy had practically begged you that if the old lady who won him last year was going to win that you steal the win and he'd give you the money so sure as fate you had just won a night with your boyfriend for £8000. This was only going to fuel the fires in the tabloids, but it was worth saving Roy another painful night with a toothless granny.

"Up next we have my dear, dear friend who many of you will recognise as the teams shadow. Come on up"(y/n)," Rebecca said, clapping as you walked up with an awkward smile.

" Can we start the bidding at £500?" You thought this would be over and done with in less than a couple minutes.

"Five thousand pounds," Ruperts voice came booming from the back of the room followed by the sound of Roy’s chair scrapping against the floor as he stood up, "Forgive me for being so late my dear Rebecca. A family emergency kept me away, but I couldn't miss this for the world," he said gesturing to the crowd who gave him a round of applause he didn’t deserve, “After all it is for the children,”

For once Rebecca stammered for words before finally stuttering out "Yes well thank you Rupert. Do I hear six?"

"Ten thousand," Roy boomed across the room. Small gasps left several tables as you stood, eyes bulging out at the moment happening. You’d got to witness the bidding war that went for Jamie last year with Keeley spending twenty-five grand, but you knew that both Rupert and Roy were far more stubborn. this could go for a while.

"This isn't how auctions exactly work boys-" Rebecca tried to cut in, knowing how stubborn Rupert was and how violent Roy could get, but to no avail. she looked at you with a sympathetic glance as the carnage began.

"fifteen thousand," Rupert said, walking to stand by Roy's table, his wife a few paces behind standing awkwardly. 

"twenty,"

"thirty,"

"thirty-five-" you heard Jamie's voice pipe up followed by a loud growl from Roy who was glaring daggers in the previously laughing boy, "withdrawn!" Jamie yelped as he shuffled his chair towards Keeley. you almost felt bad for Jamie as you tried not to laugh.

"forty-five," Roy yelled before turning to Rupert, whispering something in his ear as he went to say fifty.

You could practically see Ruperts sweat dripping down his forehead as Roy pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his face, "Hard to beat that," Rupert smiled as he carefully stepped away from Roy, slowly moving back to his wife, “I withdraw,” Rupert said before pulling his wife to go join some random table filled with old white men.

"Forty-five going once, twice," Rebecca said as she scrambled to grab her gavel, "sold to Mr Kent. What a generous donation, everyone let's give him a round of applause," Rebecca said as she started the claps as everyone followed suit to try mask the awkward tension. “Always such a generous soul,”

You gave Rebecca a sorry smile as you walked back down to Roy, wondering how you’d explain this to the tabloids, but Roy had other plans. As you walked up to him, ready to quietly thank him, Roy stepped forward, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his chest. The kiss was brief, but it knocked the wind out your lungs and left you wishing you had a private room as whoops and hollers came from the room around. You pulled back, breathless and grinning like an idiot. 

"Just to be clear that isn't included in the final sale," Rebecca said from the stand, trying to avoid lawsuits and trying desperately not to laugh since the auction still had its final prize left, Jamie.

"What did you say to him?" you asked, as you finally say back down, hand in hand with Roy. 

"I told him I knew where he lived and enough people to hold him down if he didn't back off what's mine, “Roy said as cool as a cucumber as if he didn't just threaten to beat a multi-millionaire, possibly billionaire at this point. "Plus, I said I'd tell his wife about you know who," 

This however caught your, Keeley’s, and Jamie's attention, "Who's you know who?" Keeley ask as you all three leaned in for the dirt. 

"Fuck knows," Roy barked making you all look at each other confused, "once a scumbag always a scumbag. There's probably some poor girl out there he’s fucked I just don't know which one," 

The three of you began to cackle as Rebecca announced her last prize of the night. “Time to shine,” Jamie said as he got up, running a hand through his hair before jogging up to join Rebecca on stage. His cocky joy went from pale faced terror when the woman who won Roy last year won him this year but for £9000. Jamie returned to the table, no pep in his step or swagger in his walk as he sunk down into his chair, “Why did you save me?” he whispered in betrayal.

“I’m not your girlfriend anymore, remember,” Keeley teased as she sat back in her chair, “Call us even for last year babes,”

Jamie turned from Keeley to you and Roy, looking like a kicked puppy, “Roy?”

“Mate I’ve just spent 50 grand tonight. go fuck yourself,” Roy said before what was left of his drink.

“It’s for children Roy,” Jamie said as he sulked back into his chair.

“Fuck the children,” Roy said with no hesitation, “I’ve just bought them a really fucking nice orphanage to stop some old prick touching my bird,”

you couldn’t help but laugh at how Jamie pouted in his seat, trying to avoid the old woman’s little waves. “You do release your little stunt means we need to do press now?” you said, glancing up to a now groaning Roy.

“Already on its babes,” Keeley said from where she sat on her phone, “I’ve been waiting for this for months. knew you two wouldn’t go for my soft launch option,”

“Fucks a soft launch?” Roy said, confusing racking his face as he turned to you.

you patted his arm and shook your head, “You just let me and Keels deal with this yeah?”

Roy sighed as he sat back in his chair shaking his head, “I fucking hate charity,”

[echolynn13]

SFTH Chaotic Highlights (The Dark Moons of Slough)

My fourth longform highlights post and I think I'm getting better at this commentary thing

Starting off with yet another example of Luke and Sam being on the exact same wavelength. Luke hears the title, gets onstage, within a second starts cackling like a witch, and Sam joins in with zero hesitation. I love their dynamic so much, they bounce off each other so well

Luke's insistence on having 3 witches like it's Hocus Pocus or something-

AJ's voice dying while he tries to do a witch voice lmao

Synchronized improv must be insane to attempt, the fact their little chant made any sense at all is astonishing tbh

And yes, the witches' spell building up the scene just for it to create soup to win a food festival is pretty funny

Have any of the fanartists drawn the witches with their big ball of floating soup? Because I just really wanna see that visualized

"We do not speak of the Great Wizard, Ascaroth!" Only a matter of time before someone fucks up that name

"We don't do it anymore, we just call him.. That PrickTM"

I wasn't 100% sure but yeah, The Big Book of Soups does in fact exist. And now I want it, purely as an inside joke

Before a quick google search, I did not know who Jamie Oliver was, so the whole first run through this play I had no idea what the naked chef jokes were referencing, I just appreciated them without context. Just like I did for the entirety of The Prime Minister's First Day (because American)

Sam taking any opportunity to moan #1 (probably not actually the first time, but I'm gonna start a tally istg)

I like when someone tries to set up a plot point and we as the audience get to watch it either slowly fade away or burn up on impact. "Maybe we should sabotage That PrickTM" by Sam is an example of the latter

The bottled soup bit where Sam's confused (because apparently it's a Spain thing) and Luke also being confused (because I'm certain he completely blanked on the fact bottled soup is not normal to see in the UK)

Another thing they do a lot is when two characters are bickering and quickly descend into unintelligible noises and a third person typically has to calm them down

AJ deciding to randomly sing That PrickTM's name (yes I'll be doing that the entire post), and Sam just has to explain it away by saying it's his ringtone

Hugh Fernly Whittingstone/Stall might be the fastest name fuck-up they've ever had. But I think the subtitles are the only ones that noticed, so it barely counts

Might need to start a tally for AJ entering the scene as a random animal as well

This time, only to get brutally murdered and eaten. The most fucked up thing I've laughed at in a while, that was an insane move on Sam's part

No, I will not be trusting that process Sam

No wonder the witches call him That PrickTM

"It's me, Jamie Oliver" AJ acting like this is new, previously secret information

"I know it's dark magic, Jamie. How else would someone like you become a famous chef?" Okay I didn't learn that much about him, do people not like Jamie Oliver?

Live reaction while making this post: "Hey Jemima, good to see you again :) Last time we would've seen you was.. wait IS THIS THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF JEMIMA?!"

Jemima origins

"What happened last time with the witches was a one-off thing" As this series goes, we'll soon learn how much AJ loves using the phrase 'one-off thing', I can think of 2 examples off the top of my head but y'all are just gonna have to wait and see

Yeah Jemima, she's always had the snort, don't be a dick about it

"What if the witches enter again?" Very curious what happened with the witches the last time, because they seem relatively harmless this year

Sam entering with his perfect comedic timing as a 'young boy'

"From the valleys" deserves to be in one of those sfth vocal stim compilations

AJ's internal monologue "Okay I need to differentiate this character somehow but we don't have props today. This character is obviously evil, he provides dogs to be cooked for God's sake.. Oh I know!" *wraps himself in curtain* "A CLOAK!"

"Why are you dressed like Emperor Palpatine?" Hold on, I need to google something... Yeah, that's funny.

Unexpected Calm app shoutout

AJ searching desperately through his mind catalogue for the word 'update'

They're doing a bunch of what I'd assume is difficult shit, now Sam's out here improvising soup recipes (that double as classic witch spells that make you speak in tongues)

I'm with Luke, what is so funny about 75 years of soup tasting?

Why do I love the way Sam says 'the valleys' so much, it's so funny to me and I will repeat it every goddamn time

"Memories flooding back of childhood" "It's like Ratatouille" I guess I gotta rewatch Ratatouille

Love their universal sing of flashback being repeating the last phrase over and over while they spin around awkwardly

"I have to go find my mother" He abandons the scene and the play ends, roll credits

When one of them yells with such a random aggression "The competition, don't ruin THE COMPETITION!"

"Then I will find mama" "Yes, you'll deal with that later.." AJ's character are very good at not caring at all recently

"I was hold back" Please AJ, grammatically continue

"This soup is called leek leek leek" Leek³ you might say

Luke laughing in the middle of his character's second memory-related breakdown as he realizes how dumb this is

"Which of you is my real mama??" I think Past Hugh just drugged himself

Forgot to mention Witch #1 as Luke's first gremlin mode character in my sfth recurring roles post

Luke: "I'm a 16 year old!" Still Luke: "Do all of you just announce your ages?" Luke just setting himself up like that

".... Leek" "We've got a theme going" Okay but the real question is, are all of them from The Valleys?

"You took my mother from me" Oh did Jamie Oliver kill Hugh's m- "We've been on many, many long evenings" Oh Jamie Oliver FUCKED Hugh's mom

Wizard Duel (featuring Sam with special effects) goes hard

"16 raw eggs!" I don't think that's a spell, I think you're just pelting him with raw eggs

Wait a second, is this whole duel just a food fight where they magically summon all of their ammo-

"What score do I get?" "... 9.8, that was fucking good" Bro went on one hell of a trip

"Ah yes of course, Akaram" Hey now, we all know the Great Wizard's name is That PrickTM

"Get it right, you racist" Aside from the fact I have no idea who this would be racist towards, it's giving the same vibes as the one Book Game where Tom calls the Chinese book Japanese and Sam ofc takes the fuck-up as a chance to call him a bigot

*Me, watching this play for like a 4th time* "... Wait.. Something's off here.... WHERE THE FUCK IS TOM?"

I know where Luke is most of the time when he's gone, but where's Tom at? Same question for Sam during Burglary and Bobsleds

"Stiff like the naked chef's erection inside your mother?" ".. How public was the dream I just had?" That moment you relive your traumatic backstory via magic/drug/leek soup and it turns out they were broadcasted to the rest of the crowd as well, so now the whole city knows Jamie Oliver fucked your mom

I literally just rewatched this a few days ago and I've already forgotten what That PrickTM's soup did

Jamie Oliver: *gets possessed* That PrickTM: "Ainsley Harriott has joined us as well" Well off I go to google another English chef

Turns out the captions spelled his name wrong

Luke having to play his own character's mother is very in character of him actually

"By the power of the Great British Bake Off" fucking GOT ME-

"Mother, you're alive!" "Just about" wtf does that mean??

Final Thoughts: Oh the power you hold when you're the first one onstage.. Who knew Luke's witch cackle could bring us a story of leek soup, missing mothers, and an evil English chef

[stellar-solar-flare]

Stella's Starry Winter Sky - Masterlist

This is a masterlist for the works that have been submitted for the Stella's Starry Winter Sky Writing Challenge. The challenge is open until the end of February 2025 (if you need more time, send a message, we'll see what we can do).

Fics listed in order of publishing date.

Malogranatum by @stellar-solar-flare (18+ content) | Steve Rogers x mob boss!Reader.

“You know there are lines I do not cross,” you said. Dark romance with themes of obsessive love. AU - canon divergence & mob themes.

Back to December by @zaraomarrogers (18+ content) | Lumberjack!single dad!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Steve and Y/n's story is one of love, heartbreak, and reconciliation. Once deeply in love, their young romance ended when Y/n’s father, Tony, interfered, believing they needed to focus on their individual futures. Devastated, Steve enlisted in the army and later became a single father to Emma, who became his anchor during difficult times.

Cooking Together by @navybrat817 | Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him. Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU.

Take Me Home by @writing-for-marvel | Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Bucky starts fiddling with his dog tags while out with your friends. Prompt: comforting one another.

Take The Ache by @anika-ann (Mature Content)| Steve Rogers x engineer!Reader

An Avengers’ ally, a brilliant weapons designer, one of the closest friends to Steve Rogers; you’ve been carrying all these titles with pride. And now it seems they are all crumbling down at once, torn down by allies, enemies and by yourself.

How can you fix it? How can you win when your traitorous heart fights for what you’d always wanted and never had?

If you work hard enough, you can do justice to the word 'hero' in your codename. Maybe. But can you really be enough to take the 'ache' from heartbreak?

Lovetacular by @themaradwrites | Sam Wilson x Andie Knight (OC)

Andie Knight is not a fan of Valentine's Day. Or at least the commercial side of it. She'd much rather spend some quality time with Sam without all the bells and whistles. So how do you do Valentines right for Andie? Sam knows exactly what to do.

Color Your Soul by @themaradwrites | Sam Wilson x Reader

Despite not having found the one that would fill your world with colour, you work for the soulmate finding app, Colour Your Soul, which hosts an annual charity gala with a silent auction.

This year, the Gala is co-sponsored by Stark Industries and features the Avengers live in person. You set out for a fun night of fancy clothes and free drinks and appetizers.

The last thing you expect from the party is to meet your soulmate.

Don't see your work listed? Please let me know!

[cyan-stargaze002]

TWISTED FATE:

What is Twisted Fate?

Twisted Fate is an AU that is based on the question: “what if they parted ways when they graduated, not seeing each other in years and finally re-encountering?”

What are their professions? (Content warning as there’s mentions of rac!sm/specisism, mental abuse and hate crime)

Sam is a graduated criminologist that loves his work. But sadly, his workplace discriminates him just for being a dog and his Irish accent as well. They also thought that he was really “funny looking”. His coworkers called him “Scooby Doo” because of it. He loves his profession but he wishes to get out. As for Max, he had multiple jobs and one of them is becoming a stag film actor, but this altered his emotional and psychological behaviors after his past relationships were mean to him, mentally abuse him or his boss wanted to exploit him. He had the miracle to leave, but the after effects still linger and now he works as a security guard…but a bad one.

Where did they re-encounter?

Easy, at a bar. Both finished their jobs and decided to treat themselves, unknowingly sitting next to each other. Sam was the one that noticed Max since he will always recognize that high pitched voice that speaks nothing but chaos! Both were so happy to re-encounter. They talked about their lives, reviving child/teen hood memories and other things

Will they fall in love?

Yes, they do! Although…it’s going to be a rocky road for both of them. Sam has self-doubts and insecurities that makes him overthink if it’s ok to confess his feelings to his little buddy. He always had that feeling since they were kids, but tried to hide it or ignore, thinking that it was “just a phase” when it wasn’t. As for Max, his past relationships affected him badly that made him develop anxiety, PTSD and self-doubt. He also thinks that doing “favors” (if you catch my drift) will be the way to win the person’s heart (which is not true) here is a mini comic to demonstrate the before-events in Sam’s POV:

Will they become Freelance Police officers?

They do! It will take some time. They both decided to quit their current jobs and work being the exciting and crazy freelance police! Their outfits don’t change but they add small badges on their jackets.

NOW for general QNA:

Can I make fanart (any media) of them?

Everyone is more than welcomed to make fanart of these fools, I love them! Just make sure to credit me when doing so.

I have more questions, where should I ask you?

You can ask me in the ask button and on discord! (In the pin post, there’s a webpage that leads to all my social places) on Tumblr, some asks will be doodled, some written!

I am an adult, can I do 18+ content of them?

Sure! You can go basic but remind you, I have limits when viewing 18+/NSFW content. You can ask me if you wish ^^

Can I ship them with my OCs?

There’s a 50/50 for that. Yes, you can draw your OC with them being in platonic terms. In romantic terms,it will be a no since both Sam and Max are canonically together in this AU.

Will you write more of them?

Absolutely! I really love this AU so I will work more with it! Your support will also be helpful if you wish more content of them!

That is it for now, Adiós!!

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: okay this is so weird but I was in Costco and randomly thought about if Dean was there he would be running to all the sample stations and taking the samples LOL. Can you make a sister story around that idea??

A/N: that’s so funny and so true HAHA. I hope this is what you were looking for. Requests are always open!

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

There was a very specific moment in my life that I could pinpoint as the exact second when I realized Dean Winchester might be a terrible influence on me.

It was years back, during one of our rare breaks from hunting. We were in some sleepy little town, the kind where the biggest attraction was a “World’s Largest Ball of Twine” or something equally ridiculous. The day had been slow, and we’d been on the road for what felt like forever. Sam was buried in a stack of research, as usual, and Dean and I? Well, we were bored out of our minds. That’s when I suggested, half jokingly, “Why don’t we hit up Costco?”

Dean, ever the thrill-seeker, instantly perked up. “What, like, for real?”

And thus began our now-famous Costco adventures.

Now, months later, here I was again, sitting in the backseat of the Impala, eyes wide and sparkling as I glanced out at the road ahead. I already knew what was coming. Sam, who was still focused on the case in his lap, wouldn’t see it coming until it was too late.

But I had plans. Plans involving wholesale and samples. I’d thought about it for a while—just the idea of Dean and me gorging ourselves on all the free samples was too good to resist. And I could already feel my mischievous grin creeping up.

"Hey, Dean," I said, the words dripping with anticipation.

He glanced up from the radio dial, already sensing something was coming. “Yeah?”

I didn’t even try to hold it in. I let out a giggle and said, “I’ve got a craving for Costco.”

Dean didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He just turned his head slightly toward me, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “Costco? Oh, you mean...”

I grinned. “Yep. Samples.”

Dean’s grin matched mine in an instant. He didn’t need more explanation. He knew exactly what I was talking about. “Hell yeah. I’m in and I’m always in for hitting up the best food court in all of America after.”

"Yes! Costco hot dogs for the win!" I shouted, unable to contain the excitement bubbling up inside me.

Sam, who had been completely zoned into his case notes in the driver’s seat, suddenly glanced at us through the rearview mirror. “Wait... what?”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I burst into giggles, Dean doing the same, as we both looked at Sam like we were planning the most genius heist ever.

“Sammy, you’re not telling me you’re not on board for the Costco Sample Run?” Dean asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

Sam blinked a couple of times, trying to process the information. “Costco? You’re both... serious right now?”

I could barely breathe between my laughter. “You should really join us, Sammy.”

Dean shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Seriously, Sam. It's free samples. Then we hit up the food court. You in?”

Sam glanced between us, his expression shifting from incredulous to exasperated. “You two are... crazy. But I swear, every time you get an idea in your head...”

I shot back at him, “You know you want to, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. He just muttered under his breath while Dean turned the wheel toward the nearest Costco parking lot.

Once we parked, Dean was already out of the car before I even fully unbuckled my seatbelt. The air smelled faintly wholesale delight. I jumped out of the car, following him inside with a grin on my face so wide it felt like my cheeks might split open.

“Alright, let’s make this quick,” I whispered conspiratorially to Dean as we walked through the sliding doors. “We don’t want to miss any good ones.”

Dean, grinning like a child at an amusement park, leaned toward me. “I’m ready. We gotta hit every station.”

“Exactly.” I grinned back.

We were off, darting through the aisles like a pair of maniacs. And then, we saw it. The first sample station—meatballs. Tiny, sizzling, aromatic meatballs. Dean and I were practically on top of the booth before the worker had a chance to hand them out.

“I’ll take one,” Dean said, before grabbing a toothpick and stabbing at a meatball, like it was some sort of prize.

I followed suit, grinning wildly as I took my own. “Oh man, this is good.”

Dean chewed thoughtfully, then nodded. “Okay, that’s a win.”

I didn’t even need to say anything else. We both knew we were in this for the long haul now. Sample station after sample station, we attacked them all—shrimp skewers, cheese sticks, mini quiches. It was a marathon, and we were winning.

At one point, we hit the dreaded “protein bar” stand, where the bars looked suspiciously like they had been made out of recycled cardboard. I knew Sammy would like this. The worker was cheerfully handing out tiny pieces, and I could feel both my stomach and my sense of humor brace for impact.

“Oh God,” I whispered to Dean, barely able to hold in my laughter as I grabbed a piece. “This is gonna be awful.”

Dean grinned, his face already scrunching in anticipation. “I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe it’s a good one.”

I took a bite and immediately regretted it. “Nope. This is cardboard in bar form.” I gagged a little and swallowed, grimacing. “This is... the worst.”

Dean couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it. “What kind of sick person makes this?” he muttered, his face twisted with disbelief.

“I think this is what they feed prisoners,” I said between gasps of laughter, trying to clear the taste from my mouth.

Dean looked at the protein bars, shaking his head. “That’s a crime. This should never be legal.”

I leaned over toward the worker, who was busy talking to another customer. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” I whispered to Dean.

Dean’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Oh yeah. Let’s grab another... and we’ll get it to Sammy.”

I grinned like a kid who’d just stolen candy from a store. Quietly, while the worker was distracted, Dean and I grabbed a couple of extra bars, slipping them into our hands when no one was looking.

“You know he’s probably gonna love this,” I said, already anticipating Sam’s face when we handed them to him.

We both stifled our laughter as we moved away from the booth, already plotting how we would surprise Sam with the disgusting health bar.

Eventually, we wrapped up our sample hunt. Dean and I had both stuffed ourselves with tiny cups of chili, minuscule bites of sandwiches, and more meatballs than I could count. But the real fun started when we hit the food court.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Dean said, his eyes sparkling as we approached the counter.

I practically skipped up to the food stand, my mind already set on the main event: the hot dogs.

“Can we get uh,” Dean said to the worker, practically leaning over the counter in excitement. “Six hot dogs. And don’t skimp on the mustard.”

I grinned, already salivating. “And the soda. You can’t forget the soda. Costco soda is the best.”

“Best deal in America,” Dean added, his voice full of absolute conviction.

The worker handed us our order, and we took our trays, sliding into a booth near the window. The moment I bit into that hot dog, I knew Dean was right. There was something about Costco’s hot dogs—cheap, delicious, and perfect. I couldn’t even explain it, but they just tasted better than anything else.

Dean was already halfway through his first hot dog, his eyes closed in bliss. “This is the real deal, kid. No fancy restaurant can beat this.”

I nodded, my mouth full. “It’s like they put magic in these buns.”

The silliness of the moment—it was a perfect break from the chaos of hunting and the endless fights with demons and monsters.

Sam finally arrived at our table, looking utterly unimpressed, but a little more amused than he let on. “You two are unbelievable,” he muttered, looking at the hot dogs we’d demolished in minutes.

“Come on, Sammy. Try one. You know you’re curious,” I teased, holding out my extra hot dog to him.

Sam looked at it, his face still skeptical. “I’ll pass.”

Dean leaned in, grinning like a madman. “I get it. Too good for Costco hot dogs, huh? Well, I promise you’re missing out. It’s the best hot dog in America. Don’t make me prove it.”

“Yeah don’t worry Sam, we got you something else incase you get hungry later.” You grinned, thinking back to the nasty protein bars you and Dean grabbed for him. Dean snorted, “Oh yeah man, you’re gonna love them.” He looked at you and you couldn’t hold back the laughter that erupted.

Sam sighed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You’re both insane.” But even Sam couldn’t stay grumpy. As we sat there, devouring more hot dogs than I thought was humanly possible, I realized how much this little moment meant. It wasn’t about the samples or the hot dogs or even the ridiculousness of our mission—it was about being together. Being a family. And in this strange, crazy world we lived in, those moments were what kept us grounded.

I watched Dean, his face smeared with ketchup, and felt a warmth spread through me. It didn’t matter that we were on the run or hunting monsters. What mattered was that we were here, together, sharing this absurd, beautiful, ridiculous time.

“So, what’s next?” I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

Sam sighed deeply, leaning back in his seat. “We hit the road again. We’ve got a couple hours of driving ahead of us before we get to the town where all the women are disappearing.”

“Oh yeah, let’s save these women. I hope they’re hot.” Dean said, a smirk creeping across his face.

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Ew, Dean.”

He just gave me a wicked grin. “What? A guy can’t dream?”

“You’re gross,” I said, slapping his arm lightly, though I couldn’t keep the laugh from creeping into my voice.

“I’m just saying,” Dean leaned in, elbows on the table. “If I’m going to put my life on the line, it’d be nice if I got something out of it.”

I gave him a pointed look, narrowing my eyes. “You're seriously gross.”

Dean just grinned wider, not even a little bit fazed. “Alright, let’s head out.”

We all stood up, gathering our trays and trash, tossing them into the bin before walking toward the door.

As we walked toward the Impala, I couldn’t help but elbow Dean with a grin, giving him a subtle nod toward my pockets. He caught my drift instantly and by the time we made our way to the car, we were giddy. There was something about the utter absurdity of it all—Dean and me, sneaking around, grabbing the bars while the worker wasn’t looking, then sneaking them into our pockets—that just felt right.

We got in the car and didn’t even settle before

I giggled and I pulled the protein bars from my pocket and tossed them into Sam’s lap. “Here, Sam. We got you a little something.”

Sam blinked down at the protein bars, his eyebrows shooting up in genuine surprise. “What... what is this?”

I leaned back, unable to contain my laughter anymore. “It’s a surprise.”

Dean, fighting his own laughter, added, “You’ll love it. It’s the finest protein bar Costco has to offer. Trust us.”

Sam’s face twisted in confusion, and then he stared at the bars like they were some sort of alien artifact. “You’re seriously giving me this?”

Dean, unable to hold it in any longer, burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh, you’re gonna love it, Sam. It’s like chewing on cardboard and regret. You’re into that stuff.”

I was already in tears, clutching my stomach from laughing so hard. Sam, however, just looked at us—amused but also kind of horrified.

“You two are the worst,” Sam muttered, though I could see a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Dean slapped Sam on the back. “You’ll thank us later when you get hungry, I promise.”

As we drove off into the sunset, my stomach full and my heart full of silly, stupid joy, I couldn’t help but think that, in a world full of monsters and chaos, moments like this—moments of pure, ridiculous fun—were the ones that made everything feel just a little bit more normal.

And honestly? If that wasn’t the best thing in the world, I didn’t know what was.

[skipper1331]

The drunk and the sober // Jessie Fleming

a/n: based off this request. Hope you enjoy it.

Winning the league was always a phenomenal feeling and the party afterwards even more. Everyone could let go and drink. One thing you loved to do. You don't do it regularly, only on special occasions, a glass of wine or a beer for a birthday but let go completely? Only after significant wins. The league title was on of them.

You had a few drinks through the night, slightly tipsy (more than tipsy - you wouldn’t admit that) but when Sam challenged you who could drown more shots in one minute the competition started and the competitive self you were, you couldn't let her win. So, who would‘ve thought: you won.

But it definitely wasn't a good idea to drink that much in such a short amount of time because as a result, your head was spinning, you were babbling and you couldn't walk properly.

There weren't many sober ones, actually just one person: Jessie. She knew how you would get If alcohol was in your system so she decided not to drink. At least not too much. The whole night she only had one beer.

Seeing the canadian stand by herself, you stumbled your way over to her, your arm flying around her shoulder. Instantly, her right arm went around your back while her left held on to your stomach so you wouldn‘t fall. "You know you’re pretty… pretty amazing" you slurred, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. The brunette blushed like crazy, looking away from you "thank you" she whispered, you didn‘t hear it though. Maybe because it was too loud and her voice too quiet or because you‘re already back at Erins side, drinking a shot yet you couldn‘t leave your eyes off Jess.

"Hi, I’m just planning my future and I wanted to ask you: Are you free for the rest of your life?" you giggled, leaning your body against hers. Again, her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, smiling along. "How do you manage to look so stunning every day? When I look at you, I become speechless." your fingers played with a strand of her hair "you‘re looking at me and you‘re talking" Jessie replied, trying to cover up her flustered state. You looked at her frowning - confused - too much to work for your brain. Walking her back to the nearest wall, you trapped her body between yourself and the wall, your arms next to her head. You gazed down to her lips, biting your own.

Everyone knew there was chemistry and sexual tension between the two of you. "The one thing I can’t resist in this life is your lips so can I borrow a kiss? I promise to give it back." Drunk-you was confident and bold, the attitude you needed when it came to Jessie. Her hand made it‘s way to your cheek, finding a rest "i don‘t kiss drunks" patting your cheek, she grinned. Where did that confidence came from? It was hot. "Just to let you know: I’m not flirting. I’m just being extra friendly to someone who is extra attractive" you declared, pulling her body closer to yours, you wanted to feel her touch.

"Let‘s take you home, my little flirt, you‘re wasted." The canadian slung an arm around you as she supported you on the way out of the bar. Quickly, Jess called an uber, not having her car near as she came with Niamh. "Who did you call?" you asked, not liking that her attention wasn‘t focused on you, "an uber."

Your head fell in the crook of her neck with the intention to hug her, but her neck was so tempting to be kissed, practically begging. You couldn‘t help yourself, tenderly pressing your lips against it. Jess sharply inhaled "Y/n" her voice was breathless. You continued to kiss her neck for a few moments before you pulled back, looking at her. Her cheeks were red, a thing that seemed to have been going on all evening. "Let’s flip a coin. Heads I’m yours. Tails you’re mine." frantically, you searched for a coin, having no luck with finding one. The canadian laughed softly, your expression too cute (furrowed brows and a big pout with puppy dog eyes) "I- I don‘t have a coin," you looked at her, your voice sad, "whatever you‘re mine anyway" you said, your voice back with confidence. Slowly, Jessie couldn‘t take it anymore, her heart was about to explode. Parts of her new, it‘s only the drunk side of you flirting with her and that you‘d probably wouldn‘t remember anything tomorrow but she hoped for it. She hoped you would flirt with her 24/7, charm her, make her feel loved. "The uber is here, come with me" she grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the car "oh, i wish" you mumbled at the verge of falling asleep.

The whole ride your head rested on Jessie‘s shoulder, your eyes closing every now and then.

As the canadian paid the driver, you stumbled your way out of the car to the door of your home. "Hey! Don’t walk without me. I don‘t want you to fall" she wrapped an arm around, "i fell already…" you admitted, gazing in her beautiful eyes as they went big "what? Are you hurt?!" The midfielder scanned over your face, arms, legs, no sign that you were hurt "…for you."

Playfully, she hit your chest, a laugh escaping her while you looked at her as if she hung the stars up in the sky.

"So? Are we going to stay here the whole night?" she questioned, indirectly asking for the door key - you didn‘t get it, looking at her confused, "where is your key?" she clarified her question "in my back poket" you answered, feeling dizzy as you grabbed door knob, the alcohol showing its side effect.

"I‘m going to touch you to get the key, okay?" the innocence in her voice, doing things to you.

"Fuck, Jess, you can touch me anywhere you please"

Not only her face turned red, but also the rest of her body was on fire. Her hand slipped in your back pocket, grabbing the key. Wordlessly, she opened the door, still having a hold on your waist as she walked you in, carefully so you wouldn‘t trip over. Oddly enough, you didn't feel nauseous, just dizzy and lovey-dovey towards Jess. "Let‘s get you to bed" the midfielder almost had to carry you as much weight as you leaned on her, not in the state of mind to walk. She let out a sigh of relief as your body hit the mattress. "Don‘t close your eyes, we need to get you changed" you sat back up, holding your head.

"I‘ll get you a glass of water" not even a minute later, the brunette was back. "Drink up" she said as she held the bottle to your lips. You tried not to spill anything but failed, water droplets spread on your shirt. "Do you like my shirt?" you asked, grinning. "I do-"

"It’s made out of girlfriend material" her cheeks flushed red (annoyed at herself that it happens that often around you), giggling.

She grabbed some clothes out of your drawers before she changed you in to them, ever so gently.

As you were comfortable in bed, Jess covered your body with the duvet. "Please, don‘t go," you whispered in the room, interlacing your fingers together, "Take my clothes and come here," you patted the free side of the bed "i don‘t want you to go home alone. Please stay."

She couldn‘t say no to you, not when you looked so vulnerable and small.

She grabbed an oversized shirt and shorts, quickly changing in to the outfit before she walked to 'her side' of the bed, slipping under the covers. You moved your body close to hers, it was like your body was magically drawn to her. Your head rested on her shoulder, your breath hitting her neck while your legs tangled together, her arms protectively around your small figure. "Can’t wait until tomorrow because you get more and more beautiful every day." was your last thing spoken for the night as you drifted off to sleep, your soft snores filling the dark room. "Sweet dreams…," the midfielder mumbled, pressing a good night kiss on your head, "…I hope i‘m in them."

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Pt. 2 the next morning

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